Recently I had the pleasure of watching Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale in the movie theater. It was an absolute gift to visually stroll about upstairs and down along side those wonderful characters who have grown so dear to us the past 15 years. “Lest we worry about too many changes, Julian Fellowes’s script is stuffed with comforting constants: Lady Mary will be indiscreet, Carson the butler will be scandalized, Lord Grantham will find something to be huffy about and the family will face financial ruin” (New York Times). I can’t think of a better week than this one to escape from headlines and our diminishing democracy, even though I must admit more than an escape is needed. It isn’t even shocking to see such stalwart allegiance to the 2nd Amendment in contrast to the broad dismissal of the 1st Amendment to the United States Constitution as we become a country that fears a jester’s words more than a lunatic’s firearm. There is no push by this administration to reduce gun violence, only the swift sword curtailing free speech. LBJ was a different guardian of the White House when he shared, “It is part of the price of leadership of this great and free nation to be the target of clever satirists. You have given the gift of laughter to our people. May we never grow too somber or self-important that we fail to appreciate the humor in our lives.” Our would-be-king-president reacts differently, by silencing all who don’t echo his mountain of lies. Perhaps, just for today, for your mental health or for a little chuckle, treat yourself to Downton Abbey’s “yummy photography, stunning set pieces and Lady Mary trying on as many fabulous frocks as possible“(New York Times). Of course I hope you read my decade old post first.
Tag Archives: Media
unreliable narrators
Virginia Woolf wrote, “Most commonly we come to books with blurred and divided minds, asking of fiction that it shall be true, of poetry that it shall be false, of biography that it shall be flattering, of history that it shall enforce our own prejudices”(Woolf). I don’t really remember the first time I doubted the opinions of a character in a novel or when I realized that perhaps poetry did not always impart truth, but I do know that all those notions came together in quite a spectacular manner when I read Crime and Punishment. As early as page 2 Dostoyevsky invites readers into his very real and awful world,
The heat in the street was terrible: and the airlessness, the bustle and the plaster, scaffolding, bricks, and dust all about him, and that special Petersburg stench, so familiar to all who are unable to get out of town in summer—all worked painfully upon the young man’s already overwrought nerves. The insufferable stench from the pothouses, which are particularly numerous in that part of the town, and the drunken men whom he met continually, although it was a working day, completed the revolting misery of the picture. An expression of the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man’s refined face. He was, by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the average in height, slim, well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown hair. Soon he sank into deep thought, or more accurately speaking into a complete blankness of mind; he walked along not observing what was about him and not caring to observe it. From time to time, he would mutter something, from the habit of talking to himself, to which he had just confessed. At these moments he would become conscious that his ideas were sometimes in a tangle and that he was very weak; for two days he had scarcely tasted food.
The suspect mind of Raskolnikov was penned with the use of an omniscient point of view, and it is in that murky place that we begin our troubles. This narrator is not to be trusted on any account, his warped and privileged preoccupation with his own superiority clouds his vantage. Yet for many hundreds of pages we are led into his dangerous train of thought.
Away From Words
This piece was first published on Sep 10, 2015. I thought it might be time to circle back, plus back to school means back to busy busy for me! If you’re a first time reader, let me know what you think, and if you’re on repeat, well, do the same! xxxooo
Man creates divisions. Labels and categories. Lists of ingredients that make up our individual peace or community discord. Political parties create further divergence and careers choices further separate our education, lifestyles, even viewpoints. Over here are our scientists, heralded as those to solve the unsolvable while the engineers continuously redesign our pathways and roadways and pipelines and even the vehicles that move us; labeling deems some as teachers in a school building while the rest are only students despite the grey lines these labels cross over within the school building. The law abiding stand on one side of the bars and those who transgress reside firmly on the other yet of late we too often must question the validity of each stance. Bound by these allotments we trudge through our dull days. Yet somehow, almost miraculously, living in defiance to every man-made divider are those that challenge the status quo: the artists existing among us. Instead of maintaining practicality and order, their daring shapes and colors mystify emotion and intellect. In an artist’s hands every medium is played with, messed up, combined anew to create a different vantage. For me, lingering in one sorrow, an afternoon to view the old masters to the new ones is like drinking a nutrient rich and satisfying smoothie, lifting me beyond compartmentalizing into a free floating joy.
Nine Cent Girl 