Cathedral is a collection of short stories by American writer Raymond Carver that is must read material. Carver was part of the short story revivalists crew of the eighties that included John Cheever. The work highlights possibilities of the short fiction medium.
link to an interview with the writer on post title
Showing posts with label Lit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lit. Show all posts
Friday, May 1, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
thin red line
Just finished watching the thin red line, just finished reading it too.
More often than not a film version of a novel falls short of doing the story justice and tends to undermine the underlying, fundamental importance of the tale. That is not the case here where the film manages to accomplish much in the way of complementing the novel. Malick and company do the film medium proud in this piece.
Much differs between the novel and the film and in most ways I think the cinematic version plays better; the dialogue in the film is stronger than it is in the novel, the complexity of the subject matter (death) is emotionally and intellectually explored, in my opinion, with more profundity than it is in the novel... Malick makes the green seem greener than it reads in its counterpart. This is meant as no slight against James Jones' novel, it is worth a read, if you enjoy war novels, and it reads quick too. James' novel is sharp and good.
The film does use some hyperbolic voice over, which in my opinion weakens it.
More often than not a film version of a novel falls short of doing the story justice and tends to undermine the underlying, fundamental importance of the tale. That is not the case here where the film manages to accomplish much in the way of complementing the novel. Malick and company do the film medium proud in this piece.
Much differs between the novel and the film and in most ways I think the cinematic version plays better; the dialogue in the film is stronger than it is in the novel, the complexity of the subject matter (death) is emotionally and intellectually explored, in my opinion, with more profundity than it is in the novel... Malick makes the green seem greener than it reads in its counterpart. This is meant as no slight against James Jones' novel, it is worth a read, if you enjoy war novels, and it reads quick too. James' novel is sharp and good.
The film does use some hyperbolic voice over, which in my opinion weakens it.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
nice, nice, very nice
Oh, the sleeping drunkard
Up in Central Park,
And a lion-hunter
In the jungle dark,
And a Chinese dentist,
and a British queen-
All fit together
in the same machine.
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice-
So many different people
In the same device.
-Vonnegut Jr.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Time
Our ability to measure and apportion time affords us an almost endless source of comfort.
"Synchronize watches at oh six hundred," says the infantry captian, and each of his huddled lieutenants finds a respite from fear in the act of bringing two tiny pointers into jeweled alignment while tons of heavy artillery go fluttering overhead: the prosaic, civilian-looking dial of the watch has restored, however briefly, an illusion of personal control. Good, it counsels, looking tidily up from the hairs and veins of each terribly vulnerable wrist; fine: so far, everything's happening right on time.
"I'm afraid I'm booked solid through the end of the month," says the executive, voluptuously nesting the phone at his cheek as he thumbs the leaves of his appointment calendar, and his month and eyes betray a sense of deep security. The crisp, plentiful, day-sized pages before him prove that nothing unforeseen, no calamity of chance or fate can overtake him between now and the end of the month. Ruin and pestilence have been held at bay, and death itself will have to wait; he is booked solid.
- Richard Yates
"Synchronize watches at oh six hundred," says the infantry captian, and each of his huddled lieutenants finds a respite from fear in the act of bringing two tiny pointers into jeweled alignment while tons of heavy artillery go fluttering overhead: the prosaic, civilian-looking dial of the watch has restored, however briefly, an illusion of personal control. Good, it counsels, looking tidily up from the hairs and veins of each terribly vulnerable wrist; fine: so far, everything's happening right on time.
"I'm afraid I'm booked solid through the end of the month," says the executive, voluptuously nesting the phone at his cheek as he thumbs the leaves of his appointment calendar, and his month and eyes betray a sense of deep security. The crisp, plentiful, day-sized pages before him prove that nothing unforeseen, no calamity of chance or fate can overtake him between now and the end of the month. Ruin and pestilence have been held at bay, and death itself will have to wait; he is booked solid.
- Richard Yates
Sunday, November 30, 2008
The Author's Chair
The 25th anniversary of Graves and Hansen's article, "The Author's Chair" falls upon us in the mist of economic turmoil and crumbling hopes. But this idea still holds merit. In the classroom, the author's chair is the essential link between reading and writing - a place for one student, or should I say one writer, to sit and discuss his ideas with his peers and teacher alike. He is the author of what will become a work of writing, and he is the to be writer of this same work. It gives power and ownership. It shows students that they are what matters when writing. It offers a place to vent ideas and receive instant, immediate feedback.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Letter from Gilmore
SEPTEMBER 11,1976
"I've told you I haven't slept lately - the ghosts have descended and set upon me with a force I didn't believe they possessed. I smack 'em down but they sneak back and climb in my ear and demons that they are tell me foul jokes, they want to sap my will, drink my strength, drain my hope leave me derelict bereft of hope lost empty alone foul demon motherfuckers with dirty furry bodies whispering vile things in the nite chortling and laughing with a hideous glee to see me toss sleepless in durance truly vile they plan to pounce on me in a shrieking mad fury when I leave with their hideous yellow long toe and finger claws teeth dripping with rank saliva and mucous thick yellow green. Dirty inhuman beasts jackals hyena rumor monger plague ridden unhappy lost ghostly foul ungodly things unacceptable creeping crawling red eyed bat eared soulless beasts.
They won't let the ol' boy have a nites sleep. God-damned lost motherfuckers.
I need our silver sword against them. They're slippery motherfuckers.
The demon ghosts
trick tease tantalize
bite and claw scratch and screech
weave a web of oldness pull in harness
like oxen a wood creaking tumbrel a gray wood
tumbrel through the cobbled streets of my
ancient mind... "
Excerpt of a letter written from jail by Gary Gilmore to Nicole Barret...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
