strange and random happenstance

For about six years in the late eighties and early nineties everyone seemed to fall under the mass delusion that Patsy Kensit could act. She was everywhere. I don't know if it's because of her music career with Eighth Wonder or the, to me, completely baffling successful of Absolute Beginners, but she was the "it girl" of the moment. As an aside, if a movie stars David Bowie and I buy it for a dollar at Half Price Books yet am never able to bring myself to finish watching it, that is the definition of a bad movie. In fact Robert Altman takes the piss out of it in the first few minutes of The Player. Now that is a movie worth watching. As for Adam Bede, the only reason I have this on DVD is because it was included in The George Eliot Collection and it was cheaper to buy the whole set than to buy Middlemarch separately, and I needed my Rufus Sewell. I know you know what I'm talking about. When I got the set ironically the first adaptation I watched was Adam Bede because I was in the mood for some Iain Glen. This was long before Game of Thrones and therefore the reason I was mildly obsessed with him was because of Wives and Daughters. You know I really think Mr. Preston and Cynthia could have made a go of it. But that wasn't to be. And ironically Adam Bede is just another Iain Glen doesn't get the girl story. And yes, it's a recurring theme. The only lasting impression I have of that first viewing is thinking how depressing it was. I also remember that I had some disappointment that Patsy Kensit survived. I mean, if she's going to darken my door the least she could do is slump over and expire on the stoop. What annoys me most about her casting is this is peak early nineties casting, Iain Glenn, James Wilby, Susannah Harker, and Alan Cox! Think how good this could have been without her? Especially when the supporting roles are played by Jean Marsh, Julia McKenzie, Freddie Jones, Patsy Byrne, and George Innes. Oh, and George Innes, he is fabulous. Most known for his roles in The Italian Job and Upstairs, Downstairs, he has only one scene where he's in the witness box and he describes the dead child Patsy Kensit's character has left under a bush, and it's just heartbreaking. Even if she wasn't guilty as sin, for being Patsy Kensit AND for abandoning the child James Wilby got her with, I would have convicted her just due to the testimony against her. To have one actor outshine everyone made you realize how pedestrian this adaptation is. It's nothing more than a girl being seduced by the lord of the manor and getting with child, thus destroying the good village boy who truly loved her. AKA Iain Glenn not getting the girl. Again. So therefore I maybe shouldn't lay all the blame on Patsy Kensit? I mean, her casting technically just adds to the peak early nineties vibe... And it's not like this rather pedestrian story could have been improved. At the end of the day her character was transported to Australia and the much nicer girl played by Susannah Harker got the boy. So, win win in the end? Or maybe it was a Pyrrhic victory?

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Absolute Beginners, Adam Bede, Alan Cox, David Bowie, DVD, Fifty-Five Years a Masterpiece, George Eliot, George Innes, Iain Glen, James Wilby, Middlemarch, Nineties, Patsy Kensit, Rufus Sewell, Susannah Harker, Wives and Daughters

There are some authors who you just expect bleak and depressing stories from. It doesn't matter if you've read all their work. You might have read one or two of their books and were able to extrapolate the general vibe. George Eliot is just such an author. Not so depressing as Thomas Hardy, but it takes a lot to beat his bleak tales. I honestly had no idea what to expect from Silas Marner: The Weaver of Raveloe, I mean, it would be epic if there was some deep lore about the production wherein Ben Kingsley spent years learning how to properly use a loom and then literally only used it for perhaps five minutes of screen time, but that was just my wishful thinking in the vein of how Daniel Day-Lewis role prepares for a role. But good on Sir Ben for working those pedals like his life depended on it. And shoeless no less! In fact, he's giving us a very nicely turned out leg here. Too bad you were never invited to the dance up at the big house Silas, you might just have won the heart of fair maiden. Instead, this here is a tale of a man who is taken advantage of because he is disabled and only learns to trust again after raising a foundling. And yes, that is a lot to take it. I mean, really, this is a prime example of how evil people can be. Silas is again and again taken advantage of because of his condition. This was written and set in the 1800s so there was no available diagnosis of catalepsy, but it just shows how time and time again anyone viewed as "other" is ostracized. And characters openly plot against Silas because of his condition. His best friend frames him for stealing their congregation's funds and Silas is thrown to the wolves, losing his standing, his fiance, everything. He has a fit on the side of the road and Jim Broadbent of all people is like, he had money on him boys, let's go rob him! Of course someone who needed money more overheard this conversation and robbed him first. To treat a disability as an opening for exploitation is abhorrent. I was literally enraged and then to have his redemption be Patsy Kensit!?! Oh please. Spare me. Literally, spare me anything to do with Patsy Kensit, who is, of course, the legitimate daughter of the heir to the big house. Which means she could have a life of luxury once she discovers her hidden heritage, but instead decides to continue living with Silas and get married. I mean, there's loyalty and then there's stupidity. Couldn't they have worked something out that made everyone happy? Or at least financially viable? The problem is, clocking in at ninety minutes this tale is too short to do justice to what's going on. The heir to the big house is secretly married to an opium addict played by the incomparable Angela Pleasence and I don't think she's actually conscious for a single scene. Why would you hire such a wondrous talent and then not deign to use her? The tale needed to be fleshed out, the rich and the poor balanced. I wanted more and this felt like the CliffsNotes version. Just tacking on a happy ending where it's people and not money that makes life worthwhile doesn't sweep away the bitter taste in my mouth for how Silas was treated. It was only moments before after all. Mere moments.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 1800s, Angela Pleasence, Ben Kingsley, Catalepsy, Daniel Day-Lewis, Disability, Fifty-Five Years a Masterpiece, George Eliot, Jim Broadbent, Money, Patsy Kensit, Robbery, Silas Marner, The Weaver of Raveloe, Thomas Hardy, Weaver

While Masterpeice Theatre has been around all my life the real moment I became a British miniseries addict was in 1996 when I first saw Pride and Prejudice starring Colin Firth. This was the point of no return. And I was canny enough to lay a lot of the credit at the feet of Andrew Davies. The more I saw of his adaptations the more I realized how good he was at his job. I don't care for all these revisionists out there, Andrew Davies was and is the king of adaptions. Period. In my attempt to watch everything he'd ever adapted I stumbled into George Eliot's Middlemarch. What struck me most was this adaptation was made only a year before Pride and Prejudice and at that time it was apparent that Andrew Davies was attempting to make a different Firth a star, Colin's younger brother Jonathan. Jonathan is a very talented actor but he has never attained the stardom his brother has. Whether this is just coincidence or lack of drive I don't know. But I first saw him in Covington Cross, a show notable stateside for the fact Glenn Quinn quite Roseanne to be on it. Jonathan also played a right asshole in the first season of The Inspector Lynley Mysteries as well as the ghost of a circus performer I believe on an episode of Ghost Whisperer. As I've said, an odd career. But with Middlemarch there's a scene where he's playing pool that gave me a chilling sense of deja vu. Because the same scene is in Pride and Prejudice! Literally the only difference is they swapped Firths and the felt covering on the pool table is a different cover. It's like Davies KNEW this scene had to work with a Firth brother and the first time didn't take so he tried it again and sunk it perfectly in the corner pocket. While these Firthian observations are all well and good the more pressing draw to me now is my love of Rufus Sewell. Oh my Lord M who is the only highlight of Parade's End. I first saw you in Cold Comfort Farm, then was amazed by your performance of Fortinbras in Hamlet, you only blinked six times the entire time you were on screen! But you stole my heart as Will Ladislaw, just as you did Dorthea's! Who needs financial security when you have love?      

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Adaptation, Andrew Davies, Cold Comfort Farm, Colin Firth, Fifty Years a Masterpiece, George Eliot, Glenn Quinn, Jonathan Firth, Lord M, Masterpiece Theatre, Middlemarch, Pride and Prejudice, Rufus Sewell

Modern classics is an interesting categorization for books. We all know what Classics, with a capital "C" are. They're books that have endured. They have proven to stand the test of time. Think of the 1800s. Such a glut of authors writing yet we have but a handful of authors that are remembered; Dickens, Austen, Bronte, Wharton, Gaskell, Eliot, Trollope, and more. But comparatively small. They're like the 1% of authors. Now look to the 1900s. Just a hundred years or less isn't really enough time to know if a book will still be read and loved in another hundred years. As Stephen King himself says, he doesn't think his books will be remembered. They are loved and devoured by today's readers, but there's also something transitory about them. But there are books that people place favorable odds on enduring. The works of Hemingway are pretty much a shoo-in. Or so we think. And that's what makes, say A Farewell to Arms, a "modern" classic. We are pretty sure that a book with this moniker will go on. So much so that many of these books make up the curriculum of high school English classes. Vonnegut, Kesey, Slaughterhouse-Five, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, anyone of my generation will recognize these as standard reading. But will people a few generations from now recognize them? This is one instance in which I would love to peak into the future and see what endures. Of the books I've selected... it's a crapshoot.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Anthony Trollope, Backlog Bonanza, Bronte, Charles Dickens, Classics, Edith Wharton, Ernest Hemingway, George Eliot, Jane Austen, Ken Kesey, Kurt Vonnegut, Modern Classic, Slaughterhouse-Five, Stephen King

Middlemarch by George Eliot
Published by: Modern Library
Publication Date: 1871
Format: Hardcover, 799 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy (different edition then one reviewed)

"When I told my much-beloved little sister that I was going to write a book about a young Victorian woman who married a much older antiquarian and then finds him not at all who she thought him to be, there was a pause, followed by, “So, basically, you’re writing Middlemarch.”

Have I mentioned how much I love my little sister?

I will admit, I did have Dorothea and Casaubon on the brain, as well as Effie and Ruskin, when Imogen and her husband Arthur popped into my head. (That’s what my characters do: they pop. I don’t make them up piece by piece. They come to me fully formed, and then I have to figure them out as I’m writing about them.) But that’s pretty much the extent of the overlap between the two stories.

If you’re going to read Middlemarch, parcel out a long period of time and make a big pot of tea. Because you’re not going to want to stop once you start. Dorothea’s unhappy marriage to Casaubon is just the beginning…." - Lauren Willig

Ah, to be young and idealistic. Dorothea Brooke longs for nothing more then to marry an intelligent man and help him in his great work, like Milton's daughters, but with less complaining. She thinks she finds that man in the much older Edward Casaubon and they are wed. Tertius Lydgate is a young doctor who has bought a practice in Middlemarch and has such visions for the new fever hospital and a life of study and medical advancement. Instead he is beguiled by the young Rosamund Vincy and they are wed. Rosamund's brother Fred has hopes of a large inheritance and the hand of the humble Mary Garth, despite his family's objections to Mary, though they all cling to the thought of the inheritance because Fred doesn't seem that interested in a career. Another young idealist uncertain of where life will take him is Will Ladislaw, the cousin of Casaubon. But after meeting his cousin's young wife he feels that his life will take him wherever Dorothea is. All these young idealists, all these young hearts with dreams and ambitions shall be tried by fire and be thwarted in one way or another as they try to live their lives in Middlemarch.

Back in 1996 a costume drama made the biggest splash stateside since Upstairs, Downstairs. I'm of course talking about Pride and Prejudice. While a wet shirt might have changed the fusty notions that are attached to period pieces, it also made a household name of the show's writer, Andrew Davies. Andrew Davies became the go-to screenwriter to adapt 19th century novels into miniseries. Emma, Vanity Fair, Wives and Daughters, The Way We Live Now, Daniel Deronda, He Knew He Was Right, Bleak House, The Diary of a Nobody, Northanger Abbey, Sense and Sensibility, Little Dorrit, have all been adapted by his fair pen. But the fact is Colin Firth isn't the first Firth to brood sexily and shoot pool in an Andrew Davies adaptation. That honor belongs to Colin's younger brother Jonathan, as the gambling Fred Vincy in Middlemarch. We often forget how hard it was to see shows that had previously aired in this current age of streaming and YouTube. Even in the early days of DVDs you had to wait months after they were available to rent in order for them to be affordable to buy. Pride and Prejudice had stoked my interest in costume drama and Andrew Davies was the go-to guy, so obviously I had to get my hands on Middlemarch. With a region free DVD player and an Amazon UK account I was able to achieve my ends.

The adaptation was long and it didn't satisfy any need in me and actually made me want to read the book more. Of course with the length of my to be read pile it isn't any wonder that it took me almost two decades to get to it. I can see what frustrated me in the miniseries because it frustrated me in the book. Middlemarch has an almost unwieldy cast and Eliot has a way of overwriting that makes it very hard to connect. But unlike a miniseries which only has six hours to win us over, with almost 800 pages Eliot is able to build her narrative so that by the end you are so invested in the characters lives that if she hadn't written that little "finale" you would have wept tears of frustration. As for her overwriting and meandering habits to pad chapters with so much information that doesn't build on the plot to insane degrees, I can actually forgive her. The reason being that every once in awhile there is such an insightful line or comment that gives you a clear beam of light shining down from on high that you just want to shout "Yes, a million times yes!" There is also the fact that over time Eliot tends to pontificate less and less focusing more on the plot and the interaction of the characters. I also wonder if the fact that the novel was published in serialized form might have something do to with this shift. By writing in this way I'm sure she was able to gauge what her readers wanted and tweak the novel more to their tastes, and to mine.

What struck me most forcefully about Middlemarch is that while this book was written 142 years ago it is still so relevant in it's issues that it's eerie. With this "study of provincial life" Eliot taps into the universality of people everywhere. Jealousy, money problems, medical advancement, xenophobia, misunderstandings, misconceptions, thwarted ambitions, atonement, all these issues and more are handled in such a way that you, as the reader, connect with a similar incident in your life. The one thing I really connected with was an interesting aspect of Lydgate's practice which caused much stir in the town among his prospective patients. Unlike other Doctors, Lydgate didn't deal with prescriptions for medication cutting out the middle man. It is unclear among the villagers if this is from a lack of knowledge or a lack of self interest, because Doctors could make more money if they cut out the pharmacist, as it were. But it seems to me more that Lydgate, with his newfangled ideology and research believed more in the idea that under most circumstances the body can heal itself and therefore doesn't need drugs. This rang so true to what Doctors say nowadays. Of course, when you now go to the Doctor it's more they're worried that if they proscribe something when they don't need to that you will develop an immunity to the drug that will later cause problems when you truly do need drugs. How many times have I been on the losing end of that argument that I needed drugs for a sinus infection and they told me no? The answer is too many to count... so I have a feeling that if I did reside in Middlemarch, Lydgate just might not be my Doctor because of how many times I then ended up in Urgent Care getting the meds my Doctor was hesitant to proscribe.

But this little meditation of Lydgate's habits only touches on one aspect of one character in a book with enough characters to almost give George R.R. Martin a run for his money. With this many characters, of course you are going to have your favorites, those you love, those you hate, and of course, those you love to hate. But what I found so interesting is that I had sympathy for all the characters, even those I didn't like. In books I usually never root for the antihero. If a character is unlikeable, that's it, we're done, the book and me will not be able to reconcile our differences. But the way in how this community was made up and how each life touched and influenced the other it's like a house of cards or a train of dominoes, you can't pick and choose, everyone is in it together and everyone is therefore needing of our sympathy. While Dorothea is the most obvious character to have feelings for, with her thwarted ambitions in her marriage and then the impositions placed on her by her husband's will, I was even worried about Bulstrode. I worried about a man who, in his past, had dubious dealings which came back to haunt him and I was perfectly happy for him to get away with murder if he could. The lives that Middlemarch is teaming with all need each other and form a perfect view of what provincial life was and how aspects of human nature transcend the generations. This is a must human novel indeed.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 2 comments  

Labels: 19th Century, Andrew Davies, Casaubon, Colin Firth, Doctors, Dorothea, DVD, Effie, George Eliot, GRRM, Jonathan Firth, Lauren Willig, Lydgate, Middlemarch, Pride and Prejudice, Ruskin, That Summer, This Summer

Under the Dome by Stephen King
Published by: Scribner
Publication Date: November 10th, 2009
Format: Hardcover, 1088 Pages
To Buy

Official patter:
"On an entirely normal, beautiful fall day in Chester's Mill, Maine, the town is inexplicably and suddenly sealed off from the rest of the world by an invisible force field. Planes crash into it and fall from the sky in flaming wreckage, a gardener's hand is severed as "the dome" comes down on it, people running errands in the neighboring town are divided from their families, and cars explode on impact. No one can fathom what this barrier is, where it came from, and when — or if — it will go away.Dale Barbara, Iraq vet and now a short-order cook, finds himself teamed with a few intrepid citizens — town newspaper owner Julia Shumway, a physician's assistant at the hospital, a select-woman, and three brave kids. Against them stands Big Jim Rennie, a politician who will stop at nothing — even murder — to hold the reins of power, and his son, who is keeping a horrible secret in a dark pantry. But their main adversary is the Dome itself. Because time isn't just short. It's running out."

Sure everyone's excited about the whole, Stephen King might have finally written a book to best The Stand (at least in length). Personally, as a graphic designer, I find the whole concept of the cover fascinating. Not only was Scribner willing to sink a ton of money into it, but it was also all from Stephen King's own wishes! A publisher doing the bidding of an author? How novel... but then again, if you're Stephen King... To perfectly create the town he created within the dome of their doom the cover had almost as much work done on it as a big blockbuster movie! From using photos to illustration to computer rendering to CGI, plus we must not forget the "big reveal," this cover has generated a lot of buzz. I think it turned out pretty well, I do like the full panorama going on.

Changing My Mind: Occasional Essays by Zadie Smith
Published by: Penguin Press
Publication Date: November 10th, 2009
Format: Hardcover, 320 Pages
To Buy

The official patter:
"A sparkling collection of Zadie Smith's nonfiction over the past decade.

Zadie Smith brings to her essays all of the curiosity, intellectual rigor, and sharp humor that have attracted so many readers to her fiction, and the result is a collection that is nothing short of extraordinary.

Split into four sections-"Reading," "Being," "Seeing," and "Feeling"-Changing My Mind invites readers to witness the world from Zadie Smith's unique vantage. Smith casts her acute eye over material both personal and cultural, with wonderfully engaging essays-some published here for the first time-on diverse topics including literature, movies, going to the Oscars, British comedy, family, feminism, Obama, Katharine Hepburn, and Anna Magnani.

In her investigations Smith also reveals much of herself. Her literary criticism shares the wealth of her experiences as a reader and exposes the tremendous influence diverse writers-E. M. Forster, Zora Neale Hurston, George Eliot, and others-have had on her writing life and her self-understanding. Smith also speaks directly to writers as a craftsman, offering precious practical lessons on process. Here and throughout, readers will learn of the wide-ranging experiences-in novels, travel, philosophy, politics, and beyond-that have nourished Smith's rich life of the mind. Her probing analysis offers tremendous food for thought, encouraging readers to attend to the slippery questions of identity, art, love, and vocation that so often go neglected.

Changing My Mind announces Zadie Smith as one of our most important contemporary essayists, a writer with the rare ability to turn the world on its side with both fact and fiction. Changing My Mind is a gift to readers, writers, and all who want to look at life more expansively."

Sometimes you just feel in the mood for some reading that's not a novel with an elaborate plot but a nice little article. But on top of that, it's sometimes such a hassle to find new writers. So what could be better than a writer you already know and love releasing exactly what you were craving? Nothing! Zadie Smith, the celebrated author of White Teeth has often contributed articles and other writing to the world of literature, but now they're all collected in one place. Ah convenience! Plus I love how the cover is designed to integrate into your "Zadie Smith Section" of your library, being reminiscent of the On Beauty cover. I love consistency...

Posted by Miss Eliza at 1:05 AM 0 comments  

Labels: British Comedy, Changing My Mind, E.M. Forster, George Eliot, Maine, On Beauty, Stephen King, The Stand, Tuesday Tomorrow, Under the Dome, White Teeth, Zadie Smith