Solaris - Stanislaw Lem; One Novel and One and a half Movies
Kris Kelvin is a psychologist who is requested to come to Solaris - a distant, mysterious planet - by a friend, Gibarian. When Kelvin arrives there, he knows things are a little off...Gibarian has killed himself, the robots are locked up, and the only other humans on the station (Sartorius and Snow) won't offer any information about what is going on. Kelvin is warned to be careful, to lock his doors, etc. but isn't told why. he soon finds out why: Kelvin falls asleep, and when he wakes up, there is Rheya, his wife who killed herself ten years prior. He is obviously scared and disturbed by this, and in his desperation he manages to get her on a little space craft and ship her out into space. He falls asleep again and when he wakes up, there is Rheya. But it isn't the same one that he just sent into orbit...it's a new copy.
As it turns out, everyone on board has had these visitors. you can't kill them, as it is discovered that they are made of some type of subatomic particles (or some other scientific anomaly) and therefore they are able to regenerate after an injury, including drinking liquid oxygen. They don't really sleep, they are never hungry, and they get violently angry when they are left alone. Sounds sort of like Gremlins, doesn't it? I wonder what happens if you get them wet... Anyhoo...Snow, Sartorius and Kelvin know it has something to do with the ocean, because the visitor thing didn't start happening until they began beaming x-rays at the ocean.
Ok...a little about the ocean. It covers the entire planet of Solaris and appears to be a single living organism. It shows some signs of being sentient, or conscious in some way (though different from our normal conception of "conscious"), and it reacts in unexpected ways to stimuli by creating physical phenomena that science cannot explain. It's a being (of some sort) capable - in theory - of communication, as are humans...but the two just don't speak the same language. And they don't have a universal translator like they do in Star Trek.
The rest of the novel deals with how to get rid of the copies, should they get rid of the copies, how to deal with the ocean, should they try more experiments, etc. In the end, Kelvin and Rheya don't live happily ever after. Snow and Sartorius create some type of ray gun (not really a ray gun, but we'll pretend it was) that would disintegrated the visitors, and Rheya asks to be destroyed. She began to have emotional issues when she realized that they called her Rheya, she looked, talked and acted like Rheya, but she wasn't Rheya; yet Kelvin, though he knew she wasn't actually his dead wife, projected all all his hopes and dreams and guilt about her death onto the copy. The last paragraph of the novel has Kelvin soon going home, exploring the ocean for the first and last time. He hopes that there might be something out there for him and Rheya: "I persisted in the faith that the time of cruel miracles was not past."
I found myself occasionally getting lost in the mumbo jumbo of symmetriads, asymmetriads, mimoids, etc. or whatever the heck all that was, and the theories and treatises on Solaris that Kelvin keeps reading. But it really wasn't important to the overall plot of the novel, and reading information about Solaris and Stanislaw Lem leads me to believe that the author put it in there more as a spoof of science and science fiction as opposed to it actually meaning anything specific in the grand scheme of the novel. The point was to show that humans know nothing about this planet and its ocean, but that hasn't stopped them from filling libraries with theories on what they planet is up to.
The point of Solaris really is that we don't go into space looking to find new worlds, new creatures, etc. We just want to find another version of ourselves. Here is this ocean...that they have somehow figured out is sentient - alive. And it does all this stuff the humans studying it don't understand. So they write books...and books...and books...and books filled with theories about what it is doing, how and why. They continuously try to communicate with it on their own terms. Why is the ocean sending the astronauts replicas of people out of their past? There must be some reason...is it cruelty? Is it because the ocean thinks that that is what they want? WHAT IS THE MEANING? I think in the end of the novel, it is clear that there was no meaning. Somehow the ocean was able to tap into the mind of those people on the station and found these people there that they loved...so the ocean replicated it. It wasn't trying to be malicious, or nice, or whatever...it just was. And any continued search for a meaning, a purpose, for logical human-like communication was futile.
Most people who enjoy reading and watching movies usually have an opinion on which to do first: watch or read. Most people I know who do both prefer to read then watch. I am the opposite - I like to watch then read. My attempts at doing it the other way around usually fail in terms of my appreciation for the film...I simply lose interest. The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum and Carrie (based on Sister Carrie, not the Stephen King one) come to mind immediately: an hour into those movies I was doing other things. I'm not even sure I watched all of Carrie. This also happened with Paul Theroux's Mosquito Coast and Evelyn Waugh's Scoop - both books I generally liked, but when it came time to watch the movie, I was already over it. There are some film adaptations, however, that if I hadn't read the book, I wouldn't have had a clue what was going on. Of Human Bondage for example. That is also how I felt with Steven Soderbergh's 2002 adaption of Solaris starring George Clooney, which I watched at the novel's half-way point.
I remember seeing the trailer for this movie, which was pitched as being a sweeping love story by the producer of Titanic...Ghost in Space, if you will. I imagine that a person who went to see this Solaris based on that premise would be very disappointed, and probably confused. The background information that is presented in the novel, where it is clear that the ocean is creating these replicas, was essentially left out of the film and I would have been totally lost as to where Kelvin's dead wife came from without the information from the book. Sure, Lem does have a compelling love story in Solaris...Kelvin gets a second chance to make things right with Rheya, but in the movie it is presented as a real possibility that Kelvin could return to earth with her (and he intends to). In the book, though Kelvin and Rheya discuss the life they will have on earth when they return, they both know it isn't possible due to the instability of her physical makeup and also thanks to Earth's extraterrestrial immigration requirements. There is a futility, and hence a sadness about her return to Kelvin's life in that they know it is only temporary.
In response to Soderbergh's movie, Lem himself stated, "the book was not dedicated to erotic problems of people in outer space...I shall allow myself to repeat that I only wanted to create a vision of human encounter with something that certainly exists...but cannot be reduced to human concepts, images or ideas." He goes on to say something to the effect that had he intended Solaris to be a love story he would have called it Love in Outer Space instead. Maybe it should have been "Love in Outer Space, starring George Clooney's naked bum - twice!"
I titled this entry "...and One and a Half Movies" because there is an earlier Russian version of Solaris (1972), which I tried to watch tonight. I'll be honest - I feel asleep for about an hour in the middle of it, and then decided to finish Book #5 of Dance to the Music of Time. Had I actually watched the film, this post might have been called "...and Two Movies +" because the Russian version is almost 3 hours long. The actor who played Kelvin (Donatas Banionis) is no George Clooney, and if there is a shot of his posterior in this version, I'm glad I was either asleep/not paying attention. I will say that based on what I actually watched of it, it was closer to Lem's original than Soderberghs. I guess maybe I should have watched it before I read the book.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Falling Man
Falling Man by Don Delillo
This is how Don Delillo begins his 9/11 book, Falling Man. Wow. I was blown away (no pun intended, really) by the opening paragraphs of this novel. Two years ago, I had never heard of Delillo. But recently, it seems his name is everywhere, all over my "book folder"... Underworld, White Noise, Mao II, Libra, etc. I got so tired of hearing "Don Delillo," seeing "Don Delillo" that I just decided to pick up one of his books and read the damn thing. And so I picked up Falling Man. I open the book and I'm greeted by, "It was not a street anymore but a world, a time and space of falling ash and near night."
The prose was restrained and distant, reminiscient in some ways of Cormac McCarthy. I'm not sure if DeLillo's writing is always like this - for some reason I doubt it. In the beginning, it was poetic, beautiful. By the end it didn't have the same effect. I don't think it's because I got used to it...I don't know why I felt that way. Once it devolved into Keith's poker tornaments to recapture something he had before the attacks, I lost interest. The book is best when describing what Keith experiences during 9/11, and from there, it goes down hill. I wish DeLillo had further developed Justin and "The Siblings" searching the sky for "Bill Lawton." I felt that that was the creepiest part of the book...the attack's effects on the children and how they process it and come to terms with it.
A book like this naturally brings up the question, what were you doing that morning? I was asleep...dreaming of the wind blowing things around...I was trying get all my stuff together so it wouldn't blow away - everything blowing around. I woke up, got my applesauce and OJ for breakfast and turned on the television. It must have been right after the second plane hit the towers. Only one of my three roomates was home, Lateefah...the rest had left for classes without informing me that the f*cking world was coming down. Lateefah gets on the phone with her friends...she's on the phone yelling "We are under attack and you're worried about getting your hair done???? We are under attack!!!!" Albert aka Rebekah comes back from class, and I say, "Did you know about this?" She says, "yes." "Why didn't you wake me up?" I was so angry that no one had woken me up. I felt slightly like my grandfather who was in bed with TB when Pearl Harbor was bombed. I wish I could have asked him if he felt like he had missed something...if his inability to participate in a meanigful way frustrated him at all. That was how I felt - out of the loop. Didn't we all just want to get on a bus (not a plane) to NYC and do something? Falling Man brought all that back to me, which I had mostly forgotten about.
"It was not a street anymore but a world, a time and space of falling ash and near night. He was walking north through rubble and mud and there were people running past holding towels to their faces or jackets over their heads. They had handkerchiefs pressed to their mouths. They had shoes in their hands, a woman with a shoe in each hand, running past him. They ran and fell, some of them, confused and ungainly, with debris coming down around them, and there were people taking shelter under cars.
"The roar was still in the air, the buckling rumble of the fall. This was the world now. Smoke and ash came rolling down streets and turning corners, busting around corners, seismic tides of smoke, with office paper flashing past, standard sheets with cutting edge, skimming, whipping past, otherworldly things in the morning pall."
This is how Don Delillo begins his 9/11 book, Falling Man. Wow. I was blown away (no pun intended, really) by the opening paragraphs of this novel. Two years ago, I had never heard of Delillo. But recently, it seems his name is everywhere, all over my "book folder"... Underworld, White Noise, Mao II, Libra, etc. I got so tired of hearing "Don Delillo," seeing "Don Delillo" that I just decided to pick up one of his books and read the damn thing. And so I picked up Falling Man. I open the book and I'm greeted by, "It was not a street anymore but a world, a time and space of falling ash and near night."
The prose was restrained and distant, reminiscient in some ways of Cormac McCarthy. I'm not sure if DeLillo's writing is always like this - for some reason I doubt it. In the beginning, it was poetic, beautiful. By the end it didn't have the same effect. I don't think it's because I got used to it...I don't know why I felt that way. Once it devolved into Keith's poker tornaments to recapture something he had before the attacks, I lost interest. The book is best when describing what Keith experiences during 9/11, and from there, it goes down hill. I wish DeLillo had further developed Justin and "The Siblings" searching the sky for "Bill Lawton." I felt that that was the creepiest part of the book...the attack's effects on the children and how they process it and come to terms with it.
A book like this naturally brings up the question, what were you doing that morning? I was asleep...dreaming of the wind blowing things around...I was trying get all my stuff together so it wouldn't blow away - everything blowing around. I woke up, got my applesauce and OJ for breakfast and turned on the television. It must have been right after the second plane hit the towers. Only one of my three roomates was home, Lateefah...the rest had left for classes without informing me that the f*cking world was coming down. Lateefah gets on the phone with her friends...she's on the phone yelling "We are under attack and you're worried about getting your hair done???? We are under attack!!!!" Albert aka Rebekah comes back from class, and I say, "Did you know about this?" She says, "yes." "Why didn't you wake me up?" I was so angry that no one had woken me up. I felt slightly like my grandfather who was in bed with TB when Pearl Harbor was bombed. I wish I could have asked him if he felt like he had missed something...if his inability to participate in a meanigful way frustrated him at all. That was how I felt - out of the loop. Didn't we all just want to get on a bus (not a plane) to NYC and do something? Falling Man brought all that back to me, which I had mostly forgotten about.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Random Facts About Me
I thought I'd change things up a bit here, and give you some random non-book related facts about yours truly.
Music
-- Billie Holiday gets it. No matter what is happening in your life, she understands. Same with Nina Simone.
--I have two theme songs: "Runaway" by Del Shannon and “Desperado” by The Eagles. If I had a third, it would be “I Wanna Be Free” by the Monkees. Do you sense a theme here?
--My favorite music: The Raveonettes, Portishead, The Monkees, exotica music (like Martin Denny and Les Baxter), 1950s-early 1960s pop, and the Ultra Lounge series. If you ever pass someone in a little red Nissan blasting "Music to Be Murdered By" (the theme to Alfred Hitchcock Presents), it's probably me.
--My musical guilty pleasures include 80s pop, early Marilyn Manson, Def Leppard...among others.
--I occasionally enjoy driving to work listening to "Gay Spirits" by David Rose. There is something incredibly satisfying in commuting to space age pop music.
--My grandmother used to sing me the following songs: "Swingin' on a Star," "Shuffle Off to Buffalo" and "Mareseatoats and Doeseatoats". My mother used to sing me protest songs from the 1960s. I'm sure that this had an effect on my personality, though I'm not sure in what way.
--My childhood heroes include Cindy Lauper, Boy George, Michael Jackson (from his Thriller days), and Davy Jones. I think that this explains a lot.
TV/MOVIES
--My favorite TV show is Mad Men. I am in love with Donald Draper. Then again, who isn’t? My favorite tv show of all time is Just the Ten of Us.
--I own the book Hard Boiled: Great Lines from Classic Noir Films. I have made attempts to memorize these quotes and use them in conversation, but have never succeeded. I’m still waiting for the opportunity to say, “Bourbon straight with a bourbon chaser.”
--My favorite movies include The English Patient, House of Fools, Streetcar Named Desire, Some Like It Hot, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and O Brother Where Art Thou? The best movie I have ever seen is Miracle in the Rain. It has been my favorite movie since I watched it at my grandmother’s house 20 years ago, and it will always be my favorite. I have watched it countless times, and it still makes me ball uncontrollably.
--I have much love and respect for the films of Jean Luc Goddard, Ingmar Bergman, Alfred Hitchcock, and Mel Brooks. But no matter how much I try to like Woody Allen, I just can’t stand him. EXCEPT Midnight In Paris...one of the best movies I've ever seen.
--I will always watch certain movies when I see them on television. These include The Wizard of Oz, Jurassic Park, and Karate Kid.
--Though Zeppo was clearly the better looking one, I have a total crush on Groucho Marx. I suppose it's the old adage that humor really is the most important thing.
--I love love love Rocky Horror Picture Show.
--I also love classic animated disney movies. My favorite is Alice in Wonderland. I buy all the DVDs when they come out. It's really sad.
Food and Drink
--My favorite alcoholic drink is Red Death, mostly for literary reasons. My record is six in one night – well, it may have been more but I lost count. That did not turn out so well.
--I also enjoy Jameson on the rocks, and Old Fashioneds. No wussy drinks for me!
--My favorite beer is Elk Creek Copper Ale
--I hate most white wine. That statement is not meant to include champagne, which of course isn't technically white wine, but I wanted to be clear. I sometimes eat potato chips with champagne, a la The Seven Year Itch. I highly recommend it - both the movie and the potato chips.
--My favorite cuisine is Indian. This is followed by Moroccan, followed by Middle Eastern food. I am a huge fan of bastilla, falafel, and gulab jamun.
--My favorite Pennsylvania German eats include sauerkraut, chicken pot pie, chicken & waffles, shoe fly pie, and Montgomery pie. My family always made potato candy as well, but I don't know if that's Deitsch or not (no, I did not just mean Deutsch). I don't do scrapple though (or soupies).
--It would be impossible for me to describe something as tasting "too sweet." But potato candy gets close.
--Ketchup is my favorite condiment. I put it on macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes. My whole family does this. Though there is contention about the macaroni and cheese - do you put it off to the side, or on top? I'm with the side contingency. There really are arguments about this.
Growing Up
--One of my earliest memories is dancing around the living room to "Saturday's Child" by the Monkees. I thought that they had written it for me. I would not be who I am today without the Monkees.
--I have had a variety of nicknames throughout my life, including Smidget and Protoplasm. Don't ask.
--I was one of the fattest kids in 4th-7th grade. I weigh less now than I did when I was 10. I weighed less at 9 months pregnant than I did in 6th grade.
--When I was 12, I wanted to be a professor of comparative religion. I was already studying Buddhist and Hindu texts.
-- Growing up, I attended an evangelical/fundamentalist church. Rachel in the documentary Jesus Camp reminds me of how I was when I was a youngster. Very terrifying.
--My best friend from second grade on killed herself in 1997, when we were juniors in h.s. I still have the candle I was going to give her for xmas that year. My grandfather died 10 days later. I miss them both every day.
Places I’ve Been
--My favorite place in the world is a little bar in Pirates Alley, New Orleans next door to William Faulkner's old house. I drank absente there with two guys from Colorado that I met because I went to take picture of Faulkner's house (it's now a bookstore) and they invited me to sit with them and have a drink. That was a great night. We all went together to a little restaurant somewhere and ate alligator. Later on, I tried to get up the courage to ask a hot dog vendor on Bourbon Street if anyone ever called him Ignatius but I didn't. He looked a little scary.
--Though this may sound wimpy, I decided after my honeymoon in Quebec that I never want to travel to a non-English-speaking country, unless I am part of a tour group with a guide or with a native speaker, and maybe not even then. The feeling of isolation almost gave me a panic attack, even though I can speak/read French.
Deep Thoughts
--My favorite philosophers are Albert Camus, Jean Paul Sartre, and Friedrich Nietzsche. I was born an existentialist. I have at times (both in high school and in college existentialism units/classes) wondered if my teachers were stealing my journals and using them as class notes - Dr. Hales are you reading this?! Seriously, sometimes it was almost word for word.
--In the last few years, I have become very interested in the theories and writings of Joseph Campbell. Love him.
--In case you couldn't tell, I'm such a nerd, and I'm proud of it :-)
Music
-- Billie Holiday gets it. No matter what is happening in your life, she understands. Same with Nina Simone.
--I have two theme songs: "Runaway" by Del Shannon and “Desperado” by The Eagles. If I had a third, it would be “I Wanna Be Free” by the Monkees. Do you sense a theme here?
--My favorite music: The Raveonettes, Portishead, The Monkees, exotica music (like Martin Denny and Les Baxter), 1950s-early 1960s pop, and the Ultra Lounge series. If you ever pass someone in a little red Nissan blasting "Music to Be Murdered By" (the theme to Alfred Hitchcock Presents), it's probably me.
--My musical guilty pleasures include 80s pop, early Marilyn Manson, Def Leppard...among others.
--I occasionally enjoy driving to work listening to "Gay Spirits" by David Rose. There is something incredibly satisfying in commuting to space age pop music.
--My grandmother used to sing me the following songs: "Swingin' on a Star," "Shuffle Off to Buffalo" and "Mareseatoats and Doeseatoats". My mother used to sing me protest songs from the 1960s. I'm sure that this had an effect on my personality, though I'm not sure in what way.
--My childhood heroes include Cindy Lauper, Boy George, Michael Jackson (from his Thriller days), and Davy Jones. I think that this explains a lot.
TV/MOVIES
--My favorite TV show is Mad Men. I am in love with Donald Draper. Then again, who isn’t? My favorite tv show of all time is Just the Ten of Us.
--I own the book Hard Boiled: Great Lines from Classic Noir Films. I have made attempts to memorize these quotes and use them in conversation, but have never succeeded. I’m still waiting for the opportunity to say, “Bourbon straight with a bourbon chaser.”
--My favorite movies include The English Patient, House of Fools, Streetcar Named Desire, Some Like It Hot, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and O Brother Where Art Thou? The best movie I have ever seen is Miracle in the Rain. It has been my favorite movie since I watched it at my grandmother’s house 20 years ago, and it will always be my favorite. I have watched it countless times, and it still makes me ball uncontrollably.
--I have much love and respect for the films of Jean Luc Goddard, Ingmar Bergman, Alfred Hitchcock, and Mel Brooks. But no matter how much I try to like Woody Allen, I just can’t stand him. EXCEPT Midnight In Paris...one of the best movies I've ever seen.
--I will always watch certain movies when I see them on television. These include The Wizard of Oz, Jurassic Park, and Karate Kid.
--Though Zeppo was clearly the better looking one, I have a total crush on Groucho Marx. I suppose it's the old adage that humor really is the most important thing.
--I love love love Rocky Horror Picture Show.
--I also love classic animated disney movies. My favorite is Alice in Wonderland. I buy all the DVDs when they come out. It's really sad.
Food and Drink
--My favorite alcoholic drink is Red Death, mostly for literary reasons. My record is six in one night – well, it may have been more but I lost count. That did not turn out so well.
--I also enjoy Jameson on the rocks, and Old Fashioneds. No wussy drinks for me!
--My favorite beer is Elk Creek Copper Ale
--I hate most white wine. That statement is not meant to include champagne, which of course isn't technically white wine, but I wanted to be clear. I sometimes eat potato chips with champagne, a la The Seven Year Itch. I highly recommend it - both the movie and the potato chips.
--My favorite cuisine is Indian. This is followed by Moroccan, followed by Middle Eastern food. I am a huge fan of bastilla, falafel, and gulab jamun.
--My favorite Pennsylvania German eats include sauerkraut, chicken pot pie, chicken & waffles, shoe fly pie, and Montgomery pie. My family always made potato candy as well, but I don't know if that's Deitsch or not (no, I did not just mean Deutsch). I don't do scrapple though (or soupies).
--It would be impossible for me to describe something as tasting "too sweet." But potato candy gets close.
--Ketchup is my favorite condiment. I put it on macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes. My whole family does this. Though there is contention about the macaroni and cheese - do you put it off to the side, or on top? I'm with the side contingency. There really are arguments about this.
Growing Up
--One of my earliest memories is dancing around the living room to "Saturday's Child" by the Monkees. I thought that they had written it for me. I would not be who I am today without the Monkees.
--I have had a variety of nicknames throughout my life, including Smidget and Protoplasm. Don't ask.
--I was one of the fattest kids in 4th-7th grade. I weigh less now than I did when I was 10. I weighed less at 9 months pregnant than I did in 6th grade.
--When I was 12, I wanted to be a professor of comparative religion. I was already studying Buddhist and Hindu texts.
-- Growing up, I attended an evangelical/fundamentalist church. Rachel in the documentary Jesus Camp reminds me of how I was when I was a youngster. Very terrifying.
--My best friend from second grade on killed herself in 1997, when we were juniors in h.s. I still have the candle I was going to give her for xmas that year. My grandfather died 10 days later. I miss them both every day.
Places I’ve Been
--My favorite place in the world is a little bar in Pirates Alley, New Orleans next door to William Faulkner's old house. I drank absente there with two guys from Colorado that I met because I went to take picture of Faulkner's house (it's now a bookstore) and they invited me to sit with them and have a drink. That was a great night. We all went together to a little restaurant somewhere and ate alligator. Later on, I tried to get up the courage to ask a hot dog vendor on Bourbon Street if anyone ever called him Ignatius but I didn't. He looked a little scary.
--Though this may sound wimpy, I decided after my honeymoon in Quebec that I never want to travel to a non-English-speaking country, unless I am part of a tour group with a guide or with a native speaker, and maybe not even then. The feeling of isolation almost gave me a panic attack, even though I can speak/read French.
Deep Thoughts
--My favorite philosophers are Albert Camus, Jean Paul Sartre, and Friedrich Nietzsche. I was born an existentialist. I have at times (both in high school and in college existentialism units/classes) wondered if my teachers were stealing my journals and using them as class notes - Dr. Hales are you reading this?! Seriously, sometimes it was almost word for word.
--In the last few years, I have become very interested in the theories and writings of Joseph Campbell. Love him.
--In case you couldn't tell, I'm such a nerd, and I'm proud of it :-)
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Water for Elephants
Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen - "Primary Color Prose"The week that I was to graduate from high school, the circus came to town. They ran an ad in the newspaper saying that anyone who wanted to join the circus should be at a certain place that Friday (I was to graduate on Saturday). I have always been subject to a wanderlust - a restlessness about my life and its conventional trajectory. I had my summer job lined up, I was going to college in the fall, etc. - all things I was not particularly excited about. But the circus...now that was a place for me! In my romantically inclined imagination, I envisioned myself showing up that Friday at the designated spot, suitcase in hand, ready to hop on the train. I don't know if there actually was a train, or if they were actually going to leave that day, but so it went in my mind. But my mother would not let me go. I'm sure that my interest in joining the circus was only half-hearted - a way out as opposed to a desire to be in the circus - because if I had really wanted to do it, I would have regardless. But I didn't. I often think back to that decision not to bother, and wonder what course my life might have taken if I had shown up with my suitcase. It's like tootsie pops...the world will never know.
Besides seriously, but briefly, considering it as a career move, I have always been fascinated by the circus. I almost took a clown class when I was middle school (which was canceled since I was the only person who signed up), and I love the 1932 movie Freaks ("We accept her! One of Us! We accept her!"). So I was all excited about a circus story. But Water for Elephants was disappointing.
The writing was so-so. It wasn't so terrible that is was distracting (like Suite Francaise), but it wasn't fabulous either. There was something about the dialog in particular that didn't seem right, like Gruen was unable to capture something inherent in conversation...what exactly it was I couldn't say. Like dialog in a movie or drama in which the actors can't act...it's forced or unnatural. I wanted to be moved by this book, and there where moments where I felt like I could almost cry...I was to that point of emotional involvement, and then...let down. The point would be dropped, or undeveloped, or the dialog would get in the way. Damn, almost had me there. And there were themes that could have been developed further, backgrounds better explained, which would have given more depth to the characters. For example, what was the deal with Camel and his family? It was mentioned that it had something to do with his soldiering in WWI, but what exactly happened?
And Walter... I really wanted to hear about Walter's experience as a dwarf during those times, and at the circus. A cousin of mine, Faye, was also a dwarf during the depression, and the circus had tried to buy her too, but her parents wouldn't sell her. Her life would have been Walter's life. I never got a chance to talk to her about her experience during those times (she died earlier this year), and I felt that Gruen had a chance to tell a little bit of that story in Water for Elephants (and the stories of the other performers and workers) but she simply left it out. I mean, come on - Walter, Camel and Jacob are in that car for how many countless hours and it's never discussed?)...this was to the detriment of my ability to relate to or be invested in the characters.
One point of the novel really annoyed me. August, the "equestrian director" is subject to bouts of extreme violence, cruelty and jealousy. Rather than just accepting this as part of his personality, or that he is an abusive person, end of story, Gruen feels the need to characterize him, explicitly, as a paranoid schizophrenic. However, I don't believe an unmedicated schizophrenic could have functioned in August's capacity. Perhaps there is a case to be made that he had dissociative identity disorder (aka multiple personalities) or was even bipolar, but not schizophrenia. It seems clear that he must have been diagnosed as such (pg 265), and if he was, I doubt he would have continued in his important capacity at the circus - it wouldn't have been simply 'worked around,' he would have been institutionalized...this is besides the fact that Marlena describes August as being "glamorous in the way only an equestrian director can be." (pg 222) Really? I never imagined equestrian directors as glamorous...but maybe I've never met the right one?
There seems to be some controversy on the internet regarding whether it was Marlena who killed August instead of Rosie. I don't understand where this comes from. On page 326, Jacob states the following: "I was never entirely sure whether Marlena knew - there was so much going on in the menagerie at that moment, that I have no idea what she saw...Rosie may have been the one who killed August, but I also wanted him dead." What could be more obvious?
New York Times reviewer Elizabeth Judd characterizes Water for Elephants in the following way:
"Gruen's prose is merely serviceable, and she hurtles through cataclysmic events, overstuffing her whiplash narrative with drama (there's an animal stampede, two murders and countless fights). She also asserts a grand passion between Jacob and Marlena that's never convincingly demonstrated."
Cleveland Plain Dealer reviewer, Karen Long wrote that Gruen batters readers "with barely serviceable, primary-color prose, full of sobbing, shrieking, fighting, boozing and whoring that comes off at the clip of an exaggerated Saturday-morning cartoon." While there has been a lot of enthusiasm and praise for this book, I tend to agree with Judd and Long on this one. It just wasn't that great.
I know that what books any individual likes is extremely subjective, and I shouldn't be judgemental of someone who really likes a book that I don't. But at some point in art (and literature, like music and film, is a form of art, or can be a form of art), there has to be an objective standard. For example, can one compare the works of Michelangelo, Picasso, Monet, etc. with the works of Marcel Duchamp or Cy Twombly? Yes - and the first group is infinitely better than the second - end of argument. I don't try to be snobbish about it, but seriously, there are some books that are - not even considering the plot - simply written better than others. On this point, another internet reviewer said that Water for Elephants is one of the best books that s/he has read in the last decade, second only to Marilynne Robinson's Gilead. Now, I have not read Gilead, but if Water for Elephants is the second best book that you have read in ten years, wow. What the hell else are your reading? Seriously, send me a list, because I don't want to read those books.
P.S. (10/21/08)
Water for Elephants is totally ripping off Sophie's Choice.
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