Snapshots: Margaret Atwood’s Moral Disorder

I just finished a Margaret Atwood reading spree and felt the need to share. I recently read three Atwood books: probably her most famous book, the dystopian satire (not a funny satire, but the so-biting-it-makes-you-cringe kind) The Handmaid’s Tale, The Penelopiad, a reworking of Homer’s Odyssey from the perspective of the ghosts of Penelope and her twelve murdered handmaids, and the short-story collection Moral Disorder. While all three of the books were well worth reading, surprisingly, it’s Moral Disorder that stuck to my ribs the way a really satisfying book does sometimes. Though it didn’t unseat The Blind Assassin, one of my all-time favorite contemporary novels, as my favorite work of Atwood’s books that I’ve read so far, I found Moral Disorder an engrossing, emotional, and vivid read, and Atwood plays with unique story structures here as she did so successfully and intriguingly in The Blind Assassin. Even though the book is technically a short story collection, it’s really a hybrid of a short story collection and a novel. All the stories deal with the same main character, Nell, and relate scenes and anecdotes from Nell’s childhood, years of wandering, affair with a married man, marriage, and life with her aging parents in not-quite chronological order.

Most short story collections are designed so readers can jump around and read the stories in any order, but Atwood’s collection is really one that needs to be read from start to finish to feel the full effect. The only drawback to the unique structure of this collection is that it’s hard for me to separate out the different plot threads clearly enough in my mind to pick out favorite stories. “The Bad News,” the first story in the book but probably one of the last chronologically, was a highlight because of its honest depiction of an aging couple who’ve lived together for a long time, who love each other but can still be annoyed or disheartened by the other’s tics and habits. Because of its out-of-chronology position in the book, it also colors the later stories about Nell’s relationships with men, since you learn who Nell ends up with in the end right here at the start. The titular short story, “Moral Disorder,” is another gem, in which Nell and her married lover move to a farm and try (and generally fail) to raise various livestock, with each often bloody failure resonating with Nell’s insecurities at being the ‘other woman.’ “The Entities” features my favorite character in the book, plucky real estate agent and Holocaust-survivor Lillie, who helps Nell find a way to deal with her husband’s first wife. I think my favorite of all, though, is the last story in the collection, “The Boys at the Lab,” which weaves several layers of the past together with the present through the power of storytelling as Nell sits beside her invalid mother’s bedside.

Brief plot summaries don’t do these stories justice, though; what makes them wonderful is how Atwood infuses pathos, humor, and achingly real details into these stories of life in the everyday world. Though I would highly recommend any of Atwood’s books that I’ve read, I really think Moral Disorder deserves an extra bit of praise. Even if you don’t usually read short story collections, give this one a try; you might be pleasantly surprised by it, as I was.

A Little Too Much Sweet Madness: The Eyre Affair

I really wanted to love this book. I really did. The premise is so wacky and wonderful that I wish I’d thought of it myself. In Jasper Fforde’s alternate-universe version of 1980s England, in addition to cloning extinct animals as pets (dodos are a favorite) and traveling in dirigibles (with the cost of gas lately, maybe hydrogen-powered air travel wouldn’t be such a bad idea), people take literature very, very seriously. The Shakespeare authorship question is nearly as hot a topic as politics and religion, with Baconians pleading their case door-to-door in a manner reminiscent of political campaigners or Jehovah’s Witnesses. There are gang wars over impressionism. Books are so highly valued that a vast black market in poetic forgeries has sprung up, and the problem is so great that an entire Special Ops unit, the LiteraTecs, is dedicated to cracking down on literature-related crimes. Britain may be ruled by a totalitarian puppet-government controlled by the shady mega-conglomerate, the Goliath Corporation, but people care so much about literature in Fforde’s England that I think I’d still love to live there. Give me a ticket for the next dirigible to Swindon!

From early on, The Eyre Affair promises to follow the literary hijinks of Thursday Next, a literary detective who’s tracking Acheron Hades, the third most-wanted criminal in the world whose current plot involves kidnapping and then ransoming or murdering beloved characters from English literature (Hades is so evil that he doesn’t much care which he ends up doing). Oh yeah, did I mention that people from Fforde’s “real” England can physically enter fictional narratives? Various characters literally lose themselves in good books with the help of the Prose Portal, the invention of Thursday’s eccentric Uncle Mycroft. As I mentioned earlier, this premise is so unique and clever that it could offset a lot of imperfections. At the same time, though, the premise is so great that I feel like it deserved to be executed better than it was in The Eyre Affair. I had two major problems with this novel: the book’s pacing, within the overall structure of the novel and within individual scenes, and the author’s shying away from really capitalizing on the fun and havoc that entering into the world of a beloved novel could create.

I often felt while reading The Eyre Affair that the inventiveness that allowed Fforde to create such an incredibly bizarre, quirky fictional world was also his greatest stumbling block. The Eyre Affair is full of great oddities and details, but sometimes it gets so full of details that the novel feels overcrowded. For example, Thursday is a Crimean War veteran (yes, the Crimean War went a little differently in Fforde’s world than it did in ours), and several subplots intersect with Thursday’s military service, including an important one involving a Big Brother-esque military-industrial complex called the Goliath Corporation. However, additional Crimean complications concerning Thursday’s ex, Landen Park-Laine, and especially her former commanding officer, the blustery but rather unentertaining Colonel Phelps, make it feel like too much burden is being placed on a story that’s really tangential to the main mystery and chase after Hades. The shuffling around of the pieces of Thursday’s life after the sleuth’s explosive initial meeting with supervillain Hades really slows the book down, and though lots of the small, everyday scenes that occur during this phase of the novel are interesting, they’re not quite interesting enough to merit the inclusion of all of them.

This same problem happens within scenes as well. For instance, in the scene in which the brilliant, crazy Uncle Mycroft introduces Thursday to two of his inventions that will be vital to the rest of the novel, the Prose Portal and the Book Worms, he also shows Thursday nearly a dozen other invention, which, although they all carry their own punch lines, never reappear in any significant role in the novel. Picking one or two of these humorous inventions to describe along with the two important ones would have served Fforde’s purposes just as well and I think probably would have made the remaining jokes even funnier. This scene and others really demonstrate an embarrassment of riches; Fforde easily could have saved many of these delightful details for later books so each detail gets its turn to really shine.

The Eyre Affair’s other major shortcoming is its handling of characters traveling into other books. The premise of sending Fforde’s colorful characters to wreak havoc in classic literature is so wonderful that I really wanted to spend some time with Thursday and the others in these books. However, after two very brief intersections between Thursday and gothic heartthrob Edward Fairfax Rochester, it takes forever to get Thursday back into Jane Eyre. Once Thursday does make it to Bronte’s windswept moors, even though it’s vital that Thursday avoid interacting too much with Jane Eyre herself and risk changing the narrative too much (although she does end up having an impact on the novel’s conclusion), Fforde wastes an opportunity for the great fun of Thursday at least mingling with some of Jane Eyre’s minor characters by kicking her out of Thornfield and having her stay at a nearby inn. Also–and this is probably the one flaw I absolutely cannot forgive–though Fforde’s take on Jane feels true to the spirit of the character in Bronte’s book, his Rochester is unforgivably bland for my tastes. He’s a bit too much like Thursday’s beau Landen (I think that might be the point): the perfect romantic hero with just a touch of sadness instead of the loving, complex, good at heart but still deeply screwed up and damaged character that Bronte crafted so brilliantly.

All in all, I’d only recommend this book to hardcore bibliophiles, especially if you like sci-fi, sleuthing, and Shakespeare (and really, who doesn’t?). The premise has great potential, and the author has an incredible imagination; I just wish the finished product had been edited more tightly. I saw on Amazon.com that The Eyre Affair was only the first novel in a series of Thursday Next books, so I may have to check out one of the sequels to see if Fforde improves his pacing while maintaining his creativity and wit.

Adventure Movie Survival Tip #1: Never Go Back for the Treasure

(Minor spoilers for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull)

A couple weeks ago, I took a rare trip to the first-run theatre (I love movies, but I don’t love shelling out $6 for a matinee ticket, not to mention 80 miles worth of gasoline for the round-trip to the theatre) to see Harrison Ford don his signature fedora again in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I think Roger Ebert sums up the film very adeptly: “I can say that if you liked the other Indiana Jones movies, you will like this one, and that if you did not, there is no talking to you.” I thoroughly enjoyed this latest installment in the Indiana Jones series, not because it reinvents the franchise–because it doesn’t–but because the film does what I’ve come to expect and love of an Indiana Jones movie and does it very well.

I was sad that the loveable, clueless scholar Marcus Brody and Indy’s dad, Henry Jones, Sr., had died in the period of the story that elapsed between Last Crusade and Crystal Skull, but I was thrilled to see my favorite Jones girl, Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen) was back, and to my surprise, I actually liked the addition of the motorcycle-riding greaser sidekick, “Mutt” Williams (Shia LeBouef). The movie is set during the Red Scare, with Indy alternating between being kidnapped and being pursued by a gang of Soviet agents headed by Cate Blanchett, who sports a wicked black bob and wields a rapier, making her formidable and eccentric enough to hold her ground as a villainess against the Nazis in Raiders and Last Crusade. The opening sequence was quite...explosive, I think is the only thing I can say without giving too much away, but my favorite action sequence is a duel-chase-hang-on-for-dear-life combo in the middle of the film that’s a cross between The Three Musketeers, Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, and The African Queen.

As we’ve come to expect from Indiana Jones movies, there are plenty of arcane riddles, tense standoffs, occult secrets, crypts, creepy-crawlers and even creepier people guarding special places, a very funny obligatory “I hate snakes” scene, and people lusting after more power than they should. What makes these standard elements of the story so much fun and makes the movie such a great ride is the exuberance and genuine affection for these tropes that everyone puts into each scene. My mom commented that a lot more of Indy’s stunts were done with his back to the camera, but Harrison Ford still looks great, and more importantly, looks like he’s really enjoying himself. My only complaint is that it was painfully obvious who would die and who wouldn’t. Granted, it generally is in Indy movies, but once you learn who everybody in Indy’s rag-tag band of followers is, it’s clear who’s marked for death and who’s completely safe, and there isn’t any real individual peril as there was when Indy got separated from Marion in Raiders or when Henry was shot in Last Crusade.

However, that’s a very minor cavil. Overall, the film was a fun flick that makes you want to cheer out loud for the good guys and left me with a smile that lasted long after I left the theater. It’s hard to explain without giving too much away, but the ending is a little different than other Indy movies. A friend found it a bit cheesy, but I thought it was quite sweet and hints at what direction the franchise might be taking in the future. In closing, I recommend taking Roger Ebert’s advice: if you liked any of the previous Indy movies, buy your ticket and popcorn and settle in for a rollicking ride of a movie.

Quote from Ebert, Roger. "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (Review)." May 18, 2008. http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080518/REVIEWS/969461084.

100 Years, 100 Films...But Hoping It Doesn’t Take Me Another 100 Years to Watch Them All

I love watching the American Film Institute’s annual “100 Years, 100 Films” specials. Ever since I first saw Gregory Peck and Ingrid Bergman in Alfred Hitchock’s Spellbound when I was about ten, I’ve had a passion for classic films. Snuggling up on the couch with a bag of popcorn and a good old black-and-white movie on TV is my idea of a perfect evening, and I’ve spent many happy hours with Bogie and Bacall, Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, James Stewart, Clark Gable, Audrey Hepburn, and so many more of the greats. Even with all the hours I’d logged with the classics, though, I still didn’t feel truly cinema literate. How can I call myself a cinema buff if I haven’t seen the whole of Lawrence of Arabia? If I only remember snatches of John Ford’s great Westerns from watching the last half-hour of each on TV with my grandfather every day after school? If I fast-forwarded through the light show in the Star Gate sequence of 2001: A Space Odyssey? If I haven’t given myself the chance to get to know Buster Keaton, Bette Davis, and Sir Laurence Olivier as well as I know Jack Nicholson, Meryl Streep, and Sir Alec Guinness?

I decided I needed a plan, some means of determining which films are vital to my cinema education and to track my progress. That’s when I got the idea of challenging myself to watch all 100 of the movies on the AFI’s Top Films of All Time list (the 1998 version; they put out a revised list in 2008, but I’m sticking with the original for now). The AFI list is great because the films are selected based not only on their greatness as works of art but also on their lasting influence on American cinema and American culture as a whole. Most of these films have become a part of the American consciousness; for example, even if you (like me) have never seen The Godfather or On the Waterfront, you still probably know “Leave the gun, take the cannoli” and “I coulda been a contender.” I’ve seen portions of almost every film on the list, but I stipulated to myself as a part of the plan that I can’t check off a movie unless I’ve seen it from start to finish, in order (pausing is permissible, but not fast-forwarding or missing ten minutes to feed the cat or the like). I also have to have seen it recently enough that I can recall a significant amount of the plot–hence why E.T. is on my “yet to see” list, though I loved it as a kid. I’ve made decent headway–I’ve seen 40 to 45 of the 100 films so far–but I’ve still got a long way to go. I’ll definitely post my reactions to the films I watch as I check them off the list, and I hope to write about some of my favorites that I’ve already seen once (or twice..or a dozen times before–the list of “yet-to-see” movies is shrinking so slowly is because I re-visit my old favorites so often).

A Cucumber by Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet

What’s in a name? My blog title and nom de plume are somewhat unusual, but they both do have meaning and at least a little bit of a story behind them. The title, of course, is a take on the phrase “once in a blue moon,” which means once in a very great while. For all you trivia buffs out there, the occurrence of a blue moon has absolutely nothing to do with the moon’s apparent color. The term refers to those rare occasions when there are two full moons in one month; the second full moon of the month is the blue moon. If you’re curious about when the next blue moon is due, this website has pretty much everything you could ever want to know about blue moons. As for why I chose this for the name of my blog, sadly, it’s a descriptor of the frequency with which I’ll probably post once my first term of law school starts up in the fall. Until then, though, I’ll try to post a bit more regularly–maybe four or five times in a blue moon.

In the few other online locales where I use “Kappa” as my screen name, everyone (understandably) automatically assumes that I’ve named myself after the Greek letter. (I always fear that these people then assume I belonged to a sorority in college. Nothing against sororities, but–yikes, so not me.) In fact, the Greek alphabet connection didn’t even occur to me when I selected “Kappa” as an online identity. In reality, I named myself after a favorite sushi. “Kappamaki” is cucumber sushi. One day, I was trying to think up a screen name that incorporated the first letter of my real-life name, but then my stomach growled and sidetracked my mind to visions of bento boxes. Luckily, my mind wandered in a useful direction, hit on kappamaki, and voila, I had a name.

I had originally assumed that if “kappamaki” meant cucumber sushi, “kappa” must be Japanese for “cucumber,” but I soon discovered that the association isn’t that simple. My beloved sushi is called kappamaki in honor of kappa, who are polite but dangerous water demons in Japanese folklore. Their powers derive from the water they hold in the bowl-like indentations in their craniums, but humans regularly defeat kappa by bowing to them; kappa always courteously bow in return, tipping all the water out of their head-bowls. Kappa are notorious for eating small children who wander into their ponds, but given the choice, they prefer munching on cucumbers. So, though calling myself “Kappa” inadvertently suggests that I’m a sorority sister who eats little kids, in reality, my name is just meant to signify that I really like cucumbers. Honest.

I’m Nobody. Who are you? Are you Nobody, too?

Hello, and welcome to my blog. I’m Kappa, and when I say I’m “nobody” (and, of course, quote Emily Dickinson), I don’t mean that in the “I’m an insignificant little worm with lots of angst and no self-esteem” way; I am quite comfortable with who I am, thank you very much, and I outgrew my love of wallowing in angst in the real world back during my teenage years. (Life is so much more pleasant and enjoyable when one leaves angst to characters in novels and movies, I’ve discovered.) I’m a nobody in the sense that don’t have any special authority or qualifications to legitimize my opinions besides a newly-minted B.A. in English (I’m thinking of hanging it in my bathroom), yet I still have opinions and ideas zinging around inside my head that I’d love to share. I was attracted to the concept of blogging because it’s a platform that allows people to disseminate their views without requiring outside authorities to deem the writers to be “somebodies” worthy of the public’s attention. The reader and the writer have all the power in a blogging relationship. If you, dear Reader, find me interesting or entertaining, you’ll read on; if not, then I still get to experience the joy of writing, of getting those ideas to stop whizzing around inside my skull, by typing them out so I can make room for new ideas.

As for what you’ll see here if you stick around, that’s another of the beauties of blogging: I can take my blog in any direction that strikes my fancy. Right now, I’m planning on mainly writing commentaries or reviews of books, movies, and the occasional TV show. My tastes are very...eclectic, I suppose would be the best word, so expect that I’ll cover texts from a wide variety of genres, from art house flicks to blockbuster popcorn films, from westerns to sci-fi to historical dramas to classics. That means if one of my selections isn’t something that floats your boat, just hang in there for a little while, and I’ll likely post on something completely different and perhaps more to your liking or interest. Even so, I really hope that posting on a wide variety of books and movies might inspire you to try out great pieces in genres you might normally avoid. I’m a firm believer in the philosophy that a good story is a good story, no matter what genre label is attached to it, and I’ve found that almost every genre has a few real gems that simultaneously define and transcend their genre classifications.

Well, if you’re still reading, I thank you very much for spending your time in my little corner of the Internet, and I hope you’ll enjoy what’s to come. Welcome, and have fun!