Harp
I'll Lock Up
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Culled a Muriel Spark article off The New Criterion the other day. Love her; Brodie, book n' flick.
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What Are You Reading
- Thread starter Lancealot
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Culled a Muriel Spark article off The New Criterion the other day. Love her; Brodie, book n' flick.
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"When Ladies Meet" by Rachel Crothers
This 1932 play was (quickly) turned into a 1933 movie and, then again, into one in 1941 - both big-budget MGM affairs. Having seen both movies and thinking the '33 version is meaningfully better, I was motivated to go back to the original source material to see what sparked two movies in such a tight timeline (however, the real answer wasn't to be found in the play itself, but in its success on Broadway which provided a built-in audience for both movies in an era when old movies didn't play endlessly on TV).
For those not familiar with either movie, the story is set in present day ('32) NYC amidst the wealthy set (there's no Depression in this yacht, townhouse, V12 automobile, tuxedos-for-dinner world) with the crux of the story being the moral conundrum an unmarried successful female novelist faces over the affair she is having with her married publisher.
The angst-and-propriety debate is amped up by the novelist's circle of friends - a young man with a crush on her determined to break up the affair and an encouraging older female friend who traffics in the same "not-quite-proper" style of love - and the fact that the novelist's new book is a roman a clef of her affair.
It all comes to a head in the final act (it's a play after all) when, by contrivance of the young man, the novelist and her publisher's wife meet without knowing who the other is (only in fiction, but it kinda works) and end up discussing the moral implications of her new book (basically, the publisher's wife and his mistress meet without knowing who the other woman is and discuss the morality of a single woman having and affair with a married man).
I don't love reading plays - even really good ones - as something about the set directions, the formatting of seeing the name of the speaker in front of the character's words and it all being dialogue throws off my reading gyroscope or something as I typically feel a bit disengaged with a play versus a novel. That said, (on my best days) I'm an adult, so I soldiered on and can report it's an enjoyable quick read.
And, as to it being the original source material: the two movies follow the play in word and deed so closely you can watch either movie or read the novel to get most of the experience. That said, of the three options, I enjoyed the '33 movie the most as the acting was superior to the '41 version and it didn't have the aforementioned awkwardness that I get reading plays.
This 1932 play was (quickly) turned into a 1933 movie and, then again, into one in 1941 - both big-budget MGM affairs. Having seen both movies and thinking the '33 version is meaningfully better, I was motivated to go back to the original source material to see what sparked two movies in such a tight timeline (however, the real answer wasn't to be found in the play itself, but in its success on Broadway which provided a built-in audience for both movies in an era when old movies didn't play endlessly on TV).
For those not familiar with either movie, the story is set in present day ('32) NYC amidst the wealthy set (there's no Depression in this yacht, townhouse, V12 automobile, tuxedos-for-dinner world) with the crux of the story being the moral conundrum an unmarried successful female novelist faces over the affair she is having with her married publisher.
The angst-and-propriety debate is amped up by the novelist's circle of friends - a young man with a crush on her determined to break up the affair and an encouraging older female friend who traffics in the same "not-quite-proper" style of love - and the fact that the novelist's new book is a roman a clef of her affair.
It all comes to a head in the final act (it's a play after all) when, by contrivance of the young man, the novelist and her publisher's wife meet without knowing who the other is (only in fiction, but it kinda works) and end up discussing the moral implications of her new book (basically, the publisher's wife and his mistress meet without knowing who the other woman is and discuss the morality of a single woman having and affair with a married man).
I don't love reading plays - even really good ones - as something about the set directions, the formatting of seeing the name of the speaker in front of the character's words and it all being dialogue throws off my reading gyroscope or something as I typically feel a bit disengaged with a play versus a novel. That said, (on my best days) I'm an adult, so I soldiered on and can report it's an enjoyable quick read.
And, as to it being the original source material: the two movies follow the play in word and deed so closely you can watch either movie or read the novel to get most of the experience. That said, of the three options, I enjoyed the '33 movie the most as the acting was superior to the '41 version and it didn't have the aforementioned awkwardness that I get reading plays.
LizzieMaine
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"The Sad Sack," a 1944 collection of cartoons by Sgt. George Baker, as originally published in Yank magazine.
Bill Mauldin's Willie and Joe have gone down in history as the definitive cartoon representations of the World War II soldier -- but during the war itself, The Sad Sack was far more popular with the actual GIs as the eternal symbol of the common buck private ground hopelessly between the teeth of the military establishment. Baker was a former Disney staffer who, once in the Army, became thoroughly disgusted by the gleaming, rockjawed two-fisted he-man soldiers depicted in OWI propaganda, in movies, and worst of all in commercial advertising. That wasn't the Army he knew -- and those weren't the soldiers he knew. He devised the Sack (as in "sad sack of sh*t") as his rebuttal to those images -- depicting the typical Army draftee as a potato-nosed, pot-bellied, bow-legged, splay-footed schlemiel, treated as cannon fodder by his officers, persecuted by his noncoms -- usually depicted as hulking, fanged monstrosities -- and buffeted by forces entirely beyond his comprehension as he tries to keep his head down, his mouth shut, and himself out of trouble.
The Sack never speaks, nor does, for the most part, anyone else in the strip. Everything is carried thru expressive, vivid pantomime, and Baker reveals himself as one of the great masters of the silent cartoon. You could call the Sack a Chaplinesque figure in the way he represents the little man against the world, but he lacks the Tramp's pretentions to gentlemanliness. The Sack has no pretentions at all -- he just wants to be left alone. He doesn't really understand why there's a war, he doesn't hold any malice toward anyone, he just tries to do what he's told despite the fact that the rules of his existance keep changing, and never in his favor. When VE Day finally comes and he daydreams of finally returning to an idyllic civilian life, he doesn't notice the sergeant about to hand him orders sending him to the Pacific. Such was the life of the Sad, Sad Sack.
The Sack enjoyed a long post-WWII life in newspaper syndication -- where his civilian life turned out to be a cruel parallel to his military life, with hateful bosses and mean neighbors replacing his Army oppressors -- and in comic books, where he returned to the Army and spent decades in a Beetle Baileyesque hellscape where, to the detriment of the strip and the character, it was decided to have him talk. But his true metier was the WWII Army, and you'll find the whole sad, silent story of his service in this volume. A fine antidote to the stereotype of the glorious, glamorous Hollywood GI.
Bill Mauldin's Willie and Joe have gone down in history as the definitive cartoon representations of the World War II soldier -- but during the war itself, The Sad Sack was far more popular with the actual GIs as the eternal symbol of the common buck private ground hopelessly between the teeth of the military establishment. Baker was a former Disney staffer who, once in the Army, became thoroughly disgusted by the gleaming, rockjawed two-fisted he-man soldiers depicted in OWI propaganda, in movies, and worst of all in commercial advertising. That wasn't the Army he knew -- and those weren't the soldiers he knew. He devised the Sack (as in "sad sack of sh*t") as his rebuttal to those images -- depicting the typical Army draftee as a potato-nosed, pot-bellied, bow-legged, splay-footed schlemiel, treated as cannon fodder by his officers, persecuted by his noncoms -- usually depicted as hulking, fanged monstrosities -- and buffeted by forces entirely beyond his comprehension as he tries to keep his head down, his mouth shut, and himself out of trouble.
The Sack never speaks, nor does, for the most part, anyone else in the strip. Everything is carried thru expressive, vivid pantomime, and Baker reveals himself as one of the great masters of the silent cartoon. You could call the Sack a Chaplinesque figure in the way he represents the little man against the world, but he lacks the Tramp's pretentions to gentlemanliness. The Sack has no pretentions at all -- he just wants to be left alone. He doesn't really understand why there's a war, he doesn't hold any malice toward anyone, he just tries to do what he's told despite the fact that the rules of his existance keep changing, and never in his favor. When VE Day finally comes and he daydreams of finally returning to an idyllic civilian life, he doesn't notice the sergeant about to hand him orders sending him to the Pacific. Such was the life of the Sad, Sad Sack.
The Sack enjoyed a long post-WWII life in newspaper syndication -- where his civilian life turned out to be a cruel parallel to his military life, with hateful bosses and mean neighbors replacing his Army oppressors -- and in comic books, where he returned to the Army and spent decades in a Beetle Baileyesque hellscape where, to the detriment of the strip and the character, it was decided to have him talk. But his true metier was the WWII Army, and you'll find the whole sad, silent story of his service in this volume. A fine antidote to the stereotype of the glorious, glamorous Hollywood GI.
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⇧ I was only vaguely aware of the comic strip, but both my parents used the term "a sad sack" quite often, which, I assume, was made popular by the strip.
Based on my family members (and some close friends) in the service - going back to a grandfather who was a trench-serving doughboy gassed in WWI - the truth, as I gleaned it from them, as almost always, is somewhere in between.
Based on my family members (and some close friends) in the service - going back to a grandfather who was a trench-serving doughboy gassed in WWI - the truth, as I gleaned it from them, as almost always, is somewhere in between.
LizzieMaine
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A typical day in the life of the Sack...
Tiki Tom
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“The Kingdom” by Emmanuel Carrere. Apparently Mr Carrere is a well-known novelist, screenwriter, and Director in France. He is also a judge at the Cannes Film festival and the Venice Film Festival. This book is difficult to fit into one neat category. It’s one quarter personal introspection that is very honest and sometimes shocking; one quarter history of the early Christian Church through a close (if sometimes speculative) rebuilding of the careers of Paul, Luke, and John; one quarter a search for the authentic Jesus by dissecting the gospels and looking for their source material; and one quarter an investigation into what it was like to actually live in the Roman-Hellenistic world during the second half of the first century. I’m not quite capturing it: through it all the author is always questioning everything, not least of all himself and his motives. It is not a boring history book. The whole thing is beautifully written, IMHO; smooth reading that comes across as honest, funny, sometimes shocking and sincere. Mr Carrere starts by relating how he first fell into becoming a Christian and then how he fell out of it. He now considers himself an agnostic. The book is based on his older self asking his younger self “how did I become such a strong believer?” “How was it possible that this obscure cult could grow to take over the Roman empire?” and finally, from the wise old eyes of age “what can I learn about myself and the wider world?” It’s a very quirky book and the author seems to be struggling between embracing Catholicism and keeping the whole business at arm’s length. The guy is very erudite, learned about the ancient world, sceptical and world-weary… yet sometimes he is also touchingly open and generous (and foolish). The book is full of historical, philosophical, and religious insights. It is kind of a thinking person’s look at the early (and modern) church and also about the human condition. It’s a great refresher on the church for someone who is suspicious of all the Jesus-loves-you cheerleading that’s out there, on the one hand, and of all the gratuitous anti-religious rantings on the other hand. The book does neither. I picked it up on a whim, and then was engrossed by the authors unique voice and by his humanity ---warts, vanity, searching for something, and all.
MisterCairo
I'll Lock Up
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Aubrey-Maturin in Desolation Island. "Breadfruit Bligh" is having issues in Australia, and Lucky Jack, Dr. Maturin and the crew of the Leopard, en route to the East Indies, are tasked to take an alleged female spy as prisoner, under cover with other transported criminals, to New South Wales.
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I'm in the final spurt of Stendhal's "The Red and the Black", now. Thrilling!
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Just finished "The Way We Were" by Arthur Laurents which I was encouraged to read by the not particularly good movie, but which, somehow, still made me curious to read the book.
The movie follows the book pretty closely, but the book does two things better (more in a moment) - however, like the movie, it is, still overall, disappointing.
The relationship in the book between Katie and Hubbell is more complex and believable than in the movie as you see that Hubbell is pulled toward everything that is different in Katie from his usual-and-safe WASP-world women, but oddly and complexly, both he and she - and for the most part, willingly - try to remake her into a traditional WASP woman. A phalanx of psychoanalysts could be employed for years on this one and still make no real progress past "humans are complex and contradictory in their wants and needs, especially in sex and relationships." And Katie, whose always-angry and always-right and always-in-your-face persona on screen is given a less screeching portrayal in the book - not sympathetic, but balanced and less grating.
The other difference that really jumps out is that the book (versus the movie) is, basically, an inside look (and harsh critique) solely at the liberal/left/progressive view of the '30s - '50s social and political positions, overall, and on WWII and, then, the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) investigations into and blacklisting of Hollywood professionals, specifically.
The book's view is full-on liberal, so much so that Republican / conservative views are dismissed without thought because, again, this is a critique of only the liberal society (which, has already decided the other side's views are wrong - as, I'm sure, the reverse is true). What you get is a not-pretty window into what happens when holding to your political views has real consequences - loss of job and career (blacklisting) and / or jail time. As opposed to those in Hollywood today who are "oh so brave" espousing positions that only help their careers and have no risk of legal ramifications, when those risks exist, the community fractures amidst recriminations, hesitancies, betrayals, fear and distrusts.
All that is interesting but only explored at a arms length as we see its effects on various characters and couples but just to a point as the story spends equal time on the previously referenced "challenging" psychology in Hubbell and Katie's relationship. It all works in an only okay way, but I'm still glad I read it as it filled in much that I was wondering about from the movie. Now I'm done with "The Way We Were," for a long time, in movie and book form.
The movie follows the book pretty closely, but the book does two things better (more in a moment) - however, like the movie, it is, still overall, disappointing.
The relationship in the book between Katie and Hubbell is more complex and believable than in the movie as you see that Hubbell is pulled toward everything that is different in Katie from his usual-and-safe WASP-world women, but oddly and complexly, both he and she - and for the most part, willingly - try to remake her into a traditional WASP woman. A phalanx of psychoanalysts could be employed for years on this one and still make no real progress past "humans are complex and contradictory in their wants and needs, especially in sex and relationships." And Katie, whose always-angry and always-right and always-in-your-face persona on screen is given a less screeching portrayal in the book - not sympathetic, but balanced and less grating.
The other difference that really jumps out is that the book (versus the movie) is, basically, an inside look (and harsh critique) solely at the liberal/left/progressive view of the '30s - '50s social and political positions, overall, and on WWII and, then, the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) investigations into and blacklisting of Hollywood professionals, specifically.
The book's view is full-on liberal, so much so that Republican / conservative views are dismissed without thought because, again, this is a critique of only the liberal society (which, has already decided the other side's views are wrong - as, I'm sure, the reverse is true). What you get is a not-pretty window into what happens when holding to your political views has real consequences - loss of job and career (blacklisting) and / or jail time. As opposed to those in Hollywood today who are "oh so brave" espousing positions that only help their careers and have no risk of legal ramifications, when those risks exist, the community fractures amidst recriminations, hesitancies, betrayals, fear and distrusts.
All that is interesting but only explored at a arms length as we see its effects on various characters and couples but just to a point as the story spends equal time on the previously referenced "challenging" psychology in Hubbell and Katie's relationship. It all works in an only okay way, but I'm still glad I read it as it filled in much that I was wondering about from the movie. Now I'm done with "The Way We Were," for a long time, in movie and book form.
AmateisGal
I'll Lock Up
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Just finished reading V.S. Alexander's The Taster, a historical novel about a woman who worked for Hitler as a taste tester to make sure his food wasn't poisoned. Review here: https://bestofww2.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-taster-by-vs-alexander.html
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Excellent review. The negatives you point out are just enough to keep me from buying my 8 millionth WWII book.
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Geez, what a (double) tragic end of "The Red and the Black".
I don't want to spoil any further!
I don't want to spoil any further!
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AmateisGal
I'll Lock Up
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Thanks! Glad you liked the review. Yeah, I wouldn't bother with this one.
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Just returned home from 5 weeks on the Oregon Coast. Thought it would be a good idea to revisit Ken Kesey and "Sometimes a Great Notion".....well that turned out to be a poor choice. I found the book unreadable and cannot for the life of me understand how it came to achieve classic status. To me it is indulgent drek. There is a great yarn contained somewhere in that 600 plus pages but not worth wading through the indulgent writing to find the yarn. Perhaps its "greatness" is wholly contextual and in the 1960's it was stylistically avant gard but it certainly has not aged well.
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I read "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" in high school and remember the teacher saying Kesey is an author "who had one good book in him" (maybe he was even quoting Kesey, that part of my memory isn't clear), but because of that and despite enjoying and being impressed by "Cuckoo's Nest...," I've never picked up another Kesey book. Your post is making me feel good about that decision.
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A review I just read online said that Cuckoo's writing is spare, taut and tense....everything that "Sometimes" is not so I may pick up a copy of Cuckoo's just to compare.
Benzadmiral
Call Me a Cab
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Cuckoo does take some stylistic twirls, but they are Kesey's view of the narrator, the Chief, who is borderline schizophrenic and writes from his own peculiar space within that -- at first. The Chief improves (because of the central character Nicholson played, McMurphy), and so does the reading experience.
I think I tried Sometimes in the last few years, but like you, found it unreadable. Something which is often true, to me, of a lot of "classics," and a good part of why I did not want to study English in college. An early lit class force-fed me The Horse's Mouth by Joyce Cary and Catch-22, and I could not finish either one. Heller's book started out well, but kept returning to the same scenes (or so I thought) over and over again. Yeah, yeah, supposed to be the insanity of war, blah blah blah.
Benzadmiral
Call Me a Cab
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Re-reading Stephen King's 11/22/63, which has been discussed here, as I recall. It's still a wonderfully entertaining story. I have some Dick Francis novels and a more recent King on my reading shelf at home.
Harp
I'll Lock Up
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Geez, what a (double) tragic end of "The Red and the Black".
I don't want to spoil any further!
Stendhal I never cared for and The Red and The Black proved a disappointment in college.
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I think, Stendhal could have wanted to give a warning for what burning egoism and class-war mentality (especially Julien) could bring you to, in the end.
