Miscellanea: Evergreen "Ulysses" and Our Three Lives

 I sometimes clip out a newspaper or magazine article thinking I would like to write about a topic contained therein, but not immediately. More often that not, such clippings sit in a pile and eventually get thrown out.

One such article was "Tales of Female Trios" by Megan O'Grady in the Feb, 23, 2020 issue of T, the New York Times Style Magazine.

A couple things jumped out at me.

After discussing some of the books she read during her youth, such as "Little Women," Ms O'Grady said: "Meanwhile, the books my brother read were by and large structured as heroic journeys. Even his fantasy novels, with their large casts of characters, starred a lone adventurer overcoming great hardship to reach his goal."

In other words "Ulysses."  

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

At a later point in her article, Ms O'Grady, talked about the "rule of threes" she said occurs in much of Western literature. After noting Freud's division of the human persona into id, ego and superego, she said: "All of us have three characters within us: the one we display publicly, the one we actually are and the one we think we are."  That, she explained is a paraphrase of a notion put forward by 19th-century French critic Jean-Baptiste Alphones Karr.

Well, that brought to mind Colombian novelist Gabriel García Márquez, who said: “All human beings have three lives: public, private, and secret.”

That, I think, makes more sense than Ms O'Grady's reading of Karr.

I shall now consign my copy of Ms O'Grady's article to the recycle bin, somewhat relieved that the act of saving it did not go totally to waste.

Ong Comes Up Short In "The Monkey Who Speaks"

 To use the words of its author, Han Ong, the Sept. 6, 2021 New Yorker short story "The Monkey Who Speaks" is about a woman who has a job "where the professional can't help but bleed into the personal."

"I was interested in that slippery border" he said in one of the usual New Yorker author interviews. 

It is indeed an excellent subject for fiction, and Ong does a respectable job depicting the life of a young Filipina named Flavia who works as a home health aid for a predictably difficult, well-to-do, elderly white male named Roscoe, aided by Roscoe's fair-minded, accommodating daughter Veronica.

While the story is commendably free of transgressive behavior -- the stock-in-trade for far too much contemporary fiction -- Ong fails to do much with the slippery border in question.  One expects a situation to arise where Flavia has a difficult choice to make that involves a significant moral or ethical dilemma, the resolution of which is not just compelling reading, but also illuminative of the woman's cultural background.

But none does. There is a twist or two centering on the identify of the talking monkey, but they are of little consequence and based on her responses, Flavia could easily have come from somewhere other than the Philippines.

The New Yorker, like other similar publications, is evidently feeling a need to demonstrate a commitment to greater cultural diversify and in principle, this story would seem to fit the bill.  But in practice, it provides readers with little if any new insights into how demographic changes are impacting the U.S.

"Being from the Philippines, I've wanted for some time to write about an industry where Filipinos are well represent, even over represented," Ong said.

Well, that's about it. As such, it's not a bad story, but it's not a particularly interesting one, either.

"The White Lotus" and a Downside of Human Nature

 I was reading an Aug. 19, 2021,  New York Times feature on the television show "The White Lotus," which HBO has apparently decided to run for a second season, and getting more and more depressed in the process.

In a nutshell, the show offers what appears to be popular entertainment by depicting two young women who continually amuse themselves by making scathing judgements about other guests at a luxury resort.

Well, ok, this is a luxury resort so those who can afford to go there (including the college girls in question) have undoubtedly ripped the public off in one form or another (or their families have), so they deserve every insult or take-down they can get. Right? 

This notion evidently gives the show the sort of "pass" a similar show in which two young women continually derided people in a homeless encampment wouldn't get.

The point is: in human society, the perceived shortcomings of others are fair game for those who see ways of profiting from them.  In "The White Lotus," the profit is apparently only the notion that the girls can think better of themselves by putting down others, but in other instances, such behavior can bring wealth and power.

Consider, for instance, Donald Trump whose stock-in-trade consists of deriding and belittling virtually everyone who crosses his path, and many who don't. 

Or, consider Amazon Prime's wildly popular show "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel."  I watched it because a young woman I know wants badly to become a stand-up comedienne or at least write comedy for others and as one episode followed another, I was reminded again and again of Trump.  Mrs. Maisel's stock-in-trade was similar to that of the former President: she looked for shortcomings or sources of potential weakness in everyone she knew, or encountered, and exploited them for personal fame and profit, letting the chips fall where they might in the process.

There's nothing new about this, of course.  The examples above can be considered akin to the long-standing German concept of  schadenfreude,  or pleasure derived from the misfortune of others.

No wonder we don't seem to solving most of the problems currently confronting humanity.

Virginia Woolf on Politics

 In her 1928 gender bending novel "Orlando," Virginia Woolf had the following to say about politics:

"No passion is stronger in the breast of man than the desire to make others believe as he believes. Nothing so cuts at the root of his happiness and fills him with rage as the sense that another rates low what he prizes high. Whigs and Tories, Liberal party and Labour party -- for what do they battle except their own prestige? It is not love of truth, but desire to prevail that sets quarter against quarter and makes parish desire the downfall of perish."

I'll probably add more to this post in due course, but that's it for now.

 

"Superstition:" The Subliminal Power of Culture & Religion

 "Superstition," a short story by Sarah Braunstein, in the Aug. 2 New Yorker is about the lingering claims of culture and the almost subliminal power of religion.

Two teenage boys, conventionally dismissive of anything but what strikes their prevailing fancy, live with a permissive, understanding father, perhaps excessively so because the mother of the boys died some years earlier. They have been indulged with all manner of toys and youthful paraphernalia, now no longer valued. 

As is often the case with children in general, and particularly teenagers, the boys are into testing boundaries and at one point discover eBay. The story is set relatively early in the Internet age, before the advent of social media. 

One of the boys, named Lenny, suspecting the public is easily duped, makes up a lucky-charm story about a plaque-mounted fish he had once bought at Goodwill for a couple of dollars and sure enough, after a round of bidding, someone buys it for over ninety dollars. 

James, his brother, is impressed and wants to do likewise, but struggles to come up with something to sell about which a convincing story might be told.  Until he recalls a cross that he received at his first communion, kept in a velvet box.  Eventually he comes up with a story -- it had been in the family since 1915 and, when in the possession of a somewhat distant family member, had been blessed by Pope Pius XII, a controversial figure, James knows, because he "had been reluctant to intervene as a genocide unfolded in Europe."

As far as the plot goes, I will stop here so as not to spoil Ms Braunstein's tale, but suffice to say that James is far more entangled in the cultural and religious background of his family than he would care to admit if, indeed, he understands the genesis of his emotional crosscurrents. 

It's a story that is more interesting than initially appears to be the case and, no surprise, the New Yorker, in the usual author interview, fails to explore the seminal issue. (These interviews are frequently disappointing.)

The ending is an allegorical short cut, necessarily, I suppose because this is a short story. Ms Braunstein's topic is complex and as such, deserves a more sophisticated denouement.

Plot Similarities: Thomas Hardy and Henry James

 About half way though Thomas Hardy's "Far From the Madding Crowd," I had a sudden thought: that the basic plot was remarkably similar to that of "The Portrait of a Lady," by Henry James.  Both revolve around attractive, independent women who have come into an unexpected, significant inheritance at an early age and who are pursued by three different men.  Both women make the wrong choice when it comes to marriage, but in the end, Hardy goes in one direction and James in another.

The similarities were so striking I thought: "I can't be the only one who thinks so," and, indeed, not.

An Internet search soon turned up a thesis on this very topic, written by a woman named Susan Shepeard in 1976 in partial fulfillment of a Master of Arts degree at William & Mary College in Williamsburg, Virginia.

"The striking similarities in theme, characterization and imagery go so far as to suggest that Hardy's earlier work might have influenced that of James," Ms Shepeard said, and, indeed, there is evidence to suggested that such could have been the case.  When "Far From" first appeared in 1874, it got a distinctly mixed review from James. whose "Portrait" was published in 1881. In other words, he was very familiar with Hardy's story prior to writing his own rather similar story. In addition,  the two men knew each other.

Shepeard's thesis doesn't attempt to resolve that particular controversy, focusing instead on how the two authors progressed from similar starting points to differing views on love and marriage. As such, I highly recommend her thesis to those interested in such ideas and/or the two authors.

One notable difference between the two works is their settings: very rural England in the case of Hardy and rather glittering European society in the case of James, a difference that initially serves to obscure their similarities. A young woman owning and running a farm (albeit on leased land) and, in the process, engaging in a lot of work, is enough to put Bathsheba on a pedestal in "Far From."  In contrast, Isabel, an American, needs the vast wealth she inherits to set her apart in the rather jaded European social milieu in which she finds herself and she has neither need for nor thought of employment.

Each woman is initially pursed by a man attracted to her before she came into wealth and both reject the advances. Both are also pursued by wealthy neighbors whose motives seem not dishonorable if less than ideal for women determined to be more independent than such liaisons would likely permit. And both eventually marry flawed individuals they seem to think they can help, only to be taken advantage of. 

In Hardy's case, certain circumstances serve to give Bathsheba an "out" and she then marries the man she apparently should have in the first place, an outcome Hardy justifies by offering readers a definition of the nature of true love. I wrote about that here.

In the case of James, "Portrait" ends with Isabel in such dreadful, unresolved circumstances that Irish author John Banville not long ago decided a sequel was needed. Banville's effort, "Mrs. Osmond" (Isabel's married name) was published in 2017. It is an interesting if less than totally satisfactory read.

Does it Really Matter Who Choreographs a Ballet?

 An interesting question that has arguably been around for a long time, but which has gained considerable currency lately, is: when it comes to a work of art, if it satisfies a viewer, does it matter who created it?

In other words, once launched, does a work of art (and similarly, a work of intellect) stand on it's own?

While I've written about this a number of times, the latest iteration comes from a comment made by the newly appointed artistic director of the National Ballet of Canada, a woman named Hope Muir.

According to an article in the  July 22, 2021 New York Times, she was an unexpected selection and as a result, Roslyn Sulcas, one of the paper's dance critics, asked her what kind of artistic vision she presented to the ballet company's search committee.

"There wasn't a vision statement as such," Muir replied. "They gave the candidates a three-year programming exercise that included various anchor ballets that you had to incorporate, as well as making sure there was representation of female choreographers, Canadian choreographers, and Black, Indigenous and people of color choreographers in each season."

In other words, just who choreographed a given ballet is to be a more important consideration for the National Ballet of Canada than the quality of the piece. An alternative approach would be, leaving aside the so-called anchor ballets, considering each piece on its merits without knowing the race, color, national identity, gender, sexual orientation, etc. of the choreographer and let the chips fall where they may.

Muir said she found the National Ballet of Canada's requirement fascinating and satisfying "because when you look at ballet repertory, you realize that most ballets are choreographed by white men." 

Well, let's think about those "anchor ballets," one or more of which must be present in every season -- ballets such as "Swan Lake," "The Nutcracker," "Sleeping Beauty," "Giselle" and so on and so forth. Why continue to mount such time-worn productions?  Well, they sell lots and lots of tickets since the public continues to love them. Choreographed by dead white males (a major target of "cancel culture" movements), they in effect subsidize the efforts of all the others.

The more I read about it, the less worried I am about "cancel culture" -- in the long run, at any rate. 

Ultimately, in the eyes of those members of the public that appreciate the arts, individual works will stand or fall on their aesthetic merits. White male choreography -- perish the thought -- will be with us for some time even if contemporary white male choreographers appear likely to find themselves far from "privileged" in the prevailing circumstances. Indeed, based on Ms Muir's comments, when it comes to the National Ballet of Canada, white male choreographers still alive and working can pretty much forget it.