Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Books Reading Tonight
Posted by Paul Constant on Wed, Jan 14, 2009 at 10:13 AM
There are readings everywhere tonight.
In Renton (see?) Dr. Jawanza Kunjufu will discuss the failure of our educational systems in general and the failure of our educational systems in regards to young African-American men in particular. On Beacon Hill, Yolanda Alaniz and Megan Cornish will give a lecture "about campus, farmworker and Chicana feminist organizing at the University of Washington, in the Yakima Valley, and in the Seattle community."
And at REI (double-see?) Dan Nelson will give a signing and Power Point presentation. He is the author of Snowshoe Routes: Washington- 2nd Edition. Up at Third Place Books, Jay Spenser, who has read at practically every book venue in town, reads from The Airplane here tonight. Quoth my intern: "His book tour is unstoppable!" Indeed.
At Elliott Bay Book company, Stephanie Kallos reads from her second novel, which is titled Sing Them Home. Kallos wrote the well-received Broken For You, and I was considering reading this book until I read that it is about some kids whose mother blows away in a tornado and is never seen again. The mother's name is Hope. That kind of heavy-handed symbolism practically begs "Don't read me!" to me.
Up at the University Book Store, Mark Bittman, who writes about food, will read from Food Matters: A Guide to Conscious Eating with More Than 75 Recipes. In my opinion, Bittman's How to Cook Everything is essential. It's the cookbook that taught me how to cook. This has to be the reading of the night. Meanwhile, not far from the University Book Store, someone named Zhenya Lavy reads from a book called Food for Thought: The Ethics, Culture, and Politics of Eating. This is unfortunate timing, being the author of a book about food in a week that Michael Pollan comes to town and on the same night that Mark Bittman is reading on the same topic nearby.
UPDATE: The Bittman reading and Lavy's reading have been combined and will take place in Kane Hall. More details here.
Near Lavy's reading in Kane Hall, there is also a lecture entitled 'Contemporary Threats to Religious Liberty in the U.S.' I have nothing to say about that.
The full readings calendar, including the next week or so, is here.
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Peeve (which I might ask/yell at him about)... "Season to taste". This is somewhat DIFFICULT when you're making, say, meatloaf, and you really have NO IDEA how much salt to put in. Not a good idea to take a nibble and adjust, is it?
More info.
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And, yet, you recommended The Scarlet Letter for reading last month.
DOES. NOT. COMPUTE.
@5: Thanks for the tip. I may have to check out Broken For You now.
Now, if writing a novel was a new invention 160 years ago, maybe I'd give some leeway. Kind of like watching the development of film over the course of 110 years. But, 110 years ago, people were starting the craft. Now, bad movies are much more inexcusable than 70 years ago.
But, novels have been around much longer than The Scarlet Letter. And, thus, its sins are not that forgivable.
I agree that certain books we consider classics are no longer interesting from anything beside a historical perspective—Uncle Tom's Cabin is not that good a book—but I think that the beauty of Scarlet Letter is that it sneaks in some wonderful elements that still, to this day, aren't duplicated successfully by many novelists: I think the character of Pearl, in particular, is a wonderful literary child. I've never read another kid quite like her. And some of the writing about guilt is unparalleled. And I am an expert in guilt. Things like Chillingsworth and the forest being perfect and natural and good are kind of smoke and mirrors, deflecting from the real, important work that the novel is doing.
The guilt and pathos of the characters that people so embrace, especially in the modern age, struck me as misery without a conscience. These people have been miserable for how long?! Really? Unlike in, say, the novels of Thomas Hardy, these miserable characters are given little more to do than express their misery and lay it out for the reader. And, how tough their trials and tribulations are because of an affair. And, again, unlike the novels of Thomas Hardy, there isn't even a level of misanthropic cynicism to lighten the mood. Of course, Hardy's first novel was written a full 28 years later, and one would hardly compare the literature of the 1960s to the literature of the 1930s to the literature of the 1990s.
Despite its length, the novel reminds me of something that has been over-narrated. The subtle becomes obvious and the writing goes from interesting to blunt. And, as such, compared to other writers of the era (Dickens, Twain, etc), Hawthorne becomes a hack. The main reason The Scarlet Letter has endured the test of time is the salacious subject matter (adultery isn't as bad as all that...women need sexing too), and the teachability of the symbolism ("Dude, that cloud is totally the letter A" *inhale*).
The novel's symbolism is not heavy-handed by the standards of the 19th Century--in fact, it was subtle enough that everyone could miss that it's all about the threat of female sexuality per se, rather than just one act of illicit sex.
Hester rejects patriarchy (see what the town elders ask her: they don't same "Name who you sinned with" they say "Give this child a father!") because her very body requires her to do so.
And this argument--which would take much more room than this to fully explicate--explains a key problem with the book. Why are the men Hester loved or married such spineless ugly little wimps? Chillingworth (who is actually, of course Prynne) and Dimmesdale are such poor excuses for men because both of them refuse to do their patriarchal duty and be a father. Dimmesdale won't claim Pearl as his, and Chillingworth won't accept her as his (though, legally, she is: Hester's his wife, her child is his property). The rules of patriarchy require these men to be fathers, they refuse, they waste away and die.
That kidding aside, Pearl as the name for the clitoris seems like an even worse symbol (though less heavy-handed) than Pearl as a pearl. Sure, she's vibrant, bouncy, restricted, and Hester's reason to live (OMG, horny female), but she becomes less of a character that way and even more of a symbol. Which makes me hate her more for being a mere device.
And, don't think the weak males mixed with Hester's determination missed my grasp. It was as blatant as, say, a female's sexuality in an early '90s "OMG, Horny Women Are PSYCHO" erotic thriller, especially those written by Joe Ezterhaus or Adrian Lyne. Except, the men in Hawthorne's tale are even weaker and more exaggerated. We can't do anything. We suck. We're not worthy. They weren't really characters either, but devices for Hawthorne's written misery to come through.
The combination of their demise, and the not-quite redemption of Hester, with a very huge fear of women's sexuality, which has been healthy in American culture, if not all culture, since, well, forever made this an acceptable novel, where the one sex act was the salacious moment. Big, strong, monogamous men and the people who get all up in others' grill about their indiscretions and cast judgments on them - only they will survive and be merry-ish.
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