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Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts

Thursday, December 4, 2014

A bit of Irish Christmas


A bit of Irish Christmas
[Photo By: KPA]


The Failte Irish Pub has decorated the whole restaurant Christmas decorations, with a full tree at the front.

I took the above photo yesterday afternoon.

I have taken other photos of the place, and posted them here.

I've also posted on Failte, and Larry Auter, here. In that post, I write about Larry's complimenting my writing style, which is the best I've had, since many people tell me to "tone things down."

Here's what I wrote:
[Larry] wrote to me in an email in mid-January (2013): "There is something appealing about your semi flow-of-associations writing. Not everything needs to be big and important. What you provide is a feeling of your life, of yourself."
I hope, as in true accounts of the personal, that this also reflects on the bigger picture of the life around me. I think Larry felt that too.
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Posted By: Kidist P. Asrat
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Friday, November 1, 2013

What is Writing?


"What is Writing?

Half, maybe most, of writing is finding faults in one’s own writing, and fixing them, until one finds nothing more to fix. It is an immersion in one’s own flaws, and a constant, unyielding effort to ameliorate them."
Lawrence Auster: March 18, 2013
This is the same with all art. Artists will say that once an idea has emerged, one has to fix it until there is nothing more (humanely) possible to fix.

That is the joy, and agony, of art. It is a ruthless companion. It doesn't suffer laziness. Yet, that is how beauty is born.

I wrote to a correspondent about a critic of sorts of Larry's writing in response to his passing away. The writer wrote:
I'm damned if I'm going to wait to the end to note in "appreciation" Larry's deep and challenging, provocative and exacting, disturbing, irascible and trenchant commentary, all crafted in his compulsively writerly way to search not only for the truth, I would venture, but for a way out of the cultural abyss we find ourselves in. His means? The sharpest, starkest expression of the facts and phenomena he is able to convey, as unadulterated, as unjumbled, certainly as unvarnished as humanly possible. Whether in agreement or in opposition, a reader of Larry's work is on his mettle, keenly aware of the laser at work.
I write:
[The writer] makes [Larry] sound to be a difficult and slightly detached/unapproachable person. I wonder if she ever met him? Yes, Larry was not part of this era's "diplomatic" journalism. But why not write of his achievements, rather than pepper her comments with these criticisms, which diminish his achievements? I think Larry's writing has coherence and beauty, and a perseverance with ideas that few writers these days attempt, or bother with.

[The writer] writes interesting articles. But, there always seems to be a reticence about her. I suppose she has to be like that to keep her journalistic positions at various main stream publications.

She knows Larry, and his work. He has written very important works regarding conservatism. It would be nice if...she would be a supporter.
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Posted By: Kidist P. Asrat
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Monday, September 16, 2013

Starting Out in the Evening



I meant to write this review, of a film and a book, a while ago. I found it in my "draft" files, and here is the finished piece.

Starting out in the Evening is a quiet, graceful film about Leonard Schiller, a New York writer who is working on what could be his final book, and Heather, a young, aggressive graduate student who disrupts his life to do research for her master's thesis on him. Leonard is initially taken in by this bold young woman, and reluctantly agrees to her regular visits to interview him. He admires her persistent and intelligent personality. But he refuses to answer personal questions, saying that explaining his books and the ideas behind them is sufficient.

Leonard's daughter, Ariel, meets Heather on one of her visits to her father, and jokingly asks Heather if she a burglar. This becomes an inadvertently astute observation. Heather ends up "stealing" part of Leonard's life by digging into a past that he never told her, and putting it in her doctoral dissertation without his permission. And Leonard trusted Heather enough to give her a key to his apartment, which she betrays by rummaging around in his study for information that she wouldn't (or couldn't) obtain from him. She found a box full of photographs in Leonard's study, and took (stole) a photograph of Leonard in his younger days.

Heather, in her inquisitive and prying manner, finds out a sad story of betrayal about Leonard and his wife, which Leonard omitted from telling her during the interviews. Heather includes this piece of information in her final thesis draft, concluding that Leonard's writing turned nihilistic, and less literary, after this betrayal. Leonard is unaware of this addition until Heather gives him the final draft to read.

Any affection Leonard may have had for Heather is erased after he reads her work. He shows this during what is to be Heather's visit to his apartment, when she came to see his reaction to her work. Leonard makes no small talk with Heather, and lets her sit at his kitchen table as he drinks his tea. He then moves his hand towards her face, as though to stroke it, and Heather moves slightly forward to receive his caress. Instead, Leonard flicks his wrist in a short and sharp manner, and slaps Heather hard on her cheek. Like a true narcissist, Heather doesn't have any remorse, or realization of any wrong doing. "I didn't deserve that," she says. Leonard sits back, and closes his eyes as though for a nap. Heather leaves the keys to the apartment on the kitchen table, and walks out.

This little scene is a turnaround for Leonard, who finally tackles his typewriter to work on the book which had eluded him for so long. "My characters haven't done anything interesting for over a decade," he says at one point in the film. The novel is titled: Starting Out in the Evening.

The last scene of the film is Leonard hunched over his typewriter. It is a still life shot of him, although a cinematic still life. The camera slowly pulls out of this motionless Leonard, from the confined and restrictive frame of just his face and hands, to gradually include his typewriter, his desk, a lit lamp, and the open curtains behind him. We realize that Leonard is now in his writing "sanctuary." Leonard then begins to type confidently. He is starting out again, late in the afternoon, late in his life. But he's starting out again.

Despite the story being set in New York City, it is a film about interiors: the interior of Leonard's apartment, the interior of his mind, the interior where writers and artists access their thoughts. And these interiors are silent sanctuaries.

The film is a quietly elegant, much like Leonard's personality.

There is a DVD of the film - a little hard to find, but available (here). It is worth buying and watching.

The book is surprisingly literary, and a pleasure to read. Here is how we are introduced to Leonard, at the very beginning of the book, when he meets Heather for the first time in a coffee shop:
The door opened and a man came in from the cold. He was wearing an enormous coat - a coat that was like a house - and a big, furry, many-flapped hat. He peeled off the hat and stepped for a moment in front of the cash register, stamping off the snow. He was wearing galoshes.

They had never met, but he picked her out instantly, and he came toward her, smiling.

[...]

"So," he said finally, "you've embarked on a project of questionable merit. You're working on a study. Of me." He shook his big head sadly.
The filmmakers stayed quite faithful to the book, but of course they had to leave out many small details, making a more impressionistic film, where expressions relay messages and images describe psychological states (like the camera making a slow zoom out of Leonard's room to show us his "liberation" from his past ghosts, and his resumption of his book). The book and the film complement each other very well.

Here is a surprisingly good review by the New York Times:
A crepuscular glow suffuses Andrew Wagner’s intelligent, careful adaptation of a near-perfect novel by Brian Morton. One of Mr. Wagner’s themes (and also Mr. Morton’s) is the waning of that old, literary New York, the twilight of an idea of the city as a capital of the modern mind. Leonard Schiller, one of the main characters, is a retired teacher and all-but-forgotten novelist. Leonard, as embodied by Frank Langella, is a picture of old-fashioned decorum and steadfast dignity. Watching Mr. Langella’s slow, gracious movement through “Starting Out in the Evening,” I was reminded of Burt Lancaster in Luchino Visconti’s adaptation of “The Leopard.” In some ways the comparison is absurd, but both movies concern an old man who has outlasted the social order in which his life made sense. And what is so remarkable about Mr. Langella is that he seems to hold Leonard’s intellectual cosmos inside him, to make it implicit in the man’s every gesture and pause. Instead of nostalgia, “Starting Out in the Evening” offers a clear-eyed elegy for that world. — A. O. Scott [The full review is here]

The review overestimates the talent of Lauren Ambrose, the actress who plays Heather. I thought Ambrose acted with a strained narcissism. Well, perhaps she does suit Heather.

And the review doesn't do service to the film's score. I thought the music was quiet and delicate. It is a film mostly about interiors, after all, and I think the composer, Adam Gorgoni, captured that mood very well.

Here is a good review of the film's music (which says the same thing I'm saying).

Below is a youtube of the music accompanying various scenes from the film.



Here is another link to various pieces from the film.


Dusk on the Upper West Side


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Book: Starting Out in the Evening, by Brian Morton

Film: Starting Out in the Evening, Directed by Andrew Wagner

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Posted By: Kidist P. Asrat
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Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Every Day, I Search for Beautiful Things


Claude Monet (1840–1926)
Title: Reflections of Clouds on the Water-Lily Pond
Date: c.1920
Medium: Oil on canvas
Dimensions: 78.7 × 502.4 in
Location: Museum of Modern Art, New York City


A reader (Bob) posted this quote by the impressionist artist Claude Monet on my post To the Waterfront:
Every day I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.
Bob wrote:
Marvellous, reminds me of Monet's "Everyday I see more and more beautiful things"
Thank you!
This is a wonderful compliment.

But I would change the quote a little to describe my own particular activities:
Every day I search for beautiful things.
In these days of the disappearance of beauty from our daily lives, beauty has gone into hiding (or has been swept aside in some corner). So rather than discovering beauty we have to search for it, hidden in museums, books, the still-standing architecture, classic films, gardens. I have provided a long list (fortunately, the list is still long) of places we can get started with this quest.

But, Bob's remark is a great compliment. I think that through my personal approach, I can be sincere in my quest, which is at times simple, at other times a great pleasure, and sometimes a difficult burden.

Lawrence Auster said something similar in an email to me. He wrote to me in mid-January (2013):
"There is something appealing about your semi flow-of-associations writing. Not everything needs to be big and important. What you provide is a feeling of your life, of yourself."
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Posted By: Kidist P. Asrat
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