I added to my pile of Glass of Time, In the Shadows of Young Girls in Bloom, and Charles Dexter Ward a really fun book called The 13 1/2 Lives of Captain Bluebear. Written and illustrated by Walter Moers, the book is absolutely hilarious, imaginative, and surprisingly smart with its wide variety of vocabulary. I've been reading it for almost 4 years, when I bought it (at a Borders I really liked that has sadly closed along with all the other stores) before a trip to North Carolina. I always pick up this book for a little than put it down for a while, but I never forget any of it. The creative cast of characters, including but not limited to a gelatin prince encountered deep in the Gloomberg Mountains, talking waves, and a Reptilian Rescuer, are absolutely hilarious and endearing, especially with the accompanying illustrations, which can take up a whole page or just a small corner. Interspersed thoughout the text are excerpts from the Zamonian encyclopedia that help the reader (and Bluebear) identify the many places and things that are encountered throughout the hilarious tale.
The novel is divided into the bear's different "lives," referring more to different periods of his life; the current one I am on being his seventh, Life in the Great Forest, reminding me of Harry Potter not only because of the forest's name but because of the creatures in it (Bluebear has currently found himself prey to a gigantic, absolutely deadly spider). Every chapter is then divided into frequent subsections that are identified by small titles in the margin, without a break in the text. These mini titles are actually quite funny, being things like "bad news from a puff of wind" and "a cobweb to end all cobwebs."
I will add pictures soon of the book! I really like its lighthearted tone and the fact that I know anytime I open it up, it will be just as fresh as when I last closed it.
I started Volume 2 of Proust's In Search of Lost Time, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower, and have a couple of first impressions I'd like to share before I keep reading. The novel jumps right back into familiar territory with the narrator, Marcel, talking about a dinner guest his family is receiving, as well as about Swann. Swann, it seems, never really left Odette; they had a child together out of wedlock and ended up getting married, as was given away in the section "Combray" in Swann's Way. Swann in In the Shadow has totally changed from the worldly, humble Swann who was always careful about not throwing around the aristocratic social circles he frequented to a cuckolded fool who brags about the new company he socializes with, though they be nothing worth bragging about.
"Adapting to [Odette's] humble ambitions all the flair, desires, and industry that he had always possessed, Swann had contrived to construct a new position for himself, albeit far below the one he had formerly occupied, but suited to the wife with whom he must now share it. And in this position he had turned into a new man." (3)
Swann's character development is juxtaposed with that of Dr. Cottard, a character last seen in the Verdurin dinner parties making ridiculous puns and looking quite silly. In In the Shadow, Cottard has bloomed into a respected doctor, more serious in his demeanor. He has changed for the better, whereas Swann seemed to change for the worst. Not to say Swann is unlikeable for all this, just a little more distasteful. As for that other dinner guest, I got a little bored in the beginning because a lot of political jargon started being thrown around. That passed, and I finally got to get a picture in my head of M. de Norpois, a very politically correct character who was "so punctilious though so busy, so attentive though so widely connected." (10) Norpois, so far, serves to enlighten the reader about Swann's character, as he goes on at length about him during dinner, as well as to cause some change in Marcel himself. He makes the narrator see literature as something a little less glorious than imagined, though making a literary career for him possible by influencing Marcel's father to see the merit of such a life. He also, as I will talk about a little later, is the catalyst that lets Marcel finally see La Berma, an actress, in theatre.
I wish I could read the whole series in French, then the translations. I have no idea how accurate this new translator is, but I think I prefer, so far, the translation of Swann's Way. The editions I am reading are based around a project launched by Penguin, where each volume is translated by a different individual. In the Introduction, James Grieve, the translator of this particular volume, talks about certain themes and issues surrounding the novel. Proust, it seems, did not place too much emphasis on literary unity but instead left many "inconsistencies, improvisations, and discrepancies" (xii). The narrator even goes so far as to call Proust "incompetent," though I think in the grand scheme of things these blunders mean little (xii). Sometimes what is being told is more important than these unities, and if the reader just flows with the text, the important truths ("Proust's reflections, his enunciation of philosophical and psychological truth, his aesthetic theories, his opinions and system of thoughts") that Proust wanted to get through will be known (xii). The translator also talks about the need to omit certain parts to avoid unnecessarily confusing the modern reader; I appreciate it, Grieve, but I kind of wish I could read the inconsistencies and figure them out for myself.
"Love, art, society, and friendship: these are the major realms of experience to be explored by the young protagonist," Grieve says in the introduction (x). Even having read only the first 50 pages (of the volume's 533) I can see this to be true. In Swann's Way, Marcel (though his name has yet to be told) was dying to go to the theater, but was forbidden to do so on account of his weak health. Now, though, by the helpful influence of Norpois on his father, the boy is encouraged to go. Marcel is disappointed with the performance, though he later ascribes this to not having noticed her genius "as an unspoiled and tasteful artiste." (29) Here we see a disappointment; when something is imagined time after time, when our expectations are too high, naturally, nothing can live up to the hopes we harbor. I think this is a common theme throughout the volume, as it was seen also in Swann's Way. At one point Swann is imagining all the letters he wishes Odette to write but worries that any words he can think up will automatically be excluded from the letter he will actually receive.
I am still in the very beginning of the novel, but want to get a better handle on two things. The first is that I perhaps want to write a larger post on how the second volume expresses its Modernist genre. The second has to do with the historical situation surrounding the novel, which is brought up from time to time, though not seeming to drive the events. Anyways, I have written long enough and must go in that reading-walk. Be ready for a new post soon, my reading-fever has me ready to type and type away.
Wait! I didn't even get to talk about The Glass of Time, which is really picking up!! I'll squeeze in a few more things before I go, if you all are patient enough to read :). Beware of a spoiler, though. I had some vague idea as to who Alice's parents were, especially with the last name Gorst (though not very similar to his last name of Glyver, it is just similar enough). Conveniently, a completely random character decides to write a memoir, with two chapters dedicated to his friendship with Edward, then living in self-exile. This character, Lazarus, makes it clear that Edward is Alice's father, and is there when her mother is introduced to Edward at a party. (If the reader isn't observant enough to notice the [in my opinion a bit silly] play on "Lazarus rising from the dead" and this Lazarus bringing back Edward, now dead, into the life of Alice, it's spelled out in a conversation.)
Really, the last thing I want to mention is the idea of hiding one's true self. Prevalent in The Meaning of Night, here too, most characters are not what they seem. Alice is a lady's maid, though everyone can see she is of high birth; she is there under orders, though seeming to be making a living like everybody else. Furthermore, Lady Emily Tansor presents herself to Alice as a woman in need of a friend, wanting to share her secrets, but is really duplicitous and full of things she can never reveal. Emily tries to present herself as a strong woman, but is really a slave to the memory of horrid Daunt. Even her son, Perseus, seems stern and haughty but, underneath, Alice believes there is much more warmth than people see.
I'll leave you be. Thanks for reading, I know this was a really long post. Next time, pictures!
"Love, art, society, and friendship: these are the major realms of experience to be explored by the young protagonist," Grieve says in the introduction (x). Even having read only the first 50 pages (of the volume's 533) I can see this to be true. In Swann's Way, Marcel (though his name has yet to be told) was dying to go to the theater, but was forbidden to do so on account of his weak health. Now, though, by the helpful influence of Norpois on his father, the boy is encouraged to go. Marcel is disappointed with the performance, though he later ascribes this to not having noticed her genius "as an unspoiled and tasteful artiste." (29) Here we see a disappointment; when something is imagined time after time, when our expectations are too high, naturally, nothing can live up to the hopes we harbor. I think this is a common theme throughout the volume, as it was seen also in Swann's Way. At one point Swann is imagining all the letters he wishes Odette to write but worries that any words he can think up will automatically be excluded from the letter he will actually receive.
I am still in the very beginning of the novel, but want to get a better handle on two things. The first is that I perhaps want to write a larger post on how the second volume expresses its Modernist genre. The second has to do with the historical situation surrounding the novel, which is brought up from time to time, though not seeming to drive the events. Anyways, I have written long enough and must go in that reading-walk. Be ready for a new post soon, my reading-fever has me ready to type and type away.
Wait! I didn't even get to talk about The Glass of Time, which is really picking up!! I'll squeeze in a few more things before I go, if you all are patient enough to read :). Beware of a spoiler, though. I had some vague idea as to who Alice's parents were, especially with the last name Gorst (though not very similar to his last name of Glyver, it is just similar enough). Conveniently, a completely random character decides to write a memoir, with two chapters dedicated to his friendship with Edward, then living in self-exile. This character, Lazarus, makes it clear that Edward is Alice's father, and is there when her mother is introduced to Edward at a party. (If the reader isn't observant enough to notice the [in my opinion a bit silly] play on "Lazarus rising from the dead" and this Lazarus bringing back Edward, now dead, into the life of Alice, it's spelled out in a conversation.)
Really, the last thing I want to mention is the idea of hiding one's true self. Prevalent in The Meaning of Night, here too, most characters are not what they seem. Alice is a lady's maid, though everyone can see she is of high birth; she is there under orders, though seeming to be making a living like everybody else. Furthermore, Lady Emily Tansor presents herself to Alice as a woman in need of a friend, wanting to share her secrets, but is really duplicitous and full of things she can never reveal. Emily tries to present herself as a strong woman, but is really a slave to the memory of horrid Daunt. Even her son, Perseus, seems stern and haughty but, underneath, Alice believes there is much more warmth than people see.
I'll leave you be. Thanks for reading, I know this was a really long post. Next time, pictures!
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