Showing posts with label Oscar Wilde. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oscar Wilde. Show all posts

Friday, June 25, 2010

Caliban as a Fiddler Crab, Moral Beauty

Day 137 of the “What are you reading, and why?” project, and today is a hodge-podge, potlatch, tie-up-the-loose-ends-of-random-coincidii-collage entry that I thought of entitling “Caliban as a Fiddler Crab, Moral Beauty, and a Boob Job,” but it would have made an awkward, unwieldy header and might have attracted unwelcome email messages.

Recently I blogged on Oscar Wilde who mentioned Caliban in the preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray, and Walter Pater, who spoke of moral beauty in a preface to Dorian Gray. Suddenly last night I got to see Caliban under the stars in The Tempest at the Illinois Shakespeare Festival!

Babbitt’s Books staff were invited to opening night, as we created a bookcase of Shakespeare books for their gift shop, and we offer a discount to actors, crew, and staff who visit the store! I saw one of our customers, who had just been in, and who said he, too, had just suddenly been invited, and wished he’d had a chance to read it first. “You can read it now,” I suggested, “and have this production fresh in your mind!” We both loved the circle of blue sky with clouds on the floor, on the back of the set, and on Ariel’s back, that blue-bodied spirit!

Each time I see a production of Shakespeare, I love to see what will come through most vividly to help me understand a particular element of the play I’ve not understood with my whole body and soul before, even if I “understood” it intellectually or had it explained to me in a class or by a critic. That is, what does the particular production make available to me and to everybody else in the audience, whether or not we all respond to it, or interpret it exactly the same way?

I’ve mentioned the blue sky with clouds aspect of the set (which corresponded to the actual weather yesterday: blue sky, puffy white clouds, transforming gradually into gorgeous clear night, nearly full moon, scatter of stars and lightning bugs) and I’d like to mention that two stairways moved from brown below to blue above as they approached the actor balcony and the ethereal realm. But there was also that circle of sky mirrored on the floor!

Caliban—half human, half monster—was marvelous, blotched, and fishy, with a golden fiddler crab-like claw on one hand. He touched me deeply when he spoke to the human visitors about the music of the spheres, the celestial music of the spirits—Ariel and his blue band—that he hears all around him as a matter of course, and which stuns and frightens and delights the humans hearing it for the first time. This Caliban also moved me in his pleas to Prospero. “I loved you,” recounting the early attentiveness Prospero gave him. Then, human monster that he was, Caliban lusted after Miranda, or that is Prospero’s excuse, anyway, for the withdrawal of love from Caliban…gave me pause!

I was moved, too, by Ariel, in service to the magical Prospero, enslaved, enthralled…. Ariel does everything he is asked, in return for his freedom. (I am reminded of the blue genie in Disney’s Aladdin.) And Ariel teaches Prospero a deeper compassion. Ariel would feel something for these dreadful suffering humans “if I were human,” he says! Gives Prospero pause, and helps him access his own empathy and forgiveness.

Then, deeply touching, Ariel is free. The actor’s body takes in the reality of that, the loss of Prospero as master, friend, and companion on the island, and then, deeply satisfied, runs off, free! There is no sentimental, out-of-character hugging. He’s just gone!

And Prospero, now truly humbled, even wiser than before, with only his human powers, asks for our hands in the traditional epilogue. And we applaud.

So what came through for me this time was that compassion and forgiveness are sweeter than revenge, that we ought to love our monstrous flawed selves, that we ought to behave responsibly and with love (both Caliban and Prospero learn this lesson!), and that our human selves are enough on this earth. We can let our spirits run free.

So, some coincidii:

The Babbitt’s bookcase in the ISF gift shop now displays my first poetry chapbook, Selected Roles (Moon Journal Press, 2006), which contains poems in the voices of several Shakespearean characters, including Miranda! I was in the Illinois Shakespeare Festival way back in 1981! (Selected Roles is also on the local authors shelf, and online, at Babbitt’s—always only $5!)

Caliban as a fiddler crab reminds me of Fiddler Crab Review, a marvelous online blogazine dedicated to reviewing chapbooks, old and new!

I have a chapbook by Susan Slaviero, who tells you what she is reading frequently in her blog, Mythology and Milk.

Likewise, Sarah Sloat in the rain in my purse. People keep telling me they loved what she said in the little interview I posted here, to time with a review of her chapbook, In the Voice of a Minor Saint (Tilt Press, 2009), at Prick of the Spindle, and they want more interviews with poets! So I will try to accommodate.

On that, I am thinking I might review/interview here in the blog if you to send me your poetry book or chapbook c/o Babbitt’s, so let me check with my boss about that. I would like to receive the book at the bookstore, have the option of reviewing it here or at the bookstore blog, and also have the option of keeping it, passing it on to a poet friend, or selling it gently used at the bookstore so a poet who can’t afford it new can afford it used, so it gets another reader, and so the boss can receive a bit of economic return for housing it, and for listing it online at the store database. Your thoughts on this?

Likewise, that would carry on the spirit and tradition of my reviews at RHINO, and I am waiting to hear whether they want me to do something similar again for them!

And what about the boob job? OK, I am now reading The Girl Who Played With Fire, by Stieg Larsson, having finished The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo in time to see it tonight at the local theatre, and somebody gets a boob job. Why?! There is a reason, but I am dubious about it, and don’t want to be a spoiler, etc., but it is making me think hard about how much of the trilogy is truly devoted to feminism, and how much is sex-sells-and-makes-for-a-blockbuster-movie-version. So I send you to Seana’s blog entry on another book, using the Steig Larsson phenomenon as a contrast. Much to ponder!

And, finally, one of our Babbitt’s customers yesterday was the woman who ran the spotlight for The Tempest last night! And Julie Kistler was in the opening-night audience, too, to review the production for her blog, A Follow Spot! (Don't know if her review is up yet, but it will be, and there's plenty of fun stuff to read in her blog!)

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

The Picture of Dorian Gray

Day 135 of the "What are you reading, and why?" project, and Kim K* is reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde, because Ivan Albright made her do it!

"First I should explain," said Kim K, "that in this case I'm 'reading' it via audiobook."

"Aauugghh," I replied, since I am focusing on reading books in print in this blog, curious about the concentration and thought processes involved in reading from the page, rather than through the ear....Interestingly, Kim K's experience applies!

"I have to say that being nearly through it now, I'm likely to go follow up by reading it in print soon. It's compelling, and I'm really enjoying a lot, but I inevitably feel that I miss some things in audiobooks, and I think I want to take it at my own pace as well. (That said, I also think audio makes some parts easier, especially when it's well read, as this one is.)

"So, there are probably 3 reasons why I picked it:

"(1) Circumstance: I need audiobooks for my auto commute, which is why I was looking in the first place. I'm backed up a mile and a half with print books** waiting to be read, but that 35-90-minute commute demands audiobooks.

"(2) It's a classic, and I don't believe I've actually read any Oscar Wilde before.

"(3 - and I really think this is the main reason) I have loved Ivan Albright's painting by the same name in the Art Institute for years and years and years. It's probably one of the first things I ever fell in love with there, right along with the Monets. I could sit for hours and look at it, and never tire of it. I love Albright's painting in general, and this is absolutely one of my favorites. An utterly astonishing painting. If the book could inspire that, then it had to be worth reading."

In the Wonderful Land of CoincidOz that is my mind and this book blog, I handled a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray at the bookstore yesterday, a volume in the Connoisseur's Edition of Wilde's Collected Works, introduced by Coulson Kernahan with a preface by Walter Pater. Both Kernahan and Pater praise Wilde for his geniality and generosity as a person, and wit and beauty as a writer.

Pater also says Wilde carries on "the brilliant critical work of Matthew Arnold," referring I think to pursuing "sweetness and light" as the aim of a culture, beauty over function, intangible values over utilitarianism. This also fits with Bertrand Russell's sound bite (who knew Russell and "sound bite" would ever be in the same sentence?) at the end of that youttube clip (previous ungodly entry) saying we should value what is true, not just what is useful. (Hmmm. Pay no attention to the man behind that curtain. Arf, arf! What is it, Toto?) In his own aphorism collage preface to Dorian Gray, Wilde says, "All art is quite useless." And, coincidOzally, in another volume of that same Collected Works, Wilde comments on Pater's Imaginary Portraits.

Anyhoo! The Picture of Dorian Gray is a compelling "horror" story, adapted for film a jillion times, about a man who sells his soul to retain his youth and beauty, but, as literature, cliche, and Bertrand Russell might tell him, the truth will out. Ivan Albright "outs" it wonderfully. Albright's portrait is used in the 1945 film version.

The horror is not just supernatural but also psychological, and, as Pater argues, moral. Pater says that Wilde's heroes tend "to lose the moral sense" and thus "to become less complex, to pass from a higher to a lower degree of development." So, even in the world of art-for-art's-sake, beauty is not merely aesthetic. There is moral beauty. Sigh. My brain hurts.

Oh, I know! Wilde can help me out. Here are some of the aphoristic claims in his preface:

Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.

The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.

The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass. The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium.

Here, in the 21st century, in my little town, and my Wonderful Land of CoincidOz, I can go see Caliban rage in The Tempest at the Illinois Shakespeare Festival this summer. Under the stars.

OK. *Kim K is not the Kim addicted to hummus, at Hummus Anonymous. **I hope Kim K will tell us what's in her stack of print books, maybe giving us a list like Doug's List! Or Lizabeth's on the road reading list. Lost in the world of coincidLinks? Just hit the back button.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Blue Carbuncle

Day 99 of the "What are you reading, and why?" project. Sarah, newly graduated from college, is reading "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle" and other Sherlock Holmes stories, by Arthur Conan Doyle, after getting hooked on them in a class.

This is the story in which the rare garnet turns up in a Christmas goose.

Based on the black and white Sherlock Holmes movies she'd seen on TV, Sarah thought Doyle might be sort of a stuffy writer. She was delighted to find that the stories are lighthearted and accessible, which helps her understand the mass appeal in their own time and the liveliness of the most recent movie version. She didn't like the movie much, but she understands it better now, having read the original stories. And they are a fun read, right after college and starting a fulltime job, each one very satisfying but not taking too much of her time.

We chatted about the word "carbuncle" which always calls up an icky hard callous dripping pus, far cry from a garnet but not so far, really, as the root word means "coal" and both the red (or deep purple or blue) gemstone and the bacterial wound are hard, compact.

Carbuncles appear elsewhere in literature, mostly in their gemstone sense, but not always! Wikipedia conveniently tells us there are carbunckles in The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde, "The Great Carbuncle," by Nathaniel Hawthorne, and the Bible.

Art by Herbert Zohl! I think he is making this available as a print you can buy.