Tender is the Night...

I am currently reading Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. As with The Beautiful and Damned, it has taken me about 100 pages to really get hooked. Now on page 155, I can't wait to see what happens! Isn't it so gratifying when you stick with a book and it turns out to be very worth it? I tried to read Z, a novel written recently about Zelda Fitzgerald, but I guess I was expecting Scott and the modern language threw me too much. It's great to be back to the classics :)

I will leave you with this:

"The mother's face was of a fading prettiness that would soon be patted with broken veins; her expression was both tranquil and aware in a pleasant way. However, one's eye moved on quickly to her daughter, who had magic in her pink palms and her cheeks lit to a lovely flame, like the thrilling flush of children after their cold baths in the evening...Her eyes were bright, big, clear, wet, and shining, the color of her cheeks was real, breaking close to the surface from the strong young pump of her heart. Her body hovered delicately on the last edge of childhood- she was almost eighteen, nearly complete, but the dew was still on her."

Gotta love those lush adjectives from a true lush himself...

Book Club: The Sun Also Rises...

As usual, I failed to capture very many photographs of our wonderful Book Club. It is just so hard...especially when you're the host. It is so nice to be in the moment, away from distractions like television and telephones. We just sit and discuss books and life and feast on delicious food.

Anyway, here are the few shots I did manage to capture on my phone. Apologies for the darkness/graininess...it was a mostly candlelit affair.

Since The Sun Also Rises began in France, traveled to Spain, and ended in France, I decided this provided the perfect flow of appetizer to dinner to dessert! It also gave me many more options since the book was not very specific about what the characters ate. 

We started with a Pissaladiere and French 75's.

Next we enjoyed tapas for dinner including cheese, olives, bread, bacon wrapped dates, nuts, shrimp, rice, wine, and patatas alioli (which we actually forgot to put out but everyone got a bite to bring home!)

Finally, we ended with tartlettes aux framboises et amandes (raspberry and almond tartlets) and some cheesecake that Angela brought.

And things got a little heated this time around! Luckily there were no drunken rows ;) But we sure did UTILIZE!

Next up is Into the Wild. I can't wait!

Book Club...

Last summer I started a book club with my co-workers. It was something we had been meaning to do for a while, but no one ever quite got it up and running. So, I decided to take over and really jump in. I invited all my co-workers, chose a book, told them when we would meet, and waited it out.

The day of the first meeting I had several people drop out at the last minute and the group ended up being only five, including myself. But from that night on, our small party of five has developed into a marvelous mix.

We have made it full circle, all choosing a book, and it is back to my turn to host. Our meetings have been so much fun that I never even thought to photograph/share them, but I am hoping to start now.

A little more about the magical book nights we've shared so far...

1. The Kreutzer Sonata, Leo Tolstoy
Russian themed dinner at my house with pierogi, Russian spring punch, plov, salad olivier, and pashka, pashka.
We had very intriguing discussions on the meaning of love.

2. American Born Chinese, Gene Luen Yang
Dinner at Kimmy's house. We enjoyed orange chicken, fried rice, blueberry pie, and more.
We pondered issues of identity, heritage, and family.

3. Bonjour Tristesse, Francoise Sagan
We met at a coffee shop for Veronica's choice and enjoyed a variety of treats.
Our discussions included adolescence, love, family, death, and irresponsible living.

4. The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath
Our little apartment dinner hosted by Charles included incredible crab stuffed avocados, fried tofu, peanut sauce, mushroom puffs, bacon wrapped dates, and pink champagne.
We talked about the tiny parts of life that influence our mental sanity and well-being.

5. The Road, Cormac McCarthy
Angela prepared a lovely, yet disturbing meal of BBQ ribs, beans, cole slaw, and more was served in pie tins, mason jars, and metal cans. Dessert was canned-peach cobbler that was surprisingly delicious!
We discussed the despair and hope that accompany the end of the world as we know it.

Up next is...
The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway

See how it turns out (it's my turn to host again)...whenever we are all able to meet again!

Shakespeare & Co. Newsletter...

A quote from Shakespeare & Company's latest newsletter. It always makes me a bit sad to read because I begin wishing I was in Paris again and able to attend all the marvelous events they put on.

"Without turning, the pharmacist answered that he liked books like The Metamorphosis, Bartleby, A Simple Heart, A Christmas Carol. And then he said that he was reading Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's. Leaving aside the fact that A Simple Heart and A Christmas Carol were stories, not books, there was something revelatory about the taste of this bookish young pharmacist, who...clearly and inarguably preferred minor works to major ones. He chose The Metamorphosis over The Trial, he chose Bartleby over Moby Dick, he chose A Simple Heart over Bouvard and Pecouchet, and A Christmas Carol over A Tale of Two Cities or The Pickwick Papers. What a sad paradox, thought Amalfitano. Now even bookish pharmacists are afraid to take on the great, imperfect, torrential works, books that blaze a path into the unknown. They choose the perfect exercises of the great masters. Or what amounts to the same thing: they want to watch the great masters spar, but they have no interest in real combat, when the great masters struggle against something, that something that terrifies us all, that something that cows us and spurs us on, amid blood and mortal wounds and stench."
Roberto Bolaño

My photos from our trip last year...

(First two photos from Shakespeare & Company's website)

Francesca Lia Block...

“Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you on this earth. Sometimes you catch them. They can be the hands of the people you love. They can be your pets- pups with funny names, cats with ferocious old souls. The thing that keeps you here can be your art. It can be things you have collected and invested with a certain sense of meaning. A flowered, buckled treasure chest of secrets. Shoes that make you taller and, therefore, closer to the heavens. A suit that belonged to your fairy godmother. A dress that makes you feel a little like the Goddess herself.

Sometimes you keep falling; you don't catch anything.

Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you here. Sometimes you catch them. Sometimes you don't.

Sometimes they catch you.”

This Side of Paradise...

I recently read "This Side of Paradise" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. He is one of my favorite authors of all time. I love the way he can draw you into the minds of his characters by weaving together the emotions, actions, thoughts, and descriptions of a scene in long sentences. Don't get me wrong, I am also a big fan of short, straightforward writing like that of Hemingway, but I feel that the beauty of long sentences has been lost in today's society that values the brevity seen in things like text messages, Facebook, and Twitter posts.

Another reason I love Fitzgerald is his ability to express the struggles of the Lost Generation. The young men who were sent to fight in World War I struggled immensely with the loss of values. Fitzgerald captures these sentiments in his characters' relationships with women, hardships in occupations, and internal battles. Here is an example from "This Side of Paradise."

"He was in an eddy again, a deep, lethargic gulf, without desire to work or write, love or dissipate. For the first time in his life he rather longed for death to roll over his generation, obliterating their petty fevers and struggles and exultations. His youth seemed never so vanished as now in the contrast between the utter loneliness of this visit and that riotous, joyful party of four years before. Things that had been the merest commonplaces of his life then, deep sleep, the sense of beauty around him, all desire, had flown away and the gaps they left were filled only with the great listlessness of his dillusion" (228).

Read the book for more lovely writing!
I also HIGHLY recommend "The Great Gatsby," "The Short Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald," and especially "The Beautiful and Damned."

Dreamy Day...

A Dreamy Quote Day



"Within your heart keep one still, secret spot where dreams may go, and, sheltered so, may thrive and grow where doubt and fear are not. Oh, keep a place apart, within your heart, for little dreams to go."
Louise Driscoll

"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it."
Roald Dahl

Photo 1, Photo 2, Photo 3

Alice...

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

I have begun again (not sure how many this will be) on the grand adventure down the rabbit hole with my dear friend Alice. Lewis Carroll is excellent. When I think of him I think: Logical Nonsense. While the situations are absurd, Alice proceeds to have rational concerns and thoughts.

The last time I read it was my freshman year of college at Cal Poly. I was a little obsessed and would read it while walking to class, waiting for class, and walking home. One day as I was reading I came to chapter 8 "The Queen's Croquet-Ground" where the gardeners are painting the white roses red and I happened to glance up to find I was right in front of the little rose garden on campus that was full of red and white roses. Twas quite a magical moment. I can't wait to find out what my magical moment will be this time!
(I happened to have my camera with me...and red nail polish. Quite the Coincidence!)

If you have only seen the films, I would HIGHLY recommend you IMMEDIATELY get the book and "Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop."

This is a poem in the back of my book directly after Through the Looking-Glass. Enjoy!

A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,

Lingering onward dreamily

In an evening of July —

Children three that nestle near,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Pleased a simple tale to hear —

Long has paled that sunny sky:

Echoes fade and memories die:

Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,

Alice moving under skies

Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream —

Lingering in the golden gleam —

Life, what is it but a dream?

-Lewis Carroll

In other news...
Trying out red lips. Thoughts?

Antonio...

Antonio

Antonio, Antonio
Was tired of living alonio.
He thought he would woo
Miss Lissamy Lu,
Miss Lissamy Lucy Molonio.

Antonio, Antonio,
Rode off on his polo-ponio.
He found the fair maid
In a bowery shade,
A-sitting and knitting alonio.

Antonio, Antonio,
Said, "If you will be my ownio,
I'll love you true,
And I'll buy for you
An icery creamery conio!"

Oh, Nonio, Antonio!
You're far too bleak and bonio!
And all that I wish,
You singular fish,
Is that you will quickly begonio."

Antonio, Antonio,
He uttered a dismal moanio;
Then he ran off and hid
(Or I'm told that he did)
In the Antecatarctical Zonio.

by Laura Elizabeth Richards


Today I'm feeling a bit silly and who could put it better than Mr. Oscar Wilde when he said, "Life is too important to be taken seriously." Indubitably Captain!!!

Images...

Reading is fun! (And pretty)

Literature Lunes...

Two Lovers

Today's Literature Lunes is a multimedia event in honor of my Interdisciplinary Approaches and Methodology in Teaching in the Content Areas. WHEW! What a mouthful. What that means is that we explore ways to combine different content areas into a one lesson or a unit of lessons under the roof of a bigger theme (usually).

So, although it is quite different, I have a paper cut image by Rob Ryan, a note card image from etsy, a poem by Samuel M. Johnson, and a song by Philip Glass. Enjoy and have a lovely Monday!



Lovers on a Park Bench
The day with its cares and perplexities is ended and the night is now upon us. The night should be a time of peace and tranquility, a time to relax and be calm. We have need of a soothing story to banish the disturbing thoughts of the day, to set at rest our troubled minds, and put at ease our ruffled spirits.
And what sort of story shall we hear? Ah, it will be a familiar story, a story that is so very, very old, and yet it is so new. It is the old, old story of love.
Two lovers sat on a park bench, with their bodies touching each other, holding hands in the moonlight.
There was silence between them. So profound was their love for each other, they needed no words to express it. And so they sat in silence, on a park bench, with their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight.
Finally she spoke. "Do you love me, John?" she asked. "You know I love you, darling," he replied. "I love you more than tongue can tell. You are the light of my life, my sun, moon and stars. You are my everything. Without you I have no reason for being."
Again there was silence as the two lovers sat on a park bench, their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight. Once more she spoke. "How much do you love me, John?" she asked. He answered: "How much do I love you? Count the stars in the sky. Measure the waters of the oceans with a teaspoon. Number the grains of sand on the sea shore. Impossible, you say."
"Yes and it is just as impossible for me to say how much I love you."
"My love for you is higher than the heavens, deeper than Hades, and broader than the earth. It has no limits, no bounds. Everything must have an ending except my love for you."
There was more of silence as the two lovers sat on a park bench with their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight.
Once more her voice was heard. "Kiss me, John," she implored. And leaning over, he pressed his lips warmly to hers in fervent osculation.
By Samuel M. Johnson



photo found here (More by Rob Ryan here)
note cards found here
text found here
video found here

A Lovely Love Letter...

Well...I missed Literature Lunes due to finals madness, but here is a lovely love letter from Lewis Carroll to May Mileham. I hope it makes up for my tardiness! That Carroll sure was a sillilly creative young fellow! (Sillilly would be a cool word...)

Peace out like a trout!

J.

6 September 1885

7 Lushington Road, Eastbourne

Dearest May,

     Thank you very much indeed for the peaches. They were delicious. Eating one was almost as nice as kissing you: of course not quite: I think, if I had to give the exact measurement, I should say 'three-quarters as nice'. We are having such a lovely time here; and the sands are beautiful. I only wish I could some day come across you, washing your pocket-handkerchief in a pool among the rocks! But I wander on the beach, and look for you, in vain: and then I say, 'Where is May?' And the stupid boatmen reply, 'It isn't May, sir! It's September!' But it doesn't comfort me. 

Always your loving

                                             C.L.D.

Wilde about you...

Mr. Wilde himself (photo found here)

Oh Oscar Wilde...so clever, so humorous, so wonderful, so wilde!

My dearest deer friend just sent me an email of what good ol' Oscar said on his deathbed and I strongly felt the need to share:
"Either the wallpaper goes, or I do."

Now that is impressive...someone who can be humorous even in the face of death!


Caitlin and myself kissing his grave in Paris

The Picture of Dorian Gray is one of my favorite books. It is a fascinating plot and gives you plenty to think about! You should see my copy, it is kind of embarrassing how much is underlined. Almost every word that Lord Henry spoke is noted...he gets me :)

Anywhooo...here are some of my favorites from Lord Henry...

"There are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up."

"Always! That is a dreadful word. It makes me shudder when I hear it. Women are so fond of using it. They spoil every romance by trying to make it last forever.
It is a meaningless word too. The only difference between a caprice and a life-long passion is that the caprice lasts a little longer."

"What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I call either lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination. Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect- simply a confession of failure."

"When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."

Neruda...

One of my most favorite poems by Pablo Neruda:

Soneto XX

Mi fea, eres una castaña despeinada,
mi bella, eres hermosa como el viento,
mi fea, de tu boca se pueden hacer dos,
mi bella, son tus besos frescos como sandías.
Mi fea, ¿dónde están escondidos tus senos?
Son mínimos como dos copas de trigo.
Me gustaría verte dos lunas en el pecho:
las gigantescas torres de tu soberanía.
Mi fea, el mar no tiene tus uñas en su tienda,
mi bella, flor a flor, estrella por estrella,
ola por ola, amor, he contado tu cuerpo:
mi fea, te amo por tu cintura de oro,
mi bella, te amo por una arruga en tu frente,
amor, te amo por clara y por oscura.

Translation...(my version)

Sonnet XX

My ugly, you are a disheveled chesnut,
my beauty, you are lovely like the wind,
my ugly, from your mouth could be made two,
my beauty, your kisses are fresh as watermelons.

My ugly, where are your breasts hidden?
they are tiny like two scoops of wheat.
I would wish to see two moons on your chest:
the gigantic towers of your sovereignty.

My ugly, not even the sea has your nails in store,
my beauty, flower by flower, star by star,
wave by wave, my love, I have counted your body:
my ugly, I love you for your waist of gold,
my beauty, I love you for the wrinkle in your brow,
my love, I love you for your transparency and obscurity.


(Neruda with third wife, Matilde)

Booktacular...

(Also, my high school Lit teacher told us, "reading Sparknotes is like hearing about sex...it's not the same.)

Eh?...

Eh he said and she
dreamed eh. It was
like that between them.



Not that his lips dreamed,
not that his dreamed lips
parted. Eh he’d say



and her dream was eh,
was all eh, all and
only. Sometimes



a near kiss an almost tide
drawn back withdrawn withdrawing.
Sometimes the hackled wave



raised, drew back its lip, sheered
its teeth, coughed its raw
guttural. Or



she herself voicing
involuntary eh
his whatever, his



what-it-is. But
sometimes his naked eh
with her ah alongside—



the rocked hulls nudging nuzzling
or was it scraping what
did she care? Would his eh



oh? How fast she’d
founder, taking on water,
mouth emptying full.



By day she’d hear on the air
his syllable, turn
toward or away, does it



matter? If she said ah
would he dream ah? Oh—
not like that between them.

by Nathalie Anderson

19 January 2009

Excerpt...

While I was in London, I discovered a large collection of books that all had the same type of cover art at a local bookstore. The covers caught my attention and I was curious about why there were so many of them.

It turned out that they were all books by a man named P.G. Wodehouse. I had never heard of him, but, as it turns out, he is considered England's greatest comic writer of the twentieth century. He originally worked at a bank. After success in publishing various stories and articles, however, he became a full time writer.

Wodehouse's literary career lasted more than seventy years and he published over ninety books. Talk about an accomplishment!!! Besides novels, Wodehouse also wrote short stories, plays, poems, songs, and some journalistic pieces.

He moved to America in 1909 at the age of 28 and eventually became and American citizen in 1955. Wodehouse died at the age of 93 in 1975.



I have not finished reading it, but I wanted to share an excerpt (Warning: it is a bit of a spoiler to the specific story in the book, but there are tons more!). It is pretty funny to read British humor...quite different from American humor today!

Some background on this quote: George Mulliner has suffered terribly from a stammer, especially in the presence of lady-folk. He has fallen in love with a woman who shares his love of crossword puzzles and synonyms. In order to express his sentiments, he visits a doctor and spends a grueling day working on the problem.
When he makes it home, he has the following encounter with his love, Susan Blake...

"Had he wished at that moment to say, 'Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers', he could have done it without a second thought.

But he had better things to say than that.

'Miss Blake-Susan-Susie.' He took her hand in his. His voice rang out clear and unimpeded. It seemed to his incredible that he had ever yammered at this girl like an over-heated steam-radiator. 'It cannot have escaped your notice that I have long entertained towards you sentiments warmer and deeper than those of ordinary friendship. It is love, Susan, that has been animating my bosom. Love, first a tiny seed, has burgeoned in my heart till, blazing into a flame, it has swept away on the crest of its wave my diffidence, my doubt, my fears, my foreboding, and, now, like the topmost topaz of some ancient tower, it cries to all the world in a voice of thunder: "You are mine! My mate! Predestined to me since Time first began!" As the star guides the mariner when, battered and boiling billows, he hies himself home to the haven of hope and happiness, so do you gleam upon me along life's rough road and seem to say, "Have courage, George! I am here!" Susan, I am not an eloquent man- I cannot speak fluently as I could wish- but these simple words which you have just heard come from the heart, from the unspotted heart of an English gentleman. Susan, I love you. Will you be my wife, married woman, matron, spouse, help-meet, consort, partner, or better half?'

'Oh George!' said Susan. 'Yes, yea, ay, aye! Decidedly, unquestionably, indubitably, incontrovertibly, and past all disupte!' (29)"


What a perfect proposal! Analogies, synonyms, alliteration, and all. Aren't they perfect for each other??
Read the book(s)!
XOXO J.

Welcome Autumn...

To Autumnby William Blake

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

'The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head.

'The spirits of the air live in the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.'
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

Shakespeare & Company....

Literature Lunes (that's Monday in Spanish in case you didn't know) sure beats Miserable Monday!!!

Recent Reads...

 
Shakespeare & Company

On my recent European adventure, one of my absolute favorite things was my visit to Shakespeare & Co. While I was there I discovered a book about the store written by none other than Sylvia Beach herself. I was so excited that I read the entire book on my first plane ride home.

The book is a memoir of the beginning of the lending library that lived from 1919 to 1941. (A new Shakespeare & Co. was opened by George Whitman in the 1960's.) Sylvia Beach was a part of the "Lost Generation" literary circle and was in close contact with writers like James Joyce (she published Ulysses when no one else would), Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ford Maddox Ford, Ezra Pound, and much more.

This book is a wonderful inspiration for me. It includes literature, living abroad, exploring society, friendships, and more. All things I would love in my life.
I can't find the book online but here is the website...

Fight Club

Fight Club is a completely different genre for my Classics-loving self. I did, however, enjoy reading this. It is a difficult book to stomach at times, but its ideas provoke further thought and discussion. The main focus is on the working class folks, who are the "middle children" of society, and their existential struggles to find meaning in their lives.

Originally written as a short story, Palahniuk said he extended it into a book by simply adding stories he heard in his own life and cutting from scene to scene revealing details that eventually add up to a full picture.

The style and themes are unique, but it does get rather repetitive at points. This would be an excellent book for many youth of the current generations: it is easy and fast to read and generally keeps your interest. I, however, would not classify it as an outstanding piece of literature. But then again, I don't always fit in with my generation...
The book...

The Kreutzer Sonata

Love, love, love. Not only did I love this book, but it also is about love. A part of Penguin Books' Great Loves collection, this story written in 1800's Russia exposes issues that are so similar to current society it is incredible.

A three day train ride provides an intimate setting for the characters in this story to grow in their understanding of each other. These characters discuss and debate the meaning of love, the current state of marriage in society, gender roles, and more.

Pozdnyshev's, the main character, struggles and conclusions about these topics are simply put, real.

For example, when debating what "love" really means, an opponent defines it as preference for one person above others. Pozdnyshev's response is:
     'But that only happens in novels, not in real life. In real life a preference like that lasts maybe a year, but that's very rare; more often it's a few months, or weeks, or days, or hours,' he said, evidently aware that this opinion would shock everyone, and pleased at the result. (14)

Just read it already! It's definitely worth it.
The book...

Reading in progress:
Meet Mr. Mulliner by P.G. Wodehouse
The Gentle Spirit by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

If only school didn't take up so much time, or better yet was only about literature!!!

Fitzgerald...

I recently finished F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Beautiful and Damned. It was only his second novel written when he was 25 years of age. The plot practically predicts his own demise which is peculiar as well as fascinating.

Was it that he wrote the novel and became intertwined with the story that his life ended up that way?
or
Did he write from his personal experiences at the time, not seeing his own warning message?

Photographs of Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda.