Friday, September 01, 2006

The biggest fictional history book I've ever read.

"Many books are to be read, some are to be studied, and a few are meant to be lived in for weeks. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell is of this last kind." -Michael Dirda, The Washington Post

To which I add "No, sh*$, Sherlock. And also, whoever started touting this as the "adult's Harry Potter," should be shot. Aside from the magic, we're not even in the same genre. This isn't a fantasy, it's a Gothic Victorian historical.

Now, I pride myself on being a fairly voracious reader. When I decide I like something I'll burn right through it, stay up late, take it to lunch with me, whatever it takes to get to that next page, chapter, or verse. Which I suppose is my problem with this book, even after reading Jonathan Strange cover to cover, I still can't figure out if I liked it at all. Which is why it took me somewhere in the neighborhood of seven months to finish. I know I don't hate it, so that's something I suppose. There are parts I know I enjoyed, and I find the entire concept to be fascinating, but as an entire piece? I finished it weeks ago and I'm still scratching my head.

So let me attempt to elucidate, and yes, I'm using the fifty-cent term for a reason and not to sound smart. As defined by my handy online Merriam-Webster: elucidate... transitive verb : to make lucid especially by explanation or analysis a text; intransitive verb : to give a clarifying explanation. Which, in my opinion, is the whole reason this book was written. The author, Susannah Clarke, is so intent on explaining everything to us, the whys, the whos, and the whens, that I think she occasionally forgets that something has to happen in order to justify all these explanations. The book would move along for a bit and then come to a grinding halt of exposition, footnotes, "real-world" parallels, and general theory.

Part of this, I'm sure, is because of the structure she has set herself. In the most simple terms I can use, Clarke set out to write a historical novel in Victorian style, only with magic. Not a bad idea, but she took the "historical" part a bit too far. Don't get me wrong, she's done her research into the Napoleonic wars and it shows. I fact, I'd say the "war bits" were the best paced, and by far outstrip the rest of the book in clarity. Clarke bounces back and forth between Strange's adventures in the field and Norrell's maneuverings back in London almost effortlessly, and weaves them into the wider narrative fairly deftly. And it's blazingly obvious that she's planned out the fictional history of the magical side of things extensively.

Or should I say excessively? Footnote: 1 : a note of reference, explanation , or comment (see excerpt, 5th page) usually placed below the text on a printed page 2 a : one that is a relatively subordinate or minor part; footnote to architectural history. Now, I'm all for footnotes. They're great to clarify points, identify different schools of thought, or to prove that the author isn't just making stuff up. And that last reason is why Ms. Clark has used them here. I get that, it's a wonderful touch that adds that certain layer of "reality" to the whole piece. It feels like I could go look this stuff up if I wanted too. It's the "relatively subordinate" part she struggles with.

Footnotes are meant to compliment the piece, not become pieces of their own. Case in point- on page 61, one of the characters refers to a legal case involving magic. Clarke inserts a footnote, quite properly, to explain the relevance of the case to the conversation at hand. In any other text, the author would add a few sentences and we'd move on. (1) Heck, as this is a work of fiction, and the footnotes are a nifty device, I'd allow a few short paragraphs. Instead there's a page and a half of small-font text, at least three if not four pages if it were regular sized. To add insult to injury, the next footnote is longer, and includes actual dialogue. They do nothing to move the plot along, and they are a distraction, not a clarification to the reader. I should not forget what I was reading before I reach the end of the relevant footnote. If there were only three, maybe four the entire piece, I could forgive. But there's one of these babies in almost every chapter. (One stretches over five pages!!!) My history professors would flay me alive, these aren't footnotes any longer, they're appendices.

But if you can ignore them, or do what I do and finish the chapter, then go read the footnotes, then you can get through it OK. Clarke is still a little enamored of her own historical creation, as are most of the critics whose glowing reviews pepper periodicals everywhere, but they're not entirely wrong. Clarke adheres to the Gothic Victorian writing style she's chosen, even going so far as to reflect the appropriate gender bias in the treatment of Lady Poole and Mrs. Strange. Speech patterns, atmosphere, and class relationships are all accurate, and while the casual reader might get lost, or not even know where to begin, after awhile you can pick up the rhythm, and adjust your mindset to what's being presented. This is not an easy writing style to master, and while I think her editors should have been a little more liberal with their little red pens, it's not a total disaster.

My advise- If you like magic and a good gothic tale of mystery, magic and mayhem and can make it through books like Rebecca, Edgar Allen Poe's writings or even Dracula and Frankenstein without the language and style (all 846 pages of it) driving you up a wall, read it. You'll enjoy it. Just take it slow.

1. For example: Tubbs v. Starhouse an action in which Mr. Starhouse, a former employee of Mr. Tubbs, sued his employer for defamation of character by claiming that Mr. Starhouse was a faerie. The resulting strife caused Starhouse to leave Tubbs' employ and suffer unemployment and injury to his reputation. The courts found in favor of Mr. Starhouse, making him the first person to ever be declared "human" by the courts. It is also interesting to note that it illustrates the belief that, as recently as a few years ago, many Englishmen and women still believed that fairies walked among them. See, simple! Footnote- not footchapter!

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Wah-hooie! And the winner is....


Am I a happy camper? Hell, yes!

Actually, except for a few snubs in the nominations process, and two, maybe three of the awards, I'm pretty happy with the entire Emmy thing this year. Heck, I was just surprised we ran on time. (So was Bob Newhart, but we'll get to that later.)
And, yeah, my favorite show won, Outstanding Director, Outstanding Lead Actor, Outstanding Drama, hee, but that's not why I was happy.

(OK, I lie, it was, but there was other stuff too!)

First thing- the opening number. Lost, The Office, House, South Park... no show was safe as host Conan O'Brien dashed through them all with the grace, wit, and elegance of a geeky virgin on prom night. I may not always like his style, but this sort of thing suits him. He's actually a pretty good host, although I would have had him work the pacing of his opening monologue more. But, then, that was just the set-up for the musical number about NBC. Yes, I mentioned musical number, Conan O'Brien and NBC in the same paragraph. Here's a link to the monologue and musical bit, the NBC part starts at about 5:25. Ouch, kudos to NBC for not axing it.

From then on, it was a pretty standard Emmy presentation. A few of the presenters tried to be funny and weren't, tried to stay on their cues and didn't. There was fashion, good (and classic good) and evil, and the usual, um, eloquent acceptance speeches. The writer and director of My Name is Earl proved why that show is one of the funniest on TV, and Blythe Danner... well, I'm not sure what she was on about, do you? There was the tribute to Dick Clark (still living) and Aaron Spelling (passed on), as well as the traditional memorial montage (snif!). There weren't any real surprises, but nothing really sank it like the Titanic, either.

The running gag of the night was gamely endured by Mr. Bob Newhart, who was wheeled out in a plexi-glass container with exactly enough air to get him through, if the show didn't run over. After that, we had several check-ins with Mr. Newhart, each more panicked than the rest, and a few of the more canny presenters and recipients went with it, and finally he was released. According to Conan, 52% of the call-in viewers wanted him to live, 42% wanted him to die, and 6% called in just to say they didn't have an opinion. Hokey, yes, but cute nonetheless.

Funniest presenters? You have to ask?


Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, complete with ad-libs. Fun, no?

But how did I do in my predictions? Pretty darn good, if I do say so myself. (Better than my Oscar predictions at any rate.) Out of the 16 categories I listed, my heart and head got 10 of 'em right. My mistakes? Over-estimating the finale effect in two categories, under-estimating it in a third, and just being wrong in the rest. But thank the heavens none of my WTF! choices won. That would have been embarrassing, no?

So congrats to the winners, better luck next time to the rest, and I'm off to wait until January when my favorite EMMY WINNING series returns.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Today's Movie Checklist

  • A plot that serves the main action (loosely if necessary)- check
  • Airplane (must malfunction on cue)- check
  • Stalwart Hero- check
  • Stalwart Heroine- check
  • Sidekick- check
  • Bad Guy- check
  • Passenger that's afraid of flying- check
  • Passenger Asshole (preferably British)- check
  • Actual Mom (with baby for peril and angst)- check and check
  • Kids (without parental supervision, see above)- check and check again
  • Actually, have Central Casting send up one of every stock character for the passenger manifest. (Hmmmm, but no Italian mobsters, Asian's in this year.)
  • Lap Dog for the Spoiled Heiress (must have appropriate name)- check
  • And for God's sake, don't forget the Motherfucking Snakes for the Motherfucking Plane or we have no movie!!!

I can honestly say that I haven't had this much campy fun at a movie in ages. (Well, not since Slither anyway.)
I can also honestly say I didn't know death by snakebite could occur in such, um, interesting forms.

It doesn't waste time setting up a silly plot, it's pretty much 1-2-3 and we're on the plane. We're not talking Shakespeare here. But what it does set up isn't stupid. Cliche, oh, goodness, yes. We hit just about every disaster/creature/action cliche there is: no pilot, plane breaks, rampaging, angrier-than-normal animals to hunt and kill, snarly (and snarky) passengers, harried stewardesses, brash FBI agents, all of it and more; but it's not dumb. And it works! The hype didn't lie!

It's funny. And creepy. You don't have to think, so just sit back and enjoy the flight. (Example- all you need to know about the flight attendants you learn during the emergency instructions, and none of them speak a word.) There are scenes that make you squirm in anticipation, and scenes that just jump out and grab you. You name it, we got it, about the only thing missing was the pregnant lady going into labor.

Maybe we're saving that for the sequel.

Go see it, unless you're seriously ophidiophobic in which case I feel genuinely sorry for you, you're missing out on a fun thing here.

And if you're in the Austin area, see it at the Drafthouse and get one of these. (If the snakes left any of 'em, that is.)