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My American heroes Part One
No this entry was not prompted by a documentary about WWII GI's; it has nothing to do with movie stars and I am not particularly into those superheroes born in comics of which Americans are so fond either. Actually I guess it goes against a lot of clichés but my American heroes are writers.The more I read Daniel Mendelsohn and Richard Powers the more I adore them.
Perhaps you remember how I fell in love with the former while reading his The Lost. I have read two other books of his since then, and I'm still under Daniel Mendelsohn's spell.
So a few days ago I finished reading How Beautiful It Is And How Easily It Can Be Broken which is a recollection of critic essays Mendelsohn wrote years ago for the New York Review of Books before he made his literary debut with The Elusive Embrace.
Of course I haven't seen the theatre productions he talks about, and there are a few books or movies he mentioned that I have neither read nor seen, but I enjoyed his reviews nonetheless, and I loved reading his take on movies I had seen like Volver, The Hours, Troy, Brokeback Mountain, Marie-Antoinette, etc. Mendelsohn is a well-read and intelligent man and his writing as a critic is high quality but he doesn't show-off; he makes you feel smarter as you read his words while touching and entertaining you. I do enjoy how he manages to easily mix scholarly rigour and references– often using his background in the Classics– casual conversation manners, humour and sensitivity.
In the introduction of the book, wherein he explains his "method", he reminds the reader of the etymology of the word "critic" that is krinô, "to judge".
This pleases me because we live in a world where judgments aren't easily accepted. For instance I'm used to watch a programme(a sort of talk show) on French tv in which two journalists are often accused of being mean and cruel, or of trying to make a name for themselves by tearing guests to pieces, only because they tell their mind and aren't lenient. They simply are professional critics, they point out the qualities and they also point out the flaws and weaknesses. They aren't afraid to say to writers(or songwriters), sitting just in front of them on the set, how badly written or how pointless their book is, or to an actor how much the film sucks. They are especially frank and savage when it comes to books whose authors are celebrities and wannabe/fake-writers, probably because they are fed up of having to read such terrible "literature".
More than once the guests got really upset (some even cried because it's quite violent and humiliating to be called an impostor in front of the camera, or perhaps it's just that they were delusional and didn't get that their work was indeed bad) and told them "You can't say that! You just can't! Just say that you didn't like it but don't say that it's bad". It's quite revealing a social tendancy implying that everything is on the same level, that it's only a matter of taste. Everybody can sing, act, write books...Basically it's refuting the meaning of the word, and therefore the job, that is "critic". A critic isn't someone who tells us what they like or not, but a person who makes judgements(which doesn't mean that strong feelings aren't involved).
By the way Mendelsohn writes: " Critic, then, is a word with a rich and suggestive pedigree. As, indeed, are other words derived from krinô, words like criterion (a means for judging or trying, a standard) and–a word that you might not have suspected is even remotely related to "critic"–crisis, which in Greek means separating,a power of distinguishing; a judgement, a means of judging; a trial. For what is a crisis, if not an event that forces us to distinguish between the crucial and the trivial, forces us to reveal our priorities, to apply the most rigorous criteria and judge things?"
Farther, explaining that the title of his book is borrowed from Tennessee Williams, he adds: "But to my mind Williams' s haunting phrase illuminates not only the nature of certain works that have preoccupied me, but also something about the nature of the critics who judge those works. For(as strange as it may sound to many people, who tend to think of critics as being motivated by the lower emotions: envy, disdain, contempt even)critics are above all, people who are in love with beautiful things, and who worry that those things will get broken. What motivates so many of us to write in the first place is, to begin with, a great passion for a subject (Tennessee Williams, Balanchine, jazz, the twentieth-centry novel, whatever)that we find beautiful; and, then, a kind of corresponding anxiety about the fragility of that beauty."
Here I feel the need to cut through the quote and say that his view on critics does resonate with me. Also I'm thrilled to see him use the "not only (...) but also" structure because it is so Latin ("Not solo/ sed etiam") and a writing tic that I thought I was the only one showing when writing in English. Actually I was quite convinced (and ashamed)that it was a very un-English way to write, a sort of "Frenchism" even, and I have been cautious for a while, trying to suppress the habit. But hey Mendelsohn does it too! See that is the evidence he is my soul mate. Now if only he could move in France, settle in Paris...and give up homosexuality for at least bisexuality!
But let's back to the quote:
"Many of the reviews here are, in fact, judgments about the success of contemporary attempts to interpret, or adapt, or reexamine subjects about which I have deep feelings: the grand and gliterring Homeric epics and Virginia Woolf's gossamer Mrs. Dalloway; the comedies of Mel Brooks or the tragedies of Euripides; the Classics as a symbol, now being used and abused by this or that faction(the gays, the neocons) to score points in the Culture Wars. And those pieces that are about new work for which there is no original still seek to make use of standards, of criteria, that like so much of contemporary culture are, in fact, rooted in certain ancient traditions which are themselves beautiful–and fragile. If I mention Aristotle's or Horace's theories of poetry in my review of Troy, it's not out of some kind of loyalty to my subject–product placement for the Classics–but because no one has ever stated as crisply and usefully just what it is that epic is supposed to do for its audience.
Respect for the integrity of the original stems, indeed, not from some blind curatorial reflex(hence my conclusion, in one of these pieces, that Aeschylian tragedy is better served by productions that put, say, a bathtub and some circulat saw blades onstage than by "authentic" stagings complete with ancient-looking muslin cloaks and sandals), but instead precisely from a sense that the classics of any genreare classic in the first place precisely because they have always been, and will always be, deeply relevant to, and incomparably illuminating of, human experience. that relevance, that ability to enlighten, are themselves rather beautiful; they are the ultimate standrads, kriteria, by which any work is judged."
I could go on and on but that is enough. I highly recommend reading that book. Mendelsohn's essays are insightful, articulate; sometimes moving and funny. Simply brilliant.
PS: I'm spamming(yes there's a Part Two coming soon) today but since the History & Geography test took place yesterday morning and given that this afternoon I went to Saint-Cloud to picked the Baccalauréat papers, that I'm supposed to mark in the 7 upcoming days, these entries are probably my latest "big posts" for a while. Marking Hell begins tomorrow morning so you won't see a lot of me until I'm done, unless I need a place to rant and whine from time to time...which might happen.
Perhaps you remember how I fell in love with the former while reading his The Lost. I have read two other books of his since then, and I'm still under Daniel Mendelsohn's spell.
So a few days ago I finished reading How Beautiful It Is And How Easily It Can Be Broken which is a recollection of critic essays Mendelsohn wrote years ago for the New York Review of Books before he made his literary debut with The Elusive Embrace.
Of course I haven't seen the theatre productions he talks about, and there are a few books or movies he mentioned that I have neither read nor seen, but I enjoyed his reviews nonetheless, and I loved reading his take on movies I had seen like Volver, The Hours, Troy, Brokeback Mountain, Marie-Antoinette, etc. Mendelsohn is a well-read and intelligent man and his writing as a critic is high quality but he doesn't show-off; he makes you feel smarter as you read his words while touching and entertaining you. I do enjoy how he manages to easily mix scholarly rigour and references– often using his background in the Classics– casual conversation manners, humour and sensitivity.
In the introduction of the book, wherein he explains his "method", he reminds the reader of the etymology of the word "critic" that is krinô, "to judge".
This pleases me because we live in a world where judgments aren't easily accepted. For instance I'm used to watch a programme(a sort of talk show) on French tv in which two journalists are often accused of being mean and cruel, or of trying to make a name for themselves by tearing guests to pieces, only because they tell their mind and aren't lenient. They simply are professional critics, they point out the qualities and they also point out the flaws and weaknesses. They aren't afraid to say to writers(or songwriters), sitting just in front of them on the set, how badly written or how pointless their book is, or to an actor how much the film sucks. They are especially frank and savage when it comes to books whose authors are celebrities and wannabe/fake-writers, probably because they are fed up of having to read such terrible "literature".
More than once the guests got really upset (some even cried because it's quite violent and humiliating to be called an impostor in front of the camera, or perhaps it's just that they were delusional and didn't get that their work was indeed bad) and told them "You can't say that! You just can't! Just say that you didn't like it but don't say that it's bad". It's quite revealing a social tendancy implying that everything is on the same level, that it's only a matter of taste. Everybody can sing, act, write books...Basically it's refuting the meaning of the word, and therefore the job, that is "critic". A critic isn't someone who tells us what they like or not, but a person who makes judgements(which doesn't mean that strong feelings aren't involved).
By the way Mendelsohn writes: " Critic, then, is a word with a rich and suggestive pedigree. As, indeed, are other words derived from krinô, words like criterion (a means for judging or trying, a standard) and–a word that you might not have suspected is even remotely related to "critic"–crisis, which in Greek means separating,a power of distinguishing; a judgement, a means of judging; a trial. For what is a crisis, if not an event that forces us to distinguish between the crucial and the trivial, forces us to reveal our priorities, to apply the most rigorous criteria and judge things?"
Farther, explaining that the title of his book is borrowed from Tennessee Williams, he adds: "But to my mind Williams' s haunting phrase illuminates not only the nature of certain works that have preoccupied me, but also something about the nature of the critics who judge those works. For(as strange as it may sound to many people, who tend to think of critics as being motivated by the lower emotions: envy, disdain, contempt even)critics are above all, people who are in love with beautiful things, and who worry that those things will get broken. What motivates so many of us to write in the first place is, to begin with, a great passion for a subject (Tennessee Williams, Balanchine, jazz, the twentieth-centry novel, whatever)that we find beautiful; and, then, a kind of corresponding anxiety about the fragility of that beauty."
Here I feel the need to cut through the quote and say that his view on critics does resonate with me. Also I'm thrilled to see him use the "not only (...) but also" structure because it is so Latin ("Not solo/ sed etiam") and a writing tic that I thought I was the only one showing when writing in English. Actually I was quite convinced (and ashamed)that it was a very un-English way to write, a sort of "Frenchism" even, and I have been cautious for a while, trying to suppress the habit. But hey Mendelsohn does it too! See that is the evidence he is my soul mate. Now if only he could move in France, settle in Paris...and give up homosexuality for at least bisexuality!
But let's back to the quote:
"Many of the reviews here are, in fact, judgments about the success of contemporary attempts to interpret, or adapt, or reexamine subjects about which I have deep feelings: the grand and gliterring Homeric epics and Virginia Woolf's gossamer Mrs. Dalloway; the comedies of Mel Brooks or the tragedies of Euripides; the Classics as a symbol, now being used and abused by this or that faction(the gays, the neocons) to score points in the Culture Wars. And those pieces that are about new work for which there is no original still seek to make use of standards, of criteria, that like so much of contemporary culture are, in fact, rooted in certain ancient traditions which are themselves beautiful–and fragile. If I mention Aristotle's or Horace's theories of poetry in my review of Troy, it's not out of some kind of loyalty to my subject–product placement for the Classics–but because no one has ever stated as crisply and usefully just what it is that epic is supposed to do for its audience.
Respect for the integrity of the original stems, indeed, not from some blind curatorial reflex(hence my conclusion, in one of these pieces, that Aeschylian tragedy is better served by productions that put, say, a bathtub and some circulat saw blades onstage than by "authentic" stagings complete with ancient-looking muslin cloaks and sandals), but instead precisely from a sense that the classics of any genreare classic in the first place precisely because they have always been, and will always be, deeply relevant to, and incomparably illuminating of, human experience. that relevance, that ability to enlighten, are themselves rather beautiful; they are the ultimate standrads, kriteria, by which any work is judged."
I could go on and on but that is enough. I highly recommend reading that book. Mendelsohn's essays are insightful, articulate; sometimes moving and funny. Simply brilliant.
PS: I'm spamming(yes there's a Part Two coming soon) today but since the History & Geography test took place yesterday morning and given that this afternoon I went to Saint-Cloud to picked the Baccalauréat papers, that I'm supposed to mark in the 7 upcoming days, these entries are probably my latest "big posts" for a while. Marking Hell begins tomorrow morning so you won't see a lot of me until I'm done, unless I need a place to rant and whine from time to time...which might happen.
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I'd be interested to see what his actual reviews are like, because just superficially judging from the quotes here he seems to be backward-looking, which isn't surprising if his background is in the classics, but I suspect there's much more to it than just Klassizismus - the mention of Mel Brooks points to that.
As I watched Volver for the first time last night - it was on television - I'll start with that. I managed to find the essay (http://www.nybooks.com/articles/19911) online!
Good luck with the marking - here it's all over and I'll go and see my students to say congratulate them and to say goodbye to them.
no subject
Oh, I don't know if you've seen this review: Jonathan Littell: The Kindly Ones (http://www.nybooks.com/articles/22452).
(I doubt it's included in the book as it is so new.)
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Looks like the English translation was better than the original in French (I guess that Mendelsohn read both given that he reads French). I remember that my main problem with Les Bienveillantes –apart from the historical documentation that sometimes felt like a copy-and-paste padding like the sort of things lazy students do–was that some passages were really badly written, there were a lot of mistakes in French (but Littell is American so many critics over here were rather indulgent).
Daniel's take on the structure and the references is interesting. I think that he is rather kind towards Littell, but I agree with him that Littell's aims were neither mistaken nor illegitimate.
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I read his take on Volver: it was interesting to see how the film connects to Almodovar's earlier work (which I haven't seen and which I'm now partially spoiled for, but I'll forget...). Overall, I share his thoughts - but for me one viewing was enough to like the film.
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As I have seen neither, I'm not sure whether I should read the reviews or not, though in the case of Troy it's probably not really necessary...
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*grins*