Sunday, February 22, 2004
Films, Literature, and Taxis
Well, this weekend has kicked off Seabury's "Reading Week" - a week long period with no classes to facilitate the close reading of extra books, usually selected from a list, that support or in another way compliment what we have been learning in each class. As mentioned in my previous blog, I have selected my books for the two classes requiring them and have made serious headway into them. Both are good and very interesting, though Trible's tends to be a bit more dense than Hanh's, which is fitting as hers is academic writing and his is devotional literature.
As it is "reading week", I have not neglected to do my own novel reading, which, as you no doubt have guessed, is an important aspect of my life. In that vein, I have finished Haruki Murakami's Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. It was quite fantastic, though I have not a clue what it was about. The language and imagery were superb: oddly simplistic yet amazingly complex. Best as I can describe it, the book was about a person who worked with advanced (slightly futuristic) cryptographic methods for secreting away data. The methods employed heavily involved the use of the subconscious, so that even the 'encrypter' wasn't fully aware of his own work. In so doing, this insanely intelligent protagonist managed to create in his mind an alternate reality for himself, followed by an alternate version of himself to be placed in that reality and then accomplished it so smoothly that neither version of the individual was aware of the other. Both lived in separate realities, one the "real world", the other the "subconscious reality", separate but intimately connected. It was madness. The book is defined as "post-modern" and I have read several books with this tagline lately, but still am not real sure what it means. Best guess: Postmodern literature searches for the meaning of life in a world viewed as relatively meaningless. Yet instead of riding the apathetic wave out to the sea of un-meaning, remains on the shore of 'reality' to pose the question, 'Why does it matter, one way or the other?' In other, less eloquent words, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about.
But, my search is not done. I picked up another novel with the post-modern label. This one is Kelley Eskridge's Solitaire: A Novel. I have not but barely cracked it open, so I don't really know more about it than what is written on the back cover. Seems to be about a young woman who was suppossed to be some sort of savior figure, but just when she was to fulfill that destiny, was told it was all a farce. Somehow she commits or is framed for a crime and has to spend time in prison (which is fascinating: she spends 8 months in a drug induced coma while electrodes connected to her brain convinve her mind that she is really spending 10 years in solitary confinement) where she ponders existential questions I imagine. I'll say more about it when I finish.
As it was the weekend, I saw a full compliment of films: Out of Time, starring Denzel Washington, Taxi Driver, starring Robert De Niro, and The Red Violin, starring Carlo Cecchi and Samuel L. Jackson. Denzel's film was only so-so - a cop drama, basic framing, whodunit type. Probably worth a look if you run across it on TBS someday, but definitely not worth spending cash for it. Taxi Driver was a bit of a disappointment for me. I had heard all sorts of marvelous things about it and it was really built up in my mind. Seeing it though, I thought it was slow paced with a boring story that could have been so much more. The action was confined to the very end and so, just when things began to get interesting, it was over. Still though, solid performances by De Niro and a very young Jodie Foster. The Red Violin was the crown jewel this weekend. It was really fantastic. A little slow paced for some folks likely (i.e. Dad would be irritated with me if I rented it at home), but with a highly intriguing story, slight airs of mystery yet still realistic, enough love aspects to satisfy your romantic interests, with a fulfilling yet somewhat cliffhanging conclusion. Great acting, great writing, and most telling, I liked it despite having to put up with subtitles. Ususally I can't abide subtitles - but I recognize that there are really great movies out there from other countries that I want to/need to see and so I have to be in just the right mood to pull it off. And the movie has to be good. For The Red Violin, it seems the stars were aligned.
In addition to all that, I still managed to go out last night with Kate, Julia, and Ives to a cool little 'Irish' bar off Diversey. I hesitate to say Irish because, while that was their theme, the first song I heard upon walking in was "Sweet Home Alabama" (a marvelous song in and of itself) when I expected to hear "Danny Boy" or "The Rocky Road to Dublin". Anyway, it was fun. I missed the last train home to Evanston and so had to take a cab. My cabbie was the most polite, pleasant, and engaging cabbie I've ever had! We had a great conversation about life and love and what it's like to be lonely in the big city. He was originally from Karachi, Pakistan, where his family still lives. He came to America seeking the 'dream', and instead found the reality. In Pakistan he was a stock broker, but due to some poor investing on his own, he went belly up. He came to America as a way to start over, but his stock broker's license apparently doesn't transfer. He said he had no girlfriend and only a few friends otherwise. What must that be like? As I departed I asked him to teach me how to say "goodbye" in Farsi, and, though I'm not even going to come close to spelling it correctly here, it sounded like: "Qoda ha fez". Ok, so I just looked it up and I wasn't all that far off. With that I bid you, spelled correctly:
Khoda Hafez.
-R
Well, this weekend has kicked off Seabury's "Reading Week" - a week long period with no classes to facilitate the close reading of extra books, usually selected from a list, that support or in another way compliment what we have been learning in each class. As mentioned in my previous blog, I have selected my books for the two classes requiring them and have made serious headway into them. Both are good and very interesting, though Trible's tends to be a bit more dense than Hanh's, which is fitting as hers is academic writing and his is devotional literature.
As it is "reading week", I have not neglected to do my own novel reading, which, as you no doubt have guessed, is an important aspect of my life. In that vein, I have finished Haruki Murakami's Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. It was quite fantastic, though I have not a clue what it was about. The language and imagery were superb: oddly simplistic yet amazingly complex. Best as I can describe it, the book was about a person who worked with advanced (slightly futuristic) cryptographic methods for secreting away data. The methods employed heavily involved the use of the subconscious, so that even the 'encrypter' wasn't fully aware of his own work. In so doing, this insanely intelligent protagonist managed to create in his mind an alternate reality for himself, followed by an alternate version of himself to be placed in that reality and then accomplished it so smoothly that neither version of the individual was aware of the other. Both lived in separate realities, one the "real world", the other the "subconscious reality", separate but intimately connected. It was madness. The book is defined as "post-modern" and I have read several books with this tagline lately, but still am not real sure what it means. Best guess: Postmodern literature searches for the meaning of life in a world viewed as relatively meaningless. Yet instead of riding the apathetic wave out to the sea of un-meaning, remains on the shore of 'reality' to pose the question, 'Why does it matter, one way or the other?' In other, less eloquent words, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about.
But, my search is not done. I picked up another novel with the post-modern label. This one is Kelley Eskridge's Solitaire: A Novel. I have not but barely cracked it open, so I don't really know more about it than what is written on the back cover. Seems to be about a young woman who was suppossed to be some sort of savior figure, but just when she was to fulfill that destiny, was told it was all a farce. Somehow she commits or is framed for a crime and has to spend time in prison (which is fascinating: she spends 8 months in a drug induced coma while electrodes connected to her brain convinve her mind that she is really spending 10 years in solitary confinement) where she ponders existential questions I imagine. I'll say more about it when I finish.
As it was the weekend, I saw a full compliment of films: Out of Time, starring Denzel Washington, Taxi Driver, starring Robert De Niro, and The Red Violin, starring Carlo Cecchi and Samuel L. Jackson. Denzel's film was only so-so - a cop drama, basic framing, whodunit type. Probably worth a look if you run across it on TBS someday, but definitely not worth spending cash for it. Taxi Driver was a bit of a disappointment for me. I had heard all sorts of marvelous things about it and it was really built up in my mind. Seeing it though, I thought it was slow paced with a boring story that could have been so much more. The action was confined to the very end and so, just when things began to get interesting, it was over. Still though, solid performances by De Niro and a very young Jodie Foster. The Red Violin was the crown jewel this weekend. It was really fantastic. A little slow paced for some folks likely (i.e. Dad would be irritated with me if I rented it at home), but with a highly intriguing story, slight airs of mystery yet still realistic, enough love aspects to satisfy your romantic interests, with a fulfilling yet somewhat cliffhanging conclusion. Great acting, great writing, and most telling, I liked it despite having to put up with subtitles. Ususally I can't abide subtitles - but I recognize that there are really great movies out there from other countries that I want to/need to see and so I have to be in just the right mood to pull it off. And the movie has to be good. For The Red Violin, it seems the stars were aligned.
In addition to all that, I still managed to go out last night with Kate, Julia, and Ives to a cool little 'Irish' bar off Diversey. I hesitate to say Irish because, while that was their theme, the first song I heard upon walking in was "Sweet Home Alabama" (a marvelous song in and of itself) when I expected to hear "Danny Boy" or "The Rocky Road to Dublin". Anyway, it was fun. I missed the last train home to Evanston and so had to take a cab. My cabbie was the most polite, pleasant, and engaging cabbie I've ever had! We had a great conversation about life and love and what it's like to be lonely in the big city. He was originally from Karachi, Pakistan, where his family still lives. He came to America seeking the 'dream', and instead found the reality. In Pakistan he was a stock broker, but due to some poor investing on his own, he went belly up. He came to America as a way to start over, but his stock broker's license apparently doesn't transfer. He said he had no girlfriend and only a few friends otherwise. What must that be like? As I departed I asked him to teach me how to say "goodbye" in Farsi, and, though I'm not even going to come close to spelling it correctly here, it sounded like: "Qoda ha fez". Ok, so I just looked it up and I wasn't all that far off. With that I bid you, spelled correctly:
Khoda Hafez.
-R
0 Comments:
