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I haven’t seen the movie, and I probably won’t, even though it stars Ben Whishaw. The first part of the book is basically an undergraduate story, following Charles Ryder through the two years he spends at Oxford and a little while after. Ryder is from a well-off but not fashionable background. His father has some vague aesthetic or scholarly interests, not deep enough to offer him a career, which he keeps to himself. Charles has some idea of doing something similar, and perhaps of becoming a don and writing books about art history. He arrives at Oxford knowing little of how to behave there, and he makes a set of similarly vaguely scholarly friends. But then he meets Sebastian Flyte and Anthony Blanche and their set, and discovers, as he puts it, the secret door in the garden wall that leads to the life Oxford truly promised. Sebastian is the second son of an aristocratic Catholic family riven by marital conflict, and Blanche is more than a little dubious, and their high-born friends are really quite rowdy. These men drink too much, spend too much, and behave irresponsibly (to themselves and to one another), and Ryder is led to follow their example. For him, the center of it all is Sebastian, in whose rooms the crowd usually meets. Sebastian eventually invites Charles to his family home, called Brideshead Manor, and Charles is duly impressed by the house and, eventually, by the family. They travel to Europe and visit Lord Brideshead... Continue reading
Posted Aug 7, 2015 at Bianca Steele
The past two movies I’ve rented were not very good. Since they starred Sigourney Weaver and Winona Ryder, I think they may combine to equal an attack on the feminist aspects of the Alien movies; but I’m not wedded to that hypothesis. First, Red Lights. I’d like to be able to say that this movie will be liked by people who like this sort of thing, but unfortunately, that isn’t true. Red Lights is a kind of suspense-thriller in which a scientist (played by Sigourney Weaver, who is pretty good, and fun to watch) and her assistant (played by Cillian Murphy, also good and fun to watch) go around the country, helping people who seem to be experiencing hauntings, or other kinds of psychic phenomena. They’re opposed by the pro-psychic phenomena contingent in their university department, and its leader, played by Toby Jones (who’s played Truman Capote, Alfred Hitchcock, Karl Rove, and Dobby the House Elf), and eventually by a major star of a blind psychic healer and concert giver, played by Robert De Niro (who chews the scenery nicely). And they team up with an undergraduate who arrives to flirt with the assistant, played by Elizabeth Olsen (who was not that fun for me to watch, but tastes may differ). The real story turns out to be about why the scientist is opposed to the possibility of any psychic phenomena, ghosts, or life after death, and why her assistant is working in the field to begin with. And, eventually,... Continue reading
Posted Aug 4, 2015 at Bianca Steele
I read this around the same time I read Neuromancer, because Gibson and Gibbons are right next to each other on the library shelves. I’d wanted to read Cold Comfort Farm, someday, ever since the movie version came out in 1995, and had never gotten around to it. I tried to take out a copy that didn’t have an introduction, which was by Lynn Truss (author of the grammar peeving book Eats, Shoots, and Leaves), but was unsuccessful. All the copies the library had were Penguin editions with the Truss introduction included. The one I got out also had illustrations on the cover by Sage Stossel, the New Yorker cartoonist. My daughter really liked these (she was five at the time). I was happy, in the end, that I’d read the introduction first, because it included several facts, of varying degrees of importance. First—a fact, the importance of which will appear only later—the book (which appeared in the 1930s) is a kind of cult classic, beloved of many among a certain generation of English readers, who it seems are given to quote lines like, “I saw something nasty in the woodshed!” at the drop of a hat. Second, the book is set in a vaguely futuristic possible world, in which videophones and private aeroplanes are common. This would be easy to miss, as the videophone appears late in the book, and the airplane could simply be a function of its owner’s wealth. Third—and most important—Cold Comfort Farm, the first book... Continue reading
Posted Aug 2, 2015 at Bianca Steele
The following is a post I wrote a couple of weeks ago and never got around to editing and polishing up. In the interim, the site Public Books published an excerpt from Fredric Jameson’s most recent book, where he discusses Neuromancer and touches on some of the same issues I have with the term “cyberspace.” I haven’t read the whole article, which is long and uses jargon, and quotes from the Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, which I find only sometimes helpful. I’ve inserted one comment about the Jameson piece within this one. I actually read this book last summer, though it appeared thirty years ago, in the year I graduated from high school. It’s Gibson’s first novel, the book that initiated the idea of cyberpunk, and defined the term “cyberspace.” The main character is a former hacker—surgically altered in order to connect to the necessary equipment—who’s become a drug addict and is offered the chance to do one last job and win his freedom, and get clean and sober in the process. Actually, he isn’t given the choice. He’s been surgically altered again, by force, so that recreational drugs will have no effect on him, and so that if he doesn’t get an antidote, when the job is over, he will die. He has to complete his task and persuade his employer to allow him to live. I didn’t like it a whole lot. I’m pretty much always irritated by the depiction of “cyberspace” as a space in which people... Continue reading
Posted Jul 9, 2015 at Bianca Steele
Matthew Crawford is a one-time philosophy student who left the academy to work with his hands, as he described in Shopcraft as Soulcraft. The World Beyond Your Head is a follow-up, and billed as an argument against our accepting a virtual-reality like world of mental representations. George Scialabba and Rebecca Goldstein both have helpful reviews. Other reviews have placed Crawford’s writing at the center of a discourse of “manliness,” in which craft is associated with the workshop and work itself is seen as an attribute of the male. It was Goldstein’s review that encouraged me to pick it up, and it’s interesting but not exactly what I expected. I listened to it on audiobook (which means the notes were not included), and I think I’d buy the book itself to read again. There’s not as much philosophy in it as you might expect. Crawford discusses Kant at some length, and later mentions Kierkegaard, and I think Nietzsche. Possibly the most interesting philosophical discussion in the book for me was a reflection on Kant, as Crawford had introduced him to that point, from Kierkegaard’s point of view. The philosophical argument is, more or less, as follows: Kant, as the most important philosopher of the seventeenth century Western European Enlightenment, is the writer who most successfully elaborated the kind of person that we, in the modern era, now think of as ideal. This person is a person who is autonomous, who bows to no man and to no social grouping in the... Continue reading
Posted Jun 24, 2015 at Bianca Steele
I’m sure nobody’s thinking about Mad Men anymore, but I had one more thing to say about it, I think. I have some definite ideas, which I’ve written about before, about how the show was handling Peggy’s and Joan’s careers. I didn’t write all of them out and publish them, because I wanted to see how they’d eventually play out. I didn’t want to speculate about the future consequences of past events, only to have future events refute my speculations—worse, to have Jeffrey Weiner announce that my opinion was definitively wrongheaded. I didn’t want to be a bad fan! But I do have opinions. I wrote a while ago that Peggy probably should have gone to McCann-Erickson the first time they bought the agency. She did okay for herself in subsequent seasons of the show, and the last few episodes have shown the transition to the new place to be a bit rough. There’s a reading of the show that would argue that she’s in for a lot of trouble now, and not much good will come out of it for her. She didn’t appreciate Sterling, Cooper enough when she was there. She never really accepted its prevailing ethos; instead, she fought against it, and won what ground she got in spite of her superiors. She should have taken Joan’s offer to create an equal partnership in a new field. I really don’t agree. McCann-Erickson is an imperfect place, but if Peggy—out of deference to Don Draper or because she’d... Continue reading
Posted Jun 17, 2015 at Bianca Steele
I have a novel on my shelf that I bought many years ago and haven’t ever finished. It’s the story of a man who has a near-death experience that brings him to the revelation that the woman he knows as his sister is actually not his real sister. Possibly she’s been abducted by aliens on the road and replaced with a replica. Possibly he’s just discovered some kind of distinction between our spiritual and our bodily forms. It’s not clear. Whatever the reason, he decides that he needs a different kind of woman in his life. That’s Richard Powers’ 2006 novel, The Echo Maker. No, not really. It’s The Echo Maker as imagined from the point of view of one of the most important male characters in the novel . . . who is not, however, its narrator. The narrator is his sister, and the novel is, in fact, about a woman who resigns her corporate job and returns to her hometown, to live on her savings and to help her brother, who’s been in a serious car accident, the cause of which nobody knows. But when she visits him in the hospital, he insists that she’s an impostor. Those are, of course, the same story, the same content—and of course they can’t be. The Echo Maker isn’t about a woman who pretends to be a sister to its protagonist, yet can’t possibly be the kind of sister he needs. It’s about a man who angrily rejects his sister, in... Continue reading
Posted Jun 13, 2015 at Bianca Steele
I once worked with a guy who was very into the idea of his personal autonomy. Once we had to design an API (in C), and it had to have a doubly-linked list in it. We always used doubly-linked lists, because we had an existing API that offered them “for free”: no work on the programmer’s part involved. Then we moved some software to a different platform that didn’t have any similar API’s for it, so we had to write our own. Eventually some people at a different location wrote a general doubly-linked list API and offered to support it for anyone in the company to use, but some people still rolled their own. So, we had a choice of requiring users to set up a doubly-linked list that would be compatible with one of those API’s. The in-house API was set up in the standard way, with 0 indicating both the end of a list and an empty list. The legacy API was set up with -1 indicating both of those things. This guy decided that our interface would require 0 in some cases and -1 in others. Reviewers complained, and in person he agreed to change it back. Then he thought about it some more, and decided that he would require 0 in some cases, and -1 in others. But in different places. He came into my cubicle and told me he was going to do it. I repeated the arguments from the review. He gave a bunch... Continue reading
Posted Jun 9, 2015 at Bianca Steele
It’s come to my attention that Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall is being bashed as anti-Catholic, and given that I adore Mantel’s novels, I’d like to come to her defense. Caveat: I’ve read only Wolf Hall, and not yet Bring Up the Bodies. I’ve seen only the first twenty or so minutes of the Masterpiece Theatre adaptation, and that only because I’d never seen Mark Rylance in action, nor in (as it were) trousers. But I’ve read all of her earlier novels except one. My understanding is that Mantel’s novel An Experiment in Love is largely autobiographical. That is, like her protagonist Carmel in that novel, she was born in England to a working-class Irish or Anglo-Irish family, was educated as a day student in a Catholic convent, and studied law at the University of London in the 1970s, when she dabbled in leftist politics and university Labour Party organizations. And further, that like Frances in Eight Months in Ghazzah Street, she travelled with her husband to Saudi Arabia and lived there for a time as an expatriate. As far as I know, she is still a woman of the left. I was unaware until today, clicking hyperlinks, that she no longer considers herself a Catholic. It is not something I would ever have gathered from her novels, and while her account of Tudor England is clearly sympathetic to the Protestant side, I can’t understand why it must be seen as anti-Catholic. The problem cannot be that More is depicted as... Continue reading
Posted Apr 28, 2015 at Bianca Steele
“The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.” I was watching a trailer online for Deep Web when my six year old daughter walked in. I don’t watch documentaries much and this one didn’t look especially interesting, but she disagreed. I’m not sure what to make of that, but here is an article (via the author’s blog at Crooked Timber) discussing how the Silk Road turned from libertarian paradise to bureaucratic prison state, in the way familiar from Animal Farm. Farrell’s discussion reminds me of the first season of The Tudors. The most interesting part of that show, I thought, was how it followed the court of Henry VIII as the power that initially was invested in the person of the King, Henry, gradually and inexorably was distributed to the figures around him, whether because they were his friends or because they could help him run the government in the grand fashion he’d been persuaded he deserved. The Tudors were the beginning of the end of absolute monarchy in England. Once they’d used personal power to accumulate that much power into the national government, the power itself turned against them, as it couldn’t be used effectively using the same means that had been able to gather it. (The novel Wolf Hall makes a somewhat related point.) In a similar way, the man known as “The Dread Pirate Roberts” eventually... Continue reading
Posted Feb 20, 2015 at Bianca Steele
Transcendance is worth watching but ultimately disappointing. The story tracks those left behind in the wake of a terrorist attack on every advanced AI facility in the country, except one. The lead scientist at that facility, Will Caster, is killed in a slower, more subtle way, one that leaves his wife and friend with time enough to use an untested method to upload his mind and memories into the system. The resulting personality alienates the friend but persuades the wife, Evelyn, also a scientist, that he is who he appears to be. The plot develops from there and from the fact that the terrorists are now looking for the two of them and for the circuit boards they’d stolen from the lab. “Will” decides to use his advanced intelligence and unlimited, Internet-enabled knowledge to remake the world. (First, he makes a killing in the stock market and finances a private hideaway where Ev can run his corporation. Then, he secretly develops the cure for every disease. After that, he uses access to this cure to control a private army.) This is, at its base, a simple science-fiction movie without a lot that could appeal to non-fans of the genre. There’s no standard non-SF plot that might engage viewers in a non-genre way. There’s not much action, not much in the way of character development except in their occupational roles (scientists, terrorists, cops), not much in the way of special effects. There’s no crime to be solved, none of the characters’... Continue reading
Posted Jan 27, 2015 at Bianca Steele
This post probably doesn’t need to be written. The world is already divided into people who like the musical of Les Misérables and people who don’t. I’ve already written a post about how I didn’t, and after seeing the movie version, I have not changed my mind. Though I have refreshed my memory. Interestingly, my husband liked it. In one way, that’s good, because it would be kind of a shame to make someone hate-watch a movie with you when it’s two and a half hours long and you’re pretty sure they will like it less than you do. (Really, I did believe the reviews when they said Short Cuts was good, and even though I don’t really love Raymond Carver, we had both liked The Player and I had every reason to believe the movie would not be the pits. In fact, I think we both might actually have liked it if it weren’t for the bikers sitting next to us who wouldn’t shut up. In fact, I think I would watch Short Cuts again. Really.) And it’s a good thing he didn’t see the play, because if he had liked it, I don’t think we’d be married today. Plus, if he hadn’t liked it, he wouldn’t have been willing to watch a two and a half hour film of it with me now. Les Misérables, the novel, is what, at least a thousand pages long? The standard way to adapt it for the screen, in the mid-twentieth century... Continue reading
Posted Jan 18, 2015 at Bianca Steele
I wonder, every so often, about what fantasy and crossover writers think when they use magic in a story, and whether they think of it as a substitute for science, or as a rival for it. Recently I suddenly remembered a line from Pilgrimage, a collection of linked science fiction stories by Zenna Henderson. In the story “Gilead,” a human character says to his alien wife, “We turned to science. You turned to the Power.” That same character says, “Homesick, honey? So am I. For what this world could have been. Or maybe—God willing—what it may become.” Henderson’s stories depict the remnants of an advanced civilization that fled its home planet after it was destroyed (by natural causes, not by their own acts). Two groups of the refugees land in the American West and settle there. These aliens, known to themselves (in anthropologically sound fashion) as “The People,” possess an advanced society and powers unknown to us Earthlings (except for a handful of especially evolved persons who pop up, here and there). They have telepathy and telekinesis, can modify the weather, and have various other skills. They also find great personal meaning in our Earth Bible and reference it in telling their own stories. And they do not use Earth technology. The People have the following: personal shields that keep them dry and comfortable in any weather; clothes that can be repaired, lengthened, and shortened without sewing or cutting; the ability to fly, and thus to travel without automobiles; the... Continue reading
Posted Dec 12, 2014 at Bianca Steele
John Rogers seems to have the ability to make a show that panders to all my guilty pleasures, and this is another one. The Librarians seems to be perfect for a forty-something viewer who’s hungry for a little nostalgia for the glory days of E.R. (who knew Rebecca Romijn looked so much like Maria Bello?), and who’s saturated her mind in the world of The Magic Tree House (on which more soon). This is a silly show, in the Remington Steele-Hart to Hart vein, and it relies on mildly witty banter and jokes to make it entertaining. It’s not excessively coherent—the idea that a character could immediately intuit an entire worldwide conspiracy in one second is only slightly less believable than the idea that a different character could decode a five hundred year old cipher in ten. The proposition that King Arthur was a left-behind Roman Centurion is accepted as fact a bit quickly. The proposition that the most magical place in the British Isles is London, similarly (especially given that the alternative is Wales and Cornwall, where by most accounts the most likely candidate for Camelot was actually located, and which actually has a long tradition of being a center of magic in Britain). On the other hand, it was nice to see some “grounding” of the magic in traditional theory. (John Dee! Ley lines!) And it was nice to see an explicit contrast between magic and science. Too often stories about modern magic neglect to distinguish between them... Continue reading
Posted Dec 8, 2014 at Bianca Steele
I really loved this book. I liked it even though—unlike The Night Sessions, the last book by MacLeod I read—it contained no instances at all of the word “dinna.” One of the reasons I loved it is that I’ve read so much stuff like the book I discussed in my previous blog post, Codex (a fact for which its author bears no responsibility), novels I enjoyed but couldn’t quite buy, like The Historian and Bleeding Edge and Halting State. The Historian gave us a thoroughly modern, materialist-minded academic, and confronted her with the uncanny, in the form of a supernatural tradition that turns out to be literally real, and a vast element of evil that turns out to take a fully human form. An unnamed young woman, the historian of the tale, is essentially inducted into a secret society of vampire hunters, linked only by the fact that they’ve all been given the gift of an old book with a dragon on the cover, and aware of one another only through chance meetings. Decades may go by without their taking up abandoned or previously concluded vampire research, when suddenly they again receive the call. The Restoration Game, instead of shadowy, unnamed secret societies, has real government spooks: amateur assets of the British Crown, giving birth (literally) to a professional anthropologist reporting back to the CIA. She’s dating a Scottish socialist who works equally easily with a criminal smuggling drugs, porn, and tobacco behind the Iron Curtain, and a splinter-group cell... Continue reading
Posted Dec 4, 2014 at Bianca Steele
Over the summer and into the fall, I’ve done a fair amount of reading for pleasure, and have had too many books queued up to write anything about them, and more time, it feels like, to write down my thoughts, than to condense them into anything I could post. Hopefully, I’ll be putting up some of the backlog over the next few months. I was reading Citadel, a novel by Kate Mosse in which the characters are searching for a Roman-era codex, when I was reminded that I had Lev Grossman’s early novel, Codex, on my to-read-someday list. I’d read and enjoyed The Magicians and its two sequels and was curious to read what Grossman had written that was more based in everyday reality. Codex his first book, but it’s the earliest one that’s still in print. Anyone taking on the task of writing about Lev Grossman’s novels has to take into consideration the fact that he himself has written quite strong words on the inadvisability of ever writing negatively about anyone’s book. I think by now, however, the staid and occasionally dully stolid narrative style of the Magicians trilogy, especially in the earliest-written of them, is broadly enough known that anyone glossing over it will lose credibility. Codex itself received almost uniformly positive reviews when it came out, probably due in part to the innovative way it wove then-recent literary theory into the narrative. But not surprisingly—especially given the author’s own statements—Codex isn’t quite as accomplished as it could... Continue reading
Posted Nov 30, 2014 at Bianca Steele
I was watching a movie called “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” the other day. I remembered seeing it in a theater, and I remembered buying a dress a few months later (in 1992 or 1993) and finding that the only one that fit me looked awfully like one Winona Ryder wore in that movie (the high-necked collar and cut-out obviated neck and shoulder fitting problems). I thought it was directed by Kenneth Branagh, and watched it for a while, fruitfully, with this misimpression in mind, but the director was Francis Ford Coppola. (Branagh did a Frankenstein adaptation about the same time. Scorsese, again using Ryder, did Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence. It was the best of times and the worst of times for filming nineteenth-century novels. Poor Merchant and Ivory have a lot to answer for.) I don’t think I left the movie theater thinking, “That was one of the worst movies I ever saw,” though maybe I did. What’s certain is that the movie has aged badly, and not because it’s difficult now to take the major actors (Ryder and Keanu Reeves) seriously, or that Anthony Hopkins seems to be in a different film altogether some of the time, and that movie is a running commentary on his own role in The Silence of the Lambs. It owes something to David Lynch’s Dune, I think, and there are rather too many scenes that suggest someone was watching Star Trek (TOS), stoned, for the first time, having no previous exposure to... Continue reading
Posted Nov 6, 2014 at Bianca Steele
This weekend I visited Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts to see the Jamie Wyeth show. I had thought of skipping it, but my five year old wanted to see the picture of the dog that’s used in the show’s advertising. I knew a fair amount about Jamie Wyeth already. He’s not that well-known outside of the Philadelphia area, but he represents the third generation of an artistic family, the most highly thought of probably being his father, Andrew Wyeth, whose painting, Christina’s World, is held by New York’s Museum of Modern Art. If you live in Philadelphia, every now and then you’ll read a story about the Wyeth family. I remember reading one as a kid, possibly in a magazine aimed at students. Jamie Wyeth’s most famous paintings are probably his posthumous portrait of President Kennedy and a painting of his wife driving a pony cart into the woods, but he’s not as well-known or well-regarded as his father, and both of them paint in a realist style that is not at all the fashion in the art world generally. It was a little surprising that the MFA would do a show about him. Jamie Wyeth does not seem to have a significant presence in the nation’s major art museums. The curator does do a good job explaining why she thinks the show is significant, though, and I ended up wondering whether my sense that Wyeth is “minor,” at best, was misguided and snobbish. Why is he taken less seriously... Continue reading
Posted Oct 7, 2014 at Bianca Steele
In both Her and Ruby Sparks (which I discussed last year), a man suddenly discovers that there’s a woman living in his house, whom he hadn’t—to his knowledge—invited in. In both of these films, the woman eventually leaves. In both, there’s an extreme power mismatch. In Ruby Sparks, the power differential is much worse than in Her: Calvin, the writer-protagonist of the film, conjures Ruby out of thin air, simply by writing about her, and throughout the entire film, he is able to dictate her actions and her personality, simply by writing what he wants on his typewriter. She can only helplessly attempt to resolve the cognitive dissonance his changes produce, and make up stuff to fill in the blanks. Eventually, Calvin’s misuse of Ruby descends to serious abuse. When I was thinking about how these two films are similar, I was struck by how much they, on the contrary, differ from Truly, Madly, Deeply or Don De Lillo’s The Body Artist. In both those stories, a person appears unexpectedly, and uninvited, and refuses to leave. In those stories, the house belongs to the woman, and it’s a man who suddenly appears. In both, he asks something of her, which she’s not prepared to give, but refuses to go away. But in both those stories, the man turns out to be the ghost of her husband. She had thought that when he died, she would be alone. She turns out to have been mistaken. He is going to hang around... Continue reading
Posted Sep 15, 2014 at Bianca Steele
I saw Being John Malkovich when it was originally released, more than fifteen years ago (in the now-defunct Harvard Square Cinema, in the days when we used to drive to the city for dinner and a movie), and as I remember it, I really enjoyed it. Over time, I became less and less able to watch it. Partly, I spent too much time discussing it with other people; it was one of those strange occasions when discussing a book or a movie with others makes it seem less, rather than more, appealing. It’s possible to see Her as a rewriting of themes from Being John Malkovich, in more conventional narrative terms. And it’s really pretty good. I think. If I don’t think about it too much. One thing: The software thing doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense taken literally. An operating system just doesn’t do the same things OS1/Samantha is supposed to do. What the software is, is an adaptive interface, like the paperclip guy Microsoft tried to get people to use a few years back. It’s true that Apple, in particular, has always promoted a kind of fuzzy view of things, where the Finder tends to stand in for, or to be more interesting and important than, the MacOS proper. And it’s true that for the past several years, the user interface has been very closely associated with the OS itself: see the way Microsoft changed the look-and-feel very drastically with Vista, and with Windows 7, and then... Continue reading
Posted Sep 8, 2014 at Bianca Steele
Eric Rauchway at Crooked Timber has a post about Jill Lepore’s takedown of the idea of disruption, popularized by Clayton Christenson. I’d clicked through to the article, from different places, a handful of times, without ever finishing it, but it’s worth reading. This article, recommended by Phil Edwards, is interesting, especially if you follow its embedded links, but has a different emphasis. As Rauchway notes, Lepore presents two arguments: one, that “disruption” has become a buzzword that’s being applied in too many places where it’s actually irrelevant, and another, that the concept of disruption is flawed on its own terms. Lepore’s essay is good, but I’m not convinced by her attempt to refute Christenson’s work. Her argument depends on finding logical flaws and flaws in interpreting sources, without attempting to really grapple with the argument itself. She takes Christenson’s writing on its own, without taking account of what it’s actually trying to do and the other work it’s responding to. Business research can be frustrating and follows its own rules for sourcing—I’ve seen scholarly books that, where you might expect to find a primary source, you find a series of hyped-up articles from business weeklies instead—but before criticizing that research, it seems like it would be worthwhile to try to understand what it’s trying to do. A big part of Lepore’s argument is that Christenson repeatedly identifies firms as having failed, when Lepore’s research shows easily that they had not. I think there’s a disagreement on definitions here, and that... Continue reading
Posted Jun 26, 2014 at Bianca Steele
Greenberg, which appeared in 2010, directed by Noah Baumbach and co-written by Baumbach and Jennifer Jason Leigh, was both like and unlike what I expected from reading the reviews, and I both liked and was unsure about it, though less unsure than I was about Baumbach’s previous The Squid and the Whale. The uncertainty isn’t necessarily a mark against it, either. I’ve found that I’m harder on movies than I am on books, largely, I think, because I care about books more, and take them more seriously. I enjoy watching films, and when they’re good I can enjoy them as art, but I don’t expect them to be good enough to count, at least for me, as “art” in some complimentary sense. So, somehow, when they approach that complimentary sense of “art,” I feel compelled to look for the reasons why the effect is really a fake, and why the movie is just a bit of fluff after all. Whereas with novels, for the most part, I expect more from them and I work harder to fit the flaws into some larger scheme of sense-making. That’s just a fact about me, and which form—movie or book—I feel most affinity for. It isn’t a fact about whether books are better than movies, or vice versa, whether eternally or at this moment in time. But so Greenberg, I found both enjoyable and thought-provoking—though not really in an intense way that would make me think it was a masterpiece—though, again, when I think... Continue reading
Posted Jun 22, 2014 at Bianca Steele
A while back, I wrote a couple of posts about the movie version of Revolutionary Road, based on the trailer—which looked awful—and articles about the book. I final saw the movie a few years ago, and thought it was okay, a little theatrical. I started to write a post about it a couple of times, but never got very far, and I seem by now to have lost my notes. But I’ve finally read the novel, now, and it is, at one and the same time, much better than the movie, and no better than you’d expect. The film had a clockwork-strict act structure and a strong tinge of theatricality, as if the performances had been intended for the stage. The critique of America that it makes, like the language in which it makes it, also gives off a whiff of the Off-Broadway theater. Kate Winslet is physically all wrong for the part of April Wheeler, who should be all angles and narrowness, a blonde Katherine—not Audrey—Hepburn. I cannot forgive the scene in which she’s lit to resemble Hillary Clinton, as if that somehow would give the story a larger, and true, relevance. Michael Stuhlbarg Shannon is also miscast as the tall, blond schizophrenic math professor, John Givings. Leonardo Di Caprio, as Frank Wheeler, is physically fine, and demonstrates a sense of who he’s going to be as an adult actor, but there’s still a menacing sense of emotional immaturity in a grown man’s body, that he is literally the... Continue reading
Posted Jun 17, 2014 at Bianca Steele
Hi Lee, thanks for the comment. I wanted to look at the book again before replying, but I didn't really get a chance to. It's too bad you don't remember the debate/encounter (are you sure it was after 1977 and involved Maslow, he died in 1970) because if you did you could write something about it. One thing Grogan's book doesn't have is gripping narrative. As for Rogers, I think she generally implies that by the 1975 APH conference he'd about had it with humanistic psychology. He was one of those resisting its "growing anti-intellectualism." And she does discuss his differences with Maslow's approach early on--I got the sense she had more sympathy for Rogers--but doesn't say a lot about either of their thought in detail. I actually knew almost nothing about Rogers before I read the book except that someone (Ted Nelson, I think) compared the computer program Eliza to a nondirective Rogerian therapist.
Encountering America: Humanistic Psychology, Modern Culture, and the Shaping of the Modern Self, developed from a doctoral dissertation by Jessica Grogan, is an academic history of Abraham Maslow, and of the development in psychology he pioneered, known as humanistic psychology. Many people are aware of Maslow through the popularization of his “hierarchy of needs,” which describes human needs as a progression: once physical needs are met and no longer represent a challenge to the individual, then emotional and social, and eventually artistic and spiritual needs can be addressed. Maslow was concerned to move the study of psychology past a preoccupation with the lower levels, which he saw as contributing to an overemphasis on social integration and conformity, and toward a study of how to bring out the absolute best in people. But in addition to Maslow, other fairly famous figures, including Carl Rogers and Rollo May, were integral to the movement and helped to shape it. The book begins with a one-chapter history of American psychology in the middle of the twentieth century. This draws on longer works but offers an interesting interpretation—tied to the limitations of both neo-Freudianism and what she describes as a scientistic over-emphasis on quantification, with the emphasis of both on the pathological individual psychology; and on the limitations of 1950s ideology with its emphasis on conformity. Abraham Maslow wanted to introduce ideas about personal liberation into that mix. After the history of psychology overview, the book settles into narrative mode. As a narrative, it’s not... Continue reading
Posted May 26, 2014 at Bianca Steele