Everything is gestation and then bringing forth. To let each impressions and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one’s intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity: that alone is living the artist’s life: in understanding as in creating.
Disney’s newest dramatic offering, Saving Mr. Banks, made a quiet splash over Christmas. But for all it’s unobtrusiveness, the story of how Walt Disney finally convinced the reluctant author ofMary Poppins, Pamela L. Travers, to allow him to make her beloved novel into a movie is one of the best films to come out of the studio in some time. The performances are stellar, there are plenty of decent reviews out there, and this post is not meant to be another, except to say that in spite of all the contested opinions about the key players and how they are represented, the movie stands on its own as a good story. However, the film also deals with two important themes that are either overlooked or only briefly mentioned in the reviews, but which offer two key reasons why you should see it. (Read more. . . )
“ Routine is the condition of survival.” – Flannery O’Connor
Is ritual necessary to the making of art? I hear arguments on both sides. While I have recently heard several writers I respect more or less say that for them writing rituals are anathema, the truth is that artists throughout history have settled themselves into the necessary frame of mind and physical space by marking the time set aside for the practice of their craft with some type of highly personal ritual. And it appears as though the having of a ritual is more the norm than not having one, at least that is one thing I gathered from exploring Daily Rituals: How Artists Work, edited by Mason Curry.
One of Curry’s goals with the book is to “show how grand creative visions translate to small daily increments; how one’s working habits influence the work itself, and vice versa.” In essence, it is these small, often seemingly insignificant, routines and rituals that box off the incremental bits of time necessary to make art, that in fact create the space between daily life and artistic practice which allow an artist to set aside not only the time, but her very self, to become an instrument in service to her unique gift. Read more . . .
“I’m hyperventilating right now,” my 12-year-old son whispered to me and gripped my hand hard. He was waiting excitedly (and obviously breathlessly) for Marvel’s newest superhero film, Thor: The Dark World, to burst onto the screen in all its glorious action.
It’s no secret to anyone who knows our family that the Marvel heroes are preferred to the DC group and that my son measures time by when the next film, Lego set, or Nintendo game is scheduled for release. Thor was autumn’s happy milestone and now he has set the April release of Captain America as his spring marker. Not only does he spend countless hours reading his classic comics digests, lost in imaginative fantasy and wrestling with hefty issues of good and evil, but he hones his memory skills by memorizing intricate plot patterns and character details, regaling us with various character back stories, correcting egregious errors in the film or cartoon adaptations, while also filling in weak or missing elements in those same story lines. (And no, concerned reader, my son’s literary diet is not confined to comics. He gets plenty of classic literature, so have no fear. Also, consider how memorizing intricate story lines via the comics preps him for memorizing long passages of Shakespeare to rival Kenneth Branagh and you will see there is a method to this seeming madness.) Read more. . .
Neil Gaiman‘s 2012 commencement address at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia is a moving testament to the beauty of following your creative vocation, no matter where it takes you. Grab a cup of coffee or a glass of wine and be prepared to be inspired.
Some time ago I wrote a post about what Julia Child taught me about writing. This might be surprising for readers who don’t know Julia’s history, or the fact that she’d always wanted to write novels!
Julia’s long been a role model and mentor for me and in that post I wanted to call attention to the ways in which her skill in the kitchen translates and adapts to the writing life. (To find out how, click on the link above and read the post — the kitchen and the writer’s desk are not as far removed as you might think!) Julia truly had an artist’s heart — not only was she a splendid chef, but she was a prolific writer and lived life with a contagious joie de vivre which in turn brought joy to others. Living was an art for her.
In addition to reprising my earlier post, I’m happy to point interested readers in the direction of two delicious Julia tidbits that came my way in the last few days — aptly timed since Julia’s birthday was only a week or so ago.
The first is a glorious new visual biography of Julia’s life — thanks so much to Cinzia Robbiano for bringing it to my attention! The illustrations are vivid and charming, just like Julia herself, and depict with great accuracy and enthusiasm the vastly varied life experience of this amazing woman. It’s perfect for kids, of course — my son, who only recently became interested in watching old episodes of Julia’s The French Chef and is slowly developing a fascination with her, would truly appreciate the book — but Julia fans of all ages will be thrilled with the whimsical art and the humorous writing. Be sure to check out this beautifully detailed post about the book by Maria Popova at Brain Pickings.
And that post by Maria led me to a review she’d written previously about the recently collected letters between Julia and her dear friend Avis DeVoto, which I also encourage you to read and enjoy. The book is called As Always, Julia:The Letters of Julia Child and Avis DeVoto. Maria provides a detailed review of the book, which catalogues the challenges Julia faced in writing and publishing Mastering The Art of French Cooking via her years of correspondence with Avis. The book also demonstrates the wonderful support a committed, giving friendship can provide to the realization of one’s art and is essential reading not only for Julia fans, but for artists of all sorts who are struggling to find a place for their work in the world. (On a side note, if you haven’t yet discovered Brain Pickings, you should. It’s a revelation, pure and simple. Consider the secondary purpose of this post a “heads up” for those readers who’ve been slow on the pick-up.)
One of the things that helps me the most as I soldier on towards deepening my living of a literary life is the example set by other artists. Mentors come and help us along on the journey from all fields and times. If you’ve not met Julia, or haven’t thought of her as a mentor in your creative endeavors, I hope this post and my previous one, as well as Maria’s reviews, will encourage you to make an introduction and strike up a friendship. Cheers!
For the last few months, I’ve been privileged to participate in the Literary Wives series, a virtual book group, with some amazing women. We’ve read, reviewed, and discussed four books centering on wives within various types of marriages and time periods: American Wife, by Curtis Sittenfeld; The Paris Wife, by Patricia McClean; A Reliable Wife, by Robert Goolrick; and The Aviator’s Wife, by Melanie Benjamin. We’re wrapping up our discussion with a final post before the others go on to commence part 2 of the series.
The focus of the reading and reviews was to examine the role of the wife in these novels, both how she viewed and defined herself and was viewed and defined by others. In my opinion, the wives in these novels suffered due to a lack of acknowledgement of their personhood. In some cases, this was a personal choice: for example, the choice Alice made in American Wife to continually keep her inner life, desires, and needs a secret from her husband. She chose not to assert herself in any meaningful way for reasons that are certainly problematic. But in other cases, the lack of acknowledgement of personhood came from the husband, and from the culture at large.
In general, the husband in each novel had more power and authority over the wife in question and used it to control her and to prey upon her emotions to such an extent that each wife felt responsible for her husband’s happiness and ability to use his gifts to his fullest extent. It is too easy to judge these women and say that they should have had more courage to stand up for themselves, to ensure their needs were being met in the marriage. However, it is the nature of woman to be a caregiver, to facilitate the development of life in all it’s aspects. By preying upon and taking advantage of this trait, the husbands in these novels forced each woman to choose between her own needs and his. It was not until much suffering had been endured that these women found ways to assert their own creative gifts, interestingly in each case through the inspired voices made real through the narrative of their individual experiences, as each of the books (except Goolrick’s) was told from the POV of the wife in question. In this way, the novel as artifact becomes a testament to and actualization of the voice that has been hidden, as well as the genesis of the creative power possessed by each wife. The merits and motives of each “voice” must be determiend by each reader; however, I generally found these written testaments powerful and hopeful, perhaps with the exception of Alice’s text, simply because I believe in the act of writing it she offered the ultimate act of betrayal in a marriage with betrayal as its foundation. I discuss this in more detail in my post on the novel.
The main point across the four novels is that it IS possible for a woman to be a generative force for life within a marriage — to be a good wife, mother, home-maker — but that she has a right to expect from her spouse support in exercising that generative power towards her own creative gifts, if she possesses the talent for it. Clearly both Anne and Hadley, in The Aviator’s Wife and The Paris Wife respectively, possessed great creative potential which they were forced to subsume due to their husbands’ inferiority complexes. Love given freely should not be afraid to allow each person to express themselves in the way true to their respective gifts and talents. As persons, we strive to be women and men first, perhaps spouses next, then, in some cases, parents. But these roles are not all there is to a person. Each man and woman is blessed with certain gifts and talents which must be actualized if they are to be a whole human being who contributes fully to the purpose for which he or she is created. The characters of the husbands and wives in these four novels are no exception, and this rule is played out successively in each narrative.
In my opinion, it is this central issue which is the larger significance across the novels. We are responsible for the talents given us and will be called to account for our stewardship, or lack thereof. How did we use our gifts for the good of others? To help our fellow man? To raise hearts and minds to think of higher things? To bring beauty into the world? By it’s very nature a marriage should contribute to this wholeness of persons and thereby to communion, between the spouses, within the family, and, through them, with the larger society. The books all depict marriages that are disorered and flawed — this is to be expected as humans are flawed; however, my main concern is that in none of the books was there any hope that marriage be otherwise (except perhaps in Hadley’s second marriage at the end of The Paris Wife, but we are given little detail about this, except the crucial fact that fulfillment has been found in true support and self-giving love which is not afraid). Interestingly, in three of the novels, the point is made that faith has been abandoned by the couples. The exception is a flagrantly shallow “conversion” by the husband in American Wife, but in this faith is only a tool, a way for him to win votes, and is in no way a means towards realizing wholeness with his spouse. One wonders, then, in what has hope, faith, and love been placed? If solely in another flawed human being, then it is no surprise the marriages remain empty and devolve into deeper and deeper darkness. Moments of grace occur over and over again and sometimes are realized and accepted; but more often than not, the opposite is true, and I find this persistent lack of possibility a bit depressing.
The hearts and minds of both spouses in the novels are ordered towards wrong ends. The husbands in the novels are completely self-absorbed and their self-image inherently tied to their work — as writer, politician, explorer, miser — (in American Wife, the husband was obsessed with leaving a “legacy” but it was such an empty one — a monument to his sense of self….nice) becomes an idol that crowds out any and all concern of others. The wives — perhaps with the exception of Alice — do express a tendency, even a yearning, towards self-sacrifice, often to a great and admirable extent, but it is at the expense of their own gifts and in the end is not life-giving, either to themselves or to their spouses. Love means being able to set limits and it means being able to say “no” when someone tries to hurt you, or tries to hurt themselves. In every marriage, the husband was hell-bent on self-destruction. With rare exception, the wife’s silence contributed to rather than allayed this tendency. To be of interest, and to raise the mind and heart above mere entertainment, the novelist is called to write the truth of human experience, in all its facets. One wonders whether the truth of a marriage based on the full recognition of personhood, committed to honest self-sacrifice and self-giving love, complete with all of its requisite pain and suffering and difficulty, with a goal towards accompanying the spouse on the road towards real, whole personhood, is to be found in the “wife” novels of the day? Elisabeth Leseur comes to mind as an example of this. . .
I’d like to thank my co-hosts for the opportunity to participate these last few months — it certainly has been eye-opeing and has provoked much to think about. Unfortunately, personal circumstances prevent me from continuing on with the group at this time. Please visit my co-host’s blogs — The Bookshelf of Emily J., One Little Library, and Unabridged Chick — to find out what they thought of the novels in part 1 and what is planned for part 2 of the series.