catastrophizing
My mind is gripped by the potential mistakes, the possible costs, the hypothetical scenarios where things go terribly wrong.
chary
It's a social event where no one is at ease. People are sizing each other up, suspicious and assessing.
enclose
A homeless man has set up a small room made of blanket walls by the doors of a supermarket.
examining
Giving more thought to a chapter that portrays a slide towards despair, a character contemplating an end to her life. I check that I'm writing it with sufficient care.
hand-to-hand
Looking both embarrassed and proud, he talks about how he allowed himself to get really mad and fight a few other men at a subway station, just because he needed to relieve stress. I had never pictured him as the type to let off steam through physical combat with potentially lethal repercussions, a situation where someone could end up knifed or knocked onto the third rail.
lackadaisical
We aren't having a conversation, just taking turns talking. The topics drift and leave little impression.
untainted
A clear, crystalline day when the air seems to come from a fresh spring untainted by car exhaust and sidewalk garbage.
Showing posts with label parties. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parties. Show all posts
Saturday, August 17, 2019
Monday, November 19, 2018
Week in Seven Words #436
awry
"It's a little shortcut," the hike leader says. "I think it should be ok." This is our introduction to a narrow, unused cross-country skiing trail bordered by trees covered in poison ivy that we'll eventually have to hang on to in order to haul ourselves up a long muddy slope leading back to the main path.
brushstrokes
The delicate flowers look like they were dabbed onto the greenery by Monet's paintbrush.
sarcophagi
I confirm that no one is buried in Grant's Tomb.
service
She doesn't have big expectations for her volunteer work. Just a little more light, a little more hope, in her own small way picking away at apathy and callousness.
stalling
While figuring out how to work my way into a party where I don't know anybody, I buy time by pouring a fizzy drink into a large plastic cup and slowly peeling off my jacket.
unsteady
She's made so much slime on this patch of wood floor that it's become completely slippery. Even weeks later, I skid on it, startled.
whimsy
High Line Park has a picture book quality. You look out on a jumble of different architecture, colorful billboards, and murals. The route resembles, in turns, a railway track, a forest path, and a city sidewalk.
"It's a little shortcut," the hike leader says. "I think it should be ok." This is our introduction to a narrow, unused cross-country skiing trail bordered by trees covered in poison ivy that we'll eventually have to hang on to in order to haul ourselves up a long muddy slope leading back to the main path.
brushstrokes
The delicate flowers look like they were dabbed onto the greenery by Monet's paintbrush.
sarcophagi
I confirm that no one is buried in Grant's Tomb.
service
She doesn't have big expectations for her volunteer work. Just a little more light, a little more hope, in her own small way picking away at apathy and callousness.
stalling
While figuring out how to work my way into a party where I don't know anybody, I buy time by pouring a fizzy drink into a large plastic cup and slowly peeling off my jacket.
unsteady
She's made so much slime on this patch of wood floor that it's become completely slippery. Even weeks later, I skid on it, startled.
whimsy
High Line Park has a picture book quality. You look out on a jumble of different architecture, colorful billboards, and murals. The route resembles, in turns, a railway track, a forest path, and a city sidewalk.
Thursday, May 3, 2018
Week in Seven Words #400
accompanied
A homeless man with a CD player hooked to his belt searches for bottles while accompanied by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli singing "Time to Say Goodbye."
limits
The talk focuses on the complications of forgiveness. How does one (or can one) forgive repeat offenses? What if the offender shows no sign of remorse or is unwilling or unable to change? What if the offense is too serious? It's a heavy discussion, and many of the people present either remain silent or speak in short, clipped phrases, as if there's so much more they'd like to say but too little time.
morula
At the birthday party in the park, small pink balloons are tied together in a cluster that brings to mind a diagram of the stages between zygote and embryo, a ball of cells rapidly multiplying.
pointlessly
His words trigger my temper, and I regret letting my anger show. It feels like defeat, to lose control even briefly. It's also pointless. The provocation in and of itself is superficial. The anger has deeper roots and is bound up in problems I wouldn't be able to discuss with him. We're on the level of surface irritations.
student
An old woman is in the middle of a calisthenics routine by the river. A toddler approaches and begins to imitate her: jumping, stretching, squatting, hopping on and off a stair. (In this last one, the toddler crawls on and off rather than trust her legs too much.)
sunnily
The water is tinted gold in the late afternoon. I look up from my book as a dog trots by wearing aviator shades.
suspend
There's a man who sits in the lobby of the synagogue or sometimes on the front steps, like he doesn't want to get too close to the praying but doesn't want to abandon it either.
A homeless man with a CD player hooked to his belt searches for bottles while accompanied by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli singing "Time to Say Goodbye."
limits
The talk focuses on the complications of forgiveness. How does one (or can one) forgive repeat offenses? What if the offender shows no sign of remorse or is unwilling or unable to change? What if the offense is too serious? It's a heavy discussion, and many of the people present either remain silent or speak in short, clipped phrases, as if there's so much more they'd like to say but too little time.
morula
At the birthday party in the park, small pink balloons are tied together in a cluster that brings to mind a diagram of the stages between zygote and embryo, a ball of cells rapidly multiplying.
pointlessly
His words trigger my temper, and I regret letting my anger show. It feels like defeat, to lose control even briefly. It's also pointless. The provocation in and of itself is superficial. The anger has deeper roots and is bound up in problems I wouldn't be able to discuss with him. We're on the level of surface irritations.
student
An old woman is in the middle of a calisthenics routine by the river. A toddler approaches and begins to imitate her: jumping, stretching, squatting, hopping on and off a stair. (In this last one, the toddler crawls on and off rather than trust her legs too much.)
sunnily
The water is tinted gold in the late afternoon. I look up from my book as a dog trots by wearing aviator shades.
suspend
There's a man who sits in the lobby of the synagogue or sometimes on the front steps, like he doesn't want to get too close to the praying but doesn't want to abandon it either.
Thursday, March 1, 2018
Week in Seven Words #387
concealment
Bored, he texts me from the party to list all the places where he could hide from the other guests. The shrubs by the pool provide good coverage. There's room for most of him behind the piano in the den.
freshening
I love an early Sunday walk when the light is soft and the streets are mostly empty.
humbling
I'm beaten badly by two children at Settlers of Catan. They rob me of all my resources. They laugh as I lose my lumber and ore.
refusal
There are different ways of saying good-bye. One is to avoid saying it at all, to turn away at the moment of parting and slip into another room.
soothed
She sits in a blanket nest on the bed and frets. I cup her cute bald head in my hand, and she calms.
teeming
A sulfurous odor leaks out of the pails of water he's set up in the basement for his plastic animals. He's lined some of the pails with dirt from the backyard, and without knowing it has invited new kinds of organisms into his collection, alive and bacterial.
unignorable
I don't pay attention to the tendons in my feet, until one of them painfully, insistently reminds me that it exists.
Bored, he texts me from the party to list all the places where he could hide from the other guests. The shrubs by the pool provide good coverage. There's room for most of him behind the piano in the den.
freshening
I love an early Sunday walk when the light is soft and the streets are mostly empty.
humbling
I'm beaten badly by two children at Settlers of Catan. They rob me of all my resources. They laugh as I lose my lumber and ore.
refusal
There are different ways of saying good-bye. One is to avoid saying it at all, to turn away at the moment of parting and slip into another room.
soothed
She sits in a blanket nest on the bed and frets. I cup her cute bald head in my hand, and she calms.
teeming
A sulfurous odor leaks out of the pails of water he's set up in the basement for his plastic animals. He's lined some of the pails with dirt from the backyard, and without knowing it has invited new kinds of organisms into his collection, alive and bacterial.
unignorable
I don't pay attention to the tendons in my feet, until one of them painfully, insistently reminds me that it exists.
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Week in Seven Words #380
dreaming
I'm in Brooklyn somewhere, after a late dinner, and every subway station I go to is closed, the stairways to the tracks boarded up. I wander out to a boardwalk overlooking an ocean. I can see the moon not by looking at the sky but by looking through the dark, transparent ocean. The moon is glowing through the water. It's enormous.
impediments
The conversation deteriorates into peevish muttering. Again, no progress towards a solution or even an understanding.
intimate
In a crowded, noisy room, they find a window seat tucked behind curtains, where they press up against each other and whisper.
irritants
During the meal, he scrolls through headlines on his phone. He rarely reads the articles. Only headlines, which make him feel vindicated sometimes but angry mostly.
satisfied
After the party, they fall into a couple of chairs and kick off their heels. The table is covered in used glasses and liquor bottles filled to different levels. They pour drinks and clink their glasses, which probably aren't clean, in a wordless toast to a night well-spent.
soles
She walks barefoot to feel the rasp of the stone on her feet.
touching
She slips an invitation under my door. It's for a dinner, a few weeks from now.
I'm in Brooklyn somewhere, after a late dinner, and every subway station I go to is closed, the stairways to the tracks boarded up. I wander out to a boardwalk overlooking an ocean. I can see the moon not by looking at the sky but by looking through the dark, transparent ocean. The moon is glowing through the water. It's enormous.
impediments
The conversation deteriorates into peevish muttering. Again, no progress towards a solution or even an understanding.
intimate
In a crowded, noisy room, they find a window seat tucked behind curtains, where they press up against each other and whisper.
irritants
During the meal, he scrolls through headlines on his phone. He rarely reads the articles. Only headlines, which make him feel vindicated sometimes but angry mostly.
satisfied
After the party, they fall into a couple of chairs and kick off their heels. The table is covered in used glasses and liquor bottles filled to different levels. They pour drinks and clink their glasses, which probably aren't clean, in a wordless toast to a night well-spent.
soles
She walks barefoot to feel the rasp of the stone on her feet.
touching
She slips an invitation under my door. It's for a dinner, a few weeks from now.
Friday, December 22, 2017
Week in Seven Words #375
digits
Entering numbers into a form, carefully, on a laggard computer that decides at odd moments to step out for the computer equivalent of a coffee break.
drying
Thick sheets of rain sweep past the movie theater's marquee. The lobby is stuffy and has a dusty, buttery smell.
flustered
They like improv but are also afraid of it, because it's too unpredictable. They hold back, undermining the scene, for fear of saying something unacceptably weird.
mingled
There's a lot of reassurance to be found in a shared pizza and companionable silence.
speakeasy
It's a roaring 20s theme party, where the gals show off their gams in shimmery knee-length dresses that shiver as they dance.
tied
The interviewer acts like he's trying to corral a horse. He wants the rage of denial, the flare of indignation. Followed by inevitable submission.
unicorn
Sometimes, making them laugh is as simple as holding a staring contest with the head of a unicorn.
Entering numbers into a form, carefully, on a laggard computer that decides at odd moments to step out for the computer equivalent of a coffee break.
drying
Thick sheets of rain sweep past the movie theater's marquee. The lobby is stuffy and has a dusty, buttery smell.
flustered
They like improv but are also afraid of it, because it's too unpredictable. They hold back, undermining the scene, for fear of saying something unacceptably weird.
mingled
There's a lot of reassurance to be found in a shared pizza and companionable silence.
speakeasy
It's a roaring 20s theme party, where the gals show off their gams in shimmery knee-length dresses that shiver as they dance.
tied
The interviewer acts like he's trying to corral a horse. He wants the rage of denial, the flare of indignation. Followed by inevitable submission.
unicorn
Sometimes, making them laugh is as simple as holding a staring contest with the head of a unicorn.
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Week in Seven Words #257
disencumber
She talks like someone who hasn't had anyone hear her for a long time.
distorted
The grand hall is dark and full of music that rakes the air apart. Sickly green light slides down the walls and swirls around the ceiling.
enclosure
She is lying to others to give herself space to heal.
insistent
The unreasonable expectation that my friend will immediately run out and get a book I recommended, read it at once and respond to it with the same enthusiasm I did.
judged
"It was not the best day ever," she says, pronouncing judgment on a family outing.
loathsome
Protracted shame is one of the worst emotions anyone can feel. There's no hope in it. It's a dirty, secretive worm. That's why abusive people, whether consciously or not, are so eager for others to feel this; it keeps people suffering quietly, convinced of their own defectiveness.
pulverize
Music in waves that pound my eardrums to sand.
She talks like someone who hasn't had anyone hear her for a long time.
distorted
The grand hall is dark and full of music that rakes the air apart. Sickly green light slides down the walls and swirls around the ceiling.
enclosure
She is lying to others to give herself space to heal.
insistent
The unreasonable expectation that my friend will immediately run out and get a book I recommended, read it at once and respond to it with the same enthusiasm I did.
judged
"It was not the best day ever," she says, pronouncing judgment on a family outing.
loathsome
Protracted shame is one of the worst emotions anyone can feel. There's no hope in it. It's a dirty, secretive worm. That's why abusive people, whether consciously or not, are so eager for others to feel this; it keeps people suffering quietly, convinced of their own defectiveness.
pulverize
Music in waves that pound my eardrums to sand.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Week in Seven Words #163
dotted
Getting speckled with snow as I take a long walk.
embitter
As everyone is celebrating, I taste the undercurrents in the room. Along with genuine warmth, there's a strong flavor of condescension and cynicism. People are smirking instead of smiling.
gloomy
People in shambles in a green-carpeted parlor.
openness
The conversation goes much better than I expected it would. More listening, calmness, and humor than I would have imagined possible. Acceptance is still a long way off, and maybe it will never come. Regardless, I have to do as I see fit.
potentate
My opinion of him (which isn't definitive, not least because I'm acting as an armchair psychologist), is that he's deeply self-absorbed. Occasionally he turns away from his work or personal interests and notices someone else. He might even be moved to do a kindness for them. Then he'll forget about them and become irritated and puzzled when they contact him.
stimulant
Jolted out of a quiet Friday afternoon by some really good news.
threshold
We stand outside talking in the damp. Occasionally the front door opens, disclosing golden light and a roar of voices.
Getting speckled with snow as I take a long walk.
embitter
As everyone is celebrating, I taste the undercurrents in the room. Along with genuine warmth, there's a strong flavor of condescension and cynicism. People are smirking instead of smiling.
gloomy
People in shambles in a green-carpeted parlor.
openness
The conversation goes much better than I expected it would. More listening, calmness, and humor than I would have imagined possible. Acceptance is still a long way off, and maybe it will never come. Regardless, I have to do as I see fit.
potentate
My opinion of him (which isn't definitive, not least because I'm acting as an armchair psychologist), is that he's deeply self-absorbed. Occasionally he turns away from his work or personal interests and notices someone else. He might even be moved to do a kindness for them. Then he'll forget about them and become irritated and puzzled when they contact him.
stimulant
Jolted out of a quiet Friday afternoon by some really good news.
threshold
We stand outside talking in the damp. Occasionally the front door opens, disclosing golden light and a roar of voices.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Week in Seven Words #143
camaraderie
It's great to be able to laugh with the people you work with.
encounters
I don't know what I'll see by the wine store each time I pass it. Sometimes it's a family with kids who've gotten their faces painted. Other times it might be a man on a cigarette break, or a woman screaming at the back window of a car, where she sees her own reflection.
hazy
A bottle of wine, some boardgames, and some bad television make for a lazy evening.
opacity
Many problems come from mental blocks. When you're convinced from the start that you'll do badly you generate a self-fulfilling prophecy. You can't think about anything else aside from how badly you'll do. Why is it so much easier for me to see this tendency in other people than it is to catch it in myself?
ostensibly
People can't admit they've shown up just for the booze and food, so what they do is throw in some lofty speeches that they can pretend to pay attention to while getting liquored up.
sorrowed
Calling up a friend I haven't spoken to in a while to find out he's in the hospital on his birthday.
year-round
At the Shakespeare Garden, poetry and stinging insects are perennial.
It's great to be able to laugh with the people you work with.
encounters
I don't know what I'll see by the wine store each time I pass it. Sometimes it's a family with kids who've gotten their faces painted. Other times it might be a man on a cigarette break, or a woman screaming at the back window of a car, where she sees her own reflection.
hazy
A bottle of wine, some boardgames, and some bad television make for a lazy evening.
opacity
Many problems come from mental blocks. When you're convinced from the start that you'll do badly you generate a self-fulfilling prophecy. You can't think about anything else aside from how badly you'll do. Why is it so much easier for me to see this tendency in other people than it is to catch it in myself?
ostensibly
People can't admit they've shown up just for the booze and food, so what they do is throw in some lofty speeches that they can pretend to pay attention to while getting liquored up.
sorrowed
Calling up a friend I haven't spoken to in a while to find out he's in the hospital on his birthday.
year-round
At the Shakespeare Garden, poetry and stinging insects are perennial.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Week in Seven Words #131
appreciated
As welcoming gifts they present me with a chocolate-frosted cupcake, a card with a blue cave troll on it, and a paper bracelet with a pink shiny heart.
bladed
At the moment there's only anger, a razor sharp focus that admits no sense or compassion.
enough
"Never enough" are the words I use to bludgeon all my efforts.
multipurpose
The dog, when she isn't curled up on my lap, makes for a good armrest.
renitency
When I sense that I'm being pressured to conform I resist on instinct, even before I'm able to articulate why.
resound
Music blooms out of the dusty speakers.
well-met
Four branches bearing different leaves (star shaped yellow, oval green) meet across a light blue sky.
As welcoming gifts they present me with a chocolate-frosted cupcake, a card with a blue cave troll on it, and a paper bracelet with a pink shiny heart.
bladed
At the moment there's only anger, a razor sharp focus that admits no sense or compassion.
enough
"Never enough" are the words I use to bludgeon all my efforts.
multipurpose
The dog, when she isn't curled up on my lap, makes for a good armrest.
renitency
When I sense that I'm being pressured to conform I resist on instinct, even before I'm able to articulate why.
resound
Music blooms out of the dusty speakers.
well-met
Four branches bearing different leaves (star shaped yellow, oval green) meet across a light blue sky.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Worth Watching: Dinner at Eight (1933)
Title: Dinner at Eight
Director: George Cukor
Language: English
Rating: Unrated
Dinner at Eight is set among upper class Manhattanites during the Great Depression and ends with a dinner party that's not as important as it's made out to be. The substance of the movie is the build-up to the party: the people on the guest list and the comedy and drama of their lives. As the movie unfolds, you wonder who will show up at the end, and in what state (disillusioned, heartbroken, morose, contented). Who will live and who will die? In the movie some characters suffer setbacks, others double-cross their rivals, and a few make peace with their lives. Private, sordid tragedies are gilded with witty remarks and sharp humor.
Most of the characters in this ensemble movie are memorable, in part because of the well-written screenplay but also because of the quality of the actors. Even the ones in the smaller roles shine, like the maid, Tina, played by Hilda Vaughn, who maintains an appearance of regal boredom while blackmailing her equally sneaky employer, Kitty Packard (Jean Harlow).
Jean Harlow alone is a great reason to watch Dinner at Eight, as she plays the kittenish Kitty, who conducts her day-to-day affairs from her bed. Harlow is funny and makes an art form out of lounging around in satin. Though Kitty is an ignorant person in some ways, she's not to be underestimated, as her husband, Dan (Wallace Beery), finds out. Dan isn't such a stellar guy himself - a coarse and unscrupulous businessman who steamrolls people in pursuit of his ambitions. The Packards' antagonistic marriage is one of the most entertaining parts of the movie, mostly because they deserve each other. Their spats are ridiculous and ugly as each tries to get the upper hand over the other.
Both Lionel Barrymore and his younger brother, John, are in this movie, with Lionel playing a more gray and enervated character, Oliver Jordan, whose business is failing along with his heart. John's character, the washed-up film star, Larry Renault, is a more striking figure. Renault used to be famous, more for his handsome profile than for his acting talent, and in the darkest scene in Dinner at Eight he hits rock bottom. It's one of the most brutal depictions of self-sabotage, despair and self-loathing I've seen so far in movies (the brief helpless sobbing noise John Barrymore makes is haunting). But even at the end of that scene there's a faint touch of humor, as he adjusts himself so that his beautiful profile is facing the door.
In a way those who make it to the dinner at the end are survivors. The character who's probably best at surviving is Carlotta Vance (Marie Dressler), an esteemed stage actress who has weathered fame, shifting fortunes, and numerous male admirers and reached an advanced age where her looks have faded but her strength of mind has not; she's not as self-deluded as some of the other characters. Dressler has a fascinating face, especially her eyes, which sometimes seem to be staring at horrors only she can see. Carlotta's charm and sense of humor keep her afloat, and I love how Dressler delivers her lines, which are among the funniest in the movie; the last word in Dinner at Eight belongs to her.
Carlotta is also a good example of how the characters' lives are interwoven in the movie. She's Oliver Jordan's former love interest and current friend, welcomed by him with sweet happiness no matter what else is going on in his life. She's friendly with his snobbish wife, Millicent (Billie Burke - "Glinda the Good" in The Wizard of Oz), who's throwing the big dinner party. And at one point she becomes the confidante and advisor of his daughter, Paula (Madge Evans), when the young woman desperately needs some guidance.
Dinner parties are great scenarios because of everything that lurks beneath the polite formalities. Appearances must be maintained, and people who despise each other shake hands, embrace and pretend they're friends. People who are crushed have to swallow their pain and look untroubled. In this wonderful movie there isn't a single personal secret that's fully a secret; however none of the guests knows everything about the others. Like all people, they act on a mix of imperfect knowledge and obliviousness.
Director: George Cukor
Language: English
Rating: Unrated
Dinner at Eight is set among upper class Manhattanites during the Great Depression and ends with a dinner party that's not as important as it's made out to be. The substance of the movie is the build-up to the party: the people on the guest list and the comedy and drama of their lives. As the movie unfolds, you wonder who will show up at the end, and in what state (disillusioned, heartbroken, morose, contented). Who will live and who will die? In the movie some characters suffer setbacks, others double-cross their rivals, and a few make peace with their lives. Private, sordid tragedies are gilded with witty remarks and sharp humor.
Most of the characters in this ensemble movie are memorable, in part because of the well-written screenplay but also because of the quality of the actors. Even the ones in the smaller roles shine, like the maid, Tina, played by Hilda Vaughn, who maintains an appearance of regal boredom while blackmailing her equally sneaky employer, Kitty Packard (Jean Harlow).
Jean Harlow alone is a great reason to watch Dinner at Eight, as she plays the kittenish Kitty, who conducts her day-to-day affairs from her bed. Harlow is funny and makes an art form out of lounging around in satin. Though Kitty is an ignorant person in some ways, she's not to be underestimated, as her husband, Dan (Wallace Beery), finds out. Dan isn't such a stellar guy himself - a coarse and unscrupulous businessman who steamrolls people in pursuit of his ambitions. The Packards' antagonistic marriage is one of the most entertaining parts of the movie, mostly because they deserve each other. Their spats are ridiculous and ugly as each tries to get the upper hand over the other.
Both Lionel Barrymore and his younger brother, John, are in this movie, with Lionel playing a more gray and enervated character, Oliver Jordan, whose business is failing along with his heart. John's character, the washed-up film star, Larry Renault, is a more striking figure. Renault used to be famous, more for his handsome profile than for his acting talent, and in the darkest scene in Dinner at Eight he hits rock bottom. It's one of the most brutal depictions of self-sabotage, despair and self-loathing I've seen so far in movies (the brief helpless sobbing noise John Barrymore makes is haunting). But even at the end of that scene there's a faint touch of humor, as he adjusts himself so that his beautiful profile is facing the door.
In a way those who make it to the dinner at the end are survivors. The character who's probably best at surviving is Carlotta Vance (Marie Dressler), an esteemed stage actress who has weathered fame, shifting fortunes, and numerous male admirers and reached an advanced age where her looks have faded but her strength of mind has not; she's not as self-deluded as some of the other characters. Dressler has a fascinating face, especially her eyes, which sometimes seem to be staring at horrors only she can see. Carlotta's charm and sense of humor keep her afloat, and I love how Dressler delivers her lines, which are among the funniest in the movie; the last word in Dinner at Eight belongs to her.
Carlotta is also a good example of how the characters' lives are interwoven in the movie. She's Oliver Jordan's former love interest and current friend, welcomed by him with sweet happiness no matter what else is going on in his life. She's friendly with his snobbish wife, Millicent (Billie Burke - "Glinda the Good" in The Wizard of Oz), who's throwing the big dinner party. And at one point she becomes the confidante and advisor of his daughter, Paula (Madge Evans), when the young woman desperately needs some guidance.
Dinner parties are great scenarios because of everything that lurks beneath the polite formalities. Appearances must be maintained, and people who despise each other shake hands, embrace and pretend they're friends. People who are crushed have to swallow their pain and look untroubled. In this wonderful movie there isn't a single personal secret that's fully a secret; however none of the guests knows everything about the others. Like all people, they act on a mix of imperfect knowledge and obliviousness.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Good Short Fiction: "The Dead" by James Joyce
Title: The Dead
Author: James Joyce
Where I read it: Dubliners
I first read "The Dead" in high school, and as I picked it up again recently I remembered one scene clearly. It's when Gabriel Conroy is looking up the stairs at his wife, Gretta, who has paused on the landing to listen to music being played in another room. I remembered the "panels of her skirt" and the atmosphere of that moment - a woman arrested by music and memory, observed by her husband, who is oblivious to everything but his own feelings of desire and tender possessiveness at the sight of her. He doesn't consider what her own thoughts might be.
Gabriel's attitude towards Ireland, his home country, is colored with the polite regard and subtle contempt with which he treats other people in "The Dead." He wants to find favor in the eyes of his aunts' guests, so he holds forth on old-fashioned Irish values ("genuine warm-hearted courteous Irish hospitality, which our forefathers have handed down to us"). At the same time he's embarrassed of his country; in his eyes, his wife's major fault is that she came from the Irish countryside, because he's the sort of man who thinks of himself as worldly and prefers to vacation in Continental Europe.
Joyce is setting Gabriel up to be humbled, to step outside of himself. Even from the start Gabriel's central position in the story is always being threatened. Other guests come and go, and he's buffeted by them, pushed off the page by their colorful personalities. He makes some egotistical blunders that bely his image as an attentive sophisticated man, and he wavers with self-doubt. At one point he's dancing with another guest, Miss Ivors, who comments on his lack of connection with Ireland. When he loses his composure and tells her that he's sick of his own country, she asks him "Why?" and he can't answer. By the end there's something of an answer; Gabriel's distaste stems in part from his discomfort with himself and his unwillingness to confront what's lacking in his life and experiences. He's too softly civilized to accommodate his own country and its people, its passions and history.
At the end of the story he's softly shattered like a clump of snow. It's a terrible and gentle scene, and there really is snow falling outside. The colors and sounds of the party fade beyond it. It's difficult to dislike Gabriel, especially after that last scene. His soul roams widely and melts into the land, where the dead are alive and living people like Gabriel die briefly and taste things bigger than themselves, as the snow falls over everything.
I was inspired to write about "The Dead" this week because of Irish Short Story week over at The Reading Life blog.
Author: James Joyce
Where I read it: Dubliners
I first read "The Dead" in high school, and as I picked it up again recently I remembered one scene clearly. It's when Gabriel Conroy is looking up the stairs at his wife, Gretta, who has paused on the landing to listen to music being played in another room. I remembered the "panels of her skirt" and the atmosphere of that moment - a woman arrested by music and memory, observed by her husband, who is oblivious to everything but his own feelings of desire and tender possessiveness at the sight of her. He doesn't consider what her own thoughts might be.
There was grace and mystery in her attitude as if she were a symbol of something. He asked himself what is a woman standing on the stairs in the shadow, listening to distant music, a symbol of. If he were a painter he would paint her in that attitude. Her blue felt hat would show off the bronze of her hair against the darkness and the dark panels of her skirt would show off the light ones. Distant Music he would call the picture if he were a painter.Gabriel is the central character in this story, and for most of it he's self-important and self-conscious, unable to connect deeply with other people and step into their shoes. The scene I've just described takes place at the end of a long dinner and music party at his aunts' house. Earlier he gave a speech at their table, a task he took to with relish, nervousness and condescension. Gabriel likes to be at the head of a table, particularly if everyone recognizes that he belongs there, carving the roast and bestowing wit and eloquence on the less cultured guests.
Gabriel's attitude towards Ireland, his home country, is colored with the polite regard and subtle contempt with which he treats other people in "The Dead." He wants to find favor in the eyes of his aunts' guests, so he holds forth on old-fashioned Irish values ("genuine warm-hearted courteous Irish hospitality, which our forefathers have handed down to us"). At the same time he's embarrassed of his country; in his eyes, his wife's major fault is that she came from the Irish countryside, because he's the sort of man who thinks of himself as worldly and prefers to vacation in Continental Europe.
Joyce is setting Gabriel up to be humbled, to step outside of himself. Even from the start Gabriel's central position in the story is always being threatened. Other guests come and go, and he's buffeted by them, pushed off the page by their colorful personalities. He makes some egotistical blunders that bely his image as an attentive sophisticated man, and he wavers with self-doubt. At one point he's dancing with another guest, Miss Ivors, who comments on his lack of connection with Ireland. When he loses his composure and tells her that he's sick of his own country, she asks him "Why?" and he can't answer. By the end there's something of an answer; Gabriel's distaste stems in part from his discomfort with himself and his unwillingness to confront what's lacking in his life and experiences. He's too softly civilized to accommodate his own country and its people, its passions and history.
At the end of the story he's softly shattered like a clump of snow. It's a terrible and gentle scene, and there really is snow falling outside. The colors and sounds of the party fade beyond it. It's difficult to dislike Gabriel, especially after that last scene. His soul roams widely and melts into the land, where the dead are alive and living people like Gabriel die briefly and taste things bigger than themselves, as the snow falls over everything.
Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves... His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.-------------
I was inspired to write about "The Dead" this week because of Irish Short Story week over at The Reading Life blog.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Week in Seven Words #100
chocolatier
Tempting chocolate truffles in a golden box.
coordination
Group photo: fitting thirteen people on and in front of a sofa, then programming the camera's self-timer. The first couple of times nothing happens, and we sit there smiling at the camera as it stares back at us with its glossy black eye. On the third try the person adjusting the camera gets it to work but doesn't arrive back at the sofa on time, so the photo shows her from behind as she tries to dive back in next to her husband. Finally it works. After a moment's hush we cheer, and the sudden noise makes the baby startle and burst into tears.
glee
He's beaming as he rocks back and forth on the large green plastic rocking horse; it's a hand-me-down from older siblings who now sit beside him clapping and singing "Yankee Doodle Went to Town" to make him go more quickly.
invitation
Settled on a cluster of rocks by the lake, an elderly woman scatters crumbs around her and calmly greets the wheeling gulls.
perpetuity
A display at the train station shows an old-fashioned village where lights glow from little homes, happy figurines have snowball fights or glide among the evergreens on sleds, and a train travels round and round it all on a looping track. The display draws people who smile and pause to lean over it. They tip themselves for a moment into the village where everything is repeating, moving without going anywhere; no progress and no end, and for a few seconds, peace.
unplanned
There are joys planned out for them: food brought from the outside and musicians who do their best to sing beloved old songs. There are also moments of spontaneous joy that feel more real and lasting even though they're over quickly - as the party winds down they bat a balloon around; it glances off their fingers and stays airborne for a few happy minutes.
unseasonal
It's winter but feels like autumn. Turtle Pond looks like a sheet soaked in deep blue ink, and beyond it the Great Lawn is green and gold. The shadows of trees stretch out on the grass as if they're taking a leisurely nap.
Tempting chocolate truffles in a golden box.
coordination
Group photo: fitting thirteen people on and in front of a sofa, then programming the camera's self-timer. The first couple of times nothing happens, and we sit there smiling at the camera as it stares back at us with its glossy black eye. On the third try the person adjusting the camera gets it to work but doesn't arrive back at the sofa on time, so the photo shows her from behind as she tries to dive back in next to her husband. Finally it works. After a moment's hush we cheer, and the sudden noise makes the baby startle and burst into tears.
glee
He's beaming as he rocks back and forth on the large green plastic rocking horse; it's a hand-me-down from older siblings who now sit beside him clapping and singing "Yankee Doodle Went to Town" to make him go more quickly.
invitation
Settled on a cluster of rocks by the lake, an elderly woman scatters crumbs around her and calmly greets the wheeling gulls.
perpetuity
A display at the train station shows an old-fashioned village where lights glow from little homes, happy figurines have snowball fights or glide among the evergreens on sleds, and a train travels round and round it all on a looping track. The display draws people who smile and pause to lean over it. They tip themselves for a moment into the village where everything is repeating, moving without going anywhere; no progress and no end, and for a few seconds, peace.
unplanned
There are joys planned out for them: food brought from the outside and musicians who do their best to sing beloved old songs. There are also moments of spontaneous joy that feel more real and lasting even though they're over quickly - as the party winds down they bat a balloon around; it glances off their fingers and stays airborne for a few happy minutes.
unseasonal
It's winter but feels like autumn. Turtle Pond looks like a sheet soaked in deep blue ink, and beyond it the Great Lawn is green and gold. The shadows of trees stretch out on the grass as if they're taking a leisurely nap.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Week in Seven Words #35
administrators
The administrators who help me out are kindly, good-humored and tolerant of my anxious queries; I'm grateful they don't resemble stereotypical bureaucrats, the ones who idly bat you from paw to paw like bored cats.
covalence
I tense up in situations like these, stepping into a crowded space where I can't spot a familiar face and everyone seems to be clumped together already with their cups of sangria and their little plates of veggies and cookies. I guess their behavior reassures me to some extent as well, the fact that they're already in bunches and pairs, because it shows that I'm not the only one who feels awkward about being a lone floating atom. At last I find my way to one small group, which broadens slightly to admit me, and we stand in a little sangria-clutching circle, making introductions, searching for things we can all talk about and briefly bond over.
dance
Some of the dancing is dignified, as when we make slow turns, our palms pressed together and our skirts flaring out and then subsiding against our legs. Other times it's happily undignified, like when I'm turning in circles with a young child who is convinced that he can dance without his feet touching the ground at all.
forecasting
Leaves, gold brown and orange, whip around and batter the window like snowflakes.
goodies
She brings me a lovely new skirt the color of honeycombs and evergreens, and along with it a package of snickerdoodle animal crackers.
matches
They're strewn among the tea lights - charred and scarred canoes floundering in a calm flickering sea.
wadded
When I have a cold, the world feels like it's coming to me through a layer of cotton balls. My mouth is limp with cherry-flavored cough drop numbness.
The administrators who help me out are kindly, good-humored and tolerant of my anxious queries; I'm grateful they don't resemble stereotypical bureaucrats, the ones who idly bat you from paw to paw like bored cats.
covalence
I tense up in situations like these, stepping into a crowded space where I can't spot a familiar face and everyone seems to be clumped together already with their cups of sangria and their little plates of veggies and cookies. I guess their behavior reassures me to some extent as well, the fact that they're already in bunches and pairs, because it shows that I'm not the only one who feels awkward about being a lone floating atom. At last I find my way to one small group, which broadens slightly to admit me, and we stand in a little sangria-clutching circle, making introductions, searching for things we can all talk about and briefly bond over.
dance
Some of the dancing is dignified, as when we make slow turns, our palms pressed together and our skirts flaring out and then subsiding against our legs. Other times it's happily undignified, like when I'm turning in circles with a young child who is convinced that he can dance without his feet touching the ground at all.
forecasting
Leaves, gold brown and orange, whip around and batter the window like snowflakes.
goodies
She brings me a lovely new skirt the color of honeycombs and evergreens, and along with it a package of snickerdoodle animal crackers.
matches
They're strewn among the tea lights - charred and scarred canoes floundering in a calm flickering sea.
wadded
When I have a cold, the world feels like it's coming to me through a layer of cotton balls. My mouth is limp with cherry-flavored cough drop numbness.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Week in Seven Words #17
aperture
For the second time in as many weeks, I watch a film that holds my attention and afterwards leaves me feeling inspired and content that I spent time on it. I also watch it with someone who has seen it before, and I like catching his reactions as he anticipates or rediscovers the little moments and details that delight him.
conviction
During the talk he gives at the public library, his body sometimes seems to seize up with the force of his words.
kaleidoscope
A young child's birthday party. Wrapping paper, fragments of cardboard, and colorful plastic figurines litter the floor and slip between sofa cushions. There's pin the nose on the clown (almost every child peeks), and turns taken at a seemingly indestructible pinata (the bat swings wildly, narrowly misses windows and faces). There are water gun fights, mouths and fingers messy with chocolate cake and pizza grease, laughter and smiles, the occasional sulk in the corner, and adventures into the far corners of the yard.
ladylike
At a bridal shower we eat off paper plates decorated with purple flowers. Lavender candles float in a bowl at the center of the table. There are colorful salads to start with, and then a decadent descent into cheesecake, brownies, and ice cream. Two of the guests fashion an impromptu hat out of wrapping paper, ribbons, and silver bows; the bride-to-be wears it at a becoming angle on her head.
odds
I buy her a birthday gift, and as it turns out, it's the exact same gift she bought for her boyfriend on his birthday last year. It's not a popular gift either, like a best-selling book, but something obscure (it seemed).
scintillation
Our walk takes us across an open bridge, a row of lampposts on our right, traffic hurtling along on our left, the river dark and speckled with light. Lightning flares across large swaths of sky; we walk more quickly, thinking that no, this is not the best time to find ourselves on a bridge, but that we might as well take the opportunity to be dazzled.
sculpture
Chiseling the text and graphs so that they all fit on a single page; I'm not there yet, there are still some lines spilling onto page 2, so I need to play around with space, plucking out a word here and there, and slowly it will assume its final compact shape.
For the second time in as many weeks, I watch a film that holds my attention and afterwards leaves me feeling inspired and content that I spent time on it. I also watch it with someone who has seen it before, and I like catching his reactions as he anticipates or rediscovers the little moments and details that delight him.
conviction
During the talk he gives at the public library, his body sometimes seems to seize up with the force of his words.
kaleidoscope
A young child's birthday party. Wrapping paper, fragments of cardboard, and colorful plastic figurines litter the floor and slip between sofa cushions. There's pin the nose on the clown (almost every child peeks), and turns taken at a seemingly indestructible pinata (the bat swings wildly, narrowly misses windows and faces). There are water gun fights, mouths and fingers messy with chocolate cake and pizza grease, laughter and smiles, the occasional sulk in the corner, and adventures into the far corners of the yard.
ladylike
At a bridal shower we eat off paper plates decorated with purple flowers. Lavender candles float in a bowl at the center of the table. There are colorful salads to start with, and then a decadent descent into cheesecake, brownies, and ice cream. Two of the guests fashion an impromptu hat out of wrapping paper, ribbons, and silver bows; the bride-to-be wears it at a becoming angle on her head.
odds
I buy her a birthday gift, and as it turns out, it's the exact same gift she bought for her boyfriend on his birthday last year. It's not a popular gift either, like a best-selling book, but something obscure (it seemed).
scintillation
Our walk takes us across an open bridge, a row of lampposts on our right, traffic hurtling along on our left, the river dark and speckled with light. Lightning flares across large swaths of sky; we walk more quickly, thinking that no, this is not the best time to find ourselves on a bridge, but that we might as well take the opportunity to be dazzled.
sculpture
Chiseling the text and graphs so that they all fit on a single page; I'm not there yet, there are still some lines spilling onto page 2, so I need to play around with space, plucking out a word here and there, and slowly it will assume its final compact shape.
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