1:1 As this letter is supposed to have been written not long after Paul's previous epistle, it's not surprising that the introduction is the same, again focusing on grace and peace. It will be interesting to detect and extrapolate from any other perceived shifts in Paul's approach . . .
1:5 One wonders, then, about those who do not suffer quite so much. Are they unworthy of the kingdom?
1:6 I get the impression that Paul is mentioning something to which I don't have access. Otherwise, this is a bit of a leap in logic. Never mind the question of how just it is to repay suffering for suffering, something against which the congregation has no doubt been cautioned. I just mean wher is the rhetorical link with what he's discussing?
1:7,8 Whoa, there, nelly. This is a departure from his earlier message in the extreme. I don't recall Paul getting this worked up and brimstoney very often. No doubt a rhetorical appeal to the Thessalonians' baser human urge for vengeance.
2:3 It would be easy to take this as a prophecy, but it is not altogether clear that Paul means "the lawless one" to be The Lawless One, some sort of archetypal embodiment of rebellion. He could just as easily have been referring to lawless people in general.
2:4 Okay, now it's clear. So when does this happen, exactly? Was Paul ever dissapointed that he didn't see anything resembling the fulfillment of his urgent message?
2:6 They may know, but we certainly have no clue.
2:11,12 I have serious problems both with Paul's logic and with his theology. By Paul's reasoning, God has purposefully deluded some so that whose who are deluded can be comdemned. This makes no kind of sense. It's the "so" that really throws a spanner in it. Why is this divinely induced delusion a precondition?
3:6 No doubt a targeted messsage. I wonder how the intended target felt? Whether they were ashamed of their laziness, or angered at being singled out.
3:17 Now this is the thing that I find most troubling about this letter. Why on Earth would Paul see fit to draw attention to his handwriting here, and not in 1 Thessalonians? His opening is standard, and changes little across the course of all his letters. Why should this closing be so different? Unless somebody had something to prove.
Which brings us to the authenticity of this book. While widely regarded as authentically authored by Paul, there are some who notice the dramatic differences between it and his earlier letter. I tend to agree with this; 1st Thess. was solicitous, warm and upbuilding in the extreme. This letter seems violently angry by comparison. Paul was human, and subject to flights of emotion, no doubt, but these letters just do not feel like they were writeen by the same person. And would Paul ever be guilty of such sloppy logic as found in 2:12? Lastly, what about that closing?
For that matter, do we really care whether the Paul or some associate wrote this letter (possibly going so far as to forge his handwriting)? For those who take this to be the literal inspired word of God, such a question would be of monumental importance and, of course, would never even be supposed.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
박현숙: 오천원은 없다
저자가 한국어를 가르칠 작정이 있었는지 모르겠지만 나한테 많이 도와주는 책였다. 왜냐하면 새로운 단어가 등장할 때는 자주 되풀이 해서 나에게 발리 익숙해졌어요. 그러나 마지막 쪽에도 내가 모르는 단어 몇게 있었다. 아직도 쉬운 책도 유창하게 읽을 수 없어요. 공부 더 열심히 해야 할 텐데 . . .
또는 주제가 진짜 재미있었다. 몇번 깔깔거리거나 신이 났다. 같은 책 널리 읽으면 수준이 얼른 높아질 것 같아요.
또는 주제가 진짜 재미있었다. 몇번 깔깔거리거나 신이 났다. 같은 책 널리 읽으면 수준이 얼른 높아질 것 같아요.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
The African Queen
I simply don't see the allure of this movie. Not only does the American Film institute recognize it as one of the 100 most significant American films ever made (although they dropped it to #65 from #17 in the 2007 revision to the list) and did Bogart win an Academy Award for his performance, but my dear sweet Grandmother absolutely loved it. For my part, I found it clumsy and tedious.
Most of what I didn't care for came from directorial/editing choices that I felt inhibited the storytelling. Something interesting would happen, and then the film would cut to some scenic footage, and then back to the characters, where something else interesting would happen. This narrative structure prevented the different scenes from connecting to each other, and the viewer never really felt a build in the conflict between Hepburn and Bogart, let alone their burgeoning attraction. When they finally are confirmed in love, it feels as though maybe we missed something. They go right from at each other's throats to "would you like some tea, dearest?" with out that intermediate recognition.
It also prevented what could have been a real tour de force from Hepburn. Such a rich character in the hands of such a powerful actress could have become mesmerizing. Instead, everytime she seemed to be gathering up steam, the film would cut to some hippopotamuses or such, and she would have to start from scratch again the next time we saw her. If I were the AFI, I would have left this film off the list altogether.
Most of what I didn't care for came from directorial/editing choices that I felt inhibited the storytelling. Something interesting would happen, and then the film would cut to some scenic footage, and then back to the characters, where something else interesting would happen. This narrative structure prevented the different scenes from connecting to each other, and the viewer never really felt a build in the conflict between Hepburn and Bogart, let alone their burgeoning attraction. When they finally are confirmed in love, it feels as though maybe we missed something. They go right from at each other's throats to "would you like some tea, dearest?" with out that intermediate recognition.
It also prevented what could have been a real tour de force from Hepburn. Such a rich character in the hands of such a powerful actress could have become mesmerizing. Instead, everytime she seemed to be gathering up steam, the film would cut to some hippopotamuses or such, and she would have to start from scratch again the next time we saw her. If I were the AFI, I would have left this film off the list altogether.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
1st Thessalonians
I have a lot of expectation for this book, as it is widely regarded as the first composed of Paul's epistles, and plan to approach it with an eye out for ideas that seem not yet fully-formed. Perhaps it will yield some insight into Paul's thought process, as well as his theology.
1:1 Working from that assumption, it is worth noting that Paul's salutation does not differ significantly from that of Colossians, written perhaps 30 years later. His messages of grace of peace thus appear as constants, and one could look to them as a framework for his theology. Maybe.
1:2-5 likewise, the main difference in his introductory comments is that he has met the Thessalonians in person, and does not seem to have met the Colossians at the time of the writing.
1:6-10 Paul seems less confident than in later writings, and seems to spend a lot of time flattering his audience, and . . .
2:1-12 trying to establish his own credibility. Either he is gearing up for some serious reprimanding, or he is less secure in his relationship with the Thessalonians than with the Colossians--all the more remarkable considering his personal establishment of the congregation there.
2:16 One wonders what wrath Paul could be referring to. If the dating were different, I would assume he meant the fall of Jerusalem to Roman armies in 70 C.E., but 1st Thess. seems to predate that.
3:1-4 Another possibility occurs to me, that Paul is really worried about the congregation, due to some intense persecution, and the primary purpose of this letter is just to encourage them. In which case, I would expect little in the way of theological explication.
3:10 This is the closest he has come to anything resembling admonishment: that he wants to strengthen whatever may be lacking in their faith.
4:4 Now we get to the dirt: he urges them to be in control of their bodies, and free from lust. Much different than the lofty, mental focus of Colossians--at least the first 3 chapters.
4:15 Now this is interesting. It is certainly revealing that this early work contains such a strong emphasis on physical resurrection. I would be curious to look back and see how much weight this arguably less noble idea gets in his more mature works.
5:6 And this cry for watchfulness, this warning of "sudden destruction", could also be expected to get less page time thirty years later.
5:8 Perhaps a seminal form of the more developed thought found in Ephesians at least 20 years later.
5:23 Paul speaks of spirit and soul as though they are different things . . . or is it just poetic stylizing?
The part of this that I find most compelling is the mention of resurrection in the last half of the 4th chapter, not only because it's the only real theology going on here, but also because it is so blatantly pandering, and so conspicuously absent in some later letters. It seems altogether likely that messages of impending and sudden destruction would lose their weight after thirty years, and also that as Paul aged he shifted his focus to more noble/lofty things.
1:1 Working from that assumption, it is worth noting that Paul's salutation does not differ significantly from that of Colossians, written perhaps 30 years later. His messages of grace of peace thus appear as constants, and one could look to them as a framework for his theology. Maybe.
1:2-5 likewise, the main difference in his introductory comments is that he has met the Thessalonians in person, and does not seem to have met the Colossians at the time of the writing.
1:6-10 Paul seems less confident than in later writings, and seems to spend a lot of time flattering his audience, and . . .
2:1-12 trying to establish his own credibility. Either he is gearing up for some serious reprimanding, or he is less secure in his relationship with the Thessalonians than with the Colossians--all the more remarkable considering his personal establishment of the congregation there.
2:16 One wonders what wrath Paul could be referring to. If the dating were different, I would assume he meant the fall of Jerusalem to Roman armies in 70 C.E., but 1st Thess. seems to predate that.
3:1-4 Another possibility occurs to me, that Paul is really worried about the congregation, due to some intense persecution, and the primary purpose of this letter is just to encourage them. In which case, I would expect little in the way of theological explication.
3:10 This is the closest he has come to anything resembling admonishment: that he wants to strengthen whatever may be lacking in their faith.
4:4 Now we get to the dirt: he urges them to be in control of their bodies, and free from lust. Much different than the lofty, mental focus of Colossians--at least the first 3 chapters.
4:15 Now this is interesting. It is certainly revealing that this early work contains such a strong emphasis on physical resurrection. I would be curious to look back and see how much weight this arguably less noble idea gets in his more mature works.
5:6 And this cry for watchfulness, this warning of "sudden destruction", could also be expected to get less page time thirty years later.
5:8 Perhaps a seminal form of the more developed thought found in Ephesians at least 20 years later.
5:23 Paul speaks of spirit and soul as though they are different things . . . or is it just poetic stylizing?
The part of this that I find most compelling is the mention of resurrection in the last half of the 4th chapter, not only because it's the only real theology going on here, but also because it is so blatantly pandering, and so conspicuously absent in some later letters. It seems altogether likely that messages of impending and sudden destruction would lose their weight after thirty years, and also that as Paul aged he shifted his focus to more noble/lofty things.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Max Frisch: I'm Not Stiller
In my post on Frisch's play Andorra, I indicated that it didn't seem to justify its existence, and that it would have been better served as a novel or short story. As it happens, I'm Not Stiller is exactly that. It addresses the same ideas as Andorra, namely to what extent we are our own creation and to what extent the creation of others, in more depth and in a way that plays more to Frisch's strengths. His prose is so much more beguiling than his dialogue, one wonders why he felt compelled to revisit the theme seven years later in such an inadequate way. Perhaps there was some aspect of it that he felt remained unaddressed, but for my money I'm Not Stiller is a definitive statement on the subject, and Andorra a lame aftershock.
Which is not to say that it gives a conclusive answer to the question of the extent to which our identities are simply social constructs; merely that it opens the dialogue and pinpoints a few of the pivotal elements. According to Frisch's model, the self is obscured by myriad things, many of which we mistake for self. One of the less influential of these obscuring influences is that of so-called society. Anything we have received from literature, art, philosophy, or discussion of the same with friends, is manifestly not us. The eponymous hero asks,
How the devil am I to prove to my counsel that I don't know my murderous impulses through C.G. Jung, jealousy through Marcel Proust, Spain from Hemingway . . . and all sorts of other things through Thomas Mann? It's true, you need never even have read these authorities, you can absorb them through your friends who also live all their experiences second-hand (158).
And even if the stories that seem to comprise our identities are not received in the above way, they may well be constructed. Frisch leads the reader to believe the narrator's assertion that he is not Stiller, partly through the painstaking detail of his narrative, only to pull the rug out when he admits that he was simply "too tired to make up another murder story" (53). For the rest of the novel, one continues to wonder what to believe, and is never fully satisfied. As the reader becomes invested in the narrator, every question one asks of him one asks of oneself as well: "To what extent can I believe my own version of events?
Frisch thus systematically deconsructs the identity of the Narrator, and allows him to serve as a nameless (as advertised by the title) proxy for the reader. Having peeled away the obviously unreliable sources of identity--society, narrative, perception, associations--he proceeds to identify the ultimate, and ultimately inescapable, culprit for the unreality of our identities: language. "You can put anything into words, except your own life" and "I have no words for my reality", the narrator laments, to cite two of the more clear examples (53, 70).
Which does not mean, by Frisch's model, that there is no such thing as identity, simply that it requires an extraordinary amount of bravery, clarity and self-reflection to perceive it. This, sadly is a task that so-called Stiller (this reader remains unconvinced that he is indeed the man in question) seems to fail. The narrator comes to the cusp of clarity, but retreats out of fear. This affects those around him, for "if he took [Julika's] love really seriously, he would be compelled as a result to accept himself--and that is the last thing he wants" (216). For this reason, he is unable to know the other central character of the book: Julika. We as readers never come close to knowing her, since "Stiller"'s version and Rolf's are at odds, and it is certainly for this reason that neither of them really come to know her either. The book's title takes on a rather sly note, for one realizes by the end that the Narrator may or not be Stiller, but the book was never about him to begin with, but rather "the picture of a being who was dead and had never been recognized by anyone when she was alive" (377).
Which is not to say that it gives a conclusive answer to the question of the extent to which our identities are simply social constructs; merely that it opens the dialogue and pinpoints a few of the pivotal elements. According to Frisch's model, the self is obscured by myriad things, many of which we mistake for self. One of the less influential of these obscuring influences is that of so-called society. Anything we have received from literature, art, philosophy, or discussion of the same with friends, is manifestly not us. The eponymous hero asks,
How the devil am I to prove to my counsel that I don't know my murderous impulses through C.G. Jung, jealousy through Marcel Proust, Spain from Hemingway . . . and all sorts of other things through Thomas Mann? It's true, you need never even have read these authorities, you can absorb them through your friends who also live all their experiences second-hand (158).
And even if the stories that seem to comprise our identities are not received in the above way, they may well be constructed. Frisch leads the reader to believe the narrator's assertion that he is not Stiller, partly through the painstaking detail of his narrative, only to pull the rug out when he admits that he was simply "too tired to make up another murder story" (53). For the rest of the novel, one continues to wonder what to believe, and is never fully satisfied. As the reader becomes invested in the narrator, every question one asks of him one asks of oneself as well: "To what extent can I believe my own version of events?
Frisch thus systematically deconsructs the identity of the Narrator, and allows him to serve as a nameless (as advertised by the title) proxy for the reader. Having peeled away the obviously unreliable sources of identity--society, narrative, perception, associations--he proceeds to identify the ultimate, and ultimately inescapable, culprit for the unreality of our identities: language. "You can put anything into words, except your own life" and "I have no words for my reality", the narrator laments, to cite two of the more clear examples (53, 70).
Which does not mean, by Frisch's model, that there is no such thing as identity, simply that it requires an extraordinary amount of bravery, clarity and self-reflection to perceive it. This, sadly is a task that so-called Stiller (this reader remains unconvinced that he is indeed the man in question) seems to fail. The narrator comes to the cusp of clarity, but retreats out of fear. This affects those around him, for "if he took [Julika's] love really seriously, he would be compelled as a result to accept himself--and that is the last thing he wants" (216). For this reason, he is unable to know the other central character of the book: Julika. We as readers never come close to knowing her, since "Stiller"'s version and Rolf's are at odds, and it is certainly for this reason that neither of them really come to know her either. The book's title takes on a rather sly note, for one realizes by the end that the Narrator may or not be Stiller, but the book was never about him to begin with, but rather "the picture of a being who was dead and had never been recognized by anyone when she was alive" (377).
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
이문열: 두겹의 노래
삶은 쓸쓸하다. 또한 쓸쓸하지않다. 한국 작가는 이렇게 바로 분명히 시작하기 마련인지 모르겠지만 확실히 분석
쉽게 하는 시작이다. 이문열은
황홀하고 놀랄만큼 퉁명스러운 산문으로 사랑의 사실 또한 광계의 사실을 정확히 포착한다. 다른 사람이랑 아무리 친한다고 생각해도 광계는 욕구와 간격의 무서운 조합인 말이다. 이런 환경에서는 마음이 어떻게 살아남을 수 있을까?
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Brian Rappatta: To Sift the Sacred and other Fantasy Stories
It's always a bit strange approaching a book written by an acquaintance in this manner. On the one hand, I am inclined to cut a lot of slack to the book because it doesn't seem to be putting on any airs. A professionally published, mainstream book has a certain obligation to the reader, to be well written, thoroughly edited, and in general not a waste of time. A book written by a friend just doesn't seem to make the same demands.
Nonetheless, as an English major one develops the habit of reading critically, in the quite literal sense of noticing things that are wrong. In this case, I suppose I could sum up by saying that the author's ideas are quite astounding and creative, but I'm not quite taken in by the writing itself, which seems a bit pedestrian.
But the larger issue at stake here is that each of the stories contains a thoroughly thought out and engaging miniature world, and the short story format doesn't come close to doing any of them justice. I feel like, with the exception of "Goddamned", every one of the stories could bear the weight of a longer narrative. So much thought has gone into each of the stories that the world feels fully formed within only a few paragraphs. It almost seems like a waste to let such a vision live for only 20 pages or so.
Nonetheless, as an English major one develops the habit of reading critically, in the quite literal sense of noticing things that are wrong. In this case, I suppose I could sum up by saying that the author's ideas are quite astounding and creative, but I'm not quite taken in by the writing itself, which seems a bit pedestrian.
But the larger issue at stake here is that each of the stories contains a thoroughly thought out and engaging miniature world, and the short story format doesn't come close to doing any of them justice. I feel like, with the exception of "Goddamned", every one of the stories could bear the weight of a longer narrative. So much thought has gone into each of the stories that the world feels fully formed within only a few paragraphs. It almost seems like a waste to let such a vision live for only 20 pages or so.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
City Lights
Here's a rare example of a time I agree with the AFI's revisions to its list. In the original 1998 list, this charming number was ranked 76th, but in the 2007 revisions it was, I think rightly, moved up to number 11. I had never watched a silent feature length film before, so my expectations were low, but I was captivated throughout. City Lights is everything a romantic comedy should be: by turns hilarious, suspenseful, socially astute and deeply moving. While Chaplin's comedic chops are the obvious star here, I think he deserves even more credit as writer and director for accomplishing without words (without spoken words at least) what all the Matthew McConaugheys and Cameron Diazes and Nicholas Sparkses in all of modern cinema can't do with scores of well-paid writers and technicians.
Sometimes, out of habit, I judge a piece of media by its "teachableness", by which I mean whether I could show it to a class of low socioeconomic status students (I am thinking of a specific class from my fourth year of teaching), and have them learn something from it without being bored to tears. I would love to show this movie (or part of it) to such a class, and watch their minds expand a little. At first they would roll their eyes and groan at the prospect of watching a black and white movie--let alone a silent one. I can hear it now "What the fuck, Payne? Do you hate us or something?" Then they would self-consciously repress a giggle when Chaplin's pants get caught on a statue. After about five minutes, one of them would break the ice and give a full belly laugh, probably when the blind girl throws water in his face. It would be all smiles from there, and at the end of the class, one of them would begrudgingly say, "I didn't think old shit could be that funny . . ." Although I enjoyed City Lights immensely, especially the ending, I'm aware that my enjoyment alone does not make a great movie. To have soften the hearts and open the minds of a group of juvenile delinquents is a much better measure.
Sometimes, out of habit, I judge a piece of media by its "teachableness", by which I mean whether I could show it to a class of low socioeconomic status students (I am thinking of a specific class from my fourth year of teaching), and have them learn something from it without being bored to tears. I would love to show this movie (or part of it) to such a class, and watch their minds expand a little. At first they would roll their eyes and groan at the prospect of watching a black and white movie--let alone a silent one. I can hear it now "What the fuck, Payne? Do you hate us or something?" Then they would self-consciously repress a giggle when Chaplin's pants get caught on a statue. After about five minutes, one of them would break the ice and give a full belly laugh, probably when the blind girl throws water in his face. It would be all smiles from there, and at the end of the class, one of them would begrudgingly say, "I didn't think old shit could be that funny . . ." Although I enjoyed City Lights immensely, especially the ending, I'm aware that my enjoyment alone does not make a great movie. To have soften the hearts and open the minds of a group of juvenile delinquents is a much better measure.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Liveblogging the Bible: Colossians
1:1 One can't help but wonder what exactly Timothy's role was in the composition of this letter. Was he simply an amanuensis? An editor? A co-contributor? Or simply a comrade who wished to add his greetings to Paul's?
1:3 The use of the plural here seems to suggest that Timothy's role was more substantial than one might think, which raises theological questions. Paul has yet to indicate that this letter is directly inspired (as he does elsewhere), an omission which does not stop some from taking this as the literal, word-for-word transmission of a divine message. If one chooses to take it thus, is Timothy also inspired of God?
1:7 Was Epaphras, therefore, the originator of the congregation in Colossae, if it was from him that they first heard the message?
1:9-14 Paul's wishes here are interesting, more for what is not included than for what is. He wishes them to have gifts of wisdom/knowledge/understanding, and strength/endurance patience. His mention of forgiveness and good works are results of these other two elements, not independent of them.
1:15 Appositive referent problem. Is "the firstborn of all creation" meant to refer to Christ, or God?
1:20 In what way are those things in heaven in need of Christ's redemption?
1:23 This is a quid pro quo that is incompatible with common understandings of salvation. The audience here is saved "provided that [they] continue securely established and steadfast . . ." And if they don't, what becomes of that salvation? Some would argue that those who do not continue were never saved, but that would render Paul's argument invalid.
1:24 And what could possibly have been lacking in Christ's afflictions, such that Paul has to suffer them for him. Seems like a bit of poetic license, rather than a point of doctrine.
2:1 This confirms the suspicion in 1:7
2:3,4 Again this focus on knowledge. Paul is far to canny and conscious of his audience to have done this offhandedly. He is clearly writing for the purpose of purifying their doctrine, and specifically to root out some unknown "plausible arguments" that are not in sync with the party line.
2:6 One could try to infer then, what exactly he is trying to correct about their doctrine, by seeing what gets the bulk of his time. In this case, it seems to be the idea of the ransom, and of Christ's headship of the congregation.
2:11-15 This is Pauline rhetoric at its very best. He appeals to the Colossians on multiple emotional fronts, all while giving his case a sound logical underpinning.
2:18 and this confirms that Paul's goal is primarily to focus their attention on Christ, and deter them from developing a sort of pantheon, or an independent order that subscribes to harsher standards as an expression of piety. Both of these are things that Catholics are guilty of in abundance, naturally.
3:5 This is a lovely job of wrapping worship of lesser deities and self-abasement in the same cloth as fornication and wrath, in that all of them are of earthly concern. A nice taxonomy, that brooks no argument, especially as nice as Paul has set it up in the preceding chapters.
3:17 And if he stopped right here, I would have no argument with him . . .
3:18-25 But he didn't. After all of the beautiful and sound rhetoric of the preceding chapters, he loses his way here. He has just convinced his audience to focus only on spiritual things, that everything physical has no real meaning. Yet here he brings it back to the physical realm again, and loses some of his credibility.
4:1 And of course, I see no way to justify this by Paul's own logic. It has no place in a treatise on distancing oneself from the physical realm. Not to mention the fact that it is morally repulsive.
4:12 Evidently their own founder, Epaphras, was with him at the time of the writing, no doubt mentioned tactically.
4:16 And is this letter to the Laodiceans less inspired, such that it has been lost?
4:18 Well, that lets Timothy off the hook as an amanuensis. And he could scarcely have been mentioned just as a way to tender his regards, insofar as somehow Timothy's contribution to this letter deserved greater mention than these others named here. Which leaves the other two possibilities . . . I can't help but wonder if that section that seems so out of place with the rest bears his mark somehow.
1:3 The use of the plural here seems to suggest that Timothy's role was more substantial than one might think, which raises theological questions. Paul has yet to indicate that this letter is directly inspired (as he does elsewhere), an omission which does not stop some from taking this as the literal, word-for-word transmission of a divine message. If one chooses to take it thus, is Timothy also inspired of God?
1:7 Was Epaphras, therefore, the originator of the congregation in Colossae, if it was from him that they first heard the message?
1:9-14 Paul's wishes here are interesting, more for what is not included than for what is. He wishes them to have gifts of wisdom/knowledge/understanding, and strength/endurance patience. His mention of forgiveness and good works are results of these other two elements, not independent of them.
1:15 Appositive referent problem. Is "the firstborn of all creation" meant to refer to Christ, or God?
1:20 In what way are those things in heaven in need of Christ's redemption?
1:23 This is a quid pro quo that is incompatible with common understandings of salvation. The audience here is saved "provided that [they] continue securely established and steadfast . . ." And if they don't, what becomes of that salvation? Some would argue that those who do not continue were never saved, but that would render Paul's argument invalid.
1:24 And what could possibly have been lacking in Christ's afflictions, such that Paul has to suffer them for him. Seems like a bit of poetic license, rather than a point of doctrine.
2:1 This confirms the suspicion in 1:7
2:3,4 Again this focus on knowledge. Paul is far to canny and conscious of his audience to have done this offhandedly. He is clearly writing for the purpose of purifying their doctrine, and specifically to root out some unknown "plausible arguments" that are not in sync with the party line.
2:6 One could try to infer then, what exactly he is trying to correct about their doctrine, by seeing what gets the bulk of his time. In this case, it seems to be the idea of the ransom, and of Christ's headship of the congregation.
2:11-15 This is Pauline rhetoric at its very best. He appeals to the Colossians on multiple emotional fronts, all while giving his case a sound logical underpinning.
2:18 and this confirms that Paul's goal is primarily to focus their attention on Christ, and deter them from developing a sort of pantheon, or an independent order that subscribes to harsher standards as an expression of piety. Both of these are things that Catholics are guilty of in abundance, naturally.
3:5 This is a lovely job of wrapping worship of lesser deities and self-abasement in the same cloth as fornication and wrath, in that all of them are of earthly concern. A nice taxonomy, that brooks no argument, especially as nice as Paul has set it up in the preceding chapters.
3:17 And if he stopped right here, I would have no argument with him . . .
3:18-25 But he didn't. After all of the beautiful and sound rhetoric of the preceding chapters, he loses his way here. He has just convinced his audience to focus only on spiritual things, that everything physical has no real meaning. Yet here he brings it back to the physical realm again, and loses some of his credibility.
4:1 And of course, I see no way to justify this by Paul's own logic. It has no place in a treatise on distancing oneself from the physical realm. Not to mention the fact that it is morally repulsive.
4:12 Evidently their own founder, Epaphras, was with him at the time of the writing, no doubt mentioned tactically.
4:16 And is this letter to the Laodiceans less inspired, such that it has been lost?
4:18 Well, that lets Timothy off the hook as an amanuensis. And he could scarcely have been mentioned just as a way to tender his regards, insofar as somehow Timothy's contribution to this letter deserved greater mention than these others named here. Which leaves the other two possibilities . . . I can't help but wonder if that section that seems so out of place with the rest bears his mark somehow.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Tales and Stories with Selected Essays
This incredibly dense volume has taken me a year to muddle through, partly due to my own easily distracted nature, and partly due to the fact that every time I tried to get through a chunk I fell asleep after a few pages. In fact, after this happened a few times, I took to reading a bit of Poe whenever I was having trouble falling asleep. My mind often races, causing me to lie awake, but this has proven to be the easiest over-the-counter cure for that I have found.
There are those who will be incensed by this declaration, but I mean it in earnest. No other author can put me to sleep the way Poe can. He just tries so hard to prove himself--that he's smart, or avant-garde, or of a poetical nature. His word choice and condescending tone consistently leave a bad taste in my mouth. It is no wonder that he met with but little recognition in his own time.
What is a mystery is that he has such devout followers in modern times. What is usually familiar of his body of work is often limited to the three or four stories that are not tediously self-conscious. One that I was pleasantly surprised by was The Mask of the Red Death, which I had read before, but the lovely symmetry and well-crafted structure of which I had not fully appreciated at the time.
And if his prose is unbearable, his poetry is even more so, containing, as he admitted, "Nothing of much value to the public, or very creditable to [my]self" (Poe, 1845). This is, of course, an exaggeration. Certain of his poems have become deservedly famous, but the vast majority are clumsy, unfinished, and boring. To use his own words again,
...the writer of these lines
in the mad pride of intellectuality
maintained "the power of words"--denied that ever
a thought arose within the human brain
beyond the utterance of the human tongue ("To Marie Louise" 1-5)
It is exactly this mad pride of intellectuality that infects all of Poe's work, including the few examples from his essays included in this collection. This is a terrible shame because that cloying frosting of pseudo-intellectualism covers up the ideas behind Poe's work, which, when they peek through, are visionary and poetic in the highest degree. I just wish he had an editorial-minded friend who could have sat down with him and extracted those things. I wish some of the truly lovely passages and turns of phrase were not nestled in such glutinous dishes as Poe served. Some of my favorite examples:
Ours is a world of words: Quiet we call
"Silence"--which is the merest word of all.
All nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things
Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings
and
Up!--shake from your wing
Each hindering thing:
The dew of the night--
It would weigh down your flight;
And true love caresses--
O! leave them apart!
They are light on the tresses,
But lead on the heart.
Both of these sections are from "Al Aaraaf", which, with a little direction, could have been one of the greatest poems ever written. Instead, it's a bit of a mess with some lovely pieces poking through, and Poe is definitely remembered for the tidier "Annabel Lee" and "The Raven".
Of course, perhaps is it because of all this, and not in spite of it, that he has found such an audience. Perhaps it is not even Poe's work that people are drawn to, but his spirit, that of one with deep, even visionary things to say, who couldn't quite seem to get them across--certainly not in his own time. Who would bother to pick through the work of a living writer to find out what he means, after all? More's the pity, because many indeed are they who can relate to his sentiment, summed up perhaps best here:
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were--I have not seen
as others saw--I could not bring
my passions from a common spring--("Alone")
There are those who will be incensed by this declaration, but I mean it in earnest. No other author can put me to sleep the way Poe can. He just tries so hard to prove himself--that he's smart, or avant-garde, or of a poetical nature. His word choice and condescending tone consistently leave a bad taste in my mouth. It is no wonder that he met with but little recognition in his own time.
What is a mystery is that he has such devout followers in modern times. What is usually familiar of his body of work is often limited to the three or four stories that are not tediously self-conscious. One that I was pleasantly surprised by was The Mask of the Red Death, which I had read before, but the lovely symmetry and well-crafted structure of which I had not fully appreciated at the time.
And if his prose is unbearable, his poetry is even more so, containing, as he admitted, "Nothing of much value to the public, or very creditable to [my]self" (Poe, 1845). This is, of course, an exaggeration. Certain of his poems have become deservedly famous, but the vast majority are clumsy, unfinished, and boring. To use his own words again,
...the writer of these lines
in the mad pride of intellectuality
maintained "the power of words"--denied that ever
a thought arose within the human brain
beyond the utterance of the human tongue ("To Marie Louise" 1-5)
It is exactly this mad pride of intellectuality that infects all of Poe's work, including the few examples from his essays included in this collection. This is a terrible shame because that cloying frosting of pseudo-intellectualism covers up the ideas behind Poe's work, which, when they peek through, are visionary and poetic in the highest degree. I just wish he had an editorial-minded friend who could have sat down with him and extracted those things. I wish some of the truly lovely passages and turns of phrase were not nestled in such glutinous dishes as Poe served. Some of my favorite examples:
Ours is a world of words: Quiet we call
"Silence"--which is the merest word of all.
All nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things
Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings
and
Up!--shake from your wing
Each hindering thing:
The dew of the night--
It would weigh down your flight;
And true love caresses--
O! leave them apart!
They are light on the tresses,
But lead on the heart.
Both of these sections are from "Al Aaraaf", which, with a little direction, could have been one of the greatest poems ever written. Instead, it's a bit of a mess with some lovely pieces poking through, and Poe is definitely remembered for the tidier "Annabel Lee" and "The Raven".
Of course, perhaps is it because of all this, and not in spite of it, that he has found such an audience. Perhaps it is not even Poe's work that people are drawn to, but his spirit, that of one with deep, even visionary things to say, who couldn't quite seem to get them across--certainly not in his own time. Who would bother to pick through the work of a living writer to find out what he means, after all? More's the pity, because many indeed are they who can relate to his sentiment, summed up perhaps best here:
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were--I have not seen
as others saw--I could not bring
my passions from a common spring--("Alone")
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Vertigo
I feel that everything that went right with Raging Bull went wrong here: In the former, Scorsese took a turd of a script, and reworked it completely into something brilliant. In the latter, Hitchcock took an equally stinky sample, and decided to leave poor enough alone. Scorsese resisted the temptation to cast known quantities in the leading roles, and not only pulled masterpiece performances seemingly out of thin air, but cemented the careers and reputations of some of our finest actors. Hitchcock almost lazily cast the obviously over the hill Stewart in the lead, and couldn't pull so much as a simmer out of him.
Vertigo is admittedly lovely. Hitchcock is, as always, a master of mood, but shows here that he can create more than suspense. Perhaps it was out of necessity that he managed to show Stewart falling in love with Kim Novak entirely through camera angle. And of course the dream sequence and visual effects are all of the sort that have since become so common that one needs context to appreciate how artistically they are done.
Nonetheless, it is clear that a great director is not enough to make a great movie, and with the other two necessary elements missing--a great script and great performances--I consider this the first time that the AFI has really missed the mark in identifying a great film--let alone ranking it 9th.
Vertigo is admittedly lovely. Hitchcock is, as always, a master of mood, but shows here that he can create more than suspense. Perhaps it was out of necessity that he managed to show Stewart falling in love with Kim Novak entirely through camera angle. And of course the dream sequence and visual effects are all of the sort that have since become so common that one needs context to appreciate how artistically they are done.
Nonetheless, it is clear that a great director is not enough to make a great movie, and with the other two necessary elements missing--a great script and great performances--I consider this the first time that the AFI has really missed the mark in identifying a great film--let alone ranking it 9th.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Liveblogging the Bible: Ephesians
The end of this undertaking is in sight, which means, if I approach it the way I usually do things, I will probably begin taking it seriously again.
1:3 I already like this book; Paul alerts us early that it's not about Christ at all, except tangentially.
1:4 Of course, if it treats this topic, namely predestination, it's bound for a sticky theological undertaking . . .
1:9 I can't help but think that Paul is using the royal "we" here, that when he says ". . . has made known to us" he is referring to his own personal revelations.
1:18 again, seemingly referring to a vision that he alone has witnessed, and hoping it for those he considers his brothers and sisters.
2:1 I'm feeling unaccountably moved by Paul's words here, by the tone of hope and charity that he is adopting. Really a contrast to some of his other letters.
2:5 a nice echo of 1:20, and a continuation of that as a metaphor
2:15 there is a definite pronoun blurring here, and I am a little reminiscent for the capitalization of "he" when it refers to God. That would clear up when Paul is talking about God, as opposed to Christ, although Paul himself seems to pass liquidly from one referent to the next. Does Paul really mean to say that Christ himself has broken down the walls, or that God has done it through Christ? If the former, it brings in an interesting question of agency.
3:3 Of course, there is little hope of the exact nature of this vision being made known. If it is at all as revelatory as Paul indicates, it is likely to be impossible to put into words. It occurs to me that John and Paul saw the same thing, but either John foolishly put it into words where Paul knew it could not be done, or John was able to put something into words that Paul couldn't quite grasp.
3:6 Or is it really just a simple truth that was revealed, as it was to Peter: that Gentiles and Jews are now one body in the eyes of God?
3:9 He certainly seems to indicate that there is more to it: a future plan, a mystery . . .
4:1 This is a much better framework for the works/faith question than we have seen elsewhere. The salvation of the Spirit is a done deal. Just try to be worthy of it.
4:16 If only Paul knew how disappointingly unable humans are of fulfilling his wish here, at least for any length of time.
4:25 Paul is hitting on what may the only universal truth here: that what is good for you is good for me, not because you are my brother, but because you are me.
4:30 and this ties nicely with what is said in 4:1. Rather than "do not sin", he tells them not to make the Holy Spirit sorry for its gift. . .
5:10 I love that he urges them to "try to find out what is pleasing in the Lord," rather than commanding them. He knows that sin is unavoidable.
5:21 before any mention of subjection to husbands, he instructs the Ephesians to be subject to one another. How is it possible for both people in a relationship to be the slave, and for both to be the master? That is the very definition of love.
5:22 which makes it difficult to reconcile this verse.
5:32 " great mystery" indeed, one that many spend a lifetime puzzling out.
5:33 He does seem to present a subtle double standard here. What is the difference between loving one as one's own body, as husbands are instructed to do, and respecting that person, as wives are directed?
6:2 not sure that what he says here holds water: Surely there are other commandments with promises, and compared to the weight Christ gave "love one another" et al.
6:4 although, reading further, this whole chapter just seems to one long "for example;"
6:13 What evil day? This is his first mention of it here, but he acts as if they will know what he is talking about.
6:13-17 I love this translation of a passage that was familiar to me in my youth. He makes it more clear here that he is speaking, not of a laundry list of qualities, but of focusing one's energy on what will make the Spirit proud.
6:22 Who are "we"? Paul in the royal here again, or is somebody with him?
1:3 I already like this book; Paul alerts us early that it's not about Christ at all, except tangentially.
1:4 Of course, if it treats this topic, namely predestination, it's bound for a sticky theological undertaking . . .
1:9 I can't help but think that Paul is using the royal "we" here, that when he says ". . . has made known to us" he is referring to his own personal revelations.
1:18 again, seemingly referring to a vision that he alone has witnessed, and hoping it for those he considers his brothers and sisters.
2:1 I'm feeling unaccountably moved by Paul's words here, by the tone of hope and charity that he is adopting. Really a contrast to some of his other letters.
2:5 a nice echo of 1:20, and a continuation of that as a metaphor
2:15 there is a definite pronoun blurring here, and I am a little reminiscent for the capitalization of "he" when it refers to God. That would clear up when Paul is talking about God, as opposed to Christ, although Paul himself seems to pass liquidly from one referent to the next. Does Paul really mean to say that Christ himself has broken down the walls, or that God has done it through Christ? If the former, it brings in an interesting question of agency.
3:3 Of course, there is little hope of the exact nature of this vision being made known. If it is at all as revelatory as Paul indicates, it is likely to be impossible to put into words. It occurs to me that John and Paul saw the same thing, but either John foolishly put it into words where Paul knew it could not be done, or John was able to put something into words that Paul couldn't quite grasp.
3:6 Or is it really just a simple truth that was revealed, as it was to Peter: that Gentiles and Jews are now one body in the eyes of God?
3:9 He certainly seems to indicate that there is more to it: a future plan, a mystery . . .
4:1 This is a much better framework for the works/faith question than we have seen elsewhere. The salvation of the Spirit is a done deal. Just try to be worthy of it.
4:16 If only Paul knew how disappointingly unable humans are of fulfilling his wish here, at least for any length of time.
4:25 Paul is hitting on what may the only universal truth here: that what is good for you is good for me, not because you are my brother, but because you are me.
4:30 and this ties nicely with what is said in 4:1. Rather than "do not sin", he tells them not to make the Holy Spirit sorry for its gift. . .
5:10 I love that he urges them to "try to find out what is pleasing in the Lord," rather than commanding them. He knows that sin is unavoidable.
5:21 before any mention of subjection to husbands, he instructs the Ephesians to be subject to one another. How is it possible for both people in a relationship to be the slave, and for both to be the master? That is the very definition of love.
5:22 which makes it difficult to reconcile this verse.
5:32 " great mystery" indeed, one that many spend a lifetime puzzling out.
5:33 He does seem to present a subtle double standard here. What is the difference between loving one as one's own body, as husbands are instructed to do, and respecting that person, as wives are directed?
6:2 not sure that what he says here holds water: Surely there are other commandments with promises, and compared to the weight Christ gave "love one another" et al.
6:4 although, reading further, this whole chapter just seems to one long "for example;"
6:13 What evil day? This is his first mention of it here, but he acts as if they will know what he is talking about.
6:13-17 I love this translation of a passage that was familiar to me in my youth. He makes it more clear here that he is speaking, not of a laundry list of qualities, but of focusing one's energy on what will make the Spirit proud.
6:22 Who are "we"? Paul in the royal here again, or is somebody with him?
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Zadie Smith: White Teeth
My darling sister Bethy has a weakness for anything that speaks disparagingly of our former religion, and so naturally recommended this book. Sadly, I feel like what is (possibly) the chief reason for her recommendation is also one of the weaker points. The description of Irie's Witness upbringing captures the flavor of the thing, but is packed with inaccuracies that having a real former Witness read the manuscript would have made evident. One wonders if Smith didn't bother, or if capturing the gist was more important to her than the details. Further, one wonders if the descriptions of Bangladeshi or Jamaican expat culture suffer similarly from a lack of verisimilitude.
Nonetheless, the book was great. I recommend it in spite of the very reasons for which Bethy may have recommended it. All the things I look for in a book: indelible characters, recurring thematic elements that sneak up on you, an ending that simultaneously leaves the reader unsatisfied and makes perfect sense, believable dialogue, in short, the whole package. I really should read more of this sort of book, but one must read so many terrible ones before finding a good one . . .
Nonetheless, the book was great. I recommend it in spite of the very reasons for which Bethy may have recommended it. All the things I look for in a book: indelible characters, recurring thematic elements that sneak up on you, an ending that simultaneously leaves the reader unsatisfied and makes perfect sense, believable dialogue, in short, the whole package. I really should read more of this sort of book, but one must read so many terrible ones before finding a good one . . .
Max Frisch: Andorra
Ugh, I hate message theater. Tom Lindblade, one of the better directors I know, would always ask before a musical number would begin something to the effect of "Why are you singing this? What is it about this that it can't be simply spoken?" The same sentiment applies to all theater in my mind. What is it about this that can't be conveyed in a novel or short story? Why must it be seen, performed, to be adequately conveyed? I don't feel like Andorra manages to justify its existence by this standard. There is nothing new, no compelling image, no line so striking that it simply must be read aloud. I'm sure the idea is a worthy one, that we are all victims of our identities, our labels, but I am not convinced that it would not be adequately--even better- served in a story or essay. In that form, it would probably be powerful, but as a play, all I can manage is an eyeroll.
AFI's 100 Films: Raging Bull
I suppose, in addition to the issue of whether a movie is great, there is another, equally significant question: Did I like it? With regard to Raging Bull, the answer to the former question is doubtlessly "yes," but to the former I give a guarded "not particularly . . ." The script is brilliant, almost Chekovian in the marvelous details it gives the actors to work with. I was not surprised to find out that Scorsese and DeNiro had reworked the script considerably themselves, and I attribute its greatness to them, more than to the credited writer, Mardik Martin. My favorite example is La Motta beating his championship belt with a hammer to remove the jewels . . . at first thought, it's just a tragic plot device, but from a character/actor's perspective it makes perfect sense. Such a epically proud man would never allow his belt to be seen on the open market.
The problem with Scorsese's direction is, as elsewhere, that it is so flawless, others could just as easily receive the credit for greatness that he no doubt was responsible for. The script is a perfect example, but De Niro's and Cathy Moriarty's performances are credits to Scorsese almost as much as to themselves. He certainly struck gold casting such unknowns, and that is the sort of thing that they don't give academy awards for. The same is true of his cinematography; one really doesn't notice it, partly because the clever things he does have become standard in modern movies--especially the slowdown of certain actions--but also because they seem so natural, and fit so seamlessly into the overall work. One exception is the choice of music, for which Scorses no doubt deserves the bulk of the credit. Cavelierra Rusticana is a perfect choice, both for its thematic and ironic aspects.
And then there is the matter of the acting, which is incredible. De Niro is brilliant, of course, and the parallel with Brando's in On the Waterfront is not lost on Scorsese, but De Niro is a known quality, so I was naturally far more taken with Cathy Moriarty. She had relatively little to say, but every look was filled with a meaning that, again, reminded me of Chekov. Under each "ok" lay the knowledge that she controlled this animal of a man, and saw right through him. Never was she a pathetic figure--even when being beaten. Not once did I feel sorry for her. Her face seemed to say, "whatever . . ." with each blow, a marvelous parallel to De Niro in the ring. I'm completely taken with her, but I wonder if the fact that so many of her subsequent movies were terrible is just another reminder that Scorsese is really responsible for all of it . . .
The problem with Scorsese's direction is, as elsewhere, that it is so flawless, others could just as easily receive the credit for greatness that he no doubt was responsible for. The script is a perfect example, but De Niro's and Cathy Moriarty's performances are credits to Scorsese almost as much as to themselves. He certainly struck gold casting such unknowns, and that is the sort of thing that they don't give academy awards for. The same is true of his cinematography; one really doesn't notice it, partly because the clever things he does have become standard in modern movies--especially the slowdown of certain actions--but also because they seem so natural, and fit so seamlessly into the overall work. One exception is the choice of music, for which Scorses no doubt deserves the bulk of the credit. Cavelierra Rusticana is a perfect choice, both for its thematic and ironic aspects.
And then there is the matter of the acting, which is incredible. De Niro is brilliant, of course, and the parallel with Brando's in On the Waterfront is not lost on Scorsese, but De Niro is a known quality, so I was naturally far more taken with Cathy Moriarty. She had relatively little to say, but every look was filled with a meaning that, again, reminded me of Chekov. Under each "ok" lay the knowledge that she controlled this animal of a man, and saw right through him. Never was she a pathetic figure--even when being beaten. Not once did I feel sorry for her. Her face seemed to say, "whatever . . ." with each blow, a marvelous parallel to De Niro in the ring. I'm completely taken with her, but I wonder if the fact that so many of her subsequent movies were terrible is just another reminder that Scorsese is really responsible for all of it . . .
Saturday, March 24, 2012
AFI's 100 films: Sunset Boulevard
It's been so long since I visited this thread of my blog--which ideally is about all media, and not just books--that I went back and read previous entries. In my discussion of On the Waterfront, I touched on what I think makes a nice framework for this sort of discussion, namely the question of what makes a film great. Waterfront certainly has great elements, especially Brando's performance, but also Kazan's direction. Nonetheless, I left that movie without the feeling that it was great--that there were great elements, but that the finished product did not live up to the adjective.
The same is not true of Sunset Boulevard. Like Waterfront, it featured an unmistakably great performance. Swanson was masterful, and her performance has become a metaphor as much as the character herself has. Unlike Waterfront, I didn't find anything extraordinary about Wilder's direction. So if not direction or acting, what other element is present in the one but not the other that results in, to me at least, a truly great movie?
Assuming that such relatively minor elements as costumes and sets have little to do with the matter, I think it safe to say that the key difference between the two movies is the script. Waterfront was successful in spite of it's maudlin, pandering script, thanks to the presence of other greatness. Sunset may well have succeeded on the strength of its acting, even if the script were not so good--but the script is brilliant, rightfully claiming the Academy Award that year. Wilder et al. tread the line between melodrama and touching believability deftly, which gives Swanson free reign to take her character as far as she can. If the script were less human, she would have had to walk that dangerous line herself. Such over-the-top moments as Norma's tango are cunningly offset by such real ones as Betty's nose job, and the whole thing deserves the honor of being read, as well as watched.
I suppose it's no surprise that, to such a vetted English major as I am, the script is the non plus ultra of a movie. The real test, if one were being scientific about it, would be to find a movie that a great script, but terrible direction and acting. Would such a movie have a chance at release even?
The same is not true of Sunset Boulevard. Like Waterfront, it featured an unmistakably great performance. Swanson was masterful, and her performance has become a metaphor as much as the character herself has. Unlike Waterfront, I didn't find anything extraordinary about Wilder's direction. So if not direction or acting, what other element is present in the one but not the other that results in, to me at least, a truly great movie?
Assuming that such relatively minor elements as costumes and sets have little to do with the matter, I think it safe to say that the key difference between the two movies is the script. Waterfront was successful in spite of it's maudlin, pandering script, thanks to the presence of other greatness. Sunset may well have succeeded on the strength of its acting, even if the script were not so good--but the script is brilliant, rightfully claiming the Academy Award that year. Wilder et al. tread the line between melodrama and touching believability deftly, which gives Swanson free reign to take her character as far as she can. If the script were less human, she would have had to walk that dangerous line herself. Such over-the-top moments as Norma's tango are cunningly offset by such real ones as Betty's nose job, and the whole thing deserves the honor of being read, as well as watched.
I suppose it's no surprise that, to such a vetted English major as I am, the script is the non plus ultra of a movie. The real test, if one were being scientific about it, would be to find a movie that a great script, but terrible direction and acting. Would such a movie have a chance at release even?
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
한국어로 해볼게 . . .
앞으로, 한국책 끝낼때 한국어로 논평 하기로 했어요. 많이 틀릴 것 같아도 노력 할게 ㅋㅋㅋ
문계주 (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry덕분에 ): 어린 왕자
이 책 2년전에 받았는데 이제야 비로소 이해 할수 있었어요. 왜냐하면 전에 수준이 낮아서 그래. 지금도, 완벽하게 이해 못 했어요. 여어로 읽은 적도 없어서 내용이나 줄거리도 몰랐어. 아무튼, 어느 쯕 알지 않은 단어 많고 이상한 문법도 많았어요. 앞으로 공부 더윽 열심히 해야 할 텐데 . . .
김자환: 엄마가 보고 있다
이책도 어려웠어요. 약 80% 이해 했어요. 그래도, 길고 진짜 책여서 성취감을 느껴요. 처음 읽기 시작했을때 Beverly Cleary가 쓴 책 같았어. 중학생 한 여자가 짜증스러운 남자 만났고 마침네 친구 됐어요. 대표 중학생 도서이잖아? 그렇지만 한국 새상을 배경으로 예상보다 조금 스프다. 여자는 고아여서 언니가 키워야 돼요. 그리고 언니가 잘리고 옵바가 가출을 했다. 정말 슬픈 이야기인데, 한국에서는 흔한 상태 같다.
문계주 (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry덕분에 ): 어린 왕자
이 책 2년전에 받았는데 이제야 비로소 이해 할수 있었어요. 왜냐하면 전에 수준이 낮아서 그래. 지금도, 완벽하게 이해 못 했어요. 여어로 읽은 적도 없어서 내용이나 줄거리도 몰랐어. 아무튼, 어느 쯕 알지 않은 단어 많고 이상한 문법도 많았어요. 앞으로 공부 더윽 열심히 해야 할 텐데 . . .
김자환: 엄마가 보고 있다
이책도 어려웠어요. 약 80% 이해 했어요. 그래도, 길고 진짜 책여서 성취감을 느껴요. 처음 읽기 시작했을때 Beverly Cleary가 쓴 책 같았어. 중학생 한 여자가 짜증스러운 남자 만났고 마침네 친구 됐어요. 대표 중학생 도서이잖아? 그렇지만 한국 새상을 배경으로 예상보다 조금 스프다. 여자는 고아여서 언니가 키워야 돼요. 그리고 언니가 잘리고 옵바가 가출을 했다. 정말 슬픈 이야기인데, 한국에서는 흔한 상태 같다.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
I have been lax, I know
Not sure how to explain away the fact that I have not been reading much. Maybe it's merely a symptom of a general numbness and malaise that has overtaken me. It also occurs to me (and this is heresy, I know) that I perhaps I never enjoyed reading as much as I thought I did, and that I only convinced myself that I enjoyed it because it was the best way to do what I really do enoy, namely to acquire thought. At any rate, I have been pathetic, but what little reading I have done lately shall not go undocumented.
George R.R. Martin: A Game of Thrones
Yes yes, a good book, the reading of which only makes me wonder further about the above assertion. If I truly enjoyed the act of reading, I would have a book like this on hand at all times. Instead, I read them only rarely, those books that offer only enjoyment, and instead focus on books that one "should" read, crossing them off my list like little merit badges. As for the book itself, it left no real impression, unlike the TV series which bears its name, which I contend is the most perfect piece of television ever made.
Thomas Pynchon: The Crying of Lot 49
And on the other hand, we have this item, which is indisputably in the "should read" category, not merely because Pynchon is borderline canonical, but also because I can't bear my ex having an opinion about something which I do not. So I read this, and it was, as expected, very Robert, very postmodernist, blah blah blah. Wake me when somebody tops Tropic of Cancer
(never going to happen).
Various: Korea As Viewed by 12 Creators
This volume, an anthology of 12 manga shorts by a mixture of Korean and French writers, had a lot of potential, but I found it disappointing. This was partly due to the speed with which I consumed it, but also due to the general unoriginality of the individual pieces. The French writers were especially guilty of banality here, choosing mostly fluffy, if not downright cute, cultural asides for their topic matter. The exception was Igort, whose piece Letters from Korea was touching, but limited by the short format. The Korean writers fared a little better, and I am especially fond of both the art and the thought of 최규석 and 변기휸. They are colleagues, and have formed a collective called "Metamorphosis in Three Stages", into which I simply must look. Nevertheless, I found all of the work limited by the short form, and was unsatisfied on the whole.
George R.R. Martin: A Game of Thrones
Yes yes, a good book, the reading of which only makes me wonder further about the above assertion. If I truly enjoyed the act of reading, I would have a book like this on hand at all times. Instead, I read them only rarely, those books that offer only enjoyment, and instead focus on books that one "should" read, crossing them off my list like little merit badges. As for the book itself, it left no real impression, unlike the TV series which bears its name, which I contend is the most perfect piece of television ever made.
Thomas Pynchon: The Crying of Lot 49
And on the other hand, we have this item, which is indisputably in the "should read" category, not merely because Pynchon is borderline canonical, but also because I can't bear my ex having an opinion about something which I do not. So I read this, and it was, as expected, very Robert, very postmodernist, blah blah blah. Wake me when somebody tops Tropic of Cancer
(never going to happen).
Various: Korea As Viewed by 12 Creators
This volume, an anthology of 12 manga shorts by a mixture of Korean and French writers, had a lot of potential, but I found it disappointing. This was partly due to the speed with which I consumed it, but also due to the general unoriginality of the individual pieces. The French writers were especially guilty of banality here, choosing mostly fluffy, if not downright cute, cultural asides for their topic matter. The exception was Igort, whose piece Letters from Korea was touching, but limited by the short format. The Korean writers fared a little better, and I am especially fond of both the art and the thought of 최규석 and 변기휸. They are colleagues, and have formed a collective called "Metamorphosis in Three Stages", into which I simply must look. Nevertheless, I found all of the work limited by the short form, and was unsatisfied on the whole.
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