The Power of Re-visiting Text

Wild Strawberries (1957) is not nearly as "artsy-fartsy" or maudlin as this trailer makes it look... honest!

Each school year, despite the best efforts of our department leadership to clearly inform teachers which novels are assigned to be taught at which of the four grade levels (9 thru 12), invariably teachers will high-jack a text for use a different grade level. Whether out of a passion for a particular title or because they don't feel the obligation to research materials for a novel they have not previously worked with, this is an annual conscious choice on the part of some that results in a completely avoidable bone of contention. While this does create problems (beyond the need to find alternative resources, let's face it, the thematic content of some texts really is more accessible and meaningful to older more experienced students), there is also an opportunity created through this lack of etiquette: the potential for revealing for students the power of a re-visiting a text.

A favorite title from my
youth I look forward to
revisiting this summer.

This idea is even more relatable when considered in the context of movies, a fact I was once again reminded of while re-watching one yesterday. The opportunity to re-visit a text (whether traditional hard copy or film presentation) creates a situation that illustrates the difference between simply reading a book and really READING a book. As teachers and adults, we can appreciate finding new information each time we read a story or novel, or after re-watching a movie. High school students, however, often view the reading expedience as a chore which, once completed, is finished with little necessity to revisit it beyond identifying cited textual evidence for responding to an essay prompt.

VHS box for Federico
Fellini's La Strada (1954).

While an undergraduate English major wa-a-ay back in 1988, I took a film study course entitled "Fellini and Bergman." As a product of an urban Western New York public school system, I had zero familiarity with the idea of watching foreign movies other than those produced by Toho Studios and (badly) re-dubbed in English. A large part of the course requirement consisted of independently watching films outside of class. This task required going to the bowels of the campus library and viewing videotapes at a desk with large headphones on. It was there that I also gained a level of comfort reading subtitles--an underappreciated skill I continue to develop to this day. While at my local public library yesterday, I came across a DVD copy of one of the films I had seen in the library basement, Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries (1954), a film I had last seen 26 years ago.

After finishing the movie this second time, many years later, the difference in the experience was clear. Eighteen year-old me dutifully viewed Bergman's meditation on aging and acceptance, coming to some basic conclusions based in great part on my professor's book explaining the movie's themes, structure and story. Yesterday, 47 year-old me experienced with greater depth (and a stronger personal connection) the philosophical themes such as the value of introspection and the transient nature of human existence. I am also fairly certain that 65 year-old me (fingers-crossed!) will draw even more from a future viewing experience.

Stories, poetry and novels are no different; all benefit from the occasional re-visit, especially after time and experience have filled in some cognitive and emotional gaps. A part of me looks forward to the realization that this year's new crop of budding scholars have somehow been fed a novel that I had intended to teach. Rather than cursing the previous ill-advised professional, I will take advantage of the opportunity and challenge of demonstrating the power of revisiting text. Beyond the additional structural and thematic low-hanging fruit ready to be dropped, I am confident a great connection between the student (reader) and content can be facilitated... and the real magic of literature validated!

Sci-Friday: The Quotable Dune

It would appear that I am once again late to the party, but better late than never.

While waiting for my stepson to get out of work this afternoon, I turned on the radio to catch the last few minutes of NPR Science Friday. Though I rarely have the opportunity to listen for as long as I'd like to, the news is timely and the stories are often about subjects of which I have little background knowledge. It continues to be exciting to learn new things, and as someone who laments having not paid more attention in high school and college science classes, Science Friday feels like a joyful penance.

The few minutes that I did catch consisted in part of host Ira Flatow reminding the audience that the summer read was going to be concluding next week. Though I have not been part of (nor was I even aware of its existence) the NPR Science Friday Book Club had the past three weeks been focusing on one of my all-time favorites, Frank Herbert's classic Dune.

I immediately regretted having missed the opportunity to follow the conversation, and quickly made a note in my pocket notebook to tune in next week when Ira, Kim Stanley Robinson, Sara Imari Walker, and Annie Minoff wrap up the discussion. At the conclusion of this past Friday's broadcast, Ira also reminded listeners to head to the Sci-Fri Blog and "Record yourself reading your favorite quote from Dune." Upon hearing this prompt, my mind immediately went to the slim volume on my bookshelf picked up at a used bookstore over ten years ago, The Notebooks of Frank Herbert's Dune.

Published in July 1988 by Perigree Trade,
with atmospheric cover by Raquel Jaramillo.

Not really a notebook at all, The Notebooks is a collection of excerpts and lines culled from Herbert's six highly quotable completed novels. Edited by his son, Brian, this 63 page paperback offers quotes in both standard font as well as key "ancient quotes" and "historical documents" from the Dune Universe elegantly illustrated by Raquel Jaramillo.

I've posted previously about the similarities between the modern media phenom that is George R. R. Martin's Game of Thrones and Dune. While one series of novels intentionally touches on environmental and social issues, and the other has a stronger predilection with sex and violence (you guess which is which), and series both are chock-full of intriguing characters. Fortunately for the reader, these characters are given numerous memorable lines of dialogue which are easily isolated for use as witty sayings or intellectual-sounding observations by the reader with a sharp memory for such things. (Of course, the same observation could easily be made regarding J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle Earth novels--as evidenced by the myriad twitter feeds that regularly share the author's lines--but that is a post for another time.)

The majority of the memorable lines from the A Song of Fire and Ice novels primarily reflect the characterization and wit (or lack thereof) of the specific characters, most notably Tyrion. (Not surprisingly, Tyrion's lines have also been collected into a single volume!) In contrast, lines from the Dune series have an additional weight given the political perspectives of both the characters and (by extension) the author which they communicate.

After reading through The Notebooks of Frank Herbert's Dune, choosing a single quote would be challenging, given that the books are an embarrassment of riches when it comes to such excerpts, and it would be tough not to go with perhaps the most well know, the Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear:

In preparation for next week's final book club meeting, I'm going to make the effort to catch up with the conversation before Friday at 2 p.m. To do so, I plan to spend time this coming week with my well-worn copy of Hebert's Dune and reading through RebelMouse blog online. Fortunately digital bread crumbs have been left behind so even those, like myself, who are late to the party, can catch up or at the very least make up ground!

Seen It: Lair of the White Worm (1988)

With the continuing nostalgia for most-things Eighties, one can only hope that some of the more unusual cult films of that era will be rediscovered in this New Year. A director certainly ready for rediscovery is British filmmaker Ken Russell (The Who's Tommy, Altered States, and many others). While well-known by film aficionados, I suspect that there are a number of college students who would appreciate his eccentric, sexually charged storytelling--college is where I first came across his literary-based films. While studying British Luterature I came across Gothic (1986) about the night that prompted Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and, later, The Lair of the White Worm (1988).

The Lair of the White Worm is a 1988 British horror film based (very) loosely on the Bram Stoker (Dracula) novel of the same name; a novel which itself draws upon the English legend of the Lambton Worm. Written and directed by Russell, Lair stars then-TV starlets Amanda Donohoe (L.A. Law) and Catherine Oxenberg (Dynasty), as well as a very young Hugh Grant (About A Boy, Bridget Jones Diary). Of more modern interest might be the co-starring turn by a young Scot named Peter Capaldi, who was just recently been selected to play BBC TV icon Dr. Who.

I hadn't watched Lair in its entirety in almost 20 years, so was excited to come across it on Netflix a few nights ago. I am even more pleased to share that it has aged fairly well. Being an update (of sorts) of an even older story probably helped, as did Russell's tongue in-cheek approach to what he considered his "horror film." For many reasons, his experimental horror film was ahead of its time (and ours). Russell's clearly anti-Christian bent would be hard pressed in our more conservative culture (regardless of what talking heads say about "left wing media") to secure financial backing in our more modern cinema. Russell always was one to push the boundaries of acceptable content (Whore, anyone?) and the use of psychedelic visuals (the background on the poster to the right does appear n the film) and depictions of crazed pagan nude dancing and simulated sex would be late-night SyFy horror in lesser-skilled hands.

Peter Capaldi, the new Doctor Who, as Scottish archaeology student Angus Flint.

The performances by all are splendid, from the headlining stars to the now-familiar British character actors who turn up in a variety of small roles. It struck me is how under-appreciated Hugh Grant is, and I was wondering why he isn't used more frequently in films. Here is at his easy-going best, nimbly expressing a calm and cool demeanor as the foppish Lord James D'Ampton who is destined to fight the evil, serpentine Lady Sylvia Marsh (Amanda Donohoe). Grant makes acting look easy, emitting a devil-may-care vibe thoughout. It is Lord D'Ampton who gets to the crux of the problem when he surmises that, while brainstorming with Angus Flint Capaldi), "...a conflict between Christianity and some early pagan cult... possibly involving even human sacrifice" is afoot. As Grant's adversary, Donohoe is a charismatic snake-pire in blue body paint and fangs, capable of delivering hallucinogenic venom. It is Donohoe's topless performance as Lady Marsh, as well as some rather tame (by today's standards) "gore," that likely was responsible for Lair's R-rating.

Lady Marsh (Amanda Donohoe) get's freaky during a hallucination.

The Lair of the White Worm (1988) [Rated R] is a highly recommended horror film, that while short on straight up scares, does aim for a sort-of realistic approach to fantastical concepts. Creative direction and fun performances make this a worthwhile Netflix viewing experience suitable for ages 17 and up.

Old School Cool: Silver Surfer: Parable (1988)

"Any man can make a difference," classic Stan Lee from Silver Sufer (1988), page 14.

While reorganizing my comic boxes I came across the Silver Surfer two-issue miniseries written by Stan Lee with art my Jean "Moebius" Girard. Given what I perceive to be a Renaissance of Moebius-esque illustrations, especially as seen in Image Comics recently revitalized Prophet series, in the back of my mind I had hoped to find these book after 20+ years of being aware that though I had it somewhere, I was struggling to put my hands on them. Until this morning.

Cover Price? $1.00!

While more commonly referred to as Silver Surfer, "Parable," the title the combined issue hard cover carried when released later that same year, the story was originally released as a two issue miniseries under Marvel's now defunct "Epic" publishing banner.

In terms of storytelling structure, there is not much new here; Lee employs his now familiar preachy, wonderfully broad dialogue to tell a somewhat standard "Surfer must save the plant from Galactus tale." The selling point with this Surfer story is the beautiful artwork of Moebius, whose style is a perfect fit for the altruistic (and futuristic) Surfer. Comic continuity-wise, the story is seen as being something of an alternate take on the character, though the "Parable" title, I believe, open the possibility for it to be interpreted as a "tall tale" of sorts within Marvel 616 continuity--but that's all geek speak to most.

As summarized on the blog Marvel Comics of the 1980s: "A starving Galactus returns to Earth, but is well aware of his vow not to consume the planet. However, he sets himself up as a God and tries to steer them towards self-destruction. A TV evangelist is more than happy to take up his cause and preaches Galactus’ message in hopes of setting himself up as his prophet." While the fairly standard Lee tropes are present, the televangelist angle is a unique (and--like much of Lee's comic book work--ahead of its time) addition.

Not surprisingly, given the pop-culture star power and quality involved, this miniseries won the Eisner Award for best finite/limited series in 1989. Personally, this Silver Surfer story also has the rare distinction (apart from his original appearances in Fantastic Four and a more recent guesting spot during Planet Hulk) of being an enjoyable Silver Surfer story. It occurs to me that the Surfer (much like Ghost Rider) while being an incredibly designed visual character can be a bit of a bore when it comes to full characterization.

I'm glad to report that is not the case in this book! Silver Surfer Parable is still available in trade paperback, and individual issues (even from wa-a-a-a-y back in 1988!) are still very affordable and likely laying about in your local comic book store.