All About Death: Melancholia, The Corrections

Despite this blog being mostly for book commentaries, I occasionally need to jot down some thoughts on a movie. I've mentioned "Last Year at Marienbad" several times before (see: Sontag), so imagine my delight when I saw an allusion in Lars von Trier's "Melancholia" to the famous landscape shot! Reading this article by the excellent Jim Emerson also got me excited.

The last movie I saw by von Trier was "Antichrist" and I had such an intense visceral reaction to it -- here's a director that can make me suffer outside my comfort zone through beautiful art.

A couple things I mulled afterward:

1. I cannot agree with the statement that people and/or the world is evil. I can agree that everyone has the potential for evil ... and thus also the potential for good.

2. The main character's (Justine's) fatalism allows her to face total destruction gracefully and with her eyes open while her practical sister suffers a complete breakdown and her nephew retreats to a fantasy land. I suppose this is more of a reflection on clinical depression, because it's not as though Justine was out livin' the life before Melancholia came into view. For her this is welcome vindication and relief. I keep thinking of Dostoevsky's "The Idiot" where the condemned man is about to face the guillotine and the last two minutes of his life that he's portioned out to think about himself he instead spends staring at the sunlight's bright reflection off a building or something to that effect. I can't help thinking that right as you're about to die the world must look the most beautiful and you can't stand to leave it. So does that mean I'd rage against the end like Justine's practical sister? Well, who knows. It also reminded me of Camus' recent "Reflections on the Guillotine" which I wrote about a few entires back.

3. Given all of the above, I also pondered the fate that Justine's brother-in-law chose, which was to just kill himself once he realized the planet would hit. Spare yourself the exquisite suffering. So in that position, what would I do -- stay and watch till the very last seconds? There's always the hope that some miracle might occur and fortunes change. Hmmm. It helps to put things into less of a sci-fi planetary collision context, so on to the next topic of this post!

I FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY was able to read "The Corrections" by Jonathan Franzen. The book isn't so much about a plot as it is about people; I'll remember that family for a long time. Aside from the characterizations, it was the demise of Alfred that shook me. The thing is, he had chances to kill himself before he lost his wits (and really with that goes your identity, your person) and his freedom to a nursing home but he didn't do it. He couldn't shoot himself or stop swimming to drown. And then his very last chance to ACT (again Dostoevsky!) is to ask his son to kill him. The son refuses and Alfred is basically reduced to a non-entity. Personally, I always say that I'd rather commit suicide than lose myself to utter dementia and indignity -- who are you without your memories and consciousness? The prospect that I wouldn't be able to do that, or would put it off until it was too late honestly scared the bejeebus out of me.

So with that in mind, back to "Melancholia": maybe I'd be like the brother-in-law after all, rather than wait it out till the end to stare at the horror. But then say one does go that route, it's still the same effect; at the moment you "hear the guillotine" you can't stand to leave the world and that's why Alfred never pulled the trigger.

Back in Orange

To the sir/madame who snatched my poor laptop over two weeks ago: Booooooo.

Fortunately, thanks to my wonderful insurance company, I am back in business with a new clementine-colored little guy!

Things that have happened during the interim: "Last Year at Marienbad" showed up in "Melancholia" and made me think of Dostoevsky, I finally triumphed in my search for a copy of Franzen's "The Corrections," and I'm just getting back to "Dead Souls" by Gogol. More coming soon on those top two items.

So happy to be up and running again!

Literally, Oh My God!

Man, what cave have I been hiding in the past couple years? I cannot believe that Ken Follett's "Pillars of the Earth" didn't make it into my book pile until just now. Wow. And it was EPIC! Good triumphs over evil, God defeats Satan! I think I was on the verge of straining an eye muscle towards the end. It reminded me of the times when I read Harry Potter books in a weekend and "The Shining" in two days (the latter mostly because I was too scared to leave my recliner). And similar to Harry Potter, I thought it was a fantastic story even though the writing itself was basic. Follett can stitch a story like a quilt, but Cormac McCarthy he is not. That being said, "Pillars" is miles and miles above Dan Brown's DaVinci shenanigans and don't even get me started on the Twilight series.

I enjoyed this book so much that I'm going to avoid reading Follett again for a while; I'm afraid his other work won't be as exhilarating. This was a fun and easy break, and as soon as I catch my breath I'll be ready to get back to thinking.

Up next: It's autumn, it's getting cooler, so back to the Russians at last! "Dead Souls" by Gogol

A Few Relevant Reflections

Coincidentally, I was searching for a copy of Camus' "Reflections on the Guillotine" (bizarrely not available online) as the whole Troy Davis execution brouhaha was occurring in Georgia.

Camus does present several excellent arguments against the death penalty, but there were a few points that I think spoke more to the guillotine specifically, and not so much lethal injection. And the argument for prohibition was off-putting.

Some things that were thought-provoking:

"None among us is authorized to despair of a single man ... But pronouncing the definitive judgment before his death, decreeing the closing of accounts when the creditor is still alive, is no man's right."

"According to M. Grand, the lowest of criminals when faced with execution withdraws into himself. 'He repents and his preparation for death is thereby facilitated. The Church has saved one of its members and fulfilled its divine mission. This is why it has always accepted the death penalty, not only as a means of self-defense, but as a powerful means of salvation.'"

Interesting POV on the last quote (though whatever happened to 'Thou shalt not kill'?). I suppose peace of mind and acceptance of death, innocent or guilty, would have a lot to do with strength of faith -- i.e., judgment in the afterlife is what truly matters. Rare to find that nowadays.

"For there to be equivalence, the death penalty would have to punish a criminal who had warned his victim of the date at which he would inflict a horrible death on him and who, from that moment onward, had confined him at his mercy for months."

Personally, I don't think I could seek the death penalty against someone. I think life in prison, and the total absence of freedom for the rest of your days, is more punishing. But, I can accept that others do feel the need for "justice," and society happens to allow this.

The two things that bug me about the Troy Davis episode: 1) he died still proclaiming his innocence -- which to me means he was, because why lie when you're at the end of your life? and 2) the police officer's family made some comment to the effect of 'why is everyone acting like he's the victim? we're the victims!' -- BOTH families are victims.

Camus' Notebooks & More Greece

I picked up Albert Camus' Notebooks: 1951-59 at the sad closing sale of my local Borders, and thought it would be like the Kerouac-Ginsberg letters that I read last summer. Not so. The letters were much more interesting, and while Camus has some excellent moments ("The Hague") it's more of a collection of notes and ideas than an insightful diary.

Before I read the Notebooks, I had also happened to read Susan Sontag's critical essay on the first collection of his notebooks (think these were from the late 30s?), so I went back to see if anything rang true for me. She notes that it's very "anti-autobiographical"; not really any mention of events or other people -- SO TRUE. And of course in true Sontag fashion she points out that, "solitariness is the indispensable metaphor of the modern writer's consciousness." In other words, the writer is always alone.

From Camus, p.65:

It is alone that one must decide if he loves, and it is all alone that one must respond to the incalculable consequences of true love ... He is afraid of himself and for himself. He wants to spare himself, refusing then his condition.

For the most part in the diaries, it seems like he's trying to escape things -- his work, possibly the boredom of his marriage, politicians ... p.47:

The tragedy is not that we are alone, but that we cannot be. At times I would give anything in the world to no longer be connected by anything to this universe of men. But I am a part of this universe, and the most courageous thing to do is to accept it and the tragedy at the same time.

I think that quote relates to what Sontag describes as Camus' "leaping of the abyss of nihilism." To be honest, I really need to brush up on this whole nihilism thing and especially the ol' oft-mentioned Nietzsche. Like Zorba, Camus mentions this a bunch of time. Along with Greece. What the heck is it with optimistic quasi-nihilists writing about Greece?! ("For the first time I watch a land that I love disappearing with the painful feeling that perhaps I will never see it again before dying," p.155)

Other tidbits of interest that I starred & picked out:

- Joanna of Castile
- Sontag told me to go read Camus' "Reflections on the Guillotine," so there's a detour
- wrote more about Countess Tolstoy than Leo (should I put her diary on my reading list?)
- had a lifelong desire to write a combo of Faust and Don Juan, on the nature of love I guess

Bottom line: Mildly interesting but not impressive.

Next up: "Pillars of the Earth" ... I should also note that I read "A Decade of Hope" in the interim and was pleased with its tastefulness and wide representation. In addition, I was trying to nab "Freedom" by Jonathan Franzen from the public library and the online catalogue told me it was finally available after months and months of all copies checked out. I walk over to the library, wander around in squeaky sneakers for half an hour because the fiction section is under construction and I CANNOT FIND THE BOOKS. I finally find a small segment of new fiction moved out in the hallway and there is a book-sized gap where 'Franzen' should be. Really? Really. I got "A Decade of Hope" instead and felt self-conscious about just getting a book about 9/11, so I almost got "Pillars of the Earth" before realizing that I was not realistically going to read a 900+ page book in two weeks. My coworker kindly lent me a battered copy.