French intellectualism or prophecy?

More thoughts later. For now read this excellent review in the NYT Book Review. Finally, someone taking to task modern-day French intelligentsia. Bernard Henri Levy is considered France's leading thinker but Garrisson Keillor sees a prophet:

As always with French writers, Lévy is short on the facts, long on conclusions. He has a brief encounter with a young man outside of Montgomery, Ala. ("I listen to him tell me, as if he were justifying himself, about his attachment to this region"), and suddenly sees that the young man has "all the reflexes of Southern culture" and the "studied nonchalance . . . so characteristic of the region." With his X-ray vision, Lévy is able to reach tall conclusions with a single bound.

And it gets better.

most overrated novels of the 20th century

I've been curious about this for a long time, and though I've googled the title of this post (and variations thereof) numerous times, I've never found a satisfying list. So I'll put up a few of my own and then invite my readers to cast/add your votes.
We'll stick to 20th century because otherwise I'd have to list all of Jane Austen's novels, Balzac, Stendhal and some. . .

I know this is utterly presumptious of me. But I can't resist the thrill.

1. Catch-22 (less than halfway through this book I was thinking: ok, I got the point, Mr. Heller)
2. The Great Gatsby (this could have been a great novel. . . )
3. The Portrait of a Lady (way too long and boring)

Weird but this is all I can think of at the moment. Though I should add a list of writers whom I won't even read (I know that is utterly inane of me) because I believe --having read at most several pages of their respective works or having read about the author and forming an opinion on that basis alone--that I'd be better off reading/rereading Joyce or Hemingway or any number of others. . . And they are (in no particular order except perhaps that number one belongs there):

1. Jack Kerouac
2.Phillip Roth
3. Kurt Vonnegut (although this is one I will get to one of these days, much as I am loathe to)

Bialik & co

So much for Moby Dick. the class messes up my schedule, so i've dropped it. No American novel 1850-1950. Oh well. But i'm taking a cool class instead--Zionism: a cultural perspective. The professor is one Dan Miron--he's really top notch, superintelligent, a storehouse of information and insight. the course explores zionism--from its inception in the latter half of the 19th century onwards, through the lens of Hebrew literature, poetry, etc. That means Bialik, Agnon, Pinsker, Achad Ha'am, etc. Pretty cool stuff.

In other exciting news: Tolstoy's Sebastopol Sketches makes for a compelling read, though I'm really looking forward to the next assignment--Dostoevsky's Notes from the Underground.

My literary nonfiction class is cool. The instructor writes for NPR and is publishing a book on gangs in L.A. My fiction class is less cool because the instructor likes to talk a lot about nothing and that puts me to sleep.

Check out the new links to the right--I've posted links to some really cool blogs.

on Bad Films

Now that I'm in school and (at least supposed to be) studying, I won't have much time for movies or leisure reading--but I did manage to see Cache (Hidden) & Munich.

Cache was. . French and pretentious. The cinematography was great and the acting superb but the plot was one of those trying-to-be-intelligent, very affected and self-conscious thrillers that never resolves itself. An ode to moral relativism.

Still, Munich would have to score far worse. The music was plain bad, the acting not very convincing, the story utterly cliched, and the movie itself so unbearably long. I did not, however, see this as a particularly anti-Israel movie, though certainly its portrayal of Israel was less than sympathetic. As far as I could tell, the film did not draw moral equivalencies between Palestinian terror and Israeli assassination. Yes its focus is not on the terrorist killings of 11 Israelis at the 1972 Munich Olympics, but rather on their aftermath, i.e.: Israel's response-the decision to hunt down and kill all 11 Palestinians responsible for the massacre. When a movie is this bad the message is really anyone's guess, so here's my guess: Munich is an attempt at portraying the internal conflicts faced by men with dual loyalties--patriotism and the human conscience. This is the stuff of good, powerful films. But make no mistake, this film is more hype than reflective. In resorting to the most cliched forms of overwrought melodrama the movie reveals an utter lack of subtlety and fails to meaningfully communicate tensions and emotions that are real, powerful and not contrived.

So much for the movies. I'd rather be on the beach. Oh, and the movie did make me miss Israel. . . and Europe. Start thinking summer plans. Now that would be a terrible distraction.

Ahhh.. . .more novels!

I'm back at school and I love what it's doing for my bookshelves--loads of novels, who would've thought that school could be this much fun?!
So it's Tolstoy & Dostoevsky after all--and we start off with Tolstoy's The Sebastopol Sketches.
American Novel 1850-1950 actually misses out on my two favorites (Nabokov and Hemingway), but the reading list is pretty good and we're starting with Moby Dick (which I've never read). I'll spare my readers the nitty gritty of my other classes--though I'm sure I'll refer to them as the semester progresses--whether in delight or despair I cannot yet tell. So now I'm reading Tolstoy, Melville, and Franzen all at once.

on jude the obscure & unrequited love

I’ve finished Jude the Obscure, here are some thoughts:

This is a harrowing story about one man’s utter helplessness against the winds of destiny. Jude is an orphan boy with a vision and a passion for life that is cruelly challenged and ultimately crushed by forces beyond his control. His is a tale of fortune and fate, of desire and despair.

But what struck me most was what I took to be the novel’s sub-theme: unrequited love. I wonder if this is what Hardy sought to convey through his subtheme: that love, though it seeks to transcend the loneliness of life, is itself always a lonely endeavor--never fully mutual because it is inherently unequal.

And that might be the most heart-wrenching lesson of all.

on orthodox jews and morality

I spent the afternoon observing the dismantling of what has got to be New York's most famous Jewish eatery: The Second Avenue Deli. I've never eaten there, so I couldn't really share in the general dismay about the pastrami or matzah ball soup. Still, it was sad to see the place close shop. . .

(A discussion on the following came up at work today. Someone was working on a story about an observant Jew who had laundered money. ..) Why do people seem to have this odd notion about Orthodox Jews and morality, as though we were somehow genetically altered so as not to be susceptible to temptation? The notion that religious people never lie or cheat, and that if they do it is shocking, seems outdated, even absurd. Ideally, of course, Orthodox Jews should not cheat, lie, or commit any other morally reprehensible acts. Neither should anyone else. But really, orthodox or not, we all have our personal challenges, and the idea that somehow religious people are above temptation is odd. I think it's worth keeping in mind that to keep kosher and observe Shabbos, for someone raised in that tradition, is not terribly difficult. It can be, for some. But for most, or many, it is very manageable. But to be honest requires more of the individual, the ability for self-reflection and introspection--habit just won't suffice. Isn't this obvious?
I wonder.

Growing Pains; on Faith & Faithlessness

I suppose we are all born with an instinct to trust; perhaps it is because we have no other choice. Growing up, then, is largely about losing that trust. Early on, children learn of jealousy and deception, and the trust that had seemed so whole, so inviolable, begins to break. We move though childhood and those agonizing adolescent years, and emerge stripped of trust, faith, hope, and, to our minds, prepared to take on the challenge of ‘real life.’

But no, the growing has only just begun. In the real world, we soon discover, trust is never entirely dispensable; indeed, so much is built on faith, on a handshake, on a promise. All that we labored so diligently to lose, we must now regain, relearning, step by painful step, the art of trusting. And this is when the real growing pains begin, as we attempt to strike a balance between faith and a healthy, helpful kind of skepticism.

So much for my ranting.

on Match Point, Chinatown, Jude the Obscure, and The Corrections

I'm noticing a new trend. Movies now scare me. I watched Match Point last week and covered my eyes through the most violent scene of the movie. The other day I watched Chinatown (finally), and the music, which constantly seemed to be suggesting some kind of danger, compelled me to break my viewing into segments--so as to avoid being overcome with terror.
Now that is odd. (I should add that this seems to apply only to good movies. I had no problem sitting through Casanova, despite the violence, because the movie was sooooo bad).

So I've taken up reading. Finally. I'm reading Jude the Obscure. . .but I'll hold back on commenting until I'm done. I also bought Franzen's The Corrections, after a friend told me it was great, but also the latest New York craze, and warned me that I wouldn't want to be caught dead on the subways of New York with it. But I don't think I care. Perhaps I'm growing up, ie coming to terms with reality, rather than seeking to escape it. As if such a thing were possible.

I visited the Federal Reserve Bank with friends last week. It was kind of interesting. Most important, of course, the building's architecture--stunning. We walked much of downtown Manhattan and it felt kind of cool--us acting as tourists in our own city.

Happy New Year

There's so much, so much that it overwhelms me just to think of 2005 and everything it meant and didn't to me. . it was one of those. . heady years. And I can't think of what to say that won't be too cheesy or too personal so here's a song that works pretty well, I think (it's cheesy, agreed, but i didn't write it. . . )
Here's to a happy new year. . .as incredible as 2005 has been, here's to wishing this year will be (even) better than the last.

(Counting Crows)
A long December, and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leavin'
Now the days go by so fast

And it's one more day up in the canyon
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think that I can be forgiven....I wish you would

The smell of hospitals in winter
And the feeling that its all a lot of oysters, but no pearls
All at once you look across a crowded room
To see the way that light attaches to a girl

And it's one more day up in the canyon
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think you might come to California...I think you should

Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after two a.m.
And talked a little while about the year
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her

And its been a long December, and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

And it's one more day up in the canyon
And it's one more night in Hollywood
It's been so long since I've seen the ocean..I guess I should.