Yesterday afternoon I decided to treat myself with a movie. The movie I chose was Becoming Jane staring Anne Hathaway. A certain English professor I know poo-pooed the movie because it concerns the romantic endeavors of Jane Austen, and as everyone knows, Jane Austen was a spinster. Ergo, she could not have had a romantic life. After having seen the movie, I can firmly say that this professor is totally wrong in her opinion.
This film is rather like the film Immortal Beloved, in which the mystery of Beethoven's will is explored. Yes, the film is speculative, but the speculations are grounded in fact. In Becoming Jane some of the facts are tweaked a bit so that they might be presented (like Jane's "challenged" brother, George, going to church with them,) within the context of the film, but on the whole, the film does a good job of showing what life was probably like for Jane Austen.
The speculative aspect of Becoming Jane concerns her affair with Tom Lefroy. While there are only two letters surviving that make mention of Lefroy, the film implies that there were several more letters that did not survive, and that perhaps the reason Jane remained single her entire life was because of the love she had for Lefroy. To me, this seems a very plausible bit of speculative fiction. After all, just because the woman never married, it can't be assumed that she never loved, and what better reason to never marry than because she could not have the one she truly loved.
The film is a joy for any Austen fan to watch, but be prepared to start crying about half-way through the film. (I'm sure not everyone will cry, but for those of us who have a propensity for it, bring tissues.) It's chock full of the heartache that comes from the audience knowing how everything will end, while the characters do not. It's beautifully acted, directed, and shot. The music fits the time period, and the costuming is so subtle it can be nothing but accurate. While I'm sure that there will be some Austen fans who can resist the pull of this film, I can't see them being the majority. For while it is a love story, it is a love story that goes beyond mere romance. It is an "epic" love story, one that examines what it really means to love, not just a mate, but life, family, work, and anything else worthy of such feeling.
It's been a long time since I've watched a film that touched me as much as this one has, and I can definitely say that it will become a part of my collection on the very day it is released on DVD.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
On Walking
I recently started walking in the evenings. Just around the neighborhood. Anyone who has been to my house knows that it's pretty hilly, so I get a descent workout. I find, much to my surprise, that I'm enjoying myself immensely. I put my headphones on and listen to my music as I walk, so it's not like I'm doing any thinking, which is very nice. I think way too much. It's good to be doing something that lets my mind go relatively blank.
The music relaxes me. I think I've been missing music in my life for a while now. I don't usually have it playing in the house. Normally it's either a movie playing or silence. I used to listen to music on my 40 minute drives to and from school, but now that I live so close, I don't even get that. A long time ago, almost a lifetime, I was a music major, so music has always been a large part of my life. I guess without it, I've lost a bit of myself. It feels good to connect with it again. It feels like we're rediscovering each other, like high school sweethearts coming together at the reunion. I feel almost whole.
On my walk today, I passed by an old man standing on his front porch. He was across the street, so I couldn't really see what he looked like, (I don't wear my glasses on my walks) except that he was wearing a white undershirt without a top shirt. He waved at me. I waved back, and then I smiled. It was kind of strange. Strange for me, at least. It's been a long time, almost 25 years, since I've lived in a neighborhood in which people waved at you as you walked by. It felt good, too. To him, I was just some woman walking by, ponytail bobbing, arms swinging, lips moving to music he couldn't hear, but something in him thought I needed that wave. I guess I did. Made me feel like I was a part of the neighborhood instead of just someone who lives a few blocks over. We didn't say anything to each other. I couldn't have heard him if he did. The French music in my ears was turned up too loud for that. But it still felt like we shared this tiny speck of a moment together. Funny. Never felt that before.
The music relaxes me. I think I've been missing music in my life for a while now. I don't usually have it playing in the house. Normally it's either a movie playing or silence. I used to listen to music on my 40 minute drives to and from school, but now that I live so close, I don't even get that. A long time ago, almost a lifetime, I was a music major, so music has always been a large part of my life. I guess without it, I've lost a bit of myself. It feels good to connect with it again. It feels like we're rediscovering each other, like high school sweethearts coming together at the reunion. I feel almost whole.
On my walk today, I passed by an old man standing on his front porch. He was across the street, so I couldn't really see what he looked like, (I don't wear my glasses on my walks) except that he was wearing a white undershirt without a top shirt. He waved at me. I waved back, and then I smiled. It was kind of strange. Strange for me, at least. It's been a long time, almost 25 years, since I've lived in a neighborhood in which people waved at you as you walked by. It felt good, too. To him, I was just some woman walking by, ponytail bobbing, arms swinging, lips moving to music he couldn't hear, but something in him thought I needed that wave. I guess I did. Made me feel like I was a part of the neighborhood instead of just someone who lives a few blocks over. We didn't say anything to each other. I couldn't have heard him if he did. The French music in my ears was turned up too loud for that. But it still felt like we shared this tiny speck of a moment together. Funny. Never felt that before.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Choosing Stories for my Collection
So, today I've started to work on my collection of short fiction. It's been a lot of fun going through my old stories to find ones I like enough to continue working on. What most interests me, though, is that I found stories from all stages of my writing career that I liked--from my first workshop class stories to the one I've been playing with for the last several months.
I thought, when I first imagined this project, that there was no way I would ever be interested in returning to my very first stories. I had the idea that all of them were tragically disfigured and there was no way of putting them to rights. However, upon revisiting them, I'm pretty impressed. I know that sounds egotistical, but it's true. Granted, all three of the stories I've chosen from my first workshop need much more attention than any of the rest of my stories, but they're good stories. Interesting stories. There's something in them that says to me, "This is true. This is who you are. Don't let these ones slip into anonymity."
I had a bit of a scare while trying to decide which stories to include. The one I most wanted to have in this collection was missing. I lost the jump drive I had saved it to, and like a dummy, I hadn't backed it up on my hard drive. Well, I looked all over the freakin' house for the folder the hard copy was in, (I have hard copies of all my stories. Thank God!) but I couldn't find it. I thought about the advice Ali and Jenny gave about doing a blind rewrite, but the thought depressed me. I loved the story the way it was already written, and I was afraid that I would destroy the tone I had set for it with a blind rewrite. To make a long story short (too late,) I finally had a wave of genius and checked in the empty chest of drawers in the spare bedroom. Not only was this story in it, but I found the critiques of many of the other stories I had chosen for my collection. Whoopee! It felt like Christmas. At any rate, the conclusion to this is that I really should label that drawer as holding all my hard copies. I could have saved myself a lot of grief if I had already done it.
I thought, when I first imagined this project, that there was no way I would ever be interested in returning to my very first stories. I had the idea that all of them were tragically disfigured and there was no way of putting them to rights. However, upon revisiting them, I'm pretty impressed. I know that sounds egotistical, but it's true. Granted, all three of the stories I've chosen from my first workshop need much more attention than any of the rest of my stories, but they're good stories. Interesting stories. There's something in them that says to me, "This is true. This is who you are. Don't let these ones slip into anonymity."
I had a bit of a scare while trying to decide which stories to include. The one I most wanted to have in this collection was missing. I lost the jump drive I had saved it to, and like a dummy, I hadn't backed it up on my hard drive. Well, I looked all over the freakin' house for the folder the hard copy was in, (I have hard copies of all my stories. Thank God!) but I couldn't find it. I thought about the advice Ali and Jenny gave about doing a blind rewrite, but the thought depressed me. I loved the story the way it was already written, and I was afraid that I would destroy the tone I had set for it with a blind rewrite. To make a long story short (too late,) I finally had a wave of genius and checked in the empty chest of drawers in the spare bedroom. Not only was this story in it, but I found the critiques of many of the other stories I had chosen for my collection. Whoopee! It felt like Christmas. At any rate, the conclusion to this is that I really should label that drawer as holding all my hard copies. I could have saved myself a lot of grief if I had already done it.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
How Josh Groban Erroded My Sense of Being
Okay, so I just clicked the hyperlink on my profile to see who else likes Josh Groban. Do you know what happened? Not a single person besides myself popped up. This event forces me to question whether anyone else who blogs on this site likes Josh. Then again, it could just be that I misunderstood the question and answered in such an off-the-wall fashion that no matter who I had named as a music preference (24 year old tenor or not), I would have achieved the same results.
So now I'm questioning my profile question answering abilities. This leads me to question my ability to answer other kinds of questions. If I can misunderstand a question as simple as "What are your music preferences," what will happen to me the next time I have to give an answer to the State Patrol about my expired license plates? How am I going to be able to provide an answer to the always nagging question "What am I going to have for dinner tonight?"
I have to somehow find a way to gain my confidence back. After all, I can't go through life not being sure about any of the answers I give. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know. I just don't think I could survive knowing that I don't have the right answer for everything.
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