Allowing yourself to be wowed…

I just like this post from Mara Wilson…

Advice from Auntie Mara

Especially #6
and #2–(from which the title for this post is derived)

Spoken well, Mara.

Malignant worlds of wonder…

J.G. Ballard.

Is there anyone like him?

Original, imaginative, his work sets its own parameters. Stark, it builds in story and description then slams itself into you like a force of its own nature.

“The Complete Stories of J.G. Ballard” begins with seeming simplicity, but grows intense fast. A tremendous introduction to Ballard’s work.

For example:

“Towards evening, when the great shadow of the Palladian villa filled the terrace, Count Axel left his library and walked down the wide marble steps among the time flowers. A tall, imperious figure in a black velvet jacket, a gold tie-pin glinting below his George V beard, cane held stiffly in a white-gloved hand, he surveyed the exquisite crystal flowers without emotion, listening to the sounds of his wife’s harpsichord, as she played a Mozart rondo in the music room, echo and vibrate through the translucent petals…” ~from “The Garden of Time”

Ignites the desire for more. And there is more…this work is massive, not to mention his wealth of novels. (I’m looking forward to delving into “The Crystal World”.)

It’s easy to grow obsessed with Ballard. He dives head-over-heels into his worlds and takes you along for the ride. Be careful. This is a serious writer who knows his craft and uses it well.

Works of blood-and-beauty…

I was just reading about a poet, Jack Gilbert, who is (rightly) being celebrated all over the web today. His poetry is evocative and subtle, but direct and raw…it has the power to open old desires, reawaken some forgotten ache.

One site refers to his “Collected Poems” as “almost certainly among the two or three most important books of poetry that will be published this year.”

Even if it is (and the bits I’ve read really are enticing), I abscond from “important” works of poetry. Not that poetry isn’t important (it’s my life-blood), but, to me, poetry should be sumptuous–a feast for the senses, both felt and hinted at. When poetry is touted as “important”, it loses its self-respect (yes, I believe poetry has a sense of self-respect) and feeds into the pseudo-intellectuals who propagate its “importance”.

Read poetry for the beauty of the work, the heady sense of stepping headlong into another essence than the usual day-to-day. For instance…

“If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight…We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world…”
~from “A Brief for the Defense”

and:

“We find out the heart only by dismantling what
the heart knows. By redefining the morning,
we find a morning that comes just after darkness.
We can break through marriage into marriage.
By insisting on love we spoil it, get beyond
affection and wade mouth-deep into love.
We must unlearn the constellations to see the stars…”
~from “Tear it Down”

Jack Gilbert takes you there, holds you captive for a moment in his works of blood-and-beauty, and will keep you enticed. As all incredible poetry should.

The bones of “Delicate”…

New character additions to the “Delicate: The Book” page. Just the bare bones of a few characters.

A little here, a little there, each character fleshes themselves into the mosaic that creates Delicate.

But to give everyone (even other main characters) a mention might destroy the fragile fabric of wonder that the story itself will unfold.

So for now I’m introducing glimpses of:
Anna Greyson
Leve Greyson
Alexander Bremistan
Samuel, the son of a servant who has no last name
and Emily Greyson

On writing well…

A short post because this link says it all…

Writing Tips by Henry Miller and Others

Brilliant!

The path of fire…

Admittedly I’m a foreign film junkie. (But, please, I beg and plead, no dubbing!) To date though, I’ve never been one much for Bollywood. (Loads of talent, just too formulaic for my taste.)

“Agneepath”–the 2012 version–changed all that. The story strews out a gamut of emotions–raw, earthy, devastating–in a no-holds-barred kind of film. A story of revenge, of rankled purpose, unadulterated grief, and triumph. But that’s not all.

I’ve heard it said that Vijay Dinanath Chauhan, the main character, is simple. Here, where no one will surely care what I say or don’t say, I am going to disagree. His complexity is internal and strikingly portrayed. (Personally, I think it takes a complex actor to portray a complex character simply.) As a child, Vijay witnessed a horrendous act that left him vacant…yet anything but helpless. And his single-minded purpose defined his life–up to a point. It was this point that brings the film into an entirely new place.

Within the story are bits of delight, and a sweetness that lingers. And you don’t see many films like this–it’s not the plot that’s so unique, there are hundreds of films about revenge (“there is nothing new under the sun”). Like most stories, it’s not what you say (so much) but how you say it.

“Agneepath” is played out with fine-tuned displays of talent–the antagonist, Kancha, is utterly terrifying; Kaali, the light of the film, is mesmerizing, while Rauf Lala makes your skin crawl. And you can see reasons behind everything Vijay does–the strength, vulnerability, the fragile and determined protectiveness he needs and exudes.

Since I’m not a reviewer, a critic, or anyone who will financially benefit from putting my opinion to print, I don’t have to edit my ideas. I think it’s a film that can cross boundaries. Its substance completes the look, feel and sound of the film.

Here’s the trailer.

Now, go see “Agneepath” before it’s gone.

Is the good guy really good? The bad really bad?

I keep thinking about characters. Why do so many books run the same-same idea that good guys can’t really do anything bad, or at least, not bad enough to warrant permanent damage? In the end, so many books just come out with the good guy unscathed, charcoal-stained maybe, but all’s well that ends well.

I don’t know…I prefer reading (and writing) the sometimes fatal faults of the so-called good guys, and giving the baddies their humanity. The thought that the bad guy doesn’t see himself as bad fascinates me no end. Exploring it in writing makes for adventures that grow and twist in on themselves to the point that when reading them, one asks themselves, “who is good and who is actually bad?”.

That is where the fun comes in–through the details, sometimes details so minor that the twist of a lip, the flick of an eye can make an observant reader aware. But it’s also fun to make the baddie overtly bad and yet still he believes himself to be good.

(Now that is fun.)