On The Ipod: Current Audiobooks

 

A Feast For Crows:

Boy, did I make a big mistake! Having read the first three books of G.R.R. Martin's The Song of Fire and Ice series, and having heard through the grapevine that the fourth, A Feast for Crows, was a bit less enjoyable, I decided it might be a good idea to consume the dubious volume via audio book; a more passive experience. But little did I know that the narrator of the audio version I chose, who is normally a very good audiobook actor, Roy Dotrice, would make such poor vocalization choices for many of the characters; so poor in fact as to mar the reading experience beyond repair.

Dotrice starts out well enough, his rich English, Scottish and Welsh intonations adding a Shakespearean quality to Martin's tale, but with the introduction of Lord Renly's champion, the valorous female Knight, Brienne of Tarth, his thespian choices take a dive. Firstly he pronounces her name Bry-een, whereas if you watch the superlative HBO series A Game of Thrones (named after the first book in the series), you will note that the Amazon Knight's name is pronounced Bree-Enn by all who address her. Though this is the least of my complaints.

Barry Fitzgerald

When first I heard Dotrice's reading of her lines, I thought perhaps it was not her speaking but instead the author had added a companion for the lonely and unprepossessing chevalier; another dwarf, similar to Tyrion Lannister maybe, only this time spouting the high timbre brogue of a leprechaun. To my great disappointment, I soon realized my hopeful conjecture was merely fantasy. Instead, this was Dotrice rendering for the listener, Brienne! Did no one on the audio production team suggest to him that this might be a poor choice? Imagine it: a towering female armor clad warrior sounding like Barry Fitzgerald in Going My Way. For the devout followers of George R.R. Martin, this is an offense tantamount to blasphemy

If the vocal diminishment of Brienne was the only transgression of Dotrice's performance I could forgive him, substitute a more dignified and deeper voice in my head whenever the Amazon-cum-leprechaun has something to say and be done with it. But no, he doesn't stop there. There are many other characters that get the same treatment, in fact the same voice. Arya Stark, for one has a slightly higher Irish brogue than Brienne; well she is just ten or eleven years old, but still the accent is just wrong. Asha Greyjoy is another tomboyish yet sexy warrior type from the Iron Isles dubbed with the prosody of the little people. I am beginning to think of all the strong women of Westeros as the descendants of diminutive Dubliners, and whom all, by rights, have equal claims on a pot of gold.

Brienne of Tarth

There are other vocal blunders I won't even mention except to say one scene involves the affair of a supposedly steely knight and a promiscuous princess that I'm sure Martin did not intend to be a hilarious farce. If the reader considers all the narrator's errant pronunciations together, I can't imagine them having a favorable opinion of this audiobook. Even the accomplished storyteller, George R.R. Martin's, words cannot trump the fiasco of Roy Dotrice's intonations. Thankfully there is another unabridged version of this book on audio read to you by John Lee. I have not listened to it, but I just might, with the intention of recording over my tarnished impressions.

writerly wisdom # 19

 

"Invent your own mythology or be slave to another man’s."
~William Blake - English poet, painter, and print maker (28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)

On The Nightstand: Titus Groan

Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake is one of those ground breaking books that has undoubtedly spawned entire genres and sub-genres of writing. This, the first part of Peake's epic trilogy which has been categorized by some as fantasy, uses cartoonish hyperbole, humor and a kind of literary chiaroscuro to present a tale of  dysfunctional royalty and their less than loyal subjects. Reading Mervyn Peake invariably conjures the tropes of  German Expressionism in films like Fritz Lang's M, F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu, or even G.W. Pabst's The Threepenny Opera.

There are monstrous craggy edifices alive with dense vine as dark as the tresses of gypsy maids. Gnarled roots like appendages grow from the ancient stones bridging orphaned wings to main branches. Tiny subjects cast Goliath shadows as they skulk from spire to spire whether discharging daily duties or maneuvering through machinations. Peake is a master of atmosphere, mostly dark.

Artist and writer Mervyn Peake

The characters in Titus Groan are reminiscent of those of Charles Dickens or of modern day auteur David Lynch's larger than life caricatures. Lady Fuchsia, daughter of the Earl of Groan, reminds me of the lonely misfit Henry Spencer from Eraserhead with his fetish objects kept on the shelf. He and Fuchsia by comparison are champions of those who prefer oddments and curiosities to convention. Gothic architecture, stark images, devious eccentrics, and sardonic humor fill this book delightfully to the brim. Modern SciFi/Fantasy writers like China Mieville, and Angela Carter, creators of foreign landscapes bearing non-alien denizens in familiar situations, have felt his influence.

Peake's first love was fine art. He was a painter and illustrator most famously for later editions of many of Lewis Carrol's works. He was championed by many of his contemporaries, mainstream British authors like Graham Greene and Anthony Burgess. Unfortunately, Mervyn Peake has never gotten the recognition he truly deserves; either as an artist or as a fantasy writer well ahead of his time.

On the 2013 Academy Awards: Great Expectations

The academy awards will air next Sunday with Seth MacFarlane as host, a stratagem in my opinion, what with the sad return of Billy Crystal last year; lesson learned: never return to an old love for they will almost always not live up to their cherished memory.  MacFarlane will bring his paradoxical combination of baby-faced elegance and potty mouthed cynicism; a mini surprise at each joke. I have great expectations for him.

This is the first year I have personally seen every movie nominated, thanks to the wonders of the internet (no questions please). I'd have to say my pick for best movie would be Amour, the French offering directed by Michael Haneke (also nominated) and starring Emmanuelle Riva (nominated for best actress as well), Jean-Louis Trintignant, and Isabelle Huppert. Of all the nominees this film was the most affecting. It was a poignant, not sentimental, study of human dignity, the inevitability of growing old, and true love of course. Haneke is not afraid to take his time revealing the story of an elderly upscale couple, who must finally face the deterioration time visits on our fragile protoplasm.

Their daughter, played expertly by Huppert, provides the surface tension to her parent's sequestered and private existence. Riva, going from elderly piano teacher to double stroke victim, Anne,  auspiciously transforms herself in this role. Trintignant, as the devastated husband, Georges, shuffles unsteadily around the apartment and through his fractured life searching hopelessly for a fine balance between rehabilitation for his wife and for their acceptance of her condition. There are powerful scenes, like the one where Georges tells an addled and suffering Anne a story from his past that he has never revealed to her before, that will become etched in one's film memory.

Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva in Amour

Most of the other best picture nominees are very worthy runners-up. I enjoyed many of them. Silver Linings Playbook comes in a close second for me. It is smart and funny romance with great performances from the entire cast. Life of Pi is a beautifully rendered tale of a young boy forced to face some traumatic turns in his life. Beasts of the Southern Wild is a sort of coming of age tale, though the protagonist is kind of young and forced to grow up before her time. It heralds a great new talent, Quvenzhané Wallis, who becomes the youngest actor (eight years) nominated for a leading role.  

Lincoln is a very realistic portrayal of the volatile couple of months in which our country was rescued from its nadir. It features some masterful performances, but it plods a bit where it should step a little more lively. Django Unchained is a hilariously satirical effort from Quentin Tarrantino, who once again uses hyperbole to condemn a number of issues, not the least of which is violence. Les Miserables, another re-telling, this time completely in song, of the classic French novel is basically a film of the stage play. Great performances exist here, if some dubious singing, but it would have done better as a conventional musical, a la Fiddler on the Roof, rather than as an opera. The remaining nominees, Ben Affleck's Argo, and Kathryn Bigelow's Zero Dark Thirty both manage to inject intense action and suspense into what are basically docudramas. Although both films stand at the top of their genre they do not merit top film honors.

So I look forward, possibly more so than in earlier years, to seeing how my opinions stack up against those of the Motion Picture Academy's voters. Something tells me they will differ, but at least now I can yell at the TV with foreknowledge of artistic and thespian quality. And with MacFarlane at the helm I may actually enjoy the show this year, but that may be setting my expectations a little too high.

Lit Bits

Jerome K. Jerome

"Oh! I am the greatest cheesemonger, I am the greatest soldier, I am the greatest statesman, I am the greatest poet, I am the greatest showman, I am the greatest mountebank, I am the greatest editor, and I am the greatest patriot. We are the greatest nation. We are the only good people. Ours is the only true religion. Bah! how we all yell!"

~from Clocks by Jerome K. Jerome

Thematic Tendencies and the New York City Motif

If you read books completely at random as I do you may be able to appreciate a phenomenon that occasionally occurs: back to back or strings of seemingly unrelated titles that have an important yet specific shared theme: Thematic tendency, if you like. Perhaps this happens more often than you know (awareness plays a big role) and perhaps (cue the spooky music) there is more at work here than mere chance.

Case in point: the last couple of novels I've read deal at some juncture with a rather negative assessment of New York City. In Mother's Milk by British author, Edward St. Aubyn, London barrister, Patrick Melrose, brings his family to America on holiday. After dealing with the stereotypical super-sized American family on the flight over, they seem to encounter all that is tacky, bombastic or just plain wrong with Yankee culture.

After events converge which prove frustrating to Patrick, he gives in to a little misplaced aggression. In their NYC hotel room, the curtains are "filthy." This touches off a mini rant: "The reason why the rest of New York is breathing lovely clean air is that we've got these special pollution filters in our room sucking all the dirt out of the atmosphere. Sally said the decoration in this place 'grows on you'--that's exactly what I'm worried about. Try not to touch any of the surfaces."