The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

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How does a story without a ghost make it into an anthology of ghost stories? Well, maybe if there are ghosts, but only in the mind of the main character. (many think those are the only kind of ghosts, thus the expression, “There are no haunted houses, only haunted people.”)

**Major Spoiler Alert! – if you want to read the story yourself, do so before proceeding**
I first read this unsettling story almost twenty years ago. It chronicles a young woman’s descent (initially through journal/diary entries, but later this structure of the story loosens a bit) into psychosis. Suffering from a “nervous condition” (perhaps what today would be diagnosed as post-partum depression) her husband, who is also a physician, prescribes, effectively, what was known as a “rest cure,” a popular treatment for hysteria in the late 1800s, when this story was written.

As part of his “prescription,” they rent a home for three months in the summer while their own home is being remodeled. Over the wife’s objections, he chooses an upstairs former nursery room for their bedroom. It has the most hideous yellow wallpaper. Gilman describes the paper in increasingly disturbing ways. “I never saw a worse paper in my life,” and the “pattern lolls like a broken neck,” and “great, slanting waves of optic horror,” and “It is the strangest yellow, that wall paper! It makes me think of all the yellow things I ever saw – not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul, bad yellow things.” She eventually decides there is something/someone lurking (creeping) behind the pattern, especially when viewed in the moonlight.

There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me, or ever will.” This revelation comes about halfway through the story, and the reader is now certain that, even though at the start of the story it seems certain that she is a “victim” and her only physical illness is in her mind (or, actually, in her husband’s mind), she is now actually becoming psychotic. Clearly a case of “the cure being worse than the disease” – a charge frequently leveled against the “rest cure.”

As the end of their three month rental nears, she becomes more obsessed with “getting her (the “woman” she sees behind the pattern) out.” Having locked herself in her room she succeeds in ripping some of the paper off the wall, and when the frantic husband finally gets into the room she triumphantly tells him, “I’ve got out at last…and I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!” He faints and becomes merely a obstacle for her to crawl around as she continues tracing the path of the wallpaper around the room.

This story is frequently offered as an early example of feminist literature. In the way that it condemns the unequal – and frankly condescending – treatment of women’s illnesses in an androcentric (that’s a new word I learned today :-) ) medical world, it certainly qualifies. I must admit, however, that the first time I read this story, I hadn’t even thought about that interpretation. I merely enjoyed it as the genuinely creepy, well-told story which it truly is.

Have you read The Yellow Wallpaper? What did you think of it?

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“Ride Along the Winds of Time and See Where We Have Been”

Are you sitting comfortably?

Yes, that’s also the title of an old song by The Moody Blues (and a great song it is – see the bottom of this post for the lyrics). I was reminded of it a couple weeks ago during a visit by author James Alexander Thom to “Bookmama’s Bookstore” in the “Historic Irvington” neighborhood of Indianapolis. Mr. Thom first spoke for a bit – for the most part about the topic of his latest book, “The Art and Craft of Writing Historical Fiction” – and then entertained questions from the small audience (which strained the capacity of the cozy neighborhood bookstore).

One of the things he said that particularly struck me was that, in times gone by – and especially those times in which many of his own historical novel are set – people spent a large percentage of their time in some state of discomfort. Think about it for a moment. There was, for example, no central air conditioning or heating. (Can you imagine sweating through a summer like we had last year with no air conditioning?) Today, if we have a headache or a fever or cold we can go to the pharmacy to get some immediate relief. When we have to go to the dentist, there is such a thing as novacaine that makes the experience more tolerable. All of these options are relatively new developments.

He mentioned this in context with his other thoughts on being a writer of historical fiction, in particular how difficult it can often be to successfully transport the reader to another era. One of the questions I didn’t have time to ask him was whether or not he ever found it hard to re-orient or “re-boot” himself for the present day world after a particularly long stretch of working on – and perhaps in – the past. It would have been interesting to hear his answer.

He also spoke about the nemesis of the Historical Fiction writer – the dreaded anachronism. This part of his talk helped fine tune my vocabulary as well, since even though I knew the general meaning of the word “anachronism” as something “out of place,” I had never fully appreciated the Greek root “chronos” meaning “time” and that the full, correct meaning of the word is which is a person or thing that is chronologically out of place. Shame on me as a Classics Minor in college. I hope none of my old professors are reading this one!

Thom mentioned also that his preferred title for this book was “Once Upon a Time it was Now.” Sadly, he was overruled by his publishers, and we were robbed of that superior title. I read the book recently (although I have no aspirations to be a historical fiction writer) partly because I was a History Major in college and have an abiding interest in all things historical, but mainly because I was so impressed with this author when he visited the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library a couple months ago.

My favorite chapter of the book was the final one, titled “Around the Fire” and dealing with the fact that “stories” were the heart and genesis of everything. Stories told around the fire about the discovery that “willow bark can make an ache go away,” for example, were the birth of “Medicine.” Tales of ancestors and their deeds became “History.” A bird call is imitated and the birth of “Music” grows nearer. Tribes from ‘beyond the mountains’ tell what their lands are like and “Geography” is born. He lists many more examples. These are just a few. As he puts it, “I have come to believe that everything that makes up humanity and human civilization began as storytelling.”

So, if you’re an avid reader of historical fiction (good historical fiction, I mean) or even just a run-of-the-mill amateur historian, I think you’ll find a lot in this slim volume.  I know I did.

Here are the lyrics promised above from the Moody Blues song:

“Take another sip my love and see what you will see,
A fleet of golden galleons, on a crystal sea.
Are you sitting comfortably?
Let Merlin cast his spell.

Ride along the winds of time and see where we have been,
The glorious age of Camelot, when Guinevere was queen.
It all unfolds before your eyes,
As Merlin casts his spell.

The seven wonders of the world he’ll lay before your feet,
In far-off lands, on distant shores, so many friends to meet.
Are you sitting comfortably?
Let Merlin cast his spell.”

Strange Coincidences

Okay, I’ll admit that I’m a fan of coincidences, even though during the week between 8am and 5pm I officially “don’t believe in them” (I’m an Accountant/Banker by trade). But in my personal life I enjoy noting their appearance and speculating about their “cause.” Why does a certain person call you just after you’ve been thinking about them? Why does a certain song come on the radio at “just the right moment” to fit your mood? Yes, I know the answer is because they are in fact just that – coincidences. Simply the law of averages dictates that we’re bound to encounter them from time to time.

I was happy, though, when reading through Haruki Murakami’s wonderful book of short stories, “Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman,” to come across a story that fit in nicely with my fondness for coincidences.

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(**minor spoiler alert**) The story is titled “Chance Traveler” and begins with the author “intruding” into the story with a couple “tales of coincidence” from his own real life. These are the lead-in to a story of a friend of his that he re-tells. This story involves a more complex chain of coincidental components, beginning when his friend is reading in a coffee shop.

His book of choice for that day is Charles Dickens’s “Bleak House.” After he gets up to take a break And use the restroom, he returns to find a woman sitting (and also reading) in the chair next to his. After a moment, the woman apologizes for interrupting him and asks if he is reading Dickens too, and it turns out they are reading the same book. Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say, especially since the book is not a current best-seller, and need not even one of the more popular novels of Dickens.

Not surprisingly the two strike up a bit of a friendship, which later grows a bit awkward when it becomes evident she is looking for more out of their “relationship” than he is able to give. A certain physical characteristic of hers reminds him, however, of his estranged sister, and he ends up calling her (for the first time in ten years) at “just the right time” when she needs him.

At the end of the book, Murakami speculates that  “…perhaps chance is a pretty common thing after all. Those kind of coincidences are happening all around us, all the time, but most of them don’t catch our attention and we just let them go by. It’s like fireworks in the daytime. You might hear a faint sound, but even if you look up in the sky you can’t see a thing. But if we’re really hoping something might come true, it may become visible, like a message rising to the surface.”

There. I think I’ve summarized the story without giving too much away if you’d like to read it for yourself. The volume of short stories that contains this tale is full of other gems that are worth your time too, and I hope I’m not too out of line suggesting that you buy a copy as soon as possible. :-)

(Below: Haruki Murakami – perhaps contemplating a new short story idea?)

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A Literary Doubleheader

While having coffee with my friend Bob a few weeks ago, he mentioned somewhat offhandedly that his cousin had “just written a book on Kurt Vonnegut.” Say what?! (Somehow I avoided a spit-take of my hazelnut coffee.) It turns out that author Greg Sumner, a Professor of History at University of Detroit Mercy had written the biography, “Unstuck in Time,” subtitled “A Journey Through Kurt Vonnegut’s Life and Novels.” Yes, there was little doubt I would read this book.

A few days later, I learned that the author would be giving a talk and book-signing at the Carmel Public Library. Though inconveniently scheduled in the middle of the work day (I sometimes wonder if those in the literary world think that the only people who read books are retired…) at 10 a.m. I made the sacrifice of going into work early and using my “lunch” hour to drive up and attend. I’m so glad I did.

Author Sumner is an Indianapolis area native and graduate of Carmel High School. He shared many gems and quotations from his book and encouraged those in the audience who had met or known Vonnegut (and there were several) to share their stories as well. He noted that Vonnegut was popular amongst the younger generation as well, and “called on” a young man (who was 19) in the audience, asking him how he came to become a Vonnegut fan, etc. Later, Sumner also mentioned that some fans had even tattooed key phrases or quotations of Vonnegut’s on their bodies. The 19-year old, almost as if on queue, rolled up his left sleeve to reveal a “So it goes” tattoo. Nice.

Several of my colleagues from the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library Book Club were in attendance as well, and when I excused myself “early” (but not before getting a signed copy of the book) one jokingly mentioned, “Oh, I forgot some of us still have to work for a living.” Yes, that is darned inconvenient.

So, back to work and to dealing with the stress of a month-end close process, I struggled dutifully on until exactly 5 p.m., when I dashed out the door and sped off to the east side of town. My final destination was actually downtown at the KVML, which has a “First Friday” program at 6 p.m. each month, usually featuring a guest speaker or author. Since this month’s guest was best selling Indiana author, James Alexander Thom, I had invited my Mom to go with me as she has read practically all of his books. After gathering Mom up, we made it downtown with time to spare (I’m still not sure how I did his, with traffic the way it is at rush hour).

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(authors Thom (left) and Sumner discussing Kurt Vonnegut at the KVML)

The program was a little late getting started anyway, so we had some time to browse the library, which my Mom hadn’t yet seen. Anyway, a small crowd of locals (and Sumner from the morning event) were delighted by Thom’s tales about his writing and about his association with Vonnegut, with whom he was friends – but “not close friends,” as he was careful to point out – even though he related that they talked on the phone often until near Vonnegut’s death in 2007.

Read the rest of this entry »

March Reading – The Month Ahead

Here it is, already March 4th, and I need to come up with a game plan for what reading I might get done this month. We’ll start with my required reading…

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While Mortals Sleep – Kurt Vonnegut

This is the selection of the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library Book Club for March. I look forward to reading it. Well, I’ve actually already started, having read the first of the sixteen previously unpublished short stories in this book, just released in January of 2011. My only fear is that they were unpublished for a reason, but that fear is tempered by my rationalization that Vonnegut’s “rejects” are likely better than almost everyone else’s polished final product. We’ll see.

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Unstuck in Time – Greg Sumner

This one is kind of “required” as it is part of my main 2012 reading project of “one author biography per month.” THus far, I’ve finished Hawthorne and, almost, Kerouac, and since I just went to a talk and book signing by this author on Friday, it’s a natural pick for the next one.

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The Disappearing Spoon: And Other True Tales of Madness Love, and the History of the World from the Periodic Table of the Elements – Sam Kean

Wow, what a long title! This one’s for fun, and I’m already about one-third of the way through it. Very readable for non-fiction and particularly for science-related non fiction. I’m learning a lot. I won’t spoil the “Disappearing Spoon” reference in the title in case you want to read the book yourself, just trust me that it’s a funny story…

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Lost Moon – Jim Lovell and Jeffrey Kluger

On loan from a co-worker (for a few months now), I need to get around to reading this one so I can return it (Ben Franklin would be ashamed of me!). Everyone knows the story of Apollo 13 (especially if you’ve seen the great film dramatization with Tom Hanks), but I’d like to read Lovell’s own thoughts on it as well.

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Henry V – William Shakespeare

Trying to read one Shakespeare play a month this year (A Midsummer Night’s Dream and MacBeth? Already done). In 2008 I attempted a reading project which involved reading ALL of his plays (yes, overly ambitious of me) and made it about 2/3 of the way through. Unlike the prior two, this is one I didn’t get to during that project. I will break out my trusty Asimov’s Guide to Shakespeare to help me find the way…

Short Stories (and something by James Alexander Thom)

My one story per week project rolls on (see my reading selections). I also would like to read something else by author James Alexander Thom, (pictured below & a favorite author of my Mom’s) who I had the pleasure of meeting in person last week. Perhaps his From Sea to Shining Sea would be the logical choice since I just read his other Lewis and Clark Expedition book (Sign Talker) last month.

Well I guess that’s about it (& isn’t that enough?!) – but what about you? What are your reading plans for March?

I started a second blog…

It likely won’t be of interest to most “Citizens of Bibliophilopolis,” as it deals with personal memories and reminiscences, but if you’re a child of the 60s or early 70s and thus a “relative contemporary” of mine there may be an occasional post of interest. I created it mostly to “silence my Mom” :-) as she has been urging me, “You should write some of your memories down, Jay.” ever since she started to read the blog of my friend, Scott. I’ve only written one post thus far, but will try to write something there every week or two. It is called “The Warped and Faulty Reservoir”* and may be found at the link below.

http://thewarpedandfaultyreservoir.wordpress.com/

*John Steinbeck described his memory as “at best, a warpy, faulty reservoir.” His memory is much better than mine….

More Vonnegut: Hocus Pocus

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In Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary, it is the second definition of “hocus-pocus” which pertains to the title of this Vonnegut book from 1990. The second definition is: “nonsense or sham used especially to cloak deception.” In this book, Vonnegut undoubtedly relies on his experiences in World War II to construct the character of the protagonist, Eugene Debs Hartke, a veteran of the Vietnam War. Contrary to Vonnegut’s personal experience a as a soldier, however, Hartke was a career military man who rose the ranks to become quite an important cog in the machinery of the U.S. war effort in Southeast Asia, even supervising the final evacuation of the U.S. embassy in Saigon (pictured above).

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The protagonist’s name comes, of course, from the famous labor leader/socialist Eugene V. Debs, and an outspoken anti-war “junior senator” from Indiana in the 60′s, Vance Hartke (below). In fact, one of my fellow-members of the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library Book Club had met Senator Hartke on a couple occasions, describing him as one of the more “oily” politicians he ever encountered, and that Hartke had a habit of, when shaking one’s hand, kind of wrapping his other arm around his ‘victim’ and even changing his stance, thus preventing the recipient from making a quick exit(!)

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Part of the hocus-pocus perpetrated is in Hartke’s speaking to the newly arrived “recruits” and in his dealing with the press (likely enhanced by Vonnegut’s own experience working in public relations” for corporate giant, General Electric.)

Hartke’s military experience does not take place during the time frame of the plot of this novel, however, and we learn of it mostly through “flashbacks” and memories. In the novel, we learn that Hartke spent his post-war years teaching at “Tarkington College” in the finger lakes district of New York. After being the victim of a conspiracy he is fired from that post but promptly finds a new job across the lake, teaching at a prison whose administration has been privatized and is now run by the Japanese.

The novel is written by Debs from the prison where he is now an inmate. Among the many quirks of the novel, we are told that it was written in its entirety on small scraps of whatever paper Hartke found available, including matchbook covers, blank endpapers that he had ripped out of books in the prison library, brown wrapping paper, and backs of business cards. The other quirk, which frankly felt a bit gimmick-y to me, was that he would not write out any numbers in the book – e.g. instead of writing “two days later” he would write “2 days later.” I was never quite sure of any value added from this, but have come to expect quirkiness from Vonnegut and suppose at this point I would disappointed if there weren’t any.

What I did like about this book was the humor that it contained. While Vonnegut is known for his humor, he outdid himself this time. I laughed out loud several times while reading. In one exchange, just after Hartke has been fired and is wandering around town he meets someone who is headed over to the prison for a job interview:

He said, “They’re hiring teachers over there.”
I asked if I could come with him.
He said, “Not if you’re going to teach what I’m going to teach. What do you want to teach?”
“Anything you don’t want to teach,” I said.

Another funny moment is when a minor character asks Hartke if he’d “seen him on “The Phil Donahue Show,” which Vonnegut describes as:

“a 1-hour show every weekday afternoon, which featured a small group of real people, not actors, who had had the same sort of bad thing happen to them, and had triumphed over it or were barely coping or whatever.”

Bull’s-eye,Kurt!

The book club of the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library met to discuss this book last Thursday. Hocus Pocus was one of the more universally liked of our readings, earning an 8.4 rating in our informal traditional post-meeting vote. This is one of the highest ratings I can remember us giving.

Another intriguing component of the novel was the inclusion of a machine galled the “GRIOT,” which was designed to predict the fate of a person after certain basic information was entered into it. The relatively small amount of data needed for input is remarkable too: age, race, degree of education, current level of drug use – are those really the only significant contributors to our fate? While reading, I thought perhaps GRIOT was an acronym for something that the author purposely didn’t explain. The KVMLBC, however, includes in its membership a former literature teacher who informed us that “griot” is a west African world for the conveyor an oral tradition among families, who each would have a member designated as a griot. I think she said that griot was the word used for the stories being told as well. (I always learn something at these meetings) :-)

We also have among our membership an amateur poet, who usually shares a work – somehow related to our current selection - with us at the end of our meetings. At January’s meeting, one of the other members questioned the poet about the rhyming structure used, and whether it had a name, etc. Apparently, this got our poet thinking, and he tried a new form this month, the “diamanté” poem. Wikipedia describes the form as:

“The poem can be used in two ways, either comparing and contrasting two different subjects, or naming synonyms and antonyms for another subject.

In the poems, the subject is named in one word in the first line. The second line consists of two adjectives describing the subject, and the third line contains three verbs ending in the suffix -ing which are related to the subject. A fourth line then has four nouns, again related to the subject, but only the first two words are related the first subject. The other two words describe the opposite subject the lines then are put in reverse, leading to and relating to either a second subject or a synonym for the first.

Here is the order:

                                   Noun

                       Adjective-Adjective

                         Verb-Verb-Verb

                      Noun-Noun/Noun-Noun

                         Verb-Verb-Verb

                       Adjective-Adjective

                              Noun”

Bill’s poem, which I snapped a picture of with my iPhone (to capture not only the words but the nice, aesthetic presentation) is shown below, with the author’s permission:

Have YOU read Hocus Pocus?  Any other Vonnegut? What do you think of one of Indiana’s finest authors?

Six down, Forty-six to go…

Each Saturday morning this year, I draw a card from my short story deck to randomly see which of my 52 planned stories I will read next. When I’m good I read the story the same day, but I often fall behind. I was good this week, though. :-)

I am also enjoying how the hand of fate often seems to pick a story that is somehow appropriate for me at the moment. This morning, for instance, I woke up in a pretty good mood. There’s nothing better to “bring you down” than a Flannery O’Connor story, though, and now my mood is back to a more normal middle of the curve…

“The Geranium” was O’Connor’s first published short story and was one of the six that she submitted for her masters thesis in the creative arts. It’s also part of the collection, “Everything that Rises Must Converge.”

***Spolier Alert***

It’s a depressing story of an older man (“Old Dudley”) who has left his home in the South to live out “his declining years” in New York with his daughter. Moving was a rather spontaneous decision that he now regrets, and made partially just because when he was a boy he had seen New York in a picture show, “Big Town Rhythm.” We don’t get the impression that his daughter much cares for him other than taking care of him is “doing her duty.” Dudley had never imagined how alien a place The Big City would be to him and longs for his carefree days fishing on the river back home and using his daily catch to supplement the fare at the boarding house where he was living before the move.

The city is also a place he doesn’t fully understand. He got lost once on a simple errand to get groceries down the street. The “underground train” (subway) is a mystery to him, and it seems they always “just have time to make it” whenever they must catch one. He is shocked when he learns that seeing a black man in the hallway of his daughter’s building doesn’t mean that one of the other tenants has “got ’em a nigger” but rather the man is possibly going to rent the apartment next door.

One small joy that helps keep him going in this strange environment is looking across the gap between his daughter’s apartment building and the next and seeing a potted pink geranium. The neighbors, who he doesn’t know, put out the geranium every day about ten and take it in at five-thirty.

As you might guess an with O’Connor story, though, his one lifeline to happiness comes crashing down by the end of the story, and what lies behind where the geranium would sit is a rude, nameless neighbor who threatens Dudley about looking into his apartment, warning him that, “I only tell people once.” What Becomes of Dudley after this we can only guess, but the reader must know that there is now a finality to his “big city unhappiness.”

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Back on Schedule with my Short Story Reading

I completed three short stories this weekend. Two for my “one story per week” project (which I’m now caught up on again) and one for a “Great Books” discussion group meeting this evening. I’ll just mention them briefly here, maybe writing more about one or two of them later.

First, I read the sci-fi tale, “Instinct” by one of the household names of that genre, Lester del Rey. This is a tale of the future, where humankind has died out and the “alpha race” of the planet is now robots (robots!). Apparently, there is an ongoing project to re-create man as the robots have learned that the. One thing they are “missing” in their existence is a kind of instinct. Some interesting moments, but not one of my favorites from all the short stories I’ve read recently. You may know I have a random method of choosing the order in which I read my 52 selected stories. Sometimes this leads to strange coincidences. Last week was also the much-anticipated release of the debut CD of future(?) alternative music star, Lana del Rey (no relation).

Secondly, I read Haruki Murakami’s “The Mirror” from his collection of short stories, “Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman.” This one was quite short, but Murakami packs quite a punch in just a few pages. This is the story of a man who worked as a night watchman, and after being in a gathering of people who shared each of their ghost stories, is compelled to tell his own. The ghost he encounters on his rounds one night turns out to be just his own reflection in a mirror (or is it?). Some great moments here, my favorite of which is when he seems to realize that, instead of what he does being reflected in the mirror, he senses he is being compelled to mimic the actions of his counterpart… Spooky, good stuff.

The third tale is the classic Edgar Allan Poe story, The Black Cat. Like the more famous “The Tell-Tale Heart,” it involves a man trying to hide the evidence of his crime, only to unwittingly reveal it due to guilt or overconfidence or supernatural reasons. The narrator is a condemned man of questionable sanity and a clear victim of alcoholism, which ostensibly leads him to his crimes. There is also some mechanical similarity to “A Cask of Amontillado” (wink, wink). Good reading.

Have YOU read any good short stories lately?

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