Showing posts with label Penelope Lively. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Penelope Lively. Show all posts

Sunday, August 18, 2019

340. How It All Began



Link to Table of Contents



How It All Began

by Penelope Lively - Viking 2011

P13 End of chapter 1.  Oh, I do like Lively. Already we’ve got three strong point-of-view characters. First there’s Charlotte the elderly woman we start with who’s been mugged; then her daughter Rose, another strong female character, and finally Marian who shares my habit of redecorating spaces when bored. Though Marian is a decorator, so knows what she’s talking about. Rose and Marian are both middle aged. 

And we also got just a bit of Rose’s employer His Lordship or Henry. 

P22 Chapter 2. Henry is rather more important here. His forgetting his notes and making a mess of his lecture -- in particular forgetting names -- is clearly Lively making something out of the inability to remember names she spoke of in her other book. The thing is, forgetting the name Pitt is not something that only comes up in a lecture. Surely he would have realized this problem before and had some experience with dealing with it -- I know I have. It’s a bloody nuisance but you can make light of it and either use others to help prompt you or failing that, kill time until the name comes to you. What’s even worse is when you completely lose your train of thought. But again, this is not that unusual. Of course Lively is making the most of this because it is so annoying for academics in particular. 

P24 And we get just a dash of Thomas Hobbs.

I am attempting to apply both Stoicism and Roombaism to the crises in this novel. It’s an interesting exercise. So far the crises have been: Charlotte getting injured in a mugging -- you move on and deal with the PT; Stella learning her husband is having an affair -- for him, you can make an argument for moving on to a less difficult relationship, for her there doesn’t seem to be either a Stoic or Roombic option; Henry’s disastrous lecture should lead to either a new approach to doing these things or an avoidance of the situation. I kind of think Roombaism wins this comparison.

p30 “...Henry is in fact out of touch with the eighteenth century. He stopped thinking much about it a number of years ago, he has not kept up with new publications. The eighteenth century has moved on, leaving him behind. History is a slippery business; the past is not a constant but a landscape that mutates according to argument and opinion. Henry is well aware of this, and aware that the eighteenth century has disappeared over the horizon so far as he is concerned, reconstructed, reinterpreted.”

It is interesting to see how Lively pulls things from her own life into her novel. The bit about traveling on London buses (I didn’t quote) is from her own experience, this bit about history is thanks to her late husband. But I take issue with Henry’s being so removed from his subject. Lively was around 78 when she wrote this interesting observation about the 18th century “moving on.” She continues to process her reality. As much as I dis-esteem academics, I have a hard time believing they don’t continue to think about their subjects -- just as I occasionally come upon a novel thought while rehashing either philosophy or history. (Just confirmed that Lord Peters is 76.)

P86 Chapter Six - As with Martha Grimes, I’m wondering if Lively starts with a plan or just lets the characters lead her forward. I assume Anton’s having been an accountant will come to something. I assume things will go in surprising directions, rather than calming down, since the point of this novel is how a random event can lead to changes. It’s the old butterfly effect again. Unless I’m wrong about that, Butterfly Effect might have been a better title. (I had forgotten that she mentions the Butterfly Effect at the very beginning.)

Lively has much more experience with the nobility than I do, but one of the things I actually like about them is that they tend not to care what others think, since they are born to their status. Lord Peters’s discomfort here seems middle class to me. I’m probably wrong.

P99 Chapter Seven - I’m never in Starbucks because I hate their process for serving iced tea, but I was there today when I read this chapter, which is largely set in a Starbucks. This is an interesting Starbucks simply because it faces a busy bus stop -- just off Market and across the street from the Bank Cafe (always closed on weekends, but now doubly closed for remodeling of Peet’s.) Here you see waves of FOB-looking Chinese and tourists. Three or four busy bus lines stop here. Sitting where I am in the window, it’s hard to notice what the people are doing in the Starbucks. Currently there’s a guy standing in the middle of the sidewalk right in front of the doors who seems to have misplaced his last brain cell. 

A nearly spherical man just climbed slowly off a bus and paused mid-sidewalk to light up a cigarette. Probably he juggles machetes as a hobby.

P101 Chapter Eight - I love where she’s going with Lord Peters. “A certain awful appeal. The voice, the manner, everything. You’d be sticking your neck out a mile, putting him on. People would love him or hate him. A provocation. Risky -- oh, yes. But just might be a winner.” Delia, a very minor character is considering put him on TV. Without wanting to insult Lord Peters, this could also have been said about Trump at the beginning. And I love Marian’s disbelief that Delia is agreeing to even the one show. (I’m sorry he didn’t have a little success in TV.)

P105 Now this is interesting, here is Lord Peters working up the script for his pilot, “ ‘I myself have a soft spot for what is known as the Cleopatra’s nose theory of history -- the proposal that had the nose of Cleopatra been an inch longer the fortunes of Rome would have been different. A reductio ad absurdum, perhaps, but a reference to random causality that makes a lot of sense when we think about the erratic sequence of events that we call history. And we find that we home in on the catalysts -- the intervention of those seminal figures who will direct events. Caesar himself. Charlemagne. Napoleon. Hitler. If... this person or that... had not existed, how differently could things have turned out?’...”

This is the historical twist on the butterfly effect. So another alternate title, Cleopatra’s Nose. 

And this passage continues, “... ‘A decision is made in one place, and far away a thousand will die. There’s an analogy, I understand, with a process that interests the physicists -- chaos theory. The proposition that apparently random phenomena have underlying order -- a very small perturbation can make things happen differently from the way they would have happened if the small disturbance had not been there. A butterfly in the Amazon forest flaps its wings and provokes a tornado in Texas.’ ”

P142 Chapter Eleven - Jeremy is interesting about the way he likes to lead life flying by the seat of his pants. I had to do something vaguely similar during my freelancing days, but I was never comfortable with it. I’ve always preferred something more routine and dependable. And I agree with Lively that this seems consistent with a man also being unfaithful to his wife. Though I also agree with Marion that Stella should know him well enough to be able to deal with this by now. 

I’m reading this at the Peet’s near Uber and they are playing hits from the ‘60s that are not the usual hits from the ‘60s. Songs that I know from the first bar or two though I haven’t heard them for decades. Some maybe since the ‘60s. And this reminds me that, as I noticed before with Lively, there’s little to nothing about music in this novel. Curious.

P154 “...Story, yes, indeed, but the fascination of story is what it can do. Henry James can tell it through the eyes of a child, and make you, the reader, observe the adult chicanery and betrayals of which the child is unaware. Charlotte needed to remind herself of the sleight of hand whereby this is done...” I haven’t read James but this makes me think of a favorite part of The Diary of Adrian Mole, when his mother is having an affair and he is oblivious.

My Bank Cafe is still under-construction -- taking longer than expected -- so I’m at the neighboring Starbucks again with hot tea, having given up on their idiotic iced tea, and have discovered an advantage to this location. Here one may enjoy, like a cat, the afternoon sun coming in the front window. If the sun ever hits the Bank Cafe windows it would be in the morning. Glare not so good for using the computer, but great light for reading and, after the gym this morning, it’s nice to absorb some UV rays.

P174 Chapter Fourteen - This is quite wonderful really, Jeremy and Stella’s secret romance. I don’t exactly like Jeremy but you have to admire him a bit. 

P202 Chapter Sixteen - How does one forget one has a million pounds in equity? This comes into the story like a Victorian bequest, but really! Are things so different in England that... Oh! Never-mind. Just realized that without income a bank would be unlikely to give her any sort of loan even with all that equity. 

Finished. Marion came out the best here. Jeremy and Stella did fine. Henry and Mark did well. Charlotte came out a bit worse for the wear. Rose and Anton had the best story though without the dramatic, romantic ending. Gerry dodged a bullet without ever knowing.


Thursday, June 27, 2019

332. Dancing Fish and Ammonites



Link to Table of Contents



Dancing Fish and Ammonites 

by Penelope Lively - Viking 2013


Old Age
I love Penelope’s voice. Her reading and writing interest mirror mine, but she has a gardening interest where I wish she had a fitness interest. That’s just so I can get a better idea of what’s ahead for me. Ehrenreich was better in this respect. And this book is five years old now, which is significant when you are in your eighties. I would love to have an update for her at 85.

That is one of the biggest changes that seems to start after your 60s, that the rate of change/decline ramps up. You expect the next five years to be more or less like the last five years, but at some point that stops being the case. I’m guessing that 75 will be the turning point age, but that’s based on observing people who aren’t me. 

P16 Yes to being happily sidelined by age. Also to constant change of our skin -- new incarnations of same self. In my view, Youth<30 Old >75

P24 The idea of story here. Beginning, middle and necessary end. Life does have that in common with story.

P27 Penelope really loves the word “solipsism”. I appreciate that.

P28 Great stuff here.


Life and Times
What a difference a couple decades make. I’m thinking of my experience of the ‘50s here. Her Egypt is my Louisville. Odd that she doesn’t mention music. For me my first decade has a very distinct soundtrack. The music and the cars being what I best recall about those years, excepting some smells and a first kiss. But it does seem like a different world, even though my then neighborhood hasn’t physically changed that much in the decades since. In many (not all) ways, I suspect a child growing up today in what was our house could have a reasonably similar experience. The greater world has changed dramatically, but my life was initially limited to our block and that hasn’t changed. She also doesn’t mention smell. Is that because it’s Proust’s territory, or is she just not sensitive in that way?

We differ when it comes to her late political awakening in college. I was obsessed with foreign affairs in high school, so a decade after her but a decade before based on age... but then I was male.

P111 “...The feminist movement was ever a middle-class movement, and there is a big divide today between the professional woman, who may well be earning the same as a man, and the vastly larger [lower class] female workforce that is cleaning offices, stacking shelves and sitting at checkouts and mostly does not...” The middle-class nature of feminism is an interesting observation. And yet it also goes against the middle-class desire to imitate the gentry in having mates that are not required to work. The movement could only have risen from the middle-class, but it goes against the interest of much of the middle-class... and of many women who are not middle-class. An interesting topic.

P128 Memory and time - I was just thinking of this Ages of Myself aspect of time the other day. My youth was conveniently divided into chapters by our moves and my going from school to school. Several years in Louisville. A semester in Denver. Several years in Boulder. Several years in Sherman Oaks. Several years in high school in Scottsdale. More years at university. The average period in a place was three years. And there were no connections to prior places. Once I left a place/school I never saw the people again, except after I left university.

I attribute my poor memory for names to this flushing of data every three years.

And then there’s the feeling for time’s duration. I give the Louisville, Colorado, SoCal, and Arizona periods greater weight than their twenty three years should warrant. Compared to my most recent twenty years, so much happened back then. And for better and worse, unlike Penelope, my parents were an integral part of those years. Penelope was largely on her own, in a very middle class English way, during her teens before forming her own family. 

P128 Time again. TMM is rather like old age when it comes to the increasing speed of time’s passing.

P154 I’ve done plenty of this life review. I love the spacetime character of my life growing up, where the mid-’60s are locked together with Southern California at that time. I also love how SF has become a collage of past experiences. All the intersections where I’ve waited day after day for the bus that would take me to my then job or home again. My long ago path to the supermarket past where I knew Tillie Olsen lived. All the event venues that I now know inside out in a way the general public does not. Patches of Golden Gate Park where I’ve spent many busy and exhausting days. All the buildings I’ve watched rise from holes in the urban fabric. And the memory of things, businesses or buildings, that no longer exist. (For example remembering that the car is parked in front of where Winterland was. Or happily realizing that the Jack Tarr Hotel is really gone.)

P155 And again we are examining the self. Sounds like she hasn’t run into Korsakoff Syndrome. I wonder if I have more of the incidental memories she mentions because I’ve spent so many hours on public transport? In families there are always the things one person recalls that the others don’t. The subjectivity of memory, of what we notice at the time and recall later.

I was thinking about Slaughterhouse Five the other day so now I’m thinking about the “coming unstuck in time” aspect of memory. Proust and Vonnegut. I don’t normally think of them as having a lot in common, but when it comes to time I guess they do. You can imagine a, perhaps drug enhanced, version of Proust’s going back in time to re-experience a past event as though you were really there. If Temple Grandin retains a detailed image of everything she’s ever seen, it’s not unreasonable to think that somewhere in our brains there is a record of everything we’ve ever sensed. That you could re-experience it again as though for the first time. Of course those possible experiences would include having the measles and that nasty swine flu. 

P156 Finally she talks about smell. Rosemary. Perhaps she wrote more about her youth in her previous book and didn’t want to repeat herself. I would think there would be something about food as well. It does sound like her Egypt experience was very British, but you’d think it would have been somewhat different from back in England during and after the war. 

For me there are good memories around my grandmother’s cooking and my aunt’s baking during my youth. Then there were the White Castle burgers (and buns) in Louisville, the Harvey’s burgers on Colfax in Denver. Banana splits in Boulder. Abalone in Morro Bay. Steak and eggs before football games and Hamburger Hamlet for special occasions in SoCal. A few years of wonderful BBQ ribs on wax paper at a joint in downtown Phoenix before I became a veggie. Discovering Sonoran Mexican, Indian, Thai, and finally Burmese cuisines. Bread pudding!

What she hasn’t written about here is the quickening of time as you age. And this would have been the place for that. Odd. Well, she did mention it but not in the sense I have in mind, of the near future being different than the recent past. 

Also, she mentioned “hospital time” but hasn’t really said if she thought that was worth the cost. I suppose, having passed out of a bad time you are always glad you did, but do you feel improved by the experience? Are there useful lessons learned? I would like to bounce the notion of “old enough to die” off her. I do like that she’s ended up a city person. Makes sense to me but that isn’t “normal” I think.

So I’m going to try her memories by decade exercise:

1950s: Summer rain on hot asphalt. Nat Cole on my first (painted, tube) radio. First kiss. 1957 Chevy Bel Air.
Early 1960s: Walking in a silent snow storm in Boulder. That folk song, “Today,” 1958 Chevy Impala.
Mid 1960s: Ozone smog. Song about umbrella and “Bus Stop” (by the Hollies! Much of the music from "Echos in the Canyon")  Lincoln Continental with suicide doors.
Late 1960s: Lying on stack of hay bales under a shed during a monsoon storm. Riding a horse through the forest on a night with a new moon. “Young Girl”. First make out session.  Pontiac Le Mons. BBQ ribs on waxed paper.
Early 1970s: Running around campus barefoot in the monsoon rain with Phyllis. Tracy Nelson's "Down So Low". Orange blossoms. Listening to the cab radio late at night when I could imagine where everyone was and what they were doing.
Late 1970s: September ozone.
1980s: Log fire smell camping at Yosemite. Love and sex. Snapple. Sounds from the Hearts of Space.
1990s: Hanging out on the slope with goat kids and friends. Proper heartbreak.”Fat City” among so many. “Living in Clip”.. Cancun burritos with super hot green salsa. Indian food in Mountain View.
2000s: “Pride and Joy”. Alison Krauss and Union Station Live. Smell of Gideon Pond corridors. Learning to drive on snow and ice. Burmese tea leaf salad. Climbing on the scaffolding around my building.
2010s: The satisfaction of more than surviving Hardly Strictly Bluegrass one more year the "no unsorted bag" years. Dragon Boat Races at Treasure Island. 

P162 Reading and Writing
Parents’ National Education Union - I rather like her education. Of course it does reek of the English gentry. Since I am myself so self-taught, I rather like this more formal approach to a reading education. The only problem is selecting the books to read. It is possible to read a book too soon. On the other hand some of the inappropriate books I read when I was around fourteen were perfect for me. There’s history, since she writes a good deal about history, that I’m shocked I have only learned in the past year, but that doesn’t mean it would have done me much good to have encountered it earlier. One of the trade-offs of reading so broadly at university is that it precluded going very deeply into any one subject. I value the breadth of my experience and have to accept that there were periods of history or areas of philosophy or novelists I missed entirely. And when I did finally study the history of Europe between the fall of Rome and the Modern period, I was thoroughly primed for what I learned. Still, finally putting the historical pieces together in your sixth decade seems more than a little retarded.

P165-66 Amen, sister. My favorite story about growing up an insatiable reader is that I secretly, and without leaving a trace, read all the sexy bits in the few books my parents owned, not realizing until decades later that they had never read the books so didn’t know that there were sexy bits. I could have read them at the diner table. And reading, at fourteen, all of the fourteen volume official history of the US Navy in WW2 was the first indication that I could plow through literally anything.

P196 
This is such a perfect book for our club. A whole chapter devoted to other books. And we overlap hardly at all. I don’t think I’ve read a single book she mentions by title except for Plutarch. The endless richness of the written word. And I’m shocked that she would have Penelope betray Ulysses for Achilles. What a tart! I got my first glasses a year before her... nearsighted pride.

Rather than pick books, I would rather list authors who have shaped my thought. Jane Jacobs, Barbara Tuchman, Sallie Tisdale, Ackerman, Annie Dillard, Gibbon, Pirenne, Barudel, Livy, Polybius, Plutarch, Xenophon, Horace, Morison, Clausewitz, Nietzsche, Persig, Vonnegut, Kingsolver, Chatwin, Austen, Anne Tyler, James Agee, Jane Austen, Sacks, Bill Bryson, Vikram Seth, Pynchon, Proust, Mann, Goethe, Dostoevsky. Also Martha Grimes, Anne McCaffery, Norman Spinrad, Dan Simmons, Armistead Maupin, and Calvin Trillin.

P219 The Jerusalem Bible - I’m with Lively on most of this, except for liking to attend services -- which give me the heebie jeebies. But what she says about reading the bible is certainly true. I don’t think my bible is King James, but I’m not sure how it differs. I also really like the very thin paper mine is printed on. One thing I like about Protestantism is that it encourages a reverence for books. I just wish it were some other book.

P234 One of the saddest things I’ve ever read was a woman regretting that when she died the stories of all her possessions would die with her. Now that isn’t true for the artifacts Lively chose to write about. But it does interest me how none of these objects are “family” objects with a family history. The cat does have a bit of a family story, but it’s not something passed down generation to generation or something that really tells a family story. Possibly Lively edited this to avoid the objects of purely family interest. 

So of course I’m wondering what my artifacts would be. I have a bunch of things, either mine or from family, that I can’t bring myself to dispose of but that mean very little to me. I’m fond of my marbles, left over from elementary school (I sometimes think about my baseball cards and wonder what happened to them.) There are some interesting artifacts from around the turn of the 20th century that came from my great grandfather. There are, even more important to me, photographs taken by me in the early ‘70s for the most part. There are even a few (45s) survivors from my record collection when I was young. I also still own, but don’t have at home, some of my first computers, including the Timex/Sinclair that started it all. But these last are among the things I wish I could find a good home for.