Archive for January, 2008

Erdrich + Setterfield

Reading Diane Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale, I feel quite suddenly inspired to comment. I think of Louise Erdrich because Setterfield’s prose shares poetry, though not the same strain of poetic style and inflection, with Erdrich. A writer—perhaps any artist—depends very much on what comes to him or her.

What marbles are in the stone yard? A sculptor may choose among them as a writer may choose to type or to write by hand—paper or screen then printer? But the real stuff the content, the composition, the language itself, these come from within. Often—arguably always—they evolve from some previous writer’s words or images. So, one might say, a writer can control her production by choosing carefully what to take in. Still, the first word to appear in a new session must spring by parthenogenesis to the page. This is the book that came to Setterfield compressed by her brain from influence, education, predilection and experience.

So I can’t criticize Setterfield for writing as she writes and emphasizing what strikes her, in short for not being Erdrich. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that Erdrich is among her influences, but I can’t help but prefer the latter, at least thus far. (I’ve read only 1/3 or this book whereas I’ve delved through Erdrich for 15 years, reading The Beet Queen at least three times and following the protacted saga of Nanapush, Margaret, Lulu, Fleur, Eli, Pauline and so forth as well as the German transplant folk of Argus, though they tend to have only one book to themselves while the clans of the Anishinabe appear and reappear at the centers and the periphery, almost never wholly absent from any book.

They are both fine storytellers, though Setterfield spends way too much time admiring her yarn spinning. One particularly annoying ploy is that she imagines the outlines of stories by a character, outlines that are her own, and then has another character gush over them. It’s almost masturbatory.

It may be unfair of me to judge Setterfield. Still since it’s my blog, I will. She strikes me first off as wise in some ways but too self-important about her wisdom. In The Antelope Wife, Erdrich gives us such rich interplay of the contemporary and quotidian against the marvelous and antique. Ancient wildness lies down by urban Minneapolis (I can’t rembember its Anisinabe name) and from that coupling come the ongoing generations of latterday first peoples. In that book, Erdrich plays with the notion of twins and weaving. At some point, no doubt, she elaborated on the significance to herself. Throughout she returns to a pair of twins weaving what is clearly the tapestry of the tale, the interlocking, mutually influential lives and impulses of the characters, the repeating patterns, the inescapable destinies. Setterfield comes up with the excellent metaphor (quite similar) of a spider’s web. Then, she explains it, showing off her mastery of literary analysis, taking the pleasure of discovery from her reader and elongating a passage, that like many, could have been curtailed with no great loss to plot of sensibility.

In the end, Setterfield’s compulsion to show off her understandings leaves them vulnerable to the reader’s evaluation. For me, they often come up short. I don’t agree about marriage, for instance, at least not with the sweeping generalizations here. I don’t agree about reading, quite. Etc. If she could leave aside the exposition and focus on the tale, which is a good one and not unlike Erdrich in its fabulous ordinariness, the book would be much improved.

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Saturday Shopping

I collect illustrated books, mostly children’s piccture books but also beautifully illustrated editions of Whitman and others. (I own two illustrated versions of Whitmans Leaves of Grass, one with images by Rockwell Kent, the other by Louis Daniels.) Yesterday, I went to Parker’s books in downtown Sarasota. I’d seen a book illustrated by Tony Ross–whose work I love–in the window. First I poked throught the first editions and the literature. In the kids’ books, I found very little to stun me–the things I liked best I already own. I found a couple of things worth owning–a book illustrated by Arnold Lobel–1st edition and some others. Then in the poetry was an early edition of Pound’s Cantos, very tempting but $45.00–and available at libraries. Then I found John Berryman’s Homage to Mistress Bradstreet. I wrote my master’s thesis on Berryman’s Sonnets–still my favorite of all this work, so this Berryman tempted me a lot. Add to that its illustrations by Ben Shahn and the relatively low price, $14.95, I ended up with that. The Alex Ross was also tempting but the images were less than, “Ahhh” quality for me. I left it behind with the Pound and a book I haven’t read by Louise Erdrich–and I’d love to say I own all her works, but that was paperback and, almost certainly, still available from Alibris or other dealers–not to mention new (it wasn’t even 1st trade). So I ended up with Diane Wakoski’s Inside the Blood Factory as well as the Berryman and a hardcover of Seamus Heaney’s Beowulf translation–bilingual and well worth owning (not to  mention that I’ve never read Beowulf in any form). Next time, maybe I’ll spring for the Lobel and the Ross if they haven’t sold yet.

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Richardson and the crazy primary schedule

Bill Richardson bowed out, today. I got an email thanking his supporters. It made me feel guilty because though he interested me I never sent any money. But I hadn’t decided. Still haven’t. Now, another choice has been eliminated before I have the chance.

The email was so gracious about the rest of the field. Someone–either Richardson or some campaign writer–worked hard to express something positive about each of the other candidates and their contribution to the overall effort to define the issues, select a nominee and elect, we hope and pray, a good person to lead our country for the next 4 or 8 years.  Altogether the descriptions formed a pretty good list of the supposed principles, values and priorities of the Democratic party: passion, intelligence, speaking for the downtrodden, equal treatment under the law, equal opportunity, education for al . . .

In the world of polls and campaign funding, of mass media dominance we don’t have time to think much about values and positions. In facct, following the media’s lead, we spend most of our time considering candidates like horses: which one is most likely to go the distance and win the race. We don’t feel safe voting on principles or issues. If we do that, we might lose. (As I type I realize how often this complaint has been repeated. But I can’t stop myself and I don’t know what to do except keep saying it). It’s this maelstrom, whirlwind, the fast-lane on a short track that leads to decision-making based on a single teary-eyed moment or a single speech that gives us goose-pimples. It’s the cardboard cut-out images–flat screen and flat page, paper dolls–that can be changed by a quick symbol. I’ve read cynical interpretations of Hillary’s choke-up as staged. It doesn’t matter. The fact that staged or unstaged it may have determined the outcome of a presidential election shows that whatever image we had of Hillary was incomplete. It shows that support for Barack Obama was of the same paper thin sort, easily shifter. It shows that 2 primaries–or 1 primary and 1 set of caucuses–should not determine the nominee for either party.

I note the NYT agrees. In an editorial today it says it’s good both parties’ nominations remain open. And I guess that is good news. Too bad the candidates are dropping themselves because there isn’t enough money.

When I told my husband I’d decided that far too much emphasis has been placed on New Hampshire and Iowa, he burst out laughing. What’s so funny? I asked. Well, he said, I just can’t believe it took you so long to notice. I always wondered why those 2 little states got so much attention.

Who knows why it took so long, but suddenly I’m thinking that 2 states with a total number of electoral votes about 1/4 of our own state, Florida, have led to the elimination of 2 Democratic candidates. It makes me sad. Both Biden and Richardson have a great deal to offer this country. And, no doubt, being smart and determined they’ll offer something yet. Meanwhile, however, two men with foreign policy expertise, years of valuable experience and considerable grace under pressure are no longer available for us to choose.

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Hillary is Female

As we prepare to celebrate Barack Obama’s victory in New Hampshire, many commentators note that he is the first African-American to pursue a successful, mainstream campaign for president. That’s true. As is poor Joe Biden’s hapless observation that Obama is the first to have a demeanor acceptable to our majority white communities. (That’s not how Biden put it but that, in a nutshell is what he meant). Obama lacks the distinctive cultural flavor we white people associate with African-Americans.

This is a triumph. It is proof that white people can rise above skin color and hair type. If the person of color behaves in accordance with white cultural values, we can ignore–even forget– his so-called race. That’s a step in the right direction. It is important. It is historic. It is cause to rejoice. We might hope that eventually other kinds of personas, maybe even some with a little hint of  jazz and gospel will also pass that particular muster, but this man’s success–his proving that blackness has more than one flavor–moves us forward.

Another candidate in this race has so successfully transcended her position in a historically oppressed class of humans that we seem to have all but forgotten she is a woman. Hillary Clinton, like Obama, is the first of her “kind” to mount a credible, conceivably successful campaign for president. Geraldine Ferraro’s vice-presidential aspirations were thrilling but she was minimally impressive as a potential chief executive. Shirley Chisholm, both female and black, was spunky, clever and absolutely NOT going to win the office. I’m trying to think of others, but I can’t. Like Mr. Obama, Ms. Clinton owes her success in part to her ability not to seem very much of her category. She’s frequently accused of not being “soft” or “warm” enough, not, that is, feminine enough. We can imagine her commanding the military, and she herself repudiated (to her eternal shame) cookie baking. Unlike Ms. Pelosi, Ms. Clinton seems, often, contrary to type. And that is a large part of her success.

HIllary Clinton is strong, bright, knowledgeable, hard-working, a lawyer, a mother, a senator . . . but most of what we say about her concerns her husband’s coat tails, the failure of her message, etc. etc. None of that is wrong, perhaps, but this afternoon, reading an account of a gathering for her in Iowa, I realized: she is a woman and she could be president and that is huge. That is historic. That is, at the very least, pausing to notice and celebrate.

Here’s to you, Hillary. Thank you for advancing the cause of women’s equality. Thank you for combining compassion and strength. Thank you for taking the chance and going for it.

Whatever happens after New Hampshire, you have made history–just as whatever happens Barack Obama has made history. Whatever happens future African-American candidates, future female candidates, future African-American female candidates will seem even less exotic, less surprising. And more possible. Both these extraordinary people move us beyond simplistic binaries and invite us to a future where we really judge by the content of people’s characters–assuming, of course, that in that future the system of money-grubbing, jockeying for power among special interests, media executives and others can be brought into the service of the people’s need–and right–to the facts and a chance to evaluate them.

But that’s a subject for another post.

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Waging Peace

Remember all those hymns like “Onward Christian Soldiers” and “Soldiers of Christ?” A few years ago the Methodist hymnal committee wanted to remove them from the hymnal because they seemed to espouse violence in the pursuit of God’s “kingdom.” I agreed. After 5th grade I really didn’t like to march in time to the booming quadrameter. Growing older, I felt similarly about “Victory in Jesus,” (a song that, as it happens, I did not grow up on). I didn’t want the “king eternal” to lead me on “the day of march.” I wanted Christianity to follow Ghandi and Martin Luther King, to become pacifist or to be pacifist as it always was.

Actually, I’ve never been a true pacifist. Until now. I always thought “there might be a war–like World War 2, that excellent example–we “have” to fight, a situation that, if not addressed, could end the world as we know it, leave us subject to despots, bereft of freedom, comfort and security.

The war in Iraq, along with some reading on the history of warfare, has changed my mind. I now believe that we must at long last find a way to wage peace.

Jimmy Carter’s center and a few other quixotic initiatives on the planet are exploring the possibility. And many experts have called them foolish or time-wasters. After all, 10,000 years of civilization have always included war–many might say REQUIRED. As soon as Jericho built a wall, someone came to storm it and knock it down. According to some experts, agriculture made organized warfare necessary. Plenty of food meant more leisure and more leisure meant more horny men getting themselves into trouble. In any case, war has been around a long time, so it must be–the theory goes–in keeping with human nature.

Then, there are enemies. Everywhere. The Taliban are our enemies. Al Qaeda is our enemy. Cuba and Hugo Chavez are enemies. According to the Republican candidates for president, Mexicans crossing the borders are our enemies–or could easily become them. We may not attack all these groups, but we must be prepared to fight them. Moreover, deterrence works. The U.S.S.R disintegrated into Russia and the “former Soviet Republics” because we waged a “cold” war. Just last week I watched a documentary that asserted that definitely Truman’s initiation of that wanton expenditure was “worth it” because of that result.

A worse problem I think is practical. What’s to become of all the soldiers? They come from military families. They believe (if it’s a volunteer army like ours) that their cause it just and righteous. Their employment gives thousands of young men and women employment. And, even worse, the generals and colonels. On top of that and still more dire, we add the defense industries, which employ even more thousands of workers. America’s defense contractors, as you may have heard, arm military activities all over the globe–both those of legitimate countries like Israel and the Soviet Union and insurgencies, terrorists and others. But to eliminate the industry you have to eliminate the jobs, or so it seems.

We don’t really know how to think peace. On its surface, it seems boring and / or impossible. We have so little faith in it that churches say “Peace on Earth good will to all” is really about inner peace.

Why so cynical? Well because the world is, in many ways, a terrible place for a lot of people. Not only are greed and selfishness rampant, they seem to be innate. Power corrupts and our complex civilizations require complex, hierarchical power structures. Or so it seems. The likelihood that humans will revert to hunting and gathering is slim. So we must find some other way to deal with the consequences of abused power: with poverty, with bitterness, with loneliness and frustration, with envy and desperation and hate.

To cut to the chase, the punchline, the point: I’d like to consider waging peace. Through this (I’m imagining) we can use the military and its industry to address some of these crises, we can upend the tedious compacency of “mere” peace–I’m not sure how right now. I just know it’s possible.

The Bible calls it “beat[ing] swords into ploughshares.” As that verb “beat” sounds, it will be hard work, energetic work. But it can happen. Really.

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Hello world!

I’m sitting at home in southwest Florida where winter dusk is falling. My husband and I are starting blogs together, he with his PC desktop and I with my Macintosh PowerBook. The sky whitens and the water in the canal is glassy smooth, reflecting the houses and lawns.

I am unpublished, mostly. I’ve read poetry and brought a few pieces to print in college literary magazines and off-beat “send us your poems” publications. I even won a prize once. Maybe I’ll start posting poetry here, but mostly I intend this site for prose.

As an essayist, possibly an eventual book writer, I want to address spiritual issues from the viewpoint of an iconoclastic Christian–a faithful heretic. I’m interested in sharing those views and hearing other people’s comments on their ideas and experiences as they compare to mine. I’m widely read enough that I know my viewpoint isn’t especially unique. Heck, TNT’s Saving Grace espouses much the same theology as mine. But my thinking is informed, like everyone’s by my own particular combination of encounters, upbringing and insights. And I’ve thought long and hard about these issues.

I’m also interested in politics, presently in peace. So one category will reflect those thoughts. I hope to “meet” many of “you” over the coming months. I intend–have resolved–in this new year to become a public voice.

Shalom,

Ginger *(*

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