Maud Martha, Once Again

My thoughts: Ok, I started to read Song of Solomon, then I got the urge to reread Maud Martha. October has been a crazy month for me, and I needed a nice, soothing read. Upon rereading Maud Martha, I was reminded of why I liked it so much in the first place. The language is so beautiful and the main character is freakin’ awesome. Even though it’s a novel, Maud Martha is about the inner workings of a real life. You feel as if she is a real person, who endured real things. She has real triumphs and real heartbreaks. Maud Martha is the kind of person who finds humanity in things that others may not. In one chapter, she refrains from killing a mouse because she imagines that life would be harder for the mouse’s family if it died. She empathizes with the rodent, because she knows a little something about struggle herself. After she lets the mouse go, she feels proud of herself: “A life had blundered its way into her power and it had been hers to preserve or destroy. She had not destroyed.” Thinking about this moment makes me smile.

Gwendolyn Brooks writes about intraracial discrimination among blacks based on skin shade in this novel—something Dorothy West wrote about in The Living Is Easy. Maud Martha notices it as a child, when people (even her own family members) treat her light-skinned sister Helen more favorably. And this follows her into adulthood. And, as I mentioned in my previous post about the book, she also experiences racial discrimination. Brooks writes, “There were scraps of baffled hate in her, hate with no eyes, no smile and—this she especially regretted, called her hungriest lack—not much voice.” At one point, she quits working as a maid because she knew that the white people she worked for thought of her as stupid and childlike, and she did not want to absorb their low opinion of her. This is a quiet moment of defiance that gives her a little bit of a voice to address that “baffled hate.” In spite of everything, Maud Martha loves and respects herself, loves life, and embraces its ups and downs. I needed to read something that was life-affirming, and this is the perfect read for such occasions. One last thing: I wonder how much of Gwendolyn Brooks is in the character of Maud Martha…She (Gwendolyn Brooks) was a great poet, but she wrote a hell of a novel!

Great passage (when Maud Martha’s husband takes her to a dance and spends most of the time dancing with a light-skinned lady—when Maud Martha herself is pregnant, no less): “I could,” considered Maud Martha, “go over there and scratch her upsweep down. I could spit on her back. I could scream. ‘Listen,’ I could scream, ‘I’m making a baby for this man and I mean to do it in peace.’”

But if the root was sour what business did she have up there hacking at a leaf?

Up next: I think I’ll read The Lilies of the Field

Night Film

Makeshift bookmark

Author: Marisha Pessl
Category: I read Marisha Pessl’s Special Topics in Calamity Physics about six years ago. So I was intrigued when I heard she wrote a second book, Night Film, and I thought I’d check it out.

My thoughts: This book was compulsively readable, and I really enjoyed it. It took some dark turns and creeped me out a bit, but it was so thought-provoking. Night Film begins with the suicide of Ashley Cordova, the twenty-four-year-old daughter of legendary and elusive horror filmmaker Stanislas Cordova. Scott McGrath, an investigative reporter, begins to comb through the details of Ashley’s life and death to determine why she committed suicide. McGrath attempted to investigate Stanislas Cordova’s life several years prior, but crashed and burned. But during the investigation of Cordova’s daughter, McGrath is joined by Hopper, a pretty resourceful but secretive small-time drug dealer, and Nora, a teenage eccentric with an unusual upbringing. Together, the three of them make up some sort of peculiar version of Nancy Drew, Bess Marvin, and George Fayne (those girls were such a great trio, right?) as they travel hither and yon to uncover mysteries about a family thrives on complete secrecy.

This book brings up the idea of extremely talented artists being disturbed or downright crazy. Because Cordova is so reclusive and his films are so disturbing, many people believe he is a psychopath. I’ve read that the character of Cordova is based a little on Stanley Kubrick (which reminds me…I need to watch and write a post about Dr. Strangelove soon). But the character of Stanislas Cordova also reminded me of…Kanye West. Now, I think Kanye is a genius. I really do. He is super talented, makes great music, and before that was a hell of a producer. But he is crazy as all outdoors. In fact, Kanye’s brilliant My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy sounds like the name of a Cordova film, or possibly Cordova’s autobiography, if he ever decided to write one. It makes you wonder…do you have to have a chaotic personal life and inner demons to create great works of art? That’s the million dollar question.

Also, there are hints of Heart of Darkness in Night Film—which, I’ll confess, is one of the books in that I never quite finished in high school. In Heart of Darkness, Marlow (like McGrath) goes looking for the elusive Kurtz (who definitely has similarities to Cordova), who has let madness take over his life. While reading Night Film, I also thought about that quote from Friedrich Nietzsche: “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you” (this is of course also relevant to Heart of Darkness). McGrath goes to some shady places to uncover the truth about Cordova, and has a hard time being unaffected by his investigation.

The book is very good, but I couldn’t help but think that it could have been a tad shorter. And Marisha Pessl likes to italicize words—a lot. There are some weird elements, so I don’t know how eagerly I’ll be to recommend this one to other people. But I liked it a lot and I’ll definitely read it again.

Great passage: It was a covert line of attack described in Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. Your enemy expected the direct approach. He prepared for it and fiercely fought it off, resulting in severe casualties, the expenditure of major resources—and, ultimately, your own defeat. And yet, occasionally, there was another entrance, the fragile corridor. Your enemy never expected advancement via this route because it was labyrinthine and treacherous, and he often didn’t even know it was there. But if your army managed to make it though, it would deliver you not just behind your enemy’s lines but to his inner chamber, the heart of his heart.

Up next: Song of Solomon

Coming of Age in Mississippi

That is paint, not bird poop, on the table.

Author: Anne Moody

Category: I’ve heard of this book here and there for years. This past summer, one of the teen volunteers where I work told me that this book was on her summer reading list. She said it was really good…so I decided to check it out.

My thoughts: It started off a little slow, but eventually I really got into this book and I really liked it. Like Between Shades of Gray , Coming of Age in Mississippi made me cry. It ended up being a very gripping read, and renewed my admiration for those who were on the front lines of the Civil Rights Movement. It was a movement of young people, and Anne Moody was one of them. The victories they won were fought with actual blood, sweat, and tears.

Anne Moody grew up in rural Mississippi in the 1950s. And she heard about brutality toward blacks throughout the state, concerning people she knew, like a classmate who was beaten up by whites because he was suspected of making salacious phone calls to a white woman, and people she didn’t, like Emmett Till, who was murdered when Moody was a teenager. When she went to college at Tougaloo, she became involved in the Movement, first by joining the NAACP. She participated in sit-ins, and was beaten and insulted by angry whites. This reminded me of something that Isabel Wilkerson, author of The Warmth of Other Suns said in her lecture at the University of Memphis back in February. She said that so many whites were so invested in keeping blacks down that they missed some of their own potential—because when you keep someone down, you spend so much energy and waste so much time doing that and nothing else.

One part of the book that made me sad was when Moody mentioned Medgar Evers. He spoke at her college and at meetings she went to while living in Jackson, Mississippi. And she saw him the last night of his life. I really admire Medgar Evers, and I don’t think he gets enough credit for all he did during the Civil Rights Movement. He investigated Emmett Till’s murder and helped Till’s family get out of Mississippi after the men who killed him were found not-guilty. He was truly in the thick of things, and it cost him his life. And, unfortunately, I had never heard of him until I saw news reports about his killer finally being convicted, in 1993.

Anne and her fellow civil rights workers were under a constant threat for their lives. People they knew had been killed, and they were verbally and physically attacked all because they were trying to get American citizens to register to vote. This book really reinforces the danger people faced so that people like me could do something as basic as vote in an election or even walk into a store through the front door. I try to never forget that.

The narrative ends in 1964, right at the beginning of Freedom Summer, which would bring more bloodshed. Coming of Age in Mississippi, however, was published in 1968, the year Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. Since that time, Medgar Evers’ killer has been convicted and died in prison. There are hate crime laws all over the country. But only last year, an unarmed black teenager, not unlike Emmett Till, was killed in Florida…At the end of her book, Moody wonders if the lyrics to “We Shall Overcome” will ever ring true. Some days, it seems to be so. Others…well, it makes you wonder.

Great passage: Before Emmett Till’s murder, I had known the fear of hunger, hell, and the Devil. But now there was a new fear known to me—the fear of being killed just because I was black. This was the worst of my fears. I know once I got food, the fear of starving to death would leave. I also was told that if I were a good girl, I wouldn’t have to fear the Devil or hell. But I didn’t know what one had to do or not do as a Negro not to be killed. Probably just being a Negro period was enough, I thought.

Up next: Night Film

Carole, Denise, Cynthia, and Addie Mae

Today is the 50th anniversary of the Sixteenth Street Church bombing in Birmingham, Alabama, which killed four young girls (Carole Robertson, Denise McNair, Cynthia Robertson, and Addie Mae Collins) and injured others (including Addie Mae Collins' sister). The bombing is actually mentioned in Coming of Age in Mississippi, which I'm reading now. But I wanted to write about it because I think about it every time the anniversary of the bombing rolls around. I think it affects me so much because I was around the girls' age when I first heard about the bombing (I was twelve, and read an article in Essence by Angela Davis) and because my own mother was in the girls' age bracket at the time when the bombing occurred. When I first heard about it, I was a little shocked that I had reached adolescence and had never heard about it before (this was before Spike Lee's documentary about the bombing, Four Little Girls, was released). It makes me sad and angry that these young lives (and so many others) were snuffed out just to preserve the idea of inequality and hatred. But I have to believe that these young ladies did not die in vain. That their deaths "awoke the sleeping giant" and inspired others to fight for their equality. In his poem "If We Must Die," Claude McKay wrote, "If we must die, O let us nobly die,/So that our precious blood may not be shed/In vain."

Rest in peace, girls. You've inspired me more than you know.

Off Topic: The Godfather

Year: 1972

Director: Francis Ford Coppola

Category: I first saw this movie about sixteen years ago. All I knew was that Marlon Brando was in it and that it was about organized crime. And I’m glad I didn’t know much about it, because the plot drew me in and continues to intrigue me. Dear reader, this post contains some spoilers, so beware!

My thoughts: The Godfather opens with the wedding of Connie Corleone, the only daughter of mob boss Don Vito Corleone (played, of course, by Marlon Brando). Sometime later, Virgil “The Turk” Sollozzo arrives on the scene with a bunch of drugs, and needs protection and funding from mobsters. The Don says no, but Sonny, his impulsive eldest son, expresses interest in the drug game (before he’s shut down by his dad), which exposes a crack in the Corleone armor. The Don tells Sonny, “Never tell anyone outside the Family what you are thinking again.” This is, to me, where the plot turns—that meeting with Don Corleone, Sonny, and Sollozzo. It leads to a series of events that result in Michael Corleone, the youngest son, (who I mentioned when writing about The Custom of the Country) going from neutral party to ruthless don. And I mean RUTHLESS. I think The Godfather Part II documents more of how hardened and deadly cunning Michael had become. But here, in the original, you can see that he’ll be more coldly efficient than his father. I think Michael, even though he at first wanted no part of the family business, grew up in an environment where violence and revenge were de rigueur. So when he decides to get involved in it, it’s perfectly normal to him. It’s business (not personal).

I like this movie because it’s a very fascinating story. The characters are not saints, but they are very compelling to watch. In The Godfather, where things begin and where they end are very drastic. I think there’s something Shakespearean about The Godfather (it reminds me of both King Lear and some of the histories involving Henry IV and Henry V). But, unfortunately, it seems that filming The Godfather was not a fun process for the director and the actors. I once listened to the DVD commentary by Francis Ford Coppola. He stated that he was chosen to direct The Godfather because he was young and the studio thought they could push him around. I always think it’s interesting to hear about behind-the-scenes stories from great films—indeed, there’s a fascinating documentary called Hearts of Darkness about the making of another Coppola film, Apocalypse Now (which I’ve only seen in its entirety once—it’s pretty crazy).

Every time I watch The Godfather, I think about it for days afterward. I think about the twists and turns and the great lines. I like how, later in the film, Vito Corleone appears to be a little…senile, if you will. He rambles quite a bit when talking to Michael. But it’s at this point that Don Corleone tells Michael that the person who approaches him (Michael) with an offer of peace will be the traitor. And so it comes to pass.

Great lines:

Tom Hagen: When I meet with Tattaglia’s men, should I insist all their drug middlemen have clean records?

Don Corleone: Mention it, don’t insist. But Barzini will know that without being told.

Tom Hagen: You mean Tattaglia...

Don Corleone: Tattaglia is a pimp. He never could have outfought Santino. But I didn't know until this day that it was Barzini all along.

The Age of Innocence…Revisited

Airplane reading...buckle up for safety!

My thoughts: I first got the desire to reread The Age of Innocence a few months ago, when I was writing a short story in which I mentioned the novel. I think everyone needs a little Edith Wharton in their lives from time to time. Here are some things I noticed upon reading this little masterpiece again:

Granny Mingott’s mulatto maid—She’s only mentioned a handful of times, but I am once again intrigued by the mulatto maid of Catherine Mingott, the venerable and very wealthy grandmother of Ellen Olenska and May Welland. How did she end up working for Granny Mingott? What is her background? And what does she think of these sometimes eccentric characters? It’s interesting to see a minority character in this very WASPy world.

Tribe talk—Upon rereading The Age of Innocence, I noticed how often Edith Wharton referred to the rich families of old New York as “tribes.” The word pops up all throughout the novel. The world she writes about is fiercely insular, like any good tribe. But there are people who seem to force their way in, much like high school girls sometimes find ways to infiltrate the popular cliques…

Julius Beaufort—Julius Beaufort is one of those characters who tries to find a way to force his way into society—into the tribe. He is a bit like Simon Rosedale from The House of Mirth. Both sort of exist on the fringe of New York society—not quite part of the tribe. I never wrote about Beaufort in my previous entry about The Age of Innocence. But rereading the book, I noticed that Edith Wharton continuously mentions Beaufort, his wife, and his somewhat shady business deals. His story is almost a secondary one in The Age of Innocence. It reminded me of how Shakespeare, in several of his plays, had a secondary storyline.

I’ve been listening to the Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran song “Everything Has Changed” a lot lately. The song actually reminds me of the romantic moments between Newland and Ellen. I wonder if Swifty is an Edith Wharton fan…New York magazine once had an article about how The Age of Innocence was the quintessential New York novel. I very much agree. The novel depicts the moment when things begin to change, and “old New York” is shaken to its core. And speaking of New York, one of my favorite moments is when Newland and Ellen are having a private conversation in the brand new Metropolitan Museum of Art. Newland says, “Ah, well—Some day, I suppose, it will be a great Museum.” I think he’s right…

Great passage: Archer felt that at any cost he must keep her beside him, must make her give him the rest of her evening. Ignoring her question, he continued to lean against the chimney-piece, his eyes fixed on the hand in which she held her gloves and fan, as if watching to see if he had the power to make her drop them.

“May guessed the truth,” he said. “There is another woman—but not the one she thinks.”

Ellen Olenska made no answer, and did not move. After a moment he sat down beside her, and, taking her hand, softly unclasped it, so that the gloves and fan fell on the sofa between them.

Up next: Coming of Age in Mississippi

Experimental Zucchini/Apple Bread

Mmm...butter

Ok, I'm almost finished rereading The Age of Innocence. It's been a busy summer for me, so I've been a slower reader than usual. Anyway, this post, as the title suggests, is actually about baking. My mom gave me some zucchini from my stepfather's garden (it's good to know your farmer). I found a zucchini bread recipe that I copied by hand years ago (origin unknown) that called for a cup of zucchini. But after shredding my zucchini, I found that I didn't quite have a cupful. So I shredded an apple, and added that to the zucchini to get a cupful. Then, I realized that I only had half a cup of white sugar (my recipe called for a cup...I obviously did not plan ahead very well). So I added half a cup of brown sugar, and hoped for the best. The result was actually really good. Here's the recipe below, with my changes:

Experimental Zucchini/Apple Bread
1 ½ cups flour
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
1 ½ teaspoon cinnamon
1 egg
½ cup vegetable oil
½ cup white sugar
½ cup brown sugar
1 ½ teaspoons vanilla extract
¾ cup grated zucchini
¼ cup grated apple
⅔ cup nuts (I used pecans)

Preheat oven to 325° F. Grease and flour pan (I used an 8x8 baking pan). Add flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and cinnamon to a bowl. In a separate bowl, beat the egg, vegetable oil, sugar, and vanilla extract. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir. Add grated zucchini, grated apple, and nuts. Bake for 40 – 60 minutes. Let it cool off for 5 minutes, then devour.