We’re told nowadays male novelists need to pretend to be women. Or we hear they need at least for readers not to know they are men. (Meaning their first name should not reveal their sex.) Or we’re informed only women can really write women characters women will read.
A quiet Saturday morning. Tired mentally from the writing of the last few days, I was also at a loss this morning for a decent blog post topic. Then, suddenly, this hit me: I had been listening to this song at one point (it’s on my iPhone with others of his) while working yesterday and again while emptying the dishwasher a little while ago.
Whether it’s a decent post or not is entirely your call as always, of course. ;-) I’d had a look on YouTube and found this video for it, and it is more inventive than most: it cleverly edited in artistic, black and white, photographs. These are some examples:
Many years ago, I was lucky enough to glimpse – from a vehicle, a good distance away – a snoozing lion in South Africa’s Kruger National Park. It was a sunny mid-morning, he was partly hidden by high grass, and I recall him being utterly indifferent to all of the attention from the ever-increasing numbers of parked cars and tour vehicles desperate to see him. I also remember the guide saying it was unusual to see one so close to a road at that time of day.
For some, though, a fascination with “big-game hunting” remains:
Exile was also once a common form of punishment. The ancient Athenians used it. So did ancient Rome. More recently, Britain and other European countries put “outlaws” on ships and packed them off to Australia or “the New World.”
Last weekend, I searched British TV in vain for a Humphrey Bogart film. I was simply in the mood, and was depressed when I couldn’t find one. Naturally, I informed (as one does nowadays) everyone on the planet who happened to be reading Twitter.
It is in the public domain, so you may watch it guilt free. Bogart’s production company held the copyright, but allowed it to lapse. It’s his only film that’s outside copyright.
The way information flies at us is now unprecedented. Masses comes our way, and we “gulp” down lots. But it’s hard to know how much we honestly can process.
Moreover, social media conveys a happy impression that we all live, more or less, in the same “space” – if not precisely the same geographic place. We’re seemingly required as well to have opinions on just about everything happening, and everywhere. And we have to have them immediately.
You find yourself worn out now and then? I do. This weekend was one of those times.
Saturday morning, one of my Twitter lists had displayed this. All at the same time. Seriously:
If I’m given the chance, I’m unsure if I would vote for Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal for president. I don’t know enough about his politics. They seem deeply conservative, and I’m annoyingly moderate.
He seemed to say some stuff many here in the U.K. disagreed strongly with when he visited recently. However, I am willing to hear more from him. I’m always willing to listen to every reasonable candidate of any major party, and as a governor that by definition makes him “reasonable.”
A separate – and disturbing – issue has been the mockery directed at him on social media (and even in some U.S. mainstream media) for his apparently not being “Indian enough” or even attempting to be “white.”
Drove up to London yesterday and will be driving back to Wiltshire later. It will be a busy non-writing day overall. It’s shaping up as the sort of one I’m always of seriously two minds about, because a non-writing day is, fundamentally, a non-productive day in any novelist’s life.
But if you drop by regularly, you know I like if at all possible to find a few moments to post something every day. I like this site to be “alive,” and, as you also may know, sort of like a “daily journal”. In that sense, I feel this is worth sharing.
Another installment of that book series is upon us. A Newsweek reviewer (interestingly, by name a man, although the books do appear aimed primarily at women, and are written by a woman; but I don’t want to disgress down that path here), disparages it this way:
Cinemax softcore masquerading as fiction
Really? So then it’s perfect to adapt into a possibly “award-winning” cable TV series? Just shift the tale and main characters to, say, Rhode Island?
A couple of weeks ago in the Telegraph, Michael Deacon (again, a man; and again I’ll leave the issue there) had fun with it. He “imagined” its opening chapter. Here’s an excerpt:
I got quite a bit of inspiration over the last few days. So I want to get on and write. No “big” blog post this morning.
C’est une petite pépite déposée chaque mercredi soir. Une petite parenthèse pour sourire, rire, prendre confiance.
It’s a little nugget filed every Wednesday evening. A small parenthesis to smile, laugh, gain in confidence.
I hope you have a good Monday [ugh, Monday, I know], wherever you may be. :-)
UPDATE: June 18: Last night, Audrey posted a translation of another post. Here’s “An American in Paris” in English. Enjoy.