Thursday, February 28, 2013
The rest is history, they say. Bullshit, I say. It's imagination or it's nothing, and must be, because what is created in this world, or made, can be undone, unmade; the threads of a rope can be unwoven. And if that rope is needed as a guideline for a ferry to a farther shore, then one must invent a way to weave it back, or there will be drownings in the streams that cross our paths. I accept now, though in truth it took some time, that must must be its own permission.
This sort of consciousness, a voice searching for moral reason and ethical sense and metaphysical reassurance, is dense on every single page of the novel. And at the same time, constantly present in his prose, beautiful, vivid, haunting concrete physical description of two worlds -- Iraq, and rural southern Virginia -- that never ever meet and yet somehow, in Power's vision, are fused, confused, refused, and unresolved.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
The emotional sweep of Cromwell's inner life, the historical intricacy of the cultural and economic moment of the time period, and how that moment defines and limits hundreds of major and minor characters from the era: all are utterly unique. Certainly, Mantel cites sources and has talked about the importance of several texts -- the same core history that Shakespeare essentially mines for his history places -- in creating the narratives, but what she has done in imagining the time from Cromwell's point of view is a triumph of poetry and wit and dramatic tension.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Saturday, February 02, 2013
The narrative was interesting at most -- Big Ray, the father, grows into a 500-pound, abusive, damaged and damaging father. His marriage crumbles, secrets of his physical, emotioned sexual abuse of his children and wife slowly leak out.
I was curiously unmoved. Found the unaffected delivery wearying and deadening over time.