From My Big Orange Book: John Dryden

I feed a flame within, which so torments me
That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:
'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,
That I had rather die than once remove it.

Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,
But they fall silently, like dew on Roses.

Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel,
My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel;
And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;
While I conceal my love no frown can fright me.
To be more happy I dare not aspire,
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.

—from The Maiden Queen

My Least Favorite Frasier Episodes

     Ah, you knew it was coming, didn't you? I'm such a creature of balance and symmetry, I just couldn't do a "favorites" post without following up with a "least favorites" post. Mind you, it isn't that I dislike these episodes (well, a few of them I really do dislike); it's that I don't find them very engaging, or I find Frasier to be particularly unbearable in them. Sometimes his ego and competitiveness get just downright annoying, and those are the episodes I skip altogether. I realize the point of those particular episodes is precisely to show that Frasier is flawed and that he does get his comeuppance, but they still bug me, and I'd rather skip them. 

Season One:

• "Can't Buy Me Love"  Frasier has a date with a model, but the model is called on assignment at the last minute. She leaves her tween-age daughter with Frasier since she can't find a babysitter on such short notice. It's the kid that bugs me. I skip this one completely.

Season Two:

• None. I like/love them all.

Season Three:

• "The Friend"  It is in this episode that Niles' age is revealed (38 in season three). Near the end of this season, Frasier celebrates his forty-third birthday; so they are about four and a half years apart in age. In an effort to make new friends, Frasier decides to meet one of his radio callers, who turns out to be wheelchair-ridden. Though it turns out they have nothing in common (in fact, the new friend becomes something of a nuisance), instead of respecting this person enough to be straight with him, Frasier is instead reluctant to break off the friendship because of his infirmity. His lack of honesty, of course, ends in public embarrassment.
• "The Focus Group"  Only one person out of a focus group of twelve says he doesn't like Frasier's show. When pressed for a reason, the man says, "I don't like him." Frasier's ego simply won't allow him to let that go; he pursues the man and hounds him for an explanation until Frasier accidentally sets the man's newsstand on fire.

Season Four:

• "Three Days of the Condo"  One of those I simply don't find engaging enough to watch. One of the other residents in Frasier's building persuades him to run for condo board president.

Season Five:

• "Frasier's Imaginary Friend"  One of my least favorite comic premises is where nobody believes a characters' story. Frasier has a romantic weekend in Acapulco with a super model and no one believes him. That's the whole thrust of the story. I don't know; I just find that basic premise really frustrating. I skip this one completely.
• "Beware of Greeks"  This is the episode in which Patti Lupone guests as the most annoying woman ever. Which is one of the reasons I don't like this one. Also, Martin suddenly has a brother with whom he hasn't spoken in years because of this annoying Greek woman he married. This is the only time we ever see or hear about Martin's brother; in fact, in "Author, Author" (season one), Martin clearly states that he never had a brother. Frankly, I think this kind of blatant inconsistency is unworthy of such a superlative series.
• "Bad Dog"  I'm not overly fond of Bulldog to begin with (however, I like Gill even less), but he's just downright unlikeable in this episode, taking credit for a good deed to cover his own cowardice.

Season Six:

• "The Seal Who Came to Dinner"  As far as pure farce goes, this one ain't my cup of tea. It's plain silly, and not even interestingly silly.

Season Seven:

• "Radio Wars"  I don't know, I just don't like storylines where someone's made a complete fool of. Even if that someone is Frasier.

Season Eight:

• "Docu.drama"  Roz gets to do a documentary about space. Frasier persuades her to let him narrate it, then he proceeds to take over the whole project. Roz fires him (yea, Roz!) and, much to Frasier's consternation, she hires Senator John Glenn to replace him. Frasier at his most insufferable.
• "Forgotten But Not Gone"  No, wait—this is Frasier at his most insufferable! Niles is re-elected, fair and square, as Cork Master of the wine club, and Frasier not only quits the club but does his best to undermine Niles and steal the allegiance of the club members. I definitely skip over this one.

Season Nine:

• "Sharing Kirby"  I'm just not fond of this episode, though it is amusing to see Niles' opulent library. Frasier tricks Niles into hiring Kirby, the son of a woman he dated, to reorganize Niles' library. Niles learns that one of Kirby's classmates is the granddaughter of a well-known wine connoisseur. The connoisseur consents to let one, only one, of the Crane brothers tour his exclusive wine vaults.
• "Wheels of Fortune"  The show where Michael Keaton guests as Lilith's unscrupulous brother. Don't like it, just don't like it. Skip.
• "Cheerful Goodbyes"  Maybe it's because I never watched Cheers. I don't mind the episodes where only one Cheers character comes to visit, but an episode devoted to almost the whole Cheers cast just doesn't appeal to me.

Season Ten:

• "Proxy Prexy"  Frasier wants to run for condo board president, but he knows he's not popular enough to win, so he persuades Martin to run so he can simply use him as a "front." But when Martin asserts his own authority as president, Frasier doesn't like it at all!
• "Kissing Cousins"  Roz's condescending younger cousin, a pain-in-the-neck know-it-all who trashes everything and everybody, comes to visit. The most unlikeable guest role in the entirety of the series. Skip!
• "Tales of the Crypt"  Prank-playing hijinks at the radio station. Not my cup of tea. Skip!
• "The Devil and Dr. Phil"  Yes, Dr. Phil appears briefly, but this is really a Bebe episode, and my least favorite of the lot.

Season Eleven:

• "The Doctor Is Out"  Doesn't appeal. Patrick Stewart guests as an opera director who thinks Frasier is gay and pursues him romantically. Skip.
• "Frasier Lite"  Team KACL and a team from another radio station do a series of appearances on a popular local TV show to see which team can lose the most collective weight. Meh. Even the subplot is meh—Niles and Martin attempting to nurse an injured pigeon.
• "The Ann Who Came to Dinner"  This one has the second most unlikeable guest role, Roz's insurance agent friend Ann, with whom Frasier has a spectacularly bad blind date in an earlier episode. In this one, Ann agrees to come to Frasier's apartment to evaluate it for insurance purposes, falls and breaks her leg, and Frasier, afraid of getting slapped with a lawsuit, takes her in. Needless to say, she overstays her welcome.
• "Detour"  There's nothing about this episode I really like, actually. Frasier and Charlotte (Laura Linney) are stranded on the road and have to stay with this creepy family, and Niles mistakes a candidate for his and Daphne's nanny position for a stripper—or was it a candidate for the physical therapist? I forget, because I seldom watch this one. Definitely not my favorite.

My Favorite Frasier Episodes

     The original title of this post was "My Top Ten Favorite Frasier Episodes"—then I thought, "Who am I kidding? I can't pick just ten!" Then I thought I'd try to choose two from each season. Nah. Doesn't work. Because there are some seasons I like much better than others. So I decided simply to choose my favorites from each season. I realize my choices are rather Niles-heavy. Are we surprised?

Season One:

• "Travels with Martin"  Frasier wants to take Martin on vacation, and Martin decides they should take a road trip in a Winnebago. Martin persuades Daphne to go with them to serve as a buffer between him and Frasier, and Frasier asks Niles to go for the same reason (but of course, Niles only decides to go because Daphne's going). Besides being very funny, I think I like it because of all the "togetherness."
• "My Coffee with Niles"  The writers of this one had a lot of chutzpah, writing an episode that a) takes place entirely in one setting, b) takes place in "real" time—aside from commercial breaks, there are no time lapses; and c) is nothing but conversation, and most of it with the characters sitting still. On paper, it sounds boring. But the conversation is so real, so engaging, so intelligently written and brilliantly acted, you feel like you're sitting right there with Frasier and Niles, listening to them just chat. And when Roz, Daphne, and Martin (and Eddie) stop by, it feels completely natural. By the time the episode ends, it's as if you've just spent twenty minutes having coffee with good friends.

Season Two:

• "Slow Tango in South Seattle"  A spoof on the novel Slow Waltz in Cedar Bend by Robert James Waller. Actually, it's more a spoof on his first, more famous novel, The Bridges of Madison County—the paraphrase of its opening sentence is just too pointed to miss. A best-selling author and former drinking buddy from Cheers has used an incident from Frasier's life as the plot of his phenomenally popular novel.
• "Flour Child"  Niles wants to be a father, so Frasier advises him to make a sort of trial run by carrying around a ten-pound bag of flour. Best line: "Last night I actually had a dream my flour sack was abducted, and the kidnappers started sending me muffins in the mail."
• "Seat of Power"  After a disastrous attempt to fix a toilet themselves, Frasier and Niles call a plumber. The plumber turns out to be Niles' old bully from school.
• "Breaking the Ice."  I just love this one. Niles and Frasier accompany Martin on an ice fishing trip, where they all bond. Very funny and touching.
• "An Affair to Forget"  Never get tired of that fencing scene. Absolutely brilliant, on so many levels—the ongoing gag of translating from English to Spanish to German is hysterical, and David Hyde Pierce demonstrates his genius at physical comedy. Of course, it helps that he really does know how to fence.

Season Three:

• "Moon Dance"  A Niles & Daphne classic, it has all the elements of the best romantic comedies.

Season Four:

• "Mixed Doubles"  Daphne dates a man who is eerily like Niles (except not nearly as cute). The final scene is especially bittersweet, with DHP giving one of his most touching performances.
• "Daphne Hates Sherry"  Okay, I admit I chose this one solely for the Niles-in-a-white-linen-shirt scene. The final scene with Frasier in the bathtub reminds me of a similar scene in an episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show.
• "Are You Being Served?"  Maris serves Niles with divorce papers. This episode contains the Hot & Foamy explosion scene.

Season Five:

• "The Maris Counselor"  As funny as this one is, you can't help being moved when DHP obviously tears up in the scene where Niles finally decides, once and for all, to divorce Maris.
• "Room Service"  Bravi tutti—Grammer, Neuwirth, and Pierce! What a treat to watch three great actors rip up the stage! And the whole idea of Niles sleeping with Lilith—talk about a disaster waiting to happen! However, the cherry on the comedy parfait is John Ducey's performance as the room service waiter. He steals it with just one word: "Okay."
• "First Date"  After trying and spectacularly failing to ask Daphne out, Niles pretends to have a date with a certain Phyllis, and Daphne helps prepare the meal. This is probably my favorite Niles & Daphne episode besides "Something Borrowed, Someone Blue." I like it even more than "Moon Dance." So sweet and funny.

Season Six:

• "I. Q."  Frasier and Niles at their conflicted best. Or worst. Funny, I don't much like the other "sibling rivalry" episodes, mainly because Frasier is so insufferable in them; but he's not so bad in this one. The restaurant scene is priceless. (And, actually, "Author, Author" from season two is not so Frasier-obnoxious.)
• "Visions of Daphne"  Unless I miss my guess, it was this episode, along with the now classic opening pantomime in "Three Valentines" (also from this season), that won DHP his third Emmy. From the scene where he learns of Daphne's possible engagement, to the scene with Daphne in his office, to the heart-rending moment when he witnesses Daphne accepting Donny's proposal, it's a bravura performance, one of his very best.
• The reason why I'm not including "Three Valentines" is that I only like it for the opening scene.

Season Seven:

• "Back Talk"  Frasier's back goes out, and under the influence of his painkillers, he inadvertently blurts out to Daphne that Niles is in love with her. I love the studio audience's reaction.
• "Something Borrowed, Someone Blue"  But of course. My favorite moment: when Simon interrupts Niles' confession to Daphne, Niles goes to close the door, then on his cross back to Daphne he gives her a look that is so beseeching .... It's a throwback to those old romantic movies, like An Affair to Remember and Now, Voyager. {*sniff-sniff*}

Season Eight:

• "And the Dish Ran Away with the Spoon"  But of course! All through the first three-quarters of this season, it's kind of amusing to see how they coped with Jane Leeves' pregnancy. I thought it was handled very well.

Season Nine:

• "The First Temptation of Daphne"  Daphne is paranoid because one of Niles' patients is in love with him. The final scene is one of those scenes that prompt so many women on Twitter to write, "I wish someone loved me the way Niles loved Daphne." You'd be surprised how many women tweet that.

Season Ten:

• "Rooms with a View"  Probably the most serious episode in all of Frasier. This is the one where Niles has open heart surgery. Very fine performance from Jane Leeves.
• "Fathers and Sons"  I always thought that Charles Emerson Winchester III, the lovably pompous character on M*A*S*H, was the perfect forerunner of Frasier and Niles. Whoever cast David Ogden Stiers in the guest role in this episode obviously thought the same thing. Absolutely perfect casting of the character that Martin is afraid might be the real father of Frasier and Niles.

Season Eleven:

• "No Sex, Please, We're Skittish"  Niles and Daphne decide to get pregnant, but Niles finds out he has "slow sperm." Fortunately, Daphne has fast eggs.
• "Murder Most Maris"  Oh, Maris, Maris, they couldn't do the final season without you! My favorite part, of course, is Niles nearly having a nervous breakdown and stripping stark naked in the Nervosa Café.

Top Ten Words That Make Me NOT Pick Up a Book

Over at the popular book blog, The Broke and the Bookish, they do a Top Ten Tuesday series. I only just today discovered it through another blog; can't remember which. They encourage other bloggers to do these lists, so I thought I'd take them up on this one, and a couple of others in future.

Top Ten Words that Make Me Not Pick Up a Book

• Sci-fi: Just ain't into it.
• Horror: Ditto. Why on earth would I want to scare the bejeebuz out of myself?
• Crime: Get enough of it on the news, thank you. Oh—"crime" also includes mysteries. The only mysteries I'll read are of the Nancy Drew, The Dana Girls, and Trixie Belden ilk.
• Erotic/Erotica/Sex etc.: I admit, I used to be a huge fan of the TV series Sex and the City. But lately, I've just gotten genuinely fed up with the glamorization of casual sex, which has done nothing but objectify women (and men, for that matter), and the increasingly flippant attitude toward what is meant to be an act of love.
• Chick Lit: Maybe it's just that I'm not altogether sure what that term means. And maybe I just don't care enough to find out.
• Holocaust: Too sad, too horrible.
• Vampire: Just don't get it, and don't want to.
• Political: Again, I get enough of it on the news.
• Journey: In the psychological or biographical sense. A popular "buzz word" that has worn out its welcome at my door.
• Best-seller: Call me ornery, but if a book is on a best-seller list, I'm automatically turned off! I know, I know, I'm weird.  

Inspired by a Dream

     Temptation

     My past came back and kissed me
     When it saw my eyes were closed;
     It told me how it missed me,
     Then revealed its reddest rose.

     My past tried to seduce me
     With the old familiar charms;
     But it could not induce me
     From the other's whiter arms.

     This little poem was inspired by a very vivid dream I had years ago: 

     A tenor I worked with at Houston Grand Opera, a piano surrounded by dusty antique clutter, my university and its practice rooms. The tenor asked me to give him a coaching, and when he led me to the piano surrounded by dusty antiques, I told him I hadn't played in years; then I tentatively tried the opening bars of Bohème, and that was when he kissed me.

 

 

"Temptation" © Leticia Austria 2008

 

An Unpublished Comedy, Part Two

UNA COMMEDIA INEDITA  (AN UNPUBLISHED COMEDY)
a comedy in one act by Italo Svevo

Translated from the Italian © by Leticia Austria


[If you missed Part One, you can read it here.]

CAST OF CHARACTERS:

PENINI
ELENA, his wife
ADOLFO
ROSA, a servant

SCENE FOUR

PENINI, re-entering, and ROSA

 

ROSA     (Startled at his re-entrance.)  Signore!

PENINI     Hush, you fool!  (Places a coin in her hand.)  I want to play a little joke on my wife. She is expecting someone, is she not?

ROSA     Yes—Signor Adolfo.

PENINI     Has she instructed you to bring him in here?

ROSA     Yes, signore.

PENINI     I shall hide in this closet.  (The doorbell sounds.)  If the joke backfires, I'll escape out the window. Should that be the case, do not look for me; and, upon my return, if I say nothing of it to my wife, neither must you say anything. Understood?  (Gives her another coin.)  Go and let him in.  (Another ring.)

ROSA     (Staring at the coins.)  Oh, thank you!

(PENINI goes into the closet; the bell rings a third time.)

PENINI     (Looking out from the closet, he sees ROSA gazing in awe at the money.)  Imbecile! Don't you hear the bell?  (ROSA hurries out.)

 

SCENE FIVE

ELENA, then ADOLFO and ROSA

 

ELENA     Rosa! Rosa!  (Looks out the window, then with a sigh of relief she takes the lamp from the window and places it on the table; looks at herself in the mirror; she has changed her clothes. As soon as ROSA enters, she shouts at her before greeting ADOLFO.)  Didn't you hear the bell?  (To ADOLFO.)  I thought she had opened the door after the first ring. I do apologize.

ADOLFO     It is I who must apologize, for being a trifle too impatient.  (ROSA exits. He takes ELENA's hand and bends to kiss it, but she draws it away.)  I only wanted to look at it. You might have let me; for it is in itself a lesson that might complete my artistic education.

ELENA     Thank you, but I was rather afraid of spoiling your taste.

ADOLFO     (Laughing.)  Oh, to be sure; we realists much prefer the gaunt, wasted hands of half-starved women!  (ELENA indicates a chair. They sit.)

ELENA     You cannot know what pleasure your coming has given me; I am quite alone this evening. Only tell me, what is it brings you here at this hour?

ADOLFO     (Surprised.)  I was passing and saw the lamp  (meaningfully)  at the window, so I stopped. And, from what you've told me, it was fortunate that I did.

ELENA     Fortunate indeed!

ADOLFO     (After a brief pause.)  Here we are again, making conversation in that bland tone of voice which is so very out of tune in a duet played in private quarters.

ELENA     Duet?

ADOLFO     Allow me to explain. Do you know why there is such a thing as etiquette? It serves only when three people are in company together. For, you see, words that are more frank and sincere never offend the person to whom they are directed. It is the third person, the envious one, who is offended. But there is no third person here.

ELENA     (Laughing.)  You may be right, but I am afraid you are forgetting the significance which is usually implied in a duet.

ADOLFO     Come, signora, do not banish me from a domain that I have conquered only after so much difficulty. I thought to have acquired a kind of intimacy with you, and therefore the word "duet" seemed appropriate.

ELENA     Really, you are so clever, at times it clouds your perception. You come into this house, apologizing for ringing the bell; you praise my hands, and claim not to know that I put the lamp in the window as a signal to you. I am simply following your lead.

ADOLFO     Thank you for the lesson.  (Takes her hand and kisses it repeatedly.)

ELENA     That is quite enough of that!  (Brief pause.)  I am going away next week.

ADOLFO     Not for long, I hope?

ELENA     Forever.

ADOLFO     Surely you are joking.

ELENA     I would not make light of such a serious matter. My husband is settling in Venice and I must go with him.

ADOLFO     But—this is disastrous for me!

ELENA     Truly?

ADOLFO     Can you doubt it?  (Again kisses her hand, which she gently withdraws.)  A great disaster! Cannot I follow you?

ELENA     We decided we may speak frankly. It is perhaps fortunate that I am leaving.

ADOLFO     (Laughing and attempting to draw her to him.)  But why? Oh, do say I may follow you, I beseech you!

ELENA     (Pulling away.)  Pray do not touch me. You think I confess to going away because of a mild flirtation. Come, you quite mistake me! You have said we should speak frankly; I am doing so now. You are a young man, younger than I, and I know what you are thinking when you are near me; but believe me, my own thoughts are of a more sober nature. Being young, you have not felt one moment of anxiety, of the insecurity that makes one say to oneself: I am of no use to myself or to anyone else. Perhaps you would not understand, then, what I am feeling.

ADOLFO     Tell me! I will surely understand.

ELENA     You should already have done so! What purpose do I serve in this life? To whom am I important? When I was young, I thought my life would be altogether different. I envisioned myself as active, having some goal, or helping someone else to reach their goal. Since then, I have felt that the dream of being indispensable was but a foolish, youthful fantasy. But I never believed to be as I am now, of no use whatever, merely existing from day to day.

ADOLFO     (Smiling.)  In truth, I cannot bring myself to see you as useless.

ELENA     To whom am I useful? To myself? I bore myself! I cannot ever have children. And my husband may as well not exist, as he, too, bore me.  (A slight noise is heard from the closet.)

ADOLFO     If you need to feel of use to someone, be so to me. Do you not realize that the whole world would desire to take advantage of your beneficence? I have never experienced what you are feeling, but I can imagine the intensity of it; for I have often felt something similar, and still do. I feel the need to be supported, helped—finally, to be loved. I work and think, but have no one with whom to share my work and thoughts. It may be a boyish fancy, but I embark upon my chosen career with the terror of one day failing and becoming ridiculous; and there would be no one to whom I would not be ridiculous—to whom I might still be worthy of esteem.

ELENA     Then it is better that I leave, for that person might well have been me.

ADOLFO     For that reason, it is better that you leave?

ELENA     Yes.  (Brief pause.)  I know why you come to me; I cannot deceive myself on that score.

ADOLFO     (Ardently.)  I have never concealed my intentions. I know they are offensive to you, of course. You feel friendship for me, but that is not half what I feel for you.

ELENA     Naturally, I do not share your facility with words.

ADOLFO     But do you share my feelings?  (ELENA casts her eyes downward; he rises and looks to see if the doors are shut, then approaches her and steals his arms about her waist.)

ELENA     Adolfo!

ADOLFO     Have you read my play?

ELENA     Only the first two acts. Let me go, I beg you!  (Disengages herself.)

ADOLFO     And how do you like it?

ELENA     Not at all.

ADOLFO     Not at all? Why?

ELENA     Judging by the script, one would think the author were mad. How could one think, but that the audience would sit for hours, watching those characters wander about the stage with the sole purpose of saying nonsensical things to each other?  (Firmly.)  You must alter your style! I am only being honest with you. There is no plot; it is completely pointless. I've no doubt that you shall one day produce something of quality, but this is worthless.

ADOLFO     (Forcing a laugh.)  Well! Of course, in order to evaluate plays one must be able to understand them.

ELENA     (Surprised and offended.)  I never shall, I suppose! You know we women are incapable of understanding such things.

ADOLFO     (Affecting contrition.)  I had no wish to offend you! How is it you have so suddenly altered your opinion, when only yesterday you were so enthusiastic? You said you would not be influenced by the opinion of the Dramatic Society.

ELENA     I was not influenced.

ADOLFO     You will understand my surprise. Yesterday, I spoke to you for half an hour in order that you might have an idea of my style. It seems to have been a wasted effort.

ELENA     (Angering.)  Oh, enough! I do not like it, and shall not read the rest of it. You spoke yesterday of truth, of the importance of the setting; but you mentioned nothing of tediousness and indecency.

ADOLFO     (Glancing about him.)  No need to shout! I heard you. and now I know what is your true opinion. I shall seek to obtain another.

ELENA     It may differ from mine; however, I shall declare my low opinion to whomever asks for it.

ADOLFO     I was wrong to seek a woman's judgement. The women of today have no soul!

ELENA     (Glaring angrily at him, she runs to the closet where PENINI is hiding, utters a cry of surprise at seeing him, composes herself with an effort; she brings out a script.)  Here is your script. And now, as it is quite late, I pray you would excuse me.

ADOLFO     (Takes the script and stuffs it into his pocket.)  Signora.

ELENA     Signore.  (ADOLFO exits. ELENA opens the closet door.)  Whatever are you doing in there?

PENINI     I was jealous—as it turns out, with good reason. The two of you seemed very chummy a moment ago.

ELENA     I do not deny a thing. You heard, I suppose, what I said about you to him? Well, that is my excuse. Now you may do what you will

PENINI     I know very well what to do! First, I shall take you to Venice ... and then ... then ... I shall ask your guidance.

 

CURTAIN

 

END PLAY

From My Big Orange Book: Cowper & Gibbings

     Back in the dawn of my internet days, I went nuts with the novelty of hunting down and purchasing hard-to-find and out-of-print books online. Of course, the novelty, fun as it was, didn't squelch my enthusiasm for book hunting in actual book stores. It merely supplemented it.

     Anyhow, in those early days, for some reason I wanted a copy of "The Task"—that monumentally long blank verse poem by William Cowper (pronounced "Cooper," for those who don't already know). Published in 1785, this poem in six books covers a variety of topics from the humble sofa to slavery, from trends to faith, from nature to French politics. It is a poetical compendium of Cowper's philosophies. I did a search through Abebooks and ordered his Complete Poetical Works for a very reasonable price. When it arrived from Colin Martin Books, U.K., I was taken by both its age and its diminutive size. Since I don't have a camera, I'll have to use my powers of description. It measures, in inches, 3 1/2  x 5 1/4 x 1; it is bound in royal blue cloth with embossed boards (there are large ovals on both boards where some sort of image was supposed to have been) and gilding on the spine; all the pages' edges are gilt. It was printed in 1849 and is illustrated throughout with beautiful copper plate engravings protected by tissue paper. The text is so minute, it cannot be read without reading glasses or a magnifying glass. My particular copy has a bookplate on the front pastedown that reads, "Bibliothèque Congregation de Notre Dame, Maison des Oiseaux" (why "The House of Birds," I have no idea), and bears the image of two angels looking up at the Sacred Heart and the Immaculate Heart, which float side by side in a sunburst.

     Though I certainly haven't read "The Task" in its entirety, I do like to read a passage at random every so often. Here's one that hit home with me. I came across it years ago, just before my return to the Catholic Church.

     Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
     Some boundless contiguity of shade,
     Where rumor of oppression and deceit,
     Of unsuccessful or successful war,
     Might never reach me more!  My ear is pained,
     My soul is sick, with every day's report
     Of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.

     I was so struck by this passage, I immediately copied it into both my journal and my Big Orange Book of poetry and quotes that I love.

     On one of my hunts in Houston's Detering Book Gallery back in 2001, I ran across a handful of volumes by one Robert Gibbings, Irish, d. 1958, a major wood engraver and author of travel and natural history. These volumes were once owned by my old ghostly friend Mildred Robertson, of whom I wrote this post. Since Mildred liked them, I'll like them, I thought, and bought the books. I'm so very glad I did—Gibbings, besides being a marvelous artist (his own engravings illustrate the books) was a marvelous writer. It's been many years since I read him, but I remember mentally drifting down the Thames with him through his lyrical descriptions.

Each season of the year, as it comes round, is the best. Each day, each hour that we are alive is the richest. For what is yesterday but a memory, and what is tomorrow—which may never come? ~ from Sweet Thames, Run Softly

     I know many a writer has written of living in the present moment, but Gibbings' version struck just the right note with me. Here's another, less meditative passage, from Sweet Thames, Run Softly:

The rain came down on me one morning so that I shouldn't have been surprised if whales had dropped out of the sky. The river was whipped with such fury that the splash of each splash splashed back again. The surface was like boiling mercury. The rain ran off the sides of my canvas cover like the fountain which played around the Sultan of Cheribon's couch to keep the poor fellow cool in the hot weather, and I was hard put to it to prevent the deluge finding an entry into the boat.

I happened to be tied up at the mouth of a backwater, and I suppose my craft was inconspicuous. Anyway, just as I lifted a corner of the canopy to glimpse if there was a break in the sky, what should I see on the opposite bank but a girl, running fast up-stream, and she with nothing on. It was still raining so hard that I could not see clearly, but instead of the delicate pink which I am led to believe is the usual colour of naked damsels, this naiad was shining all over with the rain, so that she might have been clothed in silver sequins.

Now, said I to myself, is this nature, or am I a gentleman? But before I had reached a conclusion my head touched one of the main supports of the canopy, and a sluice of water into the stern of the boat abruptly changed the subject of my thoughts.

      Oh, Gibbings, you are delightful. I really should read you again. Thank goodness for My Big Orange Book, which reminds me of writers like you and Cowper, who have made such significant impressions on me!



Robert Gibbings

 

Art to Soothe Your Sun-Battered Eyes

My choice of painter for this hot, muggy season is American tonalist Thomas Wilmer Dewing (1851-1938). For a brief bio, click here.

Bathe your eyes in his soothing wash of colors!

"A Reading"

"In the Garden"

"The Blue Dress"

"Summer"

"Lady in Gold"

"Before Sunrise"

An Unpublished Comedy, Part One

AN UNPUBLISHED COMEDY  (UNA COMMEDIA INEDITA)
a play in one act by Italo Svevo

Translation from the Italian © by Leticia Austria

The 1880's.

The action takes place in a richly furnished room with an entrance door US. At SR is a door that leads to Elena's room, and a bit further upstage a door that leads to her study.

PENINI
ELENA, his wife
ADOLFO
ROSA, a servant

SCENE ONE

PENINI and ELENA

 

ELENA     (Emerging from the SR door, in an agitated state.)  No, no, no!

PENINI     (Calmly following with a cigar in his hand.)  But why?

ELENA     I deplore Venice!

PENINI     But I thought it was the city of your dreams. You wanted to spend our entire honeymoon trip there, and made me run about all day behind a tour guide, looking at things that interested me not at all: paintings, naked cherubs, elaborate churches. Everything seemed to look the same after a while. But you were so enthralled, I bore the torture for your sake. I rather liked the Piazza San Marco and the Florian, but you never let me linger in either place for long. The truth is, any Italian city gives you pleasure and me torture; particularly Venice.

ELENA     Venice gives me pleasure for eight, ten, twenty days; perhaps a month. Longer than that, I would go mad. If it rains, one is very likely to drown; for it is nearly impossible to keep one's umbrella open in those narrow streets. Those endless canals bore me, and those bridges that look as if they would collapse without warning; the entire city is a peril and may at any moment sink like a lot of old ships.

PENINI     Oh, good Lord!

ELENA     I know it is all my imagination, but I would not feel safe. And then, there are the Venetians themselves, who carry on all their business in the street—why, they even sleep in the street! 'Tis true; I saw one with my own eyes, fast asleep.

PENINI     You have only to step outside our own door to see vagrants sleeping in the street.

ELENA     At any rate, I am not going to Venice.

PENINI     Whether you wish to or no, matters not.

ELENA     If you are determined to go, then go alone, I shall stay here.

PENINI     (Jokingly, after a short pause.)  Come Elena, have you taken leave of your senses? It is your duty to accompany me. I might force you by law, if I so wished, but  (laughing) I'll wager I may convince you without resorting to such measures. You do not admit it, but you are very fond of living well, of having plenty of good food to eat and a soft bed in which to sleep. For that reason, you must go to Venice. We are not poor, but we are not so rich that we can maintain the life we are now living. You, with all your little luxuries, and I barely earning the money to pay for them! I have taken every precaution possible; I have borrowed from friends and acquaintances; and in these three years since our marriage, I've scarcely been able to pay for my cigars. I can show you the account books to prove it.

ELENA     Bravo!

PENINI     The fault is not mine. Every tenth person in this city is a broker; there are more brokers than there are businesses.

ELENA     It is the same in Venice.

PENINI     I don't know about that; but if I go, I'm sure to have enough to live on and perhaps more. I am to act as representative for Velfi & Son while I am there. I shall not have to spend the entire day doing business, and so I may have more time with you, my dear wife, whom I have thus far shamefully neglected.

ELENA     (Proudly.)  I've never complained.

PENINI     You could not, for you knew I was occupied with more serious matters.

ELENA     Well, then! Since I am of such little importance to you, you may leave me here!

PENINI     (Embracing her.)  On the contrary; you are to me the most important thing in this world.

ELENA     (Coldly pushing him away.)  I will not go. It is pointless—at least, for the moment—  (As if lost in her own thoughts.)

PENINI     For the moment? That's fine! I was not thinking of immediate departure. I know how women are, so I have seen to it that you would have time to bid all your friends farewell, put all your fripperies in order, and make your rounds of the city before taking leave of it. We need not leave until—until—

ELENA     Until—?

PENINI     (Calmly.) The end of next week.

ELENA     The end of next week? Never!  (Very upset.)  I am not going; absolutely not. I shall stay with Mamma and let you go alone. I'm not going, I tell you!

PENINI     What am I to do? They gave me this post on the express condition that I bring my wife.

 

SCENE TWO

(Enter ROSA.)

 

ROSA     Begging your pardon—ought I to prepare dinner?

PENINI     No, we dined out. That is, I have dined out.

ELENA     I shall not be dining.

PENINI     I'll take some coffee, Rosa.  (Exit ROSA.)  Please don't cry. Where is the lovely, happy face you wore when we were first married? You seem to have cast it off. Is it, perhaps, out of fashion?

ELENA     (Squares her shoulders.)

PENINI     I only want to know; I do not mean to annoy you.

ELENA     (Crying.)  You see how distressed I am. You might at least spare me your jokes.

PENINI     They are not jokes! In any case, you should not be distressed. There is still time—my employers could die; or you or I could die; and that would put an end to this whole business!

ELENA     Thank you for the thought. I had better go to bed.  (Exits.)

PENINI     But, Elena—!

ROSA     (Enters, carrying a cup of coffee.)  Your coffee, signore.

PENINI     Is there sugar in it?

ROSA     Yes, signore.

PENINI     Tell me—what is my wife's disposition when I am not at home?

ROSA     Disposition?

PENINI     Does she seem happy, despondent, cross?

ROSA     She is often cross with me.

PENINI     Well, that is an answer, but not the one I require. Is she happy?

ROSA     Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no.

PENINI     Does she ever cry?

ROSA     Well, signor—please don't tell her I said so—but just now, in the hallway, I noticed she was crying.

PENINI     How observant of you.

ROSA     Anything else, signor?

PENINI     No, nothing, you may go. Tell my wife to come and see me, for I must go out. Wait just a moment!  (Takes a large envelope from the table.)  What was it my wife received in this envelope?

ROSA     It came from Signor Adolfo, but I do not know what it was.

PENINI     (Laughing.)  Ah, yes, the play!  (Reading the title of one of a stack of large books on the table.)  "The Posthumous Works of Lorenzo Stecchatti." Who delivered these books?

ROSA     (Nervously.)  Signor Adolfo brought them for your wife. I cannot read.

PENINI     (Seeing a rose on ROSA's dress, he becomes angry.)  I have told you repeatedly that roses must not be taken from the garden. The landlord will be very angry.

ROSA     I didn't take it from the garden; it came from a bouquet that was sent the signora by Signor Adolfo.  (Exits hurriedly.)

 

SCENE THREE

(Enter ELENA.)

 

PENINI     (To himself.)  Adolfo!

ELENA     You wish to say more kind things to me, I presume.

PENINI     (Gently.)  You always wear such lovely flowers in your hair—but I have asked you not to take them from the garden.

ELENA     These were a gift from Signor Adolfo.

PENINI     Ah, Adolfo!  (Short pause.)  Perhaps I need not go out tonight.  (Laughing.)  Speaking of Adolfo—how do you like his play?

ELENA     I've only read the first two acts. It does not appeal to me; I cannot finish it.

PENINI     (Satisfied.)  My poor wife, what burdens you take upon yourself! No matter how great a nuisance it is, you feel obliged to endure the tedium of reading it, and then try to speak well of it.

ELENA     No. Signor Adolfo is a young man of great humour and spirit to whom I would not hesitate to express my opinion.

PENINI     A young man of humour and spirit has written a poor play? Isn't that rather an incongruity?

ELENA     Even the most talented men have fallen short of their abilities at one time or another.

PENINI     (Affecting indifference.)  Adolfo has a low brow—very low indeed.  (ELENA shrugs.)  I believe I shall go out, after all! You may rest assured I shall not return before midnight.

ELENA     (Calmly placing a lamp on the windowsill.)  What do you mean, "rest assured"?

PENINI     (Looking knowingly at the lamp in the window.)  I mean to say that, if I should not return before midnight, you needn't worry. Good night.  (Kisses her forehead and exits.)

ELENA     Good night.  (Calling.)  Rosa!

ROSA     (Entering.) Yes, signora?

ELENA     Go and follow my husband with the lamp, then lock the door. But be ready to open it, should someone ring.  (There is the sound of the door closing.)  My husband has gone out. If anyone—if signor Adolfo should ring, bring him in here.  (Looks at herself in the mirror.)  I am going to my room for a moment.  (Exits.)

 



 

END SCENE

 

To be continued.





De quoi écrire?

"De quoi écrire?"
Hermann Fenner-Behmer

     What to write about?

     When it comes to blogs, journals, or personal letters (you remember—those things you write to a friend and put in the mailbox with a postage stamp), should we ever really ask ourselves that question? Probably not. Blogs, personal ones anyway, shouldn't feel like a writing assignment, nor should journals or letters. They should all come under the heading of "leisure," even "fun." Yet, inevitably, they sometimes become an obligation—an obligation that, admittedly, we place on ourselves. We should keep reminding ourselves that even that long-overdue letter can wait another day, another week; after all, if the recipient is a true friend, he or she won't hold the delay against you.

     Of the three, I feel least guilty about my journal because, supposedly, it's there for me and not vice-versa. The same is true of this blog, but only to an extent; I do have readers, and I know I feel disappointed if one of the blogs I follow doesn't post anything for a week or more. (If it gets on to two months or more, I usually unfollow them. My blog list is too long as it is!)

     The painting above reminds me so much of my salad days, when I would hole up in a café with my journal and a book, feeling very Left Bank-ish and literary. I'd fill page after page with angst or random ramblings, imagining that someone fifty or sixty years down the road would find my journal in an antique shop and be utterly fascinated by my life and my verbal stylings. My book would usually be a Virago title; back then, Viragos were clad in black or the later green. They were visually unmistakable—at least, they were by other readers of middlebrow, neglected authors. My coffee would grow cold, and the server would tire of coming by to warm up my cup, because I sat there so long. The ashtray (yes, those were the days not only when I smoked, but when smoking was allowed in cafés and restaurants) would be overflowing with squashed butts. Ah, those were the days!

     Nowadays, I look at the blank "New Post" page on my screen, scratching my head and mentally asking myself, "De quoi écrire?" No, not really. I may be pretentious, but I do think in English.

Play vs. Film: Shadowlands

[Play and 1993 screenplay by William Nicholson, 1985 television script by William Nicholson and Norman Stone]

 

     Shadowlands (1993) is one of my favorite feature films of all time (for other favorites, see my list in the left sidebar). If you're not familiar with it, you can take a look at its IMDb page. Anthony Hopkins breaks my heart with his portrayal of the learned and stiff-upper-lipped author C. S. Lewis (or "Jack," as he preferred to be called) who falls in love with the outspoken American poet Joy Gresham (née Helen Joy Davidman). She has admired him greatly from across the pond, through his books and also through their correspondence which began in 1950. In fact, she loves him even before travelling to Oxford to meet him.

     I suppose one of the reasons I love their story so much is my identification with Joy. I understand completely her feelings for him. What vaguely disappoints me about the film, however, is Debra Winger. I've only seen her in two other films (Terms of Endearment and Legal Eagles), but that's enough for me to conclude that there is something about her screen persona that just doesn't—well, endear her to me. Her portrayal of Joy is, I concede, quite moving especially in the second half of the film, but her uneven New York accent detracts a bit from her performance. I really wish she had done without it altogether.

     This film is graced by the luscious score of George Fenton, whose ability to mimic the music of any period is truly astonishing.  

     After many viewings of the film, the screenplay of which was written by William Nicholson, I decided I needed to read the stage play. But Nicholson's 1989 play of the same name was actually adapted from a multi-award-winning 1985 BBC television movie, whose screenplay was co-written by Nicholson and the movie's creator/director, Norman Stone. So I decided to watch it first. It features Joss Ackland as a Jack startlingly close to what I had imagined Jack to be like, and Claire Bloom, a wonderful Joy, less abrasive than Winger, and sans New York accent. This version is much more faithful to the real-life story than is the 1993 feature film, though it is perhaps less emotionally satisfying. There are longer philosophical conversations between Jack and Joy. I didn't bawl like a baby when I watched it, as I did (do) watching the feature film, and I sorely missed Fenton's great musical score, but Ackland's compelling performance kept my eyes glued to the screen.

     Both the feature film and the BBC TV film are available on DVD. The DVD of the latter includes both the 90-minute original British version and the 73-minute American (PBS) version. (Why on earth are American versions of BBC productions always shorter???)

     I really enjoyed reading Nicholson's lovely play (which can be purchased here, though there are cheaper copies to be had). Nigel Hawthorne was the C. S. Lewis for both the premiere run in Plymouth and on Broadway; Joy was played by Jane Lapotaire in Plymouth and by Jane Alexander in New York. My copy of the play contains photos of the New York cast. In reading the play, I grew even fonder of Joy, and all the other characters as well—even cynical Christopher Riley. The play is in two acts and the set called for is divided into two areas, one within the other. The inner area is divided from the outer by a screen which rises and falls as scenery is changed. One of the things I particularly enjoy about reading plays is reading the stage directions, which, though strictly informative and usually not at all literary, are nevertheless the equivalent of the narrative in novels and short stories. Their very nature, cursory and dry, demands that the reader engage his imagination, much more so than while reading descriptively generous narrative. Reading plays is harder work than reading novels. Most of the characters' psychology and motivation lie in the dialogue. Usually, you get only the most basic help from the stage directions, and many actors themselves dislike relying on them to aid them in delivery or in fleshing out their characters. Some even pencil them out completely when they first read the script so as not to be distracted by them.

     Anyway, I digress a bit. The play's seamless flowing in and out of the two areas of the stage, and characters entering and exiting a scene across chronological lapses, lend a certain "stream of consciousness" to the story, as if the play were unfolding in Lewis' memory, though it is not a flashback. I found this mesmerizing and supportive of the philosophical and spiritual aspects in the material. I would love to see this play in person. It isn't a strict adaptation of the TV film, though of course much of the dialogue was taken from it. The feature film is a blending of both its predecessors.

     Sorry, but it's impossible to write about the story without divulging the fact that Joy has cancer and dies. Besides, any fan of C. S. Lewis knows about that. Shadowlands is, more than anything, the story of Lewis' emotional evolvement and revelation, the opening of his heart and soul to love and the pain it sometimes brings. His writings and lectures on pain have always emphasized pain's salvific power, as Nicholson points out in the character's opening monologue, utilizing material from Lewis' writings:

God loves us, so He makes us the gift of suffering. Through suffering, we release our hold on the toys of this world, and know that our true good lies in another world. We're like blocks of stone, out of which the sculptor carves the forms of men. The blows of his chisel, which hurt us so much, are what make us perfect. The suffering in the world is not the failure of God's love for us; it is that love in action. For believe me, this world that seems to us so substantial, is no more than the shadowlands. Real life has not begun yet.

     Though he wrote and lectured effectively on suffering, Lewis only learns the truth of his own words after enduring the crucible of losing Joy. Always before, he had repressed whatever pain came into his life—the death of his mother, for instance—and tucked it neatly away beneath the cozy quilt of learning, literature, and lecturing. By allowing himself to love Joy, he learns to deal with suffering as a necessary part of inner growth. Through it all, his faith in God and in the "real life" that exists beyond the shadowlands is strengthened.

     I highly recommend all three formats.