Jim and I watched the film last night, and although it has its share of flaws, we both thought that, on the whole, it was a very interesting and watchable film. The two leads, Clive Owen as Ernest Hemingway and Nicole Kidman as Martha Gellhorn, were, I thought, excellent. The technique of filming their personal scenes in color and their experiences in Spain and Norway and Normandy in a combination of color and black & white (so that the actors could fade into the historic footage) was done quite effectively. They spoke as they wrote, in dramatic and occasionally ridiculous rhetoric — rhetoric that wasn’t seen as ridiculous at the time.
In fact, the problems we had with the film was that it wasn’t long enough. For one thing, there were episodes in it that we wanted more information about — the invasion of Finland by the Soviet Union, for example.
But what most struck us was an incongruity: a biopic about a woman (and it was, for the most part, from her point of view) who said that she had no intention of “being a footnote in someone else’s life,” and who continued to write as a war correspondent into her old age — and yet the film stops when her relationship with Hemingway does. It’s as if the makers of the film wanted to show how she was more than Ernest Hemingway’s friend, lover and wife; but then decided that we, the audience, couldn’t be interested in her adventures alone. They explain how she does not allow herself to be defined by others — and then it defines her by her relationship with her better-known husband.
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On Sunday, I went to visit Mt. Vernon with friends Ben and Will to see the place where George Washington truly slept. I found the grounds lovely, the house underwhelming (mainly because we were paraded through like a long line of lemmings, without any real chance to actually look at the furniture, architecture and other structures), the “educational center” loud, crowded and superficial…
I did like the forge, where the interpreter explained how they tried to create the fittings for the restored buildings the way they were originally built, talking about the type of fittings needed, the type of metal used, why some of the original metalwork was done locally and some bought from the Philadelphia area (it was cheaper). They did it all as it was done then; if they took any shortcuts (as one visitor suggested), he said, they might as well do the work in Bermuda shorts and with air conditioning. “Sounds good to me!” called out the blacksmith.
But the really interesting area, at least to me, was the building containing slave dormitories, which have been recently restored. Two rooms, one for men and one for women, hold several bunks, each wide enough for two adults; an area for a supply of grain and other foodstuffs,; a fireplace and a few cooking utensils; a spinning wheel and a place to hang a few washed items; a high, small window; and a few other simple sticks of furniture.
Not far away were the quarters for the overseer and Washington’s clerk. By today’s standards, they were Spartan — a bed, a storeroom for food, a fireplace, a chair and desk, and a wooden stair to an upper attic, perhaps a picture. But compared to the slave barracks, they were homey and comfortable. (I’m not even going to begin to compare them to the Washington home.)
The other area of interest was a memorial that was put up in 1983 in an area thought to be the place where at least some of Washington’s slaves were buried. Not far from the place where George and Martha Washington were buried, the memorial reads:
In memory of
the Afro Americans
who served as slaves
at Mount Vernon
this monument marking their
burial ground
dedicated
September 21, 1983
Mount Vernon
Ladies Association
A few yards away is a plain stone set low into the ground, the previous memorial to the people who spent their lives in hard, unpaid labor. It reads:
In memory
of the
many faithful
colored servants
of the
Washington family
buried at
Mount Vernon
from
1760 to 1860
Their
unidentified graves
surround this spot
1929
Typical of many early 20th century views of the institution. They were not slaves, they were servants, implying that somehow they had a choice in the matter. And they were not only servants, but faithful servants, earning the trust of their employers…uh, owners.
Two that did not end their lives in that cemetery managed to escape to freedom. As told by one of the nearby interpreters, they left during the months of household chaos that ensued when Washington left the office of the Presidency and returned to Mount Vernon. Oney Judge, who had been born at Mount Vernon and was one of Martha Washington’s body servants, escaped to Philadelphia in 1796 and settled in Portsmouth, NH, from where Washington twice tried to get her to return (according to the interpreter, once forcefully); she avoided his representatives and/or refused to be persuaded. She died in New Hampshire in 1848 — legally, still a fugitive.
The other escapee, the head chef of Washington’s household known only as Hercules, escaped to Philadelphia in 1847 and then to New York, but nothing more is apparently known about him.
So in the end, I was glad I went. I saw some lovely scenery, I survived the assembly line through the mansion and the multi-multi-media of the education center, and I learned a few things.
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Jim and I deciding to do a bit of birdng today, but rather than to go Jamaica Bay Wildlife Preserve (our usual destination), we ventured across the Verrazano Bridge and into Staten Island. Along the south-western shore of the borough are a line of parks and nature preserves, most of which we’d never visited.
A couple of years ago, somebody recommended that we visit the North Mount Loretto State Forest, but instead we decided to first check out Blue Heron Park, mainly because it has a visitor’s center and we thought that we might get some information about the surrounding areas.
Well, we had a marvelous time. We walked into the visitors center and introduced ourselves to the ranger there, and said that we wanted to bird. The ranger was very welcoming, and told us that Mike over here knew all about birds, and would be happy to take us around.
It turned out that “Mike” was Michael Shanley, an archeologist and naturalist who has worked in the Staten Island system for several years, and who knows the local fauna and flora about as well as anyone can. We went for a walk through a forest dotted with marshes, looking for a Prairie Warbler which, he said, he had been hearing all day and wanted to try to find.
We had a fine time. I’d recommend Blue Heron Park as a great place to visit for anyone who wants to experience a bit of nature in NYC and who is unfamiliar with the area; they also have a variety of programs, workshops, etc.
We set out looking for some of the other areas before going home; we found but didn’t really enter North Mount Loretto State Forest, but we did visit Wolfe’s Pond Park, which is a more family-oriented park (with sports fields, etc.), but with access to a beach where we sat and watch a bunch of Brant Geese and various terns.
It was a nice Sunday.
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While the problem of passing has frequently been an implicit theme of supernatural literature, Barbara Krasnoff’s “Button Up Your Overcoat” explicitly connects the dots between Nella Larsen’s Passing and fantasy narrative.
Which makes me simultaneously pleased and embarrassed, because I’ve never read (or, to be completely honest, even heard of) Nella Larsen’s novel Passing, about a woman in the 1920s (it was published in 1929) who is passing as white and married to a racist white husband — and who may be trying to win away the narrator’s husband instead. And there’s a murder in there as well. So I have to immediately run out and get a copy….
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Remember when the Huffington Post was sold to AOL — and all the bloggers who had been writing for free got, well huffy? They said that because their contributions was part of the value of the product, they should get some of the proceeds. Unfortunately, the judge didn’t agree. According to an article in The Guardian:
John Koeltl, who presides over a US district court in New York, rejected the argument outright. He ruled that the bloggers had been fully aware that their work was to be unpaid when they signed up for it, and so any compensation would be to rewrite the terms of their engagement retrospectively.via The Guardian
Much as I feel for all those disappointed writers, and sympathize with their feeling of betrayal, I can’t help but consider that they voluntarily worked for HuffPo without an expectation of payment. The moral of the story, I think, is that if you want to be paid for your work, make sure that it’s part of the deal in the beginning.
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About three months ago, I found out that I had actually had a poem accepted by a small-press poetry magazine. Well, it’s actually out: The poem is named Memorials, and it appears in the spring issue of Poetica Magazine: Contemporary Jewish Writing.
I’ve only glanced through it, thus far; I think I’ve lost the knack of reading poetry. But the poems in this small volume seem to concentrate on family; on new lovers and young mothers and holiday get-togethers and old people remembering what it was like to be children. Nothing abstract or difficult to absorb. And the cover illustration, by Melanie Lewis, is lovely. I’m glad I was able to contribute to it.
If you’re interested in getting a copy, you can purchase one at http://www.poeticamagazine.com/.
[[posterous-content:pid___0]]
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Remember Clockwork Phoenix 2? Well, I do — the first Clockwork Phoenix anthology was a series of really fine short stories, and I really wanted to be in the second. The first story I sent wasn’t quite right, but luckily I was able to squeak in at the last minute with “Rosemary, That’s For Remembrance.”
The anthology is now available as an ebook (along with Clockwork Phoenix 1), and I would recommend this one even if I weren’t in it — it’s got some really fine stuff in it, including several that were finalists for a number of awards.
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Turning the Villain into the Hero (Westchester Ballroom A1)
Turning the villain into the hero - or at least the main character - is a common modern trope, from Wicked to Hook. Why does this have such appeal to modern audiences? Recently works from SJ Tucker and Seanan McGuire have done the opposite - turned heroines like Wendy into darker figures. Would that work with male heroes as well, or is it the passivity of classic female characters that makes their empowerment appealing even when it comes at a moral price? Saturday
10 a.m. - 10:30 a.m.
Reading (Bartell)
Right now, I’m planning to read the story that has just come out in the anthology Fat Girl in a Strange Land, called “Marilee and the S.O.B.” That could change, though, depending on my mood (and that of the audience!) 2 p.m. - 3 p.m.
Dr. When (Elijah Budd)
How has Dr. Who changed with the times it was filmed in? Does every generation get the Doctor it deserves?
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