Friday, October 12, 2018

Clock Dance by Anne Tyler Marks our Time(s)


Time, time, time see what's become of me (Paul Simon, “A Hazy Shade of Winter”).  That pretty much describes the action of most of Anne Tyler’s Clock Dance.  I have the distinction of having read nearly all her novels (maybe all) and this one, as well, is set in what I’ve come to call “Tylerville.”  It’s a mythical place where everyday people live, made memorable by Tyler’s gift for characterization.  Tylerville is a place in Baltimore, if you want to put it in a real world context.

We follow the main character in the novel, Willa Drake, kaleidoscopically, chapters devoted to 1967, 1977, 1997, 2017 from the vicinity of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, to Coronado, California, to Tucson, Arizona, and finally and fittingly, Baltimore.  In her last novel, A Spool of Blue Thread, it was the protagonist’s son who ends up searching for his own sense of belonging and place.  In this novel, it is Willa.

In her “Tyleresque,” prose we learn of the deaths of her parents, her two sons, Ian (now living in Colorado, and mostly out of cell phone range) and Sean (in Baltimore, explaining Willa’s connection there in part), the death of her first husband, her estrangement from her sister, Elaine, and her wifely obligations to her second husband, Peter, a semi retired lawyer who calls her, affectionately (but personality appropriate) “little one.”  As years wear on, she also becomes somewhat estranged from her two sons and finds herself living without purpose.  Until the call from Baltimore, and to tell more about the nature of that call is a spoiler.

In Baltimore we are introduced to a number of quirky characters, so typical in Tyler’s works.  She has the ability to make memorable people, all the pieces needed for a character driven novel.  Be prepared to share Willa’s journey with her collection of friends in Tylerville, Denise and her daughter Cheryl, Mrs. Minton, Callie, Ben Gold, Erland, Sir Joe, Hal, Richard, Barry, and let’s not forget Robert, the cat and Airplane, the dog.  All have their lives changed or touched in some way by Willa and in turn so is Willa’s.

At first I found the novel slow, even maudlin.  Did I care about Willa or just feel sorry for her?  Just at the point of fish or cut bait, I’m hooked by Tyler as the plot gathers momentum and Willa makes the transition from an after-thought in a male dominated world to something she desperately needs: to be needed.   At 61 she laments not having a grandchild, not having a daughter and through a slow osmotic process SHE adopts not only a family, but a place to live that finally feels like home.

Time and aging hang heavily on every page.  Willa’s father explains how he finally dealt with his days alone after the death of her mother (after Willa lost her first husband): “I broke my days into separate moments,” he said. “See, it’s true I didn’t have any more to look forward to.  But, on the other hand, there were these individual moments that I could still appreciate.  Like drinking that first cup of coffee in the morning.  Working on something fine in my workshop.  Watching a baseball game on TV.” She thought that over. “But…”she said.  He waited. “But…is that ENOUGH?” she asked him. “Well, yes it turns out that it is,”he said.

Three pre-teen girls play a game, each standing behind the other, their arms extended, all six moving in stiff, stop-and-start arcs in time to the clicking sounds that Willa could hear now punctuating the music.  “It’s a clock dance!” Cheryl shouted, briefly peeking out from the tail end. “Can’t you tell?”  Of course: those clicks were tick-tocks.  Those arms were clock hands, jerking in time to the tick-tocks like the hands of those stutter clocks on the walls of grade-school classrooms.

But when Willa thinks of her own version of a clock dance many pages later, it is a powerful reminder of our mortality: If Willa were to invent a clock dance, it wouldn’t look like the one the three little girls had shown her.  No, hers would feature a woman racing across the stage from left to right, all the while madly whirling so that the audience saw only a spinning blur of color before she vanished into the wings, POOF!  Just like that.  Gone.

The theme of the novel and the last chances presented to Willa couldn’t be any clearer than that.  Change or poof, gone.

In my review of her last novel,  A Spool of Blue Thread I said Tyler was showing her age.  Even more so here, now three years later.  Although Willa is “only” a 61 year old, I look to another character, Mrs. Minton as the future one Anne Tyler fears, a widow (like Tyler who lost her husband in 1997, the same year Willa loses her husband) who now uses a walker (“just for balance”), and when Willa first sees her “out of her housecoat” notes: Her skirt was unbecomingly short, barely knee-length, so that her blue-white mottle shins showed, and her sleeveless blouse exposed her stringy arms.  Aging is not a pretty process in Tyler’s eyes, but what is the alternative?  BTW, I am just slightly younger than Tyler and maybe that’s why I relate so much to her world-view.

Her detailed descriptions, noting all things relating to her characters, make her our very own Jane Austen, although sweeping love affairs are not her province.  Tyler is one of our finest living novelists, still going strong.  I only buy her books in hardcover, to enjoy them as permanent additions to our bookshelves, and as evidence that we still know how to make a real book.  As I concluded in my last review, “Tyler may be showing her age, but clearly with no diminution of her writing skills.”

Sunset Oct. 6 2018

Monday, October 8, 2018

“Bring Back our Mighty Dream!”


Written in 1935 by Langston Hughes, but might as well have been written today.  It is a moving call to “…take back our land again ….Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death…” 

Let America Be America Again by Langston Hughes, 1902 - 1967

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free?  Not me?
Surely not me?  The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—

Norman Rockwell's The Golden Rule (1961)

Thursday, October 4, 2018

“Time Will Explain”


So says Lady Russell in Jane Austen’s Persuasion.  And indeed it has come to pass.

Joining Ann for the four day JASNA AGM (Jane Austen Society of North America Annual General Meeting) was the motivating factor in traveling to Kansas City, a city as I have previously said was worth visiting on its own (CLICK HERE FOR THE FULL WRITE UP). 

This was her third AGM and since the focus was to celebrate the 200th Anniversary of the publication of Persuasion, Ann’s favorite of the six Novels Jane Austen wrote in her short life, I could hardly refuse.

Rather than my rereading the novel, we watched the two film versions, particularly focusing on the one with Amanda Root as Anne Elliot.  That version is very faithful to the book.  I also boned up on the novel reading the long entry in the Jane Austen Encyclopedia that I published towards the end of my publishing career and then reading the very extensive piece of literary criticism on Persuasion by Robert Rodi in his informative and outrageously funny, Bitch In a Bonnet: Reclaiming Jane Austen From the Stiffs, the Snobs, the Simps and the Saps.  This is very highly recommended if you are familiar with Austen’s works.

But shame on me, I didn’t reread the work beforehand, but felt I knew it well, as well as Austen’s other five novels. 
Jane and Ann

This event attracted Austen devotees from Canada, England and from all over the US, totaling almost a thousand participants.  There were four outstanding Plenary speakers, eleven Special Interest Sessions and twenty eight Breakout Sessions from which participants could choose only two each for Friday and Saturday.  Tough decisions since they all sounded superb and in fact delivered fascinating talks. There were many tours offered to visit Museums (which we had already availed ourselves during our independent preliminary visit), a Pump Room Tea and Fashion Show and many workshops to learn English Country Dances, or how to make Turbans and Bandeaux or other workshops to sew Jane Austen keepsakes.

Of particular interest to me as an old salt myself was the setting of the novel  during the times of the on again off again Napoleonic Wars, the role of the Navy, where one could rise to wealth other than being blessed by inheritance and the effect that had on society.  The readers of Persuasion at the time were well aware of the impact of the deleterious transition from wartime finance, although the characters in Persuasion were not.  

All in all it’s a perfect novel bridging the classic and romantic periods and I’ve always wondered why; when I went to college in the early 1960s, Jane Austen was not considered among the most important English writers of her time.  Well, time and Janeites have rectified that.  Who else could have written, as she did in Persuasion, “..…none but those who invite from the heart could think capable of accommodating so many.”

My own favorite contemporary writer, John Updike who died a few years ago is similarly not given his due, but perhaps it will take a dedicated group of “Updikeians” in the future to discover his unique gift for social commentary as Jane Austen clearly has.


Ann and I also feel a very personal connection with the novel as it is partly set in Bath where during one of my publishing trips to Oxford we detoured to Bath and booked a room at the Royal Crescent where you can see Anne (Sally Hawkins in another adaptation) running along in the film.  It is a magnificent example of Georgian architecture, just sweeping and breathtaking.  I don’t know why, but when we arrived we were booked into the Duke of York Suite, the largest “hotel” room we’ve ever occupied, replete with its own guest book signed by dignitaries, now including us, and two enormous bouquets of fresh flowers arranged in great urns.  Guess they thought, crazy Americans!
Amanda Root

There were in additional two extraordinary JASNA events, one being an Assembly Room Concert one evening given by the very talented Ensemble Musica Humana which presented a concert based on programs actually performed at the Bath Assembly Rooms. The highly gifted musicians consisted of a soprano, a harpsichordist, flautist, and three violinists.  An enchanting musical presentation, with an impressive performance of Mozart’s Piano Concerto in C major played on the harpsichord.

For Ann and even myself, I would have to rank seeing the acclaimed actress and star of the 1995 movie, Persuasion; Amanda Root, as the highlight of the conference.  Although beginning a movie part in England would initially have interfered with her coming, she negotiated with the director and slipped away to join us for two days.  She is the face of the novel’s heroine, Anne Elliot.  Here I am in the audience eagerly awaiting her appearance with two Janeites behind me:

We were treated to a lengthy film interview of Amanda discussing many aspects of her role and playing opposite Ciaran Hinds including many of her impressions of doing justice to such a part.

Afterwards, she stepped onto the stage in person (swoon, swoon!) and read from her own diary that she kept during the filming as well as “performing” many of the iconic speeches delivered in the film.  She was delightful to see, so warm and friendly, totally open to answering all the questions asked of her.  She was seen round and about during the conference, clearly a Janeite herself, and just a bright, energetic, down-to-earth human being (who I might add doesn’t look like she’s changed a bit since playing Anne in 1995!

The last night consisted of a Regency Banquet, a Promenade with a Scottish Piper, dinner where we sat with three of Ann’s Janeites from her own local chapter

and then highly anticipated Regency Ball. 

Elegantly dressed ladies and gents in clothing from the period were the norm.  Mia culpa, although Ann had a period dress from last year's ball, I had urged her to pack light for the week, so she, as well as myself, were not in 19th century dress.  Again, I shoulder the blame (as well as having to lift all suitcases!).

We concluded with a breakfast the next morning with another fascinating presentation by one of our Plenary speakers and then previews of the next two year AGM’s.  All in all, a wonderful week in KC and certainly Jane Austen had people such as the Janeites in mind, 200 years into the future, when she wrote “my idea of good company…is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation.”

 

Kansas City!


We all know the famous lyrics:
I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come
I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come
They got some crazy lil' women there
And I'm gonna get me one.

Well I already had my own crazy lil’ woman, Ann, a “Janeite” and when she suggested that I accompany her for the annual Jane Austen Society of North America (JASNA) meeting she usually attends, I said why not.  The meeting was to celebrate the 200th anniversary of what is arguably her best novel, Persuasion.  I like Austen’s works and we’ve never been to Kansas City.  So, I became a “Janeite” and we planned to make a week of it, arriving several days before the conference began to explore the city. 

More on the JASNA experience in a separate entry as this one covers the unexpected pleasures of the city itself and will be long enough.  For that entry click here.

The convention hotel, the Westin Crown Center (highly recommended, great hotel), agreed to give us the convention rate for the entire week and after a flight connection in Atlanta, we arrived at the crowded, outdated Kansas City Airport (MCI) where we immediately got an Uber into the city.


Imagine our surprise when we were picked up by a couple that could have posed for Grant Wood’s American Gothic.  Well, I thought, we ARE in Kansas City so why shouldn’t they look like that?  Turns out the driver’s companion was indeed his wife and he takes her on Uber rides to and from the airport on Sunday afternoons.  They were friendly as all get out: in fact, all the people we met in our city travels were as we took an Uber everyplace.

As Anne Elliot says in Persuasion, “…altogether my impressions of the place are very agreeable.”  Actually, ours were more than agreeable.  Kansas City, MO (there is a KC side in Kansas as well), has everything a jaded East Coast resident who considers everything between here and CA flyover country, could want, culture, jazz, historical sites, food (particularly Joe's BBQ), world class museums, and did I mention jazz and great food?  It also has something I did not expect…..hills!  Yes, imagine that, hills in Kansas City.  Living in FL, I am envious.

It’s called the City of Fountains and there are many striking ones, but I’d call it a city of diversity, different districts each with their own focus, the Union Station/Crown Center, Crossroads Arts District, Power and Light District, the River and City Market.   Our first order of business was to get on their FREE streetcar which travels throughout the entire Downtown area to reconnoiter.  Once we had our bearings, we went back to the hotel, with its fabulous view of the entire city, changed, and then began to explore.

Many of the places I will be mentioning are extensively covered on the Web, especially the museums, so expect nothing much more than our own personal reactions.

Union Station is a nearby walk in an enclosed overhead walkway.  It was one of the most heavily traversed train stations in the US, particularly during WW II, went into disarray after air travel devastated rail traffic, but has subsequently been restored into a tourist Mecca.  It’s simply beautiful and one can get a good sense of what it once was and its importance.  Freight train traffic still heavily rumbles nearby as well as one Amtrak train. 

Here’s Ann in front of the Amtrak waiting room and the waiting room itself.  Just like a painting.

The interior of Union Station, cleaned and restored. 

Love the ceiling.

Art work hangs in the station including this Homage to Hopper— Harvey House Union Station Kansas City, MO by Marlin Rotach.

They say that maybe a million people sat on this bench during the station's heyday.

From here on in, days and nights get a little convoluted, transposed, so I’ll take them by venue:

Museums range from traditional to modern to subject specific.  Towering above all is The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art which, like NYC’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, has something for everyone, from early European, to Egyptian and Greek and Roman, right through contemporary, from all corners of the globe.  It is massive and free!  Its marble lobby and skylight announce its imposing presence.

They had a special exhibit there which drew me, “The Big Picture” – the Hall Family Foundation gift for photography acquisitions, photography being one of my special interests.  The exhibit ranges from historical photographs, such as this one which is attributed to Silas A. Homes, a Salt Print of New York City’s Union Square from 1856.  Some one hundred plus years later I would be crossing Union Square after getting off the subway from Brooklyn on my way to work.  To me, the photograph is a time capsule.

Another favorite is Robert Frank’s Hoboken 1955, capturing a certain kind of ironic sadness at a patriotic parade.

And what better time to display Andy Warhol’s homage to baseball?  His ‘Baseball’ 1962, is his first photo-silkscreened painting.  It celebrates an American institution using news photos of Roger Maris.

My heart be still.  A photograph by none other than the beat poet, Allen Ginsberg, depicting two writers of his generation, William S. Burroughs and Jack Kerouac.  I had no idea Ginsberg indulged in photography as well.  Note his handwritten description at the bottom of the photograph.

This is just a sampling of this unique collection, including one by Diane Arbus, but space in this blog is limited so the best way of seeing the collection is by saying (singing?) “Kansas City here I come!”

I’m including some representative works from their regular collection, ones that have special appeal to me.  Such as Willem de Kooning’s Woman IV which, I shall never forget, was a favorite of the playwright, William Inge.  Then Claude Monet’s Mill at Limetz 1888 is as striking by its style as its presentation.

Armor for Man and Horse 1565 is carefully preserved and dramatically exhibited:

And what museum would be complete without a Rodin?
 
A recent acquisition is “Lorenzo Ghiberti’s Gates of Paradise.  The 17-foot-tall gilded doors, weighing 4 1/2 tons, are casts of the original doors created in the 15th-century workshop of sculptor Lorenzo Ghiberti for the east facade of the Baptistery of the Duomo (cathedral) in Florence, Italy.  Ghiberti’s original doors can be found inside the Museo dell’ Opera del Duomo di Santa Maria del Fiore.  Casts were made in 1990, and a set was installed on the outside of the Baptistery in Florence.

This pair at the Nelson-Atkins is a sister set to those at the Baptistery.  The installation in the Nelson-Atkins will be the first time the casts will be seen in a U.S. museum.  No photograph can do it justice, but I include some of its detail here.

I include the Nelson-Atkins bust of Caracalla, probably Italy, 215-217 CE because it speaks to our times. Wikipedia summarizes the nature of the man and his “accomplishments:”  The Roman historian David Magie describes Caracalla, in the book Roman Rule in Asia Minor, as brutal and tyrannical and points towards psychopathy as an explanation for his behaviour.  Gibbon, author of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, takes Caracalla's reputation, which he had received for the murder of Geta and subsequent massacre of Geta's supporters, and applies it to Caracalla's provincial tours, suggesting that "every province was by turn the scene of his rapine and cruelty”.  The historian Clifford Ando supports this description, suggesting that Caracalla's rule as sole emperor is notable "almost exclusively" for his crimes of theft, massacre, and mismanagement

Finally, an enjoyable lunch in their Rozzelle Court Restaurant was a welcome respite.

Outside the Kemper Museum of Modern Art is a giant sculptured spider and the irony of a modern message across the street.

This is another one of Kansas City’s gems, free to the public, and its special collection of paintings by Angela Dufresne had just opened.  She is known to be from “The School of Gena Rowlands,” interpreting cultural histories of fine art, film, literary and oral histories.  Her pieces “The Line” and “Lonely Are the Brave” are shown here.

Then again, we needed a break and had to have lunch in the art lined dining room of Kemper’s CafĂ© Sebastienne.

Kansas City also has several museums not to be found anywhere.  Two are actually housed in one building and you could easily spend an entire day there.  They are The American Jazz Museum and The Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, naturally at 18th Street and Vine.

The American Jazz Museum has memorabilia, and best of all, hands-on- exhibits where you can interact with jazz musicians to deconstruct the music for a better understanding of what it means to “jam.”  They have an original Picasso extolling Ella Fitzgerald.

Posters and panels proliferate there.

The Negro Leagues Baseball Museum is a moving tribute to forgotten heroes who were denied playing in the major leagues, although some of the later ones, such as Satchel Page and Jackie Robinson, finally broke through the color barrier.

They’ve reproduced a field, built it and they came, with life size statues of some of the luminaries who have played there.

Original equipment and uniforms are on display, as well as a painting of the Kansas City Monarchs who were to the Negro Baseball Leagues like the NY Yankees were to the Major Leagues.

Finally there is the remarkable Arabia Steamboat Museum.  At first I thought this was simply a tourist trap housing some of the artifacts of the Arabia which sank in 1856.  But it is a veritable time capsule as it was carrying over 200 tons of cargo intended for general stores and homes in 16 mid-western frontier towns.  But no, it took the imagination and adventurous spirit of five stalwart men to begin a treasure hunt that ended in the most miraculous collection we have ever seen.

Buried below ground in over four stories of river mud for over a century simply because the Mississippi River had changed course, David Hawley ultimately located the wreck in July 1987.  David, along with his father Bob, brother Greg, and family friends Jerry Mackey and David Luttrell, would soon return to the farm and begin an adventure consuming the next 20 years.  The excavation resulted in the discovery of the largest collection of pre-Civil War artifacts in the world.  And to the credit of the Hawley family, they decided to collect these thousands of items and once carefully excavated, clean and preserve them, and put them on display.  Nothing from this fabulous treasure was ever sold.  The net effect is overwhelming, tools, clothing, furniture, and every imaginable artifact so well preserved in a nearly frozen state entombed under a Kansas farm, some 45 feet below the surface.  This was a walk back in time and all due to one family’s efforts with the help of their friends.

Photographs cannot do justice to the breathtaking extent of this collection, but I post some, glassware and other cargo they reovered.

 The Arabia Steamboat Boilers:

Finally, on to the main attraction for an early arrival: KC Jazz.  That first night we hit the Green Lady Lounge, having heard that some of the best jazz in the city can be heard there.  It looks like a plush den of iniquity, and they don’t serve food, but, oh, the music, and with no cover as well.   

We were lucky to see the Steve Gray trio along with a great jazz singer, maybe the best we’ve seen in a long time, Shae Marie.  What is she doing in KC I wondered?  She belongs in Birdland, reminding me a little of Peggy Lee.  Here are two brief videos providing my point:



The next night we were at The Blue Room for a Jazz Jam.  The Blue Room is at 18th and Vine and is actually connected to the American Jazz Museum.  No food; just drinks and great jazz.

The following night we were at the Phoenix, a local bar reminding us so much of the one we go to here in Florida for jazz jams, Double Roads in Jupiter.  The Phoenix serves some good bar food but we came for the music.  The little area set up for the performers only accommodated drums and a piano so I was wondering what that would be like.  Pianist Mark Lowry, purported to be one of the best in KC, turned that duet into a trio, setting up an electronic keyboard on top of the piano and playing a walking bass, making the transition to trio.   It’s a brief 45 second video, but it is a must watch by clicking on here.

Our final jazz night was at The Majestic, downstairs where an old speakeasy resided in the days of prohibition (not very meaningful in KC, it was a wide open town).  But this is a top steakhouse as well so bring your appetites!

The night before the full conference we had to try another one of KC’s well known restaurants, Lidia’s.  One of their specialties is their unlimited trio of home-made pastas, changing the selection regularly.  We lucked out having wild boar ravioli, spinach pasta with shrimp, and farfalle with marinara and thick slices of fresh Parmesan, all you can eat, freshly made at Lidia’s, a PBS chef and author.  It’s in a KC warehouse building just adding to the fun.

That step back in time described by our visit to the Arabia is a good segue to the Jane Austen Conference, but best to break the narrative here and continue in another entry.  Suffice it to say, Kansas City was much more than expected, reminding us a little of Asheville, Seattle, and New Orleans in its own quirky individuality.  And, oh, did I mention great museums, food, jazz, and sights?  Did I say how much I loved Kansas City?