Monday, February 21, 2005
JUST FINISHED: Hard Times by Charles Dickens. Yeah, I chose the odd one out in the Dickens catalog, not only his shortest major work, but one that wasn't particularly popular until relatively recent times.
Central to the story is the family of Thomas Gradgrind, a man who insists on "nothing but facts" in education and kills any flights of fancy in the cradle. Gradgrind is a Utilitarian, raising children in the concept that the precision of the balance sheet is good enough for the human mind, and making his two oldest children miserable in the process by practicing what he preaches.
While the theme of strangulation of imagination was what drew me in, that's not the only issue on the plate by far. They live in a forboding mill town in Northern England, where the dust and smoke hangs in the air like a funeral shroud. The man who runs things is "self-made" Josiah Bounderby, who shows a painful lack of humility when talking about his "humble" origins, and has a breathtaking lack of empathy for the people whose blood run his machines. The professional organzier trying to unionize the plant isn't much better at seeing the people in the mob, but we'll get to that in a moment.
Written at a gruelling installment-a-week pace, the story might've benefited from some leg-stretching room--the endnotes in my edition suggest that the limitation of dialogue has kept Hollywood (or Pinewood, if you prefer) from hauling this one out as often. Boz doesn't seem to care for the unions any more than he does the indifferent owners. Other contemporary writers were skeptical of outsiders inflicting themselves on what the outsider viewed as abstract situations; when you fight for The People, there's not much room for individuals, except as avatars. Dickens seems to be making an appeal for the factory owners to do the right thing of their own accord; taking recent years' corporate events in consideration, assuming that businessmen will choose doing good over doing well is a slice of optimism people can't afford.
Still, in spite of the slightly compressed nature of things, the author is passionate about the issues he's taken on, some of which still haunt us 150 years later. Of course, Dickens was an entertainer first and foremost, and even with space constraints he doesn't seem to be able to speak with anything less than full power. It's also a very brisk read, which doesn't hurt.
Stanford University's "Discovering Dickens" project is currently offering the book in its original magazine serial form. You can catch up with the story so far, then every Friday, a new installment (in PDF form from the original magazines) is posted, along with historical and literary notes. It's a nice way to read it if you can't sit still for the whole book at once.
Central to the story is the family of Thomas Gradgrind, a man who insists on "nothing but facts" in education and kills any flights of fancy in the cradle. Gradgrind is a Utilitarian, raising children in the concept that the precision of the balance sheet is good enough for the human mind, and making his two oldest children miserable in the process by practicing what he preaches.
While the theme of strangulation of imagination was what drew me in, that's not the only issue on the plate by far. They live in a forboding mill town in Northern England, where the dust and smoke hangs in the air like a funeral shroud. The man who runs things is "self-made" Josiah Bounderby, who shows a painful lack of humility when talking about his "humble" origins, and has a breathtaking lack of empathy for the people whose blood run his machines. The professional organzier trying to unionize the plant isn't much better at seeing the people in the mob, but we'll get to that in a moment.
Written at a gruelling installment-a-week pace, the story might've benefited from some leg-stretching room--the endnotes in my edition suggest that the limitation of dialogue has kept Hollywood (or Pinewood, if you prefer) from hauling this one out as often. Boz doesn't seem to care for the unions any more than he does the indifferent owners. Other contemporary writers were skeptical of outsiders inflicting themselves on what the outsider viewed as abstract situations; when you fight for The People, there's not much room for individuals, except as avatars. Dickens seems to be making an appeal for the factory owners to do the right thing of their own accord; taking recent years' corporate events in consideration, assuming that businessmen will choose doing good over doing well is a slice of optimism people can't afford.
Still, in spite of the slightly compressed nature of things, the author is passionate about the issues he's taken on, some of which still haunt us 150 years later. Of course, Dickens was an entertainer first and foremost, and even with space constraints he doesn't seem to be able to speak with anything less than full power. It's also a very brisk read, which doesn't hurt.
Stanford University's "Discovering Dickens" project is currently offering the book in its original magazine serial form. You can catch up with the story so far, then every Friday, a new installment (in PDF form from the original magazines) is posted, along with historical and literary notes. It's a nice way to read it if you can't sit still for the whole book at once.
|| Eric 11:45 PM#
Friday, February 18, 2005
LOONATICS? LOONATICS?: In yet another misguided attempt to turn around their animation division (and to rape my childhood in the process), Warner Brothers animation has put into development a "hip, edgy" reimagination of Bugs, Daffy, and company, tenatively called Loonatics. Estimated success of going over: strictly lead balloon.
My thoughts on the subject of artificially hypoing the Tunes "franchise": the reason Looney Tunes are losing mindshare has nothing to do with the characters themselves. Yanking the Termite Terrace classic cartoon package off of broadcast TV was a mistake, and removing them from Cartoon Network was an unmitigated disaster. When it's easier to find the godawful Baby Looney Tunes on television than the genuine articles, written with great care for a general audience. The sales on the Golden Collection DVDs weren't accidents; people still have a sense about quality. Forget all this latter day filligree, Hollywood. Make it easier to watch Bugs Bunny--the real, genuine, cross-dressing, hunter-busting article--and everything else will line up just fine.
But really, what the hell do I know about business? I'm just a guy who loves cartoons.
My thoughts on the subject of artificially hypoing the Tunes "franchise": the reason Looney Tunes are losing mindshare has nothing to do with the characters themselves. Yanking the Termite Terrace classic cartoon package off of broadcast TV was a mistake, and removing them from Cartoon Network was an unmitigated disaster. When it's easier to find the godawful Baby Looney Tunes on television than the genuine articles, written with great care for a general audience. The sales on the Golden Collection DVDs weren't accidents; people still have a sense about quality. Forget all this latter day filligree, Hollywood. Make it easier to watch Bugs Bunny--the real, genuine, cross-dressing, hunter-busting article--and everything else will line up just fine.
But really, what the hell do I know about business? I'm just a guy who loves cartoons.
|| Eric 9:55 PM#
Sunday, February 13, 2005
I GET TO DECIDE WHO LIVES AND WHO DIES: Something happened yesterday, and the parties involved may live to regret it, but I've been made webmaster of the more-dead-than-alive Thread aPa webpage. The first thing to change is adding lots and lots of material (not new, but new to this version of the site; check the archives and chat log sections for information). Then, it's time to start ladling on the new goodies; if you'd like to take part in the latest attempt to actually make a site that people read, give me a shout at the usual places.
|| Eric 4:49 PM#
Saturday, February 12, 2005
DO YOU WANT IT DONE QUICKLY, OR DONE WELL?: Stumbled across the results of a global sex survey conducted by Durex. Very interesting statistics...while the French have the most sex, they spend well below the global average time on foreplay. Is it a sign of being an inattentive lover, or does it just take less to get a Parisian's motor running? The UK spends the most time on foreplay (22.5 minutes average; rule Britannia, indeed).
Oh yeah, Iceland has the highest vibrator usage. Whatever keeps you warm, I guess...
Oh yeah, Iceland has the highest vibrator usage. Whatever keeps you warm, I guess...
|| Eric 7:45 AM#
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
SOMEHOW THIS STRUCK ME AS FUNNY: From what passes for Yahoo TV these days comes this description of tonight's Most Outrageous TV Moments on NBC:
Episode #1.
Accidental falls; misstatements; cooking follies; clips of the president.
What can I say? It's so open-ended, you can make your own fun.
Episode #1.
Accidental falls; misstatements; cooking follies; clips of the president.
What can I say? It's so open-ended, you can make your own fun.
|| Eric 1:36 PM#
Monday, February 07, 2005
I KNOW YOU WEREN'T WONDERING: I skipped the Super Bowl completely this year, watched the Puppy Bowl instead. One of the advantages of not being a sports fan is that viewership isn't compulsory. Not even the halftime show could draw me in; much as I love Sir Paul as a performer, nothing he does could be as much of a spectacle as what happened last year, not even the sight of thousand of drunken NFL fans singing the na-na-nas to "Hey Jude".
Unless, of course...oh, how should I put this...he took the suggestion of a number of chatroom wags and exposed Little Paul, with appropriate phallic jewelry. Or even better, he should've equipped himself with the grandest codpiece of them all, encrusted with precious stones, charming patterns from a byegone age, and a vaguely obscene tassel at the end. That'd give 'em something to cry about. It'd give him a place to put the pack for his cordless mike, too.
Of course he didn't, because he's a pro, dammit. Maybe if Mick Jagger does it next year...
Unless, of course...oh, how should I put this...he took the suggestion of a number of chatroom wags and exposed Little Paul, with appropriate phallic jewelry. Or even better, he should've equipped himself with the grandest codpiece of them all, encrusted with precious stones, charming patterns from a byegone age, and a vaguely obscene tassel at the end. That'd give 'em something to cry about. It'd give him a place to put the pack for his cordless mike, too.
Of course he didn't, because he's a pro, dammit. Maybe if Mick Jagger does it next year...
|| Eric 10:18 AM#
