Dean Spanley

I am full of anxiety about the upcoming showing of Dean Spanley at the Portland International Film Festival. The film is an adaptation of one of my favorite novels, My Talks with Dean Spanley, by the Anglo-Irish writer Lord Dunsany (1878-1957). Judging from the film's description in the festival's literature, the producers and writers seem to have taken considerable liberties with the story. That by itself does not mean the film will be a failure (I'm not a purest in that sense at all), but I'd hate to see the charm of the story get drowned in a lot of gross sentimentality or, worse, gratuitous special effects. My fingers are crossed, however.

I was first turned on to the novel after reading an article in Salon in which several writers were discussing some of their favorite out-of-print books. P.J. O'Rourke wrote about Spanley, describing its strange protagonist and its odd premise. In a nutshell, it tells the story of an Anglican churchman who, when under the influence of his favorite vintages, will tipsily offer up his theories of the transmigration of souls and recount events from his previous life as a spaniel. The novel, essentially a transcription of the "talks" the narrator has with Dean Spanley and the dean's own extended reveries, is a hilarious and heartwarming (especially for dog lovers) probing of canine psychology--rather anthroporphized, of course. I read the book after reading O'Rourke's account and it instantly became a favorite of mine too.

If you'll pardon me, I can connect a couple other anecdotes to the book. The edition I first read came from the Chicago Public Library. I checked it out, after reading O'Rourke's endorsement, on a hot and humid summer day. My wife was out of town on one of her international jaunts (horseback riding around the pyraminds or touring castles along the Rhine or bartering with carpet salesmen in Dehli, who can remember?) and I was jealous and lonely. I wanted nothing so much as to lose myself in a good book. So I fabricated a cold winter night: I closed all the windows in the apartment, turned the A/C on full blast in the bedroom, put my pajamas on, and crawled under the comforter. I read the novel in its entirety that night (it's short) and was as content as I've ever been after a good fun read. My wife, who has always feigned bemusement at this story, made it up to me years later by sneaking a copy of Spanley into my suitcase when I went off on a fishing trip to Alaska.

In my short career as a journalist (and I mean short) I had occasion to call P.J. O'Rourke to get his always entertaining opinion on some matter. We had a brief friendly conversation and, at the end of it, I told him how because of him I'd been inspired to read My Talks with Dean Spanley. "You're kidding?!" he said with incredulity, and after we each had taken turns lavishing praise on the book, he said, "I think you and I are about the only people in this country who have read that book." He may be right, but perhaps if the film is any good this little jewel by Dunsany will find new fans.

Here's IMDB on the film: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1135968/

Here's Wikp on Dunsany: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dunsany

And here's O'Rourke at Salon: http://www.salon.com/books/feature/1997/12/cov_04feature.html#Rourke

Woof!

C.D.

R.I.P. John Updike.

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/books/remembering-upd/

KK + BSG = LUV

What does....

Have to do with...

?

As I wrote in an earlier post, I love it when things I happen to like cross pollinate in unexpected and interesting ways (see post for Sep. 18). Here's another one: I'm a "Battlestar Gallactica" fan (the new series, mind you) and I noticed that the title to this season's first episode was "Sometimes a Great Notion." This, of course, was the title of Ken Kesey's great 1964 novel (a masterpiece, in my opinion), in turn borrowed from a lyric in the folk song "Goodnight, Irene": "Sometimes I live in the country / sometimes I live in the town / sometimes I take a great notion / to jump into the river and drown." The speaker is contemplating suicide due to "complications" in a relationship (different versions of the song outline different sorts of complications), but in any event, the title of the BSG episode was a clear reference to Kesey and the song simultaneously--events in the episode correspond to both. And what's more, the co-writer and co-producer of the show, David Weddle, is a huge fan of Kesey's work.

How do I know?

Well, dear Dabbler readers, it may amuse you to know that I have a slight connection to Weddle. In the late 80's, when I was involved in the writing of "Caverns" (see my "You Should Know About List" to the right) with my classmates and Kesey, Weddle interviewed us and wrote a lengthy article for "Rolling Stone" about the project ("Ken Kesey's Eclectic Writing Acid Test" Oct. 5, 1989). Later, Weddle became an acquaintance and friend of other of my Eugene pals, and thus, though I hadn't met him except to speak with him over the phone, we knew each other and I kept tabs on his publications and TV projects. I did finally meet him at the occasion of Ken Kesey's memorial service in 2001, and had a pleasant chat with him over lunch at a cafe around the corner from the theatre where the service was held. But enough of my name dropping; here's the real deal: follow this link to a Chicago Tribune article where Weddle discusses, at some length, the influence of Kesey on BSG (when you get there, scroll down--there's lots of info and Weddle is featured about a third of the way down):
http://featuresblogs.chicagotribune.com/entertainment_tv/2009/01/final-fifth-cylon-ellen-tigh-battlestar-galactica-dualla-dee-.html

But here's the crucial matter, plum-plucked for your convenience:

"The day the staff finished putting the cards up on the board with Ron, and the day before we began writing, I flashed on my favorite American novel, Sometimes a Great Notion by Ken Kesey. It is a much underappreciated and towering work. Anyone interested in fine literature and great story telling should read Kesey’s masterpiece.

"The book opens with a childish rhyme that enunciates the theme of the book and what to me was the theme of our show. “Sometimes I live in the country. Sometimes I live in the town. Sometimes I get a great notion. To jump in the river and drown.”

"In Kesey’s book, the hero --Hank Stamper, an Oregon logger -- does constant battle with the river that runs past his home, a river that has claimed the lives of pets and loved ones and comes to symbolize the vast and indifferent power of the universe that both gives life and cruelly snatches it away again. In his notes to himself as he was writing the book, Kesey scribbled something that has become one of the shorthand phrases Brad and I use while writing scripts. Kesey wrote: “Try to make Hank quit.” By that he meant: take this strong, heroic character and pile one misfortune on his back after another until he finally falls. What happens in that moment? Does he despair? Does he get up and go on? For me, there is no more defining moment for a character."

What's particularly fun for me about this quote is that Weddle describes essentially what Kesey always told us, his students, about character: task them and watch them come alive.

Ciao,

C.D.

I'm very glad to see that my good friend Tod Marshall's second book of poems, "The Tangled Line" (due out in April) now has a "pre-order" page on Amazon. I've read many of the poems in it in an earlier version of the ms. (which I'll keep and sell for big $ one day after TM earns his Nobel), and was quite impressed by them. I look forward to the new book, but for now I'll have to content myself with this picture of the curious, abstract cover: http://www.amazon.com/Tangled-Line-Tod-Marshall/dp/0982237618/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1232212615&sr=1-6

Rest in peace, Andrew Wyeth.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/01/16/andrew.wyeth.obit/index.html

The other day I watched the dreadful movie "Modigliani", starring Andy Garcia as M. and some fatso as Picasso, for the sole purpose of watching people strut and fret around in their studios and cavort in sets designed to look like Parisian cafes and back alleys. "Art porn" I call this. (It's akin to my penchant for "castle porn," the need to watch actors playing the English gentry lounge around in their manor houses.) Anyway, I found a new kind of art porn online the other day: linked from a Portland gallery--Beppu Wiarda (who represents my teacher Arvie Smith)--here is a Youtube video of artist Shannon Richardson creating a painting in a kind of "time-lapse" presentation. Whether or not you like the finished product (I personally wished she would have stopped earlier than she did), the process is fascinating. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/shannon4art

Adieu,
CD

Here's a link to a New York Times article about Bishop Gene Robinson at the Lambeth Conference last August. It was a sad day for Anglicans and Anglican Christianity, especially in light of the splits which happened only a couple months later. I enjoyed the sympathetic portrait of Bishop Robinson that comes through this article (well written, I might add). It is, somehow, both heartening and heartbreaking.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/weekinreview/03burns.html?_r=1

Ciao,
CD

For reasons unknown even to myself, I've added Stanley Fish's blog to my blog list. Well, I guess the reason is I intend to fill that list with all sorts of blogs I come across so I can link myself to them regularly. I'll forget to otherwise--and there's good stuff out there. On that blog, for instance, I found the following entry which, bizarrely, seems to endorse the use of a prose "translation" of Milton for teachers and students. Did I get that right? Fish endorsed this book? Oh well. I shouldn't judge the book by its blog review...
Here's the entry:http://fish.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/11/30/paradise-lost-in-prose/#more-133: browse through Fish's others if you like to see what he's thinking these days--always interesting.

CD

Something Perfect: Thomas Hardy's "The Man He Killed." Lest we forget why we should despise war.

The Man He Killed

Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have set us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!

But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.

I shot him dead because--
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That's clear enough; although

He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand like--just as I--
Was out of work--had sold his traps--
No other reason why.

Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat, if met where any bar is,
Or help to half a crown.

Peace, For God's Sake.
CD

Here's a fun little piece--part polemic, part critical theory--that does a nice job of articulating several ideas that I also subscribe to: in particular, thoughts on Versailles and much of the ego-based art produced today. I don't agree with everything said, and at times the author makes grand but insupportable claims. But the ideas strike me as worth deep consideration. They are inspiring me to, once again, read Eliot's "Tradition and the Individual Talent"--for my money one of the most hit-the-nail-on-the-head essays ever written. Enjoy: http://www.newenglishreview.org/custpage.cfm/frm/30265/sec_id/30265

Here you can view some photos of Koons' works displayed at Versailles:
http://www.spiegel.de/fotostrecke/fotostrecke-35139-6.html#backToArticle=577388

Ciao,
CD

Okay, I'm back and I'm bloggier than ever. I'm going to make a concerted effort to blog here regularly again. It's so easy to sidetracked and then let it go...but NO. I'm here to stay, dammit. I've taken a side excursion into the world of Facebook and, I must admit, though I was uncertain at first whether it would be worth doing or not, I'm now hooked. As soon as I know how, I'll link this blog to the Facebook page. I'm still not certain that it's worth doing, but I find myself doing it anyway...



I'm knee deep in Paradise Lost for the first time in about 14 years. Loving it, too. I'll find out what my Brit Lit students think this Friday when we discuss Books I-II. I'm nervous and full of timorous uncertain agitation.



Here's Ian's first glimpse of snow from just a few weeks ago. Followed by some pics of our house covered in it. We got walloped! But how wonderful that Christmas was white this year in Portland.


Adieu,
CD