The Joy of Bibliomania

I decided that my boxes of books and the wondrous new floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bookshelves in our place had all been neglected long enough. So today I went carefully through the cardboard boxes remaining in the garage (where I hastily stacked many during the move up here from McKees Rocks), and I made sure I had located all my books. Previously, I’d been roughly placing books — that is, throwing them onto the bookshelves willy-nilly to make room for the business of life.

Well, today, I decided, was the day to organize the library. Julie’s classes start tomorrow, so she had a lot of preparatory work to do at her colleges. While she was out, I knew I could hurl the living room into chaos without being too disruptive. So here’s how I went about the herculean labor:

First, I went methodically through the shelves and pulled out any book related in any way to Tolkien — books by him, about him, about Middle-earth, etc. These, I placed along the bottom shelf. It’s a fairly impressive collection, but it’s by no means complete yet. I can think of several of my Tolkien books that are still buried in storage in Illinois. Most notably, Pictures by Tolkien and an amazing set of maps are still missing. Hmmf. Someday!

Next, I made a pass through and pulled out any homemade books — self-bound books of my own and my parents’ writing, and bound copies of friends’ work. I have special cabinets for saving these.

Our library at home

Our library at home

At this point, I realized that I needed to do an exhaustive organization. So, being pretty familiar with what was there, I made myself a set of twelve little slips of paper, each bearing the name of a category or classification. I positioned these around the room: several along the top of the buffet, one each on the two easy chairs, two on the sofa, and three on the floor. The classifications were (in no particular order):

1. fantasy

2. gothic and horror

3. Lovecraft

4. classical mythology

5. on writing

6. Japan

7. poetry

8. ecclesiastical (including Bibles)

9. folklore

10. Fortean studies

11. monster panic (Is this Japanese? This is the genre that, in Japan, means an animal or monster rampaging.)

12. literature

The two largest categories by far were fantasy and horror, followed closely by literature. Note: the Tolkien section was already in place, and is about as large as the literature collection.

It's wonderful having them all together!

It’s wonderful having them all together!

Julie’s books were already set up at one end of the shelves, so I wanted to work carefully and logically around them. I decided my “ecclesiastical” section should adjoin her library, both for a smooth transition and because there will likely be a lot of mutual use there — she may need to access my hymnals, etc.

Because the shelves are constructed to accommodate books of varying heights, I arranged the sections somewhat vertically. That is to say, some shelves allow for taller books, some only for shorter. And in any given category, there may be mass-market paperbacks (the little ones), trade paperbacks (the bigger ones), hardbacks, and even magazine-sized softcovers; so I couldn’t always arrange a section on the same shelf, end-to-end.

I put literature at the center of the wall. Tolkien is the base. Japan, books on writing, and poetry are high and to the right. Folklore is above. Lovecraft is high and to the left. Monster panic is hard to the left. Julie’s library is to the right and lower right. Fantasy and horror are the bridges: they blend Lovecraft and monsters into literature, and blend onward from there into the Church and into Julie. Fantasy forms a kind of arch over literature. I placed the more literary fantasies closer to straight-up literature. I shelved myself between Lord Dunsany and a hardback Cricket collection.

100_1517I considered the need for a section called either “nostalgia” or “adventure” — where does Jaws go? It’s too much a part of me to rest easily in “monster panic.” Where do the Planet of the Apes books go? I decided they were all part of fantasy in the broader sense. Annapurna is literature.

When she got home, Julie admired the library with me. To quote Field of Dreams:

Annie: Nice baseball field, Ray.

Ray: Kind of purty, isn’t it?

 

52 Responses to The Joy of Bibliomania

  1. Julie says:

    🙂 Awesome.

    Takes me back to my first visit to Fred’s apartment. I asked something like “Do I have to…get … all this…?” –gesturing at the books stacked in small makeshift shelves about 2 or 3 levels high all around the room–and wondering if I needed to be a great lover of fantasy and horror to really connect with this new writer-man of mine. Fred leaned back and smiled and let me know that I didn’t have to love it all as long as I accepted him. Now all “this” is in our shared home, and it gives me warm fuzzies seeing it all together on the wall: the crazy conglomeration of creative us.

    • fsdthreshold says:

      Thanks, Julie — this is very nice to read! 🙂 I remember on that visit you described, when you asked me that question, I waved a hand in dismissal and said, “Oh, I haven’t read most of this, either.” I’ve read a lot of my collection, but I can’t honestly say “most.” My bookshelves also function partly as a wish list, a dream list. But yes, it does warm me inside, too, to see our books all together. Yay!

  2. Marquee Movies says:

    Goodness, a THIRD blog from Mr. Durbin in less than a week! I’m starting to think you should have married Julie years ago.
    I have not heard of the genre “Monster Panic” before, but I LOVE the title. Expanding it to films, would pretty much any natural or manmade disaster fit into that category, such as “Volcano,” or “The Towering Inferno,” or “Airport”? Or does it have to be just monsters? Your classic monsters (vampires, werewolves, zombies) are horror, so is monster panic based on SIZE? I remember the advertising for the recent Godzilla film (which had a great first 30 minutes, then the rest wasn’t very good) where they had actual buses driving around the city with clever paint jobs making it look as though the buses had been clawed open, with the words, “Godzilla. Size matters.” underneath.
    Love the Field of Dreams moment between you two! I hope in the future that Julie doesn’t get up in the middle of the night to find you standing in front of those shelves:
    “Oh, I’m just talking to my books, honey.”

    • fsdthreshold says:

      Thank you, too, Marquee!

      You raise a very interesting question. We need the opinions of a few Japanese who love movies, but my impression based on what I’ve seen and heard is that “monster panic” as a genre refers narrowly to movies about some animal that has run amok and started devouring/killing people. Often the animal is of a giant size or great in numbers — a big crocodile, a vast horde of ants, etc.

      Oddly, the genre does not include Godzilla, Mothra, Rodan, et al. These are kaiju, the word for giant, unnatural monsters that appear in Japanese movies, either “live” or animated. I think we could safely put the Tremors movies into the category of monster panic, because although they’re not natural Earth animals, they’re also not kaiju. But I wouldn’t put Alien here. There are all sorts of fine distinctions, and I’m sure it’s pretty much subjective — as I thought about when organizing my library. There are books, for example, that span all three categories of fantasy, horror, and literature.

      So, no, I’ve never heard anyone call The Towering Inferno or Airport a “monster panic” film, because there’s no monster. (My dad called those “disaster films,” if that’s any help — stories in which there’s some natural or man-made disaster. And you’re right, Dracula and the other classic monsters are a part of horror.)

      For “monster panic,” I don’t think the size is critical. The animal just has to be dangerous to humans in some way, and out of control. The entire genre, of course, owes an inestimable debt to Jaws. The pattern has been repeated over and over again.

    • Hagiograph says:

      Must disagree somewhat with Fred in classifying “Dracula” as horror. I finally got around to reading Stoker’s original and frankly it was SO foreign to my modern sensibility as to what horror writing should be that I have to say Victorians were amazing wussies. I didn’t really like it.

      Modern day “vampire” stuff really does strip them completely out of horror altogether (unless one means horrifically horrible), basically Nosferatu and the legends of the “Strigoi” in eastern Europe are about the last time vampires were “horror-worthy”.

      Just my 2 cents. Albeit my 2 cents are backed up with an amazing level of gravitas and authority, so…

      • fsdthreshold says:

        In the book Dracula‘s defense, I have to note that it gets mentioned pretty often by learned people at World Fantasy Conventions as being one of the best novels out there — not even considering it as genre fiction, but simply as literature — it’s apparently very well put-together; at least, so say some writers whom I admire!

        I agree with you, Hagio, about the creepiness of Nosferatu — that’s quite an eerie and frightening film. (But I would point out, too, that the film-making techniques and technology of that period were even more different from the modern sensibility than Stoker’s fiction was different from the modern novel.)

        I’ve also heard that Dracula features “science” — the cutting-edge technology of the day — as one of the chief tools in overcoming the vampire. That’s interesting!

        • Hagiograph says:

          This is a long-standing issue with me and “the Classics”. Personally when someone tells me I must read this or that classic it is a big red flag for me. Classics usually are old enough and distant enough from me in time and style that I don’t find them even remotely enjoyable. So when one speaks of “Dracula” as great literature I have to assume that I was dropped on my head as a child causing damage to my “aesthetic” centers (or it could be that classics, like all art, just resonates with SOME people who happen to speak the LOUDEST… but in reality is not meant for everyone (hence calling into question the whole concept of what it means to be a “classic”.)

          I found Dracula to be properly 19th century stilted and the story arc didn’t flow for me. The movie adaptation made a few years back in 1992 actually brought it to life in a way the book failed to. Which I found troubling at best.

          Again I have no doubt that it merely a “communication” issue with me. The 19th century style of story doesn’t work so well for me.

          And, as all the women on the blog know, I am on a one-man war against Jane Austen. Classics often correlate to the most unreadable stuff I can imagine. I rate P&P up there with Naked Lunch in terms of incomprehensibility and general lack of value to the written English language. (Wow…that is a bit harsh…sorry!)

          Dracula’s reliance on science was interesting but a lifetime of parodies of 19th century science-cum-solution kind of spoiled it for me.

          So Dracula IS literature (in that it should be read but not necessarily with the goal being “enjoyment” for the reader). And in that it somehow makes me think of the vampire genre as fundamentally unscary perhaps it is “Great Literature”.

  3. Shieldmaiden says:

    This is a wonderful post… but where are the pix? Would love to see your merged shelves. And hopefully one day see all your Taylorville books added as well!! Any plans to visit the archives of Illinois and excavate the many lost treasures lying in wait?

  4. Shieldmaiden: If I find out he is going back to Old Oak Road I will be hell-bent to meet him there, as I have wanted the secretive “storage” space (his old study) ripped open and thoroughly rummaged for years! (Hagio would probably consider flying in from Cali as well!) Mainly this is because I know darn well that numerous Dn’D treasures are somewhere in there, as well as the old 8mm films so often discussed here. I think it is a unspoken fear of my overbearing presence that our good Mr. Durbin sneaks into town unannounced. lol
    I, too, want to see photos of the library!
    My dear Mrs. Durbin, you married a bibliophile … his collection will never stop growing!

    • Hagiograph says:

      You, know for years we often wait for a given artist to break down and finally release their catalogue on iTunes. Like when the Beatles catalogue finally showed up on iTunes…it was great! So I think of Fred’s “Storage Vault” being opened as kind of like that. It won’t happen from just intense wishing. It will only happen when Fred gets around to it. And by that time sharing online will be even more ridiculously easy.

      • Hagio I know you can picture the view in your mind as we are both familiar with the house … standing in the dining room, prybars in hand and surgical masks over our faces, will pull, tug and rip on the east door. With a screeching of wood splinters it suddenly bursts open as a rush of stale, dank air flows into our faces. We wipe the dust of ages off our goggles and flick on our flashlights, the beams of which barely penetrate the cloud of dush before us …

        • Hagiograph says:

          While Fred is tied up and bound in a corner, struggling against the gag.

          The drool forming around the edges of his mouth as he attempts beyond human capacity to WARN US. Not because he fears we will find something secret…but because of what lurks inside…fear for our safety.

          At that moment a small puff of smoke emanates out of the darkened door and a metallic rattle as the dread defender “TIM THE ROBOT” clatters back to function. The normally non-speaking super-computer activates the talking car buried deep in his cardboard chest and utters a warning. One warning and then starts defensive measures….

  5. Hagiograph says:

    Whenever Mrs. H. wants to use MY hymnals I sternly yell at her: “Hands off b***h! That’s a MAN’S HYMNAL!” (with all props to B. Kliban)

  6. fsdthreshold says:

    Heh, heh, heh! This is all fun to read! Shieldmaiden, as per your request, I have added photos into the post. And three cheers about the notifications from blogtrottr! I’m really glad that’s working for you! Thank you, Daylily, for discovering that!

    The problem with the storage room is that it’s going to take quite an effort and many hours of hard work. The archaeological treasures we all most want are buried deeply, and I don’t know exactly where anything is. Lots of heavy stuff will have to be carried out of the room, gone through, and then put back in. Maybe someday we can tackle the project together.

    Then again, we could have Geraldo open the vault on live national television. That would be fun. But he might find only a bare room containing nothing but some long-empty mouse-poison boxes and a tin can — it could be that grave robbers will have made off with all the stuff . . . But no, I manage to get inside the room about once a year, and it’s all still there. When the stars are right! Or, as Lovecraft also says, “That is not dead which can eternal lie; and in strange aeons, even Death may die.”

    • Shieldmaiden says:

      Thank you Fred, for adding the photos. They are better than I imagined, and I have a pretty great imagination. I love your low, center shelf of movies surrounded by books, and how LOTR is sitting with their books tucked right below them. I also see Shadowlands, which is one of my top five movies. Nice! And, I love seeing your Dragonfly edition, with the Jason Van Hollander cover art, alongside your other books. You really organized this beautifully. Just watch, when you have people over they will be inexplicably drawn to “the wall” by an unbidden force, and for a short while you’ll lose them as they peruse the shelves, momentarily lost in the wonder of it all. And I loved your Field of Dreams quote. I could really see you guys standing there, just looking at it. You(s) have a great collection! Thanks for sharing this.

        • Shieldmaiden says:

          Yes, if you click on the blog photo it gets bigger, and then it has a zoom so it can get even bigger. Lots of detail for sure!

          • fsdthreshold says:

            Shieldmaiden, you say you’re not computer-savvy, but you’re always teaching us how to do things with our computers that we don’t know how to do! That’s really cool! (And you post all these links to other entries on my blog and elsewhere . . . I guess we all have our strengths in different areas.)

          • fsdthreshold says:

            Thanks, you two! I’m actually not sure where I picked up that hardback copy of The Plague Dogs. I read it in paperback, which copy is in the lineup of Adams books to the right of Watership Down. Traveller is also there, though you can’t recognize it because it’s still in the paper cover that most Japanese bookstores wrap around your paperback upon purchase. I think the main idea of this custom is to protect people’s privacy. If all books have the same nondescript paper covering folded around them, when you’re reading on the crowded train, no one can see what you’re reading. It could be a really subversive book, like The Wizard of Oz! (What movie am I paraphrasing?) 🙂

          • fsdthreshold says:

            By the way, Watership Down must always go right next to Jaws on my shelves. It’s just a rule, like how Bugs Bunny is always on the subject. When I’m leaving my house for an extended time, when I’m saying goodbye to the bookcase, I have to touch those two books simultaneously and release my fingers from them at the same time.

          • Shieldmaiden says:

            Was it Annie, talking about banning books at the school meeting? “I think you had two fifties and moved right into the seventies”

  7. Oh I have no doubt this will be like opening some ancient antechamber. I am sure the door and lintel will have all manner of weird sigils and markings and we will need Hagio’s keen scientific mind to unlock the meaning … and then we can force Terindar to be the first through the door! heh heh (a little inside baseball there)

    • Scott says:

      I can’t believe that Fred could fit anything else into his office at the house. You could barely move around in there as it was when we were in High School. The things that I want to see again are the Hobbit mannequin and the old piece of chalkboard with the cryptic message about Mr Tolkien and all the little Tolkiens (written by Hagiograph?). I hope they survived and are in the vault.

      • fsdthreshold says:

        You’ve illustrated the point, Scott! Imagine that crowded office with a ton of furniture and plastic cases and other stuff piled in, floor to ceiling. That’s why I haven’t been able to get at some of these treasures without a major, major undertaking.

        Alas, the hobbit mannequin was sold at the big auction. As for that chalkboard, I think it’s still there — and yes, the artwork and captions by Hagiograph would still be on it — I never erased it after that! “Come see the renowned author J. R. R. Tolkien . . . and his wife! And his car! And his dog! And his kids!” The kids, as I recall, all had peanut-shaped heads. We were as weird then as we are today.

  8. jhagman says:

    What? An Arkham House writer with no Arkham House Lovecrafts? And you actually kept those miserable Norton Anthologies? I look at one of those books and I cringe with pain!

    • fsdthreshold says:

      It’s true, jhagman: I have no Arkham House Lovecrafts! I discovered Lovecraft in the paperbacks of the latest seventies/early eighties, and those have always seemed the most perfect way to read him . . . although I’ve enjoyed larger softcovers in later years, with the unearthly Michael Whelan covers. And really, the editions that every true appreciator of Lovecraft should have are the annotated ones by Joshi. But yes, every purist should have Arkham House editions — that was the whole first point of Arkham House!

      Why are Norton Anthologies painful to you? I have happy memories of college lit courses that used them, and it’s nice having so much great stuff together inside one cover.

    • jhagman says:

      At least someone has happy memories of college,,,those Norton tomes to me were salt mines! I ran into one of my former lit professors when I worked for Borders Books,,his wife was amazed that he remembered my full name almost 25 yrs after I had graduated. I was not on top of the honor roll. Owning Arkham books is very special- when you love a writer’s work, you want them (to paraphrase LC Powell) in their best, beautiful form, and Joshi’s editions were done FIRST for Arkham House.

      • fsdthreshold says:

        Thank you for pointing this out, jhagman! I hadn’t known that. So, yes, owning original Arkham House editions of Joshi’s annotated Lovecraft would be the ultimate! Wow! I’d be glad for any Arkham House editions of Lovecraft!

  9. Marquee Movies says:

    Hagio – I must confess that I have never read “Dracula” by Bram Stoker, and nothing I say here is intended to convince you (not that I ever could) to enjoy the book more than you do. But I do think the author should be afforded at least a BIT more respect for the following reasons:
    1) He INVENTED much of what we now think of vampires. Having to be invited in to enter a house. The ability to change into wolves or bats or mist. Not being able to see himself in a mirror. Needing native soil to sleep on (that one’s a bit more obscure, but it led to the concept of vampires sleeping all day in a coffin.) All those details? He made them up – in one book – and the ideas still exist to this day.
    2) By putting together his ideas and those of many vampire stories that had been floating around for centuries, he contributed to the greatest marriage between character and art form ever – vampires were MADE for the movies. Why? Because vampires are all about shadows and light. Filmmaking is all about shadows and light. (Painters paint with paint – cinematographers paint with light.)
    3) This perfect marriage is even more perfect because both the modern vampire (Dracula) and movies were born at almost the exact same time in history. The first publicly shown movies happened in 1895 – Stoker published Dracula in 1897.
    4) That Nosferatu film that you and Fred so rightfully hail as a classic? That IS Dracula. Murnau stole the idea, and changed a few names and details, but he told Stoker’s great story. Bram Stoker’s widow was so outraged that she sued – and WON. The judge said that every print of Nosferatu should be destroyed. And they were. Except for one. And that is why we can watch the film today.
    5) It’s because of Nosferatu that the greatest weapon there is against vampires exists at all. It’s at the end of the film that the filmmakers decided to show Nosferatu disappearing in a wispy column of smoke when he is exposed to sunlight. (In Stoker’s book, Dracula goes out in the sun all the time – he just doesn’t have any powers.) It’s because of that one shot that vampires pretty much have to use SPF ten million in most stories.
    6) Nine years later, they made an OFFICIAL Dracula movie, starring the great Bela Lugosi, who had played the character on the stage for 4 years before doing the film. It’s in this film that the idea of vampires sleeping in their coffins all day was invented. Why? Because Tod Browning wanted a scene where the entire castle woke up at sunset – vampires, creatures, bugs, etc. It’s a great sequence. And Bela? His performance is SO iconic, that for the rest of time, when people pretend to be vampires and say something silly like, “I want to drink your blood,” they are IMITATING Bela Lugosi. One performance, and the very way he spoke is still imitated today. (He was Dracula only one more time, in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, a TERRIFICALLY entertaining movie.)
    7) The movie (and of course, the book) introduced so many great lines – “I never drink….wine.” “Children of the night – what music they make!”
    8) The 1950’s remake, Horror of Dracula, gave us our first major vampire film with fangs, courtesy of the great Christopher Lee. This is the first time (because it’s almost the 60’s) that the inherent sexuality of Dracula is more overt – the women are dressed sexily – we can plainly see they ARE women. Lucy isn’t some helpless victim – in this version, Lucy is excited about this strange man entering her bedroom – a daring choice (though it turns out she’s already under his spell). We also get a great Star Wars moment – a woman in a white gown with slightly unusual hair begs of a man, “Help me! You’re my only hope!” George Lucas was 14 years old when he saw this film. Every 14 year old boy on the planet went to see this film again and again.
    I’ll stop there – I don’t expect anyone to like the book as literature if they don’t – but let’s not overlook what a towering achievement it represents in storytelling. (If anyone thought this was too long to read, believe me when I say I left a bunch of stuff out, as Rodney Dangerfield says in “Back to School.”)

    • Morwenna says:

      Thanks for this fascinating comment, Marquee!

      Stoker’s Abraham Van Helsing character has had a far-reaching influence, too.

      • fsdthreshold says:

        That’s a great observation, Morwenna! What do you think? Can we say that even Hooper in Jaws owes a little bit of literary debt to Van Helsing? Hooper is the archetypal Learned Man with esoteric knowledge that helps to fight the monster. The Knowledge Guy is a firm fixture of the monster panic movies sired by Jaws.

        • Morwenna says:

          Fred, what an interesting comment! Yes, when some version of the Learned Man/Knowledge Guy shows up, things are never the same in Monsterland. Of course, even without magical powers, these characters are wizards in their own ways . . .

      • Shieldmaiden says:

        Oh, Morwenna, Van Helsing is one of my all time favorite characters in a book, ever. I enjoyed reading Mr. Movies comments about Dracula as well. It is one of my favorite books… but what do I know, I also love Jane Austen haha. But seriously, Dracula surprised me, I never thought I would like it, and it was hard to get into the beginning, but at a certain point in the book it absolutely glued me to my seat and held me captive to the end. Funny how people like different things. It’s kind of cool.

  10. fsdthreshold says:

    Marquee, this is extraordinary! I had known that Nosferatu was based almost entirely on Stoker’s Dracula, but I hadn’t known that it was done without permission, or about the lawsuit. Wow! A single copy of Nosferatu survived?!

  11. Hagiograph says:

    Marquee, you are exactly correct. The pioneers are usually forgotten in the mists of time as the ideas flesh out. And indeed I attempt to be mindful that Stoker basically invented the entire genre. But obviously I came up through the world long after the genre was established and if there was ever ANY part of the vampire genre I actually liked it was a bit more “edgy” than the Victorians seem capable of.

    As for Nosferatu, yes I had read that the Germans couldn’t get permission from the Stoker estate for the movie…as such I assume that whatever subtle changes are why I actually LIKE Noferatu vs Dracula.

    Shieldmaiden, it is interesting how different people like different things, but unfortunately when it comes to the “Classics” I’m afraid that I’m the one who is right. I wish it were otherwise and it was merely a matter of personal taste but, just as I am right about Jane Austen’s general awfulness, I’m most likely to be correct on this front as well. If you were glued to your seat by Dracula it may have been some actual glue from the binding of the book that was doing the gluing. Be careful not to strip the finish off your chairs.

    • Shieldmaiden says:

      I am sure my son would agree with you about the classics. I promise the book indeed had me riveted, and it wasn’t an easy task. I went into it expecting to probably hate it, not sure why I was even reading it, and then became super board by the first hunk of the book. But, a little ways in, riveted I was! Sorry.

    • Marquee Movies says:

      Thanks, Morwenna, Shieldmaiden, and Fred! Hagio, I’m a bit surprised at you. You speak of liking your vampire stories as being a bit more “edgy” than the Victorians were “capable of”. One of the blessings of enjoying classics is the opportunity to see not just what was seen (or read, or listened to) decades (or even a century) ago, but also to put oneself in the mindset of a culture who had never read or seen or heard any such thing. I have a nephew who watched Nosferatu, and told me how boring he thought it was. (We had a LONG discussion about THAT response!) He was used to his horror films moving and looking very differently. You know the moment (in the film) when the camera pans over from Lucy asleep in her bed to reveal that the bat in the window has transformed into Dracula, and he’s holding his arms in an attack mode over her sleeping form as he gets closer and closer? I can assure you that the movie theatres were FILLED WITH SCREAMS from the audience. Why? Because very few people had seen such a scene before. Back then, the very IDEA of a strange man in a young woman’s bedroom late at night was scandalous, frightening, unheard of, let alone one who was supernatural. By insisting on measuring your pleasure ONLY by your modern standards, you are glossing over (or ignoring) the chance to view such stories through the eyes of its original readers, to put on the shoes of a person from 50, 100, or 200 years ago. John Carpenter’s film “Halloween” is a great film – but many modern audiences today claim it’s boring, as there’s almost no blood, it’s more mood than actual shocks. And they’re right, if they use those measuring sticks. (I prefer “Halloween” to the modern slasher film, of course.) But if you watch “Halloween” through the eyes of the 1978 audience member, someone who was not used to CGI, used to tons of gore and blood, and had never seen a slasher film before, the film becomes even more exciting, because you’re seeing history happening before your eyes – this is something truly new. It’s not that the Victorians were not capable of being more frightening – believe me, Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker scared the pants off of people. It was a different time, and enjoying movies and books and songs from the past can be a bit like time travel if you enjoy them outside of your own time.

      • Hagiograph says:

        Marquee, I think you are surprised at my attitude for good reason. I have long found the “classics” to be a synthetic experience. For me art has only one goal: to generate a feeling of something in the viewer/reader/experiencer. As such when someone commands that I MUST read or experience some particular art I immediately lock up. “Yes,” I say, “I will look into that…” knowing full well that only when I’m “ready” for it will it do anything for me.

        I do it to people all the time myself. “Oh you have GOT to listen to ‘I Buy the Drugs’ by Electric Six!” (I mean to be fair it is a GREAT song)…but I hope I always realize that it won’t do much for others.

        Art is intensely personal for me as I assume it is for EVERYONE.

        My jabs at the “classics” have nothing really to do with the dreary awfulness of the prose of the classics and more to do with my desire to play iconoclast in service to the ART.

        Fred, for instance, may one day be heralded as starting a whole new genre of writing. We on the ground floor of reading it will benefit immensely, and may appreciate the honor due to those who came before him or who inspired him, but often fully in spite of that.

        For instance: when I listen to a song by Eric Clapton that I really, really love I should be mindful that his heart and soul truly are in Mississippi Blues and that the kind of stuff he probably loves to listen to and would prefer I listen to is stuff that I really couldn’t care less about.

        Art obviously, from a technical stand point, builds on previous art and previous “revolutions”, but for it to mean something to me (not the artist) it has to be meaningful to me _independent_ of what the artist was feeling or thinking.

        It has to stand alone.

        When I travel I spend a LOT of time in art museums, both modern and classical (from Kiasma in Helsinki to the Louvre in Paris). I love finding an artist that corresponds to my loves and desires. I recently discovered Gallen-Kalela in Finland. But if you drag me over to Picasso I feel…absolutely NOTHING. I am transported in near ecstasy by Gallen-Kalela but I literally feel NOTHING (actually maybe LESS than nothing) when I see Picasso.

        That’s the way art SHOULD work.

        So don’t be offended if I slag the classics. I do it in fun but mostly just to plant my flag in art. For me art has to do one job. If it fails that for me, then it fails. It may very well do something for someone else.

        But when someone says I HAVE to read this in order to know the truth of art, or when it enters the halls of “Classic” then the expectation is that you MUST experience the feeling.

        If you don’t then you, the viewer, have failed.

        And that is the polar opposite of what art means for me.

  12. Marquee Movies says:

    Hagio – I apologize if I offended you. I agree that having culture foisted on you can take much of the pleasure out of it, and if the art doesn’t “speak” to you, no intellectualizing or justifications in the world will change that fact. I was trying to say (poorly, as it turns out) that even though the work of art itself may not speak to you, there is often pleasure and appreciation to be found. Dracula (the book) was boring and dry to you (not Shieldmaiden!). But the film Nosferatu exists because of that book. Many other great films exist because of that book. A century of great vampire stories were kicked into existence because of that book. Great performances, great lines, great ideas (a mannerly, courtly, beautifully dressed and elegant homicidal and supernatural killer – what a concept!) came out of that book. There are many films that historians consider classics, but they are not to my taste at all – but I’m glad they make others happy, I can appreciate how startlingly ORIGINAL they are in many ways, and I can often see how influential those classics were on other films that I DO love – so I have warm feelings towards even the dry films that I don’t care to watch or own. So I hope you’ll accept my apology – I’m just trying to foist my positivity on you!

    • Hagiograph says:

      Marquee, no offense was taken at all! I’m just talking here. No need to worry at all. This is an aspect of art that I’ve thought about a LONG time and so I like writing about when it comes up in a fun way.

    • fsdthreshold says:

      Oh, my! 🙂 Remember the Star Trek episode in which Scotty kept his cool when the Klingons in the bar insulted Captain Kirk, but he totally lost it when they insulted the Enterprise? (“The Trouble With Tribbles,” maybe?)

      Well, in the same way, I can (with effort) keep my seat when people badmouth Jane, because I know her only through some of the movies. But if you say Emily is horrific, I’m obliged to spring up and break a chair over your head! Heh, heh. Emily Dickinson was amazing! There’s a tribute to her near the end of Dragonfly, in the chapter title “A Swelling of the Ground.” (It’s from “Because I Could Not Stop for Death.”)

  13. fsdthreshold says:

    Heh, heh. Well, I respect writers and poets whom I haven’t read, but who have clearly made a difference in the world. People remember and keep reading them for some reason. Personally, I’ve never enjoyed or seen a point to reading philosophy. But I do really like the Sandburg poem you often quote about letting the grass do its work!

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