LITERATURE: And Blogging about It

There’s been rumblings against amateur literary reviews such as my own I suppose, by the more professional, usually affiliated with a news media or official lit review organization.  So do we serve a purpose?

We don’t have to.  Honest, all we’re doing is giving an individual reader’s reactions to a work, and we don’t have to follow any particular framework of critical theory, nor do we have to follow a specific structure.  I, for example, write little of the book’s plot, but rush to the keyboard when something either wows me or severely disappoints.  Sometimes it’s something that I question, or that I seek or found within a paragraph that leads me along a pattern of thought relative to the story, or the characters, or the impact on the reader.  Most often it’s read with the perennial writer’s view alert to the language and technique.  I don’t claim any expertise and am beholdin’ to no one.

It used to bother me a lot when I’d discovered that 90% of my readers were simply Googling a particular literary work, likely for some school paper.  I then cut out their access.  Then I decided to put it back out there and I’m glad I did.  In checking the stats the other day, I realized that many of these Googlers actually spent quite a bit of time tracking down all the entries on a particular piece.  Will they plagiarize it?  Possibly.  But what matters more is that they might have seen something in what I said that led them to appreciate the reading in a different way.  Maybe I clarified something.  Maybe I noticed something they didn’t.  Maybe they thought I was totally wrong.  Rarely, a Googler will comment and it makes me feel good when they do.  I’ve even been asked once about how to cite my weblog (I sent her to Dr. Jerz’s site for MLA citation).

So no, I don’t mind the researchers any more.  Maybe I’ve helped somebody think of something in a new state of perception.  I kinda like that.

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LITERATURE: The Pleasure of the Text – Bliss

Listen to this, keeping in mind that Barthes, in speaking of pleasure, brings in the French jouissance encompassing the sensual, the orgiastic meaning.  He lists this thought under babel–the many different languages thought not separating but bringing people together:

If I read this sentence, this story, or this word with pleasure, it is because they were written in pleasure (such pleasure does not contradict the writer’s complaints).  But the opposite?  Does writing in pleasure guarantee–guarantee me, the writer–my reader’s pleasure?  Not at all.  I must seek out this reader (must cruise him) without knowing where he is.  A site of bliss is then created  it is not the reader’s "person" that is necessary to me, it is this site: the possibility of a dialectic of desire, of an unpredictability of bliss:  the bets are not placed, there can still be a game. (p. 4)

To seek a state of ecstasy of language and understanding with a stranger?  One that is capable of simulating orgasm? 

Why not?  I’ve read phrases by Faulkner, Marquez, McCarthy, and others that have stirred my innards.  I’ve felt that building up of passion starting from recognition of importance in a slow read.  Knowing that the story is, in a few sentences, going somewhere that will culminate in satisfaction to the mind while keeping the senses twanging in anticipation.  I’ve stalled, held back until it was beyond my control, the big bang that didn’t disappoint.  And exhaled a long whew…as it drained away in a wonderful weariness.

I seek to write even one sentence that can do this to a reader.

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NEW MEDIA & REALITY?: Response & Perception

Very few have bothered to check out the Recycling project–I don’t blame you since it takes about two minutes to load and bloghopping is a check and move-on routine.  But yesterday I had the opportunity to show the movie clip to my neighbor who had come into the shop with framing for a friend.

Her response was less than enthusiastic.  I pointed out my snowball bush and my niece (I figured she’d recognize Poe and Jesus).  She did say she wondered if that was my niece.

Not everybody is up on new media methods, nor the work involved in putting it all together.  While this piece is obviously not the best poetry nor presented in anything but a first-attempt (discounting all the remakes, it still is a first attempt just as drafts don’t count in writing a story), I expected questions about the process.  This is a lady who, six years after getting the computer (which was a Christmas present from Jim and I since I felt they should be computerized) still has me type up her Christmas letter in Word.  She surfs the internet, uses Snapfish and e-mails plenty, but it’s obvious her interest ends there. 

I remember my own fears about calling up the programs loaded on my own computer.  Heck, I’ve had XP for almost two years now and just realized the Movie Maker was available.  New media methods are now available to just about anyone with a computer.  Why are some of us still so reticent–or downright afraid–to play around and discover?  Part of the answer lies in our age–after all, anyone in their forties and younger were born into a generation of home computing.  Another view is of one’s own scope of interest, as well as sense of adventure.

We come up to our comfort zone.  With curiosity and opportunity, we hope to venture beyond.

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LITERATURE: On The Road – Dreams and Human Nature

Perhaps because it is based upon his own experiences, Kerouac has a very heartening way of presenting his narrator, Sal Paradise, that makes you both cheer for him and sigh in sympathy for the very realness of his nature:

My shoes, damn fool that I am, were Mexican huraches, plantlike sieves not fit for the rainy night of America and the raw road night.  But the people let me in and rode me back to Newburgh, which I accepted as a better alternative than being trapped in the Bear Mountain wilderness all night. (…) It was my dream that screwed up, the stupid hearthside idea that it would be wonderful to follow one great red line across America instead of trying various routes.  (p. 16)

The great dream of travel disrupted by plans–or the plan disrupted by the dream.  And the idea of the perfect route being a straight one rather than meandering.  Where does the exploratory nature become sidetracked by vision?  Where does personal perception of the perfect adventure color the reality? 

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NEW MEDIA & WRITING: Tweaking

I’ve actually come to enjoy rewriting stories.  Polishing, discovering new paths and discarding my favorite phrase; tweaking.  It took a good solid year of sitting, and a good steady month or more of living with my last short story to get it to a point of submission–and even then, I made some changes that made me want to e-mail those few to whom I’d already submitted.

New media methods, I see, haven’t altered my tendencies.  Only while it’s more frustrating to work and sync audio and visuals with text, it’s also a lot more fun.  Yes indeedy; after declaring my project ‘done’ I have tinkered yet some more with it just this morning.

Now, it is done.

I think.

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NEW MEDIA: Mars

Okay, so I’m off my high of using Flash 8 as merely a tool to export a file into a new format.  I’ve taken the first step in building the dumb poem from scratch in Flash.

I’ve imported a single image of Mars.

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REALITY?: Drop-out

When my dad was alone in his last two years, he used to tell me how tired he was of watching what people do, how they act towards each other.  I always argued with him that there were always people doing these things; that we just hear about them more often because of the media.  But I’m really wondering myself about people and what motivates them. 

I was supposed to meet a real estate agent and the builder who bought the two lots below my dad’s house (the property was separated out) yesterday so he could explain some things about the sewer line and walk the property.  I’d also let the agent see the inside of the house again to reevaluate it for a possible buyer since my sister still, after two and a half years, won’t make a reasonable offer for it.  They backed out of the meeting because they’re afraid to get on the bad side of her.  My lawyer won’t get me the answers after a month of waiting and the estate attorney hasn’t helped in getting my sister to send the information either.

So early next week, I hope to meet with yet a third lawyer who may be willing to tell me where I’m wrong, or if my lawyer really is the jerk I’m believing him to be. 

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NEW MEDIA: One Step Forward, One Step Back

Okay, so the latest revision bugged me enough to edit some more–though I won’t touch the audio, even with a itty-bitty glitch and the white noise in the back because this is about the thirtieth attempt.  Unfortunately, what this meant was updating two files in Movie Maker (a copy of the original because I’m anal-retentive), the movie itself in .wav format, this file in Typepad for the weblog, and ohmygod–Flash 8.

I travel a lot in life without knowing where I’m going or how I got there, and I work the same way.  Therefore, rather than junk things up with trying to overwrite the file in Flash, and anxious not to use up the entire hard drive with poem files, I deleted the first flash version and associated files.  I figured that hey, I got the job done the first time I tried, why would I screw up in doing it a second time?

Of course, I did.  Somehow I ended up embedding the entire movie into a one-second time frame in the wrong Flash format in the wrong flash file.  However, this is how one learns.  I tracked that sucker down, deleted all references and associated files, and went back to square one.  I realized that I wasn’t supposed to end with creating the .fla or .flv file, but rather convert it again to an .swf (or whatever). 

For me, while I may pick my way around to succeed, I’ll forget the path I took to get there.  Especially if I don’t intend to do the same thing soon.  This gave me the opportunity to reinforce the learning and because of the need to retrace steps, made me more alert to plan and reason things out.

Luck can get things done, but learning is the way to go.

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NEW MEDIA: Converting to Flash

I’ve tiptoed into the Flash 8 program long enough to shake off my confusion and convert the Recycling version 2 movie into a .swf file that can be played on the Flash Player and appears to be higher quality.  However, with the change in screen format I see that even making much of the text overlays even smaller in my latest editing was not enough.  It’s surprising what the various mediums and means do in subtle changes that point out the flaws in a huge way.  I’m sure that if I project this onto a screen or wall, folks will be hiding under their chairs.

My reasoning for saving it into the .swf format was that I thought I might learn from how it was set up in Flash 8 as far as timeline etc.  However, it doesn’t do that.  Try and learn is often a crash and burn endeavor, but at the very least I now have this ridiculous poem in at least a dozen different forms and programs.  In truth, I didn’t go into Flash with the thought of converting so much as finding out that I could by clicking around a bit.  I have no idea if any of this was useful information since I don’t know what to do with the file except that I can now play it locally in a nicer format.  It also doesn’t take three minutes to load.  Except that you can’t load and play it here because I tried that and it didn’t work except to download the whole thing and I stopped it well before the three minutes were up.

Oh, well.

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REALITY?: Unreal

For my New Year’s Resolution this year, I’m giving up social interaction.

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NEW MEDIA: Recycling Version 2…

…is done.  And, like most movie productions, has come in over budget at 1.55 minutes and 16.7 mb.  But it does have eight less images, and the new ones are all pretty much themed to the idea of a circle or circular narrative path.  However, I also had to put the text of the poem overlaid on the images, and that, I admit, is where again I couldn’t resist the impulse to do some fancy stuff with fades and zooms.

I wasn’t as pleased with some of the Photoshopping I did this time, having completely forgotten what I had done to the images the first time to get them as I wanted them.  I did correct the sizing of all though so the choppy transitions between frames that an inexperienced movie editor ends up with are alleviated a bit by the elimination of constant screen size changes.

Windows Movie Maker did work a lot better for me this time without anywhere near the freeze-ups that I had the first go-round.  For one thing, I added the transitions in after a large portion of the film was done in segments, and ‘saved’ after each addition.

It’s been a completely fun project.  Now I’m ready to move on to something new.

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NEW MEDIA: A Different Kind of Editing…

Crap.

I’m not simplifying; I’m just taking new photos, spherizing them to make them flow in a theme (except for Poe and Jesus who shall remain squares) and I’ve got just as many visuals now as I’ve had before PLUS text overlaid on top.

It’s like being a new writer; you just can’t bear to cut that lovely phrase (my Photoshopped snowball bush) without a ruthless editor screaming at you.  In writing I’ve kinda sorta learned to be that editor.  In graphics, I just don’t have the experience yet.

Let’s see how this winds up.  I’ve got three more verses to go.

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LITERATURE: On The Road – Tone

Kerouac is clearly conversational in this novel.  While I haven’t read much of it lately (I’m busy being Susie-Producer), I found myself falling right into the story despite it being told by a stranger who I’ve not yet come to trust much less figured out.  In flipping through the pages when I first pulled the book off my shelf I realized that it was impossible just to scan without reading a few sentences, disjointed in time as evidenced by the page placement in the book.

This story is based on some personal experiences of the author–but then isn’t everything?  But there is an underlying theme of "here, let me tell you what happened several years ago with me and some of my friends…"

I’m also enjoying his descriptive prose:

Marylou was a pretty blonde with immense ringlets of hair like a sea of golden tresses; she sat there on the edge of the couch with her hands hanging in her lap and her smoky blue country eyes fixed in a wide stare beause she was in an evil grey New York pad that she’d heard about back West, and waiting like a longbodied emaciated Modigliani surrealist woman in a serious room.  But, outside of being a sweet little girl, she was awfully dumb and capable of doing horrible things.  (p. 8)

Okay, so "golden tresses" and smoky blue eyes" aren’t exactly original, but the twist of the last sentence is intrigueing.  This is the narrator’s first impression upon meeting Marylou, and we wonder how this comes into his thoughts.  Within a page she has a fight with her boyfriend, Dean Moriarty and goes back home to Denver.  We don’t even know if she’ll come back within the story, but we’re kind of hoping she does.

Why?  Because Kerouac in a few brief paragraphs has managed to make her real.

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LITERATURE & NEW MEDIA: What Works and What Doesn’t

An honest critique of a piece is alway valuable.  It is especially so when the author is entering new fields of medium beyond carefully wrought sentences and language and voice to incorporate audio and visual effects.

It was pointed out to me that in discovering the joy of Photoshop and effects, I got quite carried away.  As a matter of fact, it occurred to me that Recycling turned into a movie so easily that there are only two text-based images included aside from the titles and credits.  I forgot to include the written poem!  Now that was awfully authorly of me, taking away completely the reader’s interaction with the words by replacing it with my own audio rendition.  What should have happened, didn’t.  Instead, if the reader should choose to eliminate the munchkin audio, the poem is completely unreadable.

Or is it?  Shouldn’t the visuals tell the story as well?  And, those visuals have to be clear enough to tell the story–if not in the exact words as written by the author.  Mine clearly didn’t. 

There’s so much to learn besides the software and playing with images and depending on the Echo effect until I get a sound card that allows bass and treble adjustment.  There’s learning how to tell a story in images alone.  There’s learning–if I should choose to incorporate it–to tell a story through music. 

What elaborate changes a simple poem needs to undergo to turn itself into a production that still needs to maintain its simplicity.

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LITERATURE & REALITY?: The Nature of Man

This Thanksgiving is giving me pangs about the nature of man; especially coming off of a McCarthy novel which always leans me in the direction of a basic evil that mankind has sought to overcome in order to survive in a society with his own kind.

A fellow weblogger and phenomenal lady, Anne, is of American Indian descent.  It made me wonder how Thanksgiving is considered by a people who have to be sorry we ever found our way to their shores.  But Thanksgiving celebrates an early time in the meeting of the Indians and the white man.  There was no conflict yet, there was a helping hand extended; there was something to celebrate.  Then greed comes into the picture, and that, it seems to me, is inevitable and a trait inherent in all mankind.  I’ve seen family turn on family over greed.  Money is the power as territory once was.

On the other hand, I feel that we’ve come a long way towards civilizing ourselves where we wait with a bit more patience to get what we want.  And we’re not as cruel in our methods (or at least it’s not tolerated as readily when we’re found out) of oppression. 

But we’ve still got a long way to go. 

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