Social Anxiety-of-Obsolescence Disorder

So I refuse to be finished with this blog for some reason.

I just HAD to post this:

http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/dying_newspaper_trend_buys

Does the topic sound familiar? Preserving a print-based medium by publishing works regarding the obsolescence of that medium? Maybe Fitzpatrick rings a bell:

“In writing about the visual threat to writing, the novelist of obsolescence is able to create a cultural preserve.” (102)

That’s all for now.

Not So Spectacle…ular

Fitzpatrick’s chapter on the “Spectacle” brought up some very familiar theories we have already discussed in class, including (and I quote): “In writing about the visual threat to writing, the novelist of obsolescence is able to create a cultural preserve.” (102) Ah, yes: content preserving a medium! Most specifically, a medium feared to be on the endangered species list. Naturally, the message of the book’s apocalypse has been proliferated through thousands (Millions! A googolplex!) of texts by now, and that is the vital medium here: the written word. A video documentary about the end of the novel is most definitely not going to have the same effect. So here, of course, novels about the end of the novel form are thereby protecting the novel form, but what does that hypothesize about the future of the medium? Does this mean the content of most novels of the future are going to proclaim the “end all” of the novel itself, since (to hell with it!) we can adapt all other content to image-based media? Does this mean that every novel in the future not regarding this content will need the stamp of approval of Oprah, who thrives on an image-based medium, in order to sell it? But who are the paranoid ones here? It’s certainly not them: the “picture-mongers” (105), those who are victims of “image narcosis” (100). They’re set for the moment. They’re not worried, and they don’t read these texts anyways, so WHY SHOULD THEY BE THE PARANOID ONES? We, the tree-flake addicts, are reading all of this material and it’s frightening the heck, the hell, the (expletive) out of us. And still, we adore our image-based culture. Example: WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT RIGHT NOW? Yes, look at the screen. Look at the screen. The bond we have with the computer monitor is really no different from that we have with television screen, come to think of it. Come on, it has to be somewhat similar. I’m reminded of Frank Zappa’s song, “I’m the Slime”:

“I am gross and perverted
I’m obsessed ‘n deranged
I have existed for years
But very little has changed
I’m the tool of the Government
And industry too
For I am destined to rule
And regulate you

I may be vile and pernicious
But you can’t look away
I make you think I’m delicious
With the stuff that I say
I’m the best you can get
Have you guessed me yet?
I’m the slime oozin’ out
From your TV set

You will obey me while I lead you
And eat the garbage that I feed you
Until the day that we don’t need you
Don’t go for help, no one will heed you
Your mind is totally controlled
It has been stuffed into my mold
And you will do as you are told
Until the rights to you are sold…” (1973)

And Zappa used his own medium of music to express his concern. What’s sad is less than a decade later, Video Killed the Radio Star, and probably not pure coincidence that “Video Killed the Radio Star” was the first music video aired on MTV in 1980. And what do we have now? Music needs to be accompanied by a video in order to be somewhat popular. Further, now what do we have on MTV? No music at all: just a blur of meaningless images (or Reality MTV or whatever it’s deemed). It’s sad really. But that’s just my opinion.

Speaking of a blur of meaningless images, Fitzpatrick takes an excerpt from DeLillo’s Players:

“He wasn’t looking for something that might sustain his interest. Hardly that. He simply enjoyed jerking the dial into fresh image-burns. He explored content to a point. The tactile-visual delight of switching channels took precedence, however, transforming ever random moments of content into pleasing territorial abstractions. (16)” (99)

Translated into cyberworld, I think this type of activity can easily be equated to compulsive AOL Instant Messenger away message checking. Don’t cybershrug like you have no clue what I’m talking about; you all do it, or at least you’ve all done it. Don’t deny it. To prove I’m in this canoe with all of you as well, here are five random away messages from my friend list:

1.) everything’s gonna be all right
rockabye, rockabye

2.) gone making myself look damn good naked in order to compensate for the shortcomings of my face and personality… im exercising

3.) bed.

4.) Well now I don’t have to job search again for another 4 1/2 months…

5.) towndown

Not only do these contain terrible spelling and grammatical errors, but just imagine clicking from screenname to screenname, checking away message after away message: what do these messages really mean to us? Nothing. We may be temporarily amused, but then just as quickly we’re on to the next one. Just a way to pass the time, that’s all.

Maybe this post has all been one big ramble. But at least I got you to read it.

 

Annotate THIS!

So for my paper, I’m covering the topic of novel-to-film adaptation, using Sideways as my case study, since it’s not your typical, everyday novel-to-film case: Rex Pickett (original author of the novel) is a screenwriter by profession, Alexander Payne (director and co-writer of the screenplay) opted the novel for a movie before the novel was ever published, and the movie happened to save Pickett’s financial state, as well as have an incredible effect on California wine country following it’s release. Basically: people could have cared less for the book. Usually, the opposite proves true. I’d like to examine three topics here: the book vs. movie argument, the adaptation process, and the financial effect of both novel and film.

And now, some annotations:

 Charette, Daphne. “Creative Courage: An Interview with Rex Pickett.” The Screenplayers. <http://www.screenplayers.net/rexpickett.html>.

An interview with Rex Pickett, author of the original novel. He offers commentary on authors’ rights and filmmakers’ rights, and what leniency a filmmaker should have when adapting a novel to screen.

Franz, Michael. “‘Sideways’ Put Chill on Merlot.” The Washington Post. 11 May 2005. http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1G1-132349916.html.

An article concerning financial effects of California wine country following the movie’s release, particularly the steady decline of Merlot popularity. I’d like to examine here (a little bit) how product portrayals in motion pictures affect real-life product sales, and even contrast if with the minimal effect the book had on Merlot sales. Or for that matter, Pinot Noir sales (see below).

Gray, W. Blake. “Rex Pickett: Spilling on Sideways.” San Francisco Chronicle. 26 Jan 2007. <http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/01/26/WIGQINNPCT1.DTL>.

Another interview with Pickett, this one revealing more of his autobiographical inclusions in the content of the original text. He really seems indifferent towards the alterations made in the film: and yes, money has something to do with it.

Gunther, Marc. “Fox the Day After Tomorrow.” FORTUNE/CNN. 17 May 2006. <http://money.cnn.com/2006/05/15/magazines/fortune/chernin_futureof_fortune_052906/>.

Here there’s a little blurb about profits that the movie made– only after respectable award recognitions, though. Also commentary on how movies can succeed, even if no “known” actors are involved.

Macdonald, Moira. “Movie ‘Sideways’ is true to novel’s essence.” The Seattle Times. 04 Nov 2004. <http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/movies/2002081409_payne04.html.>

This article offers opinions from both Payne and Jim Taylor, who co-wrote the adapted screenplay together, on (continuing topic) how much leniency a screenwriter should have when adapting a novel to film, and how little the original author should be involved.

Payne, Alexander and Taylor, Jim. Sideways: The Shooting Script. Newmarket Press, 2004.

The screenplay. This will complement nicely with the film and the novel, which I plan on using as well. I realize this is a primary source; however, there are useful commentaries from both Payne and Pickett included. It’s still in the mail, but I look forward to perusing my way through it soon.

 Pemberton, Patrick S. “Author Finds His Life is No Longer Going Sideways.” Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. 21 Mar 2005. <http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=310801>.

An article covering the “salvation” of Pickett’s financial life after the release of Sideways; most notably: the movie, not the novel.

Peterson, Karla. “‘Sideways’ Glances: Novel Complements a Vintage Movie.” San Diego Union-Tribune. 10 Jan 2005. <http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/features/peterson/20050110-9999-1c10karla.html.>

Commentary on the book vs. movie argument, specific to this series, so convenient for me. Peterson notes that in this case, both book and movie go together well, such as “Copper River salmon and [a bottle of] ‘96 Comte Armand Pommard,” and both do justice to their mediums.

 

Tesconi, Tim. “‘Sideways’ Film Making Pinot Noir a Star.” Santa Rosa Press Democrat. 23 Feb 2005. http://nl.newsbank.com/nl-search/we/Archives?p_action=doc&p_docid=108C07B09279C6B4&p_docnum=1&s_dlid=DL0108040815383020051&s_ecproduct=SUB-FREE&s_ecprodtype=INSTANT&s_subterm=Subscription%20until%3A%2012%2F14%2F2015%2011%3A59%20PM&s_subexpires=12%2F14%2F2015%2011%3A59%20PM&s_username=santarosa&s_accountid=AC0105061516020614723&s_upgradeable=no.

More on the financial effects of Sideways on California wine country, this time dealing with the dramatic increase in Pinot Noir sales.

Updike, John. “Seen the Movie? Read the Book!” The New York Times. 28 June 1987. <http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9B0DEEDF1131F93BA15755C0A961948260>.

An insightful opinion (though twenty years old) of novelist John Updike on the theme of novel to film adaptation, including his vehement comments against these practices and their fallacies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Would Not, Could Not, On the Screen…

On the topic of film adaptation and authors’ rights, here’s another (I’m addicted) Onion article for your enjoyment:

http://www.theonion.com/content/opinion/stop_making_movies_about_my

Medium: Not Just a Show on NBC

After exploring the worlds of Patchwork Girl and (more recently) Filmtext, I’ve come to the conclusion that I prefer old, boring two-dimensional print on old, boring white (hopefully recyclable) paper. Maybe I’m just an old, fashioned kind of guy. This doesn’t go for all kinds of literature, of course; I love hearing a poem read aloud and seeing/hearing a play performed on stage. This is because these are their intended mediums, which means maybe I just haven’t given hypertext a decent enough chance. I’ll try harder, I promise. Wouldn’t it be interesting, though, to see Patchwork Girl or (yikes!) Filmtext on paper? Wouldn’t that be a TRIP? (As if they weren’t enough of a trip already.)True, these works would probably not function as well in this medium (as Kim noted), but it would be, um…interesting to see what they look like on paper. Come on, it’d be fun! Hey now, we students have to read poetry and plays on paper all of the time; we’re rarely given the luxury of hearing these same works read aloud or performed on stage, in the mediums they were meant to be presented in. We’ve seen a lot of works outside of their mediums, so why not Patchwork Girl or Filmtext? They may not make a whole lot of sense, but it’d be…interesting, nonetheless.

This is why I enjoy Poems That Go. In some cases, you are allowed the opportunity to hear the poem read aloud, and even if not (ahem, Wallace Stevens), it is a visually stimulating experience; one is allowed to experience the poem in an updated art-space, easily accessible to many people around the world. I did a little internet research and found Forgetfulness, one of my favorite Billy Collins’ poems (I adore the allusion to Lethe). I believe it is even voiced by the MAN himself (sounds like him anyways):

 

Crave some more? Try The Best Cigarette. The visual artwork in this one is very stimulating. Trust me, your retinas will thank you:  

Patchwork Girl, She’s Been Livin’ In Her Patchwork World…

I actually acquired Patchwork Girl just in time; it was waiting for me in the mailbox at 1:30PM today. Since then I have most certainly delved into a good portion of it, though I’m not certain as to how much more of it is hiding away inside this magical CD-ROM, so I’ll take a break to write a post.

There’s a very…um…interesting format (ahem hypertext) to this piece, and to be honest, about an hour passed before I actually figured out how to steer my way through it in a digitally coherent manner. Now I realize there is probably no conventional way to approach it, but I’m still getting used to the randomness of narrative placement. (If the narrative placement is not supposed to be random and there isa set way to take oneself through the piece, somebody please cyber-slap or -mutilate me or something to that effect. Please.)

A narrative (or a fraction of one) that I have managed to trudge through sensibly: from the point of Shelley’s “monster” parting ways with her creator to the point of the “monster’s” inevitable leprosy-like symptoms intensifying to dangerous levels. Clearly, this creature is forever on a quest to become human, or at least successfully assimilate herself into a contemporary human society. Set out for the Americas, she carries “a collected Cicero, the beginnings of a black knit shawl still umbilicalled to its ball of yarn, a buttered bun carefully folded into a handkerchief,” all of which reflect on a particular human culture, displaying the assumption that she just wants to take on a human role. She even states early on, clear and concise: “I want to be human.” But it can’t be as simple as that, can it? She’s not just going to suddenly wake up one day and be a human being, is she? No, and it prompts her (and us, as readers) to ask: What exactly makes a human? She has all of the physical body parts sewn together, but as these start to fall apart from the collective “being” she is, does that mean she should start to feel like less of a human being? Going beyond the physical part of it, there are traces of an individual, a “self” being attempted: “I preferred Ovaltine to chocolate milk; I liked retsina and disapproved of dessert wines; I ate butter-rum ice cream exclusively.” This sense of “self” appears to not hold together too well, though, as is evident when she starts writing; she’s not sure whoexactly is doing the writing, associating the previous body part “owners” with anything involved in her writing process. If she does not have a claim to her physical self, why should she have a claim to any other part of her self? At one point she states, “But if I don’t own it…nobody else does either, or ever did.” And here comes (ta-da!) Hayles again with the whole “possessive individualism” theory, taken a step further into the physical realm: if she has no direct claim to her liver or her right arm or her left breast, what’s to say that the last person ever had a claim to these to begin with? Wouldn’t this would be a great concept behind an international Organ Donor system, where everybody shares hearts and kidneys and large intestines peacefully and endlessly and signatures on backs of driver’s licenses are unnecessary because the program is universally participated in? Ah, that’ll be the day.

For now, back to Jackson, then on to Amerika.

Get Thee To A Library, Go.

The more and more I reflect on it (which may not be as often as Kim would hope), I completely agree with a human life form (Miranda) behind the “primer” as a vital part to Nell’s “succession” in life; it wasn’t all about the primer itself, but there was a human being, a mother-type figure there to interact with Nell and guide her through pre-pubescence into adolescence. All of those sixty-five thousand girls? Who were they? We don’t know. But we do know Nell. And though Miranda didn’t have physical contact with Nell all of those years, she was still there for her on the other end.

This had me thinking about the whole concept of Instant Messaging. According to Stephenson’s novel, under the right circumstances in this day and age, wouldn’t a girl like Nell be able to “sprout” into a courageous young woman by assistance of AIM (along with real-life physical human characters like Constable Moore), or some sort of similar chat-based internet technology? Maybe I’m a little far-fetched here, but couldn’t the same story have been dictated and interacted with through this type of technology? Or what about text messaging? Personally, I prefer it in a book, so there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just a thought.

Futher on the instant messaging topic: I think we adore Instant Messaging so much nowadays because we are aware that another live human being exists on the other end of the typed conversation. Of course we could just meet in person or talk on the telephone, but sometimes that’s not always convenient, or we’re just too damn lazy to get up and interact in those mediums. Personally, I hate the telephone and try to avoid physical contact with humans as much as possible. I have dogs; petting them is enough physical contact for me.

So what about AIM-Bots? You know, computerized personalities on AOL Instant Messenger that are programmed to type back to you. The conversations are amusing for a minute or two, and then grow increasingly redundant and stale. It’s just not the same as Instant Messaging a human being. For example, I gave an ex-girlfriend of mine Hamlet’s “Get thee to a nunnery” speech over AIM once and she lost it, pouring out with emotional outbursts such as “You’re an (expletive)” and “(Expletive) you” and “I’M the one who needs to be institutionalized?” What a riot! When this speech is typed to an AIM-Bot, however, the results are far less entertaining:

oooooohyeahhhhhh: “Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. “ SmarterChild: C’mon. Stop being so uncool to me.

While the response is more peaceful, it’s only half as amusing. And yes, my screenname is “oooooohyeahhhhhh.” Long story.

The Diamond Age, Or, A Young Lady’s Illustrated Blah Blah Blah

Let me begin by apologizing for the tardiness of this post. My internet has been misbehaving lately, and not even the effects of classical conditioning are working in this area. (You know: if the computer doesn’t misbehave, I don’t assault it with a sledgehammer.)

Oh, what can be said for the second half of The Diamond Age? I must admit that it was a hell of a lot easier to follow than the first half (the “set-up,” according to Kim), and here is where I also confess that a shorter span of time passed in reading the final four-hundred eighty-nine pages of text than the first ten; for me, delving into an alternate world of science fiction is usually not as difficult as this. Thank you, Neal Stephenson. The second-half definitely focused more on plotline and therefore flowed a little easier in my inner monologue (with the occasional interruption of a “total pages left to read” countdown); I particularly enjoyed the battle scenes because there were extremely vivid images in my mind as to what was going on– which led me to ask myself: “Why is this?”

Ah ha! And so Stephenson answers: “The passives of that era [ahem, our era] were so fun to watch, with their big, stupid cars and big, stupid guns and big, stupid people.” (393) Naturally, I (and don’t deny it; I’m sure some of you did as well) enjoyed reading these battle scenes only because this is what we were exposed to growing up: think of your typical grade-A Hollywood “blockbuster movie” (as the “Governator” deems it) and the images stenciled into your brain; those types of scenes are usually impossible to forget. This isn’t to say that I (we) ever enjoyed or advocated this violence, but aren’t these sometimes the images we remember best? I’d be a fool to claim that it stops with mere entertainment: naturally, the same holds true for real life; ever heard of PTSD? I’d also be a fool to strictly agree with Stephenson in associating these images with strictly our era; ever read Beowulf? Chanson de Roland? The list goes on and on. I’m not going to dwell on this, just ask: do we find these types of scenes in literature memorable because they fall into play with an intelligent, much larger plotline, or simply because of their “Bang, Bang, Boom, Boom” attractiveness we see so commonly exploited today? Are Westernized cultures mainly to blame for this type of entertainment or does it extend beyond that?

For a suitable, relevant parody of this type of entertainment, here’s a scene from “Weird Al’s” feature film, UHF, where Rambo saves Michael Richards from his mortal end:

Side note: since we’re talking about the bastardization of Westernized culture, did anybody else find it ironic that Dr. X dictated his anti-American “parking lots and chaos” (458) speech to Hackworth inside of a McDonald’s? Was this an intentional joke?

Another side note: Wonder why this technologically advanced sci-fi novel mostly took place in the Far East? Maybe this will help to explain.

Special Topics in Contemporary Literature!

And now, the most recently published article from theonion.com, definitely relevant to this class:

Novelists Strike Fails To Affect Nation Whatsoever

Graduate English Papers Kill Trees, Too

Wait, what’s that? We have to write a paper? Politicians have adulterous affairs with prostitutes, too? When did all of this start to happen?!

I did have a couple of ideas in mind:

I have stated my opinion in previous entries on the topic of materials and the experiences associated with them. In particular, the physical notion of the book: since it’s what we grew up with, we (book readers) exhibit a passion for books because of the memories we associate with this type of recreation (book reading). Furthermore, this is also why we (English majors) may dislike textbooks so much: since we have grown accustomed to reading for pleasure and textbook reading has always been a class requirement, the physical textbook may always appear revolting to us, like three-month old SPAM left uncovered on the kitchen counter (the stench alone is wretched enough). To take it even further, in this day and age, children may have that similar passionate connection to video games or a Segway or whatever it is kids worship nowadays, since these are the materials equated with recreational activity. This may account for the steady decline of book reading for pleasure: the only types of book reading that may be happening nowadays are Gary Paulsen novellas assigned in sixth grade English classes. Novels are becoming more and more “homework” and less “recreation.” Just a thought.

OR

The whole idea of film adaptation has always intrigued me, particularly the severe amount of alterations involved from page to screen. This summer I decided to read Rex Pickett’s novel Sideways after declaring the film version to be one of my favorite contemporary motion pictures of all time (in my quest to become a true wino, or oenophile, to use a euphemism). I was appalled by how many changes had been made, and most of them unnecessary, too: name changes, vital scenes cut out that would have allowed an audience to dig deeper into Miles’ depression, failure (he’s unemployed in the novel, not an eighth-grade English teacher– though I’d rather be unemployed, in all honesty), and suicidal nature (so much attempted drowning!), etc. etc. Too many non-sensical alterations. Why, Alexander Payne, why? I wouldn’t mind examining the process of film adaptation (perhaps I should see the film Adaptation, too: I hear it’s a masterpiece); I have a feeling that most of the decisions have to do with Hollywood marketing schemes: you know, sex and violence and all of that “good stuff” that helps sell thirteen-dollar movie tickets.

OR

Let’s a be a little farfetched here: how about YouTube-based readings of Shakespeare’s sonnet 38?

Nah, maybe not. Speaking of Shakespeare (and this is completely unrelated to paper topics), I happened to catch Laurence Olivier’s Hamlet (1948) the other night on TCM and couldn’t help but notice his strong resemblance to Sting. See:

You have to admit, every little thing Olivier does is magic. Except maybe his Richard III.