If you can think of a worse director to take on The Great Gatsby, feel free to leave it in the commens box. (Thanks to FOTEV Chris for the link.)
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December 18, 2008
THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT
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WORTHY READINGS
TEV DEFINED
The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."
RECOMMENDED
- Nobility of Spirit: A Forgotten Ideal by Rob Riemen
This slim volume by the president and founder of the Nexus Institute, a European-based humanist think-tank, stands as the most stirring redoubt against the ascendant forces of know-nothingness that we've come across in a long time. A full-throated, unapologetic defense of the virtues of Western Civ – in which "elite" is not and never should be a dirty word – this inspiring exploration of high art and high ideals is divided into three sections: The first looks at the life of Riemen's great hero Thomas Mann as a model for the examined life. The second imagines a series of conversations from turning points in European intellectual history, populated with the likes of Socrates, Nietzsche and others. The final section, "Be Brave," is nothing less than an exhortation to dig deep, especially in times of risk. The notion of nobility of the spirit might strike some modern ears as quaint but it seems more desperately necessary than ever before, and there are worse ways to read the accessible Nobility of Spirit than as a crash refresher in the Great Thinkers, free of academic jargon and cant. As a meditation on what is at stake when the pursuit of high ideals is elbowed aside by the pursuit of fleeting material gain, however, Nobility of Spirit might well be the most prescient book we've yet read on what's at stake in the current election cycle and in the developing global situation. Agree or disagree with Riemen's profound, ambitious and high-minded plea, you will be thinking about his words for a long time. It's been ages since a work of non-fiction moved us this way. Read it. Discuss it. Argue about it. - Netherland by Joseph O'Neill
With rave reviews from James Wood, Michiko Kakutani and Dwight Garner, it might not seem like we need to tell you to drop everything and go read Netherland, but we are telling you, and here's why: The way book coverage works these days, everyone talks about the same book for about two or three weeks, and then they move on and the book is more or less forgotten. Whereas a berth here in the Recommended sidebar keeps noteworthy titles in view for a good, long time, which is the sort of sustained attention this marvelous novel deserves. A Gatsby-like meditation on exclusion and otherness, it's an unforgettable New York story in which the post 9/11 lives of Hans, a Dutch banker estranged from his English wife, and Chuck Ramkissoon, a mysterious cricket entrepreneur, intertwine. The New York City of the immigrant margins is unforgettably invoked in gorgeous, precise prose, and the novel's luminous conclusion is a radiant beacon illuminating one of our essential questions, the question of belonging. Our strongest possible recommendation.
- Dictation: A Quartet by Cynthia Ozick
"History," wrote Henry James in a 1910 letter to his amanuensis Theodora Bosanquet, "is strangely written." This casual aside could easily serve as the epigraph of Cynthia Ozick's superb new collection Dictation, which concerns itself with lost worlds evoked by languages -- languages which separate and obscure as readily as they bind. It can be risky to look for connective tissue between stories written years apart and published in magazines ranging from The Conradian to The New Yorker. But themes of deception, posterity, and above all, the glory of language -- at once malleable and intractable -- knit together this quartet, recasting the whole as the harmonious product of Ozick's formidable talent. Read the entire review here
- Diary of a Bad Year by J. M. Coetzee
Now, on the one hand, you scarcely need us to alert you to the existence of a new J.M. Coetzee novel, or even to have us tell you it's worth reading. But we can tell you - we insist on telling you that Diary of a Bad Year is a triumph, easily Coetzee's most affecting and fully wrought work since Disgrace. Formally inventive, the book intertwines two narratives with the author's own Strong Opinions, a series of seemingly discrete philosophical and political essays. The cumulative effect of this strange trio is deeply moving and thought provoking. It's increasingly rare in this thoroughly post-post-modern age to raise the kind of questions in fiction Coetzee handles so masterfully - right down to what is it, exactly, that we expect (or need) from our novels. It's telling that, for all of his serious pronouncements on subjects ranging from censorship to pedophilia to the use of torture, it's finally a few pages from The Brothers Karamazov that brings him to tears. Moving, wise and - how's this for a surprise - funny and lightly self-mocking, Diary of a Bad Year might well be the book of the year and Coetzee is surely our essential novelist. We haven't stopped thinking about it since we set it down.
- The Indian Clerk by David Leavitt
David Leavitt's magnificent new novel tells the story of the unlikely friendship between the British mathematician G.H. Hardy and Srinivasa Ramanujan, mathematical autodidact and prodigy who had been working as a clerk in Madras, and who would turn out to be one of the great mathematical minds of the century. Ramanujan reluctantly joined Hardy in England - a move that would ultimately prove to his detriment - and the men set to work on proving the Riemann Hypothesis, one of mathematics' great unsolved problems. The Indian Clerk, an epic and elegant work which spans continents and decades, encompasses a World War, and boasts a cast of characters that includes Bertrand Russell, Ludwig Wittgenstein and Lytton Strachey. Leavitt renders the complex mathematics in a manner that resonates emotionally as well as intellectually, and writes with crystalline elegance. The metaphor of the prime number – divisible only by one and itself – is beautifully apt for this tale of these two isolated geniuses. Leavitt's control of this dense, sprawling material is impressive – astonishing, at times – and yet despite its scope, he keeps us focused on his great themes of unknowability and identity. The Indian Clerk might be set in the past but it doesn't resemble most so-called "historical fiction." Rather, it's an ageless meditation on the quests for knowledge and for the self – and how frequently the two are intertwined – that is, finally, as timeless as the music of the primes. (View our full week of coverage here.)
- Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris
Joshua Ferris' warm and funny debut novel is an antidote to the sneering likes of The Office and Max Barry's Company. Treating his characters with both affection and respect, Ferris takes us into a Chicago ad agency at the onset of the dot-bomb. Careers are in jeopardy, nerves are frayed and petty turf wars are fought. But there are bigger stakes in the balance, and Ferris' weirdly indeterminate point of view that's mostly first person plural, underscores the shared humanity of everyone who has ever had to sit behind a desk. It's a luminous, affecting debut and you can read the first chapter right here.
- Christine Falls by Benjamin Black
Coming to these shores at last, John Banville's thriller, written under the nom de plume Benjamin Black, has drawn rave reviews across the pond since it first appeared last October. Those who feared Banville might turn in an overly literary effort needn't worry. Influenced by Simenon's romans durs (hard stories), Banville unspools a dark mystery set in 1950s Dublin concerning itself with, among other things, the church's trade in orphans. At the heart of the book is the coroner Quirke, a Banvillean creation on par with Alex Cleave and Freddie Montgomery. Dublin is rendered with a damp, creaky specificity – you can almost taste the whisky.
- The Paris Review Interviews, I by The Paris Review and Philip Gourevitch
Scanning our Recommended selections, one might conclude we're addicted to interviews, and one would be correct. If author interviews are like crack to us, then the Paris Review author interviews must surely be the gold standard of crack (a comparison Plimpton might not have embraced). The newly issued The Paris Review Interviews, Volume I (Picador) rolls out the heavy hitters. Who can possibly turn away from the likes of Saul Bellow, T.S. Eliot, Ernest Hemingway, Jorge Luis Borges, Dorothy Parker, Robert Gottlieb and others? The interviews are formal and thoughtful but never dry and can replace any dozen "how-to" books on writing. What can be more comforting than hearing Bellow, answering a question on preparations and conception, admit "Well, I don't know exactly how it's done.” The best part of this collection? The "Volume I" in the title, with its promise of more volumes to come.
- The Dead Fish Museum: Stories by Charles D'Ambrosio
The best short story collection we've read since ... well, certainly since we've started this blog. And we might even say "ever" if Dubliners didn't cast such a long shadow. The short story is not our preferred form but D'Ambrosio's eight brilliant stories are almost enough to convert us. Defy the conventional wisdom that short story collections don't sell and treat yourself to this marvel. (We're especially partial, naturally, to "Screenwriter".)
- The Mystery Guest by Grégoire Bouillier *Now in Paperback*
What would you do if the woman who’d left you high and dry ten years ago called out of the blue to invite you to a party without any further explanation? If you’re French, you’d probably spend a lot of time pondering the Deeper Significance Of It All, which is exactly what Grégoire Bouillier does for the 120 hilarious pages of The Mystery Guest. This slim, witty memoir follows Bouillier through the party from hell, and is a case study in Gallic self-abasement. Before it’s all done, you’ll set fire to any turtleneck hanging in your closet and think twice before buying an expensive Bordeaux as a gift. But fear not – just when it seems that all is, indeed, random and pointless and there is no Deeper Significance, salvation arrives in the unlikely form of Virginia Woolf, and the tale ends on a note of unforced optimism. Parfait.
- Ticknor by Sheila Heti
When George Ticknor's Life of William Hickling Prescott was published in 1864, it received rapturous notices, and reviewers were quick to point out that the long-standing friendship between Prescott and Ticknor made the latter an ideal Boswell. Sheila Heti has pulled this obscure leaf from the literary archives and fashioned a mordantly funny anti-history; a pungent and hilarious study of bitterness and promise unfulfilled. As a fretful Ticknor navigates his way through the rain-soaked streets of Boston to Prescott's house ("But I am not a late man. I hate to be late."), he recalls his decidedly one-sided lifelong friendship with his great subject. Unlike the real-life Ticknor, this one is an embittered also-ran, full of plans and intentions never realized, always alive to the fashionable whispers behind his back. Heti seamlessly inhabits Ticknor's fussy 19th-century diction with a feat of virtuoso ventriloquism that puts one in mind of The Remains of the Day. Heti's Ticknor would be insufferable if he weren't so funny, and in the end, the black humor brings a leavening poignancy to this brief tale. But don't let the size fool you — this 109-page first novel is small but scarcely slight; it is as dense and textured as a truffle.
- The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers by Vendela Vida
No, your eyes aren't deceiving you and yes, we are recommending a Believer product. Twenty-three interviews (a third presented for the first time) pairing the likes of Zadie Smith with Ian McEwan, Jonathan Lethem with Paul Auster, Edward P. Jones and ZZ Packer, and Adam Thirwell with Tom Stoppard make this collection a must-read. Lifted out of the context of some of the magazine's worst twee excesses, the interviews stand admirably on their own as largely thoughtful dialogues on craft. A handful of interviewers seem more interested in themselves than in their subjects but in the main this collection will prove irresistible to writers of any stripe - struggling or established - and to readers seeking a window into the creative process.
- The Sea by John Banville
John Banville's latest novel returns him to the Booker Prize shortlist for the first time since 1989's The Book of Evidence. In The Sea, we find Banville in transition, moving from the icy, restrained narrators of The Untouchable, Eclipse and Shroud toward warmer climes. Max Morden has returned to the vacation spot of his youth as he grieves the death of his wife. Remembering his first, fatal love, Morden works to reconcile himself to his loss. Banville's trademark linguistic virtuosity is everpresent but some of the chilly control is relinquished and Max mourns and rages in ways that mark a new direction for Banville - and there's at least one great twist which you'll never see coming. Given the politicized nature of the British literary scene, Banville's shot at the prize might be hobbled by his controversial McEwan review but we're rooting for our longtime favorite to go all the way at last. UPDATE: Our man won!
- Here Is Where We Meet by John Berger
We've been fans of Booker Prize winner John Berger for ages, and we're delighted to have received an early copy of his latest work, Here is Where We Meet. In this lovely, elliptical, melancholy "fictional memoir," Berger traverses European cities from Libson to Geneva to Islington, conversing with shades from his past – He encounters his dead mother on a Lisbon tram, a beloved mentor in a Krakow market. Along the way, we're treated to marvelous and occasionally heart-rending glimpses of an extraordinary life, a lyrical elegy to the 20th century from a man who - in his eighth decade - remains committed to his political beliefs and almost childlike in his openness to people, places and experiences. There's no conventional narrative here, and those seeking plot are advised to look elsewhere. But Here is Where We Meet offers a wise, moving and poetic look at the life of an artist traversing the European century from a novelist whose talent remains undimmed in his twilight years.
- Home Land by Sam Lipsyte
In his recent TEV guest review of Home Land, Jim Ruland called Sam Lipsyte the "funniest writer of his generation," and we're quite inclined to agree. We tore through Home Land in two joyful sittings and can't remember the last time we've laughed so hard. Lipsyte's constellation of oddly sympathetic losers is rendered with a sparkling, inspired prose style that's sent us off in search of all his prior work. In Lewis Miner's (a.k.a Teabag) woeful epistolary dispatches to his high school alumni newsletter ("I did not pan out."), we find an anti-hero for the age. Highly, highly recommended.
THIS GUN FOR HIRE: Reviews & Criticism
- A Madman Dreams of Turing Machines & The Man Who Knew Too Much (Philadelphia Inquirer)
- Athena (Boldtype)
- Dictation: A Quartet (Barnes and Noble Review)
- Foreskin's Lament (Philadelphia Inquirer)
- Here Is Where We Meet (Boldtype)
- His Illegal Self (Dallas Morning News)
- Hunk City (New York Times Book Review)
- I Love You, Beth Cooper (New York Times Book Review)
- In the Hot Zone: One Man, One Year, Twenty Wars (Truthdig)
- In the Kitchen (Barnes & Noble Review)
- Indignation (Barnes and Noble Review)
- Out of My Skin (Bookforum)
- Personal Days (New York Times Book Review)
- The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (The Modern Word)
- The End of Mr. Y (Philadelphia Inquirer)
- The God of War (Barnes and Noble Review)
- The Northern Clemency (Barnes & Noble Review)
- The Raw Shark Texts (Philadelphia Inquirer)
- Ticknor (Philadelphia Inquirer)
- Tom Stoppard's Lord Malquist & Mr. Moon (Threepenny Review)
- Where We Are Now: Notes from Los Angeles (Los Angeles Review)
SECOND LOOK
- The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald
Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
- The Rider by Tim Krabbe
Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."
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Uwe Boll?
Posted by: Busta | December 18, 2008 at 02:36 PM
Well, it could've been Uwe Boll. Or Lars von Trier.
Posted by: Ron Hogan | December 18, 2008 at 02:38 PM
I'm sure Michael Bay could do some horrible things to it....
Posted by: Jake | December 18, 2008 at 03:17 PM
If Tarkovsky isn't available, Clint Eastwood.
Posted by: John Shannon | December 18, 2008 at 03:23 PM
Darren Aronofsky
Posted by: Michael Mussman | December 18, 2008 at 04:08 PM
That it, I got it...wait for it...Michael Schumacher.
Posted by: DenverScribe | December 18, 2008 at 04:26 PM
Shoot, Jake beat me to Michael Bay. Second worst choice: James Cameron.
Posted by: Elizabeth | December 18, 2008 at 04:49 PM
not sure why lurhman is a terrible choice - the world being over, really??? a bit dramatic. I can think of a dozen or more directors who would be worse:
1.) Tony Scott
2.) Joel Schumacher
3.) George Lucas
4.) yes, Michael Bay
5.) Brett Ratner
6.) Bryan Singer
7.) Ridley Scott
8.) Steven Spielberg
9.) Michael Mann
10.) that's enough
Lurhman certainly not the best choice. My choices would be, in order to capture the character emotion better than the '74 version:
1.) Todd Field (who's slated to do Blood Meridian)
2.) Roman Polanksi
3.) Clint Eastwood was a good choice
That's about it. Yes, I got way too involved in this post. My apologies.
Posted by: JW | December 18, 2008 at 05:02 PM
I'd definitely second Brett Ratner as a worse choice. I don't think Baz is necessarily a bad choice, just an odd one. Like what if the Coen brothers did Great Gatsby? The thought blows my mind.
Posted by: K | December 18, 2008 at 05:21 PM
Worse than Baz? For The Great Gatsby?
How about:
Spike Lee? David Lynch? Paul Verhoeven? Todd Solondz? Tim Burton?
Posted by: Diana | December 18, 2008 at 06:54 PM
M. Night Shamalyan
Posted by: Matt | December 18, 2008 at 08:32 PM
I disagree with one director listed above. Personally, I'd pay top dollar to see the David Lynch version of The Great Gatsby.
Hell, just for the party scenes alone!
- I don't remember mention of any strung-out acid jazz band in the novel....
- Shhh... Just roll with it. Here comes the hydroplane!
Posted by: GCM | December 18, 2008 at 09:04 PM
LOL. The idea of Spike Lee doing The Great Gatsby is a good one. I don't think there is a director out there that could mutilate TGG more than he could.
Posted by: Fern | December 18, 2008 at 09:10 PM
Having recently seen Sam Mendes and Frank Miller utterly destroy literary masterpieces for the big screen (of which more anon and at length), I can safely declare that there are plenty of directors who can do much worse than Lurhmann.
Posted by: ed | December 18, 2008 at 09:45 PM
i actually think m. night might do alright - since it's not his story, but maybe that's what he needs.
although, what would it be like if Kubrick was here to do it? hmm.
Posted by: JW | December 19, 2008 at 12:02 AM
Nora Ephron
Posted by: O.R.S | December 19, 2008 at 01:12 AM
Okay: there's a world of difference between great directors with a distinctive style that doesn't intuitively match the source material (Aronofsky, Luhrmann, Kubrick, Spielberg, Eastwood) and bad directors whom I wouldn't trust with a thing.
I think the question we should be asking ourselves here is, whose directorial style is suited for Gatsby? I'll bet you we'll come up with a much shorter list.
Ang Lee?
For the record, the 1974 film starring Robert Redford didn't impress me either.
Posted by: Nicholas Tam | December 19, 2008 at 05:12 AM
From the article linked to: "He just paid tribute to his home country in the epic Australia..." - Many Australians, myself included, would dispute this point.
Having watched The Village, I can't countenance ever watching a film directed by M. Night again, and having seen what Kubrick did with King's The Shining (and in particular its female character), I would rather not think of his directing Gatsby.
I think Wong Kar Wai or Jean-Pierre Jeunet could do a great job of Gatsby. On the strength of Away From Her, Sarah Polley would do a much better job than many of the better known directors.
Posted by: Evie | December 19, 2008 at 06:29 AM
I would love to have seen what Ed Wood or Roger Corman would have done with GATSBY.
Posted by: Sarah | December 19, 2008 at 06:52 AM
okay, nicholas, yes, the directors i mentioned are not "bad" - their style does not suit this adaptation.
And Evie, my comment on m. night was a complete and utter joke - which is what I think of his storytelling.
Kubrick - who knows...
But, Sarah Polley - I think that could be fantastic. Away From Her is a great film.
Posted by: JW | December 19, 2008 at 06:59 AM
The 1974 version with Redford as Jay Gatsby was adapted by Francis Ford Coppola BUT directed by Jack Clayton.
Coppola would be an interesting person to direct -- a revisionist re-approach to his original adaptation.
At the same time, he seems to have lost much of his chops considerably since the decade-plus of superlatives that was the 1970's (up until Apocalypse Now). But since he was dying to do On the Road forever, why not take another cut at a classic?
Posted by: Tiffany Leigh | December 19, 2008 at 07:31 AM
John Woo
Posted by: Jim H. | December 19, 2008 at 07:33 AM
Mark, two words: Ron Howard.
Posted by: Laila | December 19, 2008 at 08:54 AM
Roland Emmerich.
Posted by: Michael O'D | December 19, 2008 at 09:28 AM
I was hoping for Crispin Glover.
Posted by: Jim | December 19, 2008 at 10:10 AM
forget the question. I want to see the Quentin Tarantino version of Gatsby (Uma Thurman as Daisy, naturally).
Posted by: tito | December 19, 2008 at 10:43 AM
May I humbly submit "McG"?
Posted by: Jack Pendarvis | December 19, 2008 at 12:52 PM
I think only the Farrelly Brothers could properly explore the vast potential for comedy in Gatsby.
Posted by: Mike Mc | December 19, 2008 at 02:18 PM
My sixth sense:
1. Jane Campion
2. Mike Leigh (yeah... improv that, Mike)
3. Todd Haynes (the closest to competant fidelity)
4. Lukas Moodysson (for bonafide irreverence and casual glimpses of pudendum).
5. Harvey Weinstein (His Directorial Launch)
Posted by: Sanjay | December 19, 2008 at 02:51 PM
A spanish one: Pedro Almodovar
Posted by: Vladimir Gonzalez | December 19, 2008 at 09:43 PM
Personally, I think any director would ultimately fail. There have been very few true great novels that I've loved on the screen. Two totally different media - one, a gauzy ambiguity, requiring us to join the writer to complete the vision, the other, images and thoughts directed and generally seared in stone. Both can be art, but they do not share the same language. Great novels, poor films.
Posted by: Paul | December 20, 2008 at 06:11 AM
Actually, if we're talking about distinctive directors for GATSBY, why not Alejandro Jodorowsky? (He almost made a version of DUNE.)
Posted by: ed | December 20, 2008 at 06:46 AM
Iron Man notwithstanding... Jon Favreau.
- Jim
The Results Are In! Blue Ink Defeats Black Ink, 31-24.
Posted by: Ink and Beans | December 20, 2008 at 07:32 PM
I'd kinda like to see the Russ Meyer version.
Posted by: Daniel | December 20, 2008 at 11:47 PM
Ratner, Ratner, Ratner
Posted by: Kati | December 21, 2008 at 08:11 AM
Maybe Baz could put Nicole Kidman in it and when she first sees Brad Pitt/Jay Gatsby she could say, "It's the drover!"
Posted by: Lauren Baratz-Logsted | December 21, 2008 at 12:12 PM
Stan Brackage
Posted by: beedlebaum | December 22, 2008 at 10:58 AM
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