Angus Wilson
Anglo-Saxon Attitudes
a novel
I have often thought that the full title of this novel should be Anglo-Saxon Attitudes: A Psychoanalytic Case Study. Angus Wilson had undergone therapy himself, after suffering a "nervous breakdown," probably the result of the tension endemic to his work at the famous code-breaking institution Bletchley Park during WWII.
I will reveal a significant episode that occurs approximately half way through the novel. The commentary would make little sense if I did not bring this up.
The novel is structured along the lines of a classic psychoanalytic case. There are several components to be considered here.
One is that the patient has unhappy or dissatisfied with life for a significant period of time.
"Gerald Middleton was a man of mildly but persistently depressive temperament. Such men are not at their best at breakfast, nor is the week before Christmas their happiest time. . . The prospect of speaking to his wife on the telephone and, even more, of the family Christmas party greatly heightened his depression."
Middleton has been separated from his wife for some time now. Moreover, his children either do not like him or respect him. His wife, Inge, has convinced the children that he is to blame for the separation.
Middleton now is sixty years of age and has retired from his university position as a lecturer in history. Early in his career he had published a book which promised a great future for him, but he never lived up to that brilliant beginning. At present he still maintains membership in a professional society of historians and is regarded highly enough to be considered for the position of editor for the major publication planned to come out in a few years. The present editor is retiring at the end of the year and he, along with other members of the society, wants Middleton to take on the position and the huge task of editing the work.
Middleton, so far, had rejected the suggestion, feeling that he hadn't the energy to handle the workload, and used as an excuse his own project, a definitive work on the life of Edward the Confessor which he had supposedly been working on for years, and had done very little on it for years. Many believed he would never finish the work while some even doubted its existence.
In the first half of the novel, we follow Middleton in his encounters with friends, family, and colleagues and see the growing disgust with his life.
He sums up his life as follows: "a family man who had had neither the
courage to walk out of the marriage he hated, nor the resolution to
sustain the role of father decently. A ex-professor of medieval
history who had not even fulfilled the scholarly promise of studies
whose general value he now doubted."
It is in this state of mind that Middleton travels down to his wife's residence to spend the Christmas holidays with her and his three grown children, two sons and a daughter, and their spouses. The family squabbling and the disdain shown him only increases his unhappiness.
After the Christmas Day dinner, the family gathers in the drawing room, and Middleton settles down "in a deep armchair. . .hunched up as far as his great height would allow him, and remote. He seemed even to have barricaded himself form the rest of the family with little tables on which were his brandy glass, his coffee cup, his ashtray."
One psychoanalytic technique is free association, the mental process by which one word or image may spontaneously suggest another without any apparent connection. Therapists, especially those of the Freudian flavor, ask the patient to respond freely and without conscious thought to words uttered by the therapist, and those responses then become the basis for discussions in future sessions.
As the family discussion continues, several phrases at random stir memories of past events which relate to significant events in his personal and professional life. As he considers these events, he drifts off each time into sleep in which each of those memories becomes a dream in which he undergoes a complete recall of those memories.
Another standard treatment element in a psychoanalytic session is dream work. The patient recalls for the therapist any dreams he or she has had since the session. In psychoanalytic theory, dreams are the repressed memories of past traumatic events which are too painful for the patient to confront.
Up to this point, Middleton has progressed through the various steps of a classic case study: he has recognized that he is extremely unhappy and dissatisfied with his life, he has brought up memories of his past through free association, and he has fully relived those events through his dreams.
One step remains: the gaining of insight, without which there can be no change, no resolution, no escape from his present situation. At the end of his last dream. . .
"So that, he thought, was the whole of it. Suspicions engendered by the words of a drunkard, and the actions of a hysterical woman. He had never dared to confront Gilbert with his words again nor face Inge with his suspicions about Kay's hand. And from these slender foundations it seemed he had woven a great web of depression and despair to convince himself that his chosen study of history was a lie and the family life he had made a deception. . . It seemed to him suddenly as though he had come out of a dark narrow tunnel, where movement was cramped to a feeble crawl, into the broad daylight where he could once more walk or run if he chose."
The last lines of Part One show how much he has changed as a result of the insight that he has gained into the sources of his unhappiness.
"Inge's voice came to him. 'Now there is your father, who has slept all through our wonderful talk.'
'No, I hear you, my dear,' he said.
'We have been talking about truth. But you are the one who can tell us. The great scholar!' Her voice was sarcastic. He got up and, walking over to her, he kissed her on the cheek. It was an action only little less sarcastic than her words.
'You know all about the truth, don't you, Gerald? she asked.
'Yes, my dear, I do.' he answered, 'but I'm going off to bed..'
When he got upstairs to his room, he sat down and wrote to Sir Edgar, accepting the editorship of the History."
Now that he has faced the truth, now that he has gained insight, all that energy he had expended on repressing those memories, is now freed up.
Psychoanalytic case studies usually end at this point, with perhaps a brief summary of the resolution of the sessions. But, this is only the halfway point in the novel. What can follow? What follows is what doesn't get into a case study and is seldom if ever discussed. The patient has gained insight into the sources of the present situation and needs to change past behaviors and re-establish relationships on a different footing.
Herein lies the problem: the patient has changed, but the family, friends, colleagues haven't. While the present relationships may not be ideal, they are at least comfortable and predictable. In addition, each of Middleton's three children has a subplot in which
Middleton attempts to help them.
This, then, is the theme of the second part of the novel: Gerald Middleton attempts to change the nature of his relationships with others. To change a relationship requires a change in both parties, and change,
as we all know too well, is difficult, and frequently impossible.
One of the joys of this novel is Wilson's skill in characterization. Many of the secondary characters are sketched out: each is unique, each speaks with a different voice, and each has a distinct relationship with one or more of the other characters. If any cast of characters can be described as Dickensian, the cast in this novel is one.
Angus Wilson's Anglo-Saxon Attitudes is one of the few novels on my permanent must-be-reread list.
Showing posts with label psychological novels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychological novels. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Hermann Hesse: Demian
Hermann Hesse
Demian
trans. Michael Roloff and Michael Lebeck
Bantam Books edition
In an earlier post, Baltasar Gracian suggested that we can't tell a book by its cover. After reading Hermann Hesse's Demian, I wonder if we can tell a book by its title. While Demian is in the novel, and a significant character, I think the main character is really Emil Sinclair. In fact, inside the book, the title page reads Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth. Well, enough quibbling, let's get to the story.
Those who have read several works by Hesse will probably recognize the basic themes of growth, the loneliness of the one who doesn't fit in, and the setbacks and obstacles along the never-ending path to enlightenment. Beyond the mountain range, the hero of Hesse's works always finds another range to climb. And, death seems to be the only resting place. Those familiar with Steppenwolf, Magister Ludi, Siddhartha, and Peter Caminzind among others will recognize this work.
Various stages in Emil Sinclair's growth:
Innocence: Sinclair's Edenic existence at home as a child
Rude Awakening: Sinclair's first sin
Rescue and the beginning of his journey: Demian and a new way of viewing the biblical story of Cain and Abel
Debauchery and Sin: Sinclair goes to a boarding school and discovers sin and alcohol
Redemption: Beatrice (see Dante)
A new mentor: Pistorius
The Return: Demian reappears
Following is what I consider to be the core of the novel. At one point, Sinclair decides:
"I did not exist to write poems, to preach or to paint, neither I nor anyone else. All of that was incidental. Each man had only one genuine vocation--to find the way to himself. He might end up as poet or madman, as prophet or criminal--that was not his affair, ultimately it was of no concern. His task was to discover his own destiny--not an arbitrary one--and live it out wholly and resolutely within himself. Everything else was only a would-be existence, an attempt at evasion, a flight back to the ideas of the masses, conformity and fear of one's own inwardness. The new vision rose up before me, glimpsed a hundred times, possibly even expressed before but now experienced for the first time by me. I was an experiment on the part of Nature, a gamble within the unknown, perhaps for a new purpose, perhaps for nothing , and my only task was to allow this game on the part of primeval depths to takes its course, to feel its will within me and make it wholly mine. That or nothing!"
Eastern thought is very strong in this work, as, actually, it is in many, if not most, of Hesse's works. While I'm far, impossibly far, from being an expert in Eastern thought, I do have one strong objection here. I see nothing wrong in the struggle for self-enlightenment, but the part that disturbs me is the acceptance of what appears to be one's destiny--"my only task was to allow this game on the part of primeval depths to takes its course, to feel its will within me and make it wholly mine." In other words, this seems to be saying that if one discovers one's destiny is to be a murderer, then one should accept this and become the best murderer one can be.
I'm guess I'm too much of a Westerner to accept this. I do feel that I have responsibility for my actions. I may have only a limited control over my environment and the things that fate has in store for me, but I do have considerable control over my actions. Many times I do have choices, choices beyond that of resignation and acquiescence to fate. Sometimes acceptance may be the best choice, but not always.
And your thoughts?
Demian
trans. Michael Roloff and Michael Lebeck
Bantam Books edition
In an earlier post, Baltasar Gracian suggested that we can't tell a book by its cover. After reading Hermann Hesse's Demian, I wonder if we can tell a book by its title. While Demian is in the novel, and a significant character, I think the main character is really Emil Sinclair. In fact, inside the book, the title page reads Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth. Well, enough quibbling, let's get to the story.
Those who have read several works by Hesse will probably recognize the basic themes of growth, the loneliness of the one who doesn't fit in, and the setbacks and obstacles along the never-ending path to enlightenment. Beyond the mountain range, the hero of Hesse's works always finds another range to climb. And, death seems to be the only resting place. Those familiar with Steppenwolf, Magister Ludi, Siddhartha, and Peter Caminzind among others will recognize this work.
Various stages in Emil Sinclair's growth:
Innocence: Sinclair's Edenic existence at home as a child
Rude Awakening: Sinclair's first sin
Rescue and the beginning of his journey: Demian and a new way of viewing the biblical story of Cain and Abel
Debauchery and Sin: Sinclair goes to a boarding school and discovers sin and alcohol
Redemption: Beatrice (see Dante)
A new mentor: Pistorius
The Return: Demian reappears
Following is what I consider to be the core of the novel. At one point, Sinclair decides:
"I did not exist to write poems, to preach or to paint, neither I nor anyone else. All of that was incidental. Each man had only one genuine vocation--to find the way to himself. He might end up as poet or madman, as prophet or criminal--that was not his affair, ultimately it was of no concern. His task was to discover his own destiny--not an arbitrary one--and live it out wholly and resolutely within himself. Everything else was only a would-be existence, an attempt at evasion, a flight back to the ideas of the masses, conformity and fear of one's own inwardness. The new vision rose up before me, glimpsed a hundred times, possibly even expressed before but now experienced for the first time by me. I was an experiment on the part of Nature, a gamble within the unknown, perhaps for a new purpose, perhaps for nothing , and my only task was to allow this game on the part of primeval depths to takes its course, to feel its will within me and make it wholly mine. That or nothing!"
Eastern thought is very strong in this work, as, actually, it is in many, if not most, of Hesse's works. While I'm far, impossibly far, from being an expert in Eastern thought, I do have one strong objection here. I see nothing wrong in the struggle for self-enlightenment, but the part that disturbs me is the acceptance of what appears to be one's destiny--"my only task was to allow this game on the part of primeval depths to takes its course, to feel its will within me and make it wholly mine." In other words, this seems to be saying that if one discovers one's destiny is to be a murderer, then one should accept this and become the best murderer one can be.
I'm guess I'm too much of a Westerner to accept this. I do feel that I have responsibility for my actions. I may have only a limited control over my environment and the things that fate has in store for me, but I do have considerable control over my actions. Many times I do have choices, choices beyond that of resignation and acquiescence to fate. Sometimes acceptance may be the best choice, but not always.
And your thoughts?
Sunday, May 4, 2014
The Face of Another, the novel
Kobo Abe'
The Face of Another
This is the novel that is the basis for the film of the same name which I commented on a short time ago. While Kobo Abe' is also credited with being the screenwriter for the film, there are some differences between the film and the novel. The anonymous narrator is a research scientist whose face has been disfigured in a laboratory accident. When he leaves his house, he wears bandages that cover his entire head, much like the hero/villain in H. G. Wells' The Invisible Man. He has been unable to reconcile himself to his condition and to a considerable extent takes his anger out on his wife. He decides to create a life-like mask which will allow him to lead a more or less normal life.
The novel is a 1st person narrative, ostensibly coming from three notebooks the anonymous narrator has written for his wife in which he speaks throughout directly to her. The three notebooks cover the time when he decides to create the mask, the period when he is involved in creating the mask, and the events that follow his creation of the mask. In the film, the psychiatrist actually creates the mask and is a very significant character throughout, whereas in the novel, the psychiatrist plays a very minor role and the narrator is the one who creates the mask.
Since much of the novel is actually the narrator's thoughts about his situation as he considers, creates, and wears the mask, Abe' obviously decided the best way for the film to portray this would be through the interaction between the narrator and another person, the psychiatrist being the most obvious. Another difference is that in the film, the relationship with his wife, while bad, does not seem to carry the same importance that it does in the novel. In the novel, as I mentioned above, the three notebooks, which constitute the novel, are written for and directed to his wife. In the notebooks, he addresses her throughout and seems totally unconcerned about any other person. In the film it appears as though his most significant relationship is with the psychiatrist who plays only a very minor role in the novel.
The dominant theme in the novel is the struggle within the narrator to maintain control of events and not turn it over to the mask. He is obsessed by the thought that the mask is trying to take over his life, and this becomes especially clear in the third notebook or the last part of the novel when the mask is completed and he wears it. At first he treats it as though it were a separate entity--when he wears the mask outside for the first time, he says he will take it for a walk, as if it's a dog. However, this attitude changes over time until he becomes convinced that the mask is trying to control him and that he must struggle to maintain his freedom of action.
The Face of Another is an intense psychological drama in which we see the internal struggle of a damaged human being, damaged both physically and psychologically. The endings of the novel and the film are quite different; at least that is how it appears to me. Others may differ.
I found that watching the film and reading the novel to be rather intense experiences, but I felt that I had to continue on to see where they were going. I'm not sure that I understand the ending, if there is one.
The Face of Another
This is the novel that is the basis for the film of the same name which I commented on a short time ago. While Kobo Abe' is also credited with being the screenwriter for the film, there are some differences between the film and the novel. The anonymous narrator is a research scientist whose face has been disfigured in a laboratory accident. When he leaves his house, he wears bandages that cover his entire head, much like the hero/villain in H. G. Wells' The Invisible Man. He has been unable to reconcile himself to his condition and to a considerable extent takes his anger out on his wife. He decides to create a life-like mask which will allow him to lead a more or less normal life.
The novel is a 1st person narrative, ostensibly coming from three notebooks the anonymous narrator has written for his wife in which he speaks throughout directly to her. The three notebooks cover the time when he decides to create the mask, the period when he is involved in creating the mask, and the events that follow his creation of the mask. In the film, the psychiatrist actually creates the mask and is a very significant character throughout, whereas in the novel, the psychiatrist plays a very minor role and the narrator is the one who creates the mask.
Since much of the novel is actually the narrator's thoughts about his situation as he considers, creates, and wears the mask, Abe' obviously decided the best way for the film to portray this would be through the interaction between the narrator and another person, the psychiatrist being the most obvious. Another difference is that in the film, the relationship with his wife, while bad, does not seem to carry the same importance that it does in the novel. In the novel, as I mentioned above, the three notebooks, which constitute the novel, are written for and directed to his wife. In the notebooks, he addresses her throughout and seems totally unconcerned about any other person. In the film it appears as though his most significant relationship is with the psychiatrist who plays only a very minor role in the novel.
The dominant theme in the novel is the struggle within the narrator to maintain control of events and not turn it over to the mask. He is obsessed by the thought that the mask is trying to take over his life, and this becomes especially clear in the third notebook or the last part of the novel when the mask is completed and he wears it. At first he treats it as though it were a separate entity--when he wears the mask outside for the first time, he says he will take it for a walk, as if it's a dog. However, this attitude changes over time until he becomes convinced that the mask is trying to control him and that he must struggle to maintain his freedom of action.
The Face of Another is an intense psychological drama in which we see the internal struggle of a damaged human being, damaged both physically and psychologically. The endings of the novel and the film are quite different; at least that is how it appears to me. Others may differ.
I found that watching the film and reading the novel to be rather intense experiences, but I felt that I had to continue on to see where they were going. I'm not sure that I understand the ending, if there is one.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Patricia Highsmith and the Talented Mr. Ripleys
The title is somewhat misleading for Patricia Highsmith is directly responsible for only one talented Mr. Ripley--the one found in The Talented Mr. Ripley, the first of five novels about his adventures. She is only indirectly responsible for the Ripleys found in the two films based on the first novel: a French version (1960) starring Alain Delon, which is titled Plein Soleil or Purple Noon, as it is in English, (no, I don't understand the choice of the title) and the Hollywood 1999 version titled more appropriately, The Talented Mr. Ripley, with Math Damon.
Spoiler Warning: I will reveal significant plot elements and endings.
In Highsmith's novel, Tom Ripley is sent to Italy by Dickie Greenleaf's father to persuade Dickie Greenleaf to return to the US. A similar theme is found in an earlier novel by Henry James' The Ambassador. Both ultimately fail, but that's the only similarity found in the two novels. Highsmith's ambassador, in contrast to James' Streuther, is a sociopath who fastens himself on his victims and lives the good life as long as he can, at their expense, of course.
Ripley is a complex character who alternates between cold "survival at any cost" behaviors and internal ruminations about how unfair people are and he is able, therefore, to justify himself by blaming everybody else for his actions. After all --what else could he do?-- he asks himself, as he murders two people: one who is about to send him packing, thereby eliminating Ripley's access to the good life, and one who is going to reveal his identity to the police, for Ripley has, by now, assumed the identity of and, most significantly, the fortune of Dickie Greenleaf.
After murdering Dickie, Ripley assumes his identity, and this part of the novel is the most complex and somewhat confusing. Ripley actually is forced to live as both Ripley and Greenleaf as he attempts to conceal his true identity, whichever that is at that particular moment. The police get involved when the body of Freddie is discovered. Freddie was last seen being helped into his car by Greenleaf (Ripley) and therefore is of interest to the police. Secondly, Tom Ripley seems to have disappeared, and the police are now also interested in what Greenleaf (Ripley) knows about him.
Ripley thus has to reappear as himself and remove that suspicion. But, in so doing, Greenleaf must temporarily disappear, which intensifies the police's interest even more. Ripley then has to re-establish Greenleaf's existence, and the plot becomes convoluted as Ripley hustles back and forth between Italy and France, sometimes as Ripley and sometimes as Greeleaf, frequently meeting people who know him as Ripley or Greenleaf. How Highsmith (or Ripley) keeps it all straight, I have no idea.
Two events that happen near the end push the plot beyond credibility. One involves Greenleaf's rings which Ripley wanted and therefore stupidly took from Greenleaf's body. When they are accidentally discovered by Marge, Greenleaf's fiance, Tom's excuse that Greenleaf gave them to him and that he simply forgot he had them is weak. Tom then suddenly remembers that Greenleaf had given him a letter to hold for awhile which he also has forgotten about until now. In the letter, "Dickie" hints at guilt for somethings he has done and declares Tom Ripley to be his heir. I was sure that the police and a private detective hired by Mr. Greenleaf would find both 'lapses" of memory too much to accept. However, I was wrong, and I find these events to be the weakest parts of the novel.
Frankly, I find Tom Ripley an unpleasant character, but Highsmith has created such a fascinating picture of him, that I read on, hoping that he does get caught in the end. Since four more novels about his adventures exist, one can guess the outcome of this novel. I don't know if I will read all four, but I certainly shall read the last one, in hopes that he will get caught in the end.
In the French film, Purple Noon, we see a different Tom Ripley, a highly efficient and coolly professional con man, who has no doubts about what must be done. Alain Delon plays him as the manipulating parasite who always comes out ahead with little or no qualms about his actions, including two murders. The film rearranges, drops, and adds plot elements in order to convey this image of Ripley. Moreover, the homoerotic elements strongly hinted at in the novel are gone. Ripley is definitely heterosexual in the film, which is rather doubtful in Higsmith's Ripley.
Another significant change involves the fake will: in this film "Greenleaf" leaves everything to Marge, his fiance. Ripley then returns as himself and courts Marge. She falls in love with him and, in this way, he will enjoy Greenleaf's fortune after all and, moreover, has turned suspicion from himself regarding Greenleaf's disappearance. However, good must prevail and evil punished at the end, so Highsmith's ending is changed and Tom is found out, just as he is beginning once again to live the good life, as Marge's lover.
In the 1999 version, with Matt Damon as Ripley, we see a very different Ripley, one much closer to Highsmith's Ripley than to Delon's supremely confident and competent Ripley. Damon's Ripley is a more complex individual who appears to be lonely and desires some companionship, much as does Highsmith's Ripley. He is hurt by the taunts and insults of Dickie and some of Dickie's friends. Moreover, the homoerotic elements are back and, in fact, more clearly brought out than the novel does.
There is also an attempt to soften Ripley's character. When Ripley murders Dickie in the novel and in the French version, we see little guilt in Ripley. It is something that has to be done if Ripley is to live as he desires. However, we are given a different Ripley in the Matt Damon version. Ripley only strikes out at Dickie after being told he is being cast off and after considerable taunting about his homosexuality. Finally Ripley strikes out and hits Dickie with an oar. Seeing Dickie fall, bleeding, to the bottom of the boat, Ripley drops the oar, and with a shocked look on his face, kneels down to help Dickie. Dickie then recovers and attacks Ripley who then kills him in "self-defense."
In this version, Dickie/Tom leaves an ambiguous suicide note about guilt and so forth and ends by saying Ripley is his best friend and he owes much to Ripley's help. There is no will in the note, but Greenleaf's father interprets the note as a suggestion to him and therefore tells Ripley that he will turn over half of Dickie's money to him.
Another modification involves the rings incident. Marge, who accidentally finds the rings, doesn't believe Ripley's story and is convinced that Ripley killed Dickie. Tom is about to kill her also, but a friend appears before Ripley can make a move and she survives, bu she is not believed.
Tom, at the end, when it appears that all is well, is forced to kill again. Since it is on a cruise ship, there is no place to hide, nor can he run anywhere. In addition, on the ship is a woman who knows him as Dickie Greenleaf. The last scene is of Ripley sitting alone in his cabin which can be interpreted as his realization that all is over--he has failed.
Earlier I had mentioned my problems with two incidents that occur near the end of the novel: the one involving the rings and Dickie's forged will. In the novel, he is successful in both endeavors. However, it seems as though there are some agree with me. In the French version, Ripley is successful in explaining away his possession of the rings, but he makes Marge the one who inherits Dickie's money, and not himself, as it is in the novel. In the later 1999 version, Marge does not believe Ripley's story about the rings, and Ripley forges only an ambiguous suicide note in which he says Ripley was a great friend: there is no will at all.
Summary Comments: I enjoyed the novel, and if I already didn't have so many books at home to read, I would go on and read the remaining four novels in the series. However, I definitely will read the last one: Ripley Under Water. That sounds ominous, but . . .
I found both films to be very enjoyable, but, surprisingly, the later Hollywood version with Matt Damon as Ripley is closer to the novel than is the French version with Alain Delon. In addition. Damon's Ripley, although softened a bit, is still closer to the complex Ripley in the novel than is Delon's. If I had to choose one to view again, I would, at least now, select the Damon version.
Spoiler Warning: I will reveal significant plot elements and endings.
In Highsmith's novel, Tom Ripley is sent to Italy by Dickie Greenleaf's father to persuade Dickie Greenleaf to return to the US. A similar theme is found in an earlier novel by Henry James' The Ambassador. Both ultimately fail, but that's the only similarity found in the two novels. Highsmith's ambassador, in contrast to James' Streuther, is a sociopath who fastens himself on his victims and lives the good life as long as he can, at their expense, of course.
Ripley is a complex character who alternates between cold "survival at any cost" behaviors and internal ruminations about how unfair people are and he is able, therefore, to justify himself by blaming everybody else for his actions. After all --what else could he do?-- he asks himself, as he murders two people: one who is about to send him packing, thereby eliminating Ripley's access to the good life, and one who is going to reveal his identity to the police, for Ripley has, by now, assumed the identity of and, most significantly, the fortune of Dickie Greenleaf.
After murdering Dickie, Ripley assumes his identity, and this part of the novel is the most complex and somewhat confusing. Ripley actually is forced to live as both Ripley and Greenleaf as he attempts to conceal his true identity, whichever that is at that particular moment. The police get involved when the body of Freddie is discovered. Freddie was last seen being helped into his car by Greenleaf (Ripley) and therefore is of interest to the police. Secondly, Tom Ripley seems to have disappeared, and the police are now also interested in what Greenleaf (Ripley) knows about him.
Ripley thus has to reappear as himself and remove that suspicion. But, in so doing, Greenleaf must temporarily disappear, which intensifies the police's interest even more. Ripley then has to re-establish Greenleaf's existence, and the plot becomes convoluted as Ripley hustles back and forth between Italy and France, sometimes as Ripley and sometimes as Greeleaf, frequently meeting people who know him as Ripley or Greenleaf. How Highsmith (or Ripley) keeps it all straight, I have no idea.
Two events that happen near the end push the plot beyond credibility. One involves Greenleaf's rings which Ripley wanted and therefore stupidly took from Greenleaf's body. When they are accidentally discovered by Marge, Greenleaf's fiance, Tom's excuse that Greenleaf gave them to him and that he simply forgot he had them is weak. Tom then suddenly remembers that Greenleaf had given him a letter to hold for awhile which he also has forgotten about until now. In the letter, "Dickie" hints at guilt for somethings he has done and declares Tom Ripley to be his heir. I was sure that the police and a private detective hired by Mr. Greenleaf would find both 'lapses" of memory too much to accept. However, I was wrong, and I find these events to be the weakest parts of the novel.
Frankly, I find Tom Ripley an unpleasant character, but Highsmith has created such a fascinating picture of him, that I read on, hoping that he does get caught in the end. Since four more novels about his adventures exist, one can guess the outcome of this novel. I don't know if I will read all four, but I certainly shall read the last one, in hopes that he will get caught in the end.
In the French film, Purple Noon, we see a different Tom Ripley, a highly efficient and coolly professional con man, who has no doubts about what must be done. Alain Delon plays him as the manipulating parasite who always comes out ahead with little or no qualms about his actions, including two murders. The film rearranges, drops, and adds plot elements in order to convey this image of Ripley. Moreover, the homoerotic elements strongly hinted at in the novel are gone. Ripley is definitely heterosexual in the film, which is rather doubtful in Higsmith's Ripley.
Another significant change involves the fake will: in this film "Greenleaf" leaves everything to Marge, his fiance. Ripley then returns as himself and courts Marge. She falls in love with him and, in this way, he will enjoy Greenleaf's fortune after all and, moreover, has turned suspicion from himself regarding Greenleaf's disappearance. However, good must prevail and evil punished at the end, so Highsmith's ending is changed and Tom is found out, just as he is beginning once again to live the good life, as Marge's lover.
In the 1999 version, with Matt Damon as Ripley, we see a very different Ripley, one much closer to Highsmith's Ripley than to Delon's supremely confident and competent Ripley. Damon's Ripley is a more complex individual who appears to be lonely and desires some companionship, much as does Highsmith's Ripley. He is hurt by the taunts and insults of Dickie and some of Dickie's friends. Moreover, the homoerotic elements are back and, in fact, more clearly brought out than the novel does.
There is also an attempt to soften Ripley's character. When Ripley murders Dickie in the novel and in the French version, we see little guilt in Ripley. It is something that has to be done if Ripley is to live as he desires. However, we are given a different Ripley in the Matt Damon version. Ripley only strikes out at Dickie after being told he is being cast off and after considerable taunting about his homosexuality. Finally Ripley strikes out and hits Dickie with an oar. Seeing Dickie fall, bleeding, to the bottom of the boat, Ripley drops the oar, and with a shocked look on his face, kneels down to help Dickie. Dickie then recovers and attacks Ripley who then kills him in "self-defense."
In this version, Dickie/Tom leaves an ambiguous suicide note about guilt and so forth and ends by saying Ripley is his best friend and he owes much to Ripley's help. There is no will in the note, but Greenleaf's father interprets the note as a suggestion to him and therefore tells Ripley that he will turn over half of Dickie's money to him.
Another modification involves the rings incident. Marge, who accidentally finds the rings, doesn't believe Ripley's story and is convinced that Ripley killed Dickie. Tom is about to kill her also, but a friend appears before Ripley can make a move and she survives, bu she is not believed.
Tom, at the end, when it appears that all is well, is forced to kill again. Since it is on a cruise ship, there is no place to hide, nor can he run anywhere. In addition, on the ship is a woman who knows him as Dickie Greenleaf. The last scene is of Ripley sitting alone in his cabin which can be interpreted as his realization that all is over--he has failed.
Earlier I had mentioned my problems with two incidents that occur near the end of the novel: the one involving the rings and Dickie's forged will. In the novel, he is successful in both endeavors. However, it seems as though there are some agree with me. In the French version, Ripley is successful in explaining away his possession of the rings, but he makes Marge the one who inherits Dickie's money, and not himself, as it is in the novel. In the later 1999 version, Marge does not believe Ripley's story about the rings, and Ripley forges only an ambiguous suicide note in which he says Ripley was a great friend: there is no will at all.
Summary Comments: I enjoyed the novel, and if I already didn't have so many books at home to read, I would go on and read the remaining four novels in the series. However, I definitely will read the last one: Ripley Under Water. That sounds ominous, but . . .
I found both films to be very enjoyable, but, surprisingly, the later Hollywood version with Matt Damon as Ripley is closer to the novel than is the French version with Alain Delon. In addition. Damon's Ripley, although softened a bit, is still closer to the complex Ripley in the novel than is Delon's. If I had to choose one to view again, I would, at least now, select the Damon version.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Fyodor Dostoyevsky: Nov 11. 1821--Feb. 9, 1881
It was about an handful of decades ago that I sat down, took up a book, and began to read--
"Towards the end of a sultry afternoon early in July a young man came out of his little room in Stolyarny Lane and turned slowly and somewhat irresolutely in the direction of Kamenny Bridge."
A friend had cleaned out his locker on the last day of final exam week and offered to sell me a copy of Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment. It was the Modern Library edition, translated by Constance Garnett, and he wanted fifty cents for it. I had heard of Dostoevsky but had never read anything by him. I took the book. I finished it in a day or so and immediately went out, searching for more Dostoyevsky.
It was the depiction of a potential murderer, and a murderer of an old lady, that grabbed me. Raskolnikov was not a raving, drooling monster. He seemed to be a relatively normal individual, even if highly distraught, and possessed some strange philosophical ideas, that really weren't that strange, if one considers the range of ideas that humans have come up with over the centuries. He just didn't seem like a murderer, or at least what I considered to be a murderer at that time.
Dostoyevsky showed parts of Raskolnikov's character that I recognized but had never before seen in a literary work, or at least showed it to a depth that I had never seen before. He was of two minds about his plan to murder the old pawnbroker. One part of him doesn't think he could ever commit a murder, but he goes about as if he actually intends to do it. Which is the real Raskolnikov--the thinking Raskolnikov or the acting Raskonikov?
Throughout the days leading up to this day, he acts as though it were only an experiment, "no more than a test and a far from serious one." It was only "an idle fancy" that caused him to visit the old pawnbroker and note the layout of the apartment, the room where the painters are working, and the traffic around the doors to the building. He can't believe he will go through with it as he sews a loop inside his coat where he will hang the hatchet.
But, when the day he had decided upon arrived, he found himself almost as a prisoner in his own body which now seemingly acted on his own.
"His reactions during this last day, which had come upon him so unexpectedly and settled everything at one stroke, were almost completely mechanical, as though someone had taken his hand and pulled him along irresistibly, blindly, with supernatural strength and without objection. it was as if a part of his clothing had been caught in the wheel of a machine and he was being dragged into it."
While I have never murdered anyone, I have done some dumb things, which I knew were dumb, but I still went ahead and did them anyway, even while part of me insisted that I couldn't do such a dumb thing. Nor was I unusual in this respect, for I knew of others who had acted the same. No other writer that I had encountered up to this time had ever portrayed a person so completely, so thoroughly, and so convincingly in that state of mind.
As numerous critics have pointed out, Dostoyevsky has his flaws, but he shows us the depths of the human being as few writers have ever done before him, or after him. Dostoyevsky's characters are alive and breathing, and he cares for them, good or bad, virtuous or evil, or, which is most common in his characters, a mixture of both.
Perhaps there may be others who can do as well, but I don't think there are any who do it better.
Overall Rating--Very highly recommended.
"Towards the end of a sultry afternoon early in July a young man came out of his little room in Stolyarny Lane and turned slowly and somewhat irresolutely in the direction of Kamenny Bridge."
A friend had cleaned out his locker on the last day of final exam week and offered to sell me a copy of Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment. It was the Modern Library edition, translated by Constance Garnett, and he wanted fifty cents for it. I had heard of Dostoevsky but had never read anything by him. I took the book. I finished it in a day or so and immediately went out, searching for more Dostoyevsky.
It was the depiction of a potential murderer, and a murderer of an old lady, that grabbed me. Raskolnikov was not a raving, drooling monster. He seemed to be a relatively normal individual, even if highly distraught, and possessed some strange philosophical ideas, that really weren't that strange, if one considers the range of ideas that humans have come up with over the centuries. He just didn't seem like a murderer, or at least what I considered to be a murderer at that time.
Dostoyevsky showed parts of Raskolnikov's character that I recognized but had never before seen in a literary work, or at least showed it to a depth that I had never seen before. He was of two minds about his plan to murder the old pawnbroker. One part of him doesn't think he could ever commit a murder, but he goes about as if he actually intends to do it. Which is the real Raskolnikov--the thinking Raskolnikov or the acting Raskonikov?
Throughout the days leading up to this day, he acts as though it were only an experiment, "no more than a test and a far from serious one." It was only "an idle fancy" that caused him to visit the old pawnbroker and note the layout of the apartment, the room where the painters are working, and the traffic around the doors to the building. He can't believe he will go through with it as he sews a loop inside his coat where he will hang the hatchet.
But, when the day he had decided upon arrived, he found himself almost as a prisoner in his own body which now seemingly acted on his own.
"His reactions during this last day, which had come upon him so unexpectedly and settled everything at one stroke, were almost completely mechanical, as though someone had taken his hand and pulled him along irresistibly, blindly, with supernatural strength and without objection. it was as if a part of his clothing had been caught in the wheel of a machine and he was being dragged into it."
While I have never murdered anyone, I have done some dumb things, which I knew were dumb, but I still went ahead and did them anyway, even while part of me insisted that I couldn't do such a dumb thing. Nor was I unusual in this respect, for I knew of others who had acted the same. No other writer that I had encountered up to this time had ever portrayed a person so completely, so thoroughly, and so convincingly in that state of mind.
As numerous critics have pointed out, Dostoyevsky has his flaws, but he shows us the depths of the human being as few writers have ever done before him, or after him. Dostoyevsky's characters are alive and breathing, and he cares for them, good or bad, virtuous or evil, or, which is most common in his characters, a mixture of both.
Perhaps there may be others who can do as well, but I don't think there are any who do it better.
Overall Rating--Very highly recommended.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Tana French: Two novels--Psychological or Police Procedurals?
Tana French's first two novels are strange ones. The two are linked in that they are supposedly police procedurals, involving Dublin's Murder Squad (which doesn't exist according to French) in action, but the focus is almost as strong, if not stronger, on the psychological aspects. The plots are relatively straightforward and uncomplicated. Those who have read a number of mysteries will be able to "solve" the crime long before the last page. However, saying that doesn't take away from the enjoyment of watching two of French's cops go about their jobs in a highly professional manner, most of the time, while hampered by certain unprofessional doubts and, to a greater extent, the past. In fact, it is their own past that provides the major hurdle for them, for the murders themselves in the two novels do not provide the focus of interest; it is the past of the officers involved in the investigation that makes these two novels absorbing.
For example, in her first novel, In the Woods, a young girl is murdered outside a small town, in the vicinity of an archaeological dig, which sets the tone. The association of her murder with delving into the past is felt most strongly by the officer in charge of the investigation--Robert (Rob) Ryan. Actually, that isn't his full name; it is Adam Robert Ryan. Ryan dropped his first name to conceal his identity. Years ago as a young boy, he was involved in the disappearance and possibly the murder of his two best friends. They had gone up the same hill that the body of the young girl was discovered. Hours later, a search party found Ryan in shock, wearing bloody tennis shoes. His two friends were never found. He had blanked out the events of that afternoon and wasn't able to say what happened. His two friends are missing to this day.
When the body of the murdered girl was discovered, Ryan had to struggle with memories, he thought had been buried and long forgotten. He had dropped his first name. Nobody knew of his association with the earlier disappearance. But, he should have informed his superiors of this involvement with the earlier crime and handed over the investigation to another officer. Instead, he decided to keep his connection with the earlier crime hidden.
However, others soon wondered if there was a link between this murder and the disappearance of the two young people a decade or more ago. Part of the pressure now on Ryan was the fear that he would eventually be identified.
The novel concentrates on the effects of the investigation on Ryan and of the conflict brought about by his surfacing memories from the past. The novel is more about Ryan and the psychological battles he fought during the investigation than it is about the murdered young girl, especially during the second part of the novel.
Those who prefer stories that conclude with all the loose ends neatly and nicely tied up will be disappointed/frustrated with this one. And, it is deliberate also, not just carelessness on the part of a young writer. This may be her first novel, but French knows what she's about.
Her second novel, The Likeness, picks up, sort of, about six months later. Rob Ryan's partner, with whom he had a close relationship, Cassie Maddox, has transferred to the Domestic Violence Squad, for she was one of the psychologically walking wounded, a victim of the investigation. She now has a boyfriend, Sam O'Neill, whom she met during the investigation. He is still with the Murder Squad, so when he calls her one morning, in shock, and pleads with her to come out to the scene of a murder, she agrees, more out of curiosity than any conscious desire to get involved. She is aware that Frank Mackey, head of the undercover division for the Dublin police, is also on the scene.
The victim is a young woman who turns out to be the exact double of Cassie Maddox, which is why O'Neill was in shock. At first he thought it was her. According to the identification she's carrying, her name is Alexandra (Lexie) Madison. When O'Neill had a police computer search done on her name, Frank Mackey turned up because he had had the name flagged. Any inquiries about Alexandra Madison would be brought to his attention.
And, just as in the first novel, the past of a police officer rears up to complicate her life. Prior to her assignment to the Murder Squad, Cassie Maddox had been with the undercover squad, and her boss was Frank Mackey. Together they created an identity for her. She was a student at the local college, attempting to get information about drug dealing on campus. Her false identity was Alexandra Madison.
The victim not only looked like her twin, but she had also taken on the false identity created for Cassie. Lexie Madison was a student at a different college this time, having "dropped" out of the college that Cassie had been working on. She was living with four others in a large house, and the five of them were known on campus as a closeknit and exclusive group.
Mackey got the "brilliant" idea of having Cassie substitute for the murdered woman. They would say that she was stabbed, but that she was found in time to save her life. Cassie would go undercover once again, pretending to be the woman who was murdered while pretending to be Cassie's undercover identity. One more point, Cassie left the undercover group when one of the drug dealers went psycho and stabbed her, not because he found her out but because she just happened to be there at the wrong time.
Again, the murder plot is not complex or complicated. The focus, again, is on Cassie's relationship to the victim, who had assumed her identity. Her acceptance by the victim's friends placed her in an extremely close and warm relationship with four interesting and intelligent people, and this, together with her increasing identification with the murder victim, resulted in a certain estrangement between Cassie and the police. She began to identify with the victim's friends and to defend them to Mackey and O'Neill, who were beginning to wonder about one of the victim's friends.
In both novels, then, the primary interest is not so much on the victim, but upon the investigating officers whose own history, along with a problem of identity, provided the most intriguing complication and complexity in the two.
For example, in her first novel, In the Woods, a young girl is murdered outside a small town, in the vicinity of an archaeological dig, which sets the tone. The association of her murder with delving into the past is felt most strongly by the officer in charge of the investigation--Robert (Rob) Ryan. Actually, that isn't his full name; it is Adam Robert Ryan. Ryan dropped his first name to conceal his identity. Years ago as a young boy, he was involved in the disappearance and possibly the murder of his two best friends. They had gone up the same hill that the body of the young girl was discovered. Hours later, a search party found Ryan in shock, wearing bloody tennis shoes. His two friends were never found. He had blanked out the events of that afternoon and wasn't able to say what happened. His two friends are missing to this day.
When the body of the murdered girl was discovered, Ryan had to struggle with memories, he thought had been buried and long forgotten. He had dropped his first name. Nobody knew of his association with the earlier disappearance. But, he should have informed his superiors of this involvement with the earlier crime and handed over the investigation to another officer. Instead, he decided to keep his connection with the earlier crime hidden.
However, others soon wondered if there was a link between this murder and the disappearance of the two young people a decade or more ago. Part of the pressure now on Ryan was the fear that he would eventually be identified.
The novel concentrates on the effects of the investigation on Ryan and of the conflict brought about by his surfacing memories from the past. The novel is more about Ryan and the psychological battles he fought during the investigation than it is about the murdered young girl, especially during the second part of the novel.
Those who prefer stories that conclude with all the loose ends neatly and nicely tied up will be disappointed/frustrated with this one. And, it is deliberate also, not just carelessness on the part of a young writer. This may be her first novel, but French knows what she's about.
Her second novel, The Likeness, picks up, sort of, about six months later. Rob Ryan's partner, with whom he had a close relationship, Cassie Maddox, has transferred to the Domestic Violence Squad, for she was one of the psychologically walking wounded, a victim of the investigation. She now has a boyfriend, Sam O'Neill, whom she met during the investigation. He is still with the Murder Squad, so when he calls her one morning, in shock, and pleads with her to come out to the scene of a murder, she agrees, more out of curiosity than any conscious desire to get involved. She is aware that Frank Mackey, head of the undercover division for the Dublin police, is also on the scene.
The victim is a young woman who turns out to be the exact double of Cassie Maddox, which is why O'Neill was in shock. At first he thought it was her. According to the identification she's carrying, her name is Alexandra (Lexie) Madison. When O'Neill had a police computer search done on her name, Frank Mackey turned up because he had had the name flagged. Any inquiries about Alexandra Madison would be brought to his attention.
And, just as in the first novel, the past of a police officer rears up to complicate her life. Prior to her assignment to the Murder Squad, Cassie Maddox had been with the undercover squad, and her boss was Frank Mackey. Together they created an identity for her. She was a student at the local college, attempting to get information about drug dealing on campus. Her false identity was Alexandra Madison.
The victim not only looked like her twin, but she had also taken on the false identity created for Cassie. Lexie Madison was a student at a different college this time, having "dropped" out of the college that Cassie had been working on. She was living with four others in a large house, and the five of them were known on campus as a closeknit and exclusive group.
Mackey got the "brilliant" idea of having Cassie substitute for the murdered woman. They would say that she was stabbed, but that she was found in time to save her life. Cassie would go undercover once again, pretending to be the woman who was murdered while pretending to be Cassie's undercover identity. One more point, Cassie left the undercover group when one of the drug dealers went psycho and stabbed her, not because he found her out but because she just happened to be there at the wrong time.
Again, the murder plot is not complex or complicated. The focus, again, is on Cassie's relationship to the victim, who had assumed her identity. Her acceptance by the victim's friends placed her in an extremely close and warm relationship with four interesting and intelligent people, and this, together with her increasing identification with the murder victim, resulted in a certain estrangement between Cassie and the police. She began to identify with the victim's friends and to defend them to Mackey and O'Neill, who were beginning to wonder about one of the victim's friends.
In both novels, then, the primary interest is not so much on the victim, but upon the investigating officers whose own history, along with a problem of identity, provided the most intriguing complication and complexity in the two.
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