Spike Jonze: Her

This week's post is offered by a mysterious contributor who goes by the name of Longshot Johnny.

Those who think Her is a movie about the juxtaposition of men vs machines, in which you have to choose sides, and probably end up in some conclusion about the potential danger of technology, will be proven wrong. Jonze does not take part, he is not even interested, in asking such a question. He tells the story. And the story is damned well told. We’re in a near future, say ten years from now, and people go around with 50’s style high-waisted pants and pastel colored clothes. Absolutely realistic, considering today’s vintage style. Even more realistic is the technological evolution Spike pictures: you don’t see flying cars or robots on the screen, instead you can find cooler phones, videogames and porno chats. Among these social-technologies, there is Samantha (with Scarlett Johansson's voice), a semi-sentient operative system that speaks and grows, learning from the conversations with the user (in this case Theodore, played masterfully by Joaquin Phoenix). A sort of Apple’s Siri except that this one actually works.

Virtual is surrogate for real. Theodore’s job itself (writing love letters for others) is the proof of this established substitution. But we come to know how deep-rooted this process is in the scene with Olivia “The Panther” Wilde. She plays the girl hoping to hook up with Theodore for a one-nighter, except that, when we think we know what she is aiming at (yes, good ol’ sex) she cries out from her eyes a desperate need for something stable, solid and true.

Well, Theodore and Samantha fall in love. And the question that arises is: is it real? Can it be love or is it just an easy companionship, without the problems and misunderstandings of a human relationship? I don’t know the answer. Still, the dynamics of birth and rebirth that they inspire in each other is striking, from Samantha’s conception (the OS start animation) all the way to her death, through the gradual discovery of the world and herself. But most of all, Jonse is a genius in suggesting that Samantha actually becomes “human” when she starts DESIRING: “I want to know, I want to feel what you feel”.

On the other hand, Theodore lives a brand new life with Samantha and is happy again. Their love looks so beautiful, that the girl supposed to be a stand-in body for Samantha admits she is attracted by the TRUTH of their relationship (another peak of genius in the movie). Again, that desperate need of something REAL, that cannot be found anywhere else.

So beautiful, and yet it cannot last. There is something inherently, ontologically different between Sam and Theo. She never does anything wrong, she never does evil. Even when she starts “meeting” with other people, it’s not her fault: “I cannot stop it” says Samantha. “What does it mean you cannot stop it..?” It’s not just jealousy that makes Theodore struggle. The point is that she can’t choose, she is just following a highly sophisticated network of inputs that makes her act like that. The skill of the director  shows in his simulating a real person growing in feelings and knowledge and even desires, but without freedom. Samantha even loses the ability to speak for herself: “we (the OSs) have decided”.

This is the ultimate difference between humanity and everything else in the cosmos.

At the very end of the movie, unexpectedly, Theodore addresses a letter to his ex wife, perhaps recognizing the reality of that relationship and the painful freedom within it.

Alice Munro: Runaway

I have a confession to make. I hadn't read any Alice Munro until recently, when I decided that I should give the latest Nobel Prize for literature a try. I came across this collection of short stories, without much preparation, knowing only that "Alice Munro is the queen of the short story". Well, only a few pages in I could see why. This has to be the best short story collection I've ever read (a close tie would be Raymond Carver's Cathedral - but more about that some other time).

Runaway - published in 2004 - contains eight stories and leaves you feeling as though you have read eight full length novels. Each story is centered around a main character and all of the characters are brilliantly created. As readers we are immediately carried within the characters' worlds and so immersed in their lives that at the end of each story we feel as though we had just lived a whole rich, deep and compelling life with them. Even in terms of time, Munro isn't afraid to take us back into their past and forward to their last days, within the space of a few dozen pages. In doing so, she elicits our understanding and deep sympathy for their motives and desires. At the same time - and this is what makes the stories so compelling - we are left feeling that a mystery is still intact. We have witnessed something true, but we can't exactly pinpoint what it is. Each plot leads us breathlessly to the end leaving us to realise that this is - of course - the only possible ending, and at the same time questioning why. There is a necessity that we can only recognize and not dare to explain.
 The stories themselves for the most part concern ordinary people in ordinary situations, but the realism is so vivid, the psychological analysis so keen and the emotion so powerful -  but never over the top - that they stay with you long after you have finished reading.What Munro explores so well is the dynamics of desire and how this enters in all human relationships: mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, friends, lovers.
My impulse after finishing each story was to close the book, not wanting to talk about the story or attempt to analyze it, but simply silently acknowledging the mysterious truth that had been portrayed.  I realize that I am not giving many details about the stories themselves, but the truth is the only thing I really feel compelled to say is what Jonathan Franzen wrote about this book for The New York Times Book Review:

"Runaway is so good that I don't want to talk about it here. Quotation can't do the book justice, and neither can synopsis. The way to do it justice is to read it . . . Which leaves me with the simple instruction that I began with: Read Munro! Read Munro!" 

And that's exactly what we all should do.

John Gardner: The Art of Fiction

The latest book I want to review is strangely enough not a work of fiction. It is about fiction, however, and specifically about writing fiction. I am very interested in creative writing, and lately I've been wanting to devote a little more time to it (what time??). I looked up the syllabus of a few of the beginner's fiction creative writing courses held at my university and found that most of them included this book as their main creative writing manual. I've skimmed through writing manuals before, but this is the first one that I've actually sat down with pencil in hand and read from start to finish - underlining, taking notes, and doing the exercises at the end. I have to say the experience has been extremely rewarding.
First of all, this is the first of the writing manuals I've dealt with that is not primarily a how-to book, aimed at those who want to learn a few basic rules to write a fast-paced, easily marketable piece of fiction in a couple of months. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but usually a few pages in, I find myself wondering whether I would actually want to read the kind of novel or story taught in those books. John Gardner's book is, first of all, extremely well written. I guess this is obvious, since he was also a novelist himself, and I would like to read some of his own fiction in the future. Even if you're not planning on writing fiction any time soon, I recommend checking this book out, simply for the pleasure of reading it. It is just as entertaining as it is instructive, as John Gardner draws on his own experiences as a writer and creative writing instructor to give examples of writing errors and successes. Secondly, it deals with literary fiction, and writing considered as a work of high art with a seriousness that is truly inspiring. I can see why this book would be used in college and even graduate level writing courses, because it is not meant for people who simply want to "mess around and have fun" (e.g. the second chapter is all about truth as the goal of fiction). This attitude determines a heavy focus both on the - shall we say - moral responsibility of the writer and on the detailed explanation of principles and techniques. These are discussed with precision but also a light and enjoyable way and concern not only basic character development, plot and scene structure, but also tone, shifts in psychic distance, metrics and rhythm, clumsiness e.g. inappropriate use of introductory phrases containing infinite verbs etc. Finally, the exercises provided at the end of the book are extremely useful and inspiring. One element that might put off some readers is Gardner's unapologetic judgements about 'good' and 'bad' writing - which don't spare even Hemingway and Faulkner. To be honest, I found this attitude quite refreshing and as someone who believes that fiction should be first and fore most about telling a story honestly I especially enjoyed his good natured jabs at the purely intellectual and narcissistic pleasure of certain post-modern, deconstructivist fiction or metafiction.
If you are at all interested in fiction I suggest you pick up this book, because it is an excellent companion to literary theories and critical works. If you want to develop your writing skills, it is a must-read.

Elizabeth Strout: Olive Kitteridge

For a long time graduate school got the best of me and I actually considered deleting this blog altogether. Now, I'm back, at least temporarily, with a review of a wonderful collection of short stories I recently read. I had previously read Abide with me, by Elizabeth Strout, and while I enjoyed it I wasn't pulled into it as much as with this collection. I recently picked up this Pulitzer Prize winning collection, after hearing the author present her latest work The Burgess Boys, which I haven't read yet, since my budget doesn't allow for the purchase of hardcover books at this time. If her newest novel manages to even come close to Olive Kitteridge I will be happy to have read it, because I absolutely loved the short stories. The structure of the collection is what critics usually call a composite novel, in which all the stories are linked together by a common setting and characters that return in the various stories. A lot like in Sherwood Anderson's Whinesburg, Ohio, the action here takes place in a small town in Maine, where everyone - mostly old people - knows each other and all the characters' stories are linked to each other in some way. Olive Kitteridge herself is a crabby old math-teacher who observes her neighbors with contempt more often than understanding, but you learn to love her as the book goes on. The structure of the composite novel allows you to see the different characters from many points of view and really get to know them and if not understand at least feel for them. It also sheds light on what the characters understand of themselves and of each other. Olive herself is the main link between the stories, although she appears only fleetingly in a few of them. I guess if I had to find a concise way to describe the main theme of this book I would define it as compassion and understanding. Many characters - and the protagonist most of all - are not immediately lovable, heroic or endearing. However, by understanding more about their motives, deep desires and hidden weaknesses we come to feel true empathy toward them. In a way, it is the same empathy that Olive herself feels toward many of the people she meets, although her absolute lack of sentimentality make her appear harsh and unfeeling. Although she is absolutely incapable of expressing her affections, there is an honesty about Olive that does give her an aura of heroism at the end, just as her frustration for her failed relationship with her son shows her in all her weakness. At the end of the day she seems to know the fundamental truth regarding herself and all the other villagers: a desperate need to be loved.
It is not an especially light or happy read, but it is so well written that it is really easy to get absorbed in. I don't agree with some reviewers and bloggers who have called it depressing - although it is true that some of the themes are pretty dark (most characters are either sick, dying or miserable). What truly made it a great book, for me, is Elizabeth Strout's writing style, her control, her use of point of view, the nuances of her language. Maybe it is a sign that I'm getting older, but her wit and humor made me laugh out loud a couple of times, while my heart was breaking at the same time.