solitary_summer: (Default)
[personal profile] solitary_summer
Perhaps it's the remainder of Saturday with the prospect of Sunday (always so much more pleasant than Sundays themselves), but I'm feeling moderately relaxed for the first time this week. Did some actual, if minimal, cooking after coming home from work, frying chicken to go with the salad, and some belly-dancing practice, and will probably watch the remaining S1 Dr. Who episodes & relax & enjoy not feeling as anxious and depressed as most of last week. (Had another of those ridiculous embarrassing anxiety dreams where I am late to work; I wish my subconsciousness would at least chose to angst over more serious issues. Gah.)


There are days of enjoyable, guilt-free doing nothing, and there are (Thursday) the awful embarrassing apathetic days of lethargy that are the result of one planned activity after the other getting canceled, the sunshine & summer heat scaring me and making me hide indoors; that result in guilt and depression, but seem still seem somehow inescapable. And slip-sliding into this kind of mood I started to resent the attempt at therapy for putting more pressure on me, more expectations I feel I can't fulfill, part of me being convinced it's futile to even try, that I'll never be this more free, more balanced person who has a grip on her own life. It's as if every time I try to get some structure in my life, start making plans for activities, etc., after a couple of weeks it turns out to be more than I can handle and my strangely wired psyche reacts with depression and withdrawal into solitude.


Since TM is a kind of comfort food reading when I'm in these kinds of moods, I reread both Tod In Venedig and Tonio Kröger this week, neither of which I remembered particularly well - and don't remember enjoying as much - and it's fascinating reading those two back to back with the ideas about art and the artist, the balance and relationship of art and life expressed in both. Interesting to compare the melancholy, but accepting, almost conciliatory ending of TK (is there even another example where TM doesn't kill off his artist-protagonist?) with the bleakness of TiV, the warmth of the one with the coldness of the other. Another thing I hadn't remembered is how dark TiV is, and I don't mean in a stylish, decadent sense, but in a cruel and relentless one. Even with a subject that allows little else, there's something almost self-torturing in lending auto-biographic traits to von Aschenbach and then taking him through this kind of experience and humiliation. What makes it more depressing and almost eerie is TM at thirty-eight writing out this fate for his something of a decade older protagonist...


After that tried TM's Die vertauschten Köpfe (couldn't get into it), Edgar Hilsenrath's Der Nazi & der Friseur (lying on my bed half-read since months) or Bulgakow's short stories (finished one, but was discouraged when the next one started with references to characters from Russian literature half of whom I didn't know).

So I picked W.A.Hoffman's Brethren - Raised by Wolves (the novel that so irritated me starting off with the three instances of eye-rolling in as many pages) up again, and while it does improve - no more eyes were being rolled until page 130something, although 'emerald orbs' make an appearance -, having read about 140 pages and skimmed through the rest I'm still far from enthusiastic.


I can't quite put my finger on it, and admittedly I go by feeling here, because I don't know much about the period, but even with the carefully antiquated language the psychology seems a little too modern at times, the protagonist a little more out about his sexuality than would seem advisable at the time (or am I projecting more prudish 19th century values onto the late 17th century?), the wolves/sheep analogy is overused to the point where it seriously starts to grate on one's nerves, and while the prose becomes more natural after a while, it still seems a bit laborious and forced at times, reading almost like a translation, with the occasional slip (was 'come' already in use as an euphemism for orgasm in 17th century English?). The 'aye's and 'nay's are invariably replaced replaced by 'oui's (or 'si's and once 'ja') and 'non's to indicate a different language spoken, which is another thing that irritates the hell out of me. If the whole dialogue is supposed to be in French, then what is the point starting a sentence with 'oui' and continuing in English? Taking this to an extreme, there's even "Oui and non." once, which achieves nothing except give the impression that the author has managed to learn exactly two words of French and is now eager to show them off. And while I'm ranting, what is it with the rape/abuse in gay-themed books written by female authors? Can we have a protagonist who doesn't have to overcome some trauma in this respect first? (Admittedly perhaps I'm exaggerating and it isn't as common as all that, but Sarah Monette's angst fest - and I'm saying this in a mostly fond way, since I rather liked Mélusine, although not so much the follow-up volume - is still rather fresh in my memory.) And trust the author to come up with a different (and rather far-fetched) kind of trauma for our hero's lover, which is the source of much angst and keeps them from having sex for the whole book. ::facepalm:: Seriously. Are we supposed to buy the next volume for that?

And just for a change I'd really like to read a historic novel (or fantasy novel in a feudal setting) where the (invariably aristocratic) protagonist isn't a paragon of equality and democracy ahead of his time.


Also continued watching Dr. Who and really love it, although the seasons are sadly short and I've seen the Captain Jack episodes before. It's not the show to make me think deep thinky thoughts, but it's charming, got a lovely balance between gut-wrenching emotional and funny, drama and humour, enjoyable characters, and that's more than I've found in a show (Torchwood aside) for a while. And it's always nice to see the lovely John Barrowman in better than pixelated YouTube quality. :)

Date: 2007-06-09 11:09 pm (UTC)
ext_35267: (Introspection)
From: [identity profile] wlotus.livejournal.com
I wish my subconsciousness would at least chose to angst over more serious issues.

I think you are. Dreams are usually symbolic. Perhaps in that dream work represents your life (feeling late to life or not as far along in life as you believe you should be)?

Date: 2007-06-10 06:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] solitary-summer.livejournal.com
Not in this case, or at least it's not only or primarily symbolic. Years ago, when I hadn't been working in this job long, I once over-slept and came in late when I had to open the shop in the morning. It's been haunting my dreams for years; I'd thought it'd finally stopped, but apparently not...

Date: 2007-06-10 02:47 pm (UTC)
ext_35267: (Default)
From: [identity profile] wlotus.livejournal.com
Oi! Yeah, that's very different. Do you have a tough time forgiving yourself for your mistakes?

Date: 2007-06-10 03:20 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] solitary-summer.livejournal.com
Absolutely. I hate making mistakes, and I have a hard time letting them go. It's not as if I got any problems for coming late that one time, it's just my subconsciousness continuing to obsess about it.

Date: 2007-06-10 03:28 pm (UTC)
ext_35267: (Default)
From: [identity profile] wlotus.livejournal.com
Welcome to the club. :-) I'm doing better, though. I'm beginning to accept that I am human, and I am not going to get everything right, and THAT IS OKAY.

Profile

solitary_summer: (Default)
solitary_summer

March 2013

M T W T F S S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
1819202122 2324
25262728293031

Most Popular Tags

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jun. 20th, 2025 05:55 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios