Poetry Monday

Winter Ocean

by John Updike

Many-maned scud-thumper, tub

of male whales, maker of worn wood, shrub-

ruster, sky-mocker, rave!

Portly pusher of waves, wind-slave.

Film Frames Friday

The Book Report

I'm behind on my Book Reports, just like a kid nearing the end of summer. So, some quick recaps:

A truly forgotten novel from 1966 (there is almost nothing on this online) and undeservedly so. This is a brilliant, frightening story about a renegade group of right-wing warriors bent on taking global politics into their own hands. Their scheme involves the securing of a particular Florida Key and the hijacking of a coast-guard cutter. Ed McBain/Evan Hunter is such a great writer that he manages to flesh out about twenty-five characters. My only complaint is that he goes for a somewhat rushed ironic ending and the book ended far too soon.

I'm not a fan of that "meh" expression but it fits sometime. I think it's a way of saying there's nothing particularly bad about a book (or whatever) but it just didn't float your boat. That's how I felt about this particular Saratoga mystery.

This 1970s French noir is somewhere between a straight-ahead high-body-county existential thriller and a satire of capitalism. It's pretty riveting, and very very strange, either way.

Not the best Wexford, although the mystery, involving illegal birth surrogacy, is fairly well thought out. What took this one down a few notches was a subpar subplot (I should start a lit magazine and call it that) involving an overly-PC police detective with a crush on a co-worker. Forgettable.

Poetry Monday

Four new episodes of Lewis began on Masterpiece Mystery last night (Thank you, television), but there was a special treat last week, a one-off mystery called Endeavor, set in 1965, in which a young Inspector Morse (a very good Shaun Evans) solves his first murder mystery. Evans didn't quite mesh with John Thaw for me, but he was an excellent character in his own right, and the writing and direction were first rate.

There was a real literary bent to the episode, especially since primary clues were buried in crossword puzzle solutions and first editions of poetry texts, including John Betjeman, but I was still surprised to spot a completely out-of-the-blue reference to Philip Larkin's poem "Mr Bleaney." Morse is being shown his digs and the landlady quotes the first two lines of the poem. I nearly leapt out of my chair.

Here it is in full:

Mr Bleaney

by Philip Larkin

'This was Mr Bleaney's room. He stayed
The whole time he was at the Bodies, till
They moved him.' Flowered curtains, thin and frayed,
Fall to within five inches of the sill,

Whose window shows a strip of building land,
Tussocky, littered. 'Mr Bleaney took
My bit of garden properly in hand.'
Bed, upright chair, sixty-watt bulb, no hook

Behind the door, no room for books or bags -
'I'll take it.' So it happens that I lie
Where Mr Bleaney lay, and stub my fags
On the same saucer-souvenir, and try

Stuffing my ears with cotton-wool, to drown
The jabbering set he egged her on to buy.
I know his habits - what time he came down,
His preference for sauce to gravy, why

He kept on plugging at the four aways -
Likewise their yearly frame: the Frinton folk
Who put him up for summer holidays,
And Christmas at his sister's house in Stoke.

But if he stood and watched the frigid wind
Tousling the clouds, lay on the fusty bed
Telling himself that this was home, and grinned,
And shivered, without shaking off the dread

That how we live measures our own nature,
And at his age having no more to show
Than one hired box should make him pretty sure
He warranted no better, I don't know.

The Fire Watchers

I'm pretty chuffed to have finally found a home, of sorts, for my poem The Fire Watchers, a fairly epic terza rima that's been banging around on my computer for years now.

It's up on The Nervous Breakdown, and you can read it here.

Also, thanks to Katie Vagnino, who provided great feedback on this poem to get it into its final form.

Film Frames Friday

The Fantastic Flying Books of Morris Lessmore

I've been away on a week-long trip, visiting Charlene's sister in New Orleans then driving across the Panhandle to visit Charlene's parents in the Tampa area. 

We had a great time, narrowly avoiding Hurricane Debbie and spending a few days (just the two of us) at our new favorite beach, Grayton Beach near the Destin area.

Anyway, in honor of our time spent in Louisiana here's the video of the Academy Award Winning short animated film, The Fantastic Flying Books of Morris Lessmore, an amazing piece of art. Thank you, Yvette, at In So Many Words for finally giving me the push to watch this. It was made by Moonbot Studios in Louisiana and it incorporates some imagery from New Orleans and a storm that invokes Katrina.

But most importantly, for me, is what this film says about a life spent reading. Just watch it, especially if you love books.