Melancholy and / or Properly Tormented

A MELANCHOLY MOON, ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS
The Last Full Moon of Winter

Beautiful image
lunar melancholia
framed in leafless twigs
~ Haiku by Burnetta & Kitti
From The Anatomy of Melancholy (1621)
By Oxford Scholar Robert Burton (1577 –1640)

"Melancholy, the subject of our present discourse, is either in disposition or in habit. In disposition, is that transitory Melancholy which goes and comes upon every small occasion of sorrow, need, sickness, trouble, fear, grief, passion, or perturbation of the mind, any manner of care, discontent, or thought, which causes anguish, dulness, heaviness and vexation of spirit, any ways opposite to pleasure, mirth, joy, delight, causing forwardness in us, or a dislike. In which equivocal and improper sense, we call him melancholy, that is dull, sad, sour, lumpish, ill-disposed, solitary, any way moved, or displeased. And from these melancholy dispositions no man living is free, no Stoick, none so wise, none so happy, none so patient, so generous, so godly, so divine, that can vindicate himself; so well-composed, but more or less, some time or other, he feels the smart of it. Melancholy in this sense is the character of Mortality... This Melancholy of which we are to treat, is a habit, a serious ailment, a settled humour, as Aurelianus and others call it, not errant, but fixed: and as it was long increasing, so, now being (pleasant or painful) grown to a habit, it will hardly be removed."

There are many artistic depictions of Melancholy
to choose from, but I'm going with this one . . .

Melancholy, 1894

. . . because coincidentally, I saw this one recently in Chicago and
was drawn to the solitary girl, as she herself is drawn to the moon.

The Girl By the Window, 1893

~ both by Edvard Munch (1863 - 1944) ~
Without seeing the girl's face, it is hard to know just how sad she is, or if she is even sad at all. However, if she happens to be melancholy, that's okay. As contemporary American writer Laren Stover wonders in her article, "The Case for Melancholy": "Whatever happened to experiencing the grace of deeply tinted blue moods, which require reflection and mental steeping, like tea?"

Stover traces the role of melancholy from Burton's Anatomy (above) to Keats's 19th Century expression of "the wakeful anguish of the soul" to a sampling of contemporary movies, including one of my favorites, the animated Inside Out, in which Melancholy is not just a concept but an actual / virtual character. Stover's article concludes as mine begins -- with a melancholy moon; and as Munch's girl in the white nightdress silently conveys to the viewer: "I want moonlight."

When my friend Victoria Amador shared Stover's article on facebook, I was intrigued by the subsequent comments. Not only is Vickie an academic expert on the topic of melancholy, but she also offered her personal perspective: "This has been my natural humour my entire life. No getting around it, and I'm tired of trying and pretending."

Other friends responded similarly:

Billy Lord: You are loved, dear one, just as you are . . .

Patrick O'Brien: Against Happiness: In Praise of Melancholy -- Yes! Not a bad little read. Studies have shown we have a base level of happiness (or melancholy) that we return to despite external events. After the initial euphoria, lottery winners quickly settle back to their base level. And accident victims; paraplegics, etc., rebound to their previous level.

Sir-Igor Steinman: Certainly not "blue" as in "blue laws." I always did detect a "slight" limp. I had always assumed it was the weight of the crown, not a rebound from an accident.

Steve Stajich: All kidding aside, I think we must accept wider parameters of human mood or we're doomed to be either up or down, with outsiders attempting to adjust our down cycles into "productivity." See Soma in Brave New World. Jazz singers, for example. We love their art, but do we want to medicate them so that all they can sing is "Happy" or Christmas tunes? Gestalt theory might say, "Ask a squirrel if he feels funky today." Most critters on this planet don't even struggle with mood. [See my post "SSRI's & Walking Upright."]

My contribution was to pass on the advice that a counselor once wisely told me: "You're a writer; you're supposed to be sad." Not to mention a couple of my Modern British professors at Notre Dame: one who reminded us every semester that we were called upon as students of literature to be "properly tormented human beings," and the other who lectured regularly on "the ache of modernism" -- an ailment from which we all suffered.

Or the fictional professor who tolls Isadora Wing:

"You're not a secretary; you're a poet.
What makes you think your life is going to be uncomplicated?
What makes you think you can avoid all conflict?
What makes you think you can avoid pain?
Or passion?
There's something to be said for passion.
Can't you ever allow yourself and forgive yourself?"
from Fear of Flying (170)
by Erica Jong


What, after all, is a writer's life without a dose of despair?
from Dear Committee Members (p 68)
by Julie Schumacher

“The world is a hellish place, and bad writing
is destroying the quality of our suffering.”
Tom Waits

“I drank to drown my sorrows,
but the damned things learned how to swim.”
Frida Kahlo

Put on your red shoes and dance the blues
David Bowie

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul: The mean reds. You mean like the blues?
Holly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat,
and maybe it's been raining too long.
You're just sad, that's all.
The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid,
and you don't know what you're afraid of.
Do you ever get that feeling?

from the screenplay ~ Breakfast at Tiffany's
based on the novel by Truman Capote

After thirty, a man wakes up sad every morning,
excepting perhaps five or six, until the day of his death.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

I never wake without finding life a more
insignificant thing than it was the day before.
Jonathan Swift

"Life is only on Earth. And not for long."
from the psycho - science - fiction movie Melancholia
So, it seems that no matter the century or decade, whether you're young or old, whether it's a "Melancholy Moon" or a "Melancholy Baby," from cradle to grave, in order to be a properly tormented human being . . .

"You've got to win a little, lose a little,
always have the blues a little. . . . "

Haiku by Basho
Gravestone at Cedar Grove Cemetery
University of Notre Dame
SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS ON MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Friday, April 14th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ "Always Have the Blues a Little"
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

Travelogue 4: Paris

WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

My Father
[sung by Judy Collins]

My father always promised us
That we would live in France
We'd go boating on the Seine
And I would learn to dance

We lived in Ohio then
He worked in the mines
On his dreams like boats
We knew we'd sail in time

All my sisters soon were gone
To Denver and Cheyenne
Marrying their grownup dreams
The lilacs and the man

I stayed behind, the youngest still
Only danced alone
The colors of my father's dreams
Faded without a sound

And I live in Paris now
My children dance and dream
Hearing the words of a miner's life
In words they've never seen

I sail my memories of home
Like boats across the Seine
And watch the Paris sun
Set in my father's eyes again

My father always promised us
That we would live in France
We'd go boating on the Seine
And I would learn to dance

I sail my memories of home
Like boats across the Seine
And watch the Paris sun
Set in my father's eyes again

words and music by Judy Collins (b 1939)

Storybook Edition, illustrated by Jane Dyer

I can never hear Judy Collins sing this song without also recalling the poem "As Children Together" by Carolyn Forché (b 1950). As I wrote last year, the closing lines tell you all you need to know. They tell you that going to Paris can change your life:
If you read this poem, write to me.
I have been to Paris since we parted.
[To hear a recitation, to order The Country Between Us, to learn more.]
When I visited Paris in 2002, my friend Vickie -- the best personal
travelling consultant that a girl could ever hope for! -- sent me a suggestion list that I carried with me every where I went!

Victoria Amador in 2001, at the grave of Colette, in Pere Lachaise

Gerry had been making occasional trips to Fontainebleau but had not been inside the city for twenty years; and I had never been before, so it was an exciting time for us. We couldn't do everything but did as much as we could. I accompanied Gerry to a couple of the conference events, particularly the opening night dinner at Versailles -- so opulent, with a harpist, and a fingernail moon hanging in the sky above the formal gardens. Now why didn't I remember to take my camera? Gerry spoke at the 7am Technology Breakfast, which was well attended, considering the early hour (and the lateness of the previous evening at Versailles). Each night, we stayed awake until 1am, when, from our hotel window, we could see the spot light go out on the Eiffel Tour. Now why isn't it lit up all night; wouldn't that be the American way?

In between official commitments, we walked along des Champs Elysees -- no shopping but did have french onion soup, salad Nicoise, and some sidewalk cafe novelty drinks: The Diablo for Gerry and the Kir Royale pour moi; also drank a lot of Perrier ($4 per bottle) and splashed out for some ice cream at Berthillion ($4 per scoop). Inflated prices? No! Non - tax - deductible contributions to the preservation of Paris? Yes! Living in downtown Philly taught me to be tolerant of the tourist trade as a steady source of revenue for keeping cities vibrant. I appreciated all the happy visitors riding in the horse - drawn carriages along Pine Street, right past my front door, keeping Philadelphia alive and well; after all, because of them the surrounding streets were always clean!

We went to see le tour Eiffel but declined to stand in the very long line for a ride upward. Same with Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle, and the Musee D'Orsay -- next time! It seemed that since we were there for such a short time, it was not worth waiting hours for any one attraction. Instead, we just took in whatever we could by strolling the lovely grounds, a great tourist activity in which to indulge without young children who may not yet consider aimlessly walking around any city to be a pleasurable vacation activity. However, it's what Gerry and I enjoy most, in London as well as Paris. Also on our strolling - but - not - stopping list were areas like the Place Vendome, Palais Royal, l'arc de Triomphe, Tuileries, and Centre Pompidou.

We got to Louvre at 9am before the crowds and spent hours in there on Saturday, admiring Winged Victory, the Mona Lisa, and so on and so forth. To read on the plane, I took along Girl With a Pearl Earring and Girl in Hyacinth Blue, in light of which, I had hoped to see Vermeer's Lace Maker while in the Louvre, but that wing was closed. Worse luck. I thought of Ben and Sam in the basement of the Louvre which was excavated in 1985 to reveal the foundations and the moat of the old (12th C) Louvre Fortress. There is also an incredibly detailed scale model of the Louvre Castle (as seen in the Duc de Berry's "Tres Riches Heures," October):

In search of lunch, we passed a couple of interesting looking Irish Pubs: The James Joyce (near out hotel) and Kitty O'Shea's (near Place Vendome). We considered Harry's Bar but in the end decided on Cafe Le Sarah Bernhardt before taking the Metro out to Pere Lachaise Cemetery. On the way out we used the Pere Lachaise Metro stop, which was fine; but on the way back we used the Gambetta stop and found that to be a really charming area. At the cemetery, we paid our respects to Colette, Heloise & Abelard, Proust, and, of course, Sarah Bernhardt and Oscar Wilde:

It was all very romantic and restful. We wandered along the Seine, and Gerry bought a Van Gogh knock-off from a street vendor, his birthday present to himself. Pretty cool to have your birthday in Paris; for proof, see date on above photo! My birthday present, a week early, was a bottle of L'Air du Temps that I have used sparingly over the years. Although Paris is often listed with all the world destination cities -- London, New York, Rome, Tokyo, etc. -- I certainly did not find it to be an in - your - face bustling metropolis. Not that I've ever been to Rome or Tokyo, but I do know what it's like trying to make your way down the sidewalks in London or New York, and even Philadelphia on a busy day. Paris was nothing like that. A few crowded Metro rides, but otherwise, incredibly calm and mellow. We had a wonderful time. The flights were tiresome, but we suffered only minimal jet lag on the way over and none at all coming home. Now why haven't we been back? My L'Air du Temps is nearly finished . . . then we absolutely must return for more!

For daily updates on contemporary Paris,
check out these fun pages
where my friend Rozena C writes & translates:
Messy Nessy Chic & My Little Paris

~~ HAPPY BASTILLE DAY! ~~

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Monday, July 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

Inordinately Realistic

ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

A HAPPY SNOWY VALENTINE'S DAY!
Plow & Hearth Birdseed Wands
Not to be too cynical on Valentine's Day, but while driving along in the car one day last summer with the radio on, the irony of these lines from the ABBA song "Angel Eyes" caught my attention:

"And it hurts to remember all the good times
When I thought I could never live without him"
For months, my brain has been circling around these lyrics, and now seems a good time to take a closer look at the irony. The singer's fondest thoughts are of a time in her relationship when she "thought she could never live without him." I usually just sing along, but this time, I started to wonder, How good of a relationship was that? Or how bad? Bad enough to make me rethink the nostalgia that I have for some of my good / bad old days. What am I recalling with such fondness? The years when I thought that my heart would break in two? Well, if those were the good times, maybe they weren't so good after all despite the hazy romantic edges of memory. Perhaps the narrator is saying that it hurts now because those times were so great and now they are gone for good. More likely, I suspect she's recalling a time that may have seemed good enough but was also hurtful -- and that's why it hurts to remember.

Good times shouldn't hurt, yet sometimes from the very beginning, a relationship consists primarily of the kind of good times that it hurts to remember. Come to think of it, it can even hurt to have some of those good times in the first place. Kind of like -- in my chick flick choice for Valentine's Day this year -- Georgy Girl's relationship with Jos.

As Georgy learns, those are the kind of good times that you have to stay away from. Learn what you can and move on. I was pretty pleased with myself twenty - five years ago, when Gerry and I completed some personality profile questionnaires to help us understand our relational issues, compatibility levels, and marital readiness. When I scored in the range of "Inordinately Realistic," I was convinced that I had used all of my bad relationships wisely!

In honor of Valentine's Day, here are a few inordinately realistic proverbs that have spoken to my heart in troubled times:

"A long time ago I was desperately in love.
In fact, you could leave out the 'love'
and still get a pretty good picture."
from "True Romances #2"
in True Stories
by Margaret Atwood

" 'Love,' says Squire Allworthy, 'however much we may corrupt and pervert its meaning . . . remains a rational passion.' "
from Tom Jones
by Henry Fielding

"It is overdoing the thing to die of love."
~ French Proverb ~

"After awhile you begin to realize that lots of people have had
previous marriages that just never come up in conversation.
Especially if there are no children, then it's really nothing
more than a bad date, a long bad date."
~ A Wise Friend ~

"I can't believe we once threw dishes at each other, but we did.
I can remember which plates, which cups, which glasses,
and which ones broke."
~ Margaret Atwood / same story as above ~

"What can be broken, can be fixed, he thought.
What can be broken, can be fixed.
There was a dimension to all of this he had to ignore,
a reality, if you will.
But a balance wheel can be reattached,
a shaft can be machined, from scratch if necessary.
Still, it would be too late for him.
The normal, or maybe not the normal,
part of the doll still worked perfectly.
The other could be fixed.
But not for him, never for him, fixed or not, that was gone forever."
from "Moriya"
in By The Light of the Jukebox
by Dean Paschal

Inordinately realistic or not, I still adore a sentimental Valentine!
~ like this collage of vintage favorites from my friends Diane Cox
and Victoria Amador (whose name is perfect for Valentine's Day)!
SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Friday, February 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

Snow Was General

A HOUSE WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

The New Year has begun with a great series of connections and coincidences! To begin with, as nearly a foot of snow fell outside and the Polar Vortex delivered sub - zero temperatures, I spent the Twelfth Day of Christmas rereading "The Dead" -- the final story in the sequence of fifteen stories that comprise James Joyce's Dubliners -- in preparation for rewatching the movie version, which I always like to view with my family on Twelfth Night or Epiphany, in the same way that I always like to rewatch V for Vendetta on Guy Fawkes' Night.

I first saw the film The Dead shortly after it came out, at the Miami Joyce Birthday Conference (2 February 1988). For years we owned the video but donated it to the library when we moved, intending to update to a DVD But no! For some unknown and disappointing reason, the movie disappeared from circulation -- unavailable to buy on amazon or to rent from netflix. Until very recently:

I've read a few complaints about the way Anjelica Huston has been weirdly air - brushed on the cover of this re - release and given the rose in her hand, but I can overlook these minor details because the movie narration is exactly true to the James Joyce short story and Dublin looks so lovely! More serious is the fact that eight minutes of the original film have been omitted, but until such time that the complete version is restored, I think you'll find this one very satisfying!

I asked some of my fellow modernists what they thought about the movie, and naturally the resulting facebook thread was full of interesting observations:

Ned: "Heartbreaking!"

Steven: "That's a perfect movie for 12th Night!"

Barbara: "I once rented this and made my kids watch it with me after our traditional annual St. Patrick's Day dinner. I love that film."

Curtis: "Lighting of stairway scene is not as described in the story. Otherwise, a faithful adaptation."

Kathie: "I'm not a fan, though that is most likely my failing rather than the film's. I know most whose opinions I respect (including yours!) are quite enthusiastic; it's probably that I just don't have a very nuanced or sophisticated film sensibility. The one time I watched it, I thought it made the text seem stuffy and boring--a text I find quite the opposite, at the risk of understatement. For that reason, I've never given it a second chance."

Len: "Yes, I do remember first seeing this film at the Joyce conference. I think this is one of the most successful film adaptations of a literary work. In part, this is because it is a full-length film based on a short story, in contrast to the impossible attempts to fit a novel into a film (including mini-series of Middlemarch, Bleak House, or any other work that comes to mind). I agree with Kathie's comments about this film, despite its attempts at fidelity. I am happy seeing films that are not adaptations or are based on works I have not read and do not plan to read. It is impossible for films to convey style, point-of-view, interior thought, etc."

I have to agree that it's rare for a film to improve upon an already great text, though a well - done movie can bring surprising visual or musical value to the reading experience. I appreciate this sense of embellishment in "The Dead" during Aunt Julia's sad, sweet rendition of "Arrayed for the Bridal."

In the story, Joyce writes that "Gabriel recognized the prelude. It was that of an old song of Aunt Julia's -- "Arrayed for the Bridal". Her voice, strong and clear in tone, attacked with great spirit the runs which embellish the air and though she sang very rapidly she did not miss even the smallest of the grace notes. To follow the voice, without looking at the singer's face, was to feel and share the excitement of swift and secure flight. Gabriel applauded loudly with all the others at the close of the song." Joyce devotes only those few sentences to the performance, and then it is on to the applause and the embarrassingly profuse praise of dear Freddy Malins.

In the film, John Huston portrays the scene a bit differently. Rather than "strong and clear in tone," Aunt Julia's voice wavers and we gather that it has heard better days. Huston replaces "great spirit" with faded dignity, and "swift and secure flight" with endurance and perseverance. In the text, the song title alone serves to convey the irony that a funeral -- not a wedding -- is surely the next life passage for which Aunt Julia will be arrayed (as Gabriel morbidly envisions in both book and film). What the film brings to bear, in addition to the title, are the lyrics and duration of the song. The viewing audience suffers just a bit as we patiently await the painful conclusion of Aunt Julia's tune; and our hearts break a bit as the camera roams from room to room, lighting on the homely heirlooms and mementos of bygone childhoods and long - dead relatives.

Arrayed for the Bridal
Arrayed for the bridal, in beauty behold her
A white wreath entwineth a forehead more fair;
I envy the zephyrs that softly enfold her,
And play with the locks of her beautiful hair.
May life to her prove full of sunshine and love.
Who would not love her?
Sweet star of the morning, shining so bright
Earth’s circle adorning, fair creature of light!

Composed by Bellini
Lyrics by George Linley

[And also the poem "Donal Og"
recited by the character Mr. Grace]
Of course, I know what Kathie and Len are talking about. In most cases, the best movie is the one inside my head! Or occasionally, the one right outside the window; for indeed snow was falling that night in Indiana much as it had for the Dubliners, a century or more ago:

"A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the news­pa­pers were right: snow was gen­eral all over Ire­land. It was falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, fur­ther west­wards, softly falling into the dark muti­nous Shan­non waves. It was falling too upon every part of the lonely church­yard where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and head­stones, on the spears of the lit­tle gate, on the bar­ren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the uni­verse and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the liv­ing and the dead."

from "The Dead"
by James Joyce
about the publication of Dubliners
Our discussion of the movie versus the story drew to a close late on January 5th; and on the 6th, I awoke to find the following pictures posted on my facebook page, from totally unrelated sources. Now, that's what I call a good literary coincidence!

1. This one from BookBrowse Books,
which illustrates the very point that both Kathie and Len
were making the day before:



2. This one from my sister - in - law Tina,
who wrote: "Happy Nollaig na mBan (Women's Little Christmas)!
Let's embrace this tradition!"

I hadn't heard of this particular Epiphany celebration before, but I think it explains why I like watching The Dead on 6 January -- it's their "Nollaig na mBan" party, with the exception that in Joyce's story, the "Three Graces," i.e., Aunt Julia, Aunt Kate, and Cousin Mary Jane are doing all the work, rather than the required "Women's Little Christmas" reversal of the gentlemen waiting hand and foot all day on the ladies. Still, I feel a strong connection! Can you see it:

Dinner Party Scene from The Dead
Custom & Ceremony

Additional fun and informative blog posts on the topic:
Nollaig na mBan faoi mhaise dhaoibh!
Nollaig Bheag na mBan
An Irish Tradition
Victoria Amador writes, "Let's do this this coming summer--
and get out the dress-up box!"
P.S. As I add a few finishing touches to this post, late on Thursday the 16th, the snow is, once again, general all over Indiana.

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Tuesday, January 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ "Snow Was General"
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com