Captain Pike
09-08-2010, 10:02 AM
It was a unique experience, reading Henry James's, "The Portrait of a Lady". On the one hand, it was tough slogging at times, and then again, what a great view of the affluent travelers of America and Western Europe during the middle 1800s. It was almost as if earning a living were a sordid, common thing to do -- a person's value had to do with their bank balance. And if they had one, they lived off its interest, however meager that might be. This is an interesting reversal of the way we live these days. Today, it's more about how much one can borrow! These days, "to save money", means to purchase at an apparent discount. The idea of saving money, as in putting some of one's periodic income into an interest-bearing account, isn't even spoken of today. You wonder, reading James's book, where the initial investment ever came from.
My mother loved Henry James. It was for this reason that I "endeavored to persevere". Mom was a librarian, and she told me on more than one occasion to read -- anything, whether it was a Playboy magazine or the contents of the Comet can. Being one of a family of eight children, she as a young child, was often found, after a considerable absence, to be off quietly reading a book, in some unlikely nook of their large house.
James can't be considered contemporary by me, there was no, "***** slapping" talked about anywhere in the book. Written as a romantic drama, there were no, even veiled references to sex, yet the book was exciting and arousing, in a literary sense. I feel all the better for having read the book. I kept a dictionary close at hand. It's strange to consider the language used during a time of widespread illiteracy. It's almost as if we have taken a step backward in our highly technological society. I don't think Henry James was showing off his vocabulary (my own is tragically lacking) and it made me wonder how easy a read this was 100 years ago.
I was angry at the point when Isabel married the obvious climber, Gilbert Osborne -- I couldn't imagine her being that ignorant. Maybe during that time, lust was a concealed, driving force in many pairings. Did they really wait, until after they were married, before they... sampled one another? This is the great façade that has always been the stand taken by my parents -- anybody else suffered this, impossible standard?
I have always felt, "less than", as this idea has been about as attainable as an afternoon stroll on the moon! Always thinking I was a lesser man, or, traveled in lesser circles than my parents. Now days I'm wondering if, maybe the very reasonable, premarital diddling, doesn't sort out partners that we wouldn't want to spend our lives with. I mean, as callous as a one night stand might be, you can't help but learn many important facets about a partner during an escapade in sex. I don't know, but I think maybe I might have a deluded sense of how things really were.
Kind of off-topic, to my rant here has been. Now I want to read something adventurous. In particular, I would like to read about a person or persons who sailed a small boat through various adventurous situations. Does anyone have a good suggestion? I read Stevenson's Kidnapped with great delight, and also some others, such as "Stowaway", which was great and I can't remember who wrote it.
My mother loved Henry James. It was for this reason that I "endeavored to persevere". Mom was a librarian, and she told me on more than one occasion to read -- anything, whether it was a Playboy magazine or the contents of the Comet can. Being one of a family of eight children, she as a young child, was often found, after a considerable absence, to be off quietly reading a book, in some unlikely nook of their large house.
James can't be considered contemporary by me, there was no, "***** slapping" talked about anywhere in the book. Written as a romantic drama, there were no, even veiled references to sex, yet the book was exciting and arousing, in a literary sense. I feel all the better for having read the book. I kept a dictionary close at hand. It's strange to consider the language used during a time of widespread illiteracy. It's almost as if we have taken a step backward in our highly technological society. I don't think Henry James was showing off his vocabulary (my own is tragically lacking) and it made me wonder how easy a read this was 100 years ago.
I was angry at the point when Isabel married the obvious climber, Gilbert Osborne -- I couldn't imagine her being that ignorant. Maybe during that time, lust was a concealed, driving force in many pairings. Did they really wait, until after they were married, before they... sampled one another? This is the great façade that has always been the stand taken by my parents -- anybody else suffered this, impossible standard?
I have always felt, "less than", as this idea has been about as attainable as an afternoon stroll on the moon! Always thinking I was a lesser man, or, traveled in lesser circles than my parents. Now days I'm wondering if, maybe the very reasonable, premarital diddling, doesn't sort out partners that we wouldn't want to spend our lives with. I mean, as callous as a one night stand might be, you can't help but learn many important facets about a partner during an escapade in sex. I don't know, but I think maybe I might have a deluded sense of how things really were.
Kind of off-topic, to my rant here has been. Now I want to read something adventurous. In particular, I would like to read about a person or persons who sailed a small boat through various adventurous situations. Does anyone have a good suggestion? I read Stevenson's Kidnapped with great delight, and also some others, such as "Stowaway", which was great and I can't remember who wrote it.