This is the best book I have read in a long time. The author of the best-selling Fugitive Pieces took her sweet time (more than 10years) in writing her next novel. It shows. This is a polished book where every single sentence feels like it has been crafted with extreme care and patience. I ran out of ink underlining passages I wanted to remember. Michaels has the ability to put ideas so clearly and emotions so precisely that that I was engrossed into the admittedly slow moving book. This is not a narrative driven page turner but rather a book to mull in a book that you can take your time with, a reader’s book.

The Winter Vault the reader learns is where dead bodies are places during the winter, when the ground is too frozen to accept them. Elsewhere Michaels refers to the part of the skull containing the brain as a vault. A place of limbo. The ground like our experiences are impenetrable to each other, at least some of the time. Our ability to express, describe and vocalize our experiences so that they are as original to others as they are to ourselves is questioned in the book with much success. I will not tell you what Michaels believes is our potential for such transfers because you should really read the book for yourself, suffice it to say: she weaves a magnificent tale trying to understand exactly this.

The story itself is a more compelling one than it has been given credit for in other reviews. With characters falling in and out of love, children being born and elders dying, it travels from the goals of ancient Egyptians and their pyramid building to us and our cemeteries and gardens. The number of facets of western culture and history that Michaels touches upon is very impressive, more impressive is the interweaving of them. From Gilles Villeneuve to Facebook (not directly mentioned but I think alluded to) it is all there. I could have spent hours just trying to make a list of all the cultural reference points that popped up organically in the work but that would have been a waste of time, better to just sit back and enjoy.

This is a 76 page book that reflects upon events familiar to just about everyone. Two children set out on Christmas eve from their grandparents to their home. The path is over a small mountain, one they have traversed many times. The boy is young, the girl younger (perhaps 4 or 5).

A very short while after they leave it starts to snow.

Local communities form several valleys set up search parties when they realize what has happened. The children hideout in a cave for the night and see something akin to the northern lights, which they associate with the Christ child they had expected to arrive that night in their village. This is a tear jerking story for those who have been lost or lost someone.  It is about a community coming together, being defined by a moment that will go down in their village history an change the way they see the mountains around them.

I highly suggest you read this book, assuming you have encountered either, estrangement from a community or loss in your life. You want regret it.

Some people were recently surprised to learn that Ray Bradbury is not only still alive in 2009 but was furious when Michael Moore entitled on of his “documentaries” Fahrenheit 9/11. The issue, of course was the title which directly linked the two men without Bradbury’s consent. Anyone familiar with Bradbury’s life work knows he had good reason to be upset. One has only to read 451 (1953) to recognize that Moore is playing a role that Bradbury has long worried will lead to the end of reading. Let me explain.

Based on trends he thought he saw developing at the time, 451 offered some stark predictions about the future. One such prediction was the easiest way to appease the masses. “If you don’t want a man unhappy politically, don’t give him two sides to a question to worry him, give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is even such a thing as war. If the government is inefficient, top heavy, and tax-mad better it be all those than people worry about it.(p.61)” an Orwellian concept (or just skeptical middle-of-the-century-English obsession?). The only question for leaders would be how to make this happen. One way, according to Bradbury, is to get rid of books.

His 451 prediction regarding the fate of books is interesting because he did not think sinister leaders would have to mandate their demise. He seems to have agreed with Hitler’s famous claim, “What luck for rulers that men don’t think.” In fact, in the book there is a gradual dismissal of reading. The books became of worse and worse quality, they had more and more pictures, lost meaning and became disposal items like consumables, not to be remembered better than a television show (which is to say not memorable at all), classics were boiled down and down until only a paragraph or sentence long synopsis remained whose goal was not pleasure but the ability to say “yeah I know that one.” (think of cliff notes on steroids or the new series “So-And-So in half the time” and you’ll see this prediction coming true). No the government did not have to ban books, people would cease to want books because they’d become unreadable and effectively ban themselves.

He predicted  change in the way we would receive news, “I remember the newspapers dying like huge moths. No one wanted them back. (p.89)”  and saw trouble in this. The effects of all this are seen in his characters  who remember nothing and are completely disconnected from each other.  The beautiful Clarrisse tells Montag (the “fireman”) that her house is full of lights because people are sitting and talking together. “But what do you talk about?” Clarrisse laughs in reply. Society has become so degraded that conversation between the members of a house is a rarity and Clarrisse and her family are rare. This didactic passage, the house is lit-up and the others are dark, where there are books there is light, begins to show us that reading offers more then reading, that conversation and society happen through it. The written word if, of course, the hallmark of civilization and without such communication, according to Bradbury, things fall apart.

So people no longer have anything to read and they deem reading useless and choose to watch and become involved in television. Here we have another cute prediction, that television would become more interactive, that there would be boxes that would respond to you, so that a person on the screen would say your name and their lips would make this look true, but really it said no-ones name, just made you feel involved, like your one of the actors (rock band or guitar hero anyone?). These fancy boxes would trick people into spending yet more time watching television and they would become less and less critical (people love themselves enough to maintain blogs like this one), remember less and less and wind up completely disconnected even from those they live with. As guitar-hero is a lazy substitute for playing guitar and unlikely to lead to the emergence of good guitar players, these sorts of television tricks were unlikely to create savvy and aware citizens, they were too-plugged in, too distracted.

If you know about Michael Moore then it should be clear why Bradbury was mad with him. Moore makes entertaining “movie news” wherein he toes the line between fact and fiction. His books are simply-constructed and time-sensitive (in that they deal with issues of the moment and after the moment may as well be thrown out by everyone but the libraries that one day have researchers looking into this. Thrown out because they are not to be read again and are simple consumer items). Moore is exactly what Bradbury was worried about, a ‘newsman’ or ‘media player’ who would dumb everything down to entertainment until people saw no point in reading or learning (and perhaps even find readers and writers antagonistic and annoying).

In the book people become angry at those who still read. They feel such people are snobby elitists out to make everyone else unhappy, or at least feel stupid for watching television. James Howard Kunstler has spoken to this. When asked if he was an elitists (an insult in America) Kunstler claimed he was. He is an elitist in the sense that he does not think everything is equal, that some books are better than others, not all poetry is equal, certainly not all music is as good to listen to (if you do not agree and are a hardcore egalitarian I suggest you line up a 3$ shot of whiskey and compare it to a 10$ one and see if you cannot blindly guess which costs more). Kunstler worries that the equality thing is going too far and that a failure to understand the good from the bad is becoming a greater and greater issue. I have the impression Bradbury would agree. The failure to realize this is that the people choose to have books banned since all are only as good as the worst ones people read. Fire departments are changed into a service of book burners and they go out and burn books, at first for everyone since they all wanted their books roasted and later they would burn down entire houses of anyone who was still holding onto books.

People had willingly given up books because they had been so degraded. This prediction is a stark one and to anyone paying attention to the book industry knows, is coming true. I have hope that enough people will continue reading and appreciating doing so because I cannot fathom a world in which we reject books outright. At Argo we see everyday students that hate books and laugh spitefully if we say “enjoy your book,” because they know they will not and by not being open to the possibility are likely right. We also sell more Dostoevsky and Stefan Zweig than any other authors so hope we maintain hope.

I will not tell you how the book ends (and where the hope is to be found). It has a strong narrative that keeps you turning pages and deserves to be read. If you read the book a long time ago i urge you to read it again and be surprised by how accurate his predictions were and how current it still is after all these years.

Next up Alberto Moravia’s Boredom.

The people are silent on the bus,
And quiet on the streets,
Cold rain and wind has removed their expressions,
While their voices speak inward, to keep their minds from hibernation.

Some of you are aware that my silence on this site has been caused by my recent purchase of Montreal’s oldest bookshop (Argo). Well as I become more used to the situation I have been working towards getting an open mic going there. Well, it is now time. See the poster below for the info.

P.S. I am sad that this site is having so little action, I thought we had a good thing going.

Callas: Cara,let us do some writing… do you remember our years with Titta? I worked like a horse.A tough businessman, was he not?

Bruna:Oui, et il est devenu riche a vos depens!

Callas:C’est la vie!Les hommes sont tous des cochons!… Bruna,write down…The Meneghini Years…the greatest of my career, let me think…victory after victory and triumph !…… all Opera houses have surrendered.The world of Opera was at my feet.Contracts were pouring in,but the greatest singer in the world slep alone.Titta and I have separate bedrooms , for some time now, and rarely talked except about contracts and money.I worked lke a horse and lost my voice ,and health.I was already the greatest of my time and in a few years,after my retirement, acknowledged as the greatest in the history of music.

…Mother…she was a terrible woman,very unhappy with Dad … was as a manipulator,she likes to pull and push, like all frustrated women.Father had his pharmacy, and in his spare time was busy with other women.His wife was a failure, had no talent and was not that beautiful.He dumbed her!It served her right!
My sister Jackie was charming,pretty but weak.Mother pushed her into Milton’s arms because he was rich,very rick, Milton of the Embiricos dynasty. She had no ambition,no real talent in anything,like the other woman, the other Jackie.
I had the grace of an elephant but had talent and dreams. I was obsessed with my voice….No one could take that away from me.I had the certainty , the conviction of my own greatness.I shall be Maria Callas and will be on top of the world.

…Ari and I were to be married in London.I shall have a ring and people will stop talking.I will be the second Madame Onassis, a worthy successor of Tina Livanos Onassis.I will no longer be a concubine or his mistress.We booked a suite at the Claridge,and the night before we married, walked in and saw them,Ari and two high class call girls in bed! He did it on purpose, a set up.He never intended to marry me,it was only a game!So cruel!!That night I flew back to Paris, alone!

…I sang with Renato Ciotti at Covent Garden,not the best tenor in the world but surely one of the sexiest.I would not have minded a fling with him, it hurts like hell not to have him.

“Dance as though no one is watching you
Love as though you have never been hurt before
Sing as though no one can hear you
Live as though heaven is on earth ”

I sang like no other human has sung before, or after..Then I lost my voice.I was thirty seven.I wanted to die.

So we decided to do a play. How does one do that? Having put on 2 before, Asa wanted to do less work this time. So he decided “I’ll write it with Dan and Erik, and then they’ll do some of the production stuff! And as we write it, we’ll do puppets!”
Poor, naive Ace.

Anyhoo, we started writing by sitting down for breakfast and talking about what we wanted. I was having problems because I have a mind like a steel trap – both are good in long cold winters but neither are good for holding on to thoughts. So, using my Masters education in community organization, We started using poster sheets for brainstorming.
It’s marginally possible that the poster sheets were Ace’s idea. But I made them cool.

The first page - showing what's important

This is the first sheet, upon which everything else is based.

Note the central theme – MONEY.  We would like to not lose much.
Monkeybar script = plot ideas decided, dialogue adlibbed.
Max-ish work commitment = 5 hours/week.  We get together for more than that, but it’s for fun and inspiration.  We stop when it’s not fun.
4 puppeteers = the most we can expect.

So then, these are the fundamentals.  We then moved on to :

Things that are cool

Stuff that is cool. This is sort of self explanatory, but I will explain the fun bits. What did we want from the story/storytelling to make it interesting to us (see First page, top left).
Anachronism is something we all love. Who doesn’t like seeing a black and white television set in Victorian England, or sword wielder on a hover board? That sh*t’s just cool!

Quack Mysticism – You know, I don’t even feel I need to describe this, because it’s obvious.  Yes, it is interesting to live in a world where the spirits are really the fundamental concepts of the universe attempting to gain substantiation through the dreams of artists, or something like that.  Boom!  Quack Mysticism!  Ley lines run through train stations because of the psychical energies travel generates.  BOOM!  Quack mysticism.  Use energy with word parts like ‘trans’ and maybe throw in something about ‘elder gods’.  You’re done.

Explosions/Eviscerations.  VERY popular in puppet theatre.

No Refunds.  You paid to get in, not to see the show.  If you don’t want to see the show, go home.  We’ll keep the money that once was yours.  It’s never been an issue, but it’s a lot of fun to say.

Oh, and girls is not what you might think, though girls are A-1.  In terms of Volunteers, women far surpass men in terms of ante-ing up the time and effort for a show.  So, we should plan around having more females as characters/performers.

Stuff we want on the technical production side

Depending on your point of view, this one is a bit less interesting.  Tara is an 18yr old graphic designer who’s just smashing at sets.  She also has a problem declining offers to employ her (employ in the sans-payment sense).  We just wanted to talk a bit about how we think control could work.  The current theory is Bunraku style puppets, with the puppeteers totally visible, but in black.  This may change, as many things do.

Payment is a surprisingly big issue.  Asa really made an effort in past years to pay people what they’re worth.  Big Mistake.  You can’t afford to do that with the huge capital outlays required for puppets.  Maybe Improv can, but not something where each ‘actor’ requires ~40 hours of work put in before s/he can rehearse.

So that was, I believe, the first week.  It was, among other things, a great reason to hang out with two very talented fellows.

The next week we looked at ‘idea words’ which was a technique Asa had picked up while at a workshop.  Take a word that makes you start to think of stories, or just makes you think, and then draw the connections, see where the story is and goes.

Idea Words? - Art

You can see the list of words on the left.

Art really got us going.  Unsurprisingly, I suppose.  We were working on art so it was easy to think about.  But none of the stories really caught the imagination.

Betrayal was much more interesting.

Word Ideas - Betrayal

Old Boy is a (Korean?) movie.  It has to do with the idea of the ‘betrayer’ doing almost nothing, but having such a big impact on someone else’s life that they plot the most horrific revenge.  Fun!

Part of the reason we had so much fun with this word could possibly be that Betrayal was wreathed in flame.

More to come on the actual story we got into – if anyone is interested, given that it’s summer.

I’ll give you a hint – we started talking more about ideas and were inspired by my grade 3 book about a leprechaun detective.

scene 1

Onassis:Play for me,won’t you

Callas:(eager to please)What shall I play ?

Onassis:What you like.

Callas:You don’t like classical music.

Ari: Play anything as long as you don’t sing!

Callas:(coughs nervously)…

Ari:You should not smoke,it’s not good for the voice.

Callas:I never smoke,would you like your drink ?
Ari:Make it double.

Maria mixed his scotch, a labour of love

Callas:Darling,you should not drink that much.

Onassis:Why not,I have never been sick in my life,I will live another fifty years.

Callas:That’s not what the doctor says.

Ari:The doctor! Who cares what he says.I am not sick and I never have been,and I’m never going to be,either.When my time comes,I am going to drop dead like a vaillant soldier.

Callas:Speaking of soldiers, I would love to do the Guns of Navarone.The more I think about it,the more I feel it’s a good part.

Onassis:Think? Feel?You!

Callas: It’s a small,but crucial part,it carries the action,and it’s the only female role.

Onassis:You can’t act, and you are not beautiful for the camera, nowhere near Garbo.

The diamond forms from pressure,
and gleans its gleam from such,
the earth can not contort itself,
nor focus quite as much,
as such steadfast material,
it must be formed and reformed evermore,
reactionary to its core
never content to stay in place
although it roams through outerspace
a boil of activity stirs constantly earth’s scenery
the surface of our atmosphere
will dance with weather’s weary cheer
below the weather still more motion,
man pushing earth and earth the ocean,
when the ocean pushes back man rues his work,
but abandons not his quest to shape
the very world despite – perhaps despite – more apt, ‘because’
of nature’s inconsistency,
a trait at odds with human insecurities,
and getting on not all that well with the maturity,
of our peculiar species, we
that turn the land into the sea, defy imprisoning gravity, and deftly wreak our havoc with an arbitrary majesty.

_” I love you but I need Jackie, I hope to marry her one day ,soon”…

The beast told me that, he knew that I was at his beck and call…why do we love men that destroy …That woman Jackie will open the doors for him, will do for him what she did for John when she was First Lady,bring prestige and class to him.Bobby Kennedy will be the next President and he will be the brother-in-law,imagine !…The bastard had it all planned…Seduite et abandonnee,that is what I was, like the movie.