Bradbury Prescription Day 1: Frost, Collier, and Huxley
At Mr. Bradbury's suggestion, I have begun to read one poem, one short story, and one essay per night before I go to bed. While I typically do not like taking on something for the sake of an assignment, I think I might thoroughly enjoy this one. I have already had ideas flowing through my head at night and I am looking forward to many more that are catalyzed through this exercise.
When I can, I will try to summarize my thoughts on what I have read. This will also be helpful for me to mine ideas later.
Poem: Robert Frost - Into My Own
Wow! It is my belief, as of late, that most of the literature that one is made to read in middle school and high school is wasted on those students. It is not wasted because they are not capable of getting it, although years of life experience here only serve to enhance the proposition. They certainly are quite capable.
It is wasted because the literature is forced upon them as an assignment. This manages to remove the beauty of the poetry and prose and power of the metaphors found within. This was my first thought as I started to read this poem by Robert Frost. I cannot believe that I took his gift to the world for granted when I was in school. Take a look at the first stanza.
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
Four lines and forty syllables worth of incredible imagery are displayed here. Taken literally, I am transported to a dark wood with ancient trees so stubborn that the wind dare not budge them. Digging deeper, many who have analyzed this particular poem agree that Frost is writing about the dilemma that adolescents struggle with. That is whether to step into adulthood, not knowing the path that lay ahead, or to stay a child where they are comfortable and they know where they stand.
The narrator of the poem is clearly exhibiting confidence and courage, as he has decided to take the journey into adulthood. He will not let himself or others dissuade him from maturing. He does not see this transition as changing him completely, but merely solidifying the beliefs he already holds dear. Look at the last two stanzas to see the confidence clearly on display.
I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew-
Only more sure of all I thought was true.
I absolutely love this. The sentiment is almost defiant in nature. Imagine a teenager saying "I don't see why I should." Those with teenagers can absolutely relate to this mixture of confidence with a hint of defiance. The defensiveness comes in as the teenager is not quite confident enough yet to be comfortable. I believe that Frost has absolutely nailed the expressiveness of many teenagers in this short poem.
Short Story: John Collier - Evening Primrose
I'm so thankful that I watched "An Evening with Ray Bradbury" Had I not, I would never have known who John Collier was. That would be a damn shame because every one of his stories that I have read have been fantastic and this one is no exception.
This man had quite a gifted imagination and the writing chops to express it. The story, "Evening Primrose," centers around a poet, Charles Snell, who has had enough of the hustle and bustle of life and decides to secret away in a department store.
When night rolls around, Charles discovers that he is not the only resident of the store. I will not discuss the entire story because I do not want to deprive any reader the privilege of experiencing it for themselves. Let's just say that things get pretty weird for Charles.
The thing that struck me most about this story was Collier's ability to draw me into the strange and terrifying world that he has created in the department store. I can picture myself being locked in the store at night and running into the people who dwell there. I can feel the tension as Charles is trying to decide if the sweet-natured matriarch of the department store denizens is hiding something more sinister behind her eyes.
One line, in particular, that stood out for me was:
There, in the rat-haunted darkness, I heard a stifled sob.
That's just freaking creepy, folks. As if the thought of a community of people dwelling in a department store at night is not creepy enough, he had to describe the darkness as "rat-haunted." Just that small description gives enough of a visual to solidify the sinister nature of this night time dwelling.
Another description of when Charles first discovers that he is not alone in the department store floored me with it's vivid imagery.
You know the sensation one has, peering into the half-light of a vivarium? One sees bark, pebbles, a few leaves, nothing more. And then, suddenly, a stone breathes - it is a toad; there is a chameleon, another, a coiled adder, a mantis among the leaves. The whole case seems crepitant with life.
Wow. If I end up with descriptions a quarter as good as that in my writing, I'll be well on my way to building my wings. Again, I can picture the darkened department store and feel it come alive slowly before my eyes. Its citizens creeping out of the darkness. I am definitely looking forward to reading more of John Collier's work.
Essay: Aldous Huxley - Proust: The Eighteenth-Century Method
Unfortunately, all I really know about Aldous Huxley's work is "Brave New World." That will soon change, as I explore more about the man and his work through these challenges.
The first piece that I read was an essay, "Proust: The Eighteenth-Century Method," in which Aldous Huxley brilliantly critiques some of the works of Proust. While the essay is brilliantly written, I must admit what drew me to it was a comment that Ray Bradbury once made of Proust in an interview that appeared in the Paris Review.
When asked about his interest in Proust (among others) and their line of literary thinking, his response was:
No. If people put me to sleep, they put me to sleep. God, I’ve tried to read Proust so often, and I recognize the beauty of his style, but he puts me to sleep.
I find this kind of candidness absolutely refreshing and hilarious. Since the catalyst for reading an essay by Aldous Huxley was Bradbury, himself, I could not help but to notice the contrast between Bradbury's boredom and Huxley's fascination with Proust.
What is really interesting to me is that I suspect that Bradbury found Proust boring for one of the same reasons that Huxley found him fascinating. Look at this passage. When recalling H.G. Wells assessment of Henry James as a "hippopotamus pursuing a pea round a room," Huxley reasoned by that measure then Proust was a "diplodocus," having "...filled twelve hundred pages of solidly set small type, unrelieved, as Alice would have complained, by pictures or conversations..." Huxley goes on to describe Proust as a "diplodocus, then, in weight of matter, as well as in weight of intelligence..."
Proust, according to Huxley has both a heft of material and the heft of intelligence to match. While Bradbury, certainly does not question Proust's intelligence and can appreciate his literary style, it is the heft of material that likely brings on his ennui.
So, my admittedly layman's, theory is that the quality of attention to the minutiae in Proust's writing is the driving force behind the simultaneous fascination of Huxley and boredom of Bradley. A characteristic that is seen differently from two different people is fascinating and could prove very useful when incorporated into fiction.
So there we have it. I've come to the end of my first thoughts on the works explored through the "Bradbury Prescription for Head Filling," as I will call it. I can feel myself thinking and combining topics in more interesting ways already. This is going to be a fun journey.
