Albion man charged with abandonment
for leaving his five-year-old son in a downtown saloon, in 1904. Owner of saloon and his wife testify for the prosecution. Wife of the accused, separated from him, does not want the child either.
Detail, fantasy sequence, publicity still for Our Gang Follies of 1938
History is there to remind us that, fantasy aside, things weren't always so great back in the old days. Certainly not for all kids, and not for all grown-ups either. I have been interested, reading "Novels in Three Lines" by Félix Fénéon, (nyrb classics) by the number of children who are very badly treated by their parents, not to mention the high percentage of suicides among the unemployed fathers and unwed mothers. I recognize Fénéon's stories have a narrow focus on current events, composed as three-line news items, but still, it seems there were some rough times back then, which is good to remember if I am ever in the mood to sentimentalize the past.
Speaking of kids and tough times, I finally read the last Harry Potter and I have to admit, even with all the hype and spoilers around, the experience was still a lot like being on a pleasantly benign and non-life-destroying drug run -- while you're doing it you know you're addicted and you can't stop, you're totally possessed and even as you're enjoying the rush and the high a part of you recognizes you can't justify it and that as soon as you're finished you have to promise to not ever do it again. I know someone who feels the same way about opera and porn, so since I borrowed this copy and knocked if off in under two days I feel as though it could have been much worse. There are certainly less productive ways to spend your time if you ask me, and I confess: it was a fun ride. I am half-tempted to ask if anyone else found the whole Final Solution for the Half-Bloods and Muggle-Borns and the business with the Spear/Wand of Destiny business to be a little creepy, but maybe it's best to let that go for now. I'm still reading Spengler, you understand, so the Nazi thing seems so obvious. It is, though, isn't it? Obvious?
Okay, so then, because I thought it would be a change of pace, I put on "The Sandpiper" which I'd added to my Netflix queue on someone's recommendation. I am not finished watching yet, but I realized with amazement that it too is a story of a parent and a child -- Elizabeth Taylor is a young unwed mother and free spirit and artist in Big Sur, and her young son is taken away from her by the courts and placed in a school (visions of Hogwarts?) run by an Episcopalian priest, Richard Burton, who is married to Eva Marie Sainte. Liz also has a Big Sur beach bum beatnik (gay?) friend Charles Bronson for whom she poses while he carves her in wood, paying close attention to her remarkable breasts. Richard Burton comes by and interrupts a session and also notices her amazing breasts and has to pray. I am concerned about what will happen to Liz in that lonely beach house. The inserts of a hand double ministering to a sandpiper with a wounded wing were particularly compelling but did not allay my fears. Vicente Minelli directs. I fell asleep.
Don't tell me how it ends.
History is there to remind us that, fantasy aside, things weren't always so great back in the old days. Certainly not for all kids, and not for all grown-ups either. I have been interested, reading "Novels in Three Lines" by Félix Fénéon, (nyrb classics) by the number of children who are very badly treated by their parents, not to mention the high percentage of suicides among the unemployed fathers and unwed mothers. I recognize Fénéon's stories have a narrow focus on current events, composed as three-line news items, but still, it seems there were some rough times back then, which is good to remember if I am ever in the mood to sentimentalize the past.
Speaking of kids and tough times, I finally read the last Harry Potter and I have to admit, even with all the hype and spoilers around, the experience was still a lot like being on a pleasantly benign and non-life-destroying drug run -- while you're doing it you know you're addicted and you can't stop, you're totally possessed and even as you're enjoying the rush and the high a part of you recognizes you can't justify it and that as soon as you're finished you have to promise to not ever do it again. I know someone who feels the same way about opera and porn, so since I borrowed this copy and knocked if off in under two days I feel as though it could have been much worse. There are certainly less productive ways to spend your time if you ask me, and I confess: it was a fun ride. I am half-tempted to ask if anyone else found the whole Final Solution for the Half-Bloods and Muggle-Borns and the business with the Spear/Wand of Destiny business to be a little creepy, but maybe it's best to let that go for now. I'm still reading Spengler, you understand, so the Nazi thing seems so obvious. It is, though, isn't it? Obvious?
Okay, so then, because I thought it would be a change of pace, I put on "The Sandpiper" which I'd added to my Netflix queue on someone's recommendation. I am not finished watching yet, but I realized with amazement that it too is a story of a parent and a child -- Elizabeth Taylor is a young unwed mother and free spirit and artist in Big Sur, and her young son is taken away from her by the courts and placed in a school (visions of Hogwarts?) run by an Episcopalian priest, Richard Burton, who is married to Eva Marie Sainte. Liz also has a Big Sur beach bum beatnik (gay?) friend Charles Bronson for whom she poses while he carves her in wood, paying close attention to her remarkable breasts. Richard Burton comes by and interrupts a session and also notices her amazing breasts and has to pray. I am concerned about what will happen to Liz in that lonely beach house. The inserts of a hand double ministering to a sandpiper with a wounded wing were particularly compelling but did not allay my fears. Vicente Minelli directs. I fell asleep.
Don't tell me how it ends.
If you're really interested in the subject of parents mistreating children & vice versa, I suggest you investigate Dame Ivy Compton-Burnett. No one understood this whole nightmare better than Dame Ivy.
Reply to this
as soon as i saw the headline, i thought of feneon. the guy is a maniac. one of my to-do lists is to really get into the anarchists of the late 19th c and early 20th c & their beliefs. proudhon, krotopikin, stirner, guys like that... that's hilarious that you get the same high from HP books as some do from opera & porn!
Reply to this
Well I am very fond of M Feneon and anarchists I admit, and vis-a-vis your own post today, I can even romanticize the Baader-Meinhof a little bit -- without condoning their methods of course. Still, even Feneon went to court for aiding and abetting a bomber (he got off). The anarchists are a worthy subject of investigation. People forget how big a deal they once were, even here in the old USA. Riots, strikes, rigged trials and hangings in Chicago... good times.
As for HP, Rowling has a lot in common with Stephen King, and I mean that in a nice way for both of them. Yes, I enjoy a good page-turner from time to time. A steady diet, however, like 24/7 Wagner or, you know, non-stop video of lovely asian ladies or something, might not be good for you either. We all have to exercise restraint I suppose.
Reply to this