Capturing the chaos: ‘The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel’

Marigol

This film just took me back to India, so much so that as we drove home from the theater I experienced the same impression of orderliness and calm that I did when we returned from the actual India.

The characters in the film made some of the usual observations about how India is an assault on the senses, which it is; like my mother pointed out, though, it’s a colorful assault. The characters also made choices about how they would respond to the chaos, noise, and unpredictability in India. One of them entrenched herself, holding out hope that fortunes would change and she’d be on a plane back to England. Her husband, meanwhile, embraced all that India (or at least Jaipur) had to offer. Another character (played by the always remarkable Judi Dench) compared immersion into India as a wave: if you fight it, you’ll struggle and perhaps drown; it’s best to let it carry you. You might just end up someplace wonderful.

“I revisited the country daily, not just the people, but the language—rungi-chungi, jilli-milli, olla-molla—the chanting and cymbal crashing that came from monastary windows, the smell of kerosene and cook smoke…the glow of butter lamps at a shrine in front of ships festooned with saris and lungis, the direct gaze that came with a namaste.”
From ‘In the land of no right angles’, by Daphne Beal. 

“I revisited the country daily, not just the people, but the language—rungi-chungi, jilli-milli, olla-molla—the chanting and cymbal crashing that came from monastary windows, the smell of kerosene and cook smoke…the glow of butter lamps at a shrine in front of ships festooned with saris and lungis, the direct gaze that came with a namaste.”

From ‘In the land of no right angles’, by Daphne Beal. 

‘Maisie Dobbs’ and other Great War trends

(Cover design by Andrew Davidson for Harper Perennial.)

I don’t know if it’s trend in the arts, or if it’s sheer coincidence, but there seems to be a strong interest in World War I right now. This past weekend we saw the film ‘War Horse’ (based on a book that was later made into a play), which at first glance appears to be a boy-and-his-horse tale, but in actuality demonstrates how quickly and completely warfare was changed by advancements in technology; or, in simpler terms, by more efficient killing machines. On Sunday evening I settled in to watch the US premiere of the second season of Downton Abbey, which kicked off in the midst of World War I, and is (thankfully) more interested in being a highly entertaining, beautifully decorated soap opera than in capturing the trauma of war. 

On the literary front I’ve been plowing through the Maisie Dobbs novels, each of which tell not only a good mystery, but also explore the social consequences World War I wrought in the decade that followed. The author of this series, Jacqueline Winspear, embeds lots of period detail, making each book a chance to travel to another, convincingly rendered, period of time. Winspear’s heroine often draws upon her wartime experiences as a nurse, but is equally haunted by all that she saw and endured attending to wounded soldiers in France. In each case, Maisie Dobbs uses her keen perception, her cultivated empathy (she mimics a person’s posture in order to get a better sense of what they are feeling), organization (creating a case map complete with a case of characters and drawing possible links) and a calm, cool demeanor achieved by meditation.  There are no clear cut hero’s or villains, as Winspear takes pains to show how complex people—and their motivations—really are.  

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“The window gave onto a view of dove-gray roofs and balconies, each one containing the same cracked flowerpot and sleeping feline. It was as if the entire city of Paris had agreed to abide by a single understated taste. Each neighbor was doing his or her own to keep up standards, which was difficult because the French ideal wasn’t clearly delineated like the neatness and greenness of American lawns, but more of a picturesque disrepair. It took courage to let things fall apart so beautifully.” - Jeffrey Eugenides, from ‘The Marriage Plot’.

“The window gave onto a view of dove-gray roofs and balconies, each one containing the same cracked flowerpot and sleeping feline. It was as if the entire city of Paris had agreed to abide by a single understated taste. Each neighbor was doing his or her own to keep up standards, which was difficult because the French ideal wasn’t clearly delineated like the neatness and greenness of American lawns, but more of a picturesque disrepair. It took courage to let things fall apart so beautifully.” - Jeffrey Eugenides, from ‘The Marriage Plot’.

Florence, Italy. September, 2011.

Florence, Italy. September, 2011.

The Birth of Venus and the Monster of Florence

Fiction set in a travel destination has the benefit of allowing me, for the cost of a book (or library late fines for checking out said book), to not only gain a better perspective of where I’m going, but afterwards, to experience that place all over again. Normally, I reserve reading about beloved destinations until after the trip, but on our recent excursion to Italy I brought along Sarah Dunant’s The Birth of Venus. Depicting the life of a young, privileged Florentine woman during the reign of Savonarola, the book breathed life into all the old buildings and squares we saw during our daily explorations. It’s easy to romanticize life at the height of creativity and learning in Renaissance Florence, especially because even as it was occurring people recognized it as a uniquely exciting time and place to be alive. ‘The Birth of Venus’ reminded me, though, of how complicated and limited and even dangerous that period was for women, wealthy and protected or not.

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Fiesole, Italy. September 2011.

Fiesole, Italy. September 2011.

In pursuit of (a united) Italy

Is Italy too regionally diverse, and its citizens too culturally diverse, to be a truly unified country? A new book, The pursuit of Italy: a history of a land, its regions, and their peoples explores whether and how Italy works as a unified country, and perhaps if it’s one instance of a place whose parts are more valuable and functional than the whole. 2011 marked the 150th year of Italy’s Risorgimento, or unification. Considering a history that spans thousands of years it’s surprising to consider that, as a political entity, Italy is younger the U.S.

Even a cursory bit of research about Italy reveals the depth and extent of its regional diversity. In preparing for our trip I came across variations of the following observation at least three or four times: Italians consider themselves residents of their town or city first, then their region, then as ‘Italian’, and finally as European. They identify first and foremost with their local dialect, their local culinary specialties, their local campanile.  

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