There is a book I read, one that really deserves its own post. But since I doubt I'll ever get to that, I'll unload it here:
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
I liked this book more than all of the others. The others I've read. For some reason, though, it took me nearly two months to read. An innocent purchase in a local thrift store because "it's on those lists they make" turned into a life experience. The first chapter was immediately riveting, mostly because of the elephantized question: Why is [this character] doing this? It wasn't in an annoyed "look at that dumbass" sense, it was curiosity, as [this character]'s motivations were potentially significant to the human condition. Each chapter had the potential to stand alone; it was a book of linked short stories. All of the characters were significant. McCullers illuminated their thoughts in a way which made them supremely relatable and/or likable, or just real. Every conversation had a subliminal dimension, one barely accessible to the reader; perhaps it was unstatable, yet recognizable. Inarticulable, yet present are the words I'm looking for. In the recent months I've dipped into African-American literature, reading--why I'll list them!
Listed in order of completion
Soul on Ice : Eldridge Cleaver
Between the World and Me : Ta-Nehisi Coates
The Fire Next Time : James Baldwin
Appeal : David Walker
Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl : Harriet Jacobs
Their Eyes Were Watching God : Zora Neale Hurston
Invisible Man : Ralph Ellison [I'm in the middle of this book]
So, while McCullers is not black, she creates a character--Dr. Copeland--whom embodied my gravitation toward reading about the black condition in America. I want to hear the black intellectual voice. As I approached the conclusion of this book, I was intensely aware of the personal significance of this book to me, and began to imagine myself experiencing a sort of transcendent bliss upon reading its last words. Despite the seemingly unreachably high standards, this essentially happened, which was incredible.
I don't know the nature of my literary canon (because I haven't thought about it enough), but this book is unquestionably in it.
So the movie I watched was Moonrise Kingdom. It was my second time watching it, but first time getting it. Although I've only seen three of his films, I feel confident in saying this is Wes Anderson's best. His style somehow returns the viewer to a sensory experience of a child--of happy and sad, good and bad--yet does not outright dismiss the nihilistic conclusion we've all come upon. Each shot looks cool. The writing is funny. The acting is not entirely human, it's 'Wes Anderson'-human. A place, certainly not of Earth, created for a true expression of innocence, of honesty.
Please endure.
I imagine my next post will be more focused, more deliberate, and necessarily, less honest syntactically, but perhaps more honest semantically.
