The Bridges of Madison County

Been married? Trapped in a loveless marriage? Jaded and worn out with life? Never the mind...a dashing photographer in a khaki shirt with a penchant for photographing bridges might just be round the corner! And life will never be the same again.

I am not a sucker for romantic novels. I think I read one Mills&Boons novel in my teens - found it disgustingly soppy and cliched - and never picked another of that genre again. But "The Bridges Of Madison County," was in its own genre - that genre of all-time loved books, that genre of books that are not just read but felt through - the words creating a magic of their own - and whether you believe in love or not, whether you are the romantic sort or not - you will still feel for Robert Kincaid and Francesca Johnson's doomed adulterous love.

I read this book last year - seems ages ago now in the context of all that has happened in these 12 months - and it was only after reading it that I remembered that I had seen the movie first starring Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep! Mind you, this book is no classic - true, it is one of the best-selling books of all time but reviewers slammed the book for its gushing sentimentality and its apparent advocacy of adultery. And you might just have to set aside your thinking caps, wondering if a 4-day affair will really result in the love of a lifetime.

There's no profound philosophy here, no Herman Hesse to think about, no grandeur on the scale of a Tolstoy - but let me say it, I enjoyed reading this book. And that, I guess, is satisfaction enough for buying it!

Outlander

Do you think time travel is for readers who like sci fi? The immediate image that springs to mind when one mentions time travel is that of huge machines and all sorts of plantless landscapes. H.G. Wells has done that to us. But if you pick up a Diana Gabaldon work you will be in for a surprise. The first book I read was the "Fiery Cross", the fifth in the Jamie and Claire series. My friend chanced upon it as we were browsing through books in Gangarams in Bangalore.

I started reading it that evening and I was hooked. Have been ever since. I have bought all her books and each time I have been enchanted by the lyricism in her writing, the passion in her characters and the humour that bonds each relation in the book. It is not a cliched romance where boy meets girl and falls in love and struggles in their endeavour to be together. Boy, who is younger by a few years, does meet girl. But their problem is not ordinary. Claire is from the 20th century while Jamie is from the 18th. They meet by accident as Claire is sucked in to a vortex near the standing stones that are scattered across Scotland's plains. What happens next is something that can only be imagined by Gabaldon. All of you who like good humour sprinkled with romance and adventure, be sure to procure a copy of Gabaldon as soon as possible. I would suggest beginning from the first book in the series which is named Outlander. Its impossible not to love Jamie and laugh with Claire at her witty repartees.

• Official webpage

• Here is a book review of Fiery Cross

• A chat with Diana where readers had a chance to interact with her and find out more about her life and her books

• A very nice site maintained by a reader

Gone With The Wind

Gone With The Wind. Was it really the greatest novel ever written? Published in 1936, it can still be read in 2007 and was certainly the best-selling novel of all time. Ah! What a book this was! I can read it again. And again. And again. And never get tired of it.

Margaret Mitchell created such unforgettable characters here - the fiery Scarlett O' Hara and the enigmatic Rhett Butler. I read this book way back when I was a young 18 or 19-year old. Almost a decade later, I still can't forget it. At that time, I was but a student. Buying books to read was a luxury out of the question. Yet I could not stay without reading one either. So there was this small lending library called Choice in Koramangala, Bangalore. For around a rupee a day, I could take any book I wanted. Gone With The Wind took around 3 days to finish, if I remember correctly. And then I went back immediately and read the sequel to it called Scarlett written by another author. The sequel didn't quite live up to the drama and intensity of the original, unfortunately.

Last year, I finally saw the movie version too. And fell asleep somewhere in the middle. Stretching to almost 3 hours, to me, the movie was a disaster. Not that I have ever been a fan of movies adapted from books - such movies never seem to match the written word.

For me, reading about Scarlett was enough to cast a spell. And sometimes when I am down and feeling the blues, I think of these lines from Scarlett, and can feel her spirit again...

"'I'll think of it all to-morrow, at Tara. I can stand it then. To-morrow, I'll think of some way to get him back. After all, to-morrow is another day.'"

Read more about how Margaret Mitchell actually wrote the novel here. Amazing to think that this novel was written only to pass time while she was convalescing from an ankle injury!

The Magic of Emily Dickinson

IF I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

-EMILY DICKINSON

Probably one of the more famous poems of Emily Dickinson, these immortal verses are from her collection of poems called "Life."

I first heard the magic of Emily from the same brilliant professor, W.D. But strangely, I wasn't around the first time she taught a poem from the Dickinson collection. That poem was about a little tippler leaning against the sun - it was beautifully cute imagery - and for some obscure reason that has chosen to fade from my memory, I had decided to skip that class. Ah, how I wish now that I hadn't! The next class I was back and this reclusive woman's haunting verse came to life.

If everyone would choose to live their life by the standards in this poem - our world would be much a better place. As for me, I believe that I have not lived in vain so far - I read her magic.

Drinking Alone With The Moon

From a pot of wine among the flowers
I drank alone. There was no one with me --
Till, raising my cup, I asked the bright moon
To bring me my shadow and make us three.
Alas, the moon was unable to drink
And my shadow tagged me vacantly;
But still for a while I had these friends
To cheer me through the end of spring....
I sang. The moon encouraged me.
I danced. My shadow tumbled after.
As long as I knew, we were boon companions.
And then I was drunk, and we lost one another.
...Shall goodwill ever be secure?
I watch the long road of the River of Stars.

- LI BAI.

Li who? Yes, till today I didn't know a Li Bai. Till today I didn't know a single Chinese poet. It was only today while browsing through the growing collection of poems on this blog that I realized that despite having spent close to 20 months in China, I have remained woefully ignorant of this country's proud literary tradition. After reading such a poem as the one above, I can only berate myself more for such ignorance!

Li Bai is one of the Tang Dynasty poets and writes in the classical style. The Tang Dynasty is also known as the golden age of Chinese poetry - and Li Bai one of its finest poets. And well well, what have we here? Li Bai was a born traveler journeying for up to ten years at a time through vast stretches of north and eastern China! Now I am truly fascinated!!

There was something in this poem that drew me to it - it has been a sweltering evening here. Tiredness has dogged my every step today but after a drink with the moon and a rendezvous with the stars, life seems refreshed. Li Bai might never know it - but I raise a glass of wine and say "Xiexie" to him...

More about the romantic poet's wandering life can be found on Answers and here on Legacy.

Tarantella

This is one of those poems which has a very musical flavor to it. Notice how the words in the poem are very rhythmical and make you feel like dancing. Every line is there for a reason and either to pull and give the impression of a tired atmosphere or the hip hop hap...to liven the mood and to take you back to the careless times in the 19th century taverns.

Tip before reading: Roll every word in your mouth before you say it...trust me... you will taste the wine...

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of tar?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the vine of the dark verandah)?
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteeers
Who hadn't got a penny,
And who weren't paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the Din?
And the Hip! Hop! Hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl
Of the girl gone chancing,
Glancing,
Dancing,
Backing and advancing,
Snapping of a clapper to the spin
Out and in --
And the Ting, Tong, Tang, of the Guitar.
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?

Never more;
Miranda,
Never more.
Only the high peaks hoar:
And Aragon a torrent at the door.
No sound
In the walls of the Halls where falls
The tread
Of the feet of the dead to the ground
No sound:
But the boom
Of the far Waterfall like Doom.

-Hilaire Belloc

I Celebrate Myself

I celebrate myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my Soul;
I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes;
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it;
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless;
It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it;
I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked;
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

WALT WHITMAN (1819-1892)

Ah! What a poem!! I remember first reading and indeed hearing about Walt Whitman first during my post-graduation. It was the second year of my Masters degree in literature - a fresh clear Wednesday - the afternoon class. A small class of 13 students. I was sitting closest to the teacher - one of the best in my college, WD. She had an unmatched passion for literature and an unmatched passion as it turned out to be in particular for American Literature. And such passion transformed a lazy afternoon into songs that stirred like leaves of grass.

Many a poem I have read since then - but this one beautiful verse from Song of Myself has remained etched in my own soul long since then.

More about arguably America's greatest poet can be found on the Whitman archive while the entire content of Leaves of Grass is available on the wonderful Bartleby collection.

Mother to Son

Another poem which is close to my heart and which I first came across in my mid teens. Needless to say ... the poem doesnt need any explanation...the simplicity...its magic.

Mother to Son

Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps.
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now—
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

- Langston Hughes (1902 - 1967)

The Heart of Darkness

Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" has always been one novel, which has been at the heart of criticism and controversy. Hailed as one of the most densely thoughtful and racist books in the same breath, the journey of Marlowe and Kurtz down the river has still not released its charm on me. It is one of the most difficult novels I have tackled, with a text that is as pliable as water and as spacious as the sky. The one line that has been most touted is of course, "The horror! The horror!" by Kurtz who was seen by Marlowe as the, "mystery of a soul that knew no restraint, no faith, and no fear". There have been various interpretations regarding these words - for some the horror is that of Kurtz's realization of all the horrors he had committed in his life and for some others it is the recognition of a change that he undergoes inside himself which threatens his Self. The readings are numerous. I loved the book for its bottomless depth and the flexible text it has and it will continue to be one of the best books I have ever read.

For those who have not yet experienced the Heart of Darkness, do so here

A good criticism of the book can be found here

IPL has a short but excellent collection

A stinging look from Chinua Achebe on racism in the novel

Another postcolonial reading

Eternally Yours

Emily Bronte has been the proverbial one-hit wonder. But little is known about her, other than the fact that she was a free spirit who was also a fierce romantic. Personal words are few and far between, comprising only a letter here or an entry in a diary there. But her thoughts, her desires and her brilliant and incisive analysis of the mind in love is immortalised in one of my all time favourite books - Wuthering Heights. The concept of "true love" is not shown more lucidly elsewhere. With brooding imagery and edgy characters Wuthering Heights soars to the precipice of one's imagination. One of the most popular lines, "My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees - my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath - a source of little visible delight, but necessary", is also one of my favourites.

Critics have had varied opinions on the book - de Beauvoir says that Catherine is the epitome of the woman in love. As the man is perceived as the One, the standard, the norm, she is the Other, who has to lie in wait. Later critics like Hillis Miller say that the text does not have a single interpretation. The "text is over-rich" and the fact is that there is no one interpretation that can account for all the elements in the novel. It is as free as the love of Catherine for Heathcliff, which is the interpretation that appeals most to me.

For those of you who have not yet explored "true love", do so here

This is an excellent site for short but numerous readings on the novel

A few exemplary critical essays which I used for my MA readings

Another well informed site

On the Road

For life is holy and every moment is precious - Jack Kerouac

The masterful writer of "On The Road" and one of the inspirations behind the Beat Generation, Jack Kerouac is one of those writers whose books must adorn the shelf of a true lit lover. To capture the angst and the hunger of a young American generation as well as he did in the gripping, soul-stirring and beating journey of life in "On The Road," has but one requirement - an enduring delight in life and its preciousness.

I read "On The Road" two years ago...and I haven't stopped living it since. Like one of my friends, J from the US said, it's a book that made him "shiver to the core of his being and say yes, this -THIS is what life is all about." Now J was one of those people who had read one of my articles on Teaching English in China on Transitions Abroad. We exchanged mails for a while trying to clarify his many doubts on China as a teaching destination. Then we caught up on Yahoo Messenger and although China was still the focal point, we used to play chess and discuss the larger vicissitudes of life that somehow seem easier while talking to a stranger. J was the one who told me about "On The Road" and urged me to read it. And I am so glad I did. "On The Road" has since been a fixture in my life. But not J. The last I heard he did manage to fly to China -but we have since then dropped out of touch. I have no idea where he is anymore and probably never will...and maybe it doesn't even matter. But this one stranger opened my eyes to a book that opened my life.

Some of the best lines from that book are below:

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”

"Isn't it true that you start your life a sweet child believing in everything under your father's roof? Then comes the day of the Laodiceans, when you know you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked, and with the visage of a gruesome grieving ghost you go shuttering through nightmare life."

"I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn't know who I was- I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds."

"That last thing is what you can't get, Carlo. Nobody can get to that last thing. We keep on living in hopes of catching it once for all."

"Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk- real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious."

"I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."

"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."

Check out the Kerouac website and this excellent university resource that has readings from the great man himself.

High Flight (an Airman's Ecstasy)

I have read thousands of poems and phrases and quotes. but there are few which are indelibly inked in my mind . .and life.... this poem is one of them.. ..i remember the first time i read it in school.. i was about 16... and there was something .. something which struck me about this... the honesty.. the sheer simplicity at the way God is described.. no jargon. no path to enlightenment but a simple flight of a craft.. which describes life and its journey and God in the most complete manner....

Since that day i read it.. i always consider this to be a poem which was written for me.. maybe it had to find me.. and i ... it.. ... for its the simplest poem ive read.. but in that simplicity lies the answers and the questions a million philosophies could never grasp...... and that .... is true poetry.

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.

Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,

I've chased the shouting wind along and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew.

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

John Gillespie Magee

Aedh wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

- WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS. (June 13, 1865 - January 28, 1939)

Is there a greater poet in the English language? To me, perhaps there is none. Eliot has always been one of my favorites but Yeats catapults himself above all with verses like this. I first heard these famous lines recited in the most unlikely of settings.

The scene : An international residential school in Bangalore.

The characters: N, (my good friend), D (an English teacher) and yours truly.

Action: In front of the principal's office, D, a young lad with the weirdest and most unintelligible accent (Welsh?) turns the most mundane conversation on its head. In true dramatic fashion, he gets down on one knee and proposes to the beautiful N with these lines :

I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

One of those priceless moments in life. One of those things Visa cannot buy.

N didn't accept the proposal. D was sacked for his accent a few weeks later and both of them moved out of the larger sphere of my life. But Yeats and his lines...they stayed.

Gale has a short biography on Yeats and the Yeats Society is pretty impressive as does the Yeats Society of NY with an extensive collection of links.

God's World

O WORLD, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart. Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
My soul is all but out of me,—let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

-EDNA ST.VINCENT MILLAY

As always, women writers have fascinated me.

I admire their courage in shaping new horizons and creating new boundaries. Edna Millay was one such woman - born in 1892 - she lived a life of unconventionality, laced her life with danger and risk and wrote poems that will outlive themselves in her immortality. God's World has a passionate ardor to it - a breathtaking rhythm that made me fall in love with it the first time I read it.

More about Edna's life can be found on American Poets and on Kirjasto.