Contributing writer for The Artifice.
Junior Contributor I
Roseanne Barr vs. Roseanne: How We Rate What One Says vs. What One Does"Roseanne," the show, both the original and the revival, are extremely radical in its handling of topics as lesbianism, crossdressing youth, teenage sexual awareness, women's rights, and political differences in families. Yet because of the star's recent utterances, which often border both on the inane and the insane, viewers and critics see the show through Roseanne-Barr-colored glasses, and are oblivious to actually what is being portrayed, which is often an anti-Trumpite agenda. How hard is it to separate the "art" from the person?
|
Can You Really Fall In Love With a Fictional Character? | |
One of the best adaptations of a book was recently screened at the Tribeca Film Festival. Jeremiah Zagar’s We the Animals is a brilliant celluloid take on the prize-winning 2012 novel by Justin Torres. The two works enhance each other to an amazing degree. You watch the film, then you want to read the book, then you want to rewatch the film, and so forth. This tale of poverty, brutality, race, brotherly love, and coming out strikes a chord that you won’t want to be silenced. Too bad you can’t overlay one work on the other and experience them simultaneously. | The Art of Adaption |
As Freud noted, “Time spent with cats is never wasted.” I used to agree. After living with a feline for 22 years, who died in 1991, I never entered another mouser relationship out of fear that the pet would outlive me . . . and then what? Sadly, in recent years, to fill that emotional chasm, I have taken care of numerous friends’ cats, and many have proven psychotic or annoying as that T.S. Eliot musical. Quite possibly they contracted the bilious neuroses of their owners. Surprisingly, I have recently developed a fondness for my new Dyson vacuum cleaner. I leave it out in the living room, and once or twice a day I let it purr over my rug, whether necessary or not. No cat litter. No Purina Cat Chow. And if I die, I know dozens of folks who would take care of it with unbounded fondness. Engrossing article, by the way, | The Truth About Cats and Artists |
I adore Giovanni, and each time I reread Baldwin’s opus, I want to rescue him and situate the young man in a happier Room. If one person in literature should not be beheaded, it is certainly this unfairly cursed romantic.
Rubyfruit Jungle’s Molly Bolt I desire as a best pal. She’s so boldly outrageous, I would await her daily phone calls with an addict’s passion.
As for Céline’s delightfully abhorrent, endlessy flawed Ferdinand Bardamu, I can’t wait to revisit Journey to the End of the Night, but once a decade is probably a suitable amount of time to pass between encounters.
So is not being able to get enough of, the same as being in love? It doesn’t sound healthy, but possibly the characters I relish explain why my relationships have been so goddamn unsuccessful.