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November 14, 2005

Daisy Miller

daisy-miller.jpg Henry James, Mom once said, was her favorite author. Maybe she's changed favorite authors since then. When I saw the opportunity at the bibliothèque anglophone to read just a little Henry James, I decided to pick up Daisy Miller.

Daisy I could not understand. Nor could I understand Winterbourne, the young American who falls in love with her, though he can hardly admit it that way to himself. All the cast of characters seem fiercely corsetted by social circles that leave Winterbourne, "as stiff as an umbrella," although he's young enough to be at university. Are we any different today?

Henry James's manicured English leaves me thinking, Yes, I'm much coarser than people were in his day. Or at least in his writings. Perhaps his is the world my grandparents remembered when they hankered for the good old days.

Posted by Mark at November 14, 2005 08:09 PM

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Comments

Actually I read a lot of James in college and did my Honors thesis on two versions of his book the American. However, have not read anything in a long time. I liked best "The Bostonians", which for James was a comedy about reformers, and also, what is considered his masterpiece, "The Golden Bowl". But his prose can be very heavy going with all the long sentences with multiple phrases. I guess it was his way of trying to get at ALL the nuance of a situation. His style contrasts mightily to that of Ernest Hemingway, as does his subject matter.
I have been reading J.D. Salinger lately. Dana has found some of his books, "Catcher in the Rye," and "Nine Stories," and "Seymour, An Introduction." They were left out till the end of the move and I was needing something to read before going to bed. I enjoyed them. His writing is vivid and interesting. But he is sort of depressive in a way. He is very interested in character also. I wonder how autobiographical his things are? If like the oldest genius brother in the story, his oldest, beloved brother committed suicide. Though the author claims that Seymour, the oldest brother, did that out of surfeit of happiness. It seems that it might be autobiographical because the descriptions of odd characters and their actions is so convincing and the things they do and ways they think are so unusual. I wonder he could have made it all up.
But I remember reading in the 70's, when I read these books for the first time, that he was very reclusive. I suppose I would also be reclusive if I let it all hang out the way he might be doing in these stories.
Mom

Posted by: Teena at November 25, 2005 12:36 PM

Nothing I write at my job is autobiographical, but I'd imagine that's the way to do a realistic story. Start out with something you know very well, yourself, and try to take it from there. Each of us must have parts of our characters that hold interesting stories waiting to be written down.

Posted by: Mark at November 25, 2005 04:42 PM