Welcome to Week 8, which recounts the pleasing tale of the mugnet inclined, along with other strange events that occured along the way. This was a week of highs and lows for me. There was the high of finding out that Mr. Magoo finds me extremely hot. Followed almost immediately by the low of finding out that he thinks “So Called Bill” and “Jeff” are hot too. And then another low — losing my book. And finally, the high of finding it again. I’m spinning, I am. I’m also a couple of chapters behind, and like a lot of folks, finding the plot sorta blending into itself. But then there’s the Second Part of the Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha,” just a short flip ahead. It calls to us! And so we march on!
Next Wednesday: let’s hang our spurs at the end of Chapter XLIX, just before something Don Quixote appears to think is “really good!”
Well, I’m somewhere in the late XXs, When Cardenio, the prest & Barber meet some blonde girl dressed like a guy. I’ve actually had a fun time trying to imagine Shakespeare’s version of Cardenio. Everytime I get to the end of of my version of his play of Cervantes’s version of Benegale’s version of the Quizote’s true story, I find it continues in a new direction.
I have a bad premonition that it will end mundanely, but who knows? Oh, wait, you people who are ahead of me know. OK, I’ll catch up eventually. Or I won’t.
Perhaps DQ is not so much “the first modern novel” as it is “the forerunner of the modern TV series”? Episodic, repetitious, making fun of both media and characters, Certainly the plot of DQ varies more from chapter to chapter than the plot of Seinfeld, let alone the plot of House.
[And does anyone else have this particular annoying insect buzzing around their heads: everytime I see “DQ” in the comments, I get hungry?]
Not so much hungry, as overwhelmed by the desire for soft-serve ice-cream that my body doesn’t need. The only one I know of is in Los Baños CA, and is luckily closed each time I go by it.
CM: DQ is closer than you think…
http://tinyurl.com/qolkb
Jeez, there’s one in Concord right by my old stomping grounds off Clayton. That must be near the old Pizza place that turned into a Korean restaurant. Across the street from the old Ralphs. I used to ride my bike all through there. I’d’ve thought they’d have taken over the old A&W, or even the Dutch Pride Dairy. Dang, now I’m going to have to stop there when I’m out boring the children with pointless tales of High School, and old walnut orchards long gone.
If you’re still out there, RM, maybe we can meet and grab a Flurry, or whatever they call those things. Thanks! CM
Oh, wait how to make this relevant. In High School I remember going to a school concert where they sang “The Impossible Dream,” and it kept me from killing myself for one more day. Ah there’s no depression like High School depression.
CM: I don’t know what a Flurry is, but for better or worse, you’ve made me want to grab one.
-Cecil
Thanks a lot! Now, not only is “The Impossible Dream” stuck on endless replay in my head, but also the other song that was sung at my 8th grade graduation, “I Believe.”
CM, that DQ is on the north side of Clayton Rd., *in* the old Ralphs (now FoodMaxx) center. I drag the family there at least once a month.
Cookie, was that the Elvis version or Bon Jovi? (Surely you’re not young enough for Blessed Union of Souls…) Or did you mean (dare I hope!) my personal anthem, The Call’s “I Still Believe”?
Cecil, how’s it feel to have your blog hijacked? I promise henceforth to stay on topic.
RM: Not bad, actually.
-Cecil
CM: very nice segue into incisive encapsulation of the fog of highschool. so well played, in fact, that i will forgive you for introduction of phantom “impossible dream” loop.
At the risk of sounding like the pedantic old fart that I am, could some of you out there come up with some comments about the book instead of fantasizing about soft serve ice cream? (But first let me take note of the fact that my wife feels that a Peanut Buster Parfait is the most fulfilling sensual experience one can enjoy & remain fully clothed.)
Now, trying to practice what I just preached, let me mention some things in this week’s assignment that I think show how this 500-year-old book remains timely.
First, DQ’s lecture on the superiority of “arms” vs. “letters” starting on p. 328 has many parallels: debates between those who execute plans vs. those who create them; between those who want to protect what we have vs. those who want to improve what we are; between national defense as most important vs. social justice & personal privacy.
Second, I find it interesting that DQ, in arguing for the superiority of arms, limits it to up close & personal combat & rejects use of “artillery” (p. 332-33). So today’s push button, remote control warfare is right out, doesn’t qualify. You gotta risk getting bloody to be a person of arms.
Finally, if anyone’s been so out of touch with the outside world that he/she isn’t aware of certain mistrusts, conflicts, & misunderstandings between culturally Christian & Islamic societies, then read the next novel-within-a-novel to see how this same issue looked half a millennium ago (p. 334-68). And notice, even back then, nobody had much use for the French (p. 364).
Apologies to the Old Man… but in my own defense, look way back up to the top o’ the column: I started out with a comparison of Don Q to the most popular form of modern fiction and only parenthetically compared it to soft-serve.
I’m enjoying the fact that Cervantes can keep up the pace of classical allusions. I thought it might fall off, but we’re still getting Cato, Homer, de Camoes, and all the chivalric novelists. I hope this isn’t because he has run out of action scenes…
T.O.M. in KS wrote:
“At the risk of sounding like the pedantic old fart that I am, could some of you out there come up with some comments about the book instead of fantasizing about soft serve ice cream?”
I have this fantastic response I’m crafting that hinges on the phrase “that sounds a wee bit lactose intolerant to me.” While I work on that, here’s an actual note about the book.
It’s my catch up day — a rainy Sunday, and a few hours set aside to get back on track. Just read DQ’s treatise on arms vs. letters and mostly I was struck by the feeling that he had gone into a bit of a trance and was channeling some wisdom from his younger self — some time before the chilvaric meltdown. These arguments appear to be based on real-life, not just shiny echoes of his library. Makes you wonder about his past.
Also, as an aside for vets of the At Swim Two Birds Deathmarch, this one line on page 329 seemed straight out of Flann’s playbook, both in terms of the use of the colon and the substance of the line: “I say, then, that the hardships of the student are these: principally poverty…” Whether that’s credited to Cervantes or to the translator, I do enjoy these little accidents of language that connect one deathmarch to the next.
-Cecil
Marchers: Not to re-hijack the march by going back to the Dairy Queen recitative, but I do want to remind everyone that in Indianapolis, not only do we have DQ but we have Ritter’s Frozen Custard (home of the Glacier aka Blizzard) and Culver’s Frozen Custard and Butterburgers (home of the Concrete aka Blizzard). Admit it–A Concrete Milkshake says it all. We’re not the “Obesity Capitol of the World” for ‘nuthin!
On a more serious march note, I’ve caught up and am all the way up to Part II! For those of you with concentration difficulties, with or without Cecil’s permission, I do want to give you a preview–and hope for the coming pages. First, you will soon meet a Nanny Goat named “Spot.” Nuff said on that subject. Second, DQ gets into another scuffle or beating, depending on your perspective. This one, like the others, evokes Bugs Bunny and Wile. E. Coyote duststorm fights, where everyone survives but they all look the worse for wear. These few previews should give everyone the extra oomph to get through the next pages! (Cecil: I promise not to spill any serious beans. Honest.)
Glad to know the low-brow hijinks are about to come back, because I found the last interpolated novel (with the Christian captives) to be a little bit of a slog. It’s the first time I’ve gotten impatient with the book. More people vomiting on each other! That’s what I want from my literachuh!
A note on the book – the superiority of arms to letters. I reminded of Joseph Conrad’s Victory (paraphrase) To love – to slay – the two greatest enterprises known to man. For DQ to choose letters would be tantamount to admitting his world as a knight is fantasy, not corporeal.
Now to Computilo – I am in the home of Culver’s in Wisconsin. Frankly, I still don’t understand how we are not the obesity capital. We butter hamburgers, we deep fry cheese – what the hell are the fatter states doing that we haven’t thought of?
For me this week was the book’s Bermuda Triangle. The “Friends” sub-story drastically slowed the momentum of the March. It did get better for me once DQ woke up and began his arms versus letters speech. Better still was the Lela Prison story, as I like to call it.
What I am toying with is the question of why DQ – as lovably crazy as he is – is suddenly lucid in substantial parts of the story, the arms versus letters part being a perfect example of this. We’ve discussed this earlier in terms of DQ being a sympathetic character – that without the sentient moments we couldn’t connect with the Don. Can anyone think of another reason? Reasons? I have been reading Nabokov’s Lectures On Don Quixote and so far have not found an answer from Vladimir. I highly recommend the book BTW. Wish I had Nabokov teaching me DQ in college. There’s a really insightful lecture on what makes DQ so compelling as one of the great works of fiction that is well worth a peek.
I have nothing to add to Wisconsin-Bon Jovi-junk food discussion, though I do know what a Flurry is and have a soft spot for pedantic old farts.
On the subject of saying something about virginity/Patriarchy, mentioned by RodneyK in the last weeks’s posting, chapter XXIX, the “True History” of Dorotea’s tragedy bears striking elements in commen with Eliza Haywood’s “Fantomina” – a Restoration era pre-feminist discursive rather famous for the questions it raises about Patriarchy, M/F sexual relations, and virginity as virtue. Masquerade, loss of virginity in a situation that arguably is and isn’t quite rape, regardless of the element of deception, female admission to sexual interest (Dorotea admits outright that she is swayed sexually by Don Fernando), post-coitus Male character loss of interest in the Female character (Haywood’s male version of Don Fernando is the aptly named “Beauplaisir” ) and agressive female sexuality are just a few of the elements that the two stories have in common. What does it say that Dorotea may have preserved her “virtue” with a few loud yells, but chooses to listen to Don Fernando instead? She is in her parents house, and as a rich person, is most likely surrounded by servants. Aid was arguably within reach, and yet she makes the choice to have sex with Fernando. What a transgressive move, seems to me. And the fact that Cervates does not portray her as a woman of weak moral character becuase of this choice, but as articulate, resourceful and persuasive, is intriguing.
Fellow marchers, I for my part am suffering from major brain cramp brought on by The Worst Computer Book I’ve Ever Worked On, compounded by one of those hangovers with a 24-hour half-life. I have no substantive comment to make, nor am I in a mood to make wry jests about dairy products. I’ll catch up with you in a few days.
Wow! I’d like to read this “Fantomina� sometime. You had me at “masquerade.�
What you say about Dorotea reminds me of something else that bothered me about the story—that all would come right if they just changed partners. Don Fernando can go back to Dorotea and, dawg that he is, it’s all good; Cardenio, who was ready to kill his sweetheart when he thought she’d abandoned him for Don Fernando, jumps right back into the relationship like nothing’s happened. Again, that interchangeability—of stories, characters, sexual partners—seems to be part of Cervantes’s thang. Why? Is it to show how ridiculous fictions are? Their tidy symmetries, improbable coincidences, and happy endings vs. a world of prisons, poverty, and battered peasants? What does Nabokov say?
Style-wise, am I the only one not so in love with the Grossman translation? Sounds like she’s saddled with the tricky job of putting an ornate, flowery Spanish into something that sounds more vernacular to modern ears but still preserves some of the Renaissance chrome. Anyone else get the feeling that we’re missing a lot of Cervantes’s wild shifts in style? Like DQ’s highflown, rhetorically correct speech about arms vs. letters jostling against Sancho’s salty Spanish. Or the stylistic curlicues of knightly romance applied to shepherds or country gals like Dulcinea. I mean, you kind of sense that something like this is happening, but I get the feeling it jumps out more in Cervantes’s Spanish. Anyone know? Or am I being too hard on Grossman?
Well, I have gone from enjoying the book to feeling like Im slogging thru it. I also am having a hard time remembering what happened during the prior week’s reading for posting purposes. And I remain unsure at times what Mr. C is trying to say in parts – is he just telling a story, is he reflecting his times, is he making fun of his times, is he making fun of himself?? I guess it is all of the above and thats kinda cool how he can go from over the top absurdity, to more subtle humor and one liners, to apparent serious commentary like arts v letters, to long stories which may carry a message or not, and to sections like the upcoming good plays v bad plays discourse where Mr. C. disses elements of writing that yet seem to be present in this book.
And because no Jersey boy can let go a reference to Bon Jovi, I note that in crossing the page 400 threshhold, oh, we’re (nearly) halfway way there, oh, oh, living on a prayer, living on a prayer.
If only on both sides of the fat states/thin states divide that confounds this nation could heed those inspirational words.
If only.