Back from hiatus - Maybe

Not sure what I'm doing back here. Over 10 years have passed. Nobody reads blogs anyway. Nobody reads. Period.

So maybe this will be my own personal (not too personal) journal. My own 'thinking out loud.' We'll see.

The decision to return is parallel to my decision to return to teaching after a year off (a sabbatical year that was intended to stretch into a resignation - but here I am, back again).  So naturally, this post will be about teaching in a world changing rapidly. Educations systems that I no longer believe in, but ones I subscribe to and work under. Meeting students 2-3 times a week for 15 weeks to discuss books (short ones, dwindling in size every year) is not working anymore, but we keep on pretending. We keep on trying, for the sake of the 10% of students who are still students.

Maybe this is just the whining of an old woman. I'll plan a 'nicer' post next time.

Tove Jansson: The True Deceiver

Anna Aemelin is an artist and somewhat of a recluse. She paints pictures of the forest ground, in minute details then sends them to the publisher, who adds the text. The books are published once every two years. Anna is rich. She lives in what the villages calls 'rabbit house.' And she sketches rabbits, scattered with flowers, on the otherwise realistic pictures. But she does not do that by choice, but because the publisher requests it. How else will he be able to sell the books as children's books? She receives letters from these children, her avid readers, and replies to them diligently and compassionately. Up until Katri, Mats and their nameless dog come into her life.

Katri is not a local, nor, of course, is her brother. But what's striking about Katri are her yellow eyes, their yellow disconcerting in a village where everyone has blue eyes, and where its citizens wonder “what sin [they have] committed that things can't be normal.” But Katri does numbers. She is brilliant with numbers. She calculates. She analyzes. You go to her with your financial affairs and she advises you on how to manage these finances. Her advice is always to the point. Accurate and always proven fruitful. Taxes. Severance pays. Retirement plans. Employment issues. Katri takes care of it all. Flawlessly. “A remarkable woman,” according to Anna, because not only does she have a head for maths, but she reads literature.

Katri's brother, on the other hand, like Anna, only reads adventure books. And through these adventure books he develops a taste for designing boats, as most of the adventures he reads happen at sea. His designs are brilliant and made with precision. In that, he seems to be the connection between Katri and Anna. He sketches creatively, like Anna, but is very methodical, like Katri.

Through calculated, deliberate and cunning planning, Katri manages to secure herself a place in Anna's house, along with her brother. It is around that time that the village children start chanting 'witch, witch, witch' whenever she passes. And in their life there, she also manages to save money to get her brother's boat sketches turned into an actual boat, her way of making her brother happy. But to do this, she convinces Anna that she has been cheated by the shopkeeper, the publisher, even the children whose letters she answers, and in this Anna begins to change from the trusting gentle artist to one who mistrusts everything, much like Katri does, and eventually struggles in her inability to paint or write her letters to the children. But in this money saved for Anna through managing her finances, Katri also secures a small fund herself, towards Mat's boat. Because she believes that “without money, a person's thinking does narrow. It shrivels.”

In her introduction, Ali Smith writes that it is a book “concerned with locality, money, winter, wildness, social unacceptability and power,” but also about “whether there's such a thing as objectivity.” Katri's methodical objectivity becomes the backbone of the novel. But Katri is also the true deceiver in the book, even though her deception rests on utter truths and completely well-calculated arithmetics. Katri's calculations are based on her own assumption, often proven accurate, that “every household was naturally hostile towards its neighbours.” And trusting nothing but her own accurate calculations, Katri manages to get Anna to trust her. In a cunning exchange about how to treat her dog. Katri tells Anna that obedience means “believing in a person and following orders that are consistent.” She insists: “It's a relief, it means freedom from responsibility. It's a simplification. You know what you have to do. It's safe and reassuring to believe in just one thing.” And although Anna blatantly rejects Katri's doctrine, we see gradually her observing it in her own life affairs.

But the true deceiver is also Anna, who paints the forest floor in exact measures, then adds unrealistic rabbits and flowers to please her readers. The novel poses the question of this line between what is true and what is right, a line that begins to blur when Katri and Anna's characters begin to evolve. What Anna sees in the beginning as social niceties and acts of kindness, Katri sees as deception. What Katri sees as truth and absolute decisions, Katri sees as cruelty. And in the merging of these two absolute worlds, the novel weaves itself in beautiful and simple language that is set against the dark unrelenting Scandinavian winter.

This is a beautiful book, very endearing in its presentation of plot and characters, very straightforward in the line it draws between truth and justice, but one that leaves the reader no solutions. Anna's world eventually falls back into its pattern, but we know Anna is not the same person. Katri also eventually displays characteristics that are not typically hers. The characters change to a noticeable degree. But we are not sure what the book is saying about these changes. I don't like books that preach. Do you? And this one doesn't. It just tells a very beautiful story set in a very cold and treacherous weather.

The Woman in Black at the Fortune Theatre, London

The Woman in Black is a brilliant play. The strong resistance to perform that starts the play is enough to set the theme. Then the stage, the acting, the mist covering the audience and taking us into the marshes. Everything from Dickens's Havisham (the main character's fiancé/wife is even called Stella) to Poe's raven comes to mind here. The audience in itself is quite an experience as the man behind me jumps when the ghost appears uttering everything from 'Jesus Christ' to 'God damn' as he is jolted in his seat, the woman in the front row utters her has and ohs, and the rest of the audience is quick to shriek when they are made to shriek.

This is a story of a man in need of telling his story in order to exorcise his demons. And resisting 'performing' his story because it is not entertainment, he is gradually sucked into the act of entertainment through the brilliant performance of his tutor as he displays emotions he feels himself. It is a story of how art can indeed imitate life, and even creep into it, as stealthily as the woman in black creeps into the tutor's life.

The scenes in the haunted house are amazingly put together, and the blatant reliance on the audience's imagination, so frequently stressed in the words of the actors themselves, goes further into presenting how art isn't only very capable of imitating life, but can go beyond that by imagining it (as the audience imagines a dog and a horse when no dog or horse are on stage)

It is the story of a woman who had to give up her baby and, having almost watched him die, seeks revenge from all who know her story. And when the solicitor in charge of her sister's estate (the main character here) goes to the marshes to look at her papers, the story unfolds to him. That the woman is a ghost here, that the woman doesn't appear at the end as the actors salute the audience, and that the woman is, in spite of all this, the center of it all, resonates very strongly with my feminist readings of texts.

P.s. Pictures to be added later, when acquired

Back? Or 'The Blossom Blossoms'

Back to blogging as an attempt to write again (that ancient neglected art).
With a twist, this subjective reporting will get even more subjective. This becomes a diary of sorts, with hope beyond hope that the diary will be more about art and culture to make it worthy of something called writing, and less about baking and gardening, my current 'unhealthy' obsession.

But I make no promises. Especially since this specific post is inspired, though I'm reluctant to admit that, by the blooming of a blossom I planted exactly two months ago. May it bring an abundance of blossoming thoughts into my writing (or some other cliche)

The Blossom. The Inspiration

p.s. also showing off my cherry tomatoes in the background

The Other Italy

Having seen Rome, Florence and Venice, I ventured into the other Italy with Milan, Rimini as the main two destinations, and Riccione, San Marino, Portofino, and Como as day trips.

Let’s begin with a few Milanese snapshots:

The Duomo and its Piazza is probably the liveliest place in Milan, beautifully spacious though filled with tourists. The view of the Cathedral looming on the piazza makes it a dreamy place to visit whether to take your morning sip of coffee or to sit idly at night and enjoy the lights of the cathedral and the duomo.

A little off the piazza, you can go to the 7^th floor of one of Milan’s main shopping malls, the Rinascente, and choose between the indoor deli (De Santis) for its most delicious sandwiches of cheese and meats and its fresh Anastasia salad, or step outside to have dinner with a view of the Cathedral and a choice of four restaurants, my favorite being Maio for its juiciest burger and its colorful and fruitful iced tea.

To go around Milan, you can go online (www.bikemi.com) and purchase your username and password to get a bike from the many points across the city. A ride towards and around Parco Sempione to the north-west of the Centre is very pleasant and you can pass the Castello Sforzesco and Arco della Pace.

An hour drive north of Milan can take you to Lake Como and its surrounding towns. Festivals around the lake are year-round but the lake itself offers a beautiful view.

I happened to be there when they were having a Swing Dance Festival and watching the dancers was a pleasure.

To the South of Milan, you can take a train to Santa Margherita and head south-west along the coast to Portofino or other coastal areas by bus, or more conveniently, you can drive the 2+ hours from Milan south towards Portofino for views not to be missed.

And when it’s time for lunch, don’t miss the grilled sea bass in Ristorante Delfino right on the marina. The Scampi is just as good, almost.

For a place to swim near Portofino, the best is Bagni Fiori in Paraggi, between Portofino and Santa Margherita. For around 60 euro, you can get two beach chairs, umbrella, and two towels.

Another option closer to Santa Margherita would be the beach associated with Hotel Helios with its partially enclosed sea-water pool aside from its access to the sea itself (a 50 euro value).

But for a real sandy beach experience, you would want to take the 4+ hour drive to Rimini on the east coast, stopping by Verona to take a peek at Juliet’s alleged window but also to walk around the city.

Once in Rimini, these sandy beaches and clear waters will force you to spend all day in your swimsuits either for a lazy day of relaxing with a book, or if you want activities, there are dances, volleyball fields, boats, surfboards and other sea-related options.

At night, you can drive or take the bus to Riccione for a more lively night scene. Dinner of delicious Pasta and Pizza at Pizza Maria Dina or Canasta on Viale Maria Ceccarini is highly recommended.

And if you want some history, you can drive west to the Republic of San Marino, one of the few independent states within a state (Vatican and Monaco being the other two). The Castle at the top is a good destination for the view it allows you of the city, and for that walk into the past often associated with castles.

This is barely a glimpse into my trip, which was itself a mere glimpse into the beautiful Italy. The pictures can't do it justice. You have to smell the air, taste the food, and hear the sounds around you to really appreciate the beauty. Looking at the pictures now, I miss the actual sights. A picture might be worth a thousand words, but an actual sensual experience is priceless.

*My tribute to Italy is prompted by Spain's victory in Euro2012. Spain can win a thousand champions, Italy remains the most beautiful country.

My trip, again, to Manhattan

This is a select expose of Manhattan as I already posted plenty on it in 2008 here.

Because there’s always a new thing to see in Manhattan, and because books are my favorite people (?), I begin this post with this picture of Scribner looming larger than St Patrick’s Cathedral behind it. Literature always comes first for me.

And because art comes hand in hand with literature, I select for you two works of art from the Metropolitan Museum. First I give you James Rosenquist’s House of Fire (1981) that piqued my interest with its reds. 

Next, here’s Francois-Josephy Navez’s The Massacre of the Innocents, “Exhibited to great acclaim at the Brussels Salon of 1824, this work presents the Massacre of the Innocent as an intimate family drama, whose ‘frightening realism’ struck critics.”

Massacre and fire would naturally bring to mind the necessity of presenting you with the 9/11 memorial. The park is not completed yet, but personally, the site touched me more when it was left as ruins of the buildings. Somehow rebuilding this, with all the good intentions meant by it, lessened the emotional effect it left on me the two times I visited after 9/11. (2004 and 2008) 

And from destruction turned to memorial, I take you to nature created by New York in the next three examples. The first is a small hanging garden as part of The Irish Hunger Memorial in Battery Park, designed by Brian Tolle, Gail Wittwer-Laird, and 1000 Architect in 2002 to commemorate the Great Irish Famine of 1845-52. 

The second is that huge construction called Central Park, designed by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux as the Greensward plan in 1858, as viewed all the way in the distance behind the concrete jungle of New York. 1,600 residents of the park area, mostly poor African-Americans and Irish, had to be evicted to construct the park.

The smaller park you see by the green Metlife building is Bryant Park behind the public library, better viewed in the following picture. No detailed history for this one, except to say that by the 1970s the place was nicknamed Needle Park (for clear reasons) until the park was cleaned in the 80s.

The third, and my recent discovery this year, or rather a friend’s discovery pointed to me, is The High Line Park, an old raised railway turned into park. Designed by James Corner, Diller Scofidio, Renfro, Piet Oudolf, Buro Happold, the park opened in 2009, and it runs for 1.5 miles (2.4 km) parallel to 10^th Avenue from Gansevoort St (by 12^th st) to 34^th St.

Oops. Where did Yasmina come from? J

An amazing walk would be from Battery Park to the entrance of this park, by the Hudson river, with a view of New Jersey and many small scattered rest areas on the way. That’s 2.8 miles (4.5 km). That would give you a spectacular 4.3 mile walk that will not disappoint you.

Now enough about nature, real or constructed, and let me end with art and literature. As you walk around West Village, you can't help but gawk at the walls of buildings turned into museums of modern art.

And in close vicinity (specifically on 3^rd st between Avenue B and C) You come across the Nuyorican Poets Café, which, unfortunately, I was only able to visit once due to the short duration of my trip. 

But that one visit made this, now, my most certain future bite at the Big Apple. It was open mic day and we were dazzled by poets and musicians.

And this ends my short slideshow of my favorite city in the world. (Next post will be on the second part of this trip: Boston)

A Separation (جدایی نادر از سیمین)

This post is long overdue. It’s about time I report to you on A Separation (جدایی نادر از سیمین), a movie I watched while visiting a friend in Dallas last weekend.

In general, if I report on something, it means it won my approval one way or another. So how did A Separation win my approval? Let me count the ways:

It won my approval for its depth and breadth and height

No. Seriously. Enough of the Brownings. Here’s why I recommend this movie:

The cinematography was interesting. The handheld camera technique might cause the audience some discomfort. It certainly did that to my movie partner. However, though this technique is often used haphazardly by movie makers to assert their familiarity with the revival of this school of cinematography in the same way that stream of consciousness is often used haphazardly by modern novelists, this time the technique matched the content, in a rather Wordsworthian content/context symmetry, just not a very Romantic one*.

The story involves, as the title suggests, the separation of Simin and Nader. But notice the indefinite article A in the English translation. It is not without significance. This is not a definite story. The/A separation here is not simply that of Simin and Nader, but that between right and wrong, and the undesirability and complexity of choosing between them. A complexity that is spoon-fed to the audience in the last scene of the movie (But I won’t spoil that for you). This is not a movie about what happens when Simin and Nader separate. This is a movie about what happens when right and good and true are at conflict. An old dilemma when it comes to literature. Should Cathy have stayed a tormented life with Heathcliff as opposed to her decision to try a better life for both of them? Should Jane have accepted Rochester’s marriage proposal that came only after he lost land and sight? Should Frankenstein have created a female monster/partner? Should Dexter’s sister play cop or sister upon discovering her psychopath brother with blood on his hands?  Should the last scene of The Sopranos end the series with the Sopranos apparently living happily ever after? Why does art insist on burdening us with these philosophical questions? Can’t we just be entertained freely?

But I digress and babble.

So the burdening question here is thus:

Having been abandoned by his wife for his refusal to leave Iran and provide his daughter with what would presumably be a better life elsewhere, Nader had to hire Razieh to care for his Alzheimer-inflicted father. The hired help happens to be pregnant. Nadir’s knowledge of that pregnancy was a question soon answered. In a moment of anger probably or probably not justifies, Nader pushes the pregnant woman out of his house, consciously or not so consciously aware of her pregnancy, possibly causing her to tumble down a few stairs. Razieh later sues Nader for the loss of her unborn child. Nadir’s knowledge of her pregnancy is pivotal to the verdict he will receive from judge. As the events unfold, we learn that he might have known about the pregnancy, but with that comes the knowledge that the miscarriage might have been caused by an earlier incident. Doubt. (Shakk). A term Razieh uses quite frequently to refer to her own doubt and therefore possible guilt at framing a man for a miscarriage he was not directly responsible. But this shakk is what the audience is left with as well, epitomized in the brilliant acting of Termeh, Simin and Nadir’s 11 year old daughter, as she struggles to decide whether her father is guilty or not.

Now enough about the content. Let’s go back to the harmony of form and content. In movies we want a good camera, good plot, and good acting. Having vouched for the first two (Read above in case you missed that), let me move to the brilliant acting. The 11 year old referred to in the last paragraph is one example. But other examples are aplenty. The father playing the part of a man with Alzheimer did such a pretty good job that we are left actually considering whether this is indeed an act. Simin is a brilliant actress. And even the young daughter of the hired help masters her role as we see those inquiring eyes looking through doors in an attempt to decipher what is happening in the adult world she lives in.

Good camera. Good acting. Good plot. Dear audience, the verdict is in. Without a shakk this is a great movie.

*Or if you wish, a more philosophical Hegelian concept of the reciprocal revulsion of form and content.

p.s. Simin (Leila Hatami) is a pretty good looking redhead here.

Cody Daigle's William and Judith at The Liddy Doenges Theatre

Event: William and Judith by Cody Daigle

Place: The Liddy Doenges Theatre at Tulsa Performing Arts Center

Time: Thurs 16 Feb, 8:00 pm

This is a small stage. Proximity to the actors, as usual with small stages (I remember Anna Christie at the Donmar Warehouse), adds a certain edge to the audience’s reaction to the play. Unlike shows we see on screen, watching a play on stage makes this an experience quite different, even when the material, a fictional story, is basically the same as what we see on stage. And although the screen pulls us further into believing what we see by its ability to manipulate visual effects to the service of the story and the effect a movie’s soundtrack has on our emotional involvement, a minimalist stage somehow pulls its audience with its own magical thrill, often sucking us even deeper into the story it portrays for us simply by isolating all external factors, visual and auditory, and forcing us to focus on the act and the words.

But enough of that, now the play.

Open curtain (there is no real curtain of course. This is, after all, a modern play where curtains become more and more obsolete, and an enactment of a Shakespearean time, when curtains did not exist.)

But for the sake of the thrill, let’s go with Open Curtain.

William has been suffering from a writer’s block and has been assisted in his last 2 or three plays by no other than his successor John Fletcher (that Jacobean playwright who barely ever made any appearance in Intro to Lit classes, was brushed over in drama classes, and briefly and insignificantly touched upon in any Shakespearean drama class. Poor John overshadowed by the bard that preceded him). William’s sister, Judith, refusing to marry the man her father has chosen for her, disowned by her family, turns to her older brother in memories of times they used to share as children, writing plays under a tree. This appearance is expected and anticipated by an audience who knows that this play is based on Virginia Woolf’s “Shakespeare’s Sister” from her A Room of One's Own where she imagines the sad fate of a woman of genius in Shakespeare’s time. (feminists just love these stories of what ifs?) What baffled and won the audience’s claps and laughs and obvious acceptance is the dialogue used in this play. This is a very well written play that means to amuse as it brings life to Woolf’s imaginary story. The acting was superb: Judith is the strong outspoken English woman, even when she finally gives William permission to steal her Tempest. William’s seemingly selfish and obnoxious playwright personality puts him at center stage as he gradually shows us his reluctance to teach his daughter what he taught his sister for fear of a similar fate. And Fletcher the poor playwright hidden in the shadows of Will plays his part exceptionally well.

Now I’m more thrilled to go see how Daigle presents The Tempest on stage. He already got my approval for this one.

Cody Daigle, I salute you and thank you for a beautiful night.

Octavia Butler: Kindred

I just finished reading Octavia Butler’s Kindred. I picked it up because I wanted to expand my sci-fi readership. And somehow a novel that is part sci-fi part slave narrative seems to feed right into my interests. It’s like reading a book co-authored by Toni Morrison and Aldous Huxley, or Alice Walker and Ursula Le Guin, or Alex Haley and Frank Herbert. Okay. You get the picture.

Now let’s talk about the novel.

Dana, living in California in 1976, is repeatedly transported to 19^th Century Maryland. Gradually she learns that she is transported by some unexplainable powers of her white ancestor Rufus Weylin who calls her into his plantation whenever his life is at risk. This starts when Rufus is a child and continues till he dies. Rufus is a plantation owner and Dana soon realizes that her journeys into the past are needed to insure her own existence, as Rufus will father Hagar from his slave Alice, and Hagar is Dana’s great grandmother. And though she begins by questioning her role in his survival, she is soon to shake that doubt and accepts this tole.

Again, what would have happened if the boy had drowned? Would he have drowned without me? Or would his mother have saved him somehow? Would his father have arrived in time to save him? It must be that one of them would have saved him somehow. His life could not depend on the actions of his unconceived descendant. No matter what I did, he would have to survive to father Hagar, or I could not exist. That made sense.

But somehow, it didn't make enough sense to give me any comfort. It didn't make enough sense for  me to test it by ignoring him if I found him in trouble again. 

Preparing to read sci-fi, this novel’s theme of slavery seems to have overshadowed the sci-fi element, at least for me. Though the actual transportation, its details and the way the characters deal with it makes this an interesting new look into sci-fi, it is Dana’s life on the plantation that is most captivating here. How would a modern day black woman deal with being a slave? This seems to be the question this novel poses. How submissive will modern day Dana be when she is hardened (or softened) by actually being a slave? And how would Kevin, her white husband, behave when, in one of her journeys, he is also transported with her? 

But Dana herself knows she is a mere observer and isn't really living the life of a slave as she begins to realize how both Kevin and herself are fitting rather too well in their life: 

We weren't really in. We were observers watching a show. We were watching history happen around us. And we were actors. While we waited to go home, we humored the people around us by pretending to be like them. But we were poor actors. We never really got into our roles. We never forgot that we were acting.

Yet, her observer state does not prevent her from feeling guilty at being the woman who saves Rufus's life. Butler highlights Dana’s feelings of guilt over any other feelings of being transported across time and place. Dana visits the plantation 6 times, saving the slave-owner Rufus from imminent death in every one of her visits. This makes her, in the eyes of other slaves on the plantation, a culprit in their enslavement. And like other submissive and complacent slaves, Dana chose her own safety, a choice she has earlier looked down upon when she notices it in another slave woman, Sarah:

She had done the safe thing - had accepted a life of slavery because she was afraid. She was the kind of woman who might have been called "mammy" in some other household. She was the kind of woman who would be held in contempt during the militant nineteen sixties. The house-nigger, the handkerchief-head, the female Uncle Tom - the frightened powerless woman who had already lost all she could stand to lose, and who knew as little about the freedom of the North as she knew about the hereafter.

And she soon admits that she genuinely cares for Rufus, even as he enslaves her, has her whipped, and almost causes her death in one instant. Guilt over rescuing a man who is constantly cruel to his slaves haunts Dana more than any other feelings she might have by leaving her time/place. However, it is finally as threat to Dana’s body that she manages to end this cycle. As long as Rufus’s interest in her is as his savior, Dana accept becoming his slave, but when he becomes interested in her body, upon the death of his Alice, she immediately decides to end this cycle and kills him. I’m not sure what to make of this. Slavery is not longer the element that repels Dana from Rufus. She seems to have accepted that, even justifies it. But in the end this is a novel about a woman whose body refuses to be violated, not about a black woman who refuses to be enslaved. And even though she utters her rejection to being his slave, she has long been accepting the duties of a slave, it is the duties of a lover, forced by a slave-owner, that she actually resists with her knife.

A slave was a slave. Anything could be done to her. And Rufus was Rufus - erratic, alternately generous and vicious. I could accept him as my ancestor, my younger brother, my friend, but not as my mater, and not as my lover. He had understood that once.

I twisted sharply, broke away from him. He caught me, trying not to hurt me. I was aware of him trying not to hurt me even as I raised the knife, even as I sank it into his side. 

Of course the body does matter here. In the end, when Dana is finally free (through Rufus’s death) she is left with her arm amputated. Her body is violated, if not sexually, then indeed physically. Her arm remains in the grips of Rufus's hand even when she manages to come back to her 1976 life. Butler argues that she does this because she refuses to leave Dana untouched by her experience, that it doesn’t make sense to her that Dana should go back to her old life untouched. But Dana is left untouched. Her life continues as it had been before. Her awareness of slavery hasn’t changed. She knew what it was as did Kevin. It might now be a more personal awareness, but it’s not a big change. And having been responsible, through saving Rufus, for so many of her slave friends being killed, whipped, and sold is too huge to be equated with a loss of an arm.

Now don’t let these questions and investigations fool you. This is a very good novel, and I don’t think Octavia Butler needs me to vouch for her. This novel is an interesting investigation of the slave mentality. It is also an interesting twist to the usually sci-fi novels. It is worth reading, interesting to read, and most enjoyable as well. As sci-fi, I wouldn’t rate it as a favorite. As slave-narrative, I also wouldn’t rate it as a favorite. But as one that combines two unlikeable themes, it stands out indeed.

Chocolate-Chip Pecan Pie

Pie:

1/2 cup butter

1 1/3 cups flour

1/2 tsp salt

3-4 tbsp cold water

Filling:

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

1 cup light corn syrup (or boil 1 cup sugar with 1/3 cup water and stir on low heat till it thickens)

1 cup firmly packed light-brown sugar

3 large eggs

2 Tbsp stick butter, melted

1 1⁄2 tsp vanilla extract

1⁄2 tsp salt

1⁄2 cup chopped pecans

11⁄2 cups pecan halves

Method:

Heat oven to 350°F and place oven rack in lowest third of oven

Mix pie ingredients, adding 1 tbsp water at a time.

Shape into a ball then roll on floured surface into a 12" circle.

Fit pie shell in 9" pie dish and crimp edges.

Scatter chocolate chips evenly in crust. 

Whisk syrup, sugar, eggs, butter, vanilla, salt and chopped pecans in a large bowl until well blended.

Pour evenly over chocolate chips. 

Arrange pecan halves on top.

Bake 50 minutes, or until crust and pecans are browned. 

If crust begins to darken too quickly, cover edges with foil.

Cool completely on a wire rack.

Sade in Abu Dhabi

Last night I went with a few members of my family to the Sade Concert at Yas Arena in Abu Dhabi. I leave you here with a few pictures and comments. Needless to say, Sade's performance was dazzling and the audience was mesmerized throughout.

After warming the audience up with Bob Marley's Don't Worry, Be Happy, Sade steps on the stage as the music begins playing Soldier of Love, quite a hit in her album of the same title, the audience naturally screams in excitement. Sade comes on stage dressed for the part:

 Following that song, Sade gives a brief hello to the audience before going back to an old hit in her Diamond Life Album with her Your Love is King. She goes back to her latest Album in Skin then skips back again to one of my own favorite albums of her, Love Deluxe, singing Kiss of love with a very picturesque Background:

 And when the music starts playing its ba-boom-boom tune, the audience rises in applause knowing what's to come. And Sade does not disappoint. She forces the whole stage and audience to go ba-boom ba-boom with her latest hit, Love Is Found, accompanied by a silhouetted background of her dancing with her fabulous male partner. The image here fails to capture what we were actually witness to. The heart goes ba-boom ba-boom just looking at this man move.

 She follows this with In Another Time (Solder of Love Album) before taking a short break. The break is followed by a short movie clip prepping us up for a song that again took the audience back to what started Sade. Smooth Operator apparently remains an all-time favorite with Sade and her audience and the set intensified this feeling:

 Then Sade sits on the edge of the stage and sings Jezebel (Promise) in a black and white setting that plays quite a role here:

 After Bring me Home (Soldier of Love) album and Is It a Crime (Promise), the stage shows us a banner that reads: Sade Live Tonight in Abu Dhabi while Sade sings The Safest Place, again from her new album.

 This is followed by All About Our Love (Lovers Rock) and Paradise (Stronger than Pride) before Sade retires again to change while the band sings Nothing Can Come Between Us (Stronger than Pride) with the Audience.
When Sade finally returns, she does so behind a white curtain that teases the audience who now sees that Sade comes in a new look, singing Morning Bird (Soldier of Love) followed by a song long waited for by me personally and, I have no doubt, by every member in the audience, King of Sorrow (Lovers Rock). In this white elegant dress and with her hair let down, Sade captivates her audience and steals their hearts away.

 Then we listen The Sweetest Taboo (Promise), The Moon and the Sky (Soldier of Love), Pearls (Love Deluxe), No Ordinary Love (Love Deluxe) and finally By Your Side (Lovers Rock) as Sade once again reminds us that it is impossible to be able to count her many hits, and that, indeed, all that she gave us are hits.

After Sade says her goodbyes and acknowledgments to the band, and after the expected time has lapsed for the audience to cheer and call her back, Sade dazzles us back on stage in red as she is taken on a podium that lifts her as high as the skylines in the screen behind her while she sings Cherish the Day (Love Deluxe)

The concert ends and we leave reluctantly. As we leave we see the faces of people leaving the stage. We chat with a few who are as baffled as we are by Sade's magnificent performance. As we leave Abu Dhabi today, we meet a few more members of the audience in the airplane and finally airport in Kuwait and the topic remains ever so lovingly: Sade gave us a night that we will never forget. 

Radwa Ashour: Siraj (رضوى عاشور: سراج)

This is a beautifully written novel by Radwa Ashour in 1992, before her fame kicked in with her Granada Trilogy in 1994. I picked it up and finished it in one day mostly because of how easily its narration flows. But it is also a very short novel of a 116 pages that reads fast and is highly recommended.

The story is framed by a narration from Amna’s point of view. And between the first and last chapters where we read Amna’s thoughts and worries, we are taken to other character’s lives beginning with the Sultan and his struggles with the English presence in the area, Amna’s son Saeed and his travels into Alexandria then towards Yemen and southeast Africa, old and kind-hearted Ammar whose old love for Amna’s mother stays with him till the end, mischievous Tawaddud and her early ambition to become a sailor, all of whom become active members in a revolt against the Sultan led by the Sultan’s slaves, and thwarted by the British troops.

The events take place at the end of the 19^th century around the time of the Ahmed Orabi revolution in Egypt. Its main characters belong to a small island in the Arabian Sea that escaped complete British occupation by becoming a protectorate as its Sultan allowed the British to establish their military base on parts of the island. While the novel tells of the Sultan’s struggle to ward off the British influence in the area, it also presents the Sultan as a dictator who shows no reluctance to punish anyone suspected of treason or revolt. And in a land that holds more slaves than natives, revolt was bound to happen. Yet the novel itself is more about Saeed and his growth from a young adventurous boy to a man risking his life for his land. It is mostly also a story of Amna, the mother, who begins by telling us she fears the sea and doesn’t understand men’s attraction to it:

الرجال يخرجون للبحر، يذهبون ويعودون، يذهبون ثم لا يعودون، فتخرج النسوة للانتظار وقد يبّس الخوف أكتافهن وحفر أخاديده في وجوههن. شاهدت آمنة كل شيء: لطم الخدود، ساعة يتأكد الخبر، وشق الثياب والعويل الذي يقطع الفضاء ويشطره كما يشطر سكين السياف رأس الحي عن الجسد.

And later when her son shows the desire to follow in his father and grandfather’s footsteps and take to the sea, she wonders again at men’s attraction to treacherous sea over abundant land:

في الغد يخرج للصيد فهل يضمر له البحر ما أضمره لأبيه وجده؟ الرجال يحبون البحر، يذهبون إليه بشوق كالعشاق فما الذي يحبونه في البحر والأرض بين أيديهم ماؤها عذب زلال؟ الأرض أكرم تودعها بذرتك فتمنحك نبتتها وثمرتها وتوفي، فلماذا يحب الرجال البحر؟

And when she finally loses her son, it is indeed the sea that takes him from her, not his life in the sea, but the English troops who come by means of sea. So her motherly intuition proves right.

The novel appears to be that of the struggles of simple people helpless against the stronger powers of the Sultan and the British armies. But to me it read more as a novel investigating our relation to sea and land. Saeed, the son of divers, tries his luck at farming but finds it hardly as appealing as life at sea. His mother, fearing he sea, presents us with a sea that is cruel and damaging unlike the land, which she equates with the womb of a woman that nourishes and cares for its seed.

I might be reading too much into this. But I’m used to literature by women that presents water and its fluidity as feminine, or at least feminist, an idea that is further developed by many theoretical feminist arguments that sees in this fluidity a closer link to woman's identity and her actual womb. Ashour seems to subvert this, whether intentionally or not, by showing the stability of land and its productivity as more of a feminine/feminist trait than the illusive, and here treacherous, sea. The sea/water is Amna’s enemy here, and by extension, the reader’s enemy.

And then again, appreciation of what the land provides is another dominant feminist motif when it is mingled with studies of ecofeminism. Yet Ashour’s separation between land and sea is one that clearly finds a difference between a nature that provides us with sustenance because we care for it as farmers, and one that survives without our interference. Saeed loses his father and grandfather to sea after all, and it is his mother, Amna, who allows his seed to grow. Amna is the land/woman that has finally been defeated by the sea. Nature is not one for Aisha. It can harm you just as easily as it can provide you with sustenance. And it seems that a nature that you care for, is, in the end, better for you than one that does not need your care.

Sarah Waters: Fingersmith

An Oliver Twist-like story of deceit, secrets, crooks and an English scenery, Sarah Waters’s Fingersmith is a wonderful novel that kept me hooked as it unfolds its mysteries page after page. Waters clearly shows her debt to Dickens in the first page when her protagonist talks of going with her friend to beg at a play: the play being Oliver Twist of course.

The story is about a girl called, in those days, Susan Trinder. Susan grows up with other crooks in the house of Mrs Sucksby who makes a living ‘farming’ infants. When Susan turns 17, she helps Gentleman, later known as Richard Rivers, in convincing Maud Lilly, a young heiress, to marry him so that he can have her money by putting her in a madhouse and later splitting that money with Susan. The story is intriguing for its many twists of plot, the most important of which happens midway through the 548 page novel. It is a very elaborate scheme that includes crooks, demented gentry, mad women (always a favorite theme of mine), in a web that connects London to the country side, presenting London as the locus of thieves and crooks out to ruin a young women in the Briar. But twist after twist in the plot makes this more than just a simple story of Susan deceiving Maud.

Waters's style of writing makes this a smooth and quick read. Her rich narrative makes it a book hard to put down. This is a good novel to read. Very entertaining.

Eugene O’Neill’s Anna Christie at the Donmar Warehouse

Fog, thunder, lightening, then it rains on the stage and the stage tilts, and the sailors fall off one by one. Suddenly, lo and behold, Jude Law’s miraculous arms start pulling at the rope (what a hunk), defeating wind and rain (and tilt) and he is submerged from the roaring sea onto the stage. This is Anna Christie performed at the Donmar Warehouse. A wonderful performance. But it’s not just Jude Law’s thunderous performance that makes this a spectacular show. Yes. He yells. He throws furniture around. He breaks a chair. Simply, he acts the role of an Irish sailor to perfection. But he’s supported by a wonderful cast as well. I was impressed by Ruth Wilson playing Anna Christie. This woman captured all her audience, perfecting the accent and the behavior of a true Anna Christie. Strong. Willful. And not too shy to be as loud as Mat the Irish sailor.

For those unfamiliar with O’Neill, this is a play about Anna leaving the land and coming into sea as the land seems to betray her. As a child, her father left her in a farm in the care of relatives as he saw the sea to be too treacherous a place to raise a little girl. What he doesn’t know, or doesn’t wish to know, is that her life in the farm was anything but safe. After being harassed by her cousin for a couple of years, she finally leaves the farm and finds her only chance of a life is one in which she is a prostitute in a brothel. When that life wears her out, she decides to seek her father who she hasn’t seen for 15 years. On the night of that gripping storm, she meets Mat and gradually the relationship develops with Mat proposing, and Anna refusing on grounds of her past. Reluctant to tell Mat about her past, but driven in a moment of anger insinuated by her father, she confesses and loses Mat, if temporarily.

But the play isn’t about a girl repenting after a life of prostitution. This is not a moral play after all. At least that’s not how it is on this stage. Chris boldly displays her anger at the two men in her life, making her more than a typical image of a repentant woman. When father and lover claim her as theirs, she frantically pushes both of them aside and declares she is no man’s woman. Mat refers to her Viking blood in the play and this is the best time it shows itself. This is definitely not a woman repenting for her sins. Though aware and regretful of her past life, she is not to be put down. This is a great play. And watching it on the intimate Donmar Warehouse (in spite of only managing to get a standing ticket) was an experience well worth this recommendation.

It isn’t often that I get to see actors well known for their studio performances act on stage. These are the moments that prove a good actor. And in this, I would grade Jude Law a great actor in a performance that, in its vitality, reminds me of watching Meryl Streep perform Mother Courage in Central Park. But this is also a play that introduced me to the wonderful Ruth Wilson.

Arrietty

Last night, I watched Arrietty, having been looking forward to another one of Hayao Miyazaki‘s works after watching Ponyo. Arrietty isn’t directed by Miyazaki, but he’s the screenplay writer and you can definitely see the connection with his earlier production. Arrietty is the tale of small people meeting regular (us) people. Arrietty is a 14 year old girl who is just old enough to go out in the world of humans for her first borrowing expedition. She is accidentally seen by Shu, the human boy with the heart trouble. Having been spotted by a human, Arrietty and her family have to leave their home and find another place where their anonymity is not yet lost. But between Shu spotting her, and Arrietty moving out with her family, an unusual friendship develops when Shu tries to help her keep her secret while offering some acts of kindness. In return, it seems that Arrietty gives Shu hope in a life he was beginning to lose.

The plot, however, is not what drew me to recommend this movie. Like Ponyo, this is a colorful and meaningful presentation of human emotions. The characters are delightful and you cant help feeling in love with them. The interaction between Arrietty and her parents, and that between her and Shu is beautifully drawn. But what’s most important, as is the case with more animations, is the image. The colors on the screen left both adult and children in the movie theatre spellbound. There were the usual moments of laughter, but also those moments of anticipation.

This is an animation that brings to mind both FernGully and Peter Pan. I highly recommend it, as I also recommend Miyazaki’s Ponyo.

Muhammad Al-Mansi Qandil: A Cloudy Day in the Western Land (محمد المنسي قنديل: يوم غائم في البر الغربي)

As a young girl, Aisha’a mother takes her to get a tattoo of a cross so she can hide her in a convent, as protection against her abusive stepfather. But Aisha’s days in the convent are numbered because of a scandal that involves a nun and leaves Aisha homeless again. With the help of a friend from the convent, Aisha manages to find a job in an English Lord’s house but leaves that position and becomes a translator in a revolutionary newspaper when she begins to notice the clash between the Egyptians and the British. Eventually her stepfather manages to lure her back to their village and she falls victim to him until her wolves save her and she escapes. Impregnated by her stepfather and disgraced, she finds no other place of refuge but a brothel where she stays until an English painter, Carter, proposes that she joins him in his new expedition. While she is reluctant to follow a man she only coincidentally met 3 times, the story almost ends with Aisha and Carter together. Almost. Until the wolves appear again.

الذئاب تتحرك في اتجاهها، لا تخاف من شيء، ولا يوقفها شيء، تحيط بالبيت من كل ناحية، تتذكر النظرة القاسية التي رأتها على وجه أمها، تدرك أنه لا جدوى من الصراخ، ولا يوجد طريق للهرب.....

.....تقدم "توت" وسط عواء الذئاب، كانت تنتشر في كل مكان، تتقافز فوق التلال، أصبحت شديدة القرب منه، يراها بوضوح وتشم هي رائحته، وكان الحراس الاربعة يقفون بعيدا عنه، بالقرب من الشاطئ وهم يرتجفون، كان "توت" القديم يستيقظ من جديد، لا يحب ان يكون في هذه المدينة، ولا أن يعبد هذا الإله، يجب أن يقاوم "حورمحب"، يزيل النقوش التي أصبحت تحتل جدران مقبرته على رغمه، ويمحو صور هذه الآلهة التي يكرهها ولا يدعها تستولي على مصير حياته الثانية، تبعث أصوات الذئاب بنبضات حية، تمد جسده بطاقة إضافية، عليه أن يسترد مكانته، ويثبت للجميع أنه ليس خائنا، وليس محبا لآمون، ولا يدين بالفضل لـ "حورمحب"، سيعلن تمرده على كل شيء، لعله يسترجع رجولته الضائعة.

لمح ظل شبح يتحرك بالقرب من باب المقبرة، يختفي خلف إحدى الصخور، هل هو أحد الحراس أم لص مقابر، لم يعد خائفا، كان في هذه اللحظة يستطيع مواجهة الجميع، لن يجرؤ أحد على أن يمس فرعون مصر، ولكنه أحس بضربة هائلة ترتطم بمؤخرة رأسه، سمع صوت تهشم شيء ما، دارت الصخور، وابتعدت النجوم، وكان هناك ألم لا يمكن احتماله، ثم ساد الظلام فجأة...

It is through Carter that we hear the story of Akhnaton and Nefertiti and their adopted son Tut Ankh Amon whose tomb Carter is searching for, making this more than just a story of Aisha and Carter and their unrequited love to Mukhtar and Rosa. At times the story reads like a classic Egyptian black and white with the girl abused by her father, struggling for a living, finding herself impregnated and shamed into hiding from the man she loves. At others, it is an almost fantastic one of a young girl who is guarded by wolves, meeting a young British artist who has a similar connection to wolves, and who is fascinated by the story of Tut Ankh Amon, even more than his fascination with Aisha’s face.

The intertwining of all this makes this very long novel fun to read, though I’m not sure if it kept me at a single thread. I usually enjoy multiple narratives and open-ended stories but I feel that in this story it was a bit too disconnected even when the writer tried to connect the three stories (of Aisha, Carter, and Tut) through the sudden appearances of wolves in their lives, through their estrangement from their home, through their betrayals by the ones they love, and through their inability to find peace. This doesn’t make it any less inviting to read the novel, it’s just that, if you’re like me, and want novels to take you into their world and allow you to lose yourself in them, this one can’t do that because it’s a bit disjointed. 

The intertwining of all this makes this very long novel fun to read, though I’m not sure if it kept me at a single thread. I usually enjoy multiple narratives and open-ended stories but I feel that in this story it was a bit too disconnected even when the writer tried to connect the three stories (of Aisha, Carter, and Tut) through the sudden appearances of wolves in their lives, through their estrangement from their home, through their betrayals by the ones they love, and through their inability to find peace. This doesn’t make it any less inviting to read the novel, it’s just that, if you’re like me, and want novels to take you into their world and allow you to lose yourself in them, this one can’t do that because it’s a bit disjointed.