Sunday, December 16, 2012

So I took advantage of Melville's House Publishing idea of a firesale back on Black Friday, and scored "The Duels Set" which comprises tales featuring the lost art of dueling by different authors. Invigorating!

Besides the set, I also scored Leo Tolstoi's "The Devil" and Nikolai Leskov's "The Enchanted Wanderer", both of which went all the way back to the queue, and probably won't be read until the next presidential election is due (sorry tovarishes)

The Duels, however, have been promoted immediately to first-read status, and I already finished Casanova's tale and am half way through Von Kleist's. I have to say that I'm having a blast. There's something about the trepidation of those who are about to duel that seems strangely deja-vu-ish. Tales like Guy de Maupassant's "The Coward", -which deals with the anguish of fear on the eve of the duel-, or Stendhal's dueling scene in "Armance", or Balzac's (in the Peau de Chagrin) or again Maupassant's (in Bel Ami), all transport you to the claustrophobia of a time when all human action hinged inevitably around certain conventions, in this case, honor.

Without honor, you were a dead duck; no chance of social standing, or favors, or considerations. No invitations to parties or salons. If someone offended you or slapped you with his white glove, you had to man up and face the challenge; pick a second, pick a weapon, step on the coach, and off to the outskirts of the city to settle the score like gentlemen. First blood drawn, honor is served. Sometimes, someone would get killed, but often times, both parties would survive earning bragging rights for having faced death with unflinching valor. Today, the seriousness applied on the code is a romantic fancy that one smirks-to in pleasure (I'm speaking for myself, of course), but one would be surprised to learn that there are still classically trained martial artists that teach the ways of the sword as if we were living in the XIXth century, as is the case of Maestro Ramon Martinez of the The Martinez Academy of Arms, who was trained by the late swordsman Maitre d'Armes Frederic Rohdes in very much the same way that a Prince of the blood would have been in the times of Louis Philippe.

Then of course, we have the charming little manual by the Count de Chateauvillard, "Essay about Dueling", and the "Code Duello" which is a set of rules to be found here.

At my current pace (and I'm reading other stuff simultaneously), I reckon that I shall finish the last of The Duels series by mid to late March, at which point I intend to go to Weehawken, New Jersey to visit the spot where the most famous duel in the Americas occurred;  that of Alexander Hamilton versus Aaron Burr, where the former lost his life. There, I intend to read Hamilton's "Statement on my Impending Duel with Aaron Burr" , as well as any good account I can find on the subject. Then I will lay dueling to rest, but for now, I enjoy my readings with trepidation, wondering who will die and who will live at the end of each duel. And what would happen today, in this day and age, if dueling still existed?





Monday, December 10, 2012

Last night I saw -for the uptenth time- the 1998's version of 'Les Miserables' by director Billie August, and as excited and hopeful as I am to see the new musical version by director Tom Hooper, I couldn't shake the vague suspicion of impeding abridgments to land a commercial-(and Oscar)-worthy crowd pleaser.


So here are the metrics by which to judge whether 'trimming down' a timeless classic is actually 'dumbing down' complexities for a less 'alert' generation:

- Extending Fantine's role past her set expiration time mid-story in order to give Anne Hathaway more time to shine.

- Extruding all catholic references (which are pivotal to the story) to make the movie less-religion driven and more "politically correct". Whatever that means in this day and age.

- Fumbling around with French History ignoring the time, the place, and the circumstances that led to the June Rebellion, in order to serve the masses an archetypal and timeless "French Revolution" setting, which in reality would be a masticated galvanization of all the key years (1789, 1793, 1830, 1832, 1848, 1870) which served as stopovers that ended in the consolidation of the French Third Republic.

All the above notwithstanding, the new version of 'Les Miserables' will still be great -me thinks-, and even more so if my suspicions turn out to be baseless. I can't wait to be proven wrong.