The Paris Wife

Hello. Three months. That's how old this cutie pie is.

Mother's Day, 2013

Also, that's about how long it took me to read The Paris Wife. I had one week off of work before she was born, and I took another five weeks off after the birth. I had all these great plans about how much reading I'd get done during that time. I knew I'd be tired and recovering and adjusting, etc. But I also knew there would be a lot of time sitting and breast feeding and recovering, etc. I had no idea that the week before the birth I would only want to lay on the couch and fall asleep to old episodes of Dexter. That holding a book up in the air while lying down would be exhausting. That breastfeeding takes two hands and full attention. That reading before bed would be impossible, because every time my head hit the pillow I instantly fell asleep.

But, I am finally getting some things figured out. I can read while feeding her now. Also, I am blessed with a child who sleeps all night already. I'm not sure if it will last, but I'm enjoying it while I can. She sleeps from about 11 p.m to 6 a.m. every night. It's a miracle and I love it.

My personal reading isn't the only thing that's suffering. My book club has basically ceased to exist while I've been in the land of diapers and sore nipples. I suppose I need to get around to setting a new meeting date and pick a book to read, but I keep putting it off for some reason. I really need to do it, though, because I could use a night out and a reason to read something new. I really miss talking to people other than coworkers and family.

In light of that, I'm deciding between two books to read for book club. Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby and The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz. Any opinions?
 

Reflective of my current struggles, I'm currently reading "Stress Management for Lawyers" by Amiram Elwork. It's been a stressful first year as an attorney, and there's been a lot of adjusting. Throw in an infant, and I'm all out of ways to cope and function like a practical human being. I don't know how much help this book will be, but I'm giving it a shot. So far, the first few chapters are all about why being an attorney is so stressful. It's a bit Captain Obvious, and I'm hoping the chapters about how to manage stress will actually be helpful. I read the first of them last night, and the advice was to keep your body healthy, because good physical health = good mental health. Again, Captain Obvious. I'm starting to lose hope. But because I am a glutton for punishment, I'll keep reading it.

But, I did enjoy The Paris Wife, by Paula McClain. It took me three months to read it, but not because it wasn't good. It's just that I was so tired I could only read a page or two at a time. In case you don't know, this is a fictional account of Ernest Hemingway's first marriage to Hadley Richardson. It's told from Hadley's perspective, and it takes place during their time in Paris in the 1920s. There's lots of drinking, money problems, and miscommunication. In the end, of course, he and Hadley divorced, and probably for the better. But she was there to observe, encourage and maybe even cause his emergence as an artist. Maybe he would have become what he did with or without her, but I'm sure that without her he would have been different. And I like my Hemingway just how he is, thank you very much.

I've read A Moveable Feast about three times (maybe four). I love it. As far as memoirs go, it's practically perfect in every way. It (sort of) tells a story, but more than that it makes the reader feel what it was like to be there in that time and place. In 1920s Paris. With F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Zelda and Gertrude Stein and all the artists, etc. Admittedly, I'm more a fan of British Literature, particularly the Regency and Victorian periods. But there's something dreamy and wonderful about American literature in the early 1900s. I've written about this before, in my post about the movie Midnight in Paris. I'm a huge fan of that movie.

Reading A Moveable Feast is like being in a dream. It seems glorious, but just underneath the surface, there's something lurking. Nothing sinister, but something is off - a bit of dysfunction, a bit of being this close to teetering off the edge.

Reading The Paris Wife is not like that. It's very matter of fact. It's clear from the beginning (even if you didn't know their story) that the relationship is doomed. Therefore, plot isn't going to carry this thing, and there is more pressure on the author to make the journey through the marriage compelling. Paula McClain did a fairly decent job, but she's no Hemingway, that's for sure. 

I know there's probably a lot I should be saying about feminism and how Hemingway basically just used Hadley up and took advantage of her very supportive presence. How she gave him everything he had, and all he gave her was heartache and grief. He took everything and left her dried up on the floor. And in reality, I have really strong feelings about this sort of thing. I am really lucky that I found a husband that is majorly supportive of all I want to do. He didn't blink an eye when I told him I wanted to go to law school, which meant a major upheaval in our lives. He didn't hesitate to support me when I told him I wanted to spend an entire summer studying abroad in Europe - away from him. And I like to think I've been supportive of him too. I couldn't have done what Hadley did, and I'm glad I don't have to.

I've often said that getting married shouldn't mean you lose yourself. It just means that you gain a partner. That's not how it was for Hadley and Ernest. Theirs was a very unequal relationship, and yet, I can't be totally angry with him for failing her so much. Maybe it's just because I'm such a fan of his work. But I think it's more than that. Hadley was smart. She knew how to read him and support him. She knew how he was when she agreed to marry him. She knew what he needed from the beginning and she made the conscious choice to give it to him - to be what he needed. She made the decision to give herself up and at the same time give the world the gift of Hemingway. That was her contribution to art and letters. It's what she could give, and she gave it. Sure, it hurt her. Sure, HE hurt her. But I'm grateful to her, and the rest of the world should be too.

Someone I know recently pointed out an article by The Millions which made the argument that this is not really an interesting story. The only reason we're interested in this marriage at all is the fact that it involves Hemingway. Hadley's role as a supporter is important, but that doesn't make the story compelling. I think that's why I don't feel that sorry for her. She's not a compelling character in her own right. If she was, she could never have been that foundation on which Hemingway could build his career. So ultimately, we read her story, not because we're interested in her particularly, but because we're interested in whatever else we can find out about Hemingway. This is not the first time I've done this. I once read a biography about Ted Hughes just to find out more about Sylvia Plath from a different angle. 

Anyways, the point is that I liked this book, but it wasn't extremely compelling. I think I liked it more because it put me back in that 1920s Paris setting, and it involved a lot of characters I know and like. On its own? About people I don't know anything about? Probably not that great. Which is sad, because there is a lot of potential for human drama.

The Typewriter is Holy

As you know (since I've said it 300 times), my wonderful husband took us to San Francisco as a celebratory trip for our seventh anniversary. It was awesome. One of the highlights for me, of course, was our trip to the City Lights bookstore. The store is famous for its publishing and its politics. It is three floors of gloriousness (still less than Powell's in Portland, but impressive nonetheless). This is my husband standing outside the door waiting for me to get pictures and get over the idea of being at the store enough to actually go inside.


Before going to this store, I had only a vague notion of The Beat Generation. I knew it included Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg, and they did drugs, traveled and wrote poetry and books. I saw the movie Howl, which gave me a bit more of an idea, but it was still pretty fuzzy. I majored in English in undergrad, but I think the only stuff I read by any of The Beats was a poem or two in a survey course. The point is that when we walked into City Lights, I knew it was a big deal, but I didn't know how much or exactly why. So, my goal was to find a book there that would tell me more, and I did indeed find such a book - on the third floor in the poetry room.


The Typewriter is Holy

By Bill Morgan

The author of this book is Bill Morgan. He is a friend and the personal archivist for Allen Ginsberg. He has made a life documenting Ginsberg's life and career. He noticed throughout his research that there are biographies and books on all The Beats separately, but there was not a book that told the story of The Beat Generation as a whole, and there was nothing that put all of their stories together in one place. Now we have it.

This makes it the perfect book for someone (like me) who knows very little about The Beats as a whole - even after reading the book, I'm not sure whether I should be calling them "The Beats," or if I should be typing out "The Beat Generation" every time.

The Irritating:

I will quickly start off with the two major flaws I found with this biographical retelling, and then get on with the good and interesting things about this book. The most irritating thing about this novel is that the author is inconsistent with names. There is a HUGE cast of characters, and it's nearly impossible to keep everyone straight. For example, it took me a long time to figure out that Bill = William S. Burroughs, but sometimes the author also called him Burroughs, and at other times just William, and still other times, he used the whole name. A good editor would have fixed this problem right away.

The other flaw with this biography, in my opinion, is the overwhelming bias towards Allen Ginsberg. The author is clear in the Introduction about his relationship with Ginsberg, so it shouldn't have been surprising that he says mostly favorable things about Ginsberg when so many of the other Beats were described as careless, shallow, self-indulgent people. Some of Ginsberg's faults are stated quickly, but they are not dwelt on like Neal Cassady's womanizing or William S. Burroughs's drug dependency. That takes away some of my belief in the author's version of events. Since the author was upfront about things, this may be forgivable. Nevertheless, it bothered me, and it made me want to seek out other biographies on The Beats, just for clarity.

The Good:

There is a core group of people that make up The Beat Generation: Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, and Neal Cassady are kind of the 4 central characters, but there are a lot of other names that come and go. This author's thesis is that The Beat Generation would not have happened the way it did without Allen Ginsberg's knack for introducing people, encouraging them to write, promoting their work to his (and every other) publisher, and his ability to keep them all in contact with each other on a surprisingly regular basis. Ginsberg's apartment - whether in New York or San Francisco - was often the place where people gathered, stayed, slept, lived, etc. It was also often the place where the group experimented with drugs, and where groups of people would work together writing, editing and refining books of poetry or stories.

The core group met in New York, and branched out from there: Kerouac traveling across the US on many occasions, Burroughs living overseas mostly (Mexico City and then Tangier), Cassady traveling across the US and Mexico with Jack, his wife, other women, etc. But they all wrote each other a lot, and therefore, it's easy to document their movements and what each was doing while the rest were writing elsewhere.

Their story is extremely interesting and compelling. There is no denying that the works of literature and poetry that this group contributed to the world is amazing and worthy of attention. Social boundaries were pushed and broken. But the stories of these men are kind of sad - there is so much tragedy that follows each of them, and most of them ended their lives, penniless and alone. But great art often comes from such events, and that's what they gave us - great art.

The Takeaway:

Or so I'm told. I've never actually read much of the work written by The Beats. I'm not generally a big fan of poetry (I'm either too stupid or too lazy for it), so I probably won't be pouring over Howl or any of Ginsberg's other poetry. However, this book did give me a list of a few books I should probably read:


On the Road, by Jack Kerouac. This is a largely biographical story of Kerouac's travels with Neal Cassady, and it was the book that made The Beats famous. It was not Kerouac's favorite, though, and he struggled with the fame it brought him, not only because of the attention, but also because it wasn't always positive attention and praise. This fame was his ultimate downfall. This makes me curious.



Junkie by William Burroughs. It tells the story of a man's decline into addiction - something with which Burroughs struggled his entire life. It wasn't published initially because publishers didn't want to glorify addiction or even talk about it at all. That's something better left under the rug. Heaven forbid we have a conversation about addiction or try to understand addicts.



I also have a book called Kerouac, A Biography, by Ann Charters. I've had it awhile, but I think it might be about time to read it. From what I read in The Typewriter is Holy, I think that Kerouac's story is one of the most tragic, and I'd like to know more about him.


Have you read anything about The Beats? Have you read any of their work? I think I'm more interested in the movement as a whole, and its impact on the literary community, but I'm always open to suggestions of what to read.