Wiring, Mark Twain, Sam Stosur

[poliphilo]

Peter was here yesterday measuring up windows and consulting with us about plug sockets. This morning the electrician he'd engaged finally put in an appearance and gave the house a thorough testing. He says our wiring is fine- which is good news- and that the faulty sockets in the front room are probably down to a loose connection under the laminate flooring- which isn't. The day when the builders arrive and start tearing the place apart draws nearer; I try not to think about it.

Judy and I have been talking about Mark Twain- and to remind myself what all the fuss is about I've been reading Pudd'nhead Wilson. It's an unholy mess- carelessly thrown together,  with odd things in it that just about justify it being reprinted as a "classic". Twain was a sour individual. If he'd been born in a later generation he'd have been doing stand-up- and giving Richard Pryor and Bill Hicks a run for their money. I don't think I like him.

Sam Stosur is the stand-out figure of this year's French Open. She was off the circuit for a year with lyme disease- and it's as if they've rebuilt her and she's come back stronger than ever. She used to be a doubles specialist, now she's knocking seven bells out of the best singles players. I'd be talking about it as a changing of the guard if she wasn't herself a veteran.

Comments

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

Only an American could have written what Mencken wrote there- and gotten away with it.

I think Twain's greatness is that he was the first writer of stature to write in an American voice. Oh, there's one other contender for that honour- whom I'd forgotten until just now- Walt Whitman. I find him almost unreadable, but he brings something quite new- and quintessentially American into World literature.

I think America found its voice in the 20th century. I'm not sure there's ever been a "great American novel", but maybe there doesn't need to be when there's Citizen Kane and The Searchers and The Godfather Trilogy.

[michaleen.livejournal.com]

Yes, Whitman. As you can see, he figures in my Poe reply. I have neve read much of him, either.

Twain was indeed just as you describe and I think you've substantially nailed it.

Mencken did not get away with his acerbic criticisms either, at least not indefinitely. When the Great Depression came, America had had enough of him. I find the old sinner to be a welcome antidote to the horror of American politics. He encourages the reader to point and laugh at the fools and I think that's wholesome. I recently finished his, Prejudices, First Series, and enjoyed it.

As for cinema representing the best of our artistic oeuvra, yes, bad as I hate to admit it. You may be right there as well.

Still, I can think of some damned fine American authors, but how shall we define the "great American novel"?

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

Whitman can be very good in small doses, but he does go on so. There's no discipline, no curbing, no editing. The great lines are buried in thickets of waffle.

I guess the great American novel would be the one that so completely encompassed the American experience that all the other writers would put down their pens and go, "OK, it's been done now. No need for us to carry on." Of course it's a fabulous monster- like Melville's white whate- and no-one is ever going too nail it.