The Long and Winding Rat "It always leads me here."
I am gearing up to the year of living Proustfully. I am going to begin in the new year, right after my usual Christmas feast of quiet and elegant despair, Robb Forman Dew style.
The Long and Winding Rat "It always leads me here."
I am gearing up to the year of living Proustfully. I am going to begin in the new year, right after my usual Christmas feast of quiet and elegant despair, Robb Forman Dew style.
New Isabella "All works of love are works of peace." --Mother Teresa
I always loved the idea of reading Proust more than the reality. I couldn’t make it through volume 1. :(
(I’m afraid I don’t know—who is Robb Forman Dew?)
The Long and Winding Rat "It always leads me here."
She’s an American author who wrote many fine books, including the utterly depressing The Time of Her Life. A must-read at Christmastime,for some types.
New Isabella "All works of love are works of peace." --Mother Teresa
BTW, I was just wondering if there is any particular reason why your usual Christmas feast is of quiet and elegant despair?
The Long and Winding Rat "It always leads me here."
because it hasn’t really anything to do with tangible despair, either past or present…
yet there is something unhealthily fragile about the construction of Christmastime- not Christmas or holidays or festivity, or the season itself, but the suspension of reality that seems to be a requisite for everyone, without exception.
Why is it, for example, that most of us who live within and celebrate a fairly liberal culture fall back upon the mythical house-of-cards “family” aesthetic when December rolls around? What happened to the 50% of us who didn’t grow up in the Norman Rockwell painting and were happy enough to poke holes in its facade?
Reading of quiet and elegant despair in a Christmas setting reminds me that reality is not suspended for at least a few others, too; it’s not just my own jaded perspective. I really do enjoy the holidays, as long as there’s no internal or external pressure to mess with that enjoyment.
New Isabella "All works of love are works of peace." --Mother Teresa
I had to think about how to answer. I think Christmas is hard for so many, including me a lot of the time, because we carry that Norman Rockwell image in our minds and we worry that our own reality never did measure up to that happy family image, and it never really will. I know that’s true for me.
I think the danger of this despair, and also the hope of overcoming it, is so beautifully illustrated by Charles Dickens in “A Christmas Carol.” I love the line from “How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” which seems to be just a variation on the Scrooge theme, where “the Grinch’s heart grew 3 sizes that day.” It has something to do with accepting the fact that my own past and present fall far short of Norman Rockwell, and being aware that the past and present of others falls far short as well, and realizing that in spite of that, the season offers possibilities for celebration, charity, joy, and hope.
Now I get to go test out my theories. I get to go put together some crackers and cheese to take to a Christmas gathering at a friend’s house, and see if I can have some Christmas cheer. I know I wasn’t feeling very cheerful yesteday, but I’m a little more hopeful today. :)