Friday, May 09, 2008
MOVIE CORNER: NANA
Nana is a film about two young women named Nana, who meet by chance on a Tokyo-bound train. Aside from their names, they are very different: one is an ambitious punk rocker who is moving to Tokyo to advance her career, while the other is bubbly and not too bright, and is moving to Tokyo to be with her boyfriend. But they become roommates and friends, and help each other through emotional crises. Which is to say that it's a live-action adaptation of the manga Nana, which is a huge hit in Japan.
The film Nana only covers the first fourteen chapters of the manga (there's a sequel), so we don't see the more serious events that happen later in the manga. But there's still way too much material to fit into a 110-minute movie without drastic condensation. Many of the events in the manga are eliminated: for instance, we see nothing of the Nana who moves to be with her boyfriend's pre-Tokyo life, and Misato is eliminated completely. More seriously, the movie leaves out most of the interactions between characters that flesh out the characters, and made the early volumes of the manga enjoyable. As a result, the movie feels like a forced march through the plot of the manga, and you never really connect to the characters. Aside from the thrill of seeing one's favorite manga characters in live action, the movie has little to offer, although Aoi Miyazaki, who plays the Nana who moves to be with her boyfriend, gives a good performance which is wasted here. Frankly, I only watched it to the end out of curiosity, and I'm a fan of the manga.
(0) comments
Nana is a film about two young women named Nana, who meet by chance on a Tokyo-bound train. Aside from their names, they are very different: one is an ambitious punk rocker who is moving to Tokyo to advance her career, while the other is bubbly and not too bright, and is moving to Tokyo to be with her boyfriend. But they become roommates and friends, and help each other through emotional crises. Which is to say that it's a live-action adaptation of the manga Nana, which is a huge hit in Japan.
The film Nana only covers the first fourteen chapters of the manga (there's a sequel), so we don't see the more serious events that happen later in the manga. But there's still way too much material to fit into a 110-minute movie without drastic condensation. Many of the events in the manga are eliminated: for instance, we see nothing of the Nana who moves to be with her boyfriend's pre-Tokyo life, and Misato is eliminated completely. More seriously, the movie leaves out most of the interactions between characters that flesh out the characters, and made the early volumes of the manga enjoyable. As a result, the movie feels like a forced march through the plot of the manga, and you never really connect to the characters. Aside from the thrill of seeing one's favorite manga characters in live action, the movie has little to offer, although Aoi Miyazaki, who plays the Nana who moves to be with her boyfriend, gives a good performance which is wasted here. Frankly, I only watched it to the end out of curiosity, and I'm a fan of the manga.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Last year I wrote about Usamaru Furuya's The Music of Marie (Marie no Kanaderu Ongaku*), but without having read it. Well, I finally got around to reading it; and while I can't say for sure that it's the best graphic novel I've ever read, it's definitely a contender. I don't have much to add to this excellent review by Carlos Santos, though (not without major spoilers, at any rate).
The first 200-odd pages of the first volume (out of a total of 274) are basically set-up: Furuya takes his time developing his world and main characters. But because the society and culture Furuya has created is fascinating, this isn't dull at all. The story itself, when it gets going, seems to be basically a familiar one -- up until Chap. 14, a little more than halfway through the second volume, which is where the fireworks begin. But when they do, they're spectacular. In fact, good as the first volume is, it's the second volume, and its retrospective effect on the first volume, that makes The Music of Marie a masterpiece.
There's publishing information in my earlier post. The volumes are in the Birz Comics Deluxe line. If you're fortunate enough to find these in a bookstore, note that instead of being labelled "1" and "2," the two volumes are labelled with the kanji for up and down, respectively. This is common for Japanese novels, which are frequently published in two volumes, but I don't recall having seen it in manga before.
I don't usually link to scanlations, but The Music of Marie is such an important work that I'm making an exception and linking to Kotonoha's scanlation. Unfortunately, only the first volume has been put up so far. If you can read French, the book has been published in French; but again, apparently only the first volume is available right now.
*As I remarked in my earlier post, a better translation of the Japanese title would be "The Music Marie Plays," and I don't know where "The Music of Marie" comes from; but the latter translation is probably too entrenched by now to dislodge.
(1) comments
The first 200-odd pages of the first volume (out of a total of 274) are basically set-up: Furuya takes his time developing his world and main characters. But because the society and culture Furuya has created is fascinating, this isn't dull at all. The story itself, when it gets going, seems to be basically a familiar one -- up until Chap. 14, a little more than halfway through the second volume, which is where the fireworks begin. But when they do, they're spectacular. In fact, good as the first volume is, it's the second volume, and its retrospective effect on the first volume, that makes The Music of Marie a masterpiece.
There's publishing information in my earlier post. The volumes are in the Birz Comics Deluxe line. If you're fortunate enough to find these in a bookstore, note that instead of being labelled "1" and "2," the two volumes are labelled with the kanji for up and down, respectively. This is common for Japanese novels, which are frequently published in two volumes, but I don't recall having seen it in manga before.
I don't usually link to scanlations, but The Music of Marie is such an important work that I'm making an exception and linking to Kotonoha's scanlation. Unfortunately, only the first volume has been put up so far. If you can read French, the book has been published in French; but again, apparently only the first volume is available right now.
*As I remarked in my earlier post, a better translation of the Japanese title would be "The Music Marie Plays," and I don't know where "The Music of Marie" comes from; but the latter translation is probably too entrenched by now to dislodge.
Monday, March 03, 2008
MOVIE CORNER: FROG SONG
I recently saw a curious little Japanese film called Frog Song (Kaeru no Uta; aka Enjo-kousai monogatari: shitagaru onna-tachi). Directed by Shinji Imaoka, it's about a woman named Akemi who catches her boyfriend in bed with another woman, walks out, and enters into a stormy friendship with Kyoko, a woman who is a prostitute and aspiring manga creator. This is a "pink eiga (movie)": these are basically soft-core porn films, but the directors can pretty much film what they want as long as they put in the requisite number of sex scenes. A number of legitimate directors got their start in pink cinema (something like Roger Corman's 60s exploitation films in the U.S.). Frog Song has its quota of sex scenes, but they don't account for much of the movie and most of them aren't erotic. Nor is the film a comedy, despite the packaging of the U.S. DVD.
Oddly enough, the film reminded me of Hou Hsiao-Hsien, incongruous as it may seem to compare one of the great masters of cinema with an exploitation film by a nearly unknown director. Like Hou, Imaoka rejects the conventions of commercial movies, and in similar ways. There is a feeling of austerity to Frog Song. Characters' motives are frequently unclear. And there are often unexplained narrative gaps between scenes. For example, in one scene the two women are in a manga cafe after having had a fight, and one of them ostentatiously turns away from the other. In the next scene, they are in Kyoko's room and she is having sex with a client while Akemi watches, with no explanation given. And there is always an emotional distance between characters: unlike the conventional "odd couple" movie, Akemi and Kyoko never really connect with each other.
Aside from the direction, Konatsu gives a very good performance as Akemi. Frog Song is definitely worth checking out. Here's a good review.
(2) comments
I recently saw a curious little Japanese film called Frog Song (Kaeru no Uta; aka Enjo-kousai monogatari: shitagaru onna-tachi). Directed by Shinji Imaoka, it's about a woman named Akemi who catches her boyfriend in bed with another woman, walks out, and enters into a stormy friendship with Kyoko, a woman who is a prostitute and aspiring manga creator. This is a "pink eiga (movie)": these are basically soft-core porn films, but the directors can pretty much film what they want as long as they put in the requisite number of sex scenes. A number of legitimate directors got their start in pink cinema (something like Roger Corman's 60s exploitation films in the U.S.). Frog Song has its quota of sex scenes, but they don't account for much of the movie and most of them aren't erotic. Nor is the film a comedy, despite the packaging of the U.S. DVD.
Oddly enough, the film reminded me of Hou Hsiao-Hsien, incongruous as it may seem to compare one of the great masters of cinema with an exploitation film by a nearly unknown director. Like Hou, Imaoka rejects the conventions of commercial movies, and in similar ways. There is a feeling of austerity to Frog Song. Characters' motives are frequently unclear. And there are often unexplained narrative gaps between scenes. For example, in one scene the two women are in a manga cafe after having had a fight, and one of them ostentatiously turns away from the other. In the next scene, they are in Kyoko's room and she is having sex with a client while Akemi watches, with no explanation given. And there is always an emotional distance between characters: unlike the conventional "odd couple" movie, Akemi and Kyoko never really connect with each other.
Aside from the direction, Konatsu gives a very good performance as Akemi. Frog Song is definitely worth checking out. Here's a good review.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
MANGA CORNER: HOSHI WA UTAU BY NATSUKI TAKAYA
Hoshi wa Utau (The Stars Sing*) is the current series by Natsuki Takaya, the creator of Fruits Basket, which finished its run in Japan a bit over a year ago. About a month ago, I bought the first collected volume (in Japanese) of Hoshi wa Utau hot off the presses. Anyone who picks this up expecting a replay of Fruits Basket will be disappointed. There's no immediate hook like in Fruits Basket. In fact, there's no fantasy in it at all so far. There's also a lot less humor, and what there is so far isn't nearly as inspired as the best stuff from Fruits Basket.
Sakuya, the protagonist, is a high school senior. She's a lot like Tohru: cheerful, hard working, grateful for small favors, and not too bright. Unlike Tohru, her parents are alive; but for reasons not revealed in this volume she lives with Kanade, a young man whom her parents have hired to take care of her. Kanade acts gruff and indifferent, but actually cares about Sakuya.
The series opens on the morning of Sakuya's birthday. Kanade says that tonight's dinner will be a celebration of her birthday. To Sakuya, this is a big deal, since apparently Kanade never noticed her birthday before. When she gets home that evening, in addition to Kanade there's a boy her age waiting for her, named Chihiro. He's completely unfamiliar to her, but she assumes he's a friend of Kanade's. Chihiro gives her a present, and at the end of the evening he tells her that she's "great." But it turns out that Kanade had thought Chihiro was Sakuya's boyfriend, and had never met him before.
Despite knowing nothing about Chihiro (apart from his having visited under false pretenses), Sakuya feels strangely drawn to him, and searches for him. When she does find him again by chance, though, he's completely different: he says he hates everything, including her, and tells her not to speak to him again. Naturally, she's devastated by this -- even more so because she now realizes that she loves him -- although she hides it under a show of cheerfulness. All the above is interspersed with scenes of Sakuya with her schoolfriends Hijiri (who is a lot like Arisu) and Yuuri (who is a lot like Kakeru), who all share a love of stargazing, and have even formed a "club," of which they are the only members, to engage in it.
One volume is too little to go on to evaluate the series as a whole, even tentatively: recall how unrepresentative the first volume of Fruits Basket turned out to be of the whole series. But considered on its own as a reading experience, it must be admitted that this volume is rather unsatisfying. Not much happens; the plot summary above covers most of the events of significance. Nor do we learn much about the characters, not even Sakuya, from whose point of view the book is told. Frankly, the book feels padded. The scenes with Sakuya's schoolfriends, in particular, seem unneccessary. If you didn't like the student council scenes in Fruits Basket, you probably won't like these.
The art in Hoshi wa Utau is like the art in the later volumes of Fruits Basket. Like Tohru, Sakuya has giant eyes which can be disconcerting at first. Actually, Sakuya looks very much like Tohru, except for the hair. But then, the art isn't the main attraction with Takaya anyway.
Hoshi wa Utau vol. 1 is published by Hakusensha, and costs 390 yen. Its ISBN is 978-4-592-18601-4. If you're looking for it on the shelves of a Japanese bookstore, its line is "Hana to Yume Comics." The logo of the line is a stylized picture of a girl with wavy hair, but probably the easiest way to locate it is that it's in the same line as Fruits Basket.
*The official English title is "Twinkle Stars Like Singing a Song"; but what's so sacred about these "official" titles, anyway? If we gave our movies nonsensical "official" French titles, would the French pay any attention to them?
(3) comments
Hoshi wa Utau (The Stars Sing*) is the current series by Natsuki Takaya, the creator of Fruits Basket, which finished its run in Japan a bit over a year ago. About a month ago, I bought the first collected volume (in Japanese) of Hoshi wa Utau hot off the presses. Anyone who picks this up expecting a replay of Fruits Basket will be disappointed. There's no immediate hook like in Fruits Basket. In fact, there's no fantasy in it at all so far. There's also a lot less humor, and what there is so far isn't nearly as inspired as the best stuff from Fruits Basket.
Sakuya, the protagonist, is a high school senior. She's a lot like Tohru: cheerful, hard working, grateful for small favors, and not too bright. Unlike Tohru, her parents are alive; but for reasons not revealed in this volume she lives with Kanade, a young man whom her parents have hired to take care of her. Kanade acts gruff and indifferent, but actually cares about Sakuya.
The series opens on the morning of Sakuya's birthday. Kanade says that tonight's dinner will be a celebration of her birthday. To Sakuya, this is a big deal, since apparently Kanade never noticed her birthday before. When she gets home that evening, in addition to Kanade there's a boy her age waiting for her, named Chihiro. He's completely unfamiliar to her, but she assumes he's a friend of Kanade's. Chihiro gives her a present, and at the end of the evening he tells her that she's "great." But it turns out that Kanade had thought Chihiro was Sakuya's boyfriend, and had never met him before.
Despite knowing nothing about Chihiro (apart from his having visited under false pretenses), Sakuya feels strangely drawn to him, and searches for him. When she does find him again by chance, though, he's completely different: he says he hates everything, including her, and tells her not to speak to him again. Naturally, she's devastated by this -- even more so because she now realizes that she loves him -- although she hides it under a show of cheerfulness. All the above is interspersed with scenes of Sakuya with her schoolfriends Hijiri (who is a lot like Arisu) and Yuuri (who is a lot like Kakeru), who all share a love of stargazing, and have even formed a "club," of which they are the only members, to engage in it.
One volume is too little to go on to evaluate the series as a whole, even tentatively: recall how unrepresentative the first volume of Fruits Basket turned out to be of the whole series. But considered on its own as a reading experience, it must be admitted that this volume is rather unsatisfying. Not much happens; the plot summary above covers most of the events of significance. Nor do we learn much about the characters, not even Sakuya, from whose point of view the book is told. Frankly, the book feels padded. The scenes with Sakuya's schoolfriends, in particular, seem unneccessary. If you didn't like the student council scenes in Fruits Basket, you probably won't like these.
The art in Hoshi wa Utau is like the art in the later volumes of Fruits Basket. Like Tohru, Sakuya has giant eyes which can be disconcerting at first. Actually, Sakuya looks very much like Tohru, except for the hair. But then, the art isn't the main attraction with Takaya anyway.
Hoshi wa Utau vol. 1 is published by Hakusensha, and costs 390 yen. Its ISBN is 978-4-592-18601-4. If you're looking for it on the shelves of a Japanese bookstore, its line is "Hana to Yume Comics." The logo of the line is a stylized picture of a girl with wavy hair, but probably the easiest way to locate it is that it's in the same line as Fruits Basket.
*The official English title is "Twinkle Stars Like Singing a Song"; but what's so sacred about these "official" titles, anyway? If we gave our movies nonsensical "official" French titles, would the French pay any attention to them?
Thursday, January 17, 2008
ANIME ON YOUTUBE
For those seriously interested in anime or the history of anime, Youtube has more to offer than anime music videos, hentai, and fansubs of current series, if you're willing to search for it. Here are a few examples I found recently, in roughly chronological order. None of them resemble "anime style" at all.
Ugokie tori no tatehiki is an imaginative, well animated, Fleischeresque short from 1933. Except for the music, there's no stylistic difference between this and American cartoons of the same period.
When you think of Osamu Tezuka and anime, you probably think first of Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion, though these are just two of the series he created. But in the 1960s and 1980s, he made some short animated cartoons which are totally unlike the anime of his that have been licensed. Of these, I had previously heard of Jumping (1984) and Broken Down Film (1985). I was actually a bit let down by the latter: it's certainly funny, but if you've seen Duck Amuck, it won't be any breakthrough. (Also, the deliberately poor quality of Tezuka's image combined with Youtube's low resolution makes it difficult to watch.) But Jumping is a miniature masterpiece. Youtube also has several UPA-like shorts by Tezuka, all very much worth watching: Osu (“Male”) (1962), Mermaid (1964), Memory (1964) and Drop (1965)
Belladonna (1973)(Kanashimi no Beradonna), directed by Eiichi Yamamoto, is a feature film intended for an art-house audience, combining animation with still illustrations and making generous use of symbolism. Set in medieval France, it's about a beautiful woman who is raped on her wedding night, persecuted by the villagers, becomes a witch and is eventually burned at the stake. (The copy on Youtube has no subtitles, but someone has translated the dialogue, of which there isn't much, in the comments.) It's full of sexual imagery which is occasionally very disturbing; it's NSFW and definitely not for kiddies. The first segment is here, and the "Related Videos" window will take you to the other segments.
This is a seriously amazing film, and I'm shocked that it's virtually unknown in the U.S. Here's a review on the AniPages Daily site, in which it's described as "one of the small handful of anime films that can stand up to comparison with the most innovative work in 20th century animation, beyond mere niche (ie anime) appeal."
If you need more persuasion, here are some noteworthy sequences:
A symbolic and horrifying rape scene in pt. 2.
A sudden burst of psychedelic and blatantly anachronistic animation, with music to match, in pt. 7.
The plague sequence in pt. 8.
The orgy scene in pt. 9 (overflowing slightly into pt. 10).
Originally this post would have also included the 2001 Crayon Shin-chan movie The Adult Empire Strikes Back, but by the time I got around to finishing this post, the copyright owner had had it pulled from YouTube (the perils of procrastination!). Given their age, the films above will probably remain up longer.
(2) comments
For those seriously interested in anime or the history of anime, Youtube has more to offer than anime music videos, hentai, and fansubs of current series, if you're willing to search for it. Here are a few examples I found recently, in roughly chronological order. None of them resemble "anime style" at all.
Ugokie tori no tatehiki is an imaginative, well animated, Fleischeresque short from 1933. Except for the music, there's no stylistic difference between this and American cartoons of the same period.
When you think of Osamu Tezuka and anime, you probably think first of Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion, though these are just two of the series he created. But in the 1960s and 1980s, he made some short animated cartoons which are totally unlike the anime of his that have been licensed. Of these, I had previously heard of Jumping (1984) and Broken Down Film (1985). I was actually a bit let down by the latter: it's certainly funny, but if you've seen Duck Amuck, it won't be any breakthrough. (Also, the deliberately poor quality of Tezuka's image combined with Youtube's low resolution makes it difficult to watch.) But Jumping is a miniature masterpiece. Youtube also has several UPA-like shorts by Tezuka, all very much worth watching: Osu (“Male”) (1962), Mermaid (1964), Memory (1964) and Drop (1965)
Belladonna (1973)(Kanashimi no Beradonna), directed by Eiichi Yamamoto, is a feature film intended for an art-house audience, combining animation with still illustrations and making generous use of symbolism. Set in medieval France, it's about a beautiful woman who is raped on her wedding night, persecuted by the villagers, becomes a witch and is eventually burned at the stake. (The copy on Youtube has no subtitles, but someone has translated the dialogue, of which there isn't much, in the comments.) It's full of sexual imagery which is occasionally very disturbing; it's NSFW and definitely not for kiddies. The first segment is here, and the "Related Videos" window will take you to the other segments.
This is a seriously amazing film, and I'm shocked that it's virtually unknown in the U.S. Here's a review on the AniPages Daily site, in which it's described as "one of the small handful of anime films that can stand up to comparison with the most innovative work in 20th century animation, beyond mere niche (ie anime) appeal."
If you need more persuasion, here are some noteworthy sequences:
A symbolic and horrifying rape scene in pt. 2.
A sudden burst of psychedelic and blatantly anachronistic animation, with music to match, in pt. 7.
The plague sequence in pt. 8.
The orgy scene in pt. 9 (overflowing slightly into pt. 10).
Originally this post would have also included the 2001 Crayon Shin-chan movie The Adult Empire Strikes Back, but by the time I got around to finishing this post, the copyright owner had had it pulled from YouTube (the perils of procrastination!). Given their age, the films above will probably remain up longer.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
MANGA CORNER: IRON WOK JAN VOL. 27
A long time ago, I wrote on this blog that I'd read the first two volumes of Iron Wok Jan and enjoyed them, but didn't feel inclined to pick up more. Actually, since then I have picked up more: not the entire series, but ten volumes here and there, ranging between vols. 3 and 18. Shinji Saijyo's storytelling may be overblown, but it's effective: he can actually build suspense over whether Jan can come up with a liver preparation that's better than foie gras. And it's also fun to read about the dishes and methods of preparation Jan and his rivals come up with, though I have no idea whether or not they would actually work. So when I saw in Previews (yes, I go through Previews, because my local comics store gives a 30% discount on preordered comics and graphic novels) that vol. 27 would be the last volume, I decided to get it. (The option of waiting to check it out when it arrived in stores wasn't open, since I don't know any place that carries the later volumes of the series.) Mild spoilers follow.
The first chapter of vol. 27 finishes up the Rising Chinese Chefs competition, which has lasted quite a long time. (I don't know when it starts, but when vol. 18 opens, it's already in the midst of its third round.) And the finale of the competition is both funny and unexpected -- or rather, it would be unexpected if the back cover blurb didn't give it away. On the other hand the ending of the series as a whole is disappointing: in fact, it's a washout. I was expecting a final showdown between Jan and his rival Kiriko, featuring the most bizarre and spectacular dish of all, or something like that. Well, not only is there no final showdown with Kiriko or anybody else, Jan doesn't even do any cooking in this volume. Just going by what you can deduce from this volume about vol. 26, it looks like that one may be better. I may pick it up.
On the plus side, Jan never reforms: he's as arrogant and obnoxious at the end as he was at the start, something I wouldn't have predicted after the first volume. Also on the plus side, there are several panels showing Kiriko folding her arms beneath her breasts. (That's a joke, I hasten to add. And it only makes sense if you're aware that all the female characters in Iron Wok Jan are F-cups.)
The ending of Iron Wok Jan only occupies 150 of vol. 27's pages. The rest is taken up by a "special alternate ending" which is basically a joke and not particularly funny, and by Saijyo's debut manga, a horror story which is pretty enjoyable, though nothing special.
(2) comments
A long time ago, I wrote on this blog that I'd read the first two volumes of Iron Wok Jan and enjoyed them, but didn't feel inclined to pick up more. Actually, since then I have picked up more: not the entire series, but ten volumes here and there, ranging between vols. 3 and 18. Shinji Saijyo's storytelling may be overblown, but it's effective: he can actually build suspense over whether Jan can come up with a liver preparation that's better than foie gras. And it's also fun to read about the dishes and methods of preparation Jan and his rivals come up with, though I have no idea whether or not they would actually work. So when I saw in Previews (yes, I go through Previews, because my local comics store gives a 30% discount on preordered comics and graphic novels) that vol. 27 would be the last volume, I decided to get it. (The option of waiting to check it out when it arrived in stores wasn't open, since I don't know any place that carries the later volumes of the series.) Mild spoilers follow.
The first chapter of vol. 27 finishes up the Rising Chinese Chefs competition, which has lasted quite a long time. (I don't know when it starts, but when vol. 18 opens, it's already in the midst of its third round.) And the finale of the competition is both funny and unexpected -- or rather, it would be unexpected if the back cover blurb didn't give it away. On the other hand the ending of the series as a whole is disappointing: in fact, it's a washout. I was expecting a final showdown between Jan and his rival Kiriko, featuring the most bizarre and spectacular dish of all, or something like that. Well, not only is there no final showdown with Kiriko or anybody else, Jan doesn't even do any cooking in this volume. Just going by what you can deduce from this volume about vol. 26, it looks like that one may be better. I may pick it up.
On the plus side, Jan never reforms: he's as arrogant and obnoxious at the end as he was at the start, something I wouldn't have predicted after the first volume. Also on the plus side, there are several panels showing Kiriko folding her arms beneath her breasts. (That's a joke, I hasten to add. And it only makes sense if you're aware that all the female characters in Iron Wok Jan are F-cups.)
The ending of Iron Wok Jan only occupies 150 of vol. 27's pages. The rest is taken up by a "special alternate ending" which is basically a joke and not particularly funny, and by Saijyo's debut manga, a horror story which is pretty enjoyable, though nothing special.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
BOOK CORNER: AUNT BEARDIE
I recently finished rereading Aunt Beardie, a suspense novel written by Joseph Shearing, which I had earlier read as an adolescent many years ago.
Joseph Shearing is actually a pseudonym used by the woman born as Gabrielle Margaret Vere Campbell (she married twice, and is sometimes referred to by her second husband's surname as Gabrielle Margaret Long), who used several other pseudonyms, the most common and best known of which was Marjorie Bowen. Once popular but now almost forgotten, Bowen (as we'll call her) was a very prolific writer, who, according to one source, wrote at least 170 books, mainly historical novels, but also nonfiction works, collections of short stories, contemporary novels, and plays. Obviously, they couldn't all be good, but a surprising amount of them were, and she deserves to be better known. Insofar as she is remembered today it's primarily as an author of supernatural fiction, but this was actually only a small part of her output. There is a biographical essay on Bowen here.
She used the Joseph Shearing pseudonym for historical suspense novels which were based loosely on historical crimes or mysteries. These novels, unlike many of her others, tended to be heavy on mood and fairly light on plot. Aunt Beardie is no exception: the title character doesn't even make an appearance until the 65th page (out of 220). It's set in England and France in 1829, though political events enter only insofar as the chaos of the French Revolution and its associated wars has affected the characters' lives. (There was to be another revolution in France the following year, but there's no hint of it here.) The plot is about Jenny, an eighteen-year-old girl devoted to her aristocratic mother, who discovers that her mother is secretly meeting a strange man and becomes convinced that he is somehow a threat to her (the mother). The Aunt Beardie of the title is a childhood friend of her mother's, thought dead, who turns up unexpectedly around the time the strange man appears. When I first read it, as an adolescent (thanks to my mother, who had collected hundreds of paperback mysteries, including most of the Shearing books), I thought I knew the "solution" way before the end. And I was partly right; indeed, part of the solution is pretty obvious. But I had been partly led astray by Shearing's misdirection, and the whole truth came as a shock to me. But maybe, if you read the book, you'll be smarter than I was back then.
But the heart of the book is the intense relationship between Jenny and her mother. The mother feels closer to Jenny than to her husband or her other children, but urges her to marry quickly, so that she will escape the disaster she (the mother) obscurely feels looming over her (the mother). And Jenny is completely devoted to her mother. Though having led a sheltered life, she strikes out on her own to learn the nature of the threat to her mother, and when she does discover what it is she takes decisive action to dispel it. By the end, Jenny and her mother have almost become a single person.
The book has its faults. It takes a while to really get going. The prose is generally stolid and undistinguished, though the last line is remarkable. And the efforts to create a mood of foreboding can sometimes be a bit heavy-handed: there's a bit too much "the familiar scenery now seemed somehow ominous"-type prose for my liking. Nevertheless, it stands up well as a novel and repays rereading. It's worth tracking down.
(0) comments
I recently finished rereading Aunt Beardie, a suspense novel written by Joseph Shearing, which I had earlier read as an adolescent many years ago.
Joseph Shearing is actually a pseudonym used by the woman born as Gabrielle Margaret Vere Campbell (she married twice, and is sometimes referred to by her second husband's surname as Gabrielle Margaret Long), who used several other pseudonyms, the most common and best known of which was Marjorie Bowen. Once popular but now almost forgotten, Bowen (as we'll call her) was a very prolific writer, who, according to one source, wrote at least 170 books, mainly historical novels, but also nonfiction works, collections of short stories, contemporary novels, and plays. Obviously, they couldn't all be good, but a surprising amount of them were, and she deserves to be better known. Insofar as she is remembered today it's primarily as an author of supernatural fiction, but this was actually only a small part of her output. There is a biographical essay on Bowen here.
She used the Joseph Shearing pseudonym for historical suspense novels which were based loosely on historical crimes or mysteries. These novels, unlike many of her others, tended to be heavy on mood and fairly light on plot. Aunt Beardie is no exception: the title character doesn't even make an appearance until the 65th page (out of 220). It's set in England and France in 1829, though political events enter only insofar as the chaos of the French Revolution and its associated wars has affected the characters' lives. (There was to be another revolution in France the following year, but there's no hint of it here.) The plot is about Jenny, an eighteen-year-old girl devoted to her aristocratic mother, who discovers that her mother is secretly meeting a strange man and becomes convinced that he is somehow a threat to her (the mother). The Aunt Beardie of the title is a childhood friend of her mother's, thought dead, who turns up unexpectedly around the time the strange man appears. When I first read it, as an adolescent (thanks to my mother, who had collected hundreds of paperback mysteries, including most of the Shearing books), I thought I knew the "solution" way before the end. And I was partly right; indeed, part of the solution is pretty obvious. But I had been partly led astray by Shearing's misdirection, and the whole truth came as a shock to me. But maybe, if you read the book, you'll be smarter than I was back then.
But the heart of the book is the intense relationship between Jenny and her mother. The mother feels closer to Jenny than to her husband or her other children, but urges her to marry quickly, so that she will escape the disaster she (the mother) obscurely feels looming over her (the mother). And Jenny is completely devoted to her mother. Though having led a sheltered life, she strikes out on her own to learn the nature of the threat to her mother, and when she does discover what it is she takes decisive action to dispel it. By the end, Jenny and her mother have almost become a single person.
The book has its faults. It takes a while to really get going. The prose is generally stolid and undistinguished, though the last line is remarkable. And the efforts to create a mood of foreboding can sometimes be a bit heavy-handed: there's a bit too much "the familiar scenery now seemed somehow ominous"-type prose for my liking. Nevertheless, it stands up well as a novel and repays rereading. It's worth tracking down.
