The Reading List: The Quiet American

The Quiet American

Graham Greene

1955

Last Summer, I read Graham Greene's The End of the Affair and had this to say about it:

The novel is told in a highly fractured narrative than weaves freely backward and forward through time, mixing straight first-person retelling of events, the narrator’s ruminations, and textual material read by the narrator.... The effect is fairly engrossing and entirely natural; it is much like hearing a friend tell a long and complex story in the typically shuffled way that stories are told.

Did I like the novel? Well, I admire its craftsmanship and am sympathetic to its attempt to plumb the nature of faith. It is also a fascinating look at the texture of life in London during the 1940s. The characters, unfortunately, are all in their separate ways rather shallow and unlikable. This made it hard for me to get too concerned about the state of their souls, which in turn rendered the book rather academic.

In reading The Quiet American, I find not surprisingly that Graham Greene seems to have been a fairly consistent writer. Here again, what I admire most about the book is its craftsmanship, the way that we are guided gently forward and backward in time almost without noticing. In the opening scene, we learn about the death of the title character -- the only quiet American being, in Graham's snooty inuendo, a dead one -- and we might reasonably expect that the story will deal with the repercussions of or investigation into his demise. But no, we spend most of the book at earlier points in time, gradually learning of the political and personal complexities that led to his unhappy end. All of this technical business is handled with enormous mastery.

Too, Greene captures a time and place -- this time, the dying years of French Indochina -- with a great deal of colorful verisimilitude. The Quiet American is not overtly a book about religion, though; it is a book about politics. In particular, it is more or less about the covert imperialism of the United States at mid-century. Greene is agin' it, which is fair enough but also a bit rich for a citizen of the United Kingdom in 1955.


To give Greene his due, however, he makes the old-fashioned imperialism of the European powers nearly as unflattering as the optimistic, technocratic meddling of the Americans. The soon-to-be-quieted American, Pyle, is a hopeful, idealistic, naive Boy Scout, earnestly trying to make Vietnam a better place. It is beyond his imagination that it is real people who are being killed and maimed for the sake of his good intentions. Yet the figure representing Europe is the dissolute narrator, Fowler, a British newspaper correspondent who burns through the tail end of his prime smoking opium, stringing along a Vietnamese mistress, slouching through Saigon living high on his hard currency, and letting his East Indian subordinate, a character he can barely bring himself even to focus on, do all of the work. So although American-style imperialism is pretty awful, as the Vietnamese would continue to discover over the next two decades, European-style imperialism is not so glamorous either.

There is what you might very inclusively call a "love story" at the heart of The Quiet American. Pyle falls in love at first sight with Fowler's mistress, and the two men launch the most passive-aggressive campaign for a woman's hand in all of literature. The mistress herself barely cares which of the two she ends up with, caring only for safety and security in her radically unstable world. Is she, perhaps, representative of all Vietnam, unable to make it on her own, forced to choose between the stifling protection of Europe or of the United States? Is she an unattainable prize, that the world powers can only superficially possess, but never really know? Is she evidence of a mild misogynist streak on Greene's behalf? Or merely a prop on which to hang the plot? All of the above, I think. If The Quiet American has a flaw, it is that this very central character is such an undeveloped shadow. Or, perhaps to fully include her in the story would be to write a different book. I dunno. It's safe to say that Graham Greene knew more about literary craftsmanship than I do.

As in The End of the Affair, you would not care to spend much time with any of the primary characters of The Quiet American. In this book, however, the lack of anyone likeable in the cast didn't much bother me. Where the characters in Affair dedicated most of their time to stoking the tempest in their personal teapot, Pyle and Fowler are at least engaging with the world outside of their personal bubble. They are deeply flawed people, but they are flawed in the ways that we are all flawed. Everyone (present company excluded, of course) occasionally makes the world worse through their naive good intentions, and occasionally through their knowing cynicism. We are Pyles and Fowlers all.


The Reading List Marches On!

Last weekend, I asked Blog Dork Eversaved and Vice-Dork Jenners to nominate the next few books for me to read off of The Reading List. So here, with their kind cooperation, is the road map for, well, probably the rest of the year:

1) Rowling, Harry Potter Book Three (this one was actually my own choice)

2) Lahiri, Interpreter of Maladies

3) Chomsky, Manufacturing Consent

4) Voltaire, Candide

5) Diamond, Guns, Germs, and Steel

6) Blume, Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret

Then, we're going to get down to some serious business and read the Iliad, the Odyssey, and James Joyce's Ulysses. The theme song for this stretch of the list will be the Mountain Goats' "This Year." As in: "I am going to make it through this year if it kills me."

Peace.

February's Element of the Month: Xenon!

February's Element of the Month:
Xenon!
Xe
54

Atomic Mass: 131.29 amu
Melting Point: -111.7 °C
Boiling Point: -108.1 °C

An awful lot of elements turn out to be silverish metals, but at anything like room temperature, or for that matter any natural temperature to be found on this planet, Xenon is a colorless gas.

The Centerfold!

Being a very stable element, it doesn't really combine into very many compounds. It's also very rare, making up only .09 parts per million of the Earth's atmosphere -- meaning that there is only about a third as much of it in natural air as there is of nitrous oxide, laughing gas.

Here's a neat trick you can play with Xenon: you know how you can inhale helium and then talk in that squeaky chipmunk voice? If you inhale Xenon, you'll speak in a very deep voice. True story. But be careful not to inhale too deeply, because Xenon functions as a general anesthetic, and incapacitating yourself really kills the joke. And quite possibly the joker. Xenon is, incidentally, probably the best substance available for general anesthesia, in theory. Unfortunately it costs ten bucks per liter, and that adds up to a ton of cash over the course of your typical surgery, even by medical standards.

Xenon is best known, I suppose, as one of the elements that you can make glow when you run current through it. Xenon lights are very bright and emit a spectrum of light reasonably close to regular daylight, so they are used in flashbulbs and film projectors along with things like car lights and a lot of what you might casually call "neon signs." If it's using xenon, though, it's not a neon sign. It's a xenon sign.

The Wednesday Quiz I:10 -- Rockers

The Wednesday Quiz -- Season I -- Quiz 10

Rockers

The Wednesday Quiz is a test of knowledge and intuition. Looking up answers or asking your buddy is lame. Questions about the rules are answered here.

This week's Quiz is a identification game. For each image,

Name the Rocker(s)

Here are fifteen images of people and bands who regularly appear on lists of the most influential rock artists of all time. Identify them for 6 2/3 points apiece. If there's more than one person in the photo, give the band name for full credit. [clarification: no, you don't have to list individual band members, unless there is a definite band leader (e.g. "Prince and the New Power Generation").]


1:


2:


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9:


10:


11.


12.


13.


14.


15.


Submit your answers in the comments!

The Great Movies: "Pulp Fiction"

Pulp Fiction
Quentin Tarantino, 1994.

I watched Pulp Fiction at Liberty Hall in Lawrence, Kansas, during its original release. During the first round of killin', my then-girlfriend burst into tears and fled out of the theater. Assuming that she had gone to the restroom to regain her composure, I resolved to keep mental notes to bring her back up to speed once she returned. At some point much later in the movie, I noticed that she had never returned. After the show, I caught up with her at her apartment. You're flying first class all the way with michael5000, baby!

- - - -

There is a contingent among you, Gentle Readers -- include one of you who is married to me -- who will find Pulp Fiction objectionable because, first, it is graphically violent, and that, second, the violence is to an extent pitched as madcap fun. I don't have a good answer to this, and I can't really argue that this is a movie to nurture to the better angels of our nature. But on this rewatching, I once again found Pulp Fiction wildly entertaining.


Plot: None. The movie consists of five remarkable episodes in the lives of some unsavory but colorful Los Angeles criminal types. The episodes are closely related but, famously, shown out of order, and one is split between the beginning and end of the movie. Pulp Fiction is hardly the first movie to have played with the flow of time, of course, but it went asynchronous with a cheerful gusto that influenced movie making for at least a decade afterwards.

Nothing that takes place in the movie is remotely plausible. It is all a sensationalized, glamourized, self-consciously cinematic vision of what criminal life might be like in an alternative, cartoon-like reality. But then we are told this from the get-go: the title of the movie, after all, is "Pulp Fiction." For all of its ironic pose, it actually delivers exactly what it offers: a hard-edged but foolish criminal fantasy.

Visuals: Sunsoaked, sleek, a little garish, and crafted with loving attention to detail in set and costume design. Tarantino's camera is so intentional -- showing us details in precise sequences, lingering on telling details, wandering among the characters -- that it is almost a character in its own right, an implicit narrator who follows along and makes visual comment on the action.

Dialog: There is almost no expository speech in Pulp Fiction whatsoever. The dialog, intelligent and witty even when the conversations are banal, develops the characters and provides a wry counterpoint to the action, but rarely has much to do with the action. Mostly, the dialog just entertains.

Now this is where we can make a fine distinction, because Pulp Fiction really isn't a movie where violence is presented as funny or entertaining. What is funny and entertaining is the dialog that surrounds the violence. The violence, in and of itself, is as shocking as violence in any other intelligent violent movie. In fact, it has to be in order for the movie to work. It's the horror of the violence that sets up the extreme bathos of the ensuing dialogue. We don't laugh at the shootings, in other words; we laugh at the strange, stylized responses to the shootings. These are funny not only because they deviate from real behavior but because they deviate from how we've been conditioned to expect fictional and cinema characters to respond to violence.

Still, this kind of humor is not for everybody. I wouldn't want to watch it with my mom.

Prognosis: This is an important stop on the History of Film tour, certainly one of the top two or three most important movies of the 1990s. Not recommended for anyone who objects to brief but moderately graphic portrayals of human lives being gruesomely snuffed out in hails of gunfire. But you know what? Highly recommended for everybody else.

Postcards From Michael5000

Magnificent Aloha Stadium in Honolulu - Hawaii


Spectacular aerial view of this beautiful new 50,000 seat stadium - one of the newest and finest in the U.S. - featuring moveable sectional stands - making it perfectly convertible to baseball - Home of the World Famous Hula Bowl.


Desolation Boardwalk, Hawaii Volcanoes National Park


Island of Hawaii


Hatboro, Pa.


Aerial View of Hatboro, PA.


Peace Candle of the World


Dedication and Lighting Ceremony performed by Governor Tom McCall on May 9, 1971. This candle is 50 feet tall, 18 feet in diameter, and contains 45,000 pounds of wax. Constructed by WESTERN CANDLE LIMITED, Scappoose, Oregon. Darrel Brock - President.


Trees Motel and Blue Ox Coffee Shop


4 miles north of Klamath at the Trees of Mystery

Flag Friday II

Flag Friday is a periodic discussion of the world's national flags; the project is explained and indexed here.

These discussions are about graphic design, and perhaps about nationalism and national symbolism in general. They should not be taken as critical of the countries, ideals, cultures, or people that the flags represent.


Argentina



Parsons: Without explanation, he gives it “B“, 70/100.

Michael5000: I confess I am not a great fan of the Argentine flag. The baby-blue and white tricolor feels a bit washed out, and the sunshine face -- the "Sun of May," apparently a representation of the Inca sun god Inti -- seems like it would be more at home on an old Jefferson Airplane concert flyer. On the upside, there's no mistaking it for any other flag (Uruguay also uses blue, white, and the Sun of May, but in a totally different configuration). Too, although sunshine face is fussy it is constructed from just two colors, making it replicable from whole cloth by a skillful sewer.

Argentina is what looks to be the exception to the rule: a flag I judge more harshly than Mr. Parsons.

Grade: C



Armenia



Parsons: Citing "Bad Colours," he gives it “B-“, 65/100.

Michael5000: You can't argue with a tricolor -- it's the very essence of flagginess -- and Armenia's trio of red, blue, and orange are an attractive and upbeat version of the classic design. The red and orange wouldn't be great if they were adjacent, but when separated by a field of blue they are unobjectionable. Furthermore, a 2:1 ratio makes the Armenian flag unusually long and slender, giving it just a hint of distinctiveness. A good flag.

Grade: B+




Australia



Parsons: Unhappy with "colonial nonsense" and "too many stars," he gives it “C”, 55/100

Michael5000: By "colonial nonsense," Parsons is refering to the British Union Jack taking up a quarter of the Australian flag's real estate. I see his point, and so do a sizeable minority of Australians.

What bugs me about the Australian flag, though, is that it is mighty difficult to distinguish it from the flag of New Zealand. The whole point of a flag is to create a strong visual distinction between two polities, no? Well, the two major powers of the Southwest Pacific have utterly failed at distinguishing one from the other. This could be seen as a nice, cozy symbolic representation of international friendship, but if I were (like Josh Parsons, incidentally) from one of the countries in question I think I would dislike the implication that they are basically just two peas in the same ANZAC pod.

Too many stars? Arguably. The five on the right form the iconic Southern Cross constellation, and the one on the left is a general symbol of the Australian Federation. They are fussily placed, in three sizes, and have different numbers of points, all of which complicate a flag more than you'd like. I'm throwing in with the Australian minority -- the current flag simply has too much going on.

Grade: C-



Austria


Parsons: He calls it "simple," and awards it a “B+”, 75/100

Michael5000: Austria more or less ties with Denmark for the oldest flag still in use, and it's hard not to assign sentimental points just for seniority. And although red and white are far and away the most common flag colors, somehow Austria has managed to keep a monopoly on the horizontal red/white/red tricolor. Easily made, easily distinguished, visible from miles away, and with the most impeccable of pedigrees, Austria's is the ur-flag, a touchstone for all other flags to measure themselves against.

Grade: A



Azerbaijan


Parsons: Complaining of "bad colours," a "bad shape," and an "eyewatering" quality, he gives it “B-”, 65/100

Michael5000: A strong tricolor with unconventional but handsome colors and two simple white symbols at its center, with a longer-than-usual horizontal access. Armenians and Azerbaijanis can feel good about this, in any event: they both have good flags.

Grade: B+



Bahamas


Parsons: "Yuurgh... awful colours," he writes, "but not quite as bad as Aruba." He assigns a "B-", 65/100

Michael5000: We didn't look at Aruba because, although it's a Caribbean Island, it is a colony -- or shall we say an "autonomous region" -- of the Netherlands. The colors on the Bahamas flag are blue, yellow, and black. It's distinctive and handsome.

Grade: B+

The Library Book Sale CD Trove X

Still reviewing my CD finds from half-price day at the Friends of the Multnomah County Library Annual Booksale.

Tchaikovsky: Symphonies #2 & #4

Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra

Tchaikovsky is a strange figure in the pantheon of classical music. If you want to be a real classical music intellectual, you can't afford to take him too seriously. He's a little too clumsy, a little too transparent, a little too heart-on-sleeve. Or, maybe a lot too heart-on-sleeve.

This always seems to stress out the writers of liner notes. They feel compelled to signal that they are in the know about Tchaikovsky's limitations even while they are being paid to praise the product. The notes on this Naxos recording, for instance, begin:

Pyotr Il'yich Tchaikovsky must be regarded as the most popular of all Russian composers, his music offering certain obvious, superficial attractions in its melodies and in the richness of its orchestral colouring. There is more to Tchaikovsky than this, and it would be a mistake to neglect his achievement because of what sometimes seems to be an excess of popular attention.

It's hard to imagine any other musician, of any genre, being treated quite so dismissively in his own marketing materials. It begs the questions: if Tchaikovsky is so superficial and obvious, how come he gets to occupy one of the limited number of spots available for Household Name Composers? It is hard to explain without recourse to a fairly radical theory of his compositions, which is this: most of them sound really cool. They have obvious attractions in their melodies, and rich orchestral coloring, and this, over the years, has continued to attract a great deal of popular attention. They are, in a word, good.

I've been fond of Tchaikovsky's symphonies since I was a little kid, and the Second and Fourth are two of my four favorites. Out of the, um, six. I had recordings of both of them already, but my other recording of the Second isn't very good and the Fourth is worth having two interpretations of. Like most Naxos CDs, this is a first-class recording by a might-as-well-be-first-class orchestra. Amazon has some copies for three bucks and shipping, which is not bad at all. I'm happy as a clam to have got my copy for a buck fifty.