26 September 2010
In A Killing Mood
I woke up in a really bad mood yesterday and decided I was going to kill off Gilbert Osmond in my sequel to "The Portrait of a Lady." It’s not that I have so much against him, it was just something to do. I thought if I got rid of him all the women--Isabel, Pansy, Madame Merle, Countess Gemini--could be free of his burdensome presence and have some fun in Palazzo Roccanera. I sat down to begin writing and decided I might need this character for conflict. Too bad. I was really looking forward to writing about an accident I’d conjured up for him. I’ll save this passage for possible later use. Instead I killed off Caspar Goodwood who wasn’t much a part of anything and I was sick of him popping up in HJ's novel, stalking Isabel and refusing to take no for an answer. He adds nothing to her story; just a rejected suitor from her youth who won’t move on. I was hoping I could have him go down with the Titanic but we’re still in the 19th century so that wouldn’t work. I won’t say how I killed him off, I’ll keep it a mystery so I don’t give away the story, such as it is, with no real plot I’m set on. But I keep writing...
23 September 2010
The Missing Three Years
Last night I went back and read chapter XXXIV where Isabel listens to her cousin Ralph while he tries to discourage her from marrying Gilbert Osmond by telling her she will be put in a cage. After a long conversation where Isabel assures him at the beginning he needn’t bother as she is quite set on the thing, Isabel asks at the end, “Do you think I am in trouble?” and he replies “One is in trouble when one is in error.”
Moving into chapter XXXV we listen to Gilbert Osmond profess fine words to his betrothed on their future happiness, his own delight. “I won’t pretend I’m sorry you’re rich; I’m delighted. I delight in everything that’s yours--whether it be money or virtue. Money’s a horrid thing to follow, but a charming thing to meet.” When Osmond’s daughter Pansy is told she says it’s very delightful, “…you and papa will suit each other. You’re both so quiet and serious.”
The couple marries without fanfare and we are moved three years forward not privy to anything that happens in those three years except that a son is born, to die six months later. How did he die? What was his name? We don’t know. In the 19th century it was not uncommon for babies to die in the first year. James doesn’t seem to have anything to say on this event and it is lightly passed over. Why include it at all? Today the death of a six-month-old son would be worthy of a few sentences if we are, as James said, studying the psychological motives of our character. We have no idea if or how this affected Mrs. Osmond and certainly not Gilbert Osmond. Again, I may be trying to inflict 21st-century psychometrics on the 19th century. But just because babies frequently do not make it to the first birthday does not mean a shock hasn’t taken place. I could come back to this in my sequel but should I? I just have a nagging suspicion that part of the couple’s disdain for each other may have begun with the death of this son. But we don’t know, it was not a part of HJ’s framework.
So all happiness was expected and all happiness lost with all the naysayers (almost everyone in the story) proven correct. That is the compelling drama of TPOAL. It is also what bothers me; those missing three years. How have they become enemies within three years? Not that it can’t happen, marriages often break down in three years, give or take. But why in this case? The question hasn’t been answered to my satisfaction. Nevertheless, Mr. and Mrs. Osmond have fallen apart and that is what I have to grapple with to write a sequel.
Moving into chapter XXXV we listen to Gilbert Osmond profess fine words to his betrothed on their future happiness, his own delight. “I won’t pretend I’m sorry you’re rich; I’m delighted. I delight in everything that’s yours--whether it be money or virtue. Money’s a horrid thing to follow, but a charming thing to meet.” When Osmond’s daughter Pansy is told she says it’s very delightful, “…you and papa will suit each other. You’re both so quiet and serious.”
The couple marries without fanfare and we are moved three years forward not privy to anything that happens in those three years except that a son is born, to die six months later. How did he die? What was his name? We don’t know. In the 19th century it was not uncommon for babies to die in the first year. James doesn’t seem to have anything to say on this event and it is lightly passed over. Why include it at all? Today the death of a six-month-old son would be worthy of a few sentences if we are, as James said, studying the psychological motives of our character. We have no idea if or how this affected Mrs. Osmond and certainly not Gilbert Osmond. Again, I may be trying to inflict 21st-century psychometrics on the 19th century. But just because babies frequently do not make it to the first birthday does not mean a shock hasn’t taken place. I could come back to this in my sequel but should I? I just have a nagging suspicion that part of the couple’s disdain for each other may have begun with the death of this son. But we don’t know, it was not a part of HJ’s framework.
So all happiness was expected and all happiness lost with all the naysayers (almost everyone in the story) proven correct. That is the compelling drama of TPOAL. It is also what bothers me; those missing three years. How have they become enemies within three years? Not that it can’t happen, marriages often break down in three years, give or take. But why in this case? The question hasn’t been answered to my satisfaction. Nevertheless, Mr. and Mrs. Osmond have fallen apart and that is what I have to grapple with to write a sequel.
20 September 2010
Where Am I To Go With This?
Tossing around in bed last night while the rest of the country was worrying over their need of gainful employment, lack of health insurance, swindled investments and the cost of a good haircut, I was obsessing about Isabel Archer Osmond and Company. I had two things going on that were not necessarily in agreement: One, I wanted to end “The Portrait of a Lady,” do what James wouldn’t do which was to tidy up all the loose ends and conclude the saga of Isabel and her failed marriage. (Have her divorce the beast or suck it up and find new interests.) By chapter five I had already done that. I had the couple reach a truce in chapter two and all the other characters falling into a set place with nary a conflict or piece of misery anywhere. Everyone is happy. Or at least accepting;
Two, while it is my natural instinct to give Isabel a happy ending, or at least a life-goes-on-such-as-it-is ending, a sequel must have its own story which is conflict, action, resolution. I’m in over my head and find it tough going inventing a story set in the 19th century in a foreign country. Now what?
Now I don’t have a sequel is what. I have an ending that James might have used but did not care for happily-ever-after, rarely used it, was chastised and made to suffer for it especially when he wanted to convert his novels into plays to make some serious money. He was told the theatre-going public would not tolerate a story without a happy ending, he tested that theory and found out the hard way, it was true. So biting the bullet, excuse the cliché, “The American” was the rewritten to those ends only to see it fail miserably at the box office while his nemesis Oscar Wilde succeeded brilliantly and lucratively which had been Mr. James‘s goal all along. James thought Wilde’s plays trivial exploitation, riddled with nonsense. The public loved them. He thought Wilde an exhibitionist and a major poseur. The public showered him with praise. Nothing much has changed. Just substitute literary novel into Hollywood screenplay and you understand Mr. James’s wretchedness. Not to be daunted he tried for several years to write successful plays and still dejectedly failed. His heart was broken and his coffers mostly unrewarded. I include a few quotes on the night his failed play ended in hisses and boos: The theatre is an abyss of vulgarity & of brutish platitude: from which one ought doubtless to welcome any accident that detaches one. And then, I have practically renounced my deluded dreams. The horridest four weeks of my life.
In the end he could not write seriously a happy ending; and when he attempted to change the outcome the whole thing fell apart. It was his idea that a novel should be the stuff of realism and psychological investigation and wanted no part of infantile fantasy.
And that is why I was awake last night wondering what I have gotten myself into. How could I pull this off without delving into the worlds of schlock and soap opera the master would abhor? I didn’t even get around to my own unemployment, lack of health insurance, homelessness, bankruptcy and really bad hair. But I have my priorities and HJ cannot fault me there.
"Henry James: The Imaginative Genius," by Fred Kaplan was used as a reference for this post. It is unavailable through Amazon, hence, no link but other biographies are available if you would like to read more on Henry James.
Two, while it is my natural instinct to give Isabel a happy ending, or at least a life-goes-on-such-as-it-is ending, a sequel must have its own story which is conflict, action, resolution. I’m in over my head and find it tough going inventing a story set in the 19th century in a foreign country. Now what?
Now I don’t have a sequel is what. I have an ending that James might have used but did not care for happily-ever-after, rarely used it, was chastised and made to suffer for it especially when he wanted to convert his novels into plays to make some serious money. He was told the theatre-going public would not tolerate a story without a happy ending, he tested that theory and found out the hard way, it was true. So biting the bullet, excuse the cliché, “The American” was the rewritten to those ends only to see it fail miserably at the box office while his nemesis Oscar Wilde succeeded brilliantly and lucratively which had been Mr. James‘s goal all along. James thought Wilde’s plays trivial exploitation, riddled with nonsense. The public loved them. He thought Wilde an exhibitionist and a major poseur. The public showered him with praise. Nothing much has changed. Just substitute literary novel into Hollywood screenplay and you understand Mr. James’s wretchedness. Not to be daunted he tried for several years to write successful plays and still dejectedly failed. His heart was broken and his coffers mostly unrewarded. I include a few quotes on the night his failed play ended in hisses and boos: The theatre is an abyss of vulgarity & of brutish platitude: from which one ought doubtless to welcome any accident that detaches one. And then, I have practically renounced my deluded dreams. The horridest four weeks of my life.
In the end he could not write seriously a happy ending; and when he attempted to change the outcome the whole thing fell apart. It was his idea that a novel should be the stuff of realism and psychological investigation and wanted no part of infantile fantasy.
And that is why I was awake last night wondering what I have gotten myself into. How could I pull this off without delving into the worlds of schlock and soap opera the master would abhor? I didn’t even get around to my own unemployment, lack of health insurance, homelessness, bankruptcy and really bad hair. But I have my priorities and HJ cannot fault me there.
"Henry James: The Imaginative Genius," by Fred Kaplan was used as a reference for this post. It is unavailable through Amazon, hence, no link but other biographies are available if you would like to read more on Henry James.
17 September 2010
Italian Hours (I Wish)
I’ve discovered a little problem writing my sequel to “The Portrait of a Lady” and that problem is Italy. Or the fact that I have never been there. Henry James spent much time in Italy and set most of TPOAL in Florence and Rome. While writing TPOAL he fell absolutely in love with Venice. He described the "pure light air," talked of his room "flooded with the splendid sunshine," and in Florence, his "supercelestial" villa with "the most beautiful views on earth," so enchanting, so seductive was its spell he was often unable to work. He had a large community of friends in the three cities and plenty of distraction. Nevertheless, he was able to give a luxurious rendering of the Italian cities that alas, I will be unable to emulate in my sequel unless someone out there wants to take me to Italy. I am available for this journey, I am unemployed and free as can be, vowing to write something worthwhile if only for myself. As it is, I can only use second-hand material, either from TPOAL or from James’s travel writings and letters, or just information on the Internet. If I were in a villa in Florence, a palazzo in Rome or an apartment in Venice I could sparkle with descriptive passages while modulating the relationship of Isabel and Osmond. A simple hotel room would probably work just fine.
That said, James did not spend a great deal of wordage describing scenery in TPOAL. This was a character-driven novel and besides Isabel Archer Osmond, there were plenty of other characters that had to be rounded out, piles of dialogue and psychological insight to administer though he was able with a few succinct descriptions to place us in Italy with the Osmonds, especially in Palazzo Roccanera, their home in Rome. So it will probably be alright if I’m a little thrifty with descriptions as I will be busy with the Osmonds, Madame Merle, Pansy, Henrietta Stackpole Bantling and Mrs. Touchett. I also plan to introduce a few more characters so I may be forgiven if I can’t with any sensuousness describe the Italian light, its smells, the beauty of the people, the grace of the gondoliers, the cathedrals, piazzas, ruins…the sunrises and sunsets. If I do, I’ve either got a wonderful imagination, Mr. James is speaking to me from the afterlife, or I read it in a travel guide. That is, unless someone wants to take me to Italy and be of assistance with a more accurate portrayal. Below you will find links to a couple of HJ’s books on Italy. He wrote a great many travel pieces on Europe for American magazines that were later compiled into books. It was good money and earning money was necessary to live the good life which he certainly did. While residing in London he dreamed of Italy. I’m dreaming of Italy myself--I hope it will help.
That said, James did not spend a great deal of wordage describing scenery in TPOAL. This was a character-driven novel and besides Isabel Archer Osmond, there were plenty of other characters that had to be rounded out, piles of dialogue and psychological insight to administer though he was able with a few succinct descriptions to place us in Italy with the Osmonds, especially in Palazzo Roccanera, their home in Rome. So it will probably be alright if I’m a little thrifty with descriptions as I will be busy with the Osmonds, Madame Merle, Pansy, Henrietta Stackpole Bantling and Mrs. Touchett. I also plan to introduce a few more characters so I may be forgiven if I can’t with any sensuousness describe the Italian light, its smells, the beauty of the people, the grace of the gondoliers, the cathedrals, piazzas, ruins…the sunrises and sunsets. If I do, I’ve either got a wonderful imagination, Mr. James is speaking to me from the afterlife, or I read it in a travel guide. That is, unless someone wants to take me to Italy and be of assistance with a more accurate portrayal. Below you will find links to a couple of HJ’s books on Italy. He wrote a great many travel pieces on Europe for American magazines that were later compiled into books. It was good money and earning money was necessary to live the good life which he certainly did. While residing in London he dreamed of Italy. I’m dreaming of Italy myself--I hope it will help.
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