Juliet, Naked

I love the fiction of Nick Hornby, although I came to it indirectly, first seeing the movie High Fidelity. But his novels, for reasons I cannot fully explain, just pull me in. I think foremost it is the humor. He has a sense of humor unlike anything I have come across in fiction (not that I read all that much fiction). His characters are invariably likeable. Reading fiction is generally not effortless for me, or if it is effortless it seems pretty empty (mysteries). His fiction strikes both effortless and substantive. Which made his latest book a mixed experience. It had all the Hornby characteristics, the dry humor, the insights into what motivates us, the likeable characters. But there was an underlying, how shall I say, weight, a sadness, I would even go so far as to say a bleakness, to the whole thing. I would still give it a thumbs up. But, well, if you are not already on anti-depressants, this book might well cause you to sign on.





Juliet, Naked tells the story of a early forty-ish British couple, Duncan and Annie, that have been together for fifteen years. They live in some out of the way small English city.Duncan teaches at a college and is obsessed with an 80s folk icon, Tucker Crowe, who quit the business about twenty years ago and has become the stuff of legend to some obsessed fans, Duncan among them. As the novel begins Duncan and Annie are touring sites in America associated with the musician, including the bathroom in a bar where he supposedly had some kind of satori that caused him to leave.



The first major incident in the novel involves an unplugged version of a Tucker Crowe's final album that has just been released. Duncan writes a glowing review on a website devoted to Crowe. Annie thinks the album is shit and writes a review online saying so, offending Duncan not only because it shows a disagreement with his taste but because it is, in Duncan's mind, an incredible act of chutzpah, for this neophyte to be posting a review. Unbeknownst to Duncan, Annie actually gets a reply from the real Tucker, and they start up a correspondence. Meanwhile, Duncan has an affair with another teacher at the college.



All the while Annie is regretting the time the relationship with Duncan, the lack of passion and the loss of lovers that might have been but never were because of this fifteen year period of stultification; she is thinking all this even before she finds out about the affair. At one point she is commenting on the pictures of their vacations. She notes that being childless meant that your snapshots were a little on the dull side: "Nobody grew up or got bigger; no landark occasions were commerated because there were none. Duncan and Annie just got older, and a little fatter."



It's a sad comment on the inevitability of decline. As is the project that Annie is working on. Annie works at a museum and as the book begins she is putting together an exhibit about the summer of 1964 when the Stones played their little town and a 30 foot shark washed up on the beach. She has asked the citizens form momentos. but all they have been able to get is a picture of four young people obviously enjoying the day and the shark's eye in a jar.



The picture becomes a central image in the book, as Annie looks at the two young men and women and imagines this was a great day for them, as you can tell by their smiles, and reflects it may have been the best day of their life. And now where are they? She actually meets one of the women in the picture, who confirms that yes it was a great day with two blokes they had just met. Nothing happened between them, she said, because well, she was a good girl. And now she wonders what was the point, of being a good girl that is. More sadness on the passage of time.



And what about Tucker. He is living back in the States with yet another relationship about to break up. It turns out he has four or five (I forget) children from different women, and when for reasons I won't go into, goes to London to visit one of them (and to see Annie) he has a heart attack. But he survives, slips away from the wives and children who have descended upon London and sneaks off with Annie, bringing his son from his latest relationship with him. Annie and Tucker make love, Duncan meets his idol (and doesn't believe it's him) and Tucker goes back to the States.



Tucker ultimately releases a new album, which is all about how happy he is with his life in the States and with his son--an album all his old fans hate, though some new ones like it.And so what. Annie is alone without any real prospects, Duncan has stumbled into a relationship with a woman he does not have much in common with for no other reason than that he was bored. I mean, I'm not sure what to make of it. I think of the scene in Annie Hall, where an old woman tells Woody "Love fades." Yeah, and so does life, according to the book. And once its gone its gone. Well, I sort of knew that. There is some suggestion that if they had had kids, Duncan and Annie might have been happier (at least Annie). And Tucker is happy with his kid in the States. So is the answer to have kids?

In one of my favorite parts of the book--a classic Nick Hornby moment--Annie has written Tucker asking what do you do when you've wasted fifteen years of your life. And since Tucker really hasn't done much for fifteen plus years, he feel he can reply and does so, making observations such as that you should try to think of activities that weren't such a waste so you can get the total amount of lost time under ten years, and then goes about suggesting what might work. He also talks about Charles Dickens, who he has been reading, and goes on to mention all that Dickens did in his his life--the novels, the correspondence, the life. I think the point might be that no matter how much you did you will never stack up to Dickens, so don't get so depressed about not doing much. It's an interesting line of reasoning. I started applying it to my own time in academia, trying to get the number as low as I could. I think I got it down to around seven years, though I wished I had gotten it down to five.


Well, I enjoyed the ride because it was a Nick Hornby novel, but I am not very happy about the destination he dropped me off at.

Final Thoughts on Moore

This is probably the last entry I will devote to Moore's book "A Life at Work." As a result, I will limit myself mostly to quotes, with a few random comments. As I said, it is definitely a book worth picking up.

"In your confusion and experienting, you learn about the laws of life and you feel the burden of your existence. This is not a bad thing because it gives weight to your thougths and gives character to your work."
--All I can say is that this is one of those lines that struck me as true the moment I read it, in that it really feels that what I am doing is experimenting in all of this. I only hope I "learn about the laws of life."

"Here is my starting point in looking for a life work: Step out of the frenzied pursuit of the right job, look around at the whole of your life, and connect with the source of your vitality. If you begin with who you are and with the current of life you feel inside you, you will be grounded as you search and experiment. Your quest will be like a spring flowing from the font of your very nature, rather than a mere maddening search for a suitable occupation or position."
--I think this is the most helpful piece of advice I take away from the book, namely, the fact that you need to step back from the idea of getting the right job and look at the big picture. I sort of had a premonition of this when I did not attempt to the MSW while teaching. That would have ultimately involved a direct jump from one job to another without taking the step back that Moore recommends and that I certainly feel is needed. I should say that I don't feel I have even remotely begun this process. I should also add that I am not really sure how to go about doing this.


"You sit with the chaos of your work life, perhaps not able to get a useful job, certainly far from feelng that you have your life work in your hands. You sit there with your failures, wrong turns, bad choices, incomplet projects, far-off dreams, and frustrating expectations--any life teems with raw material, and it takes a long time to do the inventory. You sense the chaos and wnat to do something abou it. You may not see your situation as one of possibility and the ability to develop, but if you trust the alchemical wisdom you may glimst the secret of the chaotic. It allows change and development, whereas a clear and fixed job or position might blind you to future possibility. You may be too comfortable outside of chaos to consider the possible alternatives."
--I guess I like this line because it vindicates my choice--who doesn't like things that vindicate us. I also like the phrase "the secret of the chaotic."

"In therapy I have witnessed many people searching for deeper satisfaction in their lives, but they are so identified with the future, with possibilities that bounce in their heads and give them pleasure for the moment, that they don't really know what they want, or bettter, what their heart wants. Finding a life work is all about desire, not a passing wish--a deep, long-standing desire to be someone and to do something. Yet people often do not know themselves well enough to know what they want."
--I could go on quite a bit about this line. I have known the danger of having possibilities bounce in my head, of getting so caught up in the possible that you forget the actual. This also relates to the previous quote about taking time off to look around before making a decision, or rather, taking time off to look inside. Some of that is definitely called for.

"Rather than escape into pleasant fantasies of a successful future, it may be more useful to gather the courage to face the past in all its disturbing detail."
--No comment required on this, I think

Are you a mouse or a man?

On the recommendation of a friend I’ve been reading Who Moved My Cheese by Spencer Johnson. The story is essentially a little parable about how to deal with change in work and in life It involves two mice—Sniff and Scurry—and two mice sized but otherwise human creatures known as Hem and Haw and their relation to cheese. At the start of the saga, all the mice and the mice-sized people have access to cheese, and as a result are quite content. One day, however, the cheese is no longer there, although there are some questions weather in fact the cheese has in fact been decreasing over time or the drop off was sudden. In either case, the mice immediately head off in search of new cheese. But the two human like creatures are quite baffled by the whole situation, and first sit around and complain, and then analyze, and ultimately engage in some rather futile activity to bring the cheese back. Finally one of the people like creatures—Haw—decides to leave behind their previous location and, despite being afraid, goes out into the maze in search of new cheese—a task which after some effort he ultimately successfully completes. Along the way he leaves “handwriting on the wall” of the maze in the hopes his old friend Hem might read it and be encouraged,

These nuggets of wisdom are summarized at the end:
1. Change happens (they keep moving the cheese)
2. Anticipate change: Get ready for the cheese to move
3. Monitor change: Smell the old cheese so you know when it is getting old
4. Adopt to change quickly: the quicker you let go of old cheese, the sooner you can enjoy new cheese
5. Change: Move with the cheese
6. Enjoy change: savor the adventure and enjoy the new cheese
7. Be ready to change quickly (they keep moving the cheese)

This is only a sketch and an inadequate one at that of a short work I highly recommend. All I can say is this little tale went a long way towards delineating my situation, although if I were to describe myself it would be as another character “Huh?” , who has left the place where there no longer is any cheese and now wonders why he isn’t getting any cheese. Shouldn’t the fact that he moved out of the cheeseless situation be enough? Huh? asks himself. But the thing is, of course, you don’t get any cheese just by leaving the place where there was no cheese before. You have to act, and that is what I have failed to do up to this point. I am neither in the old place looking for old cheese like Hem but neither am I out exploring the maze like Haw.

metaphors and canyon swings

I take my metaphors where I can get them. And somehow, falling 110 meters into a canyon and then swinging for another couple hundred meters seemed as good a stand in as any for the leap I’ve taken in my career. To tell the truth, I was not sure what the connection was. But it was pretty clear at least the Shotover Canyon Swing in Queenstown was a physical instantiation of what I had done to my career: a jump into the abyss. I am not sure what exactly my thinking was. But I could tell you what it was not. My thinking was definitely not that if I survive this physical leap in the abyss I will be alright with the career leap. It just seemed, well, fitting, that if I was going to jump in the one situation I jump in the other. Also, I think that if you go to Rome, you see the Vatican, and if you got to Queenstown, you jump into a canyon.

So as soon as we got back from hike I made my way over to the Canyon Swing office and singed up. At this stage, the whole thing was unreal. You are putting your name on a piece of paper and paying some money. It is all theoretical courage. Even watching videos of previous leapers really could not impact my state of mind since I had not personally experienced this situation. I was told at the office that due to the lateness of my signing up I had roughly a half hour until the place closed to cancel my jump, and that they would jump in any weather.

I slept fine, again not thinking too much about it I because it all seemed unreal. But when I woke up in the morning the reality that I was going to do something incredibly stupid did it hit pretty much first thing and put me in a rather foul mood. To make things worse, it’s raining pretty steadily when I get up, and I momentarily contemplated using this as an excuse to back off, but knew really that I could not

The image I had in my mind at that time is one I saw on a biography of Buster Keaton, the silent film comedian. At one point in his career, things are really not going well: there are business troubles, women troubles. And they are out there filming a stunt where a house has to fall on him, and there is a hole where a window is that is supposed to be the spot that saves him. And they show Buster’s face as he is filming this stusnt, and you can tell he really does not care if that house fall on him. Something like that spirit was in me as I prepare for the jump. There is a real sense that the worst case scenario would not be so bad.

At the office, there are two other guys besides myself who are there to jump, one is from Amsterdam and one if from Germany. Both are young strapping guys in their twenties with girlfriends in tow. I am glad I am doing this with other guys. Yesterday as I singed up it was a group of young girls that was heading out. This just seems more fitting. The rain is coming down pretty heavily as its time to depart. We all jump into the van. Our driver is a 30-ish affable rogue named, fittingly, Kramer.

It’s only about a ten minute drive up to Shotover Canyon and on the way they show us a dvd of various styles of jumping. Kramer suggests jumping off yourself particularly if you have never done the jump because it’s more challenging than if they just cut you off. When I get there, however, I ask to be cut away, but they say that they cannot do this in the rain, although I am not sure whether they are just shitting me or not, because when I give into their reply they say, “you’re easy to convince.” I reply, it doesn’t really matter, does it.

It’s raining even more heavily and as they ask who wants to go first I volunteer, figuring the rain will only get worse. Plus I think if I wait around I might consider backing out. So they hook me up and I am not really listening to what they are saying but when we get to the edge Kramer and his co-worker start to banter with me, joking about hitting the water, the solidity of land. I mention my philosophy books and in particular the one about stoicism and how it teaches you to maintain control in all circumstances and they mention that this will give me a chance to practice what I preach. They briefly try to talk me into a jump called the “pinhead” which they claim I can use on the back cover of my next book, but I demur and say I will simply step off. They hook me up the cable, pull away the safety rope and it’s time to go. I say, you just step off and they say, yes and that’s exactly what I do

And before I know it I am flying, with my eyes closed. It is like a dream, really and I would not be surprised to wake up in my bed, but instead I am jerked to a stop and then start swinging across the canyon and soon am being hauled back up to the top. On return, someone mentions it was the most blasé step off they had ever seen.

New Zealand

Been in New Zeland this past week, hiking the Milford Track for most of that time and so cut off from civilization. Returning to Queenstown, the place seems overwhelmed by students onb break. Man, if you ever want to feel old, come to Queenstown in December. Anyway, fuller report later. Bungee jumping tomorrow. So if the blog suddenly ends, you will know why.