A Single Man

I saw the film by Tom Ford when it came out in 2010, and was impressed by Colin Firth preparing a role that was, in essence, a one-man-show with props of other actors (he was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor but did not win). Mr. Firth, unfortunately, was all that could be recommended for this film. I thought it was a little too something - ostentatiously gay? Visual? Superficial? Self-promotional? I'm not sure.

So, I liked the movie, but not as much as I thought I would. I saw a spot for it on Sunday Morning With Charles Osgood and various commercial spots...it seemed a lot deeper and artier than it actually was. In fact, I thought it was actually complete crap, and Colin Firth's character was a sleazy and maladjusted type for attempting an affair with a student.

Nonetheless, I have been looking for some Christopher Isherwood stuff, specifically the Berlin Stories or Mr. Norris Changes Trains and Goodbye to Berlin, as they were published in Europe. I'm planning to write my own "Vienna Stories" and would like some inspiration as to how to format my collection. Since these stories are more famously known (and set to music) as Cabaret, and in that form likely Isherwood's most famous works, I figure they're a good place to start.

However, when I went to the library, I didn't find what I wanted. They did have A Single Man on the shelf, however, and I decided, well, any Isherwood is better than no Isherwood.

What I love about A Single Man is that George is overtly and unapologetically gay in 1960's California (before the hippies, mind you - circa 1961). Isherwood's writing style, choice of scene and structure, never let the reader forget George's sexuality. In fact, Isherwood's style is pretty sparse, borrowing a page from Hemmingway's book in that it has very little physical description of characters or place; though it is better (i.e. not as bare bones) as The Sun Also Rises, for example. In concentrating on  the sensual aspects of live, the novella is charmingly and grippingly sensory - not erotic, not bogged down in details or description, just sensual. The ocean scene, where George goes for a dip (naked midnight romp?) with Kenny in the Pacific is one of the few exceptions to this, but in its description, continues to center on emotions George feels, rather than the temperature of the water, as an example. And it is critically important to George's psyche - the ocean, the young man, symbolize George's rebirth after Jim's death.


I was pleasantly surprised that the novella far exceeds the film. Isherwood's character George, far from being the superficial, self-conscious and self-promoting type of gay man Tom Ford made him out to be, is down-to-earth, sarcastic and outrageous as only a gay man can be, and though wounded by the loss of the love of his life (Jim, who passed away in a car crash visiting his folks in Ohio), George perseveres, does not assault himself by minimizing his love, like society is wont to do, or falling into an almost-affair with a student - he more or less fantasizes about sex, but does not delude himself into grander emotions, or actually committing any acts. Besides, Kenny (the student) doesn't have much to offer George beyond a nice body. Aside from scratching an itch, Kenny's not much of a catch. He's pretty dopey.


The one thing I hate about A Single Man (which was ambiguous in the book, but more ambiguous in the film) is that George dies at the end. Why does he die, when the book is about persevering despite obstacles?! It was so annoying, because it implied that a person cannot be total, complete, without another person to live with, love, and more importantly, have sex with. Most of the time protagonists in such situations are women falling all over themselves for a man, but obviously anyone can fall victim to the mentality - the sex part almost always shrouded in innuendo in anything pre-Woolfe (or pre-Anais Nin) for the woman. Gotta keep those Victorian double standards in working order...

Anyway, I think it's ridiculous that anyone should ever want to be defined by another, in any way. Yes, love is powerful, and I think true love does exist, but it is not the be-all and end-all of an existence to get married (or move in together) and "become" that other person, or have that other person become you. Sure, people need relationships, another to guide them, help them and give them the chance to become the best they can be through love and support and faith in their love. And it is painful to lose someone so dear and necessary to you. But that does not mean when you lose someone, you should not go on living! You are still you, not the other person and you deserve to continue your life, perhaps diminished, but hopefully not for long!

Losing love and losing faith are not one in the same, and though losing both can be devastating, no one says you have to.

Love

Another one of those "found gems" i.e. found in my apartment, Love is a novel by Elizabeth von Arnim, a cousin and contemporary of Katherine Mansfield.

Very Mansfield-esque for fans of her work (though von Arnim was also quite popular and widely read in her lifetime as well), the novel is about a woman and a man who share a love of The Immortal Hour, having seen the play nine times and thirty-six times, respectively. They fall in love despite social norms: she is forty-seven, he twenty-five. She is also the mother of a married woman (only nineteen, but still), and a soon-to-be grandmother.

But this love reaches across boundaries and social norms. Christopher loves Catherine determinedly, and she becomes enveloped in his love, just by the act of his loving her. Although during their courtship (one could say stalking on Christopher's part), Catherine think he is just a silly little boy, until she goes to visit her daughter (actually to escape Christopher). Once there, she realizes that her daughter and new son-in-law - actually older than Catherine at forty-nine - who are seemingly full of love, have no room for her. And his mother is a buzzard who makes things practically impossible for Catherine.

She basically goes running back into Christopher's arms.

However, since there is such talk among their acquaintances once they marry, Catherine feels she has to keep up with Christopher age-wise and invests in expensive hair and facial treatments to make her look younger. Ultimately, she looks haggard and decrepit without them, to Christopher's horror. He had never before noticed how much older she was than he, when she left well enough alone.

Actually, according to the afterward, the novel was based on an affair von Arnim had with a much younger man, Michael Frere. When they met in 1920, she was fifty-four and he twenty-four. Their affair was torrid, and though they did not last long as lovers, she helped him to hone his writing abilities and got him published for the first time. She also got an experimental and terribly unfortunate face life in the 1920s to "keep up" with Frere, just as Catherine does for Christopher.

I really enjoyed the book, I think because it appealed to my secret sentimental side but also discussed the idea of blindly accepting social standards as if they were God's will, and put in a good word about double standards in the context of "social norms."

Although the ending is tragic, and leaves the fate of its characters in an ambivalent state - definitely the last thing I wanted, actually, when I got into it and thought, "Oh, goody. A light and fluffy and fun romance." And then I read the forward to realize Elizabeth von Arnim was related to Katherine Mansfield.

All in all, an excellent read. My college professors would all pat me on the back for picking a real and literary novel over what I could have chosen (among them a murder mystery set in Vienna). And for reading the forward AND afterward. *Pats self on back.*