Vanity, thy name is Margaret.
I just finished reading All is Vanity by Christina Schwarz. Wow. I picked it up because I loved Drowning Ruth, which is by the same author. This book isn't quite as much of a page-turner as Drowning Ruth, and I think it's primarily because the characters aren't quite as likable.
Margaret, a teacher who has quit her full-time job to write a novel, is lifelong friends with Letty, whose husband recently received a tony job at a very financially-secure museum. Margaret lacks focus and has made little progress on her novel. She feels like a failure, but even more, she dreads letting everyone know that she hasn't succeeded in her Hemingway-esque pursuit. Letty, on the other hand, is a sweet mother who is quickly caught up in the materialistic world of the very wealthy. On a whim, Margaret begins writing about her friend, work that is little more than a re-telling of thinly-veiled reality. As Letty begins to get in over her head, accumulating debt and encountering other financial problems, does Margaret ( her supposed friend) warn her? Does she help her get herself out of the mess she's gotten into? NO. Margaret encourages Letty's materialism so that she can keep "writing." The whole fiasco ends badly, of course.
I really ended up hating Margaret. She was so self-centered and conceited. And, the fact is, she couldn't write. But instead of finally admitting that to herself and throwing in the towel, she practically abused her poor friend so that she could put together what was, in the end, a very mediocre novel. Depressing.
We also finally saw Lost in Translation. I thought it was a great movie. It tells the story of two people, basically alone in a foreign-speaking country, who share a connection. Bill Murray did a great job of protraying a somewhat washed-up actor who is flying overseas to make commercials. Scarlett Johansson, a lonely newlywed with a busy husband, lounged around her hotel room in her underwear, looking out over the Tokyo skyline. The two happen to meet in the hotel bar, and they spend the week together, exploring the city and getting to know one another.
Perhaps it was because I went to that Welty lecture recently, but this movie kind-of reminded me of Welty. This movie is not epic. It is a small movie. But it also very delicately addresses the subject of confluence, convergence. Adrift in a sea of people who look different from you, speak a different language from you, can you make a connection? Can you share something with someone? Sofia Coppola's answer is yes.
This is Coppola's second feature-length work. (The Virgin Suicides was her first.) I look forward to seeing what she does next.
Margaret, a teacher who has quit her full-time job to write a novel, is lifelong friends with Letty, whose husband recently received a tony job at a very financially-secure museum. Margaret lacks focus and has made little progress on her novel. She feels like a failure, but even more, she dreads letting everyone know that she hasn't succeeded in her Hemingway-esque pursuit. Letty, on the other hand, is a sweet mother who is quickly caught up in the materialistic world of the very wealthy. On a whim, Margaret begins writing about her friend, work that is little more than a re-telling of thinly-veiled reality. As Letty begins to get in over her head, accumulating debt and encountering other financial problems, does Margaret ( her supposed friend) warn her? Does she help her get herself out of the mess she's gotten into? NO. Margaret encourages Letty's materialism so that she can keep "writing." The whole fiasco ends badly, of course.
I really ended up hating Margaret. She was so self-centered and conceited. And, the fact is, she couldn't write. But instead of finally admitting that to herself and throwing in the towel, she practically abused her poor friend so that she could put together what was, in the end, a very mediocre novel. Depressing.
We also finally saw Lost in Translation. I thought it was a great movie. It tells the story of two people, basically alone in a foreign-speaking country, who share a connection. Bill Murray did a great job of protraying a somewhat washed-up actor who is flying overseas to make commercials. Scarlett Johansson, a lonely newlywed with a busy husband, lounged around her hotel room in her underwear, looking out over the Tokyo skyline. The two happen to meet in the hotel bar, and they spend the week together, exploring the city and getting to know one another.
Perhaps it was because I went to that Welty lecture recently, but this movie kind-of reminded me of Welty. This movie is not epic. It is a small movie. But it also very delicately addresses the subject of confluence, convergence. Adrift in a sea of people who look different from you, speak a different language from you, can you make a connection? Can you share something with someone? Sofia Coppola's answer is yes.
This is Coppola's second feature-length work. (The Virgin Suicides was her first.) I look forward to seeing what she does next.
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