Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Book review...
I finished reading Sophie's Choice this morning on the bus. It's taken me over a week, which is unusual for me these days, but I suspect it was more due to the fact that the language, while embracing many colloquialisms, is more formal than I'm used to reading these days, filled with words that I've never read before. I also felt that a few scenes could have been edited a bit more, as Styron had a tendency to linger over and repeat details that did not need lingering or repetition. In the end, though, I have one thing to say about it:
Wow.
I've seen the movie a number of times. In fact, I think the movie is absolutely incredible, so I was familiar with most of the story, but reading the book took me to a totally different level - enveloping me with the sights and sounds of 1940's Brooklyn and Nazi-rules Poland, observing the characters in my mental 360° diorama, even becoming the characters - in a way that even incredible films cannot hope to, despite visualizing the Stingo, Sophie and Nathan as Peter MacNicol, Meryl Streep and Kevin Kline.
(An aside: watching Kevin Kline on Inside the Actors Studio a few years ago, I was amazed when James Lipton said that Sophie's Choice was Kevin Kline's first feature film. What a hell of a first feature role.)
I realized that it had been a very long time since I'd last seen the movie, because there were quite a few scenes that I'm sure were filmed, but which were new to me.
Still, despite both my familiarity with the story and my forgetfulness of much of the details, I found myself experiencing dread as I neared the end. About sixty pages from the conclusion I felt my heart constrict. I remembered what was coming up and I so wanted to put the book down, to not throw myself into the pages as I have a habit of doing, but I knew I had to finish reading. I had to.
And finally I did. I closed it, set it on my lap, and stared out the bus window, supressing the tears hovering in the corners of my eyes, feeling the weight of my emotions, but also feeling a certain lightness, a bit of hope, recalling the final words:
Wow.
I've seen the movie a number of times. In fact, I think the movie is absolutely incredible, so I was familiar with most of the story, but reading the book took me to a totally different level - enveloping me with the sights and sounds of 1940's Brooklyn and Nazi-rules Poland, observing the characters in my mental 360° diorama, even becoming the characters - in a way that even incredible films cannot hope to, despite visualizing the Stingo, Sophie and Nathan as Peter MacNicol, Meryl Streep and Kevin Kline.
(An aside: watching Kevin Kline on Inside the Actors Studio a few years ago, I was amazed when James Lipton said that Sophie's Choice was Kevin Kline's first feature film. What a hell of a first feature role.)
I realized that it had been a very long time since I'd last seen the movie, because there were quite a few scenes that I'm sure were filmed, but which were new to me.
Still, despite both my familiarity with the story and my forgetfulness of much of the details, I found myself experiencing dread as I neared the end. About sixty pages from the conclusion I felt my heart constrict. I remembered what was coming up and I so wanted to put the book down, to not throw myself into the pages as I have a habit of doing, but I knew I had to finish reading. I had to.
And finally I did. I closed it, set it on my lap, and stared out the bus window, supressing the tears hovering in the corners of my eyes, feeling the weight of my emotions, but also feeling a certain lightness, a bit of hope, recalling the final words:
- This was not judgement day - only morning. Morning: excellent and fair.
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