One wintry evening, I walked out of the movies and stood on the empty sidewalk, breathing out visible puffs of air and waited for the trembling to subside. I had watched the last hour of Capote in total stillness, my hands clasped tight.
Over dinner, I couldn't hold my excitement. "The movie was amazing," I said to friends who hadn't seen it, "Two men shoot down a family in a small town in Kansas. Truman Capote travels there to understand the psyche of the scarred town and the killers, and writes a book."
"I didn't think you would be interested in that," came the reply. And it was true. The book Capote wrote, In Cold Blood or the movie they made out of it doesn't interest me at all. I just don't find the psyche of the townsmen or the killers intriguing the way Truman Capote did. But this movie is about that intrigue of Capote. Which I find immensely interesting.
I am fascinated by Capote's fascination.
Another time, I was reading Matthew Pearl's novel The Dante Club and raving about it. It's about a few Boston poets (Longfellow, Holmes, Lowell) translating Dante during the eighteen fifties and how they deal with crazy events that happen in the city exactly as described in Dante's book.
A friend said, "I can't believe you read The Dante Club and not Dante." No disrespect intended, but I just can't get into Dante. Yet I couldn't put down The Dante Club – though I am not a fan of mystery novels – because of the poets' fascination of Dante. I was fascinated by their fascination.
This theme began to recur over and over again. In Movies – Shawshank Redemption, Lives of Others, Almost Famous. In Books – Flaubert's Parrot, The Great Gatsby, Old School.
I want to explore my fascination for the theme of fascination by critiquing and talking about these works one at a time. Also, when does fascination become an obsession?
Over dinner, I couldn't hold my excitement. "The movie was amazing," I said to friends who hadn't seen it, "Two men shoot down a family in a small town in Kansas. Truman Capote travels there to understand the psyche of the scarred town and the killers, and writes a book."
"I didn't think you would be interested in that," came the reply. And it was true. The book Capote wrote, In Cold Blood or the movie they made out of it doesn't interest me at all. I just don't find the psyche of the townsmen or the killers intriguing the way Truman Capote did. But this movie is about that intrigue of Capote. Which I find immensely interesting.
I am fascinated by Capote's fascination.
Another time, I was reading Matthew Pearl's novel The Dante Club and raving about it. It's about a few Boston poets (Longfellow, Holmes, Lowell) translating Dante during the eighteen fifties and how they deal with crazy events that happen in the city exactly as described in Dante's book.
A friend said, "I can't believe you read The Dante Club and not Dante." No disrespect intended, but I just can't get into Dante. Yet I couldn't put down The Dante Club – though I am not a fan of mystery novels – because of the poets' fascination of Dante. I was fascinated by their fascination.
This theme began to recur over and over again. In Movies – Shawshank Redemption, Lives of Others, Almost Famous. In Books – Flaubert's Parrot, The Great Gatsby, Old School.
I want to explore my fascination for the theme of fascination by critiquing and talking about these works one at a time. Also, when does fascination become an obsession?
