5.30.2005
about tom ripley
well, i only completed two books during the month of may, for reasons both bad (weird work schedule, volatile attention span) and good (working almost nightly in the studio). but i did manage to read the second of patricia highsmith's "ripley" novels, ripley underground.
what i like about tom ripley-- the identity-stealing psychopath at the center of the books-- has to do with his vulnerability. unlike the typical storybook villian, ripley is biased and particular. his evil is not "pure" evil. he cannot kill indiscriminately, nor proceed free of emotional entanglements. and somehow, his presence is ice cold.
highsmith creates a multi-dimensional interior landscape for him, paying close attention to his desires, fears and motivations. but she always does so from the outside, denying the reader any legitmate empathy. if the effect of her novels is to make me "root for the bad guy," i don't do so out of any sympathy for him. i can construct a theory of ripley; one composed of many complex psychological ingredients (his class envy, his strange sense of etiquette, his volatile sexuality, etc.). but as i do so, i am clinical instead of compassionate. the thrill of a ripley adventure is hypothetical. ripley is a case-study, and my interest is never humanistic.
the empathetic indifference i've felt throughout these novels is not, by any means, problematic to me as a reader. in fact, highsmith carves her very atmosphere out of this indifference. i develop an eerie fondness for ripley, occuring in the tension between my willingness to accept his logic, and my ambivalence towards his motivations. and because ripley is vulnerable and conventionally "human," my ambivalence is, itself, malevolent. i have the tools to understand him, but i can not and will not. this spectatorial predicament is extended, in a sense, to his victims as well. ripley is always more likeable than they are, but they are only "worthy" of his punishment because they bore me as a reader. my malevolent ambivalence, while strange enough to admit to, is even stranger to develop over the course of 250 pages. but for better or worse, the fun of it lies there.
what i like about tom ripley-- the identity-stealing psychopath at the center of the books-- has to do with his vulnerability. unlike the typical storybook villian, ripley is biased and particular. his evil is not "pure" evil. he cannot kill indiscriminately, nor proceed free of emotional entanglements. and somehow, his presence is ice cold.
highsmith creates a multi-dimensional interior landscape for him, paying close attention to his desires, fears and motivations. but she always does so from the outside, denying the reader any legitmate empathy. if the effect of her novels is to make me "root for the bad guy," i don't do so out of any sympathy for him. i can construct a theory of ripley; one composed of many complex psychological ingredients (his class envy, his strange sense of etiquette, his volatile sexuality, etc.). but as i do so, i am clinical instead of compassionate. the thrill of a ripley adventure is hypothetical. ripley is a case-study, and my interest is never humanistic.
the empathetic indifference i've felt throughout these novels is not, by any means, problematic to me as a reader. in fact, highsmith carves her very atmosphere out of this indifference. i develop an eerie fondness for ripley, occuring in the tension between my willingness to accept his logic, and my ambivalence towards his motivations. and because ripley is vulnerable and conventionally "human," my ambivalence is, itself, malevolent. i have the tools to understand him, but i can not and will not. this spectatorial predicament is extended, in a sense, to his victims as well. ripley is always more likeable than they are, but they are only "worthy" of his punishment because they bore me as a reader. my malevolent ambivalence, while strange enough to admit to, is even stranger to develop over the course of 250 pages. but for better or worse, the fun of it lies there.
antony and the johnsons, "you are my sister"
i should post more about music...)
jj turned me on to the music of antony and the johnsons a while back, shortly after i missed seeing them with him. ho hum to that.
anyway, in the abstract, the rumors of a frank decaro-esque gentleman who sings like nina simone had me from the get-go, and the comparisons to scott walker certainly didn't hurt either. when their record i am a bird now hit my headphones, i was immediately hooked, and the track "you are my sister" began to emerge as the album's personal highlight...
"you are my sister" is musically not the most daring track on the album, being essentially a piano ballad with the structure of a lullaby. and its initial melancholia brings to mind other handsome, sad compositions of an indie variety-- it has a "classic" sort of quality not unlike nick cave, the tindersticks, etc. but as the track continues, its haunting vocals and subversive, mantra-like lyrics begin to override its own gloominess. the lyric "you are my sister/and i love you" is not slumber-inducing; in fact, it's a bit of a wake-up call. the song's boldness arises from its effeminacy. it becomes grand and glamorous without sacrificing the tenderness that designates it as a ballad. it is immensely theatrical, but somehow not silly.
here it is worth mentioning that i am a bird now consists largely of duets (as if singer antony's deep, soul-penetrating voice needed any assistance). so consider my pleasant surprise to read that the worn, bowie-esque voice that accompanies him at the refrain is none other than 80's superstar boy george. as the two bring the song to its operatic conclusion, it has the resonance of a declaration. its sharp, gender-bending defiance seems to express a solidarity between the two singers, and perhaps even the listener. as a fairly deep-rooted hetero-sexual, my connection to this quality can't extend too far beyond admiration. but the strange sense of unison that the song seems to contain is something i respond to very deeply.
jj turned me on to the music of antony and the johnsons a while back, shortly after i missed seeing them with him. ho hum to that.
anyway, in the abstract, the rumors of a frank decaro-esque gentleman who sings like nina simone had me from the get-go, and the comparisons to scott walker certainly didn't hurt either. when their record i am a bird now hit my headphones, i was immediately hooked, and the track "you are my sister" began to emerge as the album's personal highlight...
"you are my sister" is musically not the most daring track on the album, being essentially a piano ballad with the structure of a lullaby. and its initial melancholia brings to mind other handsome, sad compositions of an indie variety-- it has a "classic" sort of quality not unlike nick cave, the tindersticks, etc. but as the track continues, its haunting vocals and subversive, mantra-like lyrics begin to override its own gloominess. the lyric "you are my sister/and i love you" is not slumber-inducing; in fact, it's a bit of a wake-up call. the song's boldness arises from its effeminacy. it becomes grand and glamorous without sacrificing the tenderness that designates it as a ballad. it is immensely theatrical, but somehow not silly.
here it is worth mentioning that i am a bird now consists largely of duets (as if singer antony's deep, soul-penetrating voice needed any assistance). so consider my pleasant surprise to read that the worn, bowie-esque voice that accompanies him at the refrain is none other than 80's superstar boy george. as the two bring the song to its operatic conclusion, it has the resonance of a declaration. its sharp, gender-bending defiance seems to express a solidarity between the two singers, and perhaps even the listener. as a fairly deep-rooted hetero-sexual, my connection to this quality can't extend too far beyond admiration. but the strange sense of unison that the song seems to contain is something i respond to very deeply.
