The Lord of the Flies

I haven't seen the 1990 version, but I'm using the 1963 version for my class. I chose this film on a whim--the instructor who taught this class before I did used it, and, as much as I wracked my brains, I couldn't come up with anything that I thought would be better. (Which is surprising, right? You would think that a lot of films would explore the nature of men and their relationship to political society with state of nature themes. Maybe I just haven't watched enough Westerns/Science Fiction.)

But the Lord of the Flies is fascinating to think about in relation to Hobbes and Locke. The boys, stranded on an island after a plane crash, immediately move to form a political order characterized by discussion, democratic voting, and symbols of authority (the conch shell is passed around to designate the right of a person to speak and be listened to). It doesn't take long for the boys to regress and become savage. They wear fewer clothes, love the bloody hunt, and even have a wild fire ritual, which results in the death of one of themselves.

The film contrasts political and military rule. Under political rule, the contributions and wisdom of one of the weakest and wisest citizens, Piggy, can be appreciated. As can the almost religious/prophetic wisdom of Simon. Jack's warrior/hunter rule provide a stark contrast: he has a tribe, whereas Ralph had an assembly. 

Another difference between Ralph's regime and Jack's is the emphasis on names. Piggy immediately seeks to identify each person--knowing their names is important. (Ironically, he is almost immediately renamed on the island in a pejorative way: first, "Fatty"; then, "Piggy.") In Jack's tribe, on the other hand, the boys' identity is obscured--their faces are painted with tribal paint, and Jack begins to wear a mask.

The emergence of the rumors of the beast and the beast itself continue the theme of masking: Jack, whose rule relies on the fear of the unknown, of the beast, encourages the rumors. He maintains that you never know how the beast will look when it comes, that it can even come looking like one of their own. This creates the atmosphere of fear that allows Jack to gain and expand power. Ralph's regime, on the other hand, emphasizes transparency--Simon says both that the beast is them and that they need to climb the mountain and see the beast. These are the truest lines in the film and the solution that is needed, although ignored. The boys both need to acknowledge the potential for evil within themselves, and they need to face the unknown without fear. 

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Writing and listening to Rousseau. This sort of thing:

Thank You for the Light--Spoilers

F. Scott Fitzgerald's, "Thank You for the Light," was published in the New Yorker (after being rejected by the New Yorker in 1936). I guess I didn't read it because of the paywall. I received it cut out of the New Yorker and folded up inside a letter from Lawrence, so I read it. It's a short short story--just two pages--and one is a picture.

I like it a lot--it's about Mrs. Hanson, a widow who smokes while selling corsets and girdles in the midwest. I'll tell you a lot about it here, since I can't link you to it (although I'll send you my copy in the mail, if you like). Mrs. Hanson is exhausted from a busy day full of meetings and from being around male clients who don't think that women should smoke. She finally stops in a cathedral for a break: "if so much incense has gone up in the spires to God, a little smoke in the vestibule would make no difference." However, she has no light. So she sits down in a pew and prays for a moment, although she isn't Catholic. She notices an image of the Madonna and has a moment with her before falling asleep for a minute. She wakes up and realizes that her cigarette is lit. "Thank you for the light," she said. "That didn't seem quite enough, so she got down on her knees, the smoke twisting up from the cigarette between her fingers. 'Thank you very much for the light,' she said."

Everything is short--the story, a cigarette, her visit to the cathedral, her little nap, her interaction with the Madonna. It's all just a flicker, but a fragrant and lovely one.


P.S. Best line in the story: "A man told me that nobody who was in the war would ever object to anyone smoking."

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The Missouri sky amazes me--the clouds are the state's best geographical feature.

After a whirlwind weekend of dancing with Francisco and the BCSC, my favorite men in the world to dance with, I thankfully squeezed on an early flight back to STL to avoid Sandy. (That's the second time this fall a hurricane has changed my travel plans.)

Also: When you're waiting for your baggage at STL, the automated voice says, "We hope you had a blessed flight."

Cooking with Colwin.3 Three Potato Salads

The third potato salad is Rob Wynne's Potato Salad with Creme Fraiche.

The recipe: Cook as many new potatoes as you need. Slice and cool. Skin and julienne an equal amount of cucumbers.

Dressing: half mayonnaise, half creme fraiche, black pepper and a hint of garlic.

This potato salad is divine. It tastes like summer, more like summer than normal potato salad even. But I will say, it's slightly bland: It's like what you imagine heaven is when you're afraid of going there--perfect and light and beautiful, but maybe a bit boring.

In an attempt to remedy this, I added a little bit of hell, I mean cayenne. It didn't help with the flavor up front, but at least it had a kick at the end of the bite.

Other fix suggestions are welcome.

Also: this is my first time "cooking" with creme fraiche. How should I use the rest of it? 

Cooking with Colwin.3 Three Potato Salads

The second potato salad that I made was Laurie's own and my favorite by far. I gobbled it down in no time. It's nothing fancy, but the simplicity is delightful.

The recipe: You can use either Idaho or new red potatoes, which should be boiled and mixed with chopped scallion and finely minced dill. (I used dried dill, because my grocery store didn't have any fresh.)

The dressing: Mayonnaise thinned with lemon juice and seasoned with pepper. Pour the dressing over the potatoes and let it sit an hour before serving. 

I'm not saying it's pretty, but it is delicious, and I'd make it again in a heartbeat.

Cooking with Colwin.3: Three Potato Salads

Laurie Colwin includes three potato salads in her potato salad chapter, so what was I to do except cook them all?

(I skipped the fried chicken chapter because, to be perfectly honest, I don't like fried chicken at all and I don't have a chicken fryer.)

The first thing I have to say is that Colwin doesn't give many details about boiling the potatoes for the potato salad. She just says boil them. So I did. But I found them to be simultaneously so boiled on the outside that they might as well be mashed potatoes and a little crunchy on the inside. I'm thinking that, in the future, I might cut them up first and then boil them. Any thoughts from the more experienced cooks out there?

First, Karen Edwards's Warm Potato Salad with String Beans.

I cut the recipe in half, since I was making all three and knew I would be potato-saladed out, but it was still too much (this was my least favorite).

The recipe: Boil six Idaho potatoes and steam half a pound of string beans (I boiled them). Cut the warm potatoes to bite size, and cut the green beans into longish pieces.

The vinaigrette: 3/4 cup of olive oil, a teaspoon of Dijon mustard, the juice of one or two lemons, lots of garlic, salt and pepper.
 

Colwin writes, "The secret of this salad is lots and lots of dressing." The problem is, those darned Idaho potatoes (they're the most absorbent kind) absorbed the heck out of that dressing. Which is to say, I doubled the recipe for the vinaigrette, and it was still dry. And I wasn't willing to keep making and adding more dressing.

So I gave up and ate it. It reminded me a lot of ham, string beans, and potato soup. Which made me think, what if you added ham to potato salad?! Or maybe I should just make the soup.

Anyway, too dry.

Lincoln

I had a chance to preview Lincoln, the new Daniel Day-Lewis/Steven Spielberg film. While I'm not crazy, generally, about going to the movies, nor crazy about political and period pieces (perhaps especially the Civil War), it was free and Daniel Day-Lewis is great, so I went. And going reminded me what I really don't like about seeing movies in the theater: I always think that the things that get big laughs from the audience are super corny, and the things that I think are side-splittingly funny, I don't hear so much as a chuckle at from anyone but me.

Ah well.

The movie was so pro-Lincoln that it even made it look as if Lincoln wrestled with the legality and constitutionality of his decisions, fearing that he would take power away from the states. I don't know much about his biography, so maybe that's true. Mary Todd Lincoln was very sympathetically portrayed: it was good to have a strong woman in the film (heavens knows, there were few enough women), but I'm sort of attached to my grade-school picture of her as a selfish, crazy, superstitious woman. The film made her out to be only mortal, next to Lincoln's deity.

One of the characters loses it at one point and yells at Lincoln, "I don't want to hear another one of your stories." I felt a keen sense of sympathy and agreement with him.  

I thought Daniel Day-Lewis did a nice job as Lincoln and looked exactly like him (the make-up and costuming were incredible), and Tommy Lee Jones was a phenomenal Thaddeus Stevens. I love James Spader with all of my heart, but he needs more dignity than he got as the jester/fool-like character of Mr. Bilbo. James Spader plays dignified roles with spunk, but it's just below him to play a role of this sort.

The Grove.2

 The Grove is the part of town (at least that I've seen thus far) with the most street art, which I love, even if most of it is rather recent.

I'm curious about this one: patriotism or critique?

Even the trees are turned into art. 

The Grove

I found the hipster part of town where people ride the sort of bikes they have in Portlandia, and are too cool to pose with it, but they're okay with you taking a picture of them doing what they normally do. (Which is also the part of town where the bars are called things like "Handlebar.")

Bikes were everywhere (as were skateboards, although they didn't make it into the pictures).

(A random aside: Francisco said that last weekend a guy came down the road on a pogo stick at Eastern Market. He said it was a good pogo stick, too, because the guy could get some air.)

I liked this neighborhood a lot--it is visually interesting and colorful and seems to have a lot of neighborhood pride. I tried to stop in somewhere called Sweetie Pies (which, it turns out has nothing to do with sweets nor pies, and so became a lot less useful to me right then). Actually, it's a soul food restaurant--the line wound around the store several times, which made me wonder what was up. Google said something about Oprah and a reality tv show, so I'm going to have to let that all settle down before I go back and visit.

Guestblog: Mama Leopard on Her Engagement

Today is a special treat: Mama Leopard shares her journal entry from more than 30 years ago that retells how she and Papa Leopard got together six months before she wrote this. (She edited it a bit lately with Papa Leopard, replacing her journal description with his description.)

February 1, 1981

I am writing this down so we can look back and appreciate how the Lord brought us together. He keeps showing me that we are together to bless others and to be servants for Him.

Even during the summer of 1980 I knew something special was going to take place my senior year. Toward fall, I felt the Lord saying “Mr. Leopard—marriage.”  Quickly—very quickly—I shut out that thought from my mind. How could I possibly marry someone so amazing?  I mentioned it to my brother S, who warned me not to tell anyone, so that we could see God’s hand in this. Believe me, I didn’t tell a soul. It sounded absurd. In October, while along with my family on a hunting trip, I asked the Lord to show me a deer as a sign if I was to marry Mr. Leopard. Well, S shot one, but a dead deer didn’t count in my mind. Back at school, I struggled in my mind. My pastor prayed with me and I felt a release. When I returned to my room that night, my roommate and I were talking and she said, “I have to tell you that Mr. Leopard really likes you.” I remember falling off my bed.

November 1, 1980, Christian Fellowship had a hayride. I noticed him looking at me. The next night was a Bible study in Lackhove Hall. I dropped him off at his apartment and hinted at my interest. The next day Mr. Leopard and his roommate asked me to their apartment after church on Sunday to make breakfast. They had both agreed that they wanted to marry Mennonite girls, so I think they were checking out my cooking ability! We continued to do things together until December 7. After church we had pancakes with Vicki and Lynn, and then we tried to find a TV to watch Kenneth Copeland. Failing at that, we drove to the State Game lands. We walked and talked for 3 ½ hours.

At this point, the Lord was speaking to Mr. Leopard about committing to me. He took my hand in his, and I knew!  We kept walking through a path lined with trees and a heavy mist falling upon us.  As we approached the end of the path, seven deer bounded in front of us (remember the hunting trip?).  We came out into a field watching the deer, and as we turned the corner to the left we suddenly saw a rainbow; it looked like it was about thirty yards away and stood about thirty feet tall.  We stood in awe; at this point I think the hair was standing on the back of our necks.  We realized that the sun would soon be setting and that we really weren’t sure of the way back to the car.  We decided to leave following a certain path.  Immediately Mr. Leopard sensed the Lord speak to him, “This path will represent your life together; you will come to a tee in the road, you’ll feel to go one way and she, the other. Go the way she says.”  We continued on, praying and talking, when we came to a tee in the path…

When we saw the car, we danced and sang and rejoiced. And then—the Kiss!

Cooking with Colwin.2

Sauteed Vegetables and Poached Eggs in One Pot

I love Laurie Colwin's hatred of extraneous cooking implements and her adoration of tag sales. To emphasize simplicity, she offers a recipe that can be made with one knife and one pot.

This is one of my favorite things to make--sauteed vegetables with a couple of eggs cracked in the middle and some cheese sprinkled or plopped on top (I like cheese a lot--goat's cheese plops; swiss cheese sprinkles). I guess maybe I learned this recipe from Laurie the first time I read her cookbook. Or maybe it evolved from a version of eggs cooked in tomato sauce from Smitten Kitchen.

Anyway, it's useful to go back to the recipe sometimes for things that you've made over and over to remind yourself of what's actually supposed to go in the dish. In this case, anyway, it certainly was.

So, slice some vegetables--zucchini, onion, snow peas (I used the first two; you can use whatever is on hand)--and saute them gently in butter with minced garlic. Partially cover them so that they release their juices. (I think I'd been sauteeing them on high heat to get them to cook faster, but Colwin is right, as usual: they just need to be lightly cooked.)

Add some pepper, push the vegetables to the edges, melt some butter, and crack a couple of eggs in the middle. Cover until they're cooked. Add a little cheese on top. 

Incidentally, I picked up all of the ingredients for this dish from the farmer's market. Including the free-range eggs, which I forgot to tell you are Christian free-range eggs: 

The vegetables are light and tender and go perfectly with the eggs and swiss cheese. The garlic really makes it. I used a small onion as Colwin suggested, but I it was too much onion for me--I would use just a half in the future.

I have a eggs question for you, dear readers. Francisco likes them scrambled; I like them sunny side up. I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm objectively right (in this area, as in all of life). Is this a matter of taste or are runny yolks just plain old detectable and scrambled eggs simultaneously too wet and too dry?

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After all of this plain-old oatmeal and almonds, my stayed-too-late-at-work snack, maple and brown sugar instant oatmeal, tastes like Christmas.

The Cards

A friend of a friend had an extra ticket to a Cardinals' playoff game this weekend. Alas, we thought it would be the game that let the Cardinals into the World Series, but that will have to be later. Anyway, despite the fact that I am the farthest thing in the world from a fan of baseball, I tend to not turn down free things. (Plus, I figured it would be the fastest way to get initiated as a St. Louisian: these people take their baseball seriously.) (Above: the Budweiser Clydesdales--it is Busch Stadium, after all.)

Sadly, it wasn't the most exciting baseball game ever: the Cardinals never scored, and for 4 of the Giants' 5 runs, we were downstairs ordering food.

But the stadium is gorgeous--it's right down town, surrounded by tall buildings, the beautiful Old Courthouse, which is where the Dred Scott case was tried, and the Arch. The Arch is also cut into the grass in the outfield.

I don't know what to say about the game: I paid attention the whole time, which I think was impressive. The fans were crazy, waving their towels in circles. There is a player named Jon Jay. Ha--like the Founder! He looks like he's 12 in his picture.

I enjoyed the game, although I find it exhausting to care so much about something you have no control over. I find it exhausting enough to care about the things that I do have some control over.

Downtown and Forest Park

Back to Sayers' visit: This is the mosaic-ed ceiling of the Soldiers Memorial, which is dedicated to the soldiers from St. Louis who died in World War I. I love the gold and silver and the art deco-ness. The star in the ceiling is dedicated to the mothers of the soldiers.

 A working class Bridge of Sighs on steroids:

Next, I showed Sayers around my school and Forest Park. Here's the statue of St. Louis, which is in front of the art museum.

I love the pool and fountains and lawn in front of the art museum. It's one of my favorite spots in St. Louis so far--it reminds me of the grounds around some old, lovely central European estate. Maybe I love it because it's the closest thing to a hill that I've found in the area.

In the evening, we checked out my roommate's bar. All I have to say it, he's very cool: French New Wave films play silently on a wall on one side of the room, etc.

Also, we tried to find this participatory art thing that was supposed to copy Burning Man. We ended up in an area that I wasn't familiar with and seemed sort of sketch (which I could have imagined would be the case if I'd really thought about it), so I pulled a U-turn and we called it a night. 

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Graham Chapel.

I love having a camera on my phone! I've been trying to get inside here for a while, but finally snuck/sneaked in today since there was construction going on and the door was unlocked.

Also: Sharing clothes with your roommate. Who is a guy. Priceless. (It's a hoodie. FOR THE CARDINALS GAME TONIGHT! I mean, I hate baseball, and I'm still thrilled!)

Downtown St. Louis

After brunch, to return to Sayers' visit, we wandered the city for a bit and stumbled on a little sculpture garden called Citygarden.

This building looks like a Greek temple sandwiched between a little skyscraper and a ziggurat (that's half Sayers, half me).

The park is very family friendly.

Watching kids play in fountains just never gets old.