jay's museum of college writing

Jay READS THE CLASSICS Post - New York Review of Books Classics - Fatale by Jean-Patrick Manchette - Novel about a Cold-Blooded Killer - Heart of Glass

  Way back when I was In grad school, I read a lot of Shakespeare, Medieval Romance, French Poetry, Franz Kafka, Edgar Allan Poe.  Whatever I was told to read, I read, probably two or three times over, for I certainly was not among the smartest  students in the room.   When my professors said to pay close attention to specific characters or passages, that’s what I did, for fear of not letting them  down, or more likely, not revealing  the very true and shallow understanding I had for whatever we were reading.   I mean, I should never have been allowed to take these classes. For a lot of this stuff we were assigned, I felt like I was reading in Chinese.  My grad program  went slow.  It was a slog.  With each semester, I just tried to keep my head above water,  but while I felt like I was drowning, I was reading, like all the time. It’s because to these guys – my professors - the books and authors we read were important.  That is, they worked so hard to let us know that.  They could recite prose by memory.  Of their favorite authors, they knew initimate details of their personal histories and relationships.  Many of my professors had published books on the authors they taught.  These were old guys with long hair that fell over their ears, and had stubble that covered their chins.   We would read from their own books. No one argued with them about anything they said.  Not because we were afraid of any consequences, but we were inspired by their passion.  Every time I would raise my hand, I could see it twinkle in their eyes.

Now that I’m teaching my own English classes, I hope I can pass on just a little bit  what I learned from my professors.  I know, I know I will never approach the insight or knowledge they exuded in their classrooms, but the least I can do is share my love for reading with my students. I’m on pace to read 50 books this year.  I say that, for I want to become a reading model.   I READ EVERY DAY.  In both Spanish and English.  I could do it in French if I was called upon.  But, nobody is going to call on me.  Nobody is going to care about my reading habits.  And I’m not saying that each of my lessons or activities in the classroom will turn out the way I could  hope.  I’m just saying, that if you ever came into my clasroom at any time, you will probably see me smiling. That’s for the slightest possibility that student will raise their hand and and ask me about our reading. 

It’s been like four decades since I graduated from my masters program, and I’m still reading after all these years. Maybe not with the same INTENSITY I read for my professors, but with more FREEDOM to make my own reading choices.  This year I’m on pace to reach my 50-book goal.  That’s one a week.  When I’m not grading student submissions or planning new lessons, I’m reading.  I call it JAY’S READING MARATHON.  I live in a house-full of books. Some weeks, I will reach to my shelves to read a book out of the past. When I’m reading one, I’m already searching for another to read in the upcoming week.  Today is Sunday.  I’m headed to the once-a-year event in Mexicali called FERIA DEl LIBRO.  I’m not in danger of running out of any books, but this is what I call the READING LIFE.  You got to find your books when you can - por si caso - just in case. 

This week I turned to New York Review Book Originals to make my reading selection. There is nothing here in this series that is promoted as Eazy Reading, but that's probably why I try to choose a few to read each year. I want to say I'm constantly challenging myself, but my choices are probably based on my responses to the cover art of these books. I may have three to four shelves here in my Mexicali house dedicated to books with lurid cover art. When I say lurid, it doesn't mean sexually perverted  -Jaja -- I'm not interested in that, really, but these aren't the kind of books you will find if you shop for your books at Walmart. Many of the covers imply the notion of sex or violence; the artistic representation of the characters are dark and omninous.  Reading is a lonely activity. The covers of these books transport me to other worlds.  New York Review Book Originals aren't based on market sales or profitability.  Their publication is based on the love for reading.  These are books to display on your shelves. This is where I found Jean-Patrick Manchette's novel about a cold-blooded killer.  A Femme Fatale. 

The main character's name is Aimée Joubert.   Like Lou Reed says in a song of the same name, "Here she comes/ You better watch your step/ She's going to break your heart in two/ It's true..."    On the cover of my copy, Aimee is wearing  silky, sexy lingerie and packing a heavy black automatic pistol.  I'm not sure which gets my heart beating faster.  She commits her first murder on page four when she points a 16-guage shotgun at a man taking a rest during a Sunday-morning duck shoot on a quiet French countryside.  He had a gun in his hands as well, and  that's probably why he smiled at her when he saw her coming.  Apparently, she didn't think anything was so amusing. Before, he could say anything, she lets him have it with both barrels.   We don't know why she killed him, or anything about her background, but as she walks away, this guy is lying face down  in the mud, and we know she is bad-ass.  She is a Femme Fatale.

I know, I'm like 900 words into this piece of writing and I have yet to hint of Aimée's motivation for killing. I find it ironic, that in French the name Aimee can be loosley translated to "beloved."  How could anyone with such hard edges carry such soft spots in her heart?   But, Aimee does.  In between  killings she visits her near-deaf mother who lives alone in a small stone house in a tiny hamlet in the French countryside.  Probably not too far away where Aimee had blasted the duck hunter in the first chapter.  Here Aimee stops by to ensure that her mother is safe and happy.  She brings her mother her favorite tobacco and  conveys to her she has placed more money in  her bank account. This passage reminds me of something eerily similar to something I read about Marilyn Monroe.  At age four, Marilyn was separated from a mother who was diagnosed with  paranoid schizophrenia.  Marilyn's mother was institutionalized in a mental hospital, and Marilyn was left to live in foster homes and orphanages.  Through her adulthood, Marilyn maintained a complicated and strained relationship with her mother, but she never abandoned her.  Up until the day Marilyn died, she strived to provide her mother with the emotional and financial support she needed.  I write this because many of Marilyn's biographers imply Marilyn inherited an emotionally scarred life from her mother, and she knew it.  I'm writing this here because I know almost nothing about Aimee's childhood, but following my readings of Marilyn, I can infer a connection between the way Aimee treats her mother and her complicated nature.

I can’t really tell you what was it that drew me to this book, Fatale,  or why I’m posting this.   Anything I have read here or have written about Aimee is never going to make it to my classroom.  I'm just thinking out loud.  Not too long ago, I shared some of my reading for the death of Marilyn Monroe in an introductory composition class, and I was so surprised by the reaction of my students.  To supplement the reading, I shared a video that featured the events that led to Marilyn’s death  and details of the crime scene.  The L.A. coroner classified Monroe's death a "probable suicide,"  but based on what we saw on screen, my students think otherwise.  Our discussion spurred curiosity and empathy that I hadn’t really seen or heard previously in other lessons.  Later, I read a Joyce Carol Oates’ fictional account of Marilyn’s life and death to the class.  This week we covered another Joyce Carol Oates piece that comes with a violent ending: her classic short story, “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” Again, we are all in.  I’m not writing any book reports here.  The female protagonists I mention in this post have haunted me to this day. I think about the connections Aimee and Marilyn had for their mothers.  I would imagine my students would  too.  I still read about Marilyn. Here in Mexicali,  I have a complete shelf devoted to her biographies.  I imagine when I speak about Marilyn, you can hear both admiration and sadness in my voice. 

I think that’s my point. The best reading I can share with my students is not always going to come from places you expect.  If I were to share anything from Fatale in my classoom, it would come straight from the heart.  That’s the minimum you should expect from your professor..

Jay's TELEX FROM CUBA Post - Rachel's Kushners First Novel - Reading Parade 2025 Marches On!

   

 

What I like most in  this book is to see first-time novelist Rachel Kushner make her own rules.  That’s what I’ve always heard is best thing to do in any writing workshop I’ve ever participated in – I mean, this is fiction. When it comes down to it, the job of a fiction writer is to just make things up.  Cuba may be located 90 miles south from the tip of Florida, and in 1958, we all know what was happening on the island.   Fidel Castro's army of rebels were in the mountains, prepared and primed  for revolution against what they considered American Imperialism.   They had had enough with being treated as second-class citizens in their own country. Rachel Kushner makes Fidel Castro an important character in her story; she dives behind the scenes of what we read in the history books to give us a Down and Dirty look at Fidel Castro before he became Fidel Castro.  The Americans were worried.  I’m talking about the American investors in the sugar industry threatened by their own labor force, and the American government threatened by communist sympathizers.  It’s well-documented, but the Cuba of Rachel’s novel is her Cuba --  She can do anything she wants with it.

Fidel C. is not the only Down and Dirty character in this book – the novel begins with Fidel C’s rebels burning down the valued American United Fruit sugar cane fields on the island of Cuba.  The sky turns black.  Ashes fell like snow.  Native workers mysteriously disappeared.  There was no one to help extinguish the fire.  The message of this book is clear:  “YANQUIS GO HOME!!”   Rachel Kushner relies on her poetic license to create a very interesting figure in the Cuban Revoltuion.  The name of the character is Rachel K.  Sort of like Franz Kafka’s protagonist Joseph K in the novel The Trial. To look for Rachel K, you will need to go to the Tokio Bar in Havana’s seedy sex district. Rachel K is a “zasou dancer.”  I’m not sure what that is, but she has dark eyes and full lips, and for her dancing numbers, she paints her fishnets directly on her skin with liquid mascara.  She appears to be a Gypsy Jew that has fled religious persecution in Europe.  In Havana, she maintains sexual relationship  with an ex-Waffen mercenary who now works for Fidel C.  That’s just the start of it. I think she sleeps with both the exiled Cuban president Prio and the newly inagurated Cuban president Bautista. She’s like a Spy/Prostitute/Zasou Dancer that peddles information to stay alive.

The story of Telex to Cuba is narrated by two rich and priveledged American teenagers. These two happen to be the children of a rich and ambitious American United Fruit executive who is tasked with keeping the sugar cutting and the money flowing. The family lives in a closely guarded/protected community estate where the only Cubans to be seen work as servants.  I know.  I know that Rachel must have heard criticisms for the perspective of her narrators.  I mean what are they going to know about revolutionary politics. They are both young and naive. I like red-headed Emily, for she is very observant. She reminds me of Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird. She’s like the moral compass of the novel.   From the beginning, racial lines are clearly drawn.  The White People are there to run things on the island.  The Cubans are there for their whim and disposal.  Emily is not that pretty,  but she makes up for it with the respect and dignity she shows for the less-priveledged on the island.   Her first love is a Hatian servant learns English by reading discarded fashion magazines.   This may be a Good Move on the author’s part.  This gives her the chance to integrate multiple perspctives into her narrative.  Emily, who is coming-of-age, sees things one way.  Her future is nothing but HOPE.  Rachel K, who has been around the block, sees things entirely different.  She can’t see beyond tomorrow.  Together, these two touch us in  different ways.

I’m with the author – Rachel Kushner -  when she draws the real Ernest Hemingway into her story.  It’s only fair.  His  presence was huge on the island in 1958.  Somewhere near the halfway point in the novel, Rachel sits Ernie down at Floridita bar next to one of her principle characters, an ex-Nazi colonel refugee,  What and odd couple they make.  Of course Ernie is hammered.  From what I read, he wakes up every morning at 6:00 and works his ass off until noon.  That’s his system: to lay it down – his word total – and then leave it behind him until the next day.  This is when he begins drinking.  He once said, “I have spent all my life drinking, but since writing is my ture love I never get the two mixed up.”

Jaja.  Rachel paints a scene where the ex-Nazi walks into the famous Floridita bar.   The guy’s name is Christien de la Maziere.  It sound French because it is French.  Christien might be Rachel K if he was a woman.  I say this, for he shows the propensity to jump sides when he needs to.  Apparently when German Army steamrolled through his France, he found his way to the winning side.  He talked himself from being killed to being a killer.    And  wouldn’t you know who he sits down next to in la Floridita?  Our favorite American Author.   In the Wehrmach, Christien learned how to kill, torture, and dispose of bodies.  But inside the Floridita, he is ill-prepared for Hemingway’s drunken behavior.  Hemingway, the macho-man he is, patronizes and lectures the Frenchman sitting next to him.  I’m sure Christien was thinking three things:  He didn’t have any idea who Hemingway was or what he was talking about.  But, could he take out a gun and shoot him on the spot?  Probably not. Christien takes over the narrative when we get tired of Emily and Rachel K.  Another good move by the author.

I think I have found a new favorite author in Rachel Kushner. Right now, I’m reading her second novel The Flamethrowers.  Don’t ask me what it’s about – I’ve only started – but already I think I can see another side of Rachel K.  This time the character is named Reno. Sorry, no one-letter abbreviation for a last name.  Just Reno.  She’s called Reno, because, well, she’s from Reno, Nevada.  In the first chapter, the author has exchanged the fishnet stocking look that Rachel K displayed in Telex for  sweaty leather racing pants that Reno sports in Flamethrowers.  Reno has just graduated from art school and she his headed cross-country for New York City on an Italian motorcycle for inspiration. Immediately, I see a lot of Rachel K in Reno.  Ernie Hemingway often based his fiction on his real-life experience.  In The Sun Also Rises, the main character Jake Barnes eerily reminds us of the author himself.  He drinks, fights, and betrays his closest friends. In this novel, Jake B says, "Everybody behaves badly.  Give them the proper chance."  Rachel Kushner appears to follow his advice.  She makes her own rules.  I like it.

Jay's HOLLYWOOD ICON Post - The Real James Dean - Meteoric Rise to Fame - Fiery Car Crash - The Legend Lives On

  Nearly fifty years ago, I began my first semester at college at UC Santa Barbara, and if my math is correct, that means I was about the same age as most of my students are now.   One of my first elective classes was called something like “Pop Culture History.”  Pop Culture was a relatively new term then, so I didn’t know what it meant exactly, but it fit into my schedule, so I took it.  I mean with the word “Pop” in  the title, how hard could it be?  On the syllabus, the professor had offered us list of 50 people or topics we could choose from to write our term papers.  I didn’t know it THEN, but I know it NOW,  that everything we discussed or read in this class has left a indelible stamp on our culture and history.  I chose James Dean.  I don’t know why.  This was before the internet had been invented.  I had probably seen his poster – BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS -  sold in shopping malls and thought he was cool.  Jaja.  In this way I can relate to how my students choose their research topics.   I openly admiit: Not much thought involved in my selection process!  But, my paper turned out to be 21 pages TYPED – with a TYPEWRITER!  It was my first A.  I remember that the students on my dormitory floor loved the essay.  They volunteered to read parts of it out loud in my dorm room;  however,  I eventually saw my classmates in Pop Culture History hate me for the grade I received.  I mean, I probably wrote twice as much as anyone else.  That’s because I found so much to write about.  James Dean was and still is such an interesting figure. He only made three films before he died in a fiery car crash at age twenty four.  These three, we still talk about today.  In my research paper, I wrote of his journey to become an important actor.  That goal he definitely achieved. I can’t think of too many actors as INTERESTING as James Dean.

This week I finished Peter Winkler'sThe Real James Dean; then,  I watched Dean’s last film Giant.  It was Jimmy D's last film because he died before the film was ever completed.  In this movie, he plays a character that elevates from an impovershed young man to a greedy-ass, cutthroat oil tycoon.  He ages 50 years in this movie.  I might be able to say, that when Jimmy assumes the character of Jett Rink, he is basically playing himself – a man of relentless ambition and single-minded focus. But I would be wrong.  We will never know how James Dean would have fared in real life. On the morning of Sept. 30, 1955, he drove his brand new Porsche 550 Spyder from Hollywood enroute to Salinas to participate in a racing event.

THEY TOLD HIM NOT TO GO.  The studio knew who he was and what he was about.  His contract prohibited him from all racing events during the duration of the film shoot.  Jimmy D waited until all his scenes were shot before speeding off into the Wide Blue Yonder.  If ACTING was the most important thing in his life,  SPEED may have been a close second. Following Grapevine on the way up to Salinas,  Jimmy D received a ticket - for SPEEDING. Two hours later, he found himself approaching a barren stretch of the highway.  This is where highways 466/41 and 46 meet.  He saw a Ford Coupe carelessly enter the intersection apparenty without checking oncoming traffic.  The last words Jimmy Dean ever said were to his friend sitting in the passenger seat of the Spyder: "That guy is going to see us, Right?" Dean suffered a broken neck in the head-on collision. First responders at the scene probably didn't know who he was.  The public had seen him in only one film, East of Eden.  Rebel without a Cause was yet to be released.  Giant was in the can. By the time an ambulance transported him to the nearest hospital, Jimmy D was D.O.A.

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Peter Winkler's The Real James Dean is an anthology of interviews, articles and personal memories of the young actor who left us much too early. This may be hard to believe, but many of the most insightful and interesting recolloections of Jimmy may have come from people who knew him before he became James Dean. Adeline Nall was his high-school English teacher in Fairmont. Indiana.  She was the one who turned Jimmy on to Drama and Speech.  It wasn't easy!  Young Jimmy was the school's basketball and baseball star.  He would have been the first to tell you that academics just wasn't his thing.  But, when Mrs. Nall posted the announcement of an Indiana statewide speech tournament, she must have have stirred Jimmy's competitive juices. In her essay, she describes how he transformed into a serious actor right before her eyes. Participants in this Indiana speech tournament would be required to step on stage an present and interpret dramatic readings in front of thousands of people. This was Indiana basektball-mad country, and Jimmy was the leading scorer on his high-school team.  Stepping on stage in front of a skeptical  crowd was his thing. He personally selected his own monologue to read  from a college catalogue claled, "A Madman's Manuscript."  He once told the New York Times that it was "about this real gone cat who knocks off several people." He implored Mrs. Nall to teach him everything she knew, probably in same way a boxer implores guidance from his trainer.  Jimmy D was hooked by the acting bug. He became the statewide winner in Dramatic Declamation.

  This book is filled with these types of anecdotes. Everyone in the book recognizes Jimmy's complete devotion to becoming an actor - even if they didn't seem to like him as a person.  They respected his single-minded focus. His father writes of the life-long strain in their relationship. On more than a few occasions, he tried to steer Jimmy away from acting.  "Jimmy, acting is a good hobby," he told him, "but why don't you study something  substantial?"  This happened when Jimmy came out West to study acting at UCLA.  By this time in his life, he tuned everyone out save for his acting coach or director.  Several actors who shared the stage with him apparently hated the experience of working with him.  It seems while an entire cast could be dedicated to one goal, Jimmy goals often drifted far, far away from theirs.  How could they not?  We know now Jimmy to act on another plane. Popular character actor Hume Cronyn blasted Jimmy for not following the script.  In rehearsals, he would not only find Jimmy off mark, but he could not depend that he would read the lines he was supposed to. Jimmy D was a method actor deluxe.  His ideas came deep from within his soul, not form the mind of the writers.  In Rebel Without a Cause, Jimmy nearly killed the actor playing his father, Jim Backus, in the shooting of a family feud:  "YOU ARE TEARING ME APART!"  In Giant, Jimmy nearly duked it out with Rock Hudson, on and off camera. Rock, who was much more famous, wasn't going to allow this up-and-comer steal his scenes. Jimmy thought Rock was a lousy actor. The tension they exude on screan is REAL.  Just the way Jimmy wanted it. 

Near the end of the book, legendary actor Sir Alec Guiness shares an encounter he had with the unknown James Dean – this was before any of Jimmy’s movies would have made it to the big screen. The meeting of these two legends took place at a small Italian restaurant called the Villa Capri.  Sir Alec had just been turned away at the door, for the restaurant was full.  I would imagine that doesn’t happen too often to a big star like Sir Alec, but it did.  Sir Alec writes about his hunger and frustation he felt walking away, when a young man came up quickly to invite him to join him at his table inside the restaurant.  It was James Dean!  But that name wouldn’t mean anything to Sir Alec.  He was just relieved for the opportunity to sit down and eat. Sir Alec gladly followed Jimmy back to the restaurant,  only to have Jimmy firrst guide him through the restaurant’s courtyard where the young man  had parked his brand new Porsche Spyder that coud travel at speeds exceeding 150 miles per hour. Jimmy told Sir Alec he just completed his latest film, and he planned to race the Spyder in Salinas the very next week.

Sir Alec, known for his impeccable control on stage, may have lost a little bit of it when he peered into Jimmy’s eyes.  He must have understood that Jimmy was dying for his approval;  otherwise, why would he have chased him down the street?  This is the advice that Sir Alec gave to the young actor. “Please, never get in it,” he said. “If you get in that car you will be found dead in it by this time next week.”   Sir Alec was known for his interests in the paranormal.   He was a regular patron of Tarot readings. He writes himself he had experienced visions of his own fate, a few of them may have saved him from his own death.   But, why was he sharing his fears  o a complete stranger? Jimmy’s reaction was very  much in line with how he listened to people throughout this book.  If it wasn’t about acting, he just didn’t listen.  One week later, Jimmy was pronounced dead on arrival at Paso Robles War Memorial Hospital.

It’s hard to believe that I’m still  writing about Jimmy D fifty years after I first saw him on the big screen. I must pay tribute my college professor that provided his students with opportunities to explore and/or discover new interests. In each of the classes I teach now, I find providing students choice of research topics empowers them with a special sense of freedom that they unfortunately do not see in many classes. The results are often deeply personal responses to what they read.  Funny how that works. I read every day.  A book a week.  I often feel disconnected from the interests of my students, but at the same time I look to  my own reading to create new interests for them to discover.  I’m constantly creating new lists of topics that may engage them in my semester writing projects.  I won’t be around, but maybe in fifty years, some of my students will still be talking about the topics they covered in Mr. Lewenstein’s class.