Oh L'Amour

The history of the kiss. (via The Morning News)

Medieval literature abounds in equivocal kisses, with lovers and lechers exploiting the social and religious conventions of the day to advance their own particular sexual agendas. The fine line separating social from sexual kissing caused much social anxiety and provided rich possibilities for drama, both comic and tragic.

Seeing Red

Giornale Nuovo has pix of an intriguing art installation by Peter Johansson. The project is housed on a little island called Stakholmen. (via Placement)

I thought readers of this blog might enjoy an excerpt from the beginning of Emile Zola's novel Nana, which I read recently and alluded to in a previous post.

At nine o'clock in the evening the body of the house at the Theatres des Varietes was still all but empty. A few individuals, it is true, were sitting quietly waiting in the balcony and stalls, but these were lost, as it were, among the ranges of seats whose coverings of cardinal velvet loomed in the subdued light of the dimly burning luster. A shadow enveloped the great red splash of the curtain, and not a sound came from the stage, the unlit footlights, the scattered desks of the orchestra. It was only high overhead in the third gallery, round the domed ceiling where nude females and children flew in heavens which had turned green in the gaslight, that calls and laughter were audible above a continuous hubbub of voices, and heads in women's and workmen's caps were ranged, row above row, under the wide-vaulted bays with their giltsurrounding adornments. Every few seconds an attendant would make her appearance, bustling along with tickets in her hand and piloting in front of her a gentleman and a lady, who took their seats, he in his evening dress, she sitting slim and undulant beside him while her eyes wandered slowly round the house.

And then there's this: A review of The Blackout, a vampire film which stars Dennis Hopper and Matthew Modine and apparently involves a remake of the movie adaptation of Nana as part of the plot. I've added it to my Netflix queue and will post an update once I've seen the film.

Image: Édouard Manet's Nana

Oh, Behave! Part IV

More excerpts from the antiquated "Lady's Guide to Perfect Gentility (1856)" by Emily Thornwell. In this installment: Where Caroline Bingley went wrong and Elizabeth Bennett triumphed and where one wonders if "Emily Thornwell" is really just a nom de plume for a man whose mother was a beautiful but cruel cynic.

Talking excessively.--Beware of talking too much; if you do not talk to the purpose, the less you say the better; but even if you do, and if, withal, you are gifted with the best powers of conversation, it will wise for you to guard against excessive loquacity. By this, we do not advise you to yield to a prudish reserve; but even that would scarcely be a more offensive extreme than to monopolize the conversation of a whole circle.

Undue pretensions to learning.--Avoid even the appearance of pedantry. If you are conversing with persons of very limited attainments, you will make yourself far more acceptable, as well as useful to them, by accommodating yourself to their capacities, than by compelling them to listen to what they cannot understand. Possibly in some instances you may make them stare at your supposed wisdom, and perhaps they may even quote you as an oracle of learning; but it is much more probable that even they will smile at such an exhibition as a contemptible weakness.
With the intelligent and discerning, this effect will certainly be produced; and that whether your pretensions to learning are well founded or not; the simple fact that you aim to appear learned, that you deal much in allusion to the classics, or the various departments of science, with an evident intention to display your familiarity with them, will be more intolerable than absolute ignorance.

Against sarcastic remarks.--Be careful also ahow you indulge in sarcasm. If you are constitutionally inclined to this, you will find that there is no point in your character which needs to be more faithfully guarded. There are some few cases in which severe irony may be employed to advantage; cases in which vice and error will shrink before it, when they will unhesitatingly confront every other species of opposition.
It too often happens, however, that those who possess this talent use it indiscriminately; and perhaps even more frequently to confound modest and retiring virtue than to abash bold and insolent vice. But be assured that it is a contemptible triumph that is gained, when, by the force of sarcasm, the lips of a deserving individual are sealed, and the countenance crimsoned with blushes.

Freedom Frites

Although I neglected to mention Bastille Day last week, I was observing the holiday in my own way. The storming of the Bastille on July 14, 1789 sparked the French Revolution, an era of political and moral turmoil that influenced poets and artists and served as the setting for some of my favorite novels from The Scarlet Pimpernel to A Tale of Two Cities. Failing to time my reading list properly, I was zipping through a translation of Nana by Emile Zola, which is set a century after the French Revolution and tells the story of a Parisian courtesan, whom Amy aptly labeled "the Paris Hilton of her day." That being the case and given that I was in Manhattan, I chose to instead commemorate the holiday by enjoying a variety of French cuisine throughout the week. Starting with steak frites at Pastis on Monday night, I enjoyed an orange and olive appetizer at Cafe Gitane on Tuesday, cheese at Gramercy Tavern on Wednesday, and a breakfast of eggs en cocotte at the gorgeous Balthazar on Friday.

Life as a House

Last week I got the chance to take one of the Lower East Side Tenement Museum Tours: "Piecing It Together: Immigrants in the Garment Industry." Throughout the hour-long tour, the docent really provided a unique glimpse into the lives of some of the people who lived and worked in what were the nineteenth century versions of "the projects," sweat shops where clothes were made, tailored, and pressed in sweltering apartments with little ventilation. Most of the immigrants in that particular tenement in the late 1800s and throughout the early twentieth were Jews from Russia, Germany, and (I think) Lithuania. Although my family were Irish, Scottish, and British Protestants and Catholics who arrived sometime before the Civil War and prior to Ellis Island being the entry point, just seeing firsthand how hard immigrants worked to survive was quite moving. It's a striking reminder of how important the immigrant population has been and continues to be. In fact, according to the docent, 75% of the NYC garment industry is still illegal or "sweat shop" status.

Dear Diary

Sunday, 19 July slept, woke, slept, woke, miserable life

The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1910-1923, blogged. (via The Morning News)

Between the Sheets

Get the latest book-on-film action and other hot news including Amy's review of the new David and Amy Sedaris' play and my take on the Ioan Gruffudd-starring sobfest Solomon and Gaenor at Romancing the Tome.

Bel Canto

Set in an undisclosed capital somewhere in South America, Ann Patchett’s Bel Canto weaves a delicious story about the human heart told through the interactions between a houseful of guests and the terrorist organization that holds them hostage. This winner of the 2002 Orange Prize and the 2002 PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction is both a romance and a thriller, but displays a subtlety rarely possessed by either genre. For me, Bel Canto takes its place alongside the film Immortal Beloved in its valiant attempt to express the seductive power—and even enhance one’s enjoyment—of classical music.

Oh, Behave! Part III

Another installment of "The Lady's Guide to Perfect Gentility (1856)."


How to address young gentlemen.--Do not be tempted to indulge in another proof of feminine indecorum, which may be countenanced, but can never be sanctioned by example; that of addressing young gentlemen of your acquaintance, who are unconnected with you, by their christian names. It opens the way to unpleasant familiarities on their part, more effectually than you can well imagine, unless you have been taught the painful lesson by the imprudence of a friend.

Against deceptive remarks and representations.--Much of the civility of fashionable life savors strongly of deception. We refer not only to the habit which some ladies have of sending word to visitors that they are not at home, when they are only engaged, but to the painful regrets that are often expressed at the distance between calls; to the unspeakable joy which is manifested on meeting a fashionable acquaintance; to the earnest imporunity that is exhibited for early visits, when the truth is, in each case, that the real feeling is that of absolute indifference. Guard against duplicity in all its forms. Rely upon it, it is not necessary to true politeness.