Having read the entire Hunger Games trilogy last year, I was ever so eager to see the film. It came out in Lent so we were saving it for our Bright Week treat. But when we got there, the theatre had technical difficulties, so we had to find another time in our over-full schedule to view it, and at long last we got there last night. It was everything I hoped, one of the best movie adaptations of a book I've ever seen-- and of a book that was exceptionally good to begin with.
We were discussing it around the fire afterward and enthusing about the character of Peeta.
I've written in this blog about several literary characters who are heroic and even chivalrous-- Reepicheep is perhaps the best of all-- but I am really thrilled with author Suzanne Collins for giving us Peeta, the boy with the bread as a-- dare I say it-- role model for young men today. A role model who shows us that chivalry is not dead yet.
When Katniss is suffering severe hunger, collapsed in the rain behind the bakery owned by Peeta's family, he comes out to give some burnt bread to the pigs, and seeing her there he throws one of the loaves her way. The book expands on this incident, and we know that not only did he give her the bread; in order to help Katniss, he deliberately
burned the bread in the first place so his mother would make him throw it out. He did this even though he knew very well she would beat and scold him for burning the loaves.
Katniss herself is certainly no spoiled princess-- and she too shows her sterling character from the start of the story, first risking herself regularly to hunt and provide for her family, then stepping forward to take her little sister's place in the arena.
At the end of the movie, of course, the rules of the horrific Survivor
-like Hunger Games are switched on them, and the promise that two might be victors together is snatched away from them. Of course Peeta instantly offers himself up so Katniss may survive. And Katniss of course finds a way out, forcing the gamemakers to to allow them both to live.
Amid all this heroism there is one small detail in the film version that to me particularly spells 'chivalry'. Peeta lies in danger of death, and starts talking to Katniss about the incident with the bread. "I should have just given it to you!" he laments. The boy with the bread took a beating to help her, but now as he looks back on what is likely his rather short life, he can only think he should have done what he did in a better way.
Chivalry is never just satisfied with a right thing. It strives to do the rightest thing that can be done, in the rightest way it can find to do it.
Here on A Spell for Refreshment,
I try to focus largely on the positive side of things, the side of light and refreshment, though I have talked in some posts about how this doesn't mean spiritually refreshing stories shy away from the darkness and ugliness in the world. But the cliche about lighting one candle rather than cursing the darkness certainly applies. So when I was reading some articles about how a depressing percentage of young people in our society are "more confident, assertive, entitled-- and more miserable than ever"
, it threw Peeta
posted by Neil
Now people are asking for punk-time age 16 photos. The only photo out there that I know of is the one in the back of The Kindly Ones
, although my friend Geoff Notkin, who was the drummer in the band, assures me that somewhere in a storage facility far from where he lives he has all the photos taken that day, and I think I will remind him of this. (Here is his website: http://notkin.net/
. Go and buy meteorites from him so that he will feel well-disposed-enough towards the world to go to another city and and rummage.)
At the end of April it's the PEN World Voices Festival of International Literature
. I'm honored to be taking part.
I was there a couple of years ago and loved it. Am sure I'll love it this time.
Jane Curtin (yes, that Jane Curtin) can be heard reading my story "Chivalry" as part of the PRI "Selected Shorts" series.
(For the curious, you can hear me reading it at http://www.last.fm/music/Neil+Gaiman/_/Chivalry
and if I could find it online I'd link to the Christina Pickles reading of it too -- although it's in the Selected Shorts: Lots of Laughs audiobook.) It's funny, hearing other people read that story, because it's the story I've read aloud the most: I know what each word does for a live audience, and so keep wishing I could direct the reader ("Use the word 'nice' like a weapon wherever it turns up. It means something different every time anyone uses it. Play Galaad utterly straight. Domestic details always trump Arthurian details...")
There's a wonderfully (unintentionally) funny (if dim) bad review of Coraline
. It's the kind of review that makes you suspect the reviewer is reviewing the inside of his own head, and not the film at all. When I linked to it on twitter several people wrote in to reassure me that this was not typical of all Christians, something I already knew: I've linked to a bunch of astonishingly sensible Christian reviews of Coraline
earlier on this blog (and here's another sane one, as a makeweight: http://www.gospelandculture.org/2009/03/coraline/
Daniel Pinkwater is one of my favourite authors. His new book, The Yggyssey
, is up online, and you can read it at http://www.theyggyssey.com/
Isn’t it fabulous that every week, close to 50 people stop whatever they’re doing in their so busy lives and think, consider, research, write, find and compile all these wonderful poems and stories?
I think it’s astounding and I think each of you amazing contributors are making the world a better place one poem at a time. I’m so thankful for you all. You’ve opened up the window on my world and made it a richer, more colorful tapestry. Here’s to you all and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season filled with joy and hope.
I thought I'd do a nonsense poem as a round-up, like I did last time I hosted, but your poems wanted their own way and it became a story of two friends who look to each other when illness strikes. It's still a little nonsensical thought.
This epistolary round-up is dedicated to a friend that is far away. I'm thinking of you and hope I can be as good a friend as Tom.
Holiday Round-upHey Charley,
Did ya know that each night a child is born is a holy night
,Which fills the poet’s happy soul
whilefrogs dream the winter away
Charley writes back that he's had the chest pains for weeks,
Why do we bother with the rest of the day
?Come out and greet with me
the moment the dark begins
Tom writes back to Charley. The bird on the terrace has his own name in French, but I don't
.Gull and pull
away from the dark man!Eat pride with your doggerel and lace it with rum.
Communing with nature
onthe night before Christmas
, Charley's memories
of Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea
The sea said, see i will comfort you.His house is in the village though
, a long walk from the sea.He liked wolves and eagles and grizzly bearsHe was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot
a strange sight to the sunbathers who had never seenthe junipers shagged with ice
. Sleeping in snatches
, Tom worries about his friend
He wakes, gets up and sits down
to write some cards…
thinking, I will turn it around
Charley is thinking too.Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away onSearching through the darkness,
his thoughts sped through the snow, then under a river...
Tom wrote, fight the good fight
!One must have a mind of winterWalking into the face of wind
,Praise be to the distant sister sun All just to say, you are my friend
Charley laughs, his first in weeks
at the line from Tom that says,Hate to take the castor-ile they give for bellyache
Tom thinksHad I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
I'd use them toTake up the strain that wings it's way
, You have to hold him up.The wind howls, hisses, and but stops to howl more loudThe longest night and the shortest day.Tough Boy Sonatas
, Charley thinksThe Christmas of my life
.Something I just noticed,
said Tom The tropical moon gave the city a glow
,Things grew brighter, more distinct, themselves
.Yes, your throat is froggy
But it's better than it was.
Your friendship did it, said Charley the swirling curves of spiraled space and timewith feasting and good cheer
and the Tamalitos de Cambray!
My apologies for the delayed round-up. As indicated in the previous post, I was crazed getting ready for the Annie Awards, the animation industry's biggest night. It was an amazing night too. The food was great, Ratatouille and Brad Bird won just about everything there was to win, one of my favorite shows El Tigre and it's creator Jorge Gutierrez won awards and I met and saw lots of interesting and fun people. I thought you'd might like to take a peek at the dress I ended up with so I'm tacking in a picture. There's this kind of weird guy in between me and my date, maybe you'll recognize him. He's a really nice guy.
I apologize if I didn't get to comment on your poems, I'll be swinging by throughout the week to do so. I did read them all and they were wonderful and I've so many new poets to add to my list.
On to the round up, I really enjoyed making these mashed up nonsensical story poems of our postings so I'm going to give it another shot.
It began in Frenzy over at the little house
Where Billy, charming Billy was looking for a pearl.
At the Wild Rose, there's everything from Lincoln to Moses, so why dream?
"Well" said The Blue Rose Girls, "how about a love poem with toast?"
Each of us has a name given by God, even when the clouds come.
The red wheel barrow puzzles us while the mother in the refugee camp
breaks out hearts and Lady Macbeth reminds us to be ourselves.
Wherever in the wastes of our days, there should always be time for haiku
At the very least poetry in 15 words or less
or things like painting in the sweet spring.
In every heart there is a room still and quiet
when it is peace.
Though I am old with wandering (welcome Laurel!),
I imagine children's faces are replacing flower pots
in a fabulous March to the Sea.
Oh to be of use!
The mouse of Amherst calls
It's time for Langston's train ride.
There's a conference you see, on the neuroscience of Mother Goose.
In the land of Nod
there is a fury of overshoes
Death's second self, the Armadillo is preening
as much as the books that fillt it.
A clear midnight, in an Irish winter
they are getting ready as if for a Bronx masquerade
He is already beside me, that honeybee
and if you will be my valentine
and write me epyllions of love
then i will stop forcing spring
Climb inside a poem
are good to start with.
This little bag of poetry is becoming heavy
or maybe it's just that
Defenseless under the night,
the blind men and the elephant dream
of Snow White and apples, while
Miss Lee and Mrs. Fuller end Poetry Friday.