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Still Life With Oysters and Lemon: On Objects and Intimacy by Mark Doty
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To that end, here is a quote from Virginia Woolf that seems somehow relevant, though admittedly she is not talking about objects, but nonetheless ordinary life, "Beauty, the world seemed to say. And as if to prove it (scientifically) wherever he looked at the houses, at the railings, at the antelopes stretching over the palings, beauty sprang instantly. To watch a leaf quivering in the rush of air was an exquisite joy. Up in the sky swallows swooping, swerving, flinging themselves in and out, round and round, yet always with perfect control as if elastics held them; and the flies rising and falling; and the sun spotting now this leaf, now that, in mockery, dazzling it with soft gold in pure good temper; and now again some chime (it might be a motor horn) tinkling divinely on the grass stalks—all of this, calm and reasonable as it was, made out of ordinary things as it was, was the truth now; beauty, that was the truth now. Beauty was everywhere." — Virginia Woolf (Mrs. Dalloway)
I finished reading this book and I am glad I waited, it was quite memorable for me as well, he talks of holding onto things, for their permanence. My mother kept in her pocketbook Certs mints, and tissues, which any lady would always have at hand. It also evoked memories of voices not so much in what he wrote, but i remember as a young girl, not wanting to leave the room, while my grandmother was talking, she had an eloquent way of speaking, I cannot readily recall what she spoke of, but she had a musical lilting quality of speech, that brought tears to my eyes, when Doty is recalling his grandmother and his lover's death, that it is making me cry as I am now posting. This book is a keepsake.
Page 67 presented a couple of items of interest to me. First, that we think we need to turn inward to find ourselves, but that we can just as well find that by looking outwards, at how we each see the world. Going back to his discussion of things and possessions, you could also say that that the things we love and own also define us.Second was the discussion of ego vs. egoless art. I found that extremely interesting. One reason I don't relate much to contemporary art is that I sense too much of the artist's ego. I'm the same when I read. He talks about those still lifes that lacked the drive towards the artist's personality. For me that meant the shouting of "me, me, me!"
I have a question Why Mark Doty never included any photos of the paintings he’s mentioning in his book?
I like seeing the paintings that are being discussed, but I don't think, especially in this case, that it is essential. For one thing, if they had been black and white reproductions on the paper used in typical paperback book editions, you wouldn't have learned much except for the arrangement. If the reproductions had been good ones in color on high quality paper, the book would have been expensive. In any case, what he is talking about isn't so much a critical disucssion of any particular painting. He uses the paintings as a point of departure to discuss other things such as love of beauty, the meaning of material things in our lives, memory, etc. and that for that we don't need to see the pictures.
Dvora wrote: "I like seeing the paintings that are being discussed, but I don't think, especially in this case, that it is essential. For one thing, if they had been black and white reproductions on the paper u..."Dvora, that is a very good point and I would even go so far as to say that in some ways -- it is helpful as a reader that he didn't include reproductions of the paintings he speaks of -- it made me actually use my own mind to picture the painting -- both objects and the colors as he describes them -- and make my own connections between those descriptions and personal items and connections with periods or events which I might have called up as I read a particular passage. With the internet -- obtaining the images is relatively easy should we wish to see each of the paintings he mentioned.
Dottie, I think you have an excellent point. I have internet access but I never looked up any of the paintings. I thought the book was wonderful, but for me it was not a critical discussion of the paintings per se. It was much better than that.
He did give some descriptions of the still life that he was in love with. I loved how he interwove different meanings into not so much the artwork, but on his thoughts and ideas of holding onto things, and not letting go. And even having the one plate that you treasure and display like a work of art. So he also gives food for thought on a myriad of subjects. I thoroughly enjoyed the book and thanks again to Ruth for recommending to our Art Lovers Group.
With this book Doty has given a perspicacious look at the role of objects in our lives. One of my favorite assignments for my drawing students when I was teaching at SBVC was to tell them to draw a still life that was an autobiography. I always got interesting drawings. We like to think objects are not important in our lives, but they have great significance to most of us.
He actually gave descriptions of many of the paintings he referred to in his writing including some technical information on the components of the paints used at various points in the time of a particular painting and how those components held up or broke down over the ages. I found all of that absolutely fascinating. I find the processes of restoration of artworks of great interest and the effect of time on the paintings is the beginning of the process which at some point must be addressed and reversed if possible if an art work is to remain for those in future generations to enjoy and view. I remember in the Prado a Titian displayed in its restored state and a display which showed step by step what had been the condition before and what steps were taken in the process -- astounding.This idea can carry over to other objects as well -- a book whose pages are brittle with age can often not be rescued but it doesn't mean it cannot be an object of value and much loved -- I know that firsthand -- the cover is loose, the pages are (some of them) loose as well, the paper is brittle, but the pencil inscription inside the cover makes this book a prized possession -- To my brother, Harry, on his 16th birthday, from Sarah Amanda -- my father and his eldest sibling, a half-sister.
Mark Doty also quotes Goethe he would rather posess the painting of the thing than the sumptuous object itself, the image as rendered in oil, was more loved and finally more desirable. Also, Doty said on pg.40 , The image of the daily world he'd prefer to own. When both are made of paint, is a cabbage any less precious than a golden cup.
It seems to me that rather than the still life painting being the only topic of this book, it is also a vehicle for him to talk about objects and their meanings in our lives and the transience of time. I really related to his discussion of the objects we accumulate since I've been going through my own of late in an effort to cull out the accumulated detritus I've collected. In doing so I ended up revisiting places and times in my life, just as he describes having done. It is interesting how our objects define us and we define them.
I loved the story about the plate over the fireplace. How everything changed and yet that plate needed to remain in that one spot. Each object he described seemed to be a sort of portkey to past experiences, with his grandmother, his partner. Even the still life itself transports him to Amsterdam.
Kim wrote: "It seems to me that rather than the still life painting being the only topic of this book, it is also a vehicle for him to talk about objects and their meanings in our lives and the transience of t..."Kim, I absolutely agree with this. I happen to love the still life paintings which he loves and I find that the pull of a modern still life is much as he describes the pull of the particular painting and the paintings overall -- it's the focus an object related to a life, a specific person or to the universality of such objects in the lives of all humans and the peripheral relationship to the interactions of people with one another which a given object can evoke.
I have just recently picked the book up to finish my second reading and was glad to see activity on this discussion once again. I know this will be on my all-time list of great reading experiences for several reasons.
And what are those reasons, Dottie? Curious as usual. I'm reading his story about his dogs too. I guess it can't be helped, but I definitely feel the overshadowing of his partner's death in both books. A feeling of sadness that he transmits. Perhaps in his clinging, through objects, to what once was? Admittedly, the Dutch master still life's can be heavy, though amazing. Yet, I like that he makes a note that the objects are somehow immortalized and that moment in time as well.
I love this idea of looking in and seeing not only our lives in arrest but also the artist's view. So is painting a sort of voyeurism? Is that what attracts us to it? Like reading somebody else's mail or looking into one of the open parlor windows you find here in Holland?
Kim wrote: "And what are those reasons, Dottie? Curious as usual. I'm reading his story about his dogs too. I guess it can't be helped, but I definitely feel the overshadowing of his partner's death in bo..."
I will start with one reason -- and that reason is an additional one sparked by your comment about looking into the open parlour windows in Holland.
His descriptions of Amsterdam, of the museums, the paintings made me deeply homesick for our five years in Belgium as well as for the city of Amsterdam which was one of my favorite cities in which we spent time during our soujourn in Europe. In fact, just typing this has me in tears -- which is relative to something else which you mentioned relative to the objects/still life paintings -- the tie to the death of his partner.
Second, while I was reading this, objects and their ties to people and their lingering value after a person is gone was heavily in focus for me as I was caring for my mother whose mind had suffered a sudden confusion and left her unable to take care of herself physically or otherwise. She periodically fixated on certain things and we spent many hours spread over the months on a broken coffee mug, or in allaying her panic that her quilt was gone or in danger or when she was more in reality, concern over the few remaining belongings which she had in storage. It was intriguing to me that while I could connect the underlying promptings which focused her on those certain few items -- she never once mentioned other items which I would have imagined would be her priority list. I am just returning to my rereading of this book, after her death and all the attendant responsibilites of her services and burial. I am thinking that rereading this book will very likely be a somewhat cathartic experience and will always be tied in memory to all of the long months of caring for her.
Third, my caring for her had interrupted a long, slow process of sorting through my own lifetime of things and reducing it which had drawn to a halt frequently when some particular thing or set of things would pull me into a reflective state which threatened to freeze my progress. The reference in the book to the upstairs room first one and then another turning into storage was very much relevant to what I had been dealing with before taking mother into our home on hospice care.
My fascination with Holland began with Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates and only increased when my fourth grade teacher shared her own life during our study of Holland in history class -- she was a native of Amsterdam and in retrospect I recognize the soft accent which had remained with her. She was one of my earliest chosen role models and I often think of her with great fondness.
And I just realized -- a book which started me on a fascination wtih a country and tied to memories of a certain person has led down a trail of books to another book tied to place, persons, and memory. Is this why we are so attached not only to objects and art portraying art (our own version being photos which are now mushrooming thanks to the digital age) but more specifically to books?
Yes, Doty's way of using objects to funnel us into the past is wonderful. But what called to me even more was his way of making us stop to see. Much of the time we pass through the world only looking, never really seeing the splendor spread out before us every day.And on the subject of seeing, I just learned that Mark
Doty suffered a detached retina last night. No further news as of now.
I'm glad you're enjoying the dog book, Kim. I loved it, even though I haven't had a dog for a long time.
I've been following this exchange with interest. Yes, I believe that works of art, photographs, and books resonate with individuals when they evoke certain memories and provide connections to our understanding of the world. I'll return to the comment I made immdeiately after I read this book. I think Doty is pointing out the transience of existence. By the time any Dutch artist had completed a still life painting, the fruit was no longer fresh and appealing. Japanese art featuring sakura portrays the same lesson. Don't mementoes we collect--whether they are works of art, special books, or anything else--serve to remind us that life is short?
Oh, Ruth, that is not good at all! Yes, the transience of not only the objects in the paintings but that the lives of those whose objects they were as the objects outlive the people who possessed them. And then, thinking of the objects within the context of the paintings, they outlast themselves as well? Yet, they remain not only held in the paintings and memory but to some extent they are universal/eternal in that each generation of people acquires a similar set of objects and for similar purposes? Transience and eternity? Life and death? Just thinking there.
I just wrote and posted a review on this book. The review became longer than I had intended, and more personal than I had intended too. But because this group and this discussion were the reason I read this, I thought I would post here too. Do forgive me for being so long...______________
Last night I sat down with a glass of wine and Still Life with Oysters and Lemon, by the poet Mark Doty. I read it in one go and a second glass of wine. I really don’t have words to describe the experience of reading it. Any attempt to express it seems shallow after Doty’s beautifully crafted prose. I will only say that it has been a long time since I read a book that spoke so deeply to me, but this phrase also seems shallow and clichéd. Yet, speak to me it did.
This book defies genre, and my appreciation of it maybe comes from the fact that I had no expectations about it. Reading other reviewers it seems to me that those mostly disappointed by it were the readers that tried to peg it to a genre, be it art review, memoir or poetry. And if they were looking for a specific theme they had the right to feel disappointed, because it is all of these - art review, memoir and poetry – and none of it.
Oh, I envy Mark Doty though. How can he name so effortless – as it seems - the experiences of my heart. I too have...
...fallen in love with a painting. (...) have allowed myself to be pulled into its sphere by casual attraction deepening to something more compelling. I have felt the energy and life of the painting’s will; I have been held there, instructed.
Often I shy away from describing my experience of art, as I don’t have the academic knowledge or vocabulary to do it, and speaking of art as it tugs my heart, I tend to be melodramatic and incoherent. Then Mark Doty comes along and says it for me, so beautifully, so tenderly.
But he also speaks of life, death and grieving. Maybe this is a book about grieving more than anything else. And on grief he again puts words to feelings I have not been able to vocalize:
Not the grief vanishes – far from it – but that it begins in time to coexist with pleasure; sorrow sits right beside the discovery of what is to be cherished in experience. Just when you think you are done.
It felt surprising too that in a book so small – 70 pages – I relate so close to two of Doty’s experiences. I too love to browse through state sales and auctions. In my part of the world the state auctions are mainly of farm machinery and mechanical tools, but I have found small treasures here and there. White porcelain napkin holders in the shape of chubby chickens, tucked away in a sad box of Tupperware. Medalta pottery, cracked and beautiful in its utility. A wooden horse, its original tail replaced by a rough cord, a survivor of many children’s play. A pocket size New Testament encased in metal covers to protect the heart of a loved one from a bullet on WWI.
These excursions into people’s past, their day-to-day, now relegated to the junk pile. I always felt there was a lesson here, and again I never was able to vocalize it, to name it.
Then, there is Mark Doty’s trip to Amsterdam on his 45th birthday. I was in Amsterdam this last September, celebrating not mine but one of my sister’s 45th birthday. We are three sisters spread very evenly around the globe. I live in the middle of Canada, the birthday girl lives in Sao Paulo, Brazil, and the baby of the family lives in Hong Kong, China. Amsterdam of all places on Earth seemed to be the epicentre of our geographical distances.
I wish that I could say, like Mark Doty, that a visit to the Rijksmuseum was the highlight of our trip, but actually we never made it there. As it is often the case with sisters, we have very different approaches to life, art and travel, and this trip, as special as it was, was really a great exercise on compromises. I forgo the Rijksmuseum for the Van Gogh Museum and an Antiquity Art Show on Alexander the Great at the Amsterdam’s Hermitage Museum.
My experiences at both Museums felt short of Doty’s experience at the Rijksmuseum, and short of my own visits to other art museums in previous years. I found the Van Gogh collection and museum to be too small for the amount of visitors. It was crowed and hot in there. Too many people elbowing each other for a view of the masterpieces made it impossible for me to achieve an emotional connection to the paintings. Yes, rationally I admired then, but I never experience, as Mark Doty would say, being pulled into it, held there and instructed by it. How sorry I feel to say it even, as Van Gogh’s works, above most, generally provoke and emotional connection and response from me.
As for the show at the Hermitage, it was an historical show. Not that the pieces were not artistic, but their value was in the historical exposition of Alexander’s life and influence at his time. An experience that was much more rational than emotional for me.
Yet, I relate to what Doty says on having his senses sharpened by this trip to Amsterdam, and by the viewing of a painting, or art object. And I related to what I think is his bigger message on this book, of how the essence of life impregnates the objects around us. How a chipped china plate carries the memories of other times, other people, and how its intrinsic beauty can affect us and our own lives.
If the museums I visited in Amsterdam did not provoke this, the house of Anne Frank certainly did. Had I been travelling by myself, the line up of people waiting outside would have driven me away. I also suffer from mild claustrophobia, and felt anxious in anticipation of the small spaces that the Franks had to live in. But again, this was a trip of compromises, and one of my sisters felt strongly about visiting it, so we went.
The Frank’s hiding place was actually bigger than I had imagined, and what really disturbed me was its emptiness. As per requested by Otto Frank, Anne Frank’s father, all furniture has been removed. The walls still have the collages the girls did from pictures in magazines that they cut and pasted on a few walls. An open widow in the attic, which they would open from time to time, framed the autumn colours of the trees on the street.
But it was in the absence of personal objects that their suffering was more poignant. The nothingness of life exposed almost brutally. Who were those people? Where are the chairs were they sat to eat and talk? The plates and cutlery? Where are the echoes of their voices, laughter and cries if the objects of their daily lives were also taken from us?
Could a painting of the trees outside replace for the Franks that open window?
No, I don’t think so. As I see it, art does not replace life. But a painting of the view of that widow could let us glimpse into their existence. And sometimes I painting, an installation, and sculpture do just that. It allows us to share an awareness beyond past and future, and we are faced with an essence of feelings and life.
Would I be betraying their pain if I said I felt as if I was viewing an artistic installation while visiting the actual rooms where the Franks hid? I felt detached from the particular individuals that lived and suffered in there, but was embraced by all the suffering represented in the void of this space; the vacuum of their deaths and the deaths of many others in the same time period.
But, here I am again trying to say something of my experience of art and becoming melodramatic... So I better stop right now. Go read the book. Mark Doty says it with so much more poetry and coherence than I could ever do it.
Capitu, that is a wonderful review! Yes, Mark Doty has a knack for expressing his feelings and thoughts in a poetic manner, but I feel that by your review, I am a bit more familiar with your thoughts and feelings of life. Thank you!I can appreciate what you said about those of us who were more inclined to attach the book with a certain genre, I think I fall into that category. You are right in saying that there is no 'specific' theme. There really is no set genre to attribute to this work.
"Not the grief vanishes – far from it – but that it begins in time to coexist with pleasure; sorrow sits right beside the discovery of what is to be cherished in experience. Just when you think you are done."
This is a wonderful quote. This one I can correlate with my own life. My father passed away almost 14 years ago and although it is still hard and my feelings are laced with sorrow, they are also filled with pleasure. I love how he expresses this feeling so eloquently. Thank you for singling that out.
Again, I really like your review, thank you for taking the time to write it and sharing it with us.
Thank you, Capitu. I enjoyed the review very much. And I'm glad you liked the book. I think it's extraordinary.
I'll jump on the genre boat. I was looking for him to settle into something, but indeed he touched so many aspects of life and painting and the role of objects in both that I had a hard time "fitting" him into a certain niche. I liked that and that, nonetheless he did manage to keep it coherent and whole. It was strange for me to read this book at this time as I'm not only getting rid of "things" but also just finished reading about wabi sabi and admiring that quality as well. Just as I finished coming to an understanding of the wabi sabi concept, here comes Doty to reinforce that image. Yes, the broken plate that is repaired is so much more visually intriguing than the whole plate and yes our lives are filled with these objects that have born testament to time passing. It makes me all the more glad, when I look at my beaten wood floor that I didn't go for the full varnishing job the painters suggested when we moved in here years ago. And it helps me to look at myself in a different way too, a bit of wabi sabi makes a person more interesting, don't you think?
I was worried a bit in the beginning though, that he was making the still life out to be something dead and suffocating, but he instead seems to portray it as the "slice of life" which it is. Maybe that's what we should call still life paintings. Because that's what they are, a moment in time, a meal interrupted, a song partially sung, and it leaves us wanting more and being curious about what happened before and what happened after and even what will happen now. Still life's wet our appetite for what is actually happening now with a little taste of yesteryear to make it sweet.
I am glad that you have enjoyed the review. What I did not say in it is that I am a sucker for beautiful prose and this more than anything may have positively predisposed me to this book. I see too (or I am guessing) that most of you are graphic artists and were looking at this book for something more specific in terms of art criticism/commentary.Kim, I understand the idea of the marked hardwood floor. I have a kitchen table that I used to overprotect, nowadays it makes me smile to see the marks left from years of my kids doing homework on it. Maybe I should look at myself in the mirror with the same wabi sabi approach.
I also really like what you say about the still life paintings: ...that's what they are, a moment in time, a meal interrupted, a song partially sung, and it leaves us wanting more and being curious about what happened before and what happened after and even what will happen now.
I think that if one thing of this book will stay with me, it will be a fresh appreciation for still life paintings, which I should really admit I never appreciate much before.
I don't know if most of us are graphic artists. I'm certainly not, although I am a wee bit of a photographer. I didn't have any preconceived idea of what the book was about and I was certainly not disappointed. I loved it. As I read the other posts, I found some that loved it and some that were disappointed, but I don't think one group outweighed the other, and if one did, it was the positive group, as I remember the posts.
Dvora, you are right. I should not have made this assumption. I am sorry.
I'm still back on Bruneleschi's Dome!:-)
Guess I'm not a goodreader!!!
I finished SLWOAL and admit it was painful and beautiful at the same time. Feeling oppression and guilt over possessions, what my brutally honest mom pinpointed as acquisitiveness, and the unfulfilled happiness it represents. Has anyone watched HOARDERS, in horror? I tell my self, "Wow I'm glad I'm not THAT bad!" At age 11 or 12 I bought my own portable b/w tv so I could watch Brando and Newman in the wee hours in my bedroom. Mom would not let me watch the one in the playroom. I started collecting antiques when I was 14: a singer sewing stand, followed by a deco dresser circa age 16. It went on from there.
A woman I used to know was former alcoholic who transformed into a serious shopaholic, sometimes kleptomaniac. She was pretty, fun, gregarious, loved art. A bit too much. She wanted it all!! She had impeccable taste, knew every single beautiful shop (in every city all over the world!); the date and location of every antique show, art event. I was intrigued how she was familiar with so many sales people. Our friendship was fun at first, but during a drive to Chicago to visit her kids, (an excuse for shopping all along the way), I overheard a sales person at an Hermes store tell another salesperson to keep an eye on her for shoplifting! I was mortified!
Anyhow, I got off on a tangent there. I love beautiful things, too. When I die the people going through my things will have a field day. My sister calls my place "Museo di Monica". I purge, but never in a really HUGE way. When I got transferred to California I remember getting rid of two HUGE contractor bags full of clothes. When mom died we gave lots to charity but inherited many of her personal belongs. I love them because they contain her aura but it's more stuff! Purple Heart can always count on a few boxes and bags from me every month. I've had a long and wonderful career in advertising and still have not had the reserve to throw out my portfolio.
Over the last several years I've started gifting my cousin's kids (the females) with jewelry (not all 14 karate), Christian Dior bags, makeup, skin care, high end lingere from Europe (wasted on my me these days) cause I know none of them will be going to Au Printemps soon or feeling tempted by gold satin and lace bra and panties on sale for $85 at Nieman Marcus.
I waited to read your remarks after I'd finished reading this book. I want to say how much I appreciate them and wish you all a happy new year.
Thanks Monica for your wonderful post. I did like hearing about you and your STUFF. I mentioned before that one of the things I liked about the book is that it made me feel that it is OK to like things (or stuff). I loved going to garage sales when I lived in California and still have some treasures that I found there (ceramics, the 30s watch that I bought at an estate sale, not knowing if it worked, and it still runs just fine, thank you, and with its real movement inside, not battery-run, is daintier and prettier than anything on the market today. I have added to those treasures with some STUFF I've bought here in Spain. These things give me pleasure, so what the heck.
Dvora wrote: "Thanks Monica for your wonderful post. I did like hearing about you and your STUFF. I mentioned before that one of the things I liked about the book is that it made me feel that it is OK to like ..."My remarks pale in comparison to everyone else's and I'm amazed at readers like you who have moved overseas. Talk about possessions and change!
One comment that stuck with me when I was being relocated to California was when a personnel person suggested I "imagine my things with me in a new place." Well, it didn't work cause ultimately I left LA.
I heard a story about a factory in Italy that was going to move and the employees said, "Fine! Bye!!" None of them were interested in any sort of relocation. They were quite happy with life where the were.
Today I found a very fitting passage about possessions and longing in a book of essays about two chapters of the Lotus Sutra called, Lectures on the "Expedient Means and "Life Span" Chapters of the Lotus Sutra, by Daisaku Ikeda:
The Wisdom to Discern the True Nature of Attachments
"...the fundamental cause of people's unhappiness lies in their tendency to develop attachments of various kinds...and attachment... is a fetter on one's heart; it indicates earthly desires, cravings and the like.
... the spirit of the Lotus Sutra is not to eradicate earthly desires...we can transform desires-just as they are- into enlightenment.
...It's not a matter of eradicating attachments but of seeing them clearly. In other words, rather than causing us to abandon our earthly desires and attachments, our Buddhist practice enables us to discern their true nature and utilize them as the driving force to become happy.
The truth is that we could not in fact eradicate out attachments even if we so wished. And if, for the sake of argument, it were feasible, doing so would make it impossible to live in the real world.
What is important is that we make full use of our attachments rather than allow them to control us. Toward that end, it is necessary that we recognize them for what they are.
...we develop from a state of life in which we are caught up with our own small worries, to one in which we can challenge progressively greater worries-for the sake of a friend, for many others, for all mankind.
...when we clearly establish our fundamental objective in life, we can utilize our attachments most fully and profitably. We can turn them into tailwinds to propel us toward happiness.
This principle offers an extremely valuable gauge for living in modern society, where people are constantly swept along by various wants and cravings."
That is a great article, Monica. I have never seen 'attachments' in that way--enlightenment. I guess it is a state of mind.Personally, I don't collect things. Well, I do have a lot of statues, but that's about it. I guess this is why I didn't really relate to the book. I'm in the minority, I know. But, I am a bit envious of you all who find 'stuff' that can have significance in your life and make you happy.
Monica, I too enjoyed your last posts. I don’t like to think of myself as a hoarder, but I do “collect” things. I like to think that I only keep what have some “meaning” to me, but, but...
Heather said "I am a bit envious of you all who find 'stuff' that can have significance in your life and make you happy". The Rolling Stones say, "You can't always get what you want. You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you get what you need!"
The Rolling Stones say, "You can't always get what you want. You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you get what you need!" Good line, Monica! Good line!
I have been totally inactive here for a while and am very late to this discussion. I do have to admit I did not read Still Life With Oysters and Lemon but I feel compelled to write a brief thank you to Capitu for her warm and personal review. I will read this book with an edge on understanding due to the depth and enthusiasm of your review.
Thanks Patty. I am glad you enjoyed the review. I think that there is a thing as “the right book at the right time” and the timing of this book was right for me. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Make sure to let us know your thoughts when you are done.
I loved the part about the mints in the purse too. Reminded me of my mother's purse. That would be an awesome subject for a series of still life's (if it hasn't been done before), what women have in their purses. Kind of like what people keep in their fridges. Anyway, the way he wrote it I could totally picture the sticky, sweet wrappers and even imagine finding one buried between the car seat in the back on their way to see the bears.
He's clearly a fan of Virginia Woolf, which explains his wonderfully visually descriptive passages. No surprise to me as he immediately made me think of Jeannette Winterson who is also an advocate of Woolf.
I'll keep looking for the quote I mentioned!