The Book was Better

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Looking at the marquees, it seems like almost all of the movies now playing are adaptations of books.
This seems odd since “it is a truth universally acknowledged” that the movie is never as good as the book.

The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1978)Everybody has a horror story or two of a book or story they love that then becomes something hideous on screen—King fans can fill books with critiques of bad adaptations. For me, the worst adaptation ever will remain the animated version of The Lord of the Rings, released in 1978. Just thinking about it makes me cringe.

(On a related note, the DVD of The Hobbit; The Desolation of Smaug was released this week. If you were concerned that the movie was too brief or didn’t add enough material in, it includes a director’s cut.)

Now there are exceptions to the rule about bad movies.
The Grapes of Wrath is an amazing movie in every way, and quite true to the book; nevertheless, the epic novel is better. Similarly (and more recently) The Book Thief was a quite good adaptation, and the acting was masterful; again, though, the book is even better.

So why is the change of medium such a muddle?
Why is the book almost always better than the film?

A lot of it is, of course, the abysmally poor writing–or lack thereof–in the film industry today, but I think the difference goes even deeper.
Some of it has to do with the power of words to tell stories.
We think in storytelling. This is not poetic hyperbole; we think in stories, Reading (3)and organize information within a narrative framework. Stories go back as far as humans do; they are an integral part of being human. Stories are the most basic way of learning complex, not immediately present information. Our own experiences are integrated into stories so we can make sense of them and remember them.
The world is a story we tell ourselves.
So it is not surprising that it seems natural for a storyteller to create worlds for us: beautiful worlds, complex and real, terrifying and moving worlds, worlds more real than the pale things pinging upon our senses.

Now, I do love films, and I do think we can make stories with pictures. We have since we lived in caves. However storytelling is the action and art of words—not sensation that has to be edited into experience, or experience that has to be interpreted into ideas and words, but rather sensation and experience already put into the form our mind would live with.

…and live within.

I love a quick, intense 2 hour encounter with the wonder of cinematic story,
but I can live years inside the world of a book, even on a single, rainy afternoon.

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Fireman’s Cake

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I apologize that I have been having trouble with the recipes; everything at the Bistro is still really topsy-turvy and cattywampus, and I’m not sure how we will get it together again. The kitchen, despite our best efforts, is a disaster area. Besides that, the staffing is complicated. Peirce has gone on a trip to Canada, Wode is still AWOL, one of us has a short term gig as an assassin, and one of us is doing an obscure Tennessee Williams play.

HFiremen's Cake (1)owever, Mousy & I did put together a cake for the Milligan College Library’s 4th Annual Edible Books Festival. It was a Fireman’s Cake, themed around Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. It was a  Double-Dark Chocolate & Hot Pepper Cake with Lapang Souchong Tea (smokey)Frosting and a Chocolate Chip Cookie cover.

 

The cake was a variation on my standard cake recipe, and we made cupcakes with the extra:

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flourHot cupcakes

  • 3/4 cup powdered chocolate
  • 1  tsp.  baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp. salt
  • 1 tsp. cayenne pepper
  • 1 tsp. hot paprika
  • 1 tsp. ground cinnamon
  • 1 cup strong Lapang Souchong Tea
  • 1/2 tsp. baking soda
  • 1 cup dark molasses (not black strap)
  • 1 cup packed dark brown sugar
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 3 large eggs
  • 1/2 cup softened butter
  • 1/2 cup dark chocolate chips

The frosting was pretty standard:

  •  ½ pound softened butter
  • 3-4 cups sifted powdered sugar
  • ¼ tsp. salt
  • 1 Tbsp. vanilla extract
  • 4 Tbsp. Lapang Souchong (拉普山小種) Tea, steeped, then boiled down to very intense.
  • additional heavy cream or sugar as needed

Cookie!The book cover was a standard Tool-House cookie recipe, baked out on a baking pan, and the detail work was melted chocolate.

THER-MO-PY-LAE!

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Spartans 1
Spartans: there’s no need to feel down.
I said, Spartans: pick your spear off the ground.
I said, Spartans:  ’cause there’s Helots all round–
There’s no need to be unhappy.

 

 

Spartans 2

Spartans: there’s a place you can be.
I said, Spartans:  are you listening to me?
You can camp there, and I’m sure you will find–
Many ways to have a good time.

 

Spartans 3

We’ll fight the Persians at THER-MO-PY-LAE!
We’ll fight the Persians at THER-MO-PY-LAE!

They have everything for you men to enjoy,
You can hang out with all the boys …
.
.
.

Spartans 4

We’ll fight the Persians at THER-MO-PY-LAE!
We’ll fight the Persians at THER-MO-PY-LAE!

You can get yourself clean, you can have a good meal,
You can do whatever you feel….

Spartans 5

Is this any way to do Philosophy?

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Just in case you were wondering why I do philosophy like this….

Europe 2013 381I realize that there are ways in which this informal conversation—and by conversation, I mean monologue, although I do prefer conversation, and hope this starts some—in an imaginary Bistro is not the usual way to philosophize. The world of lectures and papers is a much more thorough way of doing philosophy. It includesEurope 2013 384 careful, painstaking research and carefully reasoned conclusions. Philosophy is not one of the arts, nor is it literature, but is instead a science, a discipline of knowledge, intending to discover truth in a systematic, methodical, logical way.

However, you and I meeting here at the Philosophy Bistro is also philosophy.
In fact, it is most of the things I love about philosophy, and philosophy is something I love a great deal.

It is conversational, for starters.
Even when I have to invent conversations, or when I am talking to myself, it is still Dr Bear with the Rabbitconversational. It is a discussion between us, not a defensible pronouncement for my discipline. The core of philosophy is dialectic, a logical argument, to be sure, but also grounded in talking across—arguing with, but also related to its cousin, dialogue. Ideas and words have their own lives, and have to be able to bounce across and others in order to come to life most fully. Not only does arguing sharpen our ideas, but the give and take also allows new ideas to pop up. Thinking is not really something that goes on just in our heads; it goes on between us as well. Trying to convey ideas in conversation is much messier than in a formal lecture or written paper, but it is also less sterile.
…and thinking together is so stimulating and so pleasant.

It creates a space, and a little gathering, which is the basis of most human interaction, including thinking. Conversation needs its place, interaction needs its place, quietness needs its place, dialectic needs its place—and what better place than a Bistro?
This is certainly not new: although we think of philosophers as solitary, a great deal of philosophy has been done in the beer halls and Beautiful Livingpubs of Heidelberg and Cambridge, as well as the cafés of Vienna and Paris—perhaps most of Sartre, actually. Locke’s Treatises grew out of dinner conversations, and were more fully in lively correspondences—the internet of the 1600s. A pleasant, welcoming place is the perfect place to discuss ideas—lecture halls are terribly sterile, and mountain tops terribly cold.

It also has food, and as all of my students know, I cannot talk about human existence without talking about food.
Peace_Lentil_SoupFood is about the senses, and about craft, and about ideas and plans—all philosophical. It is grounded in a historically specific tradition, and produced by and made sense of in the context of a culturally specific set of social practices. It involves the patterns of sharing and politeness. In those we have all we need to talk of human knowledge, human nature, and ethics, because our understanding of all of these grows out of our dinner tables.

It also has whimsy.
A great weakness of contemporary philosophy is that it can be deadly serious—not in the way most of the people who matter to me do it, but for many professionals. In part, there is a great fear of failing, or of being wrong, or of seeming foolish. However, these prevent some of the most important characters on the philosophical landscape—conjecture and hypothesis. Scientists know that failure teaches as much as success—maybe more, but academics are terribly afraid of being wrong.Wode & Mouse
I don’t need to fear that; after all, I am talking to a Toad, a Mouse, and a Penguin.
The Bistro is a whimsical, somewhat imaginary place, so the silliness is a given. I can play with outrageous ideas, and not be afraid of appearing foolish (not that I am never foolish, just that I am not afraid of it).
I have something better than either seriousness or irony: I have whimsy.

So while they may lack the rigour of academic philosophy, Dr Bear’s Entrées do have all the ingredients for artisan crafted, locally sourced, vegetarian & healthy, creative and innovative, playful and constantly changing attempt at coming closer to a little bit of truth.

…besides, it’s a lot more fun.


 

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