From the library, I took out a movie version of Margaret Laurence's Stone Angel. Fernando won't usually watch any movie that might maybe possibly contain something sad in it, but he loved Laurence in high school, so we watched it together.And it was, like, one of the worst movie adaptations I've ever seen. Because without even having read the book, I could tell it sucked! I could tell that things which might have been poetic or deep in a book, were just superficial in the movie; and the character's motives weren't always clearly spelled out, so it was hard to understand what the hell they were doing.
After watching I immediately went to my copy of the book (I own 3 unread Laurence books) and read it in a day. SO much better. Partly because, as suspected, Laurence is the kind of writer you don't speed-read, because the writing is part of the enjoyment. So I've copied just 3 examples of her excellent writing for your enjoyment. ;-)
* In this scene, her son and his girlfriend start having sex in a room, without realizing his mother is there--and she's trapped under a blanket on the couch, listening to them.
Nothing to bless themselves with, they had, not a penny in the bank, a gray shell of a house around them, and outside a grit-filled wind that blew nobody any good, and yet they'd closed themselves to it all and opened only to each other. It seemed incredible that such a spate of unapologetic life should flourish in this mean and crabbed world.
* Here, a nurse is strapping her to her bed, so she won't sleepwalk in the hospital. It's just a great line.
"I'm sorry," she says helplessly, apologizing needlessly, perhaps on behalf of God, who never apologizes.
* This is towards the end, while she's in the hospital. The protagonist had two sons, one of whom she loved more because he was more like her side of the family, and she put all her hopes in him. But now, in her old age, she's being cared for by The Dependable Older Son, who has always been aware of her lack of interest in him.
I stare at him. Then, quite unexpectedly, he reaches for my hand an holds it tightly.
Now it seems to me he is truly Jacob, gripping with all his strength, and bargaining. I will not let thee go, except thou bless me. And I see I am thus strangely cast, and perhaps have been so from the beginning, and can only release myself by releasing him.
So good. There's another passage I want to write about, but I'll save that for my other blog.
