1. I dedicated most of this day, until about 6:00 this evening, to my continued reading of Bleak House. I remember reading or hearing back in my graduate school days that the beauty of the novel, as a form of story telling, is its flexibility. A novel can easily move its readers forward and backward in time, inside and outside the consciousness of its characters, give us events from a variety of points of view, and, among other things, move readers physically to any geographical location.
Seen this way, Bleak House is a flexible novel. Its astonishing the number of perspectives I've entertained on a wide range of subjects and the story has traveled from a variety of locations in London to Lincolnshire to Deal to India and other places. Dickens transports readers from the story's present moment into the past and character also dream and speculate about the future.
I think if I give most of one or two more days over to this novel, I'll finish it. I'll be much the richer for having experienced so much human life and experience through what happens to the multitude of characters in this story and how they think about and respond emotionally to all that they confront in their lives.
2. First Debbie and I enjoyed a delicious meal of combined leftovers. Debbie combined the already deliciously stretched vegetarian Portuguese Stew with leftover rice and the last of last night's Marcella Hazan tomato sauce.
We watched watched news programming for a short while and then switched gears.
Earlier today, I scanned a CNET newsletter that listed what's available these days on Netflix and Amazon Prime Video and noticed that a new documentary on Bill Cunningham was available.
Bill Cunningham died in 2016. For decades he worked as a fashion photographer for the New York Times. Cunningham famously rode his bicycle around Manhattan and snapped street pictures of what people were wearing and his pictures were featured on a two page spread in Sunday's paper, accompanied by Cunningham's written commentary.
In 2011, a documentary (Bill Cunningham New York) was released about Cunningham's work and I was eager to see what this new one, The Times of Bill Cunningham, explored that would add to my enjoyment of Cunningham as a photographer and as a person of great enthusiasm and feeling.
The Times of Bill Cunningham featured a long and fascinating interview that Cunningham gave to Mark Bozek, the film's director, back in 1994. As Cunningham talked about his life before he ever started taking pictures, the movie took us back into Cunningham's days breaking into the world of fashion and his early life as a milliner. One thing led to another and Cunningham became obsessed with taking pictures, with documenting the world of fashion, and eventually landed the Times job.
When the movie ended, I told Debbie that the world of fashion is near the bottom of my interests in life, but that I could listen to Bill Cunningham tell stories, offer his insights, and look at his arresting pictures any day. I loved this movie. The Cunningham interview, around which the movie is structured, is fascinating. Cunningham is an irrepressibly animated and generous man, full of verve and humility. His love for New York City (and Paris) is bottomless. The story of his life compelled me to hang on his every word.
Soon, I hope Debbie and I will watch the 2011 movie, Bill Cunningham New York. I watched it not long after it was released, loved it, and am eager to see it again.
By the way, as I always say, I don't recommend movies or books. I enjoy writing about what I enjoy, but I never presume that my often private eccentric pleasures will be anyone else's. I know that watching a movie about an old guy who lives a Spartan life in a cramped studio apartment with a bicycle, a collection of cameras, numerous file cabinets crammed with negatives, piles of notebooks and memorabilia he's collected over the years documenting the history of fashion (and, in turn, the history of New York City [and, to a degree, Paris]), and who is obsessed with how people dress and taking their pictures probably doesn't sound that interesting to many people.
I love these movies, though, and I enjoy letting anyone know so who is willing to read what I have to say!
3. The documentary ended. I was in the mood for some George Dickel Rye Whiskey with bitters over ice. Debbie wasn't ready to hit the hay just yet. We didn't want to watch the news. So, we did what we love to do: we drank a couple of cocktails and, once again, viewed All the President's Men.
And you know what?
It worked.
Again.
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