my summer vacation day six: gin & f scott fitzgerald

our last full day on the lake! too soon, too soon. so, the goal was to spend as much time on the water as possible.

so, no sewing, no knitting, almost no cooking - just cucumber sandwiches, gin & lemonade, fresh peaches and cherries, and reading on the dock.

i re-read the great gatsby a few weeks ago, after realising (when the latest film version came out) how long it had been since i read the book, and how little i remembered. and i enjoyed it so much, that when i saw a copy of tender is the night while at a bookstore, i decided to read that, too. it's so much more personal than gatsby, much more looking inward than outward, much more broken.

all of which makes the sad tale of the introduction feel like a punch in the gut: that fitzgerald slaved and worried over this book for years and his response to the poor critical and commercial reception it received. it's like putting all your effort into making amends and trying to win back the heart of someone who know longer loves you with the greatest most dangerous act you can imagine, and receiving only the dull response of "huh, i don't get it."

i suppose that's just the way it goes, sometimes.

also, i got a sunburn.

n.b. these summer vacation posts are one week delayed as the cottage is delightfully free of electronics!

thumbs down: downton abbey

am i the only one who doesn't like downton abbey?

admittedly, i've only seen the first three episodes. maybe something amazing happens, the writing gets better, the characters become interesting. i know it is a soap opera, not "high art" in any sense of the phrase, so perhaps my expectations were simply too high.

it is interesting, however, as an object lesson in the brits' fascination with class, their love-hate relationship with the underpinnings of their culture, half self-congratulating, half self-flagellating. the earl of grantham is a greedy snob who married only for money. but he's a likable chap who did the right thing by falling in love with his rich wife after a while. he's helping the poor by giving them a job polishing his cufflinks. what a lovely man. or not.

the entire premise is one peer's excuses masquerading as apologia.

it's also interesting to see how the show panders to modern sensibilities. i was marvelling at how downton presented the hunt with such glorious imagery, considering the protests which have met the hunt in recent years, when lord grantham (the nice earl! look how nice he is to his valet!) mentioned the family that doesn't tolerate hunting on their grounds. hat tip, 21st century values.

the writers are apparently aware of how unrealistic much of the dialogue is, in that they occasionally call themselves out in the script. it's a classic, over-used technique - you can't accuse me of fill-in-the-blank if i accuse myself first! well, actually yes you can be accused of phony dialogue when his lordship et famille sit down to the dinner table to discuss a chambermaid's purchase of a typewriter. it simply would not have happened in 1912. and having the dowager countess point out the incongruity doesn't excuse it. their words sound wrong, and their voices sound wrong. the whole show rings so false i sprained a muscle rolling my eyes.

it is pretty to look at, though. the lovely decor and dresses and gardens are simply wonderful, although they do of course fall prey to the impulse to modernise a few things to match contemporary fashions (the eyebrows, the young turk's flowing hair). if i watch another episode, it will be with the sound off. while re-reading hoare's biography of stephen tennant.

i think part of the problem is having watched it too soon after watching brideshead revisited, a much more accurate and affecting piece of television, even thirty years later. julian fellowes is no evelyn waugh.

the lesiure dream

i am currently pretty much in love with these pyjamas. aren't they the most gorgeous ever? right now i'm reading serious pleasures: the life of stephen tennant, on the suggestion of this blog. tennant was among the group of bright young people that initiated the jazz-age craze for pyjama parties and other frivolities in the 1920s (like the "bath & bottle" party with a "bathwater cocktail" invented for the occasion - anyone have the original recipe? there are a few different versions floating around - but none feels entirely authentic somehow).

but wouldn't these jimjams be perfect for carole lombard in my man godfrey? i've already ordered myself a ridiculous pair of marabou mules, but i really can't justify spending over two hundred dollars on antique pyjamas. will simply have to find time to make a pair!

forget what i said

in my last sewing through the decades challenge post - this fur-trimmed coat is the one i covet!

maybe what i should do is pick patterns covering the decade from 1929 to 1939? or something? the later thirties don't do much for me - once the war started, it all got too pragmatic - but the 1920s often fail to excite in the way i feel they ought to.