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“It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell.” –General Tecumseh Sherman
And it was Francois Truffaut who supposedly said that it’s impossible to make an anti-war movie, because depictions of war are bound to make it look glamorous and exciting. Click here for a list of movies that prove him wrong.
The Japanese have a long history of ghost and spirit folklore, and in this movie, director Kaneto Shindo has combined elements of several stories with his own social criticism to create one of the most romantic and haunting ghost stories ever.
Set during the medieval civil wars of Japan, the movie begins with a group of samurai soldiers coming out of the bamboo groves to descend upon the home of Yone (Nobuka Otowa) and her daughter-in-law Shige (Kiwako Taichi) who are home alone because Yone’s son Hachi (Kichiemon Nakamura) has been conscripted into military service. The samurai brutally rape and kill the two women and burn their house to the ground, but the next morning, the women’s bodies are still there, and they are visited by a black cat who licks their wounds.
Three years later, samurai warriors are disappearing from the Rashomon Gate, seduced by a beautiful young woman who lures them into her home, introduces them to her mother, serves them sake, and then rips open their throats with her teeth.
No one among the samurai is brave enough to hunt down this killer, but then along comes Hachi, the sole survivor of a ferocious battle in another part of the country, and he is promoted to samurai and put in charge of evicting the evil spirits from the grove that was once his home.
Whether he recognizes his wife and his mother, indeed, whether they really are his wife and his mother, I leave for you to determine. All I can tell you is that the images from this film–the ghostly glow of these spirits and the creeping mist in the bamboo groves–will haunt you long after the movie is over.
For the Criterion essay by Maitland McDonagh, click here. For a list of other recommended Halloween movies, click here.
Henry David Thoreau’s grave at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. “I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion.”
Happy October! There’s a chill in the air, the leaves are brazen and bright in the trees, and we’re looking up. Here are our staff picks for October (and…a quick search result in the PPL catalog for all things pumpkin).
I cannot express how much I loved this book, but I’ll try: the phrasing, illustrations (don’t overlook all the unique and detailed iterations of Jarvis on the inside covers!) and sentiment are perfect. It is a wonderful read for all ages. I wish Edgar and Jarvis lived with me and I bet you will too! (Also, October is Adopt-A-Shelter-Dog Month so head down to your local shelter and see if you can find an Octopuppy/ new best friend.)
Jacqueline Woodson shares vivid stories of her childhood in her latest book Brown Girl Dreaming, a memoir written in free verse poetry. In beautiful language Woodson chronicles her experiences growing up during the Civil Rights movement. She tells stories about her family, her experiences being raised as a Jehovah’s Witness, her academic struggles, and her journey towards becoming a writer.
My favorite poem “stevie and me” is about her weekly visits to the library. Woodson struggled with reading and had teachers who told her not to read picture books, but at the library she was free to choose the books she wanted.
An excerpt from the poem:
Every Monday, my mom takes us to the library around the corner. We are allowed
to take out seven books each. On those days
no one complains
that all I want are picture books
A wonderfully funny look at a women’s first winter in Portland, Maine, after moving here from Washington D.C. Snow Ban parking, rules around when landlords have to turn the heat on, and a very fun retelling of a trip to LL Bean: which promises to have everything one needs to make it through the winter in the great white north. Very accurate descriptions of Portland in all its quirkiness.
The interesting thing about The Little People is that it was pulled off the shelves because a staff member noticed its spine was peeling. It had not been read in over twenty years. The genre of the book is horror/suspense, which I love (a good read for October!), and it’s set in Ireland. I’m always fascinated by the nature of stories that become forgotten and can be rediscovered by happenstance. John Christopher is best known for his Penguin Classic novel The Death of Grass, which is a post-apocalyptic, world-hit-by-famine (an original Hunger Games?), suspenseful and scintillating Sci-Fi masterpiece.
We live in a technological universe in which we are always communicating…but how well? Sherry Turkle argues that we have sacrificed critical conversation for mere connection, and she investigates the troubling consequences: at work, at home, in politics, and in love, we find ways around conversation, tempted by the possibilities of a text or an email in which we don’t have to look, listen, or reveal ourselves. Reclaiming Conversation is a great read for followers of PPL’s Choose Civility Initiative, a series of programs and discussions that brings folks into the Library for community conversations about the issues that affect our community and our lives. As Turkle writes, the virtues of person-to-person conversation are timeless, and our most basic technology, talk, is crucial in responding to our modern challenges.
I don’t often give unsolicited book recommendations, but when I encounter writing that I feel in my bones is as essential as Between the World and Me, I will mention it at all social gatherings and force it on unsuspecting friends and family disguised as holiday gifts. In his second book, Coates shares an elegant, vulnerable open letter to his son in which he turns an unapologetic and critical eye toward the politics of protecting one’s own body in America. Deeply personal, this densely packed little volume honors the legacy of (and breathes new urgency into) Baldwin’s forever relevant The Fire Next Time, while still forging its own inspired path onward and upward. Between the World and Me is an invaluable gift: it is real, it is current, and it will shake you.
Mary Oliver was once asked if she had a secret stash of poetry tucked away. She did, she said: poems about love. There are a slender sheaf of love poems included in her latest poetry collection, and Oliver weighs in on the subject with a gently nudging humor and delight. She writes wryly about jumping in, and the reader wants to believe such bravery would yield as profound a reward as it seems to have done for Mary O. Or perhaps I’d just like to think so? Oliver’s poetry is always a pleasure, and it certainly is in Felicity.
“I Did Think, Let’s Go About This Slowly,” from Mary Oliver’s Felicity.