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Feb. 15th, 2007 06:59 pmThe inspiration for today's installment of list week comes from both my snow day yesterday and the lovely morning I spent pushing cars out of iced-in parking spots today--the good and the bad sides of winter weather!
The best instances of snow, winter, and storms in literature:
1. "The Dead" by James Joyce. I'm not going to rank the rest of this list, but this story had to be number one. The last paragraph is perhaps the most beautiful thing ever written:
Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
God, I love that so much.
2. The Dark Is Rising by Susan Cooper. Man, this book is so good. Set in the week before Christmas, the mythology of mid-winter runs all through this story. You can feel the cold and dark closing in as you read it. As a bonus, the climax of the book takes place in a winter storm of unparalleled violence.
3. "The Blood Bay" by Annie Proulx. A frigid Wyoming winter results in this hilariously morbid tale. I can't even describe how funny this is without giving away the punchline--just go read it.
4. The Centaur by John Updike. I love the Rabbit books as much as the next guy (probably more, actually, unless the next guy happens to be my father), but I think it's a crime that they so often overshadow this book, which is perhaps the single best thing Updike has written. The story is a both a skewed retelling of the myth of Prometheus and an exploration of the difficult relationship between a father and son. It takes place over the course of two days as a big snowstorm and some poor decision making repeatedly prevent the father and son from getting home. I'm particularly fond of this paragraph near the end, describing what the son sees from his window after they've made it home at last:
I turned my face away and looked through the window. In time my father appeared in this window, an erect figure dark against the snow. His posture made no concession to the pull underfoot; upright he waded out through our yard and past the mailbox and up the hill until he was lost to my sight behind the trees of our orchard. The trees took white on their sun side. The two telephone wires diagonally cut the blank blue of the sky. The stone wall was a scumble of umber; my father's footsteps thumbs of white in white. I knew what this scene was--a patch of Pennsylvania in 1947--and yet I did not know, was in my softly fevered state mindlessly soaked in a rectangle of colored light. I burned to paint it, just like that, in its puzzle of glory; it came upon me that I must go to Nature disarmed of perspective and stretch myself like a large transparent canvas upon her in the hope that, my submission being perfect, the imprint of a beautiful and useful truth would be taken.
5. The storm scene in King Lear. I don't know whether the raging wind and rain that drive Lear mad are actually a winter storm or not, but I just saw a fantastic production of King Lear last weekend (by the Classical Theatre of Harlem at the Folger Shakespeare Library down in DC), and it reminded me of what an incredibly powerful scene this is, pitting the force of Lear's grief and rage against the strength of the elements.
6. Drop City by T.C. Boyle. Okay, so this one isn't great literature. It's still a fun read, and it's one of Boyle's better books. This book tells the story of a group of hippies who, finding California too restrictive for their tastes, decide to move their commune up to Alaska. They arrive during the summer and have a wonderful time living off the land, but gradually the Alaskan winter sets in and things start to change.
And...that's all I've got. Anybody know of any other great winter books or snow scenes?
The best instances of snow, winter, and storms in literature:
1. "The Dead" by James Joyce. I'm not going to rank the rest of this list, but this story had to be number one. The last paragraph is perhaps the most beautiful thing ever written:
Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
God, I love that so much.
2. The Dark Is Rising by Susan Cooper. Man, this book is so good. Set in the week before Christmas, the mythology of mid-winter runs all through this story. You can feel the cold and dark closing in as you read it. As a bonus, the climax of the book takes place in a winter storm of unparalleled violence.
3. "The Blood Bay" by Annie Proulx. A frigid Wyoming winter results in this hilariously morbid tale. I can't even describe how funny this is without giving away the punchline--just go read it.
4. The Centaur by John Updike. I love the Rabbit books as much as the next guy (probably more, actually, unless the next guy happens to be my father), but I think it's a crime that they so often overshadow this book, which is perhaps the single best thing Updike has written. The story is a both a skewed retelling of the myth of Prometheus and an exploration of the difficult relationship between a father and son. It takes place over the course of two days as a big snowstorm and some poor decision making repeatedly prevent the father and son from getting home. I'm particularly fond of this paragraph near the end, describing what the son sees from his window after they've made it home at last:
I turned my face away and looked through the window. In time my father appeared in this window, an erect figure dark against the snow. His posture made no concession to the pull underfoot; upright he waded out through our yard and past the mailbox and up the hill until he was lost to my sight behind the trees of our orchard. The trees took white on their sun side. The two telephone wires diagonally cut the blank blue of the sky. The stone wall was a scumble of umber; my father's footsteps thumbs of white in white. I knew what this scene was--a patch of Pennsylvania in 1947--and yet I did not know, was in my softly fevered state mindlessly soaked in a rectangle of colored light. I burned to paint it, just like that, in its puzzle of glory; it came upon me that I must go to Nature disarmed of perspective and stretch myself like a large transparent canvas upon her in the hope that, my submission being perfect, the imprint of a beautiful and useful truth would be taken.
5. The storm scene in King Lear. I don't know whether the raging wind and rain that drive Lear mad are actually a winter storm or not, but I just saw a fantastic production of King Lear last weekend (by the Classical Theatre of Harlem at the Folger Shakespeare Library down in DC), and it reminded me of what an incredibly powerful scene this is, pitting the force of Lear's grief and rage against the strength of the elements.
6. Drop City by T.C. Boyle. Okay, so this one isn't great literature. It's still a fun read, and it's one of Boyle's better books. This book tells the story of a group of hippies who, finding California too restrictive for their tastes, decide to move their commune up to Alaska. They arrive during the summer and have a wonderful time living off the land, but gradually the Alaskan winter sets in and things start to change.
And...that's all I've got. Anybody know of any other great winter books or snow scenes?
