♦♦♦½

When love is compared to butterflies, it can be hard to hold in the reflexive groan.

In Bright Star, titled after one of John Keats’ most famous love poems, director Jane Campion sets up what seems like familiar territory: a romance at social odds between an upper-crust girl and an adorably unsuccessful Romantic poet. But as the film delves into the short life and impassioned love affair of John Keats (Ben Whishaw), it does so freshly and firmly that the characters aren’t empty sketches of lovers; the story is real and coarse, without any unsightly bumps smoothed out.

This is a love story like any other delirious example, but what makes it novel is the devotion to detail. There are no panging gaps in the characters’ interactions for the viewer to fill. The relationships are subtle, complicated and entirely interesting.

The main character of concern, Keats, is scrawny and melancholy. He waxes and wanes between blissful and chaste-ful affection for Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish) and thoughtful, self-conscious sadness.

His flirtatious and girlish muse is often stubborn: she wears the pantaloons in their affair. When Keats’ best friend and poetic patron, Charles Brown (Paul Schneider), calls Brawe’s penchant for sewing fashionable clothes into question, she replies rather tersely that her garments are worth more than their “scribblings.” She then adds that she can make money from her work.

The story is set in Hampstead, England in 1818. Both Keats and Brown bury themselves in books while sunken into plush chairs. Brown, being the hospitable patron, invites Keats into his residence so they can toil together in their inkwells. Fanny Brawne reads Keats’ lyrics, is taken by his words and then expresses her aspiration to be his poetic pupil.

As a tutor, Keats briefly gets into the nature of being a poet. He says that poetry should be an effortless flow. It should be like plunging into water—the point was the sensation. To Keats, poetry is just feeling. The brevity with which director Campion takes this on is as refreshing as a watery dip. It would be easy for the film to drag its feet here, to pretentiously espouse the writing—nay the artistic—process. But it doesn’t. Which is good because for someone for whom poetry is organic expression, Keats is tortured enough.

But Brawne falls in love with Keats, despite his utter lack of income. And their initial courtship is tumultuous and poignant with minor conflicts and Keats’ summer vacation with Brown (in his absence, they correspond with impassioned letters; in one, Brawne writes with adolescent ire that when she hasn’t heard from him, it’s as if she’s died).

Eventually, when the pair is reunited, Keats falls ill with tuberculosis. For fear that he won’t survive another English winter, a group of Keats’ moneyed friends send him to Italy to recover in the warmer climate. He dies there, believing his life and his work—and his love for Brawne—to be a failure.

What the movie does so well is to effortlessly capture the understated. In a very across-the-pond way, the humor is often a quick turn of phrase or a sharp glance. But the subtlety of the characters’ conversations and the moments we’re made privy to make this less a story about love and more a story of people love happened to as the audience bears witness, “watching, with eternal lids apart.”

Filed under: Lifestyle by Marshall Katheder
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Dear Hardy Brothers,

Although I have long had an active fantasy life, for too long now my sex life has been sub-par. I am interested in BDSM, and particularly choking during sex (both choking and being choked), but I have no idea how or where to start. How should this beginner rough things up?

—Yearning 2Be Kinky

Frank: Dear Y2K,

Congratulations! Your letter marks the second milestone for us Hardy Brothers. Last week’s column we celebrated our first write-in response, and this week’s column we celebrate our graduation from a wholesome column full of fun for the whole family (we like to imagine this family around the dinner table: “Hey kids, do you know Aesop’s fable about the cougar and the silver fox?”) to a hardcore, out of the shadows sex column! Joe—I think our patron saint Dan Savage (let’s hope he’s out there somewhere watching us) would be proud.

We must warn you,Y2K, that although we’ll investigate your unusual, but cautionary case to the best of our amateur, adolescent mystery-solving abilities, this one’s a little above our pay grade. For that reason, we’ve consulted the top ranks to bring you a survey of advice and opinions on what the excellent resource sexuality.org refers to as the “heavier aspects of BDSM.”

First off, to quote a New York Times bestselling author who recently came to Brown for a reading, “Being over-prepared never hurt anyone.” At least he said something like that, anyway. Of course, he was talking about writing novels, but enacting fantasy scenes is not entirely dissimilar (well, not to sell you short ,Y2K, but maybe fantasy role-play is more like writing a short story). At any rate, both follow scripts, or at least guidelines, and knowing where you are heading is even more important in sex than it is in fiction because someone really can get hurt. My point is, before diving headlong into more risky and extreme forms of BDSM play, a good place to start is by reading a book.

Unfortunately for us, there is no BDSM entry in the For Dummies series (and the sex tome penned by the venerable Dr. Ruth makes no mention of it). But fortunately for us, we live in a capitalist society (though everybody’s favorite theorist Slavoj Žižek might disagree), and their competitors, the makers of Complete Idiot’s Guides, have an Amazing Sex volume which includes a chapter on it. Of course, there are other options out there too (SM 101: A Realistic Introduction, How To Be Kinky: A Beginner’s Guide to BDSM to name a few), though starting out with one of these is a good bet.

But Joe’s the brother who can really offer you the goods when it comes to the particulars of “heavy” petting. Hopefully he can also steer your fantasy in a different, safer direction.

JOE: That’s right! Forgetful Frank omitted a critical disclaimer. Although I doubt that President Simmons had erotic asphyxiation in mind when she wrote, “personal safety is the number one priority” in that campus-wide email awhile back, she would undoubtedly condemn such unsafe sexual practices. As responsible Hardy Brothers, we must do the same. To all you one-handed readers out there, belts are for waists, not for necks, so don’t strangle yourselves while masturbating (and reading our column)!

Depending on how eager you are, Y2K, you may be parsing the definition of erotic asphyxiation with a fine-tooth comb. You may be thinking to yourself, “belts and ropes aren’t cool, but it would still be fun to wrap my hands around my hunny’s throat while on top” (or vice versa), and you wouldn’t be wrong to think that such practices are popular. But so is meth, and you don’t go chasing rocks, do you? We hope not.

Fortunately, there are still infinite ways to safely explore the rougher side of the bedroom, or kitchen.  The first step to kinking any sexual relationship is an open and honest discussion. Once you and you’re partner have decided on a BDSM appetizer to introduce to your sexual repertoire—spanking is a fun place to start— it’s time to develop your very own safeword. If you don’t think you can say “Nicomachean Ethics” with a ball gag in your mouth (we don’t think we can either), the stoplight system promotes communication and is a common and easy way to gauge your partner’s comfort level. Green means go, yellow is for a break or lighter play, and red demands an immediate halt to whatever you’re doing.

After you’ve comfortably crossed into BDSM-land (it’s like Narnia), the possibilities are endless; you may just find yourself buying leathers at Bedlam. Just be careful: in more extreme forms of sex, the physical and emotional stakes can be higher. Make sure you’re with a partner you trust.

And always remember: there’s no safe way to strangle somebody (especially during sex), but there are lots of other fun things you can do, BDSM and otherwise. Try those instead.

—xo cough (anal) xo The Hardy Brothers

Filed under: Lifestyle by The Hardy Brothers
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In 1903, the university began to embrace the discipline of creative writing—a separate and distinct area of expertise from social practice writing such as journalism and basic proficiency in language. According to D. G. Myers, whose book Elephants Teach is the first published history of creative writing, writing as art built upon social practice writing’s rise in the university and attached itself to the cause of criticism and theory which set its sights on reforming English Studies in general.

This creeping commercialization of the creative, together with the shift from criticism existing in the public realm to criticism existing in the academy, directly influenced the rise of creative writing programs in the United States. Emerging from the goal of reforming and redefining the academic study of literature through creative engagement with texts rather than through mere historical or linguistic analysis, such programs were seen as the legitimization of the writer-artists’ role in society. In Paul Dawson’s history of the rise of creative writing programs, Creative Writing and the New Humanities, this British dude Walter Besant is quoted as having argued, “fiction, like painting, sculpture etc. should be considered an art and the novelists’ craft should be taught at university because it would increase the professional and social standing of writers.” Besant, desiring a new respect for the role of writing in society, lifted the romance from the writer’s iconic garret and led to self-described wild writers seeking solace from their academic disaffections in the cozy pages of the New York Times Magazine. Go figure.

Workshops, working by class consensus, drive the ‘creative’ writer to write to please the teacher and peers—an audience judging literary production under a rubric instructed through studies in criticism and the material reality of their similar academic and social experiences. Workshopping thus operates negatively; by avoiding certain styles, creative writing instructs the developing writer how not to write while still faux-striving to encourage the writer to develop his own unique voice.  Such programs still universally posit that writing cannot be taught, utilizing the idea that while the poet is born and not made, his innate talents can be nurtured and developed.

As literary work is produced in programs like these, questions regarding the value of this work as appreciated by a non-similarly educated audience come into play. Creative Writing written for a consumer audience, the vast majority of literature produced outside of the academy, would likely be derided as pop-lit and the sort of Dan Brown-esque claptrap all good pretentious folk love to loath. Yet, creative writing written for a professional audiences providing paid readings, prizes, access to publishing houses and tenure-track positions in the academy has also been blamed for the ‘death of poetry.’ Literature today, whether produced for consumer or professional interests, falls short in bridging the gap between intellectual thought and the public appeal that once characterized writing meant to inspire and move flesh and blood into passionate contortion.

In The American Scholar, Ralph Waldo Emerson posited the need for “creative reading as well as creative writing” to combat the increasing forces of rote, analytically sound yet intellectually uninspired learning he observed across the country. Deriving their name from this address, creative writing programs originally envisioned a way of seeing literature as the process by which man collectively mused towards a better society. Similarly, the ideal of the public intellectual as steward of societal thought came into being out of the decline in public intellectual life and the dearth of independent thinkers operating as freelance writers outside of the academy throughout the mid-to-late twentieth century. The expansion of suburbia, the gentrification of bohemia and the rise of universities captured the generation of intellectuals who came of age in the 1960s and formed the New Left who, unable to conceive of an academic life outside of the university, became radicalized professors writing for restricted professional audiences in exclusionary jargon.

All in all, the state of the ship as present resembles a Lego factory churning out those annoying pieces that only fit with that stupid Star Wars promotional set that costs too much for anybody to really care about or afford. Baby baby, the Death Star is sinking and we’re all out of z-bars – we respect your precision, but all we really want is more castles, dragons and the occasional princess palace for those of us fond of heart.

Filed under: Lifestyle by Arthur Matuszewski
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Dear Hardy Brothers,

Now that I am an upperclasswoman, I can’t decide what to do: should I find myself a silver fox or play cougar and prey on some freshmeat?

Confused,

On the Prowl

JOE: Sharpen your claws, but soften your paws, OP. It’s huntin’ time.

Having been on the receiving end of some cougar affection, I know from experience that the older woman/younger man scenario almost always works out better for the woman than when she pursues a silver-maned sugar daddy. So harness some lucky young man’s desire to please you, though if he turns out to be a bad apple, don’t hesitate to drop the rookie.

But where to start? You have to remember, OP, that your seniority gives you all of the power. Don’t worry, you’ve earned it. First, find some healthy prospects (remember: you’ve got to plant a lot of seeds even if you want just one flower to blossom).

At this point, you likely know where to find a younger man of your choosing: the V-Dub at dinnertime if you’re into jocks; late night at the Rock if you like a little more intellectual flavor. Hell, pull from Fish Co or Liquid Lounge is you’re so inclined—wait a minute, haven’t I seen you before?!

Once you’ve established a connection with your new plaything, “baby you can have whatever you like,” to quote a jailed rapper. When you’re the cougar, you can purr gently or take a ferocious swipe out of his…

Your spicy romance might just be a one night fling, but it may turn into a semester-long affair (god forbid a “serious” relationship develops).

The point is, OP, that when you’re the coug, it’s up to you! So don’t disappear on the Amtrak in your few remaining weekends to see some I-Banker in New York or Red Sox minor leaguer in Bean-Town.  Stay at Brown and enjoy the presents from our admissions department—freshmen: the gifts that keep on giving.

FRANK: Well, Joe, not to play Judas to your Jesus, but don’t forget that the cougar/younger man relationship can just as easily be more of a miracle for the lucky boy in question than for the deserving girl. I know it’s worked out for you in the past, but that’s to be expected: you’re a Hardy Brother, after all.

However, it only takes a quick survey of all the relevant pop cultural materials—The Graduate, “Sex and the City,” “The O.C.,” “Gossip Girl”—to see that those boys, as delicious as the latter trinity are, just wind up with someone their own age in the end. Of course, the tabloids offer an occasional counter—you go, Demi!—but those fairy-tale lives are just as much a fiction as movies and TV.  Let’s talk reality here.

I suppose, OP, it comes down to the thing that resolves almost all erotic queries: knowing what you want. If you’re in it for the fun, Joe has a point: cougin’ ain’t half-bad. But in my heart of hearts, I have to say my sympathy goes to the silver fox (perhaps because I’d like to be one when I grow up). Choose not just any old fox—bear in mind that men are men and will fuck you over the first chance they get, although I have yet to see any hard evidence that the formulation “women are women” isn’t equally true—but a wise, not wizened, one (the silver is optional) who has known love and loss and—here’s the rub—many partners! This fox will therefore know that you are a rare flower to cherish, preserve, and pollinate liberally.

The silver fox’s brand of hard won, lived experience is no guarantee of anything (see the Ben Kingsley/Penelope Cruise film Elegy for more information on this subject). In the games of sex and love, there is no such thing. But it does make it that much more likely that he will know a good thing when he sees it, know how to articulate the good thing both to you and himself, and most important of all, know how to keep it a good thing day after day, year after year. Because in that department (forgive me, Joe), boys these days are sorely lacking.

So, OP, do girls just want to have fun, or have a total eclipse of the heart? Write back soon and the same goes for all you Brunonians out there. Like Obama says: “This…has never been about [us]; it’s about you.”

—xoxo

The Hardy Brothers

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A brief collection of tracks I’ve stumbled upon recently.  Some old, some new, some borrowed, and maybe even some blues.  But I’m not wedded to the idea of going it alone; send along a list of your own or a suggestion for mine to post.mag.music@gmail.com.

“Soul Raga” by Mehr Pooya

On the off-chance that ’70s sitar funk from Iran is not a genre in your music library, check out this master of the Indian instrument playing off a theme from one of Santana’s early tracks “Hope You’re Feeling Better.” A great track to revive a hallmate down with the flu, this predecessor to some of the Thievery Corporation sound is worth a listen. Find it, along with other Iranian funk classics, on NPR’s website.

“Tema do Canibal” by BK-One

If you’ve ever wanted a fanfare for yourself—and Copland’s piece just doesn’t capture your spirit—check out this track from BK-One’s debut album.  Despite hailing from Chicago, The Hypnotic Brass Ensemble provides an energy that conjures up the best of Rio. Open the song up in two windows and stagger their starts to really get things going.  Look for appearances by Brother Ali, Aceyalone, Abstract Rude, and others on the albumRádio do Canibal.

“To Lose Someone” by Taken by Trees

Mixing the voice of Swedish chanteuse Victoria Bergsman with the ambience of traditional Pakistani music makes for an incredibly intriguing combination, one that lulls the listener into a state of peaceful contemplation as traditional Pakistani vocal and instrumental lines intertwine beautifully with Bergsman’s voice and the guitar work of her producer Andreas Soderstrom.  Recorded in Pakistan at the home of a hotel owner, the album East of Eden betrays no hint of the difficulties uh, what difficulties? faced during its production.

“Coastin’” by Zion-I featuring K Flay

Perfect for summer cruising or early-fall reminiscing, this track from the February 2009 album The Takeover showcases the talents of DJ and producer AmpLive and MC Zumbi.  The opening piano riff sounds a little like Grizzly Bear’s “Two Weeks,” but these West Coasters take an entirely different direction from the Brooklyn group. Follow the lead of one of K Flay’s opening lines: “I’m coastin’, this one’s for you and me.”

“The Birds On The Bridge” by The Deep Dark Woods

Fans of Fleet Foxes will find much to enjoy in the style of the Canadian group The Deep Dark Woods. Like their more famous counterparts, The Deep Dark Woods channel Harvest-era Neil Young and other country-rock staples. Another track worth a listen is “All the Money I Had Is Gone”; both tracks come off the 2009 album Winter Hours.

“Periodically Double or Triple” by Yo La Tengo

One might expect some James Brown screaming after hearing the opening bars of this song, but what awaits is something else entirely. The great funk groove serves as the complement to softly-sung observations. “Walls are closing in; they often do,” remarks Ira Kaplan, and it’s safe to say that Yo La Tengo works to avoid them closing in around them.The track comes off the group’s twelfth album, Popular Songs.

Filed under: Lifestyle by Sam Carter
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