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Although you might already know this about me, I was born and raised in New Orleans, a city celebrated around the world for its cuisine, among other attributes. While working on the third edition of Moon New Orleans, a guidebook published by Avalon Travel, I've had the privilege of reliving a lot of my fondest memories about this one-of-a-kind place – many of which, not surprisingly, revolve around food. Here's just one example, a callout from my as-yet-unpublished guide:
As a child of New Orleans, I found it hard to avoid reading John Kennedy Toole's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, A Confederacy of Dunces (1980). Posthumously published by LSU Press more than a decade after the author's tragic suicide, this zany depiction of life in the Big Easy during the early 1960s (not to mention a skillful exploration of the city's unique dialects) has since become a cult classic – and a canonical work of modern Southern literature. This picaresque novel centers on Ignatius J. Reilly – a lazy, overweight, quixotic, yet well-educated 30-year-old man who, while living with his mother and searching for gainful employment, meets a host of colorful French Quarter denizens, from kind-hearted strippers to belligerent lesbians.
Though some of the New Orleans landmarks referenced in this madcap novel, such as the old D. H. Holmes department store on Canal Street, no longer exist, some, like the Prytania Theatre, still do. Perhaps the most famous references, though, are the “Paradise Hot Dogs” vending carts that figure prominently into Reilly's angst-filled search for a permanent job. Clearly, Toole was influenced by the ubiquitous, red-and-yellow, wiener-shaped Lucky Dogs vending carts that have prowled the streets of New Orleans, particularly the French Quarter, for more than five decades. Especially popular among late-night partygoers, these street-corner hot dogs may just be mouth-watering to some, but for me, they'll always be a reminder of the first time I read – and fell in love with – A Confederacy of Dunces, a book that, as many writers and scholars believe, aptly captures the indomitable spirit of New Orleans.
True, hot dogs aren't exactly a New Orleans staple on par with gumbo and jambalaya, but for those, like me, who live in the French Quarter, the Lucky Dogs carts can be a welcoming sight, especially after a long night of partying on Bourbon Street.
So, are there any novels that make you think of specific foods?
Today, I feel even more pensive than usual. To date, I’ve received four critiques of my novel from fellow writers (that is, not family and friends). Their assessments, while positive in tone and greatly appreciated by me, indicate that I have a long journey ahead – too long for me to see clearly at the moment.
On days like this – when I wonder if it wouldn’t be better for me to be a park ranger than a novelist – I think about the one person who has stood by me throughout this insane process, the one person who’s believed in my writing abilities (even when I don’t). As Strange Fiction expressed more than a week ago, I’d like to dedicate today’s post to the “long-suffering soul” who’s experienced more than his fair share of my “day-to-day craziness.”
That’s right, Danny – I mean, you, my boy. It doesn’t matter that being a published novelist has been my dream since I was a little girl – long before I knew you even existed. You’re the one who’s kept me on the path, kept my hopes alive, and supported me every step of the way – and I’m blessed to have you in my life and on my side. Who else would have brought me a dozen roses yesterday – for no reason at all?
The much-anticipated cinematic adaptation of Audrey Niffenegger’s best-selling novel The Time Traveler’s Wife opened earlier today in thousands of movie theaters across America. Since I read the book two years ago, I’m curious about the movie, but given my mixed feelings about Niffenegger’s debut, I’m in no big hurry to see it. Still, the film’s release sparked a private debate about Hollywood’s obsession with mining novels for box-office gold.
After all, The Time Traveler’s Wife isn’t the only current movie inspired by well-known literature. Right now, moviegoers can catch Julie & Julia and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince – both of which were adapted from recent bestsellers – in a theater near them. Several other adaptations of popular novels – from Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, Stephenie Meyer’s New Moon, and Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones, to children’s favorites like Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are, Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr. Fox, and Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland – will soon hit theaters as well. And do remember that The Reader – which was adapted from Bernhard Schlink’s well-favored book – was nominated for numerous Academy Awards earlier this year.
As someone who studied both film and literature in college – and who hopes to turn her future novels into screenplays – I am indeed in favor of cinematic adaptations – if they are done well and with the spirit of the source material in mind. Novels, after all, provide the three elements key to any engaging film – character, setting, and plot – and they usually offer a built-in audience (which studio executives naturally love). Of course, I realize that most novels must be edited to suit the typical two-hour movie length. One of my all-time favorite trilogies, The Lord of the Rings, was simply too long to avoid being shaved a bit for the three cinematic adaptations, but even though I missed hearing the hobbits’ folk songs, I felt that Peter Jackson and his producing partners (not to mention the cast and crew) did an amazing job of bringing J. R. R. Tolkien’s beloved saga to life – and, in my humble opinion, deserved more than just the one Best Picture Oscar (for the final installment, The Return of the King).
Other favorite adaptations include Rebecca (1940), Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), Jaws (1975), The Princess Bride (1987), Dances with Wolves (1990), Interview with the Vampire (1994), The Green Mile (1999), Wonder Boys (2000), and The Jane Austen Book Club (2007) – all of which are slightly better than the source material. My absolute favorite adaptation, however, is The Shawshank Redemption (1994) – which faithfully follows Stephen King’s novella Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption, line by line and scene by scene. There are plenty of other well-done adaptations that I could cite here – from The Grapes of Wrath (1940) to What's Eating Gilbert Grape? (1993) – but I hesitate to fill this post with a laundry list of classics.
Of course, not all adaptations have turned out so well. Three such films come to mind – Heaven’s Prisoners (1996), an adaptation of James Lee Burke’s second Dave Robicheaux mystery, with Alec Baldwin terribly miscast as the Cajun ex-detective; The Cider House Rules (1999), which, save for Michael Caine’s stirring performance, seemed flatter than the John Irving novel; and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005), which convinced me that Tim Burton has no business adapting beloved children's books, including his upcoming Alice in Wonderland. I'm sure there are more book-to-film travesties, but their names escape me at the moment.
Given Hollywood's tendency to remake classic films or turn beloved books and television shows into movies, it's a wonder that executives haven't yet adapted every book imaginable. But, surprisingly, they haven't. One treasured book – John Kennedy Toole's Pulitzer Prize-winning A Confederacy of Dunces – has yet to be made, despite numerous attempts to do so (with stars like John Belushi, John Candy, Chris Farley, and Will Ferrell set to play Ignatius J. Reilly).
Taking a cue from my online pal Rhonda’s “Books as Movies: Picture It” post from last month, I’m curious about other writers’ take on Hollywood’s book-to-movie obsession. Do you think that, overall, novels and memoirs provide good source material for movies? If so, which adaptations are the best? Which are the worst? And which books would you still like to see become movies?
Although you might already know this about me, I was born and raised in New Orleans, a city celebrated around the world for its cuisine, among other attributes. While working on the third edition of Moon New Orleans, a guidebook published by Avalon Travel, I've had the privilege of reliving a lot of my fondest memories about this one-of-a-kind place – many of which, not surprisingly, revolve around food. Here's just one example, a callout from my as-yet-unpublished guide:
