The Vanishing Art

In this day and age we are getting used to hearing about the “endangered.” Whether it’s save the whales, or the penguins, the pigmy spider back monkey, the ozone, the rainforest, or the children, it seems that our society is currently obsessed with extinction, fatalities and those who have been hard done by. There are so many things worth saving that sometimes we can’t even keep track of them all. A sad state of affairs in my opinion, but as long as there are doomsday films and national geographic documentaries we shall never completely lose sight of the global situation.
I hope, and if all else fails there is still Michael Moore.

In light of all these serious global issues that we leave in the hands of international bodies and world leaders, I have come upon a new endangerment one slightly less imperative; the book. The physical paper back or hard covers with palpable pages, and a musky pulp scent, are becoming endangered. Well not literally of course, Chapters stands as a testament to the thriving publication industry, however, the art of the book is being lost.

Many may laugh at me considering there are still thousands of novels lining the shelves of book superstores across the country, (at least five hundred of those books are copies of the twilight saga.) But the trend I am noticing more and more is that a book is not considered successful until it exists as a cinematic feature film. I am not just talking about the bookstore blockbusters, I am talking about all manners of books; from Swedish crime fiction, to the popular teen novels, real life accounts and science drama. One need only hear the title of a ‘good’ book before you see it coming out in theatres. It makes me wonder if the screen writers ran out of ideas, or if it’s just easier to get authors to do all the legwork. Half the work of publishing a novel is coming up with the idea. Writers will often bash their head against the wall for weeks or even months before discovering some inkling of inspiration. And finally after exhausting months of typing, moving commas and excessive editor scrutiny the book sits for weeks on the shelves before being snapped up by a Hollywood producer.

The ultimate compliment to writers and authors alike is of course money; but after labouring over your artistic baby for nine months or maybe more, you must give up all creative bearings. It’s not a bad sacrifice for a life of fame and fortune; I mean ask J.K. Rowling, the Harry Potter mastermind who is currently the second wealthiest female in the United Kingdom. But is the loss of artistic medium really worth the wealth? If you asked Marshall McLuhan, decorated communications doctorate, he would be throwing his hands up in despair. According to McLuhan film is a form of hot media; a medium of media that requires none of the human minds capacity for cognitive thought. Hot media has all the answers; it takes care of sounds, background, the appearances of the characters, in an undeniable believable setting, there is absolutely no imagination required. The beauty of CGI has made even the most impossible of sci-fi worlds possible. Look at Avatar, everything from the plant life to the appearances of the actors is fabricated and computer generated, but if I walked out of my front door into the world of Pandora, I would believe it existed.

McLuhan presents the argument that the human races appetite for mass media is turning us into zombies. An accusation I find kind of harsh, however I will continue to mourn the imagination involved in reading a book. For when the movie comes out it is impossible to un-see what has been seen, so dies the imagination involved in reading. And relating yourself to the hero or heroine, I mean the moment you try to compare yourself to a Hollywood starlet your doomed.

That being said there are some shows/movies that would not be the same without their graphic components. Case and point “Sex and the City” exists as one of those girlie indulgences that sticks right up there with pedicures and Cosmo. As much as I love Carrie Bradshaw’s, novel like narration I have to admit Sex and the City the book would lack lustre no matter how much glitter was on the cover. I love Sex and the City for the fashion, the high rise New York apartments, and chic night clubs, and I don’t care how many words there are to describe Gucci or Gabbanna, it’s just not the same as watching Sarah Jessica Parker stroll down and upscale street in New York, in sky high heels, and a sexified LBD.

Just watching that movie makes me want to be a writer. The cars, the restaurants, the apartments and of course the designer clothes; Carrie lives the fast paced life that many suburban housewives drool over. But is it really tangible? I mean, most of the writers I know live in someone’s basement, skipping meals and waiting tables to make rent. But then again they don’t look like Sarah Jessica Parker, and Calgary isn’t exactly New York.

It seems that to be a successful writer, what I really need is a mini skirt. But I’m sure if I met the real Carrie Bradshaw she would be a little less street savvy and a lot more nerdy since most writers spend more time tearing their hair out than doing it up.

But that will not be me, no; my encounter with Sex and the City has inspired me to be a female ball busting, temptress with three inch stilettos and an unquenchable hunger for power. Because that is where the tangible pages of books will eventually land you; in the safe arms of a film contract watching Jessica Alba play your main character.

While YOU sip your appletini at a ‘members only’ bar in downtown New York.