Belated but heartfelt condolences to the incomparable Vanessa Redgrave

On March 18, Vanessa Redgrave’s daughter, Natasha Richardson, died as a result of a skiing accident here in Canada. A tragedy for all concerned, certainly, but my heart broke especially for her mother, the great actress who has always been a friend of literature.

Looking back at what I know of her career, it is obvious there is a terrible irony to some of it. She turned The Year of Magical Thinking into a one-woman show based, of course, on Joan Didion’s medidation on the death of her husband, which was swiftly followed by the death of their only child, a daughter. Because of Natasha’s death, a charitable staging of that show in April in New York has been postponed until October.

In the 2007 film Evening, which I’ve not seen somehow, even though it stars not only Vanessa, but Meryl Streep, Natasha Richardson played the eldest daughter of a character played by her mother, who is dying at the end of the film. A scene that is now doomed never to transpire in real life.

I remember seeing Julia, the film for which she won an academy award, when it first came out. My mother made me a pretty die-hard Lillian Hellman fan. Now, some 30 years later, all I recall of that movie was my amazement at this incredible-looking actress I’d never seen, with hands that looked half a block long, but were so elegant and so intensely expressive.

One of the many reasons I’ve admired Vanessa over the years is that she is politicized, radical, and has the courage to speak out (even while accepting her academy award for Julia – what better place to make a point, when the entire world with access to a television is watching).

Finally, I will never tire of seeing the last minutes of the film version of Ian McEwan’s brilliant novel, Atonement. The book is better, no surprise there, but the final 6 or 7 minutes of the film version is worth sitting through everything that comes before it. Vanessa, as the elderly Briony, is interviewed about her final book. I could watch that scene over and over again and probably will. When I watched it recently, I realized I’d forgotten that it was Anthony Minghella who interviewed the elderly Briony, another sad irony in the career of this titan.

Dear Ms Redgrave, your legions of fans hope to see more of you before too long. In the meantime, we are so sorry for your loss.

How Marian the Librarian Came to the Rescue, Part 3

Playground Polly is always with Boffo, which is fine with him because he knows that he is too little to be out and about on his own. And truth be told, he’s too nervous to do any of the things by himself that he does quite happily with Polly.

As for Polly herself, she is actively trying to postpone what she knows will be the beginning of the end: the day that Boffo starts school. Her prodigy, her perfect little brother will be no more; he will be ‘re-educated.’

Going to school is a fate Polly has managed to postpone thus far for herself, but it has taken single-minded determination and focus. When asked why she won’t go to school, her statement never varies: ‘Because I don’t want to.’

If pressed for more she will add, ‘Maybe one day I will change my mind.’

But Boffo wouldn’t kick up much of a fuss if he was told to go.

He is easily pleased and happy when he sees happiness around him, which has the effect of making those around him want to appear happy, at least to Boffo. They do so by smiling and laughing, by being courteous and pleasant. By appearing to be happy, they begin to feel happy, and all those smiles become genuine.

Polly holds puppet Boffo in front of the puppet master. As she does so, Marian the Librarian twists the man’s arm behind his back and begins to lift it. ‘Let him go,’ she orders, with a sharp little lift of his arm.

Almost instantly Boffo reappears as himself. He falls to the floor forgetting he is no longer a small boy on strings under the control of strange adult. He laughs, jumps to his feet and hugs both Marian the Librarian and his sister.

The odious puppet master is gone in minutes. He turns red when, pushing angrily through the double doors, he sees Boffo waving a cheerful good-bye.

I should mention that Polly and Boffo never took books out of the library. It took me a while to wonder if Polly could read them – not learning to read would be the one major drawback of avoiding school.

Boffo did indeed to go school, by the way, and he taught Polly to read. Polly was so excited when she learned to read that with Boffo’s encouragement, she did change her mind, went back to school and raced through several grades at once. She also spent more time with Marian the Librarian, who taught her to find exactly what she was looking for.