IF A PICTURE’S WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS
Paraphrasing there, but remember when Telly
Savalas sang that? Well, growled it. I bet when he had the Number 1 UK single
back then he didn’t know he’d be giving me the perfect way to end my guest spot
at Babes In Bookland. Because if a picture paints a thousand words then why
bother with books at all?
It will come as no shock to those who have
read my previous posts that I love the movies. The cinema experience is
fantastic if you find the right film. I’ve even got a home cinema in my attic,
comfy chairs, projector, five speakers and a subwoofer et al. But if we were
talking sex, a movie would be a one-night stand. A good book is more like a
four-week affair. And something you can do every night at bedtime. What would
the neighbours think if I cranked up the late night volume for a month?
Here’s the deal. You watch a movie and it’s
fun but everyone sees the same film. Read a book and every reader sees
something different. That’s because a reader brings something else to the
party. Imagination. When I write a Jim Grant thriller I see a picture in my
head and try to get that down on paper. Descriptions, tone, location. When I
re-read it that’s what I get back. When you read it you’ll see a completely different
movie. A case in point. I’m left handed. When I right a scene I will make
decisions about where certain things appear. The road curves to the right or
Grant crosses to his left. If you’re right handed what you’ll picture in your
head will be reversed. I’ve read dozens of books where the words give me one
direction but my mind says the opposite.
That’s why a book adapted for the screen
can be so disappointing. You’ve already seen the perfect film of the book in
your head. How can they ever match that? It’s the age old question (well only
since the birth of cinema), should you read the book or see the film first?
I’ve done both over the years and whichever way you go, it’s nearly always a
let down. I didn’t get into the Bond novels until after seeing Goldfinger.
When I read it I thought I’d got the wrong book. Not only was the tone and
dialogue different the ending was totally wrong. As hard as I tried I couldn’t
bring Sean Connery’s voice to what Ian Fleming had written. And
try reading Ben Hur. Forget it. Not on the same planet. But once you
accept that they are different mediums the rewards can be worthwhile. I love
the Fleming books now. They are separate
and different and hugely enjoyable. In a different way to the films.
There are exceptions of course. The Day
Of The Jackal was almost identical to the book. Get Shorty’s
dialogue read like a script, complete with John Travolta saying it. In
my head. And I can’t read any of Elmore Leonard’s Raylan Givens stories
without hearing Timothy Olyphant in Justified. The nearest thing
to an onscreen novel though is The Wire. The long form allowed by
television meant that each season played out like a book with thirteen
chapters. Watch the box set and it’s almost like reading a well-constructed
novel. Great stuff.
So, movies verses books? Make your choice.
Or do like me. Love them both. The pictures may look beautiful and the pace
might be electric but a thousand words can seep into your bones. Savour them.
Take it away Telly.
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