Author: Matthew Groff

  • New Tom Stoppard Bio, And Personal Reflections

    In a quest to look for things in the news that are not political, I saw today in the New York Times a review of a new biography on Tom Stoppard. The book is entitled “Tom Stoppard: A Life” by Hermione Lee, which feels rather blunt for a subject as witty as Stoppard. The review seemed to be lukewarm to the biography, but the article does illustrate that this book contains new insights into the subject, as this is the second biography on the famed playwright and screenwriter. I have a feeling a will read it.

    In college, Stoppard was a favorite of several professors, and his works were taught extensively. In fact, my department presented “The Real Thing” and I was lucky enough to take on the lead role of Henry. I spent a great amount of time going over Stoppard’s words, not only in that play, but many of his others. I remember many late nights, over beers with friends, debating what aspect of his plays were autobiographical, and what role does philosophy play as character motivation, or is it just used as a joke?

    When I was doing my research on Stoppard, I took a trip down to Austin to visit the Harry Ransom Center at The University of Texas. The Center is great because they will let you handle original papers and manuscripts for research purposes. There are a few hoops to jump through, but nothing detrimental to one’s ambition. (I still keep my Ransom Center card in my wallet.) I went to the reading room having requested the earliest draft the Center had of “The Real Thing,” and I was given a manila folder that contained a typed draft of the play. And there, on the first page of the draft, was coffee/tea ring stain on the paper. There was a thrill in me, knowing that I was holding the same paper that Stoppard put his mug down on. It wasn’t exactly bridging time, but it was a nice reminder that he wasn’t the “god” I was taught in school, but just a guy who is sloppy with a beverage.

  • Mid-Winter Recess: Keeping the Kid Occupied

    The kid is out of school this week, as it is the Mid-Winter Recess. I am still getting used to the school schedule around here. Growing up in Texas, school started in August, and ended in May. There was a Thanksgiving Break, and Christmas Break, Spring Break, and then it was all over by Memorial Day. New York City starts at Labor Day and goes to the end of June. But with Covid and remote learning, I have no idea what is or is not normal when it comes to the school schedule.

    Thinking back, I can’t remember what it was like to be her age and being at home on a break. Growing up in Texas, we always had an outside to go play in. There was a backyard, or a friend down the street who we could play with in their yard. Even in Winter, it really only got down to forty-five degrees, and though we thought it was cold, it wasn’t cold.

    My daughter is having a tough time. Though we all agree that remote learning is not ideal, it at least gives her contact with other kids. This week it’s cold, icy, and going to snow some more. It’s just icky out, and when the snow comes, at least we will have the ability to go sledding again. (That seems to be the hit of the winter.) In the meantime, I am coming up with things for us to do, as I don’t want her sitting around and watching tv all day. We made surf boards out of cardboard boxes, and did puzzles. Today, reading book, drawing pictures, and I think a walk. Maybe a puppet show tomorrow.

  • Personal Review: “Casting Shadows” by Jhumpa Lahiri

    In a very strange twist, we had a relaxing weekend. I say this because there was a holiday, Valentine’s Day, which I completely forgot about. I thought of myself as the type of dutiful husband that never misses important dates, but I want to say that this was Covid’s fault. Either way, the wife was on top of it, made sure the kid and I had a good day. For me, that meant I got time on the couch to listen to music and read.

    I decided that I wanted to catch up on the latest issue of The New Yorker, which is the February 15th & 22nd issue. I particularly enjoyed the short story in the issue “Casting Shadows” by Jhumpa Lahiri. She might not like this comparison, but I found the narrator’s tone reminiscent of Rachel Cusk’s protagonist in The Outline Trilogy, if the protagonist talked more about herself, and wasn’t letting the other people she came in contact speak. Lahiri’s narrator in her short work observes the people and the city she lives in, through never mentioned it feels very much like Rome, which creates a melancholic optimism of the small encounters and how they slowly affect her.

    Personally, I have an issue with first person past tense narration in fiction, as it never feels realistic to me. First person past tense is clearly a reflection, and will always break in the narrator’s favor, thus it always has the potential of being untruthful. But with Lahiri’s narrator, I felt that she was a person who has come to enjoy her own honesty and truth. There was no judgement, but still an ethic she was holding too.

    It was a story that reminded me that good fiction can be very inspiring.  

  • Secret Fascination: Ivy League Style

    I have a secret fasciation that I use Instagram to indulge in; I follow several profiles that display clothing in the “Ivy League” style. I have also heard it called “Oxford Style” as well.

    It started a while ago when I was dressing as professional as possible for work. And when I say “professional” for work, it really started off by tucking in my button-down shirt with my jeans, and threw a tie on it all. Then I moved on to khaki pants, and sportscoats got added. I felt like I was recreating a “preppy look” from high school that grungy me used to hate, but for some reason, I started to enjoy.

    In the name of exploring, I started looking to Instagram for help. I follow #ivystyle, and also @navyblueblazer, @oxfordclothbuttondown, and @arnoldsteiner, and it’s fun, and makes me sort of miss a time when I had to put on a “uniform” to go to work.

    But, there was this thought in the back of my head that couldn’t shake; this is kind of a conservative way of dressing, and I’m a pretty liberal person, so what’s up with me? Why am I interested in tweed, and blazers? Crew neck sweaters, and button-down shirts. Argyle socks, and tartan ties. Khaki pants and anything from L.L. Bean. And anything that is colored navy. To be blunt, it’s pretty WASP-y.

    Is this happening to me because I had a kid and turned 40? Is this because I want to live in New England? Or am I just getting tired of t-shirts and jeans? I’m never giving up my All-Stars, though. That’s just who I am.

  • Working for an Alcoholic

    I had a plan this morning on what I was going to blog about. I follow several “Ivy Style” people and stores on Instagram, and I wanted to write about how this has turned into a small obsession with me as I am looking forward to the day when I can put on a shirt, tie and sportscoat and go to work again, or see a play, or just be out of the house.

    As I began to write about this subject, I thought back as to when I started dressing in this “Ivy Style.” It was back when I was the number two at a rehearsal studio, and my boss was an alcoholic. He would show up hours late, hungover, would miss meetings that I would have to take over, and when he did arrive, he would look disheveled and unkempt. When his alcoholism truly got out of hand, by which he was sitting in his office and drinking all day in view of clients, I decided that I needed to demonstrate to our customers that I was the responsible one, and I decided to accomplish this I would begin wearing a shirt and tie to work.  

    And when I thought about working in that studio and with my alcoholic boss, a wave of emotions dropped over me; shame, annoyance, a sort of passive aggressive futile resignment, and anger. So much anger erupted in me. Anger at the owner for ignoring the problem because his business was booming in spite of the supervisor’s dereliction. And anger at myself for putting up with it for so long. For putting up with a situation I hated being in, but couldn’t muster the courage to leave. Eventually I did quite that job, but only after a year of unrelenting stress.

    These ancient memories and emotion have washed over me, and my day has now been sidetracked. I tried for about an hour to return to my original blog topic, which maybe I will get to another day, but every time I started on it, I kept going back to that time in my life. Over and over again. I just gave up and put this out. Maybe to let it go, maybe to say that there is still something lingering there that I haven’t dealt with. But something is there, because why would I have such a strong reaction to that period in time from so long ago?