15 June 2010
The other night, I felt the need to read a short story. I’ve been wanting to experience a decent short for a while now, so I settled on my couch to read ‘Brokeback Mountain’ FINALLY. I’ve had it for quite some time but never really had the courage to get through it. The movie was entirely too quiet and, honestly, the plot wasn’t that gripping to me. I didn’t want to read the short story and discover that it’s just as bad—or worse, discover that the movie didn’t begin to do it justice.
Well, I fought my fears and made my discoveries. The short story was a tad better than the movie.
The entire story focuses on Ennis DelMar’s point of view. It doesn’t flop back and forth from Ennis in Utah to Jack Twist in Texas like the movie did (causing it to approach Titanic’s length). I enjoyed seeing the author, being a woman, describe a man living alone. Like the rest of the short story, the portrayal was raw and matter-of-fact. He recycled coffee and pissed in the kitchen sink of his camper. I will never look at my grandfather in the same light, being a retired farm-hand.