Nietzsche on Deities.
For the highest images in every religion there is an analogue in a state of the soul. The God of Mohammed--the solitude of the desert, the distant roar of a lion, the vision of a terrible fighter. The God of the Christians--everything that men and women associate with the word "love." The God of the Greeks--a beautiful dream image.
Nietzsche
from The Portable Nietzsche (p. 49)
What do you think? Is he right on or way off, or somewhere in between?
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Shirley Jackson: The Haunting of Hill House, novel and film
Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House is the best "haunted house" novel I have read. I realize there may be those who have their own favorites here, and I would appreciate learning of some titles.
Haunted house stories seem to come in two flavors. There are those in which the innocent victims move into a house, usually somewhat isolated. The rent or sale price is absurdly low, and they feel they have stumbled onto a bargain. And, they don't understand why the house has been empty for so long.
The second type involves those who are knowledgeable about the house's unsavory past and intend to stay only a short time. Some come there as the result of a dare or a bet, and their stay normally is for one night only. Psychic researchers comprise the other type of short term residents, and they usually plan to stay at most a week or so, if that long. They are there to prove or disprove the existence of spirits. This type consists usually of one lead psychic researcher, usually an academic, and two to four assistants, who frequently are the psychic researcher's graduate students and whose main role is to provide victims for the demons that occupy the premises.
Jackson's characters belong to the latter group. Dr Montague is determined to make a name for himself by proving the existence of the spiritual or non-material world. Hill House has a long and honorable history of being a true haunted house with ghostly appearances and tragic deaths. His assistants, though, are not typical graduate students. Over the years, Dr. Montague has collected newspaper reports of individuals who have been involved in events which involve some sort of spiritual or paranormal activity. Now that he has rented the house, he contacts these people and offers them a short term job as his assistant. He believes these people who have already been touched by the psychic activity would be more sensitive to the spiritual influences in the house.
Of the many he has contacted, only two appear. One is Eleanor Vance--the point of view character. She has come to escape her drab and restricted life. She has spent most of her life taking care of her invalid mother. The mother died several months ago, and Eleanor now lives with her sister and brother-in-law. She is bullied and abused by her sister. This is her first attempt at changing her life. She sees this as an adventure, one that will change her life. Her mantra throughout is "Journeys end in lovers meeting."
We never learn much about the other two assistants--Theodora, except for some hints that she has led a somewhat adventurous life, and Luke, who really isn't an assistant but the nephew of the woman who owns Hill House. Accepting Luke as part of his team was necessary if Dr. Montague was to rent the house.
In addition to the four researchers are the Dudleys. They are the caretakers, he mostly outdoors and she indoors. They don't stay the night, but leave as soon as it begins to get dark. They are a strange pair, well fit for Hill House.
Approximately a week after Dr. Montague and his team move in, they are joined by two unwelcome visitors--Dr Montague's wife and her friend Arthur. At best one might call them comic relief. She is the bossy, take-charge type who knows everything and knows how to do everything better than anybody else. She has come to take charge of the study. She is a complete believer in everything, from astrology to the use of the planchette, a type of Ouija board. She firmly believes that all spirits are benign as long as one treats them with "infinite compassion," something only she is best qualified to do. While I generally am on the side of the humans, I will gladly make an exception in her case and nominate her as First Victim.
If one is looking for buckets of gore and body parts scattered about, one will be disappointed here. The terror and fright are generated more by not knowing who or what occupies Hill House. The tension and suspense slowly build as we see Eleanor become increasingly influenced and changed as the days pass. Moreover, in spite of the terrifying manifestations that take place during the night, Eleanor finds herself more and more attracted to the house. At one point she thinks, "Odd, she thought sleepily, that the house should be so dreadful and yet in many respects so physically comfortable--the soft bed, the pleasant lawn, the good fire, the cooking of Mrs Dudley."
One of those manifestations that seems most chilling is the following: it is night and Eleanor and Theadora are in sharing a bedroom and "From the room next door, the room which until that morning had been Theadora's , came the steady low sound of a voice babbling, too low for words to be understood, too steady for disbelief. . .Eleanor and Theadora listened, and the low, steady sound went on and on, the voice lifting sometimes for an emphasis on a mumbled word, falling sometimes to a breath, going on and on. Then, without warning, there was a little laugh, the small gurgling laugh that broke through the babbling, and rose as it laughed, on up and up the scale, and then broke off suddenly in a little painful gasp, and the voice went on."
I find that small gurgling laugh, amidst that mumbling voice, most chilling, especially since it seems to accompany the horrendous blows struck at the intervening door, the blows that almost but not quite break down the door. Who or what is beyond the door?
Two films were made of The Haunting of Hill House, one in 1963 with Julie Harris as Eleanor and Claire Bloom as Theadora, and a remake in 1999, with digital special effects and gore, from what I have read. I have seen the 1963 version and found it a very good adaptation. The most significant difference was in the portrayal of Dr. Montague's wife. In the film she is portrayed as a complete skeptic and insists on sleeping in the nursery, the heart or source of the ghostly manifestations. I haven't seen the remake yet, but if I find it I will take a look at it.
Overall Reaction: a great novel and a very good film version--the 1963 version anyway. Highly recommended. It being Halloween, tonight would be a good night for either the novel or the film.
Haunted house stories seem to come in two flavors. There are those in which the innocent victims move into a house, usually somewhat isolated. The rent or sale price is absurdly low, and they feel they have stumbled onto a bargain. And, they don't understand why the house has been empty for so long.
The second type involves those who are knowledgeable about the house's unsavory past and intend to stay only a short time. Some come there as the result of a dare or a bet, and their stay normally is for one night only. Psychic researchers comprise the other type of short term residents, and they usually plan to stay at most a week or so, if that long. They are there to prove or disprove the existence of spirits. This type consists usually of one lead psychic researcher, usually an academic, and two to four assistants, who frequently are the psychic researcher's graduate students and whose main role is to provide victims for the demons that occupy the premises.
Jackson's characters belong to the latter group. Dr Montague is determined to make a name for himself by proving the existence of the spiritual or non-material world. Hill House has a long and honorable history of being a true haunted house with ghostly appearances and tragic deaths. His assistants, though, are not typical graduate students. Over the years, Dr. Montague has collected newspaper reports of individuals who have been involved in events which involve some sort of spiritual or paranormal activity. Now that he has rented the house, he contacts these people and offers them a short term job as his assistant. He believes these people who have already been touched by the psychic activity would be more sensitive to the spiritual influences in the house.
Of the many he has contacted, only two appear. One is Eleanor Vance--the point of view character. She has come to escape her drab and restricted life. She has spent most of her life taking care of her invalid mother. The mother died several months ago, and Eleanor now lives with her sister and brother-in-law. She is bullied and abused by her sister. This is her first attempt at changing her life. She sees this as an adventure, one that will change her life. Her mantra throughout is "Journeys end in lovers meeting."
We never learn much about the other two assistants--Theodora, except for some hints that she has led a somewhat adventurous life, and Luke, who really isn't an assistant but the nephew of the woman who owns Hill House. Accepting Luke as part of his team was necessary if Dr. Montague was to rent the house.
In addition to the four researchers are the Dudleys. They are the caretakers, he mostly outdoors and she indoors. They don't stay the night, but leave as soon as it begins to get dark. They are a strange pair, well fit for Hill House.
Approximately a week after Dr. Montague and his team move in, they are joined by two unwelcome visitors--Dr Montague's wife and her friend Arthur. At best one might call them comic relief. She is the bossy, take-charge type who knows everything and knows how to do everything better than anybody else. She has come to take charge of the study. She is a complete believer in everything, from astrology to the use of the planchette, a type of Ouija board. She firmly believes that all spirits are benign as long as one treats them with "infinite compassion," something only she is best qualified to do. While I generally am on the side of the humans, I will gladly make an exception in her case and nominate her as First Victim.
If one is looking for buckets of gore and body parts scattered about, one will be disappointed here. The terror and fright are generated more by not knowing who or what occupies Hill House. The tension and suspense slowly build as we see Eleanor become increasingly influenced and changed as the days pass. Moreover, in spite of the terrifying manifestations that take place during the night, Eleanor finds herself more and more attracted to the house. At one point she thinks, "Odd, she thought sleepily, that the house should be so dreadful and yet in many respects so physically comfortable--the soft bed, the pleasant lawn, the good fire, the cooking of Mrs Dudley."
One of those manifestations that seems most chilling is the following: it is night and Eleanor and Theadora are in sharing a bedroom and "From the room next door, the room which until that morning had been Theadora's , came the steady low sound of a voice babbling, too low for words to be understood, too steady for disbelief. . .Eleanor and Theadora listened, and the low, steady sound went on and on, the voice lifting sometimes for an emphasis on a mumbled word, falling sometimes to a breath, going on and on. Then, without warning, there was a little laugh, the small gurgling laugh that broke through the babbling, and rose as it laughed, on up and up the scale, and then broke off suddenly in a little painful gasp, and the voice went on."
I find that small gurgling laugh, amidst that mumbling voice, most chilling, especially since it seems to accompany the horrendous blows struck at the intervening door, the blows that almost but not quite break down the door. Who or what is beyond the door?
Two films were made of The Haunting of Hill House, one in 1963 with Julie Harris as Eleanor and Claire Bloom as Theadora, and a remake in 1999, with digital special effects and gore, from what I have read. I have seen the 1963 version and found it a very good adaptation. The most significant difference was in the portrayal of Dr. Montague's wife. In the film she is portrayed as a complete skeptic and insists on sleeping in the nursery, the heart or source of the ghostly manifestations. I haven't seen the remake yet, but if I find it I will take a look at it.
Overall Reaction: a great novel and a very good film version--the 1963 version anyway. Highly recommended. It being Halloween, tonight would be a good night for either the novel or the film.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
The parable of pilgrims
"Two monks on pilgrimage came to a river bank. There they saw a girl dressed in fine clothes and at a loss to know how to proceed, for the river was high and she did not want her clothes spoilt. Without further ado, one of the monks took her on his back, carried her across and put her down on dry ground. Then the monks continued on their way.
After a while the other monk suddenly burst out: 'Surely it is not right to touch a woman. It is against the commandments to have close contact with women. How can you go against the rules for monks?'. . . and so on in a steady stream. The monk who had carried the girl walked along silently, but finally he remarked: 'I set her down by the river. But you are still carrying her.'"
from 1001 Pearls of Buddhist Wisdom
Selected by the Buddhist Society
After a while the other monk suddenly burst out: 'Surely it is not right to touch a woman. It is against the commandments to have close contact with women. How can you go against the rules for monks?'. . . and so on in a steady stream. The monk who had carried the girl walked along silently, but finally he remarked: 'I set her down by the river. But you are still carrying her.'"
from 1001 Pearls of Buddhist Wisdom
Selected by the Buddhist Society
Saturday, October 23, 2010
What good are books?
Books delight us when prosperity smiles upon us; they comfort us inseparably when stormy fortune frowns on us. They lend validity to human compacts, and no serious judgments are propounded without their help. Arts and sciences, all the advantages of which no mind can enumerate, consist in books. How highly must we estimate the wondrous power of books, since through them we survey the utmost bounds of the world and time, and contemplate the things that are as well as those that are not, as it were in the mirror of eternity. In books we climb mountains and scan the deepest gulfs of the abyss; in books we behold the finny tribes that may not exist outside of their native waters, distinguish the properties of streams and springs and of various lands; from books we dig out gems and metals and the materials of every ,,kind of mineral, and learn the virtues of herbs and trees and plants, and survey at will the wholy progeny of Neptune, Ceres, and Pluto.
Books are masters who instruct us without words of anger, without bread or money. If you approach them they are not asleep. If you seek them, they do not hide, if you blunder they do not scold, if you are ignorant, they do not laugh at you.
-- Richard de Bury --
Or--
There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry --
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll --
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human soul.
-- Emily Dickinson --
I wonder if in 2050 AD, someone will sit down and write: "Kindles delight us when prosperity smiles upon us; they comfort us inseparably when stormy fortune frowns upon us . . ."
Or
"There is no Frigate like a Kindle . . ."
Friday, October 22, 2010
Robert Frost: October
Since this is October, it seems apt to post this poem by Robert Frost.
October
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost--
For the grapes' sake along the wall.
Frankly, I don't think that "October" is one of his best poems. But, it does have an interesting theme. We are used to hearing about summer as the slow, lazy time of the year. In this poem the poet asks that autumn also be slow, if only for the grapes' sake. I find that strange for it would seem that lowering the temperature would be important if the exposed grapes were to be saved. On the other hand, perhaps the heat is necessary, and the longer the grapes are bathed in the heat, the better they'll be. Knowing little of grapes, I can only guess.
Maybe there's another meaning to the last part of the poem, to the poet's plea for a long slow autumn. If it's autumn now, winter, the season of death, must be close behind. Possibly the poet wants time to slow in order to stave off winter, that there's no need to rush into winter.
October
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost--
For the grapes' sake along the wall.
Frankly, I don't think that "October" is one of his best poems. But, it does have an interesting theme. We are used to hearing about summer as the slow, lazy time of the year. In this poem the poet asks that autumn also be slow, if only for the grapes' sake. I find that strange for it would seem that lowering the temperature would be important if the exposed grapes were to be saved. On the other hand, perhaps the heat is necessary, and the longer the grapes are bathed in the heat, the better they'll be. Knowing little of grapes, I can only guess.
Maybe there's another meaning to the last part of the poem, to the poet's plea for a long slow autumn. If it's autumn now, winter, the season of death, must be close behind. Possibly the poet wants time to slow in order to stave off winter, that there's no need to rush into winter.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Mishima: A LIfe in Four Chapters, a film
Yukio Mishima has been a favorite writer of mine for some time now. I've read a number of his novels, including "The Sea of Fertility" quartet--an ironic title, for it refers to Mare Fecunditatis, a region of the moon, which, of course, is dry, barren, and lifeless, and not fertile at all. Therefore, when I heard about this film, Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters, I was curious about it. I knew little about his life, except for his rather dramatic death.
On November 25, 1970, Mishima and four members of the Shield Society, his private army, dressed in full uniform and drove to the Ichigaya Camp, the Tokyo headquarters for the Japanese Self-Defense Force. Once there, he and the others took the Camp Commander hostage. He addressed the soldiers gathered below and tried to inspire them to rise up, overthrow the government, and restore the powers of the emperor. He was mocked and jeered at by the soldiers. He then went back into the Commander's office and committed seppuku.
I was even more intrigued when I read that Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas were the producers and that Philip Glass wrote the original music for the film, parts of which were played by The Kronos Quartet.
The film has one of the most unusual disclaimers I've ever seen. It agrees that Yukio Mishima was a real person, but it goes on to state that nothing in the film is based on real people or real events. This being said, while the dialogue and actions on the day of his death are obviously the work of a screenwriter(s), the overall course of events are accurate.
The film consists of four chapters-Beauty, Art, Action, and Harmony of Pen and Sword. It has three rather episodic narratives, each interrupted by the sequence of chapters.
The first tells of the events of November 25, 1970, the day of the failed coup and his suicide. It is in color and naturalistic. It begins with Mishima dressing and getting ready for the day.
The second is in black-and-white. It consists of flashbacks of Mishima's life, which appear to be films taken of him while he was growing up.
The third narrative is in color and relates dramatized scenes from three of his novels: The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, Kyoko's House, and Runaway Horses. However, the scenes are stylized, perhaps in the manner of Japanese theatre. The dialogue is declaimed, rooms are indicated by panels, and forests suggested by a line of obviously artificial trees.
I had read The Temple of the Golden Pavilion and Runaway Horses, the second book in the Sea of Fertility quartet, so I was able to relate the dramatized scenes to Mishima's life. In both books, the main characters commit suicide, a clear relationship to Mishima's own life. I haven't read Kyoto's House yet, so the relationship is not as clear as it is with the other two.
Overall Reaction: I found it very interesting. Philip Glass' music is the perfect choice, and it adds a persistent driving tension to the film. While it is in no way a comprehensive account of Mishima's life, it does suggest parallels between his life and his work. I have it on my list of films to be seen again.
On November 25, 1970, Mishima and four members of the Shield Society, his private army, dressed in full uniform and drove to the Ichigaya Camp, the Tokyo headquarters for the Japanese Self-Defense Force. Once there, he and the others took the Camp Commander hostage. He addressed the soldiers gathered below and tried to inspire them to rise up, overthrow the government, and restore the powers of the emperor. He was mocked and jeered at by the soldiers. He then went back into the Commander's office and committed seppuku.
I was even more intrigued when I read that Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas were the producers and that Philip Glass wrote the original music for the film, parts of which were played by The Kronos Quartet.
The film has one of the most unusual disclaimers I've ever seen. It agrees that Yukio Mishima was a real person, but it goes on to state that nothing in the film is based on real people or real events. This being said, while the dialogue and actions on the day of his death are obviously the work of a screenwriter(s), the overall course of events are accurate.
The film consists of four chapters-Beauty, Art, Action, and Harmony of Pen and Sword. It has three rather episodic narratives, each interrupted by the sequence of chapters.
The first tells of the events of November 25, 1970, the day of the failed coup and his suicide. It is in color and naturalistic. It begins with Mishima dressing and getting ready for the day.
The second is in black-and-white. It consists of flashbacks of Mishima's life, which appear to be films taken of him while he was growing up.
The third narrative is in color and relates dramatized scenes from three of his novels: The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, Kyoko's House, and Runaway Horses. However, the scenes are stylized, perhaps in the manner of Japanese theatre. The dialogue is declaimed, rooms are indicated by panels, and forests suggested by a line of obviously artificial trees.
I had read The Temple of the Golden Pavilion and Runaway Horses, the second book in the Sea of Fertility quartet, so I was able to relate the dramatized scenes to Mishima's life. In both books, the main characters commit suicide, a clear relationship to Mishima's own life. I haven't read Kyoto's House yet, so the relationship is not as clear as it is with the other two.
Overall Reaction: I found it very interesting. Philip Glass' music is the perfect choice, and it adds a persistent driving tension to the film. While it is in no way a comprehensive account of Mishima's life, it does suggest parallels between his life and his work. I have it on my list of films to be seen again.
Friday, October 15, 2010
The Rubaiyat: Quatrain XXXIII
This is one quatrain that FitzGerald apparently was not too happy about, for he made several extensive changes over the five editions--and not just changes in wording but changes in meaning.
First Edition: Quatrain XXXIII
Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXVII
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil of Universe I cried to find
A Lamp to guide me through the Darkness; and
Something then said--"An Understanding blind."
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXIV
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil, Lifted up my hands to find
A Lamp amid the Darkness, and I heard,
As from Without--"The ME within THEE blind!"
- - - - - - - - - -
First Edition:
"Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.
In the previous quatrain (Q XXXII), the poet was stopped by the Door and the Veil, from behind which he could hear only some talk of ME and THEE and then no more of THEE and ME. In this quatrain, in the first edition anyway, he then turns to Heav'n and asks what help--the Lamp--Destiny has for its children stumbling in the Dark and is told "A blind Understanding!" Would a blind Understanding" be one in which one knows what one is doing but doesn't understand why? --that the results of these actions are unknown? Is it the goal or end that which one is blind about? -- or about which one is in the Dark? That would certainly fit in with previous quatrains in which this same idea was presented--that we don't know where we came from and we don't know where we are going.
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXVII
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil of Universe I cried to find
A Lamp to guide me through the Darkness; and
Something then said--"An Understanding blind."
This is a much stronger connection in this version to the previous quatrain in the very first line. In the previously discussed quatrain there was mention of THEE and ME which now becomes THEE in ME. This suggests some Buddhist ideas that the creator actually is in all of us, looking out of our eyes at itself in the eyes of another--the creator is in the eye of the tiger looking at itself in the eye of the tiger's prey. The poet calls out to that THEE inside who works mysteriously behind the Veil, another reference to the previous quatrain, for a guiding Lamp in the Darkness. In this version, it isn't Heav'n that responds, but "Something" that replies "An Understanding blind."
While "Heav'n" is vague and not very specific, at least it suggests some sort of Divine intervention as most religious traditions place their deities in the heavens. Now, the poet gets an answer to his plea for help from "Something"--it may be a deity but it may not. The poet can't even be sure who or what is replying in this version. And, the response is similar to the first edition's "A blind Understanding." It is "An understanding blind." I suspect FitzGerald reversed them to maintain the rhyming pattern of the first, second, and fourth lines.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXIV
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil, Lifted up my hands to find
A Lamp amid the Darkness, and I heard,
As from Without--"The ME within THEE blind!"
The fifth edition is closer to the second than the first edition. However, instead of crying out, he lifts his hands to find that Lamp. The most significant differences are in the fourth lines. It is no longer Heav'n or Something that responds, but the response comes "As from Without." Is it coming from Without or does it just seem to come from Without? The poet doesn't even seem to know now if there is something outside of him.
The second major difference concerns the blindness. In the previous versions, the poet is told by something outside of him that the best he could get would be a blind understanding. In this version, he again plays with THEE and ME by reversing the sequence just as he did in the previous quatrain. "ME and THEE" becomes "THEE and ME" while in this version we read "THEE in ME" and "ME in THEE." The meaning shifts here; initially the poet is in darkness and calls out for light. Now, that which is inside him, that to which he calls out, is blind. It seems as though there is no help for the poet. He is in the Dark and must remain so since his only chance for light is also blind. The poet is not in the Dark, but the Dark is within him.
In the first version, the poet cries out for help from Heav'n, from that which is outside of him. At best he can get a blind understanding. In the fifth version, the poet now learns that the Darkness is within him; it is not something imposed upon him from outside. The poet now is not even certain that there is something outside of him. It may be that he and the Heav'n or something or the universe are one, and all are blind as to the future.
I read somewhere that to know where we are, we must know where we came from, and to know where we are going, we must know where we came from and where we are now. This quatrain seems to suggest that we don't really know anything but that we must just blindly go forward.
First Edition: Quatrain XXXIII
Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXVII
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil of Universe I cried to find
A Lamp to guide me through the Darkness; and
Something then said--"An Understanding blind."
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXIV
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil, Lifted up my hands to find
A Lamp amid the Darkness, and I heard,
As from Without--"The ME within THEE blind!"
First Edition: Quatrain XXXIII
Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXVII
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil of Universe I cried to find
A Lamp to guide me through the Darkness; and
Something then said--"An Understanding blind."
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXIV
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil, Lifted up my hands to find
A Lamp amid the Darkness, and I heard,
As from Without--"The ME within THEE blind!"
- - - - - - - - - -
First Edition:
"Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.
In the previous quatrain (Q XXXII), the poet was stopped by the Door and the Veil, from behind which he could hear only some talk of ME and THEE and then no more of THEE and ME. In this quatrain, in the first edition anyway, he then turns to Heav'n and asks what help--the Lamp--Destiny has for its children stumbling in the Dark and is told "A blind Understanding!" Would a blind Understanding" be one in which one knows what one is doing but doesn't understand why? --that the results of these actions are unknown? Is it the goal or end that which one is blind about? -- or about which one is in the Dark? That would certainly fit in with previous quatrains in which this same idea was presented--that we don't know where we came from and we don't know where we are going.
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXVII
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil of Universe I cried to find
A Lamp to guide me through the Darkness; and
Something then said--"An Understanding blind."
This is a much stronger connection in this version to the previous quatrain in the very first line. In the previously discussed quatrain there was mention of THEE and ME which now becomes THEE in ME. This suggests some Buddhist ideas that the creator actually is in all of us, looking out of our eyes at itself in the eyes of another--the creator is in the eye of the tiger looking at itself in the eye of the tiger's prey. The poet calls out to that THEE inside who works mysteriously behind the Veil, another reference to the previous quatrain, for a guiding Lamp in the Darkness. In this version, it isn't Heav'n that responds, but "Something" that replies "An Understanding blind."
While "Heav'n" is vague and not very specific, at least it suggests some sort of Divine intervention as most religious traditions place their deities in the heavens. Now, the poet gets an answer to his plea for help from "Something"--it may be a deity but it may not. The poet can't even be sure who or what is replying in this version. And, the response is similar to the first edition's "A blind Understanding." It is "An understanding blind." I suspect FitzGerald reversed them to maintain the rhyming pattern of the first, second, and fourth lines.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXIV
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil, Lifted up my hands to find
A Lamp amid the Darkness, and I heard,
As from Without--"The ME within THEE blind!"
The fifth edition is closer to the second than the first edition. However, instead of crying out, he lifts his hands to find that Lamp. The most significant differences are in the fourth lines. It is no longer Heav'n or Something that responds, but the response comes "As from Without." Is it coming from Without or does it just seem to come from Without? The poet doesn't even seem to know now if there is something outside of him.
The second major difference concerns the blindness. In the previous versions, the poet is told by something outside of him that the best he could get would be a blind understanding. In this version, he again plays with THEE and ME by reversing the sequence just as he did in the previous quatrain. "ME and THEE" becomes "THEE and ME" while in this version we read "THEE in ME" and "ME in THEE." The meaning shifts here; initially the poet is in darkness and calls out for light. Now, that which is inside him, that to which he calls out, is blind. It seems as though there is no help for the poet. He is in the Dark and must remain so since his only chance for light is also blind. The poet is not in the Dark, but the Dark is within him.
In the first version, the poet cries out for help from Heav'n, from that which is outside of him. At best he can get a blind understanding. In the fifth version, the poet now learns that the Darkness is within him; it is not something imposed upon him from outside. The poet now is not even certain that there is something outside of him. It may be that he and the Heav'n or something or the universe are one, and all are blind as to the future.
I read somewhere that to know where we are, we must know where we came from, and to know where we are going, we must know where we came from and where we are now. This quatrain seems to suggest that we don't really know anything but that we must just blindly go forward.
First Edition: Quatrain XXXIII
Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXVII
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil of Universe I cried to find
A Lamp to guide me through the Darkness; and
Something then said--"An Understanding blind."
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXIV
Then of the THEE in ME who works behind
The Veil, Lifted up my hands to find
A Lamp amid the Darkness, and I heard,
As from Without--"The ME within THEE blind!"
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Lin Yutang: October 10, 1895--March 3, 1976
I can no longer remember how I was first introduced to Lin Yutang, but it just might have been simply seeing one of his books and getting intrigued by the cover. How can one not even stop and glance inside a book whose cover reads as follows:
The Importance of Living
The Classic Bestseller
That Introduced Millions
to the Noble Art of Leaving
Things Undone
Lin Yutang
I found it irresistible and purchased the book. I read it and have been dipping into it at random since then.
One of his skills is the way he presents his ideas. Unlike many other writers, he can write something that I disagree with and, yet, does not irritate me in the least. I simply read it, realize I disagree with him at this point, and then continue reading. I wish I could do the same. I am not sure as to how he does this. I've wondered though if it might be the context. This book is very mellow and relaxed; perhaps this is his secret. Relaxed and mellow readers might be more likely to remain so even when encountering ideas they disagree with. Just a thought. . .
The following quotation comes from "The Awakening," the first chapter of The Importance of Living--to be precise, the opening paragraphs. It is here that he writes about his philosophy of living.
"In what follows I am presenting the Chinese point of view, because I cannot help myself. I am interested only in presenting a view of life and of things as the best and wisest Chinese minds have seen it and expressed it in their folk wisdom and their literature. It is an idle philosophy born of an idle life, evolved in a different age, I am quite aware. But I cannot help feeling that this view of life is essentially true, and since we are alike under the skin, what touches the human heart in one country touches all. I shall have to present a view of life as Chinese poets and scholars evaluated it with their common sense, their realism and their sense of poetry. I shall attempt to reveal some of the beauty of the pagan world, a sense of the pathos and beauty and terror and comedy of life, viewed by a people who have a strong feeling of the limitations of our existence, and yet somehow retain sense of the dignity of human life.
The Chinese philosopher is one who dreams with one eye open, who views life with love and sweet irony, who mixes his cynicism with a kindly tolerance, and who alternately wakes up from life's dream and then nods again, feeling more alive when he is dreaming than when he is awake, thereby investing his waking life with a dream-world quality. He sees with one eye closed and with one eye opened the futility of much that goes on around him and of his own endeavors , but barely retains enough sense of reality to determine to go through with it. He is seldom disillusioned because he has no illusions, and seldom disappointed because he never had extravagant hopes. In this way his spirit is emancipated.
For, after surveying the field of Chinese literature and philosophy, I come to the conclusion that the highest ideal of Chinese culture has always been a man with a sense of detachment (takuan) toward life based on a sense of wise disenchantment. From this detachment comes high-mindedness (k'uanghuai), a high-mindedness which enables one to go through life with tolerant irony and escape the temptations of fame and wealth and achievement, and eventually makes him take what comes. And from this detachment arise also his sense of freedom, his love of vagabondage and his pride and nonchalance. It is only with this sense of freedom and nonchalance that one eventually arrives at the keen and intense joy of living."
In the second paragraph, Lin suggests the Chinese philosopher lives a dreamlike existence. An early 4th century BC Chinese philosopher Chuang Tzu once said that he had dreamt one night that he was a butterfly, completely happy and satisfied. Then he awoke and found himself to be Chuang Tzu, but he didn't know whether he was a butterfly dreaming he was Chuang Tzu or Chuang Tzu who dreamt he was a butterfly. (taken from the Wikipedia entry on Chuang Tzu or Zuangzi, alternate spelling)
A Poem by Li Po
"Chuang Tzu in dream became a butterfly,
And the butterfly became Chuang Tzu at waking.
Which was the real--the butterfly or the man?
Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things?
The water that flows into the depth of the distant sea
Returns in time to the shallows of a transparent stream.
The man, raising melons outside the green gate of the city,
Was once the Prince of the East Hill.
So must rank and riches vanish.
You know it, still you toil and toil--what for?"
In the second paragraph, Lin wrote "we are alike under the skin, what touches the human heart in one country touches all." Perhaps the East and the West are not that far apart once we get beneath the surface:
"Vanity of vanity, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities, all is vanity.
What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun
One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh, but the earth abideth for ever."
"All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again."
King James Version: Ecclesiastes, Chapter 1, v. 1-4 , 7
Who knows? Perhaps some day we will see our similarities as being as important as, or perhaps even more important than the differences. And the differences will become fascinating and intriguing--and not hateful.
The Importance of Living
The Classic Bestseller
That Introduced Millions
to the Noble Art of Leaving
Things Undone
Lin Yutang
I found it irresistible and purchased the book. I read it and have been dipping into it at random since then.
One of his skills is the way he presents his ideas. Unlike many other writers, he can write something that I disagree with and, yet, does not irritate me in the least. I simply read it, realize I disagree with him at this point, and then continue reading. I wish I could do the same. I am not sure as to how he does this. I've wondered though if it might be the context. This book is very mellow and relaxed; perhaps this is his secret. Relaxed and mellow readers might be more likely to remain so even when encountering ideas they disagree with. Just a thought. . .
The following quotation comes from "The Awakening," the first chapter of The Importance of Living--to be precise, the opening paragraphs. It is here that he writes about his philosophy of living.
"In what follows I am presenting the Chinese point of view, because I cannot help myself. I am interested only in presenting a view of life and of things as the best and wisest Chinese minds have seen it and expressed it in their folk wisdom and their literature. It is an idle philosophy born of an idle life, evolved in a different age, I am quite aware. But I cannot help feeling that this view of life is essentially true, and since we are alike under the skin, what touches the human heart in one country touches all. I shall have to present a view of life as Chinese poets and scholars evaluated it with their common sense, their realism and their sense of poetry. I shall attempt to reveal some of the beauty of the pagan world, a sense of the pathos and beauty and terror and comedy of life, viewed by a people who have a strong feeling of the limitations of our existence, and yet somehow retain sense of the dignity of human life.
The Chinese philosopher is one who dreams with one eye open, who views life with love and sweet irony, who mixes his cynicism with a kindly tolerance, and who alternately wakes up from life's dream and then nods again, feeling more alive when he is dreaming than when he is awake, thereby investing his waking life with a dream-world quality. He sees with one eye closed and with one eye opened the futility of much that goes on around him and of his own endeavors , but barely retains enough sense of reality to determine to go through with it. He is seldom disillusioned because he has no illusions, and seldom disappointed because he never had extravagant hopes. In this way his spirit is emancipated.
For, after surveying the field of Chinese literature and philosophy, I come to the conclusion that the highest ideal of Chinese culture has always been a man with a sense of detachment (takuan) toward life based on a sense of wise disenchantment. From this detachment comes high-mindedness (k'uanghuai), a high-mindedness which enables one to go through life with tolerant irony and escape the temptations of fame and wealth and achievement, and eventually makes him take what comes. And from this detachment arise also his sense of freedom, his love of vagabondage and his pride and nonchalance. It is only with this sense of freedom and nonchalance that one eventually arrives at the keen and intense joy of living."
In the second paragraph, Lin suggests the Chinese philosopher lives a dreamlike existence. An early 4th century BC Chinese philosopher Chuang Tzu once said that he had dreamt one night that he was a butterfly, completely happy and satisfied. Then he awoke and found himself to be Chuang Tzu, but he didn't know whether he was a butterfly dreaming he was Chuang Tzu or Chuang Tzu who dreamt he was a butterfly. (taken from the Wikipedia entry on Chuang Tzu or Zuangzi, alternate spelling)
A Poem by Li Po
"Chuang Tzu in dream became a butterfly,
And the butterfly became Chuang Tzu at waking.
Which was the real--the butterfly or the man?
Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things?
The water that flows into the depth of the distant sea
Returns in time to the shallows of a transparent stream.
The man, raising melons outside the green gate of the city,
Was once the Prince of the East Hill.
So must rank and riches vanish.
You know it, still you toil and toil--what for?"
In the second paragraph, Lin wrote "we are alike under the skin, what touches the human heart in one country touches all." Perhaps the East and the West are not that far apart once we get beneath the surface:
"Vanity of vanity, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities, all is vanity.
What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun
One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh, but the earth abideth for ever."
"All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again."
King James Version: Ecclesiastes, Chapter 1, v. 1-4 , 7
Who knows? Perhaps some day we will see our similarities as being as important as, or perhaps even more important than the differences. And the differences will become fascinating and intriguing--and not hateful.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Something to think about
No. 8
"A man without passion, the pledge of great loftiness of spirit which by its very superiority redeems a man from the yoke of vagrant and vulgar externals. There is no greater mastery than the mastery of self, and its passions, for it amounts to the triumph of free will, but even where passion overcomes the individual, it must not dare to touch his office, especially if it be a high one; this is the best way to spare yourself grief, and yet the shortest way to a good reputation."
from The Art of Worldly Wisdom
Baltasar Gracian (1601--1658)
trans. Martin Fischer
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Passion: any power emotion, such as love, hatred, joy, greed, anger; also boundless enthusiasm.
Is it really so good to be without passion? Does a passionless person possess that "great loftiness of spirit"? Is being passionless or without "boundless enthusiasm" a good state to be in on one's job or at any time? Does it really "spare" one from grief or ensure a "good reputation"?
"A man without passion, the pledge of great loftiness of spirit which by its very superiority redeems a man from the yoke of vagrant and vulgar externals. There is no greater mastery than the mastery of self, and its passions, for it amounts to the triumph of free will, but even where passion overcomes the individual, it must not dare to touch his office, especially if it be a high one; this is the best way to spare yourself grief, and yet the shortest way to a good reputation."
from The Art of Worldly Wisdom
Baltasar Gracian (1601--1658)
trans. Martin Fischer
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Passion: any power emotion, such as love, hatred, joy, greed, anger; also boundless enthusiasm.
Is it really so good to be without passion? Does a passionless person possess that "great loftiness of spirit"? Is being passionless or without "boundless enthusiasm" a good state to be in on one's job or at any time? Does it really "spare" one from grief or ensure a "good reputation"?
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Arthur Guiterman: a poem
While browsing through a collection of poetry, I came across this old familiar favorite by Arthur Guiterman. I think I first read it when it was used as an epigraph many moons ago for a short story. As it happens, I no longer remember either the author or the title of the story, but this has remained with me, probably because I was so amused by it that I memorized it.
The title gives the theme, and while it's a familiar theme that has been expressed in many stories and poems and religious works (Vanity of vanities, all is vanity . . ) much more seriously and artistically, there have been times when this version perfectly fit the mood I was in, especially the last couplet, which I have quoted quietly to myself on numerous occasions.
On the Vanity of Earthly Greatness
The tusks that clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.
The sword of Charlemagne the Just
Is ferric oxide, known as rust.
The grizzly bear whose potent hug
Was feared by all, is now a rug.
Great Caesar's bust is on the shelf,
And I don't feel so well myself.
The title gives the theme, and while it's a familiar theme that has been expressed in many stories and poems and religious works (Vanity of vanities, all is vanity . . ) much more seriously and artistically, there have been times when this version perfectly fit the mood I was in, especially the last couplet, which I have quoted quietly to myself on numerous occasions.
On the Vanity of Earthly Greatness
The tusks that clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.
The sword of Charlemagne the Just
Is ferric oxide, known as rust.
The grizzly bear whose potent hug
Was feared by all, is now a rug.
Great Caesar's bust is on the shelf,
And I don't feel so well myself.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Blade Runner: Five film versions
Blade Runner is one of my favorite SF films, but it has taken multiple viewings to get me to the point where I begin to understand why. The story is a classic SF/Police procedural mix with a film noir atmosphere. Only recently have I been able to spend time away from the central action and concentrate on the background. It is this, the imaginative and painstaking attention to the setting, that makes Blade Runner the outstanding film that it is: the various people on the streets, the clothing, the introduction of animals in an urban environment, the stores, the various small and unique businesses (snakes and owls and llamas? made to order), and the dark and brooding atmosphere so reminiscent of films of the 40s and 50s.
Of course, when I heard of the Director's Cut, I had to see what Riddley Scott, the director, now thought should be in the film, and then when the Final Cut came out, I decided to run my own Blade Runner film festival. I started by renting them or getting them from the public library, which had the theatrical version. I then learned there was a collector's edition out and decided that this was something I should have in my own private collection of DVDs, of which I now have six. I investigated and found the 5 Disc Collectors' Edition at a reasonable price.
What really sold me on it was that it claimed to have five versions of Blade Runner. Now this I had to see. It arrived with five DVDs: three with the various versions of the film, but also two DVDs with extras-- Dangerous Days: Making Blade Runner and The Enhancement Archive. This was in addition to the Special and Bonus Features found with the various film versions. To be honest, I haven't watched the two DVDs yet. I keep getting distracted by the films, but one of these days . . .
I will not be writing about Philip K. Dick's novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, which was published in 1958. The changes are so significant that it would take a book to adequately discuss them.
I shall discuss significant events and the endings of the film versions.
The Five Faces of Blade Runner
THE WORKPRINT: this version has never been released for viewing in the theaters. It is, as the label suggests, a working version of the film, made prior to the release of the theatrical versions. Aside from a few minor technical problems with color and the sound track, it is a version that is very acceptable. When I saw it, I thought that if I had seen this in a theatre, I would have guessed that it was an older version that had become a bit tired over the three decades since its release.
THE THEATRICAL RELEASE: US Version, 1982. This is the first release of the film, and frankly, it is still my favorite. It bombed when it came out. Film-goers weren't ready for it; I wonder if there's an audience for it today, some three decades later.
THE THEATRICAL RELEASE: International Version, 1982. This version was for theaters outside of the US. The only differences I can see are minimal: in the International version, some of the fight scenes are a few seconds longer and the violence more explicit, and some brief nudity in the dressing room of Zhora, the snake dancer. These differences are included in the Director's Cut and the Final Cut.
THE DIRECTOR'S CUT: 1992. This appeared a decade after the theatrical release. Generally a re-release such as this would include some scenes that weren't in the first release and possibly the editing or even the outright deletion of scenes that the director now felt didn't work. The major differences, that I can see, are the loss of the voice-overs (a serious error by Riddley Scott, as far as I'm concerned), the bewildering introduction of the unicorn scene, and the truncated ending. My opinion is that Scott's changes weakened the film.
THE FINAL CUT: 2007. This version came out some fifteen years after the Director's Cut. The changes in this version had to do with several technical flaws and didn't introduce anything new to or take anything out of the Director's Cut.
1. In the scene when Deckard talks to the creator of the snake for Zhora, the sound track didn't match up exactly with the visual scene. Since Ford was busy, they got his son to come in and reshoot the scene. They filmed Ford's son as he lipsync'd (is there such a word?) to the audio track and then inserted that into the film.
2. The second reshooting took place in the scene where Deckard shoots Zhora as she goes crashing through the plate glass in the store. Apparently, Scott? felt that the face of the double for Zhora was too noticeable. To solve this problem, Joanna Cassidy came in and they filmed her face as she twisted and turned to match the positions of the double's face in the film. This was then inserted into the film, so that it is now Joanna Cassidy's face one sees crashing through all that plate glass.
3. At the end of the film, at the point when Roy dies, he releases the white bird which then flies up into the sky. As the camera follows it up into the clear blue sky, I wondered what had happened to the rain. Had it suddenly stopped? Well, that doesn't happen in the Final Cut. That bird now flies upward into the rain falling from a dark sky (it was a dark and stormy night--sorry, couldn't resist that).
The white bird: Scott said that it originally was just a sign that Roy had died and had let go of the bird, but everybody else took the bird as symbolic of the freedom that Roy finally achieved. For many viewers, the white bird is Roy's soul ascending to heaven. He had developed a soul and was now human.
This has been just a brief overview of the five films. Following is a discussion of some of the major differences that appear among the five versions, or at least I see them as major. There may be other differences equally important, but they've escaped me so far. Perhaps I'll finally see them in subsequent viewings.
The Voice-overs: these appear only in the initial theatrical releases. They are not found in the Workprint (with one interesting exception which I will bring up later), and were removed from the Director's Cut and were not restored in the Final Cut. This is a major error in judgment on Scott's part, for, in my opinion, it weakens the film. One of the film's strengths is its dark, gloomy atmosphere, for many scenes take place at night and in the rain. Harrison Ford's first scene is outside on the street on a drizzly night. Take a close look at Rachel's clothing, hairstyle, and makeup, and then look at photos of women taken during the 1940's and 1950's. Rachel's appearance puts her much closer to that period then to the 1980's or the early 21st century when the story takes place. The voice-over is a powerful reminder of the noir films that appeared after WWII, many of which were crime films in which one man was depicted on the trail of criminals or on a mission of revenge. Blade Runner clearly fits in with these films.
Reaction: removing the voice-over was a mistake. I think it weakens the film It is the single most important reason why I rate the theatrical version higher than the Director's Cut and the Final Cut.
The Unicorn: the unicorn appears only in the Director's Cut and the Final Cut. Rachel has just left Deckard's apartment (her first visit in which she argues that she isn't a replicant). After she leaves, Deckard is shown sitting at the piano, picking out a few notes when he suddenly and inexplicably thinks of a unicorn running through the woods. He then gets up and begins to use his computer to work on one of Leon's photos.
In one of the bonus features, I learned that the brief appearance was actually shot especially for the film and wasn't borrowed from another film. I also learned that it supposedly supports Scott's idea that Deckard is a replicant. It's intended to tie in with the unicorn origami (I think that's what it is) that Gaff leaves by Deckard's apartment at the end of the film. How else would Gaff know about Deckard's unicorn daydream if a unicorn hadn't been placed in Deckard's memory? Huh!
I gather that this was an afterthought on Scott's part because people weren't getting Scott's idea that Deckard is human. Frankly, I don't get it either. There are too many other ways for a unicorn to appear in Deckard's memory without the need for a memory implant. A unicorn traditionally is a symbol of virginity, for only a virgin could capture one. Rachel certainly comes across as innocent and naive and perhaps virginal? OK, it's a stretch, but no more so than the "official" interpretation.
Reaction: I see no reason for this scene. It doesn't convince me that Deckard is a replicant, which is why it was inserted in the last two releases. It doesn't work. To be honest, when a friend mentioned the unicorn in the film, I didn't remember it, even though I had just seen the film a few weeks earlier. I either wasn't watching the film those few seconds it was on or I considered it irrelevant and simply forgot about it.
Roy's Death: the scene of Roy's death is the same for the four releases. It differs only in the workprint version. It is also the only example of a voice-over other than in the initial theatrical releases. In the workprint, Roy doesn't die when he says "Time to die," ironically using the same words Leon used when he was about to kill Deckard, and when the white bird flies upward, but he struggles against death for several hours afterwards. Deckard in the voice-over comments that Roy's death took hours. He also thinks about why Roy saved his life. Perhaps Roy, his own death so imminent, realizes how important life is, even a blade runner's life.
The Escape at the End: The theatrical versions are the only ones that have the final scene out in the countryside. The others end with the closing of the elevator doors. I guess that the prejudice against a possibly happy ending is responsible here. If so, then somebody has forgotten a short but significant conversation between Deckard and Rachel. They are back in his apartment, now for the second time. Deckard is cleaning up when Rachel mentions leaving the city and heading north. She asks him if he would come after her, would hunt her down. Deckard replies that he wouldn't for he owes her one. . . but that somebody would.
Have they really escaped? I doubt it, for all they have done by leaving the city is to delay being tracked down. If Deckard also is a replicant, then surely the authorities would go after them, especially since Rachel, an experimental model, has no termination date. She could live for decades. They are too dangerous to allow to live free. Other blade runners will soon be on their trail, if they weren't already on their way.
Is Deckard a replicant? This is probably the point that is most controversial. I've seen numerous commentaries that argue both sides. I've come to the conclusion that there is no concrete evidence clearly and unambiguously supporting either position. Riddley Scott, the director, says that Deckard is a replicant. While he says Deckard is a replicant, his film suggest something quite other than that.
If Deckard is a replicant, then he must be the most incompetent replicant in existence. He can't be a Nexus, the same type as Roy and his friends are, for there is no comparison between them. He is slower than them, clearly weaker than them, and is always caught by surprise by them.
Zhora: in the dressing room, she catches him by surprise, even though he knows she's a replicant, and is about to kill him when others walk into the dressing room. She flees, and Deckard then shoots her in the back as she flees through the store. He fires and misses several times before he finally hits her.
Leon: Deckard has just killed Zhora and is leaving the scene when Leon catches him offguard. Deckard pulls his gun, but Leon merely flicks it away, says "Time to Die," and is just about to kill him when Rachel appears, picks up Deckard's gun and shoots Leon in the head from a distance of twenty or thirty yards, hitting him with one shot. Of course, she's a Nexus model and functions competently in this situation. It's Rachel who kills Leon, not Deckard, who is the best blade runner in the city, according to Bryan, his boss.
Pris: Deckard is wandering around Stevenson's apartment looking for replicants, his gun still in its holster. He gets suspicious of one of the large dolls and goes over there without pulling his gun. Pris jumps him and is about to kill him when she decides to have some fun. This gives Deckard a chance to finally get his gun out and kill her as she tries to stomp him to death.
Roy: Deckard has the gun and Roy has no weapon. Deckard becomes the prey, even if he is armed, and at the end, Roy has to save Deckard's life. Roy dies because he has reached his termination date and not because Deckard kills him.
All four Nexus replicants are superior to Deckard. All four could have killed him, but three were prevented by chance, and the fourth chooses to save Deckard's life instead. What kind of replicant is Deckard? Surely not a Nexus.
Deckard is told that the Tyrell Corporation is determined to build replicants that become more and more human. Perhaps Deckard is a Nexus 7, next year's model that is so human that it is as incompetent as the average human.
Riddley Scott says Deckard is a replicant; his film says no, Deckard is human.
Overall Reaction: the theatrical versions get a 5 on a five point scale; the others a 4.
Of course, when I heard of the Director's Cut, I had to see what Riddley Scott, the director, now thought should be in the film, and then when the Final Cut came out, I decided to run my own Blade Runner film festival. I started by renting them or getting them from the public library, which had the theatrical version. I then learned there was a collector's edition out and decided that this was something I should have in my own private collection of DVDs, of which I now have six. I investigated and found the 5 Disc Collectors' Edition at a reasonable price.
What really sold me on it was that it claimed to have five versions of Blade Runner. Now this I had to see. It arrived with five DVDs: three with the various versions of the film, but also two DVDs with extras-- Dangerous Days: Making Blade Runner and The Enhancement Archive. This was in addition to the Special and Bonus Features found with the various film versions. To be honest, I haven't watched the two DVDs yet. I keep getting distracted by the films, but one of these days . . .
I will not be writing about Philip K. Dick's novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, which was published in 1958. The changes are so significant that it would take a book to adequately discuss them.
I shall discuss significant events and the endings of the film versions.
The Five Faces of Blade Runner
THE WORKPRINT: this version has never been released for viewing in the theaters. It is, as the label suggests, a working version of the film, made prior to the release of the theatrical versions. Aside from a few minor technical problems with color and the sound track, it is a version that is very acceptable. When I saw it, I thought that if I had seen this in a theatre, I would have guessed that it was an older version that had become a bit tired over the three decades since its release.
THE THEATRICAL RELEASE: US Version, 1982. This is the first release of the film, and frankly, it is still my favorite. It bombed when it came out. Film-goers weren't ready for it; I wonder if there's an audience for it today, some three decades later.
THE THEATRICAL RELEASE: International Version, 1982. This version was for theaters outside of the US. The only differences I can see are minimal: in the International version, some of the fight scenes are a few seconds longer and the violence more explicit, and some brief nudity in the dressing room of Zhora, the snake dancer. These differences are included in the Director's Cut and the Final Cut.
THE DIRECTOR'S CUT: 1992. This appeared a decade after the theatrical release. Generally a re-release such as this would include some scenes that weren't in the first release and possibly the editing or even the outright deletion of scenes that the director now felt didn't work. The major differences, that I can see, are the loss of the voice-overs (a serious error by Riddley Scott, as far as I'm concerned), the bewildering introduction of the unicorn scene, and the truncated ending. My opinion is that Scott's changes weakened the film.
THE FINAL CUT: 2007. This version came out some fifteen years after the Director's Cut. The changes in this version had to do with several technical flaws and didn't introduce anything new to or take anything out of the Director's Cut.
1. In the scene when Deckard talks to the creator of the snake for Zhora, the sound track didn't match up exactly with the visual scene. Since Ford was busy, they got his son to come in and reshoot the scene. They filmed Ford's son as he lipsync'd (is there such a word?) to the audio track and then inserted that into the film.
2. The second reshooting took place in the scene where Deckard shoots Zhora as she goes crashing through the plate glass in the store. Apparently, Scott? felt that the face of the double for Zhora was too noticeable. To solve this problem, Joanna Cassidy came in and they filmed her face as she twisted and turned to match the positions of the double's face in the film. This was then inserted into the film, so that it is now Joanna Cassidy's face one sees crashing through all that plate glass.
3. At the end of the film, at the point when Roy dies, he releases the white bird which then flies up into the sky. As the camera follows it up into the clear blue sky, I wondered what had happened to the rain. Had it suddenly stopped? Well, that doesn't happen in the Final Cut. That bird now flies upward into the rain falling from a dark sky (it was a dark and stormy night--sorry, couldn't resist that).
The white bird: Scott said that it originally was just a sign that Roy had died and had let go of the bird, but everybody else took the bird as symbolic of the freedom that Roy finally achieved. For many viewers, the white bird is Roy's soul ascending to heaven. He had developed a soul and was now human.
This has been just a brief overview of the five films. Following is a discussion of some of the major differences that appear among the five versions, or at least I see them as major. There may be other differences equally important, but they've escaped me so far. Perhaps I'll finally see them in subsequent viewings.
The Voice-overs: these appear only in the initial theatrical releases. They are not found in the Workprint (with one interesting exception which I will bring up later), and were removed from the Director's Cut and were not restored in the Final Cut. This is a major error in judgment on Scott's part, for, in my opinion, it weakens the film. One of the film's strengths is its dark, gloomy atmosphere, for many scenes take place at night and in the rain. Harrison Ford's first scene is outside on the street on a drizzly night. Take a close look at Rachel's clothing, hairstyle, and makeup, and then look at photos of women taken during the 1940's and 1950's. Rachel's appearance puts her much closer to that period then to the 1980's or the early 21st century when the story takes place. The voice-over is a powerful reminder of the noir films that appeared after WWII, many of which were crime films in which one man was depicted on the trail of criminals or on a mission of revenge. Blade Runner clearly fits in with these films.
Reaction: removing the voice-over was a mistake. I think it weakens the film It is the single most important reason why I rate the theatrical version higher than the Director's Cut and the Final Cut.
The Unicorn: the unicorn appears only in the Director's Cut and the Final Cut. Rachel has just left Deckard's apartment (her first visit in which she argues that she isn't a replicant). After she leaves, Deckard is shown sitting at the piano, picking out a few notes when he suddenly and inexplicably thinks of a unicorn running through the woods. He then gets up and begins to use his computer to work on one of Leon's photos.
In one of the bonus features, I learned that the brief appearance was actually shot especially for the film and wasn't borrowed from another film. I also learned that it supposedly supports Scott's idea that Deckard is a replicant. It's intended to tie in with the unicorn origami (I think that's what it is) that Gaff leaves by Deckard's apartment at the end of the film. How else would Gaff know about Deckard's unicorn daydream if a unicorn hadn't been placed in Deckard's memory? Huh!
I gather that this was an afterthought on Scott's part because people weren't getting Scott's idea that Deckard is human. Frankly, I don't get it either. There are too many other ways for a unicorn to appear in Deckard's memory without the need for a memory implant. A unicorn traditionally is a symbol of virginity, for only a virgin could capture one. Rachel certainly comes across as innocent and naive and perhaps virginal? OK, it's a stretch, but no more so than the "official" interpretation.
Reaction: I see no reason for this scene. It doesn't convince me that Deckard is a replicant, which is why it was inserted in the last two releases. It doesn't work. To be honest, when a friend mentioned the unicorn in the film, I didn't remember it, even though I had just seen the film a few weeks earlier. I either wasn't watching the film those few seconds it was on or I considered it irrelevant and simply forgot about it.
Roy's Death: the scene of Roy's death is the same for the four releases. It differs only in the workprint version. It is also the only example of a voice-over other than in the initial theatrical releases. In the workprint, Roy doesn't die when he says "Time to die," ironically using the same words Leon used when he was about to kill Deckard, and when the white bird flies upward, but he struggles against death for several hours afterwards. Deckard in the voice-over comments that Roy's death took hours. He also thinks about why Roy saved his life. Perhaps Roy, his own death so imminent, realizes how important life is, even a blade runner's life.
The Escape at the End: The theatrical versions are the only ones that have the final scene out in the countryside. The others end with the closing of the elevator doors. I guess that the prejudice against a possibly happy ending is responsible here. If so, then somebody has forgotten a short but significant conversation between Deckard and Rachel. They are back in his apartment, now for the second time. Deckard is cleaning up when Rachel mentions leaving the city and heading north. She asks him if he would come after her, would hunt her down. Deckard replies that he wouldn't for he owes her one. . . but that somebody would.
Have they really escaped? I doubt it, for all they have done by leaving the city is to delay being tracked down. If Deckard also is a replicant, then surely the authorities would go after them, especially since Rachel, an experimental model, has no termination date. She could live for decades. They are too dangerous to allow to live free. Other blade runners will soon be on their trail, if they weren't already on their way.
Is Deckard a replicant? This is probably the point that is most controversial. I've seen numerous commentaries that argue both sides. I've come to the conclusion that there is no concrete evidence clearly and unambiguously supporting either position. Riddley Scott, the director, says that Deckard is a replicant. While he says Deckard is a replicant, his film suggest something quite other than that.
If Deckard is a replicant, then he must be the most incompetent replicant in existence. He can't be a Nexus, the same type as Roy and his friends are, for there is no comparison between them. He is slower than them, clearly weaker than them, and is always caught by surprise by them.
Zhora: in the dressing room, she catches him by surprise, even though he knows she's a replicant, and is about to kill him when others walk into the dressing room. She flees, and Deckard then shoots her in the back as she flees through the store. He fires and misses several times before he finally hits her.
Leon: Deckard has just killed Zhora and is leaving the scene when Leon catches him offguard. Deckard pulls his gun, but Leon merely flicks it away, says "Time to Die," and is just about to kill him when Rachel appears, picks up Deckard's gun and shoots Leon in the head from a distance of twenty or thirty yards, hitting him with one shot. Of course, she's a Nexus model and functions competently in this situation. It's Rachel who kills Leon, not Deckard, who is the best blade runner in the city, according to Bryan, his boss.
Pris: Deckard is wandering around Stevenson's apartment looking for replicants, his gun still in its holster. He gets suspicious of one of the large dolls and goes over there without pulling his gun. Pris jumps him and is about to kill him when she decides to have some fun. This gives Deckard a chance to finally get his gun out and kill her as she tries to stomp him to death.
Roy: Deckard has the gun and Roy has no weapon. Deckard becomes the prey, even if he is armed, and at the end, Roy has to save Deckard's life. Roy dies because he has reached his termination date and not because Deckard kills him.
All four Nexus replicants are superior to Deckard. All four could have killed him, but three were prevented by chance, and the fourth chooses to save Deckard's life instead. What kind of replicant is Deckard? Surely not a Nexus.
Deckard is told that the Tyrell Corporation is determined to build replicants that become more and more human. Perhaps Deckard is a Nexus 7, next year's model that is so human that it is as incompetent as the average human.
Riddley Scott says Deckard is a replicant; his film says no, Deckard is human.
Overall Reaction: the theatrical versions get a 5 on a five point scale; the others a 4.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Something to think about
VI.10
People who make moral compromises in order to achieve good ends find that their compromises irrevocably alter the ends achieved. Thus they learn that, in a world of process, it is method rather than goal which carries the burden of moral value; that in the final analysis nothing should be mistaken either for a means or for an end. Other people, who adhere to righteous action with no regard for the consequences, are equally off the mark; these people mistake method itself for an end and act as though in a vacuum of time.
Robert Grudin
Time and the Art of Living
People who make moral compromises in order to achieve good ends find that their compromises irrevocably alter the ends achieved. Thus they learn that, in a world of process, it is method rather than goal which carries the burden of moral value; that in the final analysis nothing should be mistaken either for a means or for an end. Other people, who adhere to righteous action with no regard for the consequences, are equally off the mark; these people mistake method itself for an end and act as though in a vacuum of time.
Robert Grudin
Time and the Art of Living
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The Rubaiyat: Quatrain XXXII
First Edition: Quatrain XXXII
There was a Door to which I found no KEY:
There was a Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
There seem'd--and then no more of THEE and ME.
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXV
There was the Door to which I found no KEY:
There was the Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
There was--and then no more of THEE and ME.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXII
There was the Door to which I found no KEY:
There was the Veil through which I could not see:
Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE
There was--and then no more of THEE and ME.
The changes seem to affect the tone more, rather than the meaning of the quatrain. What changes were made occurred in the second edition and remained to the end. The fifth edition is, as far as I can tell, identical to the second edition, except for one change: in the second line, the word "past" in the first and second editions becomes "through" in the fifth. Perhaps FitzGerald felt that "through" was more idiomatic in context than "past." Seeing "through" a veil is more common than seeing "past" a veil.
The two changes that occurred between the first and second editions consist of changing the indefinite article "a" preceding "Door" and "Veil" to the definite "the." The somewhat vague "There was a Door" and "There was a Veil" now becomes a more specific and perhaps a more concrete "There was the Door" and "There was the Veil." The other change is the substitution of "There was" in the second and fifth editions for "There seem'd" in the first. I would guess that he wanted a stronger statement. "There seem'd" suggests that there might have been some talk, but "There was" makes it a definite statement: there was talk. There is no room for doubt now.
Doors have appeared in earlier quatrains. For example, in Quatrain III, those who stand before the Tavern Door impatiently shout for the door to be open, for it is closed and time is short. In Quatrain XVI, the "Doorways are alternate Night and Day," and therefore open to all. They also are Life and Death. Quatrain XXVII also features an open door, but one of no significance for the narrator enters and leaves by the same Door, having learned nothing. The Door in XXXII, though, is closed and the narrator has yet to find the Key.
Equally frustrating is the Veil which blocks his vision. The "Door" and the "Veil" in this quatrain suggest that there are things we are not meant to know. But, sound comes through and it appears as though the talk was of us, but then there was "no more of THEE and ME." Is this a suggestion that we owe our existence to those talking behind that Door, and that once we are no longer a topic of conversation, we no longer exist?
Again, the poet's insistence on our ignorance about the perennial questions comes across rather strongly. All we know is that we are here for awhile and that shortly we will be gone, not knowing where we came from nor where we will go nor even why we are here. This is all very different from those today who have all the answers, even to what is in their deity's mind and even what their deity is going to do next. Neither Khayyam nor FitzGerald have made such claims.
There was a Door to which I found no KEY:
There was a Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
There seem'd--and then no more of THEE and ME.
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXV
There was the Door to which I found no KEY:
There was the Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
There was--and then no more of THEE and ME.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXII
There was the Door to which I found no KEY:
There was the Veil through which I could not see:
Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE
There was--and then no more of THEE and ME.
The changes seem to affect the tone more, rather than the meaning of the quatrain. What changes were made occurred in the second edition and remained to the end. The fifth edition is, as far as I can tell, identical to the second edition, except for one change: in the second line, the word "past" in the first and second editions becomes "through" in the fifth. Perhaps FitzGerald felt that "through" was more idiomatic in context than "past." Seeing "through" a veil is more common than seeing "past" a veil.
The two changes that occurred between the first and second editions consist of changing the indefinite article "a" preceding "Door" and "Veil" to the definite "the." The somewhat vague "There was a Door" and "There was a Veil" now becomes a more specific and perhaps a more concrete "There was the Door" and "There was the Veil." The other change is the substitution of "There was" in the second and fifth editions for "There seem'd" in the first. I would guess that he wanted a stronger statement. "There seem'd" suggests that there might have been some talk, but "There was" makes it a definite statement: there was talk. There is no room for doubt now.
Doors have appeared in earlier quatrains. For example, in Quatrain III, those who stand before the Tavern Door impatiently shout for the door to be open, for it is closed and time is short. In Quatrain XVI, the "Doorways are alternate Night and Day," and therefore open to all. They also are Life and Death. Quatrain XXVII also features an open door, but one of no significance for the narrator enters and leaves by the same Door, having learned nothing. The Door in XXXII, though, is closed and the narrator has yet to find the Key.
Equally frustrating is the Veil which blocks his vision. The "Door" and the "Veil" in this quatrain suggest that there are things we are not meant to know. But, sound comes through and it appears as though the talk was of us, but then there was "no more of THEE and ME." Is this a suggestion that we owe our existence to those talking behind that Door, and that once we are no longer a topic of conversation, we no longer exist?
Again, the poet's insistence on our ignorance about the perennial questions comes across rather strongly. All we know is that we are here for awhile and that shortly we will be gone, not knowing where we came from nor where we will go nor even why we are here. This is all very different from those today who have all the answers, even to what is in their deity's mind and even what their deity is going to do next. Neither Khayyam nor FitzGerald have made such claims.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
T. S. Eliot: Sept. 26, 1888--Jan. 4, 1965
I realize that it's a bit early for T. S. Eliot's "The Journey of the Magi," but the Magi were probably on their journey by the time September rolled around. This is, of course, a slightly different version of the arduous journey undertaken by the Magi. Normally we don't see them until Christmas Eve when they appear in their glorious robes and crowns, presenting gifts to the Christ child. Eliot's poem, on the contrary, is a narrative by one of them, and frankly, he sounds much like any traveler who's had the misfortune of traveling too long in strange lands, especially if it isn't on a guided tour.
In the first part, we hear complaints that have been made by many travelers: miserable weather, poor or inadequate transportation, unfriendly local inhabitants, and exorbitant prices. All this made them homesick and wishing they had never left.
The Journey of the Magi
'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
In the second part, as they draw close to their destination, they see signs but don't realize the significance of them, for only those who came after would recognize them. The three trees on the hill suggest the three crosses of the Crucifixion set against a darkening sky at Calvary. The while horse was an early symbol for the second coming of Christ at the end of all days for, according to the Book of Revelation, Christ will appear riding a white horse. At the inn, they find some people dicing for pieces of silver, an echo, perhaps, not only of the price Judas received for his betrayal, but also of the soldiers dicing for Christ's robe at the foot of the Cross.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
The narrator now sums it all up by saying he would do it again, but what they gained from it was not what they expected. They were present at the "Birth," but it was a strange birth for it also meant death for their religious traditions, for their old ways. They returned but they had changed for they were "no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,/ With an alien people clutching their gods." In truth, he felt that he "should be glad of another death."
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
The last few lines reminds me of another poem, one by Oscar Wilde:
Santa Decca
The Gods are dead: no longer do we bring
To grey-eyed Pallas crowns of olive-leaves!
Demeter's child no more hath tithe of sheaves,
And in the noon the careless shepherds sing,
For Pan is dead, and all the wantoning
By secret glade and devious haunt is o'er:
Young Hylas seeks the water-springs no more;
Great Pan is dead, and Mary's son is King.
And yet--perchance in this sea-tranced isle,
Chewing the bitter fruit of memory,
Some God lies hidden in the asphodel.
Ah Love! if such there be, then it were well
For us to fly his anger; nay, but see
The leaves are stirring: let us watch awhile.
I don't think Eliot would agree with Wilde's last six lines. I suspect that he would say the victory of Mary's son was complete . . . but then again, Eliot is a poet.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Fall Equinox
Today is the First Day of Autumn, although it's a bit hard believing that here in Tucson where the temperatures are still in the high 90s and low 100s. But, just in case someone is reading this who lives where autumn has arrived, I thought I would post a few autumnal poems.
Now in sad autumn
As I take my darkening path . . .
A solitary bird
-- Basho --
Summer begins to have the look
Peruser of enchanting Book
Reluctantly but sure perceives
A gain upon the backward leaves--
Autumn begins to be inferred
By millinery of the cloud
Or deeper color in the shawl
That wraps the everlasting hill.
The eye begins its avarice
A meditation chastens speech
Some Dyer of a distant tree
Resumes his gaudy industry.
Conclusion is the course of All
At most to be perennial
And then elude stability
Recalls to immortality.
-- Emily Dickinson --
In Hardwood Groves
The same leaves over and over again!
They fall from giving shade above,
To make one texture of faded brown
And fit the earth like a leather glove
Before the leaves can mount again
To fill the trees with another shade,
They must go down past things coming up.
They must go down into the dark decayed.
They must be pierced by flowers and put
Beneath the feet of dancing flowers.
However it is in some other world
I know that this is the way in ours.
-- Robert Frost --
The calling bell
Travels the curling mist-ways . . .
Autumn morning
-- Basho --
The haiku are from--
A Little Treasury of Haiku
Trans. Peter Beilenson
Avenel Books
Now in sad autumn
As I take my darkening path . . .
A solitary bird
-- Basho --
Summer begins to have the look
Peruser of enchanting Book
Reluctantly but sure perceives
A gain upon the backward leaves--
Autumn begins to be inferred
By millinery of the cloud
Or deeper color in the shawl
That wraps the everlasting hill.
The eye begins its avarice
A meditation chastens speech
Some Dyer of a distant tree
Resumes his gaudy industry.
Conclusion is the course of All
At most to be perennial
And then elude stability
Recalls to immortality.
-- Emily Dickinson --
In Hardwood Groves
The same leaves over and over again!
They fall from giving shade above,
To make one texture of faded brown
And fit the earth like a leather glove
Before the leaves can mount again
To fill the trees with another shade,
They must go down past things coming up.
They must go down into the dark decayed.
They must be pierced by flowers and put
Beneath the feet of dancing flowers.
However it is in some other world
I know that this is the way in ours.
-- Robert Frost --
The calling bell
Travels the curling mist-ways . . .
Autumn morning
-- Basho --
The haiku are from--
A Little Treasury of Haiku
Trans. Peter Beilenson
Avenel Books
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Something to think about
Some people claim that self-sufficiency is a myth. A person is a social animal, they declare; people cannot successfully live outside of some community. But that is not the correct way to understand true self-sufficiency. What we are referring to is a supreme sense of connection with oneself and the cosmos around oneself. This doesn't preclude community with others, but it does prevent the excesses and shortcomings that occur when society is one's only source of union.
Deng Ming-Dao
365 Tao: Daily Meditations
p. 262
Is there a state of self-sufficiency as Deng Ming-Dao postulates? I guess, according to the way I understand his definition, that one doesn't have to be a hermit or a social isolate to be self-sufficient. If so, then that person would appear to be part of the community. If that's true, then how would I know when I meet one who is self-sufficient?
Deng Ming-Dao
365 Tao: Daily Meditations
p. 262
Is there a state of self-sufficiency as Deng Ming-Dao postulates? I guess, according to the way I understand his definition, that one doesn't have to be a hermit or a social isolate to be self-sufficient. If so, then that person would appear to be part of the community. If that's true, then how would I know when I meet one who is self-sufficient?
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Basho: Sept. 15?, 1644--Nov. 28, 1694
While there are no records that gives us the exact date Basho was born, Jane Reichhold, editor and translator of Basho: The Complete Haiku, writes that "[a]s with many births, his has become a matter of legend, giving him the birth date of the autumn full moon, or September 15." Sometimes, legends can be truer than truth, and in Basho's case, the first full moon in autumn is a good date.
I had a book titled The Haiku Masters, and surprisingly, it did not include any by Basho. The editor explained that the haiku masters were those considered to be among the greatest of poets. Basho is not considered a master: he is The Haiku Poet. So, rather than write about Basho, I think it's best just to provide a few samples of his poetry.
Basho's Four Seasons:
Spring:
April's air stirs in
Willow-leaves . . . a butterfly
Floats and balances
A single cicada's cry
Sinking into stone
Autumn:
A solitary
Crow on a bare branch--
Autumn evening
Winter:
the sea darkening,
the wild duck's call
faintly white
Spring poem:
A Little Treasury of Haiku
Avenel Books
Peter Beilenson, trans.
Summer and autumn poems:
The Sound of Water
Shambhala Centaur Editions
Sam Hamill, trans.
Winter poem:
Basho's Haiku
SUNY Press
David Landis Barnhill, trans.
I had a book titled The Haiku Masters, and surprisingly, it did not include any by Basho. The editor explained that the haiku masters were those considered to be among the greatest of poets. Basho is not considered a master: he is The Haiku Poet. So, rather than write about Basho, I think it's best just to provide a few samples of his poetry.
Basho's Four Seasons:
Spring:
April's air stirs in
Willow-leaves . . . a butterfly
Floats and balances
Summer:
Lonely silenceA single cicada's cry
Sinking into stone
Autumn:
A solitary
Crow on a bare branch--
Autumn evening
Winter:
the sea darkening,
the wild duck's call
faintly white
Spring poem:
A Little Treasury of Haiku
Avenel Books
Peter Beilenson, trans.
Summer and autumn poems:
The Sound of Water
Shambhala Centaur Editions
Sam Hamill, trans.
Winter poem:
Basho's Haiku
SUNY Press
David Landis Barnhill, trans.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Combination Plate 16
Warning: I will discuss significant plot elements and endings
Fred Saberhagen: Octagon, an SF novel
A Walk in the Sun, film
Albert Sanchez Pinol: Cold Skin, a novel
Robert Silverberg: A Time of Changes, an SF novel
Breakfast at Tiffany's, a film
=========================
Fred Saberhagen: Octagon, an SF novel
Octagon was first published in 1981, and it shows its age when the plot concentrates on computers. References to such "super" computers as the Cray 4 and desktop versions such as the TRS-80 bring back long forgotten memories. The plot involves a war game in which a computer is used to handle the bookkeeping. Participants in the game mail postcards or letters with their latest moves to the game headquarters and await responses from their opponents, also by mail. This is pre-email, of course, and shortly before the growth of the BBS network (electronic bulletin board system), which died shortly after the Internet emerged. The name of the company that runs the war game is Berserker Inc., an obvious reference to Saberhagen's own well-known series about the organic life-hating killing machines.
Prior to the beginning of the novel, two friends, Bob Gregory and Henry Brahmaguptra, had worked together in developing a computer network system by which computers in many different locations could communicate and interact. Fearing that this system might someday fall under the control of either a hostile country or a future dictatorial government, they built in a "back door" which would allow them or someone they designated to regain complete control of the network or even shut it down if that seemed necessary.
Opening the "back door" required two passwords, one for each of them, and since neither knew the other's password, they had to agree that the situation was serious enough to need their intervention. Unfortunately, political differences between Henry, the "bleeding heart" liberal, and Bob, the "reactionary redneck," resulted in their eventual estrangement. Now, it seems that someone has gained control of the system, and each suspects the other of unwisely sharing the password with others (the far left or the far right), which would give partial control of the system. And, along with records mysteriously disappearing or false records appearing, someone or something is murdering participants in that war game.
Saberhagen's novel clearly is tied to the events and the atmosphere of the time in which it was written. The increasing use of computers in everyday life and the first appearance of the personal desktop computer in the late 70s and early 80s (I think I got my first Trash 80 clone in 1981) provide the background for the novel. In addition, fears regarding the control of our lives through computers was becoming stronger, with not only individuals or governments assuming control, but also the possibility of computer AIs developing and becoming a threat on their own. Kubrick and Asimov's 2001: A Space Odyssey came out in 1968 and popularized the idea of sentient but malfunctioning computers as a potential threat to humanity. Saberhagen's novel is another version of this theme for, in this story, an AI has been unknowingly created. Unfortunately, it has adopted the rules of the war game as its perspective on reality: enemies were to be eliminated.
Trivia: Henry Brahmaguptra's last name is almost the same as that of India's most famous astronomer and mathematician of the past, Brahmagupta, who lived from 598 to 665 AD. I doubt that this is a coincidence.
Overall Reaction: interesting tale from an historical perspective about the growth of fear of the new electro-mechanical Frankenstein's monster, along with trends concerning the growth of the personal computer into everyday life. In addition, there's an interesting climatic battle scene at the end featuring metal monsters on both sides.
=========================
A Walk in the Sun, a film
A Walk in the Sun is a WWII film that came out in 1945 and is adapted from a novel by Harry Brown. The novel was published as a serial in Liberty Magazine in 1944. The film follows the actions of the Lee platoon of the Texas Division on the first day of the Allied invasion of Italy at Salerno in 1943. Their mission is to capture a farmhouse about six miles inland and then destroy the nearby bridge.
This is not a typical wartime propaganda film starring a big name who engages in superhuman heroics in the defense of the freedom-loving peoples of the world against an enemy notable mainly for its stupidity, brutality, and cowardice. The film illustrates the common saying about war being moments of terror midst hours of boredom and tedium. Once the platoon gets off the beach and inland, most of the time is spent walking and talking and griping, as the men get to know each other and become a unit. However, there is a war going on and the platoon has several encounters with the enemy before they get to the farmhouse.
Once such encounter is with a German mechanized reconnaissance patrol. The US platoon defeats the patrol, but not because of any super heroics but because the Germans were unaware of the American unit in the area and so were taken by surprise. In addition, the Germans were outnumbered. Careful planning, the element of surprise, discipline, and superior numbers were the significant elements, and it was clear that if the situation had been reversed, the Germans would have come out ahead. The victory had its costs as several were wounded, and in spite of the platoon's mantra, "Nobody Dies,"some do die. In addition, they had to use up all of the shells for their bazooka. This plays a role in the upcoming battle for the farmhouse. This isn't a 'Hollywood" platoon with unlimited ammunition. It has only what the men can carry with them.
Eventually, the farmhouse is taken and the bridge is destroyed. It's not a major victory that will win the war, but just one small action that will hinder the German attempt to bring up reinforcements to this area. This, therefore, allows the Allies to safely land more troops and material so that they can engage the Germans with a greater chance of defeating them when a major battle does occur. It is the combined results of small engagements, such as this one, that set the tone for the coming battles.
It's an all male cast, with not even the usual obligatory flashbacks to scenes back home of wives and girl friends and parents. Part of the fun of the film was spotting familiar faces among the soldiers: Dana Andrews (probably the star, if one needs one), Lloyd Bridges, Richard Conte, John Ireland, Sterling Holloway, Huntz Hall, Steve Brodie, and Burgess Meredith as the narrator.
Overall Reaction: a more realistic war film about WWII than most of those that I have seen. Superheroes are fun, but in the real world it's the average person who is forced to get the job done--the clerks, the mail carriers, the junior executives, the teachers, the welders--none of whom have superhuman powers.
=========================
Albert Sanchez Pinol: Cold Skin, a novel
translated by Cheryl Leah Morgan
A young man (unnamed) has arrived on a small island near the Antarctic Circle to take on a job as a weatherman for a year. He is to record the intensity, the direction, and the frequency of the winds there. The captain of the ship that has brought him is in a hurry to leave. Consequently, when the weatherman who has just completed his yearlong tour is not there to greet them, they go to look for him. He is nowhere to be found. The lighthouse keeper, who is the other inhabitant of the island, knows nothing.
The captain is puzzled, but he must leave. The young man settles in. He has taken this job because of the isolation. He also sees it as an opportunity to educate himself, so he has brought along numerous books and writing materials.
This is what I had read about the book before I borrowed it from the library. It sounded like a mystery to me and the premise was intriguing. Where was the previous weatherman? Was the lighthouse keeper responsible for his disappearance? Was there someone else on the island? It wasn't long before I realized I had wandered into the universe of a different genre--the horror story. The first night, swarms of humanoid creatures swarm ashore and attack his house. Fortunately, his house is sturdy and he is armed.
This short novel, somewhat less than 200 pages, is one of the strangest novels that I've recently read. Who are the creatures? Why do they relentlessly attack, night after night, regardless of their losses? Did they kill the missing weatherman? What is the lighthouse keeper's role in all this? Why is the lighthouse keeper reluctant to join forces with him against the creatures? And, what is the lighthouse keeper's relationship with what appears to be one of the female creatures?
By day, the young man struggles to find the answers to these questions, while at night he struggles to defend himself against the persistent attacks of the creatures. When he eventually forces the lighthouse keeper to allow him to move into the lighthouse (a much sturdier and more easily defensible structure), his questions still go unanswered. He also finds himself strangely attracted to the humanoid female.
The ending is a shocker, or at least, it was for me. I didn't see it coming, although other, more perceptive readers might. At the end, he does get some of the answers, but not all.
Overall Reaction: not a pleasant story, but one that drew me in and I had to stay with it until the end. Would I reread it? I think so, for it would be a different story then, and I'm curious about what it would be like at a second reading.
=========================
Robert Silverberg: A Time of Changes
Winner of the Nebula Award for Best SF Novel of 1971
Hugo Nominee for 1972
The novel begins with a very traditional series of events. Centuries in the future, humankind has colonized a number of planets. On one of them, Borthan, the people have created a society where the self is despised. It is considered obscene to use the pronouns "I" or "me" or "my." Instead of saying "I would like to . . .," the people of Borthan say "One would like to. . ." Talking about oneself is forbidden and eventually would result in social ostracism. Extremists would go one step further and say "Doing . . . is pleasurable" which eliminates any reference to an individual.
There are two exceptions to this rule. Apparently the founders of Borthan recognized that complete self-containment would be unhealthy, so they created the drainers and the custom of bondkin. Drainers were those who would listen to anyone without judging and keep secret whatever they were told, similar to the seal of the confessional in the Roman Catholic Church. Shortly after a child was born, the parents would arrange with other families to develop a relationship with a male and a female child of the same age. These would then be the child's bondbrother and bondsister. Only with one's bondbrother and bondsister could one reveal oneself, could one be truly open with another person.
Kinnal Darival is the son of the ruler of Sala. Unfortunately he is a younger son. It is strange but true that, on Borthan, younger sons of rulers do quite well until the father dies and the oldest brother takes the throne. At this point, the life expectancy of younger brothers suddenly drops to something less than a year. However, another strange fact is that the life expectancy of younger brothers suddenly increases to that of the normal population once that younger brother has traveled to a foreign country. Taking account of these statistics, Kinnal Darival leaves Salla several months after his brother has assumed the throne.
Darival, after several adventures, arrives in the province of Manneran. With the help of a relative, he gains a government position and within a decade or so, he has managed to become highly respected and powerful. He has wealth, power, prestige, and an advantageous if not a happy marriage. He then meets and becomes friendly with an Earthman, Schweiz, a merchant.
Schweiz attempts to break through the cultural walls that isolate each inhabitant on Borthan. He finds a listener in Darival. Eventually Schweiz tells him of a drug that will break through the social isolation and actually allow those who have taken the drug to share each other's consciousness for a short time. They take the drug and Darival decides that this must be shared with others. He and Schweiz travel to Sumara, the source of the drug, and bring back a large quantity. Darival then begins to convert others and soon a significant number of people are taking the drug.
The ruling powers however see this as a threat, and Darival is forced to flee once again. He returns to his home province of Sala, where his brother agrees to let him live, as long as he does not attempt to introduce the drug. Darival eventually finds this impossible, and at the end of the story is captured by his brother's troops. Darival's consolation is that he has written his story down and gotten it out to friends, who will spread the good word to others.
As I mentioned earlier, this novel was published in 1971. I'm sure this is just a coincidence, but during the 60s and early 70s, psychologist Timothy Leary became very prominent through his research on LSD. Like Darival, he was highly regarded in his profession. Like Darival he preached the use of a mind/consciousness expanding drug which would provide emotional and spiritual benefits. Leary also had to travel to a foreign country, Mexico, at first to acquire the mind expanding drug. And, eventually Leary lost his position in academia and was harassed by the authorities. Leary at one point had various prison terms adding up to 90+ years and actually spent some time in prison. President Nixon once described Leary as "the most dangerous man in America."
Overall Reaction: As I mentioned earlier, the novel began as a traditional adventure tale but then became as much if not more of a novel of ideas than of an action-oriented story. It's the story of a highly successful, wealthy, and powerful man who eventually went to war with his culture. As with so many who have radical ideas, he won't be around to see the results of his actions.
Another issue here is the efficacy of the drug. While it does break down the barriers between the minds of those using the drugs, does it produce any lasting changes after the drug wears off. The same question was asked of LSD which reportedly produced the same consciousness expanding results in a few hours as did years of meditation or of a mystical experience of some inexplicable nature. In short, were there any long-lasting beneficial changes to those who took LSD?
========================
Breakfast at Tiffany's, a film, probably labeled a romantic comedy
The Plot: can a young girl from a small Texas town find happiness in New York City? I should probably define happiness as Holly Golightly, our heroine, sees it. Actually Jane Austen, many years ago, said it better than I ever could: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. Holly is looking for that single man in possession of a good fortune who will want her as his wife. Holly isn't being totally mercenary here, for she has a brother, Fred, who is getting out of the army shortly. He's a bit slow, she tells one and all, so she has to be responsible for him.
Given this inane plot, one could only wonder why the film was so popular. What does it have going for it that would have viewers ignore the silliness?
Well . . . It has the following going for it:
Cat, who plays the cat in the film with to the utmost, Cat is the epitome of catness--self-centered, determined to get its own way, always being around when it's not wanted and seldom being around when it is.
The Theme Music: words and music by Johnny Mercer and Henry Mancini respectively. "Moon River" was extremely popular and one couldn't turn on the radio without hearing it at least once or twice a day. For days afterward I kept humming or hearing it.
George Peppard: a handsome, young male with lots of white teeth. What was needed for the role was a handsome, young male with lots of white teeth: he was available. He was there when necessary and not there when not needed.
Patricia Neal: her great but too seldom seen portrayal of Mrs. Failenson, the society matron whose boytoy, George Peppard, lived in the apartment above Holly's. Her acceptance of being dumped by George for a younger woman was a classic--rueful to some extent, but as she left, one knew that she was already thinking about his replacement, and that wouldn't be an impossible task, either--just call central casting.
But, most of all, what the film really has going for it is Audry Hepburn.
Overall Reaction: It stars Audrey Hepburn; what else needs be said?
Fred Saberhagen: Octagon, an SF novel
A Walk in the Sun, film
Albert Sanchez Pinol: Cold Skin, a novel
Robert Silverberg: A Time of Changes, an SF novel
Breakfast at Tiffany's, a film
=========================
Fred Saberhagen: Octagon, an SF novel
Octagon was first published in 1981, and it shows its age when the plot concentrates on computers. References to such "super" computers as the Cray 4 and desktop versions such as the TRS-80 bring back long forgotten memories. The plot involves a war game in which a computer is used to handle the bookkeeping. Participants in the game mail postcards or letters with their latest moves to the game headquarters and await responses from their opponents, also by mail. This is pre-email, of course, and shortly before the growth of the BBS network (electronic bulletin board system), which died shortly after the Internet emerged. The name of the company that runs the war game is Berserker Inc., an obvious reference to Saberhagen's own well-known series about the organic life-hating killing machines.
Prior to the beginning of the novel, two friends, Bob Gregory and Henry Brahmaguptra, had worked together in developing a computer network system by which computers in many different locations could communicate and interact. Fearing that this system might someday fall under the control of either a hostile country or a future dictatorial government, they built in a "back door" which would allow them or someone they designated to regain complete control of the network or even shut it down if that seemed necessary.
Opening the "back door" required two passwords, one for each of them, and since neither knew the other's password, they had to agree that the situation was serious enough to need their intervention. Unfortunately, political differences between Henry, the "bleeding heart" liberal, and Bob, the "reactionary redneck," resulted in their eventual estrangement. Now, it seems that someone has gained control of the system, and each suspects the other of unwisely sharing the password with others (the far left or the far right), which would give partial control of the system. And, along with records mysteriously disappearing or false records appearing, someone or something is murdering participants in that war game.
Saberhagen's novel clearly is tied to the events and the atmosphere of the time in which it was written. The increasing use of computers in everyday life and the first appearance of the personal desktop computer in the late 70s and early 80s (I think I got my first Trash 80 clone in 1981) provide the background for the novel. In addition, fears regarding the control of our lives through computers was becoming stronger, with not only individuals or governments assuming control, but also the possibility of computer AIs developing and becoming a threat on their own. Kubrick and Asimov's 2001: A Space Odyssey came out in 1968 and popularized the idea of sentient but malfunctioning computers as a potential threat to humanity. Saberhagen's novel is another version of this theme for, in this story, an AI has been unknowingly created. Unfortunately, it has adopted the rules of the war game as its perspective on reality: enemies were to be eliminated.
Trivia: Henry Brahmaguptra's last name is almost the same as that of India's most famous astronomer and mathematician of the past, Brahmagupta, who lived from 598 to 665 AD. I doubt that this is a coincidence.
Overall Reaction: interesting tale from an historical perspective about the growth of fear of the new electro-mechanical Frankenstein's monster, along with trends concerning the growth of the personal computer into everyday life. In addition, there's an interesting climatic battle scene at the end featuring metal monsters on both sides.
=========================
A Walk in the Sun, a film
A Walk in the Sun is a WWII film that came out in 1945 and is adapted from a novel by Harry Brown. The novel was published as a serial in Liberty Magazine in 1944. The film follows the actions of the Lee platoon of the Texas Division on the first day of the Allied invasion of Italy at Salerno in 1943. Their mission is to capture a farmhouse about six miles inland and then destroy the nearby bridge.
This is not a typical wartime propaganda film starring a big name who engages in superhuman heroics in the defense of the freedom-loving peoples of the world against an enemy notable mainly for its stupidity, brutality, and cowardice. The film illustrates the common saying about war being moments of terror midst hours of boredom and tedium. Once the platoon gets off the beach and inland, most of the time is spent walking and talking and griping, as the men get to know each other and become a unit. However, there is a war going on and the platoon has several encounters with the enemy before they get to the farmhouse.
Once such encounter is with a German mechanized reconnaissance patrol. The US platoon defeats the patrol, but not because of any super heroics but because the Germans were unaware of the American unit in the area and so were taken by surprise. In addition, the Germans were outnumbered. Careful planning, the element of surprise, discipline, and superior numbers were the significant elements, and it was clear that if the situation had been reversed, the Germans would have come out ahead. The victory had its costs as several were wounded, and in spite of the platoon's mantra, "Nobody Dies,"some do die. In addition, they had to use up all of the shells for their bazooka. This plays a role in the upcoming battle for the farmhouse. This isn't a 'Hollywood" platoon with unlimited ammunition. It has only what the men can carry with them.
Eventually, the farmhouse is taken and the bridge is destroyed. It's not a major victory that will win the war, but just one small action that will hinder the German attempt to bring up reinforcements to this area. This, therefore, allows the Allies to safely land more troops and material so that they can engage the Germans with a greater chance of defeating them when a major battle does occur. It is the combined results of small engagements, such as this one, that set the tone for the coming battles.
It's an all male cast, with not even the usual obligatory flashbacks to scenes back home of wives and girl friends and parents. Part of the fun of the film was spotting familiar faces among the soldiers: Dana Andrews (probably the star, if one needs one), Lloyd Bridges, Richard Conte, John Ireland, Sterling Holloway, Huntz Hall, Steve Brodie, and Burgess Meredith as the narrator.
Overall Reaction: a more realistic war film about WWII than most of those that I have seen. Superheroes are fun, but in the real world it's the average person who is forced to get the job done--the clerks, the mail carriers, the junior executives, the teachers, the welders--none of whom have superhuman powers.
=========================
Albert Sanchez Pinol: Cold Skin, a novel
translated by Cheryl Leah Morgan
A young man (unnamed) has arrived on a small island near the Antarctic Circle to take on a job as a weatherman for a year. He is to record the intensity, the direction, and the frequency of the winds there. The captain of the ship that has brought him is in a hurry to leave. Consequently, when the weatherman who has just completed his yearlong tour is not there to greet them, they go to look for him. He is nowhere to be found. The lighthouse keeper, who is the other inhabitant of the island, knows nothing.
The captain is puzzled, but he must leave. The young man settles in. He has taken this job because of the isolation. He also sees it as an opportunity to educate himself, so he has brought along numerous books and writing materials.
This is what I had read about the book before I borrowed it from the library. It sounded like a mystery to me and the premise was intriguing. Where was the previous weatherman? Was the lighthouse keeper responsible for his disappearance? Was there someone else on the island? It wasn't long before I realized I had wandered into the universe of a different genre--the horror story. The first night, swarms of humanoid creatures swarm ashore and attack his house. Fortunately, his house is sturdy and he is armed.
This short novel, somewhat less than 200 pages, is one of the strangest novels that I've recently read. Who are the creatures? Why do they relentlessly attack, night after night, regardless of their losses? Did they kill the missing weatherman? What is the lighthouse keeper's role in all this? Why is the lighthouse keeper reluctant to join forces with him against the creatures? And, what is the lighthouse keeper's relationship with what appears to be one of the female creatures?
By day, the young man struggles to find the answers to these questions, while at night he struggles to defend himself against the persistent attacks of the creatures. When he eventually forces the lighthouse keeper to allow him to move into the lighthouse (a much sturdier and more easily defensible structure), his questions still go unanswered. He also finds himself strangely attracted to the humanoid female.
The ending is a shocker, or at least, it was for me. I didn't see it coming, although other, more perceptive readers might. At the end, he does get some of the answers, but not all.
Overall Reaction: not a pleasant story, but one that drew me in and I had to stay with it until the end. Would I reread it? I think so, for it would be a different story then, and I'm curious about what it would be like at a second reading.
=========================
Robert Silverberg: A Time of Changes
Winner of the Nebula Award for Best SF Novel of 1971
Hugo Nominee for 1972
The novel begins with a very traditional series of events. Centuries in the future, humankind has colonized a number of planets. On one of them, Borthan, the people have created a society where the self is despised. It is considered obscene to use the pronouns "I" or "me" or "my." Instead of saying "I would like to . . .," the people of Borthan say "One would like to. . ." Talking about oneself is forbidden and eventually would result in social ostracism. Extremists would go one step further and say "Doing . . . is pleasurable" which eliminates any reference to an individual.
There are two exceptions to this rule. Apparently the founders of Borthan recognized that complete self-containment would be unhealthy, so they created the drainers and the custom of bondkin. Drainers were those who would listen to anyone without judging and keep secret whatever they were told, similar to the seal of the confessional in the Roman Catholic Church. Shortly after a child was born, the parents would arrange with other families to develop a relationship with a male and a female child of the same age. These would then be the child's bondbrother and bondsister. Only with one's bondbrother and bondsister could one reveal oneself, could one be truly open with another person.
Kinnal Darival is the son of the ruler of Sala. Unfortunately he is a younger son. It is strange but true that, on Borthan, younger sons of rulers do quite well until the father dies and the oldest brother takes the throne. At this point, the life expectancy of younger brothers suddenly drops to something less than a year. However, another strange fact is that the life expectancy of younger brothers suddenly increases to that of the normal population once that younger brother has traveled to a foreign country. Taking account of these statistics, Kinnal Darival leaves Salla several months after his brother has assumed the throne.
Darival, after several adventures, arrives in the province of Manneran. With the help of a relative, he gains a government position and within a decade or so, he has managed to become highly respected and powerful. He has wealth, power, prestige, and an advantageous if not a happy marriage. He then meets and becomes friendly with an Earthman, Schweiz, a merchant.
Schweiz attempts to break through the cultural walls that isolate each inhabitant on Borthan. He finds a listener in Darival. Eventually Schweiz tells him of a drug that will break through the social isolation and actually allow those who have taken the drug to share each other's consciousness for a short time. They take the drug and Darival decides that this must be shared with others. He and Schweiz travel to Sumara, the source of the drug, and bring back a large quantity. Darival then begins to convert others and soon a significant number of people are taking the drug.
The ruling powers however see this as a threat, and Darival is forced to flee once again. He returns to his home province of Sala, where his brother agrees to let him live, as long as he does not attempt to introduce the drug. Darival eventually finds this impossible, and at the end of the story is captured by his brother's troops. Darival's consolation is that he has written his story down and gotten it out to friends, who will spread the good word to others.
As I mentioned earlier, this novel was published in 1971. I'm sure this is just a coincidence, but during the 60s and early 70s, psychologist Timothy Leary became very prominent through his research on LSD. Like Darival, he was highly regarded in his profession. Like Darival he preached the use of a mind/consciousness expanding drug which would provide emotional and spiritual benefits. Leary also had to travel to a foreign country, Mexico, at first to acquire the mind expanding drug. And, eventually Leary lost his position in academia and was harassed by the authorities. Leary at one point had various prison terms adding up to 90+ years and actually spent some time in prison. President Nixon once described Leary as "the most dangerous man in America."
Overall Reaction: As I mentioned earlier, the novel began as a traditional adventure tale but then became as much if not more of a novel of ideas than of an action-oriented story. It's the story of a highly successful, wealthy, and powerful man who eventually went to war with his culture. As with so many who have radical ideas, he won't be around to see the results of his actions.
Another issue here is the efficacy of the drug. While it does break down the barriers between the minds of those using the drugs, does it produce any lasting changes after the drug wears off. The same question was asked of LSD which reportedly produced the same consciousness expanding results in a few hours as did years of meditation or of a mystical experience of some inexplicable nature. In short, were there any long-lasting beneficial changes to those who took LSD?
========================
Breakfast at Tiffany's, a film, probably labeled a romantic comedy
The Plot: can a young girl from a small Texas town find happiness in New York City? I should probably define happiness as Holly Golightly, our heroine, sees it. Actually Jane Austen, many years ago, said it better than I ever could: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. Holly is looking for that single man in possession of a good fortune who will want her as his wife. Holly isn't being totally mercenary here, for she has a brother, Fred, who is getting out of the army shortly. He's a bit slow, she tells one and all, so she has to be responsible for him.
Given this inane plot, one could only wonder why the film was so popular. What does it have going for it that would have viewers ignore the silliness?
Well . . . It has the following going for it:
Cat, who plays the cat in the film with to the utmost, Cat is the epitome of catness--self-centered, determined to get its own way, always being around when it's not wanted and seldom being around when it is.
The Theme Music: words and music by Johnny Mercer and Henry Mancini respectively. "Moon River" was extremely popular and one couldn't turn on the radio without hearing it at least once or twice a day. For days afterward I kept humming or hearing it.
George Peppard: a handsome, young male with lots of white teeth. What was needed for the role was a handsome, young male with lots of white teeth: he was available. He was there when necessary and not there when not needed.
Patricia Neal: her great but too seldom seen portrayal of Mrs. Failenson, the society matron whose boytoy, George Peppard, lived in the apartment above Holly's. Her acceptance of being dumped by George for a younger woman was a classic--rueful to some extent, but as she left, one knew that she was already thinking about his replacement, and that wouldn't be an impossible task, either--just call central casting.
But, most of all, what the film really has going for it is Audry Hepburn.
Overall Reaction: It stars Audrey Hepburn; what else needs be said?
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Something to think about
From India:
Do not give your attention to what others do or fail to do, give it to what you do or fail to do.
-- The Dhammapada --
Eknath Easwaran: editor and translator
From China:
When you see a worthy person,
endeavor to emulate him.
When you see an unworthy person,
then examine your inner self.
-- Confucius --
From Israel:
3. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?
The Gospel of St. Matthew, Chapter 7
Several very short and simple suggestions.
Do you think, all quibbling aside, that, if people really began to think about and act upon these simple suggestions, it would change the daily headlines in some way?
Do not give your attention to what others do or fail to do, give it to what you do or fail to do.
-- The Dhammapada --
Eknath Easwaran: editor and translator
From China:
When you see a worthy person,
endeavor to emulate him.
When you see an unworthy person,
then examine your inner self.
-- Confucius --
From Israel:
3. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?
The Gospel of St. Matthew, Chapter 7
Several very short and simple suggestions.
Do you think, all quibbling aside, that, if people really began to think about and act upon these simple suggestions, it would change the daily headlines in some way?
Friday, September 3, 2010
Loren Eiseley: September 3, 1907--July 9, 1977
Perhaps more than any other writer, Loren Eiseley has impressed upon me certain truths about evolution that are both fascinating and frustrating. They aren't new or startling, but he made me grasp them as no other writer had before.
Evolution is not a thing, first of all. I can't hold it in my hand; evolution, instead, is a description of a type of interaction between living creatures and their environment, especially changes in the environment which result in adaptations by some living creatures which then affect the environment in new ways. And so the process continues. The web of life may be a cliche, but what else can one call it.
That's the second point Eiseley has impressed on me. The process continues. I have seen numerous charts that purport to show the evolutionary line that begins with the smallest and earliest living creatures on the one hand and which stretch across the millions of years to finally end with the human species. That's the problem: it doesn't end with the human species. We may be one of the latest, but we aren't the last. Eiseley makes the point again and again in his essays, in his own quiet way, with a story here and a small observation there, and in this way he has convinced me of this. And, that's the frustrating part, as Eiseley notes time and again.
On an expedition in one of the northern plains states, he uncovers a small skull, that of an early ancestor of a rodent. In an essay titled "The Slit," Eiseley says to himself that "the creature had never lived to see a man, and I, what was it I was never going to see?" That's the frustrating part.
Several pages later in the same essay, Eiseley further develops the point when he observes that "We cannot know all that has happened in the past, or the reason for all of these events, any more than we can with surety discern what lies ahead. We have joined the caravan, you might say, at a certain point; we will travel as far as we can, but we cannot in one lifetime see all that we would like to see or learn all that we hunger to know."
In an essay titled "The Snout," Eiseley, in spite of the ultimate futility of our dreams to know all, goes on to say "It gives one a feeling of confidence to see nature still busy with experiments, still dynamic, and not through nor satisfied because a Devonian fish managed to end as a two-legged character with a straw hat. There are other things brewing and growing in the oceanic vat. It pays to know this. It pays to know there is just as much future as there is past. The only thing that doesn't pay is to be sure of man's own part in it."
However, not everyone shares Eiseley's enthusiasm. Eiseley tells of a conversation he had with a friend, a member of the Explorers Club, who had just returned from a trek through northern Australia.
"'They fell out of the trees,' he said. 'Like rain. And into the boat.'
'Uh?' I said, noncommittally.
'They did so,' he protested, 'and they were hard to catch.'
'Really--' I said.
'We were pushing a dugout up one of the tidal creeks in northern Australia and going fast when smacko we jam this mangrove bush and the things came tumbling down.
'What were they doing sitting up there in bunches? I ask you. It's no place for a fish. Besides that they had a way of sidling off with those popeyes trained on you. I never liked it. Somebody out to keep any eye on them.'
'Why?' I asked.
'I don't know why,' he said impatiently, running a rough, square hand through his hair and wrinkling his forehead. 'I just mean they make you feel that way, is all. A fish belongs in the water. It ought to stay here--just we live on land in houses. Things ought to know their place and stay in it, but those fish have got a way of sidling off. As though they had mental reservations and weren't keeping any contracts. See what I mean?'"
Later, still in the same essay, "The Snout", Eiseley sums up neatly: "The world is fixed, we say: fish in the sea, birds in the air. But in the mangrove swamps by the Niger, fish climb trees and ogle uneasy naturalists who try unsuccessfully to chase them back to the water. There are things still coming ashore. . . . . . . There lies the hope of life. The old ways are exploited and remain, but new things come, new senses try the unfamiliar air. There are small scuttlings and splashings in the dark, and out of it come the first croaking, illiterate voices of the things to be, just as man once croaked and dreamed darkly in that tiny vesicular forebrain. . . We are one of the many appearances of the thing called Life; we are not its perfect image, for it has no image except Life, and life is multitudinous and emergent in the stream of time."
The quotations are from several essays contained in the first book I read by Loren Eiseley--The Immense Journey. It is one of my "Desert Island" books.
Evolution is not a thing, first of all. I can't hold it in my hand; evolution, instead, is a description of a type of interaction between living creatures and their environment, especially changes in the environment which result in adaptations by some living creatures which then affect the environment in new ways. And so the process continues. The web of life may be a cliche, but what else can one call it.
That's the second point Eiseley has impressed on me. The process continues. I have seen numerous charts that purport to show the evolutionary line that begins with the smallest and earliest living creatures on the one hand and which stretch across the millions of years to finally end with the human species. That's the problem: it doesn't end with the human species. We may be one of the latest, but we aren't the last. Eiseley makes the point again and again in his essays, in his own quiet way, with a story here and a small observation there, and in this way he has convinced me of this. And, that's the frustrating part, as Eiseley notes time and again.
On an expedition in one of the northern plains states, he uncovers a small skull, that of an early ancestor of a rodent. In an essay titled "The Slit," Eiseley says to himself that "the creature had never lived to see a man, and I, what was it I was never going to see?" That's the frustrating part.
Several pages later in the same essay, Eiseley further develops the point when he observes that "We cannot know all that has happened in the past, or the reason for all of these events, any more than we can with surety discern what lies ahead. We have joined the caravan, you might say, at a certain point; we will travel as far as we can, but we cannot in one lifetime see all that we would like to see or learn all that we hunger to know."
In an essay titled "The Snout," Eiseley, in spite of the ultimate futility of our dreams to know all, goes on to say "It gives one a feeling of confidence to see nature still busy with experiments, still dynamic, and not through nor satisfied because a Devonian fish managed to end as a two-legged character with a straw hat. There are other things brewing and growing in the oceanic vat. It pays to know this. It pays to know there is just as much future as there is past. The only thing that doesn't pay is to be sure of man's own part in it."
However, not everyone shares Eiseley's enthusiasm. Eiseley tells of a conversation he had with a friend, a member of the Explorers Club, who had just returned from a trek through northern Australia.
"'They fell out of the trees,' he said. 'Like rain. And into the boat.'
'Uh?' I said, noncommittally.
'They did so,' he protested, 'and they were hard to catch.'
'Really--' I said.
'We were pushing a dugout up one of the tidal creeks in northern Australia and going fast when smacko we jam this mangrove bush and the things came tumbling down.
'What were they doing sitting up there in bunches? I ask you. It's no place for a fish. Besides that they had a way of sidling off with those popeyes trained on you. I never liked it. Somebody out to keep any eye on them.'
'Why?' I asked.
'I don't know why,' he said impatiently, running a rough, square hand through his hair and wrinkling his forehead. 'I just mean they make you feel that way, is all. A fish belongs in the water. It ought to stay here--just we live on land in houses. Things ought to know their place and stay in it, but those fish have got a way of sidling off. As though they had mental reservations and weren't keeping any contracts. See what I mean?'"
Later, still in the same essay, "The Snout", Eiseley sums up neatly: "The world is fixed, we say: fish in the sea, birds in the air. But in the mangrove swamps by the Niger, fish climb trees and ogle uneasy naturalists who try unsuccessfully to chase them back to the water. There are things still coming ashore. . . . . . . There lies the hope of life. The old ways are exploited and remain, but new things come, new senses try the unfamiliar air. There are small scuttlings and splashings in the dark, and out of it come the first croaking, illiterate voices of the things to be, just as man once croaked and dreamed darkly in that tiny vesicular forebrain. . . We are one of the many appearances of the thing called Life; we are not its perfect image, for it has no image except Life, and life is multitudinous and emergent in the stream of time."
The quotations are from several essays contained in the first book I read by Loren Eiseley--The Immense Journey. It is one of my "Desert Island" books.
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