When Kim Stanley Robinson published these three novels--The Wild Shore (1984), The Gold Coast (1988), and Pacific Edge (1990)-- they were known collectively as "The Orange County Trilogy." In 1995, the three were reissued in trade paperback editions and were then called "The Three Californias." This probably represents the recognition that these three works do not constitute a trilogy, at least not in the accepted sense of the word. Calling them three Californias does suggest that they are related but not as tightly as a trilogy would be.
I think a better descriptive would be the Russian term "troika," which is a sled or carriage drawn by three horses that are harnessed side-by-side. The three horses therefore move forward into space side-by-side and are equals in that sense--no lead or trailing horse. The same is true of Robinson's three novels, for they move forward side-by-side into time. There is no first or last novel. All three are independent, and it makes no difference in which order the three are read. I read them over twenty years ago in the order of publication, and for this second visit, I will read them in the same order.
I never learned the reason for the change from Orange County to California, but my guess would be a marketing decision--more readers might go for a series set in California than in Orange County, because California is a more recognizable locale than Orange County.
These three novels are inhabitants of my TBR bookcase (To Be Reread in this case). I won't read all three back-to-back but hope to be able to move them eventually during the year out of the TBR bookcase. I shall start within the next week or two with The Wild Shore.
The Wild Shore is a post-holocaust novel and belongs in the "what if" SF category. "What if the US was suddenly attacked, and it was the only country attacked." No other country came to the aid of the US for fear of retaliation. The novel begins in 2047, several decades after the war, if a one-sided attack can be called a war. The POV character, Hank Fletcher, is a young man who lives with his father in a small community made up of others who struggle to survive on the California coast in what was once known as Orange County. He can see ships from Japan and other countries as they maintain a blockade along the Pacific Coast. They will prevent any ships from entering or leaving the coastal waters.
The people survive by farming and trading surplus goods and pre-destruction artifacts with other small communities in the area. Not surprisingly, barter is now the dominant economic system. These people's lives are not characterized as part of that idyllic pastoral romance that shows up in so many post-holocaust fantasies. It is a hard, difficult life, and there is little in the way of significant change until several strangers arrive, who claim to be from San Diego, and they have some ideas about disrupting the status quo.
The Gold Coast belongs to the "if this goes on" category of SF. It is Robinson's extrapolation of what life would be like in Orange County, California, if some existing trends continued. It is set in 2027 and the back page description says it better than I could:
Southern California is a developer's dream gone mad, an endless sprawl of condos, freeways, and malls. Jim McPherson, the affluent son of a defense contractor, is a young man lost in a world of fast cars, casual sex, and designer drugs. But his descent into the shadowy underground of industrial terrorism brings him into a shattering confrontation with his family, his goals, and his ideals.
Pacific Edge, the third novel in the troika, is set also in the same area in 2065, but again in a very different universe. It belongs to the "what if" category, and frankly I consider it to be closer to fantasy than the other two works. I, anyway, believe this universe to be the one that is least likely to happen because the question answered by Pacific Edge is this: "What if the whole world suddenly goes green?"
Big is bad, small is good. Air and water pollution are not to be permitted for any reason. No company can have more than a certain number of employees. Growth, unless it is demonstrably necessary for survival, is forbidden; increasing profits has nothing to do with survival and therefore is not considered an adequate reason for expansion. A new set of three "Rs" has been added to the traditional "Readin', 'Ritin', and 'Rithmatic": "Reuse, Recycle, and Repair."
From the back cover description: "Kevin Claiborne, a young builder who has grown up in this 'green' world, now finds himself caught up in the struggle to preserve his community's idyllic way of life from the resurgent forces of greed and exploitation." I suspect this book is on or would be on every Chamber of Commerce's black list.
While there are no links among the novels--all three are independent and occupy separate universes--there are some commonalities among them. Locale, of course, is one of them. Another commonality is that the main character in each is a young male. A third is that shortly after the novels begin, the young male is involved in digging up something from the past. A fourth is the presence of the old man, who provides a type of historical commentary or perhaps even continuity with the past in each of the three novels.
What Robinson has created is a work that provides three different futures for Orange County or California, if you prefer, each of which takes place roughly during the middle third of the 21st century. Robinson thus gives readers an opportunity to select and discuss which is the preferable one and which is the most likely one.
I don't know of any other author who has created a similar series. If there is one, I would certainly like to hear about it.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Eric Hoffer: a quotation
No. 2
There is something unhuman about perfection. The performance of the expert strikes us as instinctual or mechanical. It is a paradox that, although the striving to master a skill is supremely human, the total mastery of a skill approaches the nonhuman. They who would make man perfect end up by dehumanizing him.
-- Eric Hoffer --
from Reflections on the Human Condition
Do perfect performances strike one as nonhuman? I remember reading a review by a music critic in the BBC Music Magazine. He criticized a CD by the The Tallis Scholars (a choral ensemble specializing in liturgical music led by Peter Philips) for being too perfect and inhuman and, therefore, he could only rate them a 4 on a 5 point scale.
I found that to be strange.
There is something unhuman about perfection. The performance of the expert strikes us as instinctual or mechanical. It is a paradox that, although the striving to master a skill is supremely human, the total mastery of a skill approaches the nonhuman. They who would make man perfect end up by dehumanizing him.
-- Eric Hoffer --
from Reflections on the Human Condition
Do perfect performances strike one as nonhuman? I remember reading a review by a music critic in the BBC Music Magazine. He criticized a CD by the The Tallis Scholars (a choral ensemble specializing in liturgical music led by Peter Philips) for being too perfect and inhuman and, therefore, he could only rate them a 4 on a 5 point scale.
I found that to be strange.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Where the Green Ants Dream, a film
I have a rather long queue on Netflix, so it takes some time for a film to work its way to the top. Frequently, therefore, I'm not exactly sure why I added a particular film to my queue. In this case, I had no doubts about why I added it. Surely, a title such as Where the Green Ants Dream would be sufficient reason alone to take at least a look at it. And, then, when I discovered the director was Werner Herzog, how could I resist? The director and the title seem made for each other.
The film is loosely based on a real event that took place in Australia several years before the film came out in 1985. Even before filming began, Herzog was threatened with a lawsuit if he used the name of the mining company in the film. As Herzog pointed out in his commentary, it really made no difference what name he used because Australians knew the details of the incident.
To be brief, a mining company has sent out a exploratory crew to an area that is considered sacred by the Australian Aborigines who live in the area. It is the place where the green ants dream. First, the mining company was going to conduct tests that would involve numerous explosions in order to get a seismic map of the subsoil. If the tests proved positive, it would then go in and begin digging.
The Aborigines believe that if the green ants' dreaming is disrupted, and the explosions alone would do this, there would disastrous consequences for the land and for the Aborigines who live there. I've read some comments that it wasn't just the land but the entire universe that would be disrupted if the green ants were disturbed during their dreaming. I know very little about the Australian Aborigine beliefs so I can't comment other than to say that it was obvious that they believed it would be catastrophic to awaken the ants and interfere with their dreaming. I think it's a bit ironic that the mining company was searching for uranium, an absolute necessity for the development of nuclear weapons.
It is the classic conflict between native peoples and their sacred lands on the one hand and a corporation that wants to profit by engaging in some activity on those lands, activity that will conflict with the beliefs of native peoples and disrupt or change the land for a long time afterwards, if not permanently.
The POV character is Lance Hackett, a geologist who works for the company. When the Aborigines begin to interfere with the tests, he informs the company of the problem. As the presumed leader of the exploratory crew, he becomes the point man for the negotiations between the company and the Aborigines. As the negotiations continue, he becomes, as one might expect, more sympathetic to the Aborigines.
Those who have seen the recent SF film, Avatar, might see some similarities between the two films. They are there, but one of the major differences is in the portrayal of the two companies. In Avatar, the company is a law unto itself. It uses military force in an attempt to drive out or exterminate the native peoples. This does not happen in Where the Green Ants Dream. The company has obtained the appropriate permits to search for uranium deposits and then begin mining operations if the uranium is there in sufficient quantity. The company does its best to recompense the Aborigines, including getting them a military aircraft that looks somewhat like a large green flying insect.
Unable to dissuade the mining company, the Aborigines go to court and eventually reach the highest court in Australia. According to the commentary, this was the first time the Aborigines had gone to the courts for protection. In the end, the Aborigines lose because, as the judge stated in his decision, the Aborigines were unable to produce evidence that would be acceptable in an Anglo-Saxon court of law.
This is a Herzog film. Those who have seen Fata Morgana (a film I commented on in April 2010) will recognize this immediately. There are scenes of vast wastelands with bizarre rock formations and a burned out bus. Occasionally the viewer will spot an abandoned pickup truck in the middle of nowhere, with a piece of earth moving equipment nearby. Why they are there is never clear. Interspersed is a little subplot, one that seemingly has nothing to do with the main plot: an old woman has lost her dog. It has run into one of several caves and apparently can't find its way out.
In Fata Morgana, the viewer meets a biologist who has spent years of his life studying a lizard that lives in the vast deserts of Northern Africa. We meet another biologist who has spent years of his life studying the green ants of this part of Australia. The green ants do exist, and they are partially a bright green. Only, they really aren't ants; they are in the termite family. The dreaming green ants is not part of the Aborigine beliefs; that is Herzog's creation. However, it is based partially on fact: a type of lizard in another part of Australia is believed to dream and therefore plays an important role in preserving the planet.
Some of the most interesting scenes are those of the negotiations between the Aborigines and the company. The camera focuses on the faces of the Aborigines (Herzog somehow managed to get Aborigines to play the appropriate roles in the film), and I could almost hear the Aborigines thinking. The actions of the white men were completely incomprehensible to them. The mining company's activities were going to be catastrophic, including the destruction of the Aborigines themselves, and the company thought that offering money or a share of the profits would be satisfactory.
The camera would then shift to the company representatives, and I could see the same bewilderment. What did the Aborigines want? They were offered a large cash settlement and a share of the profits which would take them out of poverty, as the company saw it anyway. The company would even build a small museum that would focus on the Aborigine culture. It's as if the company and the Aborigines lived on separate planets.
To be simplistic, the conflict is between profit-making activities and the beliefs of native peoples--between the material and the spiritual worlds--and it seems not to be slackening in any way either.
Which should take priority?
====================
P. S.
Steven Riddle of A Momentary Taste of Being, (see his blog listed on the sidebar) made a comment that started me thinking (which he so often does) . He mentioned the images from the film that stayed with him. That struck a chord and provided an answer to something that was bothering me about this post. There was something I hadn't said yet: it had to do with what images have stayed with me after watching the film. The following is the comment I made on Steven's blog and I decided to post it here also.
"What stays with me are the faces of the Aborigines. Herzog has the camera linger on them much longer than on the white faces. It's almost as though they are a force of nature and not ephemeral beings such as we "civilized people" are. They are rooted solidly while we are transients, if that makes any sense."
I am reminded of the Zen dictum by Yun-Men:
In walking, just walk
In sitting, just sit
Above all, don't wobble
In the film, the Aborigines walked and sat, while the whites wobbled.
The film is loosely based on a real event that took place in Australia several years before the film came out in 1985. Even before filming began, Herzog was threatened with a lawsuit if he used the name of the mining company in the film. As Herzog pointed out in his commentary, it really made no difference what name he used because Australians knew the details of the incident.
To be brief, a mining company has sent out a exploratory crew to an area that is considered sacred by the Australian Aborigines who live in the area. It is the place where the green ants dream. First, the mining company was going to conduct tests that would involve numerous explosions in order to get a seismic map of the subsoil. If the tests proved positive, it would then go in and begin digging.
The Aborigines believe that if the green ants' dreaming is disrupted, and the explosions alone would do this, there would disastrous consequences for the land and for the Aborigines who live there. I've read some comments that it wasn't just the land but the entire universe that would be disrupted if the green ants were disturbed during their dreaming. I know very little about the Australian Aborigine beliefs so I can't comment other than to say that it was obvious that they believed it would be catastrophic to awaken the ants and interfere with their dreaming. I think it's a bit ironic that the mining company was searching for uranium, an absolute necessity for the development of nuclear weapons.
It is the classic conflict between native peoples and their sacred lands on the one hand and a corporation that wants to profit by engaging in some activity on those lands, activity that will conflict with the beliefs of native peoples and disrupt or change the land for a long time afterwards, if not permanently.
The POV character is Lance Hackett, a geologist who works for the company. When the Aborigines begin to interfere with the tests, he informs the company of the problem. As the presumed leader of the exploratory crew, he becomes the point man for the negotiations between the company and the Aborigines. As the negotiations continue, he becomes, as one might expect, more sympathetic to the Aborigines.
Those who have seen the recent SF film, Avatar, might see some similarities between the two films. They are there, but one of the major differences is in the portrayal of the two companies. In Avatar, the company is a law unto itself. It uses military force in an attempt to drive out or exterminate the native peoples. This does not happen in Where the Green Ants Dream. The company has obtained the appropriate permits to search for uranium deposits and then begin mining operations if the uranium is there in sufficient quantity. The company does its best to recompense the Aborigines, including getting them a military aircraft that looks somewhat like a large green flying insect.
Unable to dissuade the mining company, the Aborigines go to court and eventually reach the highest court in Australia. According to the commentary, this was the first time the Aborigines had gone to the courts for protection. In the end, the Aborigines lose because, as the judge stated in his decision, the Aborigines were unable to produce evidence that would be acceptable in an Anglo-Saxon court of law.
This is a Herzog film. Those who have seen Fata Morgana (a film I commented on in April 2010) will recognize this immediately. There are scenes of vast wastelands with bizarre rock formations and a burned out bus. Occasionally the viewer will spot an abandoned pickup truck in the middle of nowhere, with a piece of earth moving equipment nearby. Why they are there is never clear. Interspersed is a little subplot, one that seemingly has nothing to do with the main plot: an old woman has lost her dog. It has run into one of several caves and apparently can't find its way out.
In Fata Morgana, the viewer meets a biologist who has spent years of his life studying a lizard that lives in the vast deserts of Northern Africa. We meet another biologist who has spent years of his life studying the green ants of this part of Australia. The green ants do exist, and they are partially a bright green. Only, they really aren't ants; they are in the termite family. The dreaming green ants is not part of the Aborigine beliefs; that is Herzog's creation. However, it is based partially on fact: a type of lizard in another part of Australia is believed to dream and therefore plays an important role in preserving the planet.
Some of the most interesting scenes are those of the negotiations between the Aborigines and the company. The camera focuses on the faces of the Aborigines (Herzog somehow managed to get Aborigines to play the appropriate roles in the film), and I could almost hear the Aborigines thinking. The actions of the white men were completely incomprehensible to them. The mining company's activities were going to be catastrophic, including the destruction of the Aborigines themselves, and the company thought that offering money or a share of the profits would be satisfactory.
The camera would then shift to the company representatives, and I could see the same bewilderment. What did the Aborigines want? They were offered a large cash settlement and a share of the profits which would take them out of poverty, as the company saw it anyway. The company would even build a small museum that would focus on the Aborigine culture. It's as if the company and the Aborigines lived on separate planets.
To be simplistic, the conflict is between profit-making activities and the beliefs of native peoples--between the material and the spiritual worlds--and it seems not to be slackening in any way either.
Which should take priority?
====================
P. S.
Steven Riddle of A Momentary Taste of Being, (see his blog listed on the sidebar) made a comment that started me thinking (which he so often does) . He mentioned the images from the film that stayed with him. That struck a chord and provided an answer to something that was bothering me about this post. There was something I hadn't said yet: it had to do with what images have stayed with me after watching the film. The following is the comment I made on Steven's blog and I decided to post it here also.
"What stays with me are the faces of the Aborigines. Herzog has the camera linger on them much longer than on the white faces. It's almost as though they are a force of nature and not ephemeral beings such as we "civilized people" are. They are rooted solidly while we are transients, if that makes any sense."
I am reminded of the Zen dictum by Yun-Men:
In walking, just walk
In sitting, just sit
Above all, don't wobble
In the film, the Aborigines walked and sat, while the whites wobbled.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Something to think about
Friedrich Nietzsche
Original Error of the philosopher.
All philosophers share this common error: they proceed from contemporary man and think they can reach their goal through an analysis of this man. Automatically they think of "man" as an eternal verity, as something abiding in the whirlpool, as a sure measure of things. Everything that the philosopher says about man, however, is at bottom no more than a testimony about the man of a very limited period. Lack of a historical sense is the original error of all philosophers . . .
Several questions here-
Is this a common error? Is this even an error? Has human nature remained constant over the tens or maybe hundreds of thousands of years?
Do all philosophers share this error? Are there exceptions?
If not philosophers, then one might consider anthropologists and archeologists. They have found burials from 20 or 30 thousand years ago with flowers and other items along with the body. Are they wrong in assuming this showed something significant about the way they felt about the death of this person because we sometimes bury important items with our loved ones?
Or the significance of the cave paintings . . .?
Or in literature? Can we really understand Gilgamesh's behavior or that of the Greeks and Trojans in The Iliad and The Odyssey?
Original Error of the philosopher.
All philosophers share this common error: they proceed from contemporary man and think they can reach their goal through an analysis of this man. Automatically they think of "man" as an eternal verity, as something abiding in the whirlpool, as a sure measure of things. Everything that the philosopher says about man, however, is at bottom no more than a testimony about the man of a very limited period. Lack of a historical sense is the original error of all philosophers . . .
Several questions here-
Is this a common error? Is this even an error? Has human nature remained constant over the tens or maybe hundreds of thousands of years?
Do all philosophers share this error? Are there exceptions?
If not philosophers, then one might consider anthropologists and archeologists. They have found burials from 20 or 30 thousand years ago with flowers and other items along with the body. Are they wrong in assuming this showed something significant about the way they felt about the death of this person because we sometimes bury important items with our loved ones?
Or the significance of the cave paintings . . .?
Or in literature? Can we really understand Gilgamesh's behavior or that of the Greeks and Trojans in The Iliad and The Odyssey?
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Edgar Allan Poe: Jan. 19, 1809--Oct. 7, 1849
To be honest, I prefer Edgar Allan Poe's short stories to most of his poetry. However, there are some exceptions, and one of them is the following:
Sonnet--To Science
Science! true daughter of old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jeweled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Has thou not torn the naiad from her flood,
The elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
Poe's complaint here is a common one made by many writers and poets: science is taking the romance out of reality. The Vulture science leaves us with only dull realities. It is too bad that Poe isn't alive today to see what's happened to that dull Vulture science, especially when one considers some of the theories of the cosmologists today: black holes, the possibility of life elsewhere in the universe, and multiple dimensions, are just some examples. Science may have taken the older fantasy and romance out of reality, but many science fiction writers are putting it back into science.
Sonnet--To Science
Science! true daughter of old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jeweled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Has thou not torn the naiad from her flood,
The elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
Poe's complaint here is a common one made by many writers and poets: science is taking the romance out of reality. The Vulture science leaves us with only dull realities. It is too bad that Poe isn't alive today to see what's happened to that dull Vulture science, especially when one considers some of the theories of the cosmologists today: black holes, the possibility of life elsewhere in the universe, and multiple dimensions, are just some examples. Science may have taken the older fantasy and romance out of reality, but many science fiction writers are putting it back into science.
The Rubaiyat: Quatrain XXXVI
Quatrain XXXVI is the third in a series of four linked quatrains, all referring to a drinking vessel that has a limited power of speech. The poet has queried the wise and the saintly in the past and now the earthly for knowledge, and at best he learns from the earthly that once gone he will never return--So Drink!
First Edition: Quatrain XXXVI
For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
Second Edition: Quatrain XL
For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all-obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXVII
For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all-obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
The second and fifth editions are identical, for the only changes FitzGerald made occurred between the first and second editions. The changes in the first line seem to move it from the present to the past. In the first edition, he says that he stopped to watch a potter while in the second edition he tells us that he remembered stopping to watch the potter. Also, in the first edition he says it was at Dusk while in later editions there is no mention of the time of day. The third and fourth lines are identical for all three editions, with the minor exception of the hyphen inserted between "all" and "obliterated" in the second and fifth editions.
The reference to clay, as I have mentioned in previous posts, echoes the creation stories in both the Bible and the Koran, with humans specifically pointed out as coming from clay or earth or even dust. The vessel is shown as having some limited speech ability, but it is hard to understand. In Quatrain XXXIV, it "murmur's," and in Quatrain XXXV, it speaks with "fugitive articulation" And, now in Quatrain XXXVI, it speaks with an all obliterated tongue, which could easily explain why it is hard to understand.
What's new in this quatrain is the reference to the Potter, an analogue to the creator? What's interesting here is that the pot calls the Potter "Brother," which is a significant comment in that the creator is normally referred to as the Father. This suggests a more equal relationship between the creator and its creation than one usually finds, or at least that I have found over the years.
Moreover, it seems to remonstrate with the creator and asks that it be more gentle, surely an unusual comment for a creation to make to its creator. Traditionally, the creator is depicted as being all powerful and free to do as it wishes with its creations and jealously insists on its freedom to do as it wishes. One only needs to read Job in the Old Testament for a very clear assertion of its rights.
I find it difficult to make any general comments bearing on the potter and the pot for this theme occurs again in several quatrains. It's not clear yet exactly what the point is, at least to me anyway. I shall have to wait for later quatrains for illumination.
First Edition: Quatrain XXXVI
For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
Second Edition: Quatrain XL
For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all-obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXVII
For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all-obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
The second and fifth editions are identical, for the only changes FitzGerald made occurred between the first and second editions. The changes in the first line seem to move it from the present to the past. In the first edition, he says that he stopped to watch a potter while in the second edition he tells us that he remembered stopping to watch the potter. Also, in the first edition he says it was at Dusk while in later editions there is no mention of the time of day. The third and fourth lines are identical for all three editions, with the minor exception of the hyphen inserted between "all" and "obliterated" in the second and fifth editions.
The reference to clay, as I have mentioned in previous posts, echoes the creation stories in both the Bible and the Koran, with humans specifically pointed out as coming from clay or earth or even dust. The vessel is shown as having some limited speech ability, but it is hard to understand. In Quatrain XXXIV, it "murmur's," and in Quatrain XXXV, it speaks with "fugitive articulation" And, now in Quatrain XXXVI, it speaks with an all obliterated tongue, which could easily explain why it is hard to understand.
What's new in this quatrain is the reference to the Potter, an analogue to the creator? What's interesting here is that the pot calls the Potter "Brother," which is a significant comment in that the creator is normally referred to as the Father. This suggests a more equal relationship between the creator and its creation than one usually finds, or at least that I have found over the years.
Moreover, it seems to remonstrate with the creator and asks that it be more gentle, surely an unusual comment for a creation to make to its creator. Traditionally, the creator is depicted as being all powerful and free to do as it wishes with its creations and jealously insists on its freedom to do as it wishes. One only needs to read Job in the Old Testament for a very clear assertion of its rights.
I find it difficult to make any general comments bearing on the potter and the pot for this theme occurs again in several quatrains. It's not clear yet exactly what the point is, at least to me anyway. I shall have to wait for later quatrains for illumination.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Just some comments from long ago
The following were written down thousands of years ago, yet too many today ignore them in their worship of the past.
"Similar actions in different situations do not produce the same results. One should adapt to the needs of the time."
-- Lieh Tzu --
"Laws are written to bring about justice. To stick to the letter of a law so meticulously that it creates injustice is to take care of your hat and shoes while forgetting the head and feet they were designed to protect."
-- Lao Tzu --
"Those who understand the spirit of a law adapt it to the changing times. Those who do not understand this continue to follow it even when to do so has become harmful."
-- Lao Tzu --
And something more recent . . .
Abraham Lincoln's Annual Message to Congress: 1862
The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, we must think anew and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.
"Similar actions in different situations do not produce the same results. One should adapt to the needs of the time."
-- Lieh Tzu --
"Laws are written to bring about justice. To stick to the letter of a law so meticulously that it creates injustice is to take care of your hat and shoes while forgetting the head and feet they were designed to protect."
-- Lao Tzu --
"Those who understand the spirit of a law adapt it to the changing times. Those who do not understand this continue to follow it even when to do so has become harmful."
-- Lao Tzu --
And something more recent . . .
Abraham Lincoln's Annual Message to Congress: 1862
The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, we must think anew and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Stella Gibbons: Cold Comfort Farm
I will begin reading Stella Gibbons' Cold Comfort Farm this weekend. If you are reading along with me and wish to make comments, you can enter them in the comments section to this post. When I finish, I'll put up my reactions to the novel here.
The Sunday Times reviewer said, "Very probably the funniest book ever written . . . a brilliant novel along classic lines . . . "
Now I wish I hadn't read that--usually books or films or whatever seldom if ever match such exaggerated praise.
Oh well--time to push on. This is the first book that will fulfill my New Year's resolution of reading two books every month from my TBR bookcase.
I have started Cold Comfort Farm-- 68/239 pages.
I have to say that it isn't "the funniest book every written." It is a comic novel though, with the usual low key British humor. The humor is mostly in the situation so far: Flora Poste, a young highly educated woman and recent graduate, is left an orphan. Her inheritance is small, around 100 pounds a year and no property. She has had an expensive education, and now that she is twenty, "she was discovered to possess every art and grace save that of earning her own living." Is there a touch of Jane Austen here?
Her solution to her problem of surviving--go live off her relatives. And so, after sending off letters to several relatives, she decides to accept the invitation to stay at Cold Comfort Farm. Not only does she decide to bless them with her presence, but she is also going to improve their way of living, to bring the benefits of a civilized life to them.
Jan. 18, I have finished Cold Comfort Farm
More later . . .
Any comments?
The Sunday Times reviewer said, "Very probably the funniest book ever written . . . a brilliant novel along classic lines . . . "
Now I wish I hadn't read that--usually books or films or whatever seldom if ever match such exaggerated praise.
Oh well--time to push on. This is the first book that will fulfill my New Year's resolution of reading two books every month from my TBR bookcase.
I have started Cold Comfort Farm-- 68/239 pages.
I have to say that it isn't "the funniest book every written." It is a comic novel though, with the usual low key British humor. The humor is mostly in the situation so far: Flora Poste, a young highly educated woman and recent graduate, is left an orphan. Her inheritance is small, around 100 pounds a year and no property. She has had an expensive education, and now that she is twenty, "she was discovered to possess every art and grace save that of earning her own living." Is there a touch of Jane Austen here?
Her solution to her problem of surviving--go live off her relatives. And so, after sending off letters to several relatives, she decides to accept the invitation to stay at Cold Comfort Farm. Not only does she decide to bless them with her presence, but she is also going to improve their way of living, to bring the benefits of a civilized life to them.
Jan. 18, I have finished Cold Comfort Farm
More later . . .
Any comments?
Monday, January 10, 2011
Something to think about
[Humanity] seems to be divided into idealists and realists, and idealism and realism are the two great forces molding human progress. The clay of humanity is made soft and pliable by the water of idealism, but the stuff that holds it together is after all the clay itself, or we might all evaporate into Ariels. The forces of idealism and realism tug at each other in all human activities, personal, social and national, and real progress is made possible by the proper mixture of these two ingredients, so that the clay is kept in the ideal pliable, plastic condition. half moist and half dry, not hardened and unmanageable, nor dissolving into mud.
Lin Yutang
from The Importance of Living
Lin Yutang
from The Importance of Living
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Carl Sandburg: January 6, 1878--July 22, 1967
Who is the subject of this poem by Sandburg?
Under a telephone pole
I am a copper wire slung in the air,
Slim against the sun I make not even a clear line of shadow.
Night and day I keep singing--humming and thrumming:
It is love and war and money; it is the fighting and the tears,
the work and want.
Death and laughter of men and women passing through me,
carrier of your speech,
In the rain and the wet dripping, in the dawn and the shine drying,
A copper wire.
-- Carl Sandburg --
a wire? a poet?
Under a telephone pole
I am a copper wire slung in the air,
Slim against the sun I make not even a clear line of shadow.
Night and day I keep singing--humming and thrumming:
It is love and war and money; it is the fighting and the tears,
the work and want.
Death and laughter of men and women passing through me,
carrier of your speech,
In the rain and the wet dripping, in the dawn and the shine drying,
A copper wire.
-- Carl Sandburg --
a wire? a poet?
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
2011: New Year's Resolution, Reading List, and Reading Challenges
As I trolled the blogiverse to see what's new, I discovered a plethora of New Year's Resolutions, Reading Challenges, and Reading Lists, all for the coming year. I return home, glance at my blog and find--nothing. Obviously I'm out of step here. But, all that takes energy and determination and fortitude. I look around and discover that I'm not exactly brimming over with E and D and F.
On the other hand, I don't wish to appear to be out-of-touch with the blogiverse, so I have to do something. Being a relatively non-energetic sort (I guess "lazy" would be a more apt term), I decided that there was a way I could fulfill some sort of New Year's Resolution, Reading Challenge, and a Reading List with a minimum of effort--Combine the three into one.
So, here is my combined New Year's Resolution, Reading Challenge, and Reading List for 2011. I will read two books a month from my TBR bookcase, a collection of works that have somehow gathered on the shelves over many decades. These are books I already have waiting and gathering dust. This, as you can see, is a three-in-one project.
The Resolution: to reduce the number of books in my TBR bookcase.
The Challenge: to read a certain number of books already in my possession.
The Reading List: those authors present in my TBR bookcase.
I will provide a partial list of those authors here, and if I can figure out how, I will also set up a sidebar which will, I hope, demonstrate what progress I've made. The list is in alphabetical order and does not represent the order in which I will, I hope, read them.
Balzac
Mary Elizabeth Braddon
Willa Cather
Joseph Conrad
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Ford Madox Ford
Karin Fossum
Stella Gibbons
M. John Harrison
Hermann Hesse
Russell Hoban
Henry James
Nikos Kazantzakis
Joseph Wood Krutch
Lady Murosaki
Kim Stanley Robinson
Mary Shelley
Leo Tolstoy
Barbara Tuchman
Fred Vargas
Edith Wharton
Angus Wilson
Gene Wolfe
others, perhaps
If any wish to read along with me, let me know if there are some works in particular. If so, I will post a message when I will begin that work.
On the other hand, I don't wish to appear to be out-of-touch with the blogiverse, so I have to do something. Being a relatively non-energetic sort (I guess "lazy" would be a more apt term), I decided that there was a way I could fulfill some sort of New Year's Resolution, Reading Challenge, and a Reading List with a minimum of effort--Combine the three into one.
So, here is my combined New Year's Resolution, Reading Challenge, and Reading List for 2011. I will read two books a month from my TBR bookcase, a collection of works that have somehow gathered on the shelves over many decades. These are books I already have waiting and gathering dust. This, as you can see, is a three-in-one project.
The Resolution: to reduce the number of books in my TBR bookcase.
The Challenge: to read a certain number of books already in my possession.
The Reading List: those authors present in my TBR bookcase.
I will provide a partial list of those authors here, and if I can figure out how, I will also set up a sidebar which will, I hope, demonstrate what progress I've made. The list is in alphabetical order and does not represent the order in which I will, I hope, read them.
Balzac
Mary Elizabeth Braddon
Willa Cather
Joseph Conrad
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Ford Madox Ford
Karin Fossum
Stella Gibbons
M. John Harrison
Hermann Hesse
Russell Hoban
Henry James
Nikos Kazantzakis
Joseph Wood Krutch
Lady Murosaki
Kim Stanley Robinson
Mary Shelley
Leo Tolstoy
Barbara Tuchman
Fred Vargas
Edith Wharton
Angus Wilson
Gene Wolfe
others, perhaps
If any wish to read along with me, let me know if there are some works in particular. If so, I will post a message when I will begin that work.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Walter Van Tilburg Clark: The Ox-Bow Incident
Warning: I will discuss significant plot elements and the ending.
Walter Van Tilburg Clark: The Ox-Bow Incident
Gil and I crossed the eastern divide about two by the sun. We pulled up for a look at the little town in the big valley and the mountains on the other side, with the crest of the Sierra showing faintly beyond like the rim of a day moon. We didn't look as long as we do sometimes after a winter range, we were excited about getting back to town. When the horses had stopped trembling from the last climb, Gil took off his sombrero, pushed his sweaty hair back with the same hand, and returned the sombrero, the way he did when something was going to happen. We reined to the right and went slowly down the steep stage road.
I don't have to tell anyone what kind of story this is. How many western novels and films have we seen that opened just this way--one or more men on the top of a hill, looking down at a small town in the valley, one road leading into town and one leading out in the opposite direction, and surrounded by snow-capped mountains?
In The Ox-Bow Incident, Walter Van Tilburg Clark gives us the full treatment: the saloon, the painting of the nude behind the bar, the poker game, the accusations of cheating, the barroom brawl, cattle rustlers, and a posse. We get the full picture from Art Croft, the first person narrator of the story. He's one of the two men we meet in the first paragraph and the naive narrator, for he tells us honestly what he sees and thinks and feels, but he doesn't realize the full implications of his tale.
Clark turns the accepted stereotypes around in this tale. It isn't the card sharper who's accused of cheating, it's Gil Carter, Art Croft's working buddy. The fight resulting from that wasn't the typical good-natured brawl we've come to expect from numerous John Wayne westerns. After Gil knocks out his accuser, he then is about to continue beating on the unconscious man when the bartender knocks him out with a skillfully wielded bottle.
Then a rider rushes into town and tells them that the rustlers have struck again, and this time they murdered Kinkaid, a lifelong friend of Farnley, the man who had accused Carter of cheating and had gotten knocked out as a result. Farnley is now out for blood. A posse is formed, but this is not the typical posse one finds in a typical western. This one doesn't rush off in pursuit but delays and delays while the debate goes on.
The debate is simple. What will happen to the men if the posse catches up to them. This is a serious issue for the sheriff is not available to lead the posse, assuming he would even want one. The storekeeper, the minister, and the judge argue that they should be brought back to town for trial. But, there are those, who argue that the law is too slow and too uncertain. Some crooked lawyer might confuse the jury and they might go free. Justice should be quick and certain and on-the-spot and ideally should avoid the necessity of a trial; one can hardly believe that these are real Americans saying these things here!
Why does the posse hang around? My guess is that most of the men feared that there would be a lynching and didn't want to become part of it because they knew it was wrong but were afraid to speak out against it. Why? They feared they might be considered a coward, or perhaps a friend of the rustlers, or perhaps "womanish," the major fear of most of them there. Croft himself refers to those who speak out in favor of bringing them back for trial and cowardly and "womanish."
Someone in the watching crowd asks what they are waiting for and someone else replies "a leader." A cynic remarks that they are really looking for a scapegoat in case something goes wrong, a prophetic remark that comes true by the end of the novel.
A leader appears, a former Confederate army officer, who brings information about cattle tracks heading out of the valley and up into the mountains. They mount up again and finally go. They catch up to three men, driving a small herd of cattle that belongs to one of the ranchers in the valley. One of the posse works for the rancher and insists that he would never sell cattle in the spring, and that he would always give the buyer a receipt. There was no receipt, and moreover, one of the three had a gun that belonged to Kinkaid, the murdered ranch-hand. The three still insist they are innocent and ask that they be brought back to town while their story is checked out. Such a simple thing to ask.
But, it's too much to ask. Justice must be served. The men vote, and only five vote to bring them back to town and let the law handle it. Art Croft and Gil Carter vote with the majority to hang them now.
This is a bare-boned synopsis of this short novel, some 220 pages long in my edition. What Clark gives us, through Art Croft's eyes, is an examination of why relatively decent men turn into a lynch mob, for that is what the posse really is. And all know it from the beginning. When Croft revives Gil after being knocked out by the bartender, they discover something is going on outside the saloon, and when they ask, Canby the barkeep replies, "Lynching, I'd judge."
They are not monsters, inflamed by a desire to kill somebody. I think the delay demonstrates that. Unlike the myth of the American male as one who thinks for himself and makes decisions based on what is right and wrong in spite of what the crowd may want, Clark shows us that they are strongly influenced by those around them, influenced sufficiently to vote for death, even though they may feel it wrong, by the fear that others may not see them as true men, but as cowards or womanish.
As I mentioned earlier, Clark did not fashion a mob of blood-thirsty people. Some were nasty and downright evil; they enjoyed the situation and looked forward to the hanging. Others were trapped on the one hand by their own sense that this was not right and on the other by their perception of the myth of what a man was like. Showing compassion for others or concern for the law was not part of the myth. In fact, even the victims were expected to act as men, strong and silent and taking their punishment like a man, as several told them repeatedly. All were disgusted when one of the men, Martin, broke down and began crying.
One of the most ironic comments in the story is a thought by Croft. After Martin, seemed to regain control, Croft thought, I hoped, for our sake as much as his, that he'd make the decent end he now had his will set on. (emphasis mine) Martin should now straighten up and take his punishment decently as a man should, and that would make it easier for the lynchers as well as for him.
The Ox-Bow Incident ("incident," a truly ironic title) was published in 1940, and the film, starring Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews, Anthony Quinn, and Henry Morgan, came out in 1943. The ending was changed in the film to make Carter and Croft oppose the hanging. The DVD of the film had an interview with the son of the director, William Wellman, who explained that the studio felt that the ending was too bleak for the American public in midst of the war. Apparently they felt Americans wanted heroes more than they wanted the truth.
Back in the 1960s and '70s, many organizations were holding consciousness raising sessions to show men and women the way that cultural expectations were restricting the freedom of women. I remember that someone once suggested the same be done for men for they also were controlled by cultural expectations. Unfortunately nothing ever came of it, or at least I had never heard of anything happening.
Overall Reaction: This novel should be required reading for every high school and college student in the USA.
Walter Van Tilburg Clark: The Ox-Bow Incident
Gil and I crossed the eastern divide about two by the sun. We pulled up for a look at the little town in the big valley and the mountains on the other side, with the crest of the Sierra showing faintly beyond like the rim of a day moon. We didn't look as long as we do sometimes after a winter range, we were excited about getting back to town. When the horses had stopped trembling from the last climb, Gil took off his sombrero, pushed his sweaty hair back with the same hand, and returned the sombrero, the way he did when something was going to happen. We reined to the right and went slowly down the steep stage road.
I don't have to tell anyone what kind of story this is. How many western novels and films have we seen that opened just this way--one or more men on the top of a hill, looking down at a small town in the valley, one road leading into town and one leading out in the opposite direction, and surrounded by snow-capped mountains?
In The Ox-Bow Incident, Walter Van Tilburg Clark gives us the full treatment: the saloon, the painting of the nude behind the bar, the poker game, the accusations of cheating, the barroom brawl, cattle rustlers, and a posse. We get the full picture from Art Croft, the first person narrator of the story. He's one of the two men we meet in the first paragraph and the naive narrator, for he tells us honestly what he sees and thinks and feels, but he doesn't realize the full implications of his tale.
Clark turns the accepted stereotypes around in this tale. It isn't the card sharper who's accused of cheating, it's Gil Carter, Art Croft's working buddy. The fight resulting from that wasn't the typical good-natured brawl we've come to expect from numerous John Wayne westerns. After Gil knocks out his accuser, he then is about to continue beating on the unconscious man when the bartender knocks him out with a skillfully wielded bottle.
Then a rider rushes into town and tells them that the rustlers have struck again, and this time they murdered Kinkaid, a lifelong friend of Farnley, the man who had accused Carter of cheating and had gotten knocked out as a result. Farnley is now out for blood. A posse is formed, but this is not the typical posse one finds in a typical western. This one doesn't rush off in pursuit but delays and delays while the debate goes on.
The debate is simple. What will happen to the men if the posse catches up to them. This is a serious issue for the sheriff is not available to lead the posse, assuming he would even want one. The storekeeper, the minister, and the judge argue that they should be brought back to town for trial. But, there are those, who argue that the law is too slow and too uncertain. Some crooked lawyer might confuse the jury and they might go free. Justice should be quick and certain and on-the-spot and ideally should avoid the necessity of a trial; one can hardly believe that these are real Americans saying these things here!
Why does the posse hang around? My guess is that most of the men feared that there would be a lynching and didn't want to become part of it because they knew it was wrong but were afraid to speak out against it. Why? They feared they might be considered a coward, or perhaps a friend of the rustlers, or perhaps "womanish," the major fear of most of them there. Croft himself refers to those who speak out in favor of bringing them back for trial and cowardly and "womanish."
Someone in the watching crowd asks what they are waiting for and someone else replies "a leader." A cynic remarks that they are really looking for a scapegoat in case something goes wrong, a prophetic remark that comes true by the end of the novel.
A leader appears, a former Confederate army officer, who brings information about cattle tracks heading out of the valley and up into the mountains. They mount up again and finally go. They catch up to three men, driving a small herd of cattle that belongs to one of the ranchers in the valley. One of the posse works for the rancher and insists that he would never sell cattle in the spring, and that he would always give the buyer a receipt. There was no receipt, and moreover, one of the three had a gun that belonged to Kinkaid, the murdered ranch-hand. The three still insist they are innocent and ask that they be brought back to town while their story is checked out. Such a simple thing to ask.
But, it's too much to ask. Justice must be served. The men vote, and only five vote to bring them back to town and let the law handle it. Art Croft and Gil Carter vote with the majority to hang them now.
This is a bare-boned synopsis of this short novel, some 220 pages long in my edition. What Clark gives us, through Art Croft's eyes, is an examination of why relatively decent men turn into a lynch mob, for that is what the posse really is. And all know it from the beginning. When Croft revives Gil after being knocked out by the bartender, they discover something is going on outside the saloon, and when they ask, Canby the barkeep replies, "Lynching, I'd judge."
They are not monsters, inflamed by a desire to kill somebody. I think the delay demonstrates that. Unlike the myth of the American male as one who thinks for himself and makes decisions based on what is right and wrong in spite of what the crowd may want, Clark shows us that they are strongly influenced by those around them, influenced sufficiently to vote for death, even though they may feel it wrong, by the fear that others may not see them as true men, but as cowards or womanish.
As I mentioned earlier, Clark did not fashion a mob of blood-thirsty people. Some were nasty and downright evil; they enjoyed the situation and looked forward to the hanging. Others were trapped on the one hand by their own sense that this was not right and on the other by their perception of the myth of what a man was like. Showing compassion for others or concern for the law was not part of the myth. In fact, even the victims were expected to act as men, strong and silent and taking their punishment like a man, as several told them repeatedly. All were disgusted when one of the men, Martin, broke down and began crying.
One of the most ironic comments in the story is a thought by Croft. After Martin, seemed to regain control, Croft thought, I hoped, for our sake as much as his, that he'd make the decent end he now had his will set on. (emphasis mine) Martin should now straighten up and take his punishment decently as a man should, and that would make it easier for the lynchers as well as for him.
The Ox-Bow Incident ("incident," a truly ironic title) was published in 1940, and the film, starring Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews, Anthony Quinn, and Henry Morgan, came out in 1943. The ending was changed in the film to make Carter and Croft oppose the hanging. The DVD of the film had an interview with the son of the director, William Wellman, who explained that the studio felt that the ending was too bleak for the American public in midst of the war. Apparently they felt Americans wanted heroes more than they wanted the truth.
Back in the 1960s and '70s, many organizations were holding consciousness raising sessions to show men and women the way that cultural expectations were restricting the freedom of women. I remember that someone once suggested the same be done for men for they also were controlled by cultural expectations. Unfortunately nothing ever came of it, or at least I had never heard of anything happening.
Overall Reaction: This novel should be required reading for every high school and college student in the USA.
Friday, December 31, 2010
New Year's Eve Greetings
AULD LANG SYNE
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld ang syne.
We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
The best for all of you the coming year.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld ang syne.
We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
The best for all of you the coming year.
Some great films viewed in 2010
This is not a list of the best films of 2010. In fact, many appeared long ago, and one is even a silent film. This is simply a list of the most enjoyable or interesting or intriguing films that I watched during 2010, some of which I have posted comments about during the year.
They are in alphabetical order. To rank them would be a waste of time as tomorrow my ranking would be different. And, if I made up the list tomorrow, it probably would be different in some respects.
District 9
Natural City
They are in alphabetical order. To rank them would be a waste of time as tomorrow my ranking would be different. And, if I made up the list tomorrow, it probably would be different in some respects.
A Walk in the Sun
Blade Runner: Theatrical CutDistrict 9
Fantasia (Original)
Fata Morgana
Glass: A Portrait of Philip Glass in Twelve Parts
Ken Burns: JazzJesse Stone: No Remorse and Thin Ice
Natural City
The Book of Eli
The Haunting
Youth without Youth
Let me know if you have watched any of these and what you thought of them.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Something to think about
The native vision, the gift of seeing truly,
with wonder and delight into the natural world,
is informed by a certain attitude of reverence and
respect. It is a matter of extrasensory as well as
sensory perception. In addition to the eye, it
involves the intelligence, the instinct, and the
imagination. It is the perception not only of
objects and forms but also of essences and ideals.
N. Scott Momaday
Kiowa
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Some Great Reads from 2010
It seems to be traditional that summing up the year takes place now. So, here's a list of what I thought were memorable reads for 2010. This is not a list of the best books or whatever--just a list of books that I most fondly remember reading, some of which I have posted comments about during the year. They're in alphabetical order by author, so there's no attempt to rank them. The chances are that the ranking would be different tomorrow, and possibly even the list might be slightly different.
Greg Benford: The Furious Gulf and the rest of the "Galactic Center Series"
Walter van Tilburg Clark: The Ox-Bow Incident
Ivy Compton-Burnett: The House and Its Head
Joseph Conrad: Nostromo
Loren Eiseley: Another Kind of Autumn (poetry) & The Immense Journey
Michael Gregorio: Critique of Criminal Reason & Days of Atonement
Shirley Jackson: The Haunting of Hill House
Bernard Knight: The Tinner's Corpse
Ursula LeGuin: The Left Hand of Darkness
N. Scott Momaday: The Way to Rainy Mountain
Eliot Pattison: Prayer of the Dragon
Albert Sanchez Pinol: Cold Skin
Barbara Pym: Excellent Women
Kim Stanley Robinson: Vinland the Dream
Michael Shea: Nifft the Lean
Charles Todd: The Red Door
Jessie L. Weston: Quest of the Holy Grail & From Ritual to Romance
If you decide to read some of these, please let me know what you think of them.
Greg Benford: The Furious Gulf and the rest of the "Galactic Center Series"
Walter van Tilburg Clark: The Ox-Bow Incident
Ivy Compton-Burnett: The House and Its Head
Joseph Conrad: Nostromo
Loren Eiseley: Another Kind of Autumn (poetry) & The Immense Journey
Michael Gregorio: Critique of Criminal Reason & Days of Atonement
Shirley Jackson: The Haunting of Hill House
Bernard Knight: The Tinner's Corpse
Ursula LeGuin: The Left Hand of Darkness
N. Scott Momaday: The Way to Rainy Mountain
Eliot Pattison: Prayer of the Dragon
Albert Sanchez Pinol: Cold Skin
Barbara Pym: Excellent Women
Kim Stanley Robinson: Vinland the Dream
Michael Shea: Nifft the Lean
Charles Todd: The Red Door
Jessie L. Weston: Quest of the Holy Grail & From Ritual to Romance
If you decide to read some of these, please let me know what you think of them.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Winter Solstice: 2010
Night People Rejoice: this is your time!
Day People Rejoice: your time is coming, beginning tomorrow!
This is the shortest day of the year, or from a different perspective, it will be tonight, the longest night of the year. It is also the first day of winter, or so say the powers-that-be, at least for this part of the planet. Other parts, other powers-that-be, other rulings.
Buddha on the hill . . .
From your holy nose indeed
Hangs an icicle
-- Issa --
From The Little Treasury of Haiku
Nobody has ever accused Issa of being overly reverent.
Going snow-viewing
One by one the walkers vanish . . .
Whitely falling veils
-- Katsuri --
From LTH
Snow in the Suburbs
Every branch big with it,
Bent every twig with it;
Every fork like a white web-foot;
Every street and pavement mute;
Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward, when
Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again,
The palings are glued together like a wall,
And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall.
A sparrow enters the tree,
Whereon immediately
A snow-lump thrice his own slight size
Descends on him and showers his head and eyes,
And overturns him,
And near inurns him,
And lights on a nether twig, when its brush
Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush.
The steps are a blanched slope,
Up which, with feeble hope,
A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin;
And we take him in.
-- Thomas Hardy --
Wind and Window Flower
Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the caged yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.
-- Robert Frost --
No. 1316
Winter is good -- his Hoar Delights
Italic flavor yield --
To Intellects inebriate
With Summer, or the World --
Generic as a Quarry
And hearty -- as a Rose --
Invited with Asperity
But welcome when he goes.
-- Emily Dickinson --
from The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
edited by Thomas H. Johnson
In the wintry moon
Gales raging down the river
Hone the rock-edges
-- Chora --
From LTH
My very bone-ends
Made contact with the icy quilts
Of deep December
-- Buson --
From LTH
Day People Rejoice: your time is coming, beginning tomorrow!
This is the shortest day of the year, or from a different perspective, it will be tonight, the longest night of the year. It is also the first day of winter, or so say the powers-that-be, at least for this part of the planet. Other parts, other powers-that-be, other rulings.
Buddha on the hill . . .
From your holy nose indeed
Hangs an icicle
-- Issa --
From The Little Treasury of Haiku
Nobody has ever accused Issa of being overly reverent.
Going snow-viewing
One by one the walkers vanish . . .
Whitely falling veils
-- Katsuri --
From LTH
Snow in the Suburbs
Every branch big with it,
Bent every twig with it;
Every fork like a white web-foot;
Every street and pavement mute;
Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward, when
Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again,
The palings are glued together like a wall,
And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall.
A sparrow enters the tree,
Whereon immediately
A snow-lump thrice his own slight size
Descends on him and showers his head and eyes,
And overturns him,
And near inurns him,
And lights on a nether twig, when its brush
Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush.
The steps are a blanched slope,
Up which, with feeble hope,
A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin;
And we take him in.
-- Thomas Hardy --
Wind and Window Flower
Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the caged yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.
-- Robert Frost --
No. 1316
Winter is good -- his Hoar Delights
Italic flavor yield --
To Intellects inebriate
With Summer, or the World --
Generic as a Quarry
And hearty -- as a Rose --
Invited with Asperity
But welcome when he goes.
-- Emily Dickinson --
from The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
edited by Thomas H. Johnson
In the wintry moon
Gales raging down the river
Hone the rock-edges
-- Chora --
From LTH
My very bone-ends
Made contact with the icy quilts
Of deep December
-- Buson --
From LTH
Sunday, December 19, 2010
The Rubiayat: Quatrain XXXV
Quatrain XXXV is a difficult one for me. I don't know quite what to make of it. He seems to be suggesting that the Vessel, the earthen bowl of the previous quatrain, was once alive, and perhaps human. It does relate back to Quatrain XXXIV, and the theme of the earthen or clay pot or cup or bowl is carried forward to Quatrains XXXVI and XXXVII.
First Edition: Quatrain XXXV
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd
How many Kisses might it take -- and give!
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXIX
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And drink; and that impassive Lip I kiss'd
How many Kisses might it take -- and give!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXVI
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd
How many Kisses might it take -- and give!
As you can see, the only changes that occur are in the third line, for the first, second, and fourth are identical. "(M)erry-make" in the first edition now becomes the more prosaic "drink" in the second and fifth editions. The Lip in the first edition is cold, and then becomes impassive in the second, and then passive in the fifth. The "Ah!" in the fifth edition seems to be added solely to keep the number of syllables at ten.
It's an interesting progression that Lip undergoes: from cold to impassive to passive. A "cold" kiss suggests perhaps death or lack of feeling. It strikes me as being unfavorable, but at least there's a hint of a response. An "impassive" kiss clearly indicates a lack of feeling or an unemotional response or possibly even one incapable of feeling, a physical action with no warmth behind it, while a "passive" kiss conveys the idea of receptivity but with neither a positive or a negative response here.
The "fugitive Articulation" posed a problem until I found that one meaning of fugitive is "difficult to comprehend or retain, elusive." This would relate back to the previous quatrain where it stated the Vessel "murmur'd," which suggests that it could have been hard to understand.
The Koran in at least four places states the Allah created man from dust or clay, which leads me to think that the earthen Vessel might have been human at one time--one that engaged in merry-making or at least drinking. I prefer the first version: merry-making seems more enjoyable or cheerful than just drinking.
The last line--"How many Kisses might it take -- and give!"-- is a problem, especially if one considers the changes that Lip has undergone. In the fifth edition, it's a passive lip, which suggests that it might take many kisses, but it doesn't give any. Perhaps it's a movement from the poetic to the realistic in that one can "kiss" a drinking vessel, but that vessel can't give any kisses in return.
As I stated at the beginning, this quatrain is a puzzle.
First Edition: Quatrain XXXV
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd
How many Kisses might it take -- and give!
Second Edition: Quatrain XXXIX
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And drink; and that impassive Lip I kiss'd
How many Kisses might it take -- and give!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XXXVI
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd
How many Kisses might it take -- and give!
As you can see, the only changes that occur are in the third line, for the first, second, and fourth are identical. "(M)erry-make" in the first edition now becomes the more prosaic "drink" in the second and fifth editions. The Lip in the first edition is cold, and then becomes impassive in the second, and then passive in the fifth. The "Ah!" in the fifth edition seems to be added solely to keep the number of syllables at ten.
It's an interesting progression that Lip undergoes: from cold to impassive to passive. A "cold" kiss suggests perhaps death or lack of feeling. It strikes me as being unfavorable, but at least there's a hint of a response. An "impassive" kiss clearly indicates a lack of feeling or an unemotional response or possibly even one incapable of feeling, a physical action with no warmth behind it, while a "passive" kiss conveys the idea of receptivity but with neither a positive or a negative response here.
The "fugitive Articulation" posed a problem until I found that one meaning of fugitive is "difficult to comprehend or retain, elusive." This would relate back to the previous quatrain where it stated the Vessel "murmur'd," which suggests that it could have been hard to understand.
The Koran in at least four places states the Allah created man from dust or clay, which leads me to think that the earthen Vessel might have been human at one time--one that engaged in merry-making or at least drinking. I prefer the first version: merry-making seems more enjoyable or cheerful than just drinking.
The last line--"How many Kisses might it take -- and give!"-- is a problem, especially if one considers the changes that Lip has undergone. In the fifth edition, it's a passive lip, which suggests that it might take many kisses, but it doesn't give any. Perhaps it's a movement from the poetic to the realistic in that one can "kiss" a drinking vessel, but that vessel can't give any kisses in return.
As I stated at the beginning, this quatrain is a puzzle.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Loren Eiseley--the immense journey
Loren Eiseley's The Immense Journey contains a number of essays, the first of which, "The Slit," ends with a brief statement that includes an explanation of what he has attempted to do in this book and of what the reader should expect. It also includes hints of what he believes, something of his personal philosophy.
"Through how many dimensions and how many media will life have to pass? Down how many roads among the stars must man propel himself in search of the final secret? The journey is difficult, immense, at times impossible, yet that will not deter some of us from attempting it. 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.
The reader who would pursue such a journey with me is warned that the essays in this book have not been brought together as a guide but are offered rather as a somewhat unconventional record of the prowlings of one mind which has sought to explore, to understand, and to enjoy the miracles of this world, both in and out of science. It is, without doubt, an inconsistent record in many ways, compounded of fear and hope, for it has grown out of the seasonal jottings of a man preoccupied with time. It involves, I see now as I come to put it together, the four ancient elements of the Greeks: mud and the fire within it we call life, vast waters, and something -- space, air, the intangible substance of hope which at the least proves unanalyzable by science, yet out of which the human dream is made.
Forward and backward I have gone, and for me it has been an immense journey. Those who accompany me need not look for science in the usual sense, though I have done all in my power to avoid errors in fact. I have given the record of what one man thought as he pursued research and pressed his hands against the confining walls of scientific method in his time. It is not, I must confess at the outset, an account of discovery so much as a confession of ignorance and of the final illumination that sometimes comes to a man when he is no longer careful of his pride. In the last three chapters of the book I have tried to put down such miracles as can be evoked from common earth. But men see differently. I can at best report only from my own wilderness. The important thing is that each man possess such a wilderness and that he consider what marvels are to be observed there.
Finally, I do not pretend to have set down, in Baconian terms, a true, or even a consistent model of the universe. I can only say that here is a bit of my personal universe, the universe traversed in a long and uncompleted journey. If my record, like those of the sixteenth-century voyagers, is confused by strange beasts or monstrous thoughts or sights of abortive men, these are no more than my eyes saw or my mind conceived. On the world island we are all castaways, so that what is seen by one may often be dark or crosscurrent to an other."
Loren Eiseley
from The Immense Journey
"Through how many dimensions and how many media will life have to pass? Down how many roads among the stars must man propel himself in search of the final secret? The journey is difficult, immense, at times impossible, yet that will not deter some of us from attempting it. 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.
The reader who would pursue such a journey with me is warned that the essays in this book have not been brought together as a guide but are offered rather as a somewhat unconventional record of the prowlings of one mind which has sought to explore, to understand, and to enjoy the miracles of this world, both in and out of science. It is, without doubt, an inconsistent record in many ways, compounded of fear and hope, for it has grown out of the seasonal jottings of a man preoccupied with time. It involves, I see now as I come to put it together, the four ancient elements of the Greeks: mud and the fire within it we call life, vast waters, and something -- space, air, the intangible substance of hope which at the least proves unanalyzable by science, yet out of which the human dream is made.
Forward and backward I have gone, and for me it has been an immense journey. Those who accompany me need not look for science in the usual sense, though I have done all in my power to avoid errors in fact. I have given the record of what one man thought as he pursued research and pressed his hands against the confining walls of scientific method in his time. It is not, I must confess at the outset, an account of discovery so much as a confession of ignorance and of the final illumination that sometimes comes to a man when he is no longer careful of his pride. In the last three chapters of the book I have tried to put down such miracles as can be evoked from common earth. But men see differently. I can at best report only from my own wilderness. The important thing is that each man possess such a wilderness and that he consider what marvels are to be observed there.
Finally, I do not pretend to have set down, in Baconian terms, a true, or even a consistent model of the universe. I can only say that here is a bit of my personal universe, the universe traversed in a long and uncompleted journey. If my record, like those of the sixteenth-century voyagers, is confused by strange beasts or monstrous thoughts or sights of abortive men, these are no more than my eyes saw or my mind conceived. On the world island we are all castaways, so that what is seen by one may often be dark or crosscurrent to an other."
Loren Eiseley
from The Immense Journey
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Jane Austen: Dec. 16, 1775--July 18, 1817
Jane Austen's propensity for making strong statements and then subtly taking them away or quietly qualifying them is one characteristic that I really enjoy in her writing. Take, for example, the opening lines of Pride and Prejudice, probably one of the most famous openings in English literature.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
That's strong clear statement--universally acknowledged--something that everybody agrees with. Austen doesn't equivocate here. And the truth that's universally acknowledged--he must be in want of a wife. There's no question here either--he must be. There's no doubt here.
Then comes the second paragraph:
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rughtful property of some one or other of their daughters.
This universal truth doesn't seem to be that universal since the feelings of such a man are really little known. So, this universal truth seems to be limited to the families in the neighbourhood.
However, the following conversation between Mr. and Mrs Bennet suggests that perhaps this truth isn't universally acknowledged by all members of the families.
Mrs. Bennet says, response to a question from Mr. Bennet, "Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune, four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"
"How so? how can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."
"Is that his design in settling here?"
"Design! nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes."
While Mr. Bennet is obviously teasing his wife, it also seems clear that he doesn't share in the universality of Mrs. Bennet's truth. Perhaps, after reading the opening paragraphs, one might say that this universally acknowledged truth resides mostly in the mothers of the unmarried young ladies in the neighbourhood, while the fathers play along solely to get some peace in the house, especially with a wife such as Mrs. Bennet. The fathers, no doubt, also consider the financial outlay associated with wedding ceremonies and tell themselves that after the wedding, the husbands will now be responsible for future expenses as they live happily ever after.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
That's strong clear statement--universally acknowledged--something that everybody agrees with. Austen doesn't equivocate here. And the truth that's universally acknowledged--he must be in want of a wife. There's no question here either--he must be. There's no doubt here.
Then comes the second paragraph:
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rughtful property of some one or other of their daughters.
This universal truth doesn't seem to be that universal since the feelings of such a man are really little known. So, this universal truth seems to be limited to the families in the neighbourhood.
However, the following conversation between Mr. and Mrs Bennet suggests that perhaps this truth isn't universally acknowledged by all members of the families.
Mrs. Bennet says, response to a question from Mr. Bennet, "Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune, four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"
"How so? how can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."
"Is that his design in settling here?"
"Design! nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes."
While Mr. Bennet is obviously teasing his wife, it also seems clear that he doesn't share in the universality of Mrs. Bennet's truth. Perhaps, after reading the opening paragraphs, one might say that this universally acknowledged truth resides mostly in the mothers of the unmarried young ladies in the neighbourhood, while the fathers play along solely to get some peace in the house, especially with a wife such as Mrs. Bennet. The fathers, no doubt, also consider the financial outlay associated with wedding ceremonies and tell themselves that after the wedding, the husbands will now be responsible for future expenses as they live happily ever after.
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