Sunday, January 29, 2017
Down Time
It's time for a mental health and sanity check, as it's been too long since my last one. I need to reduce my time in front of the little screen. so I'm stopping all blogging and book discussion group activities for the time being. I'll be back when I'm back.
Friday, January 27, 2017
Jane Austen's Mansfield Park: In Defense of Fanny Price
The following is a quotation from Carrots for Michaelmas, a blog belonging to Haley Stewart. This link will take you to the complete article. http://tinyurl.com/hthjuep
I want to thank Di from The Little White Attic who alerted me to this article, "In Defense of Fanny Price,"from which this quotation was taken.
Mansfield Park is about superficiality versus substance. It’s about charm versus goodness. It’s about mere conventional propriety versus true virtue and it’s hard for an entertainment-obsessed culture that glorifies appearances and laughs at the idea of character to understand. All of the characters struggle and are tried and tested…but some fight the good fight and others reveal that they never had virtue to begin with.
This is the best, the most coherent, the clearest statement of the main point of Mansfield Part I have ever read. In a few words she expressed what I've been trying to say for years.
Thank you, Haley Stewart.
I want to thank Di from The Little White Attic who alerted me to this article, "In Defense of Fanny Price,"from which this quotation was taken.
Mansfield Park is about superficiality versus substance. It’s about charm versus goodness. It’s about mere conventional propriety versus true virtue and it’s hard for an entertainment-obsessed culture that glorifies appearances and laughs at the idea of character to understand. All of the characters struggle and are tried and tested…but some fight the good fight and others reveal that they never had virtue to begin with.
This is the best, the most coherent, the clearest statement of the main point of Mansfield Part I have ever read. In a few words she expressed what I've been trying to say for years.
Thank you, Haley Stewart.
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
Lawrence Durrell: Justine, Part I
Lawrence Durrell
Justine: the first book in the Alexandria Quartet
This is my fourth visit to Alexandria with the aid of Lawrence Durrell, my personal tour guide. Isn't that what writers are, guides to their worlds? It has been some time since my last visit, so I had only the vaguest ideas of what was coming. However, once I started, I began recognize some of what I was reading.
What came first was the memory of the initial confusion I felt when I began to read the novel. Durrell doesn't believe, at least in Justine, straightforward chronological narrative structure. Instead, I was faced with short paragraphs and brief references to characters, without any help from Durrell. Here and there characters were brought up briefly and then off to something else. It was only I had gotten a way into Part I that I began finding introductions to the characters but in a disjointed fashion, though.
This time though I understood what Durrell was doing. As the narrator explains very early in the novel, the first page or so, he was going to put down on paper the events of the past year. If I had decided to do something similar, it would have been difficult to begin as I know that all I would have been able to come up with at first would be fragments, disjointed, and randomly recalled without any chronological order. However, the longer I worked at it, the more material I would be able to bring up, and each memory would be accompanied by other memories. So, as I got deeper into Part 1, I found the fragments were now longer and more complete. If it had been me, though, I wouldn't have had to courage to include those first brief fragments in my work, for I would have edited them out and produced a standard commonplace traditional account. That, no doubt, is why Durrell is a great writer, and I am not.
While Durrell introduces some seven or eight characters, he returns again and again to two of them: Justine and Melissa. But, at first I found it difficult to immediately know just which one the narrator was referring to. It's as if the narrator mistakenly believes we are as familiar with Justine and Melissa as he is, so he really doesn't have to identify them immediately. The male characters are introduced without the confusion that surrounded the female characters. The males are named and their relationship to the narrator is spelled out and occasionally brought back into the narrative.
As I mentioned earlier, the narrator doesn't provide his reader with a chronological sequence. When we first meet Justine and Melissa, it quickly becomes clear that he is intimately involved with both of them. It is only much later in Part I that we are told of their first meeting. Then comes their first sexual encounter, but not necessarily in that order.
The Quartet, I find, consists of a number of character and plot threads that are intertwined throughout the story. Because of this, at times I simply stop reading, go back to the beginning of the novel, and follow a particular thread, ignoring whatever else is going on at that time. It is surprising what I find when I do this, even if I limit it just to Part 1.
For example, let's follow the Justine thread and stop when we reach when we reach the part when the narrator tells us how and when they first met. We first meet, or hear of her actually, on the first page when she is mentioned by the narrator as one of his friends: "Justine and Nessim, of Melissa and Balthazar.". Several pages later, the narrator tells us that he has Justine's diary, which he got from her husband, Nessim, who still hoped that Justine would come back to him. The narrator tells us that he believes he will never see Justine for he and his friends have "taken different paths now." However, the narrator does have Melissa's child with him and tells us that he "has not named it yet. Of course it will be Justine--who else?"
Several pages later we read that he catches a glimpse of her from his balcony. In fact he has seen her many times and knows who she is, even though they haven't met. He now mentions their many meetings at the cafe, El Bab. Again, pages later, we get a much fuller description of her, and it is obvious they have just been intimate.
Later, the narrator tells us that he had once agreed to give a lecture on the 'poet of the city,' Cavafy, which was attended by "a dignified semicircle of society ladies." Justine was in the audience. He recognizes her, but they do not speak because they have yet to meet. After the lecture, the narrator, that evening, stops at a small cafe. Justine suddenly appears and asks a question about the lecture. Then she says, "I want to take you to Nessim, my husband. Will you come?" She drives them to the house and searched "from room to room, fracturing the silences. He (Nessim) answered at last from the great studio on the roof and racing to him like a gundog she metaphorically dropped me at his feet and stood back, wagging her tail. She had achieved me.
Nessim was sitting on the top of the ladder reading, and he came slowly down to us, looking first at one and then at the other. . .for my part, I could offer no explanation of my presence, since I did not know for what purpose I had been brought here."
If I may cheat here, the narrator believes, later, that he knows why she approached him, gathered him up, and brought him to her husband. But that's in Justine. In the second book, Balthazar, he will hear a different explanation, and the reader will find yet one more in Mountolive.
It is said that a sign of great literature is that one discovers something new in every reading. That is certainly true of Justine. Even though this was at least the fourth reading, I was surprised to discover clues, interspersed in Part 1, to future events, some that will take place in the other volumes of the quartet. The narrator would make some offhand remark and then go on to something else and would never refer to it again. It meant nothing to the narrator and nothing to me until this the fourth reading. I should have picked up on them on subsequent readings.
I wonder what I will find on my fifth reading.
Justine: the first book in the Alexandria Quartet
This is my fourth visit to Alexandria with the aid of Lawrence Durrell, my personal tour guide. Isn't that what writers are, guides to their worlds? It has been some time since my last visit, so I had only the vaguest ideas of what was coming. However, once I started, I began recognize some of what I was reading.
What came first was the memory of the initial confusion I felt when I began to read the novel. Durrell doesn't believe, at least in Justine, straightforward chronological narrative structure. Instead, I was faced with short paragraphs and brief references to characters, without any help from Durrell. Here and there characters were brought up briefly and then off to something else. It was only I had gotten a way into Part I that I began finding introductions to the characters but in a disjointed fashion, though.
This time though I understood what Durrell was doing. As the narrator explains very early in the novel, the first page or so, he was going to put down on paper the events of the past year. If I had decided to do something similar, it would have been difficult to begin as I know that all I would have been able to come up with at first would be fragments, disjointed, and randomly recalled without any chronological order. However, the longer I worked at it, the more material I would be able to bring up, and each memory would be accompanied by other memories. So, as I got deeper into Part 1, I found the fragments were now longer and more complete. If it had been me, though, I wouldn't have had to courage to include those first brief fragments in my work, for I would have edited them out and produced a standard commonplace traditional account. That, no doubt, is why Durrell is a great writer, and I am not.
While Durrell introduces some seven or eight characters, he returns again and again to two of them: Justine and Melissa. But, at first I found it difficult to immediately know just which one the narrator was referring to. It's as if the narrator mistakenly believes we are as familiar with Justine and Melissa as he is, so he really doesn't have to identify them immediately. The male characters are introduced without the confusion that surrounded the female characters. The males are named and their relationship to the narrator is spelled out and occasionally brought back into the narrative.
As I mentioned earlier, the narrator doesn't provide his reader with a chronological sequence. When we first meet Justine and Melissa, it quickly becomes clear that he is intimately involved with both of them. It is only much later in Part I that we are told of their first meeting. Then comes their first sexual encounter, but not necessarily in that order.
The Quartet, I find, consists of a number of character and plot threads that are intertwined throughout the story. Because of this, at times I simply stop reading, go back to the beginning of the novel, and follow a particular thread, ignoring whatever else is going on at that time. It is surprising what I find when I do this, even if I limit it just to Part 1.
For example, let's follow the Justine thread and stop when we reach when we reach the part when the narrator tells us how and when they first met. We first meet, or hear of her actually, on the first page when she is mentioned by the narrator as one of his friends: "Justine and Nessim, of Melissa and Balthazar.". Several pages later, the narrator tells us that he has Justine's diary, which he got from her husband, Nessim, who still hoped that Justine would come back to him. The narrator tells us that he believes he will never see Justine for he and his friends have "taken different paths now." However, the narrator does have Melissa's child with him and tells us that he "has not named it yet. Of course it will be Justine--who else?"
Several pages later we read that he catches a glimpse of her from his balcony. In fact he has seen her many times and knows who she is, even though they haven't met. He now mentions their many meetings at the cafe, El Bab. Again, pages later, we get a much fuller description of her, and it is obvious they have just been intimate.
Later, the narrator tells us that he had once agreed to give a lecture on the 'poet of the city,' Cavafy, which was attended by "a dignified semicircle of society ladies." Justine was in the audience. He recognizes her, but they do not speak because they have yet to meet. After the lecture, the narrator, that evening, stops at a small cafe. Justine suddenly appears and asks a question about the lecture. Then she says, "I want to take you to Nessim, my husband. Will you come?" She drives them to the house and searched "from room to room, fracturing the silences. He (Nessim) answered at last from the great studio on the roof and racing to him like a gundog she metaphorically dropped me at his feet and stood back, wagging her tail. She had achieved me.
Nessim was sitting on the top of the ladder reading, and he came slowly down to us, looking first at one and then at the other. . .for my part, I could offer no explanation of my presence, since I did not know for what purpose I had been brought here."
If I may cheat here, the narrator believes, later, that he knows why she approached him, gathered him up, and brought him to her husband. But that's in Justine. In the second book, Balthazar, he will hear a different explanation, and the reader will find yet one more in Mountolive.
It is said that a sign of great literature is that one discovers something new in every reading. That is certainly true of Justine. Even though this was at least the fourth reading, I was surprised to discover clues, interspersed in Part 1, to future events, some that will take place in the other volumes of the quartet. The narrator would make some offhand remark and then go on to something else and would never refer to it again. It meant nothing to the narrator and nothing to me until this the fourth reading. I should have picked up on them on subsequent readings.
I wonder what I will find on my fifth reading.
Sunday, January 22, 2017
N. Scott Momaday: In the Bear's House, an overview
N. Scott Momaday
In the Bear's House
In the Bear's House is a rather unusual work, as will be seen from the Table of Contents I will provide shortly. To be honest, I have only the briefest glimpse of what Momaday is doing here, but I find that what little I do see absorbing, as well as perplexing. Rather than stumble about, confusing you and me even more, I will Momaday tell you in his own words what this book is all about.
"INTRODUCTION
Let me say at the outset that this is not a book about Bear (he would be spoken of in the singular and masculine, capitalized and without an article), or it is only incidentally about him. I am less interested in defining the being of Bear than in trying to understand something about the spirit of wilderness, of which Bear is a very particular expression. Even Urset, who is the original bear and comes directly from the hand of God, is symbolic and transparent, more transparent than real, if you will. He is an imitation of himself, a mask. If you look at him very closely and long enough, you will see the mountains on the other side. Bear is a template of the wilderness.
I am acquainted with Bear, indeed more than acquainted. Bear and I are one, in one and the same story. My Indian name is Tsoai-talee, which in Kiowa means 'Rock-tree boy.' Tsoai, "Rock tree,' is Devils Tower in Wyoming. That is where, long ago, a Kiowa boy turned into a bear and where his sisters were borne into the sky and became the stars of the Big Dipper. Through the power of stories and names, I am the reincarnation of that boy. From the time the name Tsoai-talee was conferred on me as an infant, I have been possessed of Bear's spirit. The Kiowas--whose principal religious expression was the Sun Dance and whose most ancient blood memory was of the mythic darkness of a hollow log from which they emerged into the world--believe that the buffalo is the animal representation of the sun. Bear is the animal representation of the wilderness.
. . . . .
Something in me hungers for wild mountains and rivers and plains. I love to be on Bear's ground, to listen for that old guttural music under his breath, to know only that he is near. And Bear is welcome in my dreams, for in that cave of sleep I am at home to Bear."
N. Scott Momaday
1998"
One comment: Momaday does not mention that the Big Dipper is found in the Ursa Major or Great Bear Constellation.
Below is the table of Contents that follow the Introduction:
The Bear-God Dialogues
There are ten dialogues. Some of the titles are "You are, Urset. I am, Yahweh," "Berries," "Prayer,"
"Dreams," and "Baseball."
The baseball dialogue is especially interesting for Cub fans. Urset is the Bear and Yahweh is Yahweh. Urset begins by telling Yahweh that his children want to play baseball.
YAHWEH
Baseball. . .Baseball?
URSET
Baseball. You know, played with bats, a ball, gloves. . .
YAHWEH:
(exasperated)
Oh, for heaven's sake! OF COURSE I know what baseball is. I was a pretty fair shortstop in my day. I taught Ernie Banks everything he knew, if I do say so myself.
URSET:
My children, my little brood of bears, they are forming a team. Their enthusiasm is boundless. Why, they even have a name for themselves.
YAHWEH:
Don't tell me. . .the "Cubs."
URSET:
I really don't know why they can't be a football team. They are bears, after all. They are thick and furry. And they are already accomplished at assault and battery. It is their nature. It is what they do. But baseball! Baseball is a game of swat, catch, and tag--better played by housecats."
.:
Poems
This sections contains nineteen poems, and I will post some of them in the future.
Passages
Only two passages are included in this section: "The Bear Hunt" and "The Transformation."
As you can see from the Introduction, In the Bear's House is a very unique work. One of the major themes that I've managed to grasp is the relationship Momaday has with wilderness and his thoughts on the significance of wilderness for all of us.
This is one of those works that I think requires at least another reading, and probably a couple of rereadings.
The NFL team in Chicago is the Chicago Bears.
The following link will lead you to the Wiki article on Ernie Banks, probably the most popular Cub player of all time..
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernie_Banks
In the Bear's House
In the Bear's House is a rather unusual work, as will be seen from the Table of Contents I will provide shortly. To be honest, I have only the briefest glimpse of what Momaday is doing here, but I find that what little I do see absorbing, as well as perplexing. Rather than stumble about, confusing you and me even more, I will Momaday tell you in his own words what this book is all about.
"INTRODUCTION
Let me say at the outset that this is not a book about Bear (he would be spoken of in the singular and masculine, capitalized and without an article), or it is only incidentally about him. I am less interested in defining the being of Bear than in trying to understand something about the spirit of wilderness, of which Bear is a very particular expression. Even Urset, who is the original bear and comes directly from the hand of God, is symbolic and transparent, more transparent than real, if you will. He is an imitation of himself, a mask. If you look at him very closely and long enough, you will see the mountains on the other side. Bear is a template of the wilderness.
I am acquainted with Bear, indeed more than acquainted. Bear and I are one, in one and the same story. My Indian name is Tsoai-talee, which in Kiowa means 'Rock-tree boy.' Tsoai, "Rock tree,' is Devils Tower in Wyoming. That is where, long ago, a Kiowa boy turned into a bear and where his sisters were borne into the sky and became the stars of the Big Dipper. Through the power of stories and names, I am the reincarnation of that boy. From the time the name Tsoai-talee was conferred on me as an infant, I have been possessed of Bear's spirit. The Kiowas--whose principal religious expression was the Sun Dance and whose most ancient blood memory was of the mythic darkness of a hollow log from which they emerged into the world--believe that the buffalo is the animal representation of the sun. Bear is the animal representation of the wilderness.
. . . . .
Something in me hungers for wild mountains and rivers and plains. I love to be on Bear's ground, to listen for that old guttural music under his breath, to know only that he is near. And Bear is welcome in my dreams, for in that cave of sleep I am at home to Bear."
N. Scott Momaday
1998"
One comment: Momaday does not mention that the Big Dipper is found in the Ursa Major or Great Bear Constellation.
Below is the table of Contents that follow the Introduction:
The Bear-God Dialogues
There are ten dialogues. Some of the titles are "You are, Urset. I am, Yahweh," "Berries," "Prayer,"
"Dreams," and "Baseball."
The baseball dialogue is especially interesting for Cub fans. Urset is the Bear and Yahweh is Yahweh. Urset begins by telling Yahweh that his children want to play baseball.
YAHWEH
Baseball. . .Baseball?
URSET
Baseball. You know, played with bats, a ball, gloves. . .
YAHWEH:
(exasperated)
Oh, for heaven's sake! OF COURSE I know what baseball is. I was a pretty fair shortstop in my day. I taught Ernie Banks everything he knew, if I do say so myself.
URSET:
My children, my little brood of bears, they are forming a team. Their enthusiasm is boundless. Why, they even have a name for themselves.
YAHWEH:
Don't tell me. . .the "Cubs."
URSET:
I really don't know why they can't be a football team. They are bears, after all. They are thick and furry. And they are already accomplished at assault and battery. It is their nature. It is what they do. But baseball! Baseball is a game of swat, catch, and tag--better played by housecats."
.:
Poems
This sections contains nineteen poems, and I will post some of them in the future.
Passages
Only two passages are included in this section: "The Bear Hunt" and "The Transformation."
As you can see from the Introduction, In the Bear's House is a very unique work. One of the major themes that I've managed to grasp is the relationship Momaday has with wilderness and his thoughts on the significance of wilderness for all of us.
This is one of those works that I think requires at least another reading, and probably a couple of rereadings.
The NFL team in Chicago is the Chicago Bears.
The following link will lead you to the Wiki article on Ernie Banks, probably the most popular Cub player of all time..
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernie_Banks
Thursday, January 19, 2017
Lawrence Durrell: Justine
One of my New Year's resolutions was to read as much of Lawrence Durrell's works this year as I could. Today I begin with Justine, which is only appropriate since my first introduction to his writings was this work. Several decades ago, I was in grad school and on the reading list for a course in 20th century novels (or perhaps 20th century English novels) was Justine. I had heard of Lawrence Durrell and the Alexandria Quartet, but I had never read anything by him before.
I started reading and was confused and bewildered by the first three or four pages as it seemed to be nothing but randomly placed paragraphs with no coherent plan to structure them. I was a bit dismayed, a complete novel like this! Then the following jumped out at me. It wasn't the first sentence of a chapter, or even of a paragraph. It was buried in a longish paragraph, but I had to stop and read it again, and again. It told me what Durrell was up to. I was hooked. I read Justine and then went on to read as much of Durrell as I could find. Now, it's time to do it again.
The sentence:
"The solace of such work as I do with brain and heart lies in this--that only there, in the silences of the painter or the writer can reality be reordered, reworked and made to show its significant side."
I doubt if it grabs others the way it grabbed me, and I can't explain why. It just did.
I started reading and was confused and bewildered by the first three or four pages as it seemed to be nothing but randomly placed paragraphs with no coherent plan to structure them. I was a bit dismayed, a complete novel like this! Then the following jumped out at me. It wasn't the first sentence of a chapter, or even of a paragraph. It was buried in a longish paragraph, but I had to stop and read it again, and again. It told me what Durrell was up to. I was hooked. I read Justine and then went on to read as much of Durrell as I could find. Now, it's time to do it again.
The sentence:
"The solace of such work as I do with brain and heart lies in this--that only there, in the silences of the painter or the writer can reality be reordered, reworked and made to show its significant side."
I doubt if it grabs others the way it grabbed me, and I can't explain why. It just did.
Monday, January 16, 2017
Baltasar Gracian: Luck
No. 139
"KNOW YOUR UNLUCKY days: for such there are, when nothing goes right, and even though the game change, the bad luck does not: you know them after two throws of the dice, and you retire, or play on, depending upon whether this is such a day, or not. Even the mind has its periods, for no man is wise at all hours, since it takes luck to think straight, just as it takes good luck to write a good letter, for all good things have their season, beauty not always being in style, judgment itself turning traitor, now making us too soft, now too harsh: thus anything to come off well, must be of its day. Just so does everything go wrong with some, and everything go right with others, and with less effort. All they touch stands ready, the spirit is well-disposed, the mind is alert, and their star is in the ascendant. Then is the hour to strike, and not to squander the least advantage. But the man of judgment will not let just one throw augur the day unlucky, or lucky, for the former may have been only mischance, and the latter only happy accident."
-- Baltasar Gracian --
from The Art of Worldly Wisdom
I know it's unfashionable to talk about luck nowadays. We have other explanations for it, I suppose, but do they really explain those long sequences of fortuitous or unhappy events that strike us all at times? Or explain why some people are blessed more often than can be expected, or conversely, cursed more often than others. Do those explanations really answer why or do they just provide another more sophisticated way of hiding our ignorance from ourselves, a scientific way of disguising our real answer of "I don't know."
"KNOW YOUR UNLUCKY days: for such there are, when nothing goes right, and even though the game change, the bad luck does not: you know them after two throws of the dice, and you retire, or play on, depending upon whether this is such a day, or not. Even the mind has its periods, for no man is wise at all hours, since it takes luck to think straight, just as it takes good luck to write a good letter, for all good things have their season, beauty not always being in style, judgment itself turning traitor, now making us too soft, now too harsh: thus anything to come off well, must be of its day. Just so does everything go wrong with some, and everything go right with others, and with less effort. All they touch stands ready, the spirit is well-disposed, the mind is alert, and their star is in the ascendant. Then is the hour to strike, and not to squander the least advantage. But the man of judgment will not let just one throw augur the day unlucky, or lucky, for the former may have been only mischance, and the latter only happy accident."
-- Baltasar Gracian --
from The Art of Worldly Wisdom
I know it's unfashionable to talk about luck nowadays. We have other explanations for it, I suppose, but do they really explain those long sequences of fortuitous or unhappy events that strike us all at times? Or explain why some people are blessed more often than can be expected, or conversely, cursed more often than others. Do those explanations really answer why or do they just provide another more sophisticated way of hiding our ignorance from ourselves, a scientific way of disguising our real answer of "I don't know."
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Two by Timothy Zahn
Timothy Zahn
Pawn's Gambit and Other Stratagems
short stories
Pawn's Gambit is a collection of fifteen short stories, many of which made their first appearance in SF magazines and anthologies, ranging from 1981 to 2014.
"Pawn's Gambit"
This is the title story and also the last story in the book. It's an alien abduction tale. Kelly McClain awakens in a strange place, not knowing how he got there. He has heard recent stories from around the globe about abductions and that all agreed that they had to play some unfamiliar games and were then returned to Earth. After his initial panic, he settles down to wait. Eventually he is contacted by one of the Stryfkar who explains what will happen to him. The games, the alien explains, are their ways of studying other races.
The alien doesn't tell McClain is that the games have a deadly purpose. The Stryfkar were nearly defeated by another race, the Chanis. The games are designed to identify those races that possess characteristics similar to those of the Chanis, and they will be destroyed before they pose a threat to the Stryfkar.
Normally, the winners of the games were returned safely home while the losers would remain until they finally won. After losing several games they would have more experience with the games than newcomers, so they had an advantage, regardless of how poor a game player they were. Eventually they also would be returned. After having played several games, McCain is shocked to find the Stryfkar have changed the rules. Now, he and his opponent would play three games and the winner would be returned home while the loser would die.
Inserted into the narrative are communications among the Sryfkar which give the reader more insight into them and their actions and which allow the reader to see the growing threat to Earth which McCain is unaware of.
Several other SF works involving game playing for high stakes are Philip K. Dick's The Game Players of Titan, and The Player of Games by Iain Banks. There are many others, no doubt.
I found the most interesting part to be the relationship that developed between McCain and his opponent, Achranae, as they struggle to overcome the cultural barriers so as to be able to work together against their common foe. I can only wish this story be expanded to develop this more thoroughly.
"The President's Doll"
This tale points out something I should have noticed myself long ago, but never did. I actually don't feel that bad because I know of nobody else who saw it either. That something is a needle. This is why I think the story should have been titled "Voodoo Acupuncture."
In the voodoo tradition, a person is cursed by creating a small doll with some bodily parts of the victim, such as fingernails or hair clippings. Once constructed and the proper formula recited, needles inserted into the doll result in a corresponding damage to the victim. In contrast, in acupuncture, the practitioner inserts needles into the patient at certain specific nerve junctions to block pain or to solve some physical problem.
Two men got a brilliant idea. Dr. Sam Pak, expert in acupuncture, and Dr. Pierre Christophe, from Haiti, very knowledgeable about voodoo, decided to combine their skills and create, essentially, acupuncture at a distance. Once Christophe had created the doll, Pak wok insert the needles into the appropriate pain centers when necessary.
Detective Harland of the Washington DC police becomes involved when he is assigned to work with the Secret Service on a case, the Case of the President's Missing Doll. The President is a believer in the efficacy of acupuncture, but it wasn't as widely accepted in 1987 (when the story was first published) as it may be today, in some circles. It would be politically embarrassing if the President were to be seen visiting an acupuncturist or one being seen to enter the White House. So, acupuncture at a distance seemed the perfect solution, until someone broke into the Pak/Christophe Clinic and stole only one item, the President's doll.
Harland and Maxwell, the Secret Service agent, have one task: find the doll and get it back before it is used.
It's a clever tale, and probably one that Zahn wisely decided to leave as a short story. I don't think there's enough here to expand into a novella, much less a novel.
These are just two of the fifteen short stories in this collection. There's a post-holocaust love story, a drug sniffing dog tale, aliens who pose a threat to the solar system on their way elsewhere, a strange telephone book, a troll who works at a toll-booth, a wizard who, for fifteen years, has always showed up too late to use his powers to solve a problem, and an old-boys insider trading network that employs telepaths, among other strange and entertaining tales. Some are demonstrably SF while others are fantasy, and some are somewhere in-between.
Pawn's Gambit and Other Stratagems
short stories
Pawn's Gambit is a collection of fifteen short stories, many of which made their first appearance in SF magazines and anthologies, ranging from 1981 to 2014.
"Pawn's Gambit"
This is the title story and also the last story in the book. It's an alien abduction tale. Kelly McClain awakens in a strange place, not knowing how he got there. He has heard recent stories from around the globe about abductions and that all agreed that they had to play some unfamiliar games and were then returned to Earth. After his initial panic, he settles down to wait. Eventually he is contacted by one of the Stryfkar who explains what will happen to him. The games, the alien explains, are their ways of studying other races.
The alien doesn't tell McClain is that the games have a deadly purpose. The Stryfkar were nearly defeated by another race, the Chanis. The games are designed to identify those races that possess characteristics similar to those of the Chanis, and they will be destroyed before they pose a threat to the Stryfkar.
Normally, the winners of the games were returned safely home while the losers would remain until they finally won. After losing several games they would have more experience with the games than newcomers, so they had an advantage, regardless of how poor a game player they were. Eventually they also would be returned. After having played several games, McCain is shocked to find the Stryfkar have changed the rules. Now, he and his opponent would play three games and the winner would be returned home while the loser would die.
Inserted into the narrative are communications among the Sryfkar which give the reader more insight into them and their actions and which allow the reader to see the growing threat to Earth which McCain is unaware of.
Several other SF works involving game playing for high stakes are Philip K. Dick's The Game Players of Titan, and The Player of Games by Iain Banks. There are many others, no doubt.
I found the most interesting part to be the relationship that developed between McCain and his opponent, Achranae, as they struggle to overcome the cultural barriers so as to be able to work together against their common foe. I can only wish this story be expanded to develop this more thoroughly.
"The President's Doll"
This tale points out something I should have noticed myself long ago, but never did. I actually don't feel that bad because I know of nobody else who saw it either. That something is a needle. This is why I think the story should have been titled "Voodoo Acupuncture."
In the voodoo tradition, a person is cursed by creating a small doll with some bodily parts of the victim, such as fingernails or hair clippings. Once constructed and the proper formula recited, needles inserted into the doll result in a corresponding damage to the victim. In contrast, in acupuncture, the practitioner inserts needles into the patient at certain specific nerve junctions to block pain or to solve some physical problem.
Two men got a brilliant idea. Dr. Sam Pak, expert in acupuncture, and Dr. Pierre Christophe, from Haiti, very knowledgeable about voodoo, decided to combine their skills and create, essentially, acupuncture at a distance. Once Christophe had created the doll, Pak wok insert the needles into the appropriate pain centers when necessary.
Detective Harland of the Washington DC police becomes involved when he is assigned to work with the Secret Service on a case, the Case of the President's Missing Doll. The President is a believer in the efficacy of acupuncture, but it wasn't as widely accepted in 1987 (when the story was first published) as it may be today, in some circles. It would be politically embarrassing if the President were to be seen visiting an acupuncturist or one being seen to enter the White House. So, acupuncture at a distance seemed the perfect solution, until someone broke into the Pak/Christophe Clinic and stole only one item, the President's doll.
Harland and Maxwell, the Secret Service agent, have one task: find the doll and get it back before it is used.
It's a clever tale, and probably one that Zahn wisely decided to leave as a short story. I don't think there's enough here to expand into a novella, much less a novel.
These are just two of the fifteen short stories in this collection. There's a post-holocaust love story, a drug sniffing dog tale, aliens who pose a threat to the solar system on their way elsewhere, a strange telephone book, a troll who works at a toll-booth, a wizard who, for fifteen years, has always showed up too late to use his powers to solve a problem, and an old-boys insider trading network that employs telepaths, among other strange and entertaining tales. Some are demonstrably SF while others are fantasy, and some are somewhere in-between.
Saturday, January 7, 2017
A Minute Meditation
We exist in the element of language. Someone has said that to think is to talk to oneself. The implications of this equation are critical. Language is necessary to thought, and thought (as it is manifested in language) distinguishes us from all other creatures.
-- N. Scott Momaday --
from the Preface of The Man Made of Words
Is it true then that we can think only about something for which we have a word? The appendix to George Orwell's 1984 contains a thoughtful essay on this.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Resolutions for the New Year
Well, this is that time of the year again, so I thought I would post my few resolutions. Making them public might encourage me to work more diligently in keeping them.
I will avoid bringing in politics as much as possible. In the past it's been difficult, but I think I succeeded. However, this year I may find it harder. I doubt that keeping politics out of my posts will deprive anybody for I'm sure that it will be almost impossible to escape political discussions, reports, haranguings, and tirades. So, I hope to provide an oasis here. For those curious about my position, check out my post BALANCE at http://freds-ramblings.blogspot.com/2016/11/balance.html
My second resolution is to reduce Mount TBR to a molehill, or at least start on it. That means reducing book purchases and relying more on the library. I hope this doesn't cause a recession in the publishing industry, but it must be done. I also need to redouble my efforts in encouraging the various discussion groups I'm a member of to select more books that I have at home. This, of course, will reduce the number of books to purchase and help reduce Mount TBR.
Last year was the Year of Austen in which I read everything I had by Jane Austen, which includes all of her novels, her juvenalia, and uncompleted works. It was one of the high points of the 2016 reading year. I also saw an excellent film adaption of her short work "Lady Susan." For some obscure reason the powers-that-be called it Love and Friendship. I thought it one of the best adaptations of her works that I've seen and highly recommend it.
Since that worked out so well, I have decided that 2017 will be the Year of Lawrence Durrell, during which I will reread everything I have by him, which is close to his complete output--novels, travelogues, and poetry (that will be THE problem). In addition, I have just learned that an unfinished novel of his has been published, so I will have the pleasure of not only rereading him, but of reading something by him for the first time (even if it is unfinished).
I will begin with what has to be the obligatory starting point, The Alexandria Quartet. After that, I may then revert to reading them in their publishing order, or perhaps continue on to The Avignon Quintet or The Quincunx.
You are all welcome to join me.
I will avoid bringing in politics as much as possible. In the past it's been difficult, but I think I succeeded. However, this year I may find it harder. I doubt that keeping politics out of my posts will deprive anybody for I'm sure that it will be almost impossible to escape political discussions, reports, haranguings, and tirades. So, I hope to provide an oasis here. For those curious about my position, check out my post BALANCE at http://freds-ramblings.blogspot.com/2016/11/balance.html
My second resolution is to reduce Mount TBR to a molehill, or at least start on it. That means reducing book purchases and relying more on the library. I hope this doesn't cause a recession in the publishing industry, but it must be done. I also need to redouble my efforts in encouraging the various discussion groups I'm a member of to select more books that I have at home. This, of course, will reduce the number of books to purchase and help reduce Mount TBR.
Last year was the Year of Austen in which I read everything I had by Jane Austen, which includes all of her novels, her juvenalia, and uncompleted works. It was one of the high points of the 2016 reading year. I also saw an excellent film adaption of her short work "Lady Susan." For some obscure reason the powers-that-be called it Love and Friendship. I thought it one of the best adaptations of her works that I've seen and highly recommend it.
Since that worked out so well, I have decided that 2017 will be the Year of Lawrence Durrell, during which I will reread everything I have by him, which is close to his complete output--novels, travelogues, and poetry (that will be THE problem). In addition, I have just learned that an unfinished novel of his has been published, so I will have the pleasure of not only rereading him, but of reading something by him for the first time (even if it is unfinished).
I will begin with what has to be the obligatory starting point, The Alexandria Quartet. After that, I may then revert to reading them in their publishing order, or perhaps continue on to The Avignon Quintet or The Quincunx.
You are all welcome to join me.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: Second Edition, Quatrain LXXXIV
Would God punish us for tasting certain of the pleasures that He created?
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXXIV
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXVIII
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
After adding this quatrain to the second edition, FitzGerald left it as it was, unchanged through the next three editions.
His point seems fairly straight forward, at least to me anyway. God creates us from nothing and then provokes us by forbidding certain pleasures that He Himself placed in our path. The penalty seems cruel and unjust in that it will be everlasting. The tone, actually, strikes me as indignation, more than anything else: the unfairness of it all.
Is this why God created us, brought us out of nothingness in order to punish us eternally for violating some arbitrary rules? If this is an accurate translation and not slanted by FitzGerald's own religious beliefs, then I can see why Omar Khayyam was a controversial figure in his time and afterwards. Part of the problem is that scholars suspect that a number of the quatrains in The Rubaiyat attributed to him were actually written later by others.
In any case, whoever is responsible for this quatrain has asked an interesting question, and one that will be answered solely based on one's own beliefs.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXXIV
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXVIII
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
After adding this quatrain to the second edition, FitzGerald left it as it was, unchanged through the next three editions.
His point seems fairly straight forward, at least to me anyway. God creates us from nothing and then provokes us by forbidding certain pleasures that He Himself placed in our path. The penalty seems cruel and unjust in that it will be everlasting. The tone, actually, strikes me as indignation, more than anything else: the unfairness of it all.
Is this why God created us, brought us out of nothingness in order to punish us eternally for violating some arbitrary rules? If this is an accurate translation and not slanted by FitzGerald's own religious beliefs, then I can see why Omar Khayyam was a controversial figure in his time and afterwards. Part of the problem is that scholars suspect that a number of the quatrains in The Rubaiyat attributed to him were actually written later by others.
In any case, whoever is responsible for this quatrain has asked an interesting question, and one that will be answered solely based on one's own beliefs.
Friday, December 30, 2016
Ryokan: time and memory
This poem by Ryokan seems very appropriate for this time of year.
Time passes,
There is no way
We can hold it back---
Why, then, do thoughts linger on,
Long after everything else is gone?
from Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf
trans. John Stevens
Another view, perhaps?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Time passes,
There is no way
We can hold it back---
Why, then, do thoughts linger on,
Long after everything else is gone?
from Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf
trans. John Stevens
Another view, perhaps?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
A Vietnamese Poem: The Cherished Daughter
There's a suggestion of a story here in a poetic form. It took me several readings to pick up several hints. Part of my problem is my ignorance of Vietnamese culture, so I'm still not certain that I have correctly or fully grasped it.
The Cherished Daughter
Mother, I am eighteen this year
and still without a husband.
What, Mother, is your plan?
The magpie brought two matchmakers
and you threw them the challenge:
not less than five full quan,
five thousand areca nuts,
five fat pigs,
and five suits of clothes.
Mother, I am twenty-three this year
and still without a husband.
What, Mother, dear, is your plan?
The magpie brought two matchmakers
and you threw them the challenge:
not less than three full quan,
three thousand areca nuts,
three fat pigs,
and three suits of clothes.
Mother, I am thirty-two this year
and still without a husband.
What, Mother, darling, is your plan?
The magpie brought two matchmakers
and you threw them the challenge:
not less than one full quan,
one thousand areca nuts,
one fat dog this time,
and one suit of clothes.
Mother, I am forty-three this year.
Still without a husband.
Mother, look, Mother,
will you please just give me away?
-- Anonymous (c. 1700 AD)--
trans. Nguyen Ngoc Bich
from World Poetry: An Anthology of Verse from Antiquity to Our Time
I had to smile the first reading at the exasperation in the daughter's voice at the end. On the second reading, I began detect perhaps a hint of desperation at the end, or perhaps more than a hint? It wasn't until this point that I seriously considered the title. Did the mother, perhaps, cherish the daughter a bit too much?
The Cherished Daughter
Mother, I am eighteen this year
and still without a husband.
What, Mother, is your plan?
The magpie brought two matchmakers
and you threw them the challenge:
not less than five full quan,
five thousand areca nuts,
five fat pigs,
and five suits of clothes.
Mother, I am twenty-three this year
and still without a husband.
What, Mother, dear, is your plan?
The magpie brought two matchmakers
and you threw them the challenge:
not less than three full quan,
three thousand areca nuts,
three fat pigs,
and three suits of clothes.
Mother, I am thirty-two this year
and still without a husband.
What, Mother, darling, is your plan?
The magpie brought two matchmakers
and you threw them the challenge:
not less than one full quan,
one thousand areca nuts,
one fat dog this time,
and one suit of clothes.
Mother, I am forty-three this year.
Still without a husband.
Mother, look, Mother,
will you please just give me away?
-- Anonymous (c. 1700 AD)--
trans. Nguyen Ngoc Bich
from World Poetry: An Anthology of Verse from Antiquity to Our Time
I had to smile the first reading at the exasperation in the daughter's voice at the end. On the second reading, I began detect perhaps a hint of desperation at the end, or perhaps more than a hint? It wasn't until this point that I seriously considered the title. Did the mother, perhaps, cherish the daughter a bit too much?
Sunday, December 25, 2016
A Minute Meditation
I found this on Pat Cadigan's blog Ceci N'est Pas Une, http://tinyurl.com/j835slj
One night, Confucius had a dream about chopsticks.
In the dream, he was transported to Hell where he saw multitudes of people sitting at enormous tables set out with wonderful foods of all kinds. There was so much food that the tables groaned under the weight and the various aromas were mouth-watering, promising incredibly delectable flavours. But the people sitting at the tables had not touched any of it--they had been told they could eat as much as they liked but only if they ate with chopsticks that were five feet long. None of them could figure out how to eat with five-foot-long chopsticks, so all they could do was stare hopelessly at this amazing feast and cry in hunger and misery.
Then Confucius was taken to heaven where he again saw multitudes of people sitting around enormous tables laden with glorious foods. They had also been told they were allowed to eat only if they used the five-foot-long chopsticks. But, these people were not crying with hunger and frustration--they were eating their fill, talking, laughing, and enjoying themselves.
Because in heaven, they were feeding each other.
Simplistic, isn't it?
One night, Confucius had a dream about chopsticks.
In the dream, he was transported to Hell where he saw multitudes of people sitting at enormous tables set out with wonderful foods of all kinds. There was so much food that the tables groaned under the weight and the various aromas were mouth-watering, promising incredibly delectable flavours. But the people sitting at the tables had not touched any of it--they had been told they could eat as much as they liked but only if they ate with chopsticks that were five feet long. None of them could figure out how to eat with five-foot-long chopsticks, so all they could do was stare hopelessly at this amazing feast and cry in hunger and misery.
Then Confucius was taken to heaven where he again saw multitudes of people sitting around enormous tables laden with glorious foods. They had also been told they were allowed to eat only if they used the five-foot-long chopsticks. But, these people were not crying with hunger and frustration--they were eating their fill, talking, laughing, and enjoying themselves.
Because in heaven, they were feeding each other.
Simplistic, isn't it?
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
N. Scott Momaday and Emily Dickinson
The following excerpt comes from N. Scott Momaday's The Man Made of Words: Essays, Stories, Passages. The chapter title is "A Divine Blindness: The Place of Words in a State of Grace." I have often found Dickinson's poetry to be puzzling and enigmatic, but this poem confounds me completely.
I am publishing this excerpt because of Momaday's first comment on the poem: "This poem, written about 1866 by a then obscure woman poet in the Connecticut Valley of western Massachusetts, is one of the great moments in American literature." I know what that means, but I can't relate it to Dickinson's poem. Perhaps you will do better.
The excerpt--poem and commentary:
"When the subtitle "The Place of Words in a State of Grace" occurred to me, in the back of my mind was this poem by Emily Dickinson.
Further in Summer than the Birds
Pathetic from the Grass
A minor Nation celebrates
Its unobtrusive Mass.
No Ordinance be seen
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it becomes
Enlarging Loneliness.
Antiquest felt at Noon
When August burning low
Arise this spectral Canticle
Repose to typify
Remit as yet no Grace
No Furrow on the Glow
Yet a Druidic Difference
Enhances Nature now
This poem, written about 1866 by a then obscure woman poet in the Connecticut Valley of western Massachusetts, is one of the great moments in American literature. The statement of the poem is profound; it remarks the absolute separation between man and nature at a precise moment in time. The poet looks as far as she can into the natural world, but what she sees at last is her isolation from that world. She perceives, that is, the limits of her own perception. But that, we reason, is enough. This poem of just more than sixty words comprehends the human condition in relation to the universe:
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it becomes
Enlarging Loneliness. .
But this is a divine loneliness, the loneliness of a species evolved far beyond all others. The poem bespeaks a state of grace. In its precision, perception, and eloquence it establishes the place of words within that state. Words are indivisible with the highest realization of the human being."
As I wrote above, I recognize that Momaday considers Dickinson's poem to be of supreme significance, but I cannot relate his words to the poem.
Any thoughts?
Poem 1068
The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
edited by Thomas H. Johnson
I am publishing this excerpt because of Momaday's first comment on the poem: "This poem, written about 1866 by a then obscure woman poet in the Connecticut Valley of western Massachusetts, is one of the great moments in American literature." I know what that means, but I can't relate it to Dickinson's poem. Perhaps you will do better.
The excerpt--poem and commentary:
"When the subtitle "The Place of Words in a State of Grace" occurred to me, in the back of my mind was this poem by Emily Dickinson.
Further in Summer than the Birds
Pathetic from the Grass
A minor Nation celebrates
Its unobtrusive Mass.
No Ordinance be seen
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it becomes
Enlarging Loneliness.
Antiquest felt at Noon
When August burning low
Arise this spectral Canticle
Repose to typify
Remit as yet no Grace
No Furrow on the Glow
Yet a Druidic Difference
Enhances Nature now
This poem, written about 1866 by a then obscure woman poet in the Connecticut Valley of western Massachusetts, is one of the great moments in American literature. The statement of the poem is profound; it remarks the absolute separation between man and nature at a precise moment in time. The poet looks as far as she can into the natural world, but what she sees at last is her isolation from that world. She perceives, that is, the limits of her own perception. But that, we reason, is enough. This poem of just more than sixty words comprehends the human condition in relation to the universe:
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it becomes
Enlarging Loneliness. .
But this is a divine loneliness, the loneliness of a species evolved far beyond all others. The poem bespeaks a state of grace. In its precision, perception, and eloquence it establishes the place of words within that state. Words are indivisible with the highest realization of the human being."
As I wrote above, I recognize that Momaday considers Dickinson's poem to be of supreme significance, but I cannot relate his words to the poem.
Any thoughts?
Poem 1068
The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
edited by Thomas H. Johnson
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Elizabeth Jennings: "The Diamond Cutter"
Here's another one by Elizabeth Jennings (1926-2001) , a recent discovery, for me anyway. She was born in Boston, Lincolnshire, and moved to Oxford at age six and lived there for the rest of her life.
The Diamond Cutter
Not what the light will do but how he shapes it
What particular colours it will bear.
And something of the climber's concentration
Seeing the white peak, setting the right foot there.
Not how the sun was plausible at morning
Not how it was distributed at noon,
And not how much the single stone could show
But rather how much brilliance it would shun;
Simply a paring down, a cleaving to
One object, as the star-gazer who sees
One single comet polished by its fall
Rather than countless, untouched galaxies.
-- Elizabeth Jennings --
I think the point is that one must not be distracted by external glories or brilliance to get to its heart. But, isn't something lost when one does that? Or, is she suggesting that there are some things that are too grand, too glorious, too magnificent for us to truly appreciate, that we need to focus on a more limited scale to gain at least some idea of just what it really is.
Your thoughts?
The Diamond Cutter
Not what the light will do but how he shapes it
What particular colours it will bear.
And something of the climber's concentration
Seeing the white peak, setting the right foot there.
Not how the sun was plausible at morning
Not how it was distributed at noon,
And not how much the single stone could show
But rather how much brilliance it would shun;
Simply a paring down, a cleaving to
One object, as the star-gazer who sees
One single comet polished by its fall
Rather than countless, untouched galaxies.
-- Elizabeth Jennings --
I think the point is that one must not be distracted by external glories or brilliance to get to its heart. But, isn't something lost when one does that? Or, is she suggesting that there are some things that are too grand, too glorious, too magnificent for us to truly appreciate, that we need to focus on a more limited scale to gain at least some idea of just what it really is.
Your thoughts?
Friday, December 16, 2016
Jane Austen's Fanny Price: A Taoist Sage at Mansfield Park
Jane Austen
Mansfield Park
Jane Austen was born on December 16, 1775 and died on July 18, 1817.
Fanny Price, of Mansfield Park, (MP) is probably the most maligned of Austen's heroines. Just why is not clear to me, but I suspect it's a classic example of imposing 21st century standards on 19th century characters and a misreading of Austen in general. Too many readers fall in love with Liz Bennet's lively, outgoing, and cheeky behavior and therefore insist that all of Austen's heroines be the same. In fact, three of Austen's heroines do fit this category: Liz, of course, Emma (Emma), and to a considerable extent Catherine (Northanger Abbey) , the youngest of the heroines.
But, Austen also has three quiet, more reserved heroines: Elinor (Sense and Sensibility), Anne (Persuasion), and Fanny (MP). What I find interesting, is that, though the heroine is the quiet reserved type, there is another woman who exemplifies the more outgoing lively woman, the "Liz" type if I may so call her. Paired off with Elinor is her sister Marianne, who exemplifies the romantic enthusiastic outgoing follower of sensibility; with Anne is again her sister Elizabeth (interesting choice for her name) who is certainly more outgoing and demonstrative than Anne; and with Fanny, of course, is Mary Crawford, whom some readers want to be the heroine of MP in spite of her selfish, egotistic, insensitive, amoral, and manipulative behavior.
Mary Crawford is Austen's point that being bright, lively, and vivacious does not necessarily make one a good person (notice how many male villains in Austen are the same type), for those are external attributes. Liz is a good person because of what's inside her, not because of how she appears to others. The same is true of Fanny, for it is what is inside her that makes her a good person. What makes Mary a bad person is what's inside of her and those who admire her are those who see the surface only. Telling this sort of critic that you can't tell a book by its cover is a waste of time, for they are enthralled, fooled, duped by external glamour and never get beyond that.
Many commentators have insisted that Fanny shouldn't be the heroine, nor does she deserve to be happily married at the end. She has done nothing to deserve her fate. Mary should be the real heroine and gain Edmund as her reward. Of course, these are the same people who deride Edmund as being dull, uninteresting, and priggish. I can only wonder how they could see Edmund and Mary together. I wonder how long Mary would be a faithful wife to Edmund, a country minister, and also how long her brother Henry, who is the male version of a lively, outgoing, charming suitor, would remain satisfied with the dull, priggish Fanny, as they see her.
One theme in MP that has surprised me is the number of characters in the story who have improved, inexplicably over the length of the novel. In Austen's novels, it's usually the heroine and the hero who have learned something about themselves and have managed to more or less overcome their failings (Emma, I must admit, is a question mark here), but in this novel, a number of other characters, especially in the Bertram family, have developed, more or less, a sense of responsibility and concern for others, which was lacking in the beginning.
It is this that started me thinking. I could find no particular or obvious reason for these changes in the characters. No one lectures them and seldom are they called upon to recognize their shortcomings. The changes seem to happen in a vacuum--mysteriously.
It was about this time, the third or fourth reading of MP, that, from the depths of my sub- or unconscious that there is something Taoist about Fannie's behavior. I wondered how a Taoist might view this novel. I am not an expert in Taoism, but I have read a little ("a little learning is a dangerous thing"), just enough to get me in trouble here. So, I dug out my copy of Laotse's (aka Lao Tzu) Tao Te Ching and found some intriguing characteristics of the Taoist Sage.
I am not saying that Jane Austen deliberately created Fanny as a Taoist Sage or even that she was aware of Taoism. This is simply a view of MP as it might be seen by a Taoist.
THE TAOIST SAGE
Just what is a Taoist sage and how does one recognize one?
Chapter 2
The Sage:one who manages affairs without action, preaches without words, acts, but does not appropriate claim or ownership, and accomplishes but claims no credit.
This clearly could be Fanny as many of her detractors point out that she is far too quiescent for their tastes.
Chapter 9
The Sage retires when the work is done:
Fanny seldom if ever claims credit for what she accomplishes. She does what she is expected to do and says little about it.
chapter 17
But of the best sages, when their task is accomplished and their work is done,
the people will all remark, "We have done it ourselves."
Fanny seldom gets credit for what she does, even though near the end of the novel, Lady Bertram declares she can't get along without Fanny. This is the reason Susan will move to Mansfield Park to take Fanny's place.
Chapter 22
The Sage does not:reveal himself, justify himself, boast of himself, or act proudly.
He acts in accordance with the situation and does not force himself or his ideas on others. He acts as an example for others, so his influence is subtle and non-assertive.
This is true of Fanny. She listens and observes and only expresses an opinion when asked. And, few ask her besides Edmund.
All of the above observations come from the Wisdom of LaoTse, translated and edited by Lin Yutang,
THE CHARACTERS
I mentioned above that many of the characters had undergone significant changes by the end of the novel. Here is a brief description of the major characters at the beginning of the novel and the changes they undergo to reach the place where they are at the end. .
The Prices (Fanny's family)
William
Fanny's brother in the navy who gets necessary sponsorship for promotion from Sir Thomas. Sir Thomas would never have met William if if weren't for Fannie and the impression she made on Sir Thomas.
Fanny
her marriage, far above her class status to Edmund
Susan
Fanny's sister, ends up replacing Fanny at Mansfield Park.
THE BERTRAMS (at Mansfield Park)
Sir Thomas
In the beginning of the novel, he is an absent father and head of the household, and this is true whether he is off in the West Indies or at home. He does not take his proper place as father and lord of the manor. He also knows that his wife is unable or unwilling to play her part, so he allows Aunt Norris to become a dictator and rule his household. Later, though, he suddenly realizes the problems that his family is having are at least partially due to his abdication of responsibility, and he now begins to assert himself as head of household.
Lady Bertram
She seems totally detached from the family. Her main concerns seem to be herself and her dog. Again, near the end, when Tom becomes deathly ill, she rouses herself and spends most of her time at his bedside nursing him. This is a considerable change from her earlier behavior when the reader isn't sure whether she really is aware of anyone, aside from her pet dog, around her.
Tom
The eldest son plays to perfection the role of The Wastrel. He shows no interest in his studies at college, and demonstrates little concern nor for his duties and responsibilities as heir to Mansfield Park. It's party time is his philosophy. Shortly after his illness, he also changes his behavior and settles down at the university and begins to show an interest in his role as heir to Mansfield Park. There is also a hint of marriage, which is a major concern of every well-established family--the heir must marry and produce an heir of his own.
Edmund
While he is a serious and dedicated student, determined to be a good minister to his parish when he takes over, he also is infatuated by Mary Crawford, who would make a most inappropriate wife for the clergyman he wants to be. Again, at the end, he recognizes the folly of his infatuation and gradually comes to realize that Fanny is the woman most suited for him and his role in life.
Maria
The oldest daughter, selfish and self-absorbed, thinks only of herself. She makes a bad choice in her marriage, selecting a suitor who could never be a suitable partner but has a large house and a considerable fortune. For her follies she ends up in exile, supported by Sir Thomas, but banned, at least for now, from Mansfield Park.
Julia
She is strongly influenced by her older sister. Austen seems to suggest she would be a different person if she had a different older sister to model.
Aunt Norris
Sister to Lady Bertram and Mrs. Price (Fanny's mother)
She is the real power in the house. Unfortunately she is also evil, greedy, and malicious. She is the one who most deliberately torments Fanny, reminding regularly of her low position at Mansfield Park, barely one step above the servants. At the end, she realizes that Sir Thomas has recognized his error and has finally become the head of household he should have been long ago, and she elects to go into voluntary exile with Maria.
Mary and Henry Crawford
brother and sister, relatives to the minister at MP. They are bright, outgoing, attractive, as well as shallow, selfish, and self-absorbed. They are classic examples of the cliche that one can't tell a book by its cover. They are very popular at first, but by the end, they have revealed themselves take themselves off to London, perhaps to wonder for the rest of their lives just what they had missed out on.
Mansfield Park is the longest and most complex novel that Austen wrote. It is. in my estimation, the most misunderstood and misread novel as well. Austen's basic tenet, in all her works, is that one must look beneath the surface to determine the true nature of the other, and that true nature may be in opposition to what appears on the surface. I believe that too many readers have taken the surface appearances of many of the characters and stopped there, and therefore missing their true nature.
In any case, read and enjoy. I rank it a close second to Persuasion.
Mansfield Park
Jane Austen was born on December 16, 1775 and died on July 18, 1817.
Fanny Price, of Mansfield Park, (MP) is probably the most maligned of Austen's heroines. Just why is not clear to me, but I suspect it's a classic example of imposing 21st century standards on 19th century characters and a misreading of Austen in general. Too many readers fall in love with Liz Bennet's lively, outgoing, and cheeky behavior and therefore insist that all of Austen's heroines be the same. In fact, three of Austen's heroines do fit this category: Liz, of course, Emma (Emma), and to a considerable extent Catherine (Northanger Abbey) , the youngest of the heroines.
But, Austen also has three quiet, more reserved heroines: Elinor (Sense and Sensibility), Anne (Persuasion), and Fanny (MP). What I find interesting, is that, though the heroine is the quiet reserved type, there is another woman who exemplifies the more outgoing lively woman, the "Liz" type if I may so call her. Paired off with Elinor is her sister Marianne, who exemplifies the romantic enthusiastic outgoing follower of sensibility; with Anne is again her sister Elizabeth (interesting choice for her name) who is certainly more outgoing and demonstrative than Anne; and with Fanny, of course, is Mary Crawford, whom some readers want to be the heroine of MP in spite of her selfish, egotistic, insensitive, amoral, and manipulative behavior.
Mary Crawford is Austen's point that being bright, lively, and vivacious does not necessarily make one a good person (notice how many male villains in Austen are the same type), for those are external attributes. Liz is a good person because of what's inside her, not because of how she appears to others. The same is true of Fanny, for it is what is inside her that makes her a good person. What makes Mary a bad person is what's inside of her and those who admire her are those who see the surface only. Telling this sort of critic that you can't tell a book by its cover is a waste of time, for they are enthralled, fooled, duped by external glamour and never get beyond that.
Many commentators have insisted that Fanny shouldn't be the heroine, nor does she deserve to be happily married at the end. She has done nothing to deserve her fate. Mary should be the real heroine and gain Edmund as her reward. Of course, these are the same people who deride Edmund as being dull, uninteresting, and priggish. I can only wonder how they could see Edmund and Mary together. I wonder how long Mary would be a faithful wife to Edmund, a country minister, and also how long her brother Henry, who is the male version of a lively, outgoing, charming suitor, would remain satisfied with the dull, priggish Fanny, as they see her.
One theme in MP that has surprised me is the number of characters in the story who have improved, inexplicably over the length of the novel. In Austen's novels, it's usually the heroine and the hero who have learned something about themselves and have managed to more or less overcome their failings (Emma, I must admit, is a question mark here), but in this novel, a number of other characters, especially in the Bertram family, have developed, more or less, a sense of responsibility and concern for others, which was lacking in the beginning.
It is this that started me thinking. I could find no particular or obvious reason for these changes in the characters. No one lectures them and seldom are they called upon to recognize their shortcomings. The changes seem to happen in a vacuum--mysteriously.
It was about this time, the third or fourth reading of MP, that, from the depths of my sub- or unconscious that there is something Taoist about Fannie's behavior. I wondered how a Taoist might view this novel. I am not an expert in Taoism, but I have read a little ("a little learning is a dangerous thing"), just enough to get me in trouble here. So, I dug out my copy of Laotse's (aka Lao Tzu) Tao Te Ching and found some intriguing characteristics of the Taoist Sage.
I am not saying that Jane Austen deliberately created Fanny as a Taoist Sage or even that she was aware of Taoism. This is simply a view of MP as it might be seen by a Taoist.
THE TAOIST SAGE
Just what is a Taoist sage and how does one recognize one?
Chapter 2
The Sage:one who manages affairs without action, preaches without words, acts, but does not appropriate claim or ownership, and accomplishes but claims no credit.
This clearly could be Fanny as many of her detractors point out that she is far too quiescent for their tastes.
Chapter 9
The Sage retires when the work is done:
Fanny seldom if ever claims credit for what she accomplishes. She does what she is expected to do and says little about it.
chapter 17
But of the best sages, when their task is accomplished and their work is done,
the people will all remark, "We have done it ourselves."
Fanny seldom gets credit for what she does, even though near the end of the novel, Lady Bertram declares she can't get along without Fanny. This is the reason Susan will move to Mansfield Park to take Fanny's place.
Chapter 22
The Sage does not:reveal himself, justify himself, boast of himself, or act proudly.
He acts in accordance with the situation and does not force himself or his ideas on others. He acts as an example for others, so his influence is subtle and non-assertive.
This is true of Fanny. She listens and observes and only expresses an opinion when asked. And, few ask her besides Edmund.
All of the above observations come from the Wisdom of LaoTse, translated and edited by Lin Yutang,
THE CHARACTERS
I mentioned above that many of the characters had undergone significant changes by the end of the novel. Here is a brief description of the major characters at the beginning of the novel and the changes they undergo to reach the place where they are at the end. .
The Prices (Fanny's family)
William
Fanny's brother in the navy who gets necessary sponsorship for promotion from Sir Thomas. Sir Thomas would never have met William if if weren't for Fannie and the impression she made on Sir Thomas.
Fanny
her marriage, far above her class status to Edmund
Susan
Fanny's sister, ends up replacing Fanny at Mansfield Park.
THE BERTRAMS (at Mansfield Park)
Sir Thomas
In the beginning of the novel, he is an absent father and head of the household, and this is true whether he is off in the West Indies or at home. He does not take his proper place as father and lord of the manor. He also knows that his wife is unable or unwilling to play her part, so he allows Aunt Norris to become a dictator and rule his household. Later, though, he suddenly realizes the problems that his family is having are at least partially due to his abdication of responsibility, and he now begins to assert himself as head of household.
Lady Bertram
She seems totally detached from the family. Her main concerns seem to be herself and her dog. Again, near the end, when Tom becomes deathly ill, she rouses herself and spends most of her time at his bedside nursing him. This is a considerable change from her earlier behavior when the reader isn't sure whether she really is aware of anyone, aside from her pet dog, around her.
Tom
The eldest son plays to perfection the role of The Wastrel. He shows no interest in his studies at college, and demonstrates little concern nor for his duties and responsibilities as heir to Mansfield Park. It's party time is his philosophy. Shortly after his illness, he also changes his behavior and settles down at the university and begins to show an interest in his role as heir to Mansfield Park. There is also a hint of marriage, which is a major concern of every well-established family--the heir must marry and produce an heir of his own.
Edmund
While he is a serious and dedicated student, determined to be a good minister to his parish when he takes over, he also is infatuated by Mary Crawford, who would make a most inappropriate wife for the clergyman he wants to be. Again, at the end, he recognizes the folly of his infatuation and gradually comes to realize that Fanny is the woman most suited for him and his role in life.
Maria
The oldest daughter, selfish and self-absorbed, thinks only of herself. She makes a bad choice in her marriage, selecting a suitor who could never be a suitable partner but has a large house and a considerable fortune. For her follies she ends up in exile, supported by Sir Thomas, but banned, at least for now, from Mansfield Park.
Julia
She is strongly influenced by her older sister. Austen seems to suggest she would be a different person if she had a different older sister to model.
Aunt Norris
Sister to Lady Bertram and Mrs. Price (Fanny's mother)
She is the real power in the house. Unfortunately she is also evil, greedy, and malicious. She is the one who most deliberately torments Fanny, reminding regularly of her low position at Mansfield Park, barely one step above the servants. At the end, she realizes that Sir Thomas has recognized his error and has finally become the head of household he should have been long ago, and she elects to go into voluntary exile with Maria.
Mary and Henry Crawford
brother and sister, relatives to the minister at MP. They are bright, outgoing, attractive, as well as shallow, selfish, and self-absorbed. They are classic examples of the cliche that one can't tell a book by its cover. They are very popular at first, but by the end, they have revealed themselves take themselves off to London, perhaps to wonder for the rest of their lives just what they had missed out on.
Mansfield Park is the longest and most complex novel that Austen wrote. It is. in my estimation, the most misunderstood and misread novel as well. Austen's basic tenet, in all her works, is that one must look beneath the surface to determine the true nature of the other, and that true nature may be in opposition to what appears on the surface. I believe that too many readers have taken the surface appearances of many of the characters and stopped there, and therefore missing their true nature.
In any case, read and enjoy. I rank it a close second to Persuasion.
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Kazuo Ishiguro: The Buried Giant
Kazuo Ishiguro
The Buried Giant
In a review, Neil Gaiman calls this novel one "that's easy to admire, to respect and to enjoy, but difficult to love." That 's a strange comment, but one that I have to agree with.
The Buried Giant is a mix of legend, myth, fantasy, and some history. It is set in medieval England shortly after the death of King Arthur. One of the main secondary characters is the aged Sir Gawain, the nephew of King Arthur, who has a very dubious mission to fulfill. Along the way, we encounter some enigmatic boatmen. And, here there bee dragons, also --well, only one dragon, Querig, who is also a bit beyond her prime years, and an ogre or two or three and apparently hundreds of pixies.. Oh yes, and several Saxons decide two elderly Britons might need protection on the road.
At this time, there has been a hiatus in the civil war between the native Britons and the invading Saxons, who seemingly have come to say, even though Arthur, who had managed to keep the peace, has gone on to the Westerly Isles. However, a strange plague, the mist, has struck the British Isles--resulting in forgetfulness. Peoples' memories are failing, both for recent and past events. Only occasionally do some past memories emerge. Moreover, not all are afflicted to the same degree and the degree of forgetfulness seems to fluctuate. For example, Axl's memory seems to be improve as he proceeds on his quest.
Ishiguro has created a quest novel, one containing several quests actually. One is that of the elderly couple, Alx and Beatrice, who set off on a search for their son. They no longer remember why he left, but they do believe that they will be able to find him and that he will welcome them. As it happens on all good quests, others join the elderly Britons--Wistan, a Saxon warrior, on a mission for his king; Edwin, a Saxon youth who has been injured; and Sir Gawain, who decides to aid the Britons and also to keep an eye on Wistan, whom he suspects is on a mission that may be opposed to his own mission, given him long ago by King Arthur.
Some of the episodes bring up echoes of other works. One incident involving Wistan seems reminiscent of the Epic of Beowulf, while a second also involving Wistan, along with Edwin and a goat, seems Biblical in tone, specifically that of Abraham and Isaac. But, again, I've often been accused of over-reading, so I'll leave it up to you to decide, if you read it.
If there is a downside, for me it would be Ishiguro's precise measured prose and the dialogue. I had read his Remains of the Day and thought that style fit in perfectly with the setting of the novel--a mansion set in rural England, complete with numerous servants and landed gentry. However, I felt it didn't fit in medieval rural England, most of whose inhabitants were peasants and country folk, and most of whom were illiterate. However, the problem, to me anyway, was not distracting enough to cause me to stop reading and enjoying the novel.
Overall, I consider The Buried Giant a very interesting book with an unusual theme, well worth reading and thinking about. I also plan on reading other works by Kazuo Ishiguro.
The Buried Giant
In a review, Neil Gaiman calls this novel one "that's easy to admire, to respect and to enjoy, but difficult to love." That 's a strange comment, but one that I have to agree with.
The Buried Giant is a mix of legend, myth, fantasy, and some history. It is set in medieval England shortly after the death of King Arthur. One of the main secondary characters is the aged Sir Gawain, the nephew of King Arthur, who has a very dubious mission to fulfill. Along the way, we encounter some enigmatic boatmen. And, here there bee dragons, also --well, only one dragon, Querig, who is also a bit beyond her prime years, and an ogre or two or three and apparently hundreds of pixies.. Oh yes, and several Saxons decide two elderly Britons might need protection on the road.
At this time, there has been a hiatus in the civil war between the native Britons and the invading Saxons, who seemingly have come to say, even though Arthur, who had managed to keep the peace, has gone on to the Westerly Isles. However, a strange plague, the mist, has struck the British Isles--resulting in forgetfulness. Peoples' memories are failing, both for recent and past events. Only occasionally do some past memories emerge. Moreover, not all are afflicted to the same degree and the degree of forgetfulness seems to fluctuate. For example, Axl's memory seems to be improve as he proceeds on his quest.
Ishiguro has created a quest novel, one containing several quests actually. One is that of the elderly couple, Alx and Beatrice, who set off on a search for their son. They no longer remember why he left, but they do believe that they will be able to find him and that he will welcome them. As it happens on all good quests, others join the elderly Britons--Wistan, a Saxon warrior, on a mission for his king; Edwin, a Saxon youth who has been injured; and Sir Gawain, who decides to aid the Britons and also to keep an eye on Wistan, whom he suspects is on a mission that may be opposed to his own mission, given him long ago by King Arthur.
Some of the episodes bring up echoes of other works. One incident involving Wistan seems reminiscent of the Epic of Beowulf, while a second also involving Wistan, along with Edwin and a goat, seems Biblical in tone, specifically that of Abraham and Isaac. But, again, I've often been accused of over-reading, so I'll leave it up to you to decide, if you read it.
If there is a downside, for me it would be Ishiguro's precise measured prose and the dialogue. I had read his Remains of the Day and thought that style fit in perfectly with the setting of the novel--a mansion set in rural England, complete with numerous servants and landed gentry. However, I felt it didn't fit in medieval rural England, most of whose inhabitants were peasants and country folk, and most of whom were illiterate. However, the problem, to me anyway, was not distracting enough to cause me to stop reading and enjoying the novel.
Overall, I consider The Buried Giant a very interesting book with an unusual theme, well worth reading and thinking about. I also plan on reading other works by Kazuo Ishiguro.
Sunday, December 11, 2016
A Minute Meditation
Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring, The Moon in Autumn
Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn't clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.
-- Wu-men --
Chinese 1183-1260
from Art and Nature
All seasons have their own beauty and attractions, in addition to or perhaps separate from the moods or psychological states attributed to them.
Thursday, December 8, 2016
Basho: autumn haiku translations
Once before I had posted a number of different translations of a haiku by Basho. Well, inspired by a discussion on at least one other blog that I follow, I decided to do it again, this time of an autumn haiku by Basho.
No. 38
on a withered branch from The Selected Poems of Matsuo Basho
a crow has settled trans. David Landis Barnhill
autumn evening
A solitary from The Sound of Water
crow on a bare branch-- trans. Sam Hamill
autumn evening
On dead branches from The Classic Tradition of Haiku
crows remain trans. Hiroaki Sato
perched at autumn's end
on a barren branch from The Classic Tradition of Haiku
a raven had perched --- trans. William J. Higginson
autumn dusk
On a leafless bough from The Classic Tradition of Haiku
A crow is sitting: -- autumn, trans. Harold Gould Henderson
Darkening now --
No. 120
on a bare branch from Basho: The Complete Haiku
a crow settled down trans.: Jane Reichhold
autumn evening
A black crow from Matsuo Basho: The Narrow Road
Has settled himself to the Deep North
On a leafless tree, trans: Nobuyuki Yuasa
Fall of an autumn day.
I like the subtle differences found in these translations. For example, that branch is described as "withered," "bare," "dead," "barren," and "leafless." They are not identical, or so it seems to me. Each suggests a different feeling. "Withered" gives the impression of something dying, long past its youth, soon to be dead. "Dead" has a finality about it: all life is gone. "Barren" says to me that it may be alive, but it is sterile; nothing can come from it. "Bare" and "leafless," however, are factual statements: this is the way that branch is. As we know the sequence of the seasons, we realize this is only a temporary state, and therefore it contains a element of hope. They will be bare and leafless for a time, but then there's spring.
My favorite is the second one, the translation by Sam Hamill
A solitary from The Sound of Water
crow on a bare branch-- trans. Sam Hamill
autumn evening
Which one do you favor?
No. 38
on a withered branch from The Selected Poems of Matsuo Basho
a crow has settled trans. David Landis Barnhill
autumn evening
A solitary from The Sound of Water
crow on a bare branch-- trans. Sam Hamill
autumn evening
On dead branches from The Classic Tradition of Haiku
crows remain trans. Hiroaki Sato
perched at autumn's end
on a barren branch from The Classic Tradition of Haiku
a raven had perched --- trans. William J. Higginson
autumn dusk
On a leafless bough from The Classic Tradition of Haiku
A crow is sitting: -- autumn, trans. Harold Gould Henderson
Darkening now --
No. 120
on a bare branch from Basho: The Complete Haiku
a crow settled down trans.: Jane Reichhold
autumn evening
A black crow from Matsuo Basho: The Narrow Road
Has settled himself to the Deep North
On a leafless tree, trans: Nobuyuki Yuasa
Fall of an autumn day.
I like the subtle differences found in these translations. For example, that branch is described as "withered," "bare," "dead," "barren," and "leafless." They are not identical, or so it seems to me. Each suggests a different feeling. "Withered" gives the impression of something dying, long past its youth, soon to be dead. "Dead" has a finality about it: all life is gone. "Barren" says to me that it may be alive, but it is sterile; nothing can come from it. "Bare" and "leafless," however, are factual statements: this is the way that branch is. As we know the sequence of the seasons, we realize this is only a temporary state, and therefore it contains a element of hope. They will be bare and leafless for a time, but then there's spring.
My favorite is the second one, the translation by Sam Hamill
A solitary from The Sound of Water
crow on a bare branch-- trans. Sam Hamill
autumn evening
Which one do you favor?
Sunday, December 4, 2016
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: Second Edition, Quatrain LXXX
Quatrain LXXX is linked closely to the previous quatrain, LXXIX.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXIX
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
And there of the Last Harvast sow'd the seed:
And the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
As you can see, the previous quatrain leads directly to today's quatrain.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXX
Yesterday, This Day's Madness did prepare:
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXIV
Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
Aside from two punctuation changes, a dropped comma after "Yesterday," and the substitution of a semi-colon for a colon after "prepare" (which may have simply been a typesetter's errors), the two versions are the same.
The first two lines bring out a theme that has appeared before this--that of causality. Today's events or happenings are the result of what happened in the past and will inevitably lead to future consequences. This suggests predestination or a deterministic universe. The first two lines still leave the past free if you want to see it that way. Others may argue for an unbroken chain of events going back to . . .? On the other hand, to complicate the issue, we can always bring in Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle and Chaos Theory which many now see as refuting any theory of a deterministic universe.
The last two lines restate a very familiar theme: we don't know where we came from and we don't know where we are going, and we don't know why we are here. This, of course, strikes directly into the heart of most religions whose basis for their existence is that THEY know all the answers. The Poet/Narrator clearly has some doubts about this, which he has stated many times throughout the poem.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXIX
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
And there of the Last Harvast sow'd the seed:
And the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
As you can see, the previous quatrain leads directly to today's quatrain.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXX
Yesterday, This Day's Madness did prepare:
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXIV
Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
Aside from two punctuation changes, a dropped comma after "Yesterday," and the substitution of a semi-colon for a colon after "prepare" (which may have simply been a typesetter's errors), the two versions are the same.
The first two lines bring out a theme that has appeared before this--that of causality. Today's events or happenings are the result of what happened in the past and will inevitably lead to future consequences. This suggests predestination or a deterministic universe. The first two lines still leave the past free if you want to see it that way. Others may argue for an unbroken chain of events going back to . . .? On the other hand, to complicate the issue, we can always bring in Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle and Chaos Theory which many now see as refuting any theory of a deterministic universe.
The last two lines restate a very familiar theme: we don't know where we came from and we don't know where we are going, and we don't know why we are here. This, of course, strikes directly into the heart of most religions whose basis for their existence is that THEY know all the answers. The Poet/Narrator clearly has some doubts about this, which he has stated many times throughout the poem.
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