Book Review: Devices and Desires, by P.D. James

I'm beginning to see a possible theme in the writings of P.D. James: she starts off with the indication that the mystery will go in one direction, only to turn the whole idea around after the reader has gotten into the story and send the mystery in another direction. She did this in Innocent Blood, and she does it once more in Devices and Desires. It makes for a truly complex mystery and a great read.

Devices and Desires opens with the murder of a young girl -- the fourth murder by a serial killer who is littering the Norfolk coastland with the gruesome deaths of women. And P.D. James doesn't merely tell the reader that there is a murder: she lays it out in detail, exploring the character of the victim and the moments up to her death. She does this a second time when the serial killer finds his fifth victim, and the reader finds himself hoping beyond all hope that the serial killer will be found and brought to justice. And then...it's over. The serial killer is suddenly discovered at a seedy hotel, having committed suicide because he couldn't control his gruesome urges any longer. Not an hour later, another dead body is found, but it turns out that this woman not a victim of the serial killer but of a copycat killing, made to look like the work of the serial killer. The last death becomes the focus of the mystery, because the police know at once that there are very few people who could have known enough details about the serial killer's habits to have committed the crime. And no doubt this new murderer had hoped to pin it on the serial killer, not realizing that the timing would fall just short of this possibility.

What is so interesting about the approach that P.D. James takes is that she isn't merely stringing the reader along for the purpose of writing a clever story. She's bringing each victim to the reader as a person, and not merely as one of a list of victims. These women who are murdered by the serial killer have lives and stories too; they aren't merely names and numbers to be disregarded in favor of the main plot of the story. I can imagine that as a writer P.D. James thought very hard about this. Wanting to write a story about a copycat killer, she decided that she couldn't simply toss aside the other victims without mention, and as a result she brings them to life and makes each death significant and painful for the reader. All life is sacred. No person and his (or her) story is expendable.

The details of the plot itself are pretty complex, and there is no point in trying to weed through all of the characters and their motivations. This is one of the Adam Dalgliesh mysteries, although in this case he is one of the suspects, because he found out about the serial killer's methods and could conceivably have committed the crime. I'll save you the trouble of wondering: he didn't commit the crime, but being on the suspect side for once gives him a new appreciation for interrogation and for appreciating actions that people take, often suspicious but generally harmless. In addition, there is an underlying theme of a nuclear power station that has generated controversy in the neighborhood where the murders have taken place, but I like that James never takes a stand on the idea of nuclear power (which must have been especially controversial when the book was first published in 1989), choosing instead to portray the station itself as a neutral figure with the various emotions or "desires" swirling around it. Within the immediate plot of the story, there is no real danger that comes from the power station. It turns out that the true danger lies in the fallible character of human beings.

This is a great story, and I think any mystery lover would appreciate its complexities. I don't recommend reading it at night, however. I did that several times, and each time had a very tough time falling asleep. Serial killers dragging lone women off deserted roads on the misty English coastline -- a true recipe for bad dreams. Time of day notwithstanding, I definitely enjoyed the story and recommend it highly.

Year of publication: 1989
Number of pages: 466

Book Review: Life Among the Savages, by Shirley Jackson

I honestly did my best, but I just couldn't finish this book. I tried. I pushed myself through 100 pages. And then I gave up. This is apparently intended to be a humor study of Jackson's life with an expanding family in a large, old house in Vermont (I think?), but I never quite picked up on what was funny. Jackson is a good writer, but her writing style is far too rambling and too literal to be legitimately called humor. Humor writers tend to rely on brief comments and well-placed metaphors. But Jackson just keeps going and going, drawing out a description of what could be a funny moment until there was nothing funny left in it. In her review at Bookfest, Carrie noted that Erma Bombeck is a much more enjoyable writer. I concur whole-heartedly. Jackson just tries too hard for my taste. I was willing to go with her for the ride, but frankly the ride got to be too long (not to mention too long-winded...), and I couldn't go any further.

One thing that was a constant frustration was the way that the dialogue is written. There is a member of my family (who will remain unnamed) that does something similar. In describing a conversation with someone else, this family member will do the following:

"And then I said...And then she said...And then I said...And then she said...And then I said...And then she said..."

Ad nauseam.

Rather than offering a humorous take on the gist of a conversation, Jackson provides the entire conversation and seems to expect the reader to derive the humor by himself. What is more, Jackson makes the mistake of thinking that there is humor in every detail of family life. Perhaps this is case in some families, but if it's the case in hers I wouldn't know it. I was occasionally mystified by what she selected to describe, and try as I might I just didn't see what was so fascinating about these moments in her life. The only highlight of the book came on page 20, with the following description:

I looked from the front porch in through the glass of the front door, seeing the slim line of the stairway and the bright curtains in the dining room. "It's a good old house," I said.

"Can always tell by the cats," the painter said enigmatically.

I have no idea what this means, but it's just bizarre enough to be memorable.

Unfortunately, this brief moment was the only enjoyable part of the book for me. After 100 pages of what felt like a stream of consciousness exercise, I decided that the entire thing could have been written in 80-90 pages of pithy vignettes. Had this been the case, the book might have been delightfully humorous. As it is, I just found it to be stultifyingly dull.

Year of publication: 1948
Number of pages: 235

Chinese Scrolls: Bamboo and Rocks, by Li Kan

Li Kan was a northern Chinese who entered the service of the Mongol government in an early period of his life and rose to a high position in the Yuan court. The author of an authoritative treatise on bamboo painting, Li asserted that the painter must possess "the complete bamboo in [his] breast," and he urged the statesman to take up bamboo painting to discipline his mind and expand his breadth of vision.

Li completed these panels in 1318, the year the Mongol regime reinstituted the civil service examinations, the chief means through which scholars gained access to official positions. The painting is done in the "shuangou" (double outline) style. This technique, in which finely drawn ink outlines are filled in with dense mineral pigments, was ideally suited to Li's intense identification with bamboo. Minutely observed and intricately rendered, these noble plants impart a heightened sense of reality that approaches portraiture.

Yuan dynasty (1279–1368), dated 1318
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Text and details derived from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Saint Calendar: Bridget of Sweden

23 July

Daughter of Birger Persson, the governor and provincial judge of Uppland, and of Ingeborg Bengtsdotter. Her father was one of the greatest landowners in the country, her mother was known widely for her piety, and the family were descendants of the Swedish royal house. Related to Saint Ingrid.

Bridget began receiving visions, most of the Crucifixion, at age seven. Her mother died c.1315 when the girl was about twelve years old, and she was raised and educated by an equally pious aunt. In 1316, at age thirteen, she wed prince Ulfo of Nercia in an arranged marriage. Mother of eight children including Saint Catherine of Sweden; some of the other children ignored the Church.

Friend and counselor to many priests and theologians of her day. Chief lady-in-waiting to Queen Blanche of Namur in 1335, from which position she counseled and guided the Queen and King Magnus II. After Ulfo's death in 1344 following a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, she pursued a religious life, for which she was harassed by others at the court. She eventually renounced her title of princess. Franciscan tertiary. Cistercian. Mystic, visionary, and mystical writer. She recorded the revelations given her in her visions, and these became hugely popular in the Middle Ages.

Founded the Order of the Most Holy Savior (Bridgettines) at Vadstena in 1346. It received confirmation by Pope Urban V in 1370, and survives today, though few houses remain. Pilgrim to Rome, Italian holy sites, and the Holy Lands. Chastened and counseled kings and Popes Clement VI, Urban VI, and Gregory XI, urging them to return to Rome from Avignon. Encouraged all who would listen to meditate on the Passion, and of Jesus Crucified.

Died 23 July 1373, at Rome, Italy; buried in 1374 at the Vadstena, Sweden convent she founded.

Patronage
--Europe
--Sweden
--widows
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Text derived from Patron Saints Index.

Reading Q&A

I got this from Carrie at Reading to Know. It looks fun, so I'll do it.

Do you remember how you developed a love for reading?
I always loved reading as a child. My mom read to me and my sister and encouraged us to find our own niche as readers.

What are some books you read as a child?
Loved, loved, loved Nancy Drew and fell in love with Brother Cadfael when I was in my teens. I also loved English history and read exhaustively about the British royal family.

What is your favorite genre?
For personal reading, mysteries.

Do you have a favorite novel?
Define "novel."

When do you usually read?
Whenever I feel like it.

Do you usually have more than one book you are reading at a time?
There's generally some overlap, but I tend to find that if I read too many books at once I lose focus -- especially if one of the books isn't as interesting as another. I like to finish what I start, so it's better for me to get through books one at a time.

Do you read non-fiction in a different way or place than you read fiction?
Not really. I like to read in any organized way, so regardless of what I'm reading I set myself a number of chapters to cover each day.

Do you buy most of the books you read, or borrow them, or check them out of the library?
I use the library almost exclusively.

Do you keep most of the books you buy? If not, what do you do with them?
In general, yes, but then again I don't buy too many books.

If you have children, what are some of the favorite books you have shared with them?
I don't have children. But if I did, I'd probably buy many of the books that I loved as a very young child.

What are you reading now?
Devices and Desires, by P.D. James. I'm also hoping to complete The Brothers Karamazov, from which I took a break several months ago in order to finish my thesis.

Do you keep a TBR (To Be Read) list?
Sort of. But it's fairly flexible.

What's next?
Not sure. I have another P.D. James and several of my book club books coming from the library.

What books would you like to reread?
The Nine Tailors, by Dorothy Sayers.

Who are your favorite authors?
Tolkien, Dorothy Sayers, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Jane Austen, Ellis Peters, Thomas Cahill, Peter Ackroyd.

Book Review: The Hollow, by Agatha Christie

This is yet another of the Agatha Christie stories that seemed unfamiliar on the shelf at the library and yet made a reappearance in my memory once I got it home and started reading it. And not only have I read it before, but I've also seen a movie version of it (which was very good, by the way). That being said, I'm glad I read it through once more, because there were a number of things that jumped out at me this time around that I missed the first time through.

As for basic plotline, Hercule Poirot has taken a cottage in the country and has been invited to the large home of his wealthy neighbors, the Angkatells. (I sometimes wonder if Agatha Christie started running out of names for her characters after a while...) As he arrives, he discovers a bizarre murder tableau that is being played out -- he assumes -- for him. It turns out that the tableau isn't one at all, but that Poirot has arrived directly on the scene of a murder that has just occurred: successful doctor John Christow has been shot near the Angkatells swimming pool, and his quietly devoted wife Gerda is found to be holding a gun. Appearing just moments before Poirot are other shocked guests and family members who are trying to make sense of what they are seeing. Gerda is, of course, the immediate suspect, but Poirot soon discovers that just about everyone at the house seems to have some possible reason for wanting John Christow dead and that the case isn't as obvious as it appeared to be at first.

Naturally, Poirot sets out to discover the truth, considering the psychological makeup of each of Lady Angkatell's guests (as well as Lady Angkatell herself) and probing deeper and deeper to discover the truth. Interestingly, this particular Poirot story doesn't seem to have much Poirot in it but spends far more time looking at the narrative perspective of several of the other main characters. This gives the reader a chance to understand the characters and their motivations fairly well, but it has the unexpected consequence of making Poirot seem a little superfluous. To some extent, he doesn't really even solve the case in this one; the case more or less solves itself, and the story ends without making it clear what exactly Poirot's role was. But since Poirot is just a great character overall, I can't fault Christie for using him in this story.

The one problem that I do have with The Hollow is a little more difficult to explain. I've always thought that Agatha Christie is a phenomenal story teller but not a particularly good writer. She does an excellent job of creating characters and building suspense, but when she tries to push herself into the category of great writers, she never quite succeeds. The Hollow is an example of this. I could sense her efforts a bit too much at times; her attempts to explore psychology in the story fall flat simply because they are too obvious and thus not effective. Basically, she just tries too hard, and it makes for some difficult moments of reading that don't entirely make sense within the context of the story. To explore a character's mind is very difficult to do (and P.D. James offers a constrasting example of an author who can do it beautifully and effortlessly), and when a writer doesn't have the necessary skills, the exploration can seem rather forced. A case in point: one of the characters is a sculptor, and at a certain moment in the story she sculpts an abstract of a horse. Poirot deduces that she must have something to hide, because the horse is triggering an unconscious association in her mind with the Trojan horse, which was used for hiding something (or a lot of someones, you might say). No offense to Agatha Christie, but there are some serious mental gymnastics going on there, and the whole process of thought just doesn't work.

The strange psychological attempts aside, this remains a very interesting story and one that I really enjoyed reading (particularly the second time around...). I also recommend that movie, because it has some very good casting and because it manages to translate the story to screen very well.

Year of publication: 1946
Number of pages: 264

Art Study: Girls at the Piano (Renoir)

This is a slightly overused image to post, but it's one that I've always liked. When I was a child, my grand-mother gave me and my sister a book of piano music that had pieces of artwork to accompany each song. This was one of the images in the book, and I remember loving it. It reminded me of my sister and myself, although it always irritated me a little that something was off: I'm the blonde one, and I'm older. Apart from that, though, I used to think it was perfect. In particular, the setting is comfortable. When I was young, I used to collect pictures of rooms that seemed like happy places to me, and then I would draw floorplans for the kind of house I wanted to live in. (The floorplans changed over the years as my preferences changed. I still look at floorplans, and I can tell at a glance whether or not I would like the setting of a room.) The background of the room in the painting -- just the quick glimpse of it -- doesn't exactly encompass the decorating style that I would choose, but there is something peaceful about it that still speaks to me.

Saint Calendar: Marie Madeline Postel

16 July 2008

Aunt of Blessed Placide Viel. Educated by the Benedictines at Valognes. Director of a school for girls at age 28. When the school was closed during the French Revolution, she used the building to house fugitive priests. Franciscan tertiary at age 52, taking the name Mary Magdalen. Founded the Poor Daughters of Mercy at Cherburg, France in 1807 when she was 61. The Daughters are teachers and nurses, and at the time of Marie's death 30 years later, they had 37 houses.

Born 28 November 1756 at Barfleur, Normandy, France as Julie Postel.

Died 16 July 1846 at Saint-Sauveur-le-Vicoste, France.

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Text derived from Patron Saints Index.

Book Review: Innocent Blood, by P.D. James

Warning: I'm in the mood for mysteries again, so there might be a few mystery reviews in upcoming weeks. (And I've had to request some of the book club selections from the library, so while I'm waiting for those I think I'm going to devour a few mysteries.)

Another selection from a browse through the library shelves, I'm happy to have experienced P.D. James at last. I've heard the name before, but I just hadn't gotten around to reading one of her books. In a way, I'm disappointed to have waited so long to enjoy such an excellent author, but then again it's always nice to find and appreciate something new. I realize that James is probably most famous for her detective stories about Adam Dalgliesh, but I wasn't sure which (if any) came first in the series, so I opted for a book that was a stand-alone read. The back cover indicated the following: Philippa Palfrey was adopted as an eight-year old and has virtually no memory of her life before her adoption. She spent much of her childhood imagining that she was the illegitimate daughter of a parlor maid at a country estate and a visiting aristocrat. (Her adopted family gave her few details but suggested such a scenario, and Philippa embraced it gladly. Granted, the story is set in the late 1970s, but then again Philippa is a student of Victorian literature, so it's understandable why it would appeal to her so much.) Upon reaching her eighteenth birthday, Philippa -- who is not particularly close to her adoptive parents -- takes advantage of a change in the English law which allows her to request the names of her biological parents. She was told that her mother died soon after she was born, so she is more interested in finding out the name of her father and whether or not he is still alive. What Philippa discovers truly changes her life.

It turns out that it is Philippa's father who is dead and that he died in prison, arrested and incarcerated for raping a twelve-year old girl ten years before. It also turns out that Philippa's mother is still alive but is also in prison for killing the girl that her father raped and is soon to be paroled. Against the entreaties of her adoptive parents, Philippa decides to contact her mother and suggest that the two spend the summer getting to know each other before Philippa is due to attend Cambridge. Philippa rents a small flat and suggests that her mother come and live with her for a couple of months, without making any demands on each other for the future -- just getting to know each other.

If you're wondering why I've told you all of this up front, it's because none of this information is really a part of the mystery of the story, and the reader is told all of this within the first twenty or so pages. The mystery instead is one of self-discovery: Philippa learning who she is and where she came from, Philippa's mother learning to love her daughter, and Philippa's adoptive family coming to appreciate and love her in a way that they previously failed to do. In particular, Philippa must come to understand that part of her desire to reach out to her birth mother is related to her anger at her adoptive father, who was always kind and generous but never really loving as a father should be. Along the way, Philippa must also come to terms with the truth about her adoption and why her mother allowed her to be adopted in the first place. But most of all, the story centers around the very complex idea of love and family.

This is also a deeply psychological story that takes the reader on a journey through the minds of several important characters: Philippa (obviously), her adoptive father Maurice Palfrey, and Norman Scase, the man whose daughter was raped and murdered at the hands of Philippa's parents and who has vowed revenge against her mother. James has a way of exploring metaphor and the mind, and she is constantly taking the reader deeper and deeper into the motives of these characters. I have no idea where James stands on religious issues, but she strikes me as someone who doesn't entirely understand the Christian faith but is unable to ignore it or discount it. At the same time, she doesn't offer simple solutions for anything that her characters do, and there is no clean moment at the end of the book in which everyone sits down and explains his or her side of the story. Nor is there a clear moment of repentance or contrition, so to speak, but the understanding is that atonement is made. There is quite a lot that is left vague, but it makes for a far more realistic mystery than something that, say, Agatha Christie wrote. It's as though James is saying that ultimately the greatest mystery is human beings themselves.

Book Review: London -- The Biography, by Peter Ackroyd

I feel as though it's taken me years to complete this book, but I'm glad I pushed through. I enjoyed and reviewed Ackroyd's book Albion: The History of the English Imagination some time back, and I was excited to find this one at the library, having heard good things about it. My feelings about it are mixed, but I'm going to try to offer some idea of what I did and didn't like about it.

The idea of studying an individual city in biographical form (as opposed to purely historical) makes for a fascinating perspective and suggests what seems to be Ackroyd's primary argument: London is a living, breathing organism with a unique identity and a personality to match. This is not a history, but rather a biography and as a result the final biographical image is heavily shaped by the author's point of view. London will not provide for you a chronological reading of important events in this city; instead it will give you a picture of a character, pulling points from history and creating an image. I read a few reviews on Amazon, and one reader complained that the book was purchased in anticipation of a trip to London, in hopes that it could provide some historical context. For that, I think, you need a travel guide. This is certainly not a travel guide, and frankly I think it has more context for someone who has already visited the city. What's more, I'm not sure that had I not already visited London, I would want to do so after reading this book. Ackroyd seems to indicate all the way through that London eats its young: he focuses on suffering, plague, the poverty of immigrants throughout history, the traditional paganism of the city, the dismal weather, the obsession with earning money, the tendency toward disaster, and so forth. But then again Ackroyd isn't trying to sell the reader on a trip to London. Instead, he's attempting to give the reader a clear picture of who London is (at least in his opinion), and to be honest that picture is fairly ugly. I finished this book wondering if Ackroyd actually likes anything about London at all.

But ultimately there's no question that Ackroyd loves the city where he lives; why else would he devote 800 pages to talking about it? He definitely sees its faults, though, and takes great pains to point them out and explore them. Perhaps the problem is not that Ackroyd sees the city's faults but that he focuses almost exclusively on them and fails to bring in the qualities that make London such an exceptional city. Where is the discussion about London's contribution to art, literature, music, etc.? Instead, Ackroyd focuses on its darker social history, and he repeats again and again that London is an almost cannibalistic city that devours and destroys more people than it helps. But he doesn't exactly account for why people around the world -- including the residents -- love this city so much and look to it as one of the most exciting cities, in both historical and contemporary terms. Ackroyd suggests that London calls to people and draws them in, as though luring them to their very destruction, but this seems far too one-sided. Yes, people have failed in London, and poverty has no doubt been an integral part of its history; but that would be the case with any large city. (You can't tell me that some place like Moscow has a happier history for the poor and the immigrants...) More importantly, people have fallen in love with London (and I'm not sure Ackroyd ever quite explains this response). I fell in love with London. I'd move there in a heartbeat, knowing full well that it wouldn't be the easiest place to live but that there is a lifetime worth of beauty and wonder to be found there.

What Ackroyd does that I love is show that London is a constantly evolving city and that there has never been a never will be true "London" except the one that is always reinventing itself. It is, in every respect, a city that lives and has distinct personality, and it must be taken at its own face value. If you go to London demanding that it be something, you will probably be disappointed. If you go there, however, and let the city show itself to you, you will almost certainly fall in love. Dark history or not, fog and rain notwithstanding, millions of people crammed in and lousy food aside, London is extraordinary. I just wish Ackroyd had gotten this little point across better.

Year of publication: 2000
Number of pages: 801

Quick Review: Interesting Article

I found this very interesting commentary on the 100th anniversary of Anne of Green Gables. For the most part, it's fair and generous, although I was slightly amused that the author seemed a little mystified in trying to explain Anne's ongoing popularity. How astonishing it must be to discover that people enjoy reading about a heroine with a "less than revolutionary CV" and that young girls are drawn to a story about a cheerful orphan who ultimately chooses the path of a traditional life.

Book Review: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle, by Washington Irving

I've had this book sitting on my bookshelf for what now amounts to years, but for whatever reason I've never taken the time to read them. That seems to be the problem with stories that have become so much a part of our literary fabric -- we feel as though we've read them even when we haven't. But I needed a quick read, and this one definitely fit that bill, so I sat down yesterday to read it.

As both stories are pretty familiar, I don't see any point in summarizing them. Of the two, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" was by far a more enjoyable story for me. It has the virtue of containing one of my favorite lines in all of American literature:

To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield.

There's just something wonderful about this image. When contrasted with the description of the robustly healthy locals, Ichabod Crane is a sight indeed.

I have slightly different feelings about "Rip Van Winkle." Several months ago, a student in one of my classes reviewed an article that panned the story as an overt attack on women. I rolled my eyes at the time and assumed that this one just one more comment from the increasinginly irrelevant rapid feminist camp of literary scholars. Then I read the story. And I decided that feminist scholars may not be quite so irrelevant after all. What is up with this story? At least Irving provides a "moral" for "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." In the case of "Rip Van Winkle," however, I don't know that there is a moral to be found. Rip Van Winkle is your stereotypical henpecked husband, afraid of his wife's anger and always looking for a way to escape from her. When he wakes up from his long nap, he discovers that the world has moved on while he was asleep. Most significant of all, America is now a nation and has won its independence from Great Britain. But this news doesn't seem to faze Rip nearly as much as the news that his wife is now dead. He is only briefly saddened until he realizes what this means. He is now free! American freedom is one thing, but Rip Van Winkle's freedom from his harpy of a wife -- now that's real freedom. What the....? What is the purpose of this story? I couldn't find one and frankly didn't care for the implication in the story. I realize that Irving adapted the idea of Rip Van Winkle from a variety of folk legends with a similar plot, but from my research I couldn't find a similarity in the figure of Dame Van Winkle. Perhaps I'm just focusing on the wrong part of the story, but I found this entire element to be a little hard to stomach.

Despite my complaints, I guess it's fair to say that both stories are true American classics, and given how short each is I can't discourage anyone from reading them.

Year of publication: 1820, 1980
Number of pages: 83

Some New Ideas

This isn't so much about changes that I'm making to my blog as it is about some things that I'd like to add to my own reading schedule. This pretty much means that most of the books on my original list -- with the exception of book club selections, which I am trying to locate and read -- will fall off. I'd like to start PhD work within the next few years ("few" being fairly flexible), and I've realized that there's a considerable amount of preparation that I'd like to do before that.

Just last night, I discovered that Cambridge University has a Department of Anglo-Saxon, Norse, and Celtic. I found an introductory reading list on the site -- it's primarily for undergraduates, but since I haven't read much of this material, it's good enough for me -- and I'm hoping to begin my preparation work this fall by starting with the first book on the list (conveniently owned by the Hawaii State Public Library system). From there, I'll keep going until I've completed the list. I anticipate that this will take me a couple of years, but I don't necessarily see myself starting PhD work before then as it is. I spent two years reading in preparation for my MA work, so I expect that this next step will be similar in the time I need to get ready for it.

Here is a link to the list of readings. It's hefty, and I probably won't review the books on the blog, because I don't usually review scholarly works that I read for my personal studies.

Additionally, it looks like I'll be adding at least three new lit students to my online tutoring this fall, so I'll be swamped with reading, and I'll most likely use some of the books that I'm reading with students for blog reviews. Other than that, my "fun" reading -- when I have time for it -- will probably consist of the fluffiest stuff I can find. I might even have to resort to reviewing more movies, simply because my brain needs a break.

I'm determined, however, to get to my goal of reading 60 books this year.

Language Study: Breton Verse

I'm not all that familiar with the Breton language, but I found an interesting verse as well as the accompanying explanation about its history and meaning.

Marzhin-Divinour

Marzhin, Marzhin, pelec'h it-hu
Ken beure-se, gant ho ki du

Bet on bet kas kaout an tu,
Da gaout dre-man ar vi ruz

Ar vi ruz eus an naer-vorek
War lez an aod, toull ar garreg

Mont a ran da glask d'ar flourenn
Ar beler glas ha'n aour-yeoten

Koulz hag uhel-varr an dervenn
E-kreiz ar c'hoad, 'lez ar feunteun

Breton is a Celtic language, a part of the Brythonic branch of Celtic languages and similar to Welsh and Cornish in origin and structure. Apparently, Marzhin is the Breton name for the character of Merlin. The site I found indicates the following details:

The phonetics of Breton is based on French, particularly the vowels...The Breton r is usually rolled (but in some dialects is like the uvular r of French or German)...

One of the four Marzhin songs in the Barzaz-Breiz relates the tale of his unusual conception and birth - a king's daughter becomes pregnant by a bird flying about her head and ears while she is in the house of a 'little pagan god'. Her newborn child tells her not to bewail her fate or to call his father an evil spirit, and she exclaims that the child is a marzh, 'a marvel' a folk etymology of the name Marzhin...

While working with this song and the figure of Marzhin, it is necessary to remember that the familiar character Merlin from later non-Celtic literatures, from Malory to T.H. White, have become very distanced from the Marzhin and Myrddin of native Celtic traditions. In addition to the Breton songs and legends of Marzhin, one may also look at the early Welsh poetry connected with Myrddin, and the accounts of Merlin related by Geoffrey of Monmouth (which though in Latin, was not yet far removed from Welsh tradition, and may have been based directly on a native Welsh source as Geoffrey claimed) to begin to connect with the native Celtic tradition The Irish Suibhne Geilt and Scottish Lailoken are also closely related.

Here is a link to a song in Breton that was included on the soundtrack of Black Hawk Down.

Source for text on Breton verse.

Saint Calendar: Medard of Noyon

08 July

Son of Nectardus, a Frankish noble, and Protagia, Gallo-Roman nobility. Brother of Saint Gildardus, Bishop of Rouen, France. Pious youth and excellent student, educated at Saint-Quentin. Often accompanied his father on business to Vermand and to Tournai, and frequented the schools there. Ordained at age 33.

Reluctant bishop of Vermand in 530; in 531, he moved his see to Noyon, which was further from border clashes. Bishop of Tournai in 532; the union of the two dioceses lasted until 1146. Gave the veil to Queen Saint Radegund. Medardus was one of the most honoured bishops of his time, his memory has always been venerated in northern France, and he soon became the hero of numerous legends.

Each year on his feast at Rosiere, the young girl who has been judged the most exemplary in the district is escorted by 12 boys and 12 girls to the church, where she is crowned with roses and given a gift of money. This is a continuation of a yearly stipend or "scholarship" he apparently instituted when bishop.

Legend says that when he was a child, Medard was once sheltered from the rain by a hovering eagle. This is his most common depiction in art, and led to his patronage of good weather, against bad weather, for people who work the fields, etc. Legend has it that if it rains on his feast day, the next 40 days will be wet; if the weather is good, the next 40 will be fine as well. He was also depicted as laughing aloud with his mouth wide open; this led to his patronage against toothache.

Died 8 June 545 at Noyon, France.

Patronage:
--against bad weather
--against imprisonment
--against sterility
--against toothache
--brewers
--captives
--for good harvests
--for good weather
--for rain
--imprisoned people
--mentally ill people
--peasants
--prisoners
--vineyards
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Text derived from Patron Saints Index.

Halfway There!

I did a count today, and it appears that I've actually read 30 books this year. Since I've now hit the mid-way point, this gives me some hope that I might be able to make my 60-book goal. Of course, I had to drop a few from the original list along the way, but that's just the reality of being unable to acquire some of them. There are now 26 weeks left in the year, so that gives me plenty of time to get to my goal. Here's to more reading!

Book Review: The Adventure of English, by Melvyn Bragg

I'm always a fool for a study of the English language, so this book basically leaped off the library shelf and into my arms. It's nowhere near as in-depth as David Crystal's excellent work The Stories of English, but it functions very well as a simple if fairly detailed examination of the history and spread of English. For those who enjoy the study of language history but don't want to get too far into the nitty-gritty of phonetics and advanced linguistics, this is a great alternative to a number of English language books available today.

Bragg begins at the beginning, with what we now call "Old" English or (perhaps more correctly) Anglo-Saxon and moves forward, taking care to discuss many of the divergences along the way (American English or South African English falling into this category). What I found particularly interesting is that he also discusses the importance of certain literary figures and works that have placed an indelible mark on English: Chaucer, Shakespeare, and William Tyndale's Bible being among the most significant. Obviously, Chaucer and Shakespeare come to mind, but I was pleasantly surprised to read the chapter about Tyndale, because I hadn't really considered how his specific translation has had such a lasting influence on certain phrases and expressions that are now inextricably a part of our language.

Of course, the most interesting part of The Adventure of English is the way that Bragg points out particular words and where they came from. For instance, I had no idea that "gung-ho" was originally a Chinese expression meaning "work together" or that "lilac" originally comes to us from India (I mean, is there anything that seems more English than a lilac?) but I cannot describe how much I love finding out this sort of thing. For me, it adds a new dimension to my history in the same way that seeing a picture of my great-great-grandmother and recognizing certain similar features in my own face does.

I can happily recommend The Adventure of English highly with the small complaint that it isn't really long enough and that I could have spent another one hundred pages learning about word histories. But as it is, this is an excellent starter book for English language history and a great deal of fun as well.

Year of publication: 2003
Number of pages: 322