Book Review: The Odyssey, transl. by Robert Fagles

A great book. A story for all time. Once again, this is a book for which I won't be so arrogant as to assume the need for a recommendation: it goes without saying that everyone should read The Odyssey at least once in life. The story is a classic in every sense of the word, and the translation from Robert Fagles is excellent and worth a place in every home library. (I'll grant that others may have a preferred translation, but I'll throw my own lot in for Fagles. It was the first one that I read, and the other translations that I've encountered just didn't create as much of an impression on me.)

The story is famous but worth a repeat summary. As all literary scholars will note, The Odyssey opens in medias res, with Odysseus being held on the island Ogygia, home of the nymph Calypso, for the previous seven years. Odysseus left his home Ithaca nearly twenty years before that, when he joined his fellow Achaeans in the Trojan Wars. The battles with Troy endured for ten long years, and Odysseus had every intention of returning home at once, but a misguided directed toward the god Poseidon cursed Odysseus to another ten years of wandering. He and his men spent three years landing on various islands, dodging Lotus-eaters, cannibalistic Laestrygonians, and the Cyclops; charming the witch Circe; taking a trip through Hades; and facing Scylla and Charibdis. He slowly lost all of his men to these dangers, until he finally washed up alone on Calypso's doorstep and found himself the object of her dubious affections.

The goddess Athena, who has considered Odysseus a long-time favorite of hers, decides that Odysseus has endured enough, and she takes advantage of Poseidon's temporary absence to beg Zeus to help Odysseus. The kind of the gods demands that Calypso free Odysseus, and the cunning warrior is on his way home again. Before reaching Ithaca, he lands on the island home of the Phaeacians where he receives a warm welcome and is given the chance to tell the story that fills most of the book. The kind Phaeacians outfit Odysseus with a ship and provisions, and he is one his way home again to face yet another challenge: a group of smarmy suitors fawn over his long-suffering wife Penelope and deplete the wealth of his estate while they wait for the lady to make her choice. Odysseus and his son Telemachus, with whom he has been reunited, decide that they must kill the suitors (who have been threatening to murder Telemachus and to kill Odysseus should he ever return) and to return Odysseus to his rightful position as king of Ithaca. The story actually ends without an ending, in some ways. Odysseus is successful in re-establishing himself and renewing his relationship with his wife, but there is still a sense that some things are not concluded: when Odysseus was in Hades, he was told that he would return home but that he must also leave again after that in order to continue his penance for insulting the god Poseidon. The suggestion is that Odysseus will always be a wanderer, always be searching for something that he may never find. It's a slightly disappointing conclusion, but frankly a more interesting one than the stereotypical "happily ever after" ending.

So, if you haven't read The Odyssey, read it. If you've read it, consider reading it again. I always get something new out of it, and I've been through it many times by now. Stories like this just never get old.

Year of publication (Fagles version): 1996
Number of pages: 541

Book Review: Moby-Dick, by Herman Melville

I read Moby-Dick in college, and I remember enjoying it but not fully understanding it. Reading it again, I'm still not sure I understand it.

In one sense, the storyline is very easy to follow: a sailor who identifies himself only as Ishmael decides that he will take his next duty upon a whaling ship and finds himself signing up for a job on the Pequod, captained by a certain Ahab. Ishmael has already heard that Ahab is an unusual man, and as soon as the Pequod sets sail, Ishmael realizes that his oddities might be a little more serious and possibly even dangerous. Ahab, it seems, is on a voyage of revenge to hunt down the white whale named Moby Dick, whom he encountered on a previous trip and who deprived him of a leg.

The story proceeds with Ahab becoming more and more obsessed, until Moby Dick is at last spotted, and a three-day hunt ensues. Unforunately, that hunt does not -- and cannot -- end well: Ahab loses his life, and his ship is destroyed and its crew (all but Ahab) killed in the process. Apologies for the spoilers, but I suspect that most people who would be interested in reading the book are at least distantly familiar with its conclusion (and it's obvious from page one that it won't have a good ending). With Moby-Dick, the value is not in discovering the outcome but in experiencing the journey. And frankly, this is one bizarre journey.

Interspersed among the basic details of the plot are a variety of seeming diversions in experimental literature. Not only does Ishmael narrate what happens to him and the ship; he also feels the need to explain such unexpected particulars as the anatomy of a whale (spread out over several chapters and highlighted by a discussion of the sperm whale's head), the specifics of legal precedent in ships claiming free-floating whales, and an explanation about different tools on a whaling ship. While all of this is certainly useful in general and often surprisingly interesting, it's not entirely clear why it's in the book. The only conclusion that I've been able to reach is that Melville is offering a metaphorical examination of depth and layers: he plumbs the depth of the whale, just as he ultimately explores the depths of human character. Fascinating, this may be, but it makes for a rather tedious read, and I'm not ashamed to say that I skimmed many parts.

Since this review threatens to be as exhausting as the book, I'll wrap it up by saying that I certainly recommend Moby-Dick; it's a classic in every sense of the word and offers something fresh with every read. But alot some time for it, because it does take a while to go through, and be willing to push through the boring stuff. Without a doubt, though, this is a deeply complex novel that will leave you thinking for days and is certainly worth the effort.

Year of publication: 1851
Number of pages: 521

Saint Calendar: Our Lady of Walsingham

24 September

Also known as the Virgin by the Sea.

In 1061 Lady Richeldis de Faverches, lady of the manor near the village of Walsingham, Norfolk, England, was taken in spirit to Nazareth. There Our Lady asked her to build a replica, in Norfolk, of the Holy House where she had been born, grew up, and received the Annunciation of Christ's impending birth. She immediately did, constructing a house 23'6" by 12'10" according to the plan given her. Its fame slowly spread, and in 1150 a group of Augustinian Canons built a priory beside it. Its fame continued to grow, and for centuries it was a point of pilgrimage for all classes, the recipient of many expensive gifts.

In 1534 Walsingham became one of the first houses to sign the Oath of Supremacy, recognizing Henry VIII as head of the Church in England. Dissenters were executed, and in 1538 the House was stripped of its valuables, its statue of the Virgin taken to London to be burned, its buildings used as farm sheds for the next three centuries.

In 1896 Charlotte Boyd purchased the Slipper Chapel and donated it to Downside Abbey. In 1897 Pope Leo XIII re-founded the ancient shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, and pilgrimages are permitted to resume. The statue of Our Lady is enshrined in 1922 beginning an era of cooperation at the shrine between Catholics and Anglicans. In 1981 construction began on the Chapel of Reconciliation, a cooperative effort between the two confessions, and located near the shrine. The feast of Our Lady of Walsingham was reinstated in 2000.

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Text derived from Patron Saints Index.

Poetry Study: A Phantom of Delight

"She Was a Phantom of Delight"
William Wordsworth

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

I saw her upon a nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveler between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warm, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright,
With something of angelic light.

____________________________

This definitely isn't Wordsworth's greatest work, but it's an enjoyable read. I like the transition that the poet undergoes, first experiencing the rush of emotion when he sees the lady and then coming to see her as she really is: human, mortal, child of God -- and full of excellent qualities that are independent of her beauty.

Saint Calendar: Hildegard von Bingen

17 September

At a time when few women wrote, Hildegard produced major works of theology and visionary writings. When few women were accorded respect, she was consulted by and advised bishops, popes, and kings. She used the curative powers of natural objects for healing, and wrote treatises about natural history and the medicinal uses of plants, animals, trees and stones. She is the first composer whose biography is known. Founded a vibrant convent, where her musical plays were performed. Although not yet canonized, Hildegard has been beatified, and is frequently referred to as Saint Hildegard. Revival of interest in this extraordinary woman of the middle ages was initiated by musicologists and historians of science and religion. Less fortunately, Hildegard's visions and music had been hijacked by the New Age movement, whose music bears some resemblance to Hildegard's ethereal airs. Her story is important to all students of medieval history and culture, and an inspirational account of an irresistible spirit and vibrant intellect overcoming social, physical, cultural, gender barriers to achieve timeless transcendence.

Hildegard was born the 10th child (a tithe) to a noble family. As was customary with the tenth child, which the family could not count on feeding, she was dedicated at birth to the church. The girl started to have visions of luminous objects at the age of three, but soon realized she was unique in this ability and hid this gift for many years.

At age 8, the family sent this strange girl to an anchoress named Jutta to receive a religious education. Jutta was born into a wealthy and prominent family, and by all accounts was a young woman of great beauty. She spurned all worldly temptations and decided to dedicate her life to god. Instead of entering a convent, Jutta followed a harsher route and became an anchoress. Anchors of both sexes, though from most accounts they seem to be largely women, led an ascetic life, shut off from the world inside a small room, usually built adjacent to a church so that they could follow the services, with only a small window acting as their link to the rest of humanity. Food would be passed through this window and refuse taken out. Most of the time would be spent in prayer, contemplation, or solitary handworking activities, like stitching and embroidering. Because they would become essentially dead to the world, anchors would receive their last rights from the bishop before their confinement in the anchorage. This macabre ceremony was a complete burial ceremony with the anchor laid out on a bier.

Jutta's cell was such an anchorage, except that there was a door through which Hildegard entered, as well as about a dozen of girls from noble families who were attracted there by Jutta's fame in later years. What kind of education did Hildegard receive from Jutta? It was of the most rudimentary form, and Hildegard could never escape the feelings of inadequacy and lack of education. She learned to read Psalter in Latin. Though her grasp of the grammatical intricacies of the language was never complete - she always had secretaries to help her write down her visions - she had a good intuitive feel for the intricacies of the language itself, constructing complicated sentences fraught with meanings on many levels, that are still a challenge to students of her writings. The proximity of the anchorage to the church of the Benedictine monastery at Disibodenberg (it was attached physically to the church) undoubtedly exposed young Hildegard to musical religious services and were the basis for her own musical compositions. After Jutta's death, when Hildegard was 38 years of age, she was elected the head of the budding convent, but continued to live in her anchorage.

During all these years Hildegard confided of her visions only to Jutta and another monk, named Volmar, who was to become her lifelong secretary. However, in 1141, a vision of God gave Hildegard instant understanding of the meaning of the religious texts. He commanded her to write down everything she would observe in her visions.

And it came to pass...when I was 42 years and 7 months old, that the heavens were opened and a blinding light of exceptional brilliance flowed through my entire brain. And so it kindled my whole heart and breast like a flame, not burning but warming...and suddenly I understood of the meaning of expositions of the books...

Yet Hildegard was also overwhelmed by feelings of inadequacy and hesitated to act.

But although I heard and saw these things, because of doubt and low opinion of myself and because of diverse sayings of men, I refused for a long time a call to write, not out of stubbornness but out of humility, until weighed down by a scourge of god, I fell onto a bed of sickness.

The 12th century was also the time of schisms and religious foment, when someone preaching any outlandish doctrine could instantly attract a large following. Hildegard was critical of schismatics, and preached against them her whole life, working especially against the Cathars. She wanted her visions to be sanctioned, approved by the Catholic Church, though she herself never doubted the divine origins to her luminous visions. She wrote to Saint Bernard who took the matter to Pope Eugenius who exhorted Hildegard to finish her writings. With papal imprimatur, Hildegard finished her first visionary work Scivias (Know the Ways of the Lord) and her fame began to spread through Germany and beyond.

Died 1179 at Bingen.

_____________________________________


Text derived from Patron Saints Index.

Fall Reading List

According to the rules (click on the image to be directed to the site with the details), the fall reading challenge extends from September 22nd through December 20th.

Personal Reading Selections:
The Brothers Karamazov (I'm going to finish it!)
Kristin Lavransdatter (This is actually three stories in one, and I'm going to read it as three separate books.)

Book Club Selections:
The True Story of Hansel and Gretel
Comstock Lode
Leepike Ridge
Middlemarch
A Thousand Splendid Suns
The Chosen

Student-Accompanied Reading Selections:
The Odyssey
The Aeneid
Republic (Plato) or Rhetoric (Aristotle) -- undecided at this point
Moby Dick
Walden
Origin of Species
Das Kapital
Great Expectations
Call of the Wild

I make no guarantees about the order in which I'll read these books. I'll just be happy to finish all of them.

Book Review: Love in the Time of Cholera, by Gabriel García Márquez

Books like this are always a challenge to review. On the one hand, the writing is exceptional -- and might even be described as a work of art -- while on the other hand, the story is kind of...creepy. Do I recommend it or not? Do I commend the writing style and condemn the story line? I really haven't made up my mind, so this will be a rather ambiguous review.

Love in the Time of Cholera is ostensibly a love story. At the ripe old age of sixteen, Florentino Ariza sees twelve-year old Fermina Daza and develops for her what will prove to be a lifelong love. He begins writing her secretly, promising undying (if slightly over-dramatic) passion for her, and after some uncertainty she responds, with the two continuing a correspondence over the next few years. When Fermina's father finds out, he immediately removes her from the town where they live, but even distance cannot stop their romance, and Florentino -- using his work at the telegraph office -- finds a way to continue communicating with the girl to whom he eventually proposes. Fermina accepts his proposal, and the two begin making secret marriage plans. When Fermina's father decides that his daughter has most likely gotten over her youthful infatuation, he returns with her to the town where Florentino is. One day, Fermina, who is now eighteen, sees Florentino in the marketplace and in what the dust jacket of my book describes as "a moment of blinding but ambiguous insight" she realizes that she does not love him and breaks off their relationship. Three years later, Fermina accepts the proposal of Dr Juvenal Urbino, one of the town's leading citizens and a member of an old and wealthy family. Meanwhile, Florentino commits to waiting for Fermina. He waits for fifty-three years, seven months, and eleven days until he can finally be with her.

On the surface, this sounds fairly sweet. Two young people have fallen in love, and one makes the mistake of walking away and must spend a lifetime regretting it. But this isn't quite the case. Fermina doesn't marry Dr Urbino for love, nor does he marry her for love; but they are both aware of this from the start, and both realize that they have married for situation. At one point, Dr Urbino even points out that the best marriages are founded not on love but on stability, and Fermina seems to understand this during her marriage, even if she is not passionately in love with her husband. At the same time, there is no indication in the story that Fermina is ever passionately in love with anyone. Yes, she eventually ends up with Florentino (when she is seventy-two and he is seventy-six), but her love for him seems to develop more out of a friendship and the need for companionship after her husband's death, than out of love. For his part, Florentino claims to have loved her all of those years, but it's fairly clear as the story progresses that his love is based only on his youthful fantasies and not on any real understanding of Fermina. He loves the idea of her; he grows to love her in their old age, but it is a different kind of love and one borne of something other than the love that started his obsession with her.

But this isn't what bothers me about the story. To be honest, I could find this element -- that is, a realistic exploration of human love and the complexity of human relationships -- to be refreshing. And García Márquez himself even cautioned readers not to get caught up in the "sweetness" of the story and to read it carefully for the truth it contains. What bothers me is that Florentino is something of an ambiguous hero. He claims eternal love for Fermina; yet he engages in a serious of torrid affairs while he is waiting for her, and he even keeps track of these affairs in his own "little black book," if you will. When he finds out that Fermina's husband has died, he is in bed with his fourteen-year old mistress, a girl who is also his ward. I'm sorry, but regardless of the era in which the story is set, when a seventy-six year old man beds a fourteen-year old girl, his character is immediately suspicious. I don't care how mature the girl happens to be; Florentino was entrusted with being her guardian and broke that trust by seducing her.

In addition to this, Florentino's obsession with Fermina ultimately concerned me. He builds her up in his mind as an ideal woman without really knowing her all that well. Their teenage correspondence was really the only extent of their knowledge of each other. They spent little time together, and by insisting in his love for her Florentino comes across more as a romantic fool than as a man who is waiting for the woman he loves. And when they are finally together, Florentino tells her that he has remained a virgin for her -- an obvious lie. It is clear from the story that Fermina doesn't believe him; but the problem is that in his mind Florentino actually justifies his claims, because his trysts with the (many) other women were not real love and thus he has remained a virgin in his heart. I'm just going to say it -- what rot. And how creepy. In my opinion, Fermina made the best choice of her life when she rejected him the first time. As for taking him up the second time, I guess it's lucky they were both as old as they were. Time wasn't exactly on Florentino's side.

Having come to the end of my review, I'm still not sure if I can recommend this book or not. In all truth, the writing is exquisite. It's quite descriptive of sexual elements at times, but I never felt as though it crossed the line into smutty, so I can't get too picky about that. But does great writing overcome a story that left me with strong misgivings? I suppose that García Márquez himself offered a fair take on it when he warned that readers shouldn't "fall into the trap" of the romance, so I can't fault him for being disingenuous. At the end of the day, I guess it's up to the individual reader to decide if this one is worth the try. I suggest, though, that this isn't the "epic love story" it's often claimed to be.

Year of publication: 1985
Number of pages: 422

A List -- I Love a List!

Carrie suggested it, so I'm going to do it.



I'll have my list in a day or so.

Book Review: Epic of Gilgamesh

Just some thoughts on this exceptional work of literature. I've read Gilgamesh at least twice before -- once in college and once with a student. I'm reading it again with another student now and appreciating all over again just why Gilgamesh is considered a classic.

From the get-go, the story seems a little simplistic. Readers are told that Gilgamesh is a great king, ruler of the powerful city Uruk, and that he is basically the strongest man alive; he is, in fact, two-thirds god and one-third man. No one can best him; no one is his equal. Sounds great, right? Well, in an almost startling moment of insight, his people fear that his greatness will be his downfall, because he has no accountability for his actions. So, a companion is found for him in the person of Enkidu, the wild man who proves to be the only one with the strength to challenge Gilgamesh. Upon meeting, the two immediately engage in a fight, and when it is clear that they are equally matched they realize each other's worth and become close friends. All is well, until Gilgamesh offends the goddess Isis by rejecting her amorous advances (his rejection, we are told, due to her own history of treating her lovers in a "foul" way), and Isis seeks revenge on Gilgamesh by visiting illness upon Enkidu. Much to Gilgamesh's horror, Enkidu dies, and Gilgamesh is faced with the reality that there is something in life he fears, something that is stronger than him, and something that he is unwilling to face alongside Enkidu: death.

Hoping to find a way out of death (since even his two-thirds composition of divinity cannot prevent it), Gilgamesh goes in search of the one immortal man Utnapishtim. It turns out that Utnapishtim lived during the time of a Great Flood (sound familiar?) and was granted immortality when he and his wife survived the Flood. Unfortunately, Utnapishtim does not have much encouragement for Gilgamesh. He challenges the king to an impossible task, and when Gilgamesh fails, Utnapishtim tells him to search out a plant that will give him eternal life. In what is perhaps the greatest moment of irony in the story, Gilgamesh has the very plant of immortality in his possession when a serpent comes along and sneaks it from him while he bathes in a spring. Desolate, he returns to Uruk and upon taking a second look at his city begins admiring it again. The story (or the extant part of it) ends with Gilgamesh turning his gaze back on the material, having realized that he is better off spending his remaining years in search of human glory instead of worrying about immortality.

Those familiar with the Bible will immediately recognize stories and themes that are suspiciously similar. Many historians/literary scholars have attempted to claim that this is because the Bible reflects stories that were common to all cultures and that it is but one version of these stories. As a Christian, I disagree; as a literary scholar and one familiar with the Bible, I disagree again. To me, the story of Gilgamesh does not merely convey traditional stories that are also contained within the Bible; Gilgamesh reflects a weakened version of the stories from the Bible that retains the basis of the narrative tradition but has diluted it with a pagan worldview. There is one common theme in the Old Testament stories that some seem to overlook: hope. The Bible contains stories that are always full of hope. Man is fallible; man sins; man is mortal. But there is the hope in something greater, in salvation outside of humanity and in a God Who offers grace and redemption. As much as some like to see the "God of the Old Testament" (as though He is not the same as the God of the New Testament) as a vengeful and angry Deity, the reality is that the gods of Gilgamesh are terrifying in their self-indulgent behavior. Whereas God provides the guidelines of right and wrong and punishes sin, the Gilgamesh gods punish humans for not doing what they want (as in the case of Isis -- and for that matter, why would anyone worship a deity known for being foul?). In Tablet VII, Gilgamesh actually says:

To rage against the gods of heaven is futile.
What Enlil [chief god of Sumerian tradition] has ordained cannot be changed.

As much as there is evidence of God's wrath throughout the Bible, there is never evidence that He is angry without reason or that His decisions are self-indulgent, arbitrary, or even unchangeable. What is more, the Bible leaves a reader (or at least this reader) with the strong impression that God is on the same side as man, so to speak. The Bible doesn't present a story of eternal warfare between a capricious deity and the helpless man. Instead, it is the story of fallen humanity and a God that loves mankind and encourages repentance. According to Scripture, man is not on his own, and God's love for him is beyond the scope of human reason or understanding. That is a powerful distinction, and it is completely absent from Gilgamesh.

So, why read Gilgamesh? The story itself is fascinating and unexpectedly relevant despite its age. Most of all, it manages to convey the human search for something more, something deeper in life (or after life). Yes, the story concludes with a sense of emptiness, but it forces to reader to ask the very questions that haunt Gilgamesh and to search for the answers -- or the Answer -- that he did not find.

This is truly a classic story and not a difficult one to read. It is composed of eleven tablets, and my own copy spans just over forty pages. I strongly encourage it for first-time readers as well as for repeat readers. Every time I return to Gilgamesh, I'm reminded of my own faith and am humbled by the awesome (in the correct sense of the word) love of the God I worship.

Saint Calendar: Bettelin

09 September

Also known as Bertram.

Spritual student of Saint Guthlac of Croyland. One of several hermits around Croyland, England who were subject to the monastery there.

Some stories claim Bettelin was a Mercian nobleman married to an Irish princess. While the two were travelling through a forest, the princess went into labour. Bettelin went for help, and while he was gone the princess delivered the baby; the two were eaten by wolves. This traumatic event reputedly sent Bettelin to the hermitage, but it's reliability is questionable.

Died 8th century of natural causes; the remains of his shrine are found in Staffordshire, England.

Patronage
--Stafford, England

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Text derived from Patron Saints Index.

Two for the Price of One: The Highwayman

This is a marvelous poem that the highly talented artist Loreena McKennitt has set to music. The YouTube clip is embedded below. Take the time to read and listen. Her version is long (around ten minutes), but it's well worth it, and the melody will haunt you for days. (Note that McKennitt doesn't use every single stanza.)

"The Highwayman"
By Alfred Noyes

I

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding --
Riding -- riding --
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

II

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

III

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

IV

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say --

V

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

VI

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.

PART TWO

I

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching --
Marching -- marching --
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.

II

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

III

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say --
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

IV

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

V

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .

VI

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

VII

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him -- with her death.

VIII

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

IX

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

X

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding --
Riding -- riding --
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

XI

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

I Got Tagged!

Carrie at Reading to Know tagged me for this meme about blogging. Since I never get tagged for anything, I'm pretty jazzed about it.

The rules of the game (or meme) are as follows:

1. Write about 5 specific ways blogging has affected you, either positively or negatively.
2. Link back to the person who tagged you.
3. Link back to this parent post.
4. Tag a few friends or five, or none at all.
5. Post these rules -— or just have fun breaking them.

So, here goes.

1. Blogging has given me a voice for expressing my thoughts. I'm fairly introspective and far more of a writer than a speaker, but I hadn't really found a good venue for "free writing" before the advent of the blog. Blogging has given me the opportunity to write comfortably in a safe medium and share my thoughts about things that I love.

2. Before I blogged, one of my concerns was that my writing might get a little rusty if I didn't keep practicing it. While I definitely wouldn't say that my blog writing is the best, I'd have to admit that it keeps my skills a little sharper. I try to stay focused on developing clear ideas/analyses, and while I allow myself a great deal of flexibility for fun writing, I like to think that the blogging doesn't allow my writing to go completely to pot.

3. Blogging has given me a means of keeping in touch with long-time friends (like Carrie and Sky) and meeting new friends via the web. Additionally, it's boosted my confidence and provided me with the courage to branch out and become part of online communities where I can share my opinions and gain perspective on different opinions.

4. On the downside, blogging started something of an internet habit for me that needs to be broken. Yes, I do a great deal real work online, but I also spend too much time on the internet. What started out as a bit of blogging has morphed into something more, so I'm working on making a stricter schedule for my online activities. Ironically enough, it might mean that I actually do more blogging (because my time is more focused) instead of less.

5. Back to the positive, blogging has encouraged me to read more and to vary my reading more. I often get into a rut with reading, but feeling as though I have the accountability of a blog (as silly as that sounds) often puts the fire under my derriere to be more creative in my book selections.

Well, that's all I can come up with. I love blogging, and I love that I've gotten to know (so to speak) truly wonderful people through their blogs. I recently passed my two-year blogging anniversary, and I look forward to more blogging years to come. Here's to happy blogging days ahead!

(Since I'm not really sure if enough people read my blog to be tagged, I'll pass on that part. If you want to post the meme on your blog, though, please feel free.)

Saint Calendar: Teresa of Calcutta

05 September

Born Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu. Daughter of an Albanian businessman who died when Agnes was nine years old. Nun, missionary and teacher in Calcutta, India in 1928. In 1948 she left the convent to work alone with the poor, and became an Indian citizen. She founded the Congregation of the Missionaries of Charity in 1950. In 1957 the Missionaries of Charity started their work with lepers and in disaster areas. She received the Pope John XXIII Peace Prize in 1971, the Jawaharlal Nehru Award for International Understanding in 1972, and the Nobel Peace Prize in 1979, and the Missionaries today work in 30 countries.

Born 26 August 1910 in Skopje, Albania (modern Macedonia).

Died 5 September 1997 in Calcutta, West Bengal, India of natural causes.

Patronage:
--World Youth Day

Readings
Do not wait for leaders; do it alone, person to person.

--Mother Teresa

_____________________________________


Text and image derived from Patron Saints Index.

Book Review: How to Read a Painting, by Patrick de Rynck

Despite the title, this book isn't so much one to read as it is to peruse. It is subtitled Lessons from the Old Masters and takes the reader through a variety of famous works of art, pointing out the details that many might miss or fail to understand. (I know that I do, at least, and I consider myself an art lover.) It's really quite fascinating, to be honest. De Rynck explains the historical background of each image and then highlights specific areas of it to show the significance. I don't know about anyone else, but for me it can sometimes be all too easy to walk through a museum and get so overwhelmed by the number of paintings that I try to take all of them in, rather than taking a few in very well. In the future, I'll keep in mind some of de Rynck's specifics and spend more time enjoying quality over quantity.

As an example, consider the following magnificent image (and you can click on it to make it bigger):

De Rynck begins by pointing out that the city of Venice was renowned for producing artists who focused on the subtleties of light and shading and that the artist of this work, Giovanni Bellini, was a pioneer in that very area. This painting was commissioned as an alterpiece for the church of San Zaccaria in Venice (where it remains, not surprisingly) and encompasses four eras of art and learning:

Byzantium (the mosaic in the half-dome), Classical Antiquity (the decoration of the pillars and capitals), the Renaissance (the individualized human figures and the overall setting), and, of course, the Catholic faith. (pp. 114-115)

De Rynck goes on to note that Saint Peter (far left) is holding the keys to the gates of heaven as well as the Scriptures; Saint Catherine (next to Peter) is resting her hand on a broken wheel that represents the spiked wheel she was supposed to be tied to for her death, until God struck it with lightning (and she was subsequently beheaded); Saint Jerome (far right) is reading the Bible that he translated into Latin; and Saint Lucy (next to Jerome) is holding a bowl containing her eyes, because she allegedly had her eyes gouged out while being martyred (or plucked them out to make herself less beautiful). It appears that Catherine is also holding a palm branch, which became a symbol of martyrdom for various artists. De Rynck suggests that the figure in the forefront -- with the very large violin -- is an angel, worshiping the Virgin and the Christ Child with music.

While this book is hardly exhaustive, it makes for a helpful guide to "reading" paintings and understanding the method to the masters, so to speak, a little better. I certainly recommend it for anyone who is planning a museum visit: even if you won't be viewing a great deal of specifically Renaissance or Early Modern art (which is more or less what this book covers), the information is universal enough to benefit any art viewing. And for art lovers it's just a lot of fun to flip through the pages, stop at a masterpiece, and learn a little more about it.

Year of publication: 2004
Number of pages: 383