Showing posts with label Slow Reading. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Slow Reading. Show all posts

Thursday, 16 April 2020

The Wind Blows | Katherine Mansfield #1920Club


The Wind Blows was first published in the Athenaeum on 27th August 1920 and then included in Bliss and Other Stories (1920), although I have also spotted on the Katherine Mansfield Society page that they claim it was published in 1915. So I dug a little deeper.

I discovered a reference in J. McDonnell's Katherine Mansfield and the Modernist Marketplace: At the Mercy of the Public (2010) that refers to an earlier story titled, Autumns: II that Mansfield published under her pseudonym, Matilda Berry in Signature in 1915. She claims that this was an
important precursor to her mature work. Indeed, she later returned to the story, rewriting it from a first-person to a third-person narrative perspective for publication as The Wind Blows in the Athenaeum,

Phew! I'm always pleased when I can sort out a discrepancy.

I read one of Mansfield's short story collections about thirty years ago (egad! where did that time go?) on the recommendation of a friend. I enjoyed them, but remember nothing about them now. Back then, I would treat a short story collection much like a novel. I would just keep reading one chapter after the next until I tired or had something else to do. As a result, the stories blur together into an homogeneous mess.

Since then, I have learnt to take it slow with short story collections. One at a time. Let each one sit and settle before attempting another. If I'm not done with my reading time, then I change books and authors completely.

The Wind Blows is one of the stories set in New Zealand during Mansfield's nostalgic phase, it also feels rather biographical. A young girl, Matilda, all fidgety and flighty thanks to a windy day is straining against the boundaries put in place by her mother. She doesn't want to darn the socks or bring in the washing and escapes instead to her music lessons. She feels misunderstood and out of place. Until she and younger brother, Bogey, run down to the sea to watch the ships leave port.

A sudden twist in the story and we realise that Matilda is remembering this windy day by the sea with her brother. She and Bogey are, in fact, already on board the ship, leaving New Zealand for good. Liberty and freedom is theirs!
"Look, Bogey, there's the town. Doesn't it look small? There's the post office clock chiming for the last time. There's the esplanade where we walked that windy day. Do you remember? I cried at my music lesson that day-how many years ago! Goodbye little  island, good-bye. . . . "

I've been in Wellington on a windy day. It really does howl around your legs and hair and clothes, unsettling even the most placid temperament. Matilda is a typical teen chaffing against authority and the confines of family life. She's ready to fly the coop, but has nowhere to go. The windy day exacerbates her angsty feelings; it's another form of opposition.

As Bogey and Matilda sail away, we see this as Matilda (KM) saying goodbye not only to her home town but childhood as well. Gillian Boddy's Katherine Mansfield: The Woman and the Writer (1988) confirms the biographical element in this story. My understanding of the timeline is that her first draft in 1915 was written prior to her brother, Leslie's death in October. The rewrite, obviously reflects her grief at this unimaginable loss.
Clearly based on the memories she had shared with Leslie during the summer of 1915, this story has a strange power. Matilda is K.M., she used the pseudonym Matilda Berry at this time, while Bogey was the family name for Leslie, which K.M. later transferred to Murry (her husband).

Thank you to Kaggsy and Simon for once again hosting the #1920Club. Hopefully I can fit in one more short story before the end of the week.

My other Katherine Mansfield posts:

Wednesday, 27 November 2019

Griffith Review 63: Writing the Country edited by Julianne Schultz & Ashley Hay

Image: James Tylor, Turralyendi Yerta (Womma) 2017 Photograph with ochre & charcoal.

Place. Land. Country. Home. These words frame the settings of our stories. Griffith Review 63: Writing the Country focuses on Australia’s vast raft of environments to investigate how these places are changing and what they might become; what is flourishing and what is at risk.
 
How we speak of and to the world we live in requires us to make sense of where we are and where we’re going; it requires us to describe, interrogate and analyse our places from the smallest to the grandest of scales. In the second issue of Griffith Review, published fifteen years ago, Melissa Lucashenko wrote of ‘earthspeaking, talking about this place, my home’. All these years later, the need to hear all sorts of earthspeak has perhaps never been more urgent.

In the past, I would have gobbled up the stories, essays, poems and articles in a Griffith Review edition in one fell swoop. Leaving me with a general impression of the theme of the edition and a vague memory of some of the pieces. But this time, I decided to go slow.

Slow Reading is my new mantra. I want to read as thoughtfully, consciously and carefully as I can as often as I can. Obviously, not all books lend themselves to this approach. Some stories are lightly told, some favourite series are formulaic although lovable and comforting and some books are nothing more than a quick, easy holiday read. They all have their purpose, time and place.

But some books deserve more. And sometimes I deserve more!
Sometimes I want to devote more time to one book so that I can savour each moment, delve deeply and create a rich reading memory of my time with the book.

In recent times. Les Miserables was one such book, and I'm currently reading Moby-Dick with this slow reading approach. Back in February, when I acquired my copy of the Griffith Review 63, I decided to do the same. To slow read each essay and story. To let each one stand alone in my memory.

I confess, I didn't think I would still be reading it in November!

It also left me in a quandary about how best to record my slow reading experience. Giving each piece it's own post would be too laborious for me and rather dull for you, oh brave internet wanderer who landed on my page!

The passing of time has allowed the answer to present itself to me. Just like my Moby-Dick chapter posts, I will present each essay with a brief snapshot of the things that caught my eye or captured my imagination. Poems and stories I will leave for another time.

Introduction: On Suicide on Watch? The Enduring Power of Nature | Julianne Schultz (26th Nov 2018).
  • societies and cultures evolve in response to the environment in which people find themselves.
  • unforeseeable natural events have destroyed some civilisations...but others have been undone by over-exploitation
  • Arnold J Toynbee quip - more civilisations die from suicide than murder.
    • A classical historian and writer of comparative history.
    • Hugely popular and influential in the 1940's and 50's.
    • Now criticised for being more of a Christian moralist than an historian - ouch! (Encyclopedia Britannica).
  • Schultz believes that we may be on 'suicide watch' but we can still feel optimistic with a 'sense of agency'.
  • McLean Foundation and The Nature Conservancy commissioned writers for this edition.
    • The McLean Foundation is a family foundation that has four areas of interest: protecting Australia’s biodiversity; supporting inter-city, rural and remote literacy programs for disadvantaged Australian children; rural tertiary education scholarships; and community development programs. 
    • Their environmental funding to date has included establishing and supporting The Nature Conservancy Australia and their Nature Writing Prize. Robert McLean is the Chair of The Nature Conservancy Australia, a Senior Advisor to McKinsey & Co, and a Board Member of Philanthropy Australia.
    • I love that people like Robert McLean exist. Read his 2011 bio in the SMH here.
Essay: Crossing the Line | Ashley Hay
  • or the destruction of the Great Barrier Reef.
  • There are mechanisms and consequences we can already see and understand (the known knowns).
  • There are effects and impacts we can see happening without yet understanding why, or how they might impact each other (the known unknowns).
  • And then there are the 'unknown unknowns', the layers of knowledge about our planet's natural systems, their requirements, their reactions and interactions that we don't know about yet. The Things that we cannot see coming.
  • 30 yrs ago the CSIRO investigated what would happen if we doubled the concentration of carbon dioxide in the earth's atmosphere. 
    • 'Most of the consequences that science then predicted would occur by 2030 we've already seen.' Griffith University's Emeritus Professor Ian Lowe.
    • Including Perth's rainfall declining by about a quarter in 30 years. But what wasn't predicted was the decline by two-thirds of the run-off rate. 
    • 'it's hotter and drier when it rains, which means there's a more dramatic reduction in run-off' - which means there is less water available to be collected when it does rain.
  • A road trip is a kind of mediation. Time and space stretch a little and you pay different attention to the landscapes you move through.
  • biophilia - love of nature
  • The Permian-Triassic extinction, 252 million years ago, wiped out more than nine-tenths of all species. It took the ecosystems effected about 5-8 million years to recover.
  • The unknown unknowns in all of this are each and every one of us: what we purchase, what we vote for and what we insist on, as much as how we live.
  • Hay's solution - pay attention, witness this moment, imagine the unknowns, imagine what's coming next.

Essay: Lost and Found in Translation | Kim Mahood
  • Books in books - Kangaroo (D H Lawrence), Voss (Patrick White), To the Islands, Tourmaline, Midnite, Visitants and The Merry-go-round in the Sea (Randolph Stow), Animal Farm (George Orwell), Tracks (Robyn Davidson), The Songlines (Bruce Chatwin), Belomor (Nicholas Rothwell)
  • what is consistent in all these books is the presence of Aboriginal people in various configurations.
  • Ochre and Rust (Philip Jones) songlines are a 'kind of scripture, a framework for relating people to land, and to show that their relationship is inalienable.'
  • The major songlines, such as the Seven Sisters, are like arteries that carry the life force of the culture through the body of the country.
  • songlines are fixed in the landscape
  • but they can be performed anywhere, with permission.
  • the land is as conscious as the people who live in it.

Essay: Boodjar ngan djoorla: Country, my bones | Claire G Coleman
  • My bones are in the soul of Country, and Country is in my bones.
  • No matter where we go Country calls out to us.
  • I wept when I realised Country had not forgotten me even when I did not know Country. My old-people, my ancestors, would care for me.
  • Truth escapes in the end, lies cannot live forever.

Essay: A Fragile Civilisation: Collective living on Australian soil | Stephen Muecke
  • Ancient Indigenous civilisations and/or modern Western civilisations.
  • I would like to define civilisation as planned, sustainable collective living.
  • Yolngu as Indigenous example.
    • If the Yolgnu have flourished for up to 50 000 years, while the kind of civilisation based on large cities could self-destruct after only a few hundred, perhaps it is time to recalibrate what we mean by civilisations.

Essay: The Planet is Alive: Radical histories for uncanny times | Tom Griffiths
  • Amitav Ghosh - The Great Derangement: Climate Change and the Unthinkable (2016)
    • we are knowingly killing the planetary systems that support survival of our species.
    • we half aware of this predicament yet also paralysed by it, caught between horror and hubris.
  • Anthropocene - a new geological epoch that recognises the power of humans in changing the nature of the planet, its atmosphere, oceans, climate, biodiversity, even its rocks and stratigraphy.
  • The Great Acceleration - from the 1950's when the human enterprise suddenly exploded in population and energy use.
  • Or the Sixth Extinction - humans have wiped out about two-thirds of the world's wildlife in just the last half century.
  • Big History - David Christian - history of the universe - global storytellers.

Reportage: A Change in the Political Weather? Forecasting the future of climate policy | Paul Daley

  • Carl Feilberg - late 1800's Queensland - human rights activist & environmentalist.
    • Bio coming soon by Robert Ørsted-Jensen.
  • Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC)
  • Daley wrote this piece Nov 2018 and talked about politicians being out of step with public opinion about climate change and that this would be evident in the federal election in 2019. Instead it showed that journalists were out of step with the broader public opinion about climate change. They were (I am) living in an inner city bubble and we all made the mistake in thinking that the rest of Australia (rural, suburban and city fringes) felt the same as us or had the same priorities and concerns.

Essay: We All Took a Stand: Margaret River versus the coal industry | David Ritter
  • Loved this piece.
  • I had no idea that this even happened - there is power in our stories if we choose to tell them.
  • The community of the Margaret River took on the coal industry and won.
  • Australia's approval systems for fossil fuel mining are antiquated and loaded towards the interests of developers.
  •  In this case, the political and business elite decided, emphatically, that some things are more important than the extraction of fossil fuels.

Essay: Life and Death on Dyarubbin: Reports from the Hawkesbury River | Grace Karskens
Essay: Rebuilding Reefs, Restoring Memory: At work in the waters of history | Anna Clark
  • Clifton Springs shellfish reef restoration project, near Geelong.
  • R H Tawney - doing history well meant contemplating the processes of how (and where) the past relates to people in the present.
  • over 95% of native flat oyster & blue mussel reefs have disappeared across southern Australia.
  • each generation remembers what fisheries were like at the beginning of their own lifetimes, so that the baseline of that ecosystem subtly changes over time...an ever-lower bar is set as the 'new normal'.

Reportage: The Butterfly Effect: Stalking a giant in PNG | Jo Chandler
  • 1906 | Albert Stewart Meek
  • Ornithoptera alexandrae | Queen Alexandra's birdwing - largest butterfly in the world.
  • rural people do not always understand the outsider notion of 'conservation', and outsiders do not always understand what villagers think of when they imagine 'development'.

Memoir: The Suburbsm the 60's: What use a scrap of bush? | Kate Veitch
  • Growing up in Vermont and Nunawading.
  • An outdoor life, playing in the nearby bush.
  • Naturally, we never talked about our adventures to our parents. Nor did they ask. This was an era when parents had better things to do than hover over their children, monitoring their every move.
  • Healesville Freeway Reserve | 2012
  • The importance of place & childhood spaces.

Reportage: Eating Turtle: Changing narratives of the normal | Suzy Freeman-Greene
  • Heron Island
  • the heroes of the story are scientists.

Memoir: It's Scary but Nobody Cares: Challenging Australia's reputation for deadliness | Ashley Kalagian Blunt
  • A Canadian view of Australia, drop bears and other deadly creatures.

Essay: Valuing Country: Let me count three ways | Jane Gleeson-White
  • In 2008, Ecuador became the first country to recognise the rights of nature.
  • Rights-of-nature laws also now in Bolivia, New Zealand, India and Colombia.
  • three ways of thinking about the natural world - country, natural capital, rights of nature.
  • 2016 Fitzroy River Declaration recognises the river as a living ancestral being with its own life force.
  • 2017 Yarra River Protection (Wilip-gin Birrarung murron).
  • 2018 petition to protect the legal rights of the Great Barrier Reef.
  • Capitalism is fundamentally opposed to preserving nature.
  • ecological economics.
  • protecting the environment is a good thing for humanity | Carl Obst

Reportage: Ghost Species and Shadow Places: Seabirds and plastic pollution on Lord Howe Island | Cameron Muir
  • Runner-Up Bragg UNSW Press Prize for Science Writing 2019
  • Shortlisted for the Eureka Prize for Science Communication
  • flesh-footed shearwaters | mutton birds
  • they vomit plastic. The parent shearwaters here are slowly feeding their chicks to death with plastic.
  • the plastic blocks their digestive tracts and can pierce internal organs.
  • A torrent of plastic is coming. More plastic was produced in the last fifteen years than in the previous fifty

Essay: The Cost of Consumption: Dispatches from a planet in decline | James Bradley
  •  2018 Living Planet Report
  • The sheer scale of the problem makes it difficult to think about.
  • As creatures disappear, we forget them, as baselines shift we adjust, and the world as it was is lost.
  • The Great Acceleration
  • For while population growth has played a part, the rise in GDP and energy far outstrips the rise in population. In fact it is humanity's booming middle classes...who are the problem. The ecological footprint of an average Australian or American is three times that of a Costa Rican, and almost eight or nine times that of the average Indian or African. It is also, significantly, double that of many Europeans.
  • The real problem is the insatiable consumption of the world's wealthy.
  • We already possess the technologies to deal with the problem - renewable energy, sustainable farming practices...better education and literacy, especially for women...basic income...progressive taxation and economic reform...better governance....
  • Environmental justice is also social justice and intergenerational justice. But it is also interspecies justice.

Essay: Climate Change, Science and Country: A never-ending story | Brendan Mackey
  • the climate norm will be there is no norm.
  • scientists are not catastrophists - they project rather than predict.
  • Climate change may be a scientific discovery, but it is the humanities and creative arts that speak to what this means.

Reportage: Remaking Nature: Novel strategies in modified landscapes | Andrew Stafford
Essay: Transforming Landscapes: Regenerating country in the Anthropocene | Charles Massey
  • regenerative farming
  • Many of the world's desertifying environments are the result of human activity. In Australia - as in the Middle East...
  • in mismanaged landscapes the small water cycles are destroyed.
  • capitalist market economy believes in continual growth. Nature is viewed as a raw material for wealth and property creation.
  • to become landscape literate.
  • Paul Hawken | human brain is not wired to deal with future existential threats.
  • Project Drawdown
  • This is not a liberal agenda, nor is it a conservative agenda...this is a human agenda.

Essay: Encounters with Amnesia: Confronting the ghosts of Australian landscape | Inga Simpson
  • Judith Wright | The love of the land we have invaded, and the guilt of invasion - have become a part of me. It is a haunted country.
  • Louisa Atkinson | 1853 | The Illustrated Sydney News | Nature Notes


  • Eric Rolls | A Million Wild Acres | 1981
  • Mark Tredinnick | The Blue Plateau | 2009
  • One of the most obvious characteristics of Australian nature writingnis the tension, for non-Indigenous Australians, around how to write about our connection to the places we love, knowing that those places were stolen from others, and possibly sites of violence.
  • Although thinking of ourselves as a bush nation, we are, in fact, urban and suburban - and increasingly illiterate in nature.
  • Nature writing...is...about wanting to belong, a yearning for connection with the natural world and the places in which we live. To be at home....Instead of trying to write ourselves all over the landscape, it is time to hear what it is saying and write it deeper into our selves.

This is the very first Griffith Review I have read from cover to cover. 

Previously I have enjoyed the occasional essay or story when an online prompt led me to the one free monthly read I am allowed as a non-subscriber. I was, however, particularly drawn to the topic of this edition. I figured it would have lots to say about the environment, climate change, Indigenous perspectives and landscape. It did. 

My Goodreads wishlist has exploded as I pour over the individual the bibliographies and I have found new authors to explore. I have discovered new-to-me websites and environmental projects that not only provide the scientific facts about climate but also give us all hope that we can really look after this planet we live on, if we really want to.

I won't be able to devote as much time as I have for this edition to all future editions, or even to catching up on the back list editions. It will be a case of cherry-picking the topics and authors that interest me or challenge me the most.

The various essays, stories and poems in this edition, helped me to complete several squares on my AusReadingMonth Bingo card - NSW, VIC, QLD, TAS and WA. As a bonus, I also ticked off a few nearby islands - Heron Island, Lord Howe Island and PNG.

#AusReadingMonth
#NonFictionNovember

Wednesday, 11 September 2019

Moby-Dick Chapters 17 -20


So before I start on my chapters today, I want to check out the differences between Gnosticism and Agnosticism, as both terms have been used to described Melville in the various readings I've done so far.

Some commentators challenge the Gnostic term, but all seem to agree that his struggle to believe was an agnostic one (or atheist, pantheist, skeptical humanist, romantic nihilist or anti-religious depending on who you read.)

I will use a simple wikipedia definition to gets us started.

Gnosticism:
  • is a modern name for a variety of ancient religious ideas and systems, originating in Hellenistic Judaism and the Jewish Christian milieux in the first and second century AD. Many of these systems believed that the material world is created by an emanation or 'works' of a lower god (demiurge), trapping the divine spark within the human body. This divine spark could be liberated by gnosis, spiritual knowledge acquired through direct experience. Gnosticism is not a single system, and the emphasis on direct experience allows for a wide variety of teachings.
  • Scholars debate Gnosticism's origins as having roots in Neoplatonism and Buddhism, due to similarities in beliefs, but ultimately, its origins are currently unknown. As Christianity developed and became more popular, so did Gnosticism....until the proto-orthodox Christian communities expelled the group in the second and third centuries (C.E.).
Agnosticism:
  • is the view that the existence of God, of the divine or the supernatural is unknown or unknowable. Another definition provided is the view that "human reason is incapable of providing sufficient rational grounds to justify either the belief that God exists or the belief that God does not exist."
Pantheisism:
  • The belief that the physical universe is equivalent to god, and that there is no division between a Creator and the substance of its creation.
Atheisism:
  • is, in the broadest sense, an absence of belief in the existence of deities. Less broadly, atheism is a rejection of the belief that any deities exist. In an even narrower sense, atheism is specifically the position that there are no deities. Atheism is contrasted with theism, which, in its most general form, is the belief that at least one deity exists.
Anti-Religion:
  • is opposition to religion of any kind. It involves opposition to organized religion, religious practices or religious institutions. The term anti-religion has also been used to describe opposition to specific forms of supernatural worship or practice, whether organized or not.
Secular Humanism:
  • is a philosophy or life stance that embraces human reason, secular ethics, and philosophical naturalism while specifically rejecting religious dogma, supernaturalism, and superstition as the basis of morality and decision making.

Now we all know!

Articles I Found This Week:
  • Melville, An Existential Humanist by Mª Feljsa López Liquete, Universidad del País Vasco, in Rerista de Estudios Nortcamericauos. 1 (1991) pp. 49-57.
    • Religious crisis stands out as one of the main experiences in nineteenth century American life. The reasons which account for this phenomenon were, among others, due to the new scientific discoveries (technological advances and the theory of evolution), economic changes (which brought the transformation of a rural society into an industrial and urban one), and biblical criticism.
    • All critics agree that Melville had come to hate the harshness and cruelty of a Calvinistic God, but do not coincide in Melville's final response to his unbelief.
    • Melville was one of the few writers, if not the unique among his contemporaries, who denounced that religion was being used to defend specific ideological interests such as imperialism.
    • Man is depicted as a restless unbeliever and God as "the everlasting mystery".
    • No one is responsible for us, "therein each man must be his own saviour."
    • Man had to become independent from both the mother country - the family - and God. That is, he had to get rid of inherited ideologies. The void produced by that attitude brought new fears, but Melville was brave.
    • Since we are condemned to exist, we should, at least, live as "humanly" as possible, caring about other human beings, defending the unfortunate, and paying attention to our bodily needs. 
  • Grace In The Arts: Herman Melville: An Author In The Angst Of Ambiguity by James A. Townsend in Journal of the Grace Evangelical Society, Spring 2004.
    • Nathalia Wright claims (in Melville's Use of the Bible 1969): “On average, every seventh page of [Melville’s] prose has some biblical allusion. More explicitly, Moby-Dick has 250 biblical references.
    • Melville was raised within the confines of belief in an all-sovereign, all-encompassingly decreeing Calvinistic God, yet his life was regularly pocked with tragedy—the family bankruptcy, his father’s insanity and death, his mother’s financial pinchedness, his own two sons’ early and untimely deaths, etc. There always seemed to be someone or something ominously and oppressively opposed to Melville’s welfare. So, if God was all-controlling and this world was forever menacing, would it not make sense to take on this defiant, ever-squelching power?
    • In the Melville corpus there are at least three types of theological affirmations and allusions: 1) those enunciated through his characters and narrators which are merely accurate summations of what individuals of one given persuasion would believe; 2) similar statements by characters which are a mask for Melville’s own views; and 3) outside-his-novels theological reflections (such as in his letters) by Melville (which, naturally, are most authentically Melvillian in terms of personalized belief).
    • seems to put Scripture and Shakespeare on the same level, if both are to be called “inspired.”
    • Melville placed human experience above biblical revelation.
    • the literary analysts are in little doubt that Melville engaged in a lifelong conflict with reference to the idea of God itself. 
    • in both poetry and novel it is apparent that the later Melville can never quite escape the tormenting whale of Calvinism fostered in and foisted upon the earlier Melville’s upbringing.
    •  faith’s foundation for Melville lay not in doctrine, but in morality. 
    • Rather than seeing hell as some objective biblical reality, then, Melville viewed it as an invention of discomfortable human experience (“dyspepsias”) extrapolated outwardly
    • Harold Bloom’s conclusion [in How To Read and Why, 2000] that the mature Melville is not a Christian seems well-founded. Indeed, Melville seemed to flounder amid ambiguity....Through his characters he mouthed rather orthodox understandings of creation, angels, the devil, and demons. Though Melville represented evil as globally pervasive, he dispensed with any Christian doctrine of original sin.
    • Like Captain Ahab in Moby-Dick, Melville felt tortured by the need to pin down this haunting, massive God-idea, but it proved to him so uncontrollable. Wherever he searched, it seemed to elude him.

Obviously, I'm not the only one that has become slightly obsessed with Melville. Every time I google his name with another term (i.e. 'gnosticism'), I discover new articles, new books, new thoughts and new conversations about this enigmatic man.

But in the end it all comes down to interpretation.

Interpretation of what Melville believed or didn't believe as referenced, spoken or narrated by his book characters as well as what he said in the letters he left behind.

So far I've been focused on what others have interpreted Melville to mean.

Next post, I will aim to read some of his letters, to see if primary source material reveals anything new to me.

Image Source

Chapter 17: The Ramadan
  • Just when we think that Ishmael is developing some genuine acceptance of another's different ways of worship, we have Queequeg observing Ramadan.
    • 'I cherish the greatest respect towards everybody's religious obligations, never mind how comical.' hmmmmm I don't think you do actually Ishmael! Not unless you're trying to make a point that all religious obligation is comical!
    • 'we good Presbyterian Christians should be charitable in these things, and not fancy ourselves vastly superior to other mortals, pagans and what not, because of their half-crazy conceits on these subjects.'
    • Another's beliefs & obligations can be laughed at for being silly or crazy but when it comes to being 'dreadfully cracked about the head' we're all in the same boat, 'Presbyterians and Pagans alike' and all 'sadly in need of mending'.
  • The chapter morphs into a slapstick routine worthy of Laurel and Hardy.
  • And Ishmael attempting to view the world through Queequeg's eye after all -
    • 'he no doubt thought he knew a good deal more about the true religion than I did. He looked at me with a sort of condescending concern and compassion, as though he thought it a great pity that such a sensible young man should be so hopelessly lost to evangelical pagan piety.' 
    • Or maybe he's just projecting!

Chapter 18: His Mark

  • Bildad philosophy -
    • 'Son of darkness, I must do my duty by thee; I am part owner of this ship, and feel concerned for the souls of all my crew.'
  • Peleg philosophy - 
    • 'Pious harpooners never make good voyagers - it takes the shark out of 'em.'


Chapter 19: The Prophet

  • Elijah was an Old Testament prophet who warned King Ahab about a drought that would devastate Israel if he continued his idolatry.
    • King Ahab was a real historic leader from 871 -852 BC, the seventh King of Israel.
    • He was married to Jezebel, a daughter of the Phoenician ruler at the time. Her family worshiped the god Baal and his consort, Ashereh.
    • King Ahab worshiped his god, Yahweh (which was actually an evolution of the much older god El, plus Baal and Asherah).
    • Jezebel insisted on maintaining her own religious beliefs and encouraged her husband to do so too. 
    • 'Happy wife; happy life' was obviously King Ahab's motto, as he condoned her practice.
    • Elijah (and others) feared Jezebel's influence on her husband, especially regarding religious policy.
    • This occurred during a major period of religious change that eventually led to Israel claiming Yahweh as the one and only god and denying the existence of all others by the eighth century BC.
  • Melville's Elijah spends the chapter offering up prophecies about Ahab and the voyage.


Chapter 20: All Astir

  • Preparations and stocking up for a three year sea voyage.
  • Bildad, Peleg and Aunt Charity organise everything.
  • Foreshadowing -
    • 'If I had been downright honest with myself, I would have seen very plainly in my heart that I did but half fancy being committed this way to so long a voyage, without once laying my eyes on the man who was to be the absolute dictator of it....but when a man suspects any wrong, it sometimes happens that if he be already involved in the matter, he insensibly strives to cover up his suspicions even from himself.'


I'm truly astounded by how much I am loving this book.
Why did I ever fear it so?
#MobyDickReadalong 

Sunday, 28 July 2019

The Best Short Stories by Guy de Maupassant

Guy de Maupassant (1850-1893) wrote nearly 300 short stories during his life. They were uneven at times yet distinct in style. Full of irony, deception, narrative drama, arguments & quarrels. De Maupassant was also a naturalist with a tendency to lean towards the bleaker side of real life. The Guardian says that he considered life to be "brutal, incoherent, disjointed, full of inexplicable, illogical and contradictory disasters".

The Best Short Stories (first published in 1997 by Wordsworth Editions) contains 17 such examples. My 2011 reprint is rounded out with a rather dry Introduction by Cedric Watts, who informs us that Maupassant's tales 'dealt predominantly with the provincial bourgeoisie, urban employees and civil servants.'


For the past three years, I've been reading a handful of these stories at a time to coincide with Paris in July. This year, I decided it was time to be finished with them. Not because I haven't been enjoying them, but three years is long enough for a book to by taking up space on my bedside table.

I wanted to take my time with each story and not rush from one to the next. I've made that mistake in the past with short story anthologies, and as a result I have no recollection of many of them. I decided to make brief notes on each story. I also gathered together some points about the short story format to help me with my notes. I've now learnt about anecdotal stories, fables, frame stories, sketches and vignettes. Plus the various permutations of the,

  1. epical short story - realistic, withholding part of the narrative for a revelation with a decisive ending and universal insight.
  2. lyrical - open ended stories with a central recurring image or symbol.
  3. artifice - a literary conceit using metaphoric devices and incongruity.

Furthermore, I discovered the scathing Works of Guy de Maupassant by Leo Tolstoy* published in 1894. Tolstoy, the master of the backhanded compliment, declared
I could not help but see, in spite of the indecent and insignificant subject of the story, that the author possessed what is called talent.

2019:


  • Madame Husson's 'Rosier' (1888) is a classic frame story whereby our weary train traveller, Aubertin finds himself stranded in Gisors, until he suddenly remembers an old school chum, now Dr Marambot, who is practising in Gisors. Over dinner, Marambot relates another 'amusing story' to Aubertin about why the 'proud people of Gisors' call all drunkards Madame Husson's 'Rosier'.
Both men feel superior to the other, one with city vs country airs and the other with his comfortable life, wealth and status. I also loved the little nod to Jane Austen when the good doctor says, 'A little town, in fact, is like a large one. The incidents and amusements are less varied, but one makes more of them; one has fewer acquaintances, but one meets them more frequently.' I could hear Mrs Bennet's strident tone complaining/boasting to Mr Darcy throughout this piece!
The morality tale that follows suggests that these country acquaintances are ridiculous and even dangerous, in their self-importance and that virtue is a fallacy.

  • That Pig of a Morin (1882) is another frame story about morality and virtue. In, what could only be described as a #metoo moment these days, a beautiful young woman is accosted by a strange man (Morin) on a train. He sees her smiling beauty as an invitation to try it on. Fortunately the guards believe her and Morin is arrested.
Two local men, taking pity on Morin, visit the young woman's guardian to try and sort the matter before it goes to court. They are invited to stay the night. The young woman is reasonable but unflinching and replies to the suggestion that Morin's act was excusable given how beautiful she was, with a resounding, 'between the desire and the act...there is room for respect.'
However, she then allows herself to be seduced by the handsome young man under her guardian's roof later that night. They both enjoy a night of tender passion, that has no dastardly consequence or repercussions, as the end note shows us. From this we can learn that educated, handsome, charming men can have their way with beautiful women if only they approach matters in the right way!

  • Useless Beauty (1890) is my kind of short story. Punchy, with great psychological twists and turns and two characters that feel real. It's also an incredible modern story, with hints of domestic abuse, emotional blackmail and 'secret, unknowable troubles.' 
She said, "You loved your children as victories....They were victories over me, over my youth, over my beauty, over my charms, over the compliments which were paid me and over those that were whispered around me without being paid to me personally."
He said, "But you belong to me; I am your master - your master - I can exact from you what I like and when I like - and I have the law on my side."
My favourite in this collection so far.

  • The Olive Orchard, Le Champ d'Oliviers (1890) is another strong contender for favourite due to its disturbing build up of tension. One could almost see a Hitchcock movie unfolding in front of one's eyes as our sturdy, active abbé is confronted by his past in the form of a desperate, dangerous young man claiming to be his son.
I find these longer form vignettes the most satisfying. Maupassant takes the time to build up the characters, divulge background information, then surprise us with a twist, a revelation or a shock ending. I'm never quite sure what his universal meaning is or which direction his moral compass was pointing to though. Tolstoy judged that he had no"knowledge of the difference between good and evil, he loved and represented what it was not right to love and represent, and did not love and did not represent what he ought to have loved and represented." Which may be a bit harsh. And probably reflects Tolstoy's discomfort with Maupassant's lack of religious feeling more than anything else.
Moral ambiguity is another modern story telling trait that Maupassant was showing off, which is fine, I don't need need to have all my stories tied up with a neat bow. But I do like my short stories to have a sense of the ending, or an emotional truth that the reader can connect to or empathise with. This is one of the stories where Maupassant gets the mix of nuance, complexity and "the contradictions of life"* just right.

  • A Deal aka A Sale, À vendre (1885)
This is where I do agree with Tolstoy wholehearted. Maupassant's depiction of peasant life is one dimensional and without sympathy.
The insufficient comprehension of the lives and interests of the working classes, and the representation of the men from those classes in the form of half-animals, which are moved only by sensuality, malice, and greed, forms one of the chief and most important defects of the majority of the modern French authors, among them Maupassant.
This mean spirited anecdote, about a man selling his wife to his neighbour, is meant to be amusing. It's not. Holding up those less fortunate and less educated than you to ridicule only demeans you.
 
  • Love: being pages from a sportsman's notebook This is Maupassant giving us the gift of his attention. Beautiful passages describing the marshes and the intense cold felt on a youthful hunting expedition, reveal his ability to write a nature story with heart.
"the water of marshes, in which their throbs all the unknown life of birds, beasts and fishes. A marsh is a world of its own upon this earth of ours, a different world, with its own habits, its fixed populations, and its people who come and go, its voices, its sounds, and, essentially, its mystery."
"It was freezing hard enough to split stones.
 
  • Two Little Soldiers (1885) is another brief tale of love. Two homesick soldiers find a rural retreat that reminds them of home. From the privacy of their retreat they have the pleasure every Sunday of watching a lovely young milkmaid walk by them to milk her cow. Eventually they strike up a shy friendship with her until one of the soldiers, slightly bolder than the other, meets up with her on separate occasions. When the other soldier find out he is "unmanned...motionless, bewildered and grieving...He wanted to weep, to run away, to hide somewhere, never to be seen again."
Repressed emotions, jealousy, unrequited love - three of Maupassant's signature themes.

  • Happiness (1884) is the final story in this collection and once again returns to the theme of love wrapped up as a frame story. I've decided I'm not a big fan of the frame story. I find them too contrived. The relevance or connection between the original, or the set up, and the framed story is often tenuous at best, but in this rather tender tale, it works better than most. The transition between a dinner party in a villa overlooking the Mediterranean where everyone is discussing love, to suddenly seeing Corsica looming up on the horizon "no longer hidden by the sea-mists" is smooth. Which then reminds one of the gentleman of "an admirable example of constant love, of love which was quite marvellously happy" set in Corsica.

I've enjoyed my slow, leisurely read of this short story collection. It has allowed me to read with purpose and to commit each one to my memory far more than any other short story collection I've ever read before. I find that just looking at the titles of the ones I read two years ago (below) is enough to bring much of the detail of the story to mind. Given how much has happened to me in that time, and how many other stories have crossed my path, that level of recall is quite miraculous.

I cannot say that I will always read short stories with such considered appreciation, but this has shown me that by doing so, I can gain a far deeper understanding of the author's style and technique. And that my reading experience can be richer and longer lasting than the few short pages of writing first suggests.

2018:


2017:

Monument to Guy de Maupassant in Parc Monceau.

Book 15 #20 Books of Summer Winter
Sydney 19℃
Dublin 23℃

Thursday, 7 February 2019

Aubade by Louise Gluck

I'm trying to stretch myself with poetry reading this year.

The best way to attempt this is to use my current novel reading as a springboard into a poem. Whether it be an epigraph, a quote or a reference made within a book, I plan to no longer just read over these parts quickly. Instead I will stop, take note, find the whole poem and consider slowly and purposefully the poem within the context of the book.

I'm currently reading The World was Whole by Fiona Wright. About halfway through is a chapter entitled, The World was Whole, Always where she quotes /A room with a chair, a window.A small window, filled with the patterns light makes./

The image it created was very evocative and I appreciated how Gluck's general description of the room allows each reader to picture their own room, with the own chair, window and patterns of light. But it wasn't until I sourced and read the whole poem that I realised that Wright not only used a line from this poem for the chapter heading, but also for the title of the whole book. 

Further reading about Gluck revealed that she loves to reread Iris Murdoch "I love her wisdom and archness" (from Washington Square Review) and Franz Kafka. She was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa during her teen years and admired Joan of Arc as a child. She won the 1992 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry for her latest collection called The Wild Iris.

I also learnt that an aubade is the opposite of a serenade, being a morning love song or a 'song from a door or window to a sleeping woman' (wikipedia). John Donne's poem, The Sunne Rising, is an example of an aubade.


Aubade was first published in 1999 in Vita Nova.

*

AUBADE

The world was very large. Then
the world was small. O
very small, small enough
to fit in a brain.

It had no color, it was all
interior space: nothing
got in or out. But time
seeped in anyway, that
was the tragic dimension.

I took time very seriously in those years,
if I remember accurately.

A room with a chair, a window.
A small window, filled with the patterns light makes.
In its emptiness the world

was whole always, not
a chip of something, with
the self at the center.

And at the center of the self,
grief I thought I couldn't survive.

A room with a bed, a table. Flashes
of light on the naked surfaces.

I had two desires: desire
to be safe and desire to feel. As though

the world were making
a decision against white
because it disdained potential
and wanted in its place substance:

panels
of gold where the light struck.
In the window, reddish
leaves of the copper beech tree.

Out of the stasis, facts, objects
blurred or knitted together: somewhere

time stirring, time
crying to be touched, to be
palpable,

the polished wood
shimmering with distinctions--

and then I was once more
a child in the presence of riches
and I didn't know what the riches were made of.
*

Jennifer @Holds Upon Happiness posts a lovely Poem for a Thursday each week. I love seeing which poem she picks but I rarely feel the urge to join in with one myself. However, today is one of those days when my recent reading provided the push I needed.

Tuesday, 8 January 2019

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

The End!

How on earth do I sum up in mere words such a magnificent, majestic, momentous story?! Les Miserables is a story full of pathos, compassion, extravagance and just a few flaws. Fortunately these flaws of logic and historical truth don't get in the way of Hugo's grander themes about love, redemption and sacrifice.

I struggled to accept Hugo's premise for the forward march of humankind with the promise of inevitable Progress towards some greater point. This belief, that all progress and evolution is good, was common among many writers, politicians and thinkers of the time, a belief which still infects many people today. However his ideas about the positive outcomes for universal education, suffrage and abolishing slavery felt spot on and admirable.


In his Introduction to my Penguin edition of the book, Norman Denny, explains that although
he was masterly in the construction of his novel, (Hugo) had little or no regard for the discipline of novel-writing. He was wholly unrestrained and unsparing of his reader. He had to say everything and more than everything; he was incapable of leaving anything out.

Which is a shame, because some basic editing would have made an easier journey of it, for this new-to-the-story reader in particular. I powered through the Waterloo diversion and enjoyed Valjean and Cosette's sojourn in the convent, but the soppy love story between Marius and Cosette and then the barricades nearly did me in!

The student uprising, with their youthful idealism, the creation of the barricades, the endless pontificating, the senseless waste of life that just kept going on, and on, and on, chapter after chapter. So much detail and importance assigned to a little remembered, little known footnote in history.

Although, perhaps that was Hugo's point.

All our lives are filled with moments significant and important to us, but of little consequence to future historians. Smaller moments within bigger historic periods, like the French Revolution and Empire, get swallowed up by time. Only the events that allow historians to draw a narrative line that suits their agenda get included (and we all have an agenda when it comes to creating the story of our lives, even historians).

It was only after finishing the book, that I went back and read the Introductions in all three books. In the Rose edition, Adam Thirwell has written a very thoughtful piece about Hugo's intentions for this epic book. He notes that,
What is relevant?....How can you know what fact will emerge, and destroy you?....We all live our lives so blissful in our ignorance of an infinity which could invade us at any moment....The true story is chance.
Hugo said that the poet's duty was to elevate political events to the dignity of historical events....he was interested in transforming politics into history, and rewriting history so that it included the unknown, the ignored, the forgotten....to show how far history is fiction.

Donougher also noted that Hugo believed that 'classicists wanted art to improve and idealise reality, while he insisted it should 'paint life', with its confusion of the good, the bad and the absurd.'

Hugo himself was a romantic, a liberal, a poet. He used his fame to promote his political views. He wrote a story that, according to David Bellos (The Novel of the Century) showed that 'moral progress is possible for all, in every social sphere' without reassuring us with a 'tale of the triumph of good over evil, but a demonstration of how hard it is to be good.'


Throughout the year I read/referred to three different translations of Les Miserables - the Denny, the Rose and the Donougher. I started the year with the Denny, so that ended up being the main one I stayed with the whole time. I developed a strong affection for it and the lovely hardcover design by Coralie Bickford-Smith. I really enjoyed his language choices. I found it easy to read and it flowed well. But Denny did edit and make changes to Hugo's work - he also put two whole chapters into an appendix at the back.

The other two versions became my comparison reads when I had the time or inclination.

I can safely say that the Rose version will not be staying with me beyond this readalong. I disliked many of the word choices she made, especially the modern colloquial that jarred within the pages of a book so obviously set within a specific time.

I really liked the Donougher though, when my copy finally arrived in February. The deckled edges tickled my fancy every time I picked it up and the soft cover book was much easier to travel with (for weekends away).

Next time I read Les Mis, this will be the version I will read the whole way through.

At various times throughout the year, I would get fixated on translation choices. I found this fabulous summary of ALL the Les Mis translations by R. Plunket from Scotland on his VERY extensive review about the book here.

Below are his abridged comments, from that review, about the various translations:

Now onto the translation. First a little bit of translation history. American Charles Wilbour was the first to translate the novel and his version was published by Carleton in 1862 just months after the novel was published in Brussels. The fact that Wilbour, at the age of just twenty nine, completed the translation so quickly is astounding. The translation is very close to Hugo's French and is highly regarded.... An abridged version of Wilbour's translation was released in the UK by Catto & Windus in 1874. The unabridged version was finally released in the country in 1890. 
The only downsides of Wilbour's translation are that it contained no footnotes and French verse parts were not translated. This was rectified in 1987 by an updated translation by Lee Fahnestock and Norman MacAfee, released by Signet. The vocabulary is more modern so the translation will appear more readable to someone who finds 19th Century texts difficult. This is the most common paperback version in the USA and has the musical logo on the cover. It is unabridged like the original Wilbour, has full place names instead of dashes (so you get Digne instead of D-, this was a revision Hugo himself made to the text in 1881) and French verse parts are translated into English in footnotes. 
Sir Frederic Charles Lascelles Wraxall's translation was the first to be released in the UK and appeared in 1862, just before the release of the last volume of Wilbour's translation in America. Wraxall's translation was the only one to pay copyright to the publishers. It was advertised as the most "literal" translation. It is abridged as it deliberately misses chapters and books (Wraxall gives his reasons for this in the preface). The text was even further abridged from the fourth edition onwards. The omitted parts were translated in the USA by J Blamire for the 1886 Deluxe Edition by Routledge and this same text was used for the 1938 Heritage Press release with illustrations from Lynn Ward. Little Brown also supplemented the Wraxall text in 1887. Later reprints by various publishers, such as Allison & Co, supplemented the text using Wilbour. Even with the supplementations, the Wraxall version is still very poorly regarded. Hugo himself even voiced his disapproval. 
The Wraxall translation was also heavily plagarised by others. The translation by William Walton et al. (actually a pseudonym of John Thomson of the Philadelphia Free Library), released in 1892 by the publisher G Barrie, borrows heavily from Wraxall.
Isobel F Hapgood's translation first appeared in 1887 and was published by Thomas Crowell. Hapgood's translation was generally very well regarded at the time, although some of the language used has become outdated. Hapgood's main defect is that she misses out the Cambronne section. This omission was restored by a handful of publishers in the early Twentieth Century including John Wannamaker, Dumont and Century Co. Crowell continued to publish a copyright version without the supplementation so it is clear that Hapgood did not approve of such additions....
 
The early years of the post war era was mainly filled with adaptations and abridgments of Wilbour's text (a famous abridgment by James K Robinson reduced Wilbour's text to under 400 pages). 
Norman Denny was the first person to offer a new translation in the Twentieth Century. This is the most common version available in the UK, released in 1976 by Folio Press (with bizarre illustrations) and by Penguin as a paperback in 1980. Highly readable but Denny takes great liberties with Hugo's text and a lot of material is omitted. Two sections are moved to the end of the book as appendixes. Penguin continues to print this but thankfully they have now released this superior translation by Christine Donougher. 
Finally in 2008 an unabridged translation by Julie Rose was released by The Modern Library in the US and Vintage in the UK. The main criticism of this translation is that the vocabulary is very modern and at times feels awkward. For instance Rose uses the term "slimy spook" to describe Javert in one section. I have never heard this term before and I cannot imagine it being a good translation of the French term Mouchard. I do respect Rose for translating such a difficult text. Her translation just didn't click with me. 
So now we come to the new translation by Christine Donougher. So why is this translation superior to the others? It is complete and unabridged, unlike Denny, Wraxall and Hapgood. It doesn't feel like the language has been dumbed down, unlike Rose. It has excellent notes and footnotes, unlike Wilbour and the updated versions of his text. The text flows well. I would say the closest translation to Donougher in terms of style is probably Hapgood. It is certainly as readable as say Denny.... 
In summary Christine Donougher's translation of Les Misérables is the best version available in English and I would advise all fans of the novel to buy it. Well done to Penguin for publishing this splendid edition.

Finally, a big thank you to Nick for keeping us on track and motivated (especially via twitter) all year. Slow reading my way through this monumental story was a magic way to do it, even if I didn't manage to maintain the schedule the whole year.

Final posts by host & some of the participants:



(please let me know below if I've missed your final post, so that I can add it in.)

My Les Mis posts throughout the year:



#lesmisreadalong