Baswood's books, music, films and haikus part 3

My reading shelf

Last years Books


Doris Lessing



1914



Sixteenth Century


Science Fiction


Book Club Reads

Just dropping by again. Happy to follow you to your third thread and looking forward to reading more great reviews!

>2 OscarWilde87: Thanks

Marking my place — good to see you back ;-)

Hi Barry, Still working my way through your last thread and the great reviews I missed. Hopefully I can keep up this time!

Five Short Novels, Doris Lessing
Published in 1953 when Lessing had moved to London these early novels explore themes that Lessing would develop throughout her writing career. Late in life she identified four focal points of her work:

1) Split personality of the individual subject

2) Individual conscience and collective consciousness

3) Alienation and claustrophobia of the individual

4) Transition or metamorphoses of the individual

These themes are all present in the short novels to a greater or lesser extent, but the real clue to her early novels is her concentration on the individual. All the stories have a strong central character, whose individuality may lead him or her taking actions that both challenge and surprise the reader. It is Lessing's skill that makes us accept that within the context of the story these actions highlight and give shape to our understanding of how an individual can react to a society from which he is alienated.

A Home for the Highland Cattle . Marina and her husband move to Southern Rhodesia in search of a better life and while Phillip soon gets involved in his work Marina is left to make a life for herself in a run down suburb for poor white people. She immediately comes into contact with a system of apartheid that she naturally rejects and her involvement in the life of her houseboy challenges both her and the white community around her.

The Other Woman The only story not set in Africa, but in war torn London when the bombs are falling during the Second World War. Rose who lives with her father suddenly finds herself alone and homeless when a bomb destroys her house while she is at work. One of the rescue workers Jimmie seduces her and she sets up in a small flat in which she hopes Jimmie will eventually move into. Jimmie is married and is also attracted to another woman who has long had a soft spot for him. Rose is unperturbed and makes the best of her situation, not worrying about other peoples opinions.

Eldorado Alec Barnes buys a farm in South Africa intent on using his own methods and eschewing advice from the locals. Within a relatively short period of time he has overworked his land and is struggling to make a living. He becomes interested in prospecting for gold convinced that by using his own methods he will find gold on his land. Alec's son Paul finds himself in a difficult position, he can see that his father is ruining their land and while his mother Maggie is supportive of her husband she sees that Paul must make his own way. Paul is also caught up by gold fever, but goes into partnership with an old time prospector.

Antheap Gold fever is also the backdrop in this story. The antheap is an enormous hole in the ground; isolated up in hill country. It is owned and worked by Mr Mackintosh who uses black people as slave labour in difficult and dangerous conditions. Mackintosh is a workaholic, who is only happy making money from the mine. He employs a white engineer and his wife who live in the only other house on site and he takes a fatherly interest in their son Tommy. Mackintosh has sired a number of half caste children whom he disowns, but one of them; Dirk becomes a friend of Tommy. An intense rivalry develops between the two boys that leads to a curious friendship as they both seek to escape the mine.

Hunger This is twice as long as the other novels and is a tour de force. Lessing tells the story of a boy from a kraal leaving home to make his way in the city of white men. He is an intelligent strong youth who dreams of being successful. The reader sees the world through the eyes of Jabavu, but knowing that the odds are stacked against him. It seems like impossible odds for a raw native to gain a foothold in the city, but Jabavu gets lucky avoiding the immediate pitfalls. Lessing paints a convincing picture of a strong intelligent man facing the apartheid system with no prior knowledge of the dangers it holds for him.

In this final novel Jabavu is described as a youth with an enormous hunger Lessing says "He cannot bear to think of others, his hunger for himself is so strong" All of the individuals in these novels have this hunger, this selfishness that sweeps all before it and in some cases enables them to succeed or at least find some redemption.

Three of the novels deal with the horrors of the apartheid system and how those caught up in it vainly fight to survive within it. It is claustrophobic and relentless and Lessing provides the details of a system that is denigrating and cruel. It is well to remember that when these novels were published, white rule in South Africa and Rhodesia appeared to be unassailable. I do not know which of the five novels was the earliest, but would hazard a guess that "A Home for Highland cattle" was written first because in places the thoughts of the characters are expressed a little awkwardly, but there is no such awkwardness in the other stories. Some fine descriptive writing draws the reader into the landscapes and cultures of South Africa with its townships, Kraals, sanitary lanes and verdant growth, however the stories themselves are good ones with a tension signifying that there should be a resolution. A fine collection and one that I rate as 4 stars.

You make me want to read Doris Lessing again -- I read her a lot in the 80s.

You're off to a good start with Lessing. I look forward to see how this evolves. And, this was yet another excellent review.

Excellent review, Barry. Makes me want to go back and reread Canopus in Argos: Archive now that you have clued me in about Lessing's "four focal points." I read it as straight sci-fi at the time. Have you read it, by the way? It is quite a tome — also five in one.

Great review, Barry.

Suzanne, I have read most of Lessing's science fiction works and enjoyed them all. In fact I am looking forward to re-reading them as I work chronologically through her oeuvre.

Thanks Rebecca, Dan and Colleen.

Great review of Five Short Novels, Barry; it's another one for the wish list.

>6 baswood: Time to revisit Lessing. Great review, baswood.

Great review of Five Short Novels.

The City of the Sun, Tommaso Campanella
Published in 1623 over one hundred years later than Thomas More's Utopia this tract gets right down to the business of outlining the social, cultural and political conditions that would be inherent in Campanella's Sun City. It is described as a poetical dialogue between a grandmaster of the knights Hospitallers and a Genoese Sea Captain and is basically a method for allowing Campanella to produce a blue print for his Utopia. There is no story line it is just reportage by the Sea Captain who has visited the land of The City of the Sun. It follows some similar lines to More's Utopia and was plundered unmercifully by John Cleves Symmes in his Symzonia: A voyage of discovery

The City of the Sun like many Utopias seems to be a communist state, there is no private ownership and the system aims to provide for everyone according to his/her needs. There is no cult of individualism as everyone subsumes their individuality for the good of the state. There is a system of birth control that ensures healthy, intelligent, astrologically favoured offspring. The people are ruled and judged by those considered the most able to do so and there is no slave labour.

Education is considered of prime importance and the concentric walls that surround the city are painted with murals so that the young can be educated, All knowledge gained is depicted on the walls with explanations and diagrams where necessary, there are also examples of metals, textiles, plants and herbs etc : all that would be required to provide a complete education. Everybody is trained in the martial arts, women as well as men and they are all so proficient that the never lose a war. They have infiltrated the rest of the known world in order to gain knowledge.

This is an extreme Utopia and one where human nature is hardly considered at all and so the surprising thing is Campanella believed it could work. He was a Dominican and known for his prodigious learning, he was also drawn towards astrology and magic. He put himself at the head of a popular uprising and was imprisoned and tortured by the Inquisition. He spent 27 years in prison chained hand and foot for the most part and on his release he went to Paris where he made the same proposals for his City of the Sun to Richelieu. He of course never got to put his proposals into practice, but the document that has come down to us today provides us with an entertaining read. I read the version that is free at Project Gutenberg, which is presented in modernised English. Difficult to rate, but because of its readability and historicity; I would rate it at 3.5 stars

You make Tommaso Campanella sound fascinating. Most utopias are kind of creepy to me, but I am glad this one is entertaining.

I want those didactic walls in my garden at sitting height! Thanks for the background on Campanella. I think I will have to read this.

Great review of Five Short Novels, Barry. I would like to read more Lessing and so far, am most interested in her earlier works. This sounds like a good collection to read next.

A poem from Borderlands and Thoroughfares published in 1914 by Wilfred Wilson Gibson.

Thoroughfares, W. W. Gibson
Wifred Wilson Gibson has been categorised as one of the Georgian Poets. Strictly speaking they were those poets that were featured in several anthologies of poetry published between 1911 and 1922 and Gibson featured in all five volumes. Reading through this collection it is easy to pick out the traits that are associated with the group. The poems are fairly simple and some might say intellectually naïve. They have a certain realism about them that can slide into sentimentality. Certainly they are romantic but avoid the great themes of the Romanic poets, they concentrate on natural images often anthropomorphising animals. They are very British, rejecting continental and new world influences.

Thoroughfares published in 1914; contains 25 poems and in the book that I read were twinned with Borderlands, which contains three dramatic dialogues. The dialogues in each case are between two men and the first two: "The Queens Crags" and "Bloodybush Edge" are set in wild natural settings. The meetings take place after some physical effort in getting to the spot and the men take their rest and the talk is about nature and women, but soon stray into more unearthly subjects. In his early career Gibson often used the macabre as subject matter and the talk here is of ghosts and apparitions.

The macabre features in many of the poems and Gibson manages at times to bring in a note of eeriness although he doesn't get really creepy. Ghosts and unexplained events feature and the poems reminded me of the subject matter you might find in the early editions of The Pan Book of Horror Stories: those edited by Herbert Van Thal. The first poem in the collection and one of the best is Solway Ford, this tells the story of a man whose cart overturns in the estuary crushing him and trapping him helplessly. He waits patiently for the tide to come in and drown him and imagines what it will feel like and how he will take his place among the dead.

......... and he lay down in his place
Among the dreamless legion of the drowned,
The calm of deeps unsounded on his face,
And calm within his heart; while all around
Upon the midmost ocean's crystal floor,
The naked bodies of dead seaman lay,
Dropped, sheer and clean from hubbub, brawl and roar,
To peace, too deep for any tide to sway.

Awakening from a dream or a nightmare is another common theme, which all adds to the strangeness of some of the poems. He can overdo the sentimentality and far too many of his poems are quite one dimensional, relying on a surprise twist or turn for their effect. However he is effective when using images from the natural world here is an example from "Gorse"; a man has escaped and is blundering exhausted across the moor trying to outrun his pursuers;

Then suddenly the sun-enkindled fire
Of gorse upon the moor-top caught his eye
And the gold glow held all his heart's desire,
As, like a witless flame-bewildered fly,
He blundered towards the league-wide yellow blaze,
And tumbled headlong on the spikes of bloom:

The poems are easy to read and even if you can see the denouement coming, some of them have an atmosphere or an image or two that lingers in the memory. Not great poetry but I enjoyed the eeriness and the realistic natural settings and I would rate the collection at 3 stars. I would be quite happy to read some more of Gibson's poetry but would not go out of my way to search for it. Luckily much of it is free on the internet.

>21 baswood: ooh yes, I like that. Very atmospheric. Need to put Mr Gibson on my list.

Just caught up with your Part 2, too, and chiming in with the delight in Patti Smith's Just Kids, a wonderful memoir. I really like her photographs too. As a literary pilgrimager, I have stood where she and many others have stood, visiting the houses and graves of heroes and heroines of the pen and paintbrush especially.

A Supplication for the beggars Spring of 1529
Simon Fish wrote this fourteen page book castigating the clergy, who he said were responsible for turning the common folk of England into beggars. What is significant about the book was that it found its way into the hands of King Henry VIII and Sir Thomas More was moved to write a vitriolic counter argument to the book.

The English Scholars library edition contain an extract from Sir Thomas Mores refutation, a couple of short pieces from the 16th century as to how the book got into the king's hands, a brief biography of Simon Fish and the whole of his "A Supplication for the beggars".

It would appear that Fish got into trouble for satirising Cardinal Wolsey as part of a playing group and had to flee to the continent. His book was imported into England and either got into Henry's hands via Anne Boleyn or a couple of German Merchants. Fish's wife made representation to the king on behalf of her husband and he was allowed to return to England and Henry looked favourably on his book. Simon Fish died in 1530 from the plague.

A supplication for the beggars lists those responsible for the state of Beggary in England and it is the entire clergy: Bishops, Abbots, Deacons, Priors, Archdeacons, Suffraganes, Priests, Monks, Friars, Pardoners and Sumoners. Fish claims they own one third of the land of England and by a ruthless taxation system keep the common folk poor. He gives examples of great nations from history who could not have succeeded if they had such a rapacious clergy (he continually refers to them as bloodsuppers). He goes on to say that no woman is safe and that the land is full of cuckolds and bastards. Anybody standing against them is denounced as a heretic, which can lead to excommunication and death. The clergy are so powerful at court and in parliament that they can stand against the king himself. He suggests that the idle clergy should be tied to the wheels of carts to be whipped naked in every market town, until they are forced to do some work. The case of Richard Hunne a respectable merchant who was imprisoned after an argument with his priest and became a cause celebre in 1514 is twice mentioned. Hunne died in his cell and suspicion fell on the clergy.

It is a privilege to be able to read this slice of history free on the internet, probably as close to a primary source as I am liable to get. Well worth the time for those with an interest in Henry VIII and the reformation.

Great reviews, Barry. I've not read the really early Lessing before the Martha Quest Children of Violence of Series -- these novellas sound very interesting. Fish's supplication must have provided fodder for Henry's split with the RC Church and Sir Thomas More. Before I read Hillary Mantel, my perception of More had been almost entirely shaped by his Utopia and the film, A Man for All Seasons. I must admit I've quite soured on him learning of his persecution of "heretics" and now the poor.

I was wondering how you stumbled upon the Simon Fish. What a find! Interesting comments . . .

I enjoyed The City of the Sun because it is the boldest of the utopias I've read so far and has such a pure egalitarian vision. I like that your course in life is determined purely by your aptitudes and abilities and not by what your parents were (since you don't even know or care who they were).

Gibson at least sounds better than Davies.

Simon Fish is a great find--the Edward Snowden of his age, apparently--thanks for the review. I wonder what he would think of the religious environment today.

>25 Poquette: I came across Simon Fish in J J Scarisbrick's biography of Henry VIII and then saw that it was available at Project Gutenberg.

Simon Fish is fascinating -- for some reason such protest is making me think of current uk politics and how making claims against something can coalesce into a cause fuelled by discontent that some may use -- or perhaps this is the organic outcome of a system going wrong, disconnecting from people. Fascinating Henry VIII was aware of it, gives me a perspective on him then as liberator (?!).

Thanks also for your review of Wilfred Gibson, he was mentioned when I read Edward Thomas' biography last year I think, you've made me more curious to read more.

<28 Henry VIII as a liberator? Hmmmm...... a question that will remain unanswered. He did see the catholic church as a major obstacle for his ambitions, but more than this is probably conjecture. No evidence that he cared a hoot for the beggars.

Oh, I want to be there! And it's a great location with kids -- no traffic and the entire city is the attraction. Also, gelaterias every 30 feet or so.

Journey by Moonlight by Antal Szerb
Very European, very existential and very good. Antal Szerb's Journey by Moonlight was published in Hungarian in 1937 and this edition was translated by Len Rix in 2001. Rix himself describes the actions of Mihaly; the central character as immoral, absurd and farcical, but I find his actions those of a sane man in world of absurdity. (but that probably says more about me than it does the book). We can never know exactly what Szerb thought because much of what he writes seems ironical and ambiguous. Don't let this put you off reading because the book is not 'difficult' even if you cannot come to terms with Mihaly and his perceived weakness of character.

I love books with a good opening sentence and this one has a killer:

"On the train everything seemed fine. The trouble began in Venice, with the back alleys.

Mihaly and Erzsi are on honeymoon in Venice (a warning for anyone considering honeymooning in Venice) and Mihaly is already feeling trapped. He takes himself off for a walk and fails to return to the hotel until the following morning. He tries to explain to Erzsi his actions and tells her of his adolescence when he came under the spell of Eva and her brother Tamas. He spent much of his time with this curious couple who were obsessed with death and the act of dying. There were others in this circle of friends; Ervin a Jew who converted to Catholicism and Janos Szepetnecki a youth already involved in criminal activity. It is a visit from Szeptnecki that jolts Mihaly out of his comfortable marriage with the wealthy Erszi and sends him on a quest to discover himself. In typical Mihaly fashion he gets off a train to buy some coffee, getting back on to the wrong train effectively separating himself from his newly married wife. He embarks on a ramble around Italy relying on fate to show him the way.

Tamas we learn has committed suicide, but Eva, Janos and Ervin are all in Italy and Mihaly stumbles upon them as he vaguely tries to sort out some sort of meaning for his existence. Death and/or suicide seems to hover tantalisingly close and I was reminded of Albert Camus opening paragraph in his Myth of Sisyphus There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide. Antal Szerb's lightness of touch, his sense of fun and his use of irony serve to keep his book from plunging the reader into some sort of turgid tragedy. We are able to be amused by Mihaly and at the same time be interested and wonder at his lack of perspicacity. Zoltan: Erzsi's ex husband writes to Mihaly telling him to sort himself out, to make up his mind about Erzsi and says:

if I were a woman and had to choose between the two of us I would choose you without hesitation and Erzsi surely loves you for being the sort of person you are; - so utterly withdrawn and abstracted that you have no real relationship with anybody or anything, like someone from another planet, a Martian on Earth, someone who never really notices anything, who cannot feel real anger about anything, who never pays proper attention when others speak, who often seems to act out of vague goodwill and politeness as if just playing at being human.

It is not too difficult to understand why Mihaly is such an outsider to the world of business and affairs that Zoltan inhabits, but it is also not so difficult to see why Erzsi is so attracted to him. Later Erzsi tells him that "The world won't tolerate a man giving himself up to nostalgia, it wont tolerate any deviations from the norm. Any desertion or defiance and sooner or later it turns the Zoltans on you."

Antal Szerb intrigues with some fine writing, with some ambiguous discussions on the meaning of life, but also he has a good story to tell. He takes us on a tour of Italy, he wallows in Mihaly's nostalgia, there are ghosts and images from the past and meetings with old friends. There is also on the fringe of this world; the fascists who hover in the background; Mussolini is in power and from our perspective we know that Mihaly's world will be subject to violent change. Antal Szerb is not unsympathetic to his female characters, they are strong and resolute and we are allowed to see the world through Erzsi's eyes.

I enjoyed this book very much, it nearly persuaded me to jump in the car and go to see those Italian towns, but then like Mihaly I am a man of inaction and that is why perhaps I liked the book so much. A four star read.

>31 RidgewayGirl: Kay. I love Venice. I have been three times and once spent two magical weeks there, on my own in a misty November.

Barry, Your review of Journey by Moonlight is intriguing. I also love really good first sentences or paragraphs that just make you want to read more. One of my favorites was in The Bird Artist by Howard Norman.

I'm skipping your review of Journey by Moonlight for now because I'm looking forward to reading it myself -- soon, as I've become an Antal Szerb fan.

What a great review, Barry. Just now I am on a Venice kick, and that picture really gave me a bit of a frisson

Kipps by H G Wells
The story of Artie Kipps; a simple soul whose attempted climb up society's rigid ladder is mocked unmercifully by Wells in one of his most popular novels. Kipps a lowly drapers assistant surprisingly inherits a tidy sum of money, which would be enough for him to live like a gentleman, he is taken in hand by those who wish to see him prosper and his befuddled attempts to live up to his means provide some laughs as well as some satire of Britain's class ridden society circa 1905.

Unusually for H G Wells he spent a long time over this novel, it was over seven years in the writing and he and his publishers thought he was on to a winner and so it proved. It is a novel with a popular rags to riches story with a rich vein of comedy and such a likeable hero that many readers will want him to succeed despite laughing at him rather than with him. This was a re-read for me and this time round I could see the cracks in the novels structure, especially as the humour seems rather too gentle and Well's 'social issues' make the book a little disjointed. In the 21st century the set piece comedy situations appear a little quaint, it is though we are looking at an old British black and white film seen so many times on a Sunday afternoon, that it takes on the appearance of an old friend. It has lost it's bite.

The best thing about the novel is Artie Kipps himself. This is a sustained piece of characterisation by Wells that doesn't let up throughout. Kipp's story is told in linear fashion, he features on every page, there is no mystery or suspense, even when the reader might wonder what is going to happen next with Kipps enjoying his new found wealth; Wells interjects to tell us that "One cannot hide any longer that all this fine progress of Kipps is doomed to end in collapse" (as if we could not see this coming.) Wells subtitled his novel the story of a simple soul and this is indeed what Kipps is. He knows his place as an honest drapers assistant and hardly looks beyond it. He is not particularly intelligent, has no great insight into the human condition and he knows his place. People like him for no other reason than he is a genuine sort and when he comes into his money, people are prepared to guide him because "he confided, he submitted,....... he had the realist, the most seductively flattering undertone of awe and reverence". Kipps is not blessed with any insight into other characters, he realises there are bounders and cheats around but he would never be able to spot them for himself. (although as readers we can see them). Wells uses plenty of dialogue and much of this comes from Kipps, but it is entirely in keeping with his character, short sentences spoken in working class language with appropriate spelling to boot. Kipps remains Kipps throughout, this is no bildungsroman and towards the end of the novel he reflects on his life in typical fashion:

"I don't recollect.......No........ Life's jolly rum; that's one thing any'ow. And I suppose I'm a rum sort of feller. I get excited sometimes, and then I don't seem to care what I do. That's about what it was reely.............

There are some other fine characterisations; Henry Chitterlow (Chit'low) an actor and would be playwright who runs into Kipps on his bike; Masterman the socialist agitator who Kipps thinks is so clever, but of course he doesn't hold with all this socialism and Kipps' fiancé (Helen) who aspires to climb the social ladder. The town of Folkstone as it was in 1905 comes alive as does the seafront along Romney Marsh and there is an excellent description of the newly built Crystal Palace. Wells cannot help tub thumping with his socialism and Masterman gets a speech in which he puts the world to rights and while Wells does not overdo the social commentary, in this case he does in part three of the novel, spend a little too much time telling us about the state of house building in England at the time and this produces a bit of an in balance in the flow of the story.

Towards the end of the novel Wells interjects for the readers benefit, increasingly, and it feels like he wants to change the tenor of what has gone before; perhaps he has made Kipps too likeable, the satire too gentle. it is though he realises he might not have got the balance quite right he addresses the reader directly:

What is the good of keeping up the idyllic sham and pretending that ill-educated and misdirected people 'get along very well' and that all this is harmlessly funny and nothing more? You think I am going to write fat, silly, grinning novels about half-educated, undertrained people and keep it up all the time, that the whole thing is nothing but funny.........

Perhaps then Kipps is not the vitriolic satire on the class system that Wells wanted to write and he settled for a more gentle comedy that would not upset the majority of his readers. He did make people laugh whether he still does will depend on how far the reader can place himself in England at the turn of the century. Wells himself started his working life in "a crib" in a large drapers emporium, and he draws on his experiences to make Kipps' early career all too believable. He describes what is now a different world with an authenticity that is compelling. This is not my favourite novel by H G, but one can't help liking it. I rate it at 3.5 stars.

Great review of Kipps, and that last quote is really something.

Here is our local version of the Crystal Palace (no pretty fountains in front, though, just a freeway):

Barry, that's one H.G. Wells novel I had never heard of. Surprising since it was so popular. Perhaps less so on this side of the pond. Nice review at any rate!

Ditto for what Poquette said!

What Poquette and Rebecca said. Also never heard of Kipps before.
Great review, as always.

Agrippa's Occult Philosophy: Natural Magic by Cornelius Agrippa
Finally published in 1533 Agrippa's first volume of Occult philosophy proves to be a book that looks backwards to the medieval and classical world rather than forward from the renaissance. It is a collection of folk tales, classical anecdotes, powerful words of wisdom derived from the cabala and ancient writings believed to be by Hermes Trismegistus. It is all bound up in a belief that the earth is the centre of the universe and that Gods influence reaches down through all matter; celestial, animal, vegetable and mineral to have various effects on mankind. Agrippa gives us many examples of the many wonders that can be believed and in a chapter devoted to properties that remain in animal parts which are still alive, we get:

"If you take a heart, newly taken out of an animal, and while it is still yet warm, hang it on one who has a quartan fever, it will drive it away. So if any one swallow the heart of a lap wing, or a swallow or a mole, whist it is yet warm with natural heat, it shall be helpful to him for remembering, understanding, and for fortelling. Also they say that if the eyes of a frog before sunrise be bound to the sick party, and the frog be let go again, blind into the water they will drive away tertian ague, as also they will, being bound with the flesh of a nightingale, keep one always watchful without sleep..............."

Cornelius Agrippa wrote his Occult philosophy at the age of 23 as a precocious student of Latin and Greek texts, who was also delving into the recently discovered Hebrew Texts that pointed towards the mysticism of the Cabala. It was a heady mixture, but Agrippa's writing infused it all with a belief in Christianity that made it acceptable to his patrons. He provided answers to many of the mysteries of life with a mixture of astrology, enchantments, augury and a Neo-Platonist view of the world. He clamed that natural Magic comprehends, unites and actuates; natural, mathematical and theological philosophy.

An overriding theme of his book is the power of imagination; armed with Agrippa's Natural Magic there is hardly anything that could not be achieved if the practitioner believed in what he was doing. He gives examples of how he has used telepathy, saying he knows how to do it and has often done it.

My Dover edition of the book edited by Willis F Whitehead is illustrated with tables and examples from the tarot and the cabala. It also contains useful commentary by Henry Morley that puts Agrippa in the context of his times and also explains his standing among the Rosicrucians.

As a book, Agrippa's Natural Magic seemed like so much mumbo-jumbo to me, however reading it was useful to establish the mind set of a certain intellectual elite in the Renaissance period. Heaven forbid that anyone should take this stuff seriously today. Three stars.

Very interesting ideas, but I agree with you wholeheartedly about not taking it seriously today!

You are brave to read that stuff straight through. I have a big book of Agrippa but I have merely dipped into it, mostly looking up references from other places. Something to look forward to . . . This would fit nicely into my "pagan influences" pursuit, except that he goes over an edge that is beyond even my scope, although I eventually expect to give it a closer look.

Interesting review. Will take it under advisement!

>38 baswood: That's a great review of Kipps. I hadn't heard of this book until a few years ago, when it was mentioned on a TV programme about English literature and social class. I've been wanting to read it since then, and your review has given me a further push to do so (although who knows when I'll actually get round to it!).

Thanks Oscar and Rebecca. H G Wells was so sure that Kipps would be a bestseller he urged his publishers: Frederick Macmillan to launch a publicity campaign with a big poster at Portsmouth station proclaiming "Kipps Worked here" also advertisements in London theatres and sandwich board men. The book did become H G's biggest seller of his career so far (1905)

Be careful with that Natural Magic Suzanne.

The Testament of Mary By Colm Toibin.
Colm was definitely taking the Mick with this one, at just 104 pages, if he had held it sideways it would have gone missing; it was shortlisted for the Man Booker prize.

Let us remind ourselves that the Man Booker prize is awarded for the best original novel in the English Language. A Novel that is; not a short story, perhaps the panel were confused by the criteria for a short list and chose it because was erm............ short. Now I know that Julian Barnes had walked away with the prize in 2011 with his 160 page Sense of an Ending which was both short and unoriginal; so perhaps Toibin thought that if he wrote something even shorter and based it on one of the most well known stories in the world he would be bound to win. Perhaps some authors writing today believe that their readers attention span is so short that they cannot handle more that one idea or one central character.

E M Forster back in the 1920's reminded us what the Aspects of the Novel were and he started with three main criteria: Story, people and plot. The novel should tell a story, there should at least be ragged ends to keep the reader interested, but all we get in The Testament of Mary is a different perspective on a well known story. Sure Toibin makes the point that Mary's part in the story was largely neglected by the chroniclers and her Testament, such as it was may well have been invented by the mythmakers, but this is hardly an original idea. Toibin does rather better with Forsters second criteria which is people. The aim of a novelist, especially an historical novelist should be to reveal the inner life of the actors in the story. One could say that the whole point of Toibin's book is to reveal the inner life of Mary; mother of Jesus and he does this by telling her story through a first person perspective. It is the life of a woman who fails to understand her son and who has to watch helplessly as he is put to death in a most cruel fashion. She sees the power that Jesus has over other people but she cannot equate this with the boy who grew up in her house and so what we have here is a mother's torment, rather than testament. Toibin has room enough for only one person in his story and so it has to be a good one. However on Forster's third criteria; plot, there is very little evidence of any such thing. Forster says the reader does not only need to know that things have happened he also needs to know why they happened and it is the novelist skill in revealing these issues, that keeps us wanting to know more, there should be some mystery. Admittedly this is more difficult in a historical novel, especially one that retells some of the most well known stories in the English language, but all that Toibin has time to tell us is that the action took place in a closed fearful society that was continually spying and spied upon and that those in Authority were able to stage manage events to their own advantage.

Cynically one might think that another good way to sell a whole load of books, retailing at £8.00 a throw, would be to create some controversy and what is better than to attack some of the most basic tenents of the catholic church. Despite what we read in the scriptures; the myth of the virgin Mary has developed down the ages and for some she is the most revered person in history. By depicting her as a grieving mother who does not for one moment believe Jesus is the son of God strikes at the heart of the catholic faith. Protests, publicity, of course there was.

Despite all that I have said above I enjoyed the reading experience, although it was all over within the hour. Toibin is a master of creating an atmosphere of time and place. He writes beautifully placing his readers in scenarios that are both sharp and keenly sensitive. There are three major scenarios here that are beautifully written; the wedding at Canna, Pilates handling of the rabble and finally the crucifixion itself. The character of Mary is beautifully achieved; a person who understands little, relying on her instincts as a woman and a mother to see her through. His use of the first person allows us to get inside the head of an ordinary mother from that era and although he strays at times by making her think like a woman from current times, this does not get in the way of the characterisation and is often necessary to explain actions that are taken.

A good book club choice for those clubs whose members have little time for reading, assuming also they have some background in the Christian religion. Me, I am still waiting for the other short stories that would have made this into a fine collection. Toibin having failed to win the Man Booker did what he should have done in the first place and re-wrote this as a play with only one actor. It would make a tremendous monologue. A three star read.

Barry, That is a very interesting review of The Testament of Mary. Did you read it for book club, or was it on your own TBR?

>48 baswood: Barry, your review is a triumph! But it sounds like the book is not. However, having short books on the TBR is not a bad thing to pad one's reading in months when one falls short! I shall keep it in mind.

>47 baswood: Be careful with that Natural Magic Suzanne.

Taking your caution under advisement . . .

That's a memorable review of The Testament of Mary!

I hadn't heard of the Agrippa work before, but I'll have to look for it whenever I start doing any reading from the Renaissance period.

Colleen, The Testament of Mary was a book club choice.

Haiku wins Booker
Judges decision final
Novel way to go

Squinting over my
Luxury rainbow tablet
Cross eyed devotion

Should we be surprised
Son rejects his mothers love
Kingdom in heaven

For past services
A retrospective award
A feel good factor

Mary tormented
He was just a naughty boy
Everlasting fame

Enjoyed your review of The Testament of Mary and the haiku - they were wonderful.

Also enjoyed your review for The Testament of Mary. Surely there are awards for novellas, how could they even consider such short books for novel prizes? Ridiculous.

It is not so short compared to what is considered a novel in Europe (and in some of Latin America) though - a lot of the European novels are as short. For the North American based reader (and the British one I think), it is short. But outside of it, not that uncommon.

bas,

Great review of The Testament of Mary. Had been looking at it for a while and your review convinced me that my first instinct is correct - I should probably just skip it.

Excellent review of The Testament of Mary. Sounds like he made a sensible decision in making it a one-person play.

That's an interesting question on how long a book should be and whether novellas should be considered for awards, or put in short story collections. Personally, I like books being as long as the author thinks it takes to tell the story, so that if sixty pages is what the author needs, then that is how long it should be, or 600 for that matter.

There were complaints during The Morning News Tournament of Books that books were getting too long, which seems to have been also a factor in the disastrous 2011 Booker Prize deliberations. But, of course, A Testament of Mary didn't win the Booker; a significantly longer book did.

Great review of The Testament of Mary, Barry. Novel or novella, I have been meaning to read it.

Just catching up your thread, which is rather like trying to catch a speeding train using a skateboard.

Perhaps Toibin had a meeting with his agent who suggested that despite writing good novels he needed something to help with the publicity - the same year he produced The Testament of Mary Toibin also released a study of writers and their families with the pithy title of New Ways to Kill Your Mother.

>60 Jargoneer: interesting about Toibin. As for the skateboard, if it were just one train it might not be so bad. It's all those other trains that leave me a bit overwhelmed here.

Which leaves me playing catchup again. I likes your Toibin review, which doesn't discourage me. And I think some short books are underrated. I feel like many great books could be found if the authors after finishing their long book, saw it for the draft of ideas it was and then rewrote the significance in 100 pages.

>43 baswood: I can't see myself reading Agrippa, but I think it's cool you did. What a huge figure he is in western intellectual development.

>32 baswood: you, Rebecca and Szerb - I feel the need to read this author...someday..

As always, enjoyed catching up.

Can't wait to see what's coming after these illustrations!

Samuel Taylor Coleridge?

Robert

Confessions of an English Opium-eater and other writings by Thomas De Quincey
Confessions maybe, but not by any means complete contrition. De Quincey rhapsodises on the pleasures of Opium eating (Laudanum tincture) at pains to dissipate the image of oriental men smoking their life away in opium dens. Opium makes us feel like the diviner part of ones nature is paramount, with moral affections in a state of cloudless serenity. For De Quincey, opium taken in small quantities sharpened him up, invigorated his senses; he tells us how it is so much more effective than alcohol in producing a feeling of well being and a feeling of being in tune and in control of oneself :

"For opium (like the bee that extracts it's materials indiscriminately from roses and the soot of chimneys) can overrule all feelings in compliance with the master key"

My first thoughts were "where can I get some". It would not have been a problem in 1822 when the "Confessions" were published as Laudanum could be bought over the counter at many chemist/drug stores. It was quite popular and De Quincey says that many people he knew regularly took it and he goes on to tell how many people in the upper echelons of society were habitual opium eaters. The issue for some people would have been the expense, it was never very cheap although well within the reaches of the working classes. Today of course it can only be got legally by prescription and because of the impure nature of the drug is only rarely prescribed.

De Quincey's Confessions of an English Opium eater when published as an essay in Blackwood's magazine was an instant success. It was one of the first pieces that dwelt on the positive effects of drug taking and while it would be inaccurate to say that it launched a genre of drug culture literature, it certainly opened the way for others to follow. It was successful at the time because it was in tune with the thoughts and ideas of some of the Romantic writers. De Quincey hero worshipped William Wordsworth and while this was not reciprocated by the great man of poetry, nevertheless De Quincey was able to refer to his poems liberally in his essays.

The Confessions of an English Opium Eater is much more than just a peon to the pleasures of opium; it is an essay written by an intelligent, well educated, sensitive human being who does his duty in pointing out the addictive nature of the drug and points out the pain that it can bring to those people who overuse it. It can easily lead to depression, a withdrawal from daily life, nightmares, anxiety, and a darkness of the soul and these are all well described so as to give the essay some balance. Before we get to the pleasures and pains of taking opium we have to read an autobiography of De Quincey's early life which takes up over half the essay and serves as reasons for his taking of opium in the first place and then reasons for his refuge in the drug itself. The essay ends with De Quincey almost giving us words of warning, saying that although he was able to escape from addiction his nightmares still persist.

The longest essay in the collection is Suspira de Profundis where De Quincey revisits and expands much of the ground that he covered in the Confessions. While the reader can believe that the Confessions were written by a man not under the influence of opium, this is not the case with "Suspira" which contains some genuinely druggy writing and would have served as an inspiration to many writers of that genre. The essay is uneven and incomplete, but is does contain some sublime sections. Although we have to follow De Quincey again through an expanded autobiography he is much more inclined to wander off at a tangent, there are brilliant passages on how opium makes time elastic; stretching out immeasurably, there is a long section where he dwells on the wording of the funeral service with references to Christianity and to Agrippa's "Natural Magic", he talks lovingly about his classical studies and his collection of books that he holds so dear. This essay like The Confessions is written in the first person and the reader becomes more aware of the personality of the writer, his passions and his feeling of being out of step with the world in which he lives and his need for a sort of privacy, a refuge where he can be alone with his thoughts. This is a man who is coming to terms with his childhood ordeals through his dreams and/or nightmares induced by his opium eating. He uses the extended metaphor of a palimpsest to explain how the opium can blast through the veils that have attached themselves to his memories, his personality, but is aware of the dangers that this can bring. Another section tells of a fantasy he has on seeing apparitions on top of the mountain; Brocken in North Germany in some fine Romantic prose. Finally we are left with a feeling of how incomplete and disjoined is the "Suspira" that has come down to us, but it is still a marvellous reading experience.

In perhaps my favourite essay in the collection "The English Mail Coach". De Quincey takes us into the world of riding the mail coaches in the mid nineteenth century. Again it is in the first person and we experience the thrills of riding one of the mail coaches as it carries to the people of England the news of Napoleons defeat at Waterloo. De Quincey is still taking opium and he says he fortified himself with some before embarking on a night time ride to the lake district where he watched helplessly as the driver of the carriage fell asleep and they were on collision course with a carriage coming the opposite way. "I am miserably and shamefully deficient in that quality as regards action" he tells us and this is an over weaning theme to his personality. De Quincey is a dreamer, with or without opium, repeatedly he tells us the modern world is moving too fast for him, he looks backwards to a more natural world, the coming of the railways is an anathema to him. He says:

"Some people have called me procrastinating. Now you are witness, reader, that I was in time for them. But can they lay their hands on their heart, and say that they were in time for me? I, during my life have often had to wait for the post office: The post office never waited a minute for me"

Yes, there is plenty of humour and amusement in the writing of this intelligent man, who, while well aware of the deficiencies in his character that hinders him in day to day business, can still make a case for his world view. It was in some respects in tune with the Romantics and today will strike a chord with some disaffected people. The confessions can often be seen listed among the genre of fantasy and even science fiction, but I would not put it there at all. These are the writings of a man with both feet firmly planted in the 19th century, looking backward rather than forward and while his drug induced dreams could be seen as fantasies; to De Quincey they were essential parts of his very being that he was keen to explore. De Quincey was a prolific writer of essays, as that was how he earned his living and I am keen to read some more, but I would not hesitate in recommending this collection to all readers. 4.5 stars.

Very interesting review, and it makes me interested in rereading this book which I actually read in college as part of a course on autobiographies. I am thus very surprised that some people have categorized it as fantasy/science fiction, as I remember taking it as fact. I have an "and other writings" edition too, but I don't recall reading anything other than Opium Eater. Looking at it, it also includes "Suspira de Profundis" and "The English Mail Coach," and something intriguingly named "On Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts." Not sure when if ever I'll get back to this, but I'm grateful to you for reminding me of it.

It does sound interesting, though I have great difficulty with anything dealing with the positive side of opiates. Having been prescribed them by doctors and had a course of treatment involving ketamine with not a single positive experience, just awful side effects, I get rather annoyed at the pleasure seekers.

>65 baswood: Thanks for this excellent review! I bought a copy of this book in a charity shop earlier this year and am a little daunted by it, but your review really makes me look forward to reading it, even though I'm sure I won't find it the easiest of reads.

>67 mabith: Meredith, it is interesting that De Quincey first took opium as a pain relief after suffering severe malnutrition.

>66 rebeccanyc: My Oxford world classics edition doesn't have "on Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts" instead there is a short critique of a scene in Shakespeare's Macbeth.

>68 Rebeki: Essays by 19th century academics are not going to be easy reads and De Quincey has moments of dryness, but taken as a whole there is enough sparkle and interest in the prose to keep reading, also by writing in the first person he addresses the reader directly and managed to involve me in his concerns and portraits of life in England.

Opium tinctures
searching brains vast palimpsest
mortal impressions

Reflux of panic
Stepping out from the known world
Dreadful faces thronged

Rubbery pipette
deliciously tactile squeeze
A thumb drop too much

Drug addicted dreams
draw out life infinitely
Nodding out my life

Wounds that never heal
Opium's assuaging balm
Long buried beauties.

>69 baswood: I don't think it's the sort of book I would normally go for, but that title has long intrigued me, so I can't not attempt to read it. Having checked, I realise the edition I have is just Confessions of an English Opium-Eater (with later comments and revisions), but if I enjoy that, then I will certainly seek out de Quincey's other essays.

ETA: lovely haikus!

Barry, I can honestly say that you and Rebecca are the only two people I "know" who have read Confessions of an English Opium-Eater. This is surprising considering how famous the essay is. I must confess that de Quincey has never been on my list of authors to seek out, but perhaps I'll reconsider now that you have brought him so eloquently to life.

Rosshalde Hermann Hesse.
Hermann Hesse won the Noble prize for literature in 1946 and was a literary star in the German speaking world from the publication of his novel Peter Camenzind in 1904. He died in 1962 and by then critical acclaim and book sales were passing him by. New translations of his novel in the 1960's led to a resurgence of interest in America and the West and her became a must read for counter culture aficionados. Themes such as quests for enlightenment associated with Journeys to India and the East rang those hippie bells, however if you are looking for something similar in Rosshalde you would be largely disappointed. Published in 1914, it has many of the hallmarks of Romanticism with its major theme of the impassioned and successful painter sacrificing his happiness for the sake of his art.

Johan Veraguth a very successful artist lives on a large estate in beautiful countryside and much of his work is concerned with capturing the quality of what he sees around him onto his canvas. We pick up his story when his life is approaching a crossroads of sorts. He has for some time lived apart from his wife; Adele, on the estate. She occupies the Manor House while Veraguth has built a couple of rooms attached to his studio in the grounds where he spends his nights. He meets his wife most days for lunch and they behave in a civilized way towards each other. Their 5 year old son Pierre however has become a bone of contention. Veraguth pours all his love onto his son and their is a continual battle with his wife for possession. Precocious Pierre spends time with both his mother and his father but sleeps at the Manor house. Veraguth wants to escape with Pierre from what he sees as his entrapment, but his wife will not allow this, she had won a previous battle over their older son Albert who is now devoted to her and dislikes and mistrusts his father. The arrival of Otto Buckhardt a boyhood friend of Veraguth fresh from his travels and his tea estates in India is a catalyst for action. He sees how unhappy his old friend has become with his marital situation and suggests he should go back with him to India, he has come prepared with an impressive portfolio of photographs to tempt the artist. Veraguth is torn, he wants to go back with his friend but cannot come to terms with sacrificing his love for Pierre.

It may be that Veraguth will have a physical and spiritual adventure in India, but that is not the subject of this novel because when the story finishes he has not gone. Hermann Hesse is more intent on exploring the relationship between the artist and his family and this he does in some beautiful and delicate prose. The beauty of the natural world all around gives Veraguth his inspiration for his work, but this is at the expense of the love received from his family. We learn that Adele has been an intellectually and cultural disappointment and Veraguth can no longer engage with her on that level and this has led to a loss of physical passion. Adele comes across as a strong woman in her own write, but neither of them can find the words to heal the break and they drift further apart. The arrival of their elder son home for the school holidays and a serious illness to Pierre, brings the antagonists together in such a way that they are forced to tacitly explore their feelings.

Hesse is brilliant at capturing the artist at work and the spirit that drives him onwards, and which serves to give him life. He captures perfectly the gentle manners of a family suffering a real breakdown in communications, but who are trying not to cause too much pain while they fight for the love of their children. Perhaps the guarded words and guarded feelings will not appeal to 21st century readers, but Hesse's limpid but at times sensual prose makes this a delight to read. It is told very much from Veraguths point of view and the reader is party to his innermost thoughts, which may come directly from Hesse's own life experience as his marriage was collapsing on account of his wife's mental illness. Nothing unpredictable happens, and so it is the fine writing that makes us want to follow this story to its natural conclusion. It is all over in 150 pages, but I am glad that Hesse did not take us to India, which may have spoiled this lovely structured novel. A 3.5 star read.

Very nice review, Barry, as always. I have not read any Hesse since Siddhartha way back in the sixties!

Exactly what Suzanne said!

Catching up, as usual. I've always meant to read De Quincey, now I may to pick him up soon. Loved the review of Rosshalde -- this is a novel by Hesse that I did not know about.

Always great reviews, Bas. The three of Hesse's novels which I have read—Narcissus and Goldmund, Sidhartha, and The Glass Bead Game—are some of the best things I've read, and am always glad to add more. I've also added DeQuincey, about whom I've heard a fair bit, but have never read.

Catching up here...

You liked De Quincey more than I did. I found the author's egotism insufferable. I did enjoy his English Mail Coach ride, though.

Excellent review of Rosshalde. It sounds like a story Henry James might have written. I was one of those who read Hesse in the '60s: Siddhartha, Steppenwolf, and Demian.

HI Suzanne, Jane, Rebecca, Christopher, and Steven; Hermann Hesse seems to be an author that goes in and out of fashion. I did not read him in the 60's and so I have got some catching up to do.

Oh yes Steven you have to get past De Quincey's ego; not a person you would invite round to dinner.

Another intriguing illustration . . .

At the Earth's Core Edgar Rice Burroughs
Published in 1914 the same year as Tarzan of the Apes this one is a notch below the first of the Tarzan books.
It starts promisingly enough with our hero David Innes and his older inventor friend Perry strapped into a metallic earth burrowing machine. The steering mechanism becomes jammed as they helplessly feel the heat intensify in their capsule, but just as their air supply runs out after four days travelling and Perry is lying inert in his seat the machine breaks through into another world. They have arrived in a world that lies near the centre of the earth and where humans and humanoids battle prehistoric monsters and each other for survival. It is at this point that any characterisation and plotting goes out the window as Burroughs concentrates on building his world in which our heroes have one adventure after another. If the initial premise seems unlikely then the exploits of David Ennis are real boys own fantasy stuff; amazing coincidences, incredible luck, feats of superhuman courage, strength and ingenuity, follow in breathless succession as our hero falls in lust with a beautiful slave girl and single-mindedly tries to woo, win and save her from peril.

Burroughs makes his fight scenes exciting and exotic and there are some imaginative scenarios, but they are linked together with minimal story telling. The world building has promise, but it is never fleshed out in enough detail to make it believable or even workable. His idea that the world of Pelucidar has no concept of time is just plain daft, but it does allow for Burroughs to abandon his plot development, whenever he wishes to bring about the next amazing coincidence.

David Innes tells the story in the first person and says "please bear in mind that I do not expect you to believe this story" and I suppose we; the readers have been warned. This is pulp fiction, probably no worse than much of the stuff that was and still is being churned out and one imagines that Burroughs hardly stopped to think much about his writing. He had an idea for a story, an idea with which could spin off more tales (there are seven in the series) and he hacked his way to the end. A two star read.

>82 baswood: That is too bad about At The Earth's Core. Your illustrations held such promise.

I haven't read any Burroughs in a long time, though At the Earth's Core is one I'm planning to re-read in the not-too-distant future. Burroughs must have flunked science class in a big way or (more likely) have been writing tongue in cheek. I remember that on his Barsoom (Mars) the natives reproduce by laying eggs that grow after being laid. But where is that extra mass coming from?

The one great thing about his underground world, though is it's name: Pellucidar.

Coincidentally only a few days ago I watched the 1976 film adaptation of the novel (it was free on Amazon Prime) with Doug McClure, Peter Cushing and Caroline Munro. It's not too bad if you can overlook the hokey rubber-suit monsters and the inexplicable fact that Pellucidarans speak English. The mole machine, by contrast, is beautifully rendered inside and out.

     

Burroughs was so great with names in general. I mean, Barsoom and Pellucidar are wonderful in there are lots more. I'm able to 5-Star read some of his because I just pay attention to how I feel while reading them. If I get taken on an adventure or laugh myself silly (like at how Tarzan learned to read, for example), that's all I need with that type of pulp fiction.

>84 StevenTX: - I actually saw that at the cinema. Doug McClure starred in at least 4 'lost worlds' films around the mid-70s, all directed by Kevin Connor and with slightly stretched budgets. One thing that annoyed me about the ruling creatures is that they barely did anything other than stand on rocks while their eyes shone. The odd pulsing sounds told the audience they were using their 'powers' but it still felt like a cop-out.
Caroline Munro must have been one of the most underdressed actresses in film.

In the Days of the Comet by H G Wells
Mystery, Utopia, science fiction, socialism, the human condition and a blistering attack on turn of the century society: Wells puts it all together in this overlooked gem from his extensive legacy of books. Perhaps it is his thinly shrouded advocacy for a socialist society with element of free love (the free love element caused a stink in 1906), that has ensured the novels relative obscurity, or perhaps it is his unrelenting critique of human nature which strikes too close to the bone, or perhaps people feel that they have heard all this before from the great man, whatever the reasons I think this now ranks as one of the best examples from his oeuvre and it is the mystery element that binds it together and makes it work.

The prologue to the story establishes the mystery, the mystery of the narrator. It is written in the first person and describes how he arrives on some sort of assignment to a strange tower in which dwells a man furiously writing. The furniture is described as "new to me and in no fashion that I could name" the writer is using a "thing like a fountain pen" and our narrator is invited to read the tome whose pages are lying together as they have been written. Above the writer is a concave speculum through which can be seen a magnified, reflected, evasive rendering of a terrace, a palace, the vista of a great roadway with many people exaggerated, but the actual window in the tower is too high to see directly through. The narrator asks repeatedly "what is this place? and where am I? The mystery of the person doing the writing is solved when the story gets underway, because it is his story and he is Willie Leadford. The narrator proceeds to read the tome and it is Willie Leadford's autobiography that makes up the bulk of Wells novel.

Willie Leadford is a disaffected youth working in a pot-bank in a grimy midlands coal mining town. His friend Parload is an amateur stargazer who becomes affixed by the possibility of a new comet that is approaching earth. Willie has no time for the prattling stargazer he is much more interested in Nettie his fiancé of two years who lives 17 miles away and who he is assiduously courting. He becomes interested in socialism after hearing a public speaker with whom he establishes an acquaintance, but Willie's world is tumbling around his ears. He quits his job when his demand for a pay rise is refused, Nettie seems to be moving away from him and his poor mother is struggling to keep her head above water in their dingy rented house whose landlord refuses to carry out any repairs. Wells brilliantly paints a picture of the hopelessness of many aspects of working class life in those drear coal mining communities. We feel Willie's disaffection as Wells with a mixture of irony and satire describes the working mans situation:

it was a clear case of robbery, we held, visibly so; there in those great houses lurked the Landlord and the Capitalist, with his scoundrel the Lawyer, with his cheat the Priest, and we others were all the victims of their deliberate villainies. No doubt they winked and chuckled over their rare wines, amidst their dazzling, wicked dressed women, and plotted further grinding for the faces of the poor"

Willie's life gets more difficult when he gets involved in a demonstration at the local pit and discovers that Nettie is seeing another man and this man Verrall is a rich young man and friend of the mine owner. We follow Willie's journey from disaffected youth to a rampant class hatred of the wealthy and finally to would be murderer. It is important to Wells themes that the reader should not be in total sympathy for Willie, there is an ambiguity, a hatred a desperate side to his character that baulks the reader from being in total sympathy with him and all the while that comet is approaching earth. Things get even more desperate when war is declared between Britain and Germany and Wells adds this into the soup of the pressures and stresses that beat down the lives of the working men. Willie wants vengeance, but the reader is aware that a Change is coming and the comet now lights up the sky at night.

"Now, the whole world before the Change was as sick and feverish as that, it was worried and overworked and perplexed by problems that would not get stated simply, that changed and evaded solution, it was in an atmosphere that had corrupted and thickened past breathing, there was no thorough cool thinking in the world at all. There was nothing in the mind of the world anywhere but half truths, hasty assumptions, hallucinations and emotions. Nothing....."

The comet passes close enough to earth so that it's green like vapour trail has an immediate affect on the people. At once everyone goes into a coma like state, but this only lasts for a few hours and people start to awaken and now they are filled with a sort of divine light. Not everyone wakes up of course because some were killed when they went into a coma, for example those driving motors, those working machinery etc. The survivors are filled with a desire to start afresh and this time they only have the good of the whole community in their hearts. Wells after some excellent description of a world awakening anew concentrates his story back with Willie and his desperate pursuit of Nettie and Verrall. Now everything has changed and the three of them work towards an accommodation of their feelings. It is the same the world over men and women have been enlightened, they have lost their muddle, their pettiness, they can only perceive the good things to be achieved. The change has not affected their personalities their wants and desires, but it has given everybody the tools and the environment in which they can work through their issues. A new government is formed on socialist principles and the concept of ownership has changed.

This has been Willie Leadford's story and we are in no doubt that his story was re-enacted the world over, but now Wells provides us with an epilogue and at once the story is put into focus, but the mystery deepens. We know that Willie is an old man now writing his memoirs but what has happened to the world, and who is the narrator that now takes up the question that he has been itching to ask while reading Willie's autobiography. What happened between him and Nettie did they become lovers? That question is answered, but who is Willie, did the comets effects make them all into deities? Are they of the same world as the narrator. Read the book if you want to come to your own conclusions.

It is a magnificent achievement by Wells to combine many of his favourite themes into a novel that also holds our interest with an intense personal story and some incisive writing about working class life. He also along the way predicted the coming war with Germany (still eight years in the future) and provides us with an idea of an Utopian world. The sting in the tail however is that Utopia cannot be achieved without some massive outside intervention that will change mans basic perception of his world. Perhaps after all this is why the book is not so highly regarded because it is ultimately depressing. Wells may have created the mystery in order to shield his thoughts on the human condition and also to hide his ideas on free love, but whatever that maybe it has provided an intoxicating read which I rate at 4 stars.

Fascinating review -- I'll keep my eye out for this one.

Very interesting review of In the Days of the Comet, another book I was not aware of.

Great review of In the Days of the Comet. It's already on my reading list.

Wow! That sounds fascinating.

Fabulous review of In the Days of the Comet, Barry!

Great review Barry. When I read Wells' Mr. Britling Sees It Through earlier this year, in the third part, Mr. Britling begins to write a manuscript titled "The Better Government of the World". He was outlining a Utopian world where all governments would get along, and each country would concentrate on its own interests. He wrote that one in 1916 while the war was still going strong. Does he bring up the utopian concept in all of his novels?

Catching up on your thread. Always a pleasure!

Thanks everybody

>94 NanaCC:.Colleen it seems that he could not help himself in writing propaganda for a socialist/utopian state; the two seem interchangeable. Certainly after his early science fiction novels he seems to feature those ideas in most of his novels. Not to mention many of his non fiction books that were based on those ideas.

>96 baswood: he could not help himself in writing propaganda for a socialist/utopian state;

I didn't realize Wells was a propagandist! Color me ignorant. Do tell more . . .

The Torments of Love Helisenne de Crenne
If I had not known better I might have thought that The Torments of Love by Helisenne de Crenne had been written by a modern day historical novelist; one who was trying to imitate a renaissance style of writing and by using a first person perspective attempting to depict the mind-set of a sixteenth century woman, but who had somehow got a little confused along the way and included medieval courtly love and chivalry, paganism and Catholicism, some modern concepts on ideas around 'love conquers all', and all the while attempting to take a high moral viewpoint on the dangers of extra marital affairs, but straying too far along the road of expressing the joys and pains of being in love.

This is in fact a sentimental novel (perhaps the first) written by Margaret de Briet; a French woman; published in 1538 and in its way is an extraordinary novel. Its first person perspective makes some of it feel autobiographical, but then the perspective changes from Helisenne's POV as the lovelorn woman to her lover Guenelic's knightly adventures and then to his friend Quezinstra's journey to purgatory as he tries to complete the story of the love affair. This is first and foremost a love story and the mixture of autobiography with the conventions of chivalry and courtly love which belong to another era from that of Marguerite de Briet throw up some interesting juxtapositions, which made this reader feel like either there was more than one author involved or de Briet's own readings of classical literature and popular legends had impinged on her story to such an extent that the finished article became a different animal to the one that was started. It could be argued that de Briet was a woman at a crossroads in the history of literature but that does not feel quite right, because it many ways her novel stands alone and I think looks backwards rather than forwards, but at the same time expressing the feelings; perhaps for the first time, of a woman caught in a hopeless love affair.

The novel is in three parts and the first and longest section tells of Helisenne's infatuation with a young man who she sees staring at her from a window on the opposite side of the street. Helisenne was married at eleven years old and although she tells us that her husband was kind and affectionate it is obvious she was married at too young an age. She admits that her health in the first couple of years was not good and it was only when her older husband had gone away on business for a period of time that her health improved and she developed into an attractive woman. The gaze from the admiring young man is reciprocated by Helisenne and she falls in love. In the best tradition of courtly love the affair is carried on only by looks and glances, but they are enough to send Helisenne into a paroxysm of lustful longing and painful guilt. Her distraction and her hyper sensitive moods cause her husband to suspect that she is being courted and at first he tries to reason with her, but then looses patience and resorts to physical violence. The story develops around Helisenne's attempts to meet and talk to her lover, while coping with the pain of a love affair that cannot be consummated and is subject to rumours and increasing danger from her husband. The lovers manage to exchange letters, but now the husband has found out the identity of the lover and has threatened to kill him. Helisenne and her husband frequent the temple (which is probably a church) where she hopes to see her lover and she writes:

"Then we entered the temple. I began to look around me. I saw a great multitude of people, men as well as women, and among them I saw my beloved. Then, although it was forbidden and prohibited that I should look at him, I could not dissimulate or temper my desire, for without hesitating to break and infringe on my promise, I looked at him very affectionately without recalling the pains and torments my husband made me suffer on his account. But just as a pregnant women tormented by strong and excessive pains before the birth of her child finds upon seeing the fruit of her labour that her perfect joy and delight make her forget all the preceding pains, in the same way the intrinsic pleasure and sweetness I received from the delectable sight of my beloved made me forget all my previous travails and sufferings"

The extraordinary thing about this novel is that it is a woman's voice, a woman's voice speaking to us from the sixteenth century and telling us about her feelings, her desires, her hopes and her dreads and while the restrictions under which she must carry out her life are foreign to many of us today we can still appreciate the pain of a love affair that has little chance of coming to fruition. The dichotomy within the novel is that Helisenne (or de Briet) has supposedly set out to write a warning; a moral tale on the dangers of the snares of love and exhorting ladies to avoid these at all costs and yet it frequently comes across as a lovers story. Helisenne suffers greatly for her love, which puts her in physical danger, which destroys her health, causing many days of weeping and sorrow, but she never really regrets the fact that she has fallen in love. The first part of the book ends with her husband forcibly taking her away and locking her up in a tower well away from the eyes of Guenelec her lover.

The second part of the novel is the story of Guenelec and his search for Helisenne and again it is told in the first person. At the end of the first part the reader was in some doubt about the constancy of the young man, but he proves himself in part two, which is an adventure story in the best chivalric tradition. He is aided in his search by his powerful friend Quezinstra who not only acts as his protector but also his comforter as Guenelec's grief and longing are continually in danger of getting the better of him. The novel looses a little of its power in this section because it no longer speaks from a female point of view and the authenticity of the first part in no longer there, however it is a fast paced, rattling good yarn, with moments of extreme sensitivity. Guenelec and Quezinstra finally discover the whereabouts of Helisenne and part three wraps up the story. An attempt is made to release her from the tower and the POV switches to the noble Quezinstra as he journeys through purgatory itself with the aid of the winged messenger Mercury as he searches for the lovers. This final part takes the novel into pure fantasy, but it adds another dimension to the story and provides a satisfying conclusion.

While parts two and three are fast paced and fun to read it is part one that really holds the interest, because of what is revealed to us from a woman's point of view. For example we learn the value of the confessional, because as Helisenne explains she cannot talk about her love to anybody, but because of the secrecy of the confessional she can pour out her feelings, can relieve herself of some of the burden. She can choose not to take notice of the priests demands for penitence and use the situation for her own ends. We are also aware of how difficult it would be for a lady of high birth surrounded by maids and servants to carry on any sort of assignation in secret and to what lengths she has to go to just to catch sight of her lover. We are also aware that there are no other distractions for her and can understand how feelings can become overwrought to our way of thinking.

I found this a delightful reading experience, one that is full of surprises and one which effortlessly transported me into another world and although at times I was not too sure which world that was it did not detract from the uniqueness of the storytelling. It would appeal to anyone familiar with tales of chivalry such as King Arthur and the knights of the round table, but with the added dimension of its singular points of view. The translation by Lisa Neal and Steven Rendell is a very good one, it does not modernise the style or feel of the book to make the reader think that it could not have been written in the sixteenth century. References to classical literature within the text are frequent and are explained concisely in footnotes. A four star read.

Postscript My second hand copy of the book has a handwritten inscription in the front which says:

To Michael -
A wonderful team teacher
a great translator and
a dear friend
Thank you for your many acts of
kindness and generosity

The signature is not absolutely clear but it could be Lisa, which is interesting because one of the translators was Lisa Neal, however her co translator was Steven Rendall.

You certainly find fascinating and unusual books to read!

Yes, quite fascinating, you've sold it to me, nice one.

Fabulous painting (who's it by?) and review. I've never heard of Margaret de Breit -- must track this one down!

Love your review of The Torments of Love, Barry. I agree with Rebecca. You do read some very fascinating books.

>98 Poquette: H G Wells was a political activist for much of his adult life. He was courted by the Fabians. He stood for the Labour party in two general elections. He was a regular contributor to newspapers on many political subjects and many of his books contained socialist ideals. Socialism and The Great State was one of many political books/essays that he had published.

Thanks Barry! For some reason I have never known much about Wells. Guess it's time to read up on the subject!

Regarding Torments of Love, what a wonderful review! I have added it to my wish list.

Fantastic review, although I'm still wrapping my head around the idea of being married at 11. Yes, I know it was customary and a long time ago, but ick.

Great review of Torments of Love, Barry.

I don't know how I got so behind on your thread! Back to Confessions of an English Opium Eater--I studied that one at university and definitely didn't like it as much as you did. I thought it was dry and didactic. I had to ask the question "Did he kick his opium habit?" to which my prof laughed loudly, "No! He was a raging addict until the day he died." Yeah, not a surprise. Despite not liking it, I'm glad I have that one under my belt.

>102 janeajones: The portrait is by Rogier Van der Weyden http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rogier_van_der_Weyden_-_Portret_van_een_V...

>99 baswood: This sounds fascinating, and it sounds like it would fit with some infrequent reading I have done over the years in the The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe series. You might find some of the titles of interest, baswood, if you aren't already familiar with them. Poquette, you might, too.

>110 LibraryPerilous: Thank you diana.n for that excellent link. I will follow up on some of those publications - exciting.

You're welcome. I also really like the kind of pop art-y covers.

109> Thanks. She's really lovely.

Fascinating review of The Torments of Love. I had never heard of the book or its author, but having read some of the romances of chivalry that were hugely popular at the time I can see how she might have been drawn to incorporate their elements into her own story.

>108 Nickelini: Joyce, I think there is a case to be made for much drug culture literature being didactic.

>110 LibraryPerilous: Very interesting link. I have bookmarked it. Thanks!

While it is impossible to deny that the consumption of drugs has helped to produce art much of what it has produced has been more for the benefit of the artist than the audience. (This is not always the case, as I have argued elsewhere drinks and drugs can make a positive impact. Look at Eric Clapton, ever since he gave them up his music has been terminally dull).

The one piece of de Quincy I can remember is On the Knocking at the Gate in Macbeth which is a really clever and astute piece of literary analysis. (On a personal note I passed his grave recently. He ended up in Edinburgh, trying to hide from this debtors, Holyrood Park had come under the jurisdiction of the local abbey who declared it a debtor's sanctuary, meaning that no-one within the defined boundaries could be arrested for debt).

You have to search for a cover for Lolita that shows the real subject of this book; Humbert Humbert; or perhaps that is a picture of the famous butterfly collector himself.

Lolita Vladimir Nabokov
In the forward to Lolita; Dr John Ray jnr refers to the sorry sordid business of Humbert Humbert's "confessional" story and however much the reader may be seduced by Nabokov's literary skills this book is certainly that: sorry and sordid. It is a horrifying tale of a very intelligent psychopath: one Humbert Humbert, who in his own words; kidnaps, rapes and murders his way across America to feed his passion for sex with pubescent girls. Humbert Humbert shows many of the classic symptoms of a psychopath, he is superficially charming, totally selfish, has no thoughts for the feeling of others, no sense of responsibility, but above all he is manipulative and an inveterate liar and so demonstrably an unreliable witness. He tells us that in the past there have been periods of insanity and during the course of his current story he checks into a sanatorium, it is almost as if his confession is some sort of defence, perhaps based on a plea of criminal insanity.

Nabokov's forward has the good doctor John Ray jnr warning us that the novel; "Lolita" should make all of us; parents, social workers and educators have greater vigilance in bringing up the younger generation, which may lead us to read this novel as some sort of scare story about the dangers of paedophiles, but I think this would be a mistake. For example a strict interpretation of paedophilia; is sex with pre-pubescent girls, but Lolita was not pre-pubescent and already sexually experienced before being raped by Humbert Humbert. Legally of course paedophilia is defined as sex between a person under 16 with a person over 18, but we all know that the law is an ass, as this would place a good few of us into the category of paedophiles. I do not mean to imply that Lolita is anything other than a victim, but she is primarily the victim of a psychopath, as are many other characters that come into a more than passing contact with the monster: Humbert Humbert.

By telling Humbert Humbert's story in the first person Nabokov must convince the reader that he is party to the thoughts and actions of an extremely dangerous man, a man that is an intelligent sexual predator. This gives the author the opportunity to write some genuinely erotic prose, which is one of the reasons why this literary novel is so popular. He tells us in sensuous language of Humbert Humbert's first love affair with Annabel, which sparks his desire for other young girls and he leads the reader on, with Humbert Humberts protracted seduction of Lolita and while the reader may be seduced by the prose he should bear in mind that what Humbert Humbert is planning is date rape. Humbert Humbert cannot hide the fact that his gross sexual appetite is both painful and nauseous to Lolita and although he tries to convince us that she is a bit of a slut, it should be obvious to the reader that this is not the case.

Humbert Humbert's sophistication, his academic background and his "European" education allows Nabokov to engage in literary games and witticisms, which abound throughout. He also gets to paint a convincing portrait of his travels across America, using literary references, theatre, poetry and song. The main agenda for all this, is a demonstration of Humbert Humbert's superiority over most/all of the characters he meets; he sneers at them, he laughs at them, he satirises them and he uses them.

Much of the writing is of the highest quality and if the book is not finally convincing, then it could be on further reading. The Grand Guignol finale feels like it should not belong, but Nabokov has been leading us up to it for some time. Humbert Humbert's final journey with Lolita is a portrait of a man losing his mind, he becomes paranoid and slips in and out of insanity and so the final bloodbath should not be such a surprise. I find Nabokov's use of comedy; not always appropriate, it is as if he allows himself one joke too many. This story is a tragedy and there should be no confusion about that.

Humbert Humbert is a monster. He commits one murder that we know about, he clearly would have murdered Lolita's mother had she not fortuitously been the victim of a road traffic accident. He planned to drug and rape Lolita and then raped her anyway when the drug was not wholly successful. He took every advantage of a weakened girl when she had a fever, he continually lied, used his position of authority and used physical violence to keep the young girl his sex slave. By letting Humbert Humbert tell the story Nabokov allows him to garner sympathy from the reader. He continually professes his love for Lolita, he justifies his actions because of his inability to control his sexual urges and finally because of his creeping insanity, But these are the confessions of a highly intelligent and manipulative psychopath and we should not be laughing with him and we certainly should not believe him; if we do then we are in danger of being duped in real life. Perhaps this is Nabokov's greatest achievement and a 4.5 star read for me.

Vlad the impaler
Ravishing soft silky tops
Butterfly collector

Open air lover
All whirling skirts and scanties
fidgeting child yawns

Stateside nymphetland
fuels criss-crossing obsession
Innocents abroad

Groomed for perfection
childish sleepy bedroom eyes
Bare legged tennis girl

Enchanted hunter
Forbidden lust for the kill
guiltily aroused.

Lolita surprised me when I read it. I would disagree that Humbert is ever the slightest bit sympathetic. Compelling, yes, but his whining and rationalizations were too much to allow me to do anything other than root for his downfall and Lolita's escape.

Excellent review of Lolita, Barry. I saw the movie with James Mason, Shelley Winters and Sue Lyons years ago when it first came out. I think I may have been too young to really appreciate the story. I've never read the book, but have an audio version narrated by Jeremy Irons. I think I will need to be in the right frame of mind to listen to it.

baswood, if Humbert is indeed sympathetic (and I've not read to book to feel either way), what do you think Nabokov was trying to achieve with this portrayal?

>123 LibraryPerilous: I think that Nabokov was intent on getting his readers inside the head of a psychopath. It is said by some experts that psychopaths are always "in denial" they are never wrong and so to themselves and others are intent in justifying their actions. This can be seen as part of the manipulative process and so Nabokov was perhaps letting the reader feel and see that manipulation in action. Humber Humbert wants us to see Lolita and her mother as deserving of his actions.

By the way I did not feel any sympathy for Humbert Humbert, but I have read reviews that suggest some people have felt a degree of sympathy. The fact that Nabokov can make his character sympathetic, for some people, despite the horrible crimes he commits shows how successful he has been in creating the character.

>121 RidgewayGirl: Kay pleased to see that it didn't wash with you either.

Excellent review, Barry, but I must admit that I could only get about half way through Lolita, masterpiece or not. But I do feel like I should try another of his works. Does anyone have any recommendations?

>124 baswood: Thanks, Barry. Your review has made me a little more interested in reading the book, especially vis-à-vis recent psychological studies that show sociopaths do know right from wrong but don't care because they lack the capability to feel empathy.

I wonder if some people feel sympathy for Humbert because they don't view his feelings as immoral since Lolita is a teenager (age of consent is quite low in some places).* To me, this ignores the fundamental issue, which is that the older man has more power in society, so his actions are exploitative regardless of legality. A recent article on Jezebel, about actor James Franco trying to hit on a teenager, had lots of these types of comments. http://jezebel.com/james-franco-embarrassed-about-trying-to-pick-up-a-teen-15581...

*Interestingly, most countries that have lower age of consent laws, including the UK and federal US law, also regulate the exploitation of minors up to the age of 18 under child pornography laws. In other words, even though it's possible to say yes to sex at the age of 16 in Kentucky, your adult sex partner still could be charged under pornography laws if, say, they film you, etc.--even if you have "consented" to the sex tape. Of course, this makes the MRAs cry foul.

Lolita is certainly a difficult book to read and discuss because it is so beautifully written but crosses the line on many taboos. One of those is incest. Humbert is Lolita's step-father, and sex with a step-child is classed as incest in many states.

I read Lolita twice. The second time it seemed to me to be even more erotic than it had the first time (perhaps because the shock had worn off), but the language seemed less brilliant (perhaps because I had read more in the meantime with which to compare it).

There is a strong literary link to Edgar Allan Poe. The opening seaside romance is taken from his poem "Annabel Lee," and Poe himself, at age 27, married his 13-year-old cousin.

John Banville's novel The Sea is another Annabel Lee derivative. I highly recommend it.

>127 StevenTX: Nabokov's book is full of literary references and although the speaker Humbert Humbert is a well educated man who has moved in academic circles, I think that Nabokov overdoes this a little.

>119 baswood: Your reviews are always a great pleasure. But this one beats them all. A truly impressive review.
I was thinking of reading Lolita sometime and now I definitely will. It's only a matter of time (as always).

Very interesting review Barry. Lolita enthused me to read more Nabokov and I haven't really followed through, it was more than my image of him (Nabokov).
HH is very interesting. I'd be unsure to say sympathetic, but perhaps rendered understandable. I had a stab in my comments once. I seem remember feeling in some ways it is HH that doesn't let himself off the hook in the story, whatever that means, and he is unreliable. And more than anything, relating to your view of the psychopath, how Lolita may be the name almost for some demon or process or drive in him, that is seeking people he can project this onto, it is oblivious of the real person whilst all the while convincing him it is she he is interested in.

Agreeing with the others -- your review of Lolita is one of the best ones I've read. I own it and will read it one day, but perhaps not now when my daughters are 14 and 17.

Wonderful review, which had thoughts of Roman Polanski nagging in the back of my mind, although he hasn't murdered anyone. Your review and the subsequent discussion certainly engender lots to think about.

I read Lolita when I was twelve, so it was almost completely lost on me... I was looking for the genuinely erotic prose, although that wouldn't have been how I would have described it then! I bought a copy last year, meaning to read it again, but kind of dreading it. Now I think I should just go ahead and read it.

Thanks Sassy, Tony, Joyce and Oscar. I read Lolita because it was chosen by my book club. It is not an easy read and I think many young people would be disappointed skimming for the erotic bits. It makes more sense to me now. The other book club choice is The Fault in our Stars which I am guessing will be very different.

I'll be interested to see what you think of The Fault in our Stars.

Well, color me totally ignorant. Or at least I have not been paying attention. Have been meaning to read Lolita for years but had no idea it was as "sorry and sordid" as you describe, Barry. It has been creeping closer to the top of my TBR pile, and in due course I will definitely give it a look, although I am not sure it is my thing exactly. But your review is very enlightening. Kudos!

Under My Skin: Volume One of my Autobiography, to 1949 By Doris Lessing
Why would an author wish to write her autobiography? Lessing asks this question of herself at a time (1992) when she was aware that at least five writers were engaged in searching out aspects of her life in order to write her biography. She admits that it was an attempt, in a way, to claim her own life; to set the record straight as it were. She also says that writers might protest as much as they like, "but our lives do not belong to us." What emerges then is a wiser, older woman (she was 75 when it was published) looking back on her early life with a critical, but proud eye at what she did and what she achieved. She writes what she believes to be factually correct, while acknowledging that she cannot remember everything, but perhaps writing it down will help her to understand what happened a little better. The reader then is invited to accompany her on a kind of voyage of discovery and one could not wish for better company than this superbly written account of a life lived by a free spirit struggling against a society that seemed bent on holding her down.

Part one of her autobiography covers her early childhood in Iran and her formative years when her parents moved the family to Southern Rhodesia, up to her escape to England in 1949 clutching the manuscript of her first novel. She had to fight for her freedom, she had to fight her mother; a dominating presence, she had to fight a rigid colonial society that frowned on divorce and her sexual independence, she had to fight her own deep maternal instincts, she had to control her impetuosity while living under a system of apartheid that she abhorred. It goes without saying that she had to continually prove herself in a male dominated milieu and her involvement with the communist party increasingly made her an enemy of the state. She is not tempted to portray herself as a super hero fighting against the odds nor as a victim of forces beyond her control; she comes across as an intelligent woman searching for ways to express herself, while suffering inevitable knocks from a world in which she was palpably out of step. In the end she won her freedom by getting herself on a boat to England with the expectation that she would have more chance of success in a freer society.

There are several good reasons why the reader might be interested in her story (apart from those people that enjoy reading biographies of famous authors). She was an adventurous and sensitive child living on a Southern Rhodesian farm, way out in the bush. Her appreciation of the sights, sounds, smells of the countryside are remembered with a vivid intensity as she tells of explorations undertaken with her younger brother. The liberty that she felt on these adventures contrasts with the claustrophobic relationship with her mother and an increasingly beaten and invalid father. Like many young women she sought escape in marriage and on moving to Salisbury she married an older professional; a man whose life centred round the rugby club. They had two children but Doris felt trapped again and eased herself out of the household, leaving her two children to be looked after by her husband and his new girlfriend. Her descriptions of life as a young colonial wife are told with honesty and no regret. Both her and her husband, to some extent, are ashamed at the treatment of black people and do what they can to alleviate it, knowing that they will upset their neighbours. Prising herself free she immediately enters into a relationship and marriage to a leading communist intellectual and the need for another baby cannot be denied, even though she and Gottfreid agree that they will separate soon. Doris now enters the circle of left wing intellectuals, some of whom are attempting to make overtures to black leaders. Increasingly dangerous games are played as the Lessing's flout the racial laws as far as they can. Doris is able to explore her own sexual needs outside of her open marriage with Gottfried, where both partners remain loyal to each other. The couple come across increasingly as people trapped by their environment, Gottfried cannot achieve his political ambitions and Doris cannot get her first novel published and so another important theme of talented individuals being stifled by an unjust political system is played out.

Doris Lessing born in 1919 was a war baby, because after the first world war there was a need for repopulation. Her father who suffered in the trenches and came out with a leg amputated could not forget the horrors. Doris while a young wife in Salisbury had to stand by her husband and his friends who were keen to enlist for the second world war. The RAF had bases in Rhodesia and for women like Doris their social and sexual lives revolved around the men who could get leave from the war. Doris and Gottfried were trapped in Rhodesia during, and for a four year period after the war ended. As communists they were ostracised by the cold war. War then dominated thoughts and actions during this time and Lessing's autobiography brings home the fact that the war years affected everybody, even if they were not directly involved; to an extent that it is difficult to imagine today. Lessing from her vantage point of 1992 can reflect on those times, trying to understand the madness of war, how everyone was caught up in it, how you always had to think of the war. She also reflects on the feelings of optimism that those early left wing intellectuals felt, how they had convinced themselves that socialism or communism would lead to a fairer society, would end the need for war and how these hopes were dashed by the cold war: paranoia replaces optimism as intellectuals cling to false ideals.

Doris Lessing's honesty in recounting her early life becomes too difficult for her at times and she invents an alter ego "Tigger" who says and does those things that the older Doris acknowledges but cannot condone without some acute embarrassment. It is an interesting ploy and alerts the reader as to how difficult it must be to account for ones actions when they were younger. She says:

"When you write about anything - in a novel, in an article - you learn a lot you did not know before. I learned a good deal writing this. Again and again I have had to say, 'That was the reason was it? Why didn't I think of that before?' Or even, 'Wait..... it wasn't like that'. Memory is a careless and lazy organ, not only a self flattering one. And not only self flattering. More than once I have said 'No, I wasn't as bad as I have always been thinking,' as well as discovering I was worse."

Doris Lessing's early life was eventful and interesting and she lived through a time that benefits from her faithful recollections of just how things were. They are times that are fading from memory and to have Lessing's own intensely personal thoughts are a real bonus to understanding her early novels and short stories. They are also the thoughts of a woman who does not flinch from setting those thoughts into print, bravely and courageously at times. She deserves to be read. 4.5 stars.

It is interesting to me that growing up in a racially oppressive society would drive Lessing into believing that the far more oppressive communism would lead to a fairer society. I guess everybody has a different idea of what is fair — and fair to whom exactly? Excellent and thought-provoking review, Barry!

>137 baswood: Very interesting review of an interesting life. It's been years since I read any Lessing.

Wonderful review. It always amazed me that Lessing was able to be such a prolific writer while leading such a turbulent personal life. As you say, "several good reasons" to read this. After reading this book, do you think you would attribute more autobiographical intent to her early work than is there already?

While looking for this book online, I just discovered that Memoirs of a Survivor had been made into a film with Julie Christie. Amazing what's out there!

Great photo of Lessing, not the usual tortured looking soul at all.

Many of the situations and themes you mention in your review of Under My Skin are familiar from my reading of her wonderful novel The Golden Notebook.

Lessing is one of those authors who are hard to categorize by nationality. What do you think she considered herself? A Rhodesian (now Zimbabwean) who moved to England or an Englishwoman who happened to have been born in Persia and raised in Rhodesia?

>138 Poquette: Suzanne Lessing did leave the communist party in the 1950's I think. It is useful to have a perspective on the timeline for the communist movement. The Lessing's were active just before the second world war and continued to be so just after the war. This was a time when the horrors of Soviet communism under Stalin were still largely unknown in the West. When the facts of the collectivisation programs started to leak out Doris started to have doubts, but until this time communism was seen as an answer to the ills of the world by her intellectual group in Southern Rhodesia.

>140 SassyLassy: I can certainly see more autobiographical intent to her early novels and stories, especially as she used real people from that period in Rhodesia on which to base her characters. She tells us who they were in the autobiography, because of course she changed the names in her stories. All in all the autobiography is very good reference material for her books set in Africa. The film: Memories of a Survivor is well worth a look.

>141 StevenTX: Steven in the first part of her autobiography, she never addresses the question as to whether she considered herself a Zimbabwean or an English woman. She was born in Iran to English parents and later fought hard to get herself a British passport.

>141 StevenTX:, >142 baswood: Because Lessing moved to England, and because the books I read lo these many years ago seemed (in my memory, at least) to have taken place there, I would have thought of her as English, rather than thinking of her tied to the other places she lived.

The Fault in our Stars by John Green
After I had breezed through this novel I asked myself "Have I just read a slappy happy story about terminally ill cancer patients or is there something more": after all the cancer background seemed convincing and I thought that the character of Hazel Grace: who tells the story in the first person was well drawn. Well let us be clear about one thing: this is first and foremost a romantic comedy, written in the best Hollywood tradition, nothing gets in the way of the central love story, not even terminal cancer. It is aimed at a youth market, many of whom will know just what to expect from the many films that are aimed to tug at the heart strings, but be witty and entertaining at the same time. Never mind the improbable situations (there are far too many in this book) because we are in fantasy land.

The trick for John Green was to write a novel about star-crossed lovers which still had enough feel good factor to make it a popular read. Terminally ill cancer patients would seem to be quite a challenge, but not really if you are clear from the start that they are going to die, but before they do, they will experience that most wonderful thing "true love". Augustus Waters is the perfect tragic hero, a teenage hunk (ex basket ball player) who always says the right thing and has a confidence and savoir faire far beyond his 17 years of age. He is hot and he thinks Hazel Grace is hot too, so that's alright then. These are white middle class adolescents, with loving parents and enough money to go jaunting off to Europe. They expect to get the best treatment and are not disappointed.

I can't really comment on the levels of erudition in the conversation of the young people, but suspect it is massively over-egged. Green tries to impart some wisdom about living, or in the case of Hazel and Augustus living with a terminal illness and comes up with a couple of nice sounding metaphors that would appeal to the movie crowd. I suppose it's in his favour that he never had me reaching for the sick-bucket and kept me reasonably entertained for the most part, but there is nothing more to this book than what is needed to create a best seller. This book was chosen by my book club and as I suspected, it is a frothy, light and above all safe read. 2.5 stars.

I enjoyed your not surprising take on The Fault in our Stars. I was pretty sure that it wasn't your cuppa...

Glad it wasn't just me feeling like that about The Fault in Our Stars. I thought Hazel was written very well (from my point of view as someone with a chronic illness) but then Augustus was so grossly a young male fantasy of what they wanted to be as teens. I was completely on the fictional author's side of being pissed at them invading his life (and annoyed at his change at the end).

The popularity of John Green is not, as you point out, perplexing, and I agree that his books are candy floss. Still, if it gets kids reading ...

Thanks for clarifying re Doris Lessing vis-a-vis communism. The "Red Scare" began much earlier in the U.S. By the way, I am a big fan of her books.

Thanks for your candid review of the Fault in Our Stars. You've saved me some time!

>119 baswood: Your review on Lolita gives me the chilly willies. Maybe one day I'll work up to it. I"m surprised you gave Fault in Our Stars as many stars as you did since you were "forced" into it!!

>145 NanaCC:. Colleen you are right in saying it was not my cuppa

>146 mabith:. Meredith, I agree

>147 LibraryPerilous:. Getting kids reading is certainly a good thing and I was conscious that I was reading a YA novel, which I might have enjoyed in my early teens. However this book is talked about a cross-over novel and while I agree there is something for an adult market: that something is still candy floss. Sometimes we might yearn for candy floss but after a couple of bites it is too sickly and too sweet.

>149 avidmom:. We are discussing Lolita and The Fault in our stars at our book club meeting on Thursday and I could be in a minority of one.

That's really my definition of YA - books that you only really fall in love with as a teen or young adult, that feed into the fantasies you might only have at that age. It doesn't include all books about teens, but many. I think it's far easier to enjoy children's novels as an adult.

Interesting review of The Fault in Our Stars. I wondered myself if I should read but I will probably pass.

Thanks for your useful review of The Fault in Our Stars, Barry. I suspected that I wouldn't like this, despite the widespread attention and several glowing reviews, so I'll pass on this one.

At my book club meeting on Thursday, I found myself in a minority of one, everyone else loved The Fault in our Stars. The bonus for me was that there were a couple of people who had not read it and so I leapt at the opportunity of giving my copy away.

One of the ladies present said she thought it was a "women's" book and as I am now the only male member of the club that might account for it.

>154 baswood: One of the ladies present said she thought it was a "women's" book

Not this woman! I've been staying far far away from it!

I'd say it's far more that some people can get back in the teenage mindset better than others and enjoy the book from that perspective. Which is the perspective it was mean to be read from, of course. I certainly can't appreciate regular realistic teen books anymore.

I have not read Lessing's autobiography, but many of the details you include remind me of her Martha Quest books. I wonder does she comment on her writing of those in the autobiography?

Satires of Circumstance: lyrics and reveries with miscellaneous pieces by Thomas Hardy
Thomas Hardy is a name most readers associate with the Wessex novels, but he clamed that poetry was his first love and he was a prolific poet. Following the negative criticism he received for his novel Jude the Obscure: published in 1895, he vowed never to publish another and so for the last thirty or so years of his life he concentrated on his poetry. Nine collections of poems were published before his death in 1928. Satires of Circumstance was published in 1914 and it is not surprising to find that in some of the poems, there appears to be a novelist struggling to get out: it contains stories told in narrative verse form and some which have a distinct quality of folk tales and folklore.

Hardy would have wanted to be remembered for his poetry and this collection demonstrates that he was a very fine and accessible poet. His major themes of time passing, of transience, of trying to locate something of value in a world of flux will speak to many people. He was 74 when this collection was published and so there is no surprise that death features in much of what he was writing. Ghosts and spectres also feature heavily, not so much as in a spiritual sense but more in a typical Victorian fascination with the supernatural. I get the feeling that he loved a good ghost story and there are some lovely examples here. There are poems of memory and loss, particularly the loss of loved ones, but his very best poetry features landscape, particularly its influence and how it shapes people and events; they have an existential feel: man alone in an uncaring godless universe. His novels have a feel of tragedy unfolding and his poems have that same aspect, but are more personal. I hear the poets voice in many of these offerings and it is a voice that can really sing, because first and foremost Hardy was a rhyming poet.

The collection divides into a number of sections the first of which is Lyrics and Reveries and the very first poem entitled "In front of the Landscape" sets the tone, because what does Hardy see in front of the landscape? why, dead people of course or rather the ghosts of dead people: the speaker sees himself wading through a landscape of the dead who are "smitten by years-long wryness born of misprision, / Dreaded suspect". Over half of the poems in this section feature ghosts, spectres or the dead. There are some real gems her though particularly "Channel Firing" which must be one of the best war poems from 1914; it imagines that the big guns firing in the English channel awaken the dead who are at first convinced it is judgement day, but then reflect it is ever thus and men do not learn; that war is "red yet redder" and that they are insane to start up over again.

The next section is titled Satires of circumstance and the poet indulges in some black humour as he tells short witty stories, in verse, of every day events. The old lover invited round to tea while the new husband is unsuspecting. A young woman is easily tempted to spend her Aunts hard earned savings for her gravestone at a dance. A man smirks at seeing the graves of a buried couple, because he has been the woman's lover, a man confesses to a murder on his death bed, and in "A Nuptial Chamber" a bride tells her new husband some unpleasant truths. These are indeed satires, but told with a lightness of touch which is enhanced by the verse form.

The next section of 21 poems are the crowning glory of this collection. They are mainly elegies written by Hardy for his first wife Emma. In day to day situations dredged up from memory Hardy reveals aspects of their relationship, we learn that after a passionate early life together they had drifted apart and while the poet regrets this has happened he also comes to accept the fact, but still wishes he could right some wrongs. Many of the poems are steeped in the landscape, Emma was from Cornwall on the Atlantic coast and she gave up the countryside that she loved to go and live with Hardy and although they both loved walking, Hardy knows in his heart that there was something missing for Emma. The poems are poignant and sad, but above all honest and they do celebrate the life of Emma. I have many favourites in this section but "At Castle Boterel is magnificent: Hardy has travelled back to where Emma lived in Cornwall and remembers the moment when he fell in love on a walk up to Boterel Castle. It was sunny that day but on his return some 40 years later it is raining, but he looks behind him and sees his younger self with Emma on that road and in the final stanza says:

I look and see it there, shrinking, shrinking,
I look back at it amid the rain
For the very last time; for my sand is sinking,
And I shall never traverse old love's domain
Never again.

Thomas Hardy's reputation as a poet suffered somewhat because he was seen as a Victorian poet looking backwards rather than a modern poet looking forward. There were seen to be problems even with his worth as a Victorian romanticist, because of his somewhat twisted diction. His sentence structure seems awkward at times; it has been described as knotty and he has a fondness to use a negative construction where other alternatives seem better. However he has been critically reassessed and his matter of fact realism his use of metre and rhyme, particularly his breaking with poetic rules has led him to be seen as a forerunner of modernism. I think this all points to an original voice there is no one quite like the poet Thomas Hardy.

This collection is a good example of his work and there is probably something here for everyone that likes poetry. Apart from some wonderfully moving poems there are folk tales, ghost stories, satires and black humour aplenty. The collection is free on the internet, dip in and you may be pleasantly surprised. I will be reading more of his poetry I have his collected poems sitting on the shelf. I rate this collection at 4.5 stars.

"I FOUND HER OUT THERE"

I found her out there
On a slope few see,
That falls westwardly
To the salt-edged air,
Where the ocean breaks
On the purple strand,
And the hurricane shakes
The solid land.

I brought her here,
And have laid her to rest
In a noiseless nest
No sea beats near.
She will never be stirred
In her loamy cell
By the waves long heard
And loved so well.

So she does not sleep
By those haunted heights
The Atlantic smites
And the blind gales sweep,
Whence she often would gaze
At Dundagel's far head,
While the dipping blaze
Dyed her face fire-red;

And would sigh at the tale
Of sunk Lyonnesse,
As a wind-tugged tress
Flapped her cheek like a flail;
Or listen at whiles
With a thought-bound brow
To the murmuring miles
She is far from now.

Yet her shade, maybe,
Will creep underground
Till it catch the sound
Of that western sea
As it swells and sobs
Where she once domiciled,
And joy in its throbs
With the heart of a child.

Thomas Hardy

I have a book of Hardy's poetry that dates back to my college years; your review, and this poem, make me want to take another look at it.

>157 janeajones: Doris Lessing does make the odd remarks about Martha Quest. She says at one point:
This feeling of doom, of fatality, is a theme - perhaps the main one in Martha Quest. It was what had made me, and from my earliest childhood repeat: "I will not, I simply will not"

The autobiography does not contain an index so I can't remember all the references, but she does refer to people that she knew in Rhodesia and how she used them as character studies for her stories and novels.

Excellent and enticing review of Satires of Circumstance. Thanks for the samples.

Hardy is a favorite of mine, both as a poet and as a novelist. Despite his bleak, wistful outlook, his works can sometimes take on an almost whimsical tone, as in my favorite, "Faintheart in a Railway Car":

"At nine in the morning there passed a church,
At ten there passed me by the sea,
At twelve a town of smoke and smirch,
At two a forest of oak and birch,
And then, on a platform, she:

A radiant stranger, who saw not me.
I queried, 'Get out to her do I dare?'
But I kept my seat in my search for a plea,
And the wheels moved on. O could it but be
That I had alighted there!"

One suspects he would approve of the sardonic Hal Sirowitz, whose "I Finally Managed to Speak to Her" chronicles the way most random encounters really go.

Thanks for the Hardy poem Diana.n and I enjoyed the Hal Sirowitz poem

Faintheart in a Railway demonstrates why some people struggle with Hardy (but not me). The first line of the second stanza contains one of his famous not's; it works OK in this poem as does the penultimate line O could it but be which reads awkwardly but fits with Hardy thinking maybe he could get off the train.

Enjoyed your Hardy review very much — and the poems!

The World of Null-a A E Van Vogt
"Reader in your hands you hold one of the most controversial - and successful - novels in the whole of science fiction literature" claims Van Vogt in his introduction to the 1970 edition. His introduction then lists some of the successes; all of which sound underwhelming to me; for example "It was listed by the New York library association among the hundred best novels of 1948". He then goes on to explain his theory of General Semantics which is apparently essential for understanding the novel before answering the criticisms of Damon Knight which stung him when they were first written in 1948 and were obviously still much on his mind 1n 1970.

The world of Null-a was serialised in 1945 in the Astounding Science Fiction magazine and its original idea and inventive storyline certainly turned heads at the time. It is set in the year 2560 when a benevolent machine effectively governs earth and each year a competition is held to establish people most suited to be transported to Venus where a democratic society live in a glorious world of logical thought and action described as non- Aristotelian. Gosseyn a highly intelligent man takes part in the competition expecting to do well only to discover that the machine rejects his entry out of hand because he is not who he claims to be. The problem is that he has an additional brain and he spends the rest of the novel trying to ascertain who he really is and how he got the extra brain. There is a plot to destroy the machine hatched by a gang controlled by alien minds and they capture Gosseyn, thinking he is an important player, they then let him go, recapture him again, kill him, but he is reincarnated in another body on Venus and so it goes on..........

Damon Knight criticised the novel under four main headings; Plot, Characterisations, Background and Prose. He claimed the plot was "muddled and self-contradictory" and this is self evident from any reading of it today. Van Vogt attempted to close some of the loop holes for the 1970 edition, but only succeeded in interrupting any original flow the novel might have had. Knight said that the characters were "inconsistent"; I would say that they were interchangeable and of the most absurdly cardboard variety. It was never clear who or why characters were taking action, which at times was reduced to people coming into a room and either capturing Gosseyn, or trying to kill him or giving him clues as to how to proceed. I suppose Van Vogt might claim he was trying to represent the confused state of Gosseyn's mind, but you can't do this if there is no mind to confuse. Knight said that the background to the story was "haphazardly and perfunctorily developed" and while there is no attempt at detailed world building, I think there is enough here to make the novel work, but this is the problem. Once the story gets started then the background is filled in as the plot dictates and there are some glorious inconsistences: as it is a stretch of the imagination to believe that characters in 2560 with video technology would rely on written notes and telephone calls as preferred methods of communication. Knight said that the prose was "fumbling and insensitive". I think insensitive goes with the territory in 1945 science fiction and there are times when the prose is reduced to 'he did that and then he did this' kind of simplicity. There are however some good passages, the book starts off with an imaginative scenario and a real sense of mystery. there are some good atmospheric descriptions of the terraformed Venus and the destruction of the machine has it's moments, but they are too few and far between some acres of pedestrian writing.

The world of Null-a no longer appears amongst the acknowledged classics of science fiction. Although it has not aged particularly well, this was not the whole problem, I felt it was a botched attempt to put an original idea and storyline into practice. The book needed characters, it needed more coherence and above all it needed better writing. The 1970 edition is a case where the authors introduction is more entertaining than the novel. An inglorious two stars.

>168 baswood: Nice review, Barry. I am not a SF fan, but your review would steer me away from this one.

Have not read any Van Vogt, Barry, and I guess I won't begin with this one, although your excellent overview makes me curious.

It is hard to catch up with your thread after nearly 3 months. I guess I would read almost all of what your have read, with exception of the science fiction novels.

It pleases me you haven't finished Tristram Shandy and The Titan, yet, so I feel I can still keep track with you there, although my ambition is still to finish The Financier first.

I have also been reading the Cambridge Companion to Laurence Sterne, which I would not necessarily recommend other to read.

Neither would I particularly recommend The life and opinions of Maf the dog and of his friend Marilyn Monroe, which I finished last week, and is, of course, an eye-wink tribute to Sterne masterpiece.

I had wanted to read Lolita but instead got stuck in Nabokov's Collected Stories.

>168 baswood: I read some of Van Vogt's works in my younger days, and The World of Null-A was probably one of them, but I don't remember it. The one book of his I do remember something of is Slan, which is about an engineered super race and might be an interesting comparison with your reading of Olaf Stapledon and Philip Wylie, though it probably won't measure up to either Odd John or Gladiator (both of which are still on my TBR list).

The opening night of the Marciac Jazz Festival in the grande chapiteau and not a brass or woodwind instrument in sight. Joe Satriani; headline act and rock guitarist extraordinaire was a little apologetic saying "I know that this is a jazz festival but here we are" as he launched his band into another fast four beats to the bar rock song. Jeff Beck had been scheduled to appear and that had raised some eyebrows, but he cancelled due to illness and Satriani was booked instead. The concert still managed to sell out and Marciac's jazz lovers proved to be hungry for some rock.



Joe Satriani has been on the scene since the late 1980's and his first big selling album was "Surfing with the Alien" in 1989. He is primarily an instrumentalist and technically one of the best guitarists in rock music. He had soon wowed the audience with some fast guitar work and some superbly controlled tremolo and feedback effects. It was obvious that many in the audience were not familiar with his songs, but some memorable chord sequences and trenchant guitar riffs soon gave people the hooks to enjoy the music. Satriani is a very fluid player and his fretboard runs interspersed with some special effects made his solo work exciting and interesting, but never too slick or freequey. He was supported by Mike Kenealley on second guitar and Bryan Beller on bass. They were powered along by an excellent rock drummer whose solo feature did not outstay it's welcome. They also got the volume about right, not so loud that it would scare the horses, but loud enough to feel the beats. I thought there might be a dash for the exits when he powered up, but this didn't happen. I can see him being invited back for future festivals.



The second night could have hardly been more of a contrast, with some of the biggest names in jazz attracting another sell out crowd. Two duo's performed music of outstanding quality although some of it not to everyone's taste. First onstage was Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter. Herbie Hancock smartly dressed took his seat behind a Kronos music work station with an acoustic grand piano adjacent to it. Wayne Shorter now 81 years young perched himself on a stool clutching a soprano saxophone. Herbie peering myopically over the controls of the work station before proceeding to lightly press the touch sensitive controls that allowed him to create washes of sound on his keyboard. Wayne listened attentively before finally allowing himself to play single notes or short phrases on the saxophone. The music was all about space and timing with very few notes played, but different tonal textures shifting the music into alternative soundscapes. The music had the feel of being totally improvised with two musicians using all their knowledge and experience intent on creating something a little new. There were few reference points for the audience to key into, but for the majority of the performance it was treated with the respect it deserved. It was only towards the end of the last number that someone shouted from the audience "Where's the Rhythm Man" and a few other things I did not quite catch. there were some in agreement with him and there were other, shushing him to be quiet. The interruption got to the musicians on stage as Herbie Hancock said something to the effect that it reflected the troubles in the world today and the continued breaches of peaceful co-existence. Wayne was more concerned about his music and after much thought just said "unscripted". There was applause at the end of the performance which was loud and long enough to bring the musicians back for an encore. Wayne played some melodic lines on his soprano saxophone which reminded everybody what a great player he is.

At the interval we were joined by some friends who were vociferous in their condemnation of the music they had just heard. Self indulgent crap seemed to be the favourite words to describe it for them. It made me think of people's expectations when coming to a concert, especially when they see artists who they have seen in previous years dare to play something different. Certainly Herbie Hancock has pushed the boundaries of his music in the past and Wayne Shorter's quartets performance last year was purely improvisational and so I was not as surprised as some to see these two musicians intent on creating something new. It was at the end of the day a thoughtful sensitive performance of music that I would like to hear again.

After the interval Chick Corea played acoustic piano and Stanley Clarke played double bass, all of the music was from their extensive back catalogues and there was much that would be familiar to many in the audience. It was music, jazz music of the highest quality, no new ground broken, but tunes and themes played and improvised on with loving care. Stanley Clarke played his by now familiar flamenco styled double bass to enthusiastic applause and his bow work had a depth and resonance that enhanced a ballad solo feature. Chick Corea's deft touch and sure footed improvisation of tunes he had made popular in his group Return to Forever, were what people had come to hear tonight and the duo went off to a standing ovation.

For the most part all the artists tonight had made their name in the various Miles Davis groups of the 1970's and 1980's, and if Miles could have heard the music tonight; he might have enjoyed the playing of Chick Corea and Stanley Clarke, but would have been listening more intently to the work of Herbie Hancock and Wayne shorter. For me the ghost of Miles Davis hovered over Herbie and Wayne's set.

>154 baswood: "One of the ladies present said she thought it was a "women's" book and as I am now the only male member of the club that might account for it."

sorry, behind and out of context, but I hate that attitude. I got the same thing in my book group. A slim book is a slim book.

>174 dchaikin: Completely utterly agreed. There is no such thing. Horror is my preferred genre of movie. My husband turns on romcoms and I groan. Does this make me a man and him a woman?? People constantly do this, about all sorts of things. "Women do xyz, isn't it so cute/annoying/silly/insert other word here" and "Ugh my husband/boyfriend/friend just did zyx, such a man thing, why do they do it!" and so forth. No. Just NO! I am a woman. I would rip up one of John Green's books before I would read one! I have a friend on another site, a 20something male, who has devoured all Green's books. The two have less than zero connection to each other. These attitudes about men & women being completely separate distinct species with entirely different brains and abilities and... gah no. It's called personality types. Personal preferences. Personal. Not gender preferences. Has anyone ever come up to you and said "Hey what are your gender preferences about movies?" No. They ask what your preferences are, what you like. No one can presume to speak for an entire half of the planet's population!

*ahem* Sorry. This is a huge pet peeve of mine. The mindset behind this is responsible for a lot of inequality issues being internalized by so many, and so many people are so quick to do it and not think anything of it.

>175 .Monkey.: AGREED!!!

My senior kid has enrolled in an Advanced Placement English class at his new high school. He has to backtrack and do some make-up summer work. Camus's The Stranger was on the list of novels to choose from for one assignment. He's currently reading it. As soon as I saw Albert Camus, I thought of you! I know you've read lots of Camus, did you write a review of that particular book? I'm not finding it.

ETA: Nevermind, I found the thread on the LIterary Centennials group.

Thanks for that! :)

>173 baswood: Joe Satriani!!! Thanks for sharing your concert going with us, even if it does leave me green with envy!

I'm curious, Barry. You said the concert sold out, about how large is the venue? Somehow in my mind I am imagining a fairly small intimate gathering, but perhaps I am wrong?

>175 .Monkey.: Yes - to all that

>173 baswood: - I remember going to see Satriani back in high school (1990? 1991?), that was especially good stuff compared to most of what I saw back then. He had an incredible bass player with him, no clue who it was though.

Hi Suzanne the venue is certainly not large by American standards; the chapiteau seats 5,500 approx.

Three beautiful women, three beautiful singers, what could be better on a Friday night at the Marciac jazz festival, to savour the delights of sight and sound on a warm summer evening in the South West of France.........but the weather forecast was for stormy weather.

Virginie Teychene was first on stage with her regular trio. She is French and sings her own songs as well as some standards. She looked comfortable on stage as she let her voice do the talking and a fine instrument it is. She has a lovely depth to her tonal range and after her third song seemed to relax nicely into her singing, halfway through the next song the rather bumptious announcer/compare strolled onstage to stop proceedings. They had received a warning of a violent storm approaching and so they had decided to evacuate the grande chapiteau. A few people headed for the exits others were reluctant to go, the mayor then announced that everyone had to leave as the storm would hit in about 20 minutes. Reluctantly we shuffled towards the back of the hall and weighed up our options. The chapiteau is in the middle of a rugby field and the advice had been to head back into town which is a good ten minutes walk, a more reasonable option seemed to be to head for the nearest bar. By the time we got outside the large tent next to the chapiteau was closed but there was another smaller bar/tent a little way across the field, we headed for that and just got inside before the heavens opened. As we surged towards the bar there were calls for a stepladder and an athletic young man preceded to fasten the entrance against the now driving wind and rain. It was a lock in. We found ourselves in a large tent with about 150 other people, but the good news was they were still merrily serving drinks. We bought a bottle of champagne and prepared ourselves to wait out the worst of the storm. By the time the bottle was finished the storm had moved on and news filtered in that the concert would restart.

Back in the grande chapiteau and the organisers had decided to move on to the second act and Youn sun Nah a Korean jazz/chanteuse came on stage but before she started her set she brought Virgine Teychene back on and they sang "My Favourite Things" with Yuon sun Nah providing the musical backing with a thumb piano. It was a lovely duet and settled the audience back down after their enforced eviction into the storm. Youn Sun Nah is another young singer with an excellent vocal range and she was accompanied by Ulf Wakenius on acoustic guitar as well as a bassist and drummer. She certainly impresses with her singing and Wakenius a veteran of the Oscar Petersen group played beautifully, but the performance although admirable in many respects was not completely satisfying. The mixture of styles between jazz/pop/rock did not seem to have a focal point. Youn Sun Nah never really convinced me that she had her own voice: she did a version of "A Sailors life" a song I have always associated with Fairport Convention and I wondered if I would miss the superb vocal of Sandy Denny on that song and at first I didn't because Youn Sun Nah's pyrotechnics held my attention, but as the song developed I did miss that Sandy Denny vocal because it had a feeling of completeness, something which Youn Sun Nah never achieved.

Last on the bill tonight was Eliane Elias . The storm affected concert meant that she came on much later than expected and had a rather wet and slightly chilled audience in front of her, although they had enjoyed Youn Sun Nah's set. Eliane did not waste anytime and launched into her first song a self penned samba number with a hard edged jazz feel, her rocking piano style soon grabbed my attention and her quartet really swung. Her next song featured her vocals which have a smooth light South American feel but are anchored with some imaginative piano and she soon managed to make her performance rock. Clearly she had what the previous two performers had lacked, a self assured style of her own and a quality to her playing and singing that put her in another league. She had invited Rick Margitza; a well thought of American tenor saxophonist to join her quartet, but he was hardly needed and was just a bit player in the Eliane Elias show. Rafeal Barata's work on the drums was exciting throughout the evening and his solo spot was memorable. It was well past 2am when she finished her final song, but she had kept a tired audience with her all the way and she came back to encore with The Girl from Ipanema and another rocking song to finish. We were all talking about Eliane Elias as we finally trooped out the chapiteau. My advice is to make sure you see her if she is on at a venue near you.

Sandy Denny and A sailor's life https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szrGtFxtWXU

Eliane Elias https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_QYY5Z8Hj0

The boke named the Governour: Devised by Sir Thomas Elyot
Published in 1531 the year that Henry VIII banished Catherine of Aragon from court and installed Ann Boleyn in her chambers. He had been furiously working towards getting his first marriage annulled, but it would be a further two years before his marriage to Ann was recognised. Sir Thomas More had been appointed Chancellor after the fall of Cardinal Wolsey, but as a devout catholic he was increasingly feeling the pressure as Henry was moving to break decisively with the Pope and the Roman church.

The Boke named the Governour was a runaway literary success outselling Sir Thomas More's Utopia; they could not print copies fast enough as it went into three reprints each under the personal supervision of it's author. The books main function purported to be a programme and procedure on how to educate noble children to equip them to work for the Government, however it went on from that and developed into a lengthy treatise on how governors of the State should regulate their conduct to enable them to give the very best service to their country. It even claims to be the earliest treatise on moral philosophy in the English Language.

Sir Thmas Elyot nails his colours to the mast straight away, by saying there must be order in the world; he saw democracy as a many headed monster, which made it too easy for ruthless people to gain power. He took guidance from the bible in declaring there must be a monarch at the head of Government that has supreme authority, but he should seek good counsel from governors who should be selected from the ruling classes and be educated and trained in accordance with the advice in Elyot's boke. Elyot saw a long period of education before students should take their place in government. It should start by ensuring their nursemaids were clean and healthy gentlewomen and at the age of seven they should be encouraged to learn Latin. Every effort should be made to find the best tutor for their developing years and youths should not be taken out of education until 21 years old. He was very much against them being trained as lawyers from the ages of 13-15. He advocated an all round education but based on the classics.

It soon becomes clear that Elyot was a humanist as increasingly examples are taken from the Greek and Roman classics of the past. There are examples from the old testament of the bible, but these are heavily outweighed by references to ancient scholars and writers. Children should study rhetoric and the classical poets, Roman histories and Greek ethics and they should also study the arts, but not to develop craftsman's skills. They should of course be well trained in physical activities, he particularly recommends wrestling and they should learn to appreciate music and be able to dance well. His fairly lengthy avocation of dance leads him on to introduce the first of his moral virtues Prudence. The second book of the three defines the virtues needed for a governor and plunders the classical library to demonstrate those virtues. Concentrating on virtues rather than vices keeps the book firmly on the path of being a teaching manual rather than a sermon. The third book concentrates on moral philosophy with a long section on Justice before hitting on the main theme of experience leading to understanding.

Although Elyot is clearly a humanist this is not at the expense of his Christian belief. He stresses the importance of the history contained in both the old and new testaments, but emphasise the fact that learned Christian scholars never rejected or disproved the histories of the Greeks and Romans. Reading the ancients can only enhance knowledge and understanding, which are essential qualities for his governors.

This is a fascinating document for people with a deeper interest in the period. There are many and some fairly long examples which Elyot takes from the classics and so you may need an annotated version. I read it without, but online in the original English, but with a glossary. I also read the 1883 (edited from 1531) by Henry Herbert Stephen Croft which has an excellent biography of Sir Thomas Elyot. Not one for the casual reader but as an example of the thinking in the scholarly world in early Tudor England; it is essential and so 5 stars.

Hi Barry! Long, long, overdue - but I've caught up with your highly enjoyable thread. Too many highlights to mention them all, but - with apologies for going so far back - felt I had to just thank you in particular for your perfectly detailed appraisal of J. K. Rowling's latest, and the reviews of Our Mutual Friend, Robert Mapplethorpe (thanks also for posting those images - reminders of his great talent - is there any one book in particular you'd recommend for his still lifes of plants?), and Journey By Moonlight - which I have TBR.

Your review of Dubliners has me mentally noting the need to re-read a collection I read when I was probably too young to properly enjoy and appreciate. Zamyatin's We has long been wishlisted, and your review encourages me further to get to it. I liked the Booker haiku as well!

Excellent reviews of Lolita and of De Quincey's Confessions, two examples of those books I've meant to read for years...Next good copies I come across I'm buying! Personally I've always imagined that De Quincey's would be one of those memoirs, or collections of confessional essays, that put the author in a certain place and time rather than fantasy or proto-science fiction or what have you - perhaps akin in that sense at least to accounts of addiction such as Jack London's early 20th century John Barleycorn and California, or William Burroughs' Junky in 1950s New York.

Doris Lessing's autobiography sounds fascinating - a writer I am yet to familiarise myself with. Very nice review as well.

On Van Vogt:- His introduction then lists some of the successes; all of which sound underwhelming to me; for example "It was listed by the New York library association among the hundred best novels of 1948". - You had me laughing!

Warranting a separate post I think: Much enjoyed again your commentary on the Marciac Jazz Festival. Very interested in your descriptions of the 'rhythm-less' duet performance of living legends Wayne Shorter and Herbie Hancock. Perhaps the heckler couldn't hear the rhythm in the spaces in between the notes...? I would have liked to have been there. With Chick Corea and Stanley Clarke on the bill as well, I like what you said about the ghost of Miles hovering over proceedings. I'd like to think that the sort of experimental jazz that Herbie and Wayne were attempting is possibly where he might be at if he were still performing, in one regard at least. In the studio I'm sure it would be something completely different.

I enjoyed your account of the night of the vocalists and the storm. A marquee lock-in with champagne followed by Eliane Elias sounds like a memorable evening. I've never seen her perform, but would relish the chance. Maybe she'll come to Brecon one year and I'll get one!

Hi Paul nice to see you dropping by.

I have not seen a book of Mapplethorpe's photographs that are dedicated to his plant still life's

Elyot sounds like a fascinating man, and the jazz fest sounds lovely.

>183 baswood: — Who knew that 1531 was such a hot year for publishing! Intriguing story you have presented, Barry!

Joe Satriani at a jazz festival is certainly an interesting choice. I remember him from the "golden age of shred guitar". (Bearing in mind this was during the era of hair-metal the gold was actually fool's gold).
I can just about understand Jeff Beck. On his album Wired he covers Mingus' "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat".

>173 baswood: - this raises one of the questions at the heart of live music. Should be a repetition of recorded music or does it exist separately? I would imagine that most musicians, especially in jazz, would say the latter but get the feeling that most audiences would prefer the former. Personally I've never seen the point of a live performance duplicating the recorded sound; if I wanted that I could stay at home, be more comfortable and save money listening to the CD. At gigs it isn't unusual to hear fellow audience members complaining that they didn't play the old songs or they ruined them by attempting something new.

> 173 >189 Jargoneer: My friends who are musicians say every performance of every tune is different.

Personally I've never seen the point of a live performance duplicating the recorded sound; if I wanted that I could stay at home, be more comfortable and save money listening to the CD

Oh man, where to begin on how wrong that is?!? Well, the simplest thing first: people want to go and see their cherished artist perform their favorite songs! Who in the world wouldn't love to see one of their favorites, actually being performed, live, right in front of them?? For another thing, a live version has a completely different energy level than a recording (haven't you ever considered why they put out live albums??), so no, it's not at all like listening to the CD at home. Let's not even take into account the energy level of the audience itself, which infects both the musicians as well as the whole crowd, and gets the adrenaline going; but even just the musicians, performing on stage, not just sitting there in a dull recording studio room. It's completely different.

Then, there's the fact that they generally have record labels, with producers, and execs thinking they "know what the people want," and controlling all sorts of aspects of someone's art. And usually, the artist knows best! During a show, they can do it how they intended it to be done, not how some studio bigshot thinks it "ought" to sound. And even when there's not that sort of discrepancy, recordings are still patched up, edited, polished, which can be nice but, live performances are raw.

Plus, they're usually having fun, and interacting with the crowd a bit. The crowd & musicians feed off each other. So they can wind up doing some little different stuff with the songs as things play out.

Give me the option and every time I would choose to go see them live, even if they performed the exact same set list each time.

Now that's not to say they shouldn't do anything new, and it's awesome to go and be some of the first to hear some new thing they've been working on! But people went to see them because they love what they've already done.

ETA (took a bit to type while eating lunch :P)
>190 rebeccanyc: YES, exactly.

>191 .Monkey.: - don't get me wrong, I go to gigs all the time, even in a bad year I'll go to 30 or so. I've seen great artists demolish their back catalogue because they couldn't be bothered or were just so fed up with the playing the same song, and I've seen artists play as as if their careers were on the line that every night. However, I have also been a many a gig where artists play their songs so straight that you wonder what is the point (not that it seems to bother other audience members who shout and scream as if they have just witnessed the second coming).
Not all live performances are raw, it's amazing how many successful artists use technology now to make the performance more polished. Sometimes what you are hearing owes more to someone on a mixing desk than it does to person on stage.
I don't agree that the artist always know best either, many of the great popular entertainers have relied on producers to help them get the right sound. A good producer is even important to music than a good editor is to a novel.
Re: Live albums, take jazz out of the equation and how many good live albums are there, probably not many and most of them have been tampered with in the studios.

>183 baswood: Very interesting. Almost 500 years later we are still no closer to a consensus on how to educate our young, and Elyot's theories are probably as good as any. I'm assuming he's talking only about the education of middle and upper-class boys. Does he say anything about education for the masses in general or for girls? Is he talking about educating boys collectively in a school or having them tutored at home? (I'm wondering with whom they are to dance during their dancing lessons if it's an all-male environment.)

>189 Jargoneer:. I go to a live gig expecting to hear more than I can hear on a CD recording. I have rarely gone just to pay tribute to the artist although I did once when I went to see Bob Dylan at the Hammersmith Odeon.

I know that many people go to concerts expecting to hear their favourite songs and get disappointed if the artist does not play them, especially as the favourite and most popular songs can be the artists best songs. We have all had that moment of frisson when the opening bars to our favourite song are played and we can relax into the performance, but how many times has it disappointed us because it did not sound quite as we remembered it from the CD. I expect it to sound different.

Live music has a sense of occasion, it is full of anticipation, something that you don't get from a CD (unless it is first time heard):

The pleasure of Life is expectation
(John Cowper Powys)


The venue can be as important as the artist in providing a setting in which the artist can perform. The audience is another thing altogether and I lurch from enjoying the atmosphere that they can create to being annoyed by some individuals within it. I definitely do not like most artists attempts to involve the audience in the performance by getting them singing along, clapping or providing some other aural backing. I usually feel that If I want to get involved in a performance I will do so and resent being instructed to do so from the stage. Thankfully at Marciac this fashion for audience involvement seems to be on the wane.

The Marciac jazz festival is a little unusual in that every night it features two headline acts and while some efforts are made to bill artists that are in sympathy with each other this does not always happen and so you can get concerts where people will only take their seats for the second half or leave after the first act. I rarely leave before the end of the performance (only once in the nine years I have been going to the festival) but will often leave before the encores feeling I have heard enough. I didn't stay for Joe Satriani's encores.

>193 StevenTX:. Elyot was concerned only with the education of the wealthy and the noble, in effect children of the ruling class. He says nothing about the education of the masses and said that he would write a separate book about the education of girls. (He did write a short treatise on this and I will try and get to it soon). In effect the book is written for the education of the children of those that served King Henry VIII at court (or would be courtiers) those people that could afford private tutors: An Extract:

AFTER that a childe is come to seuen yeres of age, I holde it expedient that he be taken from the company of women: sauynge that he may haue, one yere, or two at the most, an auncient and sad matrone, attendynge on hym in his chambre, whiche shall nat haue any yonge woman in her company: for though there be no perille of offence in that tender and innocent age, yet, in some children, nature is more prone to vice than to vertue, and in the tender wittes be sparkes of voluptuositie: whiche, norished by any occasion or obiecte, encrease often tymes in to so terrible a fire, that therwith all vertue and reason is consumed. Wherfore, to eschewe that daunger, the most sure counsaile is, to withdrawe him from all company of women, and to assigne unto hym a tutor, whiche shulde be an auncient and worshipfull man, in whom is aproued to be moche gentilnes, mixte with grauitie, and, as nighe as can be, suche one as the childe by imitation folowynge may growe to be excellent.

Elyot advocated an all round education with an emphasis on moral behaviour and how that should influence decision making and so in that respect it was enlightening. Rather different in tone to Machiavelli's The Prince which was first printed in 1532 a year after Elyot's boke, however a manuscript version of The Prince had been in circulation since 1513 and Elyot may or may not have seen it.

Barry, enjoyed catching up here, excellent reviews and exposure to books I’ll never get to. (Though some I will: Lolita). You often link to music tracks and I love to listen while I read your thread. I was sure there’d be something from Marciac but no … SHOULD HAVE CHECKED THE LATEST POSTS FIRST! :) Thanks, good music.

>48 baswood: Toibin {…} re-wrote this as a play with only one actor. It would make a tremendous monologue. That’s essentially the experience I had with The Testament of Mary -- I listened to audio read by Meryl Streep. I was intrigued by its anger and controversy (no "gentle" Mary, there), but was bumped out of Toibin’s historical period a few times.

>144 baswood: I like some books about children and young adults but now just get irritable reading books written for children or young adults. To my mind, The Fault in Our Stars is only a crossover if you’re a parent with a sick teen or wondering what’s going on in a teen’s mind ... though those characters and their events were adult in teen clothing.

>164 LibraryPerilous: Hal Sirowitz! I enjoyed his Mother Said.

>189 Jargoneer: I just read Keith Richards’ autobio where he wrote about performing a song over and over: “It’s never a repetition, it’s always a variation.”

Can we trust Keith? This is the man who admitted he can't recall some of the hits he wrote. As he said about his career, the beginning and now is clear but the middle is a little hazy. I wonder why?

>196 detailmuse: I liked parts of KR's bio when he's talking about music. You can tell he was/is dedicated to his craft.

>196 detailmuse: Oh, that looks good! I discovered Sirowitz in Aloud: Voices from the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, which was one of my favorite poetry collections when I was a teen. Lots of good stuff in it, including Maggie Estep and Pedro Pietri.

Edited: touchstone difficulty

I got far behind in reading posts and I'm still in catch-up mode. Your book reviews are always interesting but I really enjoy reading your posts about music. Lucky you, being able to experience a Joe Satriani performance.

>197 Jargoneer:, >198 lesmel: addictions/cold-turkey withdrawals ... those seemed more repetition than variation.

>199 LibraryPerilous: I discovered Sirowitz more recently in the Bellevue Literary Review. Glad to see he keeps publishing collections, maybe I should read some more!

Two more concerts in the chapiteau at the Marciac jazz festival and both featured a difference in style that set me thinking about differences in rock music and jazz and why at this festival and at this time I found the jazz players more exciting and dynamic than their counterparts.

Last Sundays concert opened with Spyrogyra This group have been on the scene for nearly 40 years and still have two of their original members. They are a hard touring band and I expected that their performance would be tight and professional and they did not disappoint. In their early days they were known as a jazz/rock fusion band, playing mostly instrumental music which featured plenty of space for jazz type solos. Later with the advent of smooth jazz they slotted into this genre with ease, being recognised as one of the innovators of the genre. With something like 25 albums behind them they have plenty of songs in their repertoire from which to choose and it was no surprise that they should choose a programme of mainly instrumental music with plenty of solo time for each member of the band, because after all this is a Jazz Festival. As I listened to their show what struck me was the drumming and bass playing, which was firmly entrenched in a rock style. The drumming was bass drum heavy with the main function being to lay down a steady beat and with the bass player to anchor the rest of the band. The drumming pattern did change from song to song but that heavy bass beat was ever present and while it produced a bedrock for the soloist to attach himself too it also felt restricting. Jay Beckenstein is an accomplished alto saxophone player that uses the full range of his instrument to play exciting solos, but he never threatened to break out from the restrictions of that rock steady beat and if he had of done it would probably have sounded amiss. The group were well received by an enthusiastic audience.

The second act was The Kenny Garrett Quintet and like Jay Beckenstein Kenny Garret plays an alto saxophone and some soprano saxophone, but there the likeness ends. I seemed to be listening to a different instrument. The Quintet is a jazz group and the drumming although just as powerful as that in Spyrogyra was an altogether different animal. The rhythms were more complex and were not held down by the bass drum, which was used much less frequently. The drummer was augmented by a percussionist that added more complexity and more timbre and texture to the sound. The rhythm and beats tended to shift along withy the changes in the music. The upright bass player interacted with the drummers as well as assisting with laying down the essential rhythm for the soloist. The result was that Kenny Garrett had more freedom to express himself, he did not need to change the song to introduce a new feel to the music, he was at liberty to build his solos within the structure. McClenty Hunter on piano is an essential member of this group: his left hand sets up a wall of sound playing chords that are dynamic and rhythmic in the style of McCoy Tyner and together with the rhythm section provides a restless pattern that flows with and through the music, creating eddies of excitement that Garrett can respond to in his playing. The group are favourites at the festival and this year they introduced some vocalised sounds borrowed from the blues, from African music and even from rap, to produce some hypnotic performances.

The groups encore was all about getting the crowd onto their feet with Garrett playing his saxophone one handed and using the other hand to rally/milk the applause, he wanted to make the audience part of the performance, his music demanded the cheering, the shouting and the clapping. "Turn the light up I wanna see the people" he rapped out between encouraging the crowd to "work, work work" We left 20 minutes later when he was still rapping "Turn the lights up" I wanna see the people"

More reviews from Marciac that are a pleasure to read. As a percussionist I can only welcome your comments regarding complexity, timbre, and texture!

The concert at Marciac last Wednesday saw two female singers whose sets provided another demonstration of what is and what isn't great jazz in my opinion. Cecile Mclorin Salvant is a young singer who has won major competitions of late and she appeared with a group of older jazz professionals, while Dee Dee Bridgewater is now in her sixties has performed many times at Marciac and she came on stage with a very young jazz group led by trumpeter Theo Croker

There is no doubt that Cecile McLorin Salvant's voice is a wonderful instrument; it has a very full range from low notes that can growl to high notes that can sound the sweetest. She has mastered many of the jazz singers techniques from swooping up to notes to scat singing and beyond and she provided a varied programme of jazz standards, new songs and a couple sung in French. I could not help but be impressed by her voice and some sympathetic accompaniment, but an hour into her set and I started to get a little bored. The performance was a little too perfect, one song after another; varied to show off her vocal talents, but where was the feeling? well, it wasn't there for me. She sang her songs beautifully without really getting inside them and the jazz group behind her were faultless, but far too sympathetic. It all seemed to be over rehearsed, afterwards I read that she had been classically trained and this may have had something to do with it. A classical training is not always the best for a jazz singer as sometimes something is lost along the way. Cecile McLorin Salvant got an excellent reception from the audience and came back to do an encore of three songs, two too many for me. I will not be rushing back to see her, I have heard enough.

We saw Dee Dee Bridgewater here three years ago, when she was fully into discovering her African roots and her Red Earth tour included musicians from Mali. Her storm interrupted set featured a cross between world music and jazz and was a delight from start to finish. Tonight she was back to her jazz roots, fronting a young jazz group who came on first to give a spirited rendition of one of their own tunes; Theo Croker on trumpet produced some lovely sounds and Irwin Hall on alto sax ripped through his solo spot. The lady herself made her entrance and from the first note I was in admiration of one of the best voices in jazz today. Sure, she can do the pyrotechnics as she proved with some great scat singing, but it is the feeling she imparts into her songs that make her special. Her voice is rich; can be deep as well as sweet and is perfect for the blues. She did some standards; a particularly fine version of a vocal to Thelonious Monk's Blue Monk as well as new songs written by her young band. She swung effortlessly through her set which became more rock orientated as it moved to it's climax, ending with a couple of Stevie Wonder songs. Her jazz group were not afraid to step out and take solos and their arrangements of the songs were full of interest. I am sure she will be back at Marciac and I will be in the queue to get my tickets.

Bring up the Bodies Hilary Mantel
For me this book defines the elements that are essential to write an award winning historical novel, which is also an absorbing read and a page turner to boot. It won the Man Booker prize in 2012 and was the Costa book of the same year. Critically acclaimed and a popular success story, but how did it achieve all this when it's subject matter was a period of English history awash with historical novels. The story of Anne Boleyn's fall from power, her execution and Henry VIII's subsequent marriage to Jane Seymour is well known to most casual observers of English History; they may even be aware of the role of Thomas Cromwell and Thomas Cranmer and so how does Hilary Mantel succeed in bringing new life to this story without meddling with historical accuracy?

The trick she pulls off so magnificently is to let her characters talk their way through the history. We know many of the facts, but what we do not know is what they said to each other, she fills in these spaces between the facts. Like it's predecessor Wolf Hall this her latest novel is brim full of dialogue. This can be treacherous ground for a novelist who concerns herself with historical accuracy and so she needs to make the reader believe that her characters might have said what she says they said. Here is an example; Thomas Cromwell was trained as a lawyer, he became a consummate statesman and took a leading role in steering Henry VIII towards making Anne Boleyn his queen, but now Henry wants rid of her and so it falls on Cromwell to find a means to this end. Cromwell hears rumours about Anne and when he finds that there has been an accidental fire in her bed chamber he calls in Jane Rochford, one of her ladies in waiting and their conversation goes like this:

Jane Rochford is on her high horse: she thinks he is attempting to blame her. "Look, Master Secretary (Cromwell). Shall I be plain with you?"
"I wish you would."
"First this is a household matter. It is not within your remit. Second, she was in no danger. Third, I do not know who lit the candle. Four, if I did I would not tell you."
He waits.
"Five, no one else will tell you either
He waits.
"If as it may happen, some person visits the queen after the lights are out, then it is an event over which we should draw a veil"
"Some person" He digests this "Some person for the purpose of arson, or for purposes of something else?"
"For the usual purposes of bed chambers" she says. "Not that I say there is such a person. I would not have any knowledge of it. The queen knows how to keep her secrets."
"Jane" he says "if the time comes when you wish to disburden your conscience, do not go to a priest, come to me. The priest will give you a penance, but I will give you a reward."

Clearly this dialogue is not how they would have spoken to each other; for example Tudor English would need to be translated for the modern reader and I am not sure that Master Secretary would address a lady in waiting to the queen on such familiar terms, but Mantel cleverly uses the dialogue to flesh out her characters and there is no modern usage of words that screams out to the reader as being so out of place. We are left with the idea conversations like this could well have taken place.

Thomas Cromwell is centre stage and the reader sees the world largely through his eyes. Little is known about his origins apart from his claim that he was a ruffian and so Mantel can invent his background to fit her story. She places him as a son of a Blacksmith who was abused by his father. She say he made his own way in the world first as a soldier of fortune then as lawyer. His rise to power started with his service to Cardinal Wolsey, working his way to become his secretary. When Wolsey was jailed for treason Cromwell managed to distance himself far enough to become a useful tool for Henry VIII. He owed his position to Henry VIII and knew that he stood or fell according to the whim of the king. Cromwell is an infighter but he is an outsider in Henry's court, because he cannot claim noble birth and so Mantel can use the background she has invented to give additional reasons for his action. He wants revenge for the overthrow of Wolsey and he wants to curb the power of the courtiers. He obviously elicits sympathy from the reader, but I think Mantel overdoes this a little when she claims that he was also a reformer who wanted to help the under privileged.

Mantel does not enter into the controversy of the reformation to any great degree, but as it must it keeps pace with her story. Anne was a protestant and claimed she was working to further her cause with the king. Cromwell remains a catholic but his position is never really clear. Henry's daughter Mary a devout catholic is ostracised and in mortal danger from Anne and looms in the background. The intrigue, the violence, the dangers of being in service to Henry VIII are well portrayed. The courtiers, the statesmen, those in waiting are continually looking over their shoulder. It is a dog eat dog world and Mantel does not shy away from her depiction of it as such. Mantel writes in such a way that actions taken are believable and even forgivable. Henry VIII was not a perfect king nor even a very good one, but he knew what he had to do to keep the Tudors in power. He needed men like Cromwell around him but they were expendable and he was not.

I think Mantel has captured the politics, the atmosphere, of life in and around Henry VIII 's court. Her portrayal of Tudor England (those parts that her characters see) feels right. Her characterisations are wonderfully well drawn and interact in ways that move her story on to it's inevitable conclusion. We all know what happened, but Mantel convincingly tells us, some of how and why it might have happened. The dangers are that her story telling is so compulsive that we will believe everything she writes. Is this how History is re-written I ask myself, I don't care because I enjoyed the book so much and so 4.5 stars

Great review Barry, I didn't even try reviewing WH or BUTB as I didn't think I'd be able to do them justice!

>207 wandering_star: ditto!

Excellent review of Bring Up the Bodies Barry.

Also enjoyed reading your reviews of, and comparisons between, Cecile McLorin Salvant and Dee Dee Bridgewater.

I enjoyed your review, Barry, and I really liked Bring Up the Bodies too.

Your review of Bring up the Bodies is excellent. I gave it five stars myself. I am impatiently waiting for part 3.

>206 baswood: — Loved your review, Barry! Haven't read any Hilary Mantel yet, but that will be corrected soon. You are really whetting my appetite!

>206 baswood: I hadn't been planning on reading these books--I'd rather read a history book than historical fiction--but your excellent review has almost persuaded me to change my mind. Her use of the present tense is a bit off-putting, though, but that's a personal preference.

Great review of a great book, made more so by your previous readings in this period.
The dangers are that her story telling is so compulsive that we will believe everything she writes. Is this how History is re-written I ask myself, I don't care because I enjoyed the book so much. I wondered this myself and came to the same conclusion. Since we can never know the day to day ins and outs of the matter, this is the version I will accept for now.

>212 LibraryPerilous: I usually avoid present tense if possible in novels, but here it didn't seem out of place; rather it gave an immediacy that kept you reading long past bedtime.

>211 Poquette: You might like to start with the French Revolution: A Place of Greater Safety

>213 SassyLassy: >211 Poquette: Oh I second A Place of Greater Safety! I loved it more than the two Cromwell books, and it would fit in with your interest in French literature, Suzanne.

>213 SassyLassy:, >214 rebeccanyc: — Thanks Sassy and Rebecca! You have solved my dilemma of where to begin with Hilary Mantel! Onto the wish list . . .

Thanks everybody, I am staying with the Tudors and Historical novels; reading Dissolution by C.J. Sansom in which Thomas Cromwell appears. The writing isn't in the same league as Mantel's, but the depiction of life in Tudor London and then a monastery is quite impressive.

>211 Poquette: Echoing the sentiments of Poquette here. Thanks for the great review and the advice on where to start with Mantel.

Great review of Bring Up the Bodies, and I agree completely with your observations about Mantel overdoing the sympathy for Cromwell a bit and the (unavoidable) danger of taking well-written historical fiction for historical fact.

Joe Santriani! Spyro Gyra! I'm getting worried about this festival. Who's next? Shakatak? Pigbag?

No, Jimmy Cliff!

Shakatak! Haha!

ligger

An individual who attends parties, openings, social gatherings and events with the sole intention of obtaining free food and drink - an arch blagger. Popularised by the NME in the early nineties and possibly with it's entomological roots in the fishing term for "baited line".

"So who do you know at this party?"

"No-one, I'm just ligging."

I had a free ticket for the last night of the Marciac Jazz Festival and at a friends house just before the concert met a representative of one of the Festivals major sponsors. We got to talking about where we were going to eat before the show and when he mentioned where he was going I pulled a face. Well, I said it might be alright but after my visit two years ago: I am still chewing the steak. I told him where we were going and he asked if we could get him a table. No problem and he and his guests sat with us and enjoyed their meal. He invited us into the hospitality tent where the champagne flowed and canapés were served, I chatted to some interesting people from the Caribbean who were organisers of similar festivals in the Islands and when asked what I was doing I said hmmm... I just live here. We sat down to enjoy the concert in our up-graded seats.

Monty Alexander was the first act tonight and his trio was augmented by a percussionist and electric bassist and guitarists. Monty is a jazz pianist from Jamaica and when he puts his mind to it his music really swings. He was excellent tonight and when the electric boys joined him on stage the songs took on a decidedly reggae tinge. The group were well received and the came back on to do a couple of Bob Marley songs, including Exodus which is one of my favourites.

The headline act tonight was Jimmy Cliff and so the Marciac Jazz festival had opened with a rock act: Joe Satriani and was closing with a reggae group , but there had been some jazz in between. There were so many people on stage supporting Jimmy Cliff that had I had a red T shirt (stage uniform) I could have quite easily joined them and blended in. If anybody can remember those pop concerts of the 1970's where the bass was far too loud, the sound was muddy and the vocalist was all but drowned, then you would have some idea of the Jimmy Cliff concert. The man himself worked hard enough prancing about the stage and his vocal sound did improve as the concert rolled on. He sang most of his hit songs and the sound got louder. It was the last night of the festival and we were there to dance, but Jimmy Cliff did not do it for me.





The previous evening we had seats for the Gregory Porter concert. Gregory Porter is the man who wears the silliest hat in showbiz and I feared for him tonight if the temperature went into above 30 degrees centigrade. Fortunately it was a cool night and I stopped laughing as soon as he started singing. Wow! what a voice. It is one of those voices that just grabs your attention; it is soulful, bluesy and oh so tuneful. He was backed by a fine jazz group with an outstanding saxophone player Yosuke Sato and pianist Chip Crawford. Porter makes singing look effortless, he is a big man who does not move around very much and just clicks his fingers opens his mouth and that rich voice is the result. He writes most of his material and the group treated us to nearly all the songs on his Liquid Spirit CD. His set was one of the highlights of the festival. The second act on this cool Monday night was Wynton Marsalis with his septet They played beautifully making the complex arrangements that make up his Marciac Suite look easy.
Another wonderful night in the Chapiteau.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NS6JV-veVAE