Time for tomes: dmsteyn's reading 2013

Hello everyone. Hoping you all had a wonderful Christmas (if you celebrate the holiday) and that you'll all have a prosperous year of reading, good cheer and derring-do.

Books Finished

April
20. Peripheral Light: Selected and New Poems by John Kinsella
19. The Major Works by Percy Bysshe Shelley
18. Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare
17. Freud by Jonathan Lear
16. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens = re-read
15. She Stoops to Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith = re-read

March
14. The Tenderness of Wolves by Stef Penney
13. The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror 20 edited by Stephen Jones
12. Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said by Philip K. Dick
11. Fictions/Ficciones by Jorge Luis Borges
10. The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen

February
9. The Loved One by Evelyn Waugh
8. The Complete Cosmicomics by Italo Calvino
7. I Shall Wear Midnight by Sir Terry Pratchett
6. The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker

January
5. A Preface to Shelley by Patricia Hodgart
4. Shadow Country by Peter Matthiessen
3. The Complete Poems of Hart Crane
2. The Essence of Christianity by Ludwig Feuerbach (as translated by George Eliot)
1. Religion and the Decline of Magic by Keith Thomas

2012 Reading Statistics

Total Books Read 70
Fiction 36
Poetry 7
Non-fiction 27

I’ve been trying to read more poetry, so I’m quite happy to have read more of it than last year.

Authors
64 male, 6 female

Quite surprised by this ratio, as I don’t have any problems with reading female authors. Something to address next year.

Country of Origin
UK 33
USA 17
South Africa 5
Germany 3
France 3
Canada 3
Australia 2
Russia 1
Italy 1
Zimbabwe 1
Unknown 1

I want to widen the net next year, but I’m glad that South Africa came in third.

Ratings
5 stars 18
4.5 stars 18
4 stars 23
3.5 stars 6
3 stars 2
2.5 stars 3

The high ratings are hopefully a sign of discernment, not of inflation…

Best Reads

1. The Faerie Queene – Edmund Spenser
2. The Major Works – John Keats
3. Gormenghast – Mervyn Peake (re-read)
4. The Basic Writings of Nietzsche – Friedrich Nietzsche
5. Unclay – T.F. Powys
6. Complete Poems – D.H. Lawrence
7. Paradise Lost – John Milton (re-read)
8. The Master and Margarita – Mikhail Bulgakov (re-read)
9. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays – Northrop Frye
10. Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad (re-read)

2012 was a great reading year for me, and I hope 2013 won't disappoint. What am I saying?! course it won't disappoint, not when I have all you guys with whom to discuss my reading.

You read some very serious works in 2012! How was the Powys? He's an author I would like to explore.

Thank you for giving my thread a look, arubabookwoman! I really enjoy T.F. Powys's work, though I'm aware that he isn't universally popular. I hope to read Mr Weston's Good Wine soon, which most critics view as his best work.

I read The Gormenghast Trilogy for the first time last year. It definitely is one I'll reread someday. Looking forward to following your reading this year.

I absolutely love The Gormenghast Trilogy! I plan to read a biography of Mervyn Peake this month (Mervyn Peake's Vast Alchemies by G. Peter Winnington), and I also want to read Boy in Darkness and Other Stories. Thanks for dropping by, Alison, and hope to see your comments here soon.

Just checking in, waiting to see what appears here.

The Keith Thomas book looks fascinating to me.

The Keith Thomas book is excellent indeed. Arcane, otherwise forgotten missives from another era.

It's nice to see poetry represented in a Best Reads list, Dewald. And Heart of Darkness, which I have just recently begun. I'm looking forward to your 2013 reading.

>8 dchaikin: Hi Dan! I hope a lot happens...

>9 RochelleJewelShapiro:, 10 Hi Rochelle23 and zenomax! Just finished the book, and it really was fascinating. I'll review it below.

>11 Linda92007: Thanks, Linda. I love poetry, and hope to read even more collections this year. How are you getting on with Heart of Darkness?

1. Religion and the Decline of Magic by Keith Thomas

The concept of magic is a fascinating one, no doubt. The amount of fiction that contains some or other kind of magic is astonishing, but what is even more astonishing is the beliefs that people have had (or continue to have) about “actual” magic. In Religion and the Decline of Magic, Keith Thomas takes a look at these beliefs as they were manifested in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century England. This is a fascinating study which reveals Thomas’s rigorous delving in the records and archives, and his deep insight into the beliefs of his ancestors.

I received this Folio edition as a present. It has a wonderful introduction by Hilary Mantel in which she expresses her admiration for Thomas’s erudition. What is even more remarkable about Thomas’s exhaustive research is that the book came out in the 1970s. Of course, there has also been more recent research into this field, and Mantel acknowledges that some of Thomas’s conclusions might require emendation. But on the whole she seems genuinely impressed with the book’s approach and judgements.

Thomas begins by considering the role of religion in people’s magical beliefs during the period. He first considers the quasi-magical practices of the traditional Catholic clergy, including exorcism, transubstantiation, saints, indulgences, and so forth. Thomas then considers the impact of the Reformation on people’s beliefs, which, despite the efforts of the Puritans, did not bring an end to beliefs in magic, witches, ghosts, fairies, etc. There are excellent subsections on the role of Providence in people’s beliefs, and how prayer and biblical prophecy influenced popular ideas about magic.

The next main section concerns magic itself, with Thomas investigating the idea of magical healing (which included healing by touch, as appropriated by the royalty, who claimed to be able to cure scrofula, or the “King’s evil”), and the role of “cunning men” and “wise women” in village life. Most of these “charmers” were concerned with finding lost property and with divination, and had little or no knowledge of theoretical magical learning, like that of Paracelsus, Agrippa, or Jakob Boehme. He then considers how these beliefs were attacked by the religious authorities, and yet were often instigated and supported by religious beliefs in concepts like the soul and the afterlife.

Thomas has an excellent section on astrology, in which he considers its practice and extent, its social and intellectual role, and the similarities and differences between it and religious practices. He then considers how ancient prophecies (which probably were not that ancient) influenced people during this time.

Probably the most interesting and thorough section is the one on witchcraft in England. Thomas considers how witchcraft became a crime and its history in England. Interestingly, he shows how most prosecutions were based on the belief in maleficent actions (those that caused harm to others), and not usually on the claim that witches were devil-worshipers. In his subsection on witchcraft and religion, Thomas considers contemporary beliefs concerning the Devil, as well as those concerning possession by demons. He has much to say about the Malleus Maleficarum (a Catholic treatise on witches) and how it influenced beliefs concerning witches. He has a wonderful section on “The Making of a Witch”, in which he considers cursing and the supposed temptation to devil-worship. Thomas shows that the idea of “covens” of witches and “black Sabbaths” are nearly completely unsupported by the evidence for the era. The idea of a far-ranging “witch-cult” in Western Europe is also dismissed. Despite this, Thomas does consider what might have tempted people (mostly women) into becoming witches, even though they did not have any real powers. He then investigates the social environment that led to witch-beliefs, and finally considers the reasons for the decline of belief in witchcraft.

The thinnest section is termed “Allied Beliefs”, in which Thomas considers the contemporary beliefs in ghosts and fairies, as well as omens. I say “thinnest”, but this is really only in comparison to the previous section, as Thomas still does an excellent job in delineating the popular beliefs concerning spirits and signs.

The whole book is a magisterial attempt to synthesise research on occult beliefs during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in England. Thomas accomplishes this with wit and excellent writing. The only real criticism I could level at the book is his use of examples from Africa to substantiate his conclusions. This might merely reflect views prominent in the 1970s, but “Africa” is hardly a homogenous continent to which one can blithely refer without specifying countries and peoples. Thomas does admittedly make this clearer in his notes, but it was a small irritation. On the whole, however, I found the book to be a wonderful compendium with rich insights into the beliefs of early modern England.

Religion and the Decline of Magic sounds fascinating, Dewald. And it apparently fits with your reading of tomes. Sounds like a book I'd like to read some day.

>12 dmsteyn: I am not too far into Heart of Darkness yet, so I'll reserve comment for later.

Religion and the Decline of Magic, at 900+ pages, certainly was a tome, Linda, though about 300 of those pages were notes. I hope you get to the book someday.

"Religion and the decline of magic" sounds really interesting! Your review was nice to read :) I'll pick up the book when I come across it!

I think that was one of the best books I ever read. Lovely job.

Interesting about the intro by Mantel -- the edition I found on Amazon is a Penguin edition and doesn't have it.

Excellent review of Religion and the Decline of magic. I certainly want to get to this one soon, but I don't think I will stretch to the folio edition.

Great review of Religion and the Decline of Magic, Dewald!

On the wishlist, terrific review. It reminds me of my now dusty goal to read about the British antiquarians some day...which is perhaps only peripherally related.

>17 SassyLassy: That's high praise from you, SassyLassy. Any suggestions for similar books?

>18 rebeccanyc: I think it's limited to the Folio Society editions, which is a shame, as I'm sure that Mantel's praise of the book would ensure it's continued interest for contemporary readers. Not that it isn't interesting in its own right.

>19 baswood: Thanks, Barry! It was a gift from my parents :)

>20 kidzdoc: Thanks for dropping by, Darryl!

>21 dchaikin: Thank you, Dan. It might be peripherally related, but Thomas is certainly an antiquarian in own right.

I love Religion and the Decline of Magic, your review makes me wish I still had it on my shelf (well-loved secondhand paperbacks only last so long). Saving my pennies, I want that Folio edition! I really, really, really do. Have they been generous with the illustrations?

Edit. Typo.

Great review. This will be the first book on my thread's list called Recommendations by Fellow CRers, thanks to you!

>23 letterpress: Glad to hear that there are others in ClubRead who have read the book and loved it. I hope you get the Folio edition. The illustrations are great, and really lend the book an air of magic.

>24 deebee1: I'm glad to hear that, deebee1!

Terrifc review. This is must get.

Thanks, Kevin, glad to hear I sold you on it.

dm

Carlo Ginzburg has several books on belief and magic in what he calls microhistory. For belief in a broader context, I would recommend two classics: Norman Cohn's The Pursuit of the Millennium and Christopher Hill's The World Turned Upside Down. I had planned on reading the Hill last year for my sixteenth/seventeenth century odyssey, but it went by the way with the rest of the pile. I will be rereading it again this year and in the meantime have added another Hill to the heap.

Touchstones are behaving very badly and have booted me out twice, so I'm not going to try to correct them anymore.

Thanks for the recommendations, SassyLassy. I actually have a Ginzburg (The Night Battles), but haven't gotten round to it yet. The Cohn and Hill look fascinating.

I had an Amazon gift certificate and just ordered both Religion and the Decline of Magic (not, alas, the Folio edition) and The Pursuit of the Millennim, which SassyLassy had previously recommended to me. So thanks to you both, Dewald and Sassy!

Lots of interesting reading ahead, rebecca. I'll be interested to see how you find them.

It's a pleasure, Rebecca! I hope to also get to those recommendations from Sassy.

Christopher Hill, oh yes. In my first year at college, I did a paper on Oliver Cromwell, and read Oliver Cromwell by John Viscount Morley and God's Englishman. Oliver Cromwell and the English Revolution by Christopher Hill. The latter impressed me so much that the following summer, spent in Oxford, I bought The world turned upside down. Radical ideas during the English Revolution. Despite the fact that I did several more papers on sixteenth/seventeenth century authors, I never got round to reading it, and it has been on my TBR since, oops, 1987. In 2006, I also bought The Century of Revolution, 1603-1714. I may be able to read both when Barry gets to that time period, probably next year, aye Barry?

still got to read The Faerie Queene

>34 baswood:

You guys were half-way through, when I joined Club Read, and I did not make it to join. But, I too, will want to read The Faerie Queene.

I found that it makes good reading to read the book, while listening to the Librivox recording at the same time.

Terrific review of Religion and the Decline of Magic - adding it to the wishlist but might not get to it for awhile (though 600 pages sounds more manageable than 900). I took a witch trials class as an undergrad and remember thinking last year that I should read more books related to the topic - this looks like it would fit.

>33 edwinbcn:-35 I'll be interested to see what you have to say about The world turned upside down. Radical ideas during the English Revolution when you get to it, Edwin. I enjoyed the scope and ambition of The Faerie Queene, as well as Spenser's poetic mastery. It wasn't without its problems, but it was excellent on the whole.

>36 DieFledermaus: Thanks, DieFledermaus! I did a general class on Cultural History as an undergrad in which we discussed witch trails a bit, but this was certainly an eye-opener.

2. The Essence of Christianity by Ludwig Feuerbach

The beginning, middle and end of religion is MAN.

The dictum that one should “believe as a child” is a popular one among Christians of many stripes. Unquestioning belief is often held to be the true sign of piety, while scepticism and uncertainty are rejected out of hand. Yet so much of civilisation is based on rational discourse and philosophical enquiry. To claim that religion is completely ineffable would then seem to be reserving special privileges for one sphere of human existence, perhaps one of the most influential spheres. Is this justifiable? Or is it a sign of pusillanimity, a human fear of exposing the straw-man arguments on which many believers base their faith? Ludwig Feuerbach, a nineteenth-century German philosopher, would argue for the latter. In his fair-minded, densely written book, Feuerbach argues that, in essence, “theology is anthropology” – not in the narrow sense of anthropology as an academic study of human societies, but in a much broader sense: belief is solely a predicate of human existence, and, according to Feuerbach, Christianity is not based on the existence of an actual deity or real miraculous events, but rather based only on human needs and our limited understanding of the world. Obviously, that is a very, very condensed précis of what Feuerbach actually argues for around 300 pages. But it gives the gist of what he contends. Very controversial ideas, admittedly, whether we are talking about the nineteenth or twenty-first century.

The book is a work of philosophy that depends on a great deal of foreknowledge about the field, so it is not an easy read. And even if you have a working knowledge of Western philosophy, you will probably need to have a good amount of patience to get through it: Henry James-like paragraphs await the intrepid explorer of Feuerbach’s book, stuffed with quotations in Latin by the Church Fathers and many quotations from Luther (Feuerbach spares neither Catholicism nor Protestantism in his indictment of religion). The book is divided into two parts, the first concerning what Feuerbach calls “The True or Anthropological Essence of Religion”, in which he adopts a fairly positive tone in teasing out what he believes to be the core of religion. In the second part (“The False or Theological Essence of Religion”), however, Feuerbach pulls no punches in chastising religion for what he believes are its contradictions and inherent problems. Feuerbach can be very forceful here, and I can see why this book has upset people in the past.

An interesting note: the book was originally translated by George Eliot, and this is also the edition I read. I find it intriguing that Eliot would have been interested in this kind of book, as she is, on the whole, hardly a polemical writer. Being a translation, little of her own style really seeps through into the book, but it would be interesting to see how Feuerbach’s ideas penetrate Eliot’s own writing. There are a few grammatical problems with the translation as well, mostly related to the German use of du, which Eliot translates as thou, leading to a sometimes strange, anachronistic tone.

I thought The Essence of Christianity was an excellent philosophical work, but it certainly will not be for everyone. I did not agree with all of Feuerbach’s conclusions, but his humanist polemic certainly made me think. One should not reject this book merely because it might threaten one’s cherished beliefs. In fact, that is probably the best reason to read it. Complacency in one’s beliefs is surely as dangerous as heresy, and much more insidious. As a famous publication puts it, one should take part in “a severe contest between intelligence, which presses forward, and an unworthy, timid ignorance obstructing our progress.” It would be a shame to toss the book aside for its arguments. Its difficulty is another matter.

Great review of an interesting-sounding book but I don't think it will be added to my wishlist.

Interesting arguments and well reviewed. I think Feuerbach was read more in Religious Studies then in Philosophy when I was taking philosophy courses and I have not read him, but really does sound quite interesting.

I particularly like the idea of reading a George Eliot translation. She did a lot of translations from German. Have you read Middlemarch. Your mention of her made me think of Dorothea's disillusionment with Casaubon.

excellent review, but I am not sure I could cope with any more Henry James like paragraphs just after reading one of his novels.

It sounds like a great read and appreciate the way you summed it up so nicely. Interesting that George Eliot translated it!

Awesome job on Feuerbach. He should be required reading.

>39 charbutton: Thanks charbutton! I didn't really think I'd be able to convince many people to read the book, as it seems to fall into a limited niche.

>40 SassyLassy: Thanks SassyLassy. I'm not sure whether Feuerbach is taught in any classes at my university currently, but I do remember reading a reference to him in Marilynne Robinson's Gilead, which might have nudged me into reading him.

I read Middlemarch about five years ago, so it's difficult to remember the specifics, but I plan to reread it this year, so I'll try and take note of ideas that might have crossed over. Have you ever read any of her translations from German?

>41 baswood: Thanks Barry, and I can understand your reluctance...

>42 avidmom: Thanks for the kind comments, avidmom. It certainly is very interesting that Eliot took the time to translate it. I know I said that she doesn't seem like a polemical writer, but that may only be applicable to her fiction. I know she wrote poetry as well.

>43 tomcatMurr: Thanks TC. I would certainly prefer him as required reading to, say, Dawkins...

Oh right, Gilead, from the atheist brother...that's where I've heard of Feuerbach. Fascinating précis. You have me thinking perhaps I should read him...

Fabulous review of The Essence of Christianity, Dewald.

>45 dchaikin: Dan, it would be interesting to read your response to Feuerbach.

>46 kidzdoc: Thanks, Darryl!

Went to the Summer Sale of the largest book retailer in South Africa, Exclusive Books, and came away with a few good'uns:

Last Orders by Graham Swift - not universally popular, but I've never read Swift, and I want to see what the fuss is about. Also, cheap :)
The Book of Evidence by John Banville - I've enjoyed every Banville I've read (yes, even The Sea), and I like disturbing books. Well, maybe not like, but I find them interesting.
Seven Ages of Paris by Alistair Horne - hmm, not the greatest reviews, but I want to read more about Paris...
Waiting for the Barbarians by J.M. Coetzee - great South African writer, now unfortunately decamped to Australia
The Border Trilogy by Cormac McCarthy - one of my favourite contemporary American authors
The Weird: A Compendium of Strange and Dark Stories edited by Jeff VanderMeer - I love stories of the macabre, the strange, the fantastic... the weird, I guess
Dante in Love by A.N. Wilson - a very cheap hardcover about a very interesting poet whom I intend to get to... soon
The Orphan Master's Son by Adam Johnson - another cheap hardback and, despite the controversy about the book, it still looks interesting
Grendel by John Gardner - also controversial, but looks very good. I should maybe read Beowulf first, though
Collected Poems by Wallace Stevens - probably my favourite find, a hardcover of Stevens in excellent condition

Nice haul!

oooooooh fab!

Vandermeer looks good. HAve you read Italo Calvino's collection of weird tales? I'm really not sure about Banville. I absolutely loved his book about the Cambridge spies The Untouchable, but his book about Copernicus was really disappointing
.

>48 dmsteyn: The first think that struck me was the word "Summer". There is more than 40 cm of snow on the driveway and although it is a beautiful sunny day, summer was a word far from my mind. It took me a minute or two to process your geographic location and now I'm back in tune. I wonder how much these differences affect our reading choices?

Anyway, great haul no matter the season. I'd be interested to know about the Horne and the A N Wilson books when you finish them. I really need to read some Banville and the same goes for Coetzee. As for Swift, I read Last Orders and liked it, but preferred Waterland. Cormac McCarthy is definitely an author for summer. Sounds like a good book retailer.

Alberto Manguel also edited a collection of the macabre, the strange, the fantastic... the weird, I guess, Black Water.

>49 RidgewayGirl: Thanks, Alison, I love these book-buying expeditions.

>50 tomcatMurr: I've seen Calvino's collection, TC, but I haven't read it yet. Does look good, though. On Banville, I loved The Infinities, though I seem to have been among a minority, and I hope to read Ancient Light sometime this year.

>51 SassyLassy: Sassy, it's strange to think that the web can bridge such huge geographical differences, that I didn't even consider that most of you are probably in the bleak midwinter. I usually don't consider the weather when I choose what to read, but I'm sure it subconsciously affects my response (and choice?).

I'll be sure to let you know about the Horne and the A.N. Wilson, though it may take some time before I get to them. I'm not sure about Swift - I think Barry mentioned disliking Last Orders - but I'll give him a try in any case.

I'll look out for the Manguel collection. Thanks!

Yes I did dislike Last Orders, but other than that you have got some great books. I am a big fan of John Gardner and Grendel is very good. Poetry always seems better between hard covers, the Wallace Stevens was a great find.

Last Orders was a pretty quick read though, and I thought well written. Just not my thing.

Catching up on your thread now--lots of interesting reviews and discussion. Thank you for summarizing the Feuerbach so I don't have to read it. I just couldn't at this point in my life, but maybe in the far future . . .

>53 baswood: Thanks, Barry. I'm looking forward to Grendel, and I agree about poetry seeming better between hard covers.

>54 Nickelini: Reading Feuerbach wasn't exactly fun, but it was intriguing, Joyce. If you ever get round to him, I'd love to read your comments...

3. The Complete Poems of Hart Crane



"The Broken Tower"

The bell-rope that gathers God at dawn
Dispatches me as though I dropped down the knell
Of a spent day - to wander the cathedral lawn
From pit to crucifix, feet chill on steps from hell.

Have you not heard, have you not seen that corps
Of shadows in the tower, whose shoulders sway
Antiphonal carillons launched before
The stars are caught and hived in the sun's ray?

The bells, I say, the bells break down their tower;
And swing I know not where. Their tongues engrave
Membrane through marrow, my long-scattered score
Of broken intervals... And I, their sexton slave!

Oval encyclicals in canyons heaping
The impasse high with choir. Banked voices slain!
Pagodas, campaniles with reveilles outleaping -
O terraced echoes prostrate on the plain!...

And so it was I entered the broken world
To trace the visionary company of love, its voice
An instant in the wind (I know not whither hurled)
But not for long to hold each desperate choice.

My word I poured. But was it cognate, scored
Of that tribunal monarch of the air
Whose thigh embronzes earth, strikes crystal Word
In wounds pledged once to hope, - cleft to despair?

The steep encroachments of my blood left me
No answer (could blood hold such a lofty tower
As flings the question true?) - or is it she
Whose sweet mortality stirs latent power? -

And through whose pulse I hear, counting the strokes
My veins recall and add, revived and sure
The angelus of wars my chest evokes:
What I hold healed, original now, and pure...

And builds, within, a tower that is not stone
(Not stone can jacket heaven) - but slip
Of pebbles, - visible wings of silence sown
In azure circles, widening as they dip

The matrix of the heart, lift down the eye
That shrines the quiet lake and swells a tower...
The commodious , tall decorum of that sky
Unseals her earth, and lifts love in its shower.

- Hart Crane, 1932

I feel daunted in trying to review Hart Crane's entire oeuvre. He is such an allusive/elusive poet, that I often felt helplessly lost in reading his poetry, especially his magnum opus in praise of Brooklyn Bridge, called simply The Bridge. The title is probably the only thing simple about this dense, immense poem, which is probably the long American poem of the 20th century.

Because I feel so daunted by Crane's difficulty, I am only going to give a few personal responses to his work, without trying to analyse the poetry in any depth. I will start of by saying that, although I felt desperately in need of guidance while reading Crane, I also felt a wonderful ebullience and joy while reading his poetry. Crane, although deeply influenced by Walt Whitman's poetics of "free" verse, has a much more classical style than Whitman, incorporating classical metres and rhyme to great effect. Just looking at the above poem, one notices the careful use of a varied iamic pentameter and unobtrusive cross-rhyme, which serves to structure a very obscure poem. Crane was extremely widely read, even though he only lived to the age of 32. Homosexual, or at least bisexual, Crane experienced loneliness and became an alcoholic, finally commiting suicide by jumping into the Gulf of Mexico from the steamship Orizaba while en route to America from a trip to Mexico. What he might still have produced in terms of poetry is something sad to reflect upon.

Some have described Crane as "word-drunk", an American Dylan Thomas without the rigour of contemporaries like Eliot and Wallace Stevens. This is false. Crane worked and re-worked his poems incessantly, trying to achieve the perfection of form and content that all good poetry strives after. His poems can seem wordy because he is so concerned with finding the correct expression, the one word that will say as much as a score of imperfect lines. Look again at the above poem, especially the lines "(Not stone can jacket heaven) - but slip / Of pebbles". The words "jacket" and "slip" are exquisite, chosen with care and precision. "Jacket" means "to enclose or encase in a jacket or other covering", implying the close, tight enclosure of "heaven" in a tower made not of stone. "Slip" has been interpreted in many ways, but the most likely meaning is "a thin, slippery mix of clay and water", refering to the clay from which humanity is fashioned.

As you can see, Crane is so careful in choosing his words that it is easy to miss the meaning of a single phrase, not even to mention the meaning of a whole stanza, or the poem itself. This may lead to a lot of frustration when reading Crane; he certainly does not mind being obscure, and rarely gives the reader signposts to his meaning. That said, I hesitate to ascribe fixed meanings to any poem - there are only better and worse reading of poems, not universal or eternal ones. Therefore, my personal response to Crane is more important to me than the disparaging comments of some of his contemporaries (such as Ezra Pound), who either thought he was too classical, or too obscure. I take their criticisms on board, but I do not swallow them whole.

Crane is a figure of sadness to me, but also one of brilliance and hope. He produced wonderful poetry in trying circumstances, and left a legacy of verse that will endure. I hope to encourage more people to read his poetry. Even though he may prove difficult, keep faith and try him. As Whitman wrote at the end of his Song of Myself:

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

So does Crane.

I've read this poem over about six times now. I'm fully impressed and still don't really know what it means. A wonderful review. If I try Hart, I'll have your encouragement in mind.

Thanks, Dan! I think the main thrust of the poem is about poetic ability, and Crane's fear that his was ebbing. It also concerns his one relationship with a woman, Peggy Cowley (the wife of Malcolm Cowley) and how Crane felt confusion yet hope yet despair about his prospects.

I don't know whether that helps. I don't want to give a canonical reading because, as I mentioned, I don't really believe in fixed readings.

Wow, Dewald! Your review provides such wonderful insight into Crane's verse and I am envious of your understanding of poetic form. And what a great Whitman quote. Your reference to The Bridge has intrigued me and I will definitely now be looking for this collection, although fully expecting to struggle with it!

Thanks, Linda. I had a great poetry teacher at university (she's still a friend of mine) from whom I gathered most of my poetic knowledge. I forgot to mention the Introduction by Harold Bloom, who gives a wonderful reading of this poem and other sections of the book (or perhaps I didn't so much forget, as conveniently avoid mentioning him; I know he isn't the most popular critic on the block).

I don't think you should worry about not understanding Crane's poetry: nobody really understands all of it, but it is still very enjoyable to read aloud.

Yes great review of The Complete Poems, Hart Crane and a good example you have chosen with the line (Not stone can jacket heaven) - but slip/Of pebbles..., which both emphasises the initial difficulty, but also shows how much can be read in such a line.

Power to your elbow in reading The Complete Poems.

Thanks, Barry! I love poetry, so I don't really need any encouragement...

4. Shadow Country by Peter Matthiessen




I am in blood
Stepped in so far, that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er.
- Macbeth, 3.4.157-9.

Fabliau of Florida
Barque of phosphor
On the palmy beach,

Move outward into heaven,
Into the alabasters
And night blues.

Foam and cloud are one.
Sultry moon-monsters
Are dissolving.

Fill your black hull
With white moonlight.

There will never be an end
To this droning of the surf.
- Wallace Stevens

Peter Matthiessen, best-known for The Snow Leopard, has written a blood-boiling, soul-searching novel in Shadow Country, which won the American National Book Award in 2008. Although first published as three separate novels, Matthiessen always intended the story to be a single edifice, and that it is. He was also dissatisfied with the middle book, saying it reminded him “not agreeably of the long belly of a dachshund, slung woefully between its upright sturdy legs.” Although in my opinion still the weakest part of the novel, the middle section still works well. More on that later, however. Let me first describe the story, which is based on real events. Matthiessen’s novel is a character-study of E.J. Watson, an infamous Florida sugarcane planter of the early twentieth century, who after many unsavoury incidents, was gunned down by his Chokoloskee neighbours under strange circumstances. Matthiessen has weaved a magnificent story from the disparate facts in the case of Watson, creating an engaging, revealing story about… well, about everything from greed, desperation, and insanity, to love, hope, and redemption.

The first part of the book consists of numerous voices relating Watson’s story from every conceivable angle. Each character who narrates the story reveals something about Watson, the times, and themselves as Matthiessen creates a brilliant collage of voices from the past. This first part is beautifully controlled, and Matthiessen is astoundingly good at capturing the diversity of characters. The suspicions of the people concerning Watson are carefully ratcheted up, until the final crescendo on a fateful day in 1910. Matthiessen is also great at describing the Florida coast, its lonely keys and hidden waterways. As one would expect, there is a great deal on the natural environment and its creatures. This creates an atmosphere of authenticity and verisimilitude that is rare in modern fiction. Matthiessen already uses this section to address his main themes, especially those of guilt, racism, and environmentalism.

The second part focusses on Watson’s son, Lucius, and his attempt to clear his father’s name. Lucius is an engaging character, yet also deeply flawed. He loves his father and the Florida coast, but he lacks the strength of conviction, and often allows events to spiral out of control, a problem which is exacerbated by his drinking. This section extends the story into the 1930s, with Lucius trying to find out as much about his father as possible. Matthiessen uses this premise to flesh out the story, adding lots of details to extant story from the first part. This part is very concerned with how families develop and become estranged, how they hide things from each and learn to cope with this history. I thought this part was also excellent, but Lucius is a bit too weak to carry the story as well as the multi-voice approach.

Matthiessen confronts this problem head-on in the third and final part, which is narrated by Watson himself. It spans the time from his birth to his death, and is absolutely brilliant. Engrossing, engrossing, I tell you, with Watson himself as a larger-than-life frontiersman, desperado and rounded human being providing the impetus to a story of sound and fury. Yet it signifies much, despite Watson’s ignominious end. Watson is one of the most realised characters that I have ever encountered in a novel. He is at times funny, harsh, evil, good, greedy, compassionate… the adjectives pile up without quite catching the living, breathing Watson. I loved this section the most; it was the best-written, best-conceived part of the novel, and convinced me totally.

As anyone can see, I am very excited by, and enamoured of, Matthiessen’s masterpiece. This is the stuff of writer’s envy, but also of inspiration. (The claim that it is too long is merely silliness; I was left wanting more). I will certainly be reading it again, and will be looking out for Matthiessen’s other books.

Wonderful review of Shadow Country, Dewald. I have several of his non-fiction books (The Snow Leopard and Sand Rivers), which I greatly enjoyed, and now I will be adding his fiction to my wishlist.

Great review. I've read the first part of this book, Killing Mr. Watson, and was greatly impressed by it. Hope to get to the rest of the book some time. I agree that he does a fantastic job of creating the atmosphere with such authenticity. That he writes on nature themes based on his experiences most probably helped. I enjoyed his non-fiction African Silences, and would highly recommend it.

>64 Linda92007: Thanks, Linda. I'd love to read his non-fiction; I see The Snow Leopard won the National Book Award as well (apparently, Matthiessen is the only person to have won for both fiction and non-fiction), but Sand Rivers looks great as well.

>65 deebee1: Thank you, deebee. I think he's changed the "trilogy" quite a bit - not the story, but some of the chronology - but the first part really sets the scene for the rest of the novel. The atmosphere is brilliant, isn't it? Matthiessen seems like such an interesting man - an explorer in the mould of those famous nineteenth-century pathbreakers, but without their prejudices. African Silences looks brilliant, but also saddening. With South Africa's current problem with rhino-poaching for the Asian market, I'm not sure if I could stomache reading about the extermination of Africa's wildlife.

Great review! I loved Shadow Country, and you really captured the essence of it.

Really enjoyed your review of Shadow Country; I think it might have to go on my wishlist... A new (to me) writer - thanks!

>67 cabegley: Thanks, Chris! Glad I captured the essence of it. That often doesn't work with such long books...

>68 rachbxl: Thanks, rachbxl. I always love finding new authors on the Club Read forum, so I'm glad that I could do the same for you.

Great review, pity its too long for me to recommend that my book club read it.

Great review of a really good book! I really enjoyed it when I read it, and your review reminded me of why I liked it.

>70 baswood: Thanks a lot, Barry! What are your book club's limits as far as book length goes?

>71 fuzzy_patters: Thanks, fuzzy! Glad to remind you of an enjoyable reading experience. I liked reading the book, but it was sometimes a bit harrowing (especially since these were real people).

5. A Preface to Shelley by Patricia Hodgart

Lines Written in a Blank Leaf of the ‘Prometheus Unbound’

Write it in gold - a Spirit of the sun,
An Intellect ablaze with heavenly thoughts,
A soul with all the dews of pathos shining,
Odorous with love, and sweet to silent woe
With the dark glories of concentrate song,
Was sphered in mortal earth. Angelic sounds
Alive with panting thoughts sunned the dim world.
The bright creations of an human heart
Wrought magic in the bosoms of mankind.
A flooding summer burst on Poetry;
Of which the crowning sun, the night of beauty,
The dancing showers, the birds, whose anthems wild
Note after note unbind the enchanted leaves
Of breaking buds, eve, and the flow of dawn,
Were centred and condensed in his one name
As in a providence - and that was SHELLEY.

- Thomas Lovell Beddoes, 1822

Not a full review, this, as I do not see the point in trying to cover all the aspects of a reference book. But I did enjoy reading about Shelley and his circle, and the critical examination of some of Shelley's poetry was fascinating. Shelley was an enigmatic figure by all accounts, yet also a pure genius. Many will dislike his atheism and radical politics, that's a given. But his poetry will survive the censure of the past and present. He seems to have been a generous, kind man, though he also had less-praiseworthy characteristics, including a tendency to fall in love with each beautiful woman he met.

Shelley was probably, after Coleridge, the most widely-read of the Romantics, something which may come as a surprise to those who view him as a simpering poet of feeling. He consistently read for about 16 hours a day in his youth, and the results are evident throughout his poetry, with classical and contemporary allusions abounding. He was much influenced by William Godwin, the husband of Mary Wollstonecraft, as well as by such diverse figures as Rousseau, Plato, and the scientific writings of Erasmus Darwin. In fact, Shelley loved science; his rooms were filled with experimental apparatus, and he read widely among contemporary scientists.

This short book is a very good introduction to Shelley and his poetry. I would recommend it to anyone interested in finding out more about one of the most important, yet least understood, Romantic poets.

Enjoyed your review of Shadow Country which drove me to my shelves and other piles of TBR. Since I found it in the first place I looked, I must be supposed to read it. Thanks for the nudge. Here's another nudge for you to read some of the non fiction.

Always thought Shelley was interesting. I should read something up to date on him and the Hodgart book looks like it might fit the bill.

>74 SassyLassy: I have a friend who is always telling me to follow signs and to note coincidences. Not sure whether I completely buy into that kind of thing, but I'm glad that you liked my review, and that it encouraged you to go find the book. I'll definitely try some of the non-fiction. I see there's An African Trilogy by Matthiessen, which should be good.

On Shelley, I'm not sure whether this is the most up to date thing on him (it was published 1985) but it is an interesting, enthusiastic introduction.

Great review of Shadow Country -- I've read Killing Mister Watson multiple times (I've taught it) and Bone by Bone a couple of times. Both are brilliant in quite different ways I've started Lost Man's River a couple of time but have never been able to get completely through it. One of these days I'm going to get to Shadow Country to see what modifications Matthiessen made from the trilogy to the single volume.

Thanks, Jane! I wasn't aware that Killing Mister Watson was on any syllabuses, but I guess it shouldn't come as any surprise.

News about Ted Smallwood's store in Chokoloskee:

http://www.marconews.com/photos/galleries/2011/oct/16/smallwoods-store-reopens-c...

http://www.naplesnews.com/news/topic/smallwood-store/

DharmaBomb's song and a video of a re-enactment of Watson's death:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KKJ13hQvQ4E

Thanks for those links, Jane, very interesting. The music isn't really to my taste, and I imagined the ending a bit differently, but I like the idea of such "cultural diffusion", to sound a bit pompous.

Being in Florida, I've always tried to introduce my lit students to some Florida literature, and Killing Mister Watson works so well on so many levels -- the different narrative voices, the ecological perspective (even more pronounced in Bone by Bone), the racial difficulties, etc.

I think it's great that your incorporating Florida literature into your classes, Jane. I haven't actually started teaching (I'm only a lowly tutor ;)) but the people at my department also try to introduce South African literature to the students. Unfortunately, there aren't really any books about Pretoria!

Terrific review of Shadow Country - you do make it sound very tempting!

Thanks, DieFledermaus! Haven't seen you around in a while...

Compelling review of Shadow Country, Dewald! I've heard nothing but great things about this book, so I'll have to dig it out and read it this year.

I have nothing but great things to say about this book, Darryl, so I guess that's appropriate. Thanks!

Those are excellent reviews, especially of Religion and the Decline of Magic and Shadow Country. I'm a big fan of Matthiessen's writing, and I'm curious what his fiction might be like. I've also heard interesting things about Religion and the Decline of Magic...I should really pick it up some day!

I loved both of those books, and really enjoyed writing the reviews, so I'm glad that you guys also liked the reviews! I'm coming to Matthiessen from the opposite side, and will get to his non-fiction soon. Thanks, Rachel!

What I'm planning to read in February (besides the books I'm busy with):

Fiction:
The Complete Cosmicomics by Italo Calvino
The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen
Collected Fictions by Jorge Luis Borges (only Ficciones)

Non-fiction:
The Major Works by Sir Thomas Browne
Revelations: Personal Responses to the Books of the Bible by various authors
Science of Mythology by Carl Gustav Jung and Carl Kerenyi

I'm only mentioning three books in each category because I don't want to be too ambitious. Might be more, might be less.

Looks fairly ambitious to me!

Afraid to ask what the list looks like when you're feeling ambitious!

>89 janeajones:, 90 Hmmm, maybe I didn't phrase that correctly. What I mean is, I should (hopefully) be able to get through these books in a month. I've already read half of the Browne book, and the other two non-fiction books are quite short, as are the short story collections.

Ambitious or not, you read some very interesting stuff. I enjoy your reviews so I'll look forward to reading your opinions this month.

Regarding your recent acquisition Last Orders by Clive Swift (back in post 48) - I lent my copy to a friend and now have the feeling that it got passed on instead of being returned. Now that I don't own a copy it has made me want to read it more than ever, if only out of curiosity.

>92 VivienneR: Thanks Vivienne for your gracious comments!

I try not to lend books to anyone besides really good, trustworthy friends, but I've also had this happen to me in the past a few times. I hope you either get it back, or re-acquire it somewhow.

Hello - Just a newbie to the group dropping in and adding Religion and the Decline of Magic to my list! Thanks for the great review!

ETA: and thanks for the heads up on 300 pages of notes. That makes it seem more doable!

Thanks a lot, Merrikay! Glad to see you on my thread.

6. The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker





“Do not try to live forever. You will not succeed.” – George Bernard Shaw

This is an excellent psychology book, which won the Pulitzer Prize for General Non-Fiction in 1974, the same year that Becker died. You can view that as ironic or not, but it is also poignant. The book is concerned with dispelling many of the myths concerning psychology, especially Freud’s views on sexuality as the bedrock of psycho-analysis. Using psychological data and philosophical insights, Becker posits a radical revision of the psychological field. According to Becker, it is not so much sex, as our fear of death that shapes our psychology, and which leads to neurosis and psychosis. Of course, he does not deny that sex has a role to play, as well as biology, but he contends that Freud made a huge mistake (which has been perpetuated ever since) by making it the be-all and end-all of psychology.

Becker’s main pre-cursor was Otto Rank, whom Becker quotes extensively in support of his argument. He also makes use of the philosophical work of Soren Kierkegaard, whose theories concerning existential dread predated Freud by a more than a hundred years. Kierkegaard is also one of my favourite authors, so I found the section on him fascinating. Rank also seems to have been a brilliant writer, who is sadly neglected. Carl Gustav Jung’s work is also considered and, although Becker does not agree with all Jung’s arguments, he does prefer him to Freud. It seems that Freud gets bashed a lot nowadays, which is not what Becker does. He carefully examines his theories, without insulting Freud or the reader’s intelligence. He points out where he thinks Freud went wrong, but he also salvages a lot of useful things from him. Becker also investigates Freud’s own psychology, which is intriguing.

Becker shares wonderful insights into the psychology of anxiety towards death, and how this is impacted by our dual nature of embodiment and selfhood. Because we are evolutionarily programmed towards survival, we create symbolic defences against our own mortality. If one thinks about it, these are obviously always inadequate, but they do lead to a lot of unfortunate outcomes. We deny death, yet become inured to displacement tactics like war, racism, and bigotry. Our hate is often merely a way of disavowing death, which is a pointless endeavour. We also construct “hero-systems” to cope with death, as our heroes (exemplified by temporal and religious leaders) allow us to evade thinking on death (well, to a degree; it is more complex than that). According to Becker, these systems are necessary illusions: too much reality would lead to madness. Actually, and perversely, we are all mad, because we deny reality to such a degree. We are so afraid of death, that we construct vast edifices and emotional and intellectual pursuits to avoid thinking about our mortality. If we faced the truth, that would be sanity, but it would overwhelm us, leading to what we traditionally describe as “madness”.

Having been published in the 1970s, the book does share some faults that originate from its context. I actively disliked the chapter on “perversions”, for instance, as homosexuality is included here. Other than that, though, the book has few obvious faults. I am not a psychologist, so I cannot really comment on its insights in any depth, but I can say that it was very convincing and clearly written. I could write a lot more about this book; it really jolted me. Let me just end by quoting from its Wikipedia page, to show what an impact it has had:

Becker's work has had a wide cultural impact beyond the fields of psychology and philosophy. The book made an appearance in Woody Allen's film Annie Hall, when the death-obsessed character Alvy Singer buys it for his girlfriend Annie. It was referred to by Spalding Gray in his work It's a Slippery Slope. Bill Clinton quoted it in his autobiography; he also included it as one of 21 titles in his list of favourite books.

This is so weird! How did I manage to get a psych degree without ever hearing about this? Everything was pretty much Kubler Ross in the early 90s in my Death and Dying course. There was the Freudian idea that we experience two major drives, the drive to live and the drive to die. Funny to see a Freudian term used as the title. Also interesting timing to think about this after reading Hitchens experience in his book Mortality. What I was told by my History of Psych prof was Freud was going to go public with a lot more info on incest and was told by his colleagues you do and you're finished so he shut up. I remember calculating the years until Feud's private papers would be made public and that I probably wouldn't live long enough to be around for that event. At any rate I'm rambling and I'm not trained in psychoanalysis so my understanding of Freud is probably pretty shallow.
I'd like to hear more about your personal reaction.

Thanks for the excellent review.

Thanks for "rambling", Merrikay! I've been reading up on death and dying for the topic of my (English) Masters degree, so you can imagine how careful I am in hiding what I'm reading while sitting around the library and other public places. I'm not ashamed of reading about death, but neither do I like the kind of attention it attracts. In this reading, I've come across Kubler-Ross often, obviously, but mostly in the form of criticism. I know she did a lot to increase awareness for the hospice movement, but her ideas are a bit simplistic, according to most sociologists of death.

When are Freud's private papers going to be made public, by the way? My personal reaction to Freud is that he was probably aware of the deficiencies of his theory, but he was so focussed on overcoming what he termed "magical thinking" (i.e. superstition, religion, etc.) that he became very doctrinaire about his research and conclusions. My personal reaction to Becker's work is one of admiration for his insights, though it was tempered a bit by his comments on homosexuality. I know he was working in a certain context, so it's probably understandable, but I disagree with the idea that homosexuals are perverts or "weak" individuals.

I'll admit that I'm worried about dying. I've been giving it a lot more thought, and I think that it's one of the main reasons for my own anxiety disorder (social anxiety). My fear of people and new situations seems to stem from a fear of dying, whether physically or emotionally, in a way that I cannot control. But I'm not becoming morbid, thankfully. It's just something that I think is important to face.

Talk about rambling...

Laughing at you hiding death and dying books because I used to teach Human Sexuality. It was a blast to teach but I'm sure many people, including my children's friends, thought I was a pervert having those books around. It made it a little too easy for me to speak openly and matter of factly about things that others probably thought were inappropriate. I did some AIDS education tho so thought we should all be talking a lot more.

I found it amusing when Kubler-Ross was dying and she publicly disavowed her work in what many saw as her own "anger" stage, but sad also.

You sent me off on an internet search but I still don't know when the final papers will be derestricted as they say. Looks like most of them were by 2005 and I'm not sure what remains closed.

Regarding the homophobia and misogyny, it was very difficult to watch video of some of those men whose work I liked and have any respect for them afterward. But it is certainly everywhere, so.....

The fear of dying is an interesting topic isn't it? and anxiety is SO miserable! I much prefer depression over anxiety. At least I can just be a slug and wish I was dead rather than feeling miserably anxious and panicked! It

That feels much worse to me. If it seems I am making light - it is only after lots of work!

By the way, I didn't remember that Freud was euthanized at the end. Another interesting topic - I've been told that where euthanasia is legalized, the rate goes down. Seems that when people go through the legally required education and treatment prior to the process, they get the help they need and change their minds.

I agree that we should talk more about these things. Sure, some taboos are useful (even I feel uncomfortable talking about necrophilia) but I think that sex talk really doesn't need to be hidden from adults.

I Didn't know about Kubler-Ross disavowing her work, which puts a whole new spin on things. One of the main criticisms of the work is that the stages can be difficult to distinguish; one persons "denial" is another's "acceptance", I guess.

Don't worry about seeming to make light. I know depression and anxiety are both serious topics, but I would rather lauigh about them (both of which I've experienced) than cry.

I've also read that euthanasia rates go down, or at least stabilise, after its legalisation. It probably has a lot to do with the education and treatment you mention.

Thanks for all the interest your showing in my thread, Merrikay!

#96

This reminded me strongly of an acquaintance/friend I had in the early nineties, his preoccupations with existential psychotherapy. Have you come across it yet? It would seem to pool your theoretical investigations of the "sociology of death" and perhaps personal concerns too! The latter which, I may add, I see as inescapable for all of us.

I know very little about psychotherapy (and must admit little interest in it) but this form stuck in my mind for its intensely philosophical framework and underpinnings and for beginning with what seems to me such an obvious and yet oddly neglected (overtly) question--how do we come to terms with the fact that we shall die?

I must admit, I haven't come across the concept of "existential psychotherapy", but it does sound interesting. I think many of the writers whom Becker refers to may fall under this category, though he doesn't explicitly use this designation. I did attend a talk a few years ago which was concerned with philosophical psychology, which may come down to the same thing.

Becker also wonders why this question is so rarely raised overtly. It seems that, to a degree, even the psychologists and theorists are afraid of death. It may be because they ultimately cannot cure this anxiety, only ameliorate it.

Fabulous review of The Denial of Death, Dewald! And, I'm enjoying this conversation about death and dying. I briefly studied Kierkegaard during my existential philosophy class as an undergraduate student nearly 25 years ago, and I'm eager to revisit him at some point in the future.

I'm enjoying the chance to listen in to this conversation.

The Denial of Death and I love the quote from George Bernard Shaw. A great debate your review has started here Dewald. Me, I do not want to read the book. I would rather not think about death, while I am still alive.

So much here: great review, the concept of existential psychotherapy which was new to me, and George Bernard Shaw too.

It's interesting that often it seems the only people who will speak honestly about death and their feelings about it are those who know they are about to die, not in the way we all know we'll die, but thinking instead of terminally ill people for whom death is usually far more imminent.

Just catching up. Loved your review of Shadow Country, a book which I also loved. And very interesting review (and discussion) of The Denial of Death.

>103 kidzdoc: Thanks, Darryl! I love Kierkegaard's philosophy, and I hope you get back to him. He's original and very intelligent.

>104 RidgewayGirl: Glad your enjoying it, Alison.

>105 baswood: That's a completely understandable reaction, Barry. I'd just like to add that the book is very life-affirming, without becoming idealistic. If you ever change your mind, I'd still recommend it.

>106 SassyLassy: Thanks, Sassy! I wonder how much Becker's own illness influenced the book. At times, he writes like he expects to live for many years still (mentions future books, etc.) but at others, he seems to have found out about his illness. He never mentions it, though.

>107 rebeccanyc: Thanks, Rebecca! I'll re-read Shadow Country someday; it's just too good to forget. I'm also enjoying the discussion a lot.

I have read about Kierkegaard but nothing by him...yet.

My son (6) is currently obsessed by death, birth and aging and constantly asking things like: in 2070 everyone is dead? In 2006 my grandfather was still alive? In 2007 he was dead?

As devastated as I was when my father died (in 2007), I am now glad to have had some time to deal with it. Not sure whether I'd want to read a book explicitly about death though, I think it might all be too personal for that so I think I'd prefer to leave the theme to novels.

I haven't read much Kierkegaard either, to be honest. Hoping to get to more of his writings this year.

It seems that most children go through a stage like this. Becker writes about how children first become aware of death, which can be quite traumatic. But I'm sure you're handling it well.

And I can certainly understand the reluctance to read about death, especially when it has touched you recently. My uncle also died in 2007, and it really hit my mother hard (he was her brother, after all).

My father died in 2007 too, and I think it would still be too hard for me to read about people dying (outside fiction, that is).

I think my first experience with death was fortunate - maybe only accidentally. A long time ago, when I was four years old, my Dad's 20-year-old cousin died. There was a collective intake of breath when my Mother shocked everyone by picking me up so that I could see the body in the coffin. She was wearing a beautiful white gown so even though I knew she was gone, I associated dying with something pleasant, like going to a party or getting married. At any rate, it neither frightened nor preoccupied me. I wonder how Kierkegaard would have responded.

>112 VivienneR: My grandfather died suddenly when I was 5, while we were in the car going to visit them (it was my grandma's birthday). I was only surprised that people were crying because surely he was in heaven which they had told me was a good place to be. We had a very clear view of him laid out on the 'table' but when I wanted to kiss him goodbye (last chance!) they wouldn't let me. I remember that that annoyed me. I think mourning requires empathy, which we only develop later.

>111 rebeccanyc: I'm sad to hear that Rebecca (about your father, not about your reluctance). It's interesting that a few of you have said that you can deal with fictional representations of death, but would be reluctant to read about death in a non-fiction setting. My Masters is specifically about personifications of Death, so I'm reading both.

>112 VivienneR:, 113 Thanks for sharing your personal experiences. I remember my first experience with death was in first grade. Our class prefect, who was in grade 7, died in a freak accident at a fairground. The whole class was obviously shocked, but we didn't really grasp what had happened. I think the teachers and parents handled it well, but we didn't go to her funeral.

I was trying to remember more of what my friend said about existential psychotherapy, but it's been a bit too long. I did unearth one book he mentioned--Existential psychotherapy by Irvin Yalom, fwiw (don't think I ever got around to reading it). Still, the Wiki page on this school is interesting--speaking as a skimmer--in that it touches on many of the philosophers and concepts you have discussed so far, dmsteyn.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Existential_therapy

My Masters is specifically about personifications of Death

Does this cover graphic representations as well, danse macabre, vanitas etc.?

Thank you very much for those links, Lola. I will certainly follow up on this.

Concerning the Masters, it is geared towards more recent representations, although I will be looking at some graphic representations from the Middle Ages in order to chart the evolving course of these images. I've referred to Philippe Ariès's work concerning this, but I would appreciate ideas concerning further reading, if anyone has any recommendations.

I'm not sure how well they'd tie in to your Masters, Dewald, but I thought Mary Roach's Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers and Jessica Mitford's The American Way of Death were both interesting looks at what happens to bodies after death.

Thanks, Chris. I've heard about these books (I think there may have been reviews of Stiff here on Club Read) but haven't gotten around to them. The American Way of Death might be useful for a contemporary take.

ETA: Have any of you read Waugh's The Loved One? I hear that it's quite a good (and funny) look at the work of a funeral parlour, but I'd like some opinions on it.

Hi Dewald - Catching up...wow. Enjoyed your review of and encouragement to read Shadow Country (I've started it twice...but...). Very interesting on Shelley. Your review of The Denial of Death is fascinating and leaves me with a lot to think about...clearly I'm not alone.

One thing leading to another (please forgive the drift) I can't help remembering Errol Morris' Gates of Heaven, a documentary about a pet cemetery. I realise that may sound sideshow-frivolous, but to anyone not familiar with Morris' work, I beseech and entreat you to get acquainted, and if death is of any interest, this is the place to start! It's really "about" humans experiencing death and mortality, of course, not poor little Fifis.

In what may be a more tenuous connection, I feel compelled to mention another film Morris made, a documentary about a Holocaust denier, Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A. Leuchter, Jr.. Leuchter used to work in a prison (or prisons) in which executions were performed, as some kind of tech. He became convinced mass gassings were impossible and even travelled to concentration camp sites to investigate and collect "evidence". The portrayal of Leuchter (a completely ordinary person in many ways) that emerges makes it one of the most stunning and harrowing films I've ever seen.

dmsteyn, does your work distinguish or explore in some way individual vs. collective death? Would it matter for your topic? I wonder whether Ariès says anything about that (I have him on wishlist since your previous post on him).

Finally, since I brought up documentaries, there's Allan King's Dying at Grace, about five patients' last days in Grace Hospital in Toronto. I admit I stopped before half-way, but it is such a powerful record of dying (and like nothing else I've seen) I feel I must mention it.

#118: It's been a long time since I read it, but The Loved One is one of my favourite books. It is very funny. I must look for it again.

>119 dchaikin: Thanks for dropping by, Dan. I've had a great reading time so far this year. What's keeping you from getting into Shadow Country?

>120 LolaWalser: Thanks again for all the recommendations, Lola. All of those documentaries sound excellent; I just don't know whether I'll be able to get them.

I haven't really thought much about distinguishing between individual and collective death, though it is certainly an important point. As far as I can remember, Ariès does treat this, to a degree, but I'd have to check the book again to give an intelligent overview of his treatment of this topic.

>121 VivienneR: Thanks for the recommendation, Vivienne. I think our library has a copy, so I'll check it out.

#122 - focus. I have yet to decide to read it as my primary read...happened with Patrick White too.

I watched Lincoln last night with my father and a friend. It was excellent, and Daniel Day-Lewis... well, enough said about that. I'm glad I watched it now, during Black History Month.

Much of Lincoln, the movie, is based on Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin, which my sweetie read a few years ago and really liked. I believe there is some controversy about it, but it may be more about her than the book.

Yes, they mention that at the end of the movie (not the controversy, but that it's based on the book). Have you seen the movie, Rebecca?

Yes, we saw it a few weeks ago. I thought it was excellent, especially the acting and the dark, gloomy tones Spielberg filmed it in. I did think (as others have thought) that it should have ended with Lincoln walking down the hallway in the White House; that would have been more dramatic, and we all know what happened next.

Hmm, I agree with that interpretation. Maybe people in the rest of the world wouldn't have gotten it. (I know about John Wilkes Booth, however).

I really enjoyed Lincoln also. I found it interesting to see the political wrangling participated in by all. I sat spellbound the whole time.

My best friend and I saw it a few weeks ago also and we both loved it. I agree with you about the ending, Rebecca, but I thought the way Spielberg handled the assassination was absolutely brilliant. I found myself tearing up quite a bit at that scene.

128 Maybe I'm showing my US provinicalism here, but isn't Lincoln's assassination one of the two things people know about him (freed the slaves, was assassinated) even if they don't know anything else?

Hmm, I guess so, though they might not have connected it with the time in which the movie takes place.

Just catching up on your thread, dm. awesome review of Becker and fascinating, if morbid, discussion generated by it. Are you familiar with the Buddhist meditation on death? You have to imagine the death and decay of your own body, ending with dust.

I have heard of that Buddhist meditation, but I'm not very familiar with it. Buddhism seems to include many psychological insights that precede Western psycho-analysis by thousands of years.

7. I Shall Wear Midnight by Sir Terry Pratchett




from Elves & Fairies by Ida Rentoul Outhwaite (1916)

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”

Sir Terry Pratchett has been accused of frivolity and escapist tendencies often enough, though there is at least one book that accuses him of literature. In my opinion, he is a much better writer than he is often given credit for being, and, despite being a master of the comic form, he is also capable of serious writing. This is perfectly borne out by I Shall Wear Midnight, the fourth book in his series concerning the young witch, Tiffany Aching. Although Pratchett would deny it, or at least dodge the question, this series of books (billed as youth literature) is in some ways a reaction to J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series. There are certain obvious similarities (e.g. series following a young person realising they are magically gifted) yet Pratchett seems to comment on the state of children’s literature by making his series much more down-to-earth than the Potter books. “Down-to-earth” may be a strange way of describing a Discworld novel about witchcraft, but that is the prevailing sense that pervades this book.

It begins with Tiffany, now sixteen, having to deal with a case of domestic abuse in which a village man beats his pregnant daughter into having a miscarriage. This is certainly a shocking start to a children’s book, but Pratchett handles it sensitively. There is an inherent seriousness to Pratchett’s themes in this book, something that may surprise readers who either (1) have not read Pratchett before, or (2) only skim the books for the jokes. The main plot concerns an anthropomorphic representation of superstition and hatred that comes to the “Chalk”, Tiffany’s rural home (based on Pratchett’s own Wiltshire). This entity causes all the hidden prejudices against witches to come to the fore, causing fear and hatred to boil over. Tiffany has to deal with this entity, as well as the natural feelings of a teenager who has too great a load on her young shoulders. Her love life (or lack thereof) is weighing heavily on her, as are her responsibilities to the community, which mostly involves helping old and disabled people who have fallen through the cracks of society.

Pratchett paints a very realistic portrait of a rural community, where magic, despite its presence, mostly consists of acute psychological understanding on the part of the witches. These witches, including his most well-known witch, Granny Weatherwax, are perhaps Pratchett’s greatest creations. They are more wise-women than witches, implementing their “headology” to influence their communities for the better. When the hatred begins, we realise how bigotry operates, its indiscriminate and unappreciative nature. Tiffany has to learn how to be a witch, but also how to be a young woman in a world that can often be cruel towards women, especially those that are unusual. Her relationship with the young heir to the dukedom of the Chalk, whom she used to fancy, also complicates things. He is about to marry a young woman whom Tiffany disapproves of, but before the marriage can takes place, his father dies in mysterious circumstances, circumstances which seem to implicate Tiffany.

I know I am either preaching to the converted, or to those who will never be convinced, but Pratchett really is good at what he does, and a much better fantasist than 90% of what is out there. Yes, his books can be formulaic, but it is at least a challenging formula that does not accept compromises in integrity or honesty. I love Pratchett, as does a large percentage of the book-buying populace. Nor is he frowned upon by all “serious” authors. I know A.S. Byatt is very fond of him, for example. I Shall Wear Midnight is a great book for anyone interested in Pratchett. It might not be the best place to start with him, but it does work as a stand-alone book. We could all do with prod to our biases from time to time, and Pratchett gives a stern-yet-funny poke to the sensibilities.

Not sure I saw Pratchett headed this way. Thanks for the review. I haven't been able to read Pratchett for a few years now. I'm hoping it's a temporary problem.

Thank you so much for the comment, Dan! I think Pratchett has always had "serious" intentions, though the early books were more concerned with exposing the flaws of fantasy writing in general. And he has definitely become a better writer over the years. I mentioned that he is a bit "formulaic", but, then, there have been great writers who have stuck to fairly obvious formulas (I'm thinking Dickens specifically).

May I ask why you haven't been able to read Pratchett?

I've decided to report on my reading of Sir Thomas Browne as I finish each section of his Major Works. I'll post a condensed review at the end. So, the first part:

Religio Medici



In this piece, originally written for Sir Thomas’s own enjoyment and published without his permission, Sir Thomas defines the tenets of his Christianity in two parts. The first part is concerned with faith and hope, and the second, shorter part with charity, thus reflecting the cardinal virtues. Sir Thomas, although not a theologian, gives a cogent reflection of his faith in beautiful, even sublime, language. I must admit that, though I do not agree with all or even most of Sir Thomas’s tenets, I did find myself liking his honest assessment of his beliefs, as well as his fairly latitudinarian approach.

The most interesting idea I came away with, and one on which I disagree quite strongly with Sir Thomas, was that of “apocatastasis”, the idea that even Satan and his devils will eventually be redeemed. Sir Thomas says of this:

… God would not persist in his vengeance for ever, but after a definite time of his wrath hee would release the damned souls from torture; Which error I fell into upon a serious contemplation of the great attribute of God his mercy…

I do not think that this is an error, as Sir Thomas obviously does. Why should God’s mercy be curtailed in connection with Satan? I do not know, though I am sure there are theological arguments against this “error”.

Finally, from this part of the major works, another quote by Browne to show his sublime language. Before the quote, Sir Thomas considers how all of eternity was already in God’s mind before the Creation:

… in this sense, I say, the world was before the Creation, and at an end before it had a beginning; and thus was I dead before I was alive, though my grave be England, my dying place was Paradise, and Eve miscarried of mee before she conceiv’d of Cain.

Nice review of Religio Medici, Dewald. I received Religio Medici and Urne-Buriall last July, as part of my New York Review Book Club subscription, and I'll probably read it later this year.

Thanks, Darryl. I have actually read this (and Urne-Buriall) before, but life got in the way of my reading (it was a few years ago), so I decided to start re-reading the Major Works from the start. I hope you enjoy Sir Thomas!

I've seen Religio Medici and Urne-Buriall in the bookstore many times, and have considered buying it many times, but never have . . . Now maybe I will.

I will be following your reading of Sir Thomas Browne, whom I know nothing about, but will obviously come across him when I get to the 17th century.

Thanks, Rebecca and Barry. He is a fascinating writer, with a beautifully limpid prose style. Interestingly, he only became knighted by default: King Charles II wanted to honour the Mayor of Norwich while visiting there, but the mayor declined, and Sir Thomas was nominated in his stead.

8. The Complete Cosmicomics by Italo Calvino



I have read two other books by Italo Calvino (Invisible Cities and If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller), but that hardly seems to matter when trying to coral one’s thoughts into a review of one of his books, each book being such an idiosyncratic achievement. The same may be even more true of The Complete Cosmicomics. Written over twenty years, and scattered across several collections, these stories defy categorisation other than Calvino’s own: they are “cosmic” stories that contain an element of the “comic”. But Calvino could as easily have called them cosmitragics, or romanticomics. The stories contain their fair share of tragedy, and almost each one contains a yearning for an other, usually female, counterpart who almost always remains beyond the reach of the protagonist.

Most of the stories are related by Qfwfq (yes, that is spelled correctly) who appears in various guises. He is a bit of a cosmic trickster figure, sometimes human, sometimes animal, always absurd and beyond understanding. Not that Calvino’s stories are unintelligible; they are highly lucid ruminations on cosmic subjects. Calvino uses science to ground his stories, but he goes far beyond the bounds of proven facts to hypothesise about the universe, time, death, and everything in-between. Usually, saying “everything in-between” would be a bit of cop-out in a review, but in this case, I am being completely honest: Calvino writes about things that seem inconceivable, such as the origin of the universe, in a format that is immediately recognisable, that is, the short story. And all of his musings are stories, no matter how esoteric and unbelievable they become.

I must admit, the more cosmic the stories, the less interesting they seemed to me. Not uninteresting, note. They just seemed a bit hard to connect with, these stories about the inexpressible vastness of space and time. That said, in hands other than Calvino’s, they would have been a shambles. Calvino manages to avoid science-fiction while still engaging with science-fact. He is simply brilliant at exploiting the possibilities of theoretical knowledge for his own ends. If this paragraph seems a bit, well, nebulous, that is because it is hard to describe Calvino’s method without spoiling a story. I deal in commonplaces and inexactness to give the flavour of Calvino’s achievement, while probably missing the heart of his accomplishment. And there is certainly heart to Calvino’s writing. Lesser writers would have turned these stories into stylistic exercises, conceits meant to show off their versatility. Calvino, although experimental, keeps his stories grounded in narrative plausibility and character. Some of the stories are not as successful as others, but the best ones are incomparable.

My favourite story is a bit of an idiosyncratic choice in itself, but I guess that goes with the territory. In his re-working of The Count of Monte Cristo called, audaciously enough, The Count of Monte Cristo, Calvino depicts a prisoner (Edmond Dantès) trying to escape the Château d’If. But, in fact, he does not attempt to escape. Instead, he listens as another prisoner, Abbé Faria, digs through the prison walls. These walls, however, are not merely stone and mortar. Rather, the Château d’If resembles an M.C. Escher drawing, with the dimension of time added to increase the confusion. Faria continually digs through the walls, only to emerge back where he has come from, sometimes years later (or earlier), sometimes upside down, and sometimes from the same hole that he exits. Edmond, meanwhile, attempts to think through the problem of the prison. As an added twist, he is also aware of a writer, one Alexandre Dumas, trying to write a book called, of all things, The Count of Monte Cristo. Not only does Faria dig through the prison; sometimes he arrives in Dumas’s writing room… I will not reveal the conclusion to this story, but the whole construction is so brilliant and mind-wrenching, that I just had to outline it here.

I have yet to read anything by Calvino that could be described as “conventional” or “boring”. I loved this collection of all the Cosmicomic tales. There is much more that I could relate (the stories’ recurring motif of the moon, a pre-occupation of Italian writers since Dante, for example), but there is an excellent Introduction by Martin McLaughlin included in the volume that deals with most of these considerations. Besides, the hour grows late, and I can hear the scrape-scrape of a shovel echoing through my room…


M.C. Escher, Relativity, 1953

Outstanding review of The Complete Cosmicomics, Dewald! I think I am one of the few in Club Read who has not ventured into reading Calvino yet, although I have a few of his books. Seems like time to rectify that.

The only Calvino I've read is If On a Winter's Night a Traveler, but i read it so long ago I have no recollection of it. I do have Invisible Cities on the TBR. This one sounds intriguing too, and I love the Escher.

>145 Linda92007: Thank you, Linda! I hope you enjoy a foray into Calvino country. It's a bit uncharted, but worth the trip.

>146 rebeccanyc: If possible, I liked Invisible Cities even more than these stories, so I'll be interested to read your thoughts on it.

Ah................ so Calvino reads or used to read superman comics which sometimes featured MR Mxyzptlk, who was a third dimensional cosmic being and a trickster with an unpronounceable name.

Great review of The complete Cosmicomics. Would these short stories be a good introduction to Calvino?

Don't know about the Superman comics, but that's certainly an interesting connection, Barry!

I think Invisible Cities is probably the best introduction to Calvino. For one, it's shorter, and it's also more digestible.

I hope you don't finish The Portable Nietzsche too soon. I love seeing it at the top of your page for the memories it brings back.

The Complete Cosmicomics sounds like it might get at least one reader in this house.

Sorry I took a while to reply, Sassy. Been quite busy with real life over the last days.

To be honest, I haven't actively been reading the Nietzsche since January, but I'll get back to it soon. Glad it brings back memories other than "What!? He actually wrote that!"

I hope you enjoy the Calvino, if/when you get to it!

Very tempting review of the Browne. I don't need much convincing to get anything published by NYRB. Will have to check the bookstore - not sure if I saw it there.

I also loved your review of The Complete Cosmicomics - you really caught the feel of the book and it reminded me of how much I enjoyed it.

Going back a bit, The Denial of Death sounds interesting.

Actually, and perversely, we are all mad, because we deny reality to such a degree. We are so afraid of death, that we construct vast edifices and emotional and intellectual pursuits to avoid thinking about our mortality. If we faced the truth, that would be sanity, but it would overwhelm us, leading to what we traditionally describe as “madness”.

Sounds just like a Catch-22.

Thanks for all the praise, DieF! I'm really enjoying the Browne, though I'm reading the Penguin Classics edition which has a few more pieces, I think.

And, yes, that does sound like a Catch-22!

9. The Loved One by Evelyn Waugh



In The Loved One, Evelyn Waugh has employed his usual wit to satirise the American funeral industry. Dennis Barlow, a young English poet, has come to California with hopes of working in the film industry. These aspirations quickly go down in flames, and Dennis is forced to take a job at a pet cemetery, “The Happy Hunting Ground”, where he mostly incinerates the dead pets of the L.A. jet set. The diaspora community of English expatriates, especially those in the film industry, view Dennis’s new career as somehow “letting down the side”, and try to convince him to leave the country. Meanwhile, Dennis’s only real friend in this community, an elderly English screenwriter, is fired by his studio, and shortly thereafter commits suicide.

The actual story begins here, with Dennis having to organise the funeral of his once-eminent friend. Dennis goes to “Whispering Glades”, a funeral parlour-cum-theme park, where he is introduced to the bewildering array of new-fangled funeral plans and arrangements. Dennis is, however, more interested in a young mortician, Aimee Thanatogenos, whom he meets there. Although she initially shows little mutual attraction, Dennis will use his poetry to win her over. I say his poetry, but Dennis actually scours the verse anthologies for appropriate poems to impress Aimee, while presenting them as his own scribblings. Of course, it is not long before she finds out that Dennis has been deceiving her…

I really enjoyed this book. It’s the first Waugh that I’ve read, though I do own an omnibus edition of some of his other works. The satire was excellent, with Waugh revealing his dislike of both the stiff-upper-lip attitude of the English and the ostentatiousness of the American way of death. Although a product of its time, the book still has important things to say about people’s approach to death. It is very funny, too. One might claim that Waugh is whistling beside the graveyard, but this is his intention. The book is, surprisingly, life-affirming, despite its subject matter. Waugh is a bit of an iconoclast; he is not afraid to slaughter the sacred cows of both the English and Americans. The book is very short, and only took me about three sittings to get through. It is also eminently readable; Waugh’s style is pared down, and never gets in the way of enjoying the story.

Great review of The Loved One. I'd never read anything by Waugh (didn't even realise it's a man) but will try to pick up something by him.

I also enjoyed your review of The Loved One . My ever growing list is getting bigger. Mathematically, I better start prioritizing. There is just not enough time.

Great review of The Loved One. I especially love the cover.

That's a Waugh I've never even heard of, but it sounds great. I loved Vile Bodies and Decline and Fall, so I can imagine what this one must read like. On the wishlist!

I think Waugh is great if you are on the right wave length to appreciate his humour and satire. I think I have read most of his novels. Excellent review Dewald

Oh my I may have to go for The Loved One!

Thanks, everyone! It was certainly an entertaining read and, in its way, thought-provoking.

Catching up a bit, great reviews of Cosmicomics and The Loved One. One of these days I need to read Calvino...not sure about Waugh.

Thanks, Dan. I hope you get to the Calvino... what's bothering you about the Waugh?

Nothing exactly bothering me...he's just not attracting me...based on what I've read on his works here and there.

10. The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen



The world was colder and emptier than Chip had realized, the adults had gone away. p.631

In Jonathan Franzen’s National Book Award-winning novel, there is certainly a lack of “adult” stability and certainty. There is, however, an adult seriousness to The Corrections, which deals with topics of ageing, responsibility and, ultimately, acceptance. The book is a portrait of the archetypal American family, but it is no longer a Norman Rockwell picture. There are storms a-plenty on the horizon, yet the Lamberts seem strangely unprepared for the coming deluge. Whether this says something more about contemporary America or not (the book came out in 2001, so it may already be a bit dated) it certainly says something universal about families.

Enid and Alfred Lambert brought up their children – Gary, Chip, and Denise – as well as they knew how, but life is not working out for the kids as they had hoped. The novel deals with each of them in turn, in detailed slices-of-life exposition, which are a bit over-long, but interesting nonetheless. We first learn about Chip, a disgraced college lecturer who became involved with one of his students. He becomes involved in an improbable venture to defraud Americans by way of a Lithuanian shell company. I found these Lithuanian scenes the most disappointing in the novel; they are supposed to be satirical and funny, but they fall flat. After introducing Chip’s story, we meet Gary, who is “happily” married and has three children of his own. The truth is that Gary is very depressed in his marriage, and suffers from a deep “anhedonia”, a psychological term for the inability to experience pleasure in normally fulfilling activities. Gary will not admit this to his wife and children, and tries to conceal it with disastrous results. The youngest member of the family, Denise, is a very successful cook, who has unfortunately just lost her job. For sleeping with her boss’s wife. Denise seems very uncertain about her sexuality, which leads to compromising situations throughout her life.

The children are not, however, the heart of story. That is reserved for Alfred, who has developed Parkinson’s disease. As the condition worsens, the Lamberts will have to come to deal with the secrets they have kept from one another. Alfred is not a very sympathetic figure – he refuses help, treats Enid badly, and is generally unfeeling – but I did find that his situation rang true. The scenes in which his dementia start to manifest are quite harrowing, especially on board the cruise he and Enid take. After Alfred falls overboard (he survives with only his dignity impaired) Enid decides that everyone should gather together for one last family Christmas. Obviously, the denouement of the novel occurs during these scenes.

What did I think of Franzen’s writing? Well, he is obviously a very skilled prose-writer. I found his characters quite convincing, and I “enjoyed” the story, despite its sometime horrifying ramifications. I thought that Franzen sometimes became a bit excessive with his detailed account of each aspect of each character’s situation. I have already mentioned the Lithuanian episode, but I should add that Franzen can be quite funny at times. I especially enjoyed his portrayal of Chip marking grade papers, and the errors they contain, something to which I can definitely relate. I did not think that the resolution of the story was as effective as it could have been, but that is a minor quibble. On the whole, a good, solid novel.

This has been on my TBR forever and I think I really need to get to it soon!

Joyce, I hope you get to it so I can read your response.

It's been a long time since I read The corrections (fairly soon after publication), but ever since I've been recommending them especially for the Lithuania section. Far from being flat, I thought it was one of the rare honest and accurate depictions (from an American writer) of the shameless financial shenanigans Western capitalist vultures and ordinary criminals committed all over Eastern Europe. But I guess it IS flat in comparison to reality. The fallout's still falling.

The thing I like about Franzen is that he respects the larger world, something I don't get the sense of in most North American writers. He is political and engaged in a global dialogue--a stance as rare in the American literary mainstream as it is common elsewhere.

Excellent review of The corrections, probably a novel that I will never read and interesting comments from Lola.

Excellent review of The Corrections, Dewald. Another one that is on my unread list of owned books.

Great review of The Corrections, Dewald. I was tempted to give my copy away, after my disappointment with Freedom, but I think I'll keep it for now.

>168 LolaWalser: Lola, I think your reading of the Lithuanian sections is true as far as the focus on exploitation and American hegemony goes. I had the feeling, however, that Franzen, although definitely interested in these aspects, also tried to turn it into a humorous segment. I find neo-colonialism far too tragic to find it particularly funny.

I guess it depends on which angle you're approaching the book from.

>169 baswood: Thanks, Barry.

>170 Linda92007: This one has also been on my unread list for a while, Linda, so I took it down.

>171 kidzdoc: Darryl, I think it's definitely better than Freedom. Which you might not be able to tell from the scores a gave to the books. No idea why I gave Freedom 4 and a half stars; it certainly doesn't register as a memorable book.

Great review. And interesting comments back and forth between you and Lola. I'm hoping I do read this book sometime (and Freedom too...).

I hope this doesn't give a false impression of the overall significance and place of that section within the book. It was particularly interesting to me at the time because I too am deeply interested in the aftermath of Communism in Europe in what was then labelled "transition states" and I became aware of a number of scandalous (or "they should have been") affairs more precisely because of the involvement of some friends. So, hearing this unusual American voice stuck in my mind, doubly so because it appeared in a mainstream bestseller. Franzen is a moralist, and this is rare in contemporary American fiction, he is a political being with a conscience, like Coetzee (but he is not and never will be in Coetzee's league). Taking in account his success, he is the only popular American writer one could call "engaged" (for what it's worth, in America).

I don't remember the humourous slant well enough to comment, but I must say that a satirical tone is to be expected with this theme, because the facts are so unbelievable. The money-grab, the robberies, the deals that happened as the system fell are unbelievable. The scale of the crimes--the thefts, the corruption, the briberies etc.--is unbelievable. Not company-sized; country-sized. For a while and in various degrees, all these countries were owned by assorted mafias. The situations created were so outrageous and the ordinary citizens so helpless one could only respond with laughter. Ah yes, the ordinary people lost everything--security of jobs, insurance, pensions, dignity--but hey, they could now count on the satirical mags to give them a laugh-long break from bitterness and the nagging of starvation. Assuming the new "freedom of the press" allowed for those!

Oops, soapbox, sorry.

Good review of The Corrections. It is a "good, solid novel", which is sometimes missed because of all the hype that surrounded it when it first came out. It is a better novel than Freedom -- I'm still thinking of Enid's revenge dinners and Chip's ghastly encounter with the chaise-longue years after reading it. All that still stands out for me from Freedom was him wanting cats to wear bibs.

Sorry for taking so long to respond to your comments, guys - I've been very busy at the university.

>173 dchaikin: Thanks, Dan. I hope you enjoy it, and you might even get something from Freedom.

>174 LolaWalser: No problem with the soapbox, Lola. It's an important topic which I thought Franzen sort of shoe-horned into the book.

>175 RidgewayGirl: Thanks, Alison. Hmmm, now that you mention "him wanting cats to wear bibs", I do remember that part. Weird.

10. Love and Summer by William Trevor



And summer’s lease hath all too short a date… - William Shakespeare

William Trevor is, without a doubt, a painter in words. His latest novel, Love and Summer (2009), amply speaks to his ability to capture human joy and heartache in prose that never loses its artistic intensity. Trevor has the peculiar ability to depict quiet, unobtrusive lives in an interesting, even arresting way. The brushstrokes on his small canvas are never overly-dramatic, but they paint a beautifully-realised, impressionistic watercolour of 20th-century Irish life.

In Love and Summer, a stranger, Florian Kilderry, arrives in the small town of Rathmoye. He catches the eye of Ellie, a young woman who grew up in a convent, but who is now married to an older farmer, Dillahan. Ellie and Florian’s relationship begins innocently enough, but it quickly becomes more serious as the long summer days stretch out ahead of them. Ellie and Florian are careful to avoid the scrutiny of the Rathmoye townsfolk, but will they be able to keep their relationship a secret? And what happens when Florian has to leave Ireland at the end of the summer?

Trevor answers both these questions, but not with the expected results. He is much too skilled a writer to go for clichéd plot points. And if the story sounds familiar and simplistic, don’t believe that for a moment. Trevor constantly serves up unexpected human dramas, without making them gratuitous or melodramatic. His delicate touch can be seen in the way he carefully withholds some information, only to reveal it later to devastating effect.

All of his characters are beautifully human – they feel “real”, without having unnecessary tics and quirks to lend them verisimilitude. Ellie and Florian’s love story is quite typical, but magical for all that. And farmer Dillahan’s own tragic past lends his situation a rare poignancy: Ellie’s choice between him and Florian will eventually rest on her reconciling her conscience with her decision. I won’t say any more about it, but I thought Trevor handled it brilliantly.

I cannot really fault Love and Summer. It reminded me a lot of Thomas Hardy’s novels, though it is perhaps a bit of a less ambitious and more quiet book. But it does what it does so beautifully and realistically, that I was deeply moved and impressed. Trevor is definitely “the ultimate Old Master”, as one of the blurbs on the book claims.

Enticing review of Love and Summer, Dewald. I have read and enjoyed others by Trevor and have this one on my shelves waiting.

Thanks, Linda. Which of Trevor's other books would you recommend most highly?

Love and Summer sounds interesting. I think I will have to check it out.

It has been awhile, but of those I have read, I would say I enjoyed The Story of Lucy Gault the most. I also have his Collected Stories and have enjoyed occasionally sampling from that.

Good to hear that William Trevor is still writing so well in his mid eighties. Excellent review

Very nice review of Love and Summer.

Hi, everyone, I'm back from a holiday in Cape Town, where I managed to get quite a bit of reading done. Not all of it was particularly great (the reading, that is - vacation was great!) but I'll post reviews of the things I thought were worthwhile over the next few days.

>180 NanaCC: Love and Summer was very enjoyable and interesting, so I hope you do check it out, Colleen.

>181 Linda92007: Thanks, Linda. I'm definitely looking forward to reading more of Trevor's work.

>182 baswood: Yes, it's quite an achievement, to still be writing such good prose at his age. I'll refrain from making any references to good old wine.

>183 dchaikin: Thanks, Dan.

Welcome back!

Thanks, Merrikay!

11. Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said by Philip K. Dick



In Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said, Philip K. Dick has a written a strange book. Although a science-fiction novel, Flow My Tears can scarcely be called a “hard” sci-fi book, to use the genre jargon. It is set in the future, but not particularly far in the future, and although it does contain certain technological innovations (e.g. “quibbles”, or flying cars) Dick does not lavish too much attention on these. They are just there, givens without justification or explanation. Dick is, however, pre-eminently a science-fiction writer of ideas, and those are certainly present in Flow My Tears. It is a very thoughtful, even sad, book, in which the plot is somewhat subordinate to the meaning.

The book starts off by introducing us to the main character, Jason Taverner. He is a famous celebrity, and has a syndicated TV-show, watched by 30 million viewers a week. Jason is also a “six”, the product of a genetic-modification program that has made him smarter and more beautiful than the average human being. Jason’s life seems idyllic, but one senses that he is lonely for all that. Then, something strange happens. Jason is attacked by one of his former flames, and rushed to hospital. But when he wakes up, he isn’t in the hospital. Rather, he finds himself in a trashy hotel room, unable to explain how he got there. All of his identity cards are gone, which is a big problem in the security state in which he lives. Not only are they gone, but his identity itself seems to be gone; no-one recognises him, a world-famous entertainer. Jason needs to find out what has happened to him, and the rest of the novel is concerned with how he accomplishes this.

But not really, or at least, not mostly. Although there is a plot, in which Jason gets caught up in the police-web tightening around him, this doesn’t really matter as much as one would think. The more important aspects of the novel are Dick’s ruminations on identity and loneliness. Dick asks us to place ourselves in Jason’s position: who are we really, and what really matters in our lives? Existence for its own sake? Making a mark in history? Or the connections we make with others? Jason meets various characters, all of whom are struggling with these problems. My favourites were Kathy, the police informant who makes contraband identity documents, and the policeman of the title, Felix Buckman, who is actually a Police General in charge of the Los Angeles department. Both of them are sad, melancholic characters, with Kathy working for the police to free her (probably deceased) husband from a labour camp, and Felix worrying about his drug-addicted sister.

Dick paints a bleak picture of humanity. In his future, black people have become a protected minority, and homosexuals, although tolerated, are viewed with contempt. That gives a flavour of what Dick describes, but not a very accurate one, as Dick handles these issues quite sensitively. One has to admit that Dick isn’t the greatest prose-stylist, with his writing being workmanlike at best. But his ideas are luminous and serious, and he uses science-fiction tropes to address them in interesting and imaginative ways. The book could have done without its epilogue, in which Dick reductively enumerates what happens to each of the characters after the story, weakening the impact of the novel. But it’s a minor fault, and some might enjoy reading about the further exploits of the characters. I also realise that Dick was trying to accomplish something other than merely telling what happens afterwards, but it isn’t quite successful.

So, on the whole, a fascinating book of ideas. I read this years ago (well, more than a decade ago, at least), yet I still enjoyed it now. A great read for those interested in seeing how science-fiction can be emotionally mature and affecting.

You make me almost want to read Philip K. Dick. And also that cover, which is eye-catching. Is Dick more of a speculative fiction writer than really a science fiction writer. I get the feeling he's been imperfectly pigeon-holed.

Yes, it is a pretty nice cover. I'd say that Dick is a science fiction writer, but not in the world-building style of, say, Kim Stanley Robinson. I think the problem (if it is a problem) is that people expect him to be all about aliens and other planets (and he does sometimes write about these things), but are surprised by the more philosophical tone of his works.

What RidgewayGirl said!

Nice review of Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said, Dewald. I haven't read and don't own anything by Philip K. Dick; would this be a good book to read first?

Excellent review. For some reason I never read PKD when I might have, now ... Well, maybe I will at some point.

Great review, Dewald. I have never before thought of reading Philip K Dick, but am now tempted.

>190 rebeccanyc: Thanks, Rebecca!

>191 kidzdoc: Darryl, I'm no expert on Philip K. Dick - I think I've read five of his books, which isn't a lot considering how many he published - but from what I know, I'd say this is a good one with which to start. Many people read Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, mostly because it was the inspiration for Blade Runner, but I prefer this one. Oh, and be wary of his later books (like VALIS) - he wrote them after a strange, head-twisting experience, and they are even stranger than Flow My Tears. If I remember correctly, he thought he was in contact with an angel-like being, and other weird things happened to him.

>192 dchaikin: Thanks, Dan. Maybe you will ;)

>193 Linda92007: Glad to tempt, Linda.

Excellent review of Flow my tears, the Policeman said by Philip K Dick. I have never been able to get on with Dick (no pun intended). I have in the past always thought that his prose is so clunky that there is no flow and no style. It is a long time since I have read any of his books and I do have it in mind to try him again.

Excellent review of Flow my Tears, the Policeman Said by Philip K Dick.
I have never been able to get on with Dick (no pun intended), because I have found his writing so clunky; no flow and no style. However it is a long time since I read any of his books and I have it in mind to try him again.

Thanks, Barry. I tend to agree about the prose being clunky, but it wasn't that terrible in Flow My Tears. Do you have any recollection of which of his books you read?

The only one I can remember is Counter-Clock world and some short stories.

14. The Tenderness of Wolves by Stef Penney




The Tenderness of Wolves is a good, plot-driven novel, which won the Costa Book of the Year award in 2006. The title is probably the best aspect of the novel, but that isn’t meant to disparage Penney’s book. I really enjoyed the story, which has pace and interesting plot twists. The writing is strong without being exceptional, and the characters are clearly delineated. There were a few too many of them, however, and some of them get lost (figuratively, though several get literally lost as well) towards the end of the book.

It is 1867. A trapper is brutally murdered in rural Canada, and a young man from the same community goes missing. Suspicions immediately fall on the missing man, but things are not all that they seem. The young man’s mother, desperate to find her son and prove his innocence, sets off into the wilderness on his trail. The book’s other characters get embroiled in this story, as they either assist or block her attempts to find her son. The plot also involves the discovery of a Native American written language and stolen furs.

As I mentioned, I enjoyed the story. I thought it could have been more streamlined, but as it was Penney’s debut, I guess that’s forgivable. I’m not much for thrillers, but I’m not sure that this really was a thriller or crime novel. It is much more of a human drama, though it certainly has elements of the abovementioned genres.

I should mention that I read the book a few weeks ago, and the characters have already grown dim in my memory – I cannot even recall the name of the main character (the mother). Whether this is because of bad memory, or because the book is forgettable, I don’t know. I can recall the details of the plot, however.

So, an enjoyable book, but not a great one. I’m not sure I’ll be reading more of Penney’s. I guess it’ll depend on the subject matter of her newer books.

It's interesting what you say about The Tenderness of Wolves, Dewald. I remember enjoying it when I read it, especially for the sense of place and the "human drama," but I actually have almost no recollection of it at all, so I understand what you mean by the characters becoming "dim in my memory"!

I've got The Tenderness of Wolves around here somewhere, but I've read and enjoyed her second book, which was a crime novel very much in keeping with Kate Atkinson's Jackson Brodie series.

The title alone was enough reason for me to buy the book. Haven't read it tho.

>200 rebeccanyc: I guess that's just something that happens with some books, Rebecca. It certainly wasn't a bad book, and I went through it quickly. Maybe a tad too quickly, but, hey, I was on holiday.

>201 RidgewayGirl: That's The Invisible Ones, right? I've read Case Histories by Atkinson, but it was quite long ago, so I can't really remember why I gave it 3 1/2 stars.

>202 mkboylan: I wouldn't discourage you from reading it, Merrikay. The title really is great, and any story would have trouble living up to it.

Yes, The Invisible Ones. I thought it was fantastic, but I also like Kate Atkinson's stuff quite a bit more than 3 1/2 stars.

I want to try Atkinson again, as I was in a really bad reading slump a few years ago when I read Case Histories, and nothing really satisfied me. Any suggestions?

17. Freud (The Routledge Philosophers) by Jonathan Lear


Psychoanalysis is in essence a cure through love. -Sigmund Freud, Letter to Carl Jung, 1906

Surely the work of Sigmund Freud isn’t relevant anymore, or, at least, has been surpassed and corrected by newer psychoanalysts and others? Surely Freud was mostly wrong about the human psyche and its attendant neuroses and psychoses? And surely Freud, writing during the transitional period from the nineteenth to twentieth centuries, lacked the necessary scientific insights into the brain and the mind to make the astounding claims he did?

Well, yes and no, according to Jonathan Lear in his wonderful introduction to Freud. According to Lear, Freud is definitely still relevant today, despite advances made in psychoanalysis and “corrections” to his theories. (I put “corrections” in quotation marks, as many of the later emendations of Freud’s work have themselves been of dubious value). Freud, although not the first researcher into the human psyche, was a pioneer, and pioneers often make mistakes. Despite these missteps, Freud provided (and still provides) useful grist to the psychoanalytic mill; his definitions are still widely used (though often misunderstood), and his insights are valued by many working in the fields of mental illness. And, despite not having access to MRI scanners and whatnot, Freud was still able to come to insightful conclusions concerning the human mind. Not all of his insights were correct; it would be quite surprising if they were. Yet Freud provided a useful base-camp for further explorations into the human mind.

Lear doesn’t set out to write an apologetics for Freud, and neither do I. Lear is very critical of some of Freud’s ideas, including the much-maligned Oedipus complex and Freud’s view of the psyche as sometimes (for example, when causing neuroses) consisting of more than one “mind” (Freud doesn’t mean multiple personalities, but the way that the unconscious can sometimes seem to oppose the conscious mind). Lear’s remit is to write a philosophical introduction to Freud (the book is, after all, part of the Routledge Philosophers series). That being the case, Lear focusses a lot on the philosophical implications of Freud’s work, especially as concerns philosophy of mind, but also Freud’s thoughts on issues of religion and morality. Lear makes generous use of Freud’s writings, especially his case histories (Dora, the Rat Man, Elizabeth von R are all here), which anchors the philosophical discussions in real-life examples. Lear is careful to make clear that he did not have access to these persons (they are all long dead), only Freud’s case histories, so his conclusions are only tentative conjectures. That said, many of these discussions seem very convincing to me as a layperson who knows quite a bit about philosophy, but not about psychoanalysis.

The first section is concerned with the unconscious and how Freud defines this. I’ve already mentioned Lear’s main criticism of Freud’s theory of the unconscious, but Lear also has many positive things to say about Freud’s theory, praising, for example, Freud’s insight that the unconscious is “timeless”, i.e. it reaches back into childhood (for example) and is not fundamentally bound by contemporary or momentary issues and problems. Lear then goes on to discuss the prominence of sexuality in Freudian psychoanalysis, making the important point that, for Freud, “sexuality” encompassed far more than merely one’s sex life. It is, in fact, closer to the Greek / Platonic idea of Eros, which Freud saw as a basic drive of life (i.e. it is more than an animal instinct).

One of the most interesting sections is the one on Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams. Lear notes that Freud seemed to view this as his most important book, one which he was constantly emendating and enlarging. Lear also notes that, in contrast to what most people think, Freud wasn’t particularly interested in dream symbols (e.g. why do we dream about our teeth falling out so often?). To quote Lear:

“Freud is primarily concerned not with the interpretation of dreams, but the self-interpretation of dreamers. It is for the dreamers to say what their dreams mean, and they do this by explaining (to themselves) how the dream fits into their lives as a whole and why it matters.”

Lear then goes on to more abstruse Freudian concepts, such as transference, the principles of mental functioning (including the pleasure and reality principles, as well as the death drive) and the structure of the psyche. I won't try to go into these concepts, as they are quite involved, despite Lear explaining them concisely. The final section on morality and religion, however, requires some comment. Lear views Freud’s comments on morality and religion as problematic. Freud dismisses morality and religion for various reasons, all of which Lear questions. Lear does not, however, question them because of any religious or moral bias on his part. Rather, he notes that Freud was not widely-read in the philosophical tradition, and therefore does not realise how weak most of his arguments concerning both religion and morality are. The arguments, which boil down to a reductionist view of morality and religion arising in a Darwinian fashion, are convincing on the surface, but a little digging reveals their weaknesses. This is not to claim that atheism and amorality are necessarily ill-conceived, just that Freud’s arguments for them are.

This was a great introduction to the philosophical concepts that underpin psychoanalysis. Lear is very insightful and an interesting writer, and he certainly “brought Freud back from the dead”, at least for me.

What an interesting review. I'm sure I'm still Freuded-out from university, but I thank you for your comments anyway. At the end of my English lit/humanities degree I pretty much slotted Freud into the category of "not so relevant in psychology anymore, but still relevant in literary criticism."

Thanks for the excellent review! Freud was indeed a pioneer.

Very Interesting review of Freud Dewald. I feel that I should know more about his ideas and this might be the book for me to read

>207 Nickelini: Thanks, Joyce! I know a lot of people who are "Freuded-out" (hehe!), or, to quote James Joyce, "they were yung and easily freudened".

I also used to put Freud into this category, but without having read much by Freud, only a few excerpts in my philosophy class on "Self and Subjectivity".

>208 mkboylan: Thanks, Merrikay! Pioneers! O Pioneers!

>209 baswood: I think this is definitely a good book to start with Freud. It's quite short, but contains most of his major ideas.

Very interesting. I may have to check this one.

I read Freud decades ago, and read a really boring book about the origins of psychoanalysis a few years ago (so boring I had to use LT to remember its name: Revolution in Mind: The Creation of Psychoanalysis by George Makari). But this book sounds interesting. (If this is the same Jonathan Lear, I knew someone in college who later went out with him!)

>211 NanaCC: Thanks, Colleen! If you do check it out, I'll be interested to read your response.

>212 rebeccanyc: Like any academic discipline, it's possible to write really boring, turgid books about psychoanalysis. I'll steer clear of this one. Looking at Lear's author page, I see he's a professor of Philosophy at the University of Chicago, and married to Gabriel Richardson Lear.

I opened The Tenderness of Wolves once...but couldn't get into couldn't figure why I that was so and I'm still not sure the book has anything to do with that one way or the other. Anyway, enjoyed your comments.

Loved you review of Freud. He gets beat up pretty bad, so much that when I read that author used Freudian ideas (Toni Morrison) I wonder what they were thinking. But then I don't know anything about him beside vague ideas. It's nice to read some positive aspects.

Thanks, Dan! The Tenderness of Wolves wasn't bad, it just isn't particularly memorable. I know that a lot of writers, especially the Modernists, used ideas from Freud (whether consciously or, hmmm, subconsciously, I'm not sure), so I'm not really surprised. What ideas did Toni Morrison use?

I suspect it comes down to style or way memory works or whatever - I read The Tenderness of Wolves more than a year ago and as soon as I see the title, I remember some scenes from it, just like that. Which does not happen with a lot of books for me - I may remember characters and plot but scenes are mostly a rarity... except in authors where the style just clicks properly.

Different people will definitely have different responses to the same book, which is why I don't say that The Tenderness of Wolves is bad (it was enjoyable to read!) merely because it wasn't particularly memorable for me. I guess the style just didn't "click" for me, as you say.

Dewald, if you intend to give Atkinson another go, I suggest Behind the Scenes at the Museum. Her new book, Life After Life is getting good reviews, but I haven't read it. Yet.

Thanks, Alison!

#215 - Oye, tough question. Trying to think of specifics in Beloved. Basically the way the main character, Sethe, represses her memories of her past, particularly her darkest memory, and the way she responds to this unconsciously. The things she does, especially the way she goes through life in the beginning, very mechanically, almost thoughtless and braindead. It's Freudian response. The how and why, exactly...well, whatever I did know, I've already forgotten!

Nice review of Freud (The Routledge Philosophers), Dewald. I'll keep this book in mind, as I would like to learn more about him.

I'm reading Life After Life by Kate Atkinson now, and I love it so far.

>220 dchaikin: Thanks for that, Dan. I often find it difficult to remember theoretical readings of books (which is a problem when I have to teach the books to students!)

>221 kidzdoc: Thanks, Darryl! It's definitely a good introduction.

I look forward to reading some of Kate Atkinson, especially after Alison and your recommendations. I think Case Histories just didn't click for me at the time, but then again, that was a bad year for me.

Are you still carrying around the Portable Nietzsche

Hmmm, not so much, Barry. I'm close to the end, but I haven't read any Nietzsche since before my vacation...