31 October 2016

Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons by Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut is one of my favourite novelists.  Alas, I have read all his novels.  As much as I would like to read them again, it is time to turn to his works of non-fiction.

Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons is a collection of Vonnegut's essays, lectures and other non-fiction writing from the period 1966 to 1974.  This is also the period in which he produced his masterpiece novel Slaughterhouse-Five.  The title refers to three concepts invented by the prophet Bokonon in Vonnegut's 1963 novel Cat's Cradle. Each concept, in the final analysis, is an illusion masquerading as a truth. So it is one of Vonnegut's tongue-in-cheek, po-mo jokes to apply this title to his non-fiction.

Vonnegut often has a bleak view of human beings.  He acknowledges that humans are capable of love and kindness and other positive behaviours, but he does not allow this to blind him to the darker side of our nature.  He describes himself as a black humourist, and he says this about his ouevre:
Black humourists' holy wanderers find nothing but junk and lies and idiocy wherever they go.  A chewing-gum wrapper or a used condom is often the best they can do for a Holy Grail.
And he draws our attention to a lot of this kind of thing in this volume.  His essay about his humanitarian visit to Biafra in the closing days of the war with Nigeria is particularly harrowing.  Other essays dealing with science are more hopeful, and others are neutral in tone.  

In the preface, Vonnegut says:
If a person with a demonstrably ordinary mind, like mine, will devote himself to giving birth to a work of the imagination, that work will in tempt and tease that ordinary mind into cleverness ... I am not especially satisfied with my own imaginative works, my fiction.  I am simply impressed by the unexpected insights which shower down on me when my job is to imagine, as contrasted with the woodenly familiar ideas which clutter my desk when my job is to tell the truth.
It may well be the case that Vonnegut is a better novelist than he is a non-fiction writer.  Even so, this collection is thought-provoking, informative and (sometimes) amusing.  Worth reading for the insights it offers of the man and his work.


30 September 2016

A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin

I read A Wizard of Earthsea in memory of a friend who passed away far too early.  It was one of her favourites.  

I first read this book when I was in high school  Quite a few decades have elapsed since then, and my memories of it were mere tattered cobwebs waving in a gentle breeze; however, it stands up nicely to being re-read.  There are intriguing themes and concepts, and Le Guin's use of language is deft.  This is more than a Y.A. novel and certainly appealed to my adult self.

The protagonist of the tale, Ged, is a young boy who becomes apprenticed to a wizard called Ogion.  They live on the island of Gont, one of hundreds in the archipelago called Earthsea.  Ged is restless and ambitious, and he becomes frustrated with Ogion's cautious method of instruction.  Ogion tells him: Manhood is patience.  Mastery is nine times patience.  Ged cannot settle down, and Ogion recommends he goes on the island of Roke to attend a school for wizards.  On Roke, Ged displays a precocious talent for magic, and this makes the older students envious.  Ged is provoked into a magic duel, and in his pride he oversteps his skills with disastrous results.  Will he ever be able to find redemption?

Le Guin had an interest in Taoism, and its philosophy of balance in nature underpins the tale.  On Roke, the boys are told by their master:
The world is in balance, in Equilibrium.  A wizard's power of Changing and of Summoning can shake the balance of the world.  It is dangerous, that power.  It is most perilous.  It must follow knowledge, and serve need.  To light a candle is to cast a shadow ...
Of course, it is advice that will go unheeded, and a great harm is caused.  It is interesting to think of our modern times where the power of human technology to change the world in our image is also changing the natural equilibrium of the environment.

Le Guin also introduced the idea that everything has its own True Name, and learning that name gives one mastery over that thing.  A true name can be divined by gaining deep knowledge of a thing, be it animal, vegetable or mineral.  What one does with that knowledge and power is an ethical matter.  Do we chose mastery over balance?  Again, this has resonances for us in the 21st Century.

Time to think deeply.

Vale, Kerry, and thanks for reminding me about A Wizard of Earthsea.

29 August 2016

Thinking About It Only Makes It Worse by David Mitchell

Few people do outrage better than David Mitchell.  Think about his many appearances on the Q.I. television show - it only takes a non-sequitur or a bit of ambiguity to set off his sense of outrage, often with hilarious results.

In Thinking About It Only Makes It Worse, Mitchell's outrage is front and centre.  This time it is modern life, especially life in a post-Global Financial Crisis world, that gets him going. 

Mitchell ranges across wide variety of topics, including offence-taking and forced apologies, corporate monopolies, sport, politics and chocolate-flavoured toothpaste.  His observations are acute, his analysis is deep, and his pronouncements are often as withering as they are humorous. And all this is wrapped up in an eloquent, coherent and forceful prose.

The text itself is a compilation of articles Mitchell wrote for Britain's Observer newspaper over a number of years.  This sometimes works to the detriment of the book as some of the writing is highly topical, and the nuances of certain topics may be lost on contemporary readers.  Also, as Mitchell was writing for a U.K. audience, some of the matters he raises may not be that identifiable for readers from other parts of the world. This is a quibble, and the quality of Mitchell's prose and thoughts more than make up for it.

Overall, Thinking About It Only Makes It Worse is an entertaining, revealing and thought-provoking book with many laugh-out-loud moments.  Of course, this has outraged me, and I await author's unreserved apology.

31 July 2016

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell is, for the most part, set in England in the period between 1806 and 1816,  at the time of the Napoleonic Wars.  But it is not quite the England we know: in this England magic, real magic, had flourished for centuries.  At the opening of the tale, there are dozens of people devoted to the study of magic.  There's just one problem: no one can actually do anything magical.  So they find consolation through naming themselves "theoretical magicians".  Finally, someone asks "Where has English magic gone?"  Right on cue, they get the answer to the question with the arrival of England's only living "practical magician", one who can actually do magic.  And then things get interesting. 

The action takes place in the time of Jane Austen, and Susanna Clarke emulates the story-telling style of the times.  She uses obsolete spelling, such as 'chuse' instead of 'choose', archaisms and diction; however, the speed of the narration is modern in its briskness.  Although it takes a long time for any kind of plot to emerge, Clarke manages to keep the reader's interest through her use of language, the timing of climaxes and resolutions, and entertaining digressions in the form of explanatory and didactic footnotes.  Also of interest is the interactions between the nervous, selfish and conservative Mr Norrell and the more expansive and ambitious Jonathan Strange.  A strong cast of minor characters added to the mix help to keep the action moving, sometimes in very unexpected directions.

The book is divided into three parts.  Lamentably, the last of these lacks the narrative coherence of the previous two.  The tale wanders, seemingly aimlessly, from incident to incident and character to character.  It is only in the final few chapters that things get back on track for the final denouement.  One may be forgiven for thinking that the story is 200 pages too long.

Overall, Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell is an engaging story that has the reader eagerly turning the pages.  Despite my reservations about the length of book, it was a worthwhile read.

30 June 2016

Small Gods by Terry Pratchett

The once mighty god Om mistakenly incarnates into the body of an innocuous animal and his divine powers are diminshed accordingly.  The only person he can find who believes in him is a simple-minded and illiterate novice priest called Brutha.  Meanwhile, the Omnian religion is run by an inquisitorial priesthood, its followers are terrified, and a new but secret religion based on the writings of an unemployed philosopher is gaining support.  War, both civil and international, is almost certain.  Can Om and Brutha reform the church and prevent bloodshed?

Small Gods is an investigation into the relationship between individual belief and religious orthodoxy, the relationship between the church and state, and how religious zealotry can blind the believer to the actuality of his/her god.  

Of course, Pratchett mixes his satire with liberal dollops of good humour.  The pace of this novel is a bit laboured compared to his previous novels, but he does have to cover a lot of complex ground.  Small Gods is a one-off novel that sits outside the usual witches/wizards/death/city watch canons of the Discworld books, and is  set much earlier chronologically.  Later and more "contemporary" Discworld novels will feature followers of the Omnian religion.

Not amongst Pratchett's best, but still a worthy and thought-provoking tale.

31 May 2016

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett

A talking cat in league with a bunch of talking rats and a young human with a pipe.  What could go wrong?  Nothing, until this travelling band reaches the remote town of Bad Blintz.  Then they find something nasty is waiting for them just below the surface.

This is Terry Pratchett's first Young Adult novel.  It is set on the Discworld.  The plot is clever, full of twists and rattles along at a jolly pace.  The jokes are fresh and the narrative style is crisp and refreshing.

Pratchett explores many themes in this book: power, utopian dreams, kindness and cruelty. He draws parallels between rats and humans, and the humans don't come out so well.  It seems he is preparing the younger readers for some of the realities of adult life.  The balloon of utopian thinking is well and truly popped in this one.  As is usual with Pratchett, the darker truths of life are leavened with humour and are, therefore, that much more palatable.  No doubt about it, Pratchett is a master of satire.

This book can be enjoyed by adults and adolescents alike.  I liked it, and so did my inner child.

27 April 2016

The Splendour Falls on Castle Walls by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

When I was a kid, I had a book called The Children's Treasure House.  It was published by Odhams Press in 1935 and has over 750 pages of stories and poems chosen for a young readership.  This book was a marvellous companion during my childhood.  I still have it even though, lamentably, it is now falling to pieces.

There are two odd things about that book.  First, it contains Tennyson's poem 'The Splendour Falls on Castle Walls' twice - once under its shorter title 'The Splendour Falls' and once under the title 'Echo Song'.  Secondly, someone decided this was a poem fit for children.

I went through a Tennyson phase in primary school and could recite this poem, 'Break, Break, Break', and 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' by heart. No such luck nowadays.  Those circuits have long since been over-written  Of course, at that time, I didn't really understand what the poem was about.  I was taken by the imagery of castles, mountains and lakes, and of the sound of the horns of Elfland.  I liked that kind of thing then, and I still do; however, upon re-reading the poem in my much later life, I realised - if I may invert St Paul's metaphor - I no longer see it through a glass, darkly.

What do we have then?  The narrator, presumably a  man, is standing where he can see the slanting evening sun (or is it the morning sun?) shining on an old castle and its surrounding mountains and lakes.  He can also see a waterfall.  He hears a bugle (or does he order a bugle to be blown?) and imagines it to be the distant horns of Elfland (or is it really the Elves having a toot?), and the sound of it echoes in the valleys and dies away.  He then addresses a person - we do not know who it is, or whether they are present - and draws a metaphor between the echoes and ourselves.  The narrator then repeats the refrain about bugles and dying echoes.
I think the poem is a meditation on mortality, and immortality through posterity.  

The castle is old, the day is drawing to a close; and while the cataract leaps, it can only leap downwards; the echo of the bugle's sound dies away: all metaphors for mortality.

On the other hand, our own echoes 'roll from soul to soul' and 'grow for ever and for ever'.  Did Tennyson mean the echoes of our words and deeds and the effect we have on others, either personally or through the works we leave behind; or did he mean we echo in our children and their descendants?  Both interpretations suggest a kind of immortality through posterity.

There is a tension between hope and despair in the poem.  While we may suspect the narrator is feeling his age and his mortality, he still exhorts the bugle - an instrument actuated by the breath of life - to blow; but eventually it will cease to sound and its echo will die away. He then asserts our own echoes, unlike the bugle's, will go on forever; and again the narrator exhorts the bugle to blow, perhaps calling for the cycle to echo ad infinitum.  Or so it seems to me.

On a lighter note (toot), if Tennyson were alive today and knew HTML coding, he almost certainly would have written a poem called '<br>, <br>, <br>'.  Boom! Tish!

The Splendour Falls on Castle Walls

The splendour falls on castle walls
       And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
       And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hear, O hear! how thin and clear,
       And thinner , clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
       The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,
       They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
       And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

19 April 2016

Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett

Reaper Man is the second Discworld novel to features Death as the central character (the previous one being Mort)Always good for a giggle, Pratchett does not disappoint with this one.

For one reason or another, Death suddenly finds himself unemployed. When the office of Death is vacated, an imbalance between the forces of life and death has unforeseen consequences, as the 130 year old wizard Windle Poons will soon find out.

As is usual with Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man is a clever and inventive tale full of puns, gags and pop-culture references (the title itself being a play of words on the film Repo Man).

Thematically, the novel examines the importance of caring for and about human beings:  it is what life (and Death) is all about.  In addition, Pratchett introduces the Fresh Start Club, and is the beginning of the movement towards Ankh-Morpork becoming an increasingly inclusive and cosmopolitan city, a theme he returns to subsequent Discworld novels.

Such a nice way to fill in a lazy weekend.


08 March 2016

The Salmon of Doubt by Douglas Adams

I remember The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (H2G2) came out at exactly the same time as when I was asking myself the great questions about life, the universe and everything.  How improbable is that?

It was a sad day when I heard about Douglas Adams' death in 2001.  At that time, I had already read all five volumes of the H2G2 trilogy and the two Dirk Gently novels.  Although I loved the original radio series of H2G2, I was more than underwhelmed by the Dirk Gently novels and the last two installments of H2G2.  So when this posthumously published volume came out in 2002, I had no desire to read it.  Fifteen years later, at the prompting of a 
sweet nostalgic twinge for Douglas Adams, I tracked down The Salmon of Doubt.

I am glad I did, because I became acquainted with a side of Douglas Adams I did not know: Adams the non-fiction writer.  This book contains a large selection of essays and writings on various matters, such as science, technology, religion and education.  Each is written with a great deal of clarity and varying amounts of seriousness and humour, and each demonstrates that Adams was a man capable of deep thought. 

The The Salmon of Doubt also includes some short fiction as well as a draft of the unfinished Dirk Gently novel from which this volume derives its name.  These are less successful works.

Overall verdict: Mostly Serious.

22 February 2016

The Thief of Bagdad by Achmed Abdullah

Another trip down memory lane.  I picked up a hardback copy of this novel at a school fete.  Maybe I was nine or ten.   Adventure, romance, quests and magic in mediaeval Baghdad: this book was my cup of tea.

On re-reading it over forty years later, I found that there was still a large part of me that is receptive to what this book has to offer.  Not that it is the greatest  literature - it is not -  but it is literate and intelligent.

Abdullah is a natural storyteller.  How easy it would be to imagine him in the markets of old Baghdad, holding his audience spell-bound as he weaves his tale.  His diction is purple, and perfectly so for this purpose; the action has its climaxes and respites in good measure; and the hero is sufficiently well-drawn to make him interesting (he is a Muslim who moves increasingly from a mercenary life towards an awakening spirituality).

The Thief of Bagdad began life as a script for the Douglas Fairbanks movie of the same name (1924).  Abdullah turned it into a novel in the same year.  While one suspects that a lot of what we are told in the tale is pure Hollywood, there are enough domestic details in the book to evoke (with what feels like some degree of verisimilitude) a time and a way of life that no longer exist. Didactic without being overly so; and best of all, the book is highly enjoyable.

18 January 2016

Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

I decided to read Robinson Crusoe because it was the favourite book of Gabriel Betteredge, the first narrator in Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone. Betteredge often found passages from this book particularly relevant to occurrences in his own life, and providentially so.

I first read Robinson Crusoe when I was a child.  The copy I had was a slender, green canvas-bound edition.  I suspect it had been heavily redacted to make it more suitable for children. What I read, I enjoyed at the time.

Now, all these years later, I have read a complete edition of the story.  There was a lot in it that I did not remember from my earlier reading.  I was surprised at how much narrative there is covering events before and after the main character is marooned on his island. Crusoe has many adventures,  showing he is a resourceful, wary and wily individual, all traits that stand him in good stead after he is castaway and alone.

In the course of the narrative, we see Crusoe become convinced that the things that happen to him are the result of divine providence, in much the same manner as Gabriel Betteredge did when he read the novel.  And this is the main theme of the book: reconciling oneself with the divine in order to find meaning.  In Crusoe's case, it is with the Christian God.

There is a lot of repetition in the book, and this tended to make it overly long.  On the other hand, Defoe's prose style is masterful and beguiling.  Having been written in the early 18th century and set it the mid-17th century, there are attitudes and sentiments in the book that may be offensive to the modern reader.  Still, we can forgive the author for being a product of his own times.

I can't say I was smitten with the book.  One can admire the treatment of the main theme without being moved by it.  Perhaps a more powerful, more pleasing and shorter work dealing with the much same theme is The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.