To read the article, click each page and enjoy. Below the article is Beer's lecture on the topic at Harvard University.
Sources: Text, Lecture
Showing posts with label Lewis Carroll. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lewis Carroll. Show all posts
Monday, 28 November 2011
Alice in Time
I am always fascinated by the overlap between literature and other scholarly and scientific fields. My last article combined Vivaldi's Gloria with Beckett's Krapp's Last Tape and in June, I combined Christina Rossetti's In an Artist's Studio with Botticelli paintings. In this post, you can read an article written by Gillian Beer, professor emeritus of English literature at the University of Cambridge UK. Here, she looks at the role of time and space in Lewis Carroll's Alice books. Charles Dodgson was a prominent mathematician and logician at Oxford and was known to let these scientific areas colour his literary output.
To read the article, click each page and enjoy. Below the article is Beer's lecture on the topic at Harvard University.
Sources: Text, Lecture
To read the article, click each page and enjoy. Below the article is Beer's lecture on the topic at Harvard University.
Sources: Text, Lecture
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Mad Hatter Day
Today is Mad Hatter Day, a 25 year old holiday where we celebrate silliness. We see the madness in what is considered sane and the sanity in what is considered madness.
The day is named after Lewis Carroll's Mad Hatter, a character appearing in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-glass. Thoroughtly nonsensical, he is stuck in an endless tea party with a dormouse and the March Hare. The date was chosen as a result of John Tenniel's drawings of the Hatter where he has a note with the notation "in this style 10/6" stuck in his hat.
So, what to do?
How about taking a small box out of your pocket and then talk to your mother without making a sound, pressing a number of buttons with numbers on them and then send?
Or how about dressing up to look less like yourself in order to attract a mate?
Why don't you go to the store and buy a piece of meat you do not know where came from? Perhaps it came from the hind leg of a sheep called Alan on the brink of inventing a cure for itchy wool? Or perhaps it is your neighbours rump. You sleep 20 cm from his head but haven't seen or spoken to him for ages.
Or, find inspiration in Ari Rapkin of the Carnegie Mellon School of Computer Science's view of the fundamental madness of the world:
The day is named after Lewis Carroll's Mad Hatter, a character appearing in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-glass. Thoroughtly nonsensical, he is stuck in an endless tea party with a dormouse and the March Hare. The date was chosen as a result of John Tenniel's drawings of the Hatter where he has a note with the notation "in this style 10/6" stuck in his hat.
 |
| Alice, the March Hare, the Dormouse and the Hatter wrapping some tea in a pot |
How about taking a small box out of your pocket and then talk to your mother without making a sound, pressing a number of buttons with numbers on them and then send?
Or how about dressing up to look less like yourself in order to attract a mate?
Why don't you go to the store and buy a piece of meat you do not know where came from? Perhaps it came from the hind leg of a sheep called Alan on the brink of inventing a cure for itchy wool? Or perhaps it is your neighbours rump. You sleep 20 cm from his head but haven't seen or spoken to him for ages.
Or, find inspiration in Ari Rapkin of the Carnegie Mellon School of Computer Science's view of the fundamental madness of the world:
"
We travel around by taking the juice from hundred-million-year-old rotten dinosaur food and exploding it in a metal can.
A "sports fanatic" is not someone who participates in sports, but someone who sits indoors on a beautiful day, drinking beer while yelling at the picture on a little box. (Throw the ultimate football party: Forget the TV; just sit around eating and drinking with friends.)
As much as we say we like to "get away from it all", the more successful we are, the more we take it all with us when we go. (Take a vacation with all the comforts of home: Just stay home!)
We're so well-fed that we're getting food with intentionally reduced nutritional content--so we can take the trouble to eat without getting the benefit of doing so. (Enjoy the ultimate in fast-diet-food: Skip lunch.)
We've saved so much gift-giving for the Christmas season that it has entirely unbalanced the flow of cash and consu mer goods through the year. So merchants decided to start the season early to have something to do the rest of the year. (There's now only one major gift-giving holiday -- but it lasts for five months. Surprise someone with a MadHatterDay present.)
"
And, after all, why is a raven like a writing desk?
Sunday, 17 July 2011
"Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll
This poem from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There is a lingering one. There is something about the language which makes me return to the poem over and over. Carroll had a knack for language, inventing words as he went along with great success. He explained his procedure in the preface to The Hunting of The Snark:
"
As this poem is to some extent connected with the lay of the Jabberwock, let me take this opportunity of answering a question that has often been asked me, how to pronounce "slithy toves." The "i" in "slithy" is long, as in "writhe"; and "toves" is pronounced so as to rhyme with "groves." Again, the first "o" in "borogoves" is pronounced like the "o" in "borrow." I have heard people try to give it the sound of the "o" in "worry. Such is Human Perversity. This also seems a fitting occasion to notice the other hard works in that poem. Humpty-Dumpty's theory, of two meanings packed into one word like a portmanteau, seems to me the right explanation for all.
For instance, take the two words "fuming" and "furious." Make up your mind that you will say both words, but leave it unsettled which you will say first. Now open your mouth and speak. If your thoughts incline ever so little towards " fuming," you will say "fuming-furious;" if they turn, by even a hair's breadth, towards "furious," you will say "furious-fuming;" but if you have the rarest of gifts, a perfectly balanced mind, you will say "frumious."
Supposing that, when Pistol uttered the well-known words--
Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!"
Justice Shallow had felt certain that it was either William or Richard, but had not been able to settle which, so that he could not possibly say either name before the other, can it be doubted that, rather than die, he would have gasped out "Rilchiam!
"
I interviewed a few people and asked them to go "galumphing", a word coined and frequently used by Carroll. Although none of them knew the word from before, they all did what Eddie Izzard, miming a moving giraffe does here. That is the true mark of linguistic genius.
So, without further ado, on with the poem!
"
Jabberwocky
by
Lewis Carroll
"
And Alice described it very well:
"
"It seems very pretty," she said when she had finished it, "but it's rather hard to understand!" (You see she didn't like to confess even to herself, that she couldn't make it out at all.) "Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas--only I don't exactly know what they are! However, somebody killed something: that's clear, at any rate---""
Sources: Preface, Poem, End Quotation
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
"Lionizing" by Edgar Allan Poe
This is Edgar Allan Poe's fable Lionizing from his 1840 Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, most notable for the previously published The Fall of the House of Usher. Read it, then analyse your reaction. Perhaps my comments at the end might help.
![]()
-all people went
Upon their ten toes in wild wondernment.
Bishop Hall's Satires.
I AM, that is to say I was, a great man, but I am neither the author of Junius nor the man in the mask, for my name, I believe, is Robert Jones, and I was born somewhere in the city of Fum-Fudge.
The first action of my life was the taking hold of my nose with both hands. My mother saw this and called me a genius:-my father wept for joy and presented me with a treatise on Nosology. This I mastered before I was breeched.
I now began to feel my way in the science, and soon came to understand that, provided a man had a nose sufficiently conspicuous, he might by merely following it, arrive at a Lionship. But my attention was not confined to theories alone. Every morning I gave my proboscis a couple of pulls and swallowed a half-dozen of drams.
When I came of age my father asked me, one day, if I would step with him into his study.
"My son," he said, when we were seated, "what is the chief end of your existence?"
"My father," I answered, "it is the study of Nosology."
"And what, Robert," he inquired, "is Nosology?"
"Sir," I said, "it is the science of Noses."
"And can you tell me," he demanded, "what is the meaning of a nose?"
"A nose, my father," I replied, greatly softened, "has been variously defined by about a thousand different authors." [Here I pulled out my watch.] "It is now noon, or thereabouts-We shall have time enough to get through with them all before midnight. To commence then: The nose, according to Bartholinus, is that protuberance-that bump-that excresence-that-"
"Will do, Robert," interupted the old gentleman. "I am thunderstruck at the extent of your information-I am positively-upon my soul." [Here he closed his eyes and placed his hand upon his heart.] "Come here!" [Here he took me by the arm.] "Your education may now be considered as finished-it is high time you should scuffle for yourself-and you cannot do a better thing than merely follow your nose-so-so-so-" [Here he kicked me down stairs and out of the door.]-"So get out of my house, and God bless you!"
As I felt within me the divine afflatus, I considered this accident rather fortunate than otherwise. I resolved to be guided by the paternal advice. I determined to follow my nose. I gave it a pull or two upon the spot, and wrote a pamphlet on Nosology forthwith.
All Fum-Fudge was in an uproar.
"Wonderful genius!" said the Quarterly.
"Superb physiologist!" said the Westminster.
"Clever fellow!" said the Foreign.
"Fine writer!", said the Edinburgh.
"Profound thinker!" said the Dublin.
"Great man!" said Bentley.
"Divine soul!" said Fraser.
"One of us!" said Blackwood.
"Who can he be?" said Mrs. Bas-Bleu.
"What can he be?" said big Miss Bas-Bleu.
"Where can he be?" said little Miss Bas-Bleu.-But I paid these people no attention whatever-I just stepped into the shop of an artist.
The Duchess of Bless-my-Soul was sitting for her portrait; the Marquis of So-and-So was holding the Duchess' poodle; the Earl of This-and-That was flirting with her salts; and his Royal Highness of Touch-me-Not was leaning upon the back of her chair.
I approached the artist and turned up my nose.
"Oh, beautiful!" sighed her Grace.
"Oh, my!" lisped the Marquis.
"Oh, shocking!" groaned the Earl.
"Oh, abominable!" growled his Royal Highness.
"What will you take for it?" asked the artist.
"For his nose!" shouted her Grace.
"A thousand pounds," said I, sitting down.
"A thousand pounds?" inquired the artist, musingly.
"A thousand pounds," said I.
"Beautiful!" said he, entranced.
"A thousand pounds," said I.
"Do you warrant it?" he asked, turning the nose to the light.
"I do," said I, blowing it well.
"Is it quite original?" he inquired, touching it with reverence.
"Humph!" said I, twisting it to one side.
"Has no copy been taken?" he demanded, surveying it through a microscope.
"None," said I, turning it up.
"Admirable!" he ejaculated, thrown quite off his guard by the beauty of the manoeuvre.
"A thousand pounds," said I.
"A thousand pounds?" said he.
"Precisely," said I.
"A thousand pounds?" said he.
"Just so," said I.
"You shall have them," said he. "What a piece of virtu!" So he drew me a check upon the spot, and took a sketch of my nose. I engaged rooms in Jermyn street, and sent her Majesty the ninety-ninth edition of the "Nosology," with a portrait of the proboscis. That sad little rake, the Prince of Wales, invited me to dinner.
We are all lions and recherches.
There was a modern Platonist. He quoted Porphyry, Iamblicus, Plotinus, Proclus, Hierocles, Maximus Tyrius, and Syrianus.
There was a human-perfectibility man. He quoted Turgot, Price, Priestly, Condorcet, De Stael, and the "Ambitious Student in Ill-Health."
There was Sir Positive Paradox. He observed that all fools were philosophers, and that all philosophers were fools.
There was Aestheticus Ethix. He spoke of fire, unity, and atoms; bi-part and pre-existent soul; affinity and discord; primitive intelligence and homoomeria.
There was Theologos Theology. He talked of Eusebius and Arianus; heresy and the Council of Nice; Puseyism and consubstantialism; Homousios and Homouioisios.
There was Fricassee from the Rocher de Cancale. He mentioned Muriton of red tongue; cauliflowers with veloute sauce; veal a la St. Menehoult; marinade a la St. Florentin; and orange jellies en mosaiques.
There was Bibulus O'Bumper. He touched upon Latour and Markbrunnen; upon Mosseux and Chambertin; upon Richbourg and St. George; upon Haubrion, Leonville, and Medoc; upon Barac and Preignac; upon Grave, upon Sauterne, upon Lafitte, and upon St. Peray. He shook his head at Clos de Vougeot, and told with his eyes shut, the difference between Sherry and Amontillado.
There was Signor Tintontintino from Florence. He discoursed of Cimabue, Arpino, Carpaccio, and Argostino-of the gloom of Caravaggio, of the amenity of Albano, of the colors of Titian, of the frows of Rubens, and of the waggeries of Jan Steen.
There was the President of the Fum-Fudge University. He was of the opinion that the moon was called Bendis in Thrace, Bubastis in Egypt, Dian in Rome, and Artemis in Greece.
There was a Grand Turk from Stamboul. He could not help thinking that the angels were horses, cocks, and bulls; that somebody in the sixth heaven had seventy thousand heads; and that the earth was supported by a sky-blue cow with an incalculable number of green horns.
There was Delphinus Polyglott. He told us what had become of the eighty-three lost tragedies of Aeschylus; of the fifty-four orations of Isaeus; of the three hundred and ninety-one speeches of Lysias; of the hundred and eighty treatises of Theophrastus; of the eighth book of the conic sections of Apollonius; of Pindar's hymns and dithyrambics, and of the five and forty tragedies of Homer Junior.
There was Ferdinand Fitz-Fossillus Feltspar. He informed us all about internal fires and tertiary formations; about aeriforms, fluidiforms, and solidforms; about quartz and marl; about schist and schorl; about gypsum and trap; about talc and calc; about blende and horn-blende; about micaslate and pudding-stone; about cyanite and lepidolite; about haematite and tremolite; about antimony and calcedony; about manganese and whatever you please.
There was myself. I spoke of myself;-of myself, of myself, of myself;-of Nosology, of my pamphlet, and of myself. I turned up my nose, and I spoke of myself.
"Marvellous clever man!" said the Prince.
"Superb!" said his guests;-and next morning her Grace of Bless-my-soul paid me a visit.
"Will you go to Almack's, pretty creature?" she said, tapping me under the chin.
"Upon honor," said I.
"Nose and all?" she asked.
"As I live," I replied.
"Here then is a card, my life. Shall I say you will be there?"
"Dear, Duchess, with all my heart."
"Pshaw, no!-but with all your nose?"
"Every bit of it, my love," said I:-so I gave it a twist or two, and found myself at Almack's.
The rooms were crowded to suffocation.
"He is coming!" said somebody on the staircase.
"He is coming!" said somebody farther up.
"He is coming!" said somebody farther still.
"He is come!" exclaimed the Duchess, "He is come, the little love!"-and, seizing me firmly by both hands, she kissed me thrice upon the nose.
A marked sensation immediately ensued.
"Diavolo!" cried Count Capricornutti.
"Dios guarda!" muttered Don Stiletto.
"Mille tonnerres!" ejaculated the Prince de Grenouille.
"Tousand teufel!" growled the Elector of Bluddennuff.
It was not to be borne. I grew angry. I turned short upon Bluddennuff.
"Sir!" said I to him, "you are a baboon."
"Sir," he replied, after a pause. "Donner und Blitzen!"
This was all that could be desired. We exchanged cards. At Chalk-Farm, the next morning, I shot off his nose-and then called upon my friends.
"Bete!" said the first.
"Fool!" said the second.
"Dolt!" said the third.
"Ass!" said the fourth.
"Ninny!" said the fifth.
"Noodle!" said the sixth.
"Be off!" said the seventh.
At all this I felt mortified, and so called upon my father.
"Father," I asked, "what is the chief end of my existence?"
"My son," he replied, "it is still the study of Nosology; but in hitting the Elector upon the nose you have overshot your mark. You have a fine nose, it is true; but then Bluddennuff has none. You are damned, and he has become the hero of the day. I grant you that in Fum-Fudge the greatness of a lion is in proportion to the size of his proboscis-but, good heavens! there is no competing with a lion who has no proboscis at all."
THE END
Comments
The reader may well feel uneasy while reading this fable. For a modern reader, the title of the volume signals the very notion, although the words grotesque and arabesque also refer to the complicated pattern of decorative art found in Roman and Arabic architecture. This thus also reflect the complicated and interwoven nature of the story.
The unease could have a number of causes. Freud explains the term uncanny or unheimlich ("unhomely") in his essay on the term from 1919 as the snag that makes something familiar and safe unfamiliar and scary. He does, amongst other examples, explain how the eyes are understood as vital from a very early age and that any deficiency in these would promote the feeling of the uncanny. (See for instance Neil Gaiman's Coraline.) What makes Lionizing uncanny is the warped sense of reality, biology and the use of a familiar mode of narration to relate this warped sense.
Beginning with the last, the narrative structure looks very much like that of fairy tales and fables (hence my labelling in the introduction). These genres are generally used to teach, that is induce certainty, and entertain, which would induce ease and a feeling of belonging and safety. The subject matter of Lionizing on the other hand does neither.There is very little consistency in the characters and very little exposition of setting and yet the characters are shown to be highly important through massive use of references and emphasis of their comments. This makes the reader feel at a loss. Furthermore, while the structure of repetition would normally promote a feeling of stability and unity, the fragmentary nature of the narrative (especially in terms of setting) and the subject matter undermines this. The fable does, however, rather surprisingly have a lesson at the end.
There is a warped sense of reality which keep appearing. References are given to real life scientists etc. but many of the matters of discussion and the protagonist's area of expertise are nonsensical. Also, the protagonist undergoes an unnaturally rapid development and consorts with an unlikely array of figures who acts in ways uncalled for. The fable contains several references to reality which, each on their own, can be accepted but which in combination makes the text uncanny.
Finally, the warped sense of biology. Notice a child's fascination with any kind of physical deformity and deficiency. This is an aspect of the same feelings Freud discussed. The protagonist is uncommonly smart and has an uncommonly attractive nose. As long as this is proven by the other characters through their exaggerated attention to the nose, the sense of unease is maintained, because the natural has become unnatural.
As a closing side note, Poe is not really known for being humourous. Perhaps the unease may stem from a rather unsuccessful attempt at comedy and the whole uncannyness was unintentional? For humourous nonsense, I guess you would have to look to Lewis Carroll or Roald Dahl, or perhaps Tim Burton's The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy & Other Stories.
Sources: Text, Pic., Uncanny
"
Lionizing
-all people went
Upon their ten toes in wild wondernment.
Bishop Hall's Satires.
I AM, that is to say I was, a great man, but I am neither the author of Junius nor the man in the mask, for my name, I believe, is Robert Jones, and I was born somewhere in the city of Fum-Fudge.
The first action of my life was the taking hold of my nose with both hands. My mother saw this and called me a genius:-my father wept for joy and presented me with a treatise on Nosology. This I mastered before I was breeched.
I now began to feel my way in the science, and soon came to understand that, provided a man had a nose sufficiently conspicuous, he might by merely following it, arrive at a Lionship. But my attention was not confined to theories alone. Every morning I gave my proboscis a couple of pulls and swallowed a half-dozen of drams.
When I came of age my father asked me, one day, if I would step with him into his study.
"My son," he said, when we were seated, "what is the chief end of your existence?"
"My father," I answered, "it is the study of Nosology."
"And what, Robert," he inquired, "is Nosology?"
"Sir," I said, "it is the science of Noses."
"And can you tell me," he demanded, "what is the meaning of a nose?"
"A nose, my father," I replied, greatly softened, "has been variously defined by about a thousand different authors." [Here I pulled out my watch.] "It is now noon, or thereabouts-We shall have time enough to get through with them all before midnight. To commence then: The nose, according to Bartholinus, is that protuberance-that bump-that excresence-that-"
"Will do, Robert," interupted the old gentleman. "I am thunderstruck at the extent of your information-I am positively-upon my soul." [Here he closed his eyes and placed his hand upon his heart.] "Come here!" [Here he took me by the arm.] "Your education may now be considered as finished-it is high time you should scuffle for yourself-and you cannot do a better thing than merely follow your nose-so-so-so-" [Here he kicked me down stairs and out of the door.]-"So get out of my house, and God bless you!"
As I felt within me the divine afflatus, I considered this accident rather fortunate than otherwise. I resolved to be guided by the paternal advice. I determined to follow my nose. I gave it a pull or two upon the spot, and wrote a pamphlet on Nosology forthwith.
All Fum-Fudge was in an uproar.
"Wonderful genius!" said the Quarterly.
"Superb physiologist!" said the Westminster.
"Clever fellow!" said the Foreign.
"Fine writer!", said the Edinburgh.
"Profound thinker!" said the Dublin.
"Great man!" said Bentley.
"Divine soul!" said Fraser.
"One of us!" said Blackwood.
"Who can he be?" said Mrs. Bas-Bleu.
"What can he be?" said big Miss Bas-Bleu.
"Where can he be?" said little Miss Bas-Bleu.-But I paid these people no attention whatever-I just stepped into the shop of an artist.
The Duchess of Bless-my-Soul was sitting for her portrait; the Marquis of So-and-So was holding the Duchess' poodle; the Earl of This-and-That was flirting with her salts; and his Royal Highness of Touch-me-Not was leaning upon the back of her chair.
I approached the artist and turned up my nose.
"Oh, beautiful!" sighed her Grace.
"Oh, my!" lisped the Marquis.
"Oh, shocking!" groaned the Earl.
"Oh, abominable!" growled his Royal Highness.
"What will you take for it?" asked the artist.
"For his nose!" shouted her Grace.
"A thousand pounds," said I, sitting down.
"A thousand pounds?" inquired the artist, musingly.
"A thousand pounds," said I.
"Beautiful!" said he, entranced.
"A thousand pounds," said I.
"Do you warrant it?" he asked, turning the nose to the light.
"I do," said I, blowing it well.
"Is it quite original?" he inquired, touching it with reverence.
"Humph!" said I, twisting it to one side.
"Has no copy been taken?" he demanded, surveying it through a microscope.
"None," said I, turning it up.
"Admirable!" he ejaculated, thrown quite off his guard by the beauty of the manoeuvre.
"A thousand pounds," said I.
"A thousand pounds?" said he.
"Precisely," said I.
"A thousand pounds?" said he.
"Just so," said I.
"You shall have them," said he. "What a piece of virtu!" So he drew me a check upon the spot, and took a sketch of my nose. I engaged rooms in Jermyn street, and sent her Majesty the ninety-ninth edition of the "Nosology," with a portrait of the proboscis. That sad little rake, the Prince of Wales, invited me to dinner.
We are all lions and recherches.
There was a modern Platonist. He quoted Porphyry, Iamblicus, Plotinus, Proclus, Hierocles, Maximus Tyrius, and Syrianus.
There was a human-perfectibility man. He quoted Turgot, Price, Priestly, Condorcet, De Stael, and the "Ambitious Student in Ill-Health."
There was Sir Positive Paradox. He observed that all fools were philosophers, and that all philosophers were fools.
There was Aestheticus Ethix. He spoke of fire, unity, and atoms; bi-part and pre-existent soul; affinity and discord; primitive intelligence and homoomeria.
There was Theologos Theology. He talked of Eusebius and Arianus; heresy and the Council of Nice; Puseyism and consubstantialism; Homousios and Homouioisios.
There was Fricassee from the Rocher de Cancale. He mentioned Muriton of red tongue; cauliflowers with veloute sauce; veal a la St. Menehoult; marinade a la St. Florentin; and orange jellies en mosaiques.
There was Bibulus O'Bumper. He touched upon Latour and Markbrunnen; upon Mosseux and Chambertin; upon Richbourg and St. George; upon Haubrion, Leonville, and Medoc; upon Barac and Preignac; upon Grave, upon Sauterne, upon Lafitte, and upon St. Peray. He shook his head at Clos de Vougeot, and told with his eyes shut, the difference between Sherry and Amontillado.
There was Signor Tintontintino from Florence. He discoursed of Cimabue, Arpino, Carpaccio, and Argostino-of the gloom of Caravaggio, of the amenity of Albano, of the colors of Titian, of the frows of Rubens, and of the waggeries of Jan Steen.
There was the President of the Fum-Fudge University. He was of the opinion that the moon was called Bendis in Thrace, Bubastis in Egypt, Dian in Rome, and Artemis in Greece.
There was a Grand Turk from Stamboul. He could not help thinking that the angels were horses, cocks, and bulls; that somebody in the sixth heaven had seventy thousand heads; and that the earth was supported by a sky-blue cow with an incalculable number of green horns.
There was Delphinus Polyglott. He told us what had become of the eighty-three lost tragedies of Aeschylus; of the fifty-four orations of Isaeus; of the three hundred and ninety-one speeches of Lysias; of the hundred and eighty treatises of Theophrastus; of the eighth book of the conic sections of Apollonius; of Pindar's hymns and dithyrambics, and of the five and forty tragedies of Homer Junior.
There was Ferdinand Fitz-Fossillus Feltspar. He informed us all about internal fires and tertiary formations; about aeriforms, fluidiforms, and solidforms; about quartz and marl; about schist and schorl; about gypsum and trap; about talc and calc; about blende and horn-blende; about micaslate and pudding-stone; about cyanite and lepidolite; about haematite and tremolite; about antimony and calcedony; about manganese and whatever you please.
There was myself. I spoke of myself;-of myself, of myself, of myself;-of Nosology, of my pamphlet, and of myself. I turned up my nose, and I spoke of myself.
"Marvellous clever man!" said the Prince.
"Superb!" said his guests;-and next morning her Grace of Bless-my-soul paid me a visit.
"Will you go to Almack's, pretty creature?" she said, tapping me under the chin.
"Upon honor," said I.
"Nose and all?" she asked.
"As I live," I replied.
"Here then is a card, my life. Shall I say you will be there?"
"Dear, Duchess, with all my heart."
"Pshaw, no!-but with all your nose?"
"Every bit of it, my love," said I:-so I gave it a twist or two, and found myself at Almack's.
The rooms were crowded to suffocation.
"He is coming!" said somebody on the staircase.
"He is coming!" said somebody farther up.
"He is coming!" said somebody farther still.
"He is come!" exclaimed the Duchess, "He is come, the little love!"-and, seizing me firmly by both hands, she kissed me thrice upon the nose.
A marked sensation immediately ensued.
"Diavolo!" cried Count Capricornutti.
"Dios guarda!" muttered Don Stiletto.
"Mille tonnerres!" ejaculated the Prince de Grenouille.
"Tousand teufel!" growled the Elector of Bluddennuff.
It was not to be borne. I grew angry. I turned short upon Bluddennuff.
"Sir!" said I to him, "you are a baboon."
"Sir," he replied, after a pause. "Donner und Blitzen!"
This was all that could be desired. We exchanged cards. At Chalk-Farm, the next morning, I shot off his nose-and then called upon my friends.
"Bete!" said the first.
"Fool!" said the second.
"Dolt!" said the third.
"Ass!" said the fourth.
"Ninny!" said the fifth.
"Noodle!" said the sixth.
"Be off!" said the seventh.
At all this I felt mortified, and so called upon my father.
"Father," I asked, "what is the chief end of my existence?"
"My son," he replied, "it is still the study of Nosology; but in hitting the Elector upon the nose you have overshot your mark. You have a fine nose, it is true; but then Bluddennuff has none. You are damned, and he has become the hero of the day. I grant you that in Fum-Fudge the greatness of a lion is in proportion to the size of his proboscis-but, good heavens! there is no competing with a lion who has no proboscis at all."
THE END
"
Comments
The reader may well feel uneasy while reading this fable. For a modern reader, the title of the volume signals the very notion, although the words grotesque and arabesque also refer to the complicated pattern of decorative art found in Roman and Arabic architecture. This thus also reflect the complicated and interwoven nature of the story.
The unease could have a number of causes. Freud explains the term uncanny or unheimlich ("unhomely") in his essay on the term from 1919 as the snag that makes something familiar and safe unfamiliar and scary. He does, amongst other examples, explain how the eyes are understood as vital from a very early age and that any deficiency in these would promote the feeling of the uncanny. (See for instance Neil Gaiman's Coraline.) What makes Lionizing uncanny is the warped sense of reality, biology and the use of a familiar mode of narration to relate this warped sense.
Beginning with the last, the narrative structure looks very much like that of fairy tales and fables (hence my labelling in the introduction). These genres are generally used to teach, that is induce certainty, and entertain, which would induce ease and a feeling of belonging and safety. The subject matter of Lionizing on the other hand does neither.There is very little consistency in the characters and very little exposition of setting and yet the characters are shown to be highly important through massive use of references and emphasis of their comments. This makes the reader feel at a loss. Furthermore, while the structure of repetition would normally promote a feeling of stability and unity, the fragmentary nature of the narrative (especially in terms of setting) and the subject matter undermines this. The fable does, however, rather surprisingly have a lesson at the end.
There is a warped sense of reality which keep appearing. References are given to real life scientists etc. but many of the matters of discussion and the protagonist's area of expertise are nonsensical. Also, the protagonist undergoes an unnaturally rapid development and consorts with an unlikely array of figures who acts in ways uncalled for. The fable contains several references to reality which, each on their own, can be accepted but which in combination makes the text uncanny.
Finally, the warped sense of biology. Notice a child's fascination with any kind of physical deformity and deficiency. This is an aspect of the same feelings Freud discussed. The protagonist is uncommonly smart and has an uncommonly attractive nose. As long as this is proven by the other characters through their exaggerated attention to the nose, the sense of unease is maintained, because the natural has become unnatural.
As a closing side note, Poe is not really known for being humourous. Perhaps the unease may stem from a rather unsuccessful attempt at comedy and the whole uncannyness was unintentional? For humourous nonsense, I guess you would have to look to Lewis Carroll or Roald Dahl, or perhaps Tim Burton's The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy & Other Stories.
Sources: Text, Pic., Uncanny
Thursday, 24 March 2011
50 Books Every Child Should Read
According to The Independent, Education Secretary Michael Gove has presented a goal that every 11-year-old should read at least 50 books per year. In the spirit of this optimistic suggestion, they had three children's books writers and two critics compile one list each of ten of the books they thought should figure on this list. Read through it and see how many you know!
Philip Pullman
* Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll. Indispensable. The great classic beginning of English children's literature.
* Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi. What effortless invention looks like.
* Emil and the Detectives by Erich Kastner. A great political story: democracy in action.
* Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome. As clear and pure as Mozart.
* Black Hearts in Battersea by Joan Aiken. If Ransome was Mozart, Aiken was Rossini. Unforced effervescence.
* The Owl Service by Alan Garner. Showed how children's literature could sound dark and troubling chords.
* The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. Superb wit and vigorous invention.
* Moominsummer Madness by Tove Jansson. Any of the Moomin books would supply the same strange light Nordic magic.
* A Hundred Million Francs by Paul Berna. A particular favourite of mine, as much for Richard Kennedy's delicate illustrations (in the English edition) as for the story.
* The Castafiore Emerald by Hergé. Three generations of this family have loved Tintin. Perfect timing, perfect narrative tact and command, blissfully funny.
Michael Morpurgo
* The Star of Kazan by Eva Ibbotson. The heroine is blessed with such wonderful friends who help her through the twists and turns of this incredible journey.
* A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. The first few pages were so engaging, Marley's ghostly face on the knocker of Scrooge's door still gives me the shivers.
* Just William books by Richmal Crompton. These are a must for every child.
* The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde. This was the first story, I think, that ever made me cry and it still has the power to make me cry.
* The Elephant's Child From The Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling. The story my mother used to read me most often, because I asked for it again and again. I loved the sheer fun of it, the music and the rhythm of the words. It was subversive too. Still my favourite story.
* Treasure Island by R.L. Stevenson This was the first real book I read for myself. I lived this book as I read it.
* The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway. A classic tale of man versus nature. I wish I'd written this.
* The Man Who Planted Trees by Jean Giono. A book for children from 8 to 80. I love the humanity of this story and how one man's efforts can change the future for so many.
* The Singing Tree by Kate Seredy The story of two children who go to find their father who has been listed missing in the trenches of the First World War.
* The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson-Burnett. I love this story of a girl's life being changed by nature.
Katy Guest, literary editor for The Independent on Sunday
* Refugee Boy by Benjamin Zephaniah. Story of a young Ethiopian boy, whose parents abandon him in London to save his life.
* Finn Family Moomintroll (and the other Moomin books) by Tove Jansson. A fantasy series for small children that introduces bigger ones to ideas of adventure, dealing with fear, understanding character and tolerating difference.
* Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney. It's rude, it's funny and it will chime with every 11-year-old who's ever started a new school.
* I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. Written for a teenage audience but fun at any age.
* The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkein. Be warned, these tales of hobbits, elves and Middle Earth are dangerously addictive.
* The Tygrine Cat (and The Tygrine Cat on the Run) by Inbali Iserles. If your parents keep going on at you to read Tarka the Otter, The Sheep-Pig and other animal fantasies, do – they're great books – also try Iserles' stories about a cat seeking his destiny.
* Carry On, Jeeves by PG Wodehouse. A grown-up book – but not that grown-up.
* When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit by Judith Kerr. Judith Kerr's semi-autobiographical story of a family fleeing the Nazis in 1933.
* Moving Pictures by Terry Pratchett. Elaborate mythological imagery and a background based in real science. If you like this, the Discworld series offers plenty more.
* The Story of Tracy Beaker by Jacqueline Wilson. The pinnacle of the wonderful Jacqueline Wilson's brilliant and enormous output.
John Walsh, author and Independent columnist
* The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Irresistible puzzle-solving tales of the chilly Victorian master-sleuth and his dim medical sidekick.
* The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon. Age-transcending tale, both funny and sad.
* Mistress Masham's Repose by TH White. Magical story of 10-year-old Maria, living in a derelict stately home, shy, lonely and under threat from both her governess and her rascally guardian.
* Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. Inexplicably evergreen, trend and taste-defying 1868 classic.
* How to be Topp by Geoffrey Willams and Ronald Searle. Side-splitting satire on skool, oiks, teechers, fules, bulies, swots.
* Stormbreaker by Anthony Horowitz. First of the action-packed adventures with 14-year-old Alex Rider.
* Private Peaceful by Michael Morpurgo. "Dulce et Decorum Est" for pre-teens.
* Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer. Lively, amoral, wildly imaginative debut (six more followed) about the money-grabbing master-criminal Artemis, 12. The author called it "Die Hard with fairies".
* The Silver Sword by Ian Serraillier. Inspiring wartime story of the Balicki family in Warsaw.
* Animal Farm by George Orwell. Smart 11-year-olds won't need any pre-knowledge of Marx, Lenin, Trotsky and 1917 to appreciate this brilliantly-told fable.
Michael Rosen
* Skellig by David Almond. Brings magical realism to working-class North-east England.
* Red Cherry Red by Jackie Kay. A book of poems that reaches deep into our hidden thoughts but also talks in a joyous voice exploring the everyday.
* Talkin Turkeys by Benjamin Zephaniah. A book of poems that demands to be read aloud, performed and thought about.
* Greek myths by Geraldine McCaughrean. Superheroes battle with demons, gods intervene in our pleasures and fears – a bit like the spectres in our minds going through daily life, really – beautifully retold here.
* People Might Hear You by Robin Klein. A profound, suspenseful story about sects, freedom and the rights of all young people – especially girls.
* Noughts and Crosses by Malorie Blackman. A book that dared to go where no one thought you could with young audiences because it raises tough stuff to do with race.
* Einstein's Underpants and How They Saved the World by Anthony McGowan. A crazy adventure set amongst the kids you don't want to know but who this book makes you really, really care about.
* After the First Death by Robert Cormier. Cormier is never afraid of handling how the personal meets the political all within the framework of a thriller.
* The London Eye Mystery by Siobhan Dowd. A book that allows difference to be part of the plot and not a point in itself.
* Beano Annual. A cornucopia of nutty, bad, silly ideas, tricks, situations and plots.
I got 22.
Source: The Independent Web Pages
Philip Pullman
* Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll. Indispensable. The great classic beginning of English children's literature.
* Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi. What effortless invention looks like.
* Emil and the Detectives by Erich Kastner. A great political story: democracy in action.
* Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome. As clear and pure as Mozart.
* Black Hearts in Battersea by Joan Aiken. If Ransome was Mozart, Aiken was Rossini. Unforced effervescence.
* The Owl Service by Alan Garner. Showed how children's literature could sound dark and troubling chords.
* The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. Superb wit and vigorous invention.
* Moominsummer Madness by Tove Jansson. Any of the Moomin books would supply the same strange light Nordic magic.
* A Hundred Million Francs by Paul Berna. A particular favourite of mine, as much for Richard Kennedy's delicate illustrations (in the English edition) as for the story.
* The Castafiore Emerald by Hergé. Three generations of this family have loved Tintin. Perfect timing, perfect narrative tact and command, blissfully funny.
Michael Morpurgo
* The Star of Kazan by Eva Ibbotson. The heroine is blessed with such wonderful friends who help her through the twists and turns of this incredible journey.
* A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. The first few pages were so engaging, Marley's ghostly face on the knocker of Scrooge's door still gives me the shivers.
* Just William books by Richmal Crompton. These are a must for every child.
* The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde. This was the first story, I think, that ever made me cry and it still has the power to make me cry.
* The Elephant's Child From The Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling. The story my mother used to read me most often, because I asked for it again and again. I loved the sheer fun of it, the music and the rhythm of the words. It was subversive too. Still my favourite story.
* Treasure Island by R.L. Stevenson This was the first real book I read for myself. I lived this book as I read it.
* The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway. A classic tale of man versus nature. I wish I'd written this.
* The Man Who Planted Trees by Jean Giono. A book for children from 8 to 80. I love the humanity of this story and how one man's efforts can change the future for so many.
* The Singing Tree by Kate Seredy The story of two children who go to find their father who has been listed missing in the trenches of the First World War.
* The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson-Burnett. I love this story of a girl's life being changed by nature.
 |
| Michael Morpurgo, John Walsh and Michael Rosen |
Katy Guest, literary editor for The Independent on Sunday
* Refugee Boy by Benjamin Zephaniah. Story of a young Ethiopian boy, whose parents abandon him in London to save his life.
* Finn Family Moomintroll (and the other Moomin books) by Tove Jansson. A fantasy series for small children that introduces bigger ones to ideas of adventure, dealing with fear, understanding character and tolerating difference.
* Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney. It's rude, it's funny and it will chime with every 11-year-old who's ever started a new school.
* I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. Written for a teenage audience but fun at any age.
* The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkein. Be warned, these tales of hobbits, elves and Middle Earth are dangerously addictive.
* The Tygrine Cat (and The Tygrine Cat on the Run) by Inbali Iserles. If your parents keep going on at you to read Tarka the Otter, The Sheep-Pig and other animal fantasies, do – they're great books – also try Iserles' stories about a cat seeking his destiny.
* Carry On, Jeeves by PG Wodehouse. A grown-up book – but not that grown-up.
* When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit by Judith Kerr. Judith Kerr's semi-autobiographical story of a family fleeing the Nazis in 1933.
* Moving Pictures by Terry Pratchett. Elaborate mythological imagery and a background based in real science. If you like this, the Discworld series offers plenty more.
* The Story of Tracy Beaker by Jacqueline Wilson. The pinnacle of the wonderful Jacqueline Wilson's brilliant and enormous output.
John Walsh, author and Independent columnist
* The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Irresistible puzzle-solving tales of the chilly Victorian master-sleuth and his dim medical sidekick.
* The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon. Age-transcending tale, both funny and sad.
* Mistress Masham's Repose by TH White. Magical story of 10-year-old Maria, living in a derelict stately home, shy, lonely and under threat from both her governess and her rascally guardian.
* Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. Inexplicably evergreen, trend and taste-defying 1868 classic.
* How to be Topp by Geoffrey Willams and Ronald Searle. Side-splitting satire on skool, oiks, teechers, fules, bulies, swots.
* Stormbreaker by Anthony Horowitz. First of the action-packed adventures with 14-year-old Alex Rider.
* Private Peaceful by Michael Morpurgo. "Dulce et Decorum Est" for pre-teens.
* Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer. Lively, amoral, wildly imaginative debut (six more followed) about the money-grabbing master-criminal Artemis, 12. The author called it "Die Hard with fairies".
* The Silver Sword by Ian Serraillier. Inspiring wartime story of the Balicki family in Warsaw.
* Animal Farm by George Orwell. Smart 11-year-olds won't need any pre-knowledge of Marx, Lenin, Trotsky and 1917 to appreciate this brilliantly-told fable.
 |
| Some of the books |
Michael Rosen
* Skellig by David Almond. Brings magical realism to working-class North-east England.
* Red Cherry Red by Jackie Kay. A book of poems that reaches deep into our hidden thoughts but also talks in a joyous voice exploring the everyday.
* Talkin Turkeys by Benjamin Zephaniah. A book of poems that demands to be read aloud, performed and thought about.
* Greek myths by Geraldine McCaughrean. Superheroes battle with demons, gods intervene in our pleasures and fears – a bit like the spectres in our minds going through daily life, really – beautifully retold here.
* People Might Hear You by Robin Klein. A profound, suspenseful story about sects, freedom and the rights of all young people – especially girls.
* Noughts and Crosses by Malorie Blackman. A book that dared to go where no one thought you could with young audiences because it raises tough stuff to do with race.
* Einstein's Underpants and How They Saved the World by Anthony McGowan. A crazy adventure set amongst the kids you don't want to know but who this book makes you really, really care about.
* After the First Death by Robert Cormier. Cormier is never afraid of handling how the personal meets the political all within the framework of a thriller.
* The London Eye Mystery by Siobhan Dowd. A book that allows difference to be part of the plot and not a point in itself.
* Beano Annual. A cornucopia of nutty, bad, silly ideas, tricks, situations and plots.
I got 22.
Source: The Independent Web Pages
Monday, 9 August 2010
First Editions and Other Marvels of Bibliophilia
During the summer vacation I succumbed to my bibliophilic streak and bought a monstrous number of books. In the course of this quest for literature, I visited many exciting bookshops. I went to Oxford and found a fantastic bookstore. Blackwell Rare Books in Broad Street seemed, in this bibliophile's opinion, to be able to cater to my every need. With a seemingly infinite number of departments spanning a number of buildings, a small café and an allegedly wonderful at ordering what they might not have they met my every need. Also, G. David Bookseller in Saint Edwards Passage in Cambridge proved to be a gold mine for old and rare books. I wish I had been able to spend more time there. Once you have held the first ever printed copy of Robert Louis Stevenson's Kidnapped in your hands there you know there are no limits to what you might find. Finally, The Haunted Bookshop in the same alley deserves to be mentioned not because of the staff, which was less than obliging, but because I spent quite a lot of money there.
I bought the following:
Edmund G. Gardner - The Story of Florence (London 1928)
The book I have bought is not Machiavelli's Florentine Histories from 1532 although it refers to it. His style is unfortunately rather erratic and not fit for a travel guide such as the one I actually bought. However, it seems informative and I have already found the guide useful: during a visit to the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, I came across a painting of Florence's St. Zenobius and recognised the motif from what I had read. In seeking to understand human nature, such links are always most gratifying.
This must be the weirdest box of frogs I've ever probed my nasal appendage into. The text can best be classified as a Christian allegory. John Bunyan wrote it while serving several consecutive jail sentences in 17th century England for preaching weird stuff. Like Hitler he found it necessary to write down his strange ideas while imprisoned and this book is further proof that pen and ink should be prohibited for those incarcerated, as weird or dangerous products are the result (Marco Polo excepted). It was published in installments between 1678 and 1686. The allegory's plot consists of the main character, Christian, who travels from the "City of Destruction" to the "Celestial City" (the pious Christian's ascension). On his way through "Plain Ease", "The Delectable Mountains", the "Valley of the Shadow of Death" and , interestingly, "Vanity Fair" he meets personifications like Mrs. Bat's-Eyes, Madame Bubble, Mr. Wordly Wiseman and even Beelzebub. The book certainly makes you both bewildered and uncomfortable but it is still curiously fascinating. For the full text, click here.
Gender and 18th Century Literature
One of his routines involves asking the audience for adjectives that describe people from obscure countries. This resulted in highlights like "the Azerbaijanis are Crazy and Bouncy [...] the Bhuthanese are Happy and Unwashed [and] the people of Fiji are Well-read and promiscuous" (p.15). However, the audience could never do the same with the British and so, throughout his tour and book, Ó Briain tries to find his adjectives.
Tom Bryant (ed.) - Debrett's Guide for the Modern Gentleman (Richmond 2010)
From its beginnings in the 1780s, Debrett's has produced a who is who of British nobility and peerage. Originally the official publisher to the East India Company, they were well suited to gather material for their most famous 20/21st century products; their books on etiquette. The Guide for the Modern Gentleman informs such an individual on subjects as diverse as dress code, how to survive a plane crash, how to buy underwear and bed basics. Try, for instance, to find whether one should wear silk, satin or cotton in bed at their homepage. If you do, should the same material be worn at all seasons?
Lewis Carroll - The Hunting of the Snark (London 1928)
Lewis Carroll's Hunting of the Snark or agony in eight fits is a delightful read. Being a mathematician and a wordsmith the poem is a metrical delight as well as a lexical one. In its absurdity the poem is highly reminiscent of the Alice books and even incorporates some of its characters (though unfortunately not my fravourite, the Red Queen). What is a snark, then? As Carroll explains in his preface:
Is it a snail, snake or a shark? The mind boggles. It does not really matter, of course, as long as the snark is not a boojum.
A crew of ten, all with occupations beginning with "b" apart from the lace-making beaver of course, departs on a fantastical journey to capture a snark. Throughout the poem, different situations arise with hilarious effects:
Some of the characters such as the Baker also have hidden phobias:
For the reader who is into absurd literature or who simply likes the beauty and pleasantness of delectably metric poetry, the poem is available here in its entirety. You are welcome!
Saul David - Victoria's Wars (London 2007)
Having read George MacDonald Fraser's Flashman series I was delighted to find Victoria's Wars at Waterstones in Cambridge. It was one of those books that tagged along. The book gives a reader friendly insight into some of the major conflicts of the British Empire while keeping a second focus on the responses of the monarch herself. Quotation from sources and numerous anecdotes make narration flow nicely and captivate the reader to such an extent that one tends to be reminded of the memoirs of the notorious cad himself. Indeed, the book covers much the same area as the Flashman books do; The Opium Wars (Flashman and the Dragon), The First Afghan War (Flashman), The Sikh Wars (Flashman and the Mountain of Light), The Crimea (Flashman at the Charge) and The Indian Revolt (Flashman in the Great Game).
A Final Curiosity: Alexander Pope's Last Letters and Will (London 1776)
Feast your imagination on this, dear reader! Not only does the book contain Alexander Pope's letters to his friend John Gay and his will but it is a historic relic as well a work of art in its own right. The pages are beautifully textured, the pages are wonderfully composed (like the title page above) and the book is old enough for the words to have modern "s'es" only at the ends of words and "f's" in their place otherwise. Also it is intriguing to imagine previous readers. The person who bought this book would probably not live to see the Napoleonic Wars, perhaps he would even have relatives fighting across the sea in America. Perhaps he also bought the first volume of Edward Gibbon's The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire or Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations. Perhaps he mourned the death of Edward Wortley Montagu or rejoiced in that of David Hume or Nathan Hale. Perhaps he expressed outrage in the House of Lords at the loss of the thirteen colonies on 4th of July or at the madness of the regent.
Of course, one cannot know these things but such a book can trigger quite a nice bit of intellectual exercise or plain imaginative pleasure through its content and its existence. As with all books, one can and should be somewhat awestruck.
Sources:
http://www.theoi.com/image/book_virgil_lg.jpg
I bought the following:
A first edition of Mulliner Nights by P.G. Wodehouse
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| P.G. Wodehouse - Mulliner Nights (London 1933) |
This set me back £50, but it was worth it. I had considered buying a number of Wodehouse books, but there is something special about a first edition. This one, from 1933, would have cost ten times as much with its dust jacket which is fortunately missing. There is something relic-like over a first edition by your favourite author; imagining how it was first read by eager eyes in the interbellum years, how reader after reader inherited and enjoyed the book until it finally, surprisingly, is bought and soon to go international.
The plot revolves around Adrian Mulliner, a private detective who has not smiled since he was twelve. However, re-learning how to smile he finds that his smile has a most astounding effect on those with something to hide. As the book is packed with these individuals, hilarity, in the colloquial lingo, ensues.
I am looking forward to being the latest in a long line to enjoy exposure to the Wodehouse wit. In the end, many years from now, I will pass on the book. As the antiquarian said, "we do not own books, we borrow them."
Three More Wodehouse First Editions
Virgil - Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid 1-6 translated by H.R. Fairclough (New York 1925)
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| P.G. Wodehouse - Ice In the Bedroom (London 1961) |
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| P.G. Wodehouse - Mr. Mulliner Speaking (London 1929) |
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| P.G. Wodehouse - If I were You (London 1931) |
Of these three, only Ice in the Bedroom has still got its dust jacket. It turns out that the reason why first editions of Wodehouse books with their dust jackets are much more valuable than those without is because they have generally been popular enough for the dustjackets to get worn away. However, my reasons for buying them were not financial. These books were highly anticipated. People with bobs queued up to buy them and then passed them on to people they thought well of. The last in this line of vehemence is me.
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| P.G. Wodehouse - The Heart of a Goof (London 2008) |
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| P.G. Wodehouse - Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves (London 2008) |
And...
just to prove that I am not judging books solely by their covers, these are two other books I bought. Incidentally they were both bought at G. David's for half their original price although they were perfectly, crisply new.
Virgil - Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid 1-6 translated by H.R. Fairclough (New York 1925)
Printed in 1925 and immediately bought by one J.W.D. Calman this is the first of two volumes covering Virgil's works. The other volume could not be found, neither could the dust jacket, which might explain the price of £3. Professor Fairclough of Harvard University spent the First World War years translating Virgil into English and the book nicely displays the original Latin text on the left side and the translated English text on the right.
The Eclogues is a set of text where herdsmen in a pastoral setting discuss and consider political, moral and even eroticist questions. They can be read as propaganda texts for Virgil's patron Augustus augmenting the political mythology he built for himself. The Georgics is a collection of four books in which a treatise on society and man is disguised as a handbook on agriculture. Analogically reminiscent of Hesiod's Erga the Georgics compare man to bees and emphasises the virtue of labour. Finally, the book contains the first six books of the Aeneid, the analogue of Homer's The Odyssey. Like The Odyssey the Aeneid begins with the fall of Troy and follow Aeneas, the mythical forefather of all Romans on his flight from Troy to Italy. I am especially looking forward to reading the better half of the epos, as I have not looked at it for 8 years now.
Edmund G. Gardner - The Story of Florence (London 1928)
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| St. Zenobius resuscitating a child who has been hit by a runaway cart (Domenico Veneziano - St. Zenobius Performs a Miracle (c. 1445)) |
I take a special interest in Florence and especially Renaissance Florence. This is where the Renaissance started and whence what I consider to be the most seminal works of art and literature of the period came. This is where Petrarch was born, where Michelangelo, Donatello and Botticelli made their David, Annunciation and Primavera, where Brunellesci built the first Renaissance dome atop the Santa Maria del Fiore. It is also where Niccolò Machiavelli wrote his The Prince and the setting of Dante's Divine Comedy and Boccaccio's Decameron (all available here). All this was funded by wealthy banker patrons such as the Medici who controlled Europe's largest bank. Culture flowed forth from Florence together with textiles and florins, which because of their purity became the standard coinage of Europe. Thus, Florence was the hub of Renaissance culture. For an astonishingly visual and appealing visit, play through the video game Assassin's Creed II. For a more toned down but still interesting approach, seek this book.
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| Christian is fed up with the "City of Destruction" |
John Bunyan - The Pilgrim's Progress (London, date unknown)
Gender and 18th Century Literature
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| Charlotte Lennox - The Female Quixote (My ed. London 1970) |
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| Henry Fielding - The Adventures of Joseph Andrews (My ed. London 1912) |
This coming fall I will try to write posts about a number of 18th century novels offering different views of gender in contemporary England. I bought two of these in Oxford: Charlotte Lennox' The Female Quixote and Henry Fielding's The Adventures of Joseph Andrews. My edition of The Female Quixote has a special history attached to it. I had already bought a recent edition, but at Blackwell's in Oxford something happened which made me buy another edition. Having browsed for some hours, I came over all peckish and bought a scone with butter and jam and a cup of tea in the in-store cafe. An elderly, Ernest Hemingway-looking gentleman was seated all alone in a group of comfy chairs, so I asked whether one of them was taken to which he replied in the negative. We ended up conversing on this and that, as he turned out to be "a semi-retired professor". I told him what I was planning on reading, pointing to a second-hand edition of the above mentioned book on a nearby shelf. He told me that this was rather a happy coincidence as he knew the previous owner. He was a fellow at Merton College and had signed his name, unintelligibly for mere mortals, in the cover. So, obviously, I picked up the thing following our little conference and brought the Oxford Press product, formerly owned by an Oxford fellow.
Dara Ó Briain - Tickling the English (London 2009)
For those poor souls unfamiliar with the wit and down to earth sense of Irish stand-up comedian Dara Ó Briain, now is the time to expand your horizons. He is sharper than a carpet tack; he studied maths and theoretical physics, audited the local debating society, founded a newspaper, wrestled killer whales, won debating championships and is fluent in Irish. Also he makes sense. Funnily. Just look:
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| Dara Ó Briain - Tickling the English (London 2009) |
He has been host and/or participant on most of the good panel shows on the British airwaves, perhaps most notably on Mock the Week, and has toured the isles with several stand-up shows. The book was written while doing this.
Tom Bryant (ed.) - Debrett's Guide for the Modern Gentleman (Richmond 2010)Lewis Carroll - The Hunting of the Snark (London 1928)
Lewis Carroll's Hunting of the Snark or agony in eight fits is a delightful read. Being a mathematician and a wordsmith the poem is a metrical delight as well as a lexical one. In its absurdity the poem is highly reminiscent of the Alice books and even incorporates some of its characters (though unfortunately not my fravourite, the Red Queen). What is a snark, then? As Carroll explains in his preface:
"take the two words “fuming” and “furious.” Make up your mind that you will say both words, but leave it unsettled which you will say first. [...] if you have the rarest of gifts, a perfectly balanced mind, you will say “frumious.” (p. xi-xii)
Is it a snail, snake or a shark? The mind boggles. It does not really matter, of course, as long as the snark is not a boojum.
A crew of ten, all with occupations beginning with "b" apart from the lace-making beaver of course, departs on a fantastical journey to capture a snark. Throughout the poem, different situations arise with hilarious effects:
"He came as a Butcher: but gravely declared,
When the ship had been sailing a week,
He could only kill Beavers. The Bellman looked scared,
And was almost too frightened to speak:
The Beaver, who happened to hear the remark,
Protested, with tears in its eyes,
That not even the rapture of hunting the Snark
Could atone for that dismal surprise!" (p. 9)
 |
| "Whenever the Butcher was by, the Beaver kept looking the opposite way and appeared unaccountably shy" |
Some of the characters such as the Baker also have hidden phobias:
"“For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm,
Yet, I feel it my duty to say,
Some are Boojums —” The Bellman broke off in alarm,
For the Baker had fainted away
They roused him with muffins — they roused him with ice —
They roused him with mustard and cress —
They roused him with jam and judicious advice —
They set him conundrums to guess." (p. 24-27)
For the reader who is into absurd literature or who simply likes the beauty and pleasantness of delectably metric poetry, the poem is available here in its entirety. You are welcome!
Saul David - Victoria's Wars (London 2007)
Having read George MacDonald Fraser's Flashman series I was delighted to find Victoria's Wars at Waterstones in Cambridge. It was one of those books that tagged along. The book gives a reader friendly insight into some of the major conflicts of the British Empire while keeping a second focus on the responses of the monarch herself. Quotation from sources and numerous anecdotes make narration flow nicely and captivate the reader to such an extent that one tends to be reminded of the memoirs of the notorious cad himself. Indeed, the book covers much the same area as the Flashman books do; The Opium Wars (Flashman and the Dragon), The First Afghan War (Flashman), The Sikh Wars (Flashman and the Mountain of Light), The Crimea (Flashman at the Charge) and The Indian Revolt (Flashman in the Great Game).
 |
| Saul David - Victoria's Wars (London 2007) |
 |
| Sir Harry Paget Flashman VC, KCB and KCIE |
The book includes all the central heroes, villains and incompetent fools of the era including respectively George Broadfoot, Sir Campbell and Toughguy Napier, Sher Singh and Akbar Khan and finally Macnaghten and Elphinstone. It also provides some analysis of the role of each of these personages perhaps a bit less subjective than the Honorable H.P. Flashman, although both are wonderful and vivid presentations of some of the most fascinating aspects of Britain's imperial history.
A Final Curiosity: Alexander Pope's Last Letters and Will (London 1776)
 |
| The WORKS of ALEXANDER POPE, Esq. VOLUME the SIXTH. Containing The last of his LETTERS, and WILL (London 1776) |
Of course, one cannot know these things but such a book can trigger quite a nice bit of intellectual exercise or plain imaginative pleasure through its content and its existence. As with all books, one can and should be somewhat awestruck.
Sources:
http://www.theoi.com/image/book_virgil_lg.jpg
http://www.lamdhabooks.com.au/large%20pix/37348.jpg
http://www.learner.org/interactives/renaissance/florence.htmlhttp://www.bbc.co.uk/portuguese/images/021209_catherine150.jpg
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?VISuperSize&item=230496173698http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51vMwdarNGL.jpg
http://www.csdl.tamu.edu:8080/DQIIMAGES/largeimages/472/1752-London-Millar-01-001-t.jpg
http://www.offthekerb.co.uk/images/artists/dara-obriain/Tickling-The-English-304.jpg
http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2008/09/22/article-1059756-02C1C4FB00000578-479_233x307.jpg
http://image.guardian.co.uk/sys-images/Arts/Arts_/Pictures/2008/01/03/flashman460.jpg
http://www.sauldavid.co.uk/photos/victoria%27s-wars.jpg
http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/c/carroll/lewis/snark/images/snark3.jpg
http://www.csdl.tamu.edu:8080/DQIIMAGES/largeimages/472/1752-London-Millar-01-001-t.jpg
http://www.offthekerb.co.uk/images/artists/dara-obriain/Tickling-The-English-304.jpg
http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2008/09/22/article-1059756-02C1C4FB00000578-479_233x307.jpg
http://image.guardian.co.uk/sys-images/Arts/Arts_/Pictures/2008/01/03/flashman460.jpg
http://www.sauldavid.co.uk/photos/victoria%27s-wars.jpg
http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/c/carroll/lewis/snark/images/snark3.jpg
Other images from Wikimedia Commons
Monday, 3 May 2010
The State of Jefferson
Since the birth of the US in 1776 the number of states has slowly increased from the original 13 to the present 50, either by expansion or administrative division of the existing territories. However, as Michael J. Trinklein points out in his beautifully illustrated book on lost states, there were some 70 states that died in infancy. Many of these are presented on his blog and I will present a little teaser below to lure you there.
Since the Spanish-American War in 1898, Puerto Rico has been governed by the US. Recently, Congress voted for a Puerto Rican referendum which might ultimately lead to statehood. If and when this happens the inclusion would be opposed by Republicans who fear the new state would be a democratic one. In 1959, Hawaii and Alaska gained statehood simultaneously to preserve the equilibrium between the parties. If Puerto Rico becomes a state, Trinklein would suggest the proposed state of Lincoln as a conservative counterpart. Lincoln was proposed as early as 1907, after Grover Cleveland had vetoed a bill to eliminate Idaho and divide its territories between the neighbours in 1886. Below is the 1907 proposed division.
Sources:
Puerto Rico and Lincoln
Since the Spanish-American War in 1898, Puerto Rico has been governed by the US. Recently, Congress voted for a Puerto Rican referendum which might ultimately lead to statehood. If and when this happens the inclusion would be opposed by Republicans who fear the new state would be a democratic one. In 1959, Hawaii and Alaska gained statehood simultaneously to preserve the equilibrium between the parties. If Puerto Rico becomes a state, Trinklein would suggest the proposed state of Lincoln as a conservative counterpart. Lincoln was proposed as early as 1907, after Grover Cleveland had vetoed a bill to eliminate Idaho and divide its territories between the neighbours in 1886. Below is the 1907 proposed division.
You might want to consult your map right about now.
Idaho is in for it
Idaho is made up of leftovers from the surrounding states. What they did not bother to govern they gave to Idaho. Consequently, Idaho is often the favourite chopping board for secessionists. The author is one of these, suggesting the division to the left. The right one is another suggestion for the creation of the state of Lincoln, this one from 1917.
Poor Idaho
Franklin
One of many proposed (and some accepted) states named after a Founding Father. The new taxes following the secssion did not sit well with all the citizens of the new formed US, so some of them decided to form a new state with their own system of taxation including "no taxes for two years". Despite the populistic sales pitch, the state was stillborn.
The American version of Andorra
Bud Gearhart and Iceland
In the 40's, Republican Congressman Bertrand W. Gearhart from California, described by President Truman as "one of the worst obstructionists in Congress" (Time Magazine), suggested that the US should buy Iceland and a number of other Atlantic islands and let them act as a buffer zone against Soviet. The zany scheme was waved off by Congress, but, as the author points out, 20 years later the Soviet did something similar with another strategically placed island...
"That will be a ton of cash, please"
(Source: CIA- The World Factbook)
States Out of Donald Duck
According to Don Rosa, Duckburgh is situated in the state of Calisota, a fictitious state named in Carroll-like fashion after California and Minnesota. Other suggestions for states show similar inventive attributes as to nomenclature.
The Suggested Civil War Free State of Nickajack
The Proposed state of Forgottonia
Texlahoma
Home of Dracula, Werewolves and Bats
(For those interested, there is a lovely German map of Calisota based on Carl Barks' stories here)
And Finally - The State of Jefferson
Throughout the 20th and the latter half of the 19th century at least three unsuccessful attempts at creating a state called Jefferson were made. All were based on territories originally belonging to western states. The last attempt, in 1941, saw prospective Jeffersonians half-heartedly vowing to "secede every Thursday until further notice", according to this blog which tells the whole jolly tale. The left image is the original suggestion while the right is a flyer from those days of radicalism.
A few days later Japan attacked Pearl Harbour and everything sounding like secession was out of the question.
Images:
Research given in text or found on:
(Disclaimer: the validity of these facts are based solely on the given sources. My presentation of these cases should not be considered as anything but a popularised reiteration of the facts given in these sources. I am indebted to Mr. Trinklein and the Strange Maps webpage for my insight into this amazing field of human eccentricity)
Monday, 5 April 2010
Wodehouse and Carroll
Read these during the Easter break:
PG Wodehouse: Pigs Have Wings
A Blandings novel
Can the Empress of Blandings win the Fat Pigs class at the Shropshire Show for the third year running? Galahad Threepwood, Beach the butler and others have put their shirt on this, and for Lord Emsworth it will be paradise on earth. But a substantial obstacle lurks in the way: Queen of Matchingham, the new sow of Sir Gregory Parsloe Bart. Galahad knows this pretender to the crown must be pignapped. But can the Empress in turn avoid a similar fate?
In this classic Blandings novel, pigs rise above their bulk to vanish and reappear in the most unlikely places, while young lovers are crossed and recrossed in every room in Blandings Castle.
(Blurb from http://www.randomhouse.co.uk/catalog/book.htm?command=Search&db=main.txt&eqisbndata=1409063860)
PG Wodehouse: Right Ho, Jeeves
A Jeeves and Wooster novel
Gussie Fink-Nottle’s knowledge of the common newt is unparalleled. Drop him in a pond of newts and his behaviour will be exemplary, but introduce him to a girl and watch him turn pink, yammer, and suddenly stampede for great open spaces. Even with Madeline Bassett, who feels that the stars are God’s daisy chain, his tongue is tied in reef-knots. And his chum Tuppy Glossop isn’t getting on much better with Madeline’s delectable friend Angela.
With so many broken hearts lying about him, Bertie Wooster can’t sit idly by. The happiness of a pal – two pals, in fact – is at stake. But somehow Bertie’s best-laid plans land everyone in the soup, and so it’s just as well that Jeeves is ever at hand to apply his bulging brains to the problems of young love.
all his stories, acrostics, "phantasmagoria" and other comic writings.
All of it!
"Looking forward to it" seems hardly adequate....
A Blandings novel
Can the Empress of Blandings win the Fat Pigs class at the Shropshire Show for the third year running? Galahad Threepwood, Beach the butler and others have put their shirt on this, and for Lord Emsworth it will be paradise on earth. But a substantial obstacle lurks in the way: Queen of Matchingham, the new sow of Sir Gregory Parsloe Bart. Galahad knows this pretender to the crown must be pignapped. But can the Empress in turn avoid a similar fate?
In this classic Blandings novel, pigs rise above their bulk to vanish and reappear in the most unlikely places, while young lovers are crossed and recrossed in every room in Blandings Castle.
(Blurb from http://www.randomhouse.co.uk/catalog/book.htm?command=Search&db=main.txt&eqisbndata=1409063860)
PG Wodehouse: Right Ho, Jeeves
A Jeeves and Wooster novel
Gussie Fink-Nottle’s knowledge of the common newt is unparalleled. Drop him in a pond of newts and his behaviour will be exemplary, but introduce him to a girl and watch him turn pink, yammer, and suddenly stampede for great open spaces. Even with Madeline Bassett, who feels that the stars are God’s daisy chain, his tongue is tied in reef-knots. And his chum Tuppy Glossop isn’t getting on much better with Madeline’s delectable friend Angela.
With so many broken hearts lying about him, Bertie Wooster can’t sit idly by. The happiness of a pal – two pals, in fact – is at stake. But somehow Bertie’s best-laid plans land everyone in the soup, and so it’s just as well that Jeeves is ever at hand to apply his bulging brains to the problems of young love.
(Blurb from http://www.randomhouse.co.uk/catalog/book.htm?command=Search&db=main.txt&eqisbndata=1409063895)
I loved and can recommend both.
However, when I got home this was in my mailbox:
The Complete Illustrated Lewis Carroll
including:all his stories, acrostics, "phantasmagoria" and other comic writings.
All of it!
"Looking forward to it" seems hardly adequate....
It's Good to be Bad - The Appeal of the Villain
Recently I went to the cinema to watch Tim Burton’s ”Alice in Wonderland”. The film was visually astonishing and very Burtonesque but all the while I felt there was something amiss. It might have been the notion that all the 3D graphic splendor was obscuring something lacking, perhaps an erratic and unclear plotline or possibly an ad hoc, disconnected and irrelevant ending. Be that as it may, and granting Burton some leeway due to some rather erratic source texts, I came away with a newfound fondness for another literary character.
Two weeks later, the only character from the film that really sticks in my mind and retains its puzzling appeal is the Red Queen. In the film, she is a waterhead combination of Helena Bonham Carter, who portrays her, and Elizabeth I. In fact, for those with some knowledge of the British monarchy a study of the Red Queen’s family, castle and its décor in the film should add to the experience of the film. I spent the two weeks reading Lewis Carroll’s books and became further enchanted with the character after which it was promply initiated into my pantheon of literary exclusifs.
What characterises this exclusive society is that its members are all on the morally wrong side of their respective texts. The Red Queen joins Emily Brontë’s Heatcliff, Shakespeare’s Iago and Victor Hugo’s Javert, neither of whom would be asked to be the best man or expected to bring an apple for the teacher in class. None of the members can be said to have made their worlds better places by their sunny disposition or by their souls’ overflow of the milk of human kindness, which begs the question; why are bad guys so much more interesting, not to mention appealing, than the good guys?
Samuel Johnson meant that authors had a moral obligation to make the good seem rewarding and pleasant and the evil abhorrent. However, he seems to have been disregarded. To seek an answer to the question above I will take a closer look at the three members, starting with the first member accepted, Heathcliff. Heathcliff holds the peculiar position of being the protagonist of his text but embodying many of the characteristics generally attributed to the antagonist. Not only does he bring death and damnation to his rural Yorkshire community, but he probably does not do any good for anyone at all apart from himself. Probably as a result of a bad childhood, being abandoned by his parents and bullied by his foster family, Heathcliff spends 30 years getting his own back and succeds in doing so. (For those interested in Brontë’s motivation for this elaborate and time consuming revenge, I will soon be posting one of my papers discussing that very topic.) Heathcliff’s appeal is for me twofold; firstly, he is tenacious and consistent and secondly, he is justified. The commitment with which he exacts his revenge without losing sight of his goal and the effort he puts into achieving what he think is right is exemplary. This and empathy we have for him as he sets the record straight gives him an appeal which his actions, or rather the surface actions of the supraplot, don’t directly communicate. Perhaps it is the combination of doing something consistently bad, being able to justify it and getting away with it that is appealing for those of us who do neither.
It is suprisingly easy to find modern echoes of Heathcliff, especially in Hollywood movies. Beatrice Kiddo in Quentin Tarrantino’s “Kill Bill” shares many of Heathcliff’s characteristics, although her revenge is swift by comparison. John Travolta’s character in “Swordfish” similarly lives by the creed that to deter acts of terrorism one should respond to them by doing something so terrible that other acts of terrorism would be unthinkable. This also bears an eerie resemblance to the attitude of certain neo-con White House advisors and a certain ex-Vice President.
Iago’s forte is his ability to lay great plans and to understand the personality, response and behavioural pattern of the pawns in his play. Even though his ends are foul the tenacity and the skill with which he creates appearances and steers the other characters of “Othello” towards their doom are astonishing. Thus, you might call him a Heathcliff with social skills.
Javert also shares the tenacious character of Heathcliff. His animosity with Jean Valjean, like Heathcliff’s to his foster family and neighbours, spans several decades during which his drive for what he sees as justice never diminishes. He is the only credible character, the others being flat; either too idealistic or too villainous. Javert, cold as he may be, is a man determined to do his duty even though he is a diametric foil to the angelic protagonist Valjean. There is a liberation in having a task to stick to irregardless of moral considerations which, I think, the reader envies Javert. This is not to say that one would like to be one of the many anonymous henchmen in literature, who do their duty without too much hesitation. Javert has an established and in the novel clearly presented view of his world and has a conscious relationship to his task. The crisis for Javert occurs when this understanding is rocked with Valjean’s mercy disproving the infallibillity of the law Javert follows. However, up to this point, Javert seems a force larger than life, as reliable a friend as an enemy or employee and in a world of constant distractions his doggedness and efficiency when on the case appears admirable.
The Red Queen is a bad guy of a different sort. She is a mad bad guy. Her appeal lies in her mad and for her consequence free impulsivity. Her catch-phrase “off with her head” is uttered in an offhand manner as if resolving the most trivial requests rather than matters of life and death. In Carroll’s books, these sporadic death sentences are never carried through due to the Red King pardoning the unfortunate convicts. In the film, however, Alice has to jump across a moat using heads as stepping stones.
Perhaps the allure of the Red Queen is her whimsical use of her absolute power. Both man and beast bows for her often childish whim and she is allowed to act unquestioned by anyone but Alice. The Red Queen can do as many bad things as she like without having to face the consequences while we seldom can. Even if we avoid the judgement of our peers, there will always be some part of us which reacts to our transgression. However, all the characters above seem devoid of such qualms and, as they evade punishment from without, they appeal to an aspect of us which craves this freedom of action, possibly originating in our childhood.
We may trace the appeal of the villain way back, to Milton and further. Milton’s Satan in “Paradise Lost” serves to exemplify the allure of the villain. While God is aloof and rather flat, an unforgiving, immovable character, Satan is a dynamic force which overcomes obstacles and struggles to achieve. I think we are able to identify with bad guys because we recognise this struggle as our own justifiable existence. What we find sufficient reason for our actions can often be reflected in that of the villain. While the good guy’s actions get their virtue from being performed by the good guy, the bad guy’s actions are driven by more familiar motivations. Very few would consider “I’m a good guy” a valid reason for any action, but they might find zest and zeal for one’s job, pursuit of personal happiness or setting the record with your childhood bullies straight mitigating. As for the Red Queen, that might be a question of personal freedom and independence from social standards which is to some extent what the Alice books are all about.
In addition, it is easier to be really bad than to be really good…
Sources: http://blog.pennlive.com/pennsyltucky/2008/01/AP080123017792.jpg,
http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs49/f/2009/237/2/c/Heathcliff_by_Vestergaard.jpg,
http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/wingman735/Favorite%20Movie%20Characters/swordfish1.jpg,
http://buldra.altervista.org/immagini/beatrix_2.jpg,
http://www.mtholyoke.edu/courses/rschwart/hist255-s01/students/Kelly-E-Buttermore/images/javert.jpg,
http://www.shockya.com/news/wp-content/uploads/alice_in_wonderland_helena_bonham_carter_red_queen.jpg
Two weeks later, the only character from the film that really sticks in my mind and retains its puzzling appeal is the Red Queen. In the film, she is a waterhead combination of Helena Bonham Carter, who portrays her, and Elizabeth I. In fact, for those with some knowledge of the British monarchy a study of the Red Queen’s family, castle and its décor in the film should add to the experience of the film. I spent the two weeks reading Lewis Carroll’s books and became further enchanted with the character after which it was promply initiated into my pantheon of literary exclusifs.
What characterises this exclusive society is that its members are all on the morally wrong side of their respective texts. The Red Queen joins Emily Brontë’s Heatcliff, Shakespeare’s Iago and Victor Hugo’s Javert, neither of whom would be asked to be the best man or expected to bring an apple for the teacher in class. None of the members can be said to have made their worlds better places by their sunny disposition or by their souls’ overflow of the milk of human kindness, which begs the question; why are bad guys so much more interesting, not to mention appealing, than the good guys?
Samuel Johnson meant that authors had a moral obligation to make the good seem rewarding and pleasant and the evil abhorrent. However, he seems to have been disregarded. To seek an answer to the question above I will take a closer look at the three members, starting with the first member accepted, Heathcliff. Heathcliff holds the peculiar position of being the protagonist of his text but embodying many of the characteristics generally attributed to the antagonist. Not only does he bring death and damnation to his rural Yorkshire community, but he probably does not do any good for anyone at all apart from himself. Probably as a result of a bad childhood, being abandoned by his parents and bullied by his foster family, Heathcliff spends 30 years getting his own back and succeds in doing so. (For those interested in Brontë’s motivation for this elaborate and time consuming revenge, I will soon be posting one of my papers discussing that very topic.) Heathcliff’s appeal is for me twofold; firstly, he is tenacious and consistent and secondly, he is justified. The commitment with which he exacts his revenge without losing sight of his goal and the effort he puts into achieving what he think is right is exemplary. This and empathy we have for him as he sets the record straight gives him an appeal which his actions, or rather the surface actions of the supraplot, don’t directly communicate. Perhaps it is the combination of doing something consistently bad, being able to justify it and getting away with it that is appealing for those of us who do neither.
It is suprisingly easy to find modern echoes of Heathcliff, especially in Hollywood movies. Beatrice Kiddo in Quentin Tarrantino’s “Kill Bill” shares many of Heathcliff’s characteristics, although her revenge is swift by comparison. John Travolta’s character in “Swordfish” similarly lives by the creed that to deter acts of terrorism one should respond to them by doing something so terrible that other acts of terrorism would be unthinkable. This also bears an eerie resemblance to the attitude of certain neo-con White House advisors and a certain ex-Vice President.
The Original and Three Copycats
Iago’s forte is his ability to lay great plans and to understand the personality, response and behavioural pattern of the pawns in his play. Even though his ends are foul the tenacity and the skill with which he creates appearances and steers the other characters of “Othello” towards their doom are astonishing. Thus, you might call him a Heathcliff with social skills.
Javert also shares the tenacious character of Heathcliff. His animosity with Jean Valjean, like Heathcliff’s to his foster family and neighbours, spans several decades during which his drive for what he sees as justice never diminishes. He is the only credible character, the others being flat; either too idealistic or too villainous. Javert, cold as he may be, is a man determined to do his duty even though he is a diametric foil to the angelic protagonist Valjean. There is a liberation in having a task to stick to irregardless of moral considerations which, I think, the reader envies Javert. This is not to say that one would like to be one of the many anonymous henchmen in literature, who do their duty without too much hesitation. Javert has an established and in the novel clearly presented view of his world and has a conscious relationship to his task. The crisis for Javert occurs when this understanding is rocked with Valjean’s mercy disproving the infallibillity of the law Javert follows. However, up to this point, Javert seems a force larger than life, as reliable a friend as an enemy or employee and in a world of constant distractions his doggedness and efficiency when on the case appears admirable.
"You'll Wear a Different Chain"
The Red Queen is a bad guy of a different sort. She is a mad bad guy. Her appeal lies in her mad and for her consequence free impulsivity. Her catch-phrase “off with her head” is uttered in an offhand manner as if resolving the most trivial requests rather than matters of life and death. In Carroll’s books, these sporadic death sentences are never carried through due to the Red King pardoning the unfortunate convicts. In the film, however, Alice has to jump across a moat using heads as stepping stones.
Helena Bonham Carter as The Red Queen
Perhaps the allure of the Red Queen is her whimsical use of her absolute power. Both man and beast bows for her often childish whim and she is allowed to act unquestioned by anyone but Alice. The Red Queen can do as many bad things as she like without having to face the consequences while we seldom can. Even if we avoid the judgement of our peers, there will always be some part of us which reacts to our transgression. However, all the characters above seem devoid of such qualms and, as they evade punishment from without, they appeal to an aspect of us which craves this freedom of action, possibly originating in our childhood.
We may trace the appeal of the villain way back, to Milton and further. Milton’s Satan in “Paradise Lost” serves to exemplify the allure of the villain. While God is aloof and rather flat, an unforgiving, immovable character, Satan is a dynamic force which overcomes obstacles and struggles to achieve. I think we are able to identify with bad guys because we recognise this struggle as our own justifiable existence. What we find sufficient reason for our actions can often be reflected in that of the villain. While the good guy’s actions get their virtue from being performed by the good guy, the bad guy’s actions are driven by more familiar motivations. Very few would consider “I’m a good guy” a valid reason for any action, but they might find zest and zeal for one’s job, pursuit of personal happiness or setting the record with your childhood bullies straight mitigating. As for the Red Queen, that might be a question of personal freedom and independence from social standards which is to some extent what the Alice books are all about.
In addition, it is easier to be really bad than to be really good…
Sources: http://blog.pennlive.com/pennsyltucky/2008/01/AP080123017792.jpg,
http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs49/f/2009/237/2/c/Heathcliff_by_Vestergaard.jpg,
http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/wingman735/Favorite%20Movie%20Characters/swordfish1.jpg,
http://buldra.altervista.org/immagini/beatrix_2.jpg,
http://www.mtholyoke.edu/courses/rschwart/hist255-s01/students/Kelly-E-Buttermore/images/javert.jpg,
http://www.shockya.com/news/wp-content/uploads/alice_in_wonderland_helena_bonham_carter_red_queen.jpg
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