Walks Alone, by Sandi Rog

2012 Book 129: Walks Alone, by Sandi Rog (9/2/2012)


Reason for Reading: I’m leading a discussion on this book later this month


My Review

In the chaos of post-Civil War America, Anna flees her abusive uncle in New York and travels alone to Denver. On the way, she is kidnapped by some Cheyenne warriors and is forced to marry. But these disasters turn out to be a blessing in disguise as she finds God in the most unlikely of places. This is the second book I’ve read by Sandi Rog, and the second time I’ve been impressed at her poignant characters and deeply moving narrative. Although novels about the atrocities of white settlers on Native Americans abound, this one really holds its own. It is a book about atrocities, yes, but it’s also about love and forgiveness and about freedom and independence. In short, this is an amazing book that every Christian Fiction reader should pick up–but can also be enjoyed by lovers of historical romances.

The Invisible Man, by H. G. Wells

2012 Book 128: The Invisible Man, by H. G. Wells (9/1/2012)

Reason for Reading: Coursera fantasy and science fiction course


My Review

In H. G. Wells’ classic novel, a scientist turns himself invisible and wreaks havoc in rural England. This book is a versatile classic because it could be read by someone who is young or who simply wants to read fluff, but it can also be appreciated by more careful readers who are looking for undercurrents of meaning. It’s a tragi-farcical romp in 19th century England, but it’s also a warning about what people might do simply because they can get away with it. This is a classic that anyone interested in science fiction should read.

Essay on The Invisible Man, by H.G. Wells for Coursera Fantasy and Science Fiction. May contain spoilers!!!

In his 1897 novel The Invisible Man, H. G. Wells portrayed a tragic anti-hero, a trend which had become popular among romantic writers following in the footsteps of Milton. Well’s character Griffin isolated himself from humanity at first because he wanted all the glory of his discoveries. Later, he was driven to isolation by a fear of discovery. Finally, he was driven mad by the effects of his self-imposed isolation. 

Wells used two narrative styles for this novel. One style was Griffin’s first person narrative. This style not only established Griffin as the protagonist of the story, but it also painted him in a tragic light: he was naked, hungry, and alone; facing the unforeseen difficulties of invisibility. He had striven diligently for success only to have it wrenched away as he recognized his own impotence in isolation. Only upon this dreadful realization did he seek out compatriots. However, he faced rejection not only from the general populace, but also from his chosen companions. Like Satan in Paradise Lost, Griffin had rebelled against the social order, and been mortified by his own failure. Like Satan, he failed to recognize his own fault in his fall, and instead sought revenge.

The other narrative style used in The Invisible Man was that of a semi-omniscient reporter/observer who told the story as seen through the eyes of individual characters. This style was distanced from the motivations of characters, resulting in the farcical effect of watching people rushing after flying objects and thrashing wildly at thin air. This narrative style made Griffin’s plight seem pathetically silly. It is reminiscent of the comic debasement of Satan at the end of Paradise Lost. It suggests that Griffin doesn’t deserve the tragic grandeur of a real hero–because he’s just a sad little man with poor morals and no friends.



The literary background of Paradise Lost

The Great Courses
Western Literary Canon in Context
Lecture Twenty-Two 
The Rebel as Hero—Milton’s Paradise Lost

The purpose of this course is to introduce readers to pivotal works in the Western Literary Canon. Professor Bowers focused a good deal of his lecture on outlining the literary sources that Milton referenced when writing his epic:

Milton was a very well educated man. He is said to have read every book available, usually in its original language. Many of these books were used as the framework for Paradise Lost. Milton based his epic loosely on the Book of Genesis, but changed a few incidents and added many of his own invention. 

Much of Milton’s inspiration came from the the Greek and Roman ancient texts. He very likely considered Aeschylus’s Prometheus for his model of Satan revolting against divine law. Likewise, Sophocles’s Oedipus served as a model for the suffering and fall of Adam. And Virgil’s Aeneas is called to mind when, in the end, Adam sees a vision of the future. 

Satan uses Athenian rhetoric when he twists logic and makes the worse situation seem better. Milton’s God imposes order on the universe with the scientific precision of an Aristotelian God. Professor Bowers says: “Aristotelian notions of pattern, logic, connection, and plausibility hold the whole epic together. ”  

Milton also relied heavily on medieval theology. Milton’s avowed purpose for the epic was to “justify the ways of God to men.” Early on, he sets a theme that even very bad situations result in good with God’s plan. He seems to support the medieval Christian concept of felix culpa: “the happy fault” which suggests that the seemingly disastrous fall of Adam was, indeed, good because it necessitated the coming of Christ. This philosophy is in keeping with Boethius’s notion of theodicy in The Consolation of Philosophy. (Theodicy attempts to resolve the problem of evil by suggesting that in God’s omnibenevolence all evil leads to good.) Another theologian we are reminded of by Milton is Augustine–Milton’s portrayal of original sin as a fall into sexual depravity has a distinct Augustinian ring to it. And Milton got many of his notions of Heaven and Hell and of the war between Satan and God’s angels from Dante. 

Finally, Bowers suggests that Milton may have wanted to model Satan’s craving for revenge on Shakespeare’s Hamlet, but “in the end, Satan lacks the grandeur of Shakespeare’s tragic characters; instead, he suffers a kind of comic debasement also found in Shakespeare.”

Milton’s learnedness extended beyond just literature. He studied all maps of Africa, Asia, and the Americas which were being produced during his time. Paradise Lost can be considered an allegory for British colonization. Each mention of modern-day places could be a reference to a British colony, or a place which Milton imagines the empire might soon set its boots upon. 

Milton also intended Paradise Lost to be an allegory for the failure of Oliver Cromwell’s rebellion. This allegory led to one of the many paradoxes of Paradise Lost. Milton was a very voluble supporter of Oliver Cromwell throughout the rebellion and right on to the Cromwell’s terrible end. Milton only escaped execution because he was seen as a “harmless” blind man. Although in life he was a champion of freedom from tyranny and a supporter of the fallen rebel, he outwardly condemned Satan’s revolt. Because Milton could sympathize with Satan’s injured pride, he made Satan into an alluring character–so charismatic that many people thought (and some still think) that Milton was on Satan’s side without knowing it.  

This view led to a romantic view of Milton which strongly influenced literature for the following centuries. Wordsworth and Keats both longed to emulate Milton. Lord Byron emulated Milton, but chose a comic epic: Don Juan. However, none of the emulations reached the literary sublimity of Paradise Lost, which was the last great epic Poem of English literature. However, the epic style was soon adopted in a new format: the novel. James Joyce carried on the epic tradition, while Virginia Woolf introduced lyrical novels. Milton’s rebel-as-a-hero tradition was picked up in the 19th century in Lord Byron’s Manfred and Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound. Heroes like Bronte’s Heathcliff, Goethe’s Faust, and Melville’s Captain Ahab are anti-heroes. 

Professor Bowers even suggests that in a twist of mimesis, the cultural climate created by this barrage of Satanic heroes opened the door for a real-life Satanic hero: Napoleon. The rise of Napoleon later influenced writers like Tolstoy and Stendhal. Life imitates art, and art imitates life. 🙂

(TO SEE MORE ABOUT PARADISE LOST, GO TO MY MASTER POST)

The Embittered Ruby, by Nicole O’Dell


2012 Book 127: The Embittered Ruby, by Nicole O’Dell (8/29/2012)


Reason for Reading: I’m leading a discussion on this book for my Christian Fiction bookclub in October.


My Review

When Carmen’s parents get a divorce, she is forced to move with her mother and two sisters from her classy home in upstate New York to a small, dilapidated apartment in Hackensack New Jersey. Willing to do anything to get her classy life back, Carmen makes bad decision after bad decision. Finally, she has no choice but to leave her family for The Diamond Estates–a refuge for teenage girls who need to get away from life and find God. This was a very difficult book for me to read and review. Carmen’s decisions were so supremely selfish that I spent most of the book either groaning or feeling angry at her. I think O’Dell was very brave to create a character like Carmen for readers of Christian fiction. That said, O’Dell did an impressive job of making Carmen likable despite an overwhelming number of unlikable traits. That takes talent. I would recommend this book to parents of troubled teens or to troubled teenagers who are seeking God.

Skios, by Michael Frayn


2012 Book 126: Skios, by Michael Frayn (8/29/2012)


Reason for Reading: I’m trying to get through at least SOME of the Booker longlist before the winner is announced. This is one of the 5 easily available in the US, and one of the 3 which is available in audiobook format (since I seem to be limited in my ability to physically read books lately, this seemed the best place to start).


My Review

Dr. Norman Wilfred has flown to Skios to give a distinguished speech to a group of rich academics at the Toppler Foundation. Due to an unfortunate string of coincidences, he is whisked off to a villa while a con artist, Oliver Fox, takes his place at the Toppler gathering. At first blush, this may seem to be only a farcical comedy of errors. Fun is poked at the distinguished empty-headedness of academia, at silly assumptions people make when they don’t have all the information (which, of course, they never do), and at the openness of people to accept whatever is said–as long as it is said by a charismatic person. However, I can see why this book was chosen for the Booker longlist–upon a more careful reading this book has a much deeper undercurrent. It asks questions about identity and about chance Eureka! moments. I found the ease with with Oliver Fox moved into Norman Wilfred’s life almost believable because that IS how academia works sometimes. Sometimes, it IS more about how charming you are than about what’s actually coming out of your mouth. Sometimes it IS more about your name and about who people think you are than about who you ACTUALLY are. I understand that this book isn’t for everybody…but I’m a person who doesn’t generally read farcical novels, and I enjoyed this one immensely.

Al Capone Shines My Shoes, by Gennifer Choldenko


2012 Book 125: Al Capone Shines my Shoes, by Gennifer Choldenko (8/24/2012)


Reason for Reading: Sequel to Al Capone Does My Shirts, which was adorable.


My Review

In this sequel to the Newbery Honor book Al Capone Shines my Shoes, Moose Flanagan continues his adventures on Alcatraz Island–this time he must face consequences for choices he made in the previous book. VERY cute and funny and every bit as enjoyable as the first book.

Beauty, by Robin McKinley

2012 Book 124: Beauty: A Retelling of the Story of Beauty and the Beast, by Robin McKinley (8/23/2012) 

Reason for Reading: Green Dragon Group Read

My Review

Beauty must sacrifice her own freedom in order to save her father…she ends up trapped in a castle with a beast who wants to marry her! I really enjoyed this story because it was sweet and simple. It was a refreshing change from all the more recent “twist” retellings of the story. Highly recommended to any fan of children’s fairy tales.

The Philosophy of Composition, by Edgar Allan Poe

Gustave Dore



I just finished reading “The Philosophy of Composition,” by Edgar Allan Poe, which is an essay published in 1846 in response to nasty critiques and parodies of his poem “The Raven.” Keep in mind, Poe was himself a rather feisty critic, so he probably needed to take a little of what he’d been dishing out. The purpose of the essay was to show the modus operandi by which he assembled his poem. 

It is my design to render it manifest that no one point in its composition is referable either to accident or intuition–that the work proceeded step by step, to its completion, with the precision and rigid consequence of a mathematical problem [1].

If I hadn’t been forewarned by G. R. Thompson that this essay may have been half tongue-in-cheek [2], I might have been quite confused. In his essay, Poe provides a step-by-step description of the birth and growth of “The Raven.” 
  1. Consider length: “there is a distinct limit, as regards to length, to all works of literary art–the limit of a single sitting…can never properly be overpassed in a poem” [1] (Here, he inserts an aside suggesting that Paradise Lost, by John Milton, is half-poetry/half-prose, since it is too long for one sitting.) However, “a certain degree of duration is absolutely requisite for the production of any effect at all.” Thus, approximately 100 lines was chosen for his new poem.
  2. Consider effect to be conveyed: Poem should be universally appreciable. “Beauty is the sole legitimate province of a poem.” 
  3. Consider tone: “Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. Melancholy is thus the most legitimate of all poetical tones.”
  4. Artistic piquancy: here, he realized that refrains as an artistic effect were vastly underused.
  5. Refrain choice: Limited to lyric verse. Depends on the force of repetition for its effect. Decides to diversify by changing the context, but leaving the answer the same. Refrain must be brief. Must form the end of each stanza. Must be “sonorous and susceptible of protracted emphasis.” The long “o” is the most sonorous vowel, and “r” is the most producible consonant. Hmmm, what word has a long “o” and an “r” in it, but keeps the tone of the poem? Oh, of course! “Nevermore!”
  6. Pretext for refrain: A human being wouldn’t say “nevermore” over and over again, but an unthinking being might. Like a talking parrot, or better, a raven (for they talk too, and ravens are fitting for the tone). 
  7. Subject: “I asked myself–‘Of all the melancholy topics, what, according to the universal understanding of mankind, is the most melancholy?’ Death–was the obvious reply. ‘And when,’ I said, ‘is this most melancholy of topics most poetical?'” This was also obvious: “death…of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world–and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover.”
  8. He then wrote the denouement because “nothing is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must be elaborated to its denouement before any thing be attempted with the pen.
And the poem continued to be written through the same process. Without Thompson’s forewarning, I would have been shocked and skeptical that Poe actually wrote his poems in this way. This mechanical process might pump out a poem-esque work, but would it have any soul? The whole process seems rather art-defying. According to enotes, critics have suggested that “The Philosophy of Composition” was anything from a deliberate hoax to “possibly half tongue-in-cheek [2].” However, I have also noticed quite a few people on the internet who find it inspirational and say that it really helps them to compose their own works. I’m sure these people really DO find the structure helpful. It is very sensible. But I imagine, if anything, that Poe came up with the idea of “The Raven” and THEN went through a rigorous process of refining it. 

That said, I think the essay is a fantastic look into the mind of Poe. It explains why the majority of his poems are about dead women–because he felt that melancholy is the most legitimate of poetic tones, and that the most melancholy of all themes is the death of a beautiful woman. My dad disagrees with Poe here and says that the death of a child is the most melancholy topic. Personally, I think that doubt in God’s existence or in his love for me would be the most melancholy. But I agree that the death of a child is more melancholy than the death of a beautiful woman. 

Out of curiosity, what do other people think the most melancholy theme is?


Find all of Gustave Dore’s illustrations for The Raven here: http://www.artsycraftsy.com/dore_raven.html



[1] The Philosophy of Composition, by Edgar Allan Poe. Reprinted in: The Selected Writings of Edgar Allan Poe (Norton Critical Edition). Ed. G.R. Thompson. New York: W. W. Norton and Company, Inc. pp675-684. 


[2] The Selected Writings of Edgar Allan Poe (Norton Critical Edition). Ed. G.R. Thompson. New York: W. W. Norton and Company, Inc. pp57.

Culture of blame: how we perceive certain diseases

In her article Scandal of Underfunded and Undertreated Cancer” [1], Linda Geddes describes the heart-breaking struggle of a non-smoking mother-of-two against the ravages of lung cancer. The purpose of the article was to point out the disparity between research funding and number of deaths for the various cancer types. Leukemia and breast cancer draw from huge sources of public and private funds, receiving much more than their deaths : research-dollars share. There are more deaths from lung cancer than from breast cancer or leukemia, but the funding for lung cancer research is pathetically small. Part of the reason for this is that many family physicians view lung cancer as untreatable–a diagnosis of death–so why fund research into an untreatable disease? But, after all, how are we to learn how to treat the disease without research? And how shall we perform research without funding? 

The article suggests another alarming reason for this funding disparity as well: many people, consciously or unconsciously, believe that lung cancer is the fault of the victim. If they hadn’t smoked, after all, would they be in this situation? Shame on them! And they’re endangering us with their second-hand smoke as well! But what about non-smokers who get lung cancer? (After all, that second-hand smoke is going somewhere, isn’t it?) And what right do we have to blame the victim of a disease, anyway? Is a person’s death less tragic because he was a smoker? Trust me, I fall prey to those adverts of children with leukemia…I want to send them money, too. But does our culture of blame induce us to spend money on those we consider “deserving” but not on the “undeserving?” Are we ok with that? 

I think a good example of our society (and the world) overcoming a prejudice against a culture-of-blame disease is our relative success with suppressing the dreaded AIDS epidemic. Many a politically-incorrect statement about AIDS victims was bandied about when I was younger…but now, I think, those negative connotations are mostly remembered only by older members of society. And although we haven’t successfully “cured” or fully protected against AIDS, we can now suppress it with anti-viral drugs–the result of well-spent research funding. Perhaps we can take a good lesson from our success with AIDS. Perhaps we can see lung cancer for what it is–a tragic disease that steals the lives of tens of thousands of people in the US every year*. Perhaps we can bring a halt to our culture of blame.

Geddes, Linda: Scandal of Underfunded and Undertreated Cancer. New Scientist issue 2871. 28Jun, 2012.

*This number was 35,000 deaths in the UK in 2010 according to Geddes’ article.

The Bells, by Edgar Allan Poe

Listen to The Bells


The first of Poe’s poems that I’ve read (recently) is The Bells (you might want to listen to it before reading my commentary). This poem was written in 1948, in the year following his wife Virginia’s death of consumption at the age of 25. Wikipedia suggests that the poem depicts a man mourning his lost wife. He courted her at Christmas to the sound of sleigh-bells in stanza one, married her in the second stanza, and then she dies in a fire as the husband watches in the third stanza. In the fourth stanza,  the grief-stricken husband goes mad. This is certainly an approachable interpretation. I think a life-cycle interpretation is more interesting though. In my opinion:

The first stanza is about the playful innocence of childhood. The merry tinkling of sleigh bells suggests a care-free mood–pure enjoyment of the moment. Even the Heavens twinkle with delight at the youthful merriment. But the poem also suggests that time is passing: 
              Keeping time, time, time
              In a sort of Runic rhyme 

“Runic rhyme” suggests an occult influence…perhaps a spell is cast over the innocents, trapping them in a ghoulish foreplay for the dance that lay ahead.

In the second stanza, the poem has matured. It is no longer care-free, since it is motivated by love for a new spouse, rather than by simple delight at existence. The bells are now “mellow” with “molten-golden notes.” These words suggest a sunset. Immediately following this symbolic sunset, the moon rises:

              What a liquid ditty floats
              To the turtle-dove that listens while she gloats
              On the moon!

Notice in this stanza the Heavens no longer join in the celebration, instead they are admired from afar. The universe has distanced itself from the poem. 

The third stanza tells of torture in the eve of death. This torture could represent a plethora of pains. To me, the fire recollected the turbulence of war and politics. Throughout Poe’s life he would have experienced the tortuous birth-pains of a new nation in a world at war. It could also symbolize the suffering of someone dying of disease–such as consumption, like his wife. Or the “deaf and frantic fire” could be the moral or religious guilt of a man who has lived a life of profligacy and regrets his youthful vices. He might be overcome by waves of self-abhorrence.

             Yet the ear, it fully knows,
             By the twanging 
             And the clanging,
             How the danger ebbs and flows–
  
In this third stanza the poet is “now to sit, or never / By the side of the pale-faced moon.” No longer does the poet admire the splendor of the moon. It is pale–it has lost its glory. Now, or never, he must sit and mourn by the Heavens which have deserted him.

In the final stanza Death (or perhaps Satan) triumphs. There are people–ah, the people! that dwell up in the steeple…all alone. These are spirits separated from their bodies. 

             They are neither man nor woman–
             They are neither brute nor human,
             They are Ghouls:

These ghouls have lost their identities. They are now simply servants of the king, Death. With finality they: “Feel a glory in so rolling / On the human heart a stone–” This is a tombstone, rolled over their hearts so they can no longer love. And the king’s merry bosom swells as he dances and yells

             Keeping time, time, time,
             In a sort of Runic rhyme
             To the throbbing of the bells–

Again, the “Runic rhyme” casts its spell over the ghouls. And they are captured for eternity.

Similarity to Paradise Lost:

While writing my interpretation of The Bells, I was reminded of my studies of Milton’s Paradise Lost. In lecture 18 of his series Why Evil Exists, Professor Charles Mathewes suggests that the difference between Satanic sin and human sin is that Satan sins out of a self-aware wish to rebel against God; Adam’s sin is that he loves Eve more than he loves God. He eats the forbidden fruit because Eve has already partaken. If he denies her, she will be “dead” to him, and he can’t handle that loss. So human sin ropes in feelings about other people. (See my full summary of the lecture here.)

While I was pondering how to express my feelings on Stanza II, I thought that this second stanza could represent Adam’s choice of Eve over God. It represents his marriage to her, and his subsequent separation from the Heavens–which, now, he could only admire from afar instead of living in its presence as in the first stanza. Following this train of thought, the third stanza would represent a human’s life on earth after the fall–filled with waves of earthly disaster. The final stanza would be the torment of Hell. 

Of course, I’m not suggesting that this is what Poe had in mind when he wrote the poem. But I think it’s interesting how such themes recur in literature. They are very powerful images that resound throughout time. Perhaps I’ll even wax Jungian and suggest that they are an archetype of our collective consciousness. 😉

Successors?
Another issue that struck me while I was reading this poem is thematic similarities between Poe’s poem and Quasimodo’s song about his bells in Notre Dame de Paris. I wonder if the playwright was influenced by Poe when he wrote this song? 🙂

Image taken from: http://schoolworkhelper.net/2011/06/edgar-allan-poe%E2%80%99s-the-bells-summary-analysis/