Majel-Susan sleeps late in 2021

Super-busy times, and I haven't as much time to read this year and even less time to write, but I figure a new thread can't hurt me either...

Victorian literature is still my comfort zone for books, but I've recently been enjoying more modern (but still older) classics. I'm interested in reading more children's books, fantasy, and Christian philosophy, although I am also trying out some ancient philosophy this year, as well.

Books I'm currently reading: (Updated Mar 14)
The Ascent of Mount Carmel by Saint John of the Cross
The Perpetual Curate by Margaret Oliphant
Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson
The Weirdstone of Brisingamen by Alan Garner
The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan
Arcadia by Iain Pears
The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Tales by Edgar Allan Poe
Mythology by Edith Hamilton

"Wendy, I ran away the day I was born."

Wendy was quite surprised, but interested; and she indicated in the charming drawing-room manner, by a touch on her night-gown, that he could sit nearer her.

"It was because I heard father and mother," he explained in a low voice, "talking about what I was to be when I became a man." He was extraordinarily agitated now. "I don’t want ever to be a man," he said with passion. "I want always to be a little boy and to have fun. So I ran away to Kensington Gardens and lived a long long time among the fairies." — J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan

To be read...

Non-fiction books of interest:
Reflections on the Psalms by C. S. Lewis
Letters to Malcolm by C. S. Lewis
The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence
Introduction to the Devout Life by Saint Francis de Sales

The Last Days of Socrates by Plato
Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle
Discourses, Fragments, Handbook by Epictetus
Confessions by Saint Augustine of Hippo
Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius

The Art of War by Sun Tzu
Infantry Attacks by Erwin Rommel
Illness Narratives by Arthur Kleinman

Fiction books of interest:
Taliessin through Logres by Charles Williams
Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis
The Pilgrim's Regress by C. S. Lewis
The Epic of Gilgamesh by Anonymous
The Iliad by Homer
The Odyssey by Homer
Metamorphoses by Ovid

And I know last year I made a nice and dramatic list of books I wanted to re-read, but being more realistic with my time, these are the books I want to re-read, when I can make the time...

Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmund Rostand
Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse

Books read in 2021:
1. Strong Poison by Dorothy L. Sayers
2. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte
3. The Man Who Was Thursday by G. K. Chesterton
4. Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu
5. He Came Down from Heaven and the Forgiveness of Sins by Charles Williams
6. The Dark Is Rising by Susan Cooper
7. The Analects by Confucius
8. The Mind of the Maker by Dorothy L. Sayers
9. The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence
10. The Art of War by Sun Tzu
11. The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold
12. Introduction to the Devout Life by Saint Francis de Sales
13. Skunk and Badger by Amy Timberlake
14. Letters to An American Lady by C. S. Lewis
15. Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand
16. Eva Evergreen, Semi-Magical Witch by Julie Abe
17. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain
18. The Last Days of Socrates by Plato
19. The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole
20. The Robe by Lloyd C. Douglas
21. Twelve Angry Men by Reginald Rose
22. Wise Blood by Flannery O'Connor
23. The Grand Sophy by Georgette Heyer
24. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
25. Reflections on the Psalms by C. S. Lewis
26. O Pioneers! by Willa Cather
27. For Esme—With Love and Squalor, and Other Stories by J. D. Salinger
28. Bunnicula by Deborah Howe
29. Kristy's Great Idea by Ann M. Martin
30. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones
31. Castle in the Air by Diana Wynne Jones
32. House of Many Ways by Diana Wynne Jones
33. North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
34. Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis

... And because I can't come close to finishing my thread within the year...

Books read so far in 2022:
1. The Blue Day by René Guillot
2. King Lear by William Shakespeare
3. Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
4. Frost in May by Antonia White
5. A Book of Nonsense by Edward Lear
6. Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare
7. A Jest of God by Margaret Laurence
8. The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe
9. Arabella by Georgette Heyer
10. The Rector by Margaret Oliphant
11. The Republic by Plato
12.

>4 Majel-Susan: What did you think of The Man Who Was Thursday?

>3 Majel-Susan: Interesting list. If you do manage to get to Siddhartha, I'll be interested in what you say about it. Ive got several of Hesse's books and have even read some of them!—The Glass Bead Game in particular.

I love The Man Who Was Thursday, and have read it several times. Also Taliessin Through Logres, but you have to read The Region of the Summer Stars as well (or are both books in the volume you have?).

If you're planning or hoping to read Rommel and Sun-Tzu, you could do lots worse than add Supplying War to your reading list. Van Creveld has quite a bit to say about Rommel's supply problems during his North African campaign, and also about the strategic reasons (or lack of them) for the campaign. But more generally, the writers on strategy and tactics tend to ignore the problems of supplying an army in the field, which have only got worse in modern times. (Even in Wallenstein's times and earlier, a horse needed about 20 lb of green fodder a day. Ammunition was trivial in comparison.) Also Simon Winder's books, which despite being pop history, tell you quite a bit about the role of incompetence in warfare.

I enjoyed The Man Who Was Thursday. It appealed to my warped sense of humour as much as anything else.

It must be over forty years since I read Lewis's Pilgrim's Regress. The same for The Iliad and The Odyssey.

Good luck with finding time to read and enjoy your new thread.

If you get around to reading The Art of War, I highly recommend reading a non-commentary version first. While the annotated versions are very helpful for understanding it, it basically forces you to read the book through the annotater's lens instead of your own.

>1 Majel-Susan: Happy new thread!

I listened to The Epic of Gilgamesh a few years ago and mostly enjoyed it. It is a bit repetitive in spots, but I adjusted to that. Be sure to let us know how (if) you fare with The Iliad, The Odyssey and Metamorphoses.

>5 Meredy: I thought The Man Who Was Thursday was a lot of hilarious and absurd fun, especially how one after another, they all thought each other so menacing. I kind of had a feeling about where all of it was going after the Professor was the first to out himself to Syme, but it was still a lot of fun. I have to confess though, that the last few chapters veering off into the wild and fantastical really threw me off balance, and I came off with the feeling that I had missed some large and overarching allegory, which I was too lazy to analyse at the end. I think, though, that I will be better prepared for what to expect when I next pick up another Chesterton novel.

>6 haydninvienna: Funnily enough, out of twenty-one books I listed last year, Siddhartha is not one of the books I really enjoyed when I first read it, but at the same time, it has stuck with me for the last seven years and it is one of the books I think about quite often. But yes, I really need to read it again sometime.

I will be reading Taliessin through Logres off Faded Page, which I see, unfortunately, does not offer The Region of the Summer Stars. But if the first book goes well, I will see if I can hunt further for the second. I tend to struggle quite a bit with poetry, but I found Williams' ideology rather fascinating, so I thought I might give this one a try.

Supplying War does sound like an interesting accompaniment to Rommel and Sun Tzu. Thanks for yet another recommendation! I must look it up, too, now.

>8 BookstoogeLT: I noticed when I was browsing my e-library for The Art of War, there were so, so many versions of it... "for small business," "for women," "for executives," "for dating," "for managers," etc. Haha, it's kind of hilarious, but okay, I will be happy to feel even a jot more successful after reading it.

But yes, the wild stuff aside, I thought about the annotations and I agree with you that it's more interesting to experience any book for yourself whenever possible. I'm settling, as well, for the classic translation by Lionel Giles.

>7 pgmcc: >9 clamairy: I do hope to find more time to read, and a little to write, as well, so thank you both!

>10 Majel-Susan: When Chesterton was asked to explain the book he referred people to the full name of the book, The Man Who Was Thursday: A Nightmare Illustrated. Had it been written more recently people would have called it a cheat.

I did enjoy how it built suspicion on top of suspicion until everyone had to be a spy.

>14 pgmcc: Ha, I guess that does explain the book pretty well.

And yes, those were the best parts of the book for me. I thought it was so funny towards the end, when they had already all found out about each other, but they were still having discussions like:

What did it all mean? If they were all harmless officers, what was Sunday? If he had not seized the world, what on earth had he been up to? . . .

"I can't make head or tail of old Sunday's little game any more than you can," he said. "But whatever else Sunday is, he isn't a blameless citizen. Damn it! do you remember his face?"

The Dark Is Rising -- Susan Cooper

I was really looking forward to reading this one, but it turned out to be an oddly tedious read for me, which wasn't helped either by the number of interruptions I took to study. It was like one thing was happening after another thing and another thing, and I felt so bombarded by the sheer passive activity of it all.

For it was not only the tree that had been split and broken. The island itself was changing, breaking open, sinking towards the river. Will stared speechless, standing now on an edge of snow-mounded land left by the vanishing streams, while around him snow and land slid and crumpled into the roaring Thames. Above him, he saw the strangest thing of all. Something was emerging out of the island, as the land and snow fell away. There came first, from what had been the taller end of the island, the roughly shaped head of a stag, antlers held high. It was golden, glinting even in that dim light. More came into sight; Will could see the whole stag now, a beautiful golden image, prancing. Then came a curious curved pedestal on which it stood, as if to leap away; then behind this a long, long, horizontal shape, as long as the island, rising again at the other end to another high, gold-glinting point, tipped this time by a kind of scroll. And suddenly Will realised that he was looking at a ship. The pedestal was its high curving prow, and the stag its figurehead.

I admit that it is somewhat unfair of me to choose a largely descriptive passage to illustrate my frustration with the action of the story, but it gave me almost exactly the same feeling, passive and like a checklist of descriptive happenings.

Story-wise, I found myself rather irked by how intrusive the "Old Ones" and their "Old Way" are, and every time the "Old One that was Will" speaks up, it jars with the childhood shell that he appears to be increasingly trapped in. It is as if magic estranges Will from his family and transforms him into some unnatural interloper, and he embraces this new, yet old personality on the basis of some magical duty that I didn't understand the hows and much less the whys of. But really, the part that blew it for me was when, following an attack by the Dark after the Christmas service, his brother Paul begins to realise that Will is not what he was before, and Will uses his powers to cause him to forget the incident. I understand why he does this and that it is for Paul's safety as well, but at the same time, I can't shake the feeling that that was also a betrayal of family trust. I am absolutely certain that I'm overlooking something that would help me to better connect with Will and his story, but as it was, I didn't find it.

I'm still trying to figure out what it was that made the narrative so off-putting. I think, perhaps, Will's modern presence creates too much of a grating contrast for me, since I had no problems whenever the Old Ones themselves interact with each other, only when my attention was called back to the fact that Will is observing or talking with them as well.

Before I started reading, I spent a bit of time deliberating whether I wanted to start with the second book in the series, The Dark Is Rising, or the first, Over Sea, Under Stone. It was an interesting opportunity to try a series slightly out of order, since reviews had me persuaded that either book served as a fair introduction; and as The Dark Is Rising appeared to have greater continuity with the rest of the series, I opted to start with it for an overview. It is possible that Over Sea, Under Stone might have made The Dark Is Rising easier to understand and sympathise with, but hmm... maybe not still. It's probably just me. One can't like every book one reads, and it doesn't mean there is anything wrong with the book either. I was initially intending to read all five in the series, but I don't actually see myself going forward at this point. The whole one thing following after another thing was overwhelming, almost stressful, and I'm not sure I want to read four books more of that.

There is one element in the book, however, that I did find positively interesting, and that is Merriman's relationship with his former liege man Hawkin. Will is sort of really meh and boring for me, and it was my recurring regret while reading that it wasn't more about Merriman and Hawkin. I think a book about those events that happened in the past, about Hawkin's filial devotion to Merriman, his shock and betrayal, and the subsequent aftermath, would interest me. I am not sure, though, if any of the other books are going to touch on that subject anymore, and having skimmed their blurbs, I rather doubt it. But, ah, well, that could have been an interesting one.

>16 Majel-Susan: That was rather my reaction to the series. It has some nice imagery, but I could never really get invested in it.

It felt childish, in a way that the books of C. S. Lewis and Alan Garner do not. I think what I mean by that is that there is no real depth of characterisation; events are everything. We do not care about Will because we never really see what motivates him; he is simply an entity who does things, and to whom things happen.

It has been a few decades since I read this. I always felt rather guilty. I was given the books by someone for whom they were his favourite childhood read, and I could not see whatever it was that made them special to him. (Although perhaps the fact that a lot of the later books take place in the area where we both grew up may be a part of that.) I had been thinking of revisiting them, but given that your reasons to them concurs with my memories, maybe not.

It has been a long time, and so I remember relatively little from them. But that is, in itself, a comment. I remember the details of other books that I read in that era in far more detail.

>17 -pilgrim-: Well, haha, I got to admit that it's a bit of a relief to hear that it's not just silly me being overwhelmed by how event-ful the narrative was and unable to connect with Will. I was wondering if someone would come around to point out what I had missed--which would have made me very happy to know as well--but then, I'd probably continue to waffle over whether I should keep reading or not. Nah, I don't think I will continue now.

I remember some discussions you had with one or two other members about Alan Garner's and Andre Norton's books, and I have some of their books in my TBR. I tried to recommend Moonsinger to my e-library, but unfortunately, it was a no-go. XD
Well, at least, there's still the Open Library. :)

"Dialogues with Sun Tzu" (a.k.a. The Art of War -- Sun Tzu)

Evidently, I don't have time. Because if I did, I should be studying.

I said, The Art of War is probably just a kind of book of Chinese proverbs.

To the side of my thoughts, Anxiety murmurs pretty loudly, But maybe it could be applicable to waging war with your exams and examiners.

I reply, Don't be ridiculous, and I turn to Sun Tzu,

How may I wage war against my exams and examiners and so overcome them?

Sun Tzu says: All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.

I say, All right, but what about the oral exams I need to pass, and the one I failed?

He continues, Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.

I listen with patience and fascination as Sun Tzu continues.

He tells me: Again, if the campaign is protracted, the resources of the State will not be equal to the strain.

I pause a moment, then nod. Yes, Shifu. How did you know? I do feel really rather exhausted.

It is better to recapture an army entire than to destroy it, to capture a regiment, a detachment or a company entire than to destroy them.

My brain scatters forth some thoughts, and after hesitating a moment, I raise my hand to hazard, Shifu, I'm all for mercy, but how is it economical to support your defeated enemy once he has become your spoil and burden?

Sun Tzu sees me not and continues peacefully: If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.

I draw in my breath. Ohh. This isn't looking good.

To reassure me, Sun Tzu relates something I can thoroughly understand: One may know how to conquer without being able to do it.

Days go by unproductively, unsuccessfully, and I return to Sun Tzu.

Indirect tactics, efficiently applied, are inexhaustible as Heaven and Earth...

He may not make much sense to me, but it is nice to sit down and listen a bit quietly...

There are not more than five musical notes... not more than five primary colors... not more than five cardinal tastes...

Anxiety nudges me all day and everyday, and eventually, I go back to Sun Tzu and say, Shifu, my oral exams... How can I prepare?

Wise Sun Tzu. He tells me, The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy's will to be imposed on him.

That would be nice, I mumble to myself, if I could somehow be able to choose the topics for my exams.

But wait. Maybe it is possible. After scouring for more information on my next examiner, I find that I can choose the first question and so escape the wrath of my worst subject. It is a success!

I come back to Sun Tzu. I have one more oral exam, the one I failed. Sun Tzu greets me.

If we do not wish to fight, we can prevent the enemy from engaging us even though the lines of our encampment be merely traced out on the ground. All we need do is to throw something odd and unaccountable in his way.

Well, I did appear twenty minutes late for my exam... Probably not what Sun Tzu is talking about.

Shifu, I say, my examiner is not exactly my enemy, though, or is he?

With his back turned to me, Sun Tzu says placidly, Let your rapidity be that of the wind, your compactness that of the forest.... Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.

Be efficient..., I simplify.

He glances sidelong at me from under half-closed lids. Ponder and deliberate before you make a move.

... And think, I add. Carefully.

Sun Tzu cautions: When you surround an army, leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate foe too hard.

Good idea! I like that, it makes sense, I laugh, then stop. Maybe laughing isn't appropriate, even if I mean it.

I'm running on a high, having just passed probably the biggest oral exam of the year, but Sun Tzu still wishes to teach me about variation in tactics.

The student of war who is unversed in the art of war of varying his plans, even though he be acquainted with the Five Advantages, will fail to make the best use of his men.

The Five Advantages? I keep a straight face and refrain from admitting I've forgotten.

Sun Tzu expounds on the nine varieties of ground and all is clear as wise Sun Tzu speaks.

There is a pause.

I have no idea on which ground I must meet my examiner. Sun Tzu glances my way and my memory disperses. The only thing I remember now is: On open ground, do not try to block the enemy's way.

That makes sense, and I nod with earnestness.

Place your army in deadly peril, and it will survive; plunge it into desperate straits, and it will come off in safety.

But Shifu, I interrupt, the last time I did that I failed.

Sun Tzu maintains silence. I think again.

Well, true, some of my best studying has been done when I was particularly desperate.

Time is running late. It is the last week that I may present myself to be examined without being unreasonable. Time to storm Heaven with prayers, get cold feet, and... pass? Whew! I am never doing all that again.

It was terrible. Exhilaration, and then a familiar gloom shadows over. I forgo all celebrations and ceremony, preserving a cheerful but sober calm. The last six, seven years have taken more than time and sleep from me. There is always more to be taken.

I sit by Sun Tzu's table once more. He says,

Anger may in time change to gladness; vexation may be succeeded by content.

I repeat after Sun Tzu: But a kingdom that has once been destroyed can never come again into being; nor can the dead ever be brought back to life.

Sun Tzu nods. Hence the enlightened ruler is heedful, and the good general full of caution. This is the way to keep a country at peace and an army intact.

Having finished with exams and whatnot, I figure it's time to finish up the couple of books I started while miserable instead of studying...

Skunk and Badger -- Amy Timberlake

I heard of this one from libraryperilous and was charmed by its premise. Badger, a recluse of no fun, intent on Important Rock Work, has his quiet frame of mind suddenly thrown off balance when Skunk, an oddball of whimsical surprise, shows up at his doorstep. Much like someone I know (myself, ahem), Badger often finds himself baulking at the hint of anything unfamiliar, and he alternates between enjoying the surprises that Skunk brings and being annoyed by the flip side of these same surprises, such as the bigger cleanup that is to be expected with Skunk's delicious cooked breakfasts. A rocket potato---don't ask me what about it, and I'm not sure Badger really knows either---sits in the corner of the kitchen, set there by Skunk; and I was definitely amused by how abruptly Badger's attitude towards this single object could swing from delighted to cross to delighted again, as determined by his day's interaction with Skunk. Chickens happen, too, including one super-sweet Tiny Orange Hen. Conflict comes to a head, however, with the appearance of a, umm, chicken-hungry??? stoat.

I'm not terribly bothered by it, but okay, I was a little bothered. Throughout the story, Badger is constantly challenged to look beyond the stereotypes of skunks. He handles it pretty badly, but to his credit, Badger is sincere and does his best to make amends after insulting Skunk. This builds one of the major themes of the narrative, namely, overcoming prejudice, which is why I was a little surprised when the dodgy stoat enters the scene and the pace changes. Apparently, Skunk has a negative experience with stoats, having been bitten by one in the past. But following what appeared to be the working thesis, I expected that Skunk, similar to Badger, would have to confront his mistrust of stoats by realising that although one had hurt him, not all stoats are the same, only... this stoat turns out to be part of the same ol' bad lot. Not a big issue, but it did catch me for a moment.

Letters to an American Lady -- C. S. Lewis

I wasn't looking for this one, but it appeared as a new addition to my e-library's collection of Lewis books, so of course, I borrowed it. Nothing new or particularly special about the content of these letters, that is, aside from the astounding persistence of Lewis' American correspondent "Mary." Without being able to read anything from her end of the letters, it is evident that she wrote about a great medley of rather personal matters, mostly about her health, but not excluding her friends and relatives, her pets, her faith, magazine and news articles, her job offers and losses (Lewis provided her with a stipend that continued after his death), and complete with semi-regular reproaches for his tardy replies. And Lewis maintained a remarkable patience and sympathy for her.

While his early replies struck me as cordial but impersonal, it was interesting to see how their friendship developed over the years of their correspondence. Even Lewis seemed to have been somewhat impressed himself, when in one letter, he remarked that she was one of the few women who continued to write him following his marriage to Joy Davidman. His later letters are noticeably more familiar, as he disclosed some of his own personal worries and made requests for her mutual prayers. Towards the end of his life, he apparently considered her important enough that his brother or his secretary would update her on the state of his health in reply to her letters. But alright, I've gone on and on for long enough, so I'll just admit now that I envy how this American Lady worked her way into becoming first a pen pal and then finally, a friend of C. S. Lewis.

>19 Majel-Susan: That was a truly superb review.

I have a friend who is an enthusiast for Sun Tzu's teachings, so I read your review to him. He agrees that you not only demonstrated what the book is like, but also how you understood it, by interacting with it.

Congratulations on reaching the end to your exams.

>19 Majel-Susan: Amazing review. Congrats on passing your exams.

>22 -pilgrim-: >24 Narilka: Thank you! =)
And I had a lot of fun writing it, too, in the bits of time between studying for exams!

>19 Majel-Susan: Very enjoyable. I think you have outwitted your examiners.

>26 pgmcc: Hahaha! To be fair, most of my examiners were very generous, and none were unkind, but, yes, thank you!

Eva Evergreen, Semi-Magical Witch -- Julie Abe

The premise for Eva's adventures is apparently inspired by Kiki's Delivery Service and Aru Shah and the End of Time, of which the former I know from the Hayao Miyazaki film, but have not heard of the latter. Eva is the adolescent witch-child of a powerful witch of renown and a magicless father, charged with a quest to serve a distant town for a period of time before she may rise in the ranks of the Council of Witches and Wizards. Sounds like Kiki, and that's about where my comparison closes, beginning with a storm.

The Culling, a mysterious storm of possible rogue magic, is set to strike suddenly somewhere in the realm every autumn, nobody knows when or where precisely until it is too late. Hence, Mayor Taira's disapproval is unsurprising when Eva, an Apprentice Witch, arrives in Auteri to fulfill her first quest.

I'm not well-read in fantasy, but one thing that did make an impression was that Eva never struck me as "overpowered," not even when confronted with the Culling. Having manifested her magic late, Eva has only a pinch of magic. She doesn't have all the answers and oftentimes, her spells don't work on the first attempt; but what she lacks in magic, she makes up for with ingenuity and perseverance. In fact, as a "semi-magical" witch with an affinity for repairs, she frequently resorts to layering magic over non-magical solutions, rather than relying entirely on magic to create a quick fix. But it is these trials and errors that comprise much of the fun of the story and make Eva's successes all the more merited.

Eva Evergreen is set up to be the first in a series, and personally, I'm on the fence about looking out for the publication of the next novel. My reasons, however, have little to do with the story itself, although I will admit that I was greatly insanely peeved when the epilogue launched the conflict for the next novel and then, left me on a cliffhanger. Still, though, I am curious about the two close friends that Eva made in Auteri, Charlotte and Davy. If I'm not mistaken, the narrative was definitely hinting at an intriguing backstory and future for Charlotte. (I'm betting that she's a witch, too.) Picking up this one was a bit of an experiment for me, but I won't deny that it was fun and entertaining.

The Robe -- Lloyd C. Douglas

During his exile as a commander in Judea, Marcellus Gallio, a disgraced Tribune and the son of a well-respected senator, is charged by Pontius Pilate with the task of assisting in the crucifixion of Jesus, whose robe falls to Marcellus as a gambling prize. It is a robe that shatters and heals his world, and takes him on an expedition to discover the truth about the Man he killed.

I think it is fair to say that when one picks up a book of this nature, one knows early on who the main characters are and the spiritual conversion they are headed towards. That said, I appreciated how gradual Marcellus' journey to spiritual faith is, and while many of the stories Marcellus hears are reiterations of the Gospel accounts, I noticed how they were all told in such a way as to offer Marcellus rational explanations for the miracles recounted by his seemingly gullible hosts. And yet, even while maintaining a respectful skepticism, he persists in searching for proofs of Jesus' divinity. In the end, the tipping point for his own conversion, witnessing the martyred Stephen reaching out to an unseen Jesus, isn't anything more credible than any of the stories he has been hearing. Had he been bystander to this several weeks before, Marcellus would still have found the scene remarkable but have also sought a natural explanation for Stephen's behaviour. It is a rather impressive change, and highlights how far he has travelled in his journey to Christianity, as well as the elusive paradox of faith as both a choice undertaken with its challenges and a gift accepted without irrefutable evidence.

Another point I appreciated was that, while it is all-in-all a pretty happy story, it still isn't the kind where you have a great faith in God and so you get whatever you ask for. I'm thinking about the ending in particular, when Diana, Marcellus' wife who is thus far a non-Christian, puts out an earnest prayer to Jesus to save Marcellus who has been put on an impromptu trial before the Emperor. Based on that alone, I was expecting an unexpected, if only temporary reprieve. Instead Caligula orders him to be executed for high treason, and I found it quite powerful that it is then, at that moment, that Diana professes herself to be a Christian as well in order to join Marcellus, "in a Kingdom of love—and peace."

Admittedly, I took a little while to get into the rhythm of the setting, but I thought it was very persuasively written, as I began to quite nearly believe that Marcellus was indeed a real and historical person, or at the very least, belonged to some definite legend, along with his slave Demetrius.

Demetrius is an impressive character, almost larger than life, as his loyalty to Marcellus surpasses the bonds of his slavery, and he decides time and again to stand by and support him, even choosing to forgive Marcellus and return to him when, after running away following a particularly cruel incident at a banquet, he hears of Marcellus' broken condition. But what took me by surprise, is when Gallio entrusting Marcellus to Demetrius' care to help Marcellus to recover from his traumatic shock, writes him his certificate of manumission and Demetrius declines for the sake of protecting Marcellus' fragile mind from any unexpected changes to the dynamic of their relationship. That blew my mind, and I almost started to feel conflicted about the narration, because I wanted to keep reading about Demetrius, but at the same time, I was getting impatient for Marcellus' story to get moving. It sounds almost incorrect to say, considering how really inextricable a part slavery plays in their story, but I did genuinely enjoy Marcellus and Demetrius' relationship.

>29 Majel-Susan: This was a book that I loved as a child; I am glad you enjoyed it too. I had rather a crush on Demetrius *blushes*.

I found it important that being a slave was never who Demetrius was, it was simply what he was. He did not choose that particular social status - and how he came to be on the market is a truly horrifying little backstory - but it is very clear that how he acts in that position is his own choice. I think Marcellus and Demetrius have a genuine friendship, despite disparity of rank. I loved the way that Demetrius used servile behaviour as a way of reprimanding Marcellus every time he thought his friend was in the wrong.

The portrayal of Christianity is impressive. The way the story is told, it is possible to interpret everything as miraculous, or give a rational explanation for everything - with Marcellus simply becoming mentally ill from the guilt of having to execute an innocent man in a brutal fashion. Just as Marcellus' conversion is not coerced, the reader is not forced towards one interpretation or the other by the narrative telling us that "it is so".

And I also started wondering whether there are any hagiographic legends attached to that robe - but I never found any.

>30 -pilgrim-: Oh, yes, I was really wowed by Demetrius' character, and he was really, in my opinion, a larger and much more interesting character than Marcellus.

I did get the impression, as well, that Demetrius himself chooses the person he wants to be rather than being wholly a slave in mind and heart. But that has also to do with the Gallios' unconventional consideration for their household slaves. It is by natural rights that Demetrius should be allowed that much dignity, even as a slave, but that would have been much more difficult to maintain with a more callously-minded set of masters.

As it is, however, I do think that Marcellus and Demetrius sincerely do love each other, and at times, I almost felt like Demetrius' concern for Marcellus is more like that of an older brother. I was especially touched when he confesses to Gallio that he has occasionally disobeyed Marcellus when he felt that the command was not in Marcellus' best interest.

I hadn't understood it quite so clearly, but I was definitely amused every time Demetrius stiffened back to his role when he decided that he was finished discussing something with Marcellus.

I agree. The openness of the narrative lends subtlety to the characters' conversions, and I was pleasantly surprised by how rather muted but grand its portrayal of Christianity managed to be.

Haha, the moment I finished the book, I was in a hurry to find out if Marcellus ever existed, whether in history or legend, and I was a little surprised to find out how very much it really was historical fiction! Nope, I didn't find any legend attached to the robe either.

I'll confess that The Robe isn't actually a book that would have caught my attention in the first place, but it was nominated for a group read and I am happy to have read it now.

Have you, perhaps, read The Bronze Bow by Elizabeth George Speare? That was the other book nominated for our read, but I went and seconded The Robe instead.

>29 Majel-Susan: Going on about Demetrius. He struck me in a special way, and I kept thinking about some of my favourite characters from other stories. Sounds a bit crazy, but somehow my brain has lumped Cyrano de Bergerac, Jean Valjean, and Severus Snape together. Regardless of the morality of their actions, they were all characters driven by an intense loyalty to make tremendous sacrifices for someone they love, all with no aim to have their actions known or rewarded. That is, perhaps, the trait that most endears each of them to me, and something I find they share in common.

And Demetrius showed some of that, too, which is part of the reason why I was sorry when his story faded out for Marcellus to begin his journey. It might not have continued along the current of my thoughts, but at the point where their stories diverged, I felt that I was missing out on all the potential that Demetrius' character promised. But, oh, well.

Confession: I've never actually read the unabridged Les Miserables, but I fell in love with Jean Valjean's story the first time I watched one of the black-and-white adaptations, and again when I read an abridged version by Penguin a few years later. I really want to take the plunge with the unabridged sometime, but I gotta admit that reading The Hunchback of Notre-Dame with all of Hugo's insane obsession with architecture, has me doubly intimidated.

>32 Majel-Susan: I will reply more about Demetrius when I can, but meanwhile I thought I had better check that you are aware of the sequel to The Robe - The Big Fisherman.

It is certainly nowhere near as powerful, but I think Demetrius' story continues there. (I could be wrong. It is Simon Peter who is the central character here.)

>33 -pilgrim-: I knew The Big Fisherman is supposed to be a sequel or a kind of related novel, but I hadn't looked into it before.

Doing a quick search in the online copy now, I think Demetrius is only referenced in the story rather than being an actual character. At least, I think. His name appears only three times in The Big Fisherman.

I picked up Twelve Angry Men by Reginald Rose on a bit of a whim, and as someone who loves crime shows, I was surprised to realise that I barely give any thought to how the jury comes to their verdict. In this play, twelve members of a jury debate among themselves on the guilt of a sixteen year old boy, who according to two witnesses, stabbed his father following an argument. They must decide whether or not the boy is guilty "beyond a reasonable doubt" of first-degree murder, and so decide his fate at the electric chair. As Juror Eight, the sole holdout on the initial vote in the jury room, slows the pace of their deliberations, the jurors are forced gradually to re-evaluate not only the case, but the bases of their own and each other's conviction in the boy's guilt. And while Juror Eight may not thoroughly convince his fellow jurors (or the reader) of the boy's innocence, that is never actually even his point, simply that they cannot be certain of his guilt either. It is an interesting analysis of how people, even outside of a courtroom, form opinions about situations and other people, and how much of that is based rather on emotions, personal prejudices, and "gut feeling," than necessarily on a careful consideration of the evidence.

>35 Majel-Susan: Yes, I remember the film based on this, starring Henry Fonda. There is also a Russian film based on it called simply 12, but I have never managed to find a copy.

>36 -pilgrim-: I heard of the play from someone recently, which is when I saw that it had been adapted into a film with Henry Fonda. I don't think I've ever seen any of his films before though... Looking up the Russian film 12 (2007) now, I see that it was impressively well-received not only in Russia, but internationally as well. It's also quite long at 2h 39m. Well, if you are interested, it appears to be available on YouTube, but missing 6 minutes somewhere...

>37 Majel-Susan: Intriguing...

Wise Blood -- Flannery O'Connor

*Possible SPOILERS ahead*

I had read a collection of short fiction by Flannery O'Connor last year; and while bemused by many of her stories in A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Other Stories, I found them thought-provoking and fairly enjoyable, which although they prepared me somewhat for the eccentricities of O'Connor's style, has not enabled me to get very far in my attempts to make more coherent sense of Wise Blood. I am not saying that the story is nonsensical, just that I, personally, am having a difficult time grasping it.

Having returned from war to discover his childhood home abandoned and his relatives disappeared, Hazel Motes founds the Church without Christ in a desperate struggle to escape the only history left to him, a spiritual past marked by an unquenchable guilt provoked by his grandfather's terrifying conviction in Christ's dogged and violent determination to redeem every soul.

Jesus was so soul-hungry that He had died, one death for all, but He would have died every soul’s death for one! Did they understand that? Did they understand that for each stone soul, He would have died ten million deaths, had His arms and legs stretched on the cross and nailed ten million times for one of them?

As Haze goes from one street corner to another, his proclamations in the name of his new church, while ostensibly blasphemous ravings atop his car, I found were relatable as expressions of his conflict and despair over the burden of redemption. However, in spite of his efforts to break away from so barren yet compelling a belief in Christ, he remains haunted by the challenge of faith, and his restless flight from grace continually put me in mind of Francis Thompson's "The Hound of Heaven":

Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.

There is, as well, an interesting push and pull between the indifference and conviction of the characters. As a preacher of his Church without Christ, Haze emphatically denounces the indifference of his passers-by; and yet every time approached with eagerness, whether by Enoch Emery, Sabbath Hawks, or even Hoover Shoats the con artist, his apparent interest in his cause melts into total indifference. Instead, the person whose attention Haze most assiduously solicits, is Asa Hawks, a preacher who "blinded" himself ten years ago to justify his belief in Jesus. Fascinated and troubled by so intense a conviction, Haze is stumped by Hawks' disinterest in his soul as he makes every effort to lure Hawks into attempting to convert him.

Something else that struck me was the spiritual loneliness of the narrative: how the characters wander about, in search of something they want but unable to find meaning or solace anywhere.

Enoch, forced by his father to leave home and confront the isolating unfriendliness of the city on his own, looks for a connection, someone kind and familiar, and he pursues Haze, whose face, although in truth a stranger's, he seems to know from somewhere in his past. He watches in awe during a meet and greet, as excited movie fans line up to shake hands with "Gonga," an actor dressed in a gorilla costume; but when, in a bizarre twist, he contrives to wear this costume himself, he is left disappointed and baffled by the further rejection he is met with instead of Gonga's usual welcoming crowd.

As Haze recalls the funerals of his family, he remembers each of them shut away alone in the darkness of their caskets, as if, from the vitality of his grandfather to the stoic unhappiness of his mother, there were no satisfaction, no meaning to their lives. Then, there is Haze's car, an old, broken-down vehicle through which Haze asserts his independence and which, I felt, mirrors his arrogance, moral decline, and self-destruction in its steady disintegration.

For the most part, I found that the general behaviour of the characters bordered on bizarre and their thought patterns were inexplicable; and thinking the story through again and again, I've been able to pick up on various themes but not to put them together.

The most "normal" character who takes prominence at the end is Mrs. Flood, Haze's landlady. I felt for her because she is a shrewd woman but lonely, and tending to Haze in his blindness makes her realise that there are more mysteries in life than she can ever see, secrets that are hidden from her sight but not his, and which waiting for her at death, she is afraid to meet with alone. Mrs. Flood serves as a kind of bridge to the reader, as she comes closest to approaching Haze's inner reality, and her mystification captures my own intangible feelings at the end:

She shut her eyes and saw the pin point of light but so far away that she could not hold it steady in her mind. She felt as if she were blocked at the entrance of something.

The Grand Sophy by Georgette Heyer was just the spice of fun I had been hankering after for a while! Sophy is a level 5 of Austen's Emma: where Emma thinks she knows what to do, Sophy cuts the conceit out of the scheming, because she knows she has the goods. From the moment she strides into her cousins' household, she takes the reins right out of the controlling hands of Charles Rivenhall, whose recent fortune from an uncle places the rest of the family at the mercy of his discretion.

Think of a Captain von Trapp (The Sound of Music), but take away the silly whistle and the self-control, and replace that with a latent desire to throttle someone. That's what Charles, with his frightfully volatile temper and a whole brood of younger siblings, reminded me of. He has his charming moments, as well, particularly when repenting his fits of rage and when interacting with his younger child siblings. I do like my fictional Mr. Darcies! Like my sister says, hard on the outside, soft on the inside---like an egg.

It was a LOAD of fun! Although I will say that the end proposal with Charles' hands around Sophie's neck, as thrilled with her success as I am to suppose Sophie, is a bit much for me. That last chapter was just so hectic that I finished it regretting that there weren't a chapter or two more to properly develop Charles' proposal. And the number of couples that happened in that one chapter was crazy! I will definitely be up for another Heyer the next time that I need a light and fun pick-me-up again!

>40 Majel-Susan: I enjoyed The Grand Sophy a lot also. But she is a bit like one of P G Wodehouse’s non-drippy girls, like Stiffy Bing. Great on the page but would be absolutely terrifying in real life.

>41 haydninvienna: I haven't read Wodehouse yet, but definitely agree that Sophy would be one force to be reckoned with! I can't help thinking that she probably started to manage her father's affairs before she even learned to talk.

O Pioneers! -- Willa Cather

I read this one with a group recently (if anybody would be interested, we're reading Howl's Moving Castle this Oct/Nov), and while it was a quiet kind of book with quiet lovers, I found sympathy in the loneliness of the story and the prose. Set in the pioneering age of Nebraska, the triumph of man in the taming of the wild land stands relative in contrast to the fragility of his own contrary nature, as Alexandra Bergson, a successful entrepreneur, experiences following years of hardship on her father's land.

There was about Alexandra something of the impervious calm of the fatalist, always disconcerting to very young people, who cannot feel that the heart lives at all unless it is still at the mercy of storms; unless its strings can scream to the touch of pain.

This line stood out to me and, I think, well characterises the mood of the novel. There is always this contrast between Alexandra's firm calm and the vivacity of the youth around her, as the story moves to and fro, what happens in the lives of the young, and what in Alexandra's. Having spent all her younger years in building up her family property, Alexandra looks to her youngest brother, Emil, to see at last the promise and fruits of her labour and that of her father and her older brothers. But in the midst of her hopes for Emil's future and the life untethered to the earth that she aspires for him, the worries of the young escape her. Here is one more quote I find relevant and appreciated:

"Freedom so often means that one isn't needed anywhere."

While the story has not left much of an impression on me, I liked its mood and felt for most of the characters, including the less pleasant ones, and the recurring theme on what it means to be free and its contradictions was one that interested me. Something, too, about end reminded me of The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder, and also, The Burden by Mary Westmacott (Agatha Christie), in how the characters reflect on their role in the tragedy of loved ones, which is definitely another welcome touch to me.

And a Merry Christmas to you!

>44 -pilgrim-: Thank you!

Howl's Moving Castle -- Diana Wynne Jones

*Possible SPOILERS ahead*

I was first introduced to Howl's Moving Castle some years ago by Hayao Miyazaki's animated adaptation and only realised later that it was based on a book, and having been charmed by the movie, I've had the book saved to my library's wish list for the last three years. However, I finally took advantage of a group read to nominate Howl's Moving Castle, and I must say that I absolutely LOVED it!---and read it straight through a second time when it was over!

Sophie Hatter may think her fortune already cursed enough by her being the eldest of three, but she isn't cursed until the Witch of the Waste walks in, transforming her into an old woman. However, having sought help in the moving castle of the heartless Wizard Howl, Sophie soon discovers that hers is not the only spell that needs breaking but also a strange contract between Howl and his fire demon, Calcifer, and all this while the Witch of the Waste is hot on their heels.

What I love about Sophie is the place that her character begins from and how her personality doesn't change so much as she comes out of herself, becomes more expressive, and learns that, yes, she does actually love the person that she is. She has a strong sense of her own unloveliness, and I thoroughly related to her fatalistic take on life and how isolation heightens her insecurities to the extent that she can't even make it across two streets without feeling terrified and like an elderly semi-invalid. But what she can't see in herself, those close to Sophie do: Fanny, her step-mother, trusts her as firm and assertive; her sisters, Lettie and Martha, know that she possesses intelligence and talent; and most of all, her gentleness of heart has deeply endeared her to them. And while her old shrivelled body is the externalisation of her insecurites, it is these inner qualities that Sophie brings to the castle and gradually recognises in herself.

Prior to their separation, Sophie was clearly devoted to her sisters and although we never see their life before, the bossy Sophie that takes hold of Howl's home is the same Sophie who had commanded a pair of willful sisters determined to have their way with fate. The fact that while Sophie constantly worries about how she can protect them from Howl's fickleness, her sisters are preoccupied with the exact same anxiety for her, shows just how charming the three sisters' loyalty to each other is. And with all three of them being in "disguise" as someone else, the confusion this leads to is so hilarious and ridiculous that even Howl is amused. Ah, the balance of wit and the humour---it was just perfect for me! But here I shift to Sophie's relationship with Howl.

Sophie and Howl's love story is subtle---I almost didn't expect it up until the last few chapters. And I like it that way, as it highlights what their relationship is built upon. They become familiar with each other's faults early on, but their friendship persists because it is these faults that enable them to see the contradictions. Because while Sophie sees a Howl who is so cowardly and self-absorbed that he comes through in the end with bravery and heart, Howl bears with Sophie's bossy and oddly disruptive nature to delight in her liveliness and innate talent for magic. Finally, if that isn't sufficiently persuasive, throw in self-expression with green slime and weed killer, and you have Sophie and Howl, a perfectly stable, well-matched, and magical couple.

But what a peacock of a man-child! Howl flows seamlessly from charming to childish to stern to frivolous to generous to selfish and back to charming. With his incessant courting (ostensibly so, at least!) and "slithering out," Howl constantly surprised me by how much he is actually aware of and doing in the background, as Sophie makes it too easy to underestimate Howl and his abilities in spite of his proofs to the contrary time and again. Not only that, but Howl is simply fun to read with all of his foibles and whining and teasing. Let's just be glad, though, that he lives only in a land "where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist." Or does he? I was rather surprised and charmed to find that Howl is actually "just" an 80's Welsh rugby boy, university grad, doting uncle, and "bum" of the family. Well, as Sophie understands him best:

He's a mess, your Majesty.

Now Calcifer! I found Calcifer wonderfully endearing, between his sarcasms and melancholy, and especially, of course, in his loyalty to both Howl and Sophie. And as an observer who knows at a glance the situation and all the goods on everybody who walks in, Calcifer's remarks and amusement at much of what happens in the castle inevitably stand out. Honestly, I could go on endlessly, but who wouldn't want their own personal, wise-cracking fire demon to exploit, right?

Plot-wise, the amount of details woven throughout is impressive, and I definitely enjoyed the mystery and the way all the hints tie up in the end. And although I tend to find farcical mix-ups heavy-handed and a bit of a miss for me, it is an absolute hit here, and the humour and misimpressions are just incredible fun. What's more, the language is light, witty, and simple, and the descriptions somehow very whimsical, making this a perfect book for comfort reading. Squee! I think I've found a new favourite! 💖

>46 Majel-Susan: On a side note, I read some commenters discussing how Book Howl's "elaborate blonde hair" would be an 80's mullet, and they pulled out some quote supposedly by Jones in a interview, saying,

I think my moment of revelation came when I saw this young man come on court in the most flamboyant clothes. He had a sweet smile and questionably blonde hair and a generally chirpy glamour that in fact concealed huge skill. When he was interviewed he confessed to hating to get angry and it was also said that he slithered out of winning when it came to the big matches. And I thought, My God! This Andre Agassi is the image of Howl in my book HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE!

I looked up the fellow and found:



Then I thought to myself, Hmm, so a more wizardly version of that dressed in a "fantastical blue-and-silver costume..." And BAM! My brain gifted me with:



... You're welcome.

I told myself I wasn't gonna to, and then I went right on ahead...

Castle in the Air -- Diana Wynne Jones

Abdullah, an unremarkable carpet merchant and a first-rate daydreamer, unites his two main occupations in the purchase of a mysterious magic carpet, from which follow adventure and mishap, not the least of which is the reality of the princess he dreams about nightly and her abrupt kidnap by a strange djinn. And while Sophie and Howl are characters, don't hold your breath waiting for them to appear, but appreciate Castle in the Air for its own whimsical charm and Abdullah, with his elaborate and flowery persuasions and all his hapless luck, particularly in the travelling companions he picks up along the way, which consist of an uncooperative genie, a roguish soldier, Midnight the cat and her kitten Whippersnapper. My favourite moment is probably when Abdullah, feeling put upon by his company, realises that his own genie is better manipulated by the soldier, who acts according to the wishes of Midnight, who in turn listens to Whippersnapper, which places him at the bottom of their food chain with a little kitten at the top. Alas, the frustration!

Not being at all familiar with Eastern mythology and literature, I always feel at least a little bit off when reading a Western presentation of the culture, although I do generally tend to have a pretty wide berth of allowance. Instead, what bothered me most was when, while the abducted princesses are hatching an escape plan, the soldier demands that one of them agree to marry him in exchange for his help---otherwise, he spills the beans to Dalzel, their kidnapper. And even though "every other princess disagreed mightily," that is to say the overwhelming majority with the exception of one, he is allowed to have his pick among the unmarried princesses! For that, along with a few other instances, I would say that the book hasn't aged with the greatest grace, but is still pretty enjoyable, in my opinion.

House of Many Ways -- Diana Wynne Jones

Her Great-Uncle William gravely ill with no one to help him keep house, Charmain Baker is sent to tend to his home in his absence, and from the outset, her sole trouble appears to be her ignorance of any kind of housework. However, with a good book in hand, Charmain is ready to remain unperturbed by Great-Uncle William's ever-accumulating chores---only, of course, between magic in the house (and the laundry!) and the dog, Peter the self-invited apprentice, kobolds, and a royal plot with Howl and Sophie on call, it's hard to find good reading time. And that's not even to mention the lubbock, the stuff of nightmares. One word: Yikes!

I had no issues with this story, and although I felt it somewhat less charming than the previous two Howl's Castle books, it was as quirky as any of them with a dry humour that I'm coming to suspect is characteristic of Jones' writing. Great-Uncle William's house itself is a great puzzle, and all the doors that lead to different times and places made me about as bewildered and frustrated as Charmain at times. I was particularly charmed, though, when Peter recounts how he visited Great-Uncle William in the past, and a fascinating loop happens there where Great-Uncle William realises that he wants to plant hydrangeas, hopes to have completed the map of his house by the time Charmain comes to him, and knows she will have met a fire demon. And while Great-Uncle William's laundry was magically multiplying itself, I suddenly remembered I hadn't taken care of the laundry yet. Speaking of which, I'm going to have plenty of laundry to wash again when I get back home. Ah, well!

>47 Majel-Susan: I never made that connection before but I do love Bowie's Goblin King...

>49 clamairy: Nah, I wouldn't really say there was a connection either, but the brain is fun like that sometimes. Agree, though, about the Goblin King. He was smashing fun!

You may have nudged me to seek out the other two Howl books—I have, and have read, the first one. So many books, so little time …
Happy new year anyway.

>51 haydninvienna: Thank you, and the same to you!
I do spy more Diana Wynne Jones in my year ahead.

North and South -- Elizabeth Gaskell

I recently read North and South with a group last month, and while it isn't a happy book, I did find it very rounded and enjoyable in its way. After a smart upbringing in London society, Margaret Hale looks forward to settling back into her parents' quiet country parsonage in Helstone, until her father, in a crisis of conscience, resigns his vicarage and uproots his family to the industrial town of Milton. Her family being in an unusual status there and welcome to mingle with both the wealthy mill-owners and their labourers, Margaret gains a unique perspective on their conflict and becomes increasingly invested in alleviating the sufferings of the downtrodden workers.

When it comes to social issues, I'm about as knowledgeable as Margaret's seemingly harebrained city cousin, Edith; and I'll admit that I was a little lost in the earlier discussions about the problems with the local strike. However, as I went on, Gaskell lays out both sides of the issue impressively. I appreciated in particular the moral distress Margaret expresses arising from her association with the two sharply contrasted classes of Milton society, as she confronts the crossroads between awareness and willful ignorance:

'How am I to dress up in my finery, and go off and away to smart parties, after the sorrow I have seen today?'

I liked as well how exceptionally human the characters are, in that they can be both difficult and admirable, regardless of whether or not they are likeable. No one is perfect, even Margaret (though she is a jot of pride short of it). Her parents are loving and exasperating in a single breath, and I felt for Margaret through all the trials she faces in supporting them and then, coping with their deaths; because, while she perseveres where the forbearance of many would collapse sooner, the incredible burden of emotion she bears to keep it up is manifest and makes her a still relatable heroine. Nonetheless, I could have done with less of the universal adoration and sympathy that Margaret inspires in everyone with her every step and word, excepting of course, Mrs and Miss Thornton.

Margaret and mill-owner John Thornton get off on a rocky start, but their relationship and the long progress it takes throughout the novel are thoroughly believable, as it is based on a path of mutual moral growth that is inspired by a deeper understanding of each other and yet undertaken independently. That said, although I like the direction that Margaret and Mr Thornton's development takes them in the final act, the last chapter didn't cut it for me. A few more chapters would do it, I think.

All in all, I'm very happy to have read it. I am still not quite prepared to forgive Gaskell, though, for all the depression she threw me into over the holidays with how Margaret loses all of her most beloved family and friends, especially her father whose crisis of conscience is also never resolved. Towards the end, I was even preparing for Dixon, the long-standing maid of the family, to present with an "unexpected ailment" and inflict further tragedy on poor Margaret!

>53 Majel-Susan: Oh... I'm glad you enjoyed it, but ouch. I have this one on my Kindle, but I think I'll wait for happier times to read it. I suspect I might be waiting quite a while... Perhaps I'll just wait for warmer sunnier weather.

>53 Majel-Susan: I haven't read North and South (to my shame) but I loved Gaskell's Wives and daughters. The BBC TV adaptation was good too.

>54 clamairy: It was not overly depressing (The Tenant of Wildfell Hall was far, far worse); I simply wasn't prepared for some things that occurred. But yes, I feel that way about some books too.

>55 Sakerfalcon: North and South was my first Gaskell, and I do think I liked it enough to read another by her sometime.

Till We Have Faces -- C. S. Lewis

A love can grow to be nine-tenths hatred and still call itself love.

I thought I was entirely ignorant of the myth around Cupid and Psyche, but it turns out that I did know at least a part of it, when Orual gives Psyche the lamp and oil, although the consequences of that were unfamiliar to me. This is, of course, Lewis' own unique retelling and does deviate from the actual myth, which I later caught up on. While I find this novel relatable in its theme of man's capacity to love selfishly to devastating effect, as Orual discovers late in her life the unhappy import of her devouring love for those devoted to her, many of the other meanings and themes elude me on this initial reading.

There is an interesting motif happening with the emphasis on faces throughout the book: Orual with her ugliness and her veil later, the unseen face of Psyche's husband, Ungit's facelessness in her many faces, the Priest of Ungit's bird head mask. And as Lewis hardly ever disappoints me, a detail that bothered me in Part I---Orual's cold contempt and lack of sympathy for her first sister, Redival, took me rather by surprise---is revisited in Part II when an old acquaintance recalls Redival's loneliness growing up and Orual is struck for the first time by how she herself had abandoned Redival's companionship for her intenser love for the Fox and Psyche during those years. Another looming challenge is Orual's demand for an answer from the gods, whose response is strikingly lifelike in that there is no answer; because when she looks within herself, all her answer and accusation lie there. I think I might have gleaned more had I read this together with my other Lewis reads in the previous year, but I do love Lewis regardless and anticipate further re-readings of his works.

At present, for fiction published in his lifetime, I believe I'm only missing The Pilgrim's Regress and a collection of his short stories, which I hope to get to later in the year.

>57 Majel-Susan: I love The Pilgrim's Regress best out of his overtly Christian fiction. But it does help to have reasonably good recall of Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress as you read it.

>58 -pilgrim-: But it does help to have reasonably good recall of Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress as you read it.

I was afraid of that... I dragged through the first book of Pilgrim's Progress two years ago and then gave up when I got to the second part. Well, maybe I'll give it another go sooner in that case.

>59 Majel-Susan: My memory may be faulty, but I don't think Lewis goes on to parallel Christiana (and yrs, thst section dragged for me, too).

Well, I've decided to give The Pilgrim's Progress another go starting with the first book again, and I seem to be reading much more smoothly this time, so I hope that keeps up.

Books abandoned in 2021:

Infantry Attacks by Erwin Rommel: Whelp, I still haven't managed to grow enough interest in historical non-fiction!

Keeper of the Lost Cities by Shannon Messenger: Sampled a few chapters and borrowed it on a whim during a no-internet-browsing day. It was amusing enough, but while nine intended sequels didn't put me off entirely, hearing that the recent two or three books have been meandering around the main character's love triangle with little movement in the overarching plot ended it early for me.

No, new thread for me, so better luck next year... maybe. XD

Books and groups I'm looking forward to this month: February!

75 Books Challenge for 2022: The Memory of Love by Aminatta Forna
2022 Category Challenge -- ShakespeareCAT: Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare (READ: Feb 5-8)
Virago Modern Classics -- North American Authors and Settings: A Jest of God by Margaret Laurence (READ: Feb 8-11)
Monthly Author Reads -- Wilkie Collins: The Woman in White or The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

The Blue Day -- René Guillot



This melancholy little book had me at its opening line: This is a blue story. And it's not any kind of blue; it's a kingfisher blue, which Margery Gill utilises to charming skill throughout her illustrations for the story. Mieke is an abandoned doll in the attic of the Van Oppels awaiting her blue day, a special day rarely seen on which the fairy gathers all forgotten dolls and grants each their dearest wish for a day. And when Mieke's turn comes and she asks for a baby, I thought she means a child to play with her; but it is somehow so much sweeter and sadder when I realised that she herself is looking to play mother with the baby, as if she has long wanted to experience the complementing joy of the child and to share her past joys as a loved doll. And like all beautiful days, this one ends too. It was rather a sad story, so now I'm trying to persuade myself that all our old dolls came in pairs and, at least, are keeping each other company...

Book associations: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001 film), Pinocchio

>64 Majel-Susan: I am so glad that you were able to find a copy, and that you love it as much as I do. I was 3 or 4 when I first read it - it mist be one of the first books I actually read - and it has haunted me all my life.

>65 -pilgrim-: Yes, I think I was quite lucky to be able to find a digital copy to borrow, and I was surprised by how few ratings it has.

>66 Majel-Susan: I wonder if there are significantly more on a Francophone LT site?

>67 -pilgrim-: That would actually be probably true. Although I hadn't heard of René Guillot before, it does appear that his books are used in school curricula, likely more frequently in French-speaking countries.

>62 Majel-Susan: For historical non-fiction, that seems like a very dry topic!

>69 Karlstar: The little I know of Rommel sounds fascinating, so I thought it might be informative and interesting to get directly to the source... but I guess not!

King Lear -- William Shakespeare

Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.

When an old fool demands that his daughters express their love for him in words that speak louder than actions, anything can happen. It is no surprise, then, that King Lear disowns his favourite daughter without even a dowry, in favour for the elder two daughters, who butter his toes and after each getting a share of his crown, proceed to overrule their increasingly helpless and delirious parent.

I've had a pretty mixed experience with Shakespeare, between being overwhelmed by what on earth all the characters are talking about and being drawn into a good story. I felt like a disaster the first time I read Shakespeare and had to analyse The Merchant of Venice, but my assignment on Macbeth went very nicely two years later with a well-annotated copy in hand; since then, I've enjoyed Romeo and Juliet and hated Hamlet. The ongoing ShakespeareCAT in the 2022 Category Challenge group, however, seems like a good opportunity to give ol' Shakespeare another chance.

King Lear didn't go too badly, I think. I'm reading The Shakespeare Book as a guide for each time I finish a play, just to make sure I didn't miss out on too much, which it appears I didn't this time in regards to the main and side plots, although King Lear's raving in the storm, as well as other subtler details and references, were bound to fly over my head. Well, as my sister says, practice makes better.

Things Fall Apart -- Chinua Achebe

But it was like beginning life anew without the vigor and enthusiasm of youth, like learning to become left-handed in old age.

Okonkwo, to his fellow Igbo clansmen, is one of the greatest men of Umuofia, and yet behind his immense pride, he lives under the psychological shadow of his father's failure, unable to overcome his own violent emotions and fear of weakness. And so when he is then banished for seven years from his fatherland at the acme of his ambitions, Okonkwo faces the dispiriting challenge of rebuilding himself. But the times are unprecedented as culture and identity fall apart with the arrival of foreign missionaries and colonisers.

While it is a rather dismal narrative at times, Achebe also recreates a breathing picture of the Igbo traditions as he envisions them in the late 1800s before the arrival of the white man; and the story is scattered with local aphorisms, legends, and conventions, which were for me the most enjoyable parts of the book. However, in the midst of Igbo's tranquil day-to-day affairs, there is as well a deep moral conflict that some experience within their traditions, which begins even before white people come among them and leaves a wound open to the missionaries when they do arrive. The new church has all the troubled people, like the women with multiple twin births (an offense to the Earth that must be abandoned in the fields) and miscarried ogbanje babies ("wicked children who, when they died, entered their mothers' wombs to be born again"), like the osu (persons dedicated to a god and cast out from the free people), and like Okonkwo's eldest son, Nwoye, whose conversion I suspect is, in part, as well, an act of direct rebellion against his father.

The fragility of the Igbo community is presented as well in the contrast between the man that Okonkwo is and the man that Umuofia recognises as one of their greatest. As an individual and not a symbol of Umuofia, Okonkwo is not a great man. Achebe lets us know plainly that he is a man ruled by the fear of his father's failure, which in turn leads him to recurring infractions against his own traditions, from the impropriety of killing an adoptive son (apart from the reader's own objections) and beating his wife during the Week of Peace, to MAJOR SPOILER finally hanging himself in despair. On the other hand, Okonkwo is undeniably a rigid and uncompromising man when it comes to defending his traditions; and so he represents Umuofia's pride and strength, and tragically also, Umuofia's defeat when he realises that he is alone at the end.

It is not a happy read but I did find it interesting, and given how little African literature I have read, I did appreciate the different, more grounds perspective offered here. Achebe builds up the tensions that occur overtime: first, in the encounters, varying in degrees of tolerance and aggression, between the villages and their own new converts; and then, in the further compounding of their conflict by the presence of a foreign government with no interest in fostering any kind of understanding between them. And even while Achebe maintains a steadfast sympathy for the Igbo traditions, I never felt him to be prejudiced, but he typically presents two sides of a dilemma, which as in life, often doesn't have any right solution.