The Mill on the Floss – George Eliot (Laura Paton) (
4 stars)
This one came as a “favorite all-time book” recommendation from my most trusted book recommender, Val. It’s a British author from the 1800’s, and it’s written in a very British tone/perspective, and it references very British landscapes, vocabulary, and culture. (And the narration was spot-on.) The name George Eliot is actually a male alias for a female writer whose real name now escapes me. When I learned that about a quarter of the way through it came as a bigger shock to me than it probably should have. I didn't think more or less of the story; it just made me see things differently, right or wrong.
It’s my kind of writing – a simple, but high-stakes plot, the right dose of creative writing and similes, and a nice element of human observation that comes from the brightest minds from the best writers of each era. Some of the scenes are still vividly present with me, and will probably recur with me as a real-life scene or experience jogs my memory every now and again.
Book 2: School-Time; Chapter 2: The Christmas Holidays
"Fine old Christmas, with the snowy hair and ruddy face, had done his duty that year in the noblest fashion, and had set off his rich gifts of warmth and color with all the heightening contrast of frost and snow.
Snow lay on the croft and river-bank in undulations softer than the limbs of infancy; it lay with the neatliest finished border on every sloping roof, making the dark-red gables stand out with a new depth of color; it weighed heavily on the laurels and fir-trees, till it fell from them with a shuddering sound; it clothed the rough turnip-field with whiteness, and made the sheep look like dark blotches; the gates were all blocked up with the sloping drifts, and here and there a disregarded four-footed beast stood as if petrified “in unrecumbent sadness”; there was no gleam, no shadow, for the heavens, too, were one still, pale cloud; no sound or motion in anything but the dark river that flowed and moaned like an unresting sorrow. But old Christmas smiled as he laid this cruel-seeming spell on the outdoor world, for he meant to light up home with new brightness, to deepen all the richness of indoor color, and give a keener edge of delight to the warm fragrance of food; he meant to prepare a sweet imprisonment that would strengthen the primitive fellowship of kindred, and make the sunshine of familiar human faces as welcome as the hidden day-star. His kindness fell but hardly on the homeless,—fell but hardly on the homes where the hearth was not very warm, and where the food had little fragrance; where the human faces had had no sunshine in them, but rather the leaden, blank-eyed gaze of unexpectant want. But the fine old season meant well; and if he has not learned the secret how to bless men impartially, it is because his father Time, with ever-unrelenting unrelenting purpose, still hides that secret in his own mighty, slow-beating heart."
The story revolves around the Tulliver family, primarily on the children, Maggie and Tom, and somewhat on the parents, as well as on their family relations, who inject some humor into the story as well as serve for a platform for societal commentary. Maggie is a fascinating character, genuinely desiring to do what is right, but somehow unable to gratify all those she loves that surround her because of their various competing interests.
My only real complaint with it was that for being a subdued British novel with a simple plot, sometimes the drama was actually too overt for me. With its slow buildup and fantastic character development I would become really invested in the characters and their struggles, but then Stephen Guest or Philip Wachum, or her brother Tom would do things that just seemed too dramatic and inconceivable to me. I would actually get angry at the characters for being so rash/inconsiderate/etc -- perhaps that's actually the mark of a good book. But this anger was more irritation, whereas in, for example, 'Angle of Repose', my anger was more sadness and compassion.
Book 1: Boy and Girl; Chapter 3: Mr. Riley Gives His Advice Concerning a School for Tom
"The entrance of supper opportunely adjourned this difficulty, and relieved Mr. Riley from the labor of suggesting some solution or compromise,–a labor which he would otherwise doubtless have undertaken; for, as you perceive, he was a man of very obliging manners. And he had really given himself the trouble of recommending Mr. Stelling to his friend Tulliver without any positive expectation of a solid, definite advantage resulting to himself, notwithstanding the subtle indications to the contrary which might have misled a too-sagacious observer. For there is nothing more widely misleading than sagacity if it happens to get on a wrong scent; and sagacity, persuaded that men usually act and speak from distinct motives, with a consciously proposed end in view, is certain to waste its energies on imaginary game.
Plotting covetousness and deliberate contrivance, in order to compass a selfish end, are nowhere abundant but in the world of the dramatist: they demand too intense a mental action for many of our fellow-parishioners to be guilty of them. It is easy enough to spoil the lives of our neighbors without taking so much trouble; we can do it by lazy acquiescence and lazy omission, by trivial falsities for which we hardly know a reason, by small frauds neutralized by small extravagances, by maladroit flatteries, and clumsily improvised insinuations. We live from hand to mouth, most of us, with a small family of immediate desires; we do little else than snatch a morsel to satisfy the hungry brood, rarely thinking of seed-corn or the next year's crop."
Macbeth (Smartpass Audio) – William Shakespeare (Joan Walker et al) (
5 stars)
Hamlet (Smartpass Audio) – William Shakespeare (Joan Walker et al) (
4 stars)
For whatever reason I’m experiencing a Shakespeare awakening at this stage of my life. I’ve recently very much enjoyed seeing plays like ‘Henry IV’ at DC’s Shakespeare Theatre (with a virtuoso Falstaff performance by Stacy Keach), or watching the modern interpretation black-and-white film of ‘Much Ado About Nothin’ by Joss Whedon (‘Avengers’)). And, in addition to all that, discovering these Smartpass Audio audiobook performances has really upped my appreciation a few notches.
The basic idea is that the lead narrator, Joan Walker, opens up the play with 20 minutes or so of historical context, the play’s significance, the different versions and styles the play has taken on over the years, etc. Then we listed to a prerecorded performance of a troupe of actors performing the play with the lead narrator pausing the production every 30 seconds or so to both clarify what is being said as well as to guide you along with clues and things to focus on / look out for. As an example, in Hamlet when King Claudius so lengthily introduces Gertrude she explains that this is called a ‘euphuism’ and is typical of Claudius’ way of speaking so ornately, burying the content of his speech at the end of what he has to say. Another example is how she clues the listener in to the instances when Claudius refers to Hamlet as ‘our’ son (royal we), or ‘our’ son (jointly with Gertrude), or ‘my’ son, or ‘your’ son as the message suits his purposes. One final example I’ll share is how she points out Hamlet’s different modes of speech like rhyme or prose or freeform to point out 1) the distinction in the various circumstances, but more importantly, 2) how he’s symbolically losing control of his life as his speech degrades at times and he can’t always summon his princely speech when circumstances dictate he ought to.
It was also interesting to learn the historical context of these two plays, and some of the new methods that Shakespeare was introducing to the world of plays. I believe in the case of both of these plays that they were partially true stories of heretical kingly succession with some of the side characters (e.g. Banquo) given more prominent roles or other various facts twisted to flatter the then-current ruling king or queen and/or suit a story that Shakespeare preferred to tell. Additionally, to stage a play such that the scenes didn’t all take place in the same location and true to the measure of time as we know it in the real world was apparently revolutionary (or, as the Smartpass audio guide would say, “revolution-ry”), and would have stretched the audience’s minds a considerable amount. This is not, however, to say that they were a less intellectual bunch back then as far as plays and stories go. According to the Smartpass folks, the audiences back then had a keen and facile understanding of oral stories and would have likely more easily understood Shakespeare’s plots and references, and even his jokes.
Not a lot needs to be said that hasn’t been said already about the stories themselves. The speeches and the lines and the character development are all excellent.
Note that this recent Shakespeare fanaticism also led me to Netflick the 1996 Kenneth Branaugh version of ‘Hamlet’, which was kind of a disappointment. Even though some scenes just didn’t feel right I was still trying to be positive about it throughout the 4-hour movie, but then when Billy Crystal played the role of ‘First Gravedigger’ in a British/unintentional-New York accent my disappointment was too much to overcome. 2 stars for that one.
Green Hills of Africa - Ernest Hemingway (Josh Lucas) (
4 stars)
An autobiographical novel about Hemingway's excursion to Africa to hunt the greater kudu bull (among other big game), I was turned onto this book because of i) my general affinity for Hemingway literature, and ii) a desire to extend and enhance a recent, more peaceable trip of my own to Africa for game drives in Kenya.
I enjoyed the romantic writing approach regarding the animals his party was after, their interactions with the local tribes, and the landscape in general; though that can get a little tiresome if you, like me, aren't so fanatical about the thrill of hunting. Fortunately, there is a dash of side stories & observations (though not many) in this book that keep it interesting. Most notably for me was the account of the Austrian that he runs into on one of his all-day hunts. They sit down to eat -- meat and alcohol probably -- and the Austrian quizzes him on international poetry and asks searching questions on what it takes to be a good writer. Hemingway is irritated, but obliges. You get the sense it's kind of like asking a concert pianist to play a bit of Schubert -- it's not something that 'masters' can lightly step in and out of, and requires psychological exercise. Anyway, to the casual reader like myself, he offers some very interesting commentary on who were the good writers and who were crap, and what made the distinction. To literary circles back home, and academia in general, I'm sure this ruffled some feathers.
"Writers should work alone. They should see each other only after their work is done, and not too often then. Otherwise they become like writers in New York. All angleworms in a bottle, trying to derive knowledge and nourishment from their own contact and from the bottle."
But then he gets back to the hunting and the beautiful nature that surrounded him. There were some great passages about man, animals, nature, etc. In some degree it brought me back to those Kenyan sunset jeep-drives where it felt like we were gliding along the grass and earth, with the wind-resistance rushing against you as you stand up--much like the sensation of driving the boat back to camp after the day's last waterski run--with our necks craned back in awe of the enormous sky with its billowing clouds forming a ring that looked like it could turn the universe in on itself.
Here he remarks about one of his kills in a way only he could:
"It was a huge, beautiful kudu bull, stone-dead, on his side, his horns in great dark spirals, wide-spread and unbelievable as he lay dead…. I looked at him, big, long-legged, a smooth gray with the white stripes and the great, curling, sweeping horns, brown as walnut meats, and ivory pointed, at the big ears and the great, lovely heavy-maned neck the white chevron between his eyes…. He was lying on the side where the bullet had gone in and there was not a mark on him and he smelled sweet and lovely like the breath of cattle and the odor of thyme after rain."
Note: This 1935 NYT book review is some great writing in and of itself. He makes some fair criticisms of the book.
Snow lay on the croft and river-bank in undulations softer than the limbs of infancy; it lay with the neatliest finished border on every sloping roof, making the dark-red gables stand out with a new depth of color; it weighed heavily on the laurels and fir-trees, till it fell from them with a shuddering sound; it clothed the rough turnip-field with whiteness, and made the sheep look like dark blotches; the gates were all blocked up with the sloping drifts, and here and there a disregarded four-footed beast stood as if petrified “in unrecumbent sadness”; there was no gleam, no shadow, for the heavens, too, were one still, pale cloud; no sound or motion in anything but the dark river that flowed and moaned like an unresting sorrow. But old Christmas smiled as he laid this cruel-seeming spell on the outdoor world, for he meant to light up home with new brightness, to deepen all the richness of indoor color, and give a keener edge of delight to the warm fragrance of food; he meant to prepare a sweet imprisonment that would strengthen the primitive fellowship of kindred, and make the sunshine of familiar human faces as welcome as the hidden day-star. His kindness fell but hardly on the homeless,—fell but hardly on the homes where the hearth was not very warm, and where the food had little fragrance; where the human faces had had no sunshine in them, but rather the leaden, blank-eyed gaze of unexpectant want. But the fine old season meant well; and if he has not learned the secret how to bless men impartially, it is because his father Time, with ever-unrelenting unrelenting purpose, still hides that secret in his own mighty, slow-beating heart."
For whatever reason I’m experiencing a Shakespeare awakening at this stage of my life. I’ve recently very much enjoyed seeing plays like ‘Henry IV’ at DC’s Shakespeare Theatre (with a virtuoso Falstaff performance by Stacy Keach), or watching the modern interpretation black-and-white film of ‘Much Ado About Nothin’ by Joss Whedon (‘Avengers’)). And, in addition to all that, discovering these Smartpass Audio audiobook performances has really upped my appreciation a few notches. 
The basic idea is that the lead narrator, Joan Walker, opens up the play with 20 minutes or so of historical context, the play’s significance, the different versions and styles the play has taken on over the years, etc. Then we listed to a prerecorded performance of a troupe of actors performing the play with the lead narrator pausing the production every 30 seconds or so to both clarify what is being said as well as to guide you along with clues and things to focus on / look out for. As an example, in Hamlet when King Claudius so lengthily introduces Gertrude she explains that this is called a ‘euphuism’ and is typical of Claudius’ way of speaking so ornately, burying the content of his speech at the end of what he has to say. Another example is how she clues the listener in to the instances when Claudius refers to Hamlet as ‘our’ son (royal we), or ‘our’ son (jointly with Gertrude), or ‘my’ son, or ‘your’ son as the message suits his purposes. One final example I’ll share is how she points out Hamlet’s different modes of speech like rhyme or prose or freeform to point out 1) the distinction in the various circumstances, but more importantly, 2) how he’s symbolically losing control of his life as his speech degrades at times and he can’t always summon his princely speech when circumstances dictate he ought to. 
I enjoyed the romantic writing approach regarding the animals his party was after, their interactions with the local tribes, and the landscape in general; though that can get a little tiresome if you, like me, aren't so fanatical about the thrill of hunting. Fortunately, there is a dash of side stories & observations (though not many) in this book that keep it interesting. Most notably for me was the account of the Austrian that he runs into on one of his all-day hunts. They sit down to eat -- meat and alcohol probably -- and the Austrian quizzes him on international poetry and asks searching questions on what it takes to be a good writer. Hemingway is irritated, but obliges. You get the sense it's kind of like asking a concert pianist to play a bit of Schubert -- it's not something that 'masters' can lightly step in and out of, and requires psychological exercise. Anyway, to the casual reader like myself, he offers some very interesting commentary on who were the good writers and who were crap, and what made the distinction. To literary circles back home, and academia in general, I'm sure this ruffled some feathers.
