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Tolkien’s House Already Protected

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Once the Tolkien family home

You may have heard of a fund-raising effort to solicit a few million pounds for the purchase of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Oxford house on Northmoor Road. Big names from the movie adaptations have encouraged fans to donate to Project Northmoor.

The Tolkien Society says they will not support it, “citing its concerns that, among others, no Tolkien experts were serving as directors, that the building would not be open to the public, and that the plan they had seen ‘includes spiritual retreats,'” reported by The Guardian.

That smell of Christianity may be what scares The Guardian, but the Society has a number of reasons they decided against supporting the project, including that the house “is a listed building in a conservation area – with a blue plaque proudly showing its connection to Tolkien – meaning the property is well protected under the law and not in need of rescue.”

(via Prufrock News; Photo: Tolkien House, 2002, by Stefan Servos – Ardapedia/Wikicommons)

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Concerning garlands

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I posted this video of Sissel singing “Det Lyser i Stille Grender” the other day. Watch it if you missed it before, or watch it again; it’s worth it.

There’s one detail I wanted to comment on. That concerns the Christmas tree standing behind the singer. Note what they did with the shiny garlands.

In America, it’s customary to wind the garlands around the tree, top to bottom (or bottom to top, if you prefer; I’m not dogmatic on the point). The effect is similar to what snow looks like as it lays on the branches of an evergreen after a snowfall. But in Norway it’s common (though not universal) to arrange the garlands as you see here – hanging straight down from the star (or angel; again, I’m not dogmatic) at the top. The idea here (I believe) is to suggest the rays of the star shining down from Heaven. If you set a Nativity creche underneath, that works even better. I did a search for pictures of Norwegian Christmas trees, and often they look very much like ours, but I’ve rarely seen the star-ray configuration on an American tree.

Another difference is in the use of flags. A popular decoration in Norway is a garland of little paper Norwegian flags on a string. You arrange them on the tree as you would any other holiday garland. That sort of thing’s pretty much unknown in America, even in Republican households. We try to separate Church and State – but in Norway they had a State Church up until fairly recently. And the flag, after all, does feature a cross.

It’s common to deride American conservatives as flag-worshippers, but really the Norwegians have us beat on that point. Through the periods of agitation for independence under Denmark and Sweden, the display of a “pure” Norwegian flag (one not quartered with the flag of the “parent” country) was subversive, but relatively safe. During the Nazi occupation, having the flag was less safe, but that made it all the more precious. To this day, old people get tears in their eyes when they remember the day it was finally safe to display the flag again.

No doubt, as that generation dies off, this passion for the flag will diminish.

Poetry, Reviews, Uncategorized

‘The Fall of Arthur,’ by J. R. R. Tolkien

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Not long ago I reviewed Beren and Luthien, Christopher Tolkien’s scholarly reconstruction of much-revised textual material left behind by his father, J. R. R. Tolkien. I judged the book a sort of a scholarly exercise.

I’d have to say the same about The Fall of Arthur. Tolkien, always a promoter of Anglo-Saxon literature, wanted to demonstrate what he could do with Anglo-Saxon-style verse (pretty much the same as Old Norse verse), by re-telling the story of King Arthur in that meter. There’s a certain irony in that project, as the real King Arthur (if he ever existed) spent his life fighting the Anglo-Saxons.

Still, to the extent that it was finished, the poem works extremely well. There’s real vigor in alliterative verse, and the way it “sings” is strongly reminiscent of passages in The Lord of the Rings. One sees where Tolkien acquired his highly effective literary style.

Foes before them,
flames behind them
ever east and onward 
eager rode they, 
and folk fled them  as the 
face of God,
till earth was empty, and 
no  eyes saw them, 
and no ears heard them in 
the endless hills,
save bird and beast  bale-
ful haunting 
the lonely lands….

The poem, unfortunately, was left as a fragment, breaking off before it’s properly underway. Arthur is returning from his campaign in Europe, having been warned that Mordred has raised a rebellion in his absence. Much has been made of the fact that Lancelot, who betrayed the king with Guinevere, has not been summoned to help him. No doubt more would have been made of that, and this could have been a pretty rousing work of literature. But as it is, what we have is another interesting scholarly exercise.

There are notes at the end, and a couple essays by Christopher Tolkien. I should have read those, but wasn’t aware of them until just now.

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Fishing in Lofoten

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I have a lot of translating work to do (a good thing for me), and I spent about an hour already tonight trying to post something that didn’t work. So here’s a short clip of a from the 1950s, Norwegian fishermen at work in the Lofoten Islands. I think it’s herring, but I’m a landlubber.

Have a good weekend,

and watch your health.

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‘A beautiful and ingenious machine’

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Italian engineer Agostino Ramelli created a book back in 1588, humbly entitled, The various and ingenious machines of Captain Agostino Ramelli. Maybe someone titled it for him. The Smithonian praises it, pointing out its influence on later engineers.

Of a reading machine design, Ramelli said, “This is a beautiful and ingenious machine, very useful and convenient for anyone who takes pleasure in study, especially those who are indisposed and tormented by gout. . . . Moveover, it has another fine convenience in that it occupies very little space in the place where it is set.”

Perhaps these words inspired students at Rochester Institute of Technology to build a couple of these book wheels using European beech and white oak and hand-cut gears.

“The actual construction may not have been worth the time with 16th-century techniques,” Ian Kurtz said, “I think Agostino was more so showing his understanding of how gear systems worked.” (via Atlas Obscura)

Goofing, Uncategorized

Bertie’s cat crisis

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Busy, busy today — and it’s a good time to be busy, to keep one’s mind off… things. Translation, big job, deadline, you know the drill.

So, in lieu of my comforting prose, I offer a moment of Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry as Jeeves and Wooster, from way back in 1990. Bertie Wooster, it appears, has imprudently allowed himself to stumble into engagement with Honoria Glossop, daughter of the eminent lunacy expert, Sir Roderick Glossop. Bertie has invited Sir and Madame Glossop to dine in his flat. But Jeeves, in his wisdom, knows the match is unsuitable, and so finds a subtle way to put a boot up the pipe. (I have no idea what that means, but it sounds about right.)

Nobody’s ever done Jeeves and Wooster better, even though Hugh Laurie took the coward’s way out and didn’t work with a monocle.

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Quarantine journal

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The book I’m reading now is taking a while, so what shall I say to you tonight? Went out for a walk this morning and exchanged a few words with a neighbor I barely know. That counts as a major social event these days. Alert the Society columnists!

Went out for lunch (the daily deal at Red Lobster), and then stopped on the way home to do my civic duty and get my flu shot.

Consumer report: I preferred the nanorobots they included in last year’s vaccine. Those gave me dreams of the University of Timbuktu, and produced a compulsion to vote for the Green Party, though it was an election off-year. So far this year’s nanorobots have only turned my toenails teal, and I think I detect the beginnings of a vestigial tail, for which I can think of no good practical use.

I streamed an old movie, “In a Lonely Place,” with Humphrey Bogart and Gloria Grahame. It’s about a screenwriter with homicidal inclinations, who may or may not be preparing to kill his fiancée at the end. I can’t say that it matches my own experience in the film industry, but my participation has been limited so far. Once I start doing power lunches with producers, I may see more action.

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Just like Roald Amundsen

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It occurred to me more than once over the last few days (but never at a useful time) that I misled you last week. I told you I’d be gone Thursday and Friday, to do a lecture at a church school in Iowa. Then you doubtless came to this page in breathless anticipation of my absence, and there I was, reviewing as usual. Without so much as an apology.

I apologize.

What happened was the weather, something of which we have no lack in Minnesota. When I got up on Thursday morning, prepared to pack and go, I learned that several inches of icy snow were predicted that day. I didn’t like the sound of that – offhand, I can only remember one instance in my life when I actually spun out on a highway and ended up in the ditch, but I’m sure there must have been more. It’s a distressing feeling, like somebody inside one of those YouTube disaster clips, where you watch one idiot after another sliding their cars into one another on a slick, downhill street.

So I called the school and asked if we could reschedule. The pastor was amenable, and we moved it to Monday (today, in case you’re not certain after months in lockdown). Then I looked at the weather forecast, identified Saturday as a likely driving day, and moved my trip to then.

What happened subsequently in Iowa is that an almost identical storm blew up on Sunday night. So when I got up this morning, I learned that my car would have to be scraped off, and the highways were slick. Better leave early to compensate for slow travel.

I left about an hour and a half before showtime (the trip should have taken about 40 minutes), and drove like an old man (a clever ruse on my part). Road surfaces varied, but I opted for caution at all points. I still got to the school in plenty of time.

The lecture went well. The students pretended to be interested as I talked about the conversion of the Vikings in Norway, and even asked questions. Lots of questions.

My personal favorite question was, “Would you stop talking so we can look at your stuff?”

I smiled kindly and ignored the young man. The questions went on for some time, but finally they ended, and the students got a chance to examine my “stuff”: I had brought my helmet, sword and shield for them to peruse. Nobody, I am happy to report, attempted to kill anybody else with them.

Then back to where I was staying. It was past noon by now, and the sun had kissed the road surfaces, improving their general disposition. I drove home to Minnesota at normal speeds, and stopped off in Kenyon, my boyhood home, to examine the family cemetery plot for personal reasons. The grass was covered with about an inch of snow, but the stuff had melted off the granite marker stones so that they could be read. In case I’d forgotten who they were. Which I hadn’t. Grandpa and Grandma, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marcene whom I never knew, and Aunt Jean whom I knew very well indeed.

I stopped at the gas station where my dad used to buy most of his gas, and ran into an old high school friend. This gave me a chance to brag about “Atlantic Crossing” (I may not have mentioned it before, but I helped translate this excellent miniseries, coming to PBS Masterpiece this spring).

Now I’m home. It was nice to take a Viking trip of any kind at least once this summer. Thanks to Scarville Lutheran School for their hospitality. Also to my brother and his wife, for the bed and meals variety. Now all I need to do is unpack, which may take several days unless I work up some energy. I’ve taken road trips two weekends in a row now, and I’m not sure I can handle the wear and tear.

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When You Feel You’re Always Wrong

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I’ve answered several political surveys this year. My state has three contested congressional races on top of the presidential election, so pollsters want to know what we’re thinking. My ‘favorite’ line of questions sound like an exercise in sowing deception. They give you statements you’re asked to assume to be true in order to predict whether you would be more or less likely to vote for the dirt-bag candidate who hates children or the saint who is sponsoring this poll. I told one pollster after he had read a glowingly positive statement about a candidate, “If you put it that way, how could I not vote for him?”

I’d like to know what Americans (or even people throughout North America) believe about normal life. For instance, how many of us would agree that life is conflict? Thinking of Jurassic Park, perhaps more of us would accept life as change or growth, but both change and growth involve straining against the current state and that’s a type of conflict. It may be man against nature or against himself.

I wonder how many of us see conflict as a natural part of communication. I can’t say I do. Minor conflicts jar me too much. It can be embarrassing to step on someone’s toes because your responsibilities overlap with theirs. Or you’re in someone’s home and they do something you think is unnecessary, and you say what you think. Those are the negligible conflicts that inspire people like me to worry. They can feed a lingering suspicion that we are always wrong and should avoid speaking up in any situation, just because someone doesn’t see it our way or know the same things we know.

And if we did do something wrong, that only multiplies our bad feelings. Of course, we don’t really believe we’re always wrong. If we did, we’d never get the mail. But our suspicion has that absolute quality to it. That slip-up we made, we believe, illustrates everything notable about our lives.

If we were to see conflict as a natural part of life, then we should expect to disagree without incurring a moral problem. No one has to have sinned during the commission of this disagreement/conversation. We were just talking. And talking entails conflict (or change or growth).

The Lord said he would fill every valley and lower every hill; he would beat smooth every rough path. That’s going to be difficult, but the Lord hasn’t called us into it to handle on our own. He is our king, master, and ruler. Even in this, his burden is light.

Regardless our feelings, when we rest in Christ we are not wrong.

Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash

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‘Masterpiece’ achieves its full potential at last

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I’ll write about something other than the (brilliant) Norwegian miniseries, Atlantic Crossing (on which I did translation work – not sure I’ve mentioned that), one of these days. But that will only be when there isn’t amazing news to tell about it. And today is not that day.

It was just announced – and I just got word – that Atlantic Crossing will be part of the Spring 2021 lineup on the prestigious PBS “Masterpiece” series (which most of us still call “Masterpiece Theater”) this spring (scroll down to the Spring listing).

I need hardly mention that I’m over the moon about this. While I was working on the series, I thought more than once that this was perfect material for “Masterpiece.” But I had the idea they only broadcast British stuff.

In point of fact, this will be the first time a Norwegian series has ever been broadcast on “Masterpiece.”

I humbly take personal responsibility for all this success.