Category Archives: Authors

A belated notice



Photo: New York Public Library Archives



Yesterday I failed to note the birthday of G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936). Here’s a snippet from All Things Considered:

[The collectivist] knows it would be cheaper if a number of us ate at the same time, so as to use the same table. So it would. It would also be cheaper if a number of us slept at different times, so as to use the same pair of trousers. But the question is not how cheap we are buying a thing, but what are we buying? It is cheap to own a slave. And it is cheaper still to be a slave.

Literary notes

Our friend Dale Nelson informs me that this year is the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, which most American readers know from The Tolkien Reader. J. R. R. Tolkien wrote it at the request of his aunt, Jane Neave.

So, I finally read The Great Gatsby. I was motivated to do this by two circumstances. One is that I saw the trailer for the upcoming movie version, starring Leonardo DiCaprio. I won’t embed it, because frankly it doesn’t look all that promising. The second reason was that I finally found a cheap Kindle edition.

Some years ago, someone told me I ought to read Gatsby, because I had a lot in common with the title character. I guess that’s true, with the caveat that I’m not generally considered either glamorous or mysterious.

Anyway, it’s superbly written. I’m glad I waited till I was a grownup to read it. I might have appreciated it in college, but I’m not sure.

There’s a rumor abroad in the land, spread mostly by college literature professors, that Gatsby is a critique of the American dream. This is balderdash. It’s a critique of the human heart, and the illusions we build for ourselves, and the idea that money can remake the world to our personal specifications.

Great book. Hurt like the devil.

(Here’s something odd. If you see the trailer, you’ll note that the actress is playing Daisy Buchanan as a blonde. And Mia Farrow, in the Redford version, was also a blonde. I don’t know what the actress looked like in the Alan Ladd version. Anyway, in the book Fitzgerald says she had dark hair. I guess the mystique of the American Blonde trumps the text.)

A blessed Memorial Day holiday to you all.

“In Defence of Harriet Shelley,” by Mark Twain

Mark Twain. Photo: Library of Congress

For example, he [William Godwin] was opposed to marriage. He was not aware that his preachings from this text were but theory and wind; he supposed he was in earnest in imploring people to live together without marrying, until Shelley furnished him a working model of his scheme and a practical example to analyze, but applying the principle in his own family; the matter took a different and surprising aspect then.

A few days back I posted a link to an article on the shameful domestic behavior of the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley. One of our commenters, “Habakkuk 21,” pointed me to Mark Twain’s essay, In Defence of Harriet Shelley. I downloaded it for my Kindle, and it made interesting reading.

As I’ve said before, I have ambivalent feelings about Mark Twain. I yield to no one in my admiration for his gifts as a novelist and humorist. He was one of the greats, and he’s given me plenty of good laughs. I like him less as a man, and when he gets on his Skeptical hobbyhorse he irritates me. On top of that, many of my generation saw Hal Holbrook (at least on TV) doing his Mark Twain show, in which he cherrypicked Twain’s writings to give the impression that he was essentially a man of the ’70s—the 1970s—born before his time.

But in In Defence of Harriet Shelley we see another Mark Twain—the Victorian middle class gentleman, the devoted husband and father, for whom nothing could be more vile than a man who abandoned his family. I expected a little more wit in this essay than is actually to be found here. The primary tone is withering scorn. It appears that Twain had little intention of entertaining the reader in this piece. He was morally outraged, and it’s the outrage that comes through.

I like Mark Twain a little better as a man, after reading A Defence of Harriet Shelley. It’s hardly a classic of Twain’s work, but it’s kind of nice having him as an ally for a change.

Maurice Sendak on His Father’s Stories

Author and artist Maurice Sendak, who narrates his own book in the video below, died today at age 83. In this interview from 2006, he recalls his father telling stories.

[Sendak] says he was greatly influenced by his father, who told the sickly child stories when he was bedridden. They weren’t pretty stories — they were real-life and vividly imagined tales from his father’s life as a boy living in a little Jewish shtetl in Poland. “What I liked about his stories … they were real and true, and he could tell us them without cleaning them up.”

Sendak says he closely identified with children who died in the holocaust, because if his parents hadn’t immigrated to the United States from Poland, he would have been one of those children. “‘I always felt it was a total miracle that I had been born here.” All of his father’s relatives were killed in the Holocaust, Sendak says, and many cousins his own age did not survive,” writes Frank Rizzo of The Courant.

“Most of my important books are threaded with the Holocaust. I try not to make it obvious and bang the drum, but it’s there. My whole life was the Holocaust, unfortunately. And Brundibar seems to be maybe the place where I can stop and bring peace to myself and the subject. It’s the perfect subject: of children who lived through the worst things, who were tough, who sang and then were sent to Auschwitz to die.”

Why Do We Crave Stories?

Marilynne Robinson writes, “Two questions I can’t really answer about fiction are (1) where it comes from, and (2) why we need it. But that we do create it and also crave it is beyond dispute. There is a tendency, considered highly rational, to reason from a narrow set of interests, say survival and procreation, which are supposed to govern our lives, and then to treat everything that does not fit this model as anomalous clutter, extraneous to what we are and probably best done without. But all we really know about what we are is what we do. There is a tendency to fit a tight and awkward carapace of definition over humankind, and to try to trim the living creature to fit the dead shell.”

She writes more.

Photos of great authors

A friend on Facebook shared this article from Good Report, featuring several portraits of C.S. Lewis, taken by Life Magazine photographer Hans Wild for a feature they did in 1946. These are great shots. The ones in his study are familiar to hardcore fans like me, but I’d never seen the pictures of him in hat and overcoat, with walking stick, tramping through Oxford. Continue reading Photos of great authors

A Walk Across the Sun

World Magazine’s Russ Pulliam highlights the new work of author Corban Addison, who crafts a story Pulliam describes as an Uncle Tom’s Cabin for sex trafficking. He says, A Walk Across the Sun “takes Washington lawyer Thomas Clarke to India for pro bono legal work to fight sex trafficking. Clarke’s world intersects with two Indian girls who lose their parents in a tsunami.”

John Grisham, whom I’m told doesn’t do book blurbs, did one for this book. An Amazon reviewer, who gave it five stars, says it’s “not a feel good topic. It is repulsive and hard to read.” But many people are finding it compelling, and it’s certainly relevant. I learned yesterday that a local message parlor had traffick victims enslaved there. Local police shut it down, but apparently lacked the evidence to go further. I believe we know the story because they have that evidence now.

John Christopher (1922-2012)

My wife read the first of John Christopher’s trilogy, The Prince in Waiting ~ Beyond the Burning Lands ~ The Sword of the Spirits, and wanted to know what the next book was, not even knowing this was a series. I called on the powers of the Interweb to answer our query, and behold, I learned the author died last month. Sci-fi Author John Christopher (born Sam Youd of Knowsley, U.K.) died February 3, 2012. He was the author of the Tripod series, which is a neat set of books and good, though incomplete, BBC series. Apparently, this is only one set of post-apocalyptic stories he wrote.

In the Guardian’s obituary, they report: “Youd had an unusual way of working. He did a quick first draft of the opening chapter, but for the remainder typed a ‘final’ version, with several carbon copies. When he had completed the book he would go back and redraft the first chapter.”

Kazuo Ishiguro’s “Never Let Me Go”

Dale mentioned a dystopian novel I’ve wanted to get into, but I haven’t remembered it often enough to hunt down in a library or bookstore, Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go Here’s a movie tie-in featurette on the story.