Authors, Blogs, Socials, Publishing

Big Publishers, Writer’s Complaints, and Blogroll

Leave a comment

Novelist and screenwriter Raymond Chandler, who took up writing as a career after losing his respect and position at Dabney Oil in 1932, read a laudatory profile on Ernest Hemingway in The New Yorker and said, “I realize that I am much too clean to be a genius, much too sober to be a champ, and far, far too clumsy with a shotgun to live the good life.”

Well, someone should have told Chandler he had his own genius as well as his own version of the good life, which needed amending.

Mark Twain vented his spleen on the writing skill of James Fennimore Cooper with many accurate complaints like this one:

For several years, Cooper was daily in the society of artillery, and he ought to have noticed that when a cannon-ball strikes the ground it either buries itself or skips a hundred feet or so; skips again a hundred feet or so — and so on, till finally it gets tired and rolls. Now in one place he loses some “females” — as he always calls women — in the edge of a wood near a plain at night in a fog, on purpose to give Bumppo a chance to show off the delicate art of the forest before the reader. These mislaid people are hunting for a fort. They hear a cannon-blast, and a cannon-ball presently comes rolling into the wood and stops at their feet. To the females this suggests nothing. The case is very different with the admirable Bumppo. I wish I may never know peace again if he doesn’t strike out promptly and follow the track of that cannon-ball across the plain in the dense fog and find the fort. Isn’t it a daisy?

Mark Twain, “Fenimore Cooper’s Literary Offenses,” 1895

What are other people saying about books?

Big Publishers: There are five powerhouses in U.S. publishing today: Simon & Schuster, Penguin Random House, HarperCollins, Hachette Book Group, and Macmillan. If judges approve a currently contested merger, Penguin Random House would be allowed to buy Simon & Schuster, reducing the big publishers to four. This would make German media group Bertelsmann, which owns Penguin Random House and is already the world’s largest trade book publisher, in an Amazon-sized company. (via ArtsJournal)

Today is St. George’s Day in England, a day celebrated on par with Christmas at one time.

We fairly hope … that this day
Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.
To cry “Amen” to that, thus we appear.
You English princes all, I do salute you.

Shakespeare’s Henry V, Act 5

Birthday: It is also Shakespeare’s birthday. He was born April 23, 1564, which is a date deduced by the record of his baptism in the Parish Register at Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon on Wednesday 26 April 1564. 

Block Party: Thoughts of Shakespeare naturally turn one’s mind to Brooklyn and “a timeless block party that could be 400 years old,” notes the NY Daily News.

Word Game: And when you think about block parties, you think about the word guessing games that are all the rage amongst the hip kids. The Folger Shakespeare Library has their own version called Prattle. This one is new to me. I’ve been playing Wordle and Quordle for several weeks now.

Photo: Bus Depot, angle view, Bond Street, Bend, Oregon 1987. John Margolies Roadside America photograph archive (1972-2008), Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.

Uncategorized

Happy Cuckoo Month

Leave a comment

Naught to review tonight. It’s been a quiet day. No translation work. I started an article for the American Spectator; haven’t worked out the conclusion yet.

Kind of a nasty day, weather-wise. It started clear but cool, and now clouds and rain have set in. Still, it’s above freezing, and the precipitation isn’t snow.

Call it Norwegian weather. Vestland weather, anyway.

Speaking of Norwegian weather, my Norwegian almanac says that today is St. Gaius’ Day. Known in old times as the beginning of Gjøkmåned – Cuckoo Month. The Scandinavian calendar in old times began and ended its months in the middle of our months. The first day of Cuckoo Month was considered a good day to plant peas, I am reliably informed.

I’ve shown you a video of a past Viking festival at Bukkøy, Avaldsnes, Norway, where I’ll be going this summer. But that’s the first weekend. The following weekend, God willing, I’ll be at the Viking Market at Hafrsfjord in Stavanger. Above is video from the 2018 market.

I note that in their combat they allow guys to fight without helmets. Different rules, I guess. Neither my group nor any group I’ve run into in this country allow that, for safety reasons. Though it’s doubtless more historically authentic.

I have no plans to fight in Norway. I shall bring the power of my wisdom instead.

I hear they’re expecting ten Viking ships for the festival. Not bad at all.

Non-fiction, Religion, Reviews

‘The Truth and Beauty,’ by Andrew Klavan

Leave a comment

He was the living truth. The religious had to kill him because they were religious. The leaders had to kill him because they were the leaders. The people had to kill him because they were the people. The law had to kill him because it was the law.

That was what it was like to be the truth in the world….

When Andrew Klavan released his autobiography, The Great Good Thing, I compared it to C. S. Lewis’ Surprised by Joy. But Surprised By Joy was a kind of re-working of a subject Lewis had handled allegorically in his earlier work, Pilgrim’s Regress, whose subtitle is: An Allegorical Apology for Reason and Romanticism. In his new (fairly short) book, The Truth and Beauty, Klavan addresses the same volatile topic.

As he tells the story, he was troubled by his inability to understand Christ’s teaching. He knew the gospel story. He understood the doctrines (as much as any of us understand them). But how do we follow Jesus’ teachings? Are we really expected to give everything we own to the poor? Not to resist an evil man? To pluck out an eye that leads us to sin? What is Jesus talking about?

His son suggested that perhaps he was trying to solve a problem instead of trying to get to know a Man. So he plunged into the gospels – taught himself Koiné Greek to read them in the original language. And what he began to understand – oddly – led him to the Romantic Poets of England.

The book casts a wide loop, but always returns to those Romantics – Wordsworth, Keats, and Coleridge on the bright side, and Byron and Shelley on the dark side. And among them, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, in whose novel Frankenstein he finds a key to understanding much of the modern rebellion against nature – Victor Frankenstein, he hypothesizes, was not trying to play God. He was trying to eliminate the Female. Which makes him a harbinger of our times.

There is much to ponder in this book, and I can’t claim I understand it all. I need to read it again. But the answer to the problem of getting to know the mind of Christ, as Klavan sees it, is seeing how in all nature – not only the natural world around us but our own nature – the truth of Christ is revealed. The Trinity is everywhere, giving us glimpses behind the veil, calling out to those who have eyes to see and ears to hear. The life that Jesus lives is promised to us. The Romantics at their best glimpsed this, and some of them embraced it in the end.

There were things in this book that troubled me from a doctrinal point of view. I think any thoughtful Christian will have a similar experience. Because Klavan isn’t doing apologetics here. He’s peering into mysteries. He may be wrong at some points, but I’m not prepared to say so on one reading of the book. By and large, I think he’s on the right track.

Highly recommended for thoughtful Christians, especially those who love literature.

Reviews

Film review: ‘The Northman’

1 Comment
Alexander Skarsgaard as Amleth.

If you’re lucky enough to have read my novel, Blood and Judgment (it’s not too late! Click the link), you’ll know that Shakespeare’s play, Hamlet, was based on a story about a prince named Amleth, found in the medieval history of Denmark, Gesta Danorum, by Saxo Grammaticus. So doing a Viking movie based on the story seems an obvious enough angle. However, Robert Eggers’ violent new film “The Northman” (which I saw last night, wearing my Viking clothes, in a free preview in Minneapolis) still owes more to Shakespeare than to Saxo.

If I were Danish (come to think of it, I’m a quarter Danish), I’d be a little offended at how my country’s Viking heroes are treated in the entertainment media. The History Channel’s egregious Vikings series took the Danish hero Ragnar Lodbrok and shifted him to Norway. Eggers’ film about the equally Danish Amleth starts in Norway, then moves on to Russia and Iceland.

The set-up is that Prince Amleth is the son of King Aurvandill, of some Norwegian kingdom whose name I didn’t catch (the dialogue was consistently difficult to understand. Maybe I’m just old and deaf). Shortly after his return from a Viking voyage, Aurvandill is killed by his bastard brother Fjolnir (Feng in Saxo, and in my book), who then takes the queen (Nicole Kidman) and tries – unsuccessfully – to kill Prince Amleth, who manages to flee in a boat, repeating his vow: “I will avenge you, father. I will save you, mother. I will kill you, Fjolnir.”

We next meet him as a grownup (played by Alexander Skarsgård) in Russia, where he has joined a group of berserker warriors who fight shirtless (horrific scenes of rapine and plunder). By chance, he learns that Fjolnir has been driven from Norway by King Harald Fairhair, and is now a sheep farmer in Iceland. Amleth cuts his hair to look like a slave (a nice, correct historical detail) and sneaks aboard a ship of slaves headed for Iceland and Fjolnir. Once there, he quietly lays his plans to kill his uncle, aided by a Slavic witch (Anya Taylor-Joy) who vows to help him with her “earth magic.”

Amleth will learn that his own life story isn’t as simple as he remembers. But that knowledge will not interfere with his vengeance. The final showdown with Fjolnir, on top a volcano, takes the revenge story even farther from Saxo’s account than Shakespeare did.

What shall I say about this film?

First of all, I must say that “IT” has finally happened. By “IT” I mean the arrival of that elusive creature history buffs and reenactors have awaited so long. At long last, there is a good Viking movie. Possibly a great Viking movie.

That is not to say it’s a pleasant movie. It’s dark, dark, dark. You’d think there was never a sunny day in the 9th Century. Almost all colors are muted (I understand this to be a characteristic of Eggers’ style, but my costume historian friend will not be happy with the lack of bright colors). The only exception I recall is one scene early on, when young Amleth covers himself with a vivid red cloak to escape the royal farm unseen (which seems to me slightly counterintuitive, but no doubt there’s some thematic purpose I’m not bright enough to grasp).

Otherwise, the costumes, sets and props were very good (by movie standards). Fjolnir wears lamellar armor, which will annoy many Viking reenactment group authenticity officers. The great hall of Amleth’s father has its high seat at the end of the hall, rather than half-way down one side-bench. A headband with bangles that Nicole Kidman wears is based on a jewelry reconstruction no longer considered accurate (I read this somewhere). The horses in Norway are too tall (though the ones in Iceland are fine).

But by and large the authenticity is pretty good. Better than we’ve seen before.

For me, the Vikings have been the center of my personal Romanticism since I was about 12 years old. When I’ve dreamed of a good Viking movie, this wasn’t the sort of thing I was hoping for. But that’s just me – it’s a fallacy to judge a work of art based on what you’d like it to be. I think “The Northman” is very successful in being what the director intends.

The darkness of the cinematography mirrors the darkness of the story. The kind of revenge-obligation Amleth feels is entirely authentic to the period (and many other periods). Even when Amleth gets an opportunity to walk away at one point, he can’t do it. It would violate his deepest convictions; damage his soul more than death.

But the revenge is in no way glorified. Amleth’s road is mired in blood. His father initiates him in a blood ritual. He and his berserker friends exult in shedding blood. The Viking religion is bloody, he sees visions of blood, everywhere blood is shed cheaply. There’s nothing romantic about it.

But there is something mythic. The gods are around every corner. The wolves (foxes in Iceland, where there are no wolves) and the ravens are always watching. And sometimes the gods themselves appear. Drawn, it seems, by the blood, just like the wolves and the ravens.

I could make an argument, I think, that Christianity is conspicuous in this movie by its absence. Amleth has no way of avoiding his fate in a world without grace.

But I doubt that’s what Eggers has in mind.

In any case, here’s my summation: “The Northman” is bloody, harsh, hyper-violent and disturbing. It is absolutely not for children or the sensitive. But it’s also brilliant and unforgettable.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Complete Brigadier Gerard,’ by Arthur Conan Doyle

2 Comments

As almost everybody knows, Arthur Conan Doyle will be forever linked (shackled, as he might have put it) to his epically successful detective character, Sherlock Holmes. And most of you will be aware that Doyle grew very weary of Holmes after a while, and killed him off (temporarily). He hoped he could win the public over to another character he created, an officer of Napoleon named Brigadier Etienne Gerard.

I bought The Complete Brigadier Gerard out of curiosity. There’s no question it’s a change of pace from the Holmes stories.

Brigadier Gerard is a Gascon, like D’Artagnan. And like D’Artagnan, he lives for honor and adventure. He is always ready to fight a duel or steal a kiss, and always first to volunteer for dangerous assignments. Where he differs from D’Artagnan is that he’s not terribly bright. His stories are told, we gather, in his old age, in an inn, to a group of friends. Gerard is now living on a pension, which he supplements by growing cabbages. He sighs over hard fate, which has denied him the advancement he has no doubt he deserved. He refers often to the medal for bravery he received from the Emperor himself, but which he never has with him. He keeps it, he says, in his apartment, in a leather pouch. I suspect we’re meant to understand that he actually had to pawn it.

In a series of semi-comic short stories, he tells of headlong adventures he enjoyed during the great wars. Sometimes on secret missions, sometimes accidentally separated from his company of hussars, he escapes from ambushes, traps and imprisonment, often (like the later Captain Kirk) with the help of some woman who has succumbed to his manly charm.

Generally (but not always) the joke is on Gerard. He can be counted on to run (or gallop) toward the sound of the guns, but he’s often clueless about what’s really going on. So confident is he of his own sagacity and aplomb that (in a manner that anticipates Inspector Clouseau) he often mistakes jeering for cheering. He is, however, never mean or small-minded.

I didn’t like The Complete Brigadier Gerard as much as I hoped to. The author is laughing at his hero (if somewhat affectionately), and the reader is too. For some reason that made me uncomfortable.

Your mileage may vary. No objectionable material. I might mention that I often forgot I was reading a Victorian/Edwardian book. Doyle wrote in a style ahead of his time.

Fiction, Reviews

‘A Bullet for Cinderella,’ by John D. MacDonald

Leave a comment

But Ruth wore her own face for the world—wore an expression of strength and humility and goodness. Should you become accustomed to her loveliness, there would still be all that left. This was a for-keeps girl. She couldn’t be any other way because all the usual poses and artifices were left out of her. This was a girl you could hurt, a girl who would demand and deserve utter loyalty.

I’ve read all John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee books, and a good number of his non-McGee works. I’m not sure if I ever read A Bullet for Cinderella before, though. I find it hard to imagine I could have read it and forgotten it. This is early MacDonald (1955), but it’s a gem.

Tal Howard is a returned prisoner of war from Korea. Nowadays we’d say he has PTSD. He came home to a job and a faithful, waiting fiancée, but walked away from both of them, because he wasn’t the same man anymore. He wasn’t sure what to do with his life, so he thought he’d go look for the money Timmy Warden, as he lay dying in the camp, told him about. The money he’d embezzled from his and his brother’s business and buried in a secret place. “Cindy will know where it is,” he said.

Tal arrives in Timmy’s home town, Hillston (no state named). He finds Timmy’s brother broken and bankrupt, a bitter alcoholic. He meets Ruth, Timmy’s old girlfriend, who never guessed his secrets. He starts searching for a girl named Cindy, but there doesn’t seem to have been any such girl in the small town in Timmy’s time.

But he’s also reunited with an old acquaintance – Fitzmartin, another camp survivor. He’s no friend, though. A loner, a sneak, a spy, all the prisoners had hated Fitz. He overheard Timmy’s confession to Tal, and he has preceded him to Hillston. But so far he can’t find any Cindy either, and none of the many places he’s dug up have yielded treasure. Fitz has no doubt he can solve the puzzle – or, even better, if Tal solves it, he’ll just kill him and take the dough.

You may recognize in this synopsis a fairly standard Noir set-up. And that’s what it is – a morally compromised hero going for the easy score and finding himself in over his head. What raises it to the level of art is John D. MacDonald’s sheer mastery of his medium, the lucid prose, the complex characters, the essential humanity of the project. This book was written fairly early in the author’s career, but it’s a complete, polished achievement. Superior in its time and superior today.

A great introduction by Dean Koontz is included.

Recommended.

Music

Sunday Singing Easter! This Joyful Eastertide

Leave a comment
“This Joyful Eastertide” performed by Akua Akyere Memorial Youth Choir

George R. Woodward of England (1848-1934) wrote “This Joyful Eastertide” to a seventeenth-century Dutch folk tune. The Akua Akyere Memorial Youth Choir of Ghana performs above.

1 This joyful Eastertide
away with sin and sorrow!
My love, the Crucified,
has sprung to life this morrow.

Refrain:
Had Christ, who once was slain,
not burst his three-day prison,
our faith had been in vain:
but now hath Christ arisen,
arisen, arisen;
but now has Christ arisen!

2 Death’s flood has lost its chill
since Jesus crossed the river.
Lover of souls, from ill
my passing soul deliver. [Refrain]

3 My flesh in hope shall rest
and for a season slumber
till trump from east to west
shall wake the dead in number. [Refrain]

Music

Sunday Singing Easter! Christ Jesus Lay in Death’s Strong Bands

Leave a comment

Two hymns for Easter Sunday

“Christ Jesus Lay in Death’s Strong Bands” performed by choir and congregation of the Te Deum Conference at Concordia University (2015)

This moving hymn by Martin Luther comes to us through Englishman Richard Massie (1800-1887). The tune is a modification of a chant by German Johann Walther (1496-1570). The Psalter Hymnal Handbook states Luther may have worked on this arrangement as well.

1 Christ Jesus lay in death’s strong bands
For our offenses given;
But now at God’s right hand He stands
And brings us life from heaven.
Therefore let us joyful be
And sing to God right thankfully
Loud songs of alleluia! Alleluia!

2 No son of man could conquer death,
Such ruin sin had wrought us.
No innocence was found on earth,
And therefore death had brought us
Into bondage from of old
And ever grew more strong and bold
And held us as its captive. Alleluia!

3 Christ Jesus, God’s own Son, came down,
His people to deliver;
Destroying sin, He took the crown
From death’s pale brow forever:
Stripped of pow’r, no more it reigns;
An empty form alone remains;
Its sting is lost forever. Alleluia!

Continue reading Sunday Singing Easter! Christ Jesus Lay in Death’s Strong Bands →
Blogs, Socials, Bookselling, Music, Reading

Read Good Books for Your Soul, and Walk While You Read

Leave a comment

It’s Holy Saturday, so let’s begin with a few words about Christ.

By oppression and judgment he was taken away;
    and as for his generation, who considered
that he was cut off out of the land of the living,
    stricken for the transgression of my people?
And they made his grave with the wicked
    and with a rich man in his death,
although he had done no violence,
    and there was no deceit in his mouth.

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
    he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
    he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days;
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.
Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied;
by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant,
    make many to be accounted righteous,
    and he shall bear their iniquities. (Isaiah 53:8-11 ESV)

As for other subjects:

Read good books: Reading thoughtfully, like having a good conversation with an author, may be the very thing you need to reset your soul and rebel against the spirit of the age. “Christians who immerse themselves in creative writing are good stewards of their time — not wasteful — because writing, reading, and ruminating on words can glorify our Maker.”

Read and walk too: Some people have taken to walking while reading; some of them really can’t see where they’re going.

Quotation Research: Who said, “For reasons I have never understood, people like to hear that the world is going to hell“?

Said Tolkien to Lewis: Listen, friend, I’ve based a character on you.

Booksellers New Friend? Once considered the embodiment of everything that was wrong in bookselling, Barnes & Noble is succeeding and many indie booksellers are rooting for it. (via ArtsJournal)

Isaac Watts’s “Alas! and Did My Savior Bleed” set to a common Irish folk melody
Music, Religion

‘O Sacred Head, Now Wounded’

Leave a comment

Good Friday. I have a book I want to review, but I’ve got to address more important things on the holiest weekend of the year.

Above, a beautiful rendition of O Sacred Head, Now Wounded, with words I’m not familiar with. The hymn’s origins are complicated. The original poem, of which this hymn is just a section, was written either by St. Bernard of Clairvaux or by Bishop Arnulf of Villers-la-Ville. The section was translated into German by the famed Lutheran hymn writer Paul Gerhardt, a pastor who suffered greatly during the Thirty Years War. The traditional setting is by no less a composer than Johan Sebastian Bach. The traditional American translation of the text came from James W. Alexander, a Presbyterian churchman and scholar.

To my mind, this is the best Lenten hymn. But there are many other fine ones out there too.

I want to write about a point of apologetics tonight. I’ve probably laid it out here before. But it seems to me the absolute, rock-bottom argument for Christianity.

Your mileage may vary. I may even be talking through my hat. All our proofs, I am certain, will whirl away like autumn leaves when we behold the One whom Father Ailill likes to call the Beloved.

Ask anyone what’s the most important thing in the universe. Doesn’t matter who. Christian, Jew, atheist. (This may be different in countries with non-Abrahamic religions – I know less about them. But I’m addressing my neighbors, my fellow Americans and Europeans.)

You know what the answer is: Love. Love is the answer. Love is all you need. The greatest of these is love.

But does this make sense outside of the Christian faith?

I’m sure there are lots of atheists around who also say, “Love is the answer, love is the greatest thing.” They take it for granted. It’s the minimal place-holder for religion they’ve been raised with (even if they were raised by other atheists).

But if there is no God, what does that mean? If the ultimate truth of the universe is impersonal, how can love be the answer? Objects don’t love. Energy doesn’t love. Rocks don’t love. Trees don’t love.

Only persons love.

If some Person doesn’t lie behind all the material things we know, then love means nothing. Because sentient creatures will die out eventually, and then love will go away. And it won’t be the answer.

Christianity says that a Person made the universe, and loved us, and demonstrated the greatest love conceivable in the atonement and resurrection.

Blab about love all you want, but if you don’t believe in that God, then it seems to me you’re just surviving on the scraps you picked up under Christianity’s table.

You could choose Judaism or Islam, I suppose, but there’s no parallel act of love.