Blogs, Socials, Non-fiction

Nostalgia for that Long Ago Galaxy

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Whenever I think of Star Wars in a general sense, not a particular scene or story line, but when I’m recalling the essence of it or imagining myself walking as an unknown Jedi through the parking lot to my speeder, the music I imagine is The Force Theme or Ben Kenobi’s theme from the original movie score. Most often, it’s the slow, mourning arrangement you hear in this sunset moment.

The Force Theme from Star Wars: A New Hope

Until today, I thought this was Luke’s theme, but Mark Richards corrected me with this post.

I loved Star Wars growing up. My primary toys were several action figures and an awesome Millenium Falcon, like the kind they don’t make anymore. We had a two-record set of the first movie’s score, which I played regularly. When I had a friend two-houses down, I remember bringing over the records and running around the room with our X-wings. He may have had a tie-fighter—details, you know. I didn’t have one of those.

I was never the biggest fan by a long shot. (That category just isn’t my thing. I’m reluctant to pick favorites of anything even though I’ve played the fan for many things.) I have not read any of the novels, though I may pick up the Thrawn trilogy this year. I’ve heard they are the best of the 381 novels the breeders have spawned. I watched the original movies several times, but the new ones—I may find time for three new ones I haven’t seen (episodes 2, 3, and 9).

I write this today because early in the week I watched Jenny Nicholson’s lengthy video about her experience at Disney’s Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser Hotel. It was billed as immersive and interactive, like being a character in a Star Wars story. They closed it last September after an 18-month run. Hearing Nicholson’s story provoked sad feelings for what might have been, not just with that failed venture but with many of the new Star Wars stories lately.

I remember enjoying The Force Awakens. I said so here, though I can’t find the photo I used to fully express my feelings. I’ll just have to recreate it.

Star Wars figures stand in solidarity

Thinking back on The Force Awakens, I see it wasn’t a great story, but it wasn’t terrible. It set up something that could have been great fun, but the people in charge either don’t know how to tell fun stories like this or actually hate the property. (Let’s hear a variation on The Force Theme to soothe our angst.) That theme could be a dirge for all of the promise Star Wars offered us and didn’t deliver. Maybe the dark side has clouded our vision for the past some years–likely throwing the galaxy out of balance. But if the Tao of the Force means anything, it means the Jedi will return to restore balance.

Could be a long time coming.

Sciency Writing: “The old Scientific American that I subscribed to in college was all about the science,” an evolutionary psychologist told City Journal. “By the time Trump was elected in 2016, he says, ‘the Scientific American editors seem to have decided that fighting conservatives was more important than reporting on science.′”

Monsters, Us Men: Author and professor Thomas Fuchs writes in The New Atlantis, “… we increasingly believe in the superiority of our own artificial creatures. We begin to be ashamed of our existence as all-too-earthly beings of flesh and blood. And the grandiose self-exaltation ultimately turns into pitiful self-abasement.”

Discovering a Great Writer: Patrick Kurp writes about the one magazine issue that lit a fire in him.

Photo of Millenium Falcon entrance by Josué AS on Unsplash

Writing

Writer’s journal: Nearing the finish line

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King Olaf gives a sword to Sigvat the Skald. An incident I use in ‘The Baldur Game.’ Illustration for ‘Heimskgringla”: Christian Krogh.

Today was a good writing day. Yesterday was too, come to think of it. I finished up a side job on Monday, which opened up some time to exercise my muse beyond my routine two hours daily. And I was coming to the end of another draft of The Baldur Game.

This was the draft where I incorporated most (not all, but most) of the suggestions I got from my beta readers, one of whom is my co-blogger Phil. (Why are they called beta readers, anyway? Who are the alpha readers? No one ever explained that to me. And here I call myself an author.) I appreciate the comments and tweaks. They unquestionably improved the product and spared me numerous errors.

As one nears the finish line on a project, one often finds extra inner energy for the final sprint, which is what happened now. This is part of the final polish stage, and I feel things coming together. My next step, I think, is to construct my index of characters.

I like indexing. This was a surprise discovery for me. I recall looking at indexes in books I read as a kid, and thinking, “Somebody actually runs through these books and itemizes each item mentioned, and what page it’s found on. What an incredibly tedious task.”

But I took an indexing class in library school, and it turned out to be the most enjoyable class I had there. Indexing, it turned out, is perfect for my minor OCD nature. Approach it systematically, and when you’re finished you’ve got something neat and organized.

Character indexes are easier. I just go through the manuscript, note people’s names the first time they show up, and enter them in an alphabetized list, which is a breeze when you’re word processing. No need for page references. If you miss one the first time it appears, it’ll probably show up again. If not, he’s a pretty minor player, so who cares?

And once that task is done, there’s just the public domain map I plan to insert, to which I need to add some locations with Photoshop.

And then – I hope – one more quick read-through. And then I should be done, with only the cover to approve and the rigamarole of getting it published on Amazon left to do.

I do think this is a good book. In fact, I have an idea it’s a great book – but I also have an idea I’m biased on that score.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Dark Ride,’ by Lou Berney

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My city is a midsized metropolitan area in the middle of the middle of the United States. It’s flat and sprawling and a lot like a lot of other places, with no distinguishing characteristics geographic or otherwise. If my city was a suspect in a crime, the eyewitnesses would have a tough time describing it. You could probably say the same thing about me.

Think of The Big Lebowski. But imagine it, not as a dark parody, but as a full-on, dead-serious 21st Century Noir novel. That’s more or less the ambience of Lou Berney’s Dark Ride.

I’ve reviewed a couple Lou Berney novels before, and I liked them very much. I haven’t read one in a while now because the publisher prices them high, but I got a deal on Dark Ride. And it’s very, very good.

Hardy “Hardly” Reed is a classic slacker. Long, shaggy hair, tee-shirts, board shorts, flip-flops. He holds a minimum wage job as a “frightener” at a horror-themed amusement park, and the rest of his time is spent playing video games and getting stoned with his slacker friends.

Until one particular day, when he’s at the Department of Motor Vehicles, getting an extension on a parking ticket. He notices a pair of small children sitting on a bench outside of an office. He’s puzzled by how quiet they are. They don’t laugh, they don’t play, they don’t talk. They just sit staring, like commuters on a bus. He approaches them to say hello, and then notices small, perfectly circular marks on their bodies. Someone has burned these children with cigarettes.

Something comes over Hardly then that he’s never experienced before. He discovers he cares. He tries to get help from a DMV worker, then from Child Protective Services. Nobody seems greatly concerned. The bureaucracy is snowed under with work. Hardly decides that if nobody else will help, he will. He can’t afford to hire a private detective, so he’ll learn to investigate on his own. Usually in his life, he’s given up on any task that seemed difficult or dangerous. But he can’t let go of this one.

Will Hardly, just this once in his life, be good enough?

I read Dark Ride almost in one sitting. It proved to be a grimmer story than I expected, but that only pulled me in. This is an excellent and original thriller. I recommend it. Cautions for language, sex, and drug use.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Ask the River,’ by Dan Wheatcroft

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Installment Two of Dan Wheatcroft’s “Leveller” series. I still haven’t entirely made up my mind what I think about Wheatcroft’s work, but I have to say I enjoyed reading Ask the River.

Like the previous volume, this books follows two different main characters – Inspector Thurstan Baddeley of the Liverpool police, and “Nicks,” the mysterious hit man who eliminates very bad criminals under the direction – and protection – of some shadowy, unnamed authority.

The main problem with Wheatcroft’s books is their complexity. No doubt this mirrors real police work where – in contrast to the average cop show – detectives work on many cases simultaneously. It does tax the reader’s memory at times, though.

There’s the case of an old man, a Polish Holocaust survivor, who dies in his bed, overdosed on sleeping pills – it might be natural causes, but Baddeley is suspicious. There’s a neighborhood terrorized by punks on motorcycles, whom the police can never catch or stop. There’s a crooked businessman found hanging from a bridge abutment. Among others.

Meanwhile, Nicks (he doesn’t really advance the plot much in this book) dispatches several monsters by untraceable means.

This book was ultimately something of a downer, though there’s a nice rescue scene toward the end. But – as I keep saying – I just like these characters and enjoy following them. (Also, the books are free on Kindle right now.)

As always, I have quibbles. Wheatcroft is not at his best with grammar. He uses the word “intercede” wrong, speaks of someone being “in the throws of” something, and has never figured out how to conjugate the verb “sat.”

He makes a firearms error when he assumes a revolver can be effectively silenced. He mentions some of the CIA’s more unsavory accomplishments, which might indicate a political sentiment – though, on the other side, numerous jabs are taken at political correctness.

In short, not a perfect book, but engrossing.

Authors, Non-fiction

Praise for Wildcat, a Biopic on Flannery O’Connor

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Author and professor Karen Swallow Prior reviews a new biopic film by Ethan Hawke about one of our favorite Southern authors, Flannery O’Connor.

“One of the film’s greatest feats is packing so many of O’Connor’s life experiences and thoughts—as expressed not only in her stories but also in her Prayer Journal, letters, essays, and lectures—into a dense, intricately woven film that runs under two hours. Hawke’s restraint reflects perfectly the restraint of the life O’Connor lived …”

Authors, The Press

I’m probably wrong

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Jon Fosse. Photo credit: Jarvin – Jarle Vines. Creative Commons Attribution, Share Alike 3.0

Our friend Dave Lull sent me a link to this article from Literary Hub. It’s about the work of Nobel Prize-winning Norwegian playwright Jon Fosse (whose Septology I reviewed for Ad Fontes). What particularly interests me about this article is that it’s written by a woman who has translated Fosse’s plays into “American” English.

I was particularly struck by the fact that Sarah Cameron Sunde, the author of the article, deals in particular with a translation issue on which I have views of my own. And her views are the opposite of mine. The difference hangs on how to translate a simple, two-letter word: “Ja.” (It means yes.) She writes:

One such word that appears again and again (over 150 times, in fact) in Natta Syng Sine Songar is “ja”—I had noticed that this repetition was missing in the British translation, and instead the translator had chosen to replace each “ja” with what he thought it meant in each given moment—which often meant “yes” and sometimes deleting it entirely, when it seemed like filler word. But the repetition felt critical to me for several reasons: 1) the everyday quality of the word as it is spoken, not written, 2) the way this “ja” could function to build tension between live performers, 3) and how it unites the characters despite the vast space between them.

In my Ad Fontes review of Septology (which was generally favorable to the translation by Damion Searls) I criticized his repeated use of the word “yes” to translate “ja” in the text. My own view is that the Norwegian “ja” serves multiple purposes in Fosse’s Nynorsk dialect. It can stand for “Well,” or “All right,” or “I don’t know,” plus a host of other expressions. For that reason, I felt it ought to be translated with several different everyday interjections. Sunde translates it “yeh” in every case, in her work. Perhaps that’s a good choice in the context of theatrical production, but I question it.

Nevertheless, Sunde’s article is an insightful and interesting one.

Fiction, Reviews

‘One is Evil,’ by Jeff Buick

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I had never heard of the Canadian author Jeff Buick before I picked up One is Evil, the first volume in a prospective series. I’m pleased to report that I was highly impressed.

Bobby Greco used to be an Orlando, Florida homicide cop. Set up by crooked vice cops, he got kicked off the force. But he had friends who owed him favors, and managed to snag a good job doing insurance investigations.

It’s in that capacity that he checks out a claim relating to Alexis Chamberlain, the wife of the highly respected head of a major aerospace technology firm. It’s just a routine job – the company is ready to pay off on the claim. But Bobby has a cop’s instincts, and those instincts tell him something is off about this woman. Looking into her life more deeply, he reaches a startling conclusion – this isn’t the same woman. Somehow, she’s been switched for a duplicate. Which puts an unknown entity within reach of some of the country’s most sensitive military secrets.

That spark sets off an avalanche of consequences. Bobby teams up with an attractive female NSA agent, and before long not only they but their families are under threat – even as the clock is running out for the real Alexis Chamberlain. The action will stretch from the American south to the French Riviera, and on to Siberia.

There were flaws in One is Evil. The Canadian author sometimes gets American diction wrong – the Girl Scouts become the Girl Guides, bars become pubs. Cookies, of course, become biscuits. The prose is effective but not elegant, and there’s an occasional spelling mistake.

But the plot is intricate and beautifully choreographed. The dramatic tension ratchets up mercilessly. Like any thriller, One is Evil was less than entirely plausible, but it was convincing, and I bought into it completely. I also liked and cared about the characters.

One is Evil is a winner, and Jeff Buick is an author worth following.

Music

Sunday Singing: All People That on Earth Do Dwell

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Today’s hymn comes from a man who is thought to have been one of the scholars behind the Geneva Bible of 1560. He lived for a time in Geneva (overlapping dates with the great John Calvin) and worked on 25 Psalm versifications for an English psalter. This one, derived from Ps. 100, has endured until today and found the most popularity. The tune also comes from Calvin’s service to the church, being attributed to his music director Louis Bourgeois.

“Know that the LORD, he is God!
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.” (Psalm 100:3 ESV)

1 All people that on earth do dwell,
sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;
him serve with fear, his praise forth tell,
come ye before him and rejoice.

2 The Lord ye know is God indeed;
without our aid he did us make;
we are his folk, he doth us feed,
and for his sheep he doth us take.

3 O enter then his gates with praise,
approach with joy his courts unto;
praise, laud, and bless his name always,
for it is seemly so to do.

4 For why? The Lord our God is good,
his mercy is forever sure;
his truth at all times firmly stood,
and shall from age to age endure.

Music, Reading

Getting into Classical Music, Reading

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Speaking of Norway, when I began earning spending money in my late teens, I agreed to receive the initial offer from The Musical Heritage Society. You could receive the monthly featured album (tape or CD) very naturally (they would just assume you wanted it) or refuse it. They sent a small musical review to let you know what you would receive with plenty of time to opt out. That’s how I was introduced to Camille Saint-Saëns’s Symphony No. 3 which added a pipe organ to orchestra. It’s how I fell in love with Dvorak’s Symphony No 9 (The New World Symphony) and judge every other recording of it by the one I played repeatedly in my 20s. I was familiar with “Flight of the Bumblebee” and Scheherazade from the radio, so I bought four tapes of Rimsky-Korsakov’s music, one with the Arabia Nights piece, the other three with several works I didn’t know, like the “Procession of the Nobles.”

The Musical Heritage Society is also how I purchased a tape of Edvard Grieg’s Peer Gynt, recorded with full choir for The Hall of the Mountain King and a gorgeous soprano for Solvieg’s Song. This recording, which I think only had voices in these two pieces,

I listened to this music so much, I engrained it in my mind. Later I forgot where certain familiar melodies (one or two) came from. I remembered them casually, almost as if I’d made them up, and lo, they were from Peer Gynt. Moments like that make me think I haven’t had an original thought in my life. Maybe all of my ideas are just a snatch of something I heard in the past, ripped from its context, its source forgotten.

Anyway, what else do we have today?

Reading: A video reflection on reading carefully and how you evaluate your speed.

Is it real or is it math? Patrick Kurp offers this post about math, sort of, and poetry. I feel too dim-witted to get it, at least at the moment.

Poetry: Take a moment for this poem, “Shiloh” by Alyssa Souza

Fleeing the war Refugee Letters: At the height of World War II, three women flee Europe with the Bruderhof community for a pioneer life in South America

We had realized for many months the insecurity of our position in England as there was so much hate growing in the hearts of the general populace. This could be understood because we had many German members; also the pacifism of our English members roused a bitter spirit in nationalistic minds.

Photo: Image by wal_172619 from Pixabay

Music, Uncategorized, Writing

17 May

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It is my custom, every May 17, to make some kind of mention of Norway’s Constitution Day, celebrated each year on this date. I’ve told the story of the holiday many times – this year I’ll restrict myself to saying that Norway celebrates its Constitution Day as its major national holiday because of a historical anomaly – we had a constitution for almost a century before we got independence. So Constitution Day became the traditional patriotic holiday.

The video above is rather nice – lots of natural beauty, in which Norway is excessively rich. If you’d like a translation of the lyrics, you can find it here.

The Syttende Mai present I received today was a good writing session. I actually gave myself the shivers reading the current draft of The Baldur Game. I suppose that’s insufferable, like comedians who laugh at their own jokes. But writing at my level offers few tangible rewards. And finding the same exhilaration in your own writing that you get from your favorite authors’ is as delicious as it is rare.

To make things even better, I had a thought today – not as common an occurrence as you might imagine. (G. B. Shaw once said that he’d made an international reputation by thinking once or twice a month.) I can’t remember what provoked the thought (perhaps it was the creative thrill I described above, but I’m not sure). But it suddenly appeared, fully formed in my head, and even after several hours I can find no fault with it. It goes like this:

No work of art is ever fully original, nor should it be. Art is a multimedia matrix of interactive themes and influences — all hyperlinked, in a sense. Taken all together, great art participates in an infinitely greater tapestry.

I think I’ll stand by that.

Have a good weekend.