Sunday, October 23, 2011

Reading Log

Just a listing of what I’ve finished since the last log. In the middle of too many books that I may not finish right now to list them all. And I'm increasingly turning to paper and pen to keep track of things that are not—as this is not—of any public interest.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

The Rebel Angels

Robertson Davies’ The Rebel Angels is an engaging and energetic novel with a vigorous sense of humor. The novel reads quickly and never feels weighed down by ideas or seriousness. This is deceptive.

Davies gives us a novel populated by Medieval and Renaissance scholars. Their intellectual landscape is thus not unnaturally populated by Paracelsus and Rabelais, two constant figures in the dialectic of the novel. Of the two, Rabelais seems the most significant. He is a figure frequently claimed by both sides of the numerous arguments in the novel. He provides a lens through which we see into the characters a bit more deeply than they might hope. Parlabane and McVarish make him a model of vulgarity and misogyny, or perhaps more accurately, misanthropy. To Hollier, he represents an object for his own academic ambition. For Maria and Darcourt—and Davies—he is a model of the best sort of scholar, as we hear from Maria:

Rabelais was gloriously learned because learning amused him, and so far as I am concerned that is learning’s best justification. Not the only one, but the best.

It may be wrong to include Darcourt here—as a priest scholar, his greater reference is St. Augustine:

Conloqui et conridere et vicissim benevole obsequi, simul leger libros dulciloquos, simul nugari et simul honestari.

In Maria’s translation:

Conversations and jokes together, mutual rendering of good services, the reading together of sweetly phrased books, the sharing of nonsense and mutual attentions.

This erudite amusement is a hallmark of everything I have yet read by Davies, and it is tempting to think that the best part of what Davies gives us in this novel is Davies, himself. Davies is more wise than a mere intellectual, and more alive than a modernist. He brings with him the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, and with these life fuller than which we are accustomed today.

What we get from Davies is not a hair shirted historicism, but a sense of wholeness for a consciousness which is fermented in the broadness of human experience. Maria says of Hollier that he studies the Middle Ages because they are truly middle—a vantage from which he can look backward to antiquity, and forward to our post-Renaissance present. This dynamic of looking backward and forward, contrasting each with the other, is at the very heart of The Rebel Angels, a book which makes attractive Paracelsus’ “second paradise.”

The striving for wisdom is the second paradise of the world.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Reading Log: Inflatable (to the tune of “Unforgettable”)

“Gogol’s Wife”

Tommaso Landolfi’s story is written as a chapter of a biography on the famous Russian writer, Nikolai Gogol. In this chapter, the author explores the delicate matter of Gogol’s “wife.” It turns out that she is not a woman, but a balloon. A titilling conceit for horny teen-age boys of all ages, Landolfi develops the story into a humorous, but ultimately sad and disturbing fictionalization of Gogol’s self-destruction. The humorous satire is vibrant from beginning to end, while the sense of tragedy subtly builds beneath the surface. The ultimate effect is a potent sense of the pointlessness of Golgol’s demise.

“Gogol’s Wife” is reminiscent of Gogol stories such as “The Overcoat” and, far more, “The Nose.” The story is humorously absurd, tragic, and strangely touching. It is both a tribute to Gogol the writer and a scathing satire of Gogol the man.

The Bloom on Gogol’s Wife

Harold Bloom’s essay on Tomasso Landolfi, and specifically “Gogol’s Wife,” in How to Read and Why is little more than a summary of the story, but it is this essay which first made me aware of Landolfi, and for this I am appreciative.

The Mabinogion

Thanks to Le Salon Litteraire du Peuple pour le Peuple, I have picked up a new translation of The Mabinogion in anticipation of reading John Cowper Powys’s, Porius. (Quickly say “John Cowper Powys’s, Porius,” five times.) I won’t be in time to catch the group read of Porius, however, there are links a-plenty to help with my read when I get to it. See these:

Le Salon Litteraire du Peuple pour le Peuple

English Translation: The Literary Salon of the People for the People

American Translation: The Literary Salon of the Purple Prose for the Purple Prose

Le Salon Litteraire du Peuple pour le Peuple is a LibraryThing group made up of a disparate bunch of folks who are both fun-loving and highly literate. If you disdain fun and pleasure yourself with effete condescension you may like to check out a different group—Literary Snobs. For a bunch of self-proclaimed literary snobs, they aren’t all that snobby… just more curmudgeonly than Le Salon.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Zhivago: Facts Don't Exist

Zhivago to his childhood friend, Gordon:

“…the accumulation of a great quantity of senselessness in a notebook will never arrive at any sense, that facts don’t exist until a man puts something of his own into them, some share of whimsical human genius, something of the fantastic.”

Doctor Zhivago, I.4.xii

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Reading Log

Having been sick, I put Zhivago aside for a week and read three Lovecraft stories. The three stories which I read were definitely better written than earlier stories I had sampled. His prose does still tend in an awkward purple direction, but “Cthulhu” and “Colour” both held my attention and had an enjoyable eeriness to them. “The Shadow Over Innsmouth” seemed silly at times, particularly towards the ending. I could envision animated satire of this piece. Perhaps I have seen too many of Miyazaki’s frog and fish creatures to be creeped out by “the Innsmouth look”—my mind constantly made something comical of them. Still, there were some rewarding moments of tension and eeriness. The ending, though largely predictable, succeeded for the narrator’s final proclamation. Then again, could the writer of the last two paragraphs have written the earlier narrative? The effect succeeds in the moment, but weakens with time. “Colour” sticks with me as being a successful tale.

Tomorrow I return to Zhivago in all it’s joyful sorrow and affirmation of life despite suffering.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Pasternak: Not By The Rod, But By Music

I was flipping through a little notebook of mine. Some years ago, I had used it to keep track of bits of prose or verse that made an impression on me.

One of the most profound reading experiences I have ever had was in my reading of Boris Pasternak’s, Doctor Zhivago.

The first entry in that little notebook was from Zhivago. Yuri’s uncle, Nikolai Nikolaevich has been speaking with Vyvolochnov, who as I gather from the context, was a moralist and pragmatist. I quote the recent Pevear, Volokhonsky translation:

…Nikolai Nikolaevich began to explain what brought him close to certain writers of the symbolist school, and then went on to Tolstoy.

“I’m with you up to a point. But Lev Nikolaevich says that the more a man gives himself to beauty, the more he distances himself from the good.”

“And you think it’s the other way round? Beauty will save the world, mysteries and all that, Rozanov and Dostoevsky?”

“Wait, I’ll tell you what I think myself. I think that if the beast dormant in man could be stopped by the threat of, whatever, the lockup or requital beyond the grave, the highest emblem of mankind would be a lion tamer with his whip, and not the preacher who sacrifices himself. But the point is precisely this, that for centuries man has been raised above the animals and borne aloft not by the rod, but by music: the irresistibility of the unarmed truth, the attraction of its example. It has been considered up to now that the most important thing in the Gospels is the moral pronouncements and rules, but for me the main thing is that Christ speaks in parables from daily life, clarifying the truth with the light of everyday things. At the basis of this lies the thought that communion among mortals is immortal and that life is symbolic because it is meaningful.”

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Reading Log

Journal Entry

It’s been a very busy time for me since I started my new job. For a while I was getting up an hour early every day in order to continue with my reading project, then in the evenings I had begun working on programming and tech related materials. Before long I was absolutely exhausted and unable to continue. And at this point my reading project is on hold as I delve deeper into my technical studies.