« October 1, 2006 - October 7, 2006 | Main | October 15, 2006 - October 21, 2006 »
October 8, 2006
On Parsifal
A remarkable non-analysis from John Runciman in Wagner.
"PARSIFAL" (1882).
This disastrous and evil opera was written in Wagner's old age, under the influence of such a set of disagreeably immoral persons as has seldom if ever been gathered together in so small a town as Bayreuth. The whole drama consists in this: At Montsalvat there was a monastery, and the head became seriously ill because he had been seen with a lady. In the long-run he is saved by a young man—rightly called a "fool"—who cannot tolerate the sight of a woman. What it all means—the grotesque parody of the Last Supper, the death of the last woman in the world, the spear which has caused the Abbot's wound and then cures it—these are not matters to be entered into here. Some of the music is fine.
I'd like to know more about how Wagner used this legend contrary to its orirgin. I've never watched it, but have long admired some parts of it. I should think that Tristan und Isolde would be far more problematic.
From Richard Wagner, Composer of Operas by the same Runciman:
The whole affair is a spectacle which I must say is disgusting to healthy minds. The insinuations are frightful. Consider, reader, seriously for a moment: Parsifal—Siegfried grown to manhood—knows and cares nothing about womankind. As soon as he knows what a woman is he revolts, learns through that knowledge and by his acquaintance with suffering—acquaintance, I say, because he himself has never suffered—that there are two cures for all the woes of humanity. Discard women and pity the men. The thing is absurd, and suggests that the mighty genius was on the verge of imbecility. But the desire to please mad Ludwig accounts for it all in a very undesirable fashion.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:58 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Linked Verse, Ended
My thanks to everyone who contributed to this wonderful experiment. There were a small number of entries, but we got from it three interesting poems that would not otherwise be.
Linked verse is a kind of word game. It served as a sort of community building exercise among the poets of the Japanese Court. Of course, there was oneupsmanship and all manner of odd exercises that go with poets writing poetry together; however, it is an elegant and charming way to introduce the poetry shy into the art of poetry and to give the participant some sense of the diffiuclty of composing images in few words.
Everyone who chose to partipcate did a magnificent job of fulfilling the object of the exercise and producing their links. Thank you so much. I emjoyed, as well, watching the verse grow from its separate pieces and influences.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:16 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 10, 2006
Office of the Dead
I changed my morning routine this morning and offered the Office of the Dead. A little autistic boy, 5 years old, got away from his family while they were bring groceries in from the car. He liked to run, and he liked water. Unfortunately, where I live, there is no shortage of drainage ponds and other holes filled with water. He found one of them and it took searchers two days to find him. All of this happened within two blocks of where I live.
I am certain of God's mercy, and I hope with perfect assurance, that this small child now sees clearly for the first time ever. But I offer the office for him and for his family. Please join your prayers to my own for the comfort of the distressed family, so sore-wounded by the loss of a child. It never fails to send a shock right through me.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:19 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
A Huge Archive--Mary E Wilkins Freeman
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman was known, until recently for most of us by a handful of ghost stories reprinted in anthologies--most particularly "Shadows on the Wall" and "The Wind in the Rose-Bush."
While this site might not be "The Complete Works," there certainly is a large collection of the novels and short stories of this neglected writer. Go and sample--start with the stories mentioned.
It is interesting to me that she is collected with Sarah Orne Jewett, another writer of short stories whose talent has too long been neglected or ignored. I suppose Edith Wharton and Willa Cather overshadowed these writers. But if they are writers of the second rank, it goes to show how far the second rank has fallen in our own time. Would that my own meager talents were the equal of these.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:32 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 11, 2006
The Thirteenth Tale
"Last night I dreamt of Manderley again. . ."
That's what Diane Setterfield's new, much-hyped book reminded me of--vaguely. But then, that book (Rebecca) was born of the same passion that fuels this book, Jane Eyre. Although there is little enough romance in Setterfield's book, the atmosphere is thick with Jane. A governess, a ghost, feral twins, a burning house, a story untold, a story everyone wants to know about.
Indeed, even the name of one of the Major characters, Vida Winter, is meant to conjure the great old days of the suspenseful Gothic, and by that, I do not mean women in flimsy gown fleeing huge castles, but rather the brooding and dark repressed family histories--Poe Gothic, not Victoria Holt (although there's nothing wrong with that either.) Vida Winter is the author of a great many well-admired books, the first of which "Thirteen Tales of . . ." had only a single print run because a mere twelve of those tales made it into the book. The first print run became a fabulously rare collector's edition because they were recalled and mostly destroyed. Afterwards it became Twelve Tales.
Our heroine is the daughter of an antiquarian and rare-book dealer who is consulted by Ms. Winter to write the author's biography. She goes out to the present residence on the moor and hears a tale of twins, topiary, ghosts,murder, and insanity--all the ingredients for a good winter night's read.
While the book is a trifle of a story, a delightful bon-bon, a mere confection--it is a confection superbly prepared by someone who loves books and loves story and knows intimately how to tell a ripping good yarn. While I was trying to decide whether or not to be disappointed by the book, the writing weighed in and tipped the scales, heavily in the book's favor.
Why disappointment? Really no good reason except that it was not the book I would have written. The author made some story choices I would not have made in the tale veered off in a direction unexpected. But then, when looked at from a distance, each of her choices were the right ones, and each of mine, while making a book more to my taste would have produced the usual mishmash of rubbish that has defamed the Gothic name since Jane Austen took on Ann Radcliffe in Northanger Abbey.
But the final decision--if you love good fiction--get it, read it. You won't be sorry. Highly recommended.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 7:30 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The Catholic Home
Meredith Gould's book is a delight from start to finish--stuffed full of lore and "tradition builders" this is perfect for families who are trying to give the Catholic Church a more solid presence in their homes. This is specifically a domestic compendium and it is about making the home Catholic through traditions--feasts, decorations, rites, rituals, and prayers.
What I liked about the book was the sheer breadth and length and width and height of the numerous suggestions. Not into reciting the entire Daily Office--that's okay, start with something less and work your way up. Don't have much time--recite the Angelus or the Regina Coeli. The book is truly Catholic in its embrace of traditions.
Let's face it, being Catholic there are going to be suggestions that you won't like. It's not your style, not your way, doesn't sound right for you, supports causes you don't care for. All of these are legitimate reasons to reject one or more ideas. But the advantage of such a book is that if you don't like the suggestion in paragraph one, there are usually five or six other suggestions that you could take up. And I don't think Gould's point is that we should stuff ourselves with externals. Rather, I think she celebrates the Catholic faith embracing all traditions and encouraging Catholics of whatever stripe to take up and celebrate tradition.
The book has several major sections--starting by celebrating the liturgical seasons, Gould moves on to daily devotions and honoring the sacraments. Her suggestions ring true and right for family celebrations. She suggests praying the Rosary at home with faithful friends. At one point she lists ideas for starting family devotions:
-Lighting a candle and praying for others (intercessions).
-Reading the Psalms, readings, and Gospel du jour.
-Learning more about the saint du jour.
-Praying the Lord's Prayer.
-Praying the Profession of Faith.
-Praying the Rosary (see Appendix B).
These are all simple and straightforward suggestions for families that have "lost" their traditions and don't know how to pick them up again, or for families, like my own, that never had any Catholic traditions and wonder how to go about making a more Catholic household.
What is so wonderful about the work is that Gould never seems partisan or heterodox. Everything she suggests increases reverence for the Church, the Sacraments, the rich traditions of Catholics the world over, and God himself.
And throughout there is a sense of warmth, humor, and sheer down-deep humanity that makes the book an engaging delight.
Whoever is still ambulatory after lighting candles, eating prodigious amounts of fish, and reading from Luke gets to put baby Jesus in his Nativity scene crib. If you have kids, you have a couple of options. You can foster their sense of mystery by doing this while they sleep, so they wake up to baby Jesus. Or you can foster their sense of belonging to the Body of Christ by allowing them to tuck baby Jesus into his manger. (Don't forget the crib atop your Jesse Tree!).
And then she mentions the Feast Day of Adam and Eve.
There's noting radical in the notions Gould articulates, nothing startling or noveau or earth-shaking. But there are a plethora of them, and they provide many opportunities to reflect upon the Catholic Church and how to make it concrete, most particularly for the little ones in the family. Little suggestions, like the one above help so much to encourage parents to think about ways that the Catholic Faith can be fostered in the domestic Church. And that, I think, is Gould's main point. Not that you should follow all of her suggestions or regard her work as a new Gospel, but rather that each family should forge for itself the traditions that both bind the family together and help to bind the family to the Church. After much else is forgotten, the cookies, the pretzels, and the small things done around Christmas time remain so that if children stray away, there are these small concrete reminders, these stores of memory that will serve to call them back Home to the Holy Mother of us all, the Guardian and constant Defender of the Faith, the Holy Catholic Church. And that is what Gould's book reminds us of constantly.
Highly recommended for all who are seeking ideas about how to celebrate their faith in their life at home.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:42 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
Wisely Shown--George Eliot
As George Eliot demonstrates succinctly, even detachment can become an attachment:
from Middlemarch
George Eliot"I think she is," said Celia, feeling afraid lest she should say
something that would not please her sister, and blushing as prettily as
possible above her necklace. "She likes giving up.""If that were true, Celia, my giving-up would be self-indulgence, not
self-mortification. But there may be good reasons for choosing not to do
what is very agreeable," said Dorothea.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 12:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
A Salutary Notion of Religion
Once again, George displays her brittle but piercing humor:
from Middlemarch
George EliotWhy did he not pay attention to Celia, and leave her to listen
to Mr. Casaubon?--if that learned man would only talk, instead of
allowing himself to be talked to by Mr. Brooke, who was just then informing
him that the Reformation either meant something or it did not, that he
himself was a Protestant to the core, but that Catholicism was a fact;
and as to refusing an acre of your ground for a Romanist chapel, all
men needed the bridle of religion, which, properly speaking, was the
dread of a Hereafter.
What a remarkably draconian view of the role of religion--to instill dread--that's certainly the road to relentless charity.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 12:24 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 12, 2006
The Amish Schoolhouse
This struck just the right tone for me.
The Amish planned to leave a quiet pasture where the schoolhouse stood.
This strikes me as the almost perfect Christian attitude toward the whole thing. It is not dimissed, it has wounded the community, but the memory of it is abolished entirely from the Earth. For a pacifist people, the Amish have an aggressive way of correcting the wrong and setting things right. The Earth shall claim the memory of this horrendous deed and no shadow of it shall remain.
Now, were this Hollywood, we'd set it up as a stop on the tour, complete with chalk outlines and occasionally touched up blood stains. Remarkable how the sensibilities of the two societies differ. Remarkable, and encouraging. The Amish have made a strong positive statement and witness in their actions. God bless them and visit them with comfort in this time of loss. May the families be healed and the communities be restored.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:05 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
For the Love of Sheer Oddity
Gadsby:A Story of Over 50,000 Words Without Using the Letter “E” by Ernest Vincent Wright
And boy, a myriad circumlocutions must find ways into such work that it may avoid utilization of so important a part of our syllabary.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 12:10 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Some Antique Travel Books
The On-Line Books page has a number of interesting travel books by Lucas and Hutton.
E.V. Lucas
A Wanderer in. . . .
Florence,
Holland
Venice
Hutton
Ravenna: A Study
Florence and Northern Tuscany with Genoa and it's American Counterpart.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 12:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
And this. . .
The War of the Wenuses--Charles Graves and E.V. Lucas.
Is it satire? Is it parody. I can't rightly say; however, when you start like this:
No one would have believed in the first years of the twentieth century
that men and modistes on this planet were being watched by intelligences
greater than woman's and yet as ambitious as her own. With infinite
complacency maids and matrons went to and fro over London, serene in the
assurance of their empire over man. It is possible that the mysticetus
does the same. Not one of them gave a thought to Wenus as a source of
danger, or thought of it only to dismiss the idea of active rivalry upon
it as impossible or improbable. Yet across the gulf of space astral
women, with eyes that are to the eyes of English women as diamonds are
to boot-buttons, astral women, with hearts vast and warm and
sympathetic, were regarding Butterick's with envy, Peter Robinson's with
jealousy, and Whiteley's with insatiable yearning, and slowly and surely
maturing their plans for a grand inter-stellar campaign.
and go on to do this:
Then came the night of the first star. It was seen early in the morning
rushing over Winchester; leaving a gentle frou-frou behind it. Trelawny,
of the Wells' Observatory, the greatest authority on Meteoric
Crinolines, watched it anxiously. Winymann, the publisher, who sprang to
fame by the publication of _The War of the Worlds_, saw it from his
office window, and at once telegraphed to me: "Materials for new book in
the air." That was the first hint I received of the wonderful wisit.
It is, at least, amusing. Meteoric crinolines--who'd'a thunk it?
Posted by Steven Riddle at 12:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
A Samuelism
This evening I asked Samuel to describe to me the Platonic solids and tell me what shapes made up their faces.
He paused for a moment and then said, "Concrete."
Laughed so hard I nearly had cider come out my nose.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:47 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 14, 2006
The Theocons
By some odd quirk of fate or the publishing business, I received earlier this week a copy of Damon Linker's The Theocons. (How ironic that it should come shortly after TSO featured my a quote about politics and Chilton's Manuals in his "Spamming the Globe.") While there may be cordial disagreement about the quality of Dr. Gould's book (I stand by my recommendation), I doubt that among most St. Bloggers there will be much doubt about this one.
It is difficult for me to review because it stands so diametrically opposed to the way in which I see things. I am not an ardent fan of Richard John Neuhaus's politics and societal views--nor am I a particularly scathing critic. And one must try to be fair in evaluating a work sent for review.
However, I must say that this lived up the metaphor I proposed. With the precision of a Chilton's manual we get trotted out one after another the hoary old stories of Bush's "stealing the election." The horrendous Supreme Court Judicial Activism--which amounted to saying that the constitution of a state when it affects matters Federal must be observed and cannot arbitrarily be set aside.--sneaks aboard to provide a sidelong slap to the conservatism who oppose judicial activism. We get the Rooseveltian mythos of the absolute separation of Church and State--something the founders never envisaged or at worst did not codify as this book claims.
You name the trope, Linker trots it out. But there is a remarkable twist in this plot. All of this insidious wheeling and dealing is laid at the feet of the 60s leftist activists turned constitutional subversalists, Richard John Neuhaus and Michael Novak. And these clever, clever people early on forged a "deal" with Evangelicals to subvert them to their insidious purposes--to wit, to assure that abortions really do become rare, to protect the institution of marriage as we know it, and to inject some sense of morality into secular politics. All of which, we know from Linker's careful tutelage was absolutely forbidden by the Founding Fathers.
The book is far too easy to take pot shots at, and I should feel ashamed of the paragraphs above, but I do not. While Linker has some interesting arguments, none of them are particularly compelling. While I agree with some of the points he has to make about some of Neuhaus's, Weigel's, and Novak's positions, I find the idea of an insidious Catholic plot to subvert the American Government too ludicrous for words. Was this book deliberately planned to be released around Guy Fawkes day? Because it is in the spirit of the Gunpowder plot and other such trumped up nonsense that this book makes its points. Anti-Catholicism is alive and well and, unfortunately, relying on exactly the same old arguments it always has--plot, conspiracy, and subversion.
Let's take Linker's "clincher argument" from the very last chapter.
from The Theocons
Damon LinkerWhich brings us back to the problem of religion in a free society--and to the political and social arrangements the American founder proposed to mitigate and manage it. Under our system of government, religious believers are required to leave their theological passions and certainties out of public life, but pace the theocons, this requirement does not amount to an assault on religious freedom. On the contrary, it is the precondition of religious freedom in a pluralistic society. The privatization of piety creates social space for every American to worship God as he or she wishes, without state interference. In return for this freedom, believers are expected only to give up the ambition to political rule in the name of their faith--that is, the ambition to bring the whole of social life into conformity with their own inevitably partial and sectarian theological convictions.
I'll let you parse how completely disallowing any vestige of the moral opinion that comes from religious conviction from our public life is not a restriction on the exercise of the franchise for religious. If one followed this logic strictly, one would be compelled to vote only for those with agnostic or atheistic convictions, and issues of import, such as life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness must necessarily be left out of the equation. I suppose Linker does not see it as at all problematic that only believers are expected to live in a society in which they can have no say about its direction, because that say will inevitably be formed from fundamental moral and religious convictions. Despite what he seems to imply, all of the world's major faiths do have at heart a shared set of convictions (along with a good many disparate ones) that would form the nucleus of a sane and sober society. According to his argument here, we are only asked to completely eschew any thought of acting on those convictions in return for being able to practice a progressively more restricted faith.
Linker's book is remarkably well written--and if you're inclined to partisan diatribe that lacks any sort of comprehensive focus other than fear of faith, you might find it entertaining. Myself, I was intrigued by two points, one of which is patently none of my business. The first, why is the inevitable shift in the conservative direction after four decades of Rooseveltian unleashed social reconstruction seen as anything other than the rightward swing of the pendulum after social engineering: it is a fundamental rhythm of societies? Neuhaus alone could not engineer the victory of George Bush. The Red State/Blue State phenomenon is not an illusion, it is a representation of the fact that the center has shifted back to the right in a very predictable and ordinary rhythmical shift in society. It is entirely possible that it has reached its apex and with the elections ahead we may see it shift the other way, though I tend to think that we are at the maximum disequilibrium phase and will be for a while. Right now the pendulum is all potential energy driven to the right.
The second question is how a young man who worked with First Things for some time came to divest himself of any shred of the faith and morals that he must once have had. Now we have "a woman's right to choose" and those standing in the way of "productive medical research." I've no idea what could provoke such a change, and I'm not sure I wish to know. another good mind has taken a wrong turn and rather than lavishing our time worrying about Mr. Dreher and his difficulties, we might do well to direct our prayers Linker-ward, for he has lost his faith in a thunderbolt like, "I saw Satan falling from the sky. . . "*
As to recommendation: this book falls into the category of "know your enemy." It is salutary to be aware of the type and amount of poison spewing forth from this froth of belabored and misrepresented arguments. The writing is fine, and even individual points are fine, but the frothing conspiratorial implications of the work suggest a foment that has the liberal world chasing its tail and wringing its hands, wondering when wife-swapping will be back in vogue and we can return to the carefree-days of protectionless sex. As I said, I used toothpicks to prop my eyes open to read what I could--but that isn't a reflection on the writing at all--that is my own limitation. In fact, the writing qua writing is splendid, with the smooth polish of the accomplished propagandist. This may be a name to watch among those opposed to the return to reason of society. Recommended for those whose minds are engaged by this--but for most of us, it is likely merely to be an experience in queasiness.
*Lest this be misconstrued--I use the quotation not to speak of Mr. Linker himself, but of the suddenness of the change in mind--or the seeming suddenness. Obviously, we have no right to make any judgment regarding persons at all--and one must assume that Mr. Linker's arguments and statements are all made in good, if malformed, faith.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 4:40 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack