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Folks: by way of whetting the appetite for A Daughter’s Song and Dance, here is an excerpt from the story. Nobody can sing like Ella…Enjoy! RT
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A true confession on RT’s part: he has been laboring under the happy impression that various of his readers are wondering whatever happened to his writing projects. Well, there is good news–his mother’s memoirs, now titled A Daughter’s Song and Dance, has been making tremendous progress, and RT will be issuing the first of the book’s three parts as an e-book next month.
What a story it is! Born in 1929, Mom was adopted within a few weeks of birth and spent her childhood in Los Angeles and New York City, with stops at Lake Tahoe and Banff along the way. America was a different place before World War II, and this installment, which follows her pre-teen years, brings home to readers the difficulties (and wonders) of life before TV, commercial air flights, and the Interstate Highway System. The book is populated with remarkable people–among them, her French Governess (who taught her how to eat ice cream pie), her Aunt Daisy (who indirectly arranged for a day watching the filming of Pride of the Yankees), and, above all, Mama, (the woman who adopted her, and a feminist among the aristocracy).
Both Mom and I are pleased with the way this story has emerged from an original word-processed manuscript Mom put together in the early 1990s. We’re excited about publishing electronically. And we love the idea of reaching out to other adoptees with her extraordinary story. Stay tuned for further developments! RT
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P.S. For more background, check out Mom’s blog, Mood Indigo.
Poster: Moore Theater; 1910; WikiCmns; Public Domain
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The concept of terraforming Mars has pursued me, in a leisurely kind of way, ever since I read Kim Stanley Robinson’s Mars Trilogy back in the mid-1990s. I’ve already recommended this excellent near-future science fiction novel set during the settlement and terraforming of the Red Planet. But, as I noted in my last post, getting there is not going to be so easy.
So what do we do? Turn to history, of course! Specifically, I’m thinking of the race to reach the South Pole, which Roald Amundsen won, planting Norway’s flag on the spot on December 14, 1911. Happy 100th Anniversary, Mr. Amundsen and his team!
Let’s not kid ourselves: anyone trying to reach the South Pole in 1911 was taking his chances, pushing the envelop of that era’s technology really hard, and totally committed to the idea of exploration for exploration’s sake. Just to get an idea of how dangerous the enterprise was, let’s consider Amundsen’s competition, the team of Robert Falcon Scott, which reached the South Pole only 34 days after Amundsen. Slightly over a month may not seem like a huge margin in terms of safety, but then we’re talking about the Antarctic. Scott was handicapped by faulty equipment, an unwise choice of ponies over sled dogs, and the encroaching winter. On March 29, 1912, he perished with his men on the Ross Ice Shelf. They were 11 miles from a supply depot. Be that as it may, RT salutes their courage and spirit of adventure!
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I cannot continue without mentioning Ernest Shackleton’s mind-boggling escape from the jaws of death (1914-1917); his ship, the Endurance, trapped and then crushed by pack ice, Shackleton led his men across the ice, then across the ocean in open boats to land on Elephant Island, and finally captained one of the boats in a journey to South Georgia Island, where the local whaling colony was able to mount a successful rescue of the remaining men on Elephant Island. Not a single life was lost during the voyage. Wow! WOW! This is the stuff of epic!
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So why did Amundsen survive, where Scott failed to return? Careful planning and knowledge of arctic conditions lay at the root of Amundsen’s successful (and at moments, ridiculously easy–they enjoyed a jury-rigged sauna on the way back!) expedition.
Which leads to RT’s suggestion for reaching Mars: place supply depots and at least a couple of rest stations (with saunas, of course!) along the way. Assembling the expedition spacecraft in orbit or at a moon base would also lighten the load.
Yes, with full attention to detail & logistics, the trip to Mars is doable. And here’s to the spirit of discovery!
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Photos: Top: Roald Amundsen; Bottom: Robert Falcon Scott. WikiCmns. Public Domain.
Oceans have always mesmerized and terrified people–their beauty, their power, their capriciousness are hard to deny. They are alien, other, a place we didn’t adapt to during our species’ infancy or imprint on our evolving minds.
Or maybe not. In the amniotic fluid we recapitulate those first watery ages, acquire memories of gills and tails, memories that give us a sense of the ocean as mother–memories that help explain the appeal of Joan Slonczewski’s remarkable debut novel, A Door Into Ocean (1986).
I might as well admit up front that this novel has influenced my thinking deeply. Door is a science fiction novel–one of the best–and as such delves into the nitty-gritty of world making and the sciences; but it does not stop with introducing us to a consistent and plausible future. Slonczewski takes us much farther, creating believable and sympathetic characters and a nimble plot set against a difficult but all-too-familiar political and cultural situation. And beyond that, she offers insights on, and even solutions to, some of humankind’s most intractible problems.
The story is set some thousands of years in the future and concerns the fate of Shora, an ocean moon orbiting a “normal” water/earth world. Normal in every way, I should note: male-dominated, money-driven, technology-based, power-worshipping. In pointed contrast, Shora is home to a woman-only society that has been intentionally shaped to live in harmony with the rich ecosystem the moon’s ocean supports. But take note, all men who value their gender and who also are alert to the struggle for women’s recognition, respect, and self-expression–this is not a male-bashing novel. There are positive (and charming) male characters (such as Spinel, the teenage boy who must take a “stone-sign”–that is, find a profession); female characters who need some serious therapy (witness Jade, an interrogator); and an admission that even Shora’s admirable ecology at times depends on predation and suffering. And then there is Berenice, the liaison between Shora and the outside political system–who becomes Nisi on the ocean world and takes the self-name, “the deceiver.”
I don’t want to reveal too much of the plot, so I will only say that Spinel’s decision regarding his stone-sign helped me make peace with my own calling as a poet and that I would be thrilled if people on our planet would adopt the custom of self-naming. Slonczewski offers many more suggestions concerning humanity’s struggle to create a truly peaceful and prosperous society.
And did I mention that the author’s prose is a delight? Sorry, I can’t think of any more reasons to not recommend this book. Take the plunge and read A Door Into Ocean, a novel utterly dedicated to the ideal of peace and happiness in our lives. –RT
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Photo: Rogue Wave in the Bay of Biscay, 1940; NOAA; WikiCmns; Public Domain.
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Some readers will recognize the symptoms: a sudden, inexplicable obsession with a topic, question, or creative work that drives a person to drop practical considerations and even essential obligations so he or she can spend time researching or writing in the library, interviewing people, tracking people down on the internet, making observations on their telescope, and so forth. Yes, there can be no doubt: you or someone in your life has been inspired to make a contribution to the advancement of knowledge or the creation of beauty. The person in question is an independent scholar.
Just what is an independent scholar? Someone who is working on an research project or work of art without support from an academic institution or other organization. In other words, this is where the rubber hits the road; people have been known to live on the street while they’re researching, writing, painting, sculpting, making a movie…
But, thanks to guides like Ronald Gross’s The Independent Scholar’s Handbook, the journey doesn’t have to be that hazardous. There are ways to organize your time and maximize your resources, grants that can defray your costs, volunteers who will support you because you’re doing important work, and support from other scholars, whether they be unknown like yourself or the most distinguished experts in your field. Patience, tact, and persistence can go a long way to easing the pain involved with any self-motivated act of learning and creation.
You might be wondering if a single book really can be the gateway to marshalling your resources and finishing your “inner assignment” (as Ansel Adams used to call his own creative work). And the Handbook does have one problem: it was last edition was published in 1993. Many of the specific suggestions it lists have disappeared or been reincarnated in internet and e-publishing guises. But then, come to think of it, cheap rent is still cheap rent.
External resources aren’t what’s at the heart of Gross’s book. What matters most is the way that he builds the independent scholar’s pride. Here is the sentence that opens Chapter 1:
This book is about taking risks of an unusual kind: risks in the realm of the mind.
His goal is to awake his readers to a sense of passion and purpose. Why? Because he realizes, that for most people, there is nothing of significance in their day-to-day existence. If we are to live fully, we must find the courage to do something really important.
So, in fact, a project that at first may seem impossible or just crazy turns out to have been the origin of many famous books: Barbara Tuckman’s A Distant Mirror, Alvin Toffler’s Future Shock, and E.F. Schumaker’s Small is Beautiful are all works of independent scholarship. And look at what people like Buckminster Fuller, Betty Friedan, and John Snyder accomplished.
And then there are the many quotes from other authors on living the life of the mind:
Many workingmen are self-taught intellectuals.
Ignace Lepp, L’Art de Vivre de l’intellectual
And finally, to round the book out, Gross provides a wonderful bibliography, full of books devoted to the theory and practice of the independent scholar.
The Independent Scholar’s Handbook has changed a lot of people’s lives. Maybe it could change yours. RT
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Chinese Character: The Scholar. WikiCmns. CC 2.5 Generic. User: Magna. Magazine Cover: Hermes the Scholar, WikiCmns; Public Domain.
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A Holy Tradition of Working, a compilation of writings by the sculptor, artist, and thinker Eric Gill, is one of those books I keep coming back to. Gill, most famous for his design of the Gill Sans typeface (the lettering used on the London Underground), was (among other artistic achievements) a successful sculptor who, after a long intellectual quest, converted to Catholicism as an adult; his thinking was much influenced by Catholic views on art and labor, and Tradition collects his insights, scattered throughout his writings, on these subjects.
What attracts me most is the introduction’s fine summary of dissenting thought on industrialism, stretching back to Blake and Carlyle, and Gill’s plain, acerbic style. Though he can sound a bit like a schoolmaster, there is no denying that accounting a society’s worth only by its material production leaves out something profound. I agree with his claim that only when people are fully committed to their work, both intellectually and emotionally, are they capable of producing superior results. In this regard, I think of the quality of William Morris’s textiles (and not just their gorgeous patterns), workmanship that must have originated at least partly in their weavers’ delight in producing something genuinely beautiful. Where the heart is at home, the hand will follow…
We must all seek out and find that work which is most meaningful and satisfying to us. RT
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Photo: The North Wind by Eric Gill; WikiCmns; CC 2.0 Generic; Photographer: Andrew Dunn.
Defining moments, at least in my life, often arrive by way of a cluttered apartment. Projects draw me inward, I work on and finish them, and am faced by new projects and the debris of my earlier work. Stacks of paper on my “junk” ironing board, my desk covered in an unseemly number of scraps and bits and full pages and bills and advertisements…bring out my clean-up-the-mess champion, Confessions of an Organized Homemaker. Toss the odds and ends out, clean your space up!
And here’s a sure-fire tip: Clutter does not encourage creativity!
It’s an uphill battle, of course–I find an intriguing bit of writing I thought I had abandoned or (worse) something I thought I had lost. My answer: put it all in a special folder to be sorted through later. Much more is involved than that, but even so, at times I’ve gotten close to an organized and attractive space…
RT’s advice: keep working on it!
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Photo: Postit; Author: Nevit Dilmen; WikiCmns; Licence: CC 3.0 Unported.
Maybe it’s because I’m a night-owl, maybe it’s because its hard to beat a good book for chasing away the blues, but my bedside table is perennially overburdened with books. Here is a list of books that have kept popping up recently in the wee hours.
1) Robert Graves: Life on the Edge. Miranda Seymour. Robert Graves did a ton of living (not to mention writing) and explored some of the most radical perspectives of the 20th Century. In a world moving rapidly away from Victorian certainties and restrictions, Graves steered a course dictated by his relationships with, and perspectives on, women. But, then, Graves was a soldier-poet (nearly losing his life near the Somme in 1916), and the lingering horror of the fighting adds a further dimension to his writing. But what makes this biography stand out is the picture of Graves that emerges–brilliant, haunted, tenacious–and the close attention it pays to the poet’s development and the way his environment affected his poetry. Buy it, savor it–what a moment in history to have been a poet!
2) The Other Bible. Willis Barnstone, editor. Other visions, other voices. Thick enough to challenge the bible, this compendium of resources on religious alternatives (most from the period surrounding the life of Jesus) provides a welcome look at texts that were left forgotten on the back shelves of libraries, buried with monks in Egypt, or offered up in mainstream texts as examples of how not to think. The collection is particularly strong on gnostic texts, and helps readers understand some of the finer (but still important distinction) between such sects as the Cainaites and the Carpocratians.
3) Listening to Prozac. Peter D. Kramer. What is the goal of psychotropic medication? What do you say about a person who’s live is not only healed by the pills they take, but is even transformed–the wall-flower who becomes a successful politician, the agoraphobic housewife who go goes back to school and gets a professional job, the workaholic who suddenly discovers that there are things called vacations. Above all, who are we when we transform ourselves? Kramer, a psychiatrist, summarizes the development of modern psychotropic medications and reflects on his experiences with clients to give us his interpretation of what is and is not possible with the revolution in his field’s pharmacopeia.
4) Genesis, A New Translation of the Bible Stories. Stephen Mitchell. Stephen Mitchell, widely read freelance translator and poet, gives us a lively, accessible version of the stories that form the heart of Genesis. His work, deeply informed by the Documentary Hypothesis, ranges farther afield and takes advantage of scholarship that you may not have heard of.
5) The Five Books of Moses. Robert Alter. A careful translation that pays close attention to the diction and rhythms of the Ancient Hebrew, this book helped open my eyes to the pleasures of the Hebrew Bible as a received text. The introduction and notes are excellent, and Alter has a fine ear for the subtleties of English. Recommended for readers seeking a translation that does not focus on the Documentary Hypothesis.
6) Aspects of the Novel. E.M. Forster. A classic, pure and simple. Each chapter, originally delivered as a lecture at Oxford University in the 1920s, examines an essential characteristic of the novel such as story, fantasy, and prophecy. Forster’s lively wit and powerful intelligence guide us from the heartbeat origins of storytelling up through the more transcendent qualities of a the best novels. The chapters offer a sadly unfashionable perspective on a genre that has survived competing demands on readers’ time –hopefully to emerge revitalized in world culture.
7) The Gift, Poems by Hafiz. Daniel Landinsky, Translator. When I read Coleman Bark’s selection and translation of Rumi’s verse, Open Secret, I was so swept away that for some time I ignored other masters of Sufi/Medieval Islamic poetry. The Gift is correcting this oversight. Hafiz, who lived in Shiraz in the 13th century, devoted his life to the craft/art and for many years wrote a poem a day. Somewhere between 500 and 700 of his poems survive, written in Farsi, a demanding language for English speakers–but Landinsky does an admirable job of bringing out the joy and zaniness of the poet’s experience of God. Superb poetry, superb translation.
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Photo: Alt Buecher; WikiCmns; User, Gnosos; Public Domain.
Jared Diamond’s book, Collapse, (Viking, 2005), is one of the most challenging books I’ve read in some time (for one thing, at 591 pages, it may require a dedicated space on your nightstand). Drawing on a plethora of historical examples, both ancient and recent, Diamond tries to determine the causes behind the collapse of human societies. To underscore the relevance of this task to humanity’s current predicaments, the book starts with a discussion of ecological problems in Montana. It continues on to such exotic locales as Easter Island in the 900s AD, medieval Japan, Viking Greenland, the Mayan cities of the 1st millennium AD, and the Anasazi culture in the southwest of the United States. Contemporary environmental policies in Australia, New Guinea, and the Dominican Republic are also examined.
Collapse is a tough book; it doesn’t pull its punches when drawing attention to the greed and wastefulness of normal human life. Hierarchy, taboo, and the general human reluctance to change core belief and practise are all singled out as causes behind environmental disasters. Now that we are all part of a global economy, the question becomes, can we work out our differences and make the necessary sacrifices to save ourselves from overpopulation and environmental degradation?
On the other hand, the volume is full of arresting stories; my favorite is Easter Island, a tiny speck in the Pacific Ocean (and certainly one of the most remote places on the planet), covered by a lush, semi-tropical forest until the arrival of the first people (Polynesians) about AD 900. I was (and am) fascinated by the fact that among the tree species in the forest was the Easter Island Palm, the tallest palm tree that has ever existed. The settlers created a complex civilization (which included the sculpting of the island’s famous statues), but by about AD 1600 had cut down the entire forest–only a few of the smaller plant species have survived.
One might think that this a doomsday book, focusing on examples of human inability to cope with tough problems, but Collapse offers several examples of successful environmental management resulting from factors that range from heroic individual sacrifice to extremely tough governmental policy. The book points out attitudes and policies that can create consensus on the environment and help our global culture survive into better times.
Informed, level-headed, and focused on finding solutions, Collapse is one book to keep an eye peeled for on your next expedition to the bookstore. RT
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Image: The Russian vessel “Rurik” at anchor off Easter Island, 1816, artist, Louis Choris; Source: Wikipedia; License, Public Domain.
Albert Pinkham Ryder, "The Flying Dutchman"
I’ve just finished re-reading one of my favorite stories, Robert Aickman’s “Into the Wood,” which appears in a collection of his stories, The Wine Dark Sea, published in 1988.
Aickman (1914-1981), who was English, found the inspiration for his writing in gothic, horror, and ghost stories, but his work does not belong to any of these genres. He called his stories “strange,” and the difference here may be the depth and range of learning they build on. Be prepared for references to literary figures such as Strindberg and works such as Daudet’s Sapho. But this is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the richness of Aickman’s voice.
Evil is this author’s subject, but not evil as it appears in modern folk-culture’s vampire-and-other-weird-creatures amusements. And Aickman’s writing is not political–he sees no solution in any of the current ideologies on offer. No–these writings are built on Aickman’s understanding of the true source of horror–identification with the monster. We are the monster.
How does one escape this iron-toothed trap? I won’t give you what I take to be Aickman’s answer, but only suggest that you read “Into the Wood” (or any of his other stories). One of the things that makes his work so delicious is the high literary art he commands–a voice at once formal and familiar, distant and whispered into our ear. He can weave the texture of Venice as easily as he can that of Sweden, and romance is never far from the surface of events–but this is the romance of escape into something richer, far more intricate and mesmerizing, than anything in ordinary experience, which the author satirizes in scenes surrealistic and grotesque. Do you have the courage to accept this kind of invitation into dreaming? Aickman asks, and Are you willing to pay the price?
Of “Into the Wood,” I will only say that it involves a brief stay at an old-fashioned (and high-class) residential hotel in Sweden. Don’t expect any hauntings or rivers of blood rushing down the corridors, and do expect to come away having increased your knowledge of art and culture (and the possibilities of imagination).
Because the core of Aickman’s talent is to bring us through the storm of fear into gardens of unexpected delight. RT
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image: source: WikiCommons; license, Public Domain.
