tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62696029556995569532024-03-12T23:27:54.928-04:00The Literary RamblerWriting, Reading, and RamblingUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-4084899780961527302014-04-28T22:08:00.003-04:002015-03-12T22:41:21.575-04:00Book Review: The Monk (1796), by Matthew Lewis, Part 2<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tWyNeZ3Zv2M/U18Lk0xg-II/AAAAAAAAAlY/1ylvvlLjqwk/s1600/gp7_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tWyNeZ3Zv2M/U18Lk0xg-II/AAAAAAAAAlY/1ylvvlLjqwk/s1600/gp7_2.jpg" /></a>I thought I was finished with this review, but I wanted to revisit it for the sake of another point of contention. As you may know from my other reviews of classic works, I take particular objection to the portrayal of and condemnation of so called "fallen women" - meaning the views of society as portrayed in literature. If a woman has premarital sex with someone other than her future husband, she usually comes to a bad end. We see this in several examples including <i>Bleak House</i> and <i>Oliver Twist</i> by Charles Dickens, and <i>Far from the Madding Crowd</i> by Thomas Hardy.<br />
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I am going to give spoilers to <i>The Monk</i>. If you don't want to know how it ends, don't continue reading. <br />
<a name='more'></a>At the end, the monk Ambrosio finally rapes the young girl, Antonia, and then kills her. As she lay dying, her love, Lorenzo, finds her.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; text-indent: 4%;"><i>She told him that had She still been undefiled She might have lamented the loss of life; But that deprived of honour and branded with shame, Death was to her a blessing: She could not have been his Wife, and that hope being denied her, She resigned herself to the Grave without one sigh of regret.</i></span></blockquote>
So let me get this straight. Because she was raped by another man, she could not get married. Because she was <i>raped</i>, she was branded with shame! <i>Raped!</i> Okay, do we understand that? She resigned herself to die since her life is pretty much over. That, in a nutshell, is the problem I have with those old fashioned attitudes. People put such importance on this whole virginity thing that a woman is only suitable as a wife is she has never had sex before. That sucks. It really sucks. It sucks for their whole society, and it sucks for the women who were forced to look at themselves as something less than they were.<br />
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Even if she were not raped, even if she had consensual sex, that doesn't mean she can never, ever marry a decent person and she must die. Not that I want a fifteen year old girl to have sex in the first place, but give her a break! <br />
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I hate that attitude. I hate that ending. I hate that puritan idealism that convinces people they are not worthy of heaven or worthy of living because of sex. We're not talking about a woman who runs around having sex with gangs of bikers just for fun. In most of these stories, it is a woman who is either raped, or is in love with a person who tricks them into sex. Yet it didn't matter to society at the time. As I stated in my review of <i>Tess of the d'Urbervilles</i>, society made no differentiation regarding the circumstances. <br />
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Although I love the old classics, the lack of compassion is what drives me nuts.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-80084223888290604382014-04-23T23:00:00.005-04:002014-04-28T20:53:50.386-04:00Book Review: The Monk (1796), by Matthew Lewis, Part 1<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U2Wx26pEaDs/U1NAz31-BUI/AAAAAAAAAk4/JZW1WxHNIXo/s1600/13873771.225x225-75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U2Wx26pEaDs/U1NAz31-BUI/AAAAAAAAAk4/JZW1WxHNIXo/s1600/13873771.225x225-75.jpg" height="200" width="154" /></a>This novel has all the elements wanted for a Gothic Romance, including old castles, ghosts, catacombs under old abbeys, and the like. But this book has a much more important feel to it than the other two Gothic Romances I recently read (<i>The Mysteries of Udolpho</i> and <i>The Castle of Otranto</i>). That's because it tackles such weighty subjects as the heavy hand of religion and premarital sex. A century later, <i>Tess of the d'Urbervilles</i> would show the effects of both religion and society on that subject. But to see it discussed frankly in an 18th century novel surprised me. In fact, the narrative outlook on it seemed quite modern, at least for certain characters.<br />
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There are multiple intertwined storylines, each involving a young woman and the men who love her (or lust after her). The title refers to the great foe of the story. But to say he's only a foe demeans the wonderful character study by Matthew Lewis. Here is a man who believes himself safe from the sins of the world, but is then exposed to sins and soon develops other ideas. All the other characters are classic stereotypes that could be pulled from any major novel of the day, and they represent the contemporary thoughts and actions of heroes and servants. That's not to say they're poorly drawn. On the contrary, each character is a unique piece of work, though some are still a bit cliched.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Early on in the book I surmised a moral. It is that there is no evil comparable to someone without the compassion of experience. People who condemn others for so-called transgressions due to trials they face that the condemner has never faced, they are the foil for our heroes and heroines. I can't forget to mention the evil nun. Yes, there is a monk and a nun, neither of whose beliefs have anything to do with Christianity. Far from it, theirs is a strange and oppressive religion of judgement and punishment. Unfortunately, their beliefs must have been common enough for this and other authors to write about.<br />
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This story takes place in Spain in the latter days of the Inquisition. But for the most part the Inquisition plays little or no role in this story. When it does crop up, believe it or not, the reader cheers, "Yay! The Inquisition is here to save the day!" Weird, I know. But when you read it you'll understand.<br />
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A man is seeking his sister, who pledged her nunship, or whatever it's called. He didn't want her to, SHE didn't want to, but felt she had no choice. The man's friend is in love with the girl, has sex with her and gets her pregnant. Don't worry, I'm not giving away anything that's not given out very early in the story. The reason I mention this is that, unlike almost every other contemporary book I've read, this act is not truly condemned in this book. And far more importantly, the girl herself is not condemned. That's what's so amazing about this book is that she's shown in a sympathetic light, not just as a character to the readers, but as a character within the story. In other words, it's as if the author wrote the story with no expectation of there being any objection to this "fallen woman", but - on the contrary - for the readers to feel sorry for her and side with her. Contrast that to Thomas Hardy's late Victorian Tess, and it feels even stranger. Tess was so objectionable that publishers and reviewers condemned Hardy for showing sympathy to a "fallen woman", while a century earlier, Lewis' Agnes was shown in a positive light - so much so that her "sinful act" is hardly even the subject of the story but only the catalyst for the intervention of the evil nun. The contrast is remarkable.<br />
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I won't say that this book is anti-Catholic. That would be a hard statement to make considering the story takes place in Catholic Spain and all the characters are Catholic. But there is definitely an anti-Monk and anti-Nun sentiment throughout the story. The main characters talk about how bad it would be to join a convent, and the truly bad characters of this story are found only in the monastery and the convent.<br />
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There is plenty of the wonderful old Gothic style to be found. There are dark underground vaults, ghosts, haunted locations, demons, sorcery and the like. However, the ending is so unexpected and so over-the-top that it almost makes you feel sorry for the lowliest of evil characters in this book. Matthew Lewis had no qualms about bringing Satan himself into this tale, and giving it an <i>anti-deux-ex-machina</i> feel.<br />
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Matthew Lewis wrote this book in only a matter of weeks. It's amazing when you think about it. But it's certainly not perfect, as you would expect. It often feels disjointed, storylines go off on wild tangents from which you wonder if they could ever return (but they do). Characters are introduced late in the novel, forcing Lewis to fill in their backstory with lots of "had happened" scenes, telling you how they had been intertwined with the main characters but were just not mentioned before. Some storylines are so far removed from the main one that you believe Lewis just had a tale to tell and figured he'd squeeze it in there, regardless of the need. Plus, near the end, the woman who got pregnant before marriage gives a long discourse on her story (leaving little out) to a somewhat public audience, something that felt entirely unrealistic. And then there are long, unnecessary poems stuck right in the middle of a chapter. If this were submitted to a modern publisher it would probably be rejected. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. It's one of the best Gothic Romances I've read, despite the disjointed feel. The story is provocative and captivating. The social and religious issues it tackles are relevant and for the most part well handled. The delicate subject matter is shown in a straight and unapologetic manner.<br />
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But enough talk. Read the book.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-32232629019551660702014-04-09T22:20:00.001-04:002014-04-20T17:49:48.610-04:00Book Review: The Castle of Otranto (1764), by Horace Walpole <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PpVwNgerKU0/U1M-9zzYkrI/AAAAAAAAAks/rzcDkPOTzGo/s1600/the-castle-of-otranto-a-gothic-story.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PpVwNgerKU0/U1M-9zzYkrI/AAAAAAAAAks/rzcDkPOTzGo/s1600/the-castle-of-otranto-a-gothic-story.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a>This was a great, quick read for a Gothic Romance. It did not bog itself down in flowery language or try to become epic in nature. The entire story takes place in just a few days. It tells of a tyrant - a usurper - whose claim to his title is being challenged. There are old, dark prophecies that frighten him, that foretell terrible things if his line is broken.<br />
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Manfred is the tyrant. He has a wife, Hippolita, who he doesn't love, a daughter, Matilda, who he doesn't care about, and a son, Conrad, who we never meet. The son dies at the very beginning of the story in a weird way that is never fully explained. Let me point out that the supernatural plays a big part in this story. Unlike other gothic romances, the author doesn't try to explain away the supernatural as being misunderstood normal events. But neither does he do a great job of presenting the supernatural in a believable way. The son is killed by a ginormous helmet falling on him and crushing him to death. There are visions of a giant here and there, and not until the end to we get a glimpse of who the giant is.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>I admit I enjoyed this story. It was a page-turner. I couldn't put it down, unlike other books that feel tedious to pick up. This story moved along at a nice clip.<br />
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However, too much of it was based on misunderstandings. Someone said something that someone else overheard and misinterpreted, and then we dash off to a whole scene that felt unnecessary. Or maybe it was necessary but Walpole couldn't come up with a better reason for it to occur. Even the very end-game is all due to a misunderstanding which changed the course of the end of the novel. We see this plot device throughout the book. It added more frustration than intrigue.<br />
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The plot revolves around a young girl, Isabella, who was to be wed to the dead son. Now the father decides to take the young girl as his own bride. Great plan, except his current wife might object. So he tries to convince the local Friar to agree to his divorce. The young girl, Isabella, is frantic with fear and escapes. Will no one rescue her from this awful fate? Enter the dashing young man who is filled with odd coincidences. He's just a peasant standing around in the courtyard looking at the giant helmet that fell on the prince. But wait, there's more! I hate to give away too much, but this wouldn't be a proper melodramatic gothic romance if he didn't have a secret in his own past that put him above the rank of lowly peasant.<br />
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Unfortunately, he's in no position to rescue anyone as the king has decided he's a magician (what?) who caused the death of his son. So now who will rescue the damsel in distress? Enter the mysterious knight who comes to claim the throne and challenge the tyrant Manfred to a duel to the death - and who turns out to be the girl's father. But then in an odd and awful twist, instead of rescuing her he agrees to give her to the tyrant! What a dad!<br />
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A theme throughout the story was the obedience of women to men. For instance, when Hippolita, the wife of the tyrant, spoke with her daughter about her proposed marriage, she said, <i>"It is not ours to make election for ourselves: heaven, our fathers, and our husbands must decide for us."</i> Yikes! Nice old fashioned attitude. In addition, a daughter's duty to her mother is such that she cannot even have feelings of her own without her mother's permission. We see this when the daughter, Matilda, falls in love. Then she feels guilty and states, <i>"I should not deserve this incomparable parent, if the inmost recesses of my soul harboured a thought without her permission…I have suffered a passion to enter my heart without her avowal."</i><br />
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Even when the two fathers agree to marry each other's daughters, which would turn their family into a big freak show, the mother (who would be divorced and sent to a convent in this deal) still refuses to go against her husband. She even chastises her daughter for not going along with the freaky plan.<br />
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<i>“Thy fate depends on thy father,” said Hippolita; “I have ill-bestowed my tenderness, if it has taught thee to revere aught beyond him."</i></div>
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In the end, things work out...sort of. Actually, things don't work out that well at all. Actually, they kind of suck. The tyrant only gets his comeuppance in a weird, <i>Deus ex machina</i> sort of way. I wonder if Walpole planned that ending from the start, or if he just gave up because he couldn't find a better way to wrap things up.<br />
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For lovers of gothic romance, or anyone who wants a quick, fun read, I would recommend this book.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-82355531412083014842014-04-09T22:08:00.002-04:002014-04-19T23:42:02.755-04:00Book Review: The Mysteries of Udolpho, by Ann Radcliffe (1794) Review Part 2<div class="p1">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lbQoDLiDJCo/U1NBjZnMKSI/AAAAAAAAAlI/Q7p9dmVbT_0/s1600/mysteriesudolpho1-286x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lbQoDLiDJCo/U1NBjZnMKSI/AAAAAAAAAlI/Q7p9dmVbT_0/s1600/mysteriesudolpho1-286x300.jpg" height="200" width="190" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Second part of my review of Ann Radcliffe's most well-known novel. Yes, I do recommend it, by the way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This book can be confusing at times, but I'm having a great time reading it. To help you through it, you could listen to the audiobook while you read. That certainly helps carry you over the flowery descriptions of scenery.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, to me, the main character - Emily - seems a bit naive on this whole affair. I wish she would have thought to escape from the castle Udolpho. But that's not something women do in these novels, they are rescued. If an escape is planned, they are not the planners but the weak, simpering participants. They put all their faith and hope in some man. In this case it was the servant Ludovico, the servant Annette's romantic attachment, along with another prisoner who happens to be in love with Emily and lived near her (wonderful melodramatic coincidence). Of the four of them, it won't be Annette or Emily that plan or execute the escape. Another weak point is that this new character, Du Pont, is introduced late in the novel. It's the sort of thing you see in serialized novels that are written as the story progresses in a monthly publication.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think <i>protected</i> is the perfect word for Emily. She was protected in her idyllic life with her mom and pop, and nature, and with Valancourt as a suitor. All those are taken away, and she herself is taken off to a dark and hoary old castle where danger lurks literally around every corner, and there is no one to protect her. 18th century heroines simply don't protect themselves. Alone, they are vulnerable. When Emily is vulnerable, her sensibility and prudence start to break down and vague fears and superstitious terrors begin to fill her mind. So of course, she faints. She does a lot of fainting in this book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Women in them olden' days fainted all the time. When something upset them, they fainted. In all my life I have never known a woman to faint, and I'm sure I've shocked quite a few of them. Is it some evolutionary thing? We no longer have tails, we walk erect, and women no longer faint away?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another point of contention is that it sort of takes away from the gothic fun when Radcliffe continuously tells us that terrors and suspicions are due to a timid and harassed mind. This whole sensibility and prudence thing puts a damper on the creepy gloominess that we so want to enjoy in a gothic romance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think maybe the reason Radcliffe was so against believing in superstition (though her novel was so full of it!) was that this was a time before modern science, when people were still steeped in old superstitious beliefs and traditions. They were a society much closer to medieval beliefs than we are. Today, we live in a purely scientific world with no place for fairies and goblins. But maybe that's just the reason we like fairies and goblins so much. Now that we know they're not real, we look at them as fun. That's the answer, I believe. These dark, gloomy, mysterious stories full of fear and imaginings are fun to us, and nothing more. While to people of the 18th century, they were very real and very frightening, and at the same time an entire mindset was developing that was learning to scoff at such beliefs for the first time. They were in the process of going from open mindedness to close mindedness, perhaps a necessary transition for science to take over. But now we're in the reverse process. Since we already know fairies don't exist, we don't feel threatened by someone writing about them. It's all harmless fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here are some further thoughts, all jumbled one after the other:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wonder that both her parents have such nasty, unsympathetic siblings. Her father's sister is a gold digger, and her mother's brother, Quesnal, has no concern for her at all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sure, there are plenty of stereotypes in this book. The 18</span><span class="s1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><sup>th</sup></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and 19</span><span class="s1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><sup>th</sup></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> century views of life are on full display. So here are some things I learned from this book. Peasants always sing and dance after a hard day’s work. Women faint – a LOT – when they are shocked. Maids are always simple minded. Landed gentry are not simple minded. Living in the city is evil. Living in the country is good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When Valancourt is shot in the woods, my first instinct is to go out and look for him, investigate things, search around for a trail of blood or something. Unfortunately, the main character we follow is an 18th century female, so all news of what happened can only come to her from the report of a male character on whom she has to rely to do the investigation for her. I pictured her in a big fluffy dress scouting around in the woods and realized it would never happen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This book was written for a certain class of people. That simply stands to reason. Most peasants or working class could not read in 1794. The audience was of the same class as our main character. However, I was impressed that there were various servants who actually played a role in this book (unlike Jane Austen novels). Unfortunately, many of them were plot devices - Annette was shown for contrast against Emily's more reasonable beliefs, Theresa is shown as a receptacle for Valencourt's goodness, Dorothee is the provider of historical information. Beyond that, we really aren't meant to care too much about them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We just knew that Emily would turn out rich and not have to work or suffer. Inheriting estates is one of the main conclusions for characters in these novels. We even saw it in Dickens, decades later. There must have been a lot of estates sitting around waiting for the proper main character. But that's how their society was based. Nobility and landed gentry were at the top. The middle class was just then starting, with tradesmen, solicitors, that sort of thing. The vast, unwashed masses of working class were below that. Our heroes and heroines were usually part of the landed gentry - they didn't work but were often on the cusp of society, sometimes in danger of losing their money or estate, not quite wealthy enough to be spoiled or to be on the radar of the snobby gold diggers such as Quesnel in this story. I often wonder just what would happen to these poor folks if they did lose their estate. Would they just fade to dust and blow away? Or would they get a job and work like the rest of us?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An annoying device of Radcliffe is to introduce a problem but then just ignore it completely for sometimes hundreds of pages before touching on it again, usually by giving some rational explanation. In modern books, problems are introduced and then the book will be about solving that problem. But in this book, the problem is simply forgotten, no one's trying to solve it, and then it just clears itself up later.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Overall, this is a fine, old book. As long as you know what you're getting into with the longwinded flowery speech, then you know it's okay to skim some parts. If you are a lover of the gothic descriptions, this thing is full of that. Things happen at midnight, there are expiring fires, mysterious figures, stormy nights, and plenty of darkness. Things are always going on in some dark room or along some dark corridor. Plus, the locations are great. Only part of the story takes place in the castle of Udolpho, but there are also plenty of dark woods and other haunted places including a supposedly haunted chateau.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ann Radcliffe's <i>The Mysteries of Udolpho</i> stands out as a great example of late 18th century gothic romance.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-78110575035459341512014-04-09T21:24:00.001-04:002014-04-09T21:30:00.708-04:00DeadlinesThere is an inverse relationship between an approaching deadline and the ability to write above the level of a 5th grader.<br />
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It's simple, really. Those pesky deadlines are always far off in the distance, nothing but a glimmer on the horizon. The editor and her needs do not exist. Every day, every scene I experience sparks a new and original idea for articles or stories that the masses will love. I am Tolstoy. I am Fitzgerald. Ideas flow from me like cool water springing forth from the fertile ground of my mind.</div>
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Then, five days before it's due, I get that friendly email reminder from the editor, and ideas evaporate like dew on a summer morning. I can't articulate a sentence and the fertile ground of my mind is a barren wasteland. Nothing I think of is interesting, no idea I come up with sounds remotely readable. <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> My ideas are <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;">passé</span>, cliched, and overdone.</span> My style is weak. I scramble, I look through old, unused articles. Maybe I can revamp something, maybe I wrote something months ago that I forgot about. But the well is dry.</div>
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The deadline is now. The editor sends one more email. I've got nothing. Pressure, frantic pressure builds. I write. It's horrible. I rewrite, it's still horrible. I scrap the whole thing. I email her asking for one more day. She grants it and then I waste my time watching reruns of Gilligan's Island. Mary Ann is hot.</div>
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I finally come up with a masterpiece! No, that's a lie, and not even a convincing lie. But I send it to her, anyway. My email is apologetic. "Sorry this sucks so bad. Wait, I meant badly! Or did I? Oh hell, whatever."<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-75271416852151808862014-03-11T22:05:00.000-04:002014-03-11T22:37:54.375-04:00Now On Twitter!!Follow me on Twitter <a href="http://www.twitter.com/mattnealwriter">@mattnealwriter</a> today!!<br />
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If you do, then I will send each new subscriber a mental hug and my best wishes.<br />
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<i>(Best wishes may be delayed up to three weeks and can increase during the St. Patrick's Day season. Mental hug will be instantaneous, as long as our new servers can handle the immense volume.)</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-49774536968706959592014-03-08T21:26:00.000-05:002014-03-08T21:35:57.015-05:00Story Segment - The Dead Thing, by Matt NealIn this segment, I'm trying to make the reader feel both curiosity and tension. After reading it, tell me what you felt. Grammar isn't being graded, I wrote this in just a few minutes. Just enjoy, and go with it.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The Dead Thing</b></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wet leaves fell like sticky, silent rain over the surrounding hills.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lizzie looked up.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The sky was grey with low hanging clouds.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She held the dead thing in her arms.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rugart stopped too quickly and she almost ran into him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“What the hell?” she moaned. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her foot slipped on an algae covered rock.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But she caught herself before falling.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rugart did not reply.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only sound he made was a grotesque slurping as he shoved red things into his mouth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“More damn berries!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Get going, you stupid---“</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but her voice trailed away as she regained her footing.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dead thing had fallen.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She looked down with immense sorrow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Beety.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh Jesus, my Beety.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It lay amongst dirty leaves and scattered stones.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But there was little time for ceremony.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dogs howled in the distance.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A gunshot whizzed over her head.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rugart screamed like a child.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the instant before Lizzie could push herself up, her mind flashed on a distant childhood, with a tiny boy sitting on a swing beside her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Lissie, I fall!” he said.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then her mind returned to the present.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rugart lay in a heap in front of her.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His voice was small and weak.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Lizzie, please…help me.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They’re coming.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seconds later she had lifted him to his feet, but not before noticing the blood streaming from his leg.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She held the dead thing tightly, pushing her brother before her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Run, damn it!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Run!”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another bullet grazed her arm, sending a shockwave of pain through her mind and body.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She did not stop.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seconds later they were at the end of the creek.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A tiny boat was lodged among the rocks.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Water trickled slowly, and then steadily into a larger body of water that wound between trees.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the distance was an opening into the main river, and freedom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rugart stared at the boat.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He turned a blank look towards his sister, who pushed him down until he tumbled into it.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She grabbed an oar and began paddling.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A distant shout, now nearer, made her muscles tense.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She quickened her strokes.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A tree obscured their pursuers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“We made it Rug,” she said.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Far away gunshots echoed around the bayou.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You hear?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rug?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We made it!”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As she paddled, the dead thing lay before her in the bottom of the boat.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The open river was so close.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They would make it.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But they did not.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She let out a breath of relief only a second before staring at Rug.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why did he look that way?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He slid sideways, and crumpled over the side.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She saw the blood streaming from the side of his head.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lizzie’s grip tightened on the oars.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her brother disappeared beneath the dark waters.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She watched him vanish from her sight, and from her life forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’m sorry, mama,” she muttered.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then she continued on.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seconds later, the river opened up before her.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A quick current took her away from the overhanging vines that had sheltered the tiny access from which she had just emerged.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soon the barking of the dogs was lost in the fog, far behind her.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She was alone on the great river with just the fog, the sound of her oars, and the dead thing.</span><br />
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<o:p>Tell me what you thought the dead thing was.</o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-86940875646040971162014-03-08T21:15:00.001-05:002014-03-08T21:57:51.193-05:00Something New - Short Stories and Segments I'm going to add something new. I'll start posting a few short stories here and there, as well as a few segments. A segment is either the beginning of a story or a segment of a story. I love to write and sometimes I'm just trying to hit a certain mood, or push a certain idea. So a segment is an incomplete story meant to do just that. Rarely does a segment ever evolve into a full story...but it might.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-44974496014253100162014-03-06T22:25:00.001-05:002014-03-07T15:29:37.426-05:00Putting Yourself Out There as a WriterWriters put themselves out there. I never realized I would get such hate mail, people attacking me personally, saying such horrible things, over such innocent, humorous articles in a magazine. It takes a lot out of you.<br />
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I thought that if I avoid politics, religion, anything controversial, I could make people smile. But that's not true. People seem to be looking for reasons to hate, reasons to make you feel bad.<br />
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Even this blog is just about classic book reviews. I never criticize the authors, I only discuss the books themselves. But I get more hate mail than positive feedback. And the hate mail always attacks me personally. It's like I have to walk in lock-step with whoever happens to be reading me, or else they feel the right to attack me personally. People don't live and let live anymore. It's all about total, 100% agreement with their point of view, or else you are a despicable person who must die.<br />
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I'll have to ponder this more before I can give some philosophical, helpful insight. At the moment, I'm still stunned.<br />
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<b>Update:</b><br />
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The local woman who sent me that email is Tathata Revis. The email was extremely vile, and made sexual references to my daughter. I don't know this person, but the situation concerns me. She lives in the same small town as me, and who knows what she is capable of. Certainly I wouldn't put it past her to contact me again, or try to contact my family. Tathata Revis is the kind of person who would probably send emails to my editor to get me (or anyone she dislikes or disagrees with) off the magazine. Her motto must be "Reach out and hurt someone."<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-28840655919687517972014-03-03T22:18:00.001-05:002014-04-20T18:01:39.790-04:00Book Review: The Mysteries of Udolpho, by Ann Radcliffe (1794) Review Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2SryykeHDGg/UxVE1sWoDBI/AAAAAAAAAj8/tqhKRpU8NX0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-03+at+10.12.46+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2SryykeHDGg/UxVE1sWoDBI/AAAAAAAAAj8/tqhKRpU8NX0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-03+at+10.12.46+PM.png" height="200" width="192" /></a></div>
This is a classic Gothic Romance novel, and so far it has everything you might want in a Gothic Romance. For those who don't know, this genre is all about dark, mysterious places and occurrences. This particular novel is often held up as the standard of its kind. If you want 18th century tales of castles, ghosts, secret passages, gloomy settings, evil villains and damsels in distress, this is your book.<br />
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The main premise is about a young woman, Emily, who lives an idyllic life, until all her props are taken away from her, one by one, and she soon finds herself forlorn, nearly alone, and held prisoner in a creepy old castle. First her mother, then her father dies. Next she is carted away from her beloved home and taken to (gasp!) Italy. She misses her lover, she misses her sweet home, and she has every reason to fear for her life.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Okay, enough with the back cover hype. Let's jump right into what's right and what's not-so-right with this book. Remember, I'm here to tell you how well this book stands up to modern readers. We want something different from a novel than our ancestors from centuries past.<br />
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This book is full of rich, gothic atmosphere. It has wonderful passages written in the gothic style, just oozing with descriptive creepiness. Here's a snippet of our heroine being led down a dark passage in a foreboding, ancient castle.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16px;"><i>From the steps, they proceeded through a passage, adjoining the vaults, the walls of which were dropping with unwholesome dews, and the vapours, that crept along the ground, made the torch burn so dimly, that Emily expected every moment to see it extinguished, and Barnardine could scarcely find his way. As they advanced, these vapours thickened, and Barnardine, believing the torch was expiring, stopped for a moment to trim it. As he then rested against a pair of iron gates, that opened from the passage, Emily saw, by uncertain flashes of light, the vaults beyond, and, near her, heaps of earth, that seemed to surround an open grave. Such an object, in such a scene, would, at any time, have disturbed her; but now she was shocked by an instantaneous presentiment, that this was the grave of her unfortunate aunt, and that the treacherous Barnardine was leading herself to destruction. The obscure and terrible place, to which he had conducted her, seemed to justify the thought; it was a place suited for murder, a receptacle for the dead, where a deed of horror might be committed, and no vestige appear to proclaim it.</i></span></blockquote>
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The downside to this book is that it's so, so long. We're talking nearly 300,000 words. That's far more than Moby Dick. In fact, you almost need to read some Russian novels to find anything longer.<br />
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Plus, it's got too much flowery mumbo jumbo, with lots of descriptions of nature and plenty of poetry thrown in to boot. It can be exhausting. But then you get to some scene with spooky things happening and you're glad you paid attention earlier.<br />
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A heroine today might figure out mysteries, or fight bad guys with a flashing sword. She would certainly be shown taking control of her circumstances. But 18th century heroines did no such things. Heroes did, but the thing that made women heroines was their womanly virtues - patience, goodness, and learning to sit quietly as turmoil revolves around them until at last a true hero (male) rescues them. Emily is our heroine, and for part of the novel she is held captive by the evil Montoni. I kept hoping Emily would say "enough is enough!" and grab a sword and slice Montoni's head off. Or at least come up with some fantastic plan to set her life right.<br />
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But she has that "noble" quality so prized by writers of the day. We see it in later writings of the Victorian period as well - "The only noble response is to return goodness for vice", and all that yak.</div>
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The author, Ann Radcliffe, made it clear that her heroine is full of sensibility and thinks with a rational mind. Radcliffe's point of view is that to be superstitious is to be weak minded. And only people with strong, reasoning minds can overcome the terrible downfall of believing in superstition. To that end, Emily is faced with a series of situations that appear supernatural. But each time, Radcliffe later shows that the incident had a perfectly logical explanation. It’s like a way to gauge Emily’s state of mind based on her surrounding circumstances. When she’s feeling strong, she laughs at the “supernatural” occurrence right away. When she’s feeling weak, she tends to believe it a little. Always, it turns out to be nothing, but her rationale is the key. It’s the only thing over which our heroine has any control. On her own, she does nothing except faint a lot. But her reasoning mind, that’s her advantage, that’s what Radcliffe believes makes her heroine-worthy.<br />
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But these phony little ghosties become frustrating after a while. This is a fiction book, why not let there be ghosts? What's the harm? It's as if Radcliffe is chiding her readers for believing the fanciful tales she's telling.</div>
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But, that such a book was written and widely read tells us there was more to 18th century readers than sensible prudence. They loved the dark and mysterious as much as we do!</div>
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So it's odd that Radcliffe continuously makes it clear that fear and superstition are wrong, yet she writes this book! Radcliffe herself must have loved the very emotions she's vilifying in this book. Constantly we are told that Emily is wise because she scoffs at such terrors of the mind, while the simple minded Annette is foolish because she gives in to those terrors. But don't let that fool you. I wonder if Ann Radcliffe named that simple servant after herself, to reflect her darker, more mysterious side.</div>
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More later.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-65070431286354864592013-12-20T17:27:00.003-05:002014-03-02T23:39:45.111-05:00The Drones Are Coming!!So you want to read a book but you don't want to go to the library or bookstore. Sure, you could grab your tablet or smart device of choice and download practically anything in a few seconds. But suppose you want the feel of paper, or perhaps a leather bound copy of some old classic.<br />
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Well, worry no more. Soon, Amazon will have flying robots bring you a book quicker than the pizza can get there. No, I'm not kidding. Amazon Prime Air promises to use drones for deliveries. And if you've noticed, these quadcopter drones are all the rage right now. I've drooled over several myself, and watched countless videos of them.<br />
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The problem, I believe, will be that these suckers will get stolen left and right. They are unmanned, just flying along, and someone shoots it out of the air, or grabs it when it's on the ground, or throws something at it when it's low to knock it out of the sky. Good ones today sell for 400-500 bucks. One that has GPS, is completely automated, has a 10 mile range, and can carry a few pounds will easily sell for a grand or more each.<br />
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But still, technology is way cooler each year.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-37731030973908831902013-12-20T16:42:00.001-05:002013-12-20T16:43:38.568-05:00Upcoming Posts - ChangesSo much old literature is starting to bog me down. I need something newer. I'm starting to crave modern books! So my master plan of not migrating to mid-twentieth century classics until 2015 has got to change.<br />
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I plan to start the new year with a few of the Gothic Romance novels I promised you, but then I'll jump right into early-mid 20th century books of literary merit. I'm not saying there won't be a few modern genre fiction novels thrown in just to bug you, because it may happen. Since that's what I write myself, I've got to stay current with what the public is reading.<br />
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Thank you for your support.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-83338600446569248362013-12-11T16:36:00.000-05:002013-12-20T22:05:01.214-05:00Audiobook NarrationIs it just me, or do you hate to hear an audiobook narrated with the "wrong" voice? A British novel should not be narrated by an American. A southern drawl should not be faked. Mark Twain books should not be narrated by someone from Brooklyn. And when I listen to Tolstoy, I prefer English with a Russian accent.<br />
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On the way to work the other morning, I popped in a CD audiobook of Dickens' <i>A Christmas Carol</i>. It was a standard midwestern American accent. Boo! That book is supposed to take us back to early Victorian England, and anything but a British accent just doesn't cut it.</div>
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As far as male/female, it should be based on the main character. Normally, authors write main characters with the same sex as themselves, but not always. I would expect Jane Austen novels to be narrated by a British female. But Charles Dickens novels might be a British male or female, depending on the book. And I certainly don't want to hear Clive Cussler's Dirk Pitt stories narrated by anyone but a tough sounding American male.</div>
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Are you with me? Good.</div>
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So anyway, what are you guys doing tonight? I'm up for anything.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-20983012564467428492013-11-12T16:13:00.000-05:002013-12-20T16:18:30.351-05:00Book Review: An Upheaval, by Anton Chekhov (1886)This was a great story. Unfortunately it's been lost to history and only the opening few chapters remain.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kn5yrQ27C6Y/Uf8OiD9E8NI/AAAAAAAAAjg/Ax0X7nBRwgM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-08-04+at+10.21.39+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kn5yrQ27C6Y/Uf8OiD9E8NI/AAAAAAAAAjg/Ax0X7nBRwgM/s200/Screen+Shot+2013-08-04+at+10.21.39+PM.png" width="175" /></a>No, that's not true. But that's how I felt after reading it. <i>An Upheavel</i> was wonderfully written, but ended rather abruptly. I suppose Chekhov just had an idea he wanted to put on paper, even if it never developed into a full novel. Chekhov is known for his extensive writing. In a little over 20 years he wrote hundreds of short stories. So if any of them feel unfinished we shouldn't blame him. Just be happy we get a taste of his wonderful writing.<br />
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<i>An Upheaval</i> is a perfect example of that. You are quickly drawn into the story of a young governess who has to choose between harsh treatment by her mistress or returning to a simpler, if poorer, way of life. She is an instant heroine, and instantly likable. That shows great talent for Anton Chekhov to have a character grab readers in such a short amount of time.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>The other characters are good as plot devices, or simple character studies. They are both her foil and her motivation. We have a situation where a domineering mistress accuses her staff of stealing. She has them all searched, including the governess. A glimpse of class hierarchy is shown in that a governess is above the regular staff and therefore would normally not be included in any such searches. She feels violated. What will she do? And what will the master of the house do?<br />
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In the end, the story went nowhere. Some things happened, and we wanted to know more. Honestly, it felt like the opening sequence for a much longer drama. It had a Bronte feel to it (Emily, Charlotte or the other one). But it was not the opening sequence of anything. It was a stand-alone story. It just came to a sudden and unsatisfying halt. Some people will say it's left to the reader's imagination what happened next. I can imagine quite a few things. In fact, I can imagine a whole storyline, characters, plot, etc, so that if we're just using our imagination we don't need the author at all.<br />
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I said it came to an unsatisfying halt, but let me rethink that. The ending was good because our heroine did what we wanted her to do. Perhaps that's really all Chekhov wanted for the story. We were glad she stood up for her principles. In that way, the ending actually was satisfying. Some readers might be used to stories that give more information on how things turned out for everyone.<br />
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Great writing, great characters, quick story that leaves you hungering for more. <a href="http://archive.org/details/AntonChekhov-SelectedShortStories">You can listen to it for free here</a>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-30294809599556847202013-10-31T19:12:00.000-04:002013-10-31T19:16:36.390-04:00Halloween VillageThis is what I've been doing instead of posting reviews. This little gem took weeks to carve and paint. It's my first one. Maybe next year I'll expand. Maybe by next year my wife will have forgiven me for spending a boatload of money on these expensive little "Spooky Town" houses and things.<br />
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<b>Update:</b> Video does look bad, I know. It looked great before uploading. Don't know how to make it higher quality.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-13841092750511171672013-08-04T19:25:00.000-04:002013-08-04T20:06:22.439-04:00F. Scott Fitzgerald's Suggested Reading List<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b_EHGKnA16g/Uf7j-_FBKtI/AAAAAAAAAi4/6y4OGf9hg9g/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-08-04+at+7.28.49+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b_EHGKnA16g/Uf7j-_FBKtI/AAAAAAAAAi4/6y4OGf9hg9g/s200/Screen+Shot+2013-08-04+at+7.28.49+PM.png" width="146" /></a>The story takes place in the mid 1930s. F. Scott Fitzgerald was in a bad way. He was battling alcoholism and depression. His wife, Zelda, was admitted to the Highland Hospital of North Carolina. While staying at the Grove Park Inn, in Asheville, NC, he fired a revolver in a suicide attempt. After that, the Grove Park Inn wanted him to leave, but allowed him to stay if he had someone to look after him.<br />
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Enter Dorothy Richardson. Dorothy was both his nurse and companion. The story goes that he eventually became friends with her and wanted to help her literary growth. So he gave her a list of 22 books that he recommended. Richardson wrote at the top of the list the following words:</div>
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<i>"These are books that S.F. thought should be required reading."</i></div>
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<a href="http://www.sc.edu/fitzgerald/facts/6/reading_list.html">Here's a photo of the list</a>. It's copyrighted so I can give the link but not show the photo here.</div>
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And here is my translation of that list:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Sister Carrie, by Theodore Dreiser</li>
<li>The Life of Jesus, by Ernest Renan</li>
<li>A Doll’s House, by Henrik Ibsen</li>
<li>Winesburg, Ohio, by Sherwood Anderson</li>
<li>The Old Wives’ Tale, by Arnold Bennett</li>
<li>The Maltese Falcon, by Dashiel Hammett</li>
<li>The Red and the Black, by Stendahl</li>
<li>The Short Stories of Guy De Maupassant (translated by Michael Monahan)</li>
<li>An Outline of Abnormal Psychology (edited by Gardner Murphy)</li>
<li>The Stories of Anton Chekhov (edited by Robert D. Linscott)</li>
<li>The Best American Humorous Short Stories (edited by Alexander Jessup)</li>
<li>Victory, by Joseph Conrad</li>
<li>The Revolt of the Angels, by Anatole France</li>
<li>The Plays of Oscar Wilde</li>
<li>Sanctuary, by William Faulkner</li>
<li>Within a Budding Grove, by Marcel Proust</li>
<li>The Guermantes Way, by Marcel Proust</li>
<li>Swann’s Way, by Marcel Proust</li>
<li>South Wind, by Norman Douglas</li>
<li>The Garden Party, by Katherine Mansfield</li>
<li>War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy</li>
<li>John Keats and Percy Shelley, Complete Poetical Works</li>
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The story is interesting. I wonder why this is just hitting the news now. A few days ago it appeared on a few news sites, and several others picked it up. But the list was posted in 2005 on the University of South Carolina website. Also, when did Dorothy Richardson make the list public? <a href="http://www.sc.edu/fitzgerald/facts/facts6.html">The website</a> has other interesting tidbits about Fitzgerald.</div>
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One thing that struck me about this list was that I haven't even heard of some of these books. I'm sure that's true of most people. The big ones stand out - War and Peace, Oscar Wilde, Keats and Shelley, and a few others.</div>
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I'm also surprised at the number of people out there who are angered for what's not included. So what if there's no Dickens or Shakespeare. This is Fitzgerald's list, not yours or mine. He is allowed to like whatever he likes. People need to chill out when it comes to criticizing other's tastes or takes on something so subjective as literature. Make your own list. Send it to me or post it in the comments and we can discuss it.</div>
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But remember, everyone is different. I would include Mark Twain, but that's just me. Growing up, I read a lot of Hardy Boys and the like. Perhaps it influenced my tastes. But by high school I was reading <i>Utopia</i> and <i>Moby Dick</i> just for fun. So again, everyone's reading list will be different. What would be the fun in having everyone walk in lockstep, without any disagreement? In any book, there might be something that stands out for you based on your own life experience, something that doesn't even strike a chord with someone else.</div>
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F. Scott Fitzgerald is considered by many to be one of the greats of American Literature. Many lists today would include his books. Actually, that would have been pretty funny if he had handed Dorothy Richardson a list of his own books and said, "Here, knock yourself out."</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-44618078287308848482013-07-30T22:18:00.001-04:002013-08-02T13:34:48.453-04:00Book Review: Notes from Underground, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1864)<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VTajIoTdq8U/Ufhzq7XntKI/AAAAAAAAAhY/BHBKsuRAaBI/s1600/dostoyevsky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VTajIoTdq8U/Ufhzq7XntKI/AAAAAAAAAhY/BHBKsuRAaBI/s200/dostoyevsky.jpg" width="151" /></a>In the book <i>Notes From Underground</i>, the term underground refers to an emotional place where people live. The narrator of the story is a representative of a type of people who are full of thoughts and feelings but spend most of their life not expressing them. Those thoughts well up and take hold of them. They do not interact with their fellow man as they wish they could, but instead evolve elaborate scenarios of both real and imagined wrongs and triumphant ideas for expression and retribution.<br />
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That could sum up the entire book, but this isn't something we want to sum up. <i>Notes from Underground</i> is not the sort of book to be glossed over and stuck back on a shelf. Dostoyevsky's writings are brimming with ideas, thoughts, truisms, and interesting factoids on life. But there's a devil of a time to pull meaning out of most of this book. It's a rambling discourse on God knows what, for parts of it.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>The book is divided into parts. For a good chunk of it, there's no story line, he is just rambling (I know, I keep using that word). The next part he has a few stories of some incidents in his life. They are fantastically interesting and revealing. I had to read them over and over again. Then I had to shake my head at how this poor fellow acts and feels. It's both laughable and heartbreaking. He's an idiot (the narrator). No doubt, he's a fool. But at the same time he is a heroic every-man. You cringe at what he does, but then you feel for him.<br />
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In the end, I don't think the narrator could possibly have done and said in real life some of the things he did and said in the story. To do that would demonstrate a greater propensity for expression than he actually had in order to be the kind of person he is drawn to be. (By drawn, I mean drawn as a character by the author, Dostoyevsky). In other words, it didn't feel realistic.<br />
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However, that doesn't matter. That the narrator doesn't feel realistic is fine. That in no way hinders you from feeling for him and cringing from him.<br />
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Okay, enough of this. I'm going to read it again and come back with more info. Wish me luck. If I'm not back in two days, call for help and send someone in after me. Have them bring smelling sauce and copy of <i>50 Shades of Grey</i> to pull me back down to earth.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-71426052307882111612013-07-28T00:00:00.000-04:002013-07-31T13:34:58.143-04:00Book Review: Notes from Underground, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1864) - Pre-Thoughts<div class="p1">
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When reading <i>Notes From Underground</i>, it is required that you wear a black turtleneck shirt, beret, and dark glasses. Goatee is optional. You must sit in a dark café discussing revolution. Someone must appear on stage telling bad poetry about death. B-Y-O-Bongos.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GT6ag8wP5t8/Ufh20fhel2I/AAAAAAAAAhs/KmWTB0GcNWg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-07-27+at+11.59.02+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GT6ag8wP5t8/Ufh20fhel2I/AAAAAAAAAhs/KmWTB0GcNWg/s200/Screen+Shot+2013-07-27+at+11.59.02+PM.jpg" width="190" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beatnik? or Russian Revolutionary?</td></tr>
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I don’t know why I always had the impression, just based on the name, that <i>Notes From Underground</i> was something beatniks would read, something to do with Russian revolution and philosophy, and socialism, perhaps. Maybe the name Dostoyevsky is the cause – his name conjures up images of deep metaphysical, philosophical discussions.</div>
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Either way, get ready because I'm going to read this book. I'll report back from time to time on my progress, and let you know if I feel my personal philosophy being swayed in any way.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-30417101354970912892013-06-25T22:45:00.001-04:002013-06-25T22:45:58.292-04:00Coming Soon: H. Rider Haggard Months!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wcgpEXg60pA/Ub01dD0Pn1I/AAAAAAAAAgc/twaVBnnAvrE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-06-15+at+11.47.38+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wcgpEXg60pA/Ub01dD0Pn1I/AAAAAAAAAgc/twaVBnnAvrE/s200/Screen+Shot+2013-06-15+at+11.47.38+PM.png" width="173" /></a></div>
A tribute to the father of modern treasure hunting adventure stories!<br />
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H. Rider Haggard started an entire genre of books when he wrote <i>King Solomon's Mines</i>. Late July and August, 2013, will be dedicated to reading as many of his books as I can squeeze in. Here are some I will read.<br />
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<ul style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; list-style-image: url(data:image/png; margin: 0.3em 0px 0px 1.6em; padding: 0px;">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><i>Allan Quatermain</i> (1887)</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><i>She</i> (1887)</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><i>Cleopatra</i> (1889)</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><i>Nada the Lily</i> (1892)</li>
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I will also try to read these others, if I have the chance.</div>
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<li><i>The World's Desire</i> (1890)</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><i>Eric Brighteyes</i> (1891)</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><i>Montezuma's Daughter</i> (1893)</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><i>The People of the Mist</i> (1894)</li>
</ul>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-2844728704672759702013-06-15T23:25:00.001-04:002013-07-28T00:07:49.057-04:00Book Review: Master and Man, by Leo Tolstoy (1895)<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--9HAlVaSzP0/Ub0wCMhtYhI/AAAAAAAAAf0/zNhTTWT2WjE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-06-15+at+11.24.15+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--9HAlVaSzP0/Ub0wCMhtYhI/AAAAAAAAAf0/zNhTTWT2WjE/s200/Screen+Shot+2013-06-15+at+11.24.15+PM.png" width="138" /></a>Master and Man is the story of Vasili Andreevich and his servant Nikita. Both men set out on a journey to a nearby town and are caught up in a snow storm. This is a character study that focuses mainly on the master, Vasili Andreevich. His character evolves during the course of the story and Tolstoy charts those changes for us.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Vasili Andreevich is cheating his servant, Nikita, by not paying him what he is worth and then not paying him what is promised.<br />
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<i>Vasili Andreevich did not pay Nikita the eighty rubles a year such a man was worth, but only about forty, which he gave him haphazard, in small sums, and even that mostly not in cash but in goods from his own shop and at high prices.</i></blockquote>
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When Vasili Andreevich does pays Nikita any money, he does it in a way to give the feeling that he is a benevolent person.</div>
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<i>'What agreement did we ever draw up with you?' said Vasili Andreevich to Nikita. 'If you need anything, take it; you will work it off. I'm not like others to keep you waiting, and making up accounts and reckoning fines. We deal straight-forwardly. You serve me and I don't neglect you.'</i></blockquote>
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<i>And when saying this Vasili Andreevich was honestly convinced that he was Nikita's benefactor, and he knew how to put it so plausibly that all those who depended on him for their money, beginning with Nikita, confirmed him in the conviction that he was their benefactor and did not overreach them.</i></blockquote>
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This is the key to the entire story. Vasili Andreevich believes he is Nikita's "benefactor". Vasili Andreevich <i>wants</i> to be thought of as his benefactor. Let's examine that for a moment. The idea of a benefactor in those days was someone on whom you are depended, someone from whom you benefit. It was just as important in older societies as our jobs are in our society. And for Vasili Andreevich it was a point of pride that he took care of his dependents, that he was a good benefactor. There we have it. You see, underneath all his self-delusions is the idea that he "wants" to be a good benefactor. Whether to show good standing in society or for moral reasons, he still "wants" to be a good benefactor and he wants his servants to think of him that way. He helps delude himself into believing he is a good benefactor by trying to convince Nikita and Nikita's wife that he really is helping them, that he's being good to them.</div>
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I've known people like that. The more people tell you this is a good deal, the more you should question it. I can think of some scammers I've known that continually remind you they are not cheating you, they are "helping" you. So we realize that people like that have always been around. They find their niche in any society throughout history.</div>
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Tolstoy was a Christian. It's important to note that because much of his writing reflects some form of Christian morality or redemption, or in some cases the idea of an afterlife. It's reflected either in the philosophy behind the story or in the actions and motives of some of the characters.</div>
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In Master and Man, we see a redemption of sorts by Vasili Andreevich. He is motivated by money. His purpose in setting out on the journey is to buy land that he believes is worth more than he will pay for it. He goes over it in his mind again and again, thinking of how much he stands to gain and how much his wealth will increase. That sounds like greed but I don't blame him for that. It's every man's desire to better himself. But Vasili Andreevich is so caught up in the idea of this particular deal that he goes out in the storm when he should have stayed the night along the way.</div>
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What happened in that storm? I'm going to give away the ending, so get ready. They are lost, they are stuck in the snow, and they have to spend the night. Vasili Andreevich, as the master, takes the best place - in the sledge. Nikita curls up in the snow under a blanket. But Vasili Andreevich eventually crawls out, gets on the horse, and rides away leaving Nikita alone to die. Vasili Andreevich wanders around, gets lost, and ends up back at the sledge where he finds Nikita has crawled into the sledge. Nikita is freezing to death and believes he will die. He asks his master to pay his family what is owed him.</div>
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Here we have the interesting part. Vasili Andreevich has a change of heart. He crawls in and lays on top of Nikita, warming his body. Vasili Andreevich freezes to death. The horse freezes to death. Nikita survives. His master had truly become a good benefactor after all...in the end.</div>
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It's a nice little story, but I wonder if Vasili Andreevich would have had such a change of heart if he - after getting on the horse and riding away - had found his way to a warm shelter? What if he didn't end up back at the sledge? It's only by chance that he finally decides to warm up Nikita, saving his life.</div>
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But I shouldn't be too hard on him. What he did in the end made up for whatever his intentions were.</div>
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The theme is straight out of a class based society. In modern day American, I am equal to my boss, to the rich and poor, even to the president (although politicians may disagree!). So it's hard to understand where people are coming from when we read literature of that time period. The idea that certain members of society are not only considered better than others, but are considered more worthy of living, is foreign to us. The servant sacrificing himself for his master. That's an old theme. I've seen it many times in old books. In fact, a good servant is expected to sacrifice himself for his master. That's just how it was. So this was a nice twist on that. And the idea of a master as protector and benefactor goes back at least to feudal times in the high-middle ages (1000-1400 A.D.) The lord of the manner expected service from the peasants, and in return the peasants expected protection from the lord of the manor. That two way street was often lost in later class-based societies. It felt like Tolstoy was not in any way condemning the concept of master and man, but reasserting the original intent behind it.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-10082113165697401772013-06-14T11:08:00.000-04:002013-06-15T23:09:30.420-04:00Book Review: How Much Land Does a Man Need, by Leo Tolstoy (1886)<div class="p1">
How Much Land Does a Man Need?</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wm7SHIfT5vQ/Ub0oNYJ8sPI/AAAAAAAAAfk/oPBYB_7A1Xc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-06-15+at+10.50.44+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wm7SHIfT5vQ/Ub0oNYJ8sPI/AAAAAAAAAfk/oPBYB_7A1Xc/s200/Screen+Shot+2013-06-15+at+10.50.44+PM.png" width="200" /></a>This was a parable. Based on the title, I assumed it would be a social commentary, perhaps an essay on socialism or communism, the sharing of wealth and land. I assumed it would be a way to demonstrate that people only need enough land to feed their families, and the rest of the land should be shared out to others.</div>
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But it turned out to be nothing like that at all. It was a parable about a man who wanted more and more land, who was tricked by Satan at every turn because Satan kept telling him (in the form of other people) about cheaper land someplace else. He moved from place to place, buying land, selling it, then buying more. He ended up in a bad way, and died trying to gain more land.<br />
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I thought the parable was silly because Tolstoy went to such great lengths to describe an incredibly unlikely scenario where the gaining of a large amount of land would kill our main character. That was the only purpose, to have the person die while gaining the land. The only purpose in having the man die while gaining land was so Tolstoy could throw in that one-liner at the end, <i>a man only needs 6 feet of land to be buried in</i>.</div>
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Sheesh, that's it! That's what all this whole thing was about. That's absurd. Absurd. The central question of the story was not how much land does a <i>dead</i> man need. It was assuming a living man, a man that has to work the land to provide food for himself and others. The ending only works if every man is dead, then we all only need 6 feet each. Also, if he's just trying to take it to the lowest need, then why not cremate the body? Then the man doesn't need any land! Take that, Tolstoy!</div>
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If it's a parable about greed, about someone wanting too much land, then I would have expected this to go in a different direction, to have a different ending that could be applied universally to others trying to gain too much land. Or it should have shown the consequences on others of one man owning more land that needed. But to say a man only needs enough land to be buried in implies a far different truth - that a living man requires no land at all. But this story's moral, if it has one, would not be to avoid gaining too much land, but to be smarter about how you do it. The owning of land had nothing to do with his demise, it was the stupidity in how he tried to gain it. Neither did Tolstoy show our main character's owning land causing any harm to others.<br />
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Also, this did not turn out to be some philosophical discourse on the idea that all men will die and therefore life is pointless. Since it's a Russian story, you might expect it to have a nihilist philosophy behind it. But Tolstoy never tried to draw that connection.</div>
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So in the end, it's a parable that didn't go in the direction you would expect, and didn't leave much of a moral peg to hang your hat on.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-34225699748114972152013-06-11T22:13:00.000-04:002013-06-23T01:24:41.317-04:00Book Review: The Christmas Tree and the Wedding, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1848)<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fF3j2kx-oQI/Ub0xpuGlZ3I/AAAAAAAAAgM/qu-4ObNwjxM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-06-15+at+11.31.21+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fF3j2kx-oQI/Ub0xpuGlZ3I/AAAAAAAAAgM/qu-4ObNwjxM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-06-15+at+11.31.21+PM.png" /></a>I won't lie to you, this story sort of disgusted me. I'm sure that was the purpose. Imagine seeing a cute little 11 year old girl. Then imagine planning to marry her. I shouldn't use the word "plan". Scheme would be better. Connive.<br />
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Having a narrator was just a way of telling the story, he plays no part in the story except as an observer. He went to a Christmas party, got bored with no one to talk to, and watched some children play. One of them was a pretty little 11 year old girl. It came out that the father had already set aside a large amount of money for her dowry.</div>
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<a name='more'></a>A loathsome guest heard about the dowry and immediately plotted to marry the little girl when she came of age. That would be age 16. I won't bore you with my telling of it, but I will spoil the ending so stop reading if you don't want to know. Skip ahead five years and the narrator came upon a wedding, you can guess the bride and groom. And the description of the pathetic, scared 16 year old girl was heartbreaking.</div>
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Now, let's talk about this for a moment. Fyodor Dostoyevsky understood perfectly well the bond between parents and children, especially between a father and a daughter. In <i>Notes From Underground</i>, he wrote of the affection - almost adoration - a man can have for his daughter. So naturally, the thing to do is award her with a rich dowry so she'll attract a good husband, right?</div>
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That's the problem.</div>
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To take such an interest in her happiness throughout her childhood years, and then punish her by forcing her to marry someone she doesn't love, doesn't even like, in fact doesn't even know...how is that helping her? How is that doing anything except being cruel to her?</div>
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Today, people in this country usually marry for love. Even when it's not love, it's still not normally a marriage arranged by the parents. We think of that as old fashioned. So what was wrong with people in the olden days? Were they stupid? Were they crazy? Why would they force a 16 year old girl to marry someone that was obviously loathsome? How could the parents not see the man for what he was? Or did they know and just not care?</div>
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It was all about money and position. That's the bottom line. In Russian society in the 1800s when you met someone, you were interested in those two things only. That's one bit of information I've picked up so far in reading other Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy works. That's how things played out. I know, I know, things weren't that different in Britain at the time. In fact, pretty much the same. But there was a certain harshness about it that comes out more in the writings of Dostoyevsky than in Dickens.</div>
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Being poor was a sin. In both British and Russian society, it was a sin. The little girl's playmate is the example. He's the poor kid at the party, the son of the governess. He gets less presents than the others, the boys won't play with him, the guests look down on him, and the loathsome man dismisses him as a bug. The host was looking to place the boy someplace - at a school or as an apprentice or something - and he was counting on the loathsome man to help him. The loathsome man tried to get the poor boy to leave so he could talk to the little girl, but the boy didn't because the kids were scared. For that, the loathsome man despises the boy and refuses to help him.</div>
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The description of the loathsome man is wonderful. He's a despicable man who is well thought of because he has money and position. And those are the two qualities he respects in other people. Dostoyevsky describes similar people in other works, so I believe he is drawing from real life.</div>
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Instead of just being an interesting tale, this short story makes me want to explore this whole concept further. I could never imagine forcing my daughter to wed a wealthy landowner just to help my own position. There's not much I wouldn't do and not much I wouldn't give up for her happiness. But I'm not much different than all the other fathers out there. So what the hell was wrong with the father in this story? It's creepy. It's obscene. To marry off your little girl as soon as she turned 16 to someone who only wanted the money is bizarre. To not understand the man only wanted the money is also bizarre.</div>
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Good story that gives us a glimpse of life at that time and place. I hope it helped bring some sort of social change in its time.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-17965767734365414572013-06-10T23:10:00.000-04:002013-06-14T11:08:14.447-04:00Book Review: The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1877)<div class="p1">
The Dream of the Ridiculous Man is what modern readers of Dostoyevsky crave. Forget mysteries or thrillers. They want something they can speak of while using the word “metaphysical”. If they can say that to their friends while describing the inner meanings of this story, it’s a winner.</div>
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So here we have a short story that is a thin allegory of Dostoyevsky’s thoughts on the meaning of life. I warn you now, if you want a fun story, an entertaining plot with whacky characters, you’re looking in the wrong place. Dostoyevsky uses a very brief tale of a suicidal man to do nothing more than describe a journey for meaning. This was his last short story, written just a few years before his death. There are obvious Christian elements in the symbolism.</div>
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<a name='more'></a>What I find interesting is how the main character described himself. I think a lot of people at one time or another have thought of themselves as ridiculous, filled with self doubt. But he goes beyond that, wondering if perhaps everything he sees around him is imaginary, that it exists only in his mind. Certainly, I can relate to that. I can remember coming up with the idea that I am nothing more than a figment in the imagination of some greater being. I'm sure I'm not the only one. But our character comes to believe that in a way so real to him, that he thinks nothing at all matters. He talks about bumping into people on the street, it would seem rude. But he realizes they are not real. Nothing matters. He is going to kill himself.</div>
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The thing that saved him was a small girl asking for help. He brushed her off - of course, she's not real. But he thought of her, and delayed his own suicide. Then he fell asleep and dreamed of his suicide and of being taken to a distant planet exactly like earth.</div>
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Here is where things get interesting.</div>
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I would like to understand how he was relating himself to this other world, because this other world was perfect and without sin. He lived there for what felt like ages. And then he corrupted it. So the question is, did he imagine it an allegory of the Garden of Eden? It's on a much more vast scale. And who was he supposed to be? Satan? It doesn't seem so, because he didn't intend to corrupt them. There is a long description of how they became corrupt and the things they did, and how he wanted them to go back to their perfect state but they refused. All you really need to know is they became like us, like the world he left. So was he granting himself that much power in the dream? So much that he was capable of corrupting the entire world? Or was he himself a representation of sin? Interesting discussion. Interesting thoughts.</div>
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In the end he turned good and everything was all mellow. He preached about...something. I suppose he preached that man should go back to being good and sinless. I find the ending much less interesting than his dream.</div>
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There were other characters in the story. I wondered about them. What was their purpose? What was the point of describing the woman and her three sick children, why did Dostoyevsky have them be sick? Why did he mention them at all? It seems that if you want to write a philosophical story you could leave out unnecessary and mundane information. Then I thought, maybe their purpose is only to show the main character’s reaction to them. They are a plot device. That he described them as “cringing” and “sick” shows what that character is interested in. He didn’t describe the woman’s looks or dress or wealth. Or maybe I’m digging way too deep as well, just like many other readers of Dostoyevsky.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-88919841632447676582013-06-07T12:17:00.000-04:002013-06-07T23:12:20.287-04:00June is Russian MonthAs you know, all of 2012 and 2013 were dedicated to reviewing 19th century literature here at The Literary Rambler. This month I will specialize in 19th century Russian literature. Sorry, I won't have time for such monsters as <i>War and Peace</i> or <i>The Brothers Karamazov</i>, but I'll at least get my feet wet with some of Leo Tolstoy's and Fyodor Dostoyevsky's shorter works.<br />
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I will also read these guys:<br />
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<ul style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">Anton Chekhov</li>
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">Alexander Pushkin</li>
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">Nikolai Gogal</li>
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin</li>
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">Ivan Turgenev</li>
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As always, I'll review them with a modern eye, not the flowery, fawning simplicity of a 3rd year lit student. I won't give you the typical awestruck review because these are giants in literature. I'll be honest, as my readers have come to expect from me. But Russian literature has something to offer that Dickens, Austen, and Twain do not. Their culture was unique, and their world evolved from something far different than ours. We want a taste of their history, their concerns, and their thoughts. And isn't that why we read literature?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269602955699556953.post-35262974960767597562013-06-05T13:41:00.000-04:002013-06-05T13:41:39.605-04:00Manly Months - One Final ThoughtI know we're done with Manly Months but I had a few more examples to share.<br />
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Here is everyone's favorite Victorian Historian, Professor Patrick Allitt, discussing the tough schooling that boys received in Britain in the 1800s.<br />
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<i>The two most famous </i>[schools]<i> and two of the most ancient were Eton and Harrow...The Duke of Wellington had claimed that the battle of Waterloo, back in 1815, had been won on the playing fields of Eaton. What he meant by that was that the tough schooling which the young gentlemen had been given there had prepared them for their roles as army officers and enabled them to prevail in the situation of the battle itself. Eaton, especially in the early 19th century, was a very hard school indeed. A merciless discipline was enforced by the master on the boys, but also by the older boys on the younger ones. They had a system called fagging which really amounted to a kind of slavery in which the younger boys were completely at the mercy of the older ones and could be bullied and beaten by them without any redress at all.</i></blockquote>
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<a name='more'></a>He describes how boys were stretched on whipping blocks and beaten in highly ritualized flogging ceremonies. Compare that to today, where young men in high school will tell their mom's on a teacher if the teacher raises his voice or sounds mean, or kids will call the police if a teacher gets too loud.<br />
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In 1828...<br />
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<i>...Thomas Arnold became the new headmaster at Rugby School. It was widely thought that...flogging was partly justified as a way of beating the devil out of the boys...</i></blockquote>
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<i>But now Arnold starts to watch them more closely to try to make sure they're devoting their time...to dignified manly pursuits. That was one of his favorite words, manliness.</i></blockquote>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l3b_BEV9SSA/Ua93nwop0BI/AAAAAAAAAew/sGbIBTv8JEg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-06-05+at+1.37.53+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l3b_BEV9SSA/Ua93nwop0BI/AAAAAAAAAew/sGbIBTv8JEg/s200/Screen+Shot+2013-06-05+at+1.37.53+PM.png" width="143" /></a><i>A great tribute to Arnold was written in the form of a novel, Tom Brown's School Days, which was published by Thomas Hughes in 1857. He himself had been to Rugby and the book was a thinly fictionalized version of his own school days. He himself thought that the school had been terrific and he admired very much the education and young manliness that he'd been provided there. As a young boy, when he first goes into the school, Tom Brown, the hero, is bullied by a student called Flashman, one of the older ones, who among other things, holds him against the fire to roast him - a form of hazing which was then very common. But Tom Brown stands up to the bullying and gradually as he becomes older he spreads his own benevolent influence and a kinder regime among the other boys.</i></blockquote>
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In the final scene...<br />
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<i>...he goes off to have a long chat with his teacher of Greek, and there's a feeling there that he's accomplished a respectable new manliness.</i></blockquote>
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Another good source of 19th century manliness is, of course, Mark Twain. Consider his own life, he ran away as a teenager, worked in various printing offices or newspapers around the midwest for a few years. Still as a teenager he then bought a ticket on a riverboat in order to make his way to South America and explore the Amazon. He changed his mind and talked the riverboat pilot into training him, and spent the next several years as a riverboat pilot. In his mid twenties, he went out west and became a miner, had many wild adventures among the Native Americans, the outlaws, the miners, and the rough and seedy life between mining camps and the waterfront of San Francisco.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-akMCfXUdEEE/Ua92_1D1tQI/AAAAAAAAAeo/cuu5sSC8dts/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-06-05+at+1.34.55+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-akMCfXUdEEE/Ua92_1D1tQI/AAAAAAAAAeo/cuu5sSC8dts/s200/Screen+Shot+2013-06-05+at+1.34.55+PM.png" width="134" /></a>Here's Twain's first day in Carson City, Nevada, from <i>Roughing It</i>.<br />
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<i> We were introduced to several citizens, at the stage-office and on the way up to the Governor's from the hotel—among others, to a Mr. Harris, who was on horseback; he began to say something, but interrupted himself with the remark:</i> </blockquote>
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<i> "I'll have to get you to excuse me a minute; yonder is the witness that swore I helped to rob the California coach—a piece of impertinent intermeddling, sir, for I am not even acquainted with the man."</i> </blockquote>
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<i> Then he rode over and began to rebuke the stranger with a six-shooter, and the stranger began to explain with another. When the pistols were emptied, the stranger resumed his work (mending a whip-lash), and Mr. Harris rode by with a polite nod, homeward bound, with a bullet through one of his lungs, and several in his hips; and from them issued little rivulets of blood that coursed down the horse's sides and made the animal look quite picturesque. I never saw Harris shoot a man after that but it recalled to mind that first day in Carson.</i></blockquote>
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And here is Twain in <i>The Innocents Abroad</i>, while riding horseback through Syria in the middle east. He comes across a camp of dangerous Bedouins.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-indent: 32px;"><i> The inhabitants of this camp are particularly vicious, and stoned two parties of our pilgrims a day or two ago who brought about the difficulty by showing their revolvers when they did not intend to use them—a thing which is deemed bad judgment in the Far West, and ought certainly to be so considered any where. In the new Territories, when a man puts his hand on a weapon, he knows that he must use it; he must use it instantly or expect to be shot down where he stands.</i></span></blockquote>
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Literature is full of examples of tough guys, good or bad, in times past.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0