To end the year

December 31st
by Richard Hoffman

All my undone actions wander
naked across the calendar, 

a band of skinny hunter-gatherers,
blown snow scattered here and there,

stumbling toward a future
folded in the New Year I secure

with a pushpin: January's picture
a painting from the 17th century,

a still life: skull and mirror,
spilled coin purse and a flower. 

From poetry.org

Here is to 2020.

FIVE THINGS: Mrs Olifant's Salem Chapel

A favourite adage of mine is: so many books, so little time. Which is to say life is too short to spend on a book you are not enjoying. And yet, I persisted with this one. It was very hard work. Harder work than reading any novel should be. I cannot recall ever having rolled my eyes as I finished a book before.


Indeed, you may wonder, why did I finish the book if it was so difficult to finish. Simple answer: my reading challenge for the year. The past three years I have set myself reading challenges which consist of a long list of criteria on which I base my reading choices. This has actually been helpful as I own far too many books (see Umberto Eco's notion of the anti-library) and it has been all too often overwhelming simply to choose which book to read. So the reading challenge was the reason I exercised what felt like a lot of determination to finish this book.

I am doubly annoyed as this is the second, 'greenback' Virago as I call them, in a row which I have not enjoyed, The last one, I did not even bother to finish. The main cause then was an annoying character.

However, for what it's worth, my five things on this book, not all bad (although mostly):

1. The plot was unexpected, I must admit that. The story did not go at all as I expected. There was a twist, and some intrigue. that was surprising and initially I did enjoy the book. Alas, that did not last.

2. As I noted in another blogpost - it was rather pleasing when this novel was mentioned in another novel I happened to be reading. Clearly a classic and certainly a favourite of many (as a quick perusal of the Goodreads ratings indicated). Fair enough. I nevertheless invoke what I call the Hobsbawm Mona Lisa principle. Not everything appeals or speaks to everyone. It happens.

3. It felt as though it took quite a lot of determination on my part to finish this book. I did so to satisfy the criteria in my reading challenge to read two books published prior to the 20th century. This is the first of those two books this year. Truth is I am not particularly fond of such classics, though am at times pleasantly surprised. Result is that my list of classics read is very, very short. I have caught up with several Jane Austen books the last few years, but on Dickens, Thomas Hardy and the such I am short. I have only read a George Eliot novella. I think I will nevertheless rather stick to such better known authors going forward. Or put another way: no more of Mrs. Olifant's books for me.

4. The only character I found remotely interesting was Mrs. Hilyard/Mildmay. The rest were superficial fluff and simply uninteresting. The main character, Arthur Vincent was simply exasperating. He is one of the most self-occupied pathetic characters I have come across for a while Even the annoying Angel in Elizabeth Taylor's book with the same name had more substance to her, as unlikable as she was. Too many characters were too lost in their own preoccupations to be able to any basic social skills. All the rest were too shallow to be of any interest at all.

5. The ending, was then just to perfect, wrapped up in a bow. Yuck.

In fact, I refuse to spend another second on this book. Disappointing, and like a bad taste in one's mouth, I really need to find something good to read. If I am unlucky, I doubt I will have the determination to finish reading yet another book which is not worth the time.

Fortunately I am already (as I usually have several books I read at the same time) reading the charming Bridge of birds by Barry Hughart. Now I need to clear my palate, in a manner of speaking and pick that one up. Onwards and upwards.

FIVE THINGS: Kautsky's The dictatorship of the proletariat

I have long fancied myself an academic wannabe of sorts. Essentially if I have one regret in life it is that I waited so long to do my Masters degree, and that I missed the opportunity, possibly to have become a researcher or academic. Nevertheless, I did realise when I finally got around to my postgraduate degree a few years ago that I love theories which attempt to explain the world and can get a surprising amount of energy from the intellectual stimulation which comes from tackling such theories. As a result I am making a concerted effort to improve my education, one could say - my learning journey, as it were.

I recently finished two Norwegian books which basically gave précis of a wide range of thinkers. The first was Demokratisk beredskap which considered thinkers who stood against totalitarianism, both on the right and the left. The people included in this book ranged from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Raymond Aron and George Orwell, as well as a few Norwegians such as Odd Nansen, son of the better known Fridtjof Nansen. This was the book that first introduced me to Karl Kautsky, student of Karl Marx, but perhaps more significantly, opponent of Lenin and Trotsky, and the Bolshevik notion of the dictatorship of the proletariat. So, I got hold of the very pamphlet with the same name and have now read it. And herewith, my "five things" on that.

1. It is quite fascinating to consider socialism as an inherently democratic organisation of society. This contradicts the framing I have heard my entire life. This includes undergraduate courses in sociology. Well, perhaps not so much was said about socialism, but certainly I have the distinct impression that Marx was a communist, and communism is the dictatorship of the proletariat. Nary a word was said about Lenin though. So Kautsky's posit that democracy is a sine qua non of socialism was a fairly new idea to me. Certainly one I approve of wholeheartedly. Suddenly I may consider the whole "democratic socialism" claims of Bernie Saunders supporters in the US differently. Although, if I cling rigidly to what I understand Kautsky to be saying, that phrase is in fact a tautology.

2. Which in turn raises an interesting question as to why Leninism was so long supported in Europe by the left wing of Europe following the Russian revolution and throughout the 20th Century. Even here in Norway, one of our parties has yet to address to the satisfaction of many their Leninist-totalitarian roots. However, both Demokratisk beredskap and a subsequent book I read - Ideologienes århundre both indicate that Kautsky was largely marginalised in terms of Marxist thinking. Lenin won the framing war on the revolution and communism/socialism. (To understand what I mean by framing, read Don't think of an elephant by George Lakoff). Now there is a research topic, just there - the relationship between framing and hegemonic discourses.

3. Kautsky claims that Karl merely used the phrase "the dictatorship of the proletariat" once, and then in passing in a letter in 1875 (Kautsky, 1919: 42). This was the hook on which the entirety of the Soviet communism was hung as it were. Now this is a blog, and it is after all almost three decades since I first studied Marx, but it must surely be telling that I have such a strong association between precisely Marx and the notion of the "dictatorship of the proletariat". It leads me wonder about the academic rigour of this linkage which I at least take for granted. I am by no means an expert, but perhaps it is fair to assume that as someone who has considered herself quite left wing in my political beliefs my entire life, I may be a tad better informed than those who are to my right on the political scale. (Naturally, I have no basis to make such an assertion, but for argument's sake and should just not. Let's just leave it at the fact that I have learnt something from reading this book which I did not know before).

4. The ends justify the means? Kautsky contrasts the state of the societies in Western Europe versus precisely Russia and refers to the tradition and culture of democracy in each case. Which is possibly why I find the high level of support in Western Europe communist circles for Leninism (and even more so Stalinism) so intriguing. The only rationale reason I can come up with the idea that the ends justify the means. In this case, the final goal is the end of capitalism and the socialisation of the means of production. A very economic analysis (and for this I look forward to finishing the other book I happen to be reading at present, Karl Marx's Ecosocialism  - watch this space for more on that).

5. Kautsky was wrong about a few things, but perhaps not everything. When one consider's the state of Russia today, they are not exactly a robust democracy, it may be warranted to note that Russia has at no point in its history had the opportunity to develop a sturdy democratic culture. Which leads me to wonder whether democracy is as natural human condition as it should be. The trajectory of history in Western Europe has certainly called into question whether democracy was a natural stepping stone to socialism. Certainly, while I have the distinct impression that there is more evidence that socialism would allow for better societal welfare, Western societies have shown themselves more prone to liberal capitalism, even neo-liberal capitalism, even countries well on their way to socialism, as envisaged by Kautsky, like the Scandinavian countries. Furthermore, now in 2019, democratic principles do seem a mite more vulnerable than one would have thought possible. It is disquieting.

So an interesting read, and hopefully I will be able to continue my sojourn to finally plug those holes I have been wondering about. Better late than never after all.

My learning journey continues.

Pictures: Demokratisk beredskap cover, dreyersforlag.no and Picture of Karl Kautsky

Kautskay, Karl (1919) The dictatorship of the proletariat,
Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood publishers (1981 reprint)

Literary titbits

This is the sort of thing I love, but that no doubt is not especially interesting to any one else. As no one reads this blog however, I can in good conscience "practice" writing by mentioning it anyway.

Twice now it has happened that two totally different books I am reading have odd links with each other.

The first was an English crime I recently read, called "Gone Away" by Hazel Holt. In that book, the sleuth, Mrs. Malory, a literary critic, refers to a book called "Salem Chapel" by Mrs. Olifant. A book I also happen to be reading at present, if somewhat slowly. A book I would never have known about had it not been what I affectionately call a greenback Virago paperback (which I collect). Enough of a coincidence to be interesting I thought.

Secondly, I finished A piece of justice by Jill Paton Walsh today. Another English crime (yes, I do read quite a few of those. At least as good as yoga). In that book, a comment was made about John Maynard Keynes as Bursar for his Cambridge college. I did not understand the reference (and was not curious enough to find out).  Nevertheless, I am also reading a Norwegian book called Ideologienes århundre (Ideologies century) by Bent Hagtvet, a Norwegian academic. Just today I started reading the chapter on Keynes, and voilá, the explanation of the significance of Keynes as bursar for his Cambridge colleage, Kings, was provided at no extra charge. Which is why simply reading broadly is educational perhaps!

Small things, but nevertheless does add to the enjoyment of reading.

FIVE THINGS - Death's End by Liu Cixin

Seems like the easiest blogs for me to write are my book reivews. So herewith another.

Death's End by the Chinese writer Liu Cixin is the final book in The Three Body Problem trilogy. A trilogy which seems also to be known as the Remembrance of Earth's Past trilogy. In and of itself interest, as the latter name makes sense at the end of the third book, while the former name makes more sense at the start. Book one is The Three Body Problem, and book two is The Dark Forest. The impression one may get from the start, that it is about how the Earth fights against the Trisolaris aliens from outer space is only partially correct. In fact the "dark forest" hypothesis, as introduced in the second book turns out to be more indicative of the journey one takes over. This blog post is however not about the trilogy, but only about the final book. If for no other reason than because it is such a dense book in and of itself.

1.  I am making a concerted effort to read more among other things more non-Western authors. I suspect my expectations were a bit high for this book though, as I would have loved to gained some mystical insight into the differences between the Oriental and Occidental worlds in this book. Not particularly aware that I did. I had great hopes when a key point seems to be how not being taught Eastern style painting is key to defeating a villain. I am not aware of any particular insight in this respect. It was also somewhat disappointing that the existence of Africa was not mentioned. I could accept it not being a central part of the theme, but it was reminiscent of the erasure of an entire continent in what is otherwise a story with global implications. Not a good look.

2. The book(s) cover a lot oft time. Ultimately millions of years! The chief protagonist of the final book, Cheng Xin, is used to illustrate one key theme of this book: the fickleness and inconsistency of humans. Not sure it is however, as well implemented as it could have been.

3. One aspect I did enjoy was the consideration of deterrence as defense. [Warning: potential spoiler ahead]. While one person cannot bring themselves to "push the button" when the time comes, others do. Yes, a democratic decision as opposed to the responsibility of the globe placed on one person. My own reaction was food for thought. It is easy when it is just a book, but it made me realise that it is a very complex question.

4. Stereotypes. It was interesting that it felt as though the book did contain particular stereotypes. Between men and women. Also, I am fairly certain that virtually throughout the trilogy, all men from the US are archetypal and ruthless "hawks". The Chinese characters are much more varied and nuanced.

5. Enjoyed the first half of the book more than the latter. In the end it felt as though the writer was trying to do too much. I suppose that the anthropologist/ethnologist in me would have preferred some more depth rather than literally eons passing in the space of a few pages. So a bit disappointing in the end, but nevertheless all in all an enjoyable read. I would tend to recommend the trilogy.

Extra "thing": cosmo-engineering! Why worry about geo-engineering in that case?

Quotes from the book:

"Behind them, the blue flag of the UN took up most of the picture. The text on the poster read: Let us build a new Great Wall for the Solar System with our flesh!" (p. 296)


Death is the only lighthouse that is always lit. No matter where you sail, ultimately, you must turn toward it. Everything fades in the world, but Death endures.” (p.379)


A museum was built for visitors; a tombstone was built for the builders. (p.510)

Liu, Cixin. Death's End (The Three-Body Problem) Head of Zeus. Kindle Edition.

FIVE THINGS - Val McDermid's A dark domain

So herewith my second "five things" book review. This time it is a crime book - a genre I have vociferously for my entire reading life! To this day I recall that the first book I read which was more text than pictures was The clue of the crossword cipher by Carolyn Keene - a Nancy Drew mystery. I read that about 39 years ago! I was no wiser as to what a cipher was by the end of the book as at the start, but I have been a firm and fast fan of crime ever since. I can even tell you which of Agatha Christie's books I read first: Murder is Easy. I watched a movie on TV starring Bill Bixby. Do not ask me how I remember these things, with somethings my brain is like velcro. Not with others, but anyway, to the book at hand.

This is my second Val McDermid, and also the second I am reading which featured Karen Pirie. Yes, I am trying to read crime books featuring the same sleuths in order.

Here are my "five things":
1. I don't suppose it is particularly surprising that what seems to be two separate cases that Detective Inspector Pirie investigates during the first part of the book at some point must converge. My favourite books are those which surprise me in one or other way. How these two stories intersect was unfortunately not that, even for the ever so slight twist in the tale in the end. This does not mean I didn't enjoy the book, I did. Part of the joy is precisely to try to predict these things.

2. There are parts of the story which were a tad melodramatic. Such is life however and again, the book was still very enjoyable and I would recommend it.

3. There was a bit of inconsistency in the story. I suspect that I am on the outlook for such much more than I was before and this was the first time I really noticed one such case. It was a necessary device for the story, but it was nevertheless an inconsistency. (Ask me in the comments if you are curious what I identify as this. I am trying not to write any spoilers for some reason).

4. I enjoy Karen Pirie as a character. She is intelligent and yet I am not sure whether it is her self-image or whether she really is particularly dumpy physically, it is nevertheless she is a character I would enjoying meeting in the real world. That is not something I experience all that often. I am reminded of Elly Griffith's character Ruth Galloway, who is also physically not model material. I am not sure I enjoy her personality enough, but it is useful that there are non-Barbie doll (Nancy Drew?) slim and slender heroines in such books. And (warning: spoiler ahead): Karen gets her man.

5. All in all, as I have said above: a sufficiently satisfying book. And ultimately that is what counts.

FIVE THINGS - Rocannon's world by Ursula le Guin

I read a fair amount of books (so far 65 this year) and have lately complained a bit about books which I have not enjoyed. However I enjoy the vast majority of what I read, so am going to try a "Five things about..." books that I read as a means of reviewing them. My first will be Rocannon's world by Ursula le Guin.

I loved it. For whatever reason the only le Guin's I have actually read thus far have been the first four Earthsea books. Given, however, that I have the last three years been rediscovering and immersing myself in the science fiction and fantasy genres, it was simply a matter of time before Ursula le Guin came up again. This was her first full length novel, published in 1966. 

So herewith, five things:

1. The start reminded me a bit of Doris Lessing's Re. Colonised Planet 5: Shikasta (published 1979). I tried to read the book earlier this year, but despite Lessing's as always, beautiful prose, did not manage. The ethnological approach was reminiscent. Le Guin's book however has an actual storyline, and it probably does not hurt that it is much, much shorter.

2. One of my favourite things about le Guin's books is that a key people group or character is always dark-skinned. In this case the Angyar, to whom the heroes in the book belong, as well as, the original Liuar peoples - as described in this quote towards the end of the book: "“Gold-haired, dark-skinned, a tall-people, the old stock of which the Angyar were only a tribe that long ago had wandered north by sea: these were the Liuar, the Earthlords, living since before the memory of any race here in the foothills of the mountains and the rolling plains to the south.”: It is accurate given what we know about human origins, and if representation matters, then this matters.

 3. I love that this book is a fusion of fantasy (with animals such as windsteeds) and science fiction (interplanetary travel).

4. The good guys win. Even if an entire people group is surgically obliterated. Perhaps a bit simplistic, but it is a novel of less than 140 pages from 1966,

5. Favourite lines:

"“swearing destruction and extinction to the enemy in a torrent of metaphor and a thunder of hyperbole”

"“This was no place for an ethnologist of forty-three.”

Just magic.

Poetry appreciation: Du må ikke sove

av Arnulf Øverland

(my emphasis)


Jeg våknet en natt av en underlig drøm,
det var som en stemme talte til meg,
fjern som en underjordisk strøm –
og jeg reiste meg opp: Hva er det du vil meg?

– Du må ikke sove! Du må ikke sove!
Du må ikke tro at du bare har drømt!
I går ble jeg dømt.
I natt har de reist skafottet i gården.
De henter meg klokken fem i morgen!

Hele kjelleren her er full,
og alle kaserner har kjeller ved kjeller.
Vi ligger og venter i stenkalde celler,
vi ligger og råtner i mørke hull!

Vi vet ikke selv hva vi ligger og venter,
og hvem som kan bli den neste de henter.
Vi stønner, vi skriker – men kan dere høre?
Kan dere absolutt ingenting gjøre?

Ingen får se oss.
Ingen får vite hva der skal skje oss.
Ennå mer:
Ingen kan tro hva her daglig skjer!

Du mener det ikke kan være sant,
så onde kan ikke mennesker være.
Det fins da vel skikkelig folk iblant?
Bror, du har ennå meget å lære!

Man sa: Du skal gi ditt liv om det kreves.
Og nå har vi gitt det – forgjeves, forgjeves!
Verden har glemt oss! Vi er bedratt!
Du må ikke sove mer i natt!

Du må ikke gå til ditt kjøpmannskap
og tenke på hva som gir vinning og tap!
Du må ikke skylde på åker og fe
og at du har mer enn nok med det!

Du må ikke sitte trygt i ditt hjem
og si: Det er sørgelig, stakkars dem!
Du må ikke tåle så inderlig vel
den urett som ikke rammer deg selv! 
Jeg roper med siste pust av min stemme:
Du har ikke lov til å gå der og glemme!

Tilgi dem ikke, de vet hva de gjør!
De puster på hatets og ondskapens glør!
De liker å drepe, de frydes ved jammer,
de ønsker å se vår verden i flammer!
De ønsker å drukne oss alle i blod!
Tror du det ikke? Du vet det jo!

Du vet jo at skolebarn er soldater,
som stimer med sang over torg og gater,
og oppglødd av mødrenes fromme svik
vil verge sitt land og gå i krig!

Du kjenner det nedrige folkebedrag
med heltemot og med tro og ære –
du vet at en helt, det vil barnet være,
du vet han vil vifte med sabel og flagg!

Og så skal han ut i en skur av stål
og henge igjen i en piggtrådvase
og råtne for Hitlers ariske rase!
Du vet det er menneskets mening og mål!

Jeg skjønte det ikke. Nå er det for sent.
Min dom er rettferdig, min straff er fortjent.
Jeg trodde på framgang, jeg trodde på fred,
på arbeid, på samhold, på kjærlighet!
Men den som ikke vil dø i en flokk,
får prøve alene, på bøddelens blokk!

Jeg roper i mørket – å, kunne du høre!
Det er en eneste ting å gjøre:
Verg deg, mens du har frie hender!
Frels dine barn! Europa brenner!

*
Jeg skaket av frost. Jeg fikk på meg klær.
Ute var glitrende stjernevær.
Bare en ulmende stripe i øst
varslet det samme som drømmens røst.

Dagen bakom jordens rand
steg med et skjær av blod og brann,
steg med en angst så åndeløs
at det var som om selve stjernene frøs!

Jeg tenkte: Nå er det noe som hender.
– Vår tid er forbi – Europa brenner!

Written in 1936
 

Some impressions after my recent trip to the US

I just returned from a two week holiday in the USA. I have travelled to New York a few times, and once to visit a friend in Washington D.C. My motivation was a longstanding desire to see redwoods. As I am not getting any younger, and have a well paying job, and am not afraid of travelling alone, I decided to "just do it" and to travel to California. During those two weeks I was in San Francisco and the Sequoia, Kings canyon, Yosemite and Redwood national parks. The nature was simply phenomenal, but that is not what I intend to reflect on now. Rather, one of my motivations for this travel was a sort of to 'get it over and done with'. What I mean by that is that I am not particularly comfortable with the USA which I have become familiar with on the internet and in social media. I also have a personal notion not to visit countries which have particular politically oppressive practices. A sort of ethical tourism, if you will. I am cognizant that one cannot be too rigid on this standard as there are few countries which are not criticism-worthy (case in point: my own country of Norway and our deportation practices at present). The US, with their current actions to separate and intern children apart from their family is without a doubt on that list of dubious and unacceptable practices. So it was with a certain holding-my-nose that I undertook this trip. Hence the "get it over and done with" attitude.

I was however acutely aware that I do have a tendency to over-dramatise and certainly as I both think a great deal, do set myself up for both unnecessary fear. Thankfully, I am quite used to being disappointed. In fact, I live so much in my own mind that I have gone my entire life, waiting for that "racist situation" which I could respond to, and thus far been disappointed. Thus far, but I will revert to that.

Now while the physical beauty of California definitely lived up to my expectations and was, well, breathtaking, in an unironic sense, so unfortunately did the aspect of racism and other USian particularities. Bear in mind, furthermore, this was California, not Alabama nor Mississippi. So what was it that I stumbled across?

First, the homeless in San Francisco. I am used to seeing homeless people in Anglo countries. Poverty is by no means unique, but there are somehow always more homeless people on the streets of UK, Canada or the US than in other countries I have been in. San Francisco, however stands out. It did not help that my hotel was just on the streets of choice, but my practice of walking the cities I visit would anyway have exposed me to all of these. As I sit here, I still feel somewhat overwhelmed by the misery. I kept it at a distance there somehow. The last day I was there I was witness both to someone smoking crack as well as someone I suspect was about to take a snort of cocaine. What I could not fail to notice however, was that probably about nine of ten of the homeless were people of colour. 

That was all bad enough, but I also witnessed unambiguous white privilege-going-on-racism in action. An old white man who insisted that a black man in a Peet's Coffee was sitting in "his seat". I do not doubt he would have responded the same way had it not been person of colour, but it was a person of colour. Who was ready to dig in (and I was not surprised at that).  I made my feelings known to the white man (told him he was being an arsehole). Nevertheless I did not stay to see how it would turn out. I am at a loss even now to know how best I should have reacted, to be a true white ally. On the one hand, I am so emotional and am afraid of my own reactions, which are rarely useful. On the other, I am sorry that I did not at least wait a bit and make a fuss with the fact that the staff appeared to be taking the side of the white guy and not buy a coffee there.

This should haunt me for a while. I think I would need help (training?) to handle such situations in the future.

Anyway, you can imagine my relief to leave the city, whatever its charms. The next situation which arose however (so much for my anticipation that as usual I was over-dramatising in my own mind that more likely than not, I would not notice much, as is the case in most Western European countries I visit), was a car in the northern Californian city of Eureka. A red car of some kind, which had an affixed antenna-flagpole on it, with two fabric flags fluttering in the wind as it drove. One US flag (one sees enough of those in the US), but also my first Confederate flag. I wish I could have taken a picture at least, but I was myself driving. Someone went to the trouble of attaching that to their car. Wow. I know how I would feel when I see an old South African flag, and this is without a doubt even worse. I would feel the same way if I saw a Swastika flag.

It was sickening.

So the US lived up to my worst expectations I am sorry to say. It took me back to my childhood in apartheid South Africa.  😔

On guns...

Additionally, the last weekend before I left, I was trying to put petrol in the car and was struggling as most of the "gas pumps" require a card attached to a US zip code to do so. A man who heard me mention I was from Norway (he has family here) made conversation (and helped me with the petrol), and we had a short chat. It was the day after the El Paso and Dayton shootings and we got into a conversation about gun control. Turns out he was a hunting enthusiast and owns a mere 60 guns himself, including some so-called assault rifles (so much more humane for hunting he assured me). He could see there was a problem with access to guns in the US, and not an especially unpleasant guy at all. It occurred to me that as the owner of literally more than a thousand books, I could understand the attractions of collecting something you are fascinated with. (Let it not be said that I am unfair). Then again, sixty guns which have as their raison d'être to kill. It is not quite the same.

As it turns out, 55 people were killed by gun violence in the US the two weeks I was there, including the 22 in El Paso and the 10 in Dayton (source: https://www.gunviolencearchive.org/reports/mass-shooting).

Fifty five.

That is 3,9 people per day I was there. 

The nature was simply spectacular and worth the travel. As for the rest, what comes to mind is the assertion I see fairly regularly by leaders in the US when comment is being made about the concentration camps and the such on Twitter who assert: "This is not who we are".

This is exactly who you are.

To quote Bob Gass, a Northern Irish preacher I heard what must be almost twenty years ago: what is not acknowledged cannot be changed.

The Hobsbawm-Mona Lisa principle. Or just a bad book?

It is hard to judge how critical one is. I have at least long since decided that life is too short for books that are too enjoyable. Books may be so for a variety of reasons. Mostly if I simply struggle to get into the story, as it were, and that persists, then I give up. There are too many books left to be read to waste time on that which requires more energy than it provides. Reading should definitely be a net gain in terms of returns.

Sometimes I think it is simply because not every book can (or should) "speak" to the reader. This is the point at which I invoke what I have titled above as the "Hobsbawm-Mona Lisa principle". It stands to reason that given my personal beliefs, the writings of the leftist historian Eric Hobsbawm should be right up my alley, as they say. I do however find him a bit difficult to read. I did however manage to read his autobiography Interesting Times. In that book he writes the following upon viewing the Mona Lisa in the Louvre: "But she did not speak my language". I thought that brilliant. In a few words he captured a feeling I also had felt when I finally saw the Mona Lisa myself. Not to mention a sense I had when viewing or reading many famous works of art or books. At that moment it somehow became permissible to just not enjoy everything that everyone else does. You enjoy what you enjoy, period.

So that is a principle I also adhere to when reading books. It is not a reflection on the book in question, it is simply one of those things.

This is of course, not to imply that there are no badly written books. There are many reasons why I may struggle to get into a book or otherwise decide to put it aside. I am at the moment struggling to get into a novel, and to my chagrin put aside C.J. Cherryh's Fortress of Eagles. That had absolutely no relation to anything of the above, it is one of the books I have abandoned that I am quite sure I will try again. The timing was simply off,  that also happens.

However, to the book in question for this post - Charles Todd's Wing of fire. Putting aside my annoyance that a mother and son writing team write under the name of the son, this is the second book featuring Inspector Ian Rutledge. (Perhaps also wondering why USians must write series based in a country they do not live in. Did no soldiers from the US suffer from shell shock? I digress and concede that I might be surprised if this does not make me appear more critical than I clearly would like to). I managed to read the first book, and I think it was fine. I was not a particular fan of "Hamish" I recalled as soon as I started reading this one, but the entire concept, of a historical crime set in the twentieth century should be one that I enjoy. Except that I did not enjoy this. Hamish aside, it was just poorly written. Not the language (there are editors for that), but the story. Already in chapter four there is a character who in the one instant is trying to bully and intimidate Inspector Rutledge into giving up an investigation and yet in the next is accusing his step-sister, one of the deceased of a triple murder! Furthermore the aforementioned Inspector Rutledge seems to accept this rant at face value, only pausing to point out the lack of evidence for his accusations. At no point does it occur to him to question why this man has no qualms about accusing someone, in two cases a mere child of seemingly cold-blooded murder, and this on a fairly thin basis. This followed by the unmitigated admiration for a titled widow simply oozed precisely USian stereotypes of the UK during that time.

Now that my own rant is complete, I would add that I did read the first novel in a series by the same author(s) featuring one Bess Crawford, which I rather enjoyed. I suspect (assume/hope) the author(s) have in fact matured in the course of their writings - the latter book was after all published some thirteen years after the first Inspector Rutledge, and eleven after Wings of Fire. I have nevertheless decided to abandon Inspector Rutledge forthwith. Which is a bit of a pity. Perhaps I will reconsider. Time will tell. Either way, in this case, it feels like a combination of the Hobsbawm-Mona Lisa principle (perhaps henceforth the HML principle?) and that the book was just not well written. Or I am becoming more critical, and not necessarily in a bad way.

Six in Six

I confess that I like making lists. An enjoyment I have long felt should be put to use in my job, but which I unfortunatley have not had sufficient use for. The most consistent list in my life is my list of books read. The four lists, if one includes Goodreads.

Thankfully, a blog I follow shereadsnovels.com has provided me with a lovely idea for a new list. That idea is from The book jotter (thank you Jo!)


So inspired, here is Mystic's Six for Six for the first half of 2019:

Six new authors

1. N.K. Jemisin
2. Ann Leckie
3. Elizabeth Bear
4. Sheri S. Tepper
5. Claire North
6. Quentin Bates




Six best crime novels so far this year (in no particular order)

1. Malcom Mackay - How a gunman says goodbye
2. Maureen Carter - Dead old
3. Peter Robinson - Wednesday's child
4. Jill Paton Walsh - The Wyndham case
5. Martha Grimes - The Anodyne necklace
6. Aline Templeton - The darkness and the deep

Six best science fiction or fantasy novels (in no particular order)

1. N.K. Jemisin - The hundred thousand kingdoms
2. Lois McMaster Bujold - Paladin of souls
3. Sheri S. Tepper - Shadow's end
4. Elizabeth Bear - Carnival
5. Ann Leckie - Ancillary Justice
6. Douglas Adams - The hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy

Six books that disappointed a mite

1. Christopher Fowler - Full dark house
2. Larry Niven - The smoke ring
3. Kim Stanley Robinson - Red Mars
4. Delia Sherman & Theodroa Goss (Eds) - Interfictions
5. Ann Cleeves - Red bones
6. Nnedi Okorafor - Binti: the night masquerade

Six books that surprised

1.Anne B. Ragde - Berlinerpoplene
2. David Weber - On Basilsk station
3. Kage Baker - The empress of Mars
4. Martin Amis - Time's Arrow
5. Mathews Phosa - Deur die oog van 'n naald
6. Susan Cooper - Over sea, under stone

Six books I abandoned (some very disappointingly so)

1. Elizabeth Taylor - Angel
2. Frank Welsh - A history of South Africa
3. Rachel Pollack - Golden Vanity
4. Doris Lessing - Re. colonised planet 5. Shikasta
5. Sophie Hannah - Little face
6. C.J. Cherryh - Fortress of eagles

Don't speak ill of the dead

Yesterday it was announced that the South African musician Johnny Clegg died. Sad news indeed. But I will admit to being a little mystified by the outpouring of grief on social media and even perhaps the media more broadly. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy his music. Some of it. I have my favourite songs.

He became famous in my childhood. In those days he was radical. He rubbed shoulders with black men as equals (more or less), and in the eighties in South Africa that was revolutionary. In trying to understand his appeal I have a suspicion that he showed my generation that black South Africa could and was in fact cool. He did so with some respect. I guess.

The problem is that it is now 2019. And we are still honoring a white man who had the temerity to see value in the Zulu culture.

Have we come no further?

Judging by a FB post where overwhelmingly white people were delighted at the notion at the South African Parliament would fly flags at half mast for him. My first thought is: what am I missing? Was he really that great? He is also, even in European newspapers described as musician and activist. Except that other for treating black people like humans and equals, what did he do?

This is still not clear to me.

However there appears to be some disagreement as to who actually was being honored by the flags being flown at half mast. Only turns out that Advocate du Toit died in June 2009, so it definition wasn't him, but in fact Mr. Ike Maphoto, struggle icon.

So it turns out my misgivings are well founded.

What he did was show white people, particularly of my generation that there was something cool about our country. That there were aspects of authentic African culture and life we could enjoy (appropriate). It wasn't so bad after all.

Other than a statement from the appropriate portfolio committee in the Parliament, I have yet to see a black person comment much. They appear to be maintaining a respectful silence, no doubt in bemusement as to the response from white people. One should, after all, not speak ill of the dead. I will follow for the discussions as to cultural appropriation which I suspect may come. And if a person really deserves that much honour for treating his fellow South Africans as humans. Especially nearly thirty years later, when we should have come further.

Seems we're still "coming".

Postscript (Friday 19th):

We have arrived.

I fear this is not a correct respect for copyright, but this cartoon was purloined from This Dialogue Thing Facebook group. And all I can really say is: Bingo. THIS is why an overwhelming number of whites (and a few brown, though not a single black as far as I could tell) thought Johnny Clegg was worthy flags at half mast. Once more, we shown how little progress we have really made.

If the rest of the world cannot see the difference?

Then maybe they're not the problem. 

It has worried me for a while the USian church's complicity with Donald Trump and the politics he espouses. Or perhaps one's choice of words should reveal where one's sympathies lie, and as such the idea of colonisation and appropriation as used by Critical Discourse Analysis comes to mind rather to describe the USian's relationship to Donald Trump. It is however ironic. The community of people who claim that Jesus Christ of Nazareth, as described and known through the Bible, has allowed itself to be colonised by "the world". And I do absolutely believe that. Only it is nothing new. Rather I consider this current revelation of this relationship to be nothing more than a ripping away of the veil of what has been the case for centuries. Christendom has a dialectical relationship with Western Europe and its values. And thanks to technological developments like the internet and the emergence of values such as free speech, the veneer is gone.

I grew up in apartheid South Africa. At some point I wondered why christians had done so little to fight the injustice. There was also the question of the rise of Nazism. The past three years have answered that question beyond any reasonable doubt. So to be clear, I am pretty sure it is a white, Western thing, not an USian thing.

Time for a reckoning. Time to reclaim the Jesus and God that I know from the Bible. Time to decolonise this too.

 

Article can be found here

Article can be found here

Time to decolonise South African history

I grew up in South Africa during apartheid. Which means my education has significant gaps, not least of which is the history of my own country. As part of my self-education, and also so as to be able to engage with my father, who is obviously also a product of the Union of South Africa, I started reading a book I bought a while ago, The History of South Africa, by one Frank Welsh.

I purchased the book quite a while ago (as I am wont to do - books need to gather a fair amount of dust in my bookshelves before I embark on reading them). Perhaps before I underwent my own awakening as to the racism and white supremacy of my upbringing and childhood world. (Yes, it was apartheid South Africa, but to the best of their ability raised me to know that all people were equal and that our society was deeply unjust and wrong). Nevertheless, despite already getting rid of Martin Meredith's The state of Africa for its distinct colonial 'whiteness', I decided to give Frank Welsh a shot.

It has been interesting, and not as bad as Meredith's book. It provides a fair amount of information as to the history of black (and brown) South Africans which was exactly what I was after. I realised that I would have to accept that it could not be comprehensive (what exactly is the relationship between the Xhosa and the Thembu? Where did the Griqua's come from?), but it was not bad.

Except for one thing. He is far too comfortable using archaic terms which in this day and age are simply offensive and inappropriate. I am not even convinced that it would be necessary to quote writers who use it, but when he uses a term when not quoting? Why? WHY?? (In case you're wondering I refer to use of the k-word and - the camel that broke the straw's back, as it were - the n-word as well!).

I put the book aside this afternoon, irritated and after a few hours I realise that I simply have no further interest in reading it any further. I feel a mite intolerant, perhaps, but really, it is 2019. It is time for a decolonised historical narrative which breaks from the past. Even if the book was first published twenty years ago, these were not terms which were acceptable even then. It is time for literature and history which explains and creates a new decolonised and respectful narrative. We do not have to use terms which are offensive and hurtful to people. This book is not that. I am not sure such a book even exists.

Perhaps it is up to me to write it in that case. This book, though by far not overtly racist or even particularly biased is nevertheless headed for the bin.

Or maybe not. I have been searching (my whole life) for a writing project. Perhaps I have just found it.

Annoying characters: Angel

Life is too short. Furthermore, I have literally thousands of books in my own library which I have yet to read. Consequently, if I am not sufficiently drawn into the story of a book, or if I simply not enjoying the book, I waste no further time on it.

Nevertheless, I must confess to being somewhat discomfited. Not too long ago it was the Booker award-winning The Sea, the sea by Iris Murdoch which I was not able to finish. The reason: the main character was simply too annoying.

I am therefore additionally perturbed now to give up on Elizabeth Taylor's Angel. (In case you are wondering, this author has absolutely no relation to the much more famous actress by the same name). This is my second book of hers, as an author published by Virago, a publishing house I generally take as a guarantee of a book I am more likely than not to enjoy. Among their authors I have loved include Antonia White, Rosamond Lehmann, Margaret Atwood and Nina Bawden. I collect what I for some reason call the "greenback" editions (see the picture).

I thoroughly enjoyed the first Elizabeth Taylor I read: Hester Lilly. In this one however the character whose name also serves as the title, Angel, or Angelica Deverell, is simply too annoying. I managed a whole 52 pages before she behaved exactly as I feared. Nicely summed up by the line:

"No," said Angel. 

So did I.

The character is the most selfish and egotistical character I have come across in a while. No redeeming charms within those pages at any rate.  I even tried to like her as I harbour secret dreams of becoming an author myself. In some respects it reminds me of The curious incident of the dog at night time by Mark Haddon. Also a widely acclaimed book. The emotionally sterile character (who is autistic) was a stretch too much for me though. Perhaps it is precisely the emotion I connect with. I shall consider this further. 

In stressing times I am acutely aware of my propensity to prefer crime or speculative theory, as they are more engrossing. It concerns me however if I am losing my ability to enjoy well written literature. This will need to be tested.

Moenie vrees nie

van Mathews Phosa

(Excerpt from Deur die oog van 'n naald; Tafelberg, Cape Town, 1996)

Hoekom moet jy vrees
as jy niks het om te vrees nie?
Jou gewete is mos skoon,
moenie vrees nie.

Hoekom moet jy vrees
as jy niks het om te verloor nie?
Jy het mos niks nie,
moenie vrees nie.

Hoekom moet jeg vrees
as jy weeb jy's geen onderdrukker nie?
Jy het niemand onderdruk nie,
moenie vrees nie.

(Translation:
Why must you fear
if you have nothing to be afraid of?
You say your conscience is clean,
do not fear. 

Why must you fear, 
if you have nothing left to lose?
You say you have nothing, 
do not fear. 

Why must you fear
if you know that you are no oppressor?
You haven't oppressed anyone, 
do not fear. )

Why I like this poem?  It is a poem for wbiteness. For our need to justify and excuse. And yet how fragile and afraid we are. This has become particularly relevant as in recent days social media have indicated the white fear of becoming a minority in the US is a major driver of their current policies. I have long believed that deep in our hearts we know what we and our kind have been up to the world. A people who fear justice are afraid.

To-read-list: Hva visste hjemmefronten?

Perhaps in a while I will be brave enough to write in Norwegian, but not quite yet.

As the first installment in what may perhaps become a regular "column" - a book which I would like to read.

I have just listened to a podcast about a book which was released in Norway last autumn. What a debate it created. The book posits that the Norwegian resistance was aware about plans to round up Norwegian Jews and chose not to do a thing about it. Part of her criticism rests on the historians who have subsequently not addressed this issue at all. She refers, among other things, to a recording of the greatest second world war hero in Norway, Gunnar Sønsteby. Where he appears to admit that he knew about the round up some weeks before it took place, but did nothing. According to the podcast (Aftenpostens Forklart podcast - 10 December 2018), historians seem to assume that Sønsteby was mistaken. Which seems a fairly spectacular assumption to make. (Question: what other "mistakes" did he make already then? The recording was made in 1970 and he continued working right until the new millennia, before his death in 2012.)

With the journey in whiteness which my life has taken me on - my feeling is that one consistent characteristic of we whites is that we always underestimate our own propensity to tolerate the egregious acts. Just look at the so-called liberals in South Africa. So whether partly by naiveté or our inability to see the depravity within the heart of the white person, I bet you that they did not value the lives of Norwegians Jews highly enough to take action. Once the full extent of the industrial genocide became known after the war, Norway was by far not the only country who struggled to accept our own complicity and so have undertaken extreme efforts to whitewash history.

The challenge is however with such a book, an idea which I picked up, of all places in a autobiography of Sidney Poitier, consider the actions within the time they took place. Not to excuse. Not at all. But if one does not face the abyss, one is at greater risk to repeat the mistakes. Looking at what is happening today globally when it comes to immigrants and Muslims and other "brown" people in particular. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, as the saying goes.

So definitely on my to-read-list. 

"Dit is 'n rots waarop ons huisie staan"

Compliments of twelve years of schooling in apartheid South Africa, I have twelve years of Afrikaans as a second language. Although, it was in fact my third. Nothing to compare to the nine languages which Mathews Phosa speaks. So all the more interesting that he introduces this book of Afrikaans poetry by stating that he considers Afrikaans to be a mother tongue of sorts ("Die feit dat ek in Afrikaans skryf, is 'n uitvloeisel daarvan dat ek my skoolopvoeding feitlik eksklusief in Afrikaans ontvang het en dat ek Afrikaans as 'n soort modertaal in my lewe beskou"). I find myself strangely moved that he enjoys the language sufficiently to write poetry in it.

It is almost three decades since I left school, and without a doubt my Afrikaans is extremely rusty. Now that I live in a country where another Germanic language is spoken, I am amazed I was not more confused as a child, given that my mother tongue, in the sense of being the language one learns from one's mother knee is Norwegian.

I can see the connections much more clearly than I did before. I am surprised I was not more confused, considering how much I mix my English and Norwegian, I would certainly have more problems now. It has, nevertheless, been an interesting exercise to try out my Afrikaans now, and I am not dissatisfied with the results. Back to the book itself.

His intention is fairly shameless: versoening. Reconciliation. I am not exactly the target audience, but I must admit to being simply touched to read a black South African, who has every reason to hate the language nevertheless to use it to write, of all things, poetry. Given the instrument of oppression which the language cannot but signify in lights of how it was wielded, especially in 1976, it is not pretty amazing in my book. While I identify as "English South African", there is no avoiding the fact that I am simply a Euro-South African. My father, who has an interest in genealogy, informs me that in addition to English (from Lancashire), we also enjoy a French, Dutch and German  ancestry. Now that is about as South African as one can get as a Euro-African. My great-grandmother was a small child in a British concentration camp in the South African war (1899-1902) - something I consider give me impeccable (white) South African credentials. So reading poetry in that language is a pleasing experience.

Did Mathews Phosa succeed in his attempts? Who knows. I made the decision not to know when I left the country almost a decade ago, overwhelmed as I felt, by the general white attitudes as I perceived them around me. I must have bought this book around that time. In many respects South Africa has come far. In others, it has not. In some respects, even though I am only just starting the poetry itself, the title itself seems quite prophetic. The title surely refers to the occasion in the gospels of the Bible where Jesus says that it would easier for a camel to go through the eye of a (the) needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. The point being that it would be difficult. Likewise I suspect the poet also knew that achieving his intention to stretch a hand of reconciliation ('n versoeningshand as it were) would be as hard.

Then again, nothing ventured, nothing gained. This little book of poetry will be a treasured part of my library irrespective.

Mathews Phosa - Deur die oog van 'n naald
1996
Tafelberg - Kaapstad.

I read Science Fiction

Until fairly recently I have not, in fact, been an avid reader of science fiction. Somehow Donald Trump, of all people, changed that.

Oddly enough it was the book Calculating God by Robert Sawyer which hit the nail on the head as to why I have always been a fan of 'whodunnit 'literature. The need for justice. For the bad guy (or girl) to be caught in the end. I have never been a fan of books where there was no meting out of justice at all.

Then there was Donald Trump. And somehow, science fiction, somehow, seemed as apt. Books which set in another future time provided commentary on the challenges and situations we find ourselves facing now. Although I do recall trying to re-read 1984 by George Orwell after his election and not quite succeeding.

But as an effort to re-invigorate this blog I have decided to try to write more about books which I read. And today, I have read Carnival by Elizabeth Bear. It was fabulous.

So, where to start?


Gender. I realised when reading Karen Lord's The best of all possible worlds recently that I do in fact enjoy characters which do not conform to the gender binary. In that book, it is a gender ambiguous character. In this book it is both in terms of sexuality and gender roles. The main characters are a homosexual couple, Angelo and Vincent. Their world does not permit homosexuality and yet they are reunited, after a 17 year separation for a mission to New Amazonia. As the name might give away, that is a planet where women are the dominant gender. And on that world it is better to be a "gentle" man, which is to say homosexual one infers. In that sense is a sweet love story. I also enjoyed the character of Kii. Although while the characters in the book assume Kii to be male, somehow I felt that Kii was neither male nor female (or if impossible to conceive without gender binary, I somehow assumed Kii to be female rather than male!)

Power. New Amazonia is dominated by women, but is equally characterised by a wide range of factions and disagreement. The Coalition, for who Vincent and Angelo are emissaries, are ultimately controlled by the Governors. Who turn out to be Artificial Intelligence who ultimately ensure that ecological limitations are respected, with all the ruthlessness one would expect from AI. A surprising power actor in the book turns out to be the Consent. As well as Kii. (In fact, it is not clear to me why the book has the name it has, 'The Consent' may have been the better name IMO). Themes are how much power humans can be trusted with. There is also, in my view, a hint of including the idea of our need for a transcendental power.

Power also becomes a factor determining honesty in relationships with the people one loves.

Finally, what also struck me was a red thread of genetic manipulation as warfare.

Ultimately, an excellent read. I will definitely read Elizabeth Bear again (this was my first).

Is this what privilege looks like? 🤔 I

Tennessee judge posts link on Facebook saying Jews should 'get the f**k over the Holocaust' - Jewish Telegraphic Agency: The judge has denied being racist or anti-Semitic and says he has the right to free speech.

Three thoughts about white privilege

1. I am white and I am so privileged, it is, in fact, tragic.

2. Once you have been introduced to such a concept, start to understand what it is, you see it everywhere. I wish white people did not feel compelled to live up to the stereotype as wholeheartedly as  they do. It is uncanny. I dare you to write your own story, not live up to a white one.

3. I believe in ultimate justice. Karma, if you will.

Whites are so fucked.

p.s. I am back! (I think)