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Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts

Monday, April 13, 2026

I Made a Book!

The pattern is from The Barmy Fox, based on a simple folded paper booklet design she used to make for her young students. The embroidery uses a wide variety of stitches, although I made some changes to suit my own preferences. For stability and opacity, I inserted stiff interfacing between the pages.

This is such a clever but simple way to make a booklet, and I have so many ideas I want to try with it. 






 

Tuesday, January 21, 2020

Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirlees

I signed up for Julia's fall book box last year, and received a pretty edition of Lud-in-the-Mist in addition to some fun little treats. I'd read the book before -- it's a lovely fantasy that manages to be very English and very magical at the same time.

The book cover was a pretty pick and green floral design, so pretty I was inspired to stitch it:


I think I'm starting a new series where I replicate different floral book covers; next up is Quartet in Autumn, the Plume paperback edition of which had a striking pattern.

Monday, August 26, 2019

Summer Book Club QAL

Kate Basti of Quilt with Kate ran a QAL the first half of the summer, centered around her adorable Tall Tales block. I don't like foundation paper piecing at all, but I couldn't resist. And despite being so sick all summer, I did manage to spend a couple of weekends participating -- probably because I only made a wall-hanging for my door (a door-hanging?) rather than the full-sized quilts others made.

I used some Anna Maria Horner scraps for the book covers, solids for the bindings, and a handy text fabric for the pages. Because the rest of my fabric was in storage, I used plain muslin for the background. Which was way too boring:

Brightly-colored frames made it better:

To add texture to the background (and get in some much-needed practice) I forced myself to free-motion quilt the muslin. No close-ups, though, because I'm still no good at machine quilting. Or basting.

My cat, "helping" with the binding:

Again, I don't enjoy paper-piecing, but this block came together so quickly and easily I'm tempted to make more.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Macondo in Stitches

As I read One Hundred Years of Solitude, I couldn't shake the imagery from my head -- the yellow flowers falling from the sky, the butterflies tormenting a doomed lover, the ash crosses marking the 17 Aurelianos.  I wanted some way to record and play with the motifs and icons from the text.

I've started with a grid of 100 squares, inchies really, that I can play with:
Beadboy3 wants to stitch, too
I used white broadcloth from one of Mr. Beadgirl's old shirts, and machine-stitched a ten by ten grid with black thread, rather carelessly on purpose to keep the lines and angles from being too perfect.  I like how the black lines on white fabric evoke the black type on white pages of the text itself.

The first square is one of Colonel Aureliano Buendia's gold fish, which he makes when he is not leading rebellions and slaughtering his enemies.
I made mine with sequins and different gold threads, with a black bead for his eye.

I don't intend to fill every square, and this will be an on-going project that I work on as inspiration strikes.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

A Weaver's Bracelet

Edit: It's now for sale at etsy!
Edit Dec. 14, 2016: The first one sold out, but I've made another

At Deborah Harkness's website for the All Souls Trilogy one can find all sorts of multi-media tidbits inspired by the books, including some wonderful jewelry by Jennifer Cadsawan.  I can't do anything like that, but I can bead, and I was inspired by the magic of spell weavers in the book.  Over the course of the trilogy Diana learns to manipulate ten "ribbons" of magic, each a different color -- brown (earth), yellow (air), blue (water), red (fire), green (the goddess), purple (justice), gold (the sun), silver (the moon), and white and black (I forget what these two stand for, and I had to return the book to the library -- light and dark magic maybe?).  From there it was not hard to envision a ten-strand bracelet, with the colors woven together.

After briefly considering different types of beads, I settled on size 11 seed beads to keep it simple.  For silver and gold, I thought it would be nice visually and texturally to use the actual metals; silver chain was easy, since I have a bunch of it for different projects.  Gold, not so much, because it is expensive and not my favorite.  But then I remembered a set of thin gold chains I got ages ago, which would be about the right length; I picked the ropey one and I was all set.  A silver slide barrel clasp would do for a simple closure.

My initial plan was to weave the strands the way I would for any braid with more than three strands, by taking the leftmost one and weaving over and under the rest, repeating for the length of the bracelet.  But the results were not great, probably because the seed bead strands were not very flexible:
Coincidentally, this bracelet showed up on my pinterest feed, with instructions for the basketweave.  That resulted in a much nicer braid:
Painter's tape, by the way, is effective for temporarily holding beads and and strands in place.

The completed bracelet:
Despite carefully noting the order of the strands, I still managed to cross the red and blue ones one too many times at the end, something I did not notice until I had already attached them to the clasp with crimp beads and trimmed the excess cord.  Grumble.

Edit: It's now for sale at etsy!
Edit Dec. 14, 2016: The first one sold out, but I've made another.   

Thursday, August 21, 2014

The Book of Life by Deborah Harkness

As soon as The Book of Life,the last volume in Harkness's trilogy, came out, I snapped it up from the library, and spent the next several nights staying up too late reading.  It was as good as the previous two, filled with action and adventure, science and history, and magic and romance.  The secrets in the titular Book of Life were what I expected, and I would have liked more information about the origins and history of vampires, witches, and daemons and the implications of their relationship to ordinary humans, but the story ended satisfyingly.  There were also hints that Harkness might be planning a sequel, so there's that.

As enjoyable as the trilogy was, however, it confirmed for me that I am generally not interested in modern vampire stories (with one notable exception, Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian). Vampires are evil.  They are predators who prey on rational, intelligent beings, often in cruel ways, and their actions are a perversion of the Catholic Mass.  I have trouble seeing them as decent, let alone romantic, creatures.  Some creators try to address this thoughtfully.  Joss Whedon's Buffyverse, for example, posited that a lack of a soul was responsible for the evil and cruelty of vampires, and if one got his soul back, as Angel did, he would be remorseful and strive to be good.  But this explanation is ultimately unsatisfying -- where are the souls when they are not in vampires?  Why would a soul make a difference, when demons have souls, as do humans, both of whom have no trouble committing evil?  What about Spike, who as a result of a long period of moral evolution chose to do good and fight evil, and chose to get his soul back so that he could be an even better person?*

Other creators never really address the problem of evil at all, and leave it to individual vampires to choose to do good or evil or both, like everyone else.  Anne Rice took this approach (at least in the first couple of volumes), focusing on the personal cost and effects of vampirism.  It is also the approach Harkness takes, but she also goes to some pains to develop a vampire social contract of sorts, which as she puts it is about "law, honor, and justice"; mercy and charity have no role.  She creates an elaborate set of rules governing vampire behavior, but it ultimately boils down to "might makes right," and that is something I find neither attractive nor interesting.  Matthew, being the hero, is always striving to do the right thing, but that is more a vestige of his human life -- his Catholic faith -- rather than a trait of his vampireness.  He is concerned with notions of sin and atonement and forgiveness, but many other vampires think him rather odd in this, and their good deeds tend to extend only to protecting those they love rather than any abstract notion of decency or charity.

By contrast, the witchy society seems much more humanlike in its approach to morality (although we do not spend nearly as much time in their culture).  Which is not to say there aren't evil witches; there are, and those in power are slow to punish them, but they are all motivated by the usual reasons rather than a species-wide justification.  That, plus their neato magic, makes them far more interesting to me than the vampires.  I hope any sequel focuses more on their world, and that of the daemons who were rather short-changed in the trilogy.

*I recently read that Whedon has stated he had no real education in any religious traditions, and that explains the screwy theology of is world -- not just the soul issue, but demons who are nevertheless sometimes good, and more critically the existence of a great, overarching "First Evil" with no apparent good counterpart, something that is present in pretty much any real world religious or mythological system that stresses the fight between good and evil.

Monday, August 11, 2014

100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Márquez

I have a conflicted relationship with Spanish (as in the language) literature.  I used to be quite fluent -- I was born in Puerto Rico, I heard Spanish growing up, I studied it extensively in school, I even spent a summer living in Spain.  So there was a time when I could read novels in Spanish just as easily as English, and in fact did it quite a bit as a result of all the lit courses I took.  But I can't really call myself fluent any more; it's been years since I've had an opportunity to really use the language, and while I can converse decently in Spanish, reading a complex novel is beyond me now -- figuring out the literal meaning of the words would keep me from fully appreciating the work itself.  Reading English translations, on the other hand, means admitting defeat.  I've been wanting to read Don Quixote for a long time (it's meta!), but I'm not good enough to read the lovely Spanish copy I received as a prize from my High School, and I'm too stubborn to read it in English.

When Gabriel García Márquez died in April, I wanted to reread One Hundred Years of Solitude.Luckily for me, I had already read it and most of his other works in Spanish.  So with some relief (and a bit of guilt) I picked up my husband's English copy.  Of course, it's foolish to let the language issue keep one from such a great work of art, and I'm glad I didn't.  100 Years is considered García Márquez's greatest work for a reason.  In his depiction of seven generations of the Buendía family living in the odd town of Macondo he encapsulates the history of Colombia, from exploration, conquest, and immigration to civil war, the Banana Massacre, and modernization.

As the town prospers and decays, so do the characters.  Colonel Aureliano Buendía starts out as an idealist, determined to bring about justice and freedom through a revolution, but over the course of decades his ideology becomes more and more rigid, until even his closest friends are enemies to be destroyed. He reasons for fighting degenerate from ideals to pride to revenge to, ultimately, inertia -- the futility of a civil war where no one can tell the sides apart and no one really knows what they are fighting for. José Arcadio and Aureliano Segundo are creatures of appetite, who let their various lusts waste away their potential.  Amaranta, despite her name, lets bitterness and fear dominate her life.  Arcadio is a schoolteacher-turned-tyrant, making the rather remarkable transformation over only a few months.  Fernanda allows her obsession with propriety to circumscribe her life until she becomes a recluse corresponding only with her children (who lie to her) and "invisible doctors."  The family's slow fall is heartbreaking, especially as witnessed by the matriarch Ursula, a wonderful character who did much to hold the family and town together but is finally too old and infirm to halt the descent.

There is a sense of futility in everything the family does, whether it is fending off the red ants, attempting to restrain passions, trying to create the philospher's stone, waging a civil war, or fighting the foreign fruit companies; fate cannot be avoided. Much like the real history of Latin America, the beauty and pleasures of the land and its people cannot be separated from the chaos and horrific violence.  The elements of magical realism in the book -- a rain of yellow flowers at the death of a patriarch, Remedios the Beauty's assumption into heaven, a baby born with a pig's tail -- suit the tone perfectly.  These beautiful and terrible oddities are calmly accepted by the characters, because to do otherwise is pointless.  No explanations for the magic are ever offered, because that is life in Latin America.

It is a gorgeous, sad, violent, stunning novel, well worth reading in any language. 

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Book Round-Up

Panic Button by Kylie Logan:The third installation in the series, and I don't have much to say except it was as enjoyable as expected.  Also, now I want a button charm string.

Threadbare by Monica Ferris:Also enjoyable, with a good mystery that was neither too predictable nor too implausible.  The education in homelessness was laudable, if heavy-handed.  What wasn't laudable was an extended advertisement for a sizeable needlecraft store in North Dakota.

State Fair by Earlene Fowler:A recent addition to another cozy, quilty mystery series, set in a farming and ranching community in California.  What sets this series apart is the very real kindness Fowler has towards all her characters; in her world, people are bundles of positive traits, serious and not so serious flaws, and contradictory behaviors.   She is not afraid to depict complicated characters capable of both good and evil in serious and petty matters, making her stories that much more satisfying.

A Case of Curiosities by Allen Kurzweil:Mostly set in France just before the revolution, about a young artist and inventor fascinated by mechanical works, the book tells his life from the start of his education to the creation of his masterpiece.  The structure mirrors both the case of curiosities that is the title -- a box of nine ordinary objects representing key periods of his life -- and the watch which indirectly starts him on his journey.  The idea of summing up a life in a collection of objects whose symbolism is only apparent to the collector is neat, and I enjoyed seeing what the significance was of the different objects (the watch structure, on the other hand, I didn't even notice until it was spelled out at the end).

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Book Round-Up: Baseball Edition

Seasons in Hell: With Billy Martin, Whitey Herzog and "The Worst Baseball Team in History"-The 1973-1975 Texas Rangers, by Mike Shropshire:The advent of baseball season put me in the mood for this, an account of the absurdist 1973-1975 Texas Rangers team.  When your team has no hope of hitting .500, you might as well embrace the egotistical and talentless hitters, the pitcher who deliberately shot himself in the hand, the other pitcher who called a press conference to announce he just threw spitballs, the outfielder given a whistle to blow because he couldn't remember to shout "I've got it!", the long-suffering manager with no illusions, the greedy owner coming up with ridiculous schemes to generate revenue, scarily blunt groupies, and the booze.  Oh my God, the booze.

Ball Four: The Final Pitch by Jim Bouton:Seasons in Hell was fun, but Ball Four is the superior book, and the original baseball "tell-all."  Bouton is a former ML pitcher, and the book covers the year he spent pitching for the one-season Seattle Pilots (plus three addenda for each additional decade).  Bouton's status as an insider and as a pretty smart and insightful guy result in a fascinating account of what baseball was like for the players in the years before free agency.  Although a lot of the stories he relates are fairly tame by today's celebrity-scandal standards, the book was hugely controversial when it was released; management had invested a lot in the idea of baseball players as Wholesome American Heroes, and finding out that they were often underpaid and mistreated, used drugs, drank a lot, played jokes on each other, chased women, and cussed would result in fans abandoning baseball! (Ha.) Some of the players, too, weren't too happy with the exposure, although to Bouton's credit he is never mean-spirited or cruel to his fellow players.

Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game, by Michael Lewis:Math + Baseball = Awesome.  This is the story of how one general manager, Billy Beane of the Oakland A's, defied baseball's conventional wisdom by using sabermetrics to build the best baseball team on the cheap.  It's a fascinating account of how some obscure but crucial baseball skills are completely undervalued, because people (agents, scouts, managers, owners) are too focused on flashy statistics like batting average and win/loss records.  This book was especially enjoyable for me as a Red Sox fan, because at the end of the season depicted, 2002, Beane turns down an offer to be the GM of the Sox.  Instead Theo Epstein took the job, determined to bringing sabermetrics to Fenway, and had some success.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness

Shadow of Nightis the second volume of Harkness's trilogy, and I enjoyed it just as much.  It got off to a slow start, as the first 200 pages are spent on Diana and Matthew acclimating to Elizabethan life.  Harkness goes into quite a bit of detail describing dress, culture, household and village functions, and all the famous people (of course) Matthew knew/knows.  But once the couple gets married for the third time (yes, really), and remembers why they went to 1590 in the first place, the novel picks up quite a bit.  We get a few more clues about the mystery of the alchemical book at the heart of the story, and hints at the true relationship among the different species.  Diana finally comes to terms with her magical heritage and begins to learn how to control it; it was gratifying to see her regain some agency, even managing to rescue herself from the obligatory peril. 

I'm greatly looking forward to the third volume, which is not yet out. Curses!

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

I generally stay far, far away from paranormal romances.  I have never understood the romantic appeal of vampires and werewolves, I don't like the woobification of monsters to make them more palatable to modern American sensibilities, and I especially don't like the "weak, pathetic humans!" tone most of these novels end up taking.

And yet I kept reading good things about Harkness's A Discovery of Witches,so I bit.  And I'm glad I did -- this book was smart and fun.  The world-building was fascinating, the mystery at the core of the plot involves alchemy, history, and genetics (Harkness knows her stuff), and the hero and heroine were refreshingly honest with each other (impressive, given all the secrets everyone is keeping).  Harkness even managed to avoid Mary Sue territory, despite the fact that her heroine has dead parents, incredible professional success, unusual hair and eye color, and super-unusual and -powerful magic.

The novel isn't perfect -- I'd have preferred a little more ancient mystery and a little less romance, and I don't know why male vampires must be The Boss of Everything -- but I've already picked up the second volume of the trilogy (natch) from the library.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

A Book Review and a Necklace

The Riddle of the Labyrinth: The Quest to Crack an Ancient Code by Margalit Fox concerns the decipherment of Linear B, the writing system used by the Mycenean Greeks in the late Bronze age.  It's not about Michael Ventris, the man who actually cracked the code, however, but about Alice Kober, who worked for decades on the script but died before she could decipher it.  It was her insights and tremendous cataloging efforts that gave Ventris the tools he needed to succeed.  Not surprisingly, Kober's efforts have been overlooked by academics who generally didn't pay too much attention to women at that time, no matter how smart.  This book is Fox's attempts to correct that, and to bring both Kober and her work to light.

It is a fascinating book, not just for the gender politics but also for the enormity of the project; Linear B, first discovered at Knossos in Crete, was an unknown script encoding an unidentified language. The intuitive leaps and careful calculations Kober and others made -- that it was a syllabic script with some ideograms, that the language was inflected (very hard to write in a syllabary), that the language was Greek (an idea almost everyone resisted) -- are impressive, to say the least.

Linear A, on the other hand, is an unknown script encoding an unknown language.  The two scripts are related, as it is most likely that the Myceneans took the script of the Cretans and adapted it for their own language, but because we have no idea what language the Minoan civilization used, any attempts to decipher Linear A have stalled.  And then there are the Cretan heiroglyphs, yet another undeciphered script.  A little research into these two writing systems (fascinating!) led me to the Phaistos Disc, a clay disk with apparently Cretan heiroglyphs that were actually typeset over 3000 years before Gutenberg. There are all sorts of wacky theories about it, but it most likely relates to Linear A and the Minoan language.

And what do you know, I have a tiny replica of the Phaistos Disc in the form of a pewter pendant that I picked up ages ago!  So a necklace had to be made:
At first I planned on using glazed ceramic beads in colors similar to those in Minoan art, but the plain clay beads went so nicely with the leather cord I stuck with them; I have so little neutral-colored jewelry anyway.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Last Call by Tim Powers

Boy, did I love Last Call: A Novel.But then, that should be no surprise -- an urban fantasy novel that incorporates ancient mythology, the Mob, Arthurian elements (including my beloved Fisher King), Tarot cards, mythic archetypes, and allusions to and quotations from "The Wasteland" by T.S. Eliot (my favorite poet) is pretty much guaranteed to please me.  Better yet, Powers is a great writer, whose prose is rich with symbolism and allusions to art, pop culture, history, and mythology. 

The story itself is about Scott Crane, a retired poker player who realizes he unwittingly sold his soul years ago to a man determined to live forever.  Scott's plan to win back his soul becomes entangled in a magical power struggle as various factions vie to become the new King of the West. Powers has a wonderful way of mixing together historical events and figures, oddball fictional characters, and inventive magic to create a narrative with real weight. 

I also recommend:

American Godsby Neil Gaiman, which has much in common thematically with Last Call.

The Anubis Gates,also by Powers.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Book Round-Up, Christmas Edition

A Child's Christmas in Walesby Dylan Thomas: Thomas is most famous for his poetry, so it is no surprise that this prose work is remarkably lyrical and impressionistic.  Thomas strings together memories from his childhood to form a perfect Christmas, where even the snow was better than it is now.  A lovely little story.

The Lump of Coalby Lemony Snicket: A slight but amusing "fable," with Snicket's trademarked wordplay and sensibility.

Holidays on Iceby David Sedaris:  I read this every year, to prevent any undue seasonal sappiness.  The stories are a mix of fiction and (exaggerated?) memoir, skillfully satirizing the expected targets -- commercialism, empty pieties, and Christmas letters.

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens: After spending most of my life avoiding Dickens (I found Oliver to be a twit, and it took me three tries to get through Bleak House), I finally read this and enjoyed it (it probably helped that it was so short; this edition pads it out with a long introduction, a chronology of Dickens's life, and a glossary).  The best part was the last "stave" -- Dickens expressed well Scrooge's elation bordering on hysteria and tinged with the slightest fear that it was too good to be true.  It was also fun to compare it to all the different versions I have watched this season.

 The Tick: Giant Christmas Cavalcade: The Tick started out as a superhero parody for the New England Comics stores' newsletter, but proved so popular he soon got is own comic, cartoon, live action show, and merchandise.  This collects some of the Christmas annuals, and features the Tick fighting cowboys, weekending in a chalet, and putting on a Christmas Pageant with all the other heroes and villains.  My first exposure to the Tick was watching the cartoon in college, which was absolutely brilliant, so I'd been meaning to check out the comics for a long time.  Unfortunately, these stories weren't that great.  Reviews indicate that the original comics are much better, so I'll seek those out next.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Soon I Will Be Invincible by Austin Grossman

Soon I Will be Invincible (Vintage)is a straight-up superhero novel, narrated by Dr. Impossible, who breaks out of prison to enact his latest plan to take over the world, and Fatale, a recruit in the Justice League New Champions who vow to stop him.  In addition to fantastic inventions, origin stories, and epic battles, we also get insight into the psyches of these two.  Although they are on opposite sides their journeys are quite similar; both struggle to fit in and come to terms with their public and private personae.  It's this aspect of the novel that appears to be influenced by Alan Moore's Watchmen, although Grossman's story is far kinder, quite poignant in its depiction of lonely, regretful, mixed-up metahumans.

It's also a lot funnier. Dr. Impossible in particular is a delight, who manages to be egotistical, humble, neurotic, sardonic, and genre-savvy all at the same time.  He is obsessed with not only taking over the world but also with what constitutes his real self -- the dastardly supervillain and evil genius, or the lonely, invisible nerd. Which makes the climax all the more spectacularly ironic, because Dr. Impossible is just as guilty of not seeing past a costume or a power.  Turns out, metahumans are people, too.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

White Apples by Johnathan Carroll

White Applesis a magic realism novel about the recently deceased Vincent Ettrich, a rather benign womanizer who is returned to life so that he can raise and teach his unborn son, fated to save the universe.  We never find out too much about why his son is so important, or what exactly he is supposed to do in the future, but that's not the point.  Instead the focus is on Vincent himself, and the mother of his child, Isabelle, both of whom must overcome their flaws and weaknesses if they are to defeat the forces of chaos and keep their son alive.

Vincent and Isabel themselves are fully realized characters, by turns sympathetic and frustrating, and Carroll convincingly depicts their love for each other.  My heart even broke a little at the image of Vincent with exactly two dishes, two cups, two forks in his apartment, waiting in vain for the love of his life to join him -- impressive writing on Carroll's part, to make me feel bad for a man who left his wife and children.

Carroll's novel suffers sometimes from too much telling and not enough showing, as major metaphysical concepts are basically just explained to the characters.  On the other hand, those concepts are fascinating and inventive -- most notably, that life both on an individual and a universal scale is a mosaic of tiles representing every choice, action, and event, a mosaic that is constantly made and remade.  It's chaos's goal to prevent this, and the way Carroll depicts the struggle is both unique and horrifying.  I can't recall any other book quite like this one.

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

The Bards of Bone Plain by Patricia McKillip

The Bards of Bone Plainmay very well replace Alphabet Of Thornas my favorite McKillip novel.  It contains many of the elements from previous books -- bards, unconventional young women, conquering armies, magic tied to the land, mysterious characters out of myth -- and combines them into one enthralling tale.  As with most of her writing, McKillip is a little weak in characterization and there can be a sameness to her world-building, but her language and stories more than make up for it.  This one, about a reluctant scholar trying to learn the truth of an ancient and dangerous bardic contest (and so much more), is no exception.

Friday, November 8, 2013

The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco

I'd been meaning to read The Name of the Rose: including the Author's Postscriptfor some time now, and I finally did! (Yeah, not a big achievement in the grand scheme of things.)

It's a mystery, of course -- a Franciscan friar and a Benedictine novice are tasked with discovering who's been killing the brothers at a monastery -- but that's not enough for the semiotician Eco.  It is also an intellectual exercise, as Eco spends vast chunks of the book on medieval life, politics, and religious strife, particularly the disputes that arose between various Franciscan orders*, heretics, Church hierarchy, and the increasingly secular rulers of various countries.  Eco also uses his characters to have in-depth discussions on faith and knowledge, and the intersection of the two.  While it won't be for everyone, it is a satisfying read, both entertaining and challenging.

Some people have argued that this book is anti-Catholic, but I don't think it is.  Yes, Church politics are a mess, but, well, they were in the 14th century -- the Church was losing much of its political power as governments became increasingly secular, the papacy was in Avignon (and eventually some anti-popes showed up), and there was the aforementioned infighting amongst the various Franciscan factions and the rest of the Church over the moral and theological significance of poverty (heh, the heads of capitalist Catholics would explode at some of the decidedly socialist theology of the time).  Many of the monks and friars in the novel are quite sinful, but so is everybody; we have a tendency to hold religious people to a higher standard (rightly or wrongly), such that we forget they are flawed humans like the rest of us.  Tellingly, very few of Eco's characters are actual hypocrites; even the most sinful ones struggle in one way or another with their actions, and display a genuine faith in God.

One article I read discussed in particular on the fate of the library that is the pride of the monastery, described as the largest collection of works in Europe but heavily restricted in who can have actual access to the books. The destruction of the library (ok, spoiler, but you can see it coming) represents, to him, Eco's notion that the Church itself must be destroyed if knowledge and intellectual inquiry are to flourish. I think this argument goes too far, however.  Through his characters Eco acknowledges that it is because of the Church that so much knowledge, so many ancient texts, were preserved, and the severe restrictions on actually reading them are seen as the result of the particular beliefs of the librarians in charge, and not of the Church as a whole. 

Eco is, I think, an atheist, and definitely a modernist, and so of course some of those ideas are present in the book; it was written in the 20th century, after all.  But their mere presence, even in sympathetic passages, is not enough to make this novel an anti-Catholic polemic.  Especially not when Eco portrays men of genuine faith in far more nuanced ways than they are usually shown.

*In an attempt to understand what was going on, I did a little research on the Franciscans and ended up with a headache.  Fr. Beadbrother, O.S.B., told me of a long-standing joke, where one of the things even God doesn't know is how many Franciscan orders there are. (The others are what a Benedictine means by stability, what the Jesuits are up to, what a Dominican said, and what a diocesan priest means by obedience to his bishop; it's a little insider-baseballish.)

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

The Buried Book by David Damrosch

The Buried Book: The Loss and Rediscovery of the Great Epic of Gilgameshis the story of the Epic of Gilgamesh -- what is known of its creation, its loss when Nineveh fell, and its rediscovery in the nineteenth century.  As intriguing as this story is, it is rather short, so Damrosch fills out his narrative by offering us a lot of context.  We learn about the scholars who decyphered cuneiform and translated the Gilgamesh tablets, the archeologists who uncovered Nineveh and its ruined library, the state of British archeology in the late 1800s (racist, classist, and ridiculously petty), the Assyrian kings who founded Nineveh and put together the great library of cuneiform tablets, the workings of the Assyrian Empire (surprisingly modern in its politics and concerns), and finally the earliest Sumerian and Akkadian versions of the Gilgamesh stories.  Damrosch, a comparative literature professor, adds an analysis of the epic itself for good measure (helpful, since it's been years since I read it), along with its influence on modern works.

The result is a fascinating synthesis of history, culture, archeology, literature, and symbolism.  Where Damrosch falters is in the last section, where he discusses Saddam Hussein's fascination with Gilgamesh and his literary pretensions.  I don't think the connection is strong enough to be particularly interesting, and Damrosch's handling of it doesn't do much to address the remarkable lack of self-awareness Hussein must have had, given the ideals he praised in his writings and his actual behavior. I'm the last person to deny that evil dictators can be complex and full of contradictions, but that was not really discussed in Damrosch's analysis -- whether because he did not go in depth enough, or whether because the connection to Gilgamesh was ultimately too thin to make it belong in this book, I'm not sure.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer

Artemis Fowl is the first novel in a young adult series about a human boy stumbling onto , which was inevitably compared to the Harry Potter series.  However, that does a disservice to Colfer, who has created a world with a completely different vibe -- one much more technologically detailed and action-oriented, where the focus is less on good v. evil and more on caper v. counter-caper. 

Artemis, too, is no Harry; instead he is an anti-hero, a borderline antagonist.  The scion of what used to be an exceedingly powerful and wealthy criminal family, he has a missing father, an insane mother, and a formidable intellect which he plans to use to regain his family's status.  He decides to capture a leprechaun (or rather, a member of LEPrecon, the recon wing of the Lower Elements Police) and ransom the fairy for a large pot of gold.  That fairy he captures, however, and the entire LEPrecon division, turn out to be far more resourceful than he expected; hijinks ensue.

While this book did not engage me as much as Harry Potter books did (I'm not rushing out to get the rest of the series), it was enjoyable and well-written.  The fairy world Colfer created is an interesting twist on traditional fairy tales, and some of the characters were quite fun. Artemis is kind of an over-privileged jerk, and it was good to see his plans go awry; he still comes out on top (not really a spoiler), but there are hints that over the next few novels he matures and develops an actual morality.  I suspect Beadboy2 will enjoy this book when he's a little older.