December 2020

Non-Fiction November

Versions of History

Dear Readers,

Merry Nearly Christmas. I know it is hard to get worked up into Xmas cheer this year, so let’s stick our heads into the sands of the past. This post is going to include my thoughts on the books I read for:

September – The Twelve Caesars, Suetonius

November – Elizabeth’s Lists, L. Ellender

Firstly, let’s go back to September with The 12 Caesars. This was enjoyable, you know. I listened to the whole thing while cooking, it took months. Therefore, it has become clear to me that I pretty much only think that I am cooking all the time and that it takes up all my time, when really, it probably takes up 20 minutes every other day. (Perception is key!) There is a lot of stuff that feels like “filler” in this book when you hear it, for example what each Roman emperor looked like, described by a man who was never there to see them himself, but trusting to contemporary sources. However, one must remind oneself that this is our major source on the Julio-Claudian emperors and the subsequent Flavian dynasty (which I had completely forgotten about since my degree).

Therefore, if you read this book you will finally be able to label everyone in your head, and learn by heart who came after whom. You will also hear about a lot of ancient Roman scandals, some still scandalous, some not, some quite funny now; and hear a LOT about Roman omen-taking, wouldn’t we all feel better if we all just took more omens in our life and followed the signs? Then you can just blame the gods for your missteps. I mean, if they WANTED me to finish my PhD on time they shouldn’t have sent a black raven to perch on the top of the statue of Mars Porsenna. Obviously! That must have been Pythian Apollo having a laugh.

Basically, I wanted to know what was in this book, and capture another Greek and Roman classic. And it wasn’t deadly dull–you just have to be sort of prepared for it. I definitely recommend this audiobook—Charlton Griffin has narrated MANY ancient classics and he really is the master. I also wanted to read this because Robert Graves did a translation of it (not this one I believe) but after having done so, he worked up the character and life of the emperor Claudius so that it became his books I, Claudius and Claudius the God, both of which I read this year. I found from this audiobook that Graves did use about every scrap of info there was on Claudius, as I have said before however, what he did with this scant info was so very impressive.

Is Suetonius re-readable though? Not unless you are a mega emperor fan! I mostly just wanted to know what it contained, it was a famous book even when it was published in AD 121. It also may contain a direct reference to Christ as a real person, and it does contain references to Christians in Rome in Nero’s book. This is pretty fascinating to me (I suggest you google the “Suetonius on Christians” wikipedia page if you are interested in more, as well, an academic book just came out called “Jesus the Apocalyptic Prophet” by C. Wassen and T. Haegerland, published by Bloomsbury, which is a “strictly historical” study of Jesus’ life, and something that I have bookmarked as something to get to in the future. It’s table of contents looks phenomenal and it certainly sounds like the way I like my historical figures, intensely researched and footnoted to death. What can I say? I enjoy light-hearted fun as much as the next person, but I like my non-fiction pitted with stony facts.

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November – Elisabeth’s Lists, L. Ellender.

I really enjoyed this book. It was (mostly–but we will get to that in a minute) LOVELY to read, and I was engrossed, I had a physical copy and I left myself, left my body on the couch and travelled there, to the 1930s and 40s, around the world with this lucky lady, who as an ambassador’s daughter and a diplomat’s wife had a bit more of an exciting life than your average housewife of the time. One thing that particularly stands out to me, is all the PACKING—and by that I mean, this lady started to keep lists mainly when her husband and her were married, lists of wedding gifts and furniture she would like to get for their house (I eat this sort of detail for dessert) and then when they were posted around the world she kept her immaculate book of lists with her, enabling her to organize their regular moves, before children and after–and just packing; for a trip, to go camping, or even making up emergency or first aid kits is just my favourite thing!!! It really is. There must be a word for people who hate packing—I can’t find one, just a fear of travelling, (and a fear of styrofoam packing peanuts!) but I have the opposite: a lust for selecting what may be needed, and for preparing. And you get all the fun of dreaming about what adventures may come!!

The book makes a lot out of Elisabeth’s need/desire to keep lists, repeating over and over that they must have made her calm/allowed her to order her world. Well there is certainly a LOT more which can be said about the Lists, indeed there is a specific subject of study in German scholarship called “Listenwissenschaft” (I hear you, of course there is) and I believe the last book Umberto Eco finished before his death was called “The Infinity of Lists” and traces the history of list-making in Western culture (I wonder if Western culture in this case claims Sumerian Lexical tablets—the first ever written lists. It probably does. Western Culture is known for picking and choosing its forerunners). However, ever since I heard about Eco’s book I have been intrigued, yes, its going on my future reading list. A field which grows stonier daily, as I get to grips with some really interesting ideas.

Elisabeth’s Lists however, keeps these ideas palatable (excepting, again, that last bit, which I will get to) and close to home. What I find more interesting, now, than Elisabeth’s list predilection, is the genealogical aspect of this book. Of course, Ellender did amazingly well to bring her grandmother, who she never personally knew, to life, from a book of lists, and scraps of correspondence etc (although it must be conceded that she had the lady’s diaries to work with also). In attempting to re-animate this woman however, she did disturb some ghosts, indeed, Ellender found a very sad story of a great-uncle she had never heard mentioned–that I leave for the reader to discover themselves. Ellender literally was able to re-situate ancestors on her family tree, which is a tremendous discovery which I hadn’t expected.

Less than that however, long ago I remember reading a Reader’s Digest article on how knowing the genealogy of their own family literally makes children more mentally strong. If they come from a family that takes its history seriously, and talks about relatives who have passed on, and tells their stories, the child becomes more able to weather the later storms of life. I always remembered this concept, because it was true for my own life. My father in particular, is fascinated by history, but prefers to concentrate on the things that seem knowable—home-spun things in some sense, houses that were built and plowshares and clothes—and the development of our family since its arrival in Canada.

This may be linked to the way he is very tied to the land, has never left the place he grew up, where, in a way that is rare now, everyone really does know everyone and always has and a lot of them are related to you. If we had a family saga it would definitely be called And Then We Were Farmers, because we always were, til recently, which is quite a contrast to the elevated circles of Ellender’s grandmother, who hosted ambassadorial cocktail parties and married the heir to a landed estate. Still, however, no matter who you are, genealogy makes you strong, and I am immensely grateful to my Dad who took me around all the family plots, whispered over by winds and now in the middle of nowhere, the settlements around them collapsed and growing grass, in the summers of my childhood. Some people thought it was morbid, it was anything but. We were imagining.

Finally, on the note of ‘morbid’: the only thing I personally didn’t enjoy about Elisabeth’s Lists as a book, was the way in which the later chapters especially were tied to her mother’s death. This is not a spoiler, it is on the jacket cover that the time the author was researching her grandmother was the same time that her own mother was dying. I think its simply that I do not like this subject matter of a mother dying, so it is a personal thing, but in the slightest way I thought the abject sadness of that shouldn’t have been wound in with a memory-quest. As much as we may attempt to commune with the vanished, it is already gone and we are, essentially, guessing. Her mother however, was living, and her quitting this life, although it took place at the same time as this was being written, and I am sure to the author this process seems indivisible from her book (there is one very sweet recollection by the author’s mother upon her own mother, the grandmother Elisabeth that is being researched, so I understand how it all ties in) nevertheless I simply think that the death of Lulah’s mother is another story.

And while I would normally definitely want to read a genealogical-detective story again, I don’t want to read the sadness of this book again, although I declaim: you must! Don’t miss out if you are a nostalgist like me!!

The Least Scary Story & Some Frightening Facts

Hallowe’en snuck up on me, and a scary pepper was duly improvised

Book Choice for October 2020: The Turn of The Screw by Henry James

**As ever, this review contains tons of vague Spoilers**

Hello again Dear Readers, today I invite you to travel back with me to the prettiest month, the ghostliest month, lovely October, which, separated as it is from us by the first week of November 2020, otherwise known as the longest week in recorded history, seems now so very, very far away.

You may not have realized it, but the above paragraph, written using approximately six hundred and forty commas, with little interjections and some phrases which turn back upon each other and run the risk of making little to no coherent sense, is an accurate reproduction of Henry James’ writing style.

Ughhhhhh.

One of the things I was most looking forward to in my proscriptive reading this year was getting to read a ghost story in October, in the run-up to Halloween. Well, my hopes of something spooky were completely dashed by the Turn of the Screw, which was so harmless I don’t even know how to begin to describe it. I picked up an Oxford paperback edition, which also included some other absolutely innocuous stories, namely Sir Edward Orme, which features a slight hallucination, one which probably could be cured by not eating too late at night, Owen Wingrave which is a story in which nothing may have happened at all, although the police should question everyone that case is not going to hold up in court, and The Friends of Friends, which features wedding jitters. I mean, basically.

All of these I read on the way to reading the Turn of the Screw, saving it for last, holding out hope. Ohmygoodness, was it ever boring. I know, I know, Henry James is supposed to be this great master. I know, I know, its supposed to be deeply psychological. Let’s be honest, it was vague and bland and should have been told in 15 pages, not 100. I was soooo disappointed. I’m sure I’m supposed to be a lot more appreciative of the subtle nuances blah blah—-but the back of the book features a quote from a newspaper (circa 1900 we must remember) wherein the Turn of the Screw was called “the most evil story we have ever read.”

Its absolutely forgettable, and after the initial few jump-outs, you will be waiting and waiting for a payoff that never comes. Better luck (to me!) next year. I obviously like my ghost stories full of burning eyes, unexplained appearances, premonitions, and the sensing of evil or doom. Real evil or doom—danger! Obsession! Revenge! You know, like the plots most ghost stories have—the ones people actually sit around and tell each other—possibly our last personal experiences of storytelling in this modern age are the suspicious events that have happened to us, or to a friend of a friend (or very often for some reason, to our grandmothers). The Turn of the Screw is meant as a work of art—-but did anyone ever actually enjoy it?

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Let’s move on from all that, with some Truly Frightening Tales. Its about time for a thesis update, but I am almost too paranoid to talk about it. You see, during the first half of November, during some Truly Scary times for the US and far beyond its borders, a youngish-lady sat typing in front of a florescent screen in the creepy-dark early mornings….and she realized…that the section she had been saving to write-up last (probably she had had some presentiment of perdition) has, like a monster outside her control, grown to a huge size, and an equally terrifying importance, and our heroine simply did not see this coming. But she should have [insert moralistic Victorian overtones]. Basically, she thought she had ordered her thoughts well in the first 3 chapters and made all her points. Then, at what feels like 30 seconds before midnight, she realized: the final section IS the point, it is the WHOLE point of this work she has laboured so long to set up well and ground in justifiable fact—-but who cares about that—the enormous, unconquerable (?) section is what the people will come for. And there is still so, soooooooo much to do.

I’m do apologize. For that ramble, for the self-indulgence, and because I can’t be any more specific about what the problem is, because it makes my stomach churn. Remember April? When I was practically giggling about getting “quarterly flashes of insight” that lead me forward in my PhD, and show me the way? Well, I’ve realized they aren’t just beautiful illuminations—-they are painful!! albeit necessary. However, I am very glad that I had this realization now, about what the point is, rather than getting this clarity next February, because that truly would be too late. One often hears people say that they didn’t really understand their PhD until they were at the end of it—-but even I cannot delude myself that I am somehow ahead of the game now, I feel so very far behind, despite this unbidden revelation.

But this REALLY IS research, right? Going down a misty road with a dim lantern? Then one realizes, someone already wrote that road (bear with me) so you dive off into the undergrowth—maybe there is a dropped footnote here, or some old, forgotten diaries or excavation reports of explorers long dead—then you start thrashing around in the weeds, getting all mucky, you start counting things, you write it up, you are pleased and growing more confident…usually after this point (now THIS is a twist, Henry James!) you finally read that 40 page German article that you’ve had shut in your desk drawer for 3 years; and you find out that someone coolly published your discovery in 1995.

The final creepy story in this collection concerns our greatest of all fears, greater even than missing a citation, if it can be believed, greater than a deadline, in fact, it concerns the Ultimate Deadline…..(woooooooo)

So, months have passed and I have diligently been taking my thyroid medicine. It was time to go back to the doctor, all was well and she prescribed me more, of the same dosage, and told me to come back in 4 more months. She also had the good news that I had moved from a 5.1 of something, to a 1.0—-I truly have no idea what this scale is, but I hope it is the German marking system where a 1,0 is a perfect grade. I was delighted at having made such “progress” and said so. And she said, direct quote: “Yes, I am glad we are treating it now. If we didn’t treat it, you would die.”

Oh.

I was under the impression that if I didn’t take this medicine I would be back to having rough afternoons, and my quality of life would be kind of meh. I didn’t realize that it was um, REALLY GOOD, that I happened to go to the doctor and they happened to find it and happened to treat me, although I barely understand what is going on. It seems like I have let this hang on a real crapshoot…I just could have just as easily NOT begun treatment. And I don’t know WHEN the deathly effects would have kicked in, like, would it have been years (impossible to know by her verbal tense) and would I have gotten some other warnings beyond being tired? I’m not gonna lie, I came home a bit shaken.

This feeling was compounded by the fact that when I asked “Why?” has this happened (I’m not sure if you are allowed to ask doctors why) she told me that this type of thyroid problem is a relatively new development, they aren’t so much in her generation, now it is young people, and lots of them, who are developing them.

As that is terrifying, I asked again, “Why?”

She said, “Well, the environment is changing a lot. It could be from pollution, or preservatives in food.”

I thanked her and left, and I did have a little cry at home.

We’re all screwed.

It really is ending. The world I mean. We are starting to actually be impacted by the things we have done, the alterations we have made (beyond the general frying and drying of the earth). We aren’t going to be able to live here anymore. It’s going to destroy us…I mean, we are going to destroy us. And its not in the distant future, its happening now. We are not living the same lives our recent ancestors did; the environment has changed so much.

As for the ghosts…