Archives

Many Happy Returns: January 22nd

Francis Bacon, b.1561. English philosopher, statesman, and essayist.

Prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue.

The joys of parents are secret; and so are their griefs and fears. They cannot utter the one; nor they will not utter the other.

As for the passions and studies of the mind: avoid envy; anxious fears; anger fretting inwards; subtle and knotty inquisitions; joys and exhilarations in excess; sadness not communicated. Entertain hopes; mirth rather than joy; variety of delights, rather than surfeit of them; wonder and admiration, and therefore novelties; studies that fill the mind with splendid and illustrious objects, as histories, fables, and contemplations of nature. Laugh, wonder, and hope. Study in accordance with Philippians 4:8.

Judges ought to remember, that their office is jus dicere, and not jus dare; to interpret law, and not to make law, or give law. Isn’t this just what conservatives have been saying in regard to judicial appointments for the past fifty years or so?

Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider.

George Gordon, Lord Byron, b.1788.
Byronic: “of, like or characteristic of Byron or his writings, romantic, passionate, cynical, ironic, etc.” I thought Lord Byron, whose birthday is today, was supposed to be wildly good-looking. Here’s the best picture I could find; you see what you think.

Maybe you’re more impressed than I am–or maybe I’m just being Byronic (cynical). Anyway, I did always like this scrap of poetry by Byron–even though I’ve heard people quote it Byronically (cynically and ironically):

SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that ‘s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o’er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek and o’er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,—
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.

It would be fun to have that written about me. It’s probably the most innocent-sounding poem Byron ever wrote.

Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup is being hosted by Caldecott Honor Medal winner Liz Garton Scanlon at Liz in Ink.

Many Happy Returns: January 20th

Blair Lent, b.1930. Illustrator of one of our favorites, Tikki Tikki Tembo by Arlene Mosel. Tikki Tikki Tembo No Sa Rembo Chari Bari Ruchi Pip Peri Pembo! I can say it fast. Can you?

I really believe Tikki TIkki Tembo is one of the best picture books ever. It came in at number 35 in Fuse #8’s Top 100 Picture Book Poll, quite a respectable showing. I found the video of this Weston Woods production at Fuse #8.

Wow, that takes me back to when we used to watch filmstrips in the filmstrip viewer in my school library. Does anybody else remember filmstrips?

Blair Lent died last year (2009) on January 27th, just a few days after his 79th birthday. He won the Caldecott Medal for his illustrations for another Arlene Mosel book, The Funny Little Woman.

Many Happy Returns: January 19th

poe
Edgar Allan Poe, b. 1809.
Semicolon’s Favorite Poets: Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poe: Annabel Lee.
Edgar Allan Poe: Tintinnabulation.
Quoth the Raven.
Tricia reviews Nevermore: A Photobiography of Edgar Allan Poe by Karen Lange.
In which I am stripped of my romantic illusions about the poem Annabel Lee by Someone Who Knows (at Wittingshire).
The Edgar Allan Poe Calendar, a blog celebrating the life and work of Edgar Allan Poe.

I think I like John Astin’s rendition better, but Mr. Jones is not bad.

Many Happy Returns: January 18th

Alan Alexander Milne, b. 1882
The Most Important Book I Read in College and other Milne links.
Favorite Pooh quotes.

Did you know that Milne wrote a parody of Conan Doyle and of Pope called “The Rape of the Sherlock”?

His first book was called Lovers in London, a collection of sketches about a young Englishman and his American sweetheart. Doesn’t that sound sweet? Milne was ashamed of the book and said that he hoped it never came back into print.

He wrote plays and was a good friend of J.M. Barrie, also a playwright.

Dorothy Parker wrote a very critical review of The House at Pooh Corner to which Milne responded that he didn’t write it for Dorothy Parker but rather for the children who loved Pooh. ” . . . no writer of children’s books says gaily to his publisher, ‘Don’t bother about the children, Mrs Parker will love it.'”

Quotes:

Ideas may drift into other minds, but they do not drift my way. I have to go and fetch them. I know no work manual or mental to equal the appalling heart-breaking anguish of fetching an idea from nowhere. (Autobiography, 225)

When I am gone
Let Shepard decorate my tomb
And put (if there is room)
Two pictures on the stone:
Piglet, from page a hundred and eleven
And Pooh and Piglet walking (157)…
And Peter, thinking that they are my own,
Will welcome me to heaven.

Many Happy Returns: January 11th

Alan Paton, b.1903.

Alan Paton is a South African author, famous for his book Cry, the Beloved Country about the system of racial apartheid that kept South Africa in turmoil for so many years. Alan Paton is a writer you should read. There are passages in Cry, the Beloved Country that bring tears to my eyes whenever I read them. And here’s a brief discussion of a couple of Mr. Paton’s other books.

A writer who can evoke emotion that well and who writes hope in the midst of tragedy is not to be missed.

Many Happy Returns: January 10th

Today, according to my handy, dandy Booklover’s Day Book, is Lord Acton’s birthday, b. 1834. I had heard of him, but couldn’t place him. It turns out that he’s the one who said this:

“Liberty is not a means to a higher political end. It is itself the highest political end…liberty is the only object which benefits all alike, and provokes no sincere opposition…The danger is not that a particular class is unfit to to govern. Every class is unfit to govern…Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

I had never heard the part about “every class is unfit to govern.” I like that. We are unfit to rule over others for an indefinite period of time. After a while, we do get power-mad. We enjoy playing God. According to Wikipedia, “Most people who quote Lord Acton’s Dictum are unaware that it refers to Papal power and was made by a Catholic, albeit not an unquestioning one.”

Acton was a historian and also a book-lover. I read somewhere that he owned over 60,000 books when he died, and many of them had passages marked that he thought were significant. I thought I had a lot of books!

Do you mark your books? If so, have you ever thought about people reading your booknotes after your death? I think I’m going to start leaving clues to a treasure in mine. (I just have to figure out where to obtain the treasure.)

Happy Birthday, Mr. Tolkien

250px-Jrrt_1972_pipeToday, January 3rd, is the birthday of Professor John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, b. 1892 in Bloemfontein, Orange Free State, South Africa, to English parents Mabel and Arthur Tolkien. Tolkien grew up to be a professor of philology and Anglo-Saxon literature, and the author of beloved and best-selling fantasy books: The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Silmarillion, and other minor works.

Tolkien’s influences: Beowulf, Norse Sagas, the Nibelungenlied, Homer, Sophocles, the Finnish and Karelian Kalevala, Catholicism and Christian theology in general, She by Rider Haggard, Edward Wyke-Smith’s Marvellous Land of the Snergs, poet and artist William Morris, W.H. Auden, and of course, The Inklings, especially Tolkien’s friend, C.S. Lewis.

Influenced by Tolkien: C.S. Lewis, Terry Brooks, Stephen Donaldson, Christopher Paolini, JK Rowling, Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson (creators of Dungeons and Dragons), Peter Jackson, Carol Kendall, Alan Garner, Lloyd Alexander, Peter Beagle, Jane Yolen, Andre Norton, Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, and probably almost any other modern fantasy author, including those who write that they are deliberately reacting against Tolkienesque high fantasy (i.e. China Mieville).

To celebrate Tolkien’s 119th birthday, I read The Children of Hurin, a book I’ve had on my shelf for about a year. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, and I guess this birthday is it. Children of Hurin is a story from The Silmarillion, adapted and edited to book form by Tolkien’s son Christopher Tolkien. The language in the book, like that of The Silmarillion, is formal, somewhat stilted, and quite beautiful. The story is a tragedy, the doomed lives and loves of the children of a hero named Hurin. Hurin’s children, Turin and Nienor, are cursed because of the hatred that Morgoth has for their father. Just as the children of Adam are cursed because of Adam’s sin and the hatred of Satan for our race, the children of Hurin make their own choices, and yet are doomed to fall under the curse of Morgoth.

JRR Tolkien died on September 2, 1973. Tolkien’s tombstone at Wolvercote Cemetery, Oxford, bears the following inscription:

Edith Mary Tolkien
Luthien
1889-1971
John Ronald
Reuel Tolkien
Beren
1892-1973

Luthien and Beren are two legendary lovers from Tolkien’s epic saga, The Silmarillion.

Jane Austen on Christmas

Jane Austen was born on December 16, 1775.

Mr. Elton: “This is quite the season indeed for friendly meetings. At Christmas everybody invites their friends about them, and people think little of even the worst weather. I was snowed up at a friend’s house once for a week. Nothing could be pleasanter. I went for only one night, and could not get away till that very day se’nnight.”
Emma, volume 1, chapter 13

Caroline Bingley: “When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which took him to London might be concluded in three or four days; but as we are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintances are already there for the winter; I wish that I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd– but of that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you.”
Pride and Prejudice, chapter 21

“I thank you for your long letter, which I will endeavour to deserve by writing the rest of this as closely as possible. I am full of joy at much of your information; that you should have been to a ball, and have danced at it, and supped with the Prince, and that you should meditate the purchase of a new muslin gown, are delightful circumstances. I am determined to buy a handsome one whenever I can, and I am so tired and ashamed of half my present stock, that I even blush at the sight of the wardrobe which contains them. But I will not be much longer libelled by the possession of my coarse spot; I shall turn it into a petticoat very soon. I wish you a merry Christmas, but no compliments of the season.”
Letter to Cassandra from Jane Austen, December 25, 1798.

I am sorry my mother has been suffering, and am afraid this exquisite weather is too good to agree with her. I enjoy it all over me, from top to toe, from right to left, longitudinally, perpendicularly, diagonally; and I cannot but selfishly hope we are to have it last till Christmas — nice, unwholesome, unseasonable, relaxing, close, muggy weather.
Letter to Cassandra from Jane Austen, December 2, 1815.

And here are links to a few book reviews if you’re in an Austen-ish mood:

In the Steps of Jane Austen by Anne-Marie Edwards. Reviewed by Fleur-Fisher, a Cornish bookworm.
Jane Austen: A Biography by Carol Shields. Reviewed at Rebecca Reads.
Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict by Laurie Viera Rigler. Reviewed by Jayne at Dear Author.
Rude Awakenings of a Jane Austen Addict by Laurie Viera RIgler. Reviewed at Booking Mama.
Jane Austen Ruined My Life by Beth Patillo. Reviewed by Lisa at 5 Minutes for Books.
Jane Austen: A Life by Claire Tomalin. Reviewed by JenClair at A Garden Carried in My Pocket.

Christmas with Mark Twain, c.1897

Mark Twain was born on November 30, 1835.

“The approach of Christmas brings harrassment and dread to many excellent people. They have to buy a cart-load of presents, and they never know what to buy to hit the various tastes; they put in three weeks of hard and anxious work, and when Christmas morning comes they are so dissatisfied with the result, and so disappointed that they want to sit down and cry. Then they give thanks that Christmas comes but once a year.”
Following the Equator

“It is my heart-warm and world-embracing Christmas hope and aspiration that all of us, the high, the low, the rich, the poor, the admired, the despised, the loved, the hated, the civilized, the savage (every man and brother of us all throughout the whole earth), may eventually be gathered together in a heaven of everlasting rest and peace and bliss, except the inventor of the telephone.” From Caroline Harnsberger’s Mark Twain at Your Fingertips.

Here’s hoping that your Christmas season celebration turns out to be less stressful and harassing than Mr. Twain’s seemed to be. What would he say about cell phones and email?

C.S. Lewis on Christmas

Clive Staples Lewis was born November 29, 1898. On Christmas Day 1931, C.S. Lewis joined the Anglican Church and took communion.

“The White Witch? Who is she?
“Why, it is she that has got all Narnia under her thumb. It’s she that makes it always winter and never Christmas; think of that!”
“How awful!” said Lucy.
~The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

It was a sledge, and it was reindeer with bells on their harness. But they were far bigger than the Witch’s reindeer, and they were not white but brown. And on the sledge sat a person whom everyone knew the moment they set eyes on him. He was a huge man in a bright red robe (bright as hollyberries) with a hood that had fur inside it and a great white beard that fell like a foamy waterfall over his chest. Everyone knew him because, though you see people of his sort only in Narnia, you see pictures of them and hear them talked about even in our world–the world on this side of the wardrobe door. But when you really see them in Narnia it is rather different. Some of the pictures of Father Christmas in our world make him look only funny and jolly. But now that the children actually stood looking at him they didn’t find it quite like that. He was so big, and so glad, and so real, that they all became quite still. They felt very glad, but also solemn.
~The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

“In the middle of winter when fogs and rains most abound they have a great festival which they call Exmas, and for fifty days they prepare for it in the fashion I shall describe. First of all, every citizen is obliged to send to each of his friends and relations a square piece of hard paper stamped with a picture, which in their speech is called an Exmas-card. But the pictures represent birds sitting on branches, or trees with a dark green prickly leaf, or else men in such garments as the Niatirbians believe that their ancestors wore two hundred years ago riding in coaches such as their ancestors used, or houses with snow on their roofs. And the Niatirbians are unwilling to say what these pictures have to do with the festival, guarding (as I suppose) some sacred mystery. And because all men must send these cards the market-place is filled with the crowd of those buying them, so that there is great labour and weariness.

******

Such, then, are their customs about the Exmas. But the few among the Niatirbians have also a festival, separate and to themselves, called Crissmas, which is on the same day as Exmas. And those who keep Crissmas, doing the opposite to the majority of the Niatirbians, rise early on that day with shining faces and go before sunrise to certain temples where they partake of a sacred feast. And in most of the temples they set out images of a fair woman with a new-born Child on her knees and certain animals and shepherds adoring the Child. . . . But what Hecataeus says, that Exmas and Crissmas are the same, is not credible. For the first, the pictures which are stamped on the Exmas-cards have nothing to do with the sacred story which the priests tell about Crissmas. And secondly, the most part of the Niatirbians, not believing the religion of the few, nevertheless send the gifts and cards and participate in the Rush and drink, wearing paper caps. But it is not likely that men, even being barbarians, should suffer so many and great things in honour of a god they do not believe in.”
~God in the Dock, A Lost Chapter from Herodotus. Read the entire “lost chapter.”

I feel exactly as you do about the horrid commercial racket they have made out of Christmas. I send no cards and give no presents except to children.
~Letters to an American Lady.

He comes down; down from the heights of absolute being into time and space, down into humanity; down further still, . . . to the very roots and seabed of the Nature He has created. But He goes down to come up again and bring the whole ruined world up with Him. One has the picture of a strong man stooping lower and lower to get himself underneath some great complicated burden. He must stoop in order to lift, he must almost disappear under the load before he incredibly straightens his back and marches off with the whole mass swaying on his shoulders.
Or one may think of a diver, first reducing himself to nakedness, then glancing in mid-air, then gone with a splash, vanished, rushing down through green and warm water into black and cold water, down through increasing pressure into the death-like region of ooze and slime and old decay; then up again, back to colour and light, his lungs almost bursting, till suddenly he breaks surface again, holding in his hand the dripping, precious thing that he went down to recover.
~Miracles.

The Son of God became a man to enable men to become the sons of God.
~C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

C.S. Lewis on Heaven.