(Pre-written to cover a trip)
The might break the word barrier and become its own post. In, I know it will. 'The Hollow Man' is a legend in its own right amongst detective stories, and my own experience of it is dominated by my first exposure, which was the Radio 4 dramatisation starring Donald Sinden as amateur sleuth Dr Gideon Fell. If any of the other Carr novels approach this one in quality, then the author himself will be paramount amongst all the mystery writers, excepting Doyle, who doesn't really exist in any one genre, and is a category all of his own. However, that's a case for another day.
John Dickson Carr specialised in 'impossible crimes; and some his locked room mysteries are works of art. My experience is so far insufficient to allow putting this story at the top of his pile, but the resolution is so simple as to offer a full illumination based on one or two simple facts. What are those facts? Well, read it and find out!
As mentioned obliquely, 'The Hollow Man' is one of the Dr Gideon Fell mysteries (Carr had several series, including the books under his pseudonym Carr Dickson), and therefore features much harrumphing and contemplation of the facts at hand, and many theories, fancies and twists shot to pieces by the procession of events. There is also, famously, a chapter devoted to a lecture given by Fell on the categorisation and classification of locked room mysteries, in which Fell himself acknowledges his own status as a character in a television story, and adds much novelty to the other claims for this being Carr's masterwork. Some people prefer 'Till Death Do Us Part', but such a distinction will have to wait until I've read that other work.
Is 'The Hollow Man' really a masterwork? It's certainly very, very good, and holds up to re-reading (In one day, no less!) very well. This is where the Sinden influence breaks in, though, as his fruity voice washes over the whole story, enriching it unfairly. There's an awful lot of subjectivity creeping in here from that radio play. However, as I begin to hear you ask, “What's it about?”, it becomes clear that there has been a glaring omission.
A French amateur expert on the paranormal, a Professor Charles Grimaud, is murdered, apparently by someone who had publicly threatened him the week before at a club night for enthusiastic eccentrics. The killer thrust himself into Grimaud's study, locked the door behind him and shot the professor before promptly vanishing into thin air on a night laden with undisturbed snow all around. Simultaneously, the supposed killer is killed in the middle of an empty snowy street, at almost point blank range. No-one was there, and no traces remained of his attacker. Dr Fell and Superintendent Hadley are baffled!
It's a classic mystery, despite all my haphazard ramblings. A recommended story if you don't mind some meandering on the way to the final revelation we all expect in a mystery story. In this one, it involves an entirely non-supernatural Hungarian connection.
O.
Friday, 25 August 2017
Wednesday, 23 August 2017
Story: 'Wordspace' Phase II, Part XIII
( Part I , XII , XIV )
There is coincidence, and there is Coincidence. The latter had a habit of dropping on people just when they were about to enjoy afternoon snacks, while the former seemed to be responsible for the rampaging Invader, the discovery or rediscovery of Infinity or Forever or whatever the massive word underneath the foundation of the Wordspace was, and the long delayed returns of the Ordinals to the known Wordspace. Oh, and the presence of Sorpresa, a fun but unexpected visitor from another world.
Mystery looked over at Sorpresa, who was looking down randomly at the Wordspace below, pensively. He apparently had no idea what was happening. Ground, Air, Water and Fire had united for the first time in recent history, and after two of them had been defeated by the rampaging giant word from places unknown. The massive words were below them, communing as only the Elementals could. War and her cohort were making attempts on the Invader, but very ineffectually in the distance.
"Misterio?"
Mystery jumped, caught as he had been in his own contemplative phase, at Sorpresa's question. "Sorpresa?"
"¿Es una ocasion muy rara, si??"
"Occasion? Rare? Yes." Mystery nodded a few syllables emphatically.
"Si..." Sorpresa seemed to be thinking deeply about something. Then he jumped off of Cloud into nothing.
"What the --- ?!" Mystery crawled over to the edge, even as Cloud pulled a sharp turn to try and go after their mad friend from another space.
"He's okay." Murmured Cloud, in some quiet surprise.
"What?" Mystery looked over and saw a big white sheet of punctuation gliding slowly to the ground. "What in the Wordspace is that?"
Cloud didn't respond. She was on the move.
The sheet hit the ground, and he watched Sorpresa ran up to Ground and hitched a ride. The Elementals seemed to be on the move. Massively. Thunderously. They might have been the biggest pacifists in the world that they knew, but they were definitely a force to be reckoned with. Maybe they hadn't need War after all?
Mystery would have been even more surprised if he had seen Club arriving with his own reinforcements.
* * *
At this point, Coincidence almost certainly had arrived with a camera, just in time to take a snapshot of the Elemental reunion.
* * *
The eye of Infinity was vast, and looked at Dream, occasionally blinking.
"Do you know us?" Asked Dream.
Infinity waited for what seemed an eon before answering.
"Know? No. Yes. Who?"
"Us."
"Ah..."
Dream realised that this might take a while.
To be continued.
Note:
No more live posts until after the weekend trip. Have fun, imaginary readers. Beware mad people on busses!
There is coincidence, and there is Coincidence. The latter had a habit of dropping on people just when they were about to enjoy afternoon snacks, while the former seemed to be responsible for the rampaging Invader, the discovery or rediscovery of Infinity or Forever or whatever the massive word underneath the foundation of the Wordspace was, and the long delayed returns of the Ordinals to the known Wordspace. Oh, and the presence of Sorpresa, a fun but unexpected visitor from another world.
Mystery looked over at Sorpresa, who was looking down randomly at the Wordspace below, pensively. He apparently had no idea what was happening. Ground, Air, Water and Fire had united for the first time in recent history, and after two of them had been defeated by the rampaging giant word from places unknown. The massive words were below them, communing as only the Elementals could. War and her cohort were making attempts on the Invader, but very ineffectually in the distance.
"Misterio?"
Mystery jumped, caught as he had been in his own contemplative phase, at Sorpresa's question. "Sorpresa?"
"¿Es una ocasion muy rara, si??"
"Occasion? Rare? Yes." Mystery nodded a few syllables emphatically.
"Si..." Sorpresa seemed to be thinking deeply about something. Then he jumped off of Cloud into nothing.
"What the --- ?!" Mystery crawled over to the edge, even as Cloud pulled a sharp turn to try and go after their mad friend from another space.
"He's okay." Murmured Cloud, in some quiet surprise.
"What?" Mystery looked over and saw a big white sheet of punctuation gliding slowly to the ground. "What in the Wordspace is that?"
Cloud didn't respond. She was on the move.
The sheet hit the ground, and he watched Sorpresa ran up to Ground and hitched a ride. The Elementals seemed to be on the move. Massively. Thunderously. They might have been the biggest pacifists in the world that they knew, but they were definitely a force to be reckoned with. Maybe they hadn't need War after all?
Mystery would have been even more surprised if he had seen Club arriving with his own reinforcements.
* * *
At this point, Coincidence almost certainly had arrived with a camera, just in time to take a snapshot of the Elemental reunion.
* * *
The eye of Infinity was vast, and looked at Dream, occasionally blinking.
"Do you know us?" Asked Dream.
Infinity waited for what seemed an eon before answering.
"Know? No. Yes. Who?"
"Us."
"Ah..."
Dream realised that this might take a while.
To be continued.
Note:
No more live posts until after the weekend trip. Have fun, imaginary readers. Beware mad people on busses!
Monday, 21 August 2017
In The Wake
In the immediate wake of finishing 'The Goodies', or at least all the episodes that are available, there's a bit of a letdown. As a series, it ended on a very weird note, but that will be something to write about more copiously in its own post. For now, it's all over, until a miracle happens and every episode comes out on DVD. It might happen one day, somehow, mightn't it? Please? Some of the episodes that we do have were absolutely and wonderfully funny and remarkable.
Moving on, this was supposed to be the next episode of 'Wordspace', but awful time management and a general lack of inspiration is keeping that story on the slowest of slow burns. Hopefully, with all good intentions, there will be another part before the next brief trip kicks off on Friday, and the blog is converted to pre-written reviews for a few days. Oh, there's nothing wrong with 'reviews', although here they tend to degenerate into the usual ramblings but on a more focussed topic, but they are rather easy to write. There's not a lot of challenge to it. Writing extemporaneously is harder, and writing the stories is harder still. However, they can be very nice to compose, in a trivial way. It's odd, but it feels strange to push one person's opinion upon the world. Why should anyone care in one way or another about what Person X thinks about this, that or frozen yogurt? Is it egocentric just to throw your opinions out into the world, or is it okay if you know no-one's going to read them anyway, have no intention of forcing anything upon anyone, and do it solely as a writing exercise? It's all in the intention, isn't it?
Yes, another trip looms, to go off an a tangent to a previous comment, and with it the usual challenges of staying with people. The usual battles to escape itineraries, dig tunnels out of the bathroom, remove the radioactive shower curtains before turning into a mutant carrot, and of course the imperative to find the nearest ferry port, in order to indulge in a slow and steady escape to the Netherlands or Ireland. You have to be prepared for all contingencies. For example, on visiting people, you must emulate Batman and take shark-repellent spray and a portable rope ladder. They are both essential. You may also need a jetpack, a copy of 'The Voyage of the Beagle' by Darwin, and some playing cards. Oh, okay, you may not need the jetpack, but directions to the nearest supermarket and a pogo stick are compulsory preparations. Some of this, of course, is not strictly true, but let's not criticise the Netherlands without reason.
A cumulative twenty hours of travelling await, which means there will be enough time to probably furnish a whole new edition of 'The Literary Reflection' with thoughts on the books read in that time. Twenty hours can see a whole lot of reading get done...
O.
Moving on, this was supposed to be the next episode of 'Wordspace', but awful time management and a general lack of inspiration is keeping that story on the slowest of slow burns. Hopefully, with all good intentions, there will be another part before the next brief trip kicks off on Friday, and the blog is converted to pre-written reviews for a few days. Oh, there's nothing wrong with 'reviews', although here they tend to degenerate into the usual ramblings but on a more focussed topic, but they are rather easy to write. There's not a lot of challenge to it. Writing extemporaneously is harder, and writing the stories is harder still. However, they can be very nice to compose, in a trivial way. It's odd, but it feels strange to push one person's opinion upon the world. Why should anyone care in one way or another about what Person X thinks about this, that or frozen yogurt? Is it egocentric just to throw your opinions out into the world, or is it okay if you know no-one's going to read them anyway, have no intention of forcing anything upon anyone, and do it solely as a writing exercise? It's all in the intention, isn't it?
Yes, another trip looms, to go off an a tangent to a previous comment, and with it the usual challenges of staying with people. The usual battles to escape itineraries, dig tunnels out of the bathroom, remove the radioactive shower curtains before turning into a mutant carrot, and of course the imperative to find the nearest ferry port, in order to indulge in a slow and steady escape to the Netherlands or Ireland. You have to be prepared for all contingencies. For example, on visiting people, you must emulate Batman and take shark-repellent spray and a portable rope ladder. They are both essential. You may also need a jetpack, a copy of 'The Voyage of the Beagle' by Darwin, and some playing cards. Oh, okay, you may not need the jetpack, but directions to the nearest supermarket and a pogo stick are compulsory preparations. Some of this, of course, is not strictly true, but let's not criticise the Netherlands without reason.
A cumulative twenty hours of travelling await, which means there will be enough time to probably furnish a whole new edition of 'The Literary Reflection' with thoughts on the books read in that time. Twenty hours can see a whole lot of reading get done...
O.
Saturday, 19 August 2017
The Challenge
There's a challenge to taking on new students. You have to dig deep, work on the puzzle for a few weeks, and then try to find the way to lead them through the barrier that's keeping them in the dark. Most of the time, you make it through, but it's still difficult enough to be a challenge. How do you get on the inside, to see what's blocking the way?
Sometimes, it's obvious. There's a misunderstanding that can just be put right, and then they roar away and you help them catch up. On other occasions, it can take hours and hours to reach the problem, and only then if they allow you to get there. Deeper problems come with a defensiveness that can defy many attempts to help. Everyone has a deep-seated tendency to say 'I can't do it.' when they find something difficult, after all. Everyone can do arithmetic, though. It's a minimum level reachable by all, if the student hasn't been undermined at some crucial stage.
Why do people say, 'I can't do it.', so easily. Is it all down to the inherent laziness of the brain? It's fairly well known that the brain is fundamentally conservative (small 'c') and that it discourages the formation of new patterns of grooves in its structure. A therapist told me that on a passing occasion, so I choose to believe that it's true. That's why people are so prone to not learning new things as they get older. It's not just that it's harder, which it of course it, but that biology itself resists. This is a reason why pessimism is hard-wired into the human psyche in many ways.
So, if you have one student who is convinced that arithmetic is hard and that they can't do numbers, then you really have to start to find leverage and work not on the arithmetic so much as the mental block. That's the hard part. That's the challenge beyond the challenge, and it's where a slip up can make things so much worse than better. Oh, for an easy life!
O.
Sometimes, it's obvious. There's a misunderstanding that can just be put right, and then they roar away and you help them catch up. On other occasions, it can take hours and hours to reach the problem, and only then if they allow you to get there. Deeper problems come with a defensiveness that can defy many attempts to help. Everyone has a deep-seated tendency to say 'I can't do it.' when they find something difficult, after all. Everyone can do arithmetic, though. It's a minimum level reachable by all, if the student hasn't been undermined at some crucial stage.
Why do people say, 'I can't do it.', so easily. Is it all down to the inherent laziness of the brain? It's fairly well known that the brain is fundamentally conservative (small 'c') and that it discourages the formation of new patterns of grooves in its structure. A therapist told me that on a passing occasion, so I choose to believe that it's true. That's why people are so prone to not learning new things as they get older. It's not just that it's harder, which it of course it, but that biology itself resists. This is a reason why pessimism is hard-wired into the human psyche in many ways.
So, if you have one student who is convinced that arithmetic is hard and that they can't do numbers, then you really have to start to find leverage and work not on the arithmetic so much as the mental block. That's the hard part. That's the challenge beyond the challenge, and it's where a slip up can make things so much worse than better. Oh, for an easy life!
O.
Thursday, 17 August 2017
On The Book Piles VII
Let's look at what's lurking on the piles this time. Would you believe some things have actually changed? It's a miracle! Some titles continue, however, to lurk...
'Kentucky Thriller' by Lauren St John (2013)
Not started yet, but it's time is coming soon. This young readers' adventure, the third in the series, will hopefully live up to the first episode more than the second, but we will see.
'Journey To The West' (Volume 2) by Wu Cheng'en (~1590)
Lots of progress in 'Journey To The West', as Monkey continues to become more and more of a superhero while the rest of the pilgrimage party become increasingly similar to idiot sidekicks. Monkey's antic are awesome, if occasionally coarse, and leads you to wonder at the relationship that the historical Chinese peoples had with nature, spirituality and the animal kingdom. Also, the sheer number of ghosts, gods, spirits, immortals, demons and monks is impressive, to say the least. Very much recommended, if you can take the thousands of pages that make up the whole four volume episodic epic. It's essentially a million interconnected short stories, with cliffhangers. Are the Chinese to blame for serialisation? Oh, the horror!
'The Conan Chronicles' (Volume 2) (1932-1934) by Robert E Howard
Two stories in, and this collection shines very brightly indeed. The man was a certifiable genius, although he is still obsessed with the adjective 'supple' in this second collection. It's important to note that the stories were written out of sequence, while these two collections try to put them in order of Conan's fictional life, so the quality jumps up and down a little. They're still very inventive, no matter which way you look at them, full of lurid details and slimy monsters from the depths. At certain points, you wonder at just how much braver publications were in their content back in the old days. Well done, Robert E Howard. More will follow once it's completed.
'Till Death Do Us Part' by John Dickson Carr (1944)
Just a few pages in, and it becomes clear that this is an entirely different beast of a story to 'The Hollow Man'. It's still familiar, thanks to the Radio 4 adaptation, again featuring the great Donald Sinden, but in a lesser fashion. The central problem so far is this: Did Dick Markham's fiancée really kill the fortune teller at the village fête for knowing about her alleged past, or is he succumbing to paranoia while the true culprit roams free? Only Dr Gideon Fell will be able to penetrate the lies and reach the truth...
'Somebody Owes Me Money' by Donald E Westlake (1969)
Ah, Donald Westlake, the man behind 'The Hot Rock'. This is a lesser known example of his work, currently half read during a sudden burst of re-reading, and is pretty solid. If you don't expect the heights of 'The Hot Rock' or 'God Save The Mark', then it's a nice diversion. A character piece with occasional bursts of adventure and mystery. The main advantage of Westlake is still nicely present: The brilliantly humorous prose. Let's hope it ends well!
'The Voyage Of The Beagle' by Charles Darwin (1839)
Yes, it's still there! Still languishing on the non-fiction pile, but now in top position as Freud's book on jokes has finally been finished. (It was good.) There's not a lot to write. No progress, but I know it's probably very interesting, with lots of detail of the natural world. The next coach journey will see massive progress, definitely.
'Galileo's Daughter' by Dava Sobel (1999)
Only a few pages in, still, but it will fly by once it's restarted. There's something so very intriguing about reading the correspondence to Galileo from his daughter. Yes, his side has been lost, but we still have hints and fragments of his life as reflected in her writing. It might even warrant some writing after it's read! We can only wait and see...
O.
'Kentucky Thriller' by Lauren St John (2013)
Not started yet, but it's time is coming soon. This young readers' adventure, the third in the series, will hopefully live up to the first episode more than the second, but we will see.
'Journey To The West' (Volume 2) by Wu Cheng'en (~1590)
Lots of progress in 'Journey To The West', as Monkey continues to become more and more of a superhero while the rest of the pilgrimage party become increasingly similar to idiot sidekicks. Monkey's antic are awesome, if occasionally coarse, and leads you to wonder at the relationship that the historical Chinese peoples had with nature, spirituality and the animal kingdom. Also, the sheer number of ghosts, gods, spirits, immortals, demons and monks is impressive, to say the least. Very much recommended, if you can take the thousands of pages that make up the whole four volume episodic epic. It's essentially a million interconnected short stories, with cliffhangers. Are the Chinese to blame for serialisation? Oh, the horror!
'The Conan Chronicles' (Volume 2) (1932-1934) by Robert E Howard
Two stories in, and this collection shines very brightly indeed. The man was a certifiable genius, although he is still obsessed with the adjective 'supple' in this second collection. It's important to note that the stories were written out of sequence, while these two collections try to put them in order of Conan's fictional life, so the quality jumps up and down a little. They're still very inventive, no matter which way you look at them, full of lurid details and slimy monsters from the depths. At certain points, you wonder at just how much braver publications were in their content back in the old days. Well done, Robert E Howard. More will follow once it's completed.
'Till Death Do Us Part' by John Dickson Carr (1944)
Just a few pages in, and it becomes clear that this is an entirely different beast of a story to 'The Hollow Man'. It's still familiar, thanks to the Radio 4 adaptation, again featuring the great Donald Sinden, but in a lesser fashion. The central problem so far is this: Did Dick Markham's fiancée really kill the fortune teller at the village fête for knowing about her alleged past, or is he succumbing to paranoia while the true culprit roams free? Only Dr Gideon Fell will be able to penetrate the lies and reach the truth...
'Somebody Owes Me Money' by Donald E Westlake (1969)
Ah, Donald Westlake, the man behind 'The Hot Rock'. This is a lesser known example of his work, currently half read during a sudden burst of re-reading, and is pretty solid. If you don't expect the heights of 'The Hot Rock' or 'God Save The Mark', then it's a nice diversion. A character piece with occasional bursts of adventure and mystery. The main advantage of Westlake is still nicely present: The brilliantly humorous prose. Let's hope it ends well!
'The Voyage Of The Beagle' by Charles Darwin (1839)
Yes, it's still there! Still languishing on the non-fiction pile, but now in top position as Freud's book on jokes has finally been finished. (It was good.) There's not a lot to write. No progress, but I know it's probably very interesting, with lots of detail of the natural world. The next coach journey will see massive progress, definitely.
'Galileo's Daughter' by Dava Sobel (1999)
Only a few pages in, still, but it will fly by once it's restarted. There's something so very intriguing about reading the correspondence to Galileo from his daughter. Yes, his side has been lost, but we still have hints and fragments of his life as reflected in her writing. It might even warrant some writing after it's read! We can only wait and see...
O.
Wednesday, 16 August 2017
Nothing Happening
The rain is falling once again, as it seemingly has forever. Exhaustion has set in, and the keys tap reluctantly into action. What to write about this time? Insanity and the common cold? The gigantic challenge of building confidence in reluctant students in mathematics? The supreme disappointment that is the main feature of starting the third season of 'Alias'? The final few episodes of 'The Goodies'? John Dickson Carr? The history of the tin? Well, it can't be the latter, as I know nothing about tins at this time, except that they were presumably at one point made out of tin? Are they even made out of tin now?
It might be time to look into the Phrontistery, that grand collection of disused and rare words. Dipping into 'k', we find the following:
'kenspeckle: easily recognizable or distinguishable',
'kibble: the bucket of a well',
'krobylos: tuft of hair on the top of the head'.
Once again, it's fascinating to see just how many words have fallen out of usage. Were they ever in usage? Would hordes of the fashionably inclined (the superficiality of it all!) be disgusted if they realised they were afflicted with krobyloses? In all likelihood, they would be. Mwahahaha, cackle, et cetera et cetera. Nope, it's not working. No juice from rare words at this point. It might be time to retire for the nigh, and get back to sleeping and unconsciously planning the next few bits of 'Wordspace' or the rewriting of 'The Disappearance'. There's still the sequence of games to be played in the first annual end of the summer holidays tutoring group board games extravaganza party, too.
Oh well, this blog post is curtailed due to exhaustion. We can't win every time.
O.
It might be time to look into the Phrontistery, that grand collection of disused and rare words. Dipping into 'k', we find the following:
'kenspeckle: easily recognizable or distinguishable',
'kibble: the bucket of a well',
'krobylos: tuft of hair on the top of the head'.
Once again, it's fascinating to see just how many words have fallen out of usage. Were they ever in usage? Would hordes of the fashionably inclined (the superficiality of it all!) be disgusted if they realised they were afflicted with krobyloses? In all likelihood, they would be. Mwahahaha, cackle, et cetera et cetera. Nope, it's not working. No juice from rare words at this point. It might be time to retire for the nigh, and get back to sleeping and unconsciously planning the next few bits of 'Wordspace' or the rewriting of 'The Disappearance'. There's still the sequence of games to be played in the first annual end of the summer holidays tutoring group board games extravaganza party, too.
Oh well, this blog post is curtailed due to exhaustion. We can't win every time.
O.
Monday, 14 August 2017
The Literary Reflection, V
Once again, it's time to take a quick look at the books that have made if off the book piles recently, but don't fit having whole posts to themselves. It's a defiantly mixed bag!
'The Ship Who Won' by Anne McCaffrey and Jody Lynn Nye (1994) and 'The Ship Errant' by Jody Lynn Nye (1996)
These two were read in the wrong order, but is my liking the second one more a result of that or is it just down to the qualities of the two novels? 'The Ship Errant' seemed a lot more interesting and less hacky than 'The Ship Who Won', although they both have good ideas. The first has the living scout ship Carialle and her crewman Keff discover a world where sorcerors and magicians apparently rule the roost, while the second sees the spacefaring duo escort some newly discovered aliens (see first book) back to their homeworld for technical assistance, but end up in a piratical conflict en-route. If you're interested at all, read 'The Ship Errant'. It feels more original and less drawn-out, thanks to the absence of the ambiguous force that was Anne McCaffrey at the time. Also, there's a Frog Prince. Who's not going to like that?
'Murder Must Advertise' by Dorothy L Sayers (1933)
I'm just not sure. The best mysteries are ones you want to read again, despite knowing the solution to the puzzle. 'Murder Must Advertise' just about manages on that level, but that's mainly due to the exposé of advertising. It's a mild-mannered exposé, but it is one, nonetheless, and is still relevant. The 'Lord Peter Wimsey' series is very uneven, sometimes being wonderful and romantic and at other times rather tedious, but 'Murder Must Advertise' is very solid. I wonder, though, how confusing it would be to read the book without any knowledge of the rest of the Wimsey stories? Would it be perplexing to wonder just why we're spending so much thime with this 'Death Bredon' as he probes the goings on at Pym's advertising company after an accidental death that must have been murder? What does it all have to do with drug running, and how does a cricket match fit into it all? Pretty solid, but it's not going to contend with 'Gaudy Night' for best in the series. There are some finely written sequences during the illicit parties, though.
'The Ascent Of Rum Doodle' by WE Bowman (1956)
This is a classic comedy, a well-sustained parody about an inept and oblivious expedition leader's ordeals while leading a group of misfit moutaineers on an ascent of the legendary tallest mountain Rum Doodle. It would be about as famous as Jerome K Jerome's 'Three Men In A Boat', but for its higher levels of parody and satire. Comedies are hard to write about, so we shall move on to some questions instead. Can you resist the lure of the mountain? Do you want to be mystified by the missing Camp One? Can you stand being perplexed by Binder's obsession with fiancées, pushed to the edge of doom by Pong's diabolical cuisine, or taunted by the evils of butter beans? And what about the medical supplies? If so, you should head straight for Rum Doodle, and join in the first-person cluelessness. It's really very good, although you might have to make allowances for the Asian stereotypes of the time, even as applied to a completely made up nationality.
'Jokes And Their Relation To The Unconscious' by Sigmund Freud (German 1940, English 1960)
If it hadn't taken years to read the Standard Edition of this volume of the complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud, it would probably get a weblog post all of its own. However, it has taken such a long time, that it's impossible to talk about it in any kind of depth. The genius and brilliance are clearly apparent, however, and the writing is surprisingly clear and easy to understand. Perhaps, and this is meant with humility, an enlarged vocabulary is advantageous in reading the translations of Freud. You don't want to go into these things without some experience in reading articles and textbooks. This text comes somewhere in the middle of the set chronologically, and was chosen as it seemed that an analysis of jokes might make it the most accessible of the bunch. It was indeed very easy to get into, and then went in a few unexpected directions. It was fascinating, especially in considering just what makes a joke a joke. Innocent jokes, tendentious jokes, the differences between jokes, the comic and humour. It's all in there. Next time, it won't take several years to read! And it will get a post all of its own! I just need to get through this Jung textbook first...
O.
'The Ship Who Won' by Anne McCaffrey and Jody Lynn Nye (1994) and 'The Ship Errant' by Jody Lynn Nye (1996)
These two were read in the wrong order, but is my liking the second one more a result of that or is it just down to the qualities of the two novels? 'The Ship Errant' seemed a lot more interesting and less hacky than 'The Ship Who Won', although they both have good ideas. The first has the living scout ship Carialle and her crewman Keff discover a world where sorcerors and magicians apparently rule the roost, while the second sees the spacefaring duo escort some newly discovered aliens (see first book) back to their homeworld for technical assistance, but end up in a piratical conflict en-route. If you're interested at all, read 'The Ship Errant'. It feels more original and less drawn-out, thanks to the absence of the ambiguous force that was Anne McCaffrey at the time. Also, there's a Frog Prince. Who's not going to like that?
'Murder Must Advertise' by Dorothy L Sayers (1933)
I'm just not sure. The best mysteries are ones you want to read again, despite knowing the solution to the puzzle. 'Murder Must Advertise' just about manages on that level, but that's mainly due to the exposé of advertising. It's a mild-mannered exposé, but it is one, nonetheless, and is still relevant. The 'Lord Peter Wimsey' series is very uneven, sometimes being wonderful and romantic and at other times rather tedious, but 'Murder Must Advertise' is very solid. I wonder, though, how confusing it would be to read the book without any knowledge of the rest of the Wimsey stories? Would it be perplexing to wonder just why we're spending so much thime with this 'Death Bredon' as he probes the goings on at Pym's advertising company after an accidental death that must have been murder? What does it all have to do with drug running, and how does a cricket match fit into it all? Pretty solid, but it's not going to contend with 'Gaudy Night' for best in the series. There are some finely written sequences during the illicit parties, though.
'The Ascent Of Rum Doodle' by WE Bowman (1956)
This is a classic comedy, a well-sustained parody about an inept and oblivious expedition leader's ordeals while leading a group of misfit moutaineers on an ascent of the legendary tallest mountain Rum Doodle. It would be about as famous as Jerome K Jerome's 'Three Men In A Boat', but for its higher levels of parody and satire. Comedies are hard to write about, so we shall move on to some questions instead. Can you resist the lure of the mountain? Do you want to be mystified by the missing Camp One? Can you stand being perplexed by Binder's obsession with fiancées, pushed to the edge of doom by Pong's diabolical cuisine, or taunted by the evils of butter beans? And what about the medical supplies? If so, you should head straight for Rum Doodle, and join in the first-person cluelessness. It's really very good, although you might have to make allowances for the Asian stereotypes of the time, even as applied to a completely made up nationality.
'Jokes And Their Relation To The Unconscious' by Sigmund Freud (German 1940, English 1960)
If it hadn't taken years to read the Standard Edition of this volume of the complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud, it would probably get a weblog post all of its own. However, it has taken such a long time, that it's impossible to talk about it in any kind of depth. The genius and brilliance are clearly apparent, however, and the writing is surprisingly clear and easy to understand. Perhaps, and this is meant with humility, an enlarged vocabulary is advantageous in reading the translations of Freud. You don't want to go into these things without some experience in reading articles and textbooks. This text comes somewhere in the middle of the set chronologically, and was chosen as it seemed that an analysis of jokes might make it the most accessible of the bunch. It was indeed very easy to get into, and then went in a few unexpected directions. It was fascinating, especially in considering just what makes a joke a joke. Innocent jokes, tendentious jokes, the differences between jokes, the comic and humour. It's all in there. Next time, it won't take several years to read! And it will get a post all of its own! I just need to get through this Jung textbook first...
O.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)