It is true talent that can write the same story over and over again, retaining the essentials, and yet making it all seem completely different. Every time I open a Hornblower book, I know Horatio is going to triumph, I know he is going to distinguish himself, and I know he is going to make it home, and yet the novel is still captivating from start to finish.
Commodore Hornblower followed this wildly successful formula as Horatio traveled to Russia and dined with the Czar, successfully held off French advances in the Baltic, and caught typhus and survived. An extraordinary story, but fun nonetheless.
I think it is Forester's amazing grasp of, if I can say this without sounding pretentious, the human condition, that makes the books so enjoyable. The illustrious adventure is secondary. If the stories consisted merely of Horatio going about his daily life in England, they would be just as enthralling.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
The Diaries of Adam and Eve by Mark Twain
Mark Twain was rather anatagonistic towards religion, and, according to the afterword of this book, he regarded the story of Adam and Eve as merely a fable. While he took some liberties with the story, he was very compassionate to the couple, although he did not have much love for the God who made them.
In The Diaries, Adam and Eve never have any direct contact with their creator. They are basically left to fend for themselves. Twain postulates that because they had no knowledge of good and evil, they could not know that it was evil to eat of the tree, and so they are not to blame for doing so. Herein lies his error. They might not have known good and evil, but certainly they had knowledge of obedience. God told Adam to name the animals, and he promptly did so. They had knowledge of death, for Eve did not eat of the tree until the serpent told her she would not die. In this way, they also had knowledge of consequences. All they were lacking, really, was this knowledge of good and evil, the only one that could hurt them. For once they knew what it was to do wrong, they would.
On another note, the afterword said that much of the story was a picture of Twain's marriage, and of how much he loved his wife. I found that satisfying. Many authors had horrible, or non-existent, relationships. It is pleasant to know Twain had a wonderful marriage, with kids, and an excellent literary career
In The Diaries, Adam and Eve never have any direct contact with their creator. They are basically left to fend for themselves. Twain postulates that because they had no knowledge of good and evil, they could not know that it was evil to eat of the tree, and so they are not to blame for doing so. Herein lies his error. They might not have known good and evil, but certainly they had knowledge of obedience. God told Adam to name the animals, and he promptly did so. They had knowledge of death, for Eve did not eat of the tree until the serpent told her she would not die. In this way, they also had knowledge of consequences. All they were lacking, really, was this knowledge of good and evil, the only one that could hurt them. For once they knew what it was to do wrong, they would.
On another note, the afterword said that much of the story was a picture of Twain's marriage, and of how much he loved his wife. I found that satisfying. Many authors had horrible, or non-existent, relationships. It is pleasant to know Twain had a wonderful marriage, with kids, and an excellent literary career
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
I spent two weeks on Walden Pond, figuratively, but it felt like I spent two years, literally, as Thoreau did. It wasn't a bad time, though. In fact, it was quite enlightening. It is not often a book actually alters the manner in which I think. It is also not often I consider a classic novel worthy of the adulation it is showered with by the academic who wrote the introduction. Walden is an exceptional book.
Thoreau employs a loose, meandering, but ultimately cohesive style. He expounds upon all the elements the time he spent on Walden Pond, essentially just living. He proved his assertion that one could easily provide for himself through subsistence farming and living simply. He was exceedingly quotable: "As if you could kill time without injuring eternity!" Or, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." When he said he could be satisfied anywhere as long as he had his thoughts, I read in awe.
I appreciated Thoreau's perspective immeasurably. I find applications for it everywhere I go. Driving down the 91 recently, I marveled at the sheer number of people in southern California, and I thought of how few take the time to immerse themselves in nature for a few hours. Goodness knows I don't do so enough, and I do it far more often than most.
Thoreau's thoughts pervaded mine as I toured some acquaintances' new tract home. It was profane, truly. The house was so large, and yet not big enough. There was never a better example of Thoreau's house-as-a-prison concept. It was all so generic. The same house was repeated for miles, squeezed immorally close together. The neighbors' windows faced each other directly; the builders had not even the courtesy to stagger them. From the second story, one could see all of the surrounding yards, and the people in them. There was a convenient ledge situated underneath the windows, ostensibly to assist one when one desired to jump off.
When my acquaintances suggested we buy the house for sale down the street, I almost choked. The thought of exchanging our twenty undeveloped acreas for a concrete box with barely a patch of sky visible between towering masses of manufactured nothingness...
Thoreau employs a loose, meandering, but ultimately cohesive style. He expounds upon all the elements the time he spent on Walden Pond, essentially just living. He proved his assertion that one could easily provide for himself through subsistence farming and living simply. He was exceedingly quotable: "As if you could kill time without injuring eternity!" Or, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." When he said he could be satisfied anywhere as long as he had his thoughts, I read in awe.
I appreciated Thoreau's perspective immeasurably. I find applications for it everywhere I go. Driving down the 91 recently, I marveled at the sheer number of people in southern California, and I thought of how few take the time to immerse themselves in nature for a few hours. Goodness knows I don't do so enough, and I do it far more often than most.
Thoreau's thoughts pervaded mine as I toured some acquaintances' new tract home. It was profane, truly. The house was so large, and yet not big enough. There was never a better example of Thoreau's house-as-a-prison concept. It was all so generic. The same house was repeated for miles, squeezed immorally close together. The neighbors' windows faced each other directly; the builders had not even the courtesy to stagger them. From the second story, one could see all of the surrounding yards, and the people in them. There was a convenient ledge situated underneath the windows, ostensibly to assist one when one desired to jump off.
When my acquaintances suggested we buy the house for sale down the street, I almost choked. The thought of exchanging our twenty undeveloped acreas for a concrete box with barely a patch of sky visible between towering masses of manufactured nothingness...
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Captain Horatio Hornblower by C.S. Forester
One's view of the Hornblower books only improves as one becomes more acquainted with them. Horatio just gets better and better. Originally published in three separate stories, Captain Horatio Hornblower's thread of continuity is Lady Barbara.
In "Beat to Quarters," Hornblower is forced to take Lady Barbara aboard because of fever in Panama. The two become enamoured with each other, but, pity of pities, Hornblower is married. Barbara gets married herself in "Ship of the Line." At sea, a defeated Hornblower surrenders to the French, and is taken prisoner.
A commentary I once read compared Horatio to Sherlock Holmes in terms of their audiences' adulation, but I've found another similarity. In the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, many cases illuminate the detective's powers of reasoning despite his occasional inability to solve the mystery or save his client. Likewise, Horatio's naval defeat illustrates his indefatigable resolve and ingenuity.
In "Flying Colours," Horatio escapes from French captivity and manages to return to England by commandeering a prize ship. Once home, he finds Maria dead of childbirth, and Barbara a naval widow caring for his infant. Things resolve themselves serendipitously.
I found Forester's habit of epithet intriguing. It was a delightful way to characterize characters. Maria was often "cloying" with her affections; Horatio was continually plagued with his "cross-grainedness." Great, great stuff.
In "Beat to Quarters," Hornblower is forced to take Lady Barbara aboard because of fever in Panama. The two become enamoured with each other, but, pity of pities, Hornblower is married. Barbara gets married herself in "Ship of the Line." At sea, a defeated Hornblower surrenders to the French, and is taken prisoner.
A commentary I once read compared Horatio to Sherlock Holmes in terms of their audiences' adulation, but I've found another similarity. In the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, many cases illuminate the detective's powers of reasoning despite his occasional inability to solve the mystery or save his client. Likewise, Horatio's naval defeat illustrates his indefatigable resolve and ingenuity.
In "Flying Colours," Horatio escapes from French captivity and manages to return to England by commandeering a prize ship. Once home, he finds Maria dead of childbirth, and Barbara a naval widow caring for his infant. Things resolve themselves serendipitously.
I found Forester's habit of epithet intriguing. It was a delightful way to characterize characters. Maria was often "cloying" with her affections; Horatio was continually plagued with his "cross-grainedness." Great, great stuff.
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