Quarterly Book Reviews #6

MEN'S STUDIES
A Quiet Strength: Meditations on the Masculine Soul by Wayne Kritsberg, John Lee, and Shephard Bliss

Written by three veterans of the men's movement, this wonderful book contains daily readings and meditations on a variety of issues, including recovery, personal growth, relationships and environmental concerns. A brief quotation from the masters of world literature, philosophy or religion is followed by nicely written commentaries and inspirational messages. Written at the time when men's mythopoetic movement was at its highest, it's still a great resource.

FICTION
The Reconstructionist by Josephine Hart

Beautifully written tale of coping with one's dysfunctional family and personal history, real and fabricated - and why we all fall prey to coming up with personal history narrative(s) in the first place. Simple language, great style. Two thumbs up!

RELIGION/SPIRITUALITY
The Eternal Promise by Thomas Kelly

Better known for his Quaker classic "A Testament of Devotion", Thomas Kelly's essays in this small but powerful volume include such gems as "Christians and Decided Christians", "Hasten unto God" and "The Gathered Meeting." Appealing to Quakers and non-Quakers alike, his essays are a great introduction to the rich world of Friends' spirituality.

FICTION
The Remorseful Day by Colin Dexter

I enjoyed reading this final Inspector Morse novel. However, I found the author's language and style a bit tedious and patronizing at times (only Dexter could come up with expressions such as vespertinal divertissments or transmensal exchanges). Also, the characters seem somewhat underdeveloped. Page turner it is, but that's just about all it is.

FICTION
The Crow Road by Iain Banks

Absolutely brilliant, pleasure to read! Contemporary Scottish lit at its best. It's one of those books you'd wish to just go on and on, without ever coming to an end. It was only recently that I read somewhere that the BBC Scotland turned it into a mini series back in the mid-90s to much acclaim. Would be worth watching.

FICTION
Fear and Trembling by Amelie Nothomb

Having never read any of Ms Nothomb's books before, I bought this book at a Christmas sale in one of the local bookstores led by nothing more than a positive review from O: The Oprah Magazine at the back cover. It turned out to be one the best books I've read in '07. It's been a while since a book made me laugh quite so hard. Funny and nightmarish at almost the same time, this slender volume describes working atmosphere in a Japanese corporation and a Westerner's coping with modern yet ancient Japanese social mores. Thanks for the tip, Oprah!

Spam as postmodern cult lit?

Most people simply delete spam messages like the one below without ever reading them. And yet, with their elaborate plots involving international crime, human trafficking, political oppression and a host of other problems in various nondescript third world countries, they have approached the status of a literary genre of sorts.

I can't stop wondering, who comes up with these emails? Where do these people draw inspiration from? Action movies, whodunits, international news, real life? Do they honestly expect anyone in their right mind to follow through their instructions, involving money transfer and travelling to the far reaches of the world? Has anyone ever bought into that?

One can understand the logic behind those brief emails promising instant relief from insomnia, depression or erectile dysfunction, but this sort of spam is too sophisticated and elaborate for something that makes no sense at all. There's got to be more to it.

My dear, I am miss Angela from Asmara, Eritrea, single and 21 years old. After accessing your details in the internet i copied out only your email address. Immediately after going through your information i made up my mind to contact you for long term relationship, because you are my choice of trust and i see nothing wrong with the choice that i have made in you. Now that i am in a state of absolute confusion I must let you know that my daddy was the Financial controler to the Common Wealth North African Region.
About my parents; My mummy died in labour when she was giving birth to a baby in the hospital in Asmara, and both my mummy and the baby died together, then i was only 11 years of age. My daddy died in a car accident and the car driver that jamed my daddy's car ran away and my daddy's lawyer and my daddy's brother are among the suspects, and they are all against me because of my daddy's properties in Eritrea.The following information is my purpose of choosing you. Before my daddy died he made me the beneficiary of the amount of 14.5 Million gbp£ in his account with citi bank in oxford street, London, i have the bank certificate of account in my travelling bag in this prison. on my way travelling to London, England i arrived this Dakar city on transit, on the same night i arrived Dakar i was attacked by 2 big boys in my guest house (hotel) room, they robbed me, collected my hand bag that contained all my travelling money (390,200$) and travelling documents, as if that was not enough, they tried to rape me so i collected the nearest object in the room and hited one of them on the head and screamed to the hearing of the neighbouring compounds and people came out and descended on the criminals, the next morning the police came to the guest house and arrested me, since then i have been kept under awaiting trial here in this central prison of Dakar because the criminal i heated got paralyzed as a result of the severe beating given to him by the neighborhood.

I am among the girls newly appointed to head the girls sector in this prison, hence i have the advantage to use the prison computer to communicate with you, and i will be very glad to also have a detailed information about you. From here i communicated with citi bank and they said that because of the written agreement that my daddy signed with them that i must be present in their bank to withdraw the money by myself OR that i should ask my foreign partner to claim and receive the money on my behalf, but the problem is that i dont have a foreign partner, so i want you to be my foreign partner and also be my financial and investment manager. i know that i am taking a big risk but there is nothing else i can do than to trust someone and to trust someone is by choice and you are my choice of trust. I want to know what is your name and your present occupation and your house address.

The money is my only hope in life. as soon as citi bank send the money to you, you will use some of the money to get me a Dakar lawyer/s to fight for my case and get me out of here, then the same week of my release you will fly down here in Dakar City and i and you will depart to your home in your country together.

Reply me only on email ONLY.
I am waiting for your reply
Miss Angela Kennedy

First snow in Belgrade

I woke up at 5.30 this morning, with a sore throat and a head manically producing lists of things that need to be dealt with over the weekend.

The cat is ill again and needs to be taken to the vet, pronto; my students' test books and homework are waiting on the desk and need to be marked by Monday morning; it's grandpa's birthday on Sunday - I need to think of something more creative for a present than yet another pair of socks; a dear childhood friend from my hometown in Croatia found me on Facebook and emailed me last weekend, and I haven't had any time to write her back; I've got two hours of Latin & Greek to teach from 2 pm, and I haven't prepared anything in advance.

The cacophony went on and on like that for what seemed like half an hour, but it turned out to be no longer than a minute or two. Time seems to run at a different pace when you're in that semi-awake state in the wee hours of morning.

All of a sudden the mental clatter disappeared as I realised that the trees outside were covered with a thick layer of snow. Instantly I felt like a child with no worries on his mind, none whatsoever. Hey, it's snowing! What could possibly be more relevant or important than that?

Peanuts

Who would've thought that there's a connection between Peanuts and Mormonism. Admittedly, not an obvious one.

There's been a debate over a recently published biography of Charles M. Schulz (Schulz and Peanuts: A Biography), in which he was apparently portrayed as a cold, depressed and melancholy person. Contrary to otherwise positive reviews the book got, Charles' son Monte called it "stupid" while referring to its author, David Michaelis, as "an idiot".

But it was Schulz' daughter Amy's recent post that I found most interesting. In it she describes how her father, a Bible-believing Church of God member, responded to her conversion to Mormonism. It's a different take on Schulz' personality and character, one too intimate and first-hand to be found in any of the biographies.

In any case, it's an interesting piece of trivia for any Charles M. Schulz fans out there.

Belgrade Book Fair

This is the cultural event in Belgrade that I love to hate, generating more pet peeves for me than any other.

It never fails to turn into an ordeal. First off, it's too crowded and there are way too many stalls. Naturally, you don't want to miss anything, because it's such a huge and important event and all, so you elbow your way to literary delights until you're dehydrated, dizzy, with a massive headache and too many bags to carry around. About as hectic as like last-minute Christmas shopping.

On the other hand, I love it because I always find great stuff there. This year I went with a list of desiderata with Iain Banks and Margaret Atwood among the top five (thanks for the tip, Dragana!). Not that they're difficult to find in local bookshops, but the discounts were really amazing. I got home with a supply of books that is bound to last until spring.

One thing I was really sorry about was not saying hello to one of my favourite authors, Croatian novelist Miljenko Jergovic. I kept bumping into him all the time (I hope he didn't think I was stalking him!). It was only days after I finished reading his Mama Leone. The book really touched me; excellent piece of writing. I'm certain to blog about it in the next instalment of my book reviews some time in December. I hope he'll be at the Fair next year.

There was one notable change that I feel I should mention: the removal of most of the fast food kiosks from the grounds. No as much smoke from all the kebabs and burgers... Although I'm left wondering whether it's a case of a new cultural policy or perhaps of giving monopoly on feeding the starved masses of Serbian bookworms to that one lone strategically positioned burger joint.

P.S. And the Zen award goes to the British Council for their quite unusual presence. They went minimalist this year, with nothing but a tiny information desk in the middle of a large and totally empty space. Go figure.

The dread of giving presentations

I'm doing a presentation on blogging in English language teaching tomorrow morning.

The last time I did a presentation on anything was back in high school when I shared my long-forgotten passion for the German art scene of the 1920s in a History of Art class. Seems so long ago.

An important note for the Saturday morning crowd (who will be inspecting Saunterer's as a case in point): please answer the poll question found at the bottom of the right sidebar with brutal honesty. No sugar coatin'. And if the poll doesn't work (there were some problems earlier today), please post a brief comment. Thanks!

P.S. This brings back memory: Otto Dix, Meine Eltern. Just look at those hands...

Saluton!

As if I didn't have too much on my plate already, I took up learning Esperanto. By learning I mean doing online exercises powered by Lernu!, the leading free Esperanto website. That and downloading mp3 audios for the listen-and-repeat tasks.

It's weird and it definitely sounds funny, but it doesn't strike me as easy as people generally assume. Which is why I'm wondering why would anyone put so much time and effort into learning an artificial language, when there are easy to learn natural languages like Spanish, with far more speakers than Esperanto? Not to mention cultural background, literature etc.

I guess it's about the idea of having one common language for all of humanity, not any one national language with its baggage and issues of cultural imperialism, but a politically, nationally and culturally neutral one that everyone could claim as their own, simply on account of being able to learn its vocabulary and syntax. No strings attached.

But Esperanto, too, has its share of ideological baggage. Most of its vocabulary is taken from Romance and Germanic languages, which makes it easily understandable, but also very eurocentric. Also, it seems to be prospering in countries like China and Iran, where it's used for ideological and propaganda purposes. There are also various Esperanto offshoots, new artificial languages relentlessly competing with each other in an atmosphere that can be described as sectarian.

As far as I'm concerned, it's all part of the fun, language itself and all the bickering about it. And if the worst thing that could happen to me is meeting a Chinese communist Esperanto enthusiast, I think I'll survive.

Mother Teresa's 18.250 dark nights of the soul

A new book of Mother Teresa's letters continues to cause a stir in the world of religion. It has now come to light that the saintly woman spent most of her life doubting the very existence of God.

It seems that this piece of information won't have much influence on the ongoing process of her canonization, although she is not likely to be officially made a saint as soon as it was initially thought. The Vatican commission in charge is apparently having trouble finding any solid evidence for a miracle that happened through her intercession, one among a number of requirements.

She is by no means the only Catholic saint (or saint-to-be) famous for her doubt and struggle with faith. Among more popular ones is a medieval mystic St John of the Cross. Some already make comparisons between Mother Teresa's collection of letters and St John's "Dark Night of the Soul."

Seems like a timely piece of work for this day and age.

More on this: an editorial from Mennonite Weekly Review and an excellent On Point (NPR) podcast.

Quarterly Book Reviews #5

Temperature in Belgrade has suddenly dropped almost twenty degrees. I didn't expect to be wearing my winter woolies at the beginning of September, but autumn being my favourite season, I'm hardly complaining. The unexpected change in weather also came as a signal for me to sit down and make the seasonal inventory of the books I read during summer.
FICTION
The Royal Physician's Visit by Per Olov Enquist

Struggle for absolute power and economic reforms in the twilight of feudalism, intertwined with Pietism, revolutionary French rationalism and the constant wrestling between self-restraint and unfettered sexuality, all on the court of the mad King Christian VII of Denmark.

Not having any knowledge of Swedish, apart from a personal appreciation for that great Swedish word smörgåsbord, I read Enquist in Tiina Nunnally's excellent English translation.

Great novel, a real page turner.


RELIGION/HISTORY
Portrait in Grey: A Short History of the Quakers by John Punshon

There is only a handful of books I've had the desire or patience to read more than once. This is one of them.

It is my favourite of all the Quaker histories I've read so far, primarily due to the author's ability to provide insight into complex historical processes and ideological influences that shaped the Society of Friends, from its wild 17th century beginnings to what it is today (i.e. the exact opposite of wild) - all that in a very clear and concise way.


FICTION
Due Preparations for the Plague by Janette Turner Hospital

I am not into this sort of books normally, airplanes hijacked, hostages taken, survivors questioning their government's involvement... Anxiety, paranoia and claustrophobia easily transfer from characters to the reader. I couldn't put it down, and when I eventually finished reading it, it was with an uneasy sense of relief.

Very post-9/11.

FICTION
Grasshopper by Barbara Vine

Being a recent convert to Barbara Vine's novels, I'm still quite enthusiastic about her storytelling. Macabre, full of twists and turns, albeit somewhat repetitive, it was just the right combination of anguish, personal tragedy and psychopathy, as any Barbara Vine novel ought to be.

Probably not her best, but still thoroughly enjoyable.

Tides and ebbs

Home at last. Although I have two more weeks of summer break left, everything already seems so over. The rest of it will probably be spent in going through the motions, in anticipation of the new school year.

Croatia was great. The weather was unpredictable as usual, with scorching heat one moment and strong, cold northern wind gushing forth from the high peaks of Mt. Velebit the other. I love it when the clouds begin to gather and suddenly all the tourists quickly evacuate from the beaches, as if a fast-approaching natural disaster is about to wipe out the entire human race. Nothing ever happens, as the blackness normally disperses in about quarter of an hour, by which time people don't bother coming back to the beaches. Lunchtime anyway. There are always a few people left though, sitting happily along the coast, watching the tide rise and the waves grow powered by the wind. I can tell this is not their first visit to the village. We are in the know when it comes to local weather patterns.

My two cousins are right in thinking that nothing ever changes there. The same people sell their produce on the stalls at the minuscule village market, the same woman sells drinks and sandwiches on the beach, the same things happen at the local village feast of St Mary of the Angels in early August. Everything is cyclical there, tides and ebbs, the winds, coming and going of tourists, feasts of saints... Years ago, before the war, there was a large camping area near the beach, with beautiful, tall poplar tress that provided much needed shelter from the sun for the campers, mostly large groups of young Poles and Czechs. Someone cut down all the poplars soon after the war. This year there stood only two tents erected in the area. Numinous spirits of the place have vanished. Changes are unwelcome and disturbing. I do not welcome them.

The last evening in Karin I was feeling rather melancholic, in one of those states of mind when I feel able to converse pretty much only with plants and animals. I went to the small salt water pond opposite our summer house to say goodbye to the crabs, something I've been doing since early childhood. I found the pond full of life, seagulls minding their own business on the left, a lone heron searching for food on the right, and hundreds of crabs running in all directions in the shallow water. One daring little crab crawled toward me, raising its delicate claws as if to greet me. We played a little, exchanged goodbyes and I knew I was ready to pack.

The cat back home didn't seem to recognize me this time. Maybe she is giving me the silent treatment. Or perhaps my cat-sitting cousins who chose to skip Karin this year were too good to her and now I've fallen into disfavour.

Everything seems to come in cycles. Even the tides and ebbs of feline approval.

Back from Montenegro

I got back from Montenegro yesterday, finishing stage 1 of my summer holidays. It was good to be there in great company and with over a week of nothing else to do but swim, sunbathe and enjoy Mediterranean cuisine.

Not everything was great though. It was excruciatingly hot, as in most of the region. I don't think I have ever swum in a sea that warm. Nights were most frustrating, leading up to morning grumpiness and frequent daydreaming about a return to the comforts of my air-conditioned home. Now that I'm back, however, I miss all of it. It's always like that for me.

It was good to see that the cat hasn't forgotten all about me. It was the first time I left the city leaving her without my ever-watchful presence for over a week. She didn't seem to mind, which is great. Now I can get rid of some of the guilt for abandoning her next time I go somewhere.

Which will be in a couple of days, actually. Stage 2 begins this Sunday, when I'm leaving for another two-week journey to Croatia. Life can be really good at times.

End of school year!

I taught my last class this school year on Friday and, as much as I like my job, I am soooo looking forward to waking up on Monday morning, only to realize that I won't have to go to work - not until September!

I've already done some long overdue decluttering in my place over the weekend. I've thrown out piles of old notebooks, lesson plans, newsletters and magazines. Suffice it to say that I'm in a much calmer, although not entirely balanced state of mind right now...

Quarterly Book Reviews #4

LITERATURE
Strange Things: The Malevolent North in Canadian Literature by Margaret Atwood
Originally presented at Clarendon Lectures in English Literature, in this book Atwood analyzes a number of novels, poems and folk stories that might be cconsidered distinctly Canadian. She eloquently uses Franklin's expedition, Grey Owl and Wendigo as examples of historical, psychological and mythical undercurrents that give Canadian Lit a unique flavour.

Also noteworthy, the book contains excellent bibliography for anyone courageous enough to step into the fascinating world of the malevolent North on one's own. Through fiction, at least.

RELIGION
Son of Man: The Mystical Path to Christ by Andrew Harvey

More like four books in one. Part One (The Historical Jesus) is a lucid and progressive approach to Jesus as a man, teacher and revolutionary, not unlike Jesus as interpreted by other liberal Christian thinkers and theologians. Part Two (The Mystical Christ) relies a bit too heavily on the Gnostic gospels, which the author tends to treat as more authoritative than the canonical ones. In Part Three (Christ and the Sacred Feminine) the focus is shifted almost entirely on Mary, her mystic motherhood and divine femininity. Part Four is a collection of practices and meditations on the mystical Christ.

What the book lacks is a sort of bridge between the historical Jesus and the mystical Christ. Those who are prone to think of Jesus in more rational terms (as Harvey portrays him in Part One) are not very likely to endorse the rather advanced neognostic hyper-mysticism espoused by the author in other parts of the book.

RELIGION
Which Witch Is Which? compiled & edited by Patricia Telesco

A collection of articles about various neo-pagan traditions, written by the practitioners themselves. Each article contains contact adress(es) and suggestions for further reading about a particular group, coven or tradition. It's a Who's Who of neo-paganism; very easy to use, highly practical, especially for those who have just begun exploring this rather heterogeneous cluster of different spiritual traditions and practices.

FICTION
Augustus by Allan Massie
A historical novel in the form of reconstructed memoirs of Augustus, the first in the long line of Roman emperors. The good thing about it is that Massie clearly knows historical facts and also knows how to use them for the purpose of fine and exciting story-telling. The bad thing about it is that in the attempt to make history alive he goes a bit too far. For instance, you will find Maecenas calling Augustus "Duckie" and similar horrors which often result when authors insist on using modern language or jargon in historical novels. (Sorry, I'm just not a big fan of that.)

In short, the novel is good enough to make other Massie's books in the series (Tiberius, Calligula) worth checking out, but it is not quite in the same league with, say, Graves' famous I, Claudius.

In the absence of more intelligent things to write about

I had a haircut this morning. It never fails to brighten me up. And it seems to be linked, in some esoteric way, with an instant urge to workout and flex some muscles. Which is exactly what I did as soon as I got home, but that's beside the point (the whole fitness "routine" will only last a week or so, anyway).

What I did mean to write about is the sheer horror of realizing that my hair looked like a grey cat's fur. At least that's exactly what it looked like lying there on the floor, before they brushed it away. I just stared at it for a few moments, wondering whether that really was my hair, growing out of my head. And how could I have walked around all these weeks with that wretched thing on my head?

I'm so glad I'm back to my more presentable self now (or as my mother would delightfully put it, like-you-just-got-out-of-prison look).

Hello kitty!

I adopted a cat three weeks ago. She's such a wild little creature, without a modicum of sophistication or any semblance of decency (except for those precious moments when she's fast asleep, or too tired of running around, destroying anything that might cross her path). But I absolutely adore her, sharp claws, treacherous fangs, ruined furniture, many a sleepless night and all.

At least we agree on politics, which is no small thing. She likes to watch Arianna Huffington on YouTube with undivided attention. That's my girl!