Movie review: Away from Her (2007)

Away from Her (2007. D: Sarah Polley. Gordon Pinsent, Julie Christie, Olympia Dukakis)

Fiona's developing Alzheimer's results in her going into a long term care home. Grant has a very difficult time adjusting to this. At the home, Fiona starts a relationship with Aubrey, a fellow patient. His wife Marian takes him out of the home because she can't afford to keep him there without selling her house. Fiona becomes depressed. Grant comes to ask Marian to bring Aubrey back for a visit. She refuses. Later, Grant and Marian have sex. Marian sells her house, and brings Aubrey back to the home. When Grant is about to bring him to Fiona, Fiona has a lucid spell, as predicted by the nurse, and recalls that recently Grant was reading her Auden's Letters from Iceland. Grant is ecstatic that she remembers him. Fadeout. And that's the plot, based on an Alice Munro story.

Sarah Polley's adaptation of Munro's story, with its multiple layers and constant moving back and forth in time, is brilliant. The film mimics the unexpected and confusing rememberings that Alzheimer's patients are said to experience. The editing helps, with repetitive establishing shots and subtle shifts in colour, sound, and editing. The three leads are very good. The characters are all vulnerable, and it's that vulnerability that I think makes the film convincing.

Christie's performance as Fiona is wonderful. She changes from knowing that she is deteriorating, to repeating increasingly inappropriate social phrases, to being barely aware of where she is. Pinsent as Grant has captured the essence of a man used to having the supports of career, social rank, and a satisfying marriage, who realises that he can barely survive on his own, and must accept a diminished role in his own life. He doesn't realise that he has been defined by his surroundings and relationships all his life; he has believed that he was somehow self-defined. When Fiona loses her self to Alzheimer's, Grant loses his self too. He says he could not ever bear to be away from her, that's why he married her. In fact, he couldn't be himself without her; and now he must learn how do that. Dukakis as the no-nonsense wife-caregiver, who copes by pretending she is self-sufficient, knows she too needs comfort, even if only the illusion of a brief connection in bed. In the end, we have only ourselves. Those we love, and who love us, no matter how close we are, will always be apart from us.

Yet the movie isn't quite satisfying. It's a depressing story, and has its strongest moments at the beginning, when Fiona charts her own descent into non-self, and decides, while she still can, that it's time for her to go. It's Grant who can't accept the loss, who hopes that the stay in the home will be a short one, who wants to believe that Fiona is just being her quirky self, that therapy will bring her back. Towards the end, as he comes to accept that Fiona must move to the second floor (where the end stage patients are housed), we see that he will somehow survive in his new role as mere visitor. When at the end Fiona has one of those lucid times that the nurse has told Grant she will have, he accepts her embrace, blissed out by her mere presence. Is this a note of hope or of resignation? A recognition that we must accept small mercies gratefully, or the delusion that things will return to normal? Or a setup for even greater heartbreak? The ambiguities arise from the vagueness of Grant's character. The movie doesn't give us the answers, nor should it, but it should give us a clearer sense of how Grant has changed. ***

The Shadow Riders (L'Amour, 1982)

 

Louis L’Amour. The Shadow Riders. (1982) Colonel Ashford believes the South can raise again, with himself at its head. To make it happen, he’s assembled a gang of thirty-some drifters, mostly criminals. They attack and loot ranches on their way to Mexico, where Ashford expects to build a new Confederate Army, attack Texas, and then sweep across the South, etc and so and so forth.

Problem is, he’s attacked a Traven ranch, and then kidnapped some women whom he plans to sell in exchange for weapons. One of them is Mac Traven’s fiancee Kate Connery. Mac, his brother Dal and their Uncle Happy Jack trail Ashford’s wagon train through southeast Texas to the final showdown.

The copy I have touts the CBS TV movie (with Tom Selleck, Sam Elliot et al) based on the book, but it’s another L’Amour tale told with his usual skill. This one’s a bit thin on character, has useful backstory inserted where the plot demands it, and so on. Enjoyable for the L’Amour fan, but merely average. **½

Buckskin Run (L'Amour, 1981)

Louis L’Amour. Buckskin Run. (1981) Collection of short stories, which display all of L’Amour’s plots and characters. I enjoyed reading them. L’Amour understood the genre he was writing, and strove to make them historically accurate in setting and events. Here, he added brief stories of real people and events, which show that fiction’s need for plausibility tends to make reality stranger.

The title refers to a creek. A dispute between a settler (claiming the land legally) and the local cattle baron (pasturing his cattle illegally on government land) focuses on the water and grazing around it, complicated by rumours of gold and old unsolved murders, and of course the romantic subplot. Typical L’Amour tale.

** to *** 

Kilrone (L'Amour, 1966)

Louis L’Amour. Kilrone. (1966) Former army Captain Kilrone walks into an army post with news of the Bannocks assembling to attack Colonel Mellett’s column, and then the post itself. They’re being led by Medicine Dog. The commander in charge is Major Paddock, who believes that Kilrone is his rival for his wife’s affections. Dave Sproule, the owner of most of Hog Town, the nearby settlement that caters to off-duty soldiers’ needs and wants, has his own goals.

That’s the setup. The story moves swiftly, telling mostly of how Kilrone plans for defending the post, and how they survive the attack. Cross-cuts to the other strands of the tale give us the necessary overview, and also raise and maintain tension. The romances are resolved as they should be, and the villains get theirs.

A well-done early L’Amour which lacks only the polish, nuance and richer characterisation of the later ones. **½ 

Come Home Charlie. . . (Delderfield, 1969)

 R. F. Delderfield. Come Home Charlie, and Face Them. (1969) Charlie Pritchard is posted to Cadwallader’s Bank in Penmadoc. He rooms at the bank manager’s, whose daughter Ida likes him, and beds him, but thinks he lacks gumption. They enjoy each other’s company until Ida runs off to London.

Office politics at the bank are nasty. Charlie’s only escape is Delphine at the Rainbow Café. She and her brother Beppo persuade Charlie that robbing the bank is feasible, and most of the tale informs us of the trio’s plans and step-by-step progress towards their goal. It all unravels in the end of course, but Ida returns just in time to help Charlie put the pieces back together, one of which is his discovery that he likes her more than well enough to marry her, and not just from gratitude, either. There’s a satisfying amount of poetic justice, too. All’s well that ends well: The villains are punished, and Charlie is rescued by a good woman.

Charlie makes a convincing narrator. The story’s told from his vantage point near the end of his life, and he knows well enough how little he understood himself when he first arrived in Penmadoc. The novel is a coming-of-age story; the crime led him into self-awareness via a detour through semi-valid delusions about his control of the situation.

Recommended of you can find a copy. ***

Turncoat (Gutteridge 2003)

 Don Gutteridge. Turncoat (2003) First in a series. Upper Canada, 1837. A government sympathiser and informer may have been murdered. Lt Governor Sir John Colborne sends Ensign Marc Edwards to Crawford’s Corners to investigate. The local Sheriff assists, various inhabitants assist and obstruct, sometimes both, endemic smuggling both misleads and redirects the investigation, political and personal animosities interfere, and Beth, the victim’s daughter-in-law attracts Edwards’ romantic attention. Their courtship will be the backstory that ties the series together.

After a rather lengthy exposition, the story picks up speed. New pieces of the puzzle raise more questions than they answer. The style is efficient, and improves as the narrative proceeds. Gutteridge has taken care to research the period thoroughly, and creates a convincing ambiance. The solution is satisfactory logically, socially, and psychologically. Ensign Edwards is a nice young fellow, not too good to be true, and perhaps not quite as casually patronising as an Englishman of his class would be. The secondary characters are believable enough to carry the story. This was a second run at reading the book. After the first chapter or two, it drew me in, and I ended wanting to read more of Marc Edwards’ adventures. I’ll have to keep an eye out for the other books in the series.

Nicely done historical fiction. **½

Late Georgian Humor: Thomas Hood's Comic Annuals.

 Thomas Hood. Comic Annual, Vols I, II, & III.(1830, 1831, 1832) An odd set of books. Bound in board with marbled paper, printed on excellent pre-woodpulp paper, with engravings, slightly foxed. The prose pieces and verses are crammed with puns – Hood was famous for them Many of the pieces clearly allude to mild scandals and other concerns of the time. Many of the engravings present visual puns.  Most of the jokes and puns sound rather lame to 21st century ears, but tastes change, and this series was intended to amuse the whole family, so it had to be mild in its satire, and wholesome in its humour.

Annuals of all kinds became an English Christmas gift tradition. Peter and I received several during our time in England and after. Wear on these copies of Hood’s Annual indicates frequent (re)reading. According to his Wiki entry, the Annual was published until 1842; Hood made a decent living as a writer. I inherited these copies from Uncle Paul via Peter, and am glad to have them. Contents * to ****

Kings & Queens of England (Delderfield, 1966)

 Eric R. Delderfield. The Kings and Queens of England. (1966) Just what the title says, the monarchs listed in order, with dates and other statistics, and a brief summary of their reign. The author claims to have avoided bias as much as possible, and I think he’s succeeded. Portraits of most of them reproduced rather badly: halftone on plain paper tends to lose detail. A useful little reference book, so I’ll keep it. **½

The Golden Egg (Leon, 2013)

 Donna Leon. The Golden Egg (2013). The deaf-mute helper at the laundry that does Guido and Paola Brunetti’s dry-cleaning dies of apparent suicide. The necessary bureaucratic protocols fail to turn up any record of his existence. His mother gives conflicting and unverifiable accounts of their history. The neighbours, who know much of what actually happened, refuse to tell Brunetti what he needs to know. He eventually digs away the layers of  deception that victimised the man, but decides to withhold the final piece of the puzzle from the guilty person, because he cannot prove their guilt. But Brunetti knows that their plans will be thwarted when the evidence they believe will prove their claim to wealth will fail. The solution explains the title.

The casual corruption of Italian political and economic life is once again both backdrop and cause of the troubles and pains that these people suffer and inflict on each other. Leon’s great talent is imagining rounded characters: The walk-on parts are more than cardboard cutouts, and the main players are so fully imagined that we feel we would recognise them on the street.

Recommended. ****

Lapham's Quarterly: Crimes and Punishments (Spring 2009)

 Lapham’s Quarterly II/2, Spring 2009. Crimes and Punishments. A difficult read, consisting almost entirely of firsthand accounts. Two crimes figure most: the con, and murder. Mere theft is a distant third. Punishments have usually been horrendous, even for what we nowadays may think of as petty crimes. But they didn’t deter crime, which is as much an effect of social and economic factors as individual propensity.

Simply put, one can only choose from the options available, and for too many people too much of the time, theft, robbery and worse have been the best available choices. If the opportunity cost is low, even people enjoying economic and social security will be tempted. Systemic corruption may make the legal or ethical choice less attractive and even dangerous. When divorce entails severe financial or social costs, even murder may look like the better option. In short, crime occurs at the intersection of more or less limited choice and individual need and desire.

Most crime is rather mundane. The professional criminal, who plies crime as a chosen trade or profession, is the exception. So is the narcissist who commits crimes for pathological satisfaction. Dr Moriarty makes for dramatic story-telling, but there are few examples in real life. Ted Bundy’s are rare. But the rarer the event, the bigger the headlines, so that most (perhaps all) of us believe crime is both more common and more violent than it actually is.

Rare and extraordinary crimes are more likely to be recorded, which is why this collection is a difficult read. Most of the selections show us that depravity and greed have no limits. Nevertheless, recommended. ****

Poem: The Sea Son's Eyes Are Blue and Green

THE SEA SON'S EYES ARE BLUE AND GREEN
GOLDEN FISHES SWIM THEREIN
A poem for many voices

stars shape faces in his head, burst
coalesce and grow like trees
an old man's face
looms in the branches
see, see his hair
entangled in the boughs
see, see his hair
entangled in the branches of anemones

stars burst on the rocking water

I am scattered over the water
my fragments are scattered over the water
my face is entangled in the pattern the waves make
I am reborn in every motion of the water

stars burst in the rocking water

he gathers them into his head
they glitter
in the darkness
they blaze like the sun
that shattered on the water and became stars
bursting in the sea son's head, in silence
that touched the inside of his face
and grew like a tree

In that other place where these things happened
I sat me down by the waters of language and wept,
For behold, I had no face, my name was taken from me
And given to the wind.

[1973; publ. in 39 Below, Edmonton]

Politics As Lived: The Life (Paikin, 2001)

Steve Paikin. The Life (2001) Paikin has interviewed many politicians. Most want to serve the public good; Paikin admires both that willingness and the more or less cheerful acceptance of the slings and arrows of outraged citizens’ complaints.

Paikin knows that there are villains, venal timeservers, vain seekers of applause and such, but those aren’t the subject of this book. What we get is an informal political history of the times when  these politicians served. Paikin interviewed the politicians and also the back-room players, commentators, pollsters and others that make their living in politics, and so gives us multiple points of view. David Lougheed, Alexa McDonough, Bob Rae, Frances Lankin, Brian Mulroney, Allan Gregg, are just a few of the people we meet.

Paikin avoids analysis and comment. He tells the stories of these people as completely as he can. The result is a very human story of Canadian politics.

Politics is an unavoidable and I think necessary part of our communal life. We are a social species; rank and status both create and control conflict. Managing that conflict is the function of politics. Democracy makes for a messier form of politics, where power becomes a means and not an end. Well, that’s the theory, and by their own accounts, supported by the testimony of the other players, the politicians profiled here do want power more for what they can do when they have it than for its own sake. Paikin’s book shows why, so far, Canada hasn’t suffered the rule of a tyrant.

His book also shows that democratic participation in government goes beyond voting,  that paying attention to what the politicos are up to is the only way to help them govern us.

A good book, recommended. ****

Dogsbody: There was one of the clan at every important (an unimportant) event in history.

 E. O. Parrott. The Dogsbody Papers (1988) The history of the Dogsbody clan from prehistoric time to the present, told through a variety of snips and bits. Parrott assembled them into this book. Written by several people, which makes for a variety of style and tone, and so prevents what could otherwise have declined into tedious repetition. They amount to a satire on history, on English exceptionalist assumptions, and on human foibles generally, mostly sex, money-grubbing and covering your ass. Very English absurdities, which I think limits the appeal, but I’m susceptible, so I enjoyed it. Not quite as surreal as Monty Python, but the same genre. Recommended. **** 

The Trial of God (Wiesel, 1986)

 Eli Wiesel. The Trial of God (1986) Following a pogrom in 1649, a trial was held in Shamgorod. God was accused of permitting or even encouraging evil. That's the setup. Wiesel, survivor of Auschwitz, wrote this play based on an actual trial of God held in the concentration camp. Three rabbis indicted God for permitting His children to be massacred.

In the play, three itinerant actors arrive at an inn and offer to play a Purimschpiel. The innkeeper proposes a Trial of God instead. The innkeeper will be Prosecutor, his daughter will be chief witness, and a Stranger will defend. I don’t know how much the play echoes the trial Wiesel witnessed in the concentration camp. Most of the action is actually working up to state the indictment. Outside the Inn, the villagers are working themselves up to finish the job. The village priest tries to persuade the Jews to flee, but they are intent on their trial. At the end, the Stranger pulls out a mask and puts it on: It’s the mask of Satan.

So, is God capricious? Does God not only permit but encourage evil? Are the Christians mere instruments of God, or do they bear the primary guilt? These and other questions are put or implied, but never answered. They add up to the question that we all want answered: Why is there evil in the world?

A difficult play, in part because the action is the decision to act, to indict God, to act out the trial, to judge His failure to act. But also because the context is a pogrom, unfinished, and threatening the actors. While reading it, I tried to imagine staging it. It would not be easy. I’ll have to read it again. ***

The Collected Stories of Philip K. Dick (1987)

Philip K. Dick. The Collected Stories of Philip K. Dick. Volume 1. (1987) Subtitled The Short Happy Life of the Brown Oxford.

Philip K. Dick is one of my favourite authors in any genre. His ability to develop a what-if that can be stated in a simple sentence amazes with every reading and re-reading. Such as the subtitle story, which is exactly what its title states.

His take on life is that the universe a huge and scary place. It’s a miracle that each one of us survives, and it will or would be a miracle if humankind survives any contact with any aliens we might encounter or who might wish to visit us. But humans are inventive enough to mess up and with their own and other people’s lives. Three examples:

Beyond Lies the Wub: The Captain of the spaceship discovers too late that the wub they’re transporting is more than a sentient blob of jelly.

The Builder: Elwood builds a boat with the help of his son Toddy. Neither he nor we readers know why until a few moments after he’s finished.

Colony: A terrifying riff on shape-shifting.

Recommended. ****

Age of Folly (Lapham, 2016)

Lewis H. Lapham.  Age of Folly (2016) Subtitled America Abandons Its Democracy. Published before Trump won the 2016 election, with essays from 1990 to 2015.

But depressingly relevant. And essential for making sense of what’s happened since 2016.

And I think that’s about all that needs to be said about this book. Recommended.

****

Footnote: In the Atlantic Magazine of January 2025, David Brooks has published an acute analysis of how the attempt to create a meritocracy has had unexpected consequences, one of them being the rage against elites that’s translated into the populism that elected Trump. Brooks spends a couple of pages explaining how the failed experiment could be transformed into a winning one, but I think he’s a tad naive politically. 

When Blood Lies (Richards, 2016)

 Linda L. Richards. When Blood Lies (2016) A nicely done puzzle that begins when Nicole Charles buys an old desk and finds some ancient wine in a secret compartment. There’s more: money-laundering, attempted murder, etc, and a handsome young man. Charles is a gossip columnist who wants to be promoted to real reporting; this provides a subplot that points to a series. I haven’t found any other of Richards’s books.

This book was on of an easy-reading series published by Orca Book Publishers. The style makes for a quick read. Good for when you haven’t much energy for close attention. **½

Leacock: Literary Lapses (1910)

Stephen Leacock. Literary Lapses (1910/1957) With an Afterword by Robertson Davies. Leacock’s first published work, displaying a range from nonsense to witty comment to slice of life to sharp satire. I think his reputation as the friendly, slyly comic uncle is superficial, based on his mastery of absurdly logical nonsense. Maybe it’s my curmudgeonly disposition, but I think that his satire is underrated. It’s delivered in the kind of deadpan style that disguises its bite, but his hatred for greed, hypocrisy, economic malfeasance and social cruelty is more than clear enough. I think that Sunshine Sketches and Arcadian Adventures are his greatest and most enduring works.

Davies provides an interesting account of the book’s publishing history. I enjoyed his notes on the range of Leacock’s humour.

I enjoyed this reread. This reissue is part of McClelland & Stewart’s New Canadian Library, now out of print. M&S featured Canadian art on the covers, David Milne’s “Billboards” here. Recommended. ** to **** 

Dick Whittington - What Really Happened (Sitwell, 1945)

 Osbert Sitwell. The True Story of Dick Whittington (1946) My great-aunt Dolly gave me this book in 1949. I wonder whether she read it first. The rhyme of Dick Whittington and his cat was one of our favourites, and she no doubt thought that this version would suit us. Sitwell has used the story to satirise the rise of the money economy and the worship of money. It’s not a children’s book, although an alert middle schooler would understand it well enough, and perhaps shape his economic and political attitudes accordingly.

Sitwell tells how Whittington advances in his career, selling arms to foreign nations so that they can liberate each other. The cat figures prominently in his first successes. He marries well, but his social-climbing wife finds the cat an inconvenient appendage to the household, especially after Dick is appointed Lord Mayor of London. She (sweetly) encourages Whittington to send the cat to a series of old cat homes, at ever greater distances from London. The cat finds its way back to its beloved master every time.

The story does not end happily. I can’t recall reading it in1949, but if I did, it must have had its intended effect, since I too deplore the monetising of every aspect of our economy. 

Recommended, if you can find a copy. Mine is missing the dust jacket shown in the illustration. Online offers range from at round $15 to well over $100. The few blurbs refer to the “charming” folktale, not Sitwell’s version. It seems few booksellers actually read what they sell. ****

When Things Go Bad (Saramago, The Live Of Things, 2012)

 Jose Saramago. The Lives of Things (2012) Saramago is a Nobel Prize winner. I have mixed feelings about the Nobel Prize for Literature. By its very nature it tends to reward translatable literature,  which usually means literature that’s heavy on theme and thesis and light on language and style.

Saramago wrote during the Salazar dictatorship in Portugal. His stories are fantasies; their ambiance and tone is claustrophobic, stifling. There’s a sense of a fate that can be neither evaded nor comprehended, only endured. The “things” are both actual objects that turn on their owners, and people that have become objects, lacking the autonomy that would make them free agents..

An oddly unengaging read for the most part. I don’t know if that’s the effect of translation. I suspect that in Portuguese there are allusions, puns, verbal effects etc that add nuance, scope, and satirical point, but which would be difficult to render in English. But another book that drew me in despite its flaws, which testifies to the power of theme. ***

Esther's Gift (Karon, 2002)

 Jan Karon. Esther’s Gift. (2002) A “gift book”, really a Christmas greeting card in hard covers. Esther has decided to forgo her annual gift of orange marmalade cakes. But when she muses about the recipients, she changes her mind.

Good for Jan Karon fans, a bit sticky-sweet for everybody else I think. Recipe included. **

Barrel Fever (Sedaris, 1994)

  David Sedaris.  Barrel Fever. (1994) A very mixed bag. In some of the stories, Sedaris comes across as the little boy that tries to shock his elders. But the elders are not shocked. Merely irritated by having a good story spoiled by affected naughtiness. Or if in a more kindly mood, perhaps amused that Sedaris feels that naughtiness is necessary to make his stories worth reading.

Many of the stories read like fictionalised memoirs. Staying true to background reality makes them involving in a personal way; Sedaris comes across as someone with a deep and charitable interest in his fellow human beings, but also with a sardonic awareness of their (our) self-delusions, and of the ways in which they (we) strive to keep our amour propre intact. That justifies the cover blurb describing him as “shrewd, wickedly funny...” despite its exaggeration.

His essays are better, I think. He is both outsider and insider, which adds flavour and spice to his observations about what are after all fairly ordinary slices of a fairly ordinary life. His ability to see what’s odd about the ordinary makes his writing both funny and valuable. It also reassures us that our own fairly ordinary lives are worth living after all. *** 

Fatal Remedies (Leon, 1999)

  Donna Leon. Fatal Remedies. (1999) Guido Brunetti’s wife Paola smashes the window of a travel agency said to sell sex-tours to more complaisant countries than Italy. Brunetti suppresses the report of the crime, but cannot of course escape its consequences. Oddly, the agency’s owner wants to compromise: if Paola apologises and pays for the window repairs, he will not press charges. A serious robbery takes Brunetti’s attention away from his wife’s legal problems. A witness to the robbery promises to give a deposition, but before he does so, his wife falls down the stairs in their apartment block. And so Brunetti embarks on another investigation of interlocking cases. The travel agency is a key element. Neither  Guido nor Paola fully achieve their goals, but they have tried. That's all they can do.

Leon shows us how the police proceed step by step to the solution, and how the their erratic work schedule and the revelations of human weaknesses and evil affect their personal lives. Politics and the endemic casual corruption  interfere with the investigation. Paola understands that their family is not insulated from these effects. But Paola and Guido consider each other as equals. It’s not a friction-free relationship, but it works.

I think Leon is one of the best crime-fiction writers of our time. ****

Kinsey And Me (Grafton, 2013)

Sue Grafton. Kinsey and Me. (2013) A re-read. I enjoyed the stories perhaps more this time, since I knew them well enough to suss the solution, and so could enjoy watching Grafton drop the clues and lead up to the final twist.

The second half of the book is tough reading. It’s  a series of short stories and sketches that amount to a (fictionalised) memoir of Grafton’s mother (“Vanessa”) and her relationship with her daughter (“Kit”). They inflicted pain on each other, unintentionally, but effectively. Each needed the love of the other, each tried and failed to do it well. Vanessa’s alcoholism barred the path to the easy companionship they both wanted. Grafton herself says she “learned the secrets of the human heart” from her mother. One secret is that we fear we do not deserve each other’s love. But love is not about deserving.

Recommended. ** to ****

Poetic Justice: R is For Ricochet (Grafton 2004)

Sue Grafton. R Is For Ricochet. (2004) Nord Lafferty, rich and used to getting his way, hires Kinsey to look after his daughter Reba when she’s paroled. At first, Reba is apparently willing to live a reformed life. She had been convicted of embezzlement. The money was never recovered, which makes her a target not only of the law, but of her old associates. It takes her a while to realise she’s been played, whereupon she engineers a suitable retribution. Miscellaneous mayhem and murder, betrayals, and deceptions that even Kinsey believes for a while, and assorted misinterpretations and shenanigans make for a well done puzzle and ultimately a kind of justice, albeit not legality. Reba is a criminal, and pays for her crimes, but she’s also Nemesis for the crooks that betrayed her. Grafton disapproves of crime, but disapproves of injustice even more.

Recommended. ****

The Ferguson Affair (MacDonald, 1960)

 Ross Macdonald. The Ferguson Affair (1960) Lawyer Bill Gunnarson believes his client Ella Barker is innocent. An unlikely P.I., he starts digging, and turns up the usual corruption, ancient secrets, double crossings, dysfunctional families, and impossible dreams that characterise MacDonald’s world. The McGuffin is a stolen diamond, which his client received as a gift. The police believe otherwise, and charge her with theft.  Murders ensue.

Published in 1960, but it reads like an early novel. There aren’t many of the edgy metaphors that make the Lew Archer novels such a pleasure to read. But MacDonald as always raises uncomfortable questions about the difference between legality and justice, and about the desperation of people trapped in situations where the only options are bad ones. The line between perpetrator and victim is sometimes blurred.

Still, I enjoyed the book. Gunnarson’s willingness to risk reputation and life in his quest for truth and justice makes him another knight in rusty armour. Recommended ***

Speer's Prison Years (The Secret Diaries, 1976)

 Albert Speer. Spandau: The Secret Diaries (1976) The diaries were secret in that it was forbidden to send out more than one letter a month. But friendly guards helped Speer smuggle his diaries out. He selected and edited his notes, and this book is the result.

It’s surprisingly compulsive reading. The revelation of the man’s character is what kept me turning the pages. I’d recently watched The Rise of the Nazis documentary series. The historian who discussed Speer pointed out that he had carefully doctored the record of his work as war production manager for the Reich. I’m not sure to what extent these diaries continue the attempted deception. In the early years, Speer repeatedly muses about how he was enthralled by Hitler’s architectural ambitions. Later, he castigated himself for admiring what he now sees as grandiose kitsch (a word he does not use), and refers to how his responsibility for war materiel production has burdened him with guilt.

He also discusses architecture, and his hope that he could reestablish an architectural practice on release. He confesses to a taste for traditional styles, and wonders how he might fit into the modern fashions. As the years pass, the hope of early release fades in the face of Soviet intransigence, his musings about a possible professional future fade also.

The most genuine sounding passages are his sorrow that he’s missing the growth and development of his children, and the inevitable failure to establish a close parent-child bond. There aren’t enough visits and letters. It's clear that his family have made the best of their situation, and their father figures less and less in their lives.

An essential book for anyone who wants to understand the 3rd Reich. The desire to build huge monuments seems to be a universal trait of tyrants. ***

Canadian Pie (Ferguson, 2011)

Will Ferguson. Canadian Pie (2011) Ferguson has made a decent living writing for hire. Here we have a collection of his mostly commissioned pieces.. They vary in quality, probably because the assignments varied in their appeal for Ferguson. He writes very pleasant light humour, with an irritating habit of doubling the punch line to make sure the casual airline magazine reader gets it. He’s best at satire and personal anecdote.

All in all, I enjoyed the book; I guess I read it casually. A highlight is As the Irvings Turn: A Maritime Soap Opera. It ran on CBC Moncton, but it seems the Irvings were not amused, as the last episode never aired. The opener, The Lost Art of Crank Calls, is one of the best pieces in the book. The examples are clearly based on personal participation.

A good book to have on hand for the times when you have a few minutes of time you’d rather not spend with your gloomy thoughts about the state of the universe. **½ to ****

Uniform Justice (Leon, 2003)

 Dona Leon. Uniform Justice (2003) A murder at a private “military academy” leads Brunetti into discovering corrupt politics, ruthless power seeking, and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. The perpetrator(s) will never face justice. Brunetti finds them out, but knowing how a good man was punished for his unwillingness to play the power game sours his success.

Another in the Commissario Brunetti series, darker than previous ones I've read in its depiction of the moral filth in which political corruption grows. Recommended, but not a happy read. **** 

The Cat Wears A Noose (Hitchens as Olsen 1944)

Dolores Hitchens (originally published by "D. B. Olsen"). The Cat Wears A Noose. (1944) Hitchens wrote a lot of books, mostly mysteries, under various pseudonyms and in several series. This one (#4 in the Rachel Murdock series) begins with Rachel’s sister witnessing a murder on her way home from a church meeting, but she doesn’t tell Rachel. Rachel meets one of the household who enlists her aid in finding out what really happened. She offers her services as cook, which enables her to find the clues she needs. Family secrets, money, and tangled, unacknowledged  relationships make for a good puzzle. The cat is a wanderer. Following her, Rachel chances on a couple of the crucial clues. Hitchens is a bit weak on character and ambience, but the book is pleasant read.

The online info on Hitchens indicates she must have made a decent living writing these novels, some of which were made into movies or TV episodes. I enjoyed it. **½

The Sentinel (A. C. Clarke, 1983)

 Arthur C. Clarke. The Sentinel. (1983) Collection of short stories, including the one that sparked 2001: A Space Odyssey. Clarke provides an intro to each piece, telling about the circumstances of composition and publication. These are interesting in a tabloidy way, but add nothing to the stories. Clarke is very good at imagining technical problems and their effects. He’s careful to keep extrapolation as close to known science as possible. His characters tend to be 2.5D or flatter. Like pretty well everybody at the time, he assumes the geopolitical realities of the Cold War would continue into the relatively far future.

But his tight focus on the tale keeps us reading. He’s good at advancing plot with dialogue. His early work was published in the SciFi pulps, whose editors wanted a high narrative-to-words ratio. The resulting conciseness hides flaws that longer works would have revealed.

A good collection. Essential for the fan, and likely a pleasant diversion for anyone else.

** to ***

:Pictures of the Past: 1920s, 1930s, 1940s (Yapp, 1998)

 Nick Yapp. Getty Image 1920s, ... 1930s, ... 1940s (1998). Three lively collections of photographs illustrating the lives of our ancestors. The illustrated papers and magazines that provided the images tended to publish the unusual and dramatic (see the 1940s cover), so Yapp must have had a difficult time finding the ones that showed ordinary lives. The photos of political and other significant events are mostly well known. The others provide most of the charm. It’s an odd feeling to experience nostalgia for a world I didn’t actually know (the late 1940s excepted). But that’s what happened. I will likely look at these books again. ***

Died in the Wool (Ngaio Marsh 1945) [reread]

 Ngaio Marsh. Died In The Wool (1945) Set in New Zealand. A bossy, well meaning, self-satisfied MP disappears one evening during sheep-shearing season. Her body is found in a bale of wool a few weeks later. Alleyn is in New Zealand on a security mission. Acting semi-officially, he winkles out the motives, real and disguised; sets a few relationships right; and, most importantly, lifts the clouds of suspicion darkening the lives of the innocent.

A well-done puzzle. Marsh’s ability to create ambience and character keeps these now ancient books fresh. I enjoyed this reread. ***

Lake Wobegon Summer 1956 (Keillor, 2001)

Garrison Keillor. Lake Wobegon Summer 1956. (2002) Gary is 14. Puberty is messing with his brain. His sister is a sanctimonious hypocritical bully. His Daddy is happiest when he has something to complain about. Mother is kind and pragmatic. Gary has a crush on his cousin Kate, who is rebellious and has had enough of being one of the Sanctified Brethren. His Grandma and Aunt Eva, who still live on the family farm, spoil him. His best friend Leonard supplies naughty magazines. Gary’s responsibility is the lawn – watering and mowing it. And so on.

By the end of the summer, Kate is pregnant and married to her boyfriend, Gary has won a few contests with Sister, Daddy is as happily morose as ever, and Mother’s defence of Kate has shifted the power balance within the Sanctified Brethren away from sanctimonious glee at the prospect of punishment to mildly tolerant charity.

Keillor’s novel is at least semi-autobiographical. His narrative style gives us about as complete an insight into early teenhood as is possible. Most of us forget most of the effects of puberty on thinking and feeling. Gary’s narrative of his summer reminds us how utterly confusing and exhilarating this phase can be. I think Gary's confusions about sex help explain Keillor's  inappropriate behaviour  that caused a scandal and the cancellation of Prairie Home Companion. 

Well done. Recommended, if you can find a copy. ****

My Heart is Broken (Gallant, 1957)

Mavis Gallant. My Heart Is Broken. (1957) Gallant’s second collection, not published in Canada until 1964. 

The settings of her stories vary geographically, but socially they are small. Like Austen, her subject is human nature. A ruthless observer, she presents characters who lack self-knowledge, or who deliberately dissemble. They may edge towards a revelation, but rarely achieve it.  Gallant shows that lack of self-knowledge is the obverse of lack of awareness of others. The result is misunderstanding, pain, social disgrace, lives descending into an uneasy equilibrium of failure.

This may sound like Gallant’s stories are dreary, but they’re not. The almost offhand insertion of the telling detail that reveals the complexities of human nature drew me in. I ended up understanding her characters more than I understand most of the people I know. Her method shows us not only how to create character in fiction but how to observe character in real life. The  result is to understand, and with understanding comes the ability to accept.

Not a page turner, but I kept returning to it. Recommended. ***

High Plains Drifter (1973)

  High Plains Drifter. (1973) [D: Clint Eastwood. Clint Eastwood, Verna Bloom, Marianna Hill]

A stranger rides into Lago, site of an illegal mine. He gets rid of three thugs who were hired by the town to keep the peace, but turned nasty. Three convicts, who are owed loadsadough by the town for having eliminated an inconvenient person, are coming for their pay. The town hires the Stranger to prepare for them. That’s the set-up. What unfolds is a moody tale of morally challenged people, the ambiguities of justice, the imperfection of human nature, the self-delusion that sustains respectability, and so on.

A great movie, with some brutal rough spots that will turn off many viewers.

The last scene: The town clown is marking a headstone as the Stranger leaves. “I still don’t know your name,” he says to the Stranger. “Yes, you do,” the Stranger replies. We do, too: His name is Nemesis.

Recommended. **** (9/10 for IMDB)

Wycliffe x 3: How to Kill a Cat (1970); the Scapegoat (1978); Four Jacks (1985).

W. J. Burley. Wycliffe and How to Kill a Cat (1970) A victim deliberately disfigured to prevent or delay identification. Wycliffe is on holiday; he has mixed feelings about having to investigate. The girl has a mixed past, her life intersecting with people who value respectability, families who thrive on power games, and of course witnesses and suspects who omit or misrepresent the truth. A satisfactory early member if the series. Burley obviously loves Cornwall; some of the best passages gave me vivid impressions of the harbour, the tourists, the mix of locally necessary and tourist-trap businesses, the cramped streets and houses, and the weather. **½ 

W. J. Burley. Wycliffe and the Scapegoat (1978) At Hallowe’en, a Wheel with a life-sizedeffigy is lit and rolled blazing down a hill and over a cliff into the sea. Jonathan Riddle, a hard-hearted, money-focussed business man, has disappeared, and the awful thought that he may have been inside the effigy first raises the possibility of murder and then distracts Wycliffe and his team into red-herring strewn byways which both extend the tale and allow Burley to do what I think he really likes best: comment on the darkness and absurdity of the human heart’s longings.

Riddle is an unpleasant man for whom business is as much a means of exerting power as for making money. Hence many suspects, most with the common motive of vengeance. One of the better Wycliffe novels. ***

W. J. Burley. Wycliffe and the Four Jacks. (1985) A successful writer receives four Jacks of Diamonds in the mail, reminding him of an ancient guilt. He’s killed, and his body’s burned in the tent that serves as the workshop for an archeological dig on his land. Wycliffe, on holiday once again, must lead the investigation. The motive is vengeance for an ancient wrong. The murderer is cunning and careful, placing clues to implicate first one innocent then another. He overdoes it, which gives Wycliffe the insight he needs to rearrange the evidence and construct the true account of the crime. One of Burley’s best. ****

Leacock Times Three (A Treasury of Stephen Leacock, 1999)

Stephen Leacock. A Treasury of Stephen Leacock (1999)

Literary Lapses. (1910) Including “My Financial Career” (made into an animated short by the National Film Board); “The Awful Fate of Melpomenus Jones”; “Hoodoo McFiggin’s Christmas”; and other classics. The general tone is that of a genial raconteur, but here and there the mask slips, and Leacock the irate satirist shows through.

Sunshine Sketches of A Little Town (1912) This book made Leacock’s reputation as the humourous uncle that everyone loves to listen to. The chapters on the “Speculations of Jefferson Thorpe” and the “Great Election of Missinaba County” and the “Candidacy of Mr Smith” have a dark undertone that seems to have escaped most of the early critics of Leacock’s satire. For satire it is, however genial and sentimental it may appear. Leacock’s theme is the unwarranted self-regard of the human animal. We want status, we want to think well of ourselves, and so we yield to the temptation of misrepresenting our deeds and motives, and valuing respectability above morality. This is often funny, but some of the illusions we agree to foster in each other may lead to real evils. Thorpe falls for a con and loses the money he made trading silver mine stocks. There’s more than a hint of ballot stuffing in the Election, but when Smith wins, everyone agrees not only that his party was the best after all, but that everyone has always known it.

Some of the best passages are Leacock’s wistful recall of the time when the world was kind and beautiful and filled with innocent joy, before career and adult responsibilities led him away from the small town of Mariposa to the cruel, ugly, joyless city. Those of us who had a happy childhood will recognise the nostalgia. It’s one of many reasons why I enjoyed rereading Sunshine Sketches.

Winnowed Wisdom (1926) A more explicitly satirical collection of comments on the follies of humankind. Pretty well all of them still apply.

Recommended. **½ to ****

Three by Simenon (First Omnibus, 1970)

 Georges Simenon. First Omnibus. (1970)

The Neighbours (1967). Started reading this one, didn’t get past the first half dozen pages.

Maigret & the Nahour Case. (1967) Early Maigret. They get better as Simenon develops his terse, dialogue-heavy style. The Maigrets’ friend Dr Pardon calls late at night with a strange tale of treating a gunshot wound. Complications include a missing gun, people claiming false identities, dysfunctional families, and so on. A right mess. Reading it was fun while it lasted, but I had to skim a few paragraphs to remind myself what it was all about.

 Monsieur Monde Vanishes. (1952) Mr Monde, late 40s, prosperous, respected, owner of a successful business, married to a woman who values only his money, one morning walks out of his office leaving no word about his plans. He takes most of his bank account with him, but it’s stolen less than a day later in a seedy hotel. He finds a job, has an intermittent affair with a small-time actress, eventually makes his way back to his old life and wife, released from illusions about the necessity of respectability etc. Worth a reread.

Simenon fans may want to read all three novels. **½

The Brain is not a Digital Computer (The Muse In The Machine, Gelernter 1994)

David Gelernter. The Muse in the Machine. (1994) A strange book, which makes a number of major points or claims.

First, Gelernter posits a spectrum of attention, from the barely conscious, half-recalled dream state to the rational, hyper-focussed attention and linear thinking that we’ve learned to accept as the best kind. However, says Gelernter, creativity is highest when attention is low and the mind “wanders.” Hyper-focussed attention is on the contrary not very creative. Its main (and perhaps only) value is to bring order to the usually chaotic structures of the insights created when our attention is low.

There’s some truth to this. In fact, it’s become a pop-psych cliche. Every now and then some analogy tripped over when the mind wanders triggers an insight.  But in my experience those events are not guaranteed. In fact, they are rare enough to make them memorable. I think that pretty well everybody has worried a problem until a solution “presented itself” unexpectedly. But we know that it’s a process that we can’t control. About all we can infer is there is a lot of thinking well below the level of conscious attention, some of it surfaces, and occasionally the product is useful. We can allow this process to work by letting go of a problem and chilling. But there’s no guarantees.

A Wandering Mind?

Second, the mind is not software. I agree, in part for the reason Gelernter puts forward, which is that the analogy of  “mind” with “virtual machine” breaks down. A virtual machine is one that’s implemented in software running on another machine. Abstract the concept of “machine” to an entity that performs some task in response to some input, then any program is a virtual machine. E.g., the wordprocessor I’m using takes data from the keyboard, and transforms that into a block of data in memory. It sends copies of the data to the graphics processor, which translates them into a display on the monitor. When I hit Print, it sends data to the printer, which in turn lays microscopic dots of ink onto a sheet of paper. To my eye, it’s the text I composed.

This is not how the brain works.

The analogy is that “mind” is a massive data-processing program running on the brain. Or a mess of such programs running in parallel. Hence a virtual machine. Write the program(s) in a suitable language, and the “mind” can run on any capable “substrate.” Such is the fantasy supporting the desire to “upload” the self and live forever. Gelernter is no biologist, but he argues that his concept of an attention spectrum requires a body. IOW, a mind cannot exist apart from a body. I agree, but my reason is I think somewhat simpler. The brain’s primary function is to operate the body. Most of its energy is expended in doing just that.

Thinking Hard

 “Thinking”, such as it is, takes up a very small part of the brain’s energy budget. Being “me” is what thinking is mostly about, and it’s really just an afterthought.

The last part of the book is a nicely done symbolic reading of  The Song of Solomon. Gelernter is a believing Orthodox Jew. He posits that the hyper-focussed attention that we nowadays equate with thinking is a recent development. (Schooling is intended to train us to think this way.) An unfortunate effect of high-attention rational thought is a misreading of ancient texts, which are, he says, the products or records of low-attention thinking, hence their nonlinear narratives, symbolism and metaphor, and reliance on analogy to make both narrative and thematic sense. I think this is the most valuable part of the book. But it doesn’t prove that the concept of an attention spectrum explains creativity.

A curious book, with many interesting and useful insights. Worth a read. **½

S Is For Silence (Grafton, 2005)

Sue Grafton.  S Is For Silence. (2005) Violet Sullivan disappeared on a July 4th evening. Her daughter Daisy wants her found, because she feels abandoned. Kinsey winkles out the truth. Her investigation upsets a lot of apple carts, as usual. Grafton includes flashbacks to narrate Violet’s story up to the time of her disappearance. These also give us glimpses of the suspects and bystanders, as well as clues that Kinsey (and later the police) do not have. Even so, it takes the reader (me) a while to suss who killed Violet.

Grafton’s interested in character, and in how mistaken ideas of morality, the yearning for respectability, and the rigidity of socially defined roles deform relationships and prevent happiness. That some people bring psychopathic evil into the mix just makes the world more dangerous. Still, in the end, a sort of justice prevails, and people achieve acceptance of what they can’t change. Grafton indulges in a few bits of poetic justice, thus satisfying our all-too-human thirst for revenge.

One of Grafton’s best, not least because the interleaving of past and present. ****

Conspiracies: Foucault's Pendulum (Eco, 1989)

Umberto Eco. Foucault’s Pendulum. (1989) It took me about a month to read this book. Not a page-turner, but it drew me in, and I kept returning to it. A rich mess of reality, conspiracy theories, human gullibility, back stories, esoteric lore, epigrammatic observations on anything relevant to the narrative moment, paranormal (or maybe not) events, computer science, code breaking, the mysterious history of the Templars, the Illuminati, the Masons et al –  all this and more just kept me reading. And of course Foucault's Pendulum, swinging through its arc every 16.5 seconds.

The central conceit is that three editors, who work for a publishing house, decide to invent a new version of the Templar story, which has occupied too much of the attention of the hapless authors who are seduced into paying to publish their discoveries of the secret of the Templars, the Freemasons, the Rosicrucians, the Illuminati, and the other secret societies believed to run the machinery that we are pleased to call real life.

A rich and satisfying book. Read it. ****

Art – random thoughts.

Art, like money, is what we think it is. That’s why money is, apparently, the only measure of art. If it’s free, it’s not art. Or so it seems.

Painters were once prized as picture makers. Cameras have devalued the craft of making pictures by hand. That has shifted the focus to making pictures worth looking at. Composition now matters in ways it did not matter before. Hence abstract art, which is pure composition. Impressionism, which refuses to provide the optical illusion of reality. Expressionism, which claims to show emotions and meanings directly. Pop art, which detaches the image from its context. And so on.

Even photographers now attempt to do something other than make a naïve representation of reality. The subjects are staged, disparate objects are brought together in front of the camera, the photographer moves around to get the best angle of view, digital technologies enable manipulation well beyond the capabilities of the darkroom. 

Old and new image-making technologies are attempts at exploring and redefining picture-making in order to make images worth looking at.

All the while, the ease of making images has discouraged looking. Too many images – very few worth a 2nd look – how do we know that worth? By their nagging presence in memory? By the content? By the palette? The composition?

Any or all of these will make an image stick. The unpredictable part is individual preference or taste. And that perhaps even more elusive entity, meaning. All images signify, but what they signify depends on how the viewer decodes what they see. That includes the image maker, whose perception of meaning is no better or more valid than any other. The image maker’s intention cannot overcome the inherent ambiguities in the image. This inability to determine the significance of the work is common to all forms and modes of expression. Including this one, which is certain to be misunderstood, to be interpreted in ways I do not intend and cannot prevent. This lack of control explains the futility of censorship.