Colin Dexter's The Way Through the Woods (1992)

      Colin Dexter The Way Through the Woods (1992) A cold case, the disappearance and possible murder of a Swedish girl, is revived when a letter containing a poem referring to a Swedish Maid is published in The Times. Morse has just gone on holiday, so it takes a while for his investigation to get going. The puzzle’s solution is acceptable on an intellectual level, but this time Dexter’s psychology is off. I just don’t believe the motivations of the murderers (yes, there are two). Dexter tells the story in short chapters, some which are diary excerpts, newspaper clippings, and police reports. The resemblance to a video or movie script keeps the story moving, but it was the memory of John Thaw’s Morse and Kevin Whately’s Lewis that created the sense of a world inhabited by real people that I want from even the most formulaic crime story.

      There’s no question: the video adaptations of Dexter’ work are far better works of art and craft than Dexter’s novels. He’s meticulous in the placement of clues and red herrings, and scrupulously fair in the resolution of the puzzle, but ultimately the characters are thin and the motivations perfunctory. We know for example that Morse likes Wagner, but we don’t really know why. I don’t like Wagner much as it happens; I think his Ring operas are bombastic and stupid misreadings of the sagas, and much of his music is sheer kitsch (it’s no accident that Hollywood composers allude to it when reaching for dramatic ambience to juice up a second-rate movie). But some of his pieces are sublime evocations of Weltschmerz, which is enough. I have no idea whether Morse would agree with me, and without that knowledge Morse’s preference for Wagner over Gilbert and Sullivan is a mere tic of character.
      As crime puzzle, the book is first rate. As a crime novel, it’s mediocre. **

The Mirror Crack'd & Peril at End House (book reviews)

     Agatha Christie The Mirror Crack’d (1962) This is one of the best Miss Marple stories. A woman dies suddenly during a reception at the recently renovated Gossington Hall (where the body had been found in the library many years before). The psychology of the crime baffles the police. Who would want to murder this harmless busybody? As so often happens in an Agatha Christie, the past holds the vital clue. Twenty years before, the victim had hauled herself from her sickbed in order to meet her idol, a film star. Miss Marple, physically frail and mentally a little slower than she used to be, as always is able to empathise with both the murderer and the victim, and by doing so to understand both why and how the woman was murdered. The plotting is beautifully done, everything fits. There are a few nicely done digressions, which serve to show Miss Marple’s acumen, and also, I suspect, to express Christie’s distaste for the effects of population growth and modernisation. The characterisation is more subtle and complex than in the early novels, which adds to the charm of this book. ***½

     Agatha Christie Peril at End House (1932) One of the best Poirots: the murderer actually enlists Poirot in the hunt for her supposed attacker. I knew the story before I reread this novel, but that increased the pleasure: I could see how artfully Christie places red herrings amongst the genuine clues in Poirot’s path. I think she enjoyed showing how Poirot’s vanity misleads him. If he weren’t so sure of his perspicacity, he wouldn’t accept the story fabricated for him. The murderer is clever enough to build the story through apparently trivial details. The significance of apparent trivialities is Poirot’s forte, and his attention to them is therefore also his weakness. I thoroughly enjoyed rereading this book ***½

Life of Pi (movie review)

     Life of Pi (2012) [D: Ang Lee. Suraj Sharma, et al] We went to see this because Marie has read the book and liked it. She said the movie followed the book quite well; she even commented on what some sequences were supposed to be, e.g., a "mythic world".
     I haven’t read the book, and based on this movie, I won’t be reading it. When the book first appeared, some reviewers alluded to Latin American "magic realism", and drew comparisons with Gabriel Maria Marquez. I don’t know why, but this kind of comparison puts me off. I’ve read some Marquez, and seen the movie of Love in the Time of Cholera, which I enjoyed a lot. Maybe I fear that comparisons will set me up for disappointment.

      The movie was entertaining enough, with some tense moments when Pi is almost drowned for example, and the imagery was sometimes gorgeous. The most interesting bits were the back story about the family preceding the shipwreck. There are unanswered questions about how the tensions and conflicts within the family might be resolved. Pi’s sampling of several religions is nicely done, and for my money a story interweaving the family and personal threads would have been enough. The shipwreck and the bit with the tiger is gratuitous fantasy, and about the only thing that can be said in its favour is Pi’s own comment: "It happened. Why should it have a meaning?"
     Pi’s search for meaning is the theme and excuse for the story, and presumably his ordeal of survival on a lifeboat with only a tiger for company is supposed to help us understand the existential ambiguities. Pi at first tells the tiger story to the insurance investigators, and when they reject it, tells them a more horrific tale of murder and revenge, which to my mind has the ring of truth.
    The frame story has Pi telling both tales to a visitor (who’s visiting Pi on a recommendation by Pi’s uncle), but only the tiger story is actually shown. The visitor interprets the fantasy as a version of the reality, and decodes it as such. Then Pi asks the visitor which tale he prefers: "The one about the tiger." We may prefer that story, too. Some of us, anyhow. I don’t. I find it a rather pedestrian fantasy, actually. The struggle to stay alive, with all the apparently trivial random events that threaten death, was involving enough. The tiger isn’t needed to increase the tension, so why is he there? Because Yann Martel decided to put him there, I suppose. Or because he wanted the tiger to be a symbol for the Other that resides within all of us. A bit pretentious, and so awkwardly done that the visitor’s explication is actually needed.
     I wouldn’t have chosen to see this movie, but having seen it, I can say that if you want to spend a pleasant, if not exactly involving, couple of hours in a movie theatre, you could do a lot worse than pick this one. Camera angles and imagery clearly show that it was scripted for 3D. The acting is very good. Lee and his editor know how to cut a scene to extract maximum tension. The music (which apparently caused the composer some difficulties) is not overly intrusive. It’s been nominated for 11 Oscars, IMDb rates it at 8.2/10, it’s at 88% at Rotten Tomatoes, but I rate it only ** out of four. I did like Richard Parker, the tiger, though.

Foyle's War (TV Series)

     Foyle’s War (2009+) Michael Kitchen plays Det Inspector Foyle, a widower who has been firmly kept in his place as a policeman, despite his willingness to serve more directly in the war effort. The series follows the war, beginning in 1939, when the wartime economy began, and regulations about the treatment of foreign nationals were enforced, sometimes cruelly. The look and feel of the period is captured quite well, except that the effect of coal fires on the colours of brick and stone is absent. I suppose it’s difficult to persuade property owners that a layer of sooty grunge should be applied to their carefully maintained houses. I think it’s more the characters, the dialogue, and the clothes that create a satisfying illusion of wartime Britain.
     Foyle investigates murders, the black market, fraud, and so on. He is a man with a strong sense of duty, and a strong moral sense. These occasionally collide, especially when considerations of national security intersect with crime. He respects authority in the sense that he respects the roles of the hierarchy, but he respects the law even more. He is methodical, quiet, observant, reticent, laconic, with simple tastes, and strong feelings, which he rarely shows. He may feel pity for the perpetrators, but he wants justice above all, which may make him appear ruthless. Kitchen’s style of acting, his skill in conveying emotion and thought by minute changes in expression and tone of voice, is perfect for this character. The other characters, equally well drawn, and dialogue replete with casual remarks that reveal the back stories, create the sense of a community.
     The back stories develop slowly. Each episode deals with at least two plot threads. The occasional characters are given a context that not only provides the clues and red herrings, but also grounds them firmly in their own lives. They don’t feel created just to fit the plot; the psychology of their choices feels real. Most importantly, the effects of evil on the innocent bystander is a constant theme.
     This is the second time we are watching the series. We missed several episodes the first time, but even the ones we’ve seen before seem fresh and new. Knowing that plot allows us to focus on characters and their choices. The writers deserve high praise. ****

Model Railroader (1942-1999) (Magazine)

Model Railroader (1942-1999) I’ve been skimming through old MRR magazines in an effort to get rid of them. I clip and cut articles that may be of use, toss the mutilated mags, and put the unmutilated ones into boxes for the CRHA’s sale table at the March Train Show. A fellow called John Morgan is to come and pick them up. I hope he has a large trunk. So far, I have 7 boxes, and I haven’t yet gone through Trains or Railroad Model Craftsman. Yikes!
     Reading a lot of magazines in chronological order (more or less) gives one a strange experience. It’s not so much the content of the magazines as their tone. In the 40s and 50s, writers clearly spoke to fellow addicts, and gave them all sorts of tips on how to indulge their harmless vice.
    For example, the number of household items and discards pressed into service as modelling materials is astonishing. Many are periodically rediscovered: clothes-pins, for example, with their tips carved to suitable shapes, make excellent holding clamps. Before the availability of nicely detailed brake wheels, dress snaps stood in. Cardboard is scribed with a blunted awl or a carefully dressed screw-driver tip so that the grooving tool won’t tear at the edges of the scribe lines. Angles are bent from scribed card or heavy paper. Charts list the wire sizes suitable for different pipe sizes in the different scales. Rube Goldberg contraptions are devised to operate signals and crossing gates.
     Before the advent of transistors and logic chips, train detection or interlocking signalling systems offered challenges that only the strongest modellers could face. Layouts are given whimsical and punning names (which must have grated on the owner’s relatives of not the owner in short order.) Frank Ellison’s articles on prototypical operation are pioneering efforts that only slowly change the focus of the serious modeller, a creature that doesn’t begin to appear in great numbers until the 60s. “Operation” in fact usually means ”mechanical engineering.” Layouts designed for prototypical operation feature dozens of tracks curling under and beside and over each other in a three dimensional maze.
     By the 60s and 70s, the emphasis has shifted. There is more talk of designing a model railroad, to look like the real thing, and to be operated like the real thing. There are articles about how to give a free-lanced railroad the look and feel of the real thing. More and more writers describe ways of making the layout look and feel like a prototype. “Railroads You Can Model” becomes a regular feature. These are invariably short lines or branches. People try for a more realistic balance between scenery and track – a lot of track is hidden, and division points (a de rigeur feature of earlier layouts) almost disappear. Staging yards (fiddle yards to the English) take their place, and are used to provide the requisite number of trains. With increasing wealth, many more modellers build basement size layouts. John Allen’s Gorre and Daphetid inspires not only fantasies of Western railroading, but also proves that a large layout can be built and maintained by one person (with a little help from his friends) so long as the track plan is relatively simple. Allen also shows that a good model railroad consists of visually separated scenes, and that such a scheme enables interesting train operation. Spaghetti bowl track plans aren’t needed after all. McClelland’s Virginian and Ohio inspires not only prototype-based free lance layouts but layouts depicting actual prototypes.
     By the 1980s, technical reliability and close to perfect models are taken for granted. Now modellers concentrate on reproducing a vision of railroading as they remember or experience it. Model railroading shifts from craft to minor art. Layouts are visually and operationally integrated. Malcolm Furlow’s small project layouts show the way. Furlow designs self-consistent layouts which make no attempt at having everything. Trackplans are simple and fit well into the scenery (I think Furlow starts out with a scenic concept, since his articles always start with a mock history that emphasises locale.) But the trackage also permits train operation: a couple pleasant evening hours will be needed to run a complete day’s worth of trains. Furlow’s layouts are satisfying to build and fun to operate. Those who have more space simply build bigger versions of such railroads, whether based on a prototype or an imaginary place and time. Although layouts are bigger, trackplans are simpler in relation to their size.
     In the 1990s, trends of the past consolidate. Even better technical quality is expected, and a lot of product that sold well in earlier decades disappears. Manufacturers upgrade mechanisms and proto-typical details. Scratch building is replaced by kit bashing and kit conversion. Why build a diesel shell from brass if you can combine a couple of plastic shells by judicious cutting and fitting?. Wood kits are replaced by resin. And the complex trackplan returns in a new guise: multi-level layouts are not only designed but built, Each level is relatively simple, but the carpentry and scenic illusions at the transitions are not. These layouts are designed to satisfy the ever-increasing demand for prototype realism. 12 stations offer more operational fun than 6, so go to a 2nd or 3rd level to get the extra stations. DCC and computers enable more proto-typical train running, too – including a prototypical risk of collisions.
     In most ways, the hobby has matured. The magazines repeat old themes. Craft is still a major part of the hobby and always will be. But most of the discussion now centres around methods and concepts of operation, and of the “total layout design” needed to achieve the dream: running a model as much like a real train as possible. *** (2000)

Of This and Other Worlds (Book)

     C. S. Lewis Of This and Other Worlds (1982) A compilation by Walter Hooper of both published and unpublished essays on literary matters, mostly on fantasy and science fiction. As a quote from a review says: Much of the essential Lewis is here. The essays do of course repeat many ideas, but Lewis writes so well one doesn’t mind. His major contribution is his insistence that fantasy (“fairy tales”) is not a child’s taste, since many (most?) children don’t like it, and many adults do. He also has good things to say about proper criticism, on the nature of error and truth, and so on.
     In good Aristotelian fashion, Lewis makes careful distinctions between description (which is more or less true) and expression (which is more or less honest.) He also is good on subtle errors of thought. His essay “The Death of Words” ought to be read by every language arts teacher: it will help them explain why expressive or ascriptive adjectives should be avoided, for example. He notes how words that once described social facts, e.g., “gentleman”, decayed into mere and vague expressions of approval. The source of this deterioration? Well meaning people who don’t want to accept the social distinctions implicit in the term, since many non-gentlemen are of course morally superior to many gentlemen. These people then want to use the term not in its social denotation but in its “true sense”, i.e., as a description of the moral ideal connoted by the term. Lewis dryly points out that a word surrounded by qualifiers such as “true sense” is a word that has lost its meaning. And he expresses regret: what men cannot name they soon become unable to think about. (In this, he agrees with Orwell, of whose 1984 he says that the appendix on Newspeak is the best part.)
     Lewis has a tendency to digress, which usually leads to even greater insight. His review of The Lord of the Rings, for example, occasions some thoughts on theocracy and ideological tyranny that explain a lot of recent politics. He hints that ideology is the modern form of an ancient perversion of religion, but doesn’t expand the hint. Never mind; the hint is enough.
     All in all, a delightful book. Lewis as usual exhibits his ability to explain complex ideas by means of homely examples, and his style is a model of clarity and elegance. The difficulty of the essays varies. **** (2000)
     Update 2013: Lewis's shrewd remarks about language constitute a nice layperson's account of Wittgenstein's theories. "The limits of my language are the limits of my thought", Wittgenstein said. He meant it in more radical way than Orwell did, I think. It could be rephrased as "That which we cannot imagine we cannot discuss." Consider science: we in fact cannot frame a theory which we cannot, somehow, imagine. I don't mean imagine in a physical sense: I mean "form images of." Ideas are images. Theories are built out of ideas.
     Update 2020: The "interpretations" of the mathematics that constitute physics show how difficult it is to talk sensibly about that which we cannot imagine. The math works: the formulas predict observations, usually to an astonishng degree of precision. The interpretations mislead, because they cause the reader to form images based on their experience. Thus "force" is what you exert with your muscles. "Work" is sweating, and it's a shock to realise that if you sweat failing to move a large rock, you have not done any work. Well, it's a little more subtle than that, in that you have used  energy to tenswe your muscles, etc, so that you have in fact done some work. But not as much as you feel you've done.
 

The Triumph of Evolution (Book)

Niles Eldredge The Triumph of Evolution (2000) An attack on so-called creation science and a defence of evolution. Very good on the general theory of evolution and on current efforts to clarify specific details. Also good on the efforts of creationists’ mistakes and deceptions, and on why creation science isn’t science.
     Eldredge’s major insight is that creationists believe that without God you can’t have an ethic or morality. This belief drives their hostility to evolution. They are truly afraid that a godless description of the world’s origins will lead to all kinds of evil. Practical experience of course shows otherwise. Most people have only a vague faith and theology, yet behave well enough. (I am extending Eldredge’s argument here.) What’s more, most people argue ethics not in terms of God’s will but of human rights and obligations, and don’t ask where these rights and obligations come from. They are givens.
     Creationists themselves come in all sorts of flavours. At one end of the spectrum you have people who accept “micro-evolution” but deny “macro-evolution.” At the other end you have biblical literalists of the most naïve sort. But they all agree that evolution is morally dangerous. It is this moral danger that drives them, not a quest or respect for truth. How you can assert moral authority without respect for truth I don’t know, but these people do it. Like all true believers, they will cheerfully violate their own morality in the service of the cause. Eldredge documents a couple of cases of outright lies by creationists (he was the victim.)
     Eldredge, unlike many anti-creationists, is not opposed to religion (he himself is agnostic.) In his final chapter he deals with religion as a human and social fact. He asks the obvious question: Why do humans invent religions? Why do so few humans seem to be able to get through life without one, however vague? He notes that the image of God changes as humans’ sense of their place in nature changes. His answer (oversimplified, perhaps), is that myth seems to be the necessary expression of this sense or apprehension, and religion is the institution that embodies and expresses the myth in daily life. What’s more, insofar as myths function this way, they are true, which implies that all religions are true. It also implies that none, past or present, has the whole truth.
     Eldredge believes that the social function of religion is to shape our behaviour vis-à-vis the world and each other. To that extent the creationists are right about the connection between a creator god and morality. But myth does not have to be about a personal creator god (see Buddhism), nor does it have to be theistic.
     At this point Eldredge’s ideas imply that one’s fundamental belief system is one’s myth. Taken with his discussion of creationism, they also imply that belief systems can and often do deteriorate into superstition. Certainly the creationist stance as stated often looks like a superstition. This part of the book is in many ways his most valuable contribution to the debate, although it will upset those who believe that their religion is not only true but the Only Truth.
     Eldredge goes a step further. He calls for a reinterpretation of the biblical (and other) myths to emphasise our stewardship of the Earth. He notes that many Christians are already talking about our relation to the Earth in these terms, and are using Genesis as their justification. This encourages him, and me too, since it clearly shifts the focus from the question of the truth of the creation story to its ethical meaning for us as creatures.
     Evolution is part of the scientific story of origins, and as such it testable to the extent that all historical accounts are testable. No doubt there will be further discoveries that will fill in the details and provide better data for (dis)confirming various hypotheses about the process. Genesis reminds (or ought to remind) us that we stand in an ethical relationship to the Earth, and should guide us to a better understanding of our responsibilities. Science can provide data to help us make wise decisions, but it can’t provide us with the ethical imperatives that will determine the choices.
     A footnote: I find it interesting that a large proportion of fundamentalist/literalist Christians are not only creationist, but also dominionist: they believe that humans have an absolute right to use the Earth as they see fit. One consequence of this is often not merely indifference to environmental concerns but active hostility. This in my opinion is evidence enough of the sterility of the fundamentalist attitude. By their fruits ye shall know them.
     Eldredge does not write as well or gracefully as his friend and collaborator Stephen Jay Gould, but he writes clearly and occasionally with wit. *** (2000)

Dangerous Corner (Play)

     J. B. Priestly Dangerous Corner (1932) One of Priestley’s favourite subjects: The effect of hidden or secret knowledge on relationships. Six people, related by blood, marriage, and business, stumble into an evening of revelations surrounding the death of Martin, Robert’s brother. The revelations of unacknowledged actions and feelings disturb them all. Martin was loved and hated, the married couples don’t love each other, Olwen is in love with Robert, whose wife Freda loved Martin. Gordon (Freda’s brother) had an unhealthy attachment to Martin (which Martin used but didn’t return), and his wife Betty is mistress of Stanton, who is a cad, thief, and liar. The brother of the dead man has no faith or hope, and has subsisted on illusions (one of which was Betty’s purity and innocence,) which have now been shattered. Martin was a moral monster, playing these people off against one another, and using them all a objects of amusement and gratification.
     The question of course is how these people will continue, knowing what they now know. Priestley ducks it by replaying the first few lines of the play, and turning the story down safer lines. A trick ending, which I suppose was necessary, since to answer the question would require not just one other play but several. In other words, the play is the opening section of a novel. Anyhow, it reads more like a novel than a play. The stage directions are very specific in terms of movement about the stage, but they don’t help. I’ve seen a video version of another of his plays, When We Are Married, which was well enough done that I saw it twice. Priestley has a knack for characterisation and analysis of relationships, which makes for interesting stories, but the interest does not go very deep. He also tends to show the women as stronger and more pragmatic than the men. This seems to me a very English trait, but I couldn’t say why I think so. ** (2000)
     Update 2013: Re: strong female characters: Shakespeare started it. His heroines are generally stronger than the men, many of which are doofuses.

Outward Bound (Play))

     Sutton Cane Outward Bound (1923) The conceit of the play is simple: The passengers on a ship are dead. The ship is bound for Hades (both Heaven and Hell.) Vane plays nicely with this notion, especially in countering the then still current notions of the after-life. But the characters and their life stories (revealed when a jolly clergyman turns out to be the Examiner) are clichés. Their fates are thinly disguised versions of purgatory, limbo, and (eventually) heaven. It’s a one joke story. I found it interesting enough to read, but I also felt impatient with the slow pace of the story.
     This is a very actable play. One could really exaggerate the characters without damaging the effect. But the script promises more than it delivers. Apart from the cosiness of the afterlife (no fire and brimstone, no heavenly hosts), it’s thoroughly conventional in its views. It’s the kind of play that some people would call daring or different, others would call mildly amusing, and others would consider clichéd and boring. **

Mr Pim Passes By (Play)

     A. A. Milne, A. A. Mr. Pim Passes By (1922) A puzzle play depending on mistaken assumptions, family secrets, errors of fact, and so on. Mr. Pim visits a family in the country, and in his conversation suggests that the wife’s first husband is still alive. This of course causes an Ibsenesque revelation of the cracks and strains in the marriage, and the hypocrisy within the family. All ends well and conventionally, except perhaps for a more honest understanding between husband and wife. Pim acts as a catalyst. His character is just woolly and ineffectual enough to make his misunderstandings and their effects on the family believable. Overall, the characters are stereotypes, but good character actors could make something quite pleasant of this script. ** (2000)

The Green Goddess (Play

     William Archer The Green Goddess (1921) Some travellers are stranded in a remote and apparently uncivilised region of the world. The Rajah turns out to be English educated, etc etc. The themes concern British-Indian relations, European imperialism (both political and cultural), the stability of marriages, etc. An oddly earnest play, despite the bits of comedy in it. Forgettable - I had to skim it to remind myself of what I’d read! * (2000)

What Every Woman Knows (Play)

      J. M. Barrie What Every Woman Knows (1908) In style and tone, a cross between Pinero and Wilde. Some very good satire on the solemn (as opposed to the serious) man. A pseudo-Shavian play, not as acerbic or subtle as Shaw’s works, yet treating the same themes. Maggie the wife is of course the driving force in her husband John Shand’s political career, a fact he never fully acknowledges, although he eventually recognises her value to him, and even, in his awkward, self-centred way, comes to love her. Shaw did it much better, but Barrie did it more palatably: he didn’t insult his audience the way Shaw did. A nicely done play, which could be done successfully now, if the director can find the right balance between affectionate respect and camp. **½

The Importamce of Being Earnest (Play)

     Oscar Wilde The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) Why does this play work so well in contrast to Pinero’s melodrama? Its story is melodramatic (the discovery of lost orphans, the reconciliation of lovers, the winning of the approval of disapproving relatives, are all melodramatic motifs), but  unlike Pinero, Wilde knew and understood the artificiality of the genre, and played with it. Paradoxically, this playfulness makes more profound and subtle, that is truthful, points about morality, social standards, hypocrisy, and true goodness than Pinero’s laboured drama, which deals with exactly the same themes. Part of the difference is of course the language. Wilde’s style is realistic, or seems so, despite the many epigrams, or perhaps because the epigrams are just the ones a truly witty person (such as Oscar) would use in polite company. Wilde also understands the difference between superficial and deep feelings, Pinero’s characters operate at one level only. And Wilde doesn’t write his play to teach a lesson, but to entertain, which in the end teaches more powerfully than any overtly didactic work ever can. **** (2000)
     Update 2013: I've seen two film, one video, and one stage version of this play. In every medium, it works wonderfully well. It's thought of as a comedy, that is, a funny play. It's certainly funny, but it's also a comedy in Frye's sense: the story of an outsider hero who must undergo some test which nearly destroys him before becoming a full member of his community. That's one reason it's lasted. Another is that it shows how people can and do transcend the rules of the society to which they ostensibly subscribe. And of course it's a romantic comedy, and a vast multitude of theatre-goers are suckers for romance. That includes me.