My Love/Hate Relationship with Zane Grey's Writing, Part 2

Oddly enough, "Part 1" of my love/hate relationship with Zane Grey's writing was posted on this blog twelve years ago. So in the last twelve years, have I reconciled my conflicting perspectives of Zane Grey? The short answer is no; I am still conflicted. Seeking wider perspectives, I searched for other articles about Grey's bigoted writing, the racist and sexist elements in his writing. An article posted on Literary Hub, "In Praise of Racist Books: Notes of an Immigrant Reader," drew my interest, written by Black scholar and professor Louis Clude-Sokei. (A hit on my "Part 1" Zane Grey article also was pulled up, always a hoot to find myself on the internet.) 

Clude-Sukei grew up reading whatever books he could get his hands on, most of them by default White writers writing for a White audience. A first his reading simply matched his life experience--it was a bigoted, racist world he lived in, and the books he read were consistent in vision. Then Clude-Sukei grew more sophisticated and grew "to enjoy the frisson of contradiction." He writes about how "those damned racist books": "taught me that we are all shaped and rendered impure by racism, colonialism, and various forms of inequality, all the time and in all texts. Who or what we would be without those forces is unanswerable." The racism and gender rigidity in Grey's novels are historical footprints of times past (and present). 

Here are a few concepts from the article that resonated with me:

• "I’ve [Louis Clude-Sokei] lived by Joan Didion’s evergreen dictum, 'Writers are always selling someone out.'”
• "Not seeing myself in any of the characters enabled me to identify with all of them, so innocence was impossible. And suspecting that the author might have been hostile to someone like me only made the dance of interpretation more exciting. This all taught me to find freedom even in narratives hell-bent on my erasure."
• "One can love a work of literature while vehemently disagreeing with it. This seems so obvious it’s hard to believe it must now be defended. To teach students the opposite is to hobble them with a need for innocence."
• "To cleanse the past, though, is not only to rob ourselves of the prickly pleasures and unique challenges of such works. More importantly, it can aid in the removal of evidence from the scene of crime."
• "To make sanctuary in hostile or indifferent territory is a necessary skill."

My recent foray into Zane Grey's world was his romance The Light of the Western Stars. In the novel, Madeline Hammond leaves the privileged world of the East, seeking her brother in the wilds of New Mexico, during the beginnings of the revolutionary times in Mexico in the early 1900s. She experiences the vivid roughness of the environment and the people who live there. Action includes lightning storms, fast horses, wild cowboys, gunfights, and of course love. Grey's ability to describe the Western environment is at times sublime.

Rain fell steadily. The fury of the storm, however, had passed, and the roll of thunder diminished in volume. The air had wonderfully cleared and was growing cool. Madeline began to feel uncomfortably cold and wet. Stewart was climbing faster than formerly, and she noted that Monty kept at her heels, pressing her on. Time had been lost, and the camp-site was a long way off. The stag-hounds began to lag and get footsore. The sharp rocks of the trail were cruel to their feet. Then, as Madeline began to tire, she noticed less and less around her. The ascent grew rougher and steeper—slow toil for panting horses. The thinning rain grew colder, and sometimes a stronger whip of wind lashed stingingly in Madeline's face. Her horse climbed and climbed, and brush and sharp corners of stone everlastingly pulled and tore at her wet garments. A gray gloom settled down around her. Night was approaching. Majesty heaved upward with a snort, the wet saddle creaked, and an even motion told Madeline she was on level ground. She looked up to see looming crags and spires, like huge pipe-organs, dark at the base and growing light upward. The rain had ceased, but the branches of fir-trees and juniper were water-soaked arms reaching out for her. Through an opening between crags Madeline caught a momentary glimpse of the west. Red sun-shafts shone through the murky, broken clouds. The sun had set.

I enter Grey's world as an immigrant, a time traveler. The author has his "boxes" or perspectives that inform his writing: the sensitivity and intuitions "unique" to women, a "let's bash Mexicans" box, the insipid anemia of Easterners and the childlike impulsiveness of Westerners, the regenerative qualities of nature (which at times Grey romanicizes until it becomes a cliche).

I love Grey's description of the natural world, and I love his passionate characters and storylines, even with their brittle characterizations and moral binary development. As an immigrant reader, I enter Grey's novels, recognizing that I'm entering territory that will sometimes be hostile to my world view. I enjoy the frisson of being on guard, of advancing into a perspective that I at times will vehemently disagree with. Like all travelers, I advance cautiously into the "history" of the writing, the world at times beautiful and at times ugly, a stranger in a strange land--a situation not all that different, actually, from every time I walk out my front door. 

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The Cozy Mystery: Kick-A** Women in Corsets

I've been reading a lot of cozy mysteries this winter--and enjoying them. My wife and I have formed a book club of two, and we've spent a good deal of time reading side by side or discussing the books we've read over a meal or cup of tea. Sometimes I'm a book or two ahead in a series, and sometimes my wife leads the way. Sometimes I've read a series that my wife's chosen to skip; sometimes it's the other way around. You might say we're easy with the cozy, or cozy with our easy-going reading schedule. However cute I want to get with my syntax, it's been a good winter in terms of our reading arrangement. We've read some good books and had some fun talks about those books.Therefore, it seems perfectly reasonable to share some of our conclusions regarding cozy mysteries beyond the two of us--hence, this article.

The website cozy-mystery.com has published an article describing the qualities of a cozy mystery, "What Makes a Cozy Just That?" The identified characteristics in this article are as good as any other articles I've read. (Plus the website includes alphabetical lists of cozy authors.)

• "The cozy mystery heroine is usually a very intuitive, bright woman." (A newer cozy series that features this is Sherry Thomas's Lady Sherlock series, which cleverly recreates the Sherlock Holmes mythos.)
• "The occupations of the amateur sleuths are very diverse"; that is to say, usually the female protagonist is not a professional private investigator. (In Rhys Bowen's Molly Murphy series, though, the protagonist does become a PI.)
• "Although the cozy mystery sleuth is usually not a medical examiner, detective, or police officer, a lot of times her best friend, husband, or significant other is." Anna Lee Huber's Lady Darby series features the "anatomist" plot feature.)
• "Cozy mysteries are considered “gentle” books… no graphic violence, no profanity, and no explicit sex." As the cozy article additionally mentions, authors sometimes push those boundaries. (Julie McElwain's Kendra Donovan series is an example of where the "gentle" mystery becomes more gritty. The character Kendra Donovan is an FBI agent who time travels to Regency England, where she solves murders.)
• "The cozy mystery puts an emphasis on plots and character development." This is why cozies become series--the journey of the main characters becomes as significant as solving the cases--or they become entwined. Often the romantic interest is a more modern-thinking male who assists the female protagonist, eschewing the social restrictions of the times regarding women. (A great example of this characteristic is Andrea Penrose's Wrexford and Sloane series, with one of the finest assembly of interesting characters of all the cozies I've read.)

My wife and I have a few other comments regarding the cozy mystery. One is that I'm trying hard right now to remember if any of the cozy series my wife and I have read were written by men, but I'm coming up blank. I do know, though, that I've seen some male authors in the book lists I've read. One casual reference was to John Grisham, that his novel The Pelican Brief could fit the cozy definition, although it relies more on action than many cozies. 

Another point to make is that cozies repeatedly put the female protagonists in conflict with the restrictive sexist views of the times, whether it's Regency England, Victorian England, or American and Europe in the times prior to (or during) World War II. Most of the cozies I've read pit the female protagonist (and often the male partner) against the extreme limitations that were imposed upon women. The concept that women are only meant to be eye candy and heir-producers is a common conflict in the novels. A common theme is how far we've come with gender equality--and how we haven't come very far at all. 

A third quality of cozy mysteries involves the literary device of anachronism, "a thing belonging or appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists." Although often used to mean something inordinately old-fashioned in a modern world, the anachronism in cozies is a modern, self-reliant, independent woman living in times where women are socially and legally without power. Often the female protagonists fight two conflicts at once: solving the murder mystery and struggling to act independently in a social milieu that represses a woman's independent spirit. Since issues of women's rights still resonate in today's modern world, this social conflict resonates for modern readers.

One of the pleasures my wife and I experience, now that we've read many cozy mysteries and quite a few series, to to determine and discuss how well the authors work within the boundaries of the cozy framework. Some authors are better at the social issues, some better at realistically portraying the romantic conflicts, and some shine at creating unique and interesting characters, including minor characters. This sub-genre of cozy mysteries is a safe and enjoyable environment to return to after a long day's work. The novel format rather than TV series medium highlights curiosity and mystery as a precursor to action, and in the end we are intellectually satisfied and not just stimulated by non-stop action. 

Soon I'll be heading out this spring to garden, camp, and bike and hike. I'm looking forward to more activity and fresh air. It's been a good winter, though, in terms of reading. I've discovered new writers that are a pleasure to read, and I've learned a few things, too. Welcome to the world of the "gentle" mystery--a cutthroat world where "gentle" is a facade that must be maintained in order to exist and broken to survive.

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Deborah Harkness and her All Souls Trilogy (Discovery of Witches)

The word verisimilitude means something has the appearance of being true or real. In literature, it means the author's world-building skills are such that the reader believes the reality of the work and is not pulled out of the "reading reality" by too great a stretch of the imagination. We, as readers, willingly suspend our disbelief and enter the fiction, wide-eyed and believing. Novelist and scholar Deborah E. Harkness in her fictional All Souls Trilogy creates a believable reality with credible characters that include witches, daemons, and vampires . . . plus a few charismatic plain old humans. 

As the pitch for the trilogy (and the TV series A Discovery of Witches) emphasizes, magical creatures exist among us--in plain sight. Having read the trilogy a long time ago, I decided to try the Amazon Prime free first season of the TV series, especially when I realized that actor Matthew Goode was cast as the character Matthew Clairmont. I've always appreciated Goode's work when he's popped up on the screen through the years. In many ways the TV series is just as enjoyable if not more so than the books, the drama playing out in the series without shading toward melodrama. 

Finishing the first season lickety-split (it is winter outside, after all, and conducive to sitting on the sofa), my wife and I immediately bought the second season via Amazon streaming. Then when we finished and decided to buy the third season, we discovered that it was still streaming week by week. We decided we didn't want to subscribe to another streaming service (available via Amazon), so we tried out Plan B and decided to just read the third book of the trilogy. Then we decided that rather than waiting and checking the book out of our local public library, we would choose immediate wish fulfillement and bought the Kindle ebook. I'm happy to say that the move from TV series to book was seamless, with just a few minor changes noticeable. 

I've ripped through the third book of the trilogy and now have the fourth book, Time's Convert, on hold at the library, which I'll check out today. The fourth book continues the saga but isn't necessary for closure, which Harkness supplies at the end of the third book of the trilogy, The Book of Life. I've enjoyed sharing this trilogy with my wife--our little book club of two. We're both happy with this series, which manages to combine magic with romance without descending into "bodice-ripping," gratuitous explication. And, of course, when the third season of the series is available as a unit, we'll enjoy that, too. In fact, we've discovered that the first two seasons of A Discovery of Witches is available at our good ol' public library, so when they acquire the third, we're good to go!

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Six Books on Our Relationship with Nature

Recently I've been interested in reading about the relationship we can develop with nature--or should I write that with a capital, Nature? What I've discovered is that most of the books I've run across that I want to read are not at my local public library because they are not heavy hitters in terms of sales. Kindle has become the go-to purchase choice for me, and it's pretty convenient, I must say. Here are some of the books I've purchased that I've either read or are on my winter reading list. As you'll see, they represent a broad perspective of how people, and specifically how I, can interact with the natural world. 

Wilding: Returning Nature to Our Farm

Author, Isabella Tree. I was surprised to discover that this book is heavily researched and documented, so a lot of background information is provided and also support for the concept of allowing nature to coordinate how a piece of land is "managed" for best ecological results. It really is an eye-opener and also provided me with hope. On Knepp Castle Estate, an ancient, English estate, Isabella Tree and her husband (the inheritor) decide to "re-wild" the land. Their ecological, social, and legal journey includes the return of weeds and trash brush, the introduction of wild cattle and hogs, and the return of many birds that are in danger of extinction in Britain. It's a fascinating read.

Of the books I've purchased, Wilding is the only one I've completely read so far. The others I'm reading a bit at a time. In fact, the next four I'm reading concurrently, as my mood dictates. I'll read a bit in one and then another.

One Unbounded Ocean of Consciousness: Simple Answers to the Big Questions in Life

Author, Tony Nader. Dr. Nader is the head of the organization that teaches the Transcendental Meditation technique. He was taught and appointed by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, who introduced the meditation technique and the Vedic understanding of the nature and range of consciousness to the Western world over sixty years ago. Because Dr. Nader is a medical doctor and researcher, he provides a comprehensive look at the relationship of consciousness, reality, the world, and ourselves. He connects Vedic wisdom and the historical and most current scientific understanding of what existence is and how human consciousness interacts with reality. His basic premise is that everything is consciousness, and his development of this concept from both Vedic and scientific perspectives is comprehensive. One of the most interesting results of reading this book is the discovery that our everyday understanding of our relationship with the world is quite limited (and probably outdated); even science has a much more expanded and "cosmic" perspective of how we perceive the world. 

House of Rain: Tracking a Vanished Civilization Across the American Southwest

Author, Craig Childs. One of my personal goals is to make the journey to the American Southwest with my Airstream Basecamp trailer and spend time exploring the ancient cultures of the Anasazi. And, by the way, this book House of Rain has informed me that the word Anasazi is not the preferred term any longer; meaning "ancient enemy" in Navajo, the indigenous peoples of the Southwest preferably to not choose to refer to their ancestors as enemies. “Ancestral Pueblo” or “Ancestral Puebloan" are preferred terms. This book combines the author's personal experiences with his explorations of the ruins and his research of these ancient cultures. What has touched me most so far in my reading is how the construction of the cliff dwellings was so intimately connected to nature--the seasons and the path of the sun, the topography of the land and the situating of the buildings. There is an alignment with nature. This is something that is certainly not common in modern building and community planning.

The Transcendentalists and Their World

Author, Robert A. Gross. Forty years ago, Robert Gross published The Minutemen and Their World, an academic study of the Minutemen of Concord, Massachusetts, and their community. It's been reissued, and Gross has also published now a look at the Transcendentalists and how they lived and interacted in their community at Concord. I've started reading this and am excited to discover how such a profound and individual vision of personal freedom and spirituality as Transcendentalism bubbled up at Concord. From what I've read so far, the citizens of Concord, for instance, looked at our dear Henry David Thoreau with a mixture of pride, awe, and quite a bit of puzzled head-scratching. I'm looking forward to a more complete understanding of the cultural milieu that produced this world perspective.

Nature, Love Medicine: Essays on Wildness and Wellness

Editor, Thomas Lowe Fleischner. This book of essays focuses on the theme that if we find a way to integrate with nature, then we become more integrated, healthy, dynamic individuals and communities. From what I've read so far, the essays include a mixture of personal experience and scientific and medical understanding of the benefits of getting outside and developing a connection with the natural world. Not only are the effects on individuals in nature explored but also how communities benefit when local governments consciously include green zones and such in city planning. One essay I read included medical and crime statistics. Because this book includes a collection of authors, it provides multiple perspectives of why we should get out in nature as a regular part of our daily routines. According to my Kindle app, I've only read 13% of this anthology, so I've got some good reading and reflecting ahead for this winter season.

Feral: Rewilding the Land, the Sea, and Human Life 

Author, George Monbiot. I've only read three percent of this book so far, but I'm looking forward to engaging with the content. Monbiot is an environmentalist who has written quite a few books about how humankind are devastating our planet. This book provides an optimistic note that the natural world can regenerate if provided a fair chance by humanity. The book blurb explains: "An optimistic approach to environmentalism that focuses on the wonders of rewilding, not just the terrifying consequences of climate change." The author shares with us a vision of "how, by inviting nature back into our lives, we can simultaneously cure our 'ecological boredom' and begin repairing centuries of environmental damage. Monbiot takes readers on an enchanting journey around the world to explore ecosystems that have been 'rewilded': freed from human intervention and allowed—in some cases for the first time in millennia—to resume their natural ecological processes." I'm looking forward to reading this book.

As you can see, I'm currently reading books about making a connection with nature, both inner and outer nature--as if there's any difference. Yes, I realize it's somewhat ironic that I'm connecting with nature via the medium of ebooks and the Kindle, but I do feel that we can find a way to combine our technological advances with living in harmony with nature. These books provide me with hope and also current, pertinent information on how to live a connected life with and within our world. Good reading to everyone, and perhaps your winter reading will include one or more of these books.

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Anna Lee Huber Historical Mysteries: Her Wily Characterizations

I enjoy writing about what I'm currently reading, and my current binge will probably rate several blog posts over time. I've been reading what one blogger at Book Riot has described as "feminist historical mysteries." I've taken each of those three words and analyzed them in the context of what I've been reading, and have gained some new insights.

Over the winter I began gathering books from our local public library for my wife's reading. Why didn't she do so herself? Well, I'm retired and she's still working, the library was closed for browsing (only curbside pick-up) which meant browsing was relegated to online catalog search, and I enjoy browsing (whether online or eyeballing the shelves). I also like to do nice things for my wife. What I discovered in my browsing is that there is an entire sub-genre out there of women mysteries. This is nothing new for me to discover, of course. After all, Agatha Christie is one of the best-selling novelists of all time, and she wrote stories that included not only male detective Hercule Poirot but also strong female sleuths. One BBC writer affirmed that Christie "fought Victorian literary conventions, which saw women painted as frivolous and focused on men, to bring the public gutsy females with great minds," listing four heroines that made Christie "an unlikely feminist icon." 

What my wife and I have been noticing and appreciating in our current reading is that "feminist historical mysteries" include some very good reads. Anna Lee Huber is one writer who is currently publishing intelligent, adept mysteries that include strong female protagonists. 

Why attach the word "feminist" to her books? Huber is publishing two mystery series, the Lady Darby mysteries, set in the early 1800s, and the Verity Kent series of mysteries, set in the World War I era. Both women protagonists are intelligent "inquiry agents," yet also have to work within a melieu that severely defines and restricts the "appropriate" behavior of women. These women protagonists also are paired with love and work partners who are more open to having equal relationships with women. The result of Huber's characterizations is that not only are the gender limitations of past eras seen but the challenges that face our current times are also illustrated. I like, though, how Huber characterizes the success of the couples as being based in mutual respect and honesty. The main characters are developed in a balanced manner so that gender depictions don't skew into stereotypes. 

These are historical novels, and Huber does capture the essence of the time and place. Her descriptions of castles on the moor or descriptions of the streets of London feel authentic, as do her details of the fashion of each era, whether in clothes or architecture. I especially appreciate, though, how Huber is not heavy-handed in her inclusion of historical detail and relevant background information. Such detail is assiduously woven into the narrative so that its inclusion doesn't interrupt the flow of the action. In the Verity Kent series, I found myself stepping into the WWI era in a manner that I hadn't before, feeling the overpowering stress of the trenches on the war front and also the stress of wives and families back in England, hoping against hope that the boy on the red bicycle doesn't arrive at their door with a telegram from the war office. 

Huber applies the "mystery" of these feminist historical mysteries with a deft hand. The clues arrive with due diligence, and the suspects are sufficient to keep us guessing. I honestly didn't know who the real culprit was in many of the novels until the very last few pages. As each series progresses, the protagonists become more skilled in their inquiry skills; in addition, the working relationship between the protagonists and their partners deepens. This provides not only the satisfaction of following the trail of bread crumbs the sleuths have to follow but also the engaging in the increasing richness of the relationships as they evolve. The Verity Kent series also adds the mystery "pearl" of a Moriarty-like character to the series. Just as Sherlock Holmes and Watson had their arch-villain rival in Moriarty, so Verity and Sidney Kent have their evil plotter--who shall remain unnamed to avoid spoiling the fun of discovery.

One standard I use to determine an author's skill is whether or not that author is able to credibly develop characters, no matter what gender. Do those characters seem real? Do they come alive on the page? The ability to create believable and relatable characters is one of Anna Lee Huber's strengths as a writer. I've come to realize she's just one of many women writers who have tapped into the interest in "feminist historical fiction."  Huber and other writers tap into that fascination by readers that Mark Twain tapped into with his novel A Connecticut Yankee in King Author's Court. Beyond Twain's satire is just the simple allure of a character displaced in time with special knowledge and abilities. Huber has created her women protagonists to have skills, abilities, and predilections that are more modern than the times in which her stories are set. The struggles of these characters--and their partners--to find fulfillment in their lives are not so different than our own (except possibly multiplied by an "x" factor), and that is one secret of Huber's success as a mystery novelist. Because we want to prevail, we want her wily main characters to prevail. If they can do it, then maybe so can we.

My Local Public Library Has Only Curbside Service--How I Learned to Browse Online

Ever since I could read, one of my favorite pastimes has been reading, and closely associated with that has been the happy pursuit of browsing for something interesting to read. With the arrival of the current coronavirus pandemic, businesses and governmental agencies have adapted to the necessary medical protocols, our friendly public library among them. Reducing its service to online catalog book checkout and curbside delivery is the current service available to my town's bibliophiles. 

The library has had an online catalog for a long time, one which I used occasionally to determine if a particular book or author was available at the library. Almost always, however, I used the in-library computers for a quick search. "Does the library have Edgar Rice Burroughs' Tarzan of the Apes," I'd ask myself, for instance, and a quick check of the computerized "card catalog" would determine the availability of the novel--assuming that I just didn't walk over to the "B" section in fiction and do an eyeball check myself.

I had never actually browsed with the catalog, though, and that is something I learned to do with the advent of the pandemic. First I had to flounder around a bit and remember my sign in and password. Having done that, I then had to learn how to use the catalog's search functions. I discovered that I could look for more than a specific title or author. I could reference also according to subject, for instance adding the search words "ocean," "historical," and "women." I could also search for books that were part of a series. 

A fun activity I began with my wife was to find books for her to read. I had done this some prior to the pandemic, cruising the stacks and pulling a few books I thought she'd like. Now I had to learn how to do this via the computer catalog. My wife was raised by the ocean, which she misses here in Iowa, so that has always been a "go-to" subject for books. She also enjoys novels with strong female protagonists, although gender is not a deal-breaker. Finally, we've discovered that we both enjoy mysteries and detective novels. 

In addition to the library, we have also come to rely on online book buying, both used and new books. We've also utilized my Kindle a bit for ebooks when necessary, although we still enjoy reading hands-on paper books more. The process that has evolved is that I discover an author--and perhaps a series by that author--and then browse the library catalog to determine if the library has that author's books. Then we'll fill in any books missing from a series or from that author's backlist by purchasing online. 

One good example of this process is books by the author Anna Lee Huber. The library catalog displayed as a new book A Pretty Deceit, the fourth book in Huber's Verity Kent mystery series. I researched the author and discovered she also writes a Lady Darby mystery series. I bought the first books in both series as samplers. My wife and I both enjoyed them, and we have purchased and read the series, which included our reading only one of the books from the library.

Searching for novels that have ocean settings, I discovered the novels of Mary Alice Monroe. My wife has really enjoyed her novels, and we've been able to check out a number of her novels from the library, filling in as needed by online purchases. Monroe has a number of stand-alone novels and also has written books for two series, a Lowcountry Summer trilogy and the Beach House series. My wife's read all her novels, and although I've read only one of these novels, I'll probably read more in the future.

I enjoy searching for possible books for my wife Sandy, and it's great fun to discover an author that she really enjoys. Because I'm retired and she's still running her business, it's easier for me to carve out some browsing time. Besides, as a lifelong reader, a writer, and a retired language arts teacher, it's great fun to browse the stacks, even if I have to do it virtually. It has also been a source of enjoyment for Sandy and me to read the same books and then to talk about them. Sharing our enjoyment of reading is a simple joy, which is especially pleasurable in our sometimes complicated world. We have tried a few authors that we aren't crazy about, but even those discussions are a source of pleasure and sharing. 

If you haven't interacted with your local library's online catalog, I suggest you try it out. I think my town's public library has done a great job of dealing with the dangers of the pandemic while still working to meet the needs of its patrons. Curbside service--actually, I'm feeling a bit spoiled!

 

Reading Emerson's Essay "Nature" While Camping

"Landscape and Transcendence," Jasper Francis Cropsey (1823-1900)

In his essay "Nature," Ralph Waldo Emerson says this about being outside during times "wherein the world reaches its perfection," speaking specifically about October: "These halcyons [days of peace and tranquillity] may be looked for with a little more assurance in that pure October weather, which we distinguish by the name of Indian Summer. The day, immeasurably long, sleeps over the broad hills and warm wide fields. To have lived through all its sunny hours, seems longevity enough. The solitary places do not seem quite lonely. At the gates of the forest, the surprised man of the world is forced to leave his city estimates of great and small, wise and foolish. The knapsack of custom falls off his back with the first step he makes into these precincts."

As Emerson's description of the beauty of the New England autumn unfolds, we are led from an  individual perspective, creeping out of our "close and crowded houses," to the cosmic perspective of the laws of nature. "The incommunicable trees begin to persuade us to live with them, and quit our life of solemn trifles," to live beyond history, church, or state, in unity with "the divine sky and the immortal year." Nature, he says, is medicinal; it sobers and heals us. It is our first home, feeding our senses with with "room enough," to be whole. If we could be "rapt away" into the fullness of nature, he says, "the upper sky would be all that would remain of our furniture."

The purpose of Emerson's essay is to remind us of and inspire us to our essential nature, that the fullness of nature is also our fullness. He seeks to move us from the everyday "profane" to the eternities of sacred nature, describing "the innumerable florets" of the flower houstonia, glassy lakes, and the south wind that "converts all trees to wind-harps." He seeks to expand our mind through his description--senses, intellect, and emotions--and to lead us to that place within where boundaries fade and even as we sit inside our homes, reading his essay, listening to the "crackling and spurting of hemlock in the flames" of the fireplace and gazing at the patterned grain of the wood-paneled walls, we see "the music and pictures of the most ancient religion." And we are changed, transformed.

"I leave the village politics and personalities, yes, and the world of villages and personalities behind, and pass into the delicate realm of sunset and moonlight, too bright almost for spotted man to enter without novitiate and probation. We penetrate bodily this incredible beauty; we dip our hands in this painted element: our eyes are bathed in these lights and forms."

Is it nature that transforms us, or we that transform nature? Does our perception perceive or create? What is the sequence, the process? The question will betray the unity of the moment. There is no sequence, no creator and creation, only the experience of unity, transcending time, place, and causality. "The difference between landscape and landscape is small, but there is great difference in the beholders." Emerson says that "nature cannot be surprised in undress. Beauty breaks in everywhere." Nature need not be fenced and called a park; it is equally present in a woodlot or planted field. "Compound it how she will, star, sand, fire, water, tree, man, it is still one stuff, and betrays the same properties."

Honey Creek State Park, my home for two weeks

And that is how I come to be spending two weeks in mid-October, camping in a state park in Iowa. Given the opportunity, I choose to bathe "in these lights and forms," to give myself the opportunity to let beauty "break in," to enliven within myself the "same properties" that exist in cosmic reality, to transcend our "petty omnipresence," where "flowers jilt us, and we are old bachelors with our ridiculous tenderness."

Reading all of the essay "Nature" beyond Emerson's introductory laudations that are giddy with transcendental epiphanies, a more somber explication of his ideas--obviously based on his personal experience--is developed. The matter of the universe is all one "stuff," and the motion of the universe is all one energy. Living this unity, though, is not an intellectual construct, nor is it an abandonment of the intellect or mind. The primal essence of existence compels us, even though we cannot fully embrace that essence with our reason. Therefore, "no man is quite sane," seeking to know that essence, and coming up esteeming our "hat and shoes sacred." 

The unified oneness of the perceiver, that which is perceived, and the process of perceiving is an elusive oneness, even for Emerson. He admits the frustration at his fleeting glimpses of that which he does not eternally own. "A man can only speak, so long as he does not feel his speech to be partial and inadequate." We intuit the whole within the part, yet lose the wholeness within the boundaries. This fleeting, intuitive, deja vu-like experience of knowing wholeness is our experience with nature. We have been one with nature before, haven't we? We almost remember it. "There is throughout nature, something that leads us on and on, but arrives nowhere, keeps no faith with us." Our hunger, even when we eat, is for something greater than the physical food. All thoughts and exertions fall short because they are expressions of boundaries which limit the unboundedness that teases us with reminisces with every hard line and definitive action. "This disappointment is felt in every landscape." We cannot come "near enough" to the objects of our perception. "The pine tree, the river, the bank of flowers before [the poet], does not seem to be nature. Nature is elsewhere."

What is fickle is not nature, not matter and motion; nature is not petulant, nor are we "tickled trout." It is our individual consciousness that is fickle and variable. "We cannot bandy words with nature, or deal with her as we deal with persons." There is no personal or individual relationship with nature, only a cosmic relationship. If we wish to see nature in its wholeness, then we must be whole. Our knowledge of existence is structured in our own consciousness. We cannot experience unboundedness while being bound by our own individual limitations. "Nature cannot be cheated," or tricked into revelation, Emerson writes. "Man's life is but seventy salads long, grow they swift or grow they slow." What we perceive through unenlightened eyes is only a glimmer of full sunlight. "The reality is more excellent than the report."

Emerson provides us with hope, though, even though he provides us with no clear technique for transcendence. Transcendence is our nature, after all. "The world is mind precipitated, and the volatile essence is forever escaping again into the state of free thought." Consciousness makes "the whole and the particle its equal channel." Since nature is in every particle of our existence and in all of existence, we should hope and live for that transcendental unity. "Every moment instructs and every object: for wisdom is infused into every form." We must strive for unity with nature, no matter how many days it takes.

"It has been poured into us as blood; it convulsed us as pain; it slid into us as pleasure; it enveloped us in dull, melancholy days, or in days of cheerful labor; we did not guess its essence, until after a long time."

The irony of Emerson's conclusion is that being nature, we yearn to know our nature, to live fully our unbounded nature, even if our individual, bound selves are too busy or preoccupied to remember. Being out among the trees can help us remember, though. That's why I'm camping right now, surrounding myself with nature, with trees and sky and lake. Ideas of enlightenment and unity reside in our mind, but also "stand around us in nature forever embodied, a present sanity to expose and cure the insanity of men." I'm here for the cure, even if it doesn't happen until after a long time.

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125 New York Library Years--and the Books Checked Out the Most

Children in the Bronx visit a New York Public Library bookmobile in the 1950s.
The New York Public Library

The New York Public Library is celebrating its 125th anniversary. The library system has 92 locations in the Bronx, Manhattan, and Staten Island. As part of its celebration, it recently announced the top 10 all-time books with the highest circulation. The story about which books have been checked out most is not as straightforward as it might seem.

First of all, most of the top ten are children's books because they are shorter and are checked out more frequently (and finished more quickly). The number one book checked out in the library's history is The Snowy Day, a children's book written by Ezra Jack Keats. A 1963 Caldecott Award recipient, it has been checked out 485,583 times. A Wall Street Journal article mentions that the book has remarkable diversity, having a main character that is black and a longevity that has spanned generations.

As an aside, Margaret Wise Brown's children's book Goodnight Moon was not on the list. Here's why, according to a National Public Radio story.

"The library also awarded an 'honorable mention' to Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. That book might have been a contender for the all-time top spot, but NYPL children's librarian Anne Carroll Moore so disliked the 1947 book that the library didn't carry it until 1972. That late entry kept the book off the top 10 list — for now."

 Two dystopian novels are on the list, Orwell's 1984 and Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. The only non-fiction book on the list was Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People.

First edition cover

One of the greatest novels I've ever read is on the list: Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. There aren't many recent works on the list because time in circulation is a significant factor. However, R.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone made number 9 on the list.

It would be interesting to find out more history about the NYPL's books and this list. For instance, was Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn ever banned by the library, and for how long? This is a novel that has alway been controversial, one that I taught as a classroom teacher, and even wrote an essay about: "Is Huck Finn an Archetypal Hero?" I think it would also be interesting for the library to issue a list of the top 10 novels, if possible.

The Snowy Day was the first picture book with an African American protagonist to win a major children’s award.
[Martin, Michelle H. (2004). Brown Gold: Milestones of African-American Children's Picture Books, 1845-2002.]

Here is the list of the top 10 books checked out in the history of the New York Public Library.

1. The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats: 485,583 checkouts
2. The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss: 469,650 checkouts
3. 1984 by George Orwell: 441,770 checkouts
4. Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak: 436,016 checkouts
5. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee: 422,912 checkouts
6. Charlotte's Web by E.B. White: 337,948 checkouts
7. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury: 316,404 checkouts
8. How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie: 284,524 checkouts
9. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling: 231,022 checkouts
10. The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle: 189,550 checkouts

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"A Discovery of Witches," "Shadow of Night," and "The Book of Life": A Review of Deborah Harkness's Trilogy

Goodreads, Discovery of Witches

What if our world were composed not just of ordinary humans but also vampires, witches, and daemons? And what if these additions to the human world were developed not as fantastic creatures but as other alternatives to evolution, such as the neanderthals, but with still paranormal abilities?

Deborah Harkness entered into the gothic realm of the supernatural novel about six years after young adult author Stephenie Meyer splashed into our awareness with her novel Twilight. It would not be inappropriate to mention similarities: handsome vampire, Romeo/Juliet romance, and if not sparkle, then at least a bit of glimmer. However, Harkness plants her feet more firmly in science and the adult world. The female protagonist, Diana Bishop, is a scholar albeit a witch who has renounced her abilities. Vampire Matthew Clairmont is a doctor and researcher who is pulled into the world of "creature" politics by Bishop's inadvertent discovery of a historically potent book of spells and knowledge, the Book of Life, also catalogued in an Oxford antiquities library as Ashmole 782.

Author Deborah Harkness is a scholar and professor of history, and even though her trilogy surfs the vampire fad of the early 2000s, she adds historical credibility and detail to the romance and bloody bosom-bearing passages. I checked the trilogy out of my local public library, and at about 1,600 pages of reading, I have to honestly say that if the narrative did not drag, it did at times bog down in excessive minutiae of plot, perhaps a scholar's fascination for reconstructing history? The overall arc of the plot, though, which is both globe-spanning and time-spanning, does introduce a fascinating variety of settings and characters. Sir Walter Raleigh, anyone?

One powerful tool Harkness uses in her trilogy is science. The vampires and the witch tradition have existed long enough in the series to allow for a lively interaction between the advancement of scientific knowledge and the hidden existence of the magical "creatures." How do they exist, and why? What is their place in the world in relation to plain old humanity? The interplay between ancient lore and modern science promotes quite a bit of the novel's drive.

Another strength of the trilogy--and I have to say that I admire Harkness for this skill--is the author's ability to create and develop a wide range of interesting and unique minor characters. Sometimes the main characters become foils to highlight the fascinating personalities of the minor characters. Some of these characters are historical and some are creations of the author. I found them all enjoyable and couldn't get enough of them, especially since these minor characters not only became themselves on the page but also came to define through example the characteristics of vampire, daemon, witch, and human. And, yes, some of the most dynamic minor characters were human.

Finally, this series would be just another foray into the twilight without the underlying thread of discrimination, persecution, and intolerance that laces the story together. Humanity is a study of these cruelties, and the novels intelligently weave man's inhumanities along with devoted love and objective science to create a perspective, I think, that transcends the genre. Deborah Harkness has added another novel to the trilogy--Time's Convert, which continues the saga, continuing to utilize the organizational structure of combining present action with the characters' past actions. I plan to give the series a bit of a rest, and then I'll pick up the fourth book and give it a go.

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"Red Sister," "Grey Sister," and "Holy Sister": A Review of Mark Lawrence's Fantasy "Book of the Ancestor" Trilogy

That sharp edge of the blade where fantasy and science fiction meet is a precarious perspective for a writer of speculative fiction to adopt. Anne McCaffrey did so with her Pern series, C.J. Cherryh did so with her Morgaine saga, and Lawrence has done so with his Book of the Ancestor trilogy: Red Sister, Grey Sister, and Holy Sister. That's distinguished company for Lawrence to rub elbows with, but this trilogy earns him the privilege.

The science fictional premise is that a star-faring race colonizes the planet Abeth. Its sun dying, the original colonists (the ancestors) set up a means of keeping a thin strip of the planet around the equator unfrozen so that their descendents can survive. These colonists consist of four races, each with unique abilities, some physical and some mental, and at the time of the trilogy's action, these races are mixed to varying degrees among the surviving population. 

Enter Nona, a child of eight years, whose powers unfold as the storyline progresses through the three books. She is adopted by the nuns of Sweet Mercy, where the lowest order of the nuns is the most physical--kickass nuns. Environmental and political crises unfold, Nona grows and evolves over the next decade, and readers are swept into the intrigue and magic Lawrence's universe.

Abeth is cold, but do not think of soft, pristine snow. Think of cold, cold winds, encroaching glaciers scouring the land. Think of dirty snow, rotten snow, winter noir, and the tone of the novels, which colors Nona struggles to survive in a harsh world. And then there are the ruins of the Lost Ones, ancient aliens and their mysterious artifacts. 

The characters seek to walk the Path in order to control the basic power of the universe. They seek to pull the Threads of reality to activate the laws of nature. They seek to manipulate how others perceive reality in order to control the actions of individuals and armies. Lawrence convincingly describes battle with swords, martial arts, and mind-bending powers. And Nona and her Sisters are central to the action of saving the world by saving themselves. 

Lawrence's universe is believable, and his focus on action and the evolution of Nona provides all the suspense and conflict--and revelation and achievement--that one can ask for. I end this review by passing on words of wisdom from the good Sisters: "It is important, when killing a nun, to ensure that you bring an army of sufficient size. For Sister Thorn of the Sweet Mercy Convent, Lano Tacsis brought two hundred men."

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John Muir Goes A-Campin' at Hetch Hetchy

The Hetch-Hetchy Valley, California, 1870s, oil on canvas by German-American artist Albert Bierstadt (1830-1902), currently at the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, CT. (Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

I'm really enjoying my $1.99 ebook, John Muir's Ultimate Collection, having recently read the essay "The Hetch Hetchy Valley." This essay chronicles his camping trip into the Hetch Hetchy in 1873, before the fight to keep the Sierra Nevada valley that is near Yosemite from being dammed and flooded for water for the San Francisco area. Muir later rewrote this essay as a plea to not destroy the valley, but the original version I read is more the early writing style of Muir: innocence, wonder, and reverence. (This original essay online here.)

Muir, circa 1860 (PBS)

Muir decides to visit Hetch Hetchy during the first week of November, so there is some danger of snow. This, of course, is before satellite weather forecasting, so in his usual inimitable manner, Muir takes three loaves of bread for his food--one for the trip up, one for the trip back, and one for emergencies. He also has his blanket and a nice cup for his "complementary coffee"--Muir, the glamper! "Thus grandly allowanced, I was ready to enjoy my ten days' journey of any kind of calm or storm." 

He decides to leave the trail and follow some grizzlies to achieve a short-cut in his route, which includes some adventure through the rough country. He's careful, of course, since he doesn't want to startle the bear on a narrow canyon path only wide enough enough for one! "At first I took [the path] to be an Indian trail, but after following it a short distance, I discovered certain hieroglyphics which suggested the possibility of its belonging to the bears," a mother and her cubs. Since the essay was written, readers, you can assume he survived that adventure. Hiking escalates to mountain climbing, all the while Muir describing the experience in his highly readable style that combines travelogue with objective, scientific observation as he adventures all day and then settles in for the night. 

"Night gathered, in most impressive repose; my blazing fire illumined the grand brown columns of my compassing cedars and a few withered briers and goldenrods that leaned forward between them, as if eager to drink the light. Stars glinted here and there through the rich plumes of my ceiling, and in front I could see a portion of the mighty cañon walls, dark against the sky, making me feel as if at the bottom of a sea."

Muir discusses the history of the valley, its human occupation--and, yes, there is a snowstorm. Our intrepid traveler weathers it, and not alone. "I did not expect company in such unfavorable weather; nevertheless I was visited towards evening by a brown nugget of a wren."

This beautiful, descriptive narrative essay is a tribute to the beauty and glory of the natural world--and unfortunately, also a prescient eulogy to the now-inundated valley. This is Muir at his finest--the minimalist camper, the scientist and naturalist, and the priest of the forest cathedral.

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