Archives mensuelles : décembre 2012

A Christmas Carol by Dickens

High English. This is literature.

Written in five parts, these total five gongs or strikes of the departed. Each strike to be tallied by Stave (as chapters), and all will lead to the event. This book is the gift, time is the present, mankind in his progress is the reason.

Stave is ‘to gird’. To grit the teeth, and know thy enemy. To guard some virtue, or to cushion some tender necessity. Stave One represents friendship. Marley’s appearance is one borne of remembrance. Scrooge is dead, too. He draws his life from a cold, hard epitaph. He is not crotchety (as is sometimes portrayed), his features are frozen, icy, sharp. Nefarious, (p. 6), « the ice within him nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait, made his eyes red, his thin lips blue… ». Scrooge is the hostility of economic compression.

Written as dank, not chilled. The re-enactment, at least as far as I’ve known, is merely cold and wretched. This is desperate, haunting, bleak.

In description of Marley’s former abode, now inhabited by Scrooge, (p. 15), « He lived in Chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and have forgotten the way out again… »

Scrooge was ill. He had a cold in his head, so sits « down by the fire to take his gruel. » Dickens becomes The Good Book here, where the tiles of scriptures on the fireplace surround might have had the power to tap the embers of joyful reassurance of memory, instead Scrooge is ignorant of capacity to notice. Marley’s ghost manifests, (p. 18), « The fireplace was an old one … and paved all round with quaint Dutch tiles, designed to illustrate the scriptures … (with) hundreds of figures to attract his thoughts, and yet the face of Marley … came like the ancient Prophet’s rod, and swallowed up the whole. » He pronounces his friend’s weaknesses, and foreshadows occurrences, (p. 25), « You will be haunted » (not visited) « by three Spirits. »

This was Stave One – Guard against regret.

Stave Two begins with Scrooge’s faith. There is no disbelief. There is only wonder. The dawning of this appearance speaks and pleads. She is Christmas nearly forgotten. She fades, (p. 31), « For as its belt sparkled and glittered, now in one part, now in another … so the figure itself fluctuated … being now a thing with one arm, now with one leg, now with twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without a body; of which dissolving parts no outline would be visible in the dense gloom wherein they melted away … I am the ghost of Christmas past … « , but she is unremarkable since being untended and ill-kept.

This was Stave Two – Guard against loss. Remember tradition anchors wishful remembrace and the kindred heart.

Stave Three – He (still) has life. We ARE our own time upon this Earth. ‘I am the life’ is this appearance. Life is confident, colorful, festive, buoyant, and I am urgency. This spirit is the one most easily recognized and represented. This time, remember, has reminder; to mourne the loss of waste is its weight, the first bite is for loss.

(P. 56), « … and for Christmas daws to peck at, » how can Shakespeare not involve himself if this author has had occasion to fall immersed?

This appearance is one of ‘selves’ (p. 63), « If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race … will find him here. » The Future being ability, Scrooge’s ability.

Bob Cratchit is first introduced by name, here, in Stave Three. He is just another infraction, until noticed.

Dickens’ perfunctory tribute to the liquid nature of earthly mass, (p. 67), « Not to sea? To sea. To Scrooge’s horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land … his ears were deafened by the thundering of water, as it rolled, and roared, and raged … and fiercely tried to undermine the earth. » Water has literary recurrence; we are either an amount of fluid, or there isn’t life. Every book is a container.

Stave Three – In the present, and to good health. Guard against illness.

Stave Four is the guilt, (p. 78), « in the very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery. » This is not the verdict, but this is where you’ve trodden. The heaviness of Scrooge’s climate, his thick fog of indifference is what spreads as the density of weather.

Scrooge is cured, and re-kindled, (p. 79), « … as I hope to live to be another man from what I was … ».

Stave Four is to keep vigil. Guard precious time.

Stave Five is emergence. He has come around and is well, overnight, but in time. He discovers caring.

Stave Five – To be living is to empathize.

Dickens and classic are synonymous. This book is a gift given to mankind.

Happy holidays.

Publicités

Poster un commentaire

Classé dans Writing

SEUSS

IMG_0002

Many celebrations are commemorated through literature. American authorship instills opportunity for the free-willed to proliferate excitement for the jubilant feast of observance to ethnicity through tradition. I recently read two books with an eye to understanding such an icon. This American author praised for his worth through renderings of youthful exuberance for want of behavior betterment, which hopeful authority figures attend and deem suitable for a life lived in reverence to writing(imagination generally will peak an interest in the young). « How The Grinch Stole Christmas » by TS Geisel (mostly known by his pen-name, Dr Seuss), is just one of the 60-plus books this author produced, the first of my reads. The next was his professional biography, « Theodor SEUSS Geisel » by Donald E Pease, which I read since having an interest in the cause which gave rise to the professional use for such a skill devised of talent as these drawings, Dr Seuss’ breadth and wealth, exhibit.

The Grinch stole Christmas with relative ease. He also stole a community’s peaceful communion, though not their peace of mind. He took their feast, though not their means. He, with malice, snagged the sparkle from the occasion, leaving the gleam from purity of reason to ignite spiritual serenity throughout their lives. Fortunately, the dawning of this Who-ism value, that our light shines in observance whether we are blessed with the day’s advantages, and also should this live’s crotchety miscreant have an eye (though not the heart) to abscond with the day’s loot. He left them with their joy.

TS Geisel, Dr. Dr. Seuss, the artist, ‘draws’ his talent, he drew it from sketches. His talent was as a sketch artist, which he managed as a skill since growing his professional ability through networking and through collaboration. His drawings took on the burden of novelty, he then required a suitable professional outlet for this skill to provide livelihood. He was an ad man, a caricature artist, a writer of politics by way of cartooning. He worked in editorial management on subscription publications. He stayed well-connected through educational tracks; he was resourceful, and witty with words and rhymes which his art endorsed. His sketch art and his wordplay were natural guides which lead him into service, and then to social participation as an early development specialist. He was enabled with the talent to ignite curiosity for learning. Youthful curiosity could be rewarded with behavior controls. His creative artwork was different enough to be interesting to the youngest viewers. The naughty, deliberately non-human personalities, as heroes, provoked the worst outcome, which then would coax the imagination to provide honest solutions to his world of speculation. Strangers may be strange, the result may need correction, or maybe you’re just weird. Still, it’s interesting enough to want to read. His renderings withstand change insofar as the youthful are captivated first by the unusual and then by the sing-song, easily read and memorized, therefore learned, jargon.

SEUSS is an icon for American innovation, and patience.

Poster un commentaire

Classé dans Art, Biographies, Books

« Ike’s Bluff, President Eisenhower’s Secret Battle to Save the World » – by Evan Thomas

« I haven’t worried about the weather since June 6, 1944. » The invasion of Normandy (I looked it up).

General Eisenhower is cagey.

He reads war. This presidency is a separate animal; it is not the progress of technological advances, nor media’s ability to interpret and deliver information which gives breath, not breadth, to mankind. It is neither that media offers the stage for curious reassurance, and rather that media deserves the reverent diversion. President Eisenhower is masterful. Games are inherent, to war, to security, to ably access intelligence. President Eisenhower commands reverential distance.

It is not that this President’s health suffered for the apparent strain of blame and responsibility, it is that suffering was internalized. He played his hand in stoic solitude. He was a presidential panacea for secrecy of military operations.

This book is about evolution. It is about the presidency, not the politics. This evolution is of advantage; all presidencies evolve, the position is explicit to its seat for the moment. As America’s conscience deems inexcusably ideal, so the world invites itself to collaborate, and with each presidency evolves this citizenship’s ability to access information. This evolution was not one of war, but destruction; it was the evolution of strength, the evolution of fortitude.

Evan Thomas pens words which spark interest to any politically-minded circulation for readers of independent political philosophy and intrigue. It is a tell-all with his know-how.

Poster un commentaire

Classé dans Biographies, Books, Reading