Getting things straight ……

… An Elementary Confusion Regarding Dispositions and Potentialities

A poem for today …

… Nightwind (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

An introduction …

… Cynthia Haven: Meet C.S. Lewis's brainy wife ( Hat tip, Dave Lull)

Blogging …

i am still in the hospital, where the internet connection is not so great. i'll post something when i can.

Back online …

I am in the hospital, and have been since yesterday. In a short while, I will be taken upstairs, my right leg wil have something inserted, and they will drain the blood clot on my lung. in a couple days i will go home. Had I take taken a sip or two of red wine the symptoms would have gone away, as they did when I did, but by then I had pushed the emergency button I have and they had come, checked me out, and took me away. Just as well. Not good to have a blood clot on your lung.

Amen …

… Prayer for Uninteresting Times (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

A story for this morning …

… A Story About Friends — Joy Williams

A poem for this morning …

… Sara Teasdale: Winter ( Hat tip, Dave lull)

Who knew?

… … Reading Is a Vice ( Hat tip, Dave Lull)

Friendship eventually prevailed …

…… C.S. Lewis and T.S. Eliot: A Tale of Two Critics ( Hat tip, Dave Lull)

A poem for this morning …

… Lucille Clifton — poem to my yellow coat

A poem for this morning …

… Naomi Lazard — Public Notice

Seems reasonable …

… Ancient Wisdom: I Want to Die with a Book in My Hands ( Hat tip, dave Lull)

Q&A …

… The Art of Poetry No. 119 Alice Oswald

A poem for the Epiphany …

… Mystery's toys' (Hat tip, Dave Lull)`

Another poem …

… Lawrence Joseph — Is What It Is

A poem for this morning …

…… Joyce Mansour — “I stole the yellow bird …”

A poem for this morning …

… Courtesy by Hilaire Belloc ( Hat tip, Dave Lull)

A poem for this morning …

… Angela Ball —=Hares

The Mummers …

… Alabama Jubilee i grewcup down the street from Joe Kerko's drug stire. He took me to my first baseball game.

Happy New Year …

… New Year’s Day Tennyson’s ‘Wild Bells’ ( Hat tip, Dave Lull)

A poem for this morning …

… Patrizia Cavalli — “When, thanks to the virtues of wine …”

Sounds about right …

… Mark Twain On New Year's Day

Another poem

… John Perreault —+The Lights

A poem for this morning …

… Sonnet: Barbara Loots, ‘An Old Man Makes Chili for Lunch’ (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

Lost and found …

… R.R. Tolkien's Lost Christmas Poem (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

A poem for this morning …

… Eugenio Montale "People talk and talk more …"

In case you wondered …

… Hemingway On Giving Advice

A poem for this morning …

… Sonnet: Barbara Loots, ‘An Old Man Makes Chili for Lunch (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

Oh, really.

……‘We are the free world now’ — Europe declares war on free speech in the US Well, maybe Bill and Hillary should move to Europe. i think most Americans would prefer to keep our freedoms. i know i would.

A poem for this morning …

… Edwin Denby — Standing on the Streetcorner

A poem for this morning …

… Jim Powe — lHeat

A poem for this morning …

… Jim Powell — Heat

A poem for this morning …

… In the Bleak Midwinter (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

Fir the season …

… THE QUIET PRESIDENT WHO STARTED 2 LASTING CHRISTMAS TRADITIONS ( Hat tip, Dave Lull)

A poem for this morning …

… Yusef Komunyakaa — Night of the Armadillo

A poem for this morning …

… Mistletoe (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

Great cause for concern

… The West’s complacency over censorship ( Hat tip,Dave Lull)

Help wanted …

… Santa needs new reindeer

A poem for this morning …

… Raúl Zurita — The Pacific Is the Sky

Worth noting …

… … William F. Buckley Jr.: Literary Figure

Christian Kracht

 

Eurotrash -- Christian Kracht's novel of wealth, history, and guilt -- was not one that was known to me, but, enticed by its absurd cover, I took a chance. In some ways, Eurotrash is a successful book: its characters wrestle with tainted inheritance, with disturbing family associations, and with the question, ultimately, of when events transition to the broader realm of history. Eurotrash focuses on two characters -- a mother and son -- neither of whom is particularly well developed, but who function as types, as representations of wealth, or struggles against it. Parts of Eurotrash are effective, especially those focused on inherited guilt. But even those sections of the novel felt, to a certain extent, incomplete: it's one thing to cast a portion of a character's family as having been Nazis, or having benefited from the Nazi regime; but it's another to develop that story, and to trace its complexity into the present. It's not that Kracht has delivered an ineffective rendering of European wealth; instead, it's that he's delivered an incomplete novel, one that's propped up by dialogue, but which reads, at times, as shallow. Had this book been double the length, and had its characters succeeded in donating their tainted wealth, then maybe there might have been something profound to address; but that does not happen exactly, and the result -- for me, at least -- is a novel in search of itself, a book with solid scaffolding, but without the guts to call it complete.

Poetry and life …

… Embedding the Cancer Port

A poem for this morning …

… Siri Hustvedt — Weather Markings

Remembering a master …

… A centennial look back at Edward Gorey’s macabre art and guarded life

A poem for this morning…

… Poem for a Monday morning in winter

Anothrr poem for today …

… Honorary Jew

Honoring the day …

… Poem for this special Sunday

Indeed it is …

… 100 years on, T.S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men is a poem for our populist moment This is an insightful commentary.

A poem for today …

… Ghalib — Some Exaggerations

RIP …

…John Carey obituary: literary critic (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

In case you wondered …

… The Economic Roots of Grade Inflation At the Jesuit college I attended in the early 1960s there no grade inflation.

Among things deemed needful …

… The Need of Being Versed in Country Things

‘Tis the season …

… A Christmas Carol by Christina Rossetti

Plus ça change …

… Is Everything Always Continuously Changing in Every Respect?

A poem for this morning …

… James Schuyler — Linen

Just what we don’t need …

… 14 Colleges Get Fs in '25 StopAntisemitism Report Card

Benjamin Labatut

At its core, When We Cease to Understand the World is a work of fiction. Its author, Benjamin Labatut, dramatizes a set of mathematical discoveries, imagining himself into the lives of the figures whose research and eccentricities led to those discoveries. Cease to Understand functions as a novel, but it is one which straddles a very fine line. And it does this magnificently. 

When Labatut introduces the impact, say, of Heisenberg, he does this not only by way of discoveries and theories, but through a set of relationships and events. Labatut claims that the amount of 'fiction' in this book increases over time, and that the early stories are more faithful to documented events than those later in the collection. But that does not really account for what's going on here: because, in all cases, in all stories, Labatut introduces a fictional arc; he traces relationships, personalities, families. He adds to this with periodic dialogue -- even with descriptions of the weather, of the geography. 

The result is a book reminiscent in its the style and orientation of W. G. Sebald, whose own novels sit in that unusual space between the real and the imagined, between history and fiction. When Labatut presents the discoveries of Haber or Schrödinger, for instance, he does so as a novelist might: it is the events which lead to the discovery that matter; it is the isolation, the struggle, the malnourishment which, in some sense, become the discovery, the revelation. Had Labatut included pictures, his book would have veered even closer, say, to Sebald's Rings of Saturn. 

Part of the most upsetting and lasting aspects of Cease to Understand is its emphasis on destruction. There is no doubt, sadly, that the theories unearthed by Labatut's cadre of mathematicians unlocked the violence wrought during the world wars. That correlation in itself is unnerving. But worse than that, according to Labatut, is a second sort of destruction: the one in which science, for all its advancements, ceases to present a basic understanding of the world. When this happens, it's a short distance to something more disorienting: humans lose the capacity to understand what it means to be human. We take recourse to forms of science and technology which can no longer present -- with Newtonian certainty -- the world around us.

Whether this is fiction, history, or philosophy seems beside the point: Cease to Understand is a warning: about how much we've accomplished, and about how little we actually know. The distance between the two erupted in the violence of the last century. 

Appreciation …

… Tom Stoppard, The Art of Theater No. 7

Tracking the decline …

… in this case, of Britain: Assault Victim Becomes Criminal While Attacker Walks Free

A poem for this morning …

… David Fisher — The Teacher

In case you wondered …

… The History of the Christmas Card

Check these out …

… Qualia

Be on your guard …

… Think Before You Click:

A poem for Thursday …

… Plaster cast torso of Apollo

In case you wondered…

… David McCullough’s “History Matters” (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

The mystery of faith and friendship …

… HUGH AND GUY (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

A poem for this morning …

… Frederick Tibbetts — Dissonant Interval

A poem for this morning …

… Clouds — BY RÜŞTÜ ONUR

Something to think on …

… Inspiring Quotes

A pleasant reunion …

… Getting started with great expectations

Recalling a masterwork …

… Remembering Willa Cather’s The Professor’s House ( Hat tip, Dave Lull)

A poem for this morning …

… Brooks Haxton —,It Comes to Me: Concision

Thank you, Cynthia

… An Advent villanelle from Philadelphia’s Frank Wilson: “one of those memories that are like photographs

RIP …

… Tom Stoppard, playwright of dazzling wit and playful erudition, dies aged 88 (Hat tip, Daxe Lull))

Solvej Balle

 

I'd read and seen more recently about the Danish author Solvej Balle, and so decided to take on the first installment of her extended series, On the Calculation of Volume. 

The premise of the novel is key: a woman falls out of time and begins to relive the same day -- for what amounts, in total, to a year. She cannot understand how or why this has happens, and those around her cannot help: for they remain in time, and experience that specific day -- the eighteenth of November -- as if it were their first and only time living it. The result, as Balle writes, in a situation in which the primary character, Tara Selter, becomes overwhelmed with an abundance of memories -- but of the same singular day. Everyone else, however, experiences the inverse: they have no memory of a day which they have yet to live: they are, in a sense, free. 

For me, On the Calculation of Volume read as an exercise in existentialism. At its core -- in my reading, at least -- this was very much a novel about the need for action: that is, without action, with the decision to act, there can be no life, no meaning. If Tara Selter is stuck in the eighteenth of November that must be because, on some level, she has not willed herself to seek the next day, to act in such a way that warrants that day, that continuation.

Toward the end of the book, Balle insinuates that Selter may be able to "make room" for the next day: that is, she may be able to let the eighteenth of November wash over her, once and for all, and thus conclude that she has acted in such a way that requires more room, more time. Again, for me, this was an effective rendering of the existential dilemma around repetition and nothingness. For Tara Selter to liberate herself from the banality of a single day requires that she take action, that she think her way into something new. That point, at least, is well made. 

Ultimately, Solvej Balle succeeds in casting this complex journey -- from nothingness, to thought, to action -- as an odd celebration: of the small wonders, of the beauty in repetition, and of the fading human capacity for patience and appreciation. 

A poem for this morning …

… Lisa Russ Spaar — The Geese

Happy Thanksgiving …

… God’s Grandeur ( Hat tip, Dave lull)

Worth pondering …

… 100 years on, T.S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men is a poem for our populist moment

Debuts and departures …

… FIRST & LAST VI

Tracking the decline…

… Don’t Be Fooled: Notre Dame’s About-Face Isn’t a Return to Faith

Remembering one of the true greats …

… I've got you under my skin – Nicky Haslam on Cole Porter {Hat tip. Dave Lull)

These days …

I woke up this morning after having a wonderful dream that immediately turned sour. In the dream I was having a great time shopping for clothes at Joseph A.Bank, which had been my favotite clothing store. Immediately upon waking I realized those days were forever past. You don't go shopping for elegant new clothes while using a walker, as I must these days. No, now is the time for remembering and reflecting. At least I can still do that.

A poem for this morning …

… Charles Wright — Roma 1

Good news …

… Notre Dame University re-adds ‘Catholic mission’ to staff values after backlash

Listen in …

… Bloomsbury's Nigel Newton on Gold-Digging, Fast Cars, Friendship, and Finding Harry Potter

RIP …

… Jill Freud death: Love Actually actor who inspired Narnia character dies, aged 98 (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

Anita Loos

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes -- Anita Loos's celebrated novel of the inter-war years -- is one of those books I'd been aware of for a long time, but had never read. Last week, I rectified that. I'll say at the start that, despite the accolades, this is not a novel on par with the work of either Fitzgerald, neither Scott nor Zelda. It's a book, certainly, that explores similar themes and geographies, but it does so in a far different fashion: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is effectively a comedy -- almost, for me, in the vein of Three Men in a Boat or Diary of a Nobody. There's a predictability to these novels: which doesn't make them any less funny, but they function based on an implicit understanding of what comes next. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes was very much like that: there was almost a gimmicky quality to the whole thing. That said, despite the humor, Anita Loos does uncover a seriousness: about wealth and femininity, about education and accomplishment. The trouble, for me, was that each time one of those themes is probed, they seem almost to be invalidated by a joke or another dalliance. And I understand that is part of the way this novel operates. But I didn't take away much here: Lorelei Lee remains something of an enigma, despite her creed that "everything always turns out of the best." I suppose it does in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, but there might have been other ways to present the roots of that optimism. 

 

A poem for today …

… The Christmas Bos by Richard Tillinghast (Hat tip, Dave Lull)

Continuing …

… Poetry Stories: Mildred's Garden

I hope parents take note ……

… Notre Dame removes Catholic mission from staff values, touts new 'refreshed' values I also the media. i will no longer regard Notre Dame as a Catholic institution.

Good Lord …

… What Started as a Joke About Trump Is Now Filling Therapy Offices, Experts Warn The extent of my interest in politucs is that I keep up with the news and always make sure to vote.

That he was …

… Davis: My Q&A with author C.M. Kushins (Hat tip, Dave Lull.) Dutch was cool. No doubt about that.

A poem for this morning …

… Claribel Alegría — Summing Up

Stefan Zweig

 

It had been many years since I last encountered a book by Stefan Zweig, but over the past month, I've read and finished perhaps his most acclaimed novel, Beware of Pity. Let me say at the start, this book is a triumph: it's everything I'd associated with Zweig -- and more. Published in 1939, the novel focuses on the relationship between a crippled young woman of aristocratic stock and an Austrian military officer, only slightly her senior. The complexity of that relationship allows Zweig to explore a range of themes, including love, patriotism, and wealth. But there's more than that: Zweig is also attuned to matters of identity, psychology, and control. In some sense, Beware of Pity is very much a reflection of its time: Zweig and Freud maintained a relationship for many years, and the influence of Freud on Zweig's characters and their motivations is clear. Then, too, there's the First World War, which comes crashing like a wave at the end of the novel, and serves, in some sense, to liberate Zweig's primary character, Anton Hofmiller, of his guilt, his lingering pity: in effect, nothing so small as actions in defense or rejection of love could escape the slaughter of the war. But then, Zweig offers a caveat: guilt, he writes, is never truly forgotten so long as the 'conscience' is still aware. Beware of Pity is wonderfully written, perfectly ordered, and evocative, in its characters, scenes, and scenery, of the fading days of the Austro-Hungarian empire. This is a paean to a lost time, and also, in many ways, to a lost love. 

A poem for this morning …

… Lewis Warsh — Drops

A poem for this morning …

… Peter Schjeldahl — Gauge

A poem for this morning …

… Laurance Wieder —=These Anemones, Their Song Is Made Up As They Float Along

Just so you knowv…

… SPECIAL SECRET

Further asventures of James Reese …

… Jack Carr’s thriller Cry Havoc