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But I must admit that the novel is indeed memorable for certain unique qualities. Probably what Machen does best in here is the evocation of the magical Welsh countryside, with its mysterious Roman Empire-era ruins crumbling in deep forests, and the vivid delineation of the young Lucian Taylor's solitary wanderings among them. That has stayed with me ever since I first read "The Hill of Dreams" in college ten years ago. It resonated with me especially then because I used to wander in the woods of central Florida where there were some ancient Indian burial mounds and they used to fire my imagination with mystery in the same way.
The novel had some devoted fans among the great writers of the 20th Century who also felt its power. Henry Miller included it in his list of the 100 books that most influenced him. F. Scott Fitzgerald read it, and in fact "The Hill of Dreams" probably influenced "This Side of Paradise." And John Dos Passos made a passing tribute to it in the USA trilogy as the book that Richard Ellsworth Savage and all his clever Harvard friends were reading in the years just before the outbreak of WWI.
Some companion novels in the same vein would be Frank Norris's "Vandover and the Brute", Stephen French Whitman's "Predestined", George Gissing's "New Grub Street", Thomas Wolfe's "Look Homeward Angel" and James Joyce's "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man," to name just a few.
Fused with this occult mastery of language is an intensely haunting visionary experience of the main character's emotional consciousness. Without Machen needing to resort to overt supernatural machinations, the overwhelming sense of ancient, occult forces emanating from the Welsh Roman ruins is almost tangible. And Machen achieves this through a tour-de-force of style as he interweaves the reader's consciousness with Lucian Taylor's.
If I were forced to compare it to Portrait of the Artist, I would say it is every bit the equal. I am hesitant to do this, though, because there is no real reason to compare the two books apart from the fact that they are both bildungsromans. Outside of this, there is no similarity between the two books. It is interesting to see the rash and imperious judgments passed by those who favor a canonical counterpart. In my view, The Hill of Dreams should be recognized as a high point in English literature: its obscurity is a shame.
When he first came to London from rural Wales in the late 1800s, he was involved in fin-de-siecle "magic" circles - such as The Order of the Golden Dawn. He translated "fantastic" tales and in works like "The Great God Pan" created his own vision of them. However, like Harold Bloom today, he was perhaps at his best when he wrote about literature, and he did this is three forms: directly, in "Hieroglyphics", autobiographically in "Far Off Things" and "Things Near and Far", and in a fictionalized manner in "The Hill of Dreams".
The Hill of Dreams is about a young writer from the country who goes to London and wanders its streets looking for inspiration, but finds himself caught up in the city's past and becomes alienated from those around him. It is like a Peter Ackroyd novel set from 100 years ago. There is also a magic there that is all Machen's own.
Machen is a writer worth getting to know, particularly in the books mentioned above. In the end, though, "The Hill of Dreams" is his masterpiece.
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Titles combined include The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy; The Restaurant at the End of the Universe; Life, the Universe, and Everything; So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish; and Mostly Harmless.
You'll travel with Arthur Dent from the destruction of the Earth throughout the Universe in a series of adventures and misadventures. He meets some of the most uproarious characters in the Universe, and realize he's met some of them before. All of this to answer the ultimate question of "Life, the Universe and Everything".
The book moves comparably in speed speed and action to the Hobbit, and Trilogy of the Rings. And wouldn't we all like to go "There and Back Again."
If you're looking for a comical way to spend a boring day, grab yourself a copy of this book. You won't regret it.
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Yet in the final analysis, most of Waley's work has been superseded by finer translations from Hinton and Watson. His English now strikes one with a certain archness (if still deceptively simple) which gives a somewhat falsified idea of the Chinese; in Li Po and Tu Fu, for example, his reproduction of their tone is uneven, seldom showing their difference in temperament or use of diction (incidentally, in Chinese one _can_ see the subtle differences in how either works). At times he "stretches out" Tu's metrics, making him less than succinct, or slurs over his use of an image.
Yet in his favorite poet Po Chu-I Waley does very well. Here is when his obvious talent in phrasing tastefully does the poet justice. Elsewhere, even if Waley can be faulted here and there, he is still very close lexically to the original.
To conclude, Waley's anthology is still worth getting, especially if you enjoy his translations. But supplementing it with either Watson's or Hinton's texts would probably give you a better idea of some poets.
I would attribute his success to two things. In the first place, there is the very special quality of his English, a quality impossible to describe. In the second place, Waley was a master at evoking an atmosphere, a feeling tone, that strikes one as authentically Chinese. So good was he at this that one sometimes gets the feeling, as one does when reading the poems of that other remarkable and far greater genius, the poet Emily Dickinson, a woman whose mind also had a very Chinese cast, that they must have been Chinese souls who had somehow strayed and ended up reincarnating in Western bodies.
My remark about Emily Dickinson's 'Chinese-ness' may raise some eyebrows. Perhaps it takes a certain amount of exposure to Eastern culture, particularly to Buddhist thought, to see this quality in her, but I find it everywhere. I find it, for example, in lines such as these, slightly adjusted since they should be set out as poetry :
"I cross till I am weary / A Mountain - in my mind - / More Mountains - then a Sea - / More Seas - And then / A Desert find -" (J550).
It is into this strange dreamscape in which a solitary figure moves through a vast, enigmatic, obstacle-filled, wearying land that, a few lines later, "Asiatic Rains" arrive to work their effect.
Perhaps it might not be too fanciful to suggest that the rains from the East which bring relief, and even understanding, to Emily Dickinson's persona in poem J550 can be equated with Waley's poems, poems which drifted through the Chinese sky of his mind to bring something needful to the "Desert" of the modern Western sensibility. Perhaps this was the real reason for his great success - he brought something that was missing from the mechanized and arid Western spirit, something that we all inwardly yearn for that has been lost in the West but that the Eastern tradition can provide in abundance.
I don't know, but whatever the case, Waley's Chinese poems do have a truly magical effect on all readers. Once you have been exposed to them you can never forget them.
The particular beauty of Waley's style, a style which despite its age still strikes one as modern, can be seen in a poem such as Po Chu-I's 'Passing T'ien-men Street in Ch'ang-an and Seeing a Distant View of Chung-nan Mountain,' a poem which has always been one of my favorites. It reads:
"The snow has gone from Chung-nan; spring is almost come. / Lovely in the distance its blue colours, against the brown of the streets. / A thousand coaches, ten thousand horsemen pass down the Nine Roads; / Turns his head and looks at the mountains, - not one man!"
Here is the infinitely precious color and marvel of a Nature that is blazing with life and beauty and consciousness, sadly set over against a busy-ness that is also ours, an obsession and total involvement exclusively with people and their multifarious doings that blinds us - a mindset that leads us to overlook the universe, to pass it by like Po Chu-I's horsemen without even noticing it.
Waley's Chinese poems captivate us. They are a gentle rain which trickles down to bathe and refresh the roots of our mind. I envy those who are coming to them for the first time.
What I hadn't been prepared for, however, were Waley's introductory essays which were, like the poetry he translated, direct and unpretentious and , so, wonderfully informative.
Waley was one of the very first Westerners to undertake translations of ancient Chinese poetry, so, quite apart from the beauty of his work, he also holds an important position historically. This particular volume was first published in 1919.
A very easy and sumptuous read.
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"Hands Around" is a cycle of ten dialogues, each of which is linked to the previous and following dialogue through one or the other speaker. Thus, "The Girl of the Streets and the Soldier" is followed by "The Soldier and the Parlor-Maid," which is in turn followed by "The Parlor-Maid and the Young Man," etc. The couple in each dialogue is about to have, or has just had, a sexual encounter.
Through his characters, the Vienna-born Schnitzler holds up a harsh mirror to the dishonesty, hypocrisy, and loneliness of life. There are some passages of truly dark cynicism. Consider this statement of "the Count" to "the Actress": "Happiness? There really is no such thing as happiness. All the things that people talk about most, don't exist... for instance, love."
Schnitzler paints a rather bleak portrait of human nature. His characters' disturbing inner lives are ironically complemented by surroundings that are either sadly shabby or elegantly decadent. Overall, "Hands Around" is a fascinating, if uneven, work of European theater.
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This book is wonderful reference material. It alludes to many obscure source materials and attempts to explain the origin of many elements of the stories of Arthur and the Round Table. However, I would not recommend it for novice fans. Coghlan takes it for granted that most of the stories are familiar, and he spends most of his time explaining how the stories originated, how they were altered over time, and why inconsistencies exist. The format of the book makes it useful for looking up a particular name but not for browsing through a chronology of the tales.
This book is for the scholars and historians, not necessarily the readers and dreamers.
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