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"There were church bells, too"
"Inside them?"
"No, no, no, in the bat-black, snow-white belfries, tugged by bishops and storks. And they rang their tidings over the bandaged town, over the frozen foam of the powder and ice-cream hills, over the crackling sea."
Fortunately, the dreamlike imagery never weighs down the book. Instead, Thomas wishes only to convey the warmth, humor, and imagination of his childhood Christmases in Wales. Although this is great modernist literature, it is completely unpretentious and can be enjoyed by all ages. The book seems longer than it is, perhaps because Thomas' depictions linger warmly after one reads about the Christmas fire, the smoking Uncles and drinking aunts, the presents ("...and a celluloid duck that made, when you pressed it, a most unducklike sound, a mewing moo that an ambitious cat might make who wished to be a cow"), the dinner, the caroling at the large strange house where "the wind through the trees made noises as of old and unpleasant and maybe webfooted men in caves," the music, and the soft bedtime.
These episodes are generally no longer than a page each, but they graft onto our own memories--or would-be memories--of what Christmas could or should be like. In sum, it's a pleasure for the both the intellect and the senses, an unsentimental yet warm treat for both young and older audiences. It's one of the truest--and therefore most satisfying--Christmas books you'll ever read.
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A must see for photographers and artists. It is a source of inspiration for my paintings and sculptures.
The beauty of the human body as if we were still in Eden.
After this book I was hooked on all Schatz books.
Do not miss it.
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About the poetry I can't say enough within the space of a brief review. Auden is probably the most influential English-language poet of the 20th century, & depending on your perspective must take much of the credit or blame for the midcentury retreat in the UK & US from the modernist & avantgarde styles of the early 20th century. (For good polemical histories of this shift, take a look at Jed Resula's _The American Poetry Wax Museum_ & Keith Tuma's _Fishing by Obstinate Isles_.) Auden was probably the most technically accomplished poet of the century, & yet this is not enough: by the end the verse fell into an obsessively genial & cozy facility carefully gutted of the urgency of his earlier work. His canon is still rather in need of a strongly revisionist survey: his most famous poems are sometimes justly so (the sublime "Lullaby", one of the century's great love poems) and sometimes in need of demotion ("Musee des Beaux Arts" for instance opens with one of the most fatuous lines in all of modern poetry: "About suffering they were never wrong, / The Old Masters."; & the elegy for Freud is like other of Auden's poems disfigured by nursery-talk & condescension). This volume makes me ultimately rather sad, that a poet with such enormous promise (the work he wrote in his early 20s is still utterly astonishing in its accomplishment & daring) never quite made good on it, & even came to hate much of his own best work. Turn to the _Selected Poems_ to get a better measure of what Auden was as a writer.
'When it comes,will it come without warning/ Just as I'm picking my nose?/ Will it knock on my door in the morning;/ Or tread in the bus on my toes?/ Will it come like a change in the weather?/ Will its greeting be courteous or rough?/ Will it alter my life altogether?/ O tell me the truth about love.'
Auden talks about not only love but also truth, justice, every part of the human experience. Here's a short part of "Musee des Beaux Arts":
'About suffering they were never wrong,/ The Old Masters: how well they understood/ Its human position; how it takes place/ While someone else is eating or opening a window or/ just walking dully along.'
I cannot find words strong enough to convey how powerful, and how human, this work is.
By the way, in his original 'selected works' Auden re-edited several of his most beloved works - many critics said for the worse. In this particular edition the editor included all of the poems that Auden selected as his best, but in their original forms.
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I'd read so much about Lee during the war that I needed something more, to find out what happened to him after the war. Charles B. Flood provided that "something" and I am so happy that I decided to go for this purchase. It was a snap decision but one I shall never regret.
The first ten chapters of the book are worth the price of purchase on their own, dealing as they do with the surrender of the marvellous Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox and the subsequent weeks and months as Lee made his way back to Richmond and waited to see what fate awaited him at the hands of the victorious Union.
I don't believe Flood was laying it on too thickly but the devotion felt towards Lee by his old soldiers (Pickett excepted of course) and the civilian population of the South are incredible. The stories of soldiers coming to see him before they set off on foot to return home are just so moving and Lee will not say no to anybody who wishes to see him.
After those opening incredible chapters things slow down somewhat and we learn of Lee's transition into what could be called a 'normal' life which sees him take up the presidency of the Lexington College in Virginia. It's not rivetting stuff by any stretch of the imagination but it's interesting and we gain a greater insight into what drives Robert E. Lee... duty and honour. He could have cashed in on his name a thousand times to retire a wealthy man, but he would not sell out and knows that his example, a dutiful one, will be followed by so many former Confederates in those dark post-war days.
Lee also refuses to incriminate his former comrades when pressed to do so and it is a measure of his standing even in the North that no-one dares to bring charges against him, despite the clamour from some sections of society that he be tried for treason.
The picture that Flood paints of Lee is not always flattering though. He is shown to be a stubborn man in some respects and his family are always in awe of him, especially his daughters, of whom he is extremely possessive. So much so that all three will die spinsters!
One of the last things that Lee does before his death in 1870 is to go on a short trip into the deep south and that again provides an incredible picture of his standing in the old Confedracy. Though he craves privacy word gets out that he is on a train and telegrams break the news ahead of his journey. Consequently, thousands turn up just to get a glimpse of him, with old soldiers bringing their children (man of who have been named after Lee). It is a very moving account of just how deeply his people felt for him.
My only complaint is that I would have liked just a little more reaction to lee's death around the South. How did the people react? What did the papers say? That sort of thing. An omission that could easily have been avoided in my opinion.
All in all though a hearty well done to Charles B. Flood for an excellent biography of Lee's last years. If my review sounds a little soppy then believe me, the book isn't. It is a solid, fair and well constructed picture of the last years of Robert E. Lee's life. It may move you in ways you weren't expecting though!
Lee lost most of his property during the war. He was a career soldier, and didn't have many prospects for employment. He hoped to move onto a farm and to live quietly in the country.
However, other plans were being made for him. The trustees of Washington College in Lexington, Virginia, voted unanimously to offer him a job as president of the college. Lee was not a professional educator (although he had served as superintendent of West Point), but the trustees believed that his leadership and integrity were just what the college needed to survive the harsh economy left by the war. For his part, Lee saw this as an opportunity to help young Southern men to become productive citizens.
The college's wager paid off. Enrollment grew each year that Lee spent at the helm. The college developed new programs, and Lee's stature and good reputation were such that Washington College received large donations from philanthropists, even in the Northern states. Lee took a personal interest in the students, learning to address them by name and taking responsibility for disciplinary measures.
Yet Lee's last five years were not years of unabated bliss. His health declined steadily, his wife was an invalid, his brother died, and his reputation suffered from some unjust attacks in Northern newspapers. Throughout it all, Lee held his head high and maintained his dignity, his character, and his principles.
Lee put much effort into healing the wounds left by the war. He appreciated the esteem in which he was held by his fellow Southerners, but he encouraged them to be loyal citizens of the United States of America. He never said a word against General U.S. Grant, and even rebuked an employee of Washington College who did. One of the most fascinating (and mysterious) episodes in the book is Lee's trip to Washington, D.C., to visit President Grant in the White House. No one else was present for the meeting, and so no one really knows what they discussed.
The book ends abruptly with an account of Lee's death, without going reporting on his funeral and his family's life without him. Even so, this book makes great reading and has fascinating insights into the private life of an American icon.
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Typography was preserved very well (with Cummings this is critical), and I find the order of appearance by date helpful in charting his growth as a poet; the first few poems are radically different from the later ones.
Of course, acquiring his individual issues has its own appeal, but if you simply want to have his work easily at hand, this is your only choice (the indexing at the back is extrememly good at helping you remember a poem by its first lines).
This book is fantastic - I had quite a lot of difficulty finding collections of his poetry, and although I'd found a couple of small volumes, this one was exhaustive. I reread it - or at least parts thereof - more often than any other poetry book I own, and always seem to discover another nuance or aspect or pattern that I hadn't seen before. cummings wraps you in words, and the best way I can think of to describe how I feel after reading his works is to steal a quote from one of his poems - "such strangeness as was mine a little while."
Worldwords. And he is the creator of my favourite quotation of all time...
"listen:
there's a hell of a good universe next door:
let's go."
And there is.