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The plays themselves are marvelous. In "Old Cantankerous," the grumpy title character stands in the way of a love between two of the play's characters, until the plot sends him down a well. His rescuer is, of course, the man who wants the old curmudgeon's daughter's hand in marriage, and they make up and all's well. "The Girl from Samos" is funnier, with a baby mix-up that leads first to the normal questions of the father's identity, but then to far less normal questions about the mother's identity.
Miller's introduction is exceptional, and I was especially appreciative of it, since I am not a classicist. She provides enough background to initiate even the casual reader, and in a manner that is both humorous and accessible. She explains what can be explained and accounted for, and freely admits to what is pure conjecture; since Menander's plays survive only in fragments, and since we don't know all of the concrete facts of his life, Miller's candor is welcome and helpful.
The only thing I found off-putting was the translation. It is not only VERY contemporary, but VERY British. While I can understand the urge to place things in a more familiar setting--an easy way to remind people that great drama is always timely--some of the dialogue sounds lifted from "Chariots of Fire" or even "Goodbye Mr. Chips." That is, it sounds very early twentieth century British, and I spent a lot of time while reading trying to figure out why (I'm still stumped). Phrases such as "There's a good chap," and explicit references to "Picadilly Circus" just didn't seem to mesh with plays that are Greek and a couple thousand years old.
Still, you could a lot worse than spend $12 on a fine collection and very readable rendition of some of the very foundations of comic form in Western literature.
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In an afterword Forster explains that his book had to have a happy ending (despite great trauma suicide is mentioned only once throughout the book). This made me think again of Radclyffe Hall's 'Well of Loneliness' with its remorseless and, for me, unsatisfyingly negative ending. Hall wrote her novel about lesbians in 1928 and it created a furore in its time. That Forster was sitting on his novel at the time is an intersting thing to me. Was he tempted to publish? Perhaps he felt he could not join the same storm. Perhaps he originally had the miserable ending Hall wrote, and changed to distinguish his novel. In the end, these can be little more than speculations.
When I read Richard Fortey's book 'Trilobite' I complained in my review that I never really got to like trilobites as Mr Fortey obviosly does, despite enjoying the book immensely. The case is the same here. Forster's writing is inventive and rich, but I am left feeling just as alienated from homosexuals - I am simply not one of them. Am I more sympathetic? Perhaps. But the best that I can hope for is probably to be more tolerant.
But in Maurice, Forster lets go some of this reserve. His prose, which I find formulaic in his later stuff, is here undeveloped enough to be idiosyncratic, un-stylized, and gorgeous. Maurice as a character is wonderfully, wonderfully real, and I appreciate the detailed development of the plot because Forster brings home with such ability the hazards of Maurice's struggle, the ever-present possibility of failure, the balance between lesser and more important goals, and the way in which Forster makes clear that these goals, as Maurice knows when he "listens beneath" words, are not the ends that he is really achieving as he achieves them. Maurice himself is drawn with Jane Austen-ian precision: Forster mixes the divine heroism--beauty and brutality--in Maurice's essential, private life with his utterly mundane non-essentials--politics, understanding, relationships with family, opinions, way of talking, appearance, job.
This is a heroic book. It moves me to tears every time I read it.
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Although these nine loosely-connected mysteries are pure fantasy, their detail and context open out the Belle Epoque milieu in which they are set. One of the major themes is that the 'respectable' bourgoisie Lupin robs are often as dishonest and even criminal as he, indulging in the illegal speculations/swindles rife at the time or organising elaborate charades to conceal financial decline. The invidiousness of social inequality is a factor in Lupin's psychological make-up. The antiquity of French history and national character is in conflict with the disruption of modernity (telephones, photographs, automobiles etc.). The vulnerability of the bourgeoisie contrasts with a democratising popular press avidly chronicling Lupin's every move, making him 'our national thief'.
I don't want to get too solemn, such is the breezy pleasure of this book, but I believe 'Lupin' is more than simply an engaging riposte to Sherlock Holmes; Lupin is more than someone who pilfers from the rich. Whereas most crime literature seeks to re-order a violated society through a central, reliable, narrational consciousness embodied in the figure of the detective, 'Lupin' disrupts order at every opportunity. Lupin's facility with disguise is matched by his disruptions of the text, which changes narrator and point-of-view without warning, Lupin himself often betraying the reader's trust by assuming the first-person on false pretences. With wit, playfulness and a light touch, leBlanc undermines our certainties as readers, just as Lupin does his victims, filling each tale with alternative narratives, jarring tones, shifting modes, unfulfilled expectations. Lupin is always taking his bow, leaving the stage and slipping away, as terrified by his own lack of a recognisable identity as he terrifies everyone else. For omnipotence and fame come at a price - existential dread and sexual impotence: the penetration of homes and homosocial company must substitute for failed relationships with women.
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Although "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi" and "The White Seal" are just as good as the least of the Mowgli stories, it is the various tales of the boy raised in the jungles of India that are - and justifiably - the heart of the collection.
As a baby, Mowgli is found and raised by a clan of wolves and three godfatherly mentors who each teach him about life in different ways - Baloo the Bear, who teaches him the technical laws he'll need to survive; Kaa the Python, the nearly archtypal figure who teaches him even deeper lessons; and Bagheera the Panther, who perhaps loves Mowgli most of all but understands all too well the implications of the ambiguous humanity of the boy he's come to care for.
The stories have it all, from the alternately humorous and frightening "Kaa's Hunting", where Mowgli learns an important lesson about friendship and it's responsibility, to the epic "Red Dog" that reads like something out of Homer, to "Letting in the Jungle" which, without giving anything away contains a disturbing paragraph that's both glaring and a long time in coming if you've read between the lines in the previous Mowgli stories and yet at the same time so subtle you can almost miss it's importance.
If you didn't read it as a child, read it now. If you did, read it again as an adult.
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Yet, surprisingly, I found myself getting captivated by the plot of two princes disguised as shepherds to win the girls of their dreams (in the process, of course, they also win girls -- and guys -- of their nightmares). The somewhat stilted (even by Renaissance standards) language makes it difficult to plod through at times, but the plot is interesting and keeps your attention -- and that's ultimately what counts.
Re: this edition, it is one of the few good editions of the original "Old" Arcadia around. Sidney revised the work during his lifetime and his friend and biographer, Fulke Greville, later published a bizarre composite of the old and revised versions that for centuries stood as the definitive "Arcadia". K. Duncan-Jones provides a clean text with useful scholarly apparatus. One caveat: in my edition, pp. 297-306 were *missing*, mistakenly replaced by a double-printed pp. 307-316. This is an annoyance for someone who is reading the book as a scholar, which I believe represents the majority readership of the book, as I can't imagine casual readers picking it up for bedstand reading!
All in all, a fun work and better than the first act leads one to believe!
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