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This is continued from Vol. 1.
Siegmund's son, Siegfried, is raised by Alberich's ambitious brother, who wants the ring held by Fafnir the giant, now a dragon. Siegfriend reforges his father's sword, and with it he slays first Fafnir and then the dwarf who would kill him for the ring. Alberich, in the meantime, is watching mirthfully. Voton looks for advice from the first goddess, then meets Siegfriend on his way to win Brunhildé He shatters Voton's spear and climbs through the river of fire, and at the top wins love in the former Valkyrie.
The series wraps up in Gotterdammerung, twilight of the gods. Siegfried sails out to find his fortune, and meets a kingdom run by several characters out to ensnare the power of the ring. With a powder they make the hero fall in love with a princess, and pledge to retrieve Brunhilde for the king -- and the ring for his advisor. After a blood-oath he sails away to do this. The valkyrie is visited by one of her fellow maidens-at-arms, demanding Brunhilde throw the ring into the Rhine, but she refuses, claiming it as a symbol of her love. Siegfriend, in guise of the king, finds her and wins her again, this time for another. It is seen that the advisor is Alberich's son, thus his interest in the ring. A marvelous feast is prepared for a double-marriage on the king's return, when Brunhilde finds out she was tricked; she then helps this advisor and the king to devise a way to kill him. Siegfried is warned by mermaids, but refuses to grant them back the ring. He is later tricked into talking with longing of the king's new wife, and the king's advisor promptly slays the warrior; later that night, in a duel, he also kills his brother the king. Brunhilde demands a funeral pyre built, and in the end, everyone dies and everything burns.
Even such a long summation can barely do this dense and powerful opera justice. Rather than the standard practice of rewriting or removing speech in parts, nearly everything is kept, translated directly from the original words of Wagner. The translation itself is very nice, keeping an archaic and formal syntax, while remaining accessible to modern readers. It is similar to Shakespeare or any contemporary, high without pretnetion. While the music cannot be included, the songs remain, to be fleshed out instead by lush art. The parallel goes deeper, in fact; as mentioned in the introduction, where Wagner's music has its lietmotifs, quickly recognizable strains that pull the whole together, so does the art include its own repeated motifs.
The story is classic, and told as well as befits a master. The politics between the gods is as fierce or more than that between men, and between them battles and intrigue rage. No major point is left unexplored, nothing forgotten and left to the wayside. Each character introduced comes back to play at least once, most exiting only through death. So much goes on that it is dizzying to keep up, but the intention is never to leave the reader behind, so it isn't overly difficult to follow. Even the reintroductions that catch the reader up on the events of each previous part are handled deftly. The art is vivid and colorful, very detailed and realistically shaded and textured. At times it seems more like acrylic paint than simple color press. The scenery is well detailed, matched by the people, whose actions and expressions are each striking and individual. While characters are seen from many angles and perspectives, anatomy of each is still proper. The story is very visual and cinematic; some places are very dense and wordy, while sometimes pages go by with no words needed. The fights in particular flow this way, becoming very abstract, yet the action clearly laid out. Russel is very comfortable with his ability to tell a tale however it needs to be told, certainly.
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Stand-to: Good Friday Morning
I'd been on duty from two till four. I went and stared at the dug-out door. Down in the frowst I heard them snore. "Stand to!" Somebody grunted and swore. Dawn was misty; the skies were still' Larks were singing, discordant, shrill; They seemed happy; but I felt ill. Deep in water I splashed my way Up the trench to our bogged front line. Rain had fallen the whole damned night. O Jesus, send me a wound to-day, And I'll believe in Your bread and wine, And get my bloody old sins washed white!
This collection includes the notes that Sassoon added as commentary on some of his poems. On the above poem Sassoon notes: "I haven't shown this to any clergyman. But soldiers say they feel like that sometimes."
This is poetry that grabs you and moves you, but it is a particular genre, not for everyone's taste. If one purpose of poetry is to allow us to see through some of life's darker experiences, then this collection is well worth your reading and reflection.
A good friend once asked me what to read to properly understand the history of World War I and while I recommended several critical histories (Churchill's, Keegan's and B.H. Liddell-Hart) I also emphasized the necessity of reading All Quiet on the Western Front, Goodbye to All That, and the combined war poetry of Graves, Owen and, of necessity, Sassoon.
The poetry of WWI brings to life the soul of the experience in a way no history, no matter how talented the historian, can do. It translates you into Sassoon's body and mind as he experiences the horror and shock of absolute and directionless (to his view-point, not necessarily in reality) war. These poems bring the sounds and smells of violent death and horrendous suffering - massive destruction and heroic effort - into your ears and nostrils. Indispensible.
Kelly Whiting
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