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Poor Things is supposedly non-fiction, as illustrated by its full title on the title page: "Poor Things: Episodes from the Early Life of Archibald McCandless M.D., Scottish Public Health Officer, Edited by Alasdair Gray." But this is all part of its mystique. Gray has constructed a literary puzzle, a Frankenstein's monster of a book that takes its inspiration from that novel by Mary Shelley as well as the works of Robert Louis Stevenson and H.G. Wells. McCandless is the titular biographer, but the story is actually that of the eccentric Scottish doctor Godwin Baxter and his "creation," Bella Baxter, later known as Dr. Victoria McCandless. Set in Glasgow in the 1880s, the plot entails how McCandless met Baxter, how he then met Baxter's protege Bella and fell in love with her, her subsequent departure, and the circumstances of her return. To reveal any more would be to dilute the heavy stuff of the novel's innovative twists.
If Gray were writing with the Fantasy label stuck on the spine of his books, I would have termed this one a "steampunk" novel for its revisionist look at medicine and technology in a pre-auto world. Fans of Tim Powers and James Blaylock should definitely check this one out.
The story begins peacefully enough, with a group of hunters putting up camp in a near-dreamlike setting in the north woods. For the main character, Chase Krause, it is only his second time hunting, and he is intent on making this time out his best. Although the first day of the hunt unfolds peacefully enough, by the second day the reader senses something is definitely wrong with the weather. Then, just when things are going great for Chase, the snow begins and it soon turns into a non-stop fight against the elements just to get back to camp. What happens next is heartbreaking, but by the end of the book only the reader and Chase know how sad it really is.
The book flows exceptionally well, and best of all, you do not have to be a hunter to enjoy it.
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As part of his explorations, Russell delves into matters like psychokinesis (mind over matter), distant healing, remote viewing, and near-death and out-of-body experiences. His research has led him to the conclusion that consciousness "doesn't reside merely in the brain, but within our bodies, the earth, and the universe."
He relies not only on his own studies, but also those conducted by others from a variety of disciplines. He very neatly weaves all the available information into a tapestry of science, philosophy, theology, poetry, history, and the paranormal.
Russell says that consciousness is a part of everything that happens from before we're born until after we die. He asserts that consciousness isn't the same as soul--that our souls are the essential part of us that holds all our aspects, including mind, body, and consciousness, together. He urges the scientific world to consider the soul, and consciousness, when doing research; and advocates a new branch of study devoted to learning more about both the soul and consciousness and their roles in making us who and what we are.
"The more we can discover about our consciousness," Russell says, "the more of our potential as human beings we are likely to realize." The Vast Enquiring Soul is essential reading for all those interesting in exploring the most interesting frontier of all--their own consciousness.
Russell addresses the core issue of how mind may influence matter and transcend space and time by scrutinizing psychokenesis, telepathy, premonition, precognition, deja vu, and remote viewing. He theorizes that distant healing, which affects a person without physical contact with the healer, may be a variant of telepathic communication. The near-death experience(NDE)is considered from the perspective of those who have "been there; done that" and from the perspective of researchers.
Communication with the "unbodied" and its implications receive in-depth considerations, from biblical prophecy, through the "auditory hallucinations" of the mentally disturbed, to the "voices" heard by the dying, to spiritualism and finally modern channeling. He personalizes the whole spectrum with the reminder that "...most of us in a variety of situations have heard ourselves say something pertinent or even profound without any forethought..."
Transcendence, which catapults the "separate" self into a state of fusion with all that is, seems closest to Russell's heart. His examination of the phenomenon is replete with examples drawn from the lives of authors, housewives, physicists, philosophers, astronauts, poets, scientists, TMI GATEWAY VOYAGE participants, and even death-and-dying authority Elisabeth Kubler-Ross.
Russell makes quite an impressive case for his major premise: subjective experiences such as ESP, telepathy, precognition, psychokinesis, NDEs, OBEs, and the transcendent moment, as well as abilities such as remote viewing, distant healing, and channeling, are reliable doorways into the dimensions in which consciousness reigns supreme. His arguments are closely reasoned and the abundance of personal accounts and academic references makes key resources readily accessible. If you truly hunger to know, be assured that there is quality nourishment here for your own "vast enquiring soul."
The words, "...couldn't put it down ...", may be overworked but how often can they be applied to what is, basically, a text book?
The book is divided into 12 chapters, each based on an element of physical geography (terrain, weather, climate, sea coasts, etc.) Each chapter gives a very general background on the geographic element (all very much in non-geographer language) and then gives the chronology of two or three battles showing how the physical feature shaped the battle's outcome. The range of battles go from Kubla Khan's 1274 attack on Japan to Khe Sanh, Viet Nam in 1968. They stretch the globe from Iwo Jima in the Pacific to Gettysburg in Pennsylvania. It is a delightful combination of geography and military strategy.
As I am writing this, the world is discussing the possible intervention of ground troops in Kosovo. I hope the generals making the decisions have a sound geographic background. (Maybe Amazon.Com will send the Pentagon a few copies of this outstandingly readable work.)
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The story starts in a depressing world called Unthank, and follows the character Lanark as he arrives in town. He craves for sunlight in a world where there is none and since he's fast turning into a dragon he decides to throw himself down a large mouth in the ground (as you do...).
He comes out the other end in an institute where he is cured of his dragonhide and becomes a doctor for a short while before, like me, getting very bored and frustrated with the place.
So he decides to leave but that's quite dangerous involving a trip across an intercalendrical zone. Inevitably he leaves the hospital and takes along his girlfriend who, unsatisfyingly, doesn't seem to display any affection towards him at all.
In the intercalendrical zone, time moves erratically, and his girlfriend discovers she's heavily pregnant. They return to Unthank in the expectation that shortly the place will be swallowed by an even larger mouth and they'll be transferred to a sunnier land.
But Rima leaves Lanark, taking the (talking) baby with her. Lanark is then sent on a mission to return to the institute to ask them to save Unthank, which has suffered a pollution spill that threatens to destroy the place. At the institute he is stitched up by his rivals and finds time to meet the author of the book, who spends a chapter trying to explain what the hell the book is about. Lanark returns from the institute to Unthank in time to witness the place destroyed.
Books one and two in the middle tell the story of Duncan Thaw (Lanark before arriving in book three) and surprisingly this part of the book is a lot more readable. The chapters follow Thaw as he grows from a child to a sickly adult. There are some parallels with the Lanark story (Thaw is emotionally inhibited, he suffers an illness as a result, he can't keep hold of the girl he likes). In my opinion, if this story stood alone it would be a much more satisfying read. It's very reminiscent of the writer Iain Banks who no doubt was inspired by Gray. Interesting also the split between contemporary fiction and sci-fi which Banks also practices. However, in my opinion, a book like Walking On Glass by Banks is far superior to Lanark in that it made me think about the connections between the strands of the stories.
I suppose my review is a little biased because I'm not a huge fan of science fiction any more. But since the author asserts in his incarnation as god in the final chapters that he doesn't write science fiction I suppose I shouldn't worry.
I first heard of this book from a Village Voice article about the republication of "Lanark" in a four-volume set. The structure of this edition is that it begins with Book 3, followed by the Prologue, Book 1, Book 2, and Book 4 is divided by an Epilogue that takes place 4 chapters from the end. This convoluted structure actually makes the book rather fascinating, in that Gray has said that he wishes for the book to be remembered in a certain order, which is why he put "Book 3" first. This edition also features artworks by the artist at the front of each Book, and the Epilogue features some interesting typesetting.
For readers of science fiction, this book will offer an interesting challenge, for books 1 and 2 are more a coming-of-age of the artist sort of affair. Books 3 and 4 center around the Lanark character, who is called Thaw in 1 and 2. The Thaw books reminded me many times of Maugham and Joyce, while 3 and 4 seemed positively Dickian. (Not to be confused with Dickensian, which slant-applies, if at all.) There's a lot of ferocious literariness going on in this book, yet there's all sorts of humor. And also a slice of life in a city I know absolutely nothing about. The depictions and commentary on Glasgow reveal a lot about the self-consciousness of 2nd-tier and below cities--the cities that are not New York, London, Florence, Paris, Moscow, etc.
I found this a wise book, filled with difficult ideas and a morose feel for the future of mankind and the difficulties of being a solitary individual in the anomie-infested modern civilization. Book 4 I think is a fascinating attempt to turn Hobbes's Leviathan into a sentient being, as viewed by the hapless adventures of the eponymous hero. I will be thinking about this book for a long time.
The life of Clara Wieck Schumann, the most celebrated piano virtuosa of her time, wife of Robert Schumann and best friend of Johannes Brahms, has inspired writers, psychologists, feminists and filmmakers since Clara's death in 1896.
Clara and Brahms knew they would figure importantly in music history and they were discreet, returning a lifetime of correspondence to the writers, carefully selecting the letters they left for biographers and even, in Clara's case, repressing the report of an autopsy done on Robert Schumann. Because of this orderly editing, many details of the lives of these three have been left to the imaginations of those who followed them. Even a book by the youngest Schumann daughter, strongly biased and unfortunately nationalistic, has to be read with some caution.
Thus Janice Galloway's Clara, which does declare itself a novel rather than a biography, should certainly be regarded as fiction, and strongly slanted fiction at that. Clara's teacher-father, Freidrich Wieck, is depicted throughout as a villain; Robert as a madman and Clara as a victim of the two. Brahms, though he was a central figure throughout Clara's life after Schumann's death in 1856, enters the story only in its last chapters and is depicted as a saintly hero.
Although I enjoyed Janice Galloway's style and her story, her depiction of these personalities was strongly at odds with the view of them which we have from their letters, from previous biographies, and, above all, from their compositions.
Even Schumann's late musical works show a genius struggling with but not vanquished by dementia. Biographers have speculated as to the cause of this malady and have guessed at schizophrenia, syphilis, alcoholism (Galloway seems to lean toward this last diagnosis.) Whereas Clara, editing Schumann's music for publication, wished to withhold some works from the fear that they were the result of an unbalanced mind, Brahms insisted that the pieces were musically innovative and worthwhile. He wrote a set of variations on the theme Schumann transcribed "from the angels" in the older composer's final days.
Schumann's autopsy report suggested an inherited (genetic) disorder, and a family tree would suggest something like Huntington's chorea, but somehow this possibility has not intrigued biographers. A subsequent report published at Clara's request blamed overwork for Schumann's dementia. The august biographer Harold C. Schonberg in Lives of the Great Composers says that above all, Schumann was "pure"--a state reflected throughout his music, but not necessarily interesting in terms of music gossip.
One invented utterance Galloway put in the mouth of Schumann was so offensive to me that I actually deleted it with whiteout before continuing to read the book. "Mendelssohn is Jewish," Galloway had Schumann say as if that statement revealed some negative opinion about the character of Felix Mendelssohn. There is nothing in all the literature to indicate that Schumann even knew Mendelssohn was Jewish, much less that it mattered to him one way or the other. One of Schumann's pieces in "Album for the Young", a heartbreaking elegy entitled only with three stars, was written just after Mendelssohn's death. The youngest of Clara and Robert's children was named Felix, after their friend, mentor and colleague. As a musician, I consider invention such as this unfortunate sentence libelous to a human being no longer able to defend himself.
I do recommend Galloway's book, however; it has a vivid, easy, original style and some interesting quotations garnered from other books. The reader with more than a passing interest in the lives of the Schumanns and in Brahms, however, should take more seriously the recordings of their works, their letters, and the letters, comments and dedications of their contemporaries.
Robert Schumann's instability, according to the author, began at a very early age. As a young man, he believed that he was inhabited by two people, Florestan and Eusebius, and he often alternated marathon composing sessions (once producing 27 pages of music in a single day) with times in which he could find no inspiration at all. He had to have silence when he was working, and he was inconsistent in his behavior, often blaming Clara for small infractions over which she had no control. She had no life of her own. She was the primary bread-winner in the family, giving concerts regularly, despite the arrival of eight babies and the difficulty of practicing without disturbing Robert. Unappreciated and unrecognized by the public, Robert became frustrated and depressed, eventually admitting himself to an asylum, where he died in 1856, at age 46.
The ill-starred love story of Clara and Robert Schumann is as romantic as the music of Schumann and his contemporaries, but Galloway keeps this novel on a factual level, as much as possible. There are no flights of fancy here, no imaginative soaring into the stratosphere of romance, and no attempt to recreate the passionate feeling of their love or of their music. She has done enormous research into their lives and presents her novel as if time and circumstance are being filtered through the consciousness of Clara, her father, or Robert. Her recreation of domestic situations and scenes, combined with what the various participants have said about them in their (real) diaries and journals allow her to reflect their inner turmoil while remaining fairly objective as a historian.
Galloway's novel is thoroughly researched, full of information about the Schumanns, and sympathetic to Clara's enormous personal burdens. She is largely successful in bringing Clara to life. We never see Robert as a "normal" person, however, and the reader remains at a distance from him, observing, rather than feeling, what is happening to him. Yet Clara lived for forty years after Robert's death, and this reader would have appreciated a brief Afterword telling what she did during that time. Tied inextricably to Robert throughout their marriage, one can only wonder if she eventually found happiness on her own after his death. Mary Whipple