3 1/2 stars. Fairly uneven. I would even say that the first third is a disorganized mess, but the essential project is sound: to provide societal, soc3 1/2 stars. Fairly uneven. I would even say that the first third is a disorganized mess, but the essential project is sound: to provide societal, social, and personal context for "The Waste Land." And it mostly does that job. My main quibbles are about disability -- physical and psychiatric -- that Hollis mostly ignores. He's incredibly sympathetic to Tom's recurring physical illnesses and his anxiety and depression while remaining largely unsympathetic to Vivien's, despite presenting some pretty clear symptomology of bi-polar disorder on her part. I'm not saying a literary critic should engage in armchair psychology or medicine, but the undertone of scorn when discussing Vivien is ableist as hell. She was gauche, sure, but she was coping as well as she could entirely without resources or treatment and the patriarchy hated everything she represented: a woman who was loud, brash, dramatic, prone to histrionics, rude, prone to affairs, and not remotely stoic about her ailments.
As far as the litcrit, that's the strength of the book. I cared less about the gossipy social history and far more about the societal context -- which could have been stronger, esp regarding wartime and interwar travel through Europe and how they were affected by the global recession. The political is also very personal, and it seems like a necessary connection that was missed here.
Anyway, not a bad book. The photos were very telling and appreciated. The credit to Ezra Pound and Vivien for being beta-readers extraordinaire was a lovely surprise that I didn't get in college lit courses, although Hollis' evident amazement at what a good beta does -- including crossing out large swathes of text that don't suit the work -- is either precious or naive, I'm not sure which. I hope it isn't evidence of the state of academic editing but it probably is. God knows the printing of "The Waste Land" at the end could have used translations of the Latin and Greek.
The best thing about this book, though, is that it demystifies T.S. Eliot so much. I have a clear picture of him as a nerdy banker who was desperate to please his unpleaseable parents and clung to Ezra Pound as a kind of surrogate authority figure, at least until they switched places. Tom was a mess and it explains a lot. Now I'm torn between seeking out a more detailed biography and focusing on the literature. ...more
This is a good translation accompanied by some great editorial commentary...and also Robert Irwin being Robert Irwin. Unfortunately it's only a "best This is a good translation accompanied by some great editorial commentary...and also Robert Irwin being Robert Irwin. Unfortunately it's only a "best of" edition, but it does include a ton of information on the history of the Nights and on Hanna Diyab and the tales he related to Antoine Galland for his French reworking. The volume is lavishly illustrated with paintings, movie posters, photography, woodcuts, etc., and worth checking out for the art alone -- some of which appeared in editions of the Nights a couple of centuries ago while others are modern works.
At the end I was upset that it was over and went to borrow the Lyons translation, which is 3 volumes long. So far, it's an interesting comparison. Seale's translation foregrounds women in a satisfying way, which is why Burton's female erasure never really appealed to me. To be fair, I've never read all the stories, only bits and pieces over the years. I don't yet know enough to make comparisons, but I enjoyed Seale's translation and found Horta's introduction and notes to be a trove of relevant background.
And, you know, a reader wanting MORE at the end of a volume of selected works is probably a good sign. ...more
Persia: Ancient Iran and the Classical World is the companion book to a coming exhibition at the Getty Museum presenting a very large number of artifaPersia: Ancient Iran and the Classical World is the companion book to a coming exhibition at the Getty Museum presenting a very large number of artifacts from Ancient Iran -- radically and wonderfully! -- in the context of the international foreign relations of the day. There are works by Greek artisans made for the shah. There are works by Persian artisans that ended up...all over the place. There are all kinds of items indicating royal public relations, sabre rattling, propaganda -- especially between Persepolis and Rome -- as well as beautiful gifts, and relics of extraordinary artistry in numerous media.
I have a fair (not great but fair) background in Persian/Iranian history, and I have seen photos of several of these items before, but the vast majority were brand new to me. Most awesome, the myth that "nothing exists from the Parthian Era" gets completely busted in the exhibition of surviving ancient silverwork.
The articles contained in this volume do a great job at synthesizing the entirety of Iranian-Persian history up to the Arab invasion in the 650s (CE). The text is concise but up to date, and the bibliography is epic.
I did have two concerns, though. First, the date format is BC/AD, which I haven't seen in a while and seems culturally irrelevant and odd. Second, there is no mention at all of the conversations enveloping the museum-world concerning repatriation of historical items clearly belonging to other sovereign powers and which exited those countries directly through Western colonial/imperial actions. I do realize that in cases where the find-site is unknown, one can't necessarily know which modern country corresponds to the item's location in the vastness of the old Persian Empire. Likewise, anything found in Sogdiana could be claimed by any of four or five Central Asian countries now.
Of course, the Getty has no vested interest in repatriating possessions that get patrons in the door, and we aren't talking about the Benin Bronzes or the Parthenon Marbles. But it still seems like they ought to acknowledge the state of repatriation issues concerning these materials.
Anyway, I am sad that I won't be able to see this exhibit in person and I'm incredibly glad to have seen them in microcosm in this book.
Jennifer Raff is a great writer. Origin is interesting for its subject matter, but she makes paleogenOne of the best books I've read in a long while.
Jennifer Raff is a great writer. Origin is interesting for its subject matter, but she makes paleogenetics riveting. Over the course of this book, she describes in detail how paleogeneticists uncover the history of ancient peoples, giving a critique of the problematic (and extraordinarily racist) history of the field and what has been done in recent years to heal the the entirely valid distrust between Native communities and researchers. She shows how ancient DNA is extracted and analyzed. She examines the archaeological data, context, dating methods, and virulent disagreements concerning "good" sites containing human evidence from the deep past. She provides a world-class primer on scientific research ethics and how to build trusting relationships among stakeholder communities. And she lays out the state of the science concerning how Native peoples moved from Siberia to places as far afield as Florida, Chile, and the Greater Antilles. (Extra points for describing the North American ice wall from the last glacier maximum as six times taller than the wall from Game of Thrones.)
This book is written for general readers, not specialists, and it's clear that Raff is involved in science education, because every chapter is accessible, perfectly structured, and crystal clear. Also, the further reading resources seem fantastic. I very much look forward to whatever Raff publishes next (and secretly wish she had time to teach other scientists how to write books, because this was a joy). Five stars.
OMG I wish this book had existed when I was entering high school. As it is, even 30 years later, I still found this an incredibly emotional read.
TeenOMG I wish this book had existed when I was entering high school. As it is, even 30 years later, I still found this an incredibly emotional read.
Teens, read this. Parents, read this too. The term "bitch" is used in its most empowered and empowering form, and there's a discussion early on about the different uses (disparaging and not) of the term. I admit I'm not a huge fan of the word "bitch," but there's power in coopting disparaging terms to defang them. In the end, it all serves young people's drive to advocate for themselves in areas of life where they may not feel like they have a ton of control. This includes school, friendships, extra-curriculars, work/money, relationships, etc. There's a primer on money management, a checklist of manipulative relationships, a great how-to on setting good boundaries with friends who may or may not realize they're stepping on your toes, and so on.
I clicked the "children" tag because I don't think it's too mature for more precocious 8th graders. At least, back in my day we were shedding our innocence as quickly as we could. OTOH, I read Cujo when I was 12, so ymmv.
Appropriate for girls, boys, trans kids, kids with disabilities, able bodied kids, queer kids, straight kids, athletic kids, theatre kids, math kids, economics kids, gifted/talented kids, regular-class kids, and older humans of all types. If you're a human who will ever have to live in society and deal with other humans, this is worth a read.
**spoiler alert** I switched editions, so I'm pasting this for posterity: at 43.0% 1. Holy crap, this is homoerotic. 2. [Checks Wikipedia] OK, so it's **spoiler alert** I switched editions, so I'm pasting this for posterity: at 43.0% 1. Holy crap, this is homoerotic. 2. [Checks Wikipedia] OK, so it's based on bedtime stories he made up for his young son who had various disabilities. 3. OK, that's fine. Innocent reading & 1908-typical absence of women, sure, whatever. 4. Holy crap, this is homoerotic.
I loved Mole. I liked Ratty. I tolerated Badger. And I hated Toad with all my soul.
Then I realized the reason I despised Toad was that he reminds me SO MUCH of The Former Guy. I can absolutely see wee ꞱᴚnɯԀ imprinting on Mr Toad and never sitting still long enough to hear the end of the book, because obvsly he would never finish an actual novel.
Re Toad, mad hijinks, whatever. It's fun. It's upperclass privilege. It's the fantasy of always getting away with it. But it's fucking inconsiderate to Toad's friends, who deserve better than having to clean up his messes.
OTOH, when, at Badger's command, they go all authoritarian fascist and literally lock Toad up in his room to control his behavior? WTAF was that?! It's a long stretch beyond grounding a disobedient child, as Toad is depicted as a grown-ass adult, and other adults imprisoning their friends "for their own good" completely baffles me as a plot point in a children's book.
Dear 1908 England, what the hell was going on that makes sense of this?
As a side note, I had many flashes of Good Omens while reading this, probably because Aziraphale rocks the antiquated Edwardian chic and frets over things much like Mole. I was charmed.
(If it isn't obvious, I did not read this as a child even though it was on the Classics shelf. Um. Probably because it WAS on the Classics shelf, actually. I kind of jumped straight from Susan Cooper to Stephen King.)
Anyway, I wish there had been a throughline plot instead of mashed together character moments. I wish, obviously, that there had been any positive treatment of women and female Animals. I wish this classic had not been part of instilling classist misogyny into generations of children. And yet weirdly I do love a good anthropomorphic animal tale and I enjoyed these characters in themselves -- I'm just not thrilled with what Grahame did with them. See T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon for how to get it right....more
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