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Three Things #6 …… difficult reading, documentaries (again!) and dancing

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The “Three Things” meme was created by Paula at Book Jotter, and I haven’t done one for literally months! However, as I was crashing out of the “Berlin Alexanderplatz” readalong, I thought it might be time to revive the meme! So, time to share thoughts on things I’ve been reading, looking at and thinking… ;D

Reading

As you might have noticed, I’ve been wrestling during November with a challenging book, during the readalong of Alfred Doblin’s “Berlin Alexanderplatz” for German Literature Month. It’s a book I struggled with at the start, and although I found at points that I did become quite engaged, I eventually lost the will to live (or at least read on with it) and abandoned ship. I confess to having interspersed the reading of it with other books, and a complete (and pleasant!) contrast was “Noted Murder Mysteries” by Marie Belloc Lowndes. I have her crime novel “The Lodger” lurking on the TBR; this is her re-telling of several true crimes which has just been reissued by Michael Walmer. It’s very entertaining and a review will follow when I catch up with these; I’m a bit behind with them at the moment, and things aren’t helped by an attack of raging indecision about what to read next: should it be a Barthes Binge or an Attack of the Gides????? ;D

Looking (at)

I do love a good documentary, as is probably blindingly obvious to anyone who drops into the Ramblings, but I’ve been struggling recently to find any decent ones. I do lose patience with some of them; the content can be trite, the music over-done and the points often lost. I had high hopes of the recent slew of Cold War programmes, but in the end only two held my interest – “Letters from London”, about a propaganda radio show, and “A British Guide to the End of the World”, a very thought-provoking work about the effects of nuclear testing and the daft films put out to guide us how to survive an attack. I really could do with a decent documentary, along the lines of Professor Richard Clay’s “Utopia” (which is currently repeating on BBC4 in the wee small hours, if you’ve not seen it) or “Viral“, both of which I enjoyed hugely. Fortunately, a little hint of a glimpse of a rumour reaches me that he might be in the process of filming something new, which is excellent, as his ideas are so very interesting and the subject matter sounds quite fascinating!

Thinking

I’m going to bend this category a little bit, as I spent some time recently looking at a live event as well as searching for documentaries, and that set me thinking about past times! That live event was an OMD concert at a lovely venue in the local Big Town; I’ve seen the band there four times now and they never disappoint, presenting a highly-charged and enjoyable set full of hits old and new. Despite my increasing age (hah!) I refuse to conform to anyone’s expectations of how I should behave; and so I spent the two hours of the gig happily dancing my little socks off right in front of the stage. It was a wonderful night and rest assured, I will be there at the front again when they make their next visit!

Andy McCluskey of OMD

The venue itself is a wonderful one, with a long history. It was previously a Gaumont and back in the 1960s hosted visits from both the Beatles and the Stones (and Mr. Kaggsy, being somewhat older than me, was at both concerts!) In my time, I’ve seen some inspirational musicians play there, including Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Clash, The Teardrop Explodes, Tori Amos, and Morrissey (ahem…) to name a few. In fact, when I think back I’ve seem some incredible acts perform over the years: Bob Dylan, Echo and the Bunnymen, Patti Smith umpteen times, The Velvet Underground on their 1990s reunion tour, and the great John Cale on more occasions than I can recall. I love music almost as much as I love books, and there’s nothing better than a really good live gig! 😀

*****

So there you go. Three aspects of where I am at the moment: glad to be out of Berlin Alexanderplatz, looking forward to new documentaries and wishing more decent bands would play locally! “Three Things” is a fun meme – do join in if you want to! 🙂

 

A perfect blend of words and images #johnberger @selcukparis @NottingHillEds

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Cataract
Smoke
by John Berger and Selcuk Demirel

In September I reviewed a lovely new hardback from Notting Hill Editions: “What Time is It?” by John Berger and Selcuk Demirel. The two had previously collaborated on an earlier pair of titles from the publisher, and “Time..” was compiled after Berger’s death from his writings. After I published my review, the publisher very kindly sent me the other two books ,”Smoke” and “Cataract”, which was a real treat; and inevitably it wasn’t long before I was drawn to pick them up!

“Cataract” was issued in 2011 and “Smoke” in 2017, with the books following the same format as was obviously later used in “Time”. So there are quotes, musings, thoughts from Berger which are accompanied by Demirel’s striking illustrations, with the two coming together beautifully to illuminate their topics. And an interesting pair of subjects they are too…

With cataracts, wherever you are, you are in a certain sense indoors.

Fairly obviously, “Cataract” covers Berger’s reactions to what is described as the “minor miracle” of cataract surgery. For a man such as Berger, who’s most famous for enlightening us on the ways of looking at, and seeing, the world around us, there’s a hideous irony in the fact that he was afflicted by cataracts, which blur and restrict the vision. Modern surgery can cure them, and the prose records Berger’s experience as his sight returns properly and he can re-encounter the world around him. The illustrations to this one are mainly line drawings, with even a colour work of Berger’s, and they humorously yet sensitively contemplate our relationship with our sight.

Once upon a time men, women and (secretly) children smoked.

“Smoke” takes on perhaps a larger subject; not only does it explore the changing attitudes to the act of smoking, it also looks at the way smoke attacks our planet from all manner of sources. Berger was obviously a smoker, and he relates the tale of how once everybody smoked until gradually the smokers became outcasts; which, as is made clear, is something of a hypocrisy when you consider the amount of smoke belching out of factories and cars on a daily basis. Demirel’s illustrations are funny, clever and pithy and again perfectly complement the words.

I loved reading both of these books and enjoying Berger’s words and Demirel’s illustrations; and they resonated with me in an odd way! You see, my Aged Parent is a hardened smoker – at 85 I think she gets through 20 a day and refuses to give up (which is why visiting her is so often a trial and I need to be fumigated when I leave…). She’s also had two cataract operations, and as I read the book, I recalled her reactions to the new, clear sight she had after them. She constantly commented on how bright and wonderful the colours in the world were; and so it obviously *is* a minor miracle of an operation.

Just as fish live and swim in water: we live and move through light.

Reading the earlier two books these two wonderful artists produced was such a joy, and I would thoroughly recommend reading all three in sequence. They’re beautifully produced (as always with Notting Hill Editions) and as well as presenting some stunning and memorable illustrations, they really do make you think about the subjects and the world around you. Berger was a pithy thinker and Demirel is a marvellous artist; they were the perfect combination and although Berger is much missed, at least he left such wonderful work behind him.

(Review copies kindly provided by the publisher, for which many, many thanks!)

Exploring Weimar Berlin with a readalong for #germanlitmonth – in which I jump ship…

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Yup. I am afraid that after a week of trying to push through the third section of this readalong, I decided last night that it was time for me to bail…

I don’t often give up on a book nowadays as I do tend to try to read things I hope I’ll like or get something out of; after all, my life is finite and it’s too precious to waste on a book I’m hating. But I sat last night and asked myself if there was any point in continuing and came back with the answer no. So I’ve abandoned “Berlin Alexanderplatz”.

Frankly, I don’t care what happens to Franz or any of his friends; I feel like the effort I’m having to make to read it is not balanced with anything that’s rewarding enough; and I reckon I could get a sense of Berlin at that time from any number of books which I would actively enjoy rather than one I’m wrestling with. Reading *shouldn’t* be a struggle and this was; I realised I was having to force myself to pick up the book and starting to hate the experience of reading it, which is not how it should be. It’s disappointing in a way, because at the start of this section I had begun to feel a bit more invested, and was actually enjoying the narrative. But that dissipated as the week went on and I found myself looking at all the other books I *could* have been reading and resenting the fact I was spending time with BA.

So I’m sorry Caroline and Lizzy, and I do hope you have a more rewarding experience than I do. The questions you both provided to aid our discussion and experience with the book *were* helpful and did focus the mind; but in the end I had to declare myself beaten. Onward and upward with something completely different, methinks!!!!

It begins and ends with a letter… #gogol #thegovernmentinspector @almaclassics

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The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol
Translated by Roger Cockrell

When I was pondering on the wonderful books I’d read for the 1930 Club recently, I commented that the blog was suffering from a bit of RRD (Russian Reading Deficiency). Luckily it’s a condition which is easily treated, particularly when you have as many Russian books lurking in the stacks as I do! However, a recent arrival at the Ramblings, in the form of a sparkling new translation of Gogol’s play “The Government Inspector”, turned out to be the perfect cure… 😀

This lovely new copy is from Alma Classics, who also publish editions of his great novel “Dead Souls” and two lovely volumes which feature some of his shorter works. “The Government Inspector” is a comic work (as is so much of Gogol’s work) and holds an important place in the history of Russian drama. It’s been newly translated by Roger Cockrell (who rendered so beautifully their edition of Dostoevsky’s “The Devils”, which I reviewed here); and it certainly was a joy to read.

The play is set in a small provincial town, and opens with the local officials in uproar; a corrupt collection of Mayor, Judge, Inspector of Schools, Charities Commissioner, and so on. The Postmaster has intercepted a letter, warning that a Government Inspector is going to make a visit to the town, incognito, to check up on the officials; and as the town is filthy and neglected, dependent on bribery and generally chaotic, all hell is set to let loose. The uproar gets worse when it’s discovered that a man from St. Petersburg has been lodging at the local inn, one Ivan Alexandrovich Khlestakov. It’s instantly made clear to the audience that he’s a charlatan, out to blag what he can from the locals and then move on. However, the officials decide that he must be the visiting Inspector, and that mistaken identity leads to a hilarious comedy of errors.

Traitors in a provincial town! It’s hardly a border town, is it? You could gallop for three years in any direction and still be miles away from any other country.

Khlestakov is accompanied by a slovenly manservant, Osip; and both are happy to play along with the local officials and their fawning behaviour, even though they don’t know why it’s happening. So they’re well-fed, bribed with ‘loans’ and Khlestakov even starts to make up to both the Mayor’s wife *and* his daughter. The officials are in a state of fear and trembling, the townspeople are wondering if this important man from St. Petersburg can deal with the corrupt officials for them, and the Mayor’s daughter spies a potential husband. Will the truth out; will Khlestakov get out of the town in time; and what does the future hold for the people of the little town?

The first thing to say about “The Government Inspector” is that of course it is very, very funny. As the misunderstandings build up one on top of the other, the action degenerates into frantic farce where the townspeople vie for favours from the spurious Inspector and denounce each other left right and centre. There is a wonderful running joke in the existence of two indistinguishable local landowners, Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky, who both have the same name and patronymic – Pyotr Ivanovich! As I read the play I was visualising how it would look onstage, and thinking that it would probably reduce the audience to hysterics.

… sometimes having an idea can do more harm than having no ideas at all.

However, there’s a little more to this play than just farce, as Gogol very cleverly and successfully mixes broad slapstick humour with satirical comment on the state of the Civil Service in Russia, and the corruption amongst officials. Russia was controlled by its strict bureaucratic hierarchy, but the dishonesty of the system and its officials was well known. By using the small town setting, Gogol probably hoped to get away with hiding his critique in the action; had he directed his commentary at the higher ranks in the cities it probably wouldn’t have been so easy.

God help anyone who goes into education! You’re always liable to be criticised. Everyone is always interfering, wanting to show they’re as clever as you are.

It also occurred to me that this play really sets the template for Russian satire to come: with the provincial setting and the focus on small town corruption, he was definitely a forerunner of Saltykov-Shchedrin (and I believe the latter has been referred to as the artistic ‘heir’ of Gogol). However, Gogol also foreshadows his own later work, as it’s quite possible to see Khlestakov as an early version of the protagonist of “Dead Souls”, Chichikov – almost a Chichikov in miniature! Both men are fly-by-night chancers, rushing from town to town trying to scam what they can from what they regard as simple provincial people. Of course, Chichikov is much more sophisticated, with complex plans to cheat the rural landowners; but it’s hard not to see the seeds of his character in Khlestakov, an early version without the plans and the cunning.

I think I’ve read “The Government Inspector” once before – and we’re talking *decades* ago here – so reading it in this wonderful new translation was such a treat. I found myself laughing like a drain throughout, whilst marvelling at the ability of human beings to deceive themselves. The play comes with useful notes which are just at the right level; not too many, and just what you need to enjoy reading it. Interestingly, Cockrell discusses briefly one of the many complex decisions translators have to make when working, and that was the rendering of the names in English. In the original, the names have a comic meaning (e.g. the name of the Mayor could be translated literally as Windbag). Should the translator render the names in comic form or simply transliterate? Cockrell sensibly (to my mind) transliterates – so the Mayor is Skvoznik-Dmukhanovsky – but gives a key at the start of the notes which lets the reader know what the humorous version would be. I prefer this myself – and it’s something I’ve come across with my reading of various translations of “The Master and Margarita”; Ivan Bezdomny is sometimes rendered as Ivan Homeless, which is what his last name (a pseudonym) means. I prefer the Russian with a note somewhere as in the Gogol; I got a bit heated when reading “War and Peace” and coming across Prince Andrei given as Prince Andrew, as I want my Russians to sound Russian!!

Anyway – at least the RRD on the Ramblings has been remedied, and in a wonderful way. “The Government Inspector” was a treat from start to finish, and I’m now kind of thinking of it as a prequel to “Dead Souls”! Even if you don’t normally read plays, I’d recommend this one; it’s entertaining, hilarious and with a fascinating subtext. What more could you want? 😀

(Review copy kindly provided by the publisher, for which many thanks!)

“…. brutal, like the smash of a fist….” #elizabethhardwick #sylviaplath @NYRBClassics

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Seduction and Betrayal by Elizabeth Hardwick

I mentioned in a post earlier this year that I narrowly missed picking up a duplicate copy of Elizabeth Hardwick’s seminal collection of essays when I was in the wonderful Foyles, Charing Cross Road. It’s been re-released in a very pretty Faber edition, but I had a feeling in the back of my head that I might already own it. Turned out that I did, in a lovely old NYRB Classics edition. Spotting in the wild did, however, bring it back onto my radar; and as I’d heard such great things about it, I made a point of picking it up fairly soon after my London trip.

The book was originally published in 1974, and collects together a number of essays from the early 1970s. The subject matter is, in effect, women *in* literature and women *writing* literature; and the book focuses on a number of names we’re probably all familiar with, as well as taking on the knotty subjects of the book’s title in the final piece. Indeed, that title refers as much to the effect of literature on women as the subject matter of some of the essays. Hardwick is an author I’d read before; I have some of her works in lovely green Virago editions, and I reviewed “Sleepless Nights” on the Ramblings way back in 2012. Her writing style is distinctive and very individual, and she brings a rigorous intellect to these essays. I didn’t always necessarily agree with her, but I did find the book very stimulating.

To get to specifics. The book opens with a substantial piece on the Brontes and their work, their lives and their impact. Hardwick goes on to consider the women in the plays of Henrik Ibsen; he certainly was a man who focused strongly on female characters. The next section of the book looks at women Hardwick designates as ‘Victims and Victors’; this contains essays on Zelda Fitzgerald, Sylvia Plath, and Bloomsbury and Virginia Woof. Following this are the ‘Amateurs’, Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Carlyle. And the book closes with “Seduction and Betrayal”, a very thought-provoking essay which explores seduction in the arts from Don Giovanni to much more modern works.

As you can see, it’s an eclectic mix, combining authors, characters and women who did not consider themselves as writers but whose letters and journals are still read today. And Hardwick is a provocative and insightful commentator. Her take on the Brontes is fascinating, and a counter to the bucolic image which has grown up around them. Hardwick refuses to soften, whitewash or sanitise these women, allowing them their anger and strength. When you look at the circumstances and places from which the women sprang, they are simply extraordinary.

… neighbours and families and gossip, boredom, marriage, money, and work are still what the drama of life is about.

Ibsen is an author with whom I’ve had a limited acquaintance; as far as I can recall, I’ve only read his play “Brand” which doesn’t really feature here, having as it does a strong male central character. However, the discussion of his women, who are often powerful memorable characters dominating his plays, is fascinating and actually made me keen to read more of him. I certainly can’t help but agree with this exchange which Hardwick quotes from one of his works:

In one of the most striking bits of dialogue between husband and wife, Helmner says, “… no man sacrifices his honour, not even for the one he loves.“ “Millions of women have done so,“ Nora replies.

“Victims and Victors” is an interesting grouping of subjects, though I’m not sure I entirely approve of the titling here. To regard any of these women as victims somehow seems to detract from their work and all are significant artists. However, the piece on Zelda Fitzgerald is particularly insightful, highlighting the difference in attitudes towards creative men and women. The kind of behaviour tolerated in men, as creative and artistic, is dismissed as hysterical or mad in women, and it’s time we moved on from that. The essay on Bloomsbury and Woolf perhaps slightly missed the mark for me; the focus is on elements of class and sexuality; bearing in mind the time which has elapsed since the essay was written, and how much our attitudes have changed and our knowledge of Woolf and her compatriots increased, it has perhaps dated less well. However, some of her commentary of Woolf’s writing is spot on and I did enjoy the essay.

The two pieces on the women Hardwick classes as ‘amateurs’ making thought-provoking reading. Both in effect lived in the shadow of ‘great men’ – poet William Wordsworth and author Thomas Carlyle. Much of their efforts went into supporting these ‘geniuses’; and yet they still found time for their own writing, in the form of journals and letters, and these in many ways are more readable and approachable than the men’s writing. Dorothy found fulfilment from her close relationship with her brother, and most likely would never have written works for publication on her own; likewise, Jane Carlyle was a social animal, organising her husband, holding court at their Cheyne Walk house, and writing witty letters in a time when that was the only mode of communication. They left us not only snapshots of life with the great men, but also a record of their own lives which is quite fascinating.

…flirtation, surrender, pregnancy, misery. This is the plot of existence.

As for the final (title) essay, it’s a tricky one. It does indeed deal with seduction and betrayal in literature; and of course the ultimate end stage of seduction is rape, which exists as a topic and a plot device in a worrying number of early works of art. It’s actually a bit shocking to consider how many novels, operas and the like rely on whether a woman will put out as the main thrust (ahem) of their plot. Hardwick is of the opinion that in the modern world, this kind of plot has probably had its day; certainly, the consequence of enjoying sex, in the form of unwanted pregnancy, doesn’t always have the destructive effect on a woman’s life that it used to – well, at least in some cultures. However, women are still judged on their sexuality so I’m not entirely convinced everything has changed.

Giovanni Giovannetti/Grazia Neri [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I’ve left what for me is the highlight of the collection until the end of my post. I confess I was probably most excited about reading the Plath essay, and it didn’t disappoint. Hardwick digs deep into Plath’s art, identifying the anger in the poet’s work and investigating the roots of this. She refuses to paint Plath as a martyr, linking her with other strong female poets of the 20th century like Bishop, Moore and Sexton; and I found the piece very moving. Hardwick astutely links Woolf and Plath; but I think she perhaps underplays the focus of the latter’s famous poem “Daddy” in considering it mainly relation to the poet’s father and ignoring the reading of it as also being in relation to her husband. Nevertheless, Hardwick’s discussion of the portrayal of death in Plath’s verse was particularly pithy; her highlighting of the relationship in “The Ball Jar” between the Rosenberg’s execution by electric chair and Plath’s own ECT was chilling; and the essay really made me want to re-engage with Plath’s poetry.

In the end, what is overwhelming, new, original, in Sylvia Plath is the burning singularity of temperament, the exigent spirit clothed but not calmed by the purest understanding of the English poetic tradition.

So overall this was a really engrossing and, yes, seductive collection of of essays exploring the intersection of women’s art and their behaviour, the forces that impelled them to create, the cultural influences restricting them and the great achievements they made. Certainly, all of these women who were creators have left a lasting legacy; all of the women who were characters have entered into the canon; and the book is proof, if it were needed, that women are just as capable of creating great art as men are, particularly when the domestic side of life can be got out of their way. I’m glad a random sighting of this book prompted me to search out my copy of “Seduction and Betrayal” as it was a wonderful read; and I think I may have to bump my other unread Hardwicks a bit further up the TBR! D

(Hey! The second title of the month which qualifies as a non-fiction work for the challenge!)

Exploring Weimar Berlin with a readalong for #germanlitmonth – Week 2

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OK – we’re into week two of the readalong of “Berlin Alexanderplatz” and it’s time to share my thoughts on chapters 3 – 5. Again, this is a section of around 100 pages (well, slightly more) in my edition, and so theoretically quite manageable, though I have to say I think I read 350-odd pages of Golden Age crime more rapidly than this… Anyway, onto the questions from Lizzy and here’s what I’m thinking so far,

1. What do you make of Döblin’s structuring of the novel? The short summaries at the beginning of each chapter, each section? The montage technique?

The structure of the novel is interesting, and as I’ve mentioned, reading Dos Passos recently has meant I’ve coped quite well. I like the little summaries at the beginning of the chapters, and the descriptions of the sections; however the montage technique is a little different. In Dos Passos, the main narrative was split into sections relating to specific characters which was fairly linear. This was interspersed with montage and news sections as contrast. However, Doblin’s narrative often has these elements mixed together, and the montage is less fragmented than Dos Passos but perhaps more invasive in respect of the main narrative. So the techniques are different but equally interesting and not too difficult for me to read. What *is* difficult to deal with is the next question…

2. Women and the treatment of women in Berlin Alexanderplatz …. Discuss.

Frankly, I wouldn’t have wanted to be a women in Weimar Berlin – or at least in this book. They’re beaten, raped, murdered, manipulated and generally badly treated. Whether this is an accurate portrayal of the period or just of the particular milieu Doblin wants to capture I don’t know, but I’m not liking that aspect. I don’t think I’ve come across one positive portrayal of a woman so far, and I find that a struggle. Franz is a bit of a bastard, frankly, and if he *does* have a happy ending in the book he certainly doesn’t deserve it. I won’t say what he deserves… And Reinhold, who comes up in the next question, is just vile. Women are treated as things to be used, abused, passed on and discarded. Not a good situation really.

A problematic book because of the subject matter….

3. This section introduces Reinhold, who will prove to be Franz Biberkopf’s main antagonist. What do you think of Biberkopf’s initial underestimation of Reinhold?

Franz is a very arrogant and stupid man tbh. He completely fails to grasp what Reinhold is actually like, tries to take control of the man and his lovelife, and this section ends with Reinhold being revealed as completely unlike Franz had perceived him. As well as being a pig towards women, he’s also a nasty and hardened criminal. It seems that Franz in many ways has met his match, and it’s also odd that Franz is so blind regarding the reality of the criminal activities going on around him. As I said, he’s a bit stupid…

4. What was the highlight of this section for you? What the lowlight?

The highlight of the section (and in fact the book so far) has been the vivid picture of the city. Doblin really captures Berlin in a state of flux, being rebuilt after the defeat of the First World War (something of a touchstone, and an event that recurs in the narrative). The montage parts of the prose capture the modern, bustling world with adverts and signs and people constantly trying to sell something new. That part of the book is very successful. The low point is of course the treatment of women; if I’m honest, I might have abandoned the book already because of that if it wasn’t for the readalong.

I also have to confess to having skimmed a chunk of this section as it was all about slaughterhouses. I’m sorry, but as a vegan I just couldn’t… I imagine this means I’m missing something, as I’m presuming this was meant to represent the treatment the humans are receiving in the Germany of the time, but so be it.

5. Do you have any further observations or questions you’ll be looking to answer at a later stage?

There’s a *lot* of religious imagery and tbh I don’t get that. It may all become clear later on, or maybe not. I mentioned this before, and I’m probably missing stuff; but frankly I don’t have the energy to try to work that out at the moment! If I’m truly honest, I’m not sure as yet what Doblin is trying to *say* with the book, but that may reveal itself as I continue to read – or mabye not!

*****

So, there you go. I guess I must be almost half way through and I *will* try to make it to the end. The book is not always an easy read because of the elements I’ve mentioned, and yet I do like Doblin’s prose style (in this particular translation). Hope the next section will bring more enlightenment… 😉

 

 

 

Thrilling tales of derring-do for #RLSDay :D

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As I think I’ve mentioned before on the Ramblings, 13th November is designated as an annual Robert Louis Stevenson day, in celebration of the great author on his birthday. I do love RLS’s writing, and I try to mark the day if I can – although I do have a tendency to often leave it a little late… However, this year I’ve been slightly more organised than usual, and I’ve been dipping into some of the stories in “New Arabian Nights”; it’s a collection of shorter works I picked up moons ago, and it makes wonderful reading!

November being a bit packed with challenges and the like, I’ve only managed to read the suite of stories collected under the titles of “The Suicide Club” and “The Raja’s Diamond”. This consists of six linked tales, joined with commentary by a storyteller (much in the way of the original Arabian Nights, apparently), and they focus on the lively, dramatic and picaresque adventures of Prince Florizel of Bohemia and his faithful sidekick, Colonel Geraldine. Interestingly, the publication of these stories pre-dates slightly the first appearance of Sherlock Holmes, and yet the relationship between the two men is very much in the mould of Holmes and Watson! RLS and Conan Doyle were friends and contemporaries – intriguing…

The first three stories feature dark deeds by the proprietor of the club of the title; it’s an unpleasant organisation, designed to help troubled people end their lives. After an initial adventure in the first story, where Florizel and Geraldine encounter the villain in question, they then pursue him through the other two stories with lively and exciting adventures . The second suite of stories sees Florizel and Geraldine solving the mysteries associated with the theft of a fabulous diamond, as well as observing the effect that the jewel has on people’s morality.

The stories are wonderfully entertaining, and of course RLS writes so marvellously; I really enjoyed following the tales of derring-do, and Florizel and Geraldine make a wonderful pairing of heroes. It’s interesting how Bohemia threw up so many fictional characters in the past… However, what struck me too was Stevenson’s mastery of the form; each tale ends with a little bit of narration, leading into the next one, and then the focus changes with the following story introducing us to a character who’s either new or hasn’t taken the main stage previously. All the threads eventually link together, and it’s an ingenious way of telling a tale and keeping the reader interested and on their toes. What a really great author RLS was!

So I loved reading these short works by RLS to celebrate his day this year; and I still have treats to come in the book, including a story reckoned by no less than Arthur Conan Doyle as being the first short story ever written! As you can see from the image above, I do have a few of Stevenson’s titles lurking on my shelves, and could happily spend many a winter night engrossed in them. Every time I revisit RLS I find more to love and admire in his books, and if you’ve never read him you could do no better than to give his works a look; certainly, these short stories would be a great introduction to a really great author!

*****

For further information about RLS Day, there is a lovely site here which gets updated annually:

https://rlsday.wordpress.com/

There’s also an excellent website all about Stevenson here:

http://robert-louis-stevenson.org/

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