Justine

Some two hundred years before Lawrence Durrell offered readers a blank page to represent silence – perhaps inviting us to interpret that of Clea – Lawrence Sterne, in “The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman”, invited us to paint on his a likeness of a chosen beautiful mistress.

Durrell’s page is followed by a list of Workpoints as perhaps for a notebook, which may explain my ambivalence about “Justine”, the first of his acclaimed Alexandria Quartet, to which I have returned after perhaps 40 years of forgetfulness.

The writer’s cornucopia of abundantly luscious prose exploring the nature of love and lust in the context of a portrait of a suffocating city is indeed engaging. The mistresses described by the anonymous narrator are as beautiful as those suggested by Sterne. His descriptions of the nature of Alexandria shortly before World War II are packed in verbally delightful, yet economical, sentences.

My problem is that for me the work itself reads like a notebook in which I seek to follow a narrative of the interwoven lives of a variety of very passionate protagonists unable ultimately to commit, over periods of time to those they truly love, and consequently seem doomed to remain unsatisfied. Durrell has maybe captured the experience of many of us.

I am pleased that I was prompted to revisit this work by https://shoreacres.wordpress.com/2023/01/30/the-threshold-of-imagination/

Linda is an intelligent, resourceful, respected blogger. She has put much more layers of thought into her review highlighted above than I have managed in mine, no doubt the result of her repeated returns to it. In the interests of reasonable balance I would recommend reading what she has to say.

Conversions And Curry

This morning I converted the following posts from Classic to Block edits, with the last two being changed to Garden categorisation:

Wayback Machine helped by identifying one missing picture in the Transitional Objects post.

Nick Hayter visited to discuss costings for refurbishing the outside of the house. We will start with one stage.

This afternoon Jackie drove us all over to Westbourne where we met Becky and Ian at Spice Cottage in order for me to settle my losing bet over the England v. France Women’s Six Nations rugby match, the result warranting my paying for the curry meal. My main course was Tandoori King Prawn naga with Special Fried Rice. We all shared peshwari naan and onion bahji; I haven’t registered the other main courses. The men all drank Kingfisher, and the women soft drinks. The service and food was as excellent as always.

Rapid-Fire Heavy Showers

This morning I converted three more posts from Classic to Block edits. These were:

I gave the first of these a different header picture;

Wayback Machine was useful for the second. The correct pictures were all in my iMac Photos on the relevant date, but since they were missing in the post I didn’t know which of those I had published. Wayback provided the answer. One image was irrelevant, so I deleted it.

I was encouraged by a phone call from James of Peacock Computers saying that he and Owen are continuing to work on some of the issues and tackling the posts from the most recent backwards, whereas I am working forwards from the older ones. This means we are quite well coordinated.

This afternoon I ventured out on a dead heading session but was

soon driven in by the first of a series of rapid-fire heavy showers, spattering patio paving and windowpanes with explosive precipitation.

I read some of Lawrence Durrell’s novel Justine which I had begun a few days ago, then nipped out during a moderation of the deluge to finish the gardening task.

Between periods of darkening cloud sunlight buffed the surface of the

dripping plant pearls, with enough respite for me to capture them with my camera. As usual, each image in the gallery bears a title.

Within seconds after each deluge the brooding skies would change to cloud-scudded cerulean blue.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie; firm carrots and Brussel’s sprouts with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Bardolino.

Why Did The Lambs Cross The Road?

After continuous heavy rain yesterday and overnight, this morning was largely overcast but dry when Jackie and I took an early forest drive.

While we queued at the Brockenhurst level crossing we were able to

see to our left evidence of a recently felled wide arboreal casualty.

Having driven under the A31 to Newbridge Jackie was forced to pull over to the verge as we came face to face with a hay bale carried by a

tractor on the narrow lane ahead.

There was already a stream flowing under a road bridge alongside Furzley Common, but today it was overflowing and bubbling as it splashed over a mossy bank that revealed exposed tree roots having received water’s erosive force for many years. The fifth, portrait, image in the gallery demonstrates a broken tree’s determination to regenerate. New ferns find themselves growing in water.

Marsh marigolds, otherwise known as kingcups, blended with yellow flag irises.

I was surprised that sheep grazing on the common, normally such inquisitive creatures, did a runner when I squelched across the soggy sward past long term decaying stumps in order to make their portraits.

Soon afterwards we encountered a foal attached to assorted shapes and sizes of ponies. It enjoyed licking the tarmac and scratching an itch, although hadn’t yet learned the technique of using a hoof for such relief.

Jackie photographed me in action, the various ponies, including the foal who wanted to enter the Modus, and another with its Dam further along the road.

Frisky lambs nipped across the road at Bramshaw to join an adult on the other side who

soon crossed back to where they had come from;

naturally they followed suit.

Here are Jackie’s three pictures of the sheep.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s spicy penne pasta arrabbiata with parmesan cheese and tender green beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Bardolino.

Past Caring

When I select a title for a post I always check to ensure that I have not used it before. Although I sometimes miss one, I was horrified to find when checking yesterday’s “Garden Delights”, to discover two entitled “The Garden Of Delights” each allegedly of the same post with versions published five years apart.

My original, supposedly of 2013, contained just a few pictures; the second, edited by Peacocks, none. The original had no comments, which would not have been that unusual at that time. The 2018 version received quite a lot.

With much trepidation and head scratching I set about trying to discover what should have been included. Fortunately most of these were in my iMac photo files – not all in the expected location.

The tags on the 2013 version all relate to a film or films I watched in France, and bear no relationship to the garden of delights. I scoured the posts from my French visits, to no avail. I can only imagine that two posts from 2013 have been fused. It was only while drafting this that I thought to try Wayback. I tried it with the correct version’s URL – that is there, but I had no other lead.

Having spent a total of 4 to 5 hours on this, either side of lunch, I took drastic action. I moved all the comments from 2018 to the 2013 version, put the 2018 version in the bin, and cut my losses. This may have been the wrong way round, but I am now past caring.

A few days ago I finished reading

and have periodically worked on the review of his Italian classic in recent days, holding it for the next rainy day and publishing it this afternoon.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Giulio Pasotti Bardolino 2021.

The Betrothed

This paragraph from https://viewfromtheback.com/2023/01/20/fridays-tall-tales-3/ by Sheree:

“Manzoni’s masterpiece, I promessi sposi, 3 vol. (1825–27), is a novel set in early 17th century Lombardy during the period of the Milanese insurrection, the Thirty Years’ War, and the plague. It is a sympathetic portrayal of the struggle of two peasant lovers whose wish to marry is thwarted by a vicious local tyrant and the cowardice of their parish priest. A courageous friar takes up the lovers’ cause and helps them through many adventures to safety and marriage. Manzoni’s resigned tolerance of the evils of life and his concept of religion as the ultimate comfort and inspiration of humanity give the novel its moral dimension.The novel brought Manzoni immediate fame and praise from all quarters, in Italy and elsewhere.”

took me back to my copy of this work, last read in 1969.

Enough time had passed for me to have entirely forgotten the book’s story, so I am grateful to have been prompted to revisit this work which is so much more than the echoes it bears of Scott, Thackeray and Dickens. The text contains by quotation an acknowledgement of his debt to Shakespeare whom he judges to be a master of feelings and the human heart.

Just as we, often too early, are expected to read and learn quotations from the Swan of Avon, so Italian children do the same with this novel. Just as gems from Shakespeare have entered our language and are often quoted without knowing the source, so it is with what we have translated as “The Betrothed”.

Considered as a linguistic influence on the Risorgimento, Manzoni died just before the reunification of the various states of the Italian peninsular.

As he set out on this project which was to occupy the central years of his life, the author expressed his aims and his reason for choosing the Counter Reformation period as his major focus, in a letter to a friend: “The memoirs we have from that period show a very extraordinary state of society; the most arbitrary government combined with feudal and popular anarchy; legislation that is amazing in the way it exposes a profound, ferocious, pretentious ignorance; classes with opposed interests and maxims; some little-known anecdotes, preserved in trustworthy documents; finally a plague which gave full rein to the most consummate and shameful excesses, to the most absurd prejudices, and to the most touching virtues.” This gives an example of his flowing prose, reflecting his passion, reason, and humanity.

He certainly resembles Shakespeare in his mastery of characterisation; his understanding of a wide range of human nature, its conflicts, its strengths, its weaknesses, and its capacity for tenderness, loyalty, and overcoming obstacles. His insight into the minds and emotional life of his persona is more complex than that of Dickens, whose grasp of history he matches.

In fact his research into the events of the period are so thorough as to make this central section somewhat tedious. He explains his purpose for its inclusion as offering essential insight into the life situations of his protagonists.

His subtle humour pervades the book. Either Manzoni himself or our translator favours simile over metaphor, as evidenced by plentiful examples in much excellent, at times poetic, detailed description of urban and rural life and contrasting environments; in particular the distressing effects of living and dying through famine, war, strikes, and plague. We are given insight into mob psychology, which the author gained from personal experience. This was a time of social disruption, violence, and turmoil.

The resilience of the betrothed pair is admirable in their circumstances, affected as they are by the conflict between church and state, and by blind faith, as well as staunch belief in each other.

Manzoni’s own struggle with Catholicism, to which he returned in later life, perhaps influenced the sudden change of heart and behaviour of the Unnamed, who forges a beneficial relationship with a revered Cardinal.

I hope I have not given away too much of the story to spoil it for any readers who may wish to follow my recommendation and pick up the book for themselves.

My 1969 edition is that of The Folio Society. The translator, who has provided a valuable and informative preface, is Archibald Colquhoun. I would be unable to read the original but this does seem to be a faithful rendition.

Here is the frontispiece and Title Page.

The sharply lined and detailed drawings by Eric Fraser have the incised quality of such as scraper board.

Garden Delights

This morning I converted the following posts to Block from Classic edit:

I gave The Camperdown Elm and Ache header pictures, and changed the category of the last two to Garden.

Later I carried out a little dead heading and weeding, and after lunch focussed on the delights I had noticed on my way round. These images all show titles in the gallery

This evening we all dined on tender roast lamb; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower, broccoli, and Brussels sprouts; meaty gravy; mint sauce and redcurrant jelly, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the shiraz.

King Charles III And Queen Camilla

In 1953 I watched his mother crowned on someone else’s tiny black and white TV.

This was after his great uncle had abdicated because he was not allowed to marry a divorced woman.

This is all summarised in https://derrickjknight.com/2021/09/06/a-knights-tale-28-three-monarchs-in-quick-succession/

Charles’s father would never be given the title of king. His first wife was never called Queen.

As a widower he has now married a divorced woman.

She, Camilla, is now the Queen alongside her husband, King Charles III, who we all watched being crowned on our own colour TV, from the

screen of which I was able to photograph the event.

Such is the march of progress over the last 70 years.

Ellie did with her crown what she does with everything else.

Will she see another?

For lunch we all partook of Flo’s authentic coronation chicken with Jackie’s baked potato and fresh salad.

This evening we all dined on a Red Chilli home delivery. Jackie’s choice of main meal was butter chicken; Flo’s, mango lamb; Dillon’s chicken dhansak; mine, tandoori king prawn naga. We shared tikka ponir; peshwari naan; pilau and special fried rice. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Shiraz.

“Can We Come And Play”

After a Tesco shop later this afternoon, Jackie and I took a forest drive.

As I photographed a pony by Wootton stream, she moved away from a warning sign about keeping distance and not interfering with the animals.

I turned to photograph a system of roots just as a French gentleman entered the picture. He was very happy to have been included. This led to an opportunity for each us to practice our Franglais, although this became a little too much for his wife and two children, who, nevertheless did join in with some amusement – enough for me to have managed at least one intelligible bilingual pun. My acquaintance wanted to know all about the animals, their ownership, control, etc. In particular, I was able to speak about all aspects of the aforementioned warning sign. Explaining the evident ribs in the animals was interesting. Wolves, wild boar, and badgers were also subjects of interest.

We drove on to Bisterne Close where, while photographing a pony, I met a man who told me of a stallion who had gathered together a harem of 28 mares, where I should find some interesting photographs. I followed his clear directions until I found

the scene of the gathering, which had clearly moved on. Hoofprints had disappeared into a muddy reflecting pool.

I transferred my sights to the woodland, with its fallen trees, its shadows, moss, and catkins writhing on the ground or hanging from the trees.

Some way along the Burley Road towards the A35,

we spied a pony and foal in a distant field.

Further inspection revealed another horse and two small calves. As the bovine parents were at the far end of the field, we assumed their offspring had approached and asked “can we come and play”.

This evening we all dined on pork spare ribs in barbecue sauce and Jackie’s colourful savoury rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Campo Viejo Rioja 2021.

After The Booster

This morning Jackie and I drove to The Grove Pharmacy at Christchurch Hospital where we received our Covid booster jabs in a smooth and uneventful operation.

Thereafter I remained indoors, posted https://derrickjknight.com/2023/05/04/droll-tales-30/

and converted to Block editor, while changing their categories to Garden, the following posts:

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s tasty tandoori chicken with perfect pilau rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the shiraz.