Books – Page 9 – derrickjknight

The Fellowship Of The Ring

I introduce today’s post with a couple of questions.

Why would I feature a book I am never likely to read?

Which European Monarch signed abdication papers today?

Well, not before I bought this Folio Society edition in 1977, I read J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit” which bored me so much that I regretted purchase of the Ring three volume set. Except for the illustrations, the story of which is featured in

two pages from the Folio Society Magazine of Spring 1978. You may need to enlarge these images to realise that today’s abdicating monarch is the artist who provided the original works redrawn by Eric Fraser to fit the format of the books. Having become Queen Margaretha, Ingahild Grathmer had no available time to carry out the task, but approved of Fraser’s efforts.

Here are the illustrations to this first book in the trilogy; those for the next two volumes will follow in due course.

As Crown Princess, Margaretha of Denmark is celebrated in our rose garden by this eponymous prolific sweet scented climber.

This evening we all dined on Red Chilli takeaway’s excellent fare. My choice was Bengal Chilli Chicken and special fried rice.

Old-World Landowners & Viy

On another cold, drab, day I stayed inside and read some more.

Here we have the fifth and sixth stories in The Folio Society’s Gogol collection.

“Old-World Landowners” demonstrates how an apparently insignificant event, coupled with ancient beliefs, can destroy a lifetime’s idyllic existence.

The writer treats us to lovely bucolic descriptions of the life of an elderly devoted couple, dedicated to a traditional existence typical of their class, their generosity, and their lack of real involvement in the upkeep of their estate, delegated to their untrustworthy serfs more interesting in gaining as much for themselves as for their masters.

Quite suddenly this all changes in an instance. Nothing can be taken for granted as permanent.

The writer also explores how grief turning to melancholy can bring about a further unhappy demise.

There is no illustration by Peter Sturt to this story written in Gogol’s delightfully fluid prose. I have therefore paired it with “Viy” which, according to translator Constance Garnett is based on an age-old peasant belief of colossal imagination.

Again, it is the skilled description of place and persons which holds our attention as we learn the outcome of a student philosopher’s battle with a devilish gnome and his witchy daughter.

The student takes up the challenge of the father, setting his wits and determination, prayers and exorcisms against paralysing mystic powers evoked by the daughter capable of raising from death.

Conflict between students of various levels spills over into the streets of the town where they are subject to the temptation of female purveyors of cakes and goodies.

Later temptations of the more carnal kind overcome our philosopher, when his weakening contains more erotic images and he is carried off, to continue fleeing further nights, each more testing that the last.

The metaphor I choose to quote from this episode is “He crawled through the prickly bushes, paying a toll of rags from his coat on every thorn”. This story also uses sound, such as that of a creaking gate, distant howling of wolves and barking of dogs, wild shrieks, a whirlwind, and even silence between companions, to build the atmosphere towards the tumultuous denouement.

PS. Please note Dolly’s important information and film trailer in koolkosherkitchen comments below

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s chicken and vegetable stewp and fresh crusty bread, with which she drank more of her Spanish rosado and I finished the shiraz

Ivan Fyodorovitch Shponka And His Aunt

Feeling somewhat better today, I still couldn’t face venturing out in this much colder yet sunny weather, but I was able to concentrate on reading another story.

There is more of Gogol’s dry wit in this fourth tale in the Folio Society’s collection than in the earlier ones. As usual his fluid descriptive post is most engaging, especially when describing a woman as “a coffee pot in a cap”, or his image of an embarrassed young man who “sat on his chair as though on thorns, blushed and cast down his eyes” when expected to engage in conversation with the young woman marked out for him by his formidable aunt and her fellow matchmaker, the “coffee pot” mentioned above.

Ivan had joined the army when much younger and this aunt had cared for his inheritance until he returned home. Aunt Vassilissa did her best to carry out her task to the end, including thwarting an attempt to cheat him out of a large portion of it.

This story is more amusing then the first three, although it does feature a dream many would see as a nightmare which has been so

accurately depicted by Peter Sturt.

This evening we dined on roast gammon; Mac and cheese; red cabbage; orange carrots; and green broccoli stems – all of which were perfectly cooked. I drank Mighty Murray shiraz.

A Terrible Revenge

The immense ribbon of the mighty Dneiper set against the backdrop of the distant Carpathian Mountains laces the fabric of this, the third Tale in the Folio Society’s collection of Nikolai Gogol’s work.. The awesome beauty, yet destructive power of this major waterway is perhaps a metaphor for the Russian folk belief in the mystical nightmares of witches and wizardry responsible for this story.

The significance of Peter Sturt’s illustration in my edition depicting “A cross on one of the graves tottered and a withered corpse rose up. out of earth” becomes clear at the climax of the never-ending story, featuring the Antichrist as the enemy of the father of a beautiful woman; a duel of honour; a battle between Cossacks and Poles; capture and release of the evil devil; and a hectic chase across the skies leading to the denouement which will extend for all eternity.

Christmas Eve

The snow blizzard setting the atmosphere of this story on which a devil snatches the moon owing much more to Ukrainian folklore than to the date of the Christian festival. We have witches as well as devilry, a love sick jealous blacksmith, the seductive self-obsessed village beauty, her possessive parent, gleeful girls and lively lads celebrating the night, and rich elements of traditional farce.

Much of the Western world merges pagan traditions with the modern religious festival. In that sense Gogol’s work is not that unusual, yet he does weave original magic.

The comings and goings of hidden characters, and almost pantomime searching are reminiscent of a Whitehall Farce from Brian Rix – not one of the modern parliamentary kind.

A devil steals the moon, yet the darkness outside looks bright light from inside.

My review of the first story in this collection offers an example of one of Gogol’s many similes. Today I give one of a metaphor – “the blizzard soaped his beard”. We also have details of clothing and practices of the time, for example we learn what young girls wore and that the poorer peasants shaved with a broken piece of scythe blade.

It was only as we neared the denouement that I realised this was set in the time of Catherine the Great and Potemkin.

The frontispiece, already posted as the earlier header, illustrates “The triumph of his art was a picture painted on the church wall in the chapel”

St John’s Eve

The train ticket inserted into

suggests that I last finished reading this volume on a train journey from Nottingham to London Kings Cross between 19th June and 18th July 2009. The illustration above is of the title page and frontispiece.

After the preface to Volume I of Evenings on a Farm near Dukonka, yesterday I read ‘St John’s Eve’, the first story in the collection. This dreamlike tale apparently draws on the folk tales of the author’s native Ukraine

Gogol’s beautifully descriptive prose apparently effortlessly deploys luscious language fluently telling of witchery, devilry, practices and customs of days gone by, marriage, clothing, beliefs, and history. Our protagonist struggles with retaining memory of a significant occurrence involving a disappearing and reappearing stranger who no doubt had cast a spell. The writer employs good use of imagery, metaphor, and simile exemplified by “his memory was like an old miser’s pocket out of which you can’t entice a penny”.

Although I have no Russian, Constance Garnett’s translation seems to me to have retained the author’s free fluidity.

Philip Hensher’s introduction is helpful in placing Gogol’s writing in the context of his time and his seemingly horrific childhood.

Peter Suart’s illustrations display the nightmare quality of some of the stories. I will work my way through the book attaching these pictures with each of the tales in turn. The one above shows “He would sit in the middle of the hut … with the bags of gold at his feet”.

When closing the book we can admire the spine and front board designed by the artist.

PS. Please see koolkosherkitchen’s comments below for an important supplement to this review.

The Charterhouse of Parma

After another pleasurable and encouraging chiropractic session with Eloise this morning, I finished reading

Beginning with a stumble into the Battle of Waterloo by the idealistic teenage protagonist of this saga from Henri Beyle, who chose the pen-name of Stendhal – that of a small town in Prussia – and ending with the increasingly inevitable tragedy is a thrilling tale of passion and politics, of courtships and courtiers, of love and betrayal, of plot and counter-plot, of scheming and intrigue, of constancy and capriciousness, told with fluent prose displaying an in-depth knowledge of human nature which has kept this masterpiece in print for almost two centuries.

The writer offers skilled descriptions of place and person with a good grasp of dialogue. He understands violence, tenderness, and compassion, as felt and expressed by both men and women, and especially of lovers struggling with vows of constancy before God.

Action sequences carry us along at a rate; only the court intrigue sections drag for this reader. As we near the conclusion we know that the various “star cross’d lovers” as Shakespeare would have called them are heading for disaster, but we are kept in suspense as to who will suffer what and who will reap surprise benefits.

Stendhal must have employed much research in amassing the detail of this historical novel, as must have the translator C.K. Scott Moncrieff, whose work has provided the fluent English version.

The introduction by Gilbert Phelps puts the work in fine context.

Zelma Blakely’s illustrations cleverly incorporate elements of her design to frame her skilful wood-engravings which depict considerable depth of perspective.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s chicken and turkey jalfrezi or korma according to taste; garlic naan; plain parathas; and savoury rice with mango or scotch bonnet chutney with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Shiraz.

Romeo And Juliet

On another very overcast day of relentless steady rain I stayed indoors and scanned the illustrations to

Here is the front board and the title page. This book does not carry a date, but I think it would have been published in about 1912.

Here we have the frontispiece and the illustration to the PROLOGUE. Each coloured plate throughout the book is protected by clean, undamaged, tissue.

A black and white drawing opens each of the five acts.

The plates for Act I;

for Act II;

Act III;

Act IV;

and Act V.

Further descriptions of each picture are featured in the galleries. I know that some readers have been having difficulty scrolling through these, but for Jackie at least these were miraculously resolved this morning.

It would seem superfluous for me to add a review of the widely known and much analysed work of our greatest playwright.

This evening we all dined on piri-piri or lemon chicken according to taste; creamy mashed white and sweet potato; fried onions; and tender green beans, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Nero d’Avola.

Another Lengthy Novel

Gale force winds lashing rain from murky skies into our windows sent me into another lengthy novel, namely Stendhal’s “The Charterhouse of Parma” during the morning. I was then so deeply into it that I ignored the afternoon’s sunshine. It is 46 years since I last read the book, but I am sure I will relish it once more.

Later, I produced a set of Grandfamily photographs in front of the decorated tree from which Flo and Dillon will select their Christmas card. Not wishing to pre-empt their own publication I am not posting them today.

This evening we all dined on Red Chilli’s excellent takeaway fare. My main course was prawn vindaloo with which I drank more of the Fitou.

My Early Life By Winston S. Churchill

How is it that a self-confessed schoolboy dunce should have risen to, long after his death, be voted by a public poll “The Greatest Englishman”?

The seeds are perhaps sown in this set of memoirs taking us from his infancy to the status of 26 year old Member of Parliament for Oldham. I finished reading it today.

Presented with engaging humility despite the arrogance of privilege, we see his intelligence, his resilience, his resourcefulness, his integrity, his at times reckless courage, and sheer stubborn determination.

His first serious injury was incurred a the age of ten in crazy family competition; his schooldays were not happy; his greatest enjoyment came from battle, whether in war or in seeking a place in parliament. The challenge of risking death seemed a driving force.

As a young soldier espousing the honourable conflict of an earlier age Churchill regretted the passing of gentlemanly warfare according to understood rules with sword and pistol; he rued the introduction of science as a weapon. Nevertheless he spent these early years seeking war zones across the globe with unashamed manipulation and delight. He escaped death with considerable ingenuity and sheer luck on more occasions than he perhaps deserved. He regarded war in the same light as sport; he was an intrepid polo contestant, participating in the winning of a number of trophies.

The writer’s descriptive prose is straightforward and very readable. As he often combined the roles of war correspondent and serving soldier there is much detail of the conflicts in for example Cuba, India, and South Africa, which does not appeal to this reader. Other aspects of his life are of course inextricably involved with this. He fought, ruthlessly, as hard as he could, but respected his opponents and believed in forgiveness and generosity in victory.

The header picture is the title page and frontispiece of my Folio Society edition of the work, first published in 1930.

Neil Gower’s front board design incorporates some details of the plentiful photographs in the book, which also contains a number of maps. Max Hastings’s introduction is usefully informative.

This evening we all dined on cheese centred fish cakes, either smoked haddock or cod and parsley; sautéed new potatoes and leeks; crunchy carrots; tender mangetouts; and piquant cauliflower and broccoli cheese, with which Jackie drank more of the white Zinfandel and I drank les four vents Fitou 2021.