Elisa Trimby – derrickjknight

King Lear Of The Steppes

In this fifth story of the Folio Society’s collection of Ivan Turgenev’s stories, the author, with his usual descriptive detail, has in essence, translated Shakespeare’s tragic king to his own time and place, with the identity of the massively strong giant landowner, Harlov, brought down by the response of his two daughters to his generosity prompted by confronting thoughts of his eventual death.

There is no Cordelia to remain loyal to Harlov and to die in his arms; this hero has only two daughters, one of whom does at least repent for taking advantage of the old man’s division of his wealth and household, possibly, as suggested by the narrator, to the end of her days.

Driven mad by the self-interested isolation and suppression of his personal needs by his family the larger than life owner of a number of serfs to whom he is not himself kind, brings about his own early death, in this way earning their sympathy and disapprobation towards the family.

In bringing his conclusion to an increasing crescendo our author has deviated quite a bit from Shakespeare’s own ending.

As usual, Turgenev’s exquisite, simply and fully detailed characterisation; pictures of the changing landscape, the weather and its effects, clearly sets the scene and carries along the narrative.

Elisa Trimby has produced faithful, ultimately dramatic, illustrations.

In addition to reviewing this book, this morning I watched a recording of last nights Six Nations rugby match between France and Ireland; and this afternoon, today’s matches between England and Italy and between Scotland and Wales.

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

First Love

Based largely on Turgenev’s own experience, this story uses the device of three friends undertaking to recount theirs. The first to take on this task chose to write his history and read it out – no doubt because it was ultimately so fraught.

Perhaps no-one forgets their first love; although many are temporary in nature they are brought to a close with more or less pain through disillusionment, through other interests or developments, or through developing maturity. Grief may take some time to pass through.

So it was with our narrator, a boy of 16 falling for a young woman of 21. The bitter-sweet story of a romantic, unfulfilled, attachment is beautifully portrayed with deep understanding of the minds and emotions of the couple; the young man idealising his coquettish loved one who plays forfeits with several rivals. Zinaida loves Vladimir, but without the passion of the lad who”could feel a kind of effervescence in [his] blood and a set of aching in [his] heart….. [whose] imaginings played and darted continually like martins at twilight around a bell-tower”, and who could to this day recall her physical charms.

Slowly it dawns on the boy that his chosen one is probably in love with someone else, and, unless we pick up the one nebulous clue, we share his angst as he speculates about who it could be – in fact I did understand who the rival must be, but i still eagerly anticipated confirmation.

The eventual discovery is a catastrophic bombshell scattering destructive shrapnel.

This is Turgenev’s acknowledged masterpiece in the genre,

faithfully illustrated by Elisa Trimby,

This evening we all dined on more of Jackie’s chicken and vegetable stewp with fresh bread and butter.

Mumu

This second tale in the Folio Society’s selection of Ivan Turgenev’s stories of Love and Death tells of serfdom, of a clumsily arranged marriage, of rivalry; of unrequited love, of a submissive and fearful young lady; of love between a handicapped giant and a small spaniel; and of the ultimate sacrifice of a man obeying orders.

“He took a strong dislike to his new way of life at first. From childhood he had been used to working in the fields and to country life. Alienated by his misfortune from other people’s company, he grew up dumb and powerful like a tree growing in fertile soil … Transported to the city, he couldn’t understand what was happening to him, and he grew homesick and perplexed like a young and healthy bull that has just been taken from the pasture where the succulent grass grows as high as his stomach – has been and put in a railway wagon, his full round body being at the mercy of spark-filled smoke and waves of steam, and is being rushed along with a great clanking and whistling, rushed along – God knows where!”

The quotation above gives examples of the author’s descriptive style, packed with simile. The isolation of a man born deaf and the powerlessness of of a serf, however physically strong, to do other than obey his owner, is narrated with insightful empathy – understanding totally lacking in this woman who expects to be obeyed in the question of the arranged marriage bound to create conflict among those bound to her beck and call at any time of the day or night.

We have two more of Elisa Trimby’s lithographs faithfully capturing characters’ expressions.

Love And Death

The six stories in this collection from the work of Ivan Turgenev are almost novella length. Beginning with “The Diary of a Superfluous Man” I will review them separately.

The format is of a diary written by a dying man, an unrequited lover, more significantly a self identified redundant human being. The author’s fine descriptive prose; incorporating all the senses, notably sight, smell, and hearing; presenting the environment the natural world, and personalities in the most crucial stages of his life. The weather plays its part in setting the mood.

He begins with childhood bereavement and consequent lifelong grief pervading his last two weeks. Above all, Turgenev offers the deepest thoughts of his protagonist, As a child his “tears would flow down effortlessly just like water from a brimming glass.” As an adult he becomes tongue tied at important moments.

We are treated to a fine uplifting account of the emotions of the diarist at the moment he fell in love with an ordinary, attractive young girl who herself falls for a dashing military man who inevitably leaves her. The surprise is that the ultimate winner is a perhaps equally insignificant character.

A duel provides further conviction to the diarist’s interpretation of his superfluity.

The introduction by the translator, Richard Freeborn is thorough, insightful, and covers the range of Turgenev’s work, putting this medium in the context of his shorter sketches, stories, and full length novels. He presents me with a considerable challenge.

The title page and frontispiece above feature Elisa Trimby’s lithographs. The header picture is of the boards and spine from her design.

This evening we were joined by Ian who returned in time to partake of succulent roast chicken; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes, sweet and white; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower, broccoli, and Brussels sprouts, with meaty gravy. Our son-in-law drank Hoegaarden, Jackie drank more of the pinot Grigio, and I finished the Fleurie.

I Held One Back

Last night I finished reading:

One of Trollope’s shorter works, this deals with familiar themes concerning the status of women; socio-economic inequalities; intrigue and romantic entanglements. It is a tragic love story breaching differences in fortune, in social class, in geography, and in religion. As usual the prose flows along smoothly to the tale’s surprising, if inevitable, conclusion.

Given that the action takes place alternately in England and Ireland, the choice of the sensitive, and insightful Irish novelist and poet, Maeve Binchy to write the excellent introduction was most apt.

The generous quantity of Elisa Trimby’s drawings are faithful to the text. In particular she manages effectively to convey the emotions of her subjects. I was impressed with the appropriate flattening of perspective enabling her to depict a good depth of field.

In order not to give away the dénouement I have held back the last of the illustrations.

Much of this morning was devoid of Internet connection, which rather delayed my drafting of this review; and my listening to the England v. Sri Lanka men’s World Cup Cricket match.

In order to calm my nerves took a stroll round the garden.

The first two images of these day lilies are of those purchased from https://www.polliesdaylilies.co.uk which, containing our national collection, is situated very near to us.

These penstemons adorn Margery’s Bed.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb sausages in red wine; crisp new potatoes, carrots, and broccoli, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Pinot Noir.