Happy Anniversary, Doctor!
On this day in 1963, Doctor Who first aired. On the previous day, C.S. Lewis had died.
You win some, you lose some.
On this day in 1963, Doctor Who first aired. On the previous day, C.S. Lewis had died.
You win some, you lose some.
Okay, this is getting spooky. Warning: Big spoiler for the series .hack//SIGN.
As the series has progressed, it has become increasingly clear that the character Tsukasa, who mysteriously cannot log off an online game and instead lives within it, is actually a comatose patient in a hospital. In the episode run tonight on Cartoon Network, we finally learned that the patient was brought in bearing the signs of abuse. The patient’s father tried to persuade the doctors to kill her, then broke in at night to try his hand at it. Fortunately, his attempt did not succeed.
This show gets more and more interesting. Tsukasa is constantly being tempted to give up and give in, to run away, to stay uninvolved, and to forget about the world outside. This is reinforced by a modern update of the Japanese folklore device of an unhappy ghost trying to drag the living after it. Meanwhile, Tsukasa and his very existence challenge other people to try to justify their own lives, the validity of their relationships, and the imperfect real world. If you like a show with lots of pictures and conversations, .hack//SIGN is for you.
No, this has nothing to do with President Bush’s awesome speech in the UK this week. This is going back to 1805 and Master and Commander.
Bill Cork opined as how it was hard to cheer for Lucky Jack, given that the English were the bad guys. He enlarged upon this by pointing out that the French were our allies back then, as well as the obvious lessons of Irish and Acadian history. (These may succinctly be boiled down to the old joke: Why did the sun never set on the British Empire? Because God didn’t trust those people in the dark!) Meanwhile, his brother Jim championed the British, even to the point of claiming the American Revolution didn’t qualify as a “just war”.
You know, if history didn’t exist as a discussion topic, we’d have to invent it.
Well, look. My dad wrote his master’s thesis on the Corn Laws, which is certainly enough to turn anyone with the last name of O’Brien into an Anglophobe, even if his great-great-grandfather hadn’t been driven out of Ireland by fear of the Brits and the Famine. The village Cornelius (Connie) and his seven brothers emigrated from doesn’t even exist anymore. So, sure, I know what Bill Cork is talking about.
However, I also know what Jim Cork is talking about. The French were never great friends of the Irish, though occasionally it suited their schemes to “help”. Lafayette was a friend of America, and Ben Franklin found others as well. But the majority of his diplomacy consisted not in manipulating public opinion (or rather, the aristocracy’s opinion), but in convincing French statesmen that helping the US would help their schemes. Moreover, France was not always America’s ally from 1776-1812; in point of fact, Talleyrand and his crew got up to some pretty shameful stuff. McCullough’s biography of John Adams gives the fullest explanation of the XYZ Affair I’ve ever heard. After learning what that vague reference in my history book had really been all about, I was ready to string up quite a few dead French politicians, let me tell you. The whole episode led to an undeclared naval war between France and the US, which is not exactly happy friendly ally bunnies from most points of view. (Here’s Adams’ speech to Congress about our new ambassador to France getting thrown out of the country, btw.) I should probably also mention the fun and games with Citizen Genet. The whole question of relations between France, Britain, and the US was obviously tied to party — Jefferson’s friends were Francophiles, while Federalists tended toward notions of an Anglosphere — but it’s a cold truth that any small nation with lots of resources is bound to have trouble with superpowers. We were in that position. By acting friendly to everyone but very jealous of our rights, we managed to survive.
As for the justness of the War of 1812…had it been solely a naval war and untainted by hopes of conquering Canada, I think it would have been entirely just, as pressing crewmen was as wrong as it was common. (And note that the movie did not shy from having a pressed American as part of the Acheron‘s crew, or later on, pressing the whaler’s crew. The moviemakers weren’t condoning it, but the writers weren’t shy of including real history there.) However, having unleashed the British lion onto our shores, the war became an entirely just one of survival and freedom. The odds were uneven, but as usual, American ingenuity (superior American shipbuilding, Perry building ships in Put-In Bay, Jackson’s incredible tactics) managed to pull us out of the situation that stupid American politics had gotten us into.
But the American Revolution was just. Read the Declaration of Independence. Granted, there were other considerations…but there always are, in the course of human events. We had a good chance of winning and achieving our just goals, and we did. But I’m not going to argue about this, frankly. Like most Americans, I see the hand of God in the American Revolution. As messy and imperfect as America was and is, its creation and continued existence is a challenge to the world. If it had not existed, I suspect the twenty-first century would either not be all that different from the sixteenth, or that totalitarian nationalism would have swallowed the world. Democracy’s existence as a practical alternative was a near-run thing.
All that said, however, England has its place in history, too. France is a grand and glorious nation, but like Germany and Spain, it has this sad tendency to try to take over all of Europe. From medieval times onward, England basically acted against that tendency on everybody else’s part. Obviously, this was a matter of self-interest; but it still worked. I don’t really defend England’s empire; but everybody else in Europe was doing it. England just tended to hold onto its empire more effectively. Finally, we are indebted to England for spreading the common law and a certain style of administration and order around the world. The way they spread it was appalling, but the existence of an Anglosphere is not.
So here’s the point. My dad, who’s been known to give dire warnings against Anglophilia, who loves America with all his heart, loves Patrick O’Brian’s books. (Even though he wasn’t really an O’Brien or even Irish. Heck, if he wanted to be an O’Brian that much, he should count as self-adopted!) O’Brian didn’t shy away from the moral problems of being an English captain; by making his POV character, Maturin, an Irish Catholic revolutionary, he was confronting them head on. My dad loved the movie, too.
There’s a difference between making someone a hero of a story and glorifying his point of view. It was right that Jack Aubrey should be the kind of guy who’s sure of his own cause. It’s also right that the novels (and the movie, too) continually point out — obliquely, or through Maturin — the flaws in it, as well as what he gets right. So O’Brian was not afraid to take on the War of 1812 and let his characters feel toward it as a person of their time and background would. We Americans get to read in horror as, just as in history, the wrong (ie, English) side wins in the battle between the Chesapeake and Shannon, and Aubrey rejoices. I didn’t like him just then. But then, Aubrey could also commend the courage and skill of the dead American captain, Lawrence. It’s a hard scene for an American to read, but it’s a hard scene for an English person to read, too.
So yes, Jack Aubrey works for the Admiralty, and they don’t have most of my ancestors’ best interests at heart. Some of his men are the next best things to prisoners, and all of them live under nasty conditions. But that doesn’t mean I can’t cheer for their courage and cleverness, or wish them well. That certainly doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the deep friendship between guys as different as Aubrey and Maturin. And if I met Jack Aubrey back in the day, I’d undoubtedly like him (as long as I wasn’t in his way), though I’d undoubtedly get along better with geeky Stephen Maturin.
Welcome to history, which is to say, life. It doesn’t come in neat labeled bundles with everyone wearing labels of Good and Evil. A historical novel should not have that luxury, either.
Btw, if you’d like a little more historical distance in your male bonding, try Harry Turtledove’s ancient Greek version of Aubrey and Maturin in Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea and The Gryphon’s Skull. Two cousins as different as day and night set out together to make money as traders and find a lot of trouble. (The books are written under his historical novel brandname, H.N. Turteltaub.) For a further twist, read David Drake’s Cinnabar Royal Navy series, which throws things into the far future and has a lot of fun. If you buy the 3rd volume, The Far Side of the Stars, you’ll get a free CD which includes, among other Drake books, the first and second volumes, With the Lightnings and Lt. Leary, Commanding. Dang, I do love Daniel and Adele!
Maybe not that broad…but almost. Presenting Lycoris’ chess theory.
What is the sound of several million hands slapping (their foreheads)?
We hear a lot about how school was better in the old days, particularly Catholic schools. I’m not so sure. Last night I was talking with two intelligent, well-educated Catholics who were both unaware that a) Dante’s Inferno was a poem, not prose; and b) the poem continued into Purgatory and Heaven. Of course, I distinguished myself by a horribly wrong explanation of terza rima, so I can’t really talk….
What led me to this was recommending that, as preparation for reading Dante, their teenage sons read Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle’s Inferno, which is a prose sequel to Dante. Even though large segments of the work consist of trying to figure out sf explanations for Hell and gleefully sending annoying bits of the seventies and eighties to it, it does have serious religious content. Niven and Pournelle deal with the morality or lack of their own jobs as science fiction writers (I did mention that was their protagonist’s profession?). Beyond that, they also make their protagonist confront the mystery that is God — not just someone with more advanced knowledge and power than us — a sort of super-alien — but Someone infinitely better who loves us still.
But anyway. If you’ve never read Dante, you should. Naturally it would be better to read him in Italian, but probably most of us don’t. (Me, neither.) There are apparently a lot of good translations out right now, both old and new, rhyming and not. I’m very fond of Dorothy L. Sayers’ version, but then, I’m very fond of Sayers period. I didn’t know that Longfellow had translated Dante, but his prose version is online, side by side with the Italian. This will at least give us non-Italian speakers more of an idea — and a better explanation of that terza rima rhyme scheme than I could give!
“I am a storyteller with delusions of necromancy, which is to say an historian.”
— naomichana of baraita.net.
I love the way this woman thinks, and have since I first encountered her. If I were a scholar, I would pray to be like her. Here she is on History of Magic as taught at Hogwarts, if you haven’t seen it already.
You already know about the offer to send me free books. (Yay!)
Then I went down and got the mail. I found my contributor’s copy of Why Can’t Penguins Filk?: Songs from FilKONtario 7. Track 12, “The Dead Woman’s Son” is my first song and performance to appear on an album. (Though technically, I can be heard in the background audience chorus on quite a few live recordings….)
It’s weird to hear a slice of my life from back in 1997. It seems a million years ago now. It’s especially weird since…um…due to lack of sleep and (then) relatively recent composition, the tune on the CD keeps changing as I sing it. Um. I _sound_ good, more or less, but…um…it’s kinda the quantum flux version of the tune. On the other hand, it’s nice to know what key I originally sung the tune in, because it does sound better up there. And on the gripping hand, it does sound kinda like the filk version of a field recording, which must count for some kind of trad. cred….
But I can’t help feeling happy! I’m on an album! It’s so cool! (Now, I only have to get cracking on my album….)
Finally, about that hymn for St. Albert the Great’s feastday. I decided to submit it to the new music director and see if it interested him. (The previous music directors were very nice about my hymns but also pretty unencouraging. Heh. With reason in some cases.)
And you know, he did actually seem to think it was pretty good. He got interested in how he’d want to arrange it to be sung and everything! Furthermore, he mused aloud that next year he could do a full four-part arrangement for the choir and put copies of the lyrics in the pews for the congregation…well, assuming a bit of money to me for royalties. (And with the royalty rates, believe me, I’d be lucky to be able to buy a cup of coffee at the gas station with that bit. Obviously not a major consideration. Still, it was cool that he thought to mention that to me.) So we’ll have to see if anything materializes, as the feast is next Sunday. But it’s definitely something. (And I guess my project wasn’t all that quixotic, after all.)
So I’m in a ver’ happy mood today. Happy founding of St. John Lateran’s, everyone!