the Booktime Book of Fantastic First Poems

This book, edited by June Crebbin and illustrated by Emily Bolam and Nick Sharratt, is a collection of poetry aimed at getting children to read and enjoy it. I read it having seen it lying out at my parents' house after my niece and nephew had been to visit, and rather enjoyed it. All the poems, which are split between the two categories of "animals" and "nonsense", are understandably very short; and the book features inclusions from many well-regarded children's poets - John Agard, Eleanor Farjeon, Michael Rosen, Ted Hughes and Rose Fyleman all get at least one thrown in, although a fair few of the poems included here are anonymous. Overall a decent little book to introduce children probably aged 3ish to 7ish to poetry.

Point Me at the Stars

This book is the second collection by Noel Williams; like his first collection I was given a copy of this by my friend Ian (whose own book you should also check out). This is a much shorter collection, but the themes are far more consistent - these are poems about distance and closeness, isolation and ambition. Heron-dream speaks of that which is tantalisingly out of reach and Appreciating physics applies this same feeling to belief; the later poem Reality check brings to mind knowable comforts in the midst of desperation; and the final in the collection Nocturne with lake and astronomer seems to be considering the loneliness of perception. A concise and powerful little book of poetry - would recommend.

Out of Breath

This book is Noel Williams's debut poetry collection. I was given a copy by my friend Ian, whose wife was a friend of Williams before his recent death. This is a diverse and powerful collection, and I really enjoyed reading it. The opening poem, Snow on the edge, is positively pregnant with expectation; leading into the quietness of On the verge of the M40 and the stillness-yet-adventurousness of The island, the morose fatalism of Daphne, the summery atmosphere of Sunburn and the paranoia of Safe house, the wistfulness of Refraction, the defeated undefeatabilitiness of Heartbeat, the impressive quasi-haiku sequence that is A rose of broken stone, then a pair of sequences that take on a sombre anti-war tone in Till Death and Kim Phuc, and finally the indefatigable hope of the closing title poem. The sheer breadth of emotionality in these poems is startling, yet they all have a similar human warmth to them that breathes through the deft control of their language. A collection well worth reading.

For the Hypothetical Aliens

This book* is a poetry pamphlet by Ian Badcoe, a friend of mine from the spoken word events I host. As the title suggests, this collection straddles the hazy line between science fact and science fiction, as such being intended as a statement of human identity to any alien races we may whenever encounter out in the cold, wide galaxy. I really enjoyed this little book - from the loneliness of the opening poem A note on broken hearts to the following considerations about the Drake equation, then the concise empathic statement of Personal space probe and the hyper-optimistic magic of She knows whereof she speaks, a litany of pop-cultural examples of how humanity comments on itself via imagined alternative races, and finally ending with a banging mic-drop moment in The shapes of things to come. Badcoe's poetic style is dry and precise, lending itself perfectly to the material's themes; I hope that should we ever encounter aliens for real, someone will have the wherewithal to lend them a copy of this early in the communication process so that they have a bit more context for where we're coming from and what they may meaningfully expect of us.

* Unfortunately it's not available from anywhere online, so if you want a copy I recommend getting in touch with Ian himself and asking if he has any copies left to sell. I'm sure he'll oblige if so.

the Lord of the Rings: book one

This book (which I've read before recently, hence that link simply going to my earlier post about it) I've been re-experiencing in audio form, thanks to YouTuber Tolkien Trash, who is committed to the admirable & entertaining work of reading out the whole trilogy a chapter a week on live-stream. You can check out her back-catalogue here if you want to listen along with me and her other followers. She has a soothing yet stimulating voice for reading & the occasional asides to the chat (or just because she's laughing about something in the text) add a funny level of intimate performativity to the streams.

the Island of the Immortals

This short story (available from that link online) by Ursula K. Le Guin goes hard. In it, a traveller visits an island where, it is claimed, there are immortal people living after thousands of years of uninterrupted life. Only immortality might not be all it's cracked up to be - simply not dying doesn't guarantee anything about bodily integrity or quality of life. I won't spoil it - just go and read the thing, it's pretty short, and is a startling and disturbing angle on the theme.

the Book of Merlyn

This book is the final instalment of T.H. White's The Once and Future King series - it was published much later than the rest, because, you know, World War Two provided a bit of an interruption to smoothness on the deadline front. As you remember we last left Arthur mulling over the failure of his life's efforts in his tent outside the siege of Mordred's castle; we re-enter the scene exactly where we left off, and *surprise* - the unknown person entering is in fact his old tutor Merlyn, back from a conspicuous long absence with Nimue, and keenly reintroducing himself to Arthur's life to prod the old King back into liveliness and hopefulness with a continuation of his adolescent education. So, on the eve of battle, Arthur follows Merlyn away to an underground room where many of the animals he met when he was turned into their kind are present to offer wisdom, fellowship, encouragement and insight. The passages from the first book in which Arthur is turned into an ant and a goose* are included in this book too, because of editorial changes made during the complicated publication timeline, but here these parts are couched in a much more philosophical and less comic context. Merlyn is very deliberately trying to educate Arthur in the nature of political power, freedom, conformity, authority and whatnot. As such, much of this book consists of rambling speculative dialogue about the nature of these concepts, how well they can be realised in human society, whether there can ever truly be a "cure" for war and violence, etc. It's a very thought-provoking sequence in which Arthur's experience and Merlyn's wise insight play into each other perfectly. (Not sure where else to mention this but it's niggling at me - in this book White fully breaks the fourth wall at a couple of points, obviously via Merlyn, which I found very entertainingly in-character.) Finally, Arthur accepts his fate and his legacy, and returns to the battlefield, where he later offers Mordred a truce in exchange for half his kingdom. The book closes with a series of loose sketches about the ultimate fates of Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot.

   So, that's The Once and Future King! Five books in one! Plus the five-in-one volume that I've been linking these posts to includes an afterword by Sylvia Townsend Warner about the fraught publication history of this series by way of explanation as to why this final book was so late that it was actually posthumous to the author. But anyway, here we go with some reflections.

   On the whole, I really enjoyed this series. I've never myself read Malory's Morte d'Arthur so I can't speak to how well this series expresses the style (I'd be surprised) or themes (perhaps I wouldn't) of the work which inspired it, but the general vibe of medieval romance is captured to wondrous heights in these novels while still being believable and inventive - I think anyone with any fondness for the Arthurian mythos** will find a lot to recognise as well as a lot to be pleasantly surprised by in them. While magic only really plays a substantive role in the first book when Arthur is being transformed into animals (and also a little bit in the second book, because of Morgan le Fay and the Questing Beast - as well as in this, the final book for the same reasons as the first) I have classified all five as fantasy novels because the Arthurian mythos kind of has that as part of its cultural identity - this is far from historical fiction. Which - on that note, one thing that did irk me throughout was the errant nature of the past setting; if Arthur was a real historical figure, he lived in the sixth century CE, whereas these stories are set vaguely between the twelfth and fourteenth. I can forgive that though as Arthur in the mythic form is an essentially timeless character and it was during that pre-Renaissance time period that romances of his life and knights etc were doing the round of England and France the most thoroughly. What added to this temporal irk was the numerous anachronisms of both Merlyn and the omniscient narration - I know with Merlyn this is explained by his "living through history backwards" (a quirk that I really kind of dislike, as it just doesn't make narrative sense, and only exists so that the wizard can quickly reference later historical events rather than having to concisely describe sets of circumstances) and with narration it's explained by the fact that this was, of course, written in the 20th century with access to a whole heap of knowledge and realities that were future-alien to the characters in the story, but in both cases these did take me out of the immersion somewhat. Having said that, I really like the writing style - White slips idiosyncratically between medieval knightly court-speak and dialect-heavy realistic speech in his dialogue, while the third-person narration is consistently direct, sure of itself, and largely sympathetic. If there is one final closing gripe I'd have with these books, it's that Arthur and Merlyn aren't in them enough, especially the second and third instalments. But Lancelot and the other knights (and King Pellinore - what a brilliant character) are thoroughly enjoyable in their own right, so I won't decry this too much. Overall a great series.

   I know I mentioned in my first post that I was reading this series as inspiration-fodder for a series of novels about Arthur and Merlin that I'm working on myself - and to be honest I didn't get a huge amount out of them for that end. I certainly got a few sharp realisations of things that I definitely did or didn't want to happen to Arthur, and ways of being that I definitely did or didn't want Merlin to embody, but overall I think the setting and trajectory of my own Arthurian stories is different enough to White's that I can just be grateful for having read and loved an intriguing original take on the mythos without having to kowtow to it much in my own work.

* Albeit in this re-inclusion the goose chapters go on a bit further - there's even a tragicomic subplot in which Arthur falls in love with a female goose, only to be yanked back to humanity by Merlyn just as this is realised.

** I will freely admit that before reading these my only exposure to it was through the old film Excalibur, the BBC series Merlin, the Netflix series about Nimue called Cursed, and the early 2000's cartoon King Arthur's Disasters. Not necessarily in that order either chronologically or in terms of impact.

the Candle in the Wind

This book is the fourth in T.H. White's The Once and Future King series. And boy, here is where the drama really kicks off. Knights of the Round Table Agravaine and Mordred are stewing in their bitter grudges against Lancelot and Arthur respectively, and hatch a plot to bring down the reputations of these two most chivalrous of men by exposing Lancelot's love affair with Guinevere - they kind of vaguely succeed, and the kingdom is thrown into civil war as knights of the realm as well as other regional rulers from around the country piecemeal take sides. Arthur is utterly dismayed as his ideals of righteousness and chivalry are trampled upon and shown to be worthless in the face of genuine unrest, and the Round Table falls apart. The novel ends with the King alone in his tent outside the siege of Mordred's fort, wallowing in regretful what-iffery, until right at the end he is stirred by an unknown figure entering his tent - he assumes, Mordred, come to kill him. But we have to wait for the next book to find out.

the Ill-Made Knight

This book is the third in T.H. White's The Once and Future King series. Again, Arthur and Merlyn are hardly featured - instead we follow perhaps the third-most famous character from the mythos - that being the inimitable Sir Lancelot, as he attains knighthood, gains renown, wins a ton of tournaments and jousts, partakes in the Round Table (which is by now well-established) and its quixotic quest to find the Holy Grail, and falls, ill-fatedly, in love with Queen Guinevere. Despite being the longest instalment in the series perhaps the least of overall plot import happens in this one - it's a lot of fun nonethless.

the Witch in the Wood

This book is the second of T.H. White's The Once and Future King series. Arthur and Merlyn are barely in this one - instead, we largely follow two ongoing largely comic threads: in one, the errant King Pellinore continues to search for the Questing Beast; in the other, Arthur's nephews (Agravaine, Gawaine, Gaheris and Gareth) jostle for status as they await adulthood. Meanwhile, in the background, the King is working on plans to establish some means of promoting chivalry and righteousness throughout the land, by way of an egalitarian ideal embodied in the Round Table. to which he starts calling chivalrous and righteous knights to promote his ethic. The eponymous "witch in the wood" is Morgan le Fay, who shows up briefly - also, right at the end, Arthur's half-sister Morgause seduces him by way of nefarious magics to conceive with him an incest-baby who will grow up to the be prophetically-ominous/tragic Mordred.

the Sword in the Stone

This book is the first in T.H. White's The Once and Future King series - a modern retelling of the Arthurian mythos loosely based on Thomas Malory's Morte d'Arthur. I'm planning to blitz through all five books in the next week or so because I'm actually working on a series of novels involving King Arthur and this looks like great inspiration-fodder. As usual for a series, I will be restricting these posts to brief outlines of story for each post up until the final book where I will then finally offer some deeper reflections on the series as a whole.

   Anyway - in this book we are introduced to a kid nicknamed "the Wart", who is growing up in a medieval castle, undergoing rigorous diverse education in matters intellectual and military, and is bottom of his social pecking order. Then the Wart meets a mad-seeming old man called Merlyn, who rips himself away from his hermit-life to become Wart's tutor - only these new kinds of lessons are education of a completely different style to what might have been expected. Merlyn's lessons comprise partly of lectures in the need for and difficulties of getting people to live morally, and partly of turning Wart into various animals* to see how they experience life. After a few years of this, we learn that the realm is in political turmoil due to the lack of a clear successor for king, but there is a rumour abroad that whoever can pull a mysterious sword out of a stone will be divinely bestowed with such rights. Anyone who knows the story can guess who manages to pull it out - and thus, Wart's derogatory nickname is left in the dust, and a young King Arthur starts to assume his life's work.

* Including a fish, a hawk, an owl, an ant, a goose, and a beaver - the implication is that there were probably many more such lessons that didn't get covered in the book itself. The ant and goose chapters are particularly genius feats of natural imagination.

Miracles

This book by C.S. Lewis is a pull-no-punches logical apologetic about, as the title suggests, miracles. Often claimed by the non-religious as the most egregiously unbelievable aspect of religion, miracles are a philosophical sticking-point for many explorers of faiths that involve them. However - as Lewis argues - this is a misapprehension, applying assumptions of natural science to phenomena that are essentially supernatural. This is the crux of his argument throughout the book, the discontinuity between nature and "supernature", which having defined he goes on to explore and prod the logical interrelations between these two levels of reality for how knowable, probable, and believable they are. I won't do a full chapter-by-chapter breakdown for this book - simply conclude by saying that here is a book that is dazzlingly well-argued and difficult to refute without relying on unproveable assumptions that have nothing to do with science and everything to do with metaphysical faith. A great enlightening read for Christians who want to robustify their intellectual flexibility, and surely a challenging thought-provoker for those readers of no religion.

Tales of Earthsea

This book by Ursula K. Le Guin is the fifth in the Earthsea series, so it technically comes before The Other Wind, but I've already read and blogged that one, so this post culminates the series and therefore I'll be making my reflections here.

   This book comprises five short stories and an essay - I will deal with each in turn.

• First up we have The Finder, in which a young sorcerer called Medra (also known as Otter or Tern at points in his life) grows in power and wisdom and ends up founding the wizard school on Roke. This longish short story is a brilliant view into the dim hazy past of the world Le Guin has created, and lends a potent depth to the reader's understanding of the interrelations between magic and wisdom necessary to be a good wizard.
• Next is Darkrose and Diamond, in which a young sorcerer called Diamond falls in love with a young witch called Rose, and forgoes life as a wizard to pursue this romance. This is a delicate, lovely little story.
• Then we move onto The Bones of the Earth, in which a young Ogion (the sorcerer who initially trained Ged in the first book) teams up with his tutor in the hope of preventing a catastrophic earthquake. Strong themes of trust and humility.
• Next we have On the High Marsh, in which we are treated to a glimpse of Ged at the height of his career as Archmage - only he isn't doing grand world-saving stuff, he's on a remote island curing cattle. Again, strong themes of humility, as well as kindness, and power.
• Finally, Dragonfly - in which Irian (who you may remember from the sixth book) visits the school of wizards on Roke to provocatively question the masters of magic why such learning is forbidden to women and girls. This story provides a perfect stepping stone into the final book in the series.

   Finally, the essay at the end of the book goes into elucidatory detail about the peoples, languages, history and magic system of Earthsea - for me it didn't really add a huge amount of insight into the books, as I've read all six so closely together and so had much of the lore in my medium-term memory pretty well already, but for people reading the books more spaced out it would be a really helpful appendix. Not to mention it simply shows a masterclass in thoughtful worldbuilding, much like Tolkien's appendices.

   All five stories in the book are moving, thought-provoking, immersive, deceptively simple, and immaculately well-written. If you have read any of the other Earthsea books and enjoyed them this is an addition you can't leave out - in fact, just read the whole series. Speaking of the six as a whole, I think anyone who appreciates good fantasy will absolutely love them - I do in actual fact think these books seriously rival The Lord of the Rings as my favourite fantasy literature now, though it's hard to compare as the writing styles are so different and thematically and in scope the works are trying to achieve very different things. Good job I don't have to pick favourites on this blog.

   I said I'd be making reflections on the series as a whole - the fact is I don't have much to say. I just loved the experience of reading these superb stories, and know I will definitely be revisiting them for a re-read in the future, probably many times. The characters are well-drawn enough to be believable and lovable or hateable as the plot intends and each realised with psychological complexities of their own; the themes are deep to the point of profundity and are perfectly entwined and expressed through character and plot; the world is obviously immensely well-developed and lived-in; and the overall story arc across these six books is hugely satisfying while never feeling like an ultimate solution - the story ends on a note of potential and promise rather than a statically final resolution. If J.R.R. Tolkien can make you dream wistfully of being a hobbit, Ursula K. Le Guin will show you dizzying visions of being a dragon.

Perpetual Peace

This book (available from that link as a .pdf online for free) is a 1794* essay by Immanuel Kant on the possibility of ending war between sovereign nations. He basically argues that we need to seek to establish an international federation of co-dependent nations under a singular representative state. Pretty modern ideas for the 18th-century, but then, this is Kant we're talking about. His arguments are largely pragmatic and don't veer too much into philosophy** and should be generally digestible by a majority of readers. As stated repeatedly throughout the text, this is NOT a manifesto - I don't think Kant believed that any single state of policy would be able to even kickstart the move towards a perfectly peaceable world - but by holding out these plausibilities as ideals, he makes a very convincing case that establishing such a world is not beyond possibility even within a cynical grasp of reality, and so the main thrust of this test stands on its own two feet. Recommended reading for anyone whom this theme strikes curiosity into, but if you somehow happen to be a person of international political influence who reads this blog, I specifically implore you to read this and think of how Kantian your rationality as regards your work is.

* And the translation, by one M. Campbell Smith, was published in 1903 - so even the Very Lengthy (as in, longer than the translated text it was the introduction to) Introduction recounting the history of ideas around the core topic of this essay came too early to be able to speak of anything regarding such institutions as NATO, the EU or UN even, which might have quite substantively reshaped Smith's introductory commentary on the ideas herein.

** Except for the pair of appendices, where he first considers the disagreements between proper moral ethics and political reality, and then secondly looks at the singular overlap point between proper moral ethics and political reality - that being the idea of a public right.

the Problem of Pain

This book by C.S. Lewis is a short but punchy apologetic for that ever-irksome question to the Christian - you know the one I mean, the theodicy, that is: "if God is perfectly good and totally powerful, why is there suffering?" His method of argument here is not theological in any meaningful sense; in fact he draws on existing Christian thought very little throughout, relying instead on rigorous resolute logical application and dissection of the concepts themselves as the appear at face value. This makes his points dazzlingly original, divorced as they are from the aggregated accumulation of two millennia of Christian philosophizing, and thoroughly compelling, as his arguments stand on their own two feet without dependence on a reader's acceptance or rejection of any particular orthodoxy (not to say that the theological implications of this book aren't in line with orthodox theology, but that simply isn't the line of argument taken).

   The first two chapters deal, in turn, with divine omnipotence and divine goodness; as stated there is very little here that could be described as serious or systematic theology, but Lewis's grasp of the logical implications around these concepts is on full display as he makes the case that neither of these presumed facts about God necessarily demand or even imply the total absence of suffering in said God's creation. In the following two chapters he discusses human wickedness (as a logically necessary possibility in a created order in which we assume human freedom, and as the source of much suffering) and the fallen nature of humankind (this is probably the most theological chapter of the book as it relies on The Fall as an existing theological framework - however, much to my surprise, this chapter also devotes considerable attention to the question of humanity's evolutionary history, and what a pre-Fall prehistoric homo sapiens may have been like in its relation to itself, God, and nature more widely). Then there is a pair of chapters about human pain (which largely consists of pretty basic logical inductions from the previous chapters) and the pain of animals (which I wasn't expecting much from given my critique of its related essay in this collection, but I take back my assumptions from that post that this probably wouldn't be a very strong chapter as I have to admit Lewis does actually have a nuanced and well-developed model of animal nature). This leads us up to a concluding pair of chapters in which we consider the eternal dimensions that lend either meaninglessness or meaningfulness to whatever degree of experienced pain the human life serves up - that is, Heaven and Hell. The Hell chapter walked territory that was very familiar to the concepts of Christianity that I've grown up with (much moreso than the universalism angled towards in Moltmann's theological system, even if I prefer that now) with a few key fresh insights - most especially, the notion that Hell is not imposed but chosen: its doors, Lewis states flatly, are locked from the inside. The Heaven chapter is reasonably speculative, as it is bound to have to be, but the picture he paints of eternal communion between God and His redeemed human creatures is devastatingly beautiful: the glorification of the Holy Trinity and the fulness of expressed and embodied freedom of people are one and the same thing, every unique individual who has ever lived and been brought into God's Kingdom finding their deepest and most everlasting joy in expressing their personal relationship to God in a way that only they could ever precisely manage, thus involving to the ultimate realness the diversity and unity of personhood. Finally there is an appendix wherein we are given a brief scientific overview of what physical and mental pain is understood to be; this adds virtually nothing to the arguments Lewis has been making, but it's nice to have for the possible reader who has, like the pre-enlightened Buddha, never experienced meaningful suffering.

   Overall this is an eminently readable and powerful intellectual-yet-accessible book about one of the thorniest issues in all of religion. Christian readers will find their faith sharpened and their apologetic capacities given a major leg-up; and non-Christians who rely on the issue of suffering to bolster their own rejection of the faith should find in here, if not absolutely guaranteed-to-be-convincing points, at least much challenging food for thought that should give even the most ardent atheist some humbling pause.

[one final thing I will say, that has nothing to do with the text of this book in itself - if you're going to read this, I would strongly recommend trying to find a physical version, as the Kindle version that I read it through (and that is linked above) is quite poorly formatted, with certain sections where there seem to be chunks missing, and them being missing means there could only have been a few words or perhaps whole pages that I didn't get included in the edition I read; it still held together as a book, but it would have been nice, having bought a book, to get the whole text]

the Other Wind

This book is the sixth and last in Ursula K. Le Guin's Earthsea series (and yes, I know, I've skipped the fifth one, Tales of Earthsea, but I don't have it yet - it's ordered and will be lumped up on here once I've read it, but my reflections on the series as a whole will be reserved for that one). In this instalment we follow Alder, a young sorcerer of mending from the island of Taon, who keeps having dreams in which his dead wife reaches out to him from the realms of those who have passed over the wall on the hill which separates the living from the not. He is drawn to Gont to question the ex-Archmage Ged about this, but Ged, now powerless but still wise, shunts Alder off to the capital island Havnor to consult with Tenar and Tehanu, who are over there to visit the recently installed king Lebannen (aka Arren from the third one). Tenar and Tehanu, as well as a number of other wizards from Roke who happened to be on Havnor at the time, and in short order also a dragon who can take the form of a woman called Irian, all find Alder's plight deeply troubling, the experienced mages taking it as a sign of a worsening in the balance that Ged had tried so hard fifteen years earlier to heal. Taking along with them a princess from the Kargad Lands who has been sent as a gifted bride to Lebannen, all concerned persons make their way to Roke, to hold council between humans and dragons in the Immanent Grove, a magical forest that forms the spiritual and arguably literal centre of all Earthsea, in the hope that they may find in their shared wisdom some way of restoring rest and reincarnation to the dead that the living may rest and live in hope and ease. I hope that it goes without saying that this perfunctory plot summary of mine by no means spoils the story, as the magic is in the fabric of the telling. But reflections further than that will have to wait for my post about the fifth book which I've accidentally skipped. So stick around.

Tehanu

This book is the fourth Earthsea novel by Ursula K. Le Guin, and I honestly was not prepared for how much of a sharp turn this one took. The first three had all been fairly standard-fare fantasy adventure mystery stories; this is more of a domestic drama, set entirely on Ged's home island Gont. We follow Tenar (who since escaping Atuan now goes by her original name), now a middle-aged woman, and Therru, a young girl who has survived horrific childhood abuse, as the pair simply try to live life on the land. Ged arrives home on the back of a dragon named Kalessin about a quarter of the way through, and this complicates matters for Tenar and her care of Therru, but Ged is stripped of his magic and simply wishes to hide and recuperate. I hope it doesn't sound like a complaint but very little of import happens in the majority of this novel; it is simply the story of Tenar struggling to raise a complex and hurt child in a land that she knows well but is ultimately foreign to her. Then it all kicks off in the last ten pages, but I won't spoil that - except to drop the tantalising hint that Therru comes to learn her true name in epic fashion.

the Farthest Shore

This book is the third of Ursula K. Le Guin's Earthsea series. We follow Arren, a young man of noble birth from the island Enlad, who has been sent to the Masters of Roke with unsettling news: magic seems to be failing. First from the far reaches of the western isles and increasingly closer to home, mages are forgetting their words and acts of power, and things long-depended-on for the sustaining of common livelihood are passing out of being. The Archmage Ged opts to accompany Arren on a hunch-led and eventful journey to the far south and eventually the far west (as far as Selidor, the eponymous island of dragons) to see if they can unravel this grim mystery. They do discover ultimately that it is the work of an errant wizard who has tried to break down the walls between the realms of the living and the dead, and thus severely harmed the balance; Ged has to expend the fullness of his power to reseal the breach in the world. That may be something of a spoiler but it's the way this story is told that really lends it its magic, so you can't decry me for that. Anyway, I am reading my way through this whole series but reserving my deeper thoughts and critiques for the final post, so keep watching this space.

the Tombs of Atuan

This book is the second of Ursula K. Le Guin's Earthsea series (see, told you I was going through all of them). In it we are introduced to Tenar, a young girl on the island Atuan, where at an early age she is decided to be the reincarnation of the First Priestess of the Namesless Ones (mysterious primordial powers of death and darkness, chaos and madness) and hence renamed Arha, "the Eaten One". She is raised to full knowledge of the tomb complex around which her habitation community is built, including the depths and complexities of the Labyrinth beneath it. Then one day she sees a strange foreign man in the caverns, who gives his name as Sparrowhawk (spoiler alert - it's Ged, now Archmage of Roke, and on a quest of his own). Without giving too much away the pair help each other find (in both a mystical personal and literal directional sense) their way out of the tomb complexes of Atuan, and onward to hopefully brighter futures. Stay tuned for the post on the next one as we are now entering territory of Earthsea books that I haven't read yet.

A Wizard of Earthsea

This book (which I've read before on this blog so the link there goes to my original post about it - this time though I'm determined to get through the whole series) is the first in Ursula K. Le Guin's seminal fantasy series set in the world of Earthsea.

   We are initially introduced to Duny, a goatherd child on the island of Gont, who proves to have some knack for the magical arts. When he comes of age he is given his true name, Ged, by the local wizard Ogion, and tutored by him for a time; though when his powers prove too great for Ogion to teach satisfactorily Ged is sent to the School of Wizards on the island of Roke. However, ambition and teen angst conspire together and in an attempt to show off Ged accidentally summons a nameless being from the dark realms. The rest of the story is of Ged's efforts to escape, then finally confront, this being.

   I will say nothing of the solution to the plot for want of not spoiling an incredible story; nor will I here divulge my thoughts on the book as a whole, as I stated I fully intend to read the whole series and so will save those reflections for the last post. Stay tuned.

Rights of Man [abridged]

This book (available as a free .pdf on that link) is a 1792 pamphlet by Thomas Paine, or at least a substantive squashed version of the same edited by Glyn Hughes (the original text is 90,000 words, he makes it 7,200ish). As Paine's reputation and its year of publication suggest it is chiefly concerned with the political fallout across Europe of the French revolution.

   Part one opens with a dedication of the work to George Washington; so far so good, I guess. He then dives straight into a no-holds-barred critique of Edmund Burke's reactionary take on the whole affair - defending the revolutionary French Constitution, with support from a restatement of his view on the unhelpfulness and illegitimacy of all hereditary power. Next he copies out the seventeen articles of the universal rights of man as enshrined in aforementioned French Constitution: these aren't as comprehensive as those we currently have under the United Nations, but one can see clearly that for the time they were invoked they were true game-changers in civil and political liberty. He concludes this first part with a prolonged case for liberal, internationalist, democratic values being the chief product and essential safeguard of public Reason; writing "my country is the world, and my religion is to do good."

   Part two opens with a brief letter to one M. de la Fayette. He goes on to praise the American revolution and its core values as an example to all nations. Then follow several chapters on society and government; these are delightfully anarchistic, with Paine dropping bangers like "the more perfect civilisation is, the less occasion has it for government" and "it is impossible that such governments as have hitherto existed in the world, could have commenced by any other means than a total violation of every principle sacred and moral." Based as fuck. Next he discusses the nature and purpose of constitutions - which, he says, is nothing more than to concretize and safeguard the true purpose of governments, which is to promote the common good. In his ensuing internationalist ramble there is a possible prophesy of the EU: "for what we can foresee, all Europe may form but one great Republic, and man be free of the whole." I have no surety which side he would have landed on but I know Thomas Paine would have had a great deal to say about Brexit if he were still kicking about. The final chapter is a heartfelt polemic for the need of reform in the taxation system, with the derived benefits going to support the poor. And in his concluding paragraphs there are a couple of sentiments that undeniably pre-echo the writings of Marx and Engels half a century later - he says "the iron is becoming hot all over" and closes on the lovely image that "it is... not difficult to perceive that the spring is begun".

   Overall this is a punchy little pamphlet. Okay, maybe too little as I could have stood to read the full version, but I feel Hughes's editing made a good job that this felt like a complete set of well-put ideas rather than a Sparknotes summary. Anyone interested in the political history of the modern west should at least give this a once-over - it's one of the most controversial and influential texts in aforesaid history and so cannot be ignored, and many of its arguments still hold water as things that we need to pay close heed to today.

Common Sense

This book (available from that link as a free .pdf file) is a 1776 pamphlet by Thomas Paine, and it is no understatement to say that it's probably one of the most influential and important texts in the history of the modern west. Britain and its north American colonies were fighting a breakup war at the time, and Paine threw his weight into the ring of public discourse with the profoundly optimistic statement that "the cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind." He was an ardent advocate of democratic, egalitarian freedom, and as such a key figure for the ideological discussion around the Great Experiment of American society.*

   He begins with a cogent socio-political definitional outline of the nature and necessity of government, arguing that reason leads us to claim representative democracy as the most stable and reliable way to preserve moral value. Next he launches into a scathing critique of the British constitution, as complex and vague as it is, with specific vitriol reserved for the monarchy and hereditary power, which he argues are not only immoral** but impractical and inefficient. What follows is a pragmatic and passionate defence of the case for American independence; a profound strength of internationalist cosmopolitanism*** pervades these passages in ways that often feel far too modern to be from the 18th century. He completely destroys the morally bankrupt commonplace British objections to America's desire to be free of its "mother nation" - as what kind of good mother wages war against her children who wish to fly the nest? An interesting side point here is that he claims it a fact of divine providence that America was discovered by Europeans just when it was, as it provided a perfect new home of promise and plenty to the many tens of thousands of refugees generated in the decades following the Reformation. In his closing passages he considers the necessity and opportunity of America developing its as-then-yet infant naval forces. Finally there is an appendix, added for the third circulation of this most-inflammatory pamphlet, in which he full-on attacks a recent statement by the King on the American situation, and restates the urgency and human potential of the experiment trying to take shape across the Atlantic. In one of his final lines he sentimentally declares, "let each of us hold out to his neighbour the hearty hand of friendship, and unite in drawing a line, which, like an act of oblivion, shall bury in forgetfulness every former dissension" - which strikes me as just as politically ideal as authentically Christian.

   Ultimately this is a text that you will recognise as being as rightly controversial as it was at the time if you have even the smallest grasp of its historical context - but its dogged and clearly-put rhetoric about self-determination and moral government is just as relevant today as it was then. Well worth a read for anyone interested in western history and timeless politics.

* I dread to think what he would've made of the state of things 250 years later.

** His points herein are unexpectedly biblically grounded (he describes the divine right of kings as "the most prosperous invention the Devil ever set on foot for the promotion of idolatry"), and robustly supported by cursory glances at the history of these institutions.

*** On not only nationality but creed too; he writes "I fully and conscientiously believe that it is the will of the Almighty that there should be a diversity of religious opinions among us".

Robert Burns: A Life

This book is Ian McIntyre's seminal biography of the Bard of Ayrshire, the one and only Rabbie Burns, arguably the most celebrated poet in history and an indisputably unique character. I won't give a potted summary here because if you're interested in Burns's life (which is a sparklingly glorious mess) you can read about it on Wikipedia, although I would much more recommend reading this book, as it is deeply scholarly, eminently readable, and thoroughly entertainingly insightful. It's taken me a while to finish reading this - for the past three years I've picked it up every January with the intention of using it as material to construct a properly-informed toast to the Bard's Immortal Memory on Burns Night, but either Covid lockdown prevented me from throwing a Burns Night or I simply didn't read it fast enough; but now finally I have finished it and used it to sketch a toast* that I think does justice to the legacy of this truly singular man. I highly recommend this book: it is a passionate but unbiased portrait of the artist, well placed into his historical context, and sheds a great deal of light upon the eternal qualities of the poetic life.

* I was going to use the sketch of my toast as the basis for this post, but then reflected that it would be a betrayal of the intimate event that Burns Night is; if you would have wanted to hear it you simply should have been there. Burns's character and legacy is so diverse that if this annoys you I implore that you should read this biography along with as many of the Bard's songs, poems, and letters as you can, and write and share your own for the same occasion, as at least then it will truly be your own toast.

Luther's Large Catechism

This book (available online for free from that link) is the fuller version* of Luther's catechism (i.e. the basic text for introducing the tenets of a faith), and as such is probably one of the most influential key texts in the history of Protestant thought and practice. Lutheran** readers will likely be intimately familiar with it already but anyone with an interest in Christian history would find a lot to gain by reading it, and Christians of other denominations will discover in it a rich orthodox statement of how we are called, nay, privileged, to live by faith in the clear simple light of truth. I have no substantive theological or ethical bones to pick here - it is, from my perspective, a faithful and trustworthy testament and valuable for introductory teaching. It is consistently scripturally-grounded and remarkably well-written; Luther was not one to mince words and lays out these reflections on the Christian life and basic theological support for them in direct, accessible language.

   Luther kicks the document off with a walk through the Ten Commandments, and here we come to our first quibble - he messes with them a bit for reasons that elude me. He has condensed the first and second commandments into one, so that we end up with it being a total statement of non-idolatrous monotheism, but with no discussion of the "who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery" portion of these lines in the actual Bible (check it out); he has then kept the list counting to ten by separating the tenth commandment into two. Quite what he was doing in this I cannot say... I mean, so much for sola scriptura, right? But his actual reflections on the Ten are thoroughly helpful. A few minor quibbles - in the section on respecting one's mother and father he extends this commandment to political authority, which rankles me as an anarchist. Further on that point in the section on "thou shalt not kill" he seems to make the point that state authority is exempt from this particular moral absolute, which rankled my anarchism-senses even more. He does in this same section say that enabling death by privilege and neglect is just as condemnable as outright murder though, which is a take Peter Unger would heartily approve. In the section on adultery, we have this fascinating and disturbing quote when he is talking about the problematic outcome of Catholic insistence on clerical celibacy: "For no one has so little love and inclination to chastity as just those who because of great sanctity avoid marriage, and either indulge in open and shameless prostitution, or secretly do even worse, so that one dare not speak of it, as has, alas! been learned too fully." [italics mine.] We all know too well the Catholic Church's historical struggles with abusive paedophilia - part of me wonders whether this was already rearing its head five centuries ago to the point that it was unspoken but common knowledge. The section on theft is wonderfully expansive - a full Marxist analysis of this bit would yield some truly spectacular insights, I feel. The section on lying is morally robust but could be made a great deal stronger with the inclusion of some generally-considered epistemology and psychology. And the section[s] on envy take an unexpectedly objective, active view of this particular sin, which I was raised to think was more the mere subjective passive condition of indulging jealousy, but that Luther seems to say is when one makes actual decisive effort to acquire the property of another.

   The sections walking through the Creed I have very little to say about - this is just hardcore solid uplifting theology communicated with a depth and a deftness I have seldom found elsewhere. His linguistic nuances when talking about "churchness" in the bit about the Holy Spirit are helpful, though I found his maintenance of institutional borders in those same paragraphs less so.

   His opening reflections on the Lord's Prayer are just beautiful in style and empowering in substance. The discussion on the request for "our daily bread" furthermore is intriguingly and helpfully ecological and sociological in its scope.

   The final section, dealing with the sacraments of baptism and the Lord's Supper, are also highly moving in their depictions of the spiritual realities contained within these ritual practices, and as a Quaker I found these parts rather convicting (Quakers in general do not formally practice either of these sacraments, as we take a more holistic symbolic view of their intent), in ways that bear further consideration on my part.

   Overall this is an incredibly powerful statement of some of the basic tenets of a good Christian life, written by one of the most reputable sources thereupon. Definitely worth a read if that sounds like the kind of thing you'd benefit from. And who wouldn't? God's goodness shines through clearly on every page of this thing; it leaves one hungry for grace.

* Compare with the Small Catechism that I read yesterday. I gave minimal reflections on that as it made more sense to do that here when reading the principal longer document.

** I consider Lutheranism to be the burning bridge between the Catholic and Protestant communions - and this comes across in Luther's own doctrine, attitude and style.

Luther's Small Catechism

This book (available online for free from that link) is the short version of the Lutheran catechism,* specifically designed to be used by a father for the instruction of his children. As such this is a very short and theologically-minimal text** that I was able to breeze through in under half an hour.

   Luther deals with the Ten Commandments (and I really like how his explanatory givens for all of these ground them in our love for God), followed by the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and finally the sacraments of both baptism and the altar. He writes very simply and directly, with a clear strong rooting in the essentials of biblical literacy applied in accessible and helpful terms. If you're a Lutheran you're probably already highly familiar with this text - if you're not and you're curious about Protestant life and teaching, this could be an interesting read.

* Fancy word for the procedural texts by which young and new believers are to be introduced to the teachings of the faith in question; the Didache is a good example of this from early church history.

** It piqued further curiosity though, so I plan to read the Large Catechism next to dive deeper.

Compelling Reason

This book is a collection of essays by C. S. Lewis, author of the Narnia series and perhaps the most famous 20th-century British Christian apologist. The essays range in subject matter from ethics, theology, aesthetics, cultural concerns, and vaguer trains of thought. I will give each essay a brief outline critique before offering my thoughts on the collection as a whole.

1. "Why I am not a pacifist" - an impassioned, largely balanced, pragmatic argumentation against pacifism, which I think just about succeeds on its own merits even though it barely delves deep enough into moral philosophy to make its point well. Certainly a filibusterous failure from my point of view.
2. "Bulverism" - a study into a plague of modern thinking, which is how people will oftentimes approach an argument by showing why their opponent must be wrong before demonstrating that they are wrong. An original and genuinely compellingly insightful essay.
3. "First and second things" - a pretty bland reflection on myth, cultural memory, and authenticity.
4. "Equality" - a rather kneejerk if you ask me take on egalitarianism, which wears its complete lack of engagement with political philosophy almost proudly on its sleeve.
5. "Three Kinds of Men" - a mercifully short and horribly shallow categorisation of all of humanity into the eponymous trio of camps. Not helpful.
6. "Horrid Red Things" - an intriguingly original reflection on assumption, truth, pragmatic value, and shared understanding: robustly common-sense & widely applicable.
7. "Democratic Education" - makes a couple of interesting-sounding points but overall falls at the same hurdle as [4]; largely comes across, especially to a 21st-century reader, as unsympathetic elitist huff.
8. "A Dream" - anecdotal recount of a dream about the Home Guard; I honestly struggled to see what point if any this one was trying to make.
9. "Is English Doomed?" - a despairing take on the decline of academic English studies which is largely, if not utterly, disproven by historical educational trends since.
10. "Meditation in a Toolshed" - an original and pleasurably-imaginative musing on how to best balance objectivity and subjectivity in one's perspective.
11. "Hedonics" - another highly original and entertaining reflection on the nature of pleasure, and the deplorable lacuna in intellectualism of studying it for its own sake so that it can be better propagated.
12. "Christian Apologetics" - originally read to an audience of Anglican priests and youth leaders in the Church of Wales, this is a robust and engaging and open sketch of the challenges and opportunities of its title matter.
13. "The Decline of Religion" - a level-headed take on the secularisation of British society that had started to rear its head in Lewis's lifetime to the shock of the religious establishment, even though it was merely, as he argues, the manifestation of trends that had been bubbling away for centuries.
14. "Religion Without Dogma" - for my money the best essay in the book: Lewis, with zero philosophical academic weight but a wealth of common sharp logic, strips the concept of religion of everything it can bear to lose while still being worthy of the name to discover if there is an acceptably universal minimal form of it. His rigour in this endeavour paired with actual scholarly study could fill an entire series of theology books, but ultimately for his conclusion that Christianity suffices the lowest-common-denominator middle-ground seems to me well made.
15. "Vivisection" - a fairly utilitarian anthropocentric reflection on the topic, that if you ask me bares the underdevelopment of Lewis's thinking on animal being and rights (not simply because I disagree with him - I don't, in places, but rather that he uses them as a springboard into human concerns with a clear lack of having landed on a satisfactory understanding of them in themselves.)
16. "Modern Translations of the Bible" - a sane and uncontroversial (nowadays at least, unless you're one of those KJV-only purist nutjobs) take on alternate English versions of scripture: all points in here are completely justified by the proliferation and worth of such translations in the years since this was written.
17. "On Living in an Atomic Age" - weirdly jovial in its Christian nihilism; Lewis here pays no attention to international relations or ecology and merely goes off on a sprawling tangent about the value of purposeful life over mere survival (as if the two were wholly disconnected concepts) and lands at a conclusion that I understand but think is morally entitled and politically bankrupt.
18. "The Humanitarian Theory of Punishment" - a two-parter in which first the essay and then a response to two critiques of aforesaid essay lay out Lewis's (oh, how shall I say) interesting perspective on the nature of crime and punishment. From a purely moral standpoint I understand his perspective but on a pragmatic level I think he completely fails to grapple with any serious philosophical notion of justice and on a social level he makes "logical" leaps into un-contextualised territories to make his points that left me simply scratching my head at his paranoia.
19. "The Pains of Animals" - this one opens with a letter by a Dr. Joad, critiquing the chapter in Lewis's book The Problem of Pain on this essay's topic, and then follows with Lewis's reply. We already know Lewis's grasp of animals [see 15] is weak to put it mildly, so even though respectably he does admit that his points here are "speculative", the fact that he would have devoted a chapter in one of his books to this subject is intellectually sloppy and from an apologetic standpoint even irresponsible (especially considering what he said in [12] about the responsibilities of apologetics).
20. "Is Theism Important?" - a brief but cogent dissection of the line between intellectual faith and spiritual or personal faith, and how these are or aren't bridged.
21. "Xmas and Christmas" - not even an essay, just a prolonged whinge about the secularisation of the holiday. Zero intellectual content but a fun[ish] read.
22. "Prudery and Philology" - the least consequential thing in the whole book; this is basically just a spiralling diatribe about how problematic it is or isn't that words for genitals are often rude.
23. "Is History Bunk?" - a fairly interesting look into the nature of historical study and where exactly judgement or critique comes into it; I struggle to see any meaningful application of these ideas anywhere they aren't already being wholeheartedly engaged with though.
24. "Willing Slaves of the Welfare State" - the half-baked political thinking Lewis proudly showed off in [4] and [7] is now applied on a global level, with zero economic understanding displayed and zero substantive philosophy utilised, to draw us into an alarmist sketch of global future dystopia under the guise of universal wellbeing.

   Overall I think this is a pretty hit-and-miss collection. Some, like [2], [11] and [14], are definitely worth a read and are original and robust. Many others just smack of rather bland conservative cynicism from a man whose position as a public intellectual privileges him to talk about anything he wants regardless of how much he actually understands the complexities or nuances or the topic (or fields of study entire) at hand. Readers looking for a whole book's-worth of biting, truly compelling argument as Lewis is known for in his Christian writings will only find perhaps 30-40% of such a books-worth here, but anyone interested in his way of thinking should still find this an interesting read.