Music! (?)

A book I shall treasure always (along with a pamphlet that came with my triangle), by one of the pre-eminent kazooists in the world, Barbara Stewart. There is a wonderful YouTube video that illustrates perfectly the profound musicality of this under-rated instrument, in an introduction to the chamber group, Kazoophony.

I am not myself a skilled musician, but I did receive early training on this petite, yet versatile melodic form when, as a young boy, I played in an ensemble for my Sunday School’s Christmas pageant. We rehearsed many times before playing Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer in the church hall at St. Matthew’s Anglican in South Windsor, sometime around 1959 or 1960. I recall my parents’ appreciation of the work we put in when they showed up early one time to collect me from a rehearsal. I recall even now my father’s teeth biting his lips and his face going deep red in appreciation as all 15 of us played this seemingly simple, yet actually complex tune. The concert itself was a wild success before a full audience of parents and siblings, with much clapping and joyfilled laughter.

 

Church

I decided to write this in red and bold because it is an unsual topic. Margaret Visser, a former professor of Classics at York University in Toronto, is in reality a civilized lover of the idea of humanity and all our works. 

This book is one of the strangest I have looked at on this strange blog of mine. The title does not tell you anything about the contents, you must read the book. Usually a title gives you a hint that either impells you to open the book and see what it is about, or to reject it. In this case, you must read the book in order to understand the title. This book looks at one ancient church in Rome, Sant’Agnese fuori le Mura (St. Agnes outside the walls).  She (Margaret, not Agnes) examines every part of the church with a loving gaze, penetrating to the hearts of the people who built it, populated it, worshipped in it and to the little girl saint the building and its lovers honour.

It is the best study of architecture and the place of architecture in the human imagination I have read.

Margaret Vissser says in her introduction that this is not a church description based on “dates and measurements”, rather it is a plot, a narrative that she follows from the point of entering the church and on to the end of its story, encased in the building. It is a “trajectory of the soul” she says.

What is it to me, then? I read this book years ago. If you notice the funny, white abstraction in the lower left corner of the cover picture, you might wonder what that could be. It is where one of my dogs at some point chewed the book, nearly destroying it whole before I grabbed it away. I think my first Labrador, Zoë, yellow in colour and with a wild heart of joy was the culprit. I tasted this book too as I read it; she tasted it literally. It is like a many course meal, or a feast of several days, where new savouries and sweets greeted me around each corner and on each new page.

Margaret Visser, The Geometry of Love:  Space, Time, Mystery, and Meaning in an Ordinary Church. Toronto: Harper Perennial, 2008

 

A new book!

This time I am posting a book I have not read as yet. I received it in the mail today. I was asked to write a review for a scholarly journal, and as an historian who specializes in that very narrow field ‘Anglican history’, I agreed. Writing reviews is often something done by junior scholars fighting to be noticed. This is not the case for me as long ago  I became resigned to the world of the part time university lecturer, with an income slightly less than that of a city bus driver. I accepted it because I have a genuine interest in the history of religion and in Anglican history in particular.

My interest was sparked because I want to read this book. I want to think about it. I want to write about it. I will write a review but also I will think about it in my religion blog/book to be. Unlike the growing numbers of scholars who have become politicized (usually to the Left) I delight in study, thought, debate, all unhindered by poltical (aka political – I have left the error in to remind myself about editing) correctness.

Ooops. Where did this last side issue come from?  Well, today I had a debate with a tenured prof working in the same history department where I soldier on part time. I mentioned something I have noticed for a very long time, but which is not politically correct to say. Another facebook friend, also a History PhD but one who never found regular work in acadaemia, posted a CBC story about a clash between Left wing protesters and neo Nazis. I wondered out loud who were the Nazis as the only violence was a punch thrown by a Left winger, connecting with the face of a neo Nazi (well, at least I think it was the face, though it could well have been a shoulder, I suppose). I noted how street violence, even riot was a common technique of the Left these days, but the Right less commonly. I am thinking here about the inevitable violence accompanying  meetings of the WTO dating back to the 1999 Seattle riot, and more recently the protests after the election of Donald Trump to the U.S presidency.  Trump, it might be added, is hardly right wing, in fact he seems to have no wings, yet still jumps off tall buildings. Then I went on to note that the real Nazis were socialists in that they closely controlled the German economy much as liberals today control western economies. My debating opponent noted correctly that economies have always been controlled. I assented to this, but on third thought, I would not now agree with always, and I would provide further nuance by noting that it is the degree of control that is new. Well, new in that it began with the Nazis and the Soviets in the 1930s and the Chinese ersatz Marxists in the late 1940s. This large and intricate degree of control has been happily taken up by Western governments. This is a largely popular move because most of the populations of these lands of milk and honey want government intervention – at least since the dreadful collapse of the 1930s. But there it is, a similarity invented by the socialism of the 1930s.  I also noted that the real Nazis controlled speech as now the modern Left does. The only difference I could see was technique. The real Nazis and the Soviets used fear and violence to control the economy and speech, while modern liberals do it with a smile.

The reaction from the tenured prof was appalling. He decided that equating economic policy and control over speech between Nazis and the modern Left meant I supported Naziism in all its vile goals.  I hope this was just a clever misdirection technique to score a point in this debate, and not a considered opinion. But I was appalled because I didn’t expect a scholar to use a politician’s methodology.  I teach students to use evidence and reason based on evidence.

Sigh.

I mentioned too that I had said the modern left is similar to the Nazis and Soviet socialists, not the same. I was then further appalled when my esteemed opponent openly claimed that the words similar and same had identical meanings. So I posted the definitions of the two words from the Concise Oxford – thinking that a nice irony as my esteemed opponent is a product of that famed and venerable institution.  I was not sure what to say here. I am a member of the Facebook group called The Apostrophe Police. Is there a similar venting place for imprecise use of words?  I am not a product of such an august metropolis of learning and thought, but of much more ordinary places. Yet, I wrote my first essay when I was 13 years old on a subject that Interested me: religion & science. I wrote it because I delight in thinking and in thinking from all angles and I further delight in seeing my thoughts transcribed into words, where later I can revise, or just see errors in my reasoning and use of evidence. Much like this little perambulation in the vagaries of my mind, which I have altered and honed a few times now.

Anyway, this wasn’t what this post was supposed to be about. I was going to write about the joy of getting a new book, unread and pregnant with ideas, stories, new worlds. But, sadly what is the point if the finest minds begin with conclusions rather than with hypotheses, and only use the evidence that supports their pre-conclusion and ascribe ideas falsley to their debate opponent? What indeed. Back to poetry for me, until the Left decides to tell me which poems I am allowed to write. And I will read this book and write about it, despite the predilection of some to replace thought with emotion.

journals

When I was young, my parents subscribed to a number of magazines, but not journals. The distinction is a fine one, but to me a magazine is either a news magazine or light reading in some category, while a journal is filled with serious prose based on careful thought and evidence. Only later in life did I encounter literary journals as opposed to academic journals in history, where I labour in the fields of the past. Including newsmagazines in the light category might seem odd, and perhaps was back in the 1950s. But today, news has become an arm of the entertainment industry. ‘Journalists’ (I guess those who write in this genre have retained the old seriousness in their labelling at least) no longer pretend at ferreting out fact, or presenting deep analyses of issues. They no longer work to inform, rather they work to enflame.  But the essential distinction remains embedded in my head: journal = serious; magazine = light entertainment.

As I was reading this over, having already published, a few more thoughts leaked out of my head and I decided to place them here, in red. ‘Journalists’ do not always pretend at ferreting out fact, many actually believe they are doing that, while some are openly pretending as they know they are in the entertainment business. The divide seems to be roughly along the ‘liberal’ vs. ‘conservative’ split in society. Mainstream TV news, and newspapers (yes Virginia, they do exist) mostly present a version of fact, in that they support progressive and liberal causes. I don’t think they pretend as they instinctively assume that liberalism is the default and centralist position in society. They actually do believe they are being objective and evidence based. The other side,  the dreaded ‘conservatives’ or ‘right wingers’ are found mostly in Talk radio and blogs, where they rant on in their wild fashion, as contrasted to the calm rantings of the Left. The problem of this division was seen most recently in the American election where the Trumpist candidate, (hmmmm, named Donald Trump… I wonder if their is a connection between Trump the man and the Party name?)… anyway, he fired that new political weapon, the Twitter torpedo at the ponderous battle ships of his progressive oppostion and sunk them.  Just barely, but he sunk them and continues today as I write firing Twitter Torpedoes  at the liberal ships still afloat. 

In my childhood and adolescent home my parents took: the Saturday Evening Post, Life, Time, McLeans, Look and with the daily newspaper (The Windsor Ontario Star) the Canadian magazine that came on Saturdays (published in Montreal) and they subscribed separately to the Star Weekly (published  by the Toronto Star). They didn’t take the Globe magazine as that came with the Globe & Mail which my parents did not read. Mostly these were light reading – lots of pictures, straightforward and entertainingly written prose as well as ads for all sorts of exotic products. I was going to say ‘adult’ products, but restrained myself as that term now refers to sexuality. I meant rather  perfumes and women’s fashions as sold in New York City shops. Later in life as an historian I came to appreciate the usefulness of advertisements more than the text they funded. As part of my PhD research, I spent time in the Anglican Archives reading 19th century Anglican newspapers. I remember an ad for Labatt’s beer in the ‘high’ church paper. This told me and confirmed the linking between rich brewers and the Church of England in Canada, as it was then called. It confirmed from a side angle why total prohibition did not work in 19th century Canada. Opposition was fractured. Generally Protestant churches pushed for temperance or prohibition while Catholics opposed this – but one of the largest Protestant churches, the Anglicans were internally divided on this issue.

Ads tell you what people purchased (sometimes) but more importantly, the products that people dreamed of owning regardless of ability to pay. Curiously I only recall ads directed at my mother, that is, at 1950s and 60s housewives, as most women then worked as housewives. Women working in offices, for example, did so  usually to supplement family income or they were on the social waiting list for Mr. Right to come along and carry them over the threshold into a life of house work and fecundity.

Now most of us read this sort of literature online only and in the form of Facebook posts mostly, plus blogs here and there. But mostly Facebook is my impression. A few literary journals survive such as the Paris Review pictured above. Magazines still litter waiting room tables of course and fill racks in supermarkets, especially by the checkouts. Sometimes you see someone surreptitiously stuffing a National Enquirer into their grocery bag. Virtually none of these magazines cater to men, though in this day and age I see almost as many men standing in the lines buying food as women. I’m not sure what to make of that, though guesses divorced from evidence swirl in my head. Well they swirl for a few seconds anyway. Mostly now, I am busy getting used to finding the time to hold bound, printed papers in my hand and entering into the worlds created inside the covers.

Jumping in

I was in my 20s back in the hope filled 1970s, when this book arrived as a Christmas present:  Fowler’s Modern English Usage 2nd edition revised by Ernest Gowers. 

Modern English Usage does get used, though not as often as it should. It was a gift from my Dad (who died in November 2000).  He knew I loved writing, whether that be fiction or History, and this compact volume reminds me of him as well as seeing use on occasion. I do love its mini essays that accompany words or phrases. Although a very old compendium, it is quirky. I imagined some fusty old Oxonian sitting in a alcove in an archive with only spiders for conversation as he wrote.  I opened it just now at random. A long essay on the word like said hello in this way:

“1. It will be best to dispose first of what is, if it is a misuse at all, the most flagrant and easily recognizable misuse of l. A sentence from Darwin quoted in the OED contains it in a short and unmistakable form: Unfortunately few have observed l. you have done. Most people use this construction daily in conversation. It is the established way of putting the thing among all who have not been taught to avoid it; the substitution of as for l. in their sentences would seem to them artificial. . . . ”

The essay goes on in similar form for another two full pages followed by another page and a bit of likelys, likewises,  and so on.

Recently I read somewhere on the internet, an article stating we can and should now ignore all the little rules English teachers taught us in School. Yes, you may and should begin a sentence with because, yes  you may and should end a sentence with of, no matter what you learned in antediluvian times, or so preaches the modernist.   My Dad read prodigiously, that is, he read whenever he wasn’t doing something required such as working or eating or walking the family dog with me. As a boy we walked the dog – first a wild terrier cross  named Pedro, then a sweet border collie named Tessie. In the beginning we walked a short distance, then as our conversations became longer, we stayed out longer until in our prime dog walking days we would spend more than an hour perambulating. Much of our conversation involved books he had read, or I had read also, or short comments on the world we passed by as the dog panted, peed and pooped. Also known in this age of acronyms as PPP, or sometimes ppp. Other less common variations are PpP (which I am rather partial to myself), Ppp, pPp (almost as affecting as PpP), pPP and so on, but I will stop here as I am boring myself (and perhaps any unlucky enough to read this far.

[BREAK TIME: zoned out, then repaired the placement of a comma above – must have someone edit such thing for me as commas and I have been battling since Grade 7 or so, that is, about 53 years)

The long break has now ended and I am back here, on this page, or rather this screen (which you may, if you wish turn into a page by hitting PRINT). Or rather, tap gently as computers do not take kindly to barely controlled violence. Or would that be better put as uncontrolled?

Anyway, this book about writing and thus about books was not much opened when I was in my 20s, 30s, or even 40s. It seemed too archaic and prolix even after I started writing for pleasure again when I was in my late 50s. But now, in my 60s it speaks to me. Not so much the advice proffered, (or orders if one takes the tone with which it is written), rather, the delight I take in well formed sentences that do not fear complexity. Simplicity in writing has been all the rage for some time, but that old fogey, Modern English Usage is determinedly anti-modern. The essays and even the brief notations delight in sub-clauses and subjunctives both, in what I vaguely recall English teachers in the past calling compound-complex sentences. My PhD thesis advisor opined once years ago that when all educated people had been required to learn Latin in school, the English language took on that language’s complex sentence structure in imitation. Of course, English is not inflected (or perhaps infected) so loses that extra layer of complexity. Today learning Latin is not only not required, it is rare, so English today is simple and direct. Unlike most of this meditation.

And so my father read or talked to me about reading. He had a memory that amazed me. He could recall long pages of text read when he was a boy, word for word. I had been reading during this period an old science fiction serial published, I think, in Astounding Science Fiction magazine. This was the top Sci-Fi pulp mag from the 30s well into the 60s when its name was changed to Analog. John Campbell was the editor for much of this time and he introduced to the world of science fiction many later big name writers. These magazines were filled with short stories and serials, usually three part, as well as letters and a section on developments in science. And advertisements! For flashlight batteries, exercise supplements, and so on. The covers were full colour, ray guns, space ships, weird humanoid creatures. Anyway, I was reading one of EE Smith’s (no relation) Lenseman series stories, but my Dad’s collection was missing the middle instalment of three. So, Dad recited it to me over the course of about two dog walks. He was well aware of the inadequacies of much of this style of fiction, but loved it without shame until the day he died. I recall him laughing about one story by H. Rider Haggard (not science fiction, but an Indiana Jones type adventure story) where the hero had found himself at the bottom of a well, unable to climb out as his rope had broken and the sides were slimy and slippery. That was the end of that instalment and Dad had to wait until the next issue to discover how the hero would escape. Well, in the first sentence of the next issue, the hero merely ‘leapt out’ of the well! Dad laughed about that, but none of this cheating ever stopped him from enjoying these stories.

I haven’t the same taste as my father, except for keeping a set of hard back science fiction books of his and a copy of Astounding from 1954 where his only published story appears – nostalgia is unavoidable for me.

This story will continue randomly. I will quite simply reach over to my left and take a book and allow it to speak.