Category Archives: Issue 15

Songs of Innocence, pt. 2: Omnia vincit amor: et nos cedamus amori

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Christopher Rush

Having listened to this album a number of times in the last few months, I can assure you it is a much better album than you probably think it is.  In its way, it is superior to even The Joshua Tree and possibly Achtung Baby, keeping in mind “its way” is its ultra-personal nature.  It is a wholly introspective, open window into the making of these men and their musical influences, possibly the most revealing album a band has ever put out, which makes the “self-gratifying and grandiose” palaver spewed out at the album’s unusual release all the more embarrassing to those who served the vitriol.  I am not, however, qualified to comment on the historical influences that generated not only this album but the band we have loved for decades, so I do not pretend to comment on them too much.  You, the faithful reader, can track them down in various places (I hope, too, my old buddy Steve Stockman will write another book about these recent albums as well).  Instead, I will comment on what I think of when I hear these songs (especially in context of other U2 songs and albums) and what (if not the same thing) makes them so good.  Without further ado, let us semi-briefly explore these songs.

“The Miracle (Of Joey Ramone)”

Unlike the slow-building openers “Where the Streets Have No Name” or “Zooropa,” “The Miracle” just starts — even more abruptly, really, than “Vertigo” or “Zoo Station” (or any of the others).  We feel like we have walked in two seconds after it started, and while that is initially jarring, it fits well with the point of the album.  This isn’t The Wall — it doesn’t have to begin with birth and build slowly up to a life story.  Boom.  Here is the start.  Here is the point where the rising action is about to begin.  This isn’t season one, episode one; this is season one, episode eighteen, and things are about to change for the better (in some cases).

Much of this album gives us the impression we are re-covering old ground, doing what Frost said is practically impossible, but we are doing it with fresh eyes and fresher ears.  The almost pep-rally nature of “The Miracle” is unusual for U2 and brings a lot more energy than we are probably expecting, considering the band isn’t getting any younger and a retracing of one’s roots often has the laconic feeling of Wordsworth not the immediacy of Keats (I should probably say Byron or Shelley, but as we all know Keats is far superior).  Even so, this is an energetic song.  Retracing their roots has brought that energy the band needed — not merely to remain “relevant” — and this is an energetic album.

The lyrical freshness of the album matches the reinvigorated musical energy.  “I was chasing down the days of fear” and “I wanted to be the melody / Above the noise, above the hurt” is as lyrically excellent as “So Cruel,” and you know how much that says.  I love that last line of the bridge “And we were pilgrims on our way.”  We should have been listening to the albums of U2 as a pilgrimage, shouldn’t we?

I’m not Ramones-knowledgeable enough to know what makes them so beautiful, but I’ve had similar experiences in my intellectual, spiritual, aesthetic pilgrimage to know what is being described so enthusiastically, and I hope you have, too.  I also know what it is like to take myself too seriously, and it is especially refreshing this album finds a very good balance in presenting their (sometimes painful) youth and influences seriously while simultaneously commenting on their naïveté with the knowing raised eyebrow of old age (I suspect more of this will come in the companion album Songs of Experience).  The self-effacing humor of the pre-bridge is one such knowing raise.

One great element of this album is that self-awareness, manifesting in this instance by the different choruses.  After the verses communicate the feeling, the memory, the experience the song is capturing, the choruses often metamorphose from “here’s what we were like” to “here’s what we appreciate better and what you can learn now” ideas.  The final chorus of this song is truly great: I, too, “get so many things I don’t deserve.”  The thought “All the stolen voices will someday be returned” is as uplifting and enthusiastic eternity-anticipating line as you will ever hear.  It usually brings me to tears.  It does anticipate “The most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.”  It will indeed be beautiful to hear again the voices of those who have been stolen (by death, surely, not by God).  That will be a miracle, indeed.

“Every Breaking Wave”

Here is one of the all-time greats.  Musically, this is great.  Lyrically, great.  It’s great.  You probably think that’s circular reasoning, and perhaps it is (okay, it is), but this song added to “The Miracle” make for as impressive a 1-2 start to an album as The Joshua Tree.  Here is a song concerned with our infatuation with fear, our unwillingness to slough off our uncertainties as if they are comfy blankets, our trepidancy to risk.  We are so reticent to acknowledge what we can see, what we know: the waves will keep coming, we don’t have to chase them.  Chasing them, trying to control the world and the waves is not the way to succeed at life.  It’s that hubris that siphons from us our courage.  It’s time to stop futilely chasing after the waves and let them take us.  That’s the only way to get where we want to go.  The spiritual implications are glaringly obvious.

Lyrically, the inverted word orders at time may be for the rhythm of the phrases, but they add to the weight of maturity undergirding an album that could easily have devolved to self-pastiche.  (I hope that doesn’t sound as pretentious as it sounds.)  My favorite part is the “I thought I heard the captain’s voice / It’s hard to listen while you preach” section.  True, having just read The Tempest twice with two different groups of sophomores, this section about shipwrecks and waves and shores resonates a little more loudly than it might during the summer, but the reminder we can’t hear The Captain when we are trying to give the orders is always a timely reminder.  It’s impossible not to love this song.

“California (There Is No End to Love)”

The trademark Bono “oh” gets new life in this album, as remarkable as anything else here.  Despite the backlash against their exploration of American music during the Rattle & Hum era, U2 goes where it needs to go, learns what and where it needs to learn, and unashamedly (and less unabashedly than in their less-temperate youth, shall we say) lets us know about it.  They aren’t the Beach Boys, but then again the Beach Boys weren’t always the Beach Boys, and California is big enough to influence just about anyone.  Just because my brief personal experience of California wasn’t all that great doesn’t mean U2 isn’t allowed to enjoy Zuma or Santa Barbara (or not enjoy it, as may possibly be the case here).

Instead of knowing beauty and truth are (almost) the same thing, it’s likely more significant and efficacious for us to know there is no end to love.  Most of the song may give the impression of a light, frothy sort of “love is forever” sort of palliative, despite the revelations of the rather painful experiences couched in the first two verses … until we get to the end of the second verse.  It’s one thing to write about and sing about painful experiences — we’ve heard that before (though not as often in U2, not their own painful experiences but certainly Ireland’s pain) — but suddenly the typical “cry in the mirror a lot” notion morphs into a more honest admission “I’ve seen for myself / There’s no end to grief” — and that acknowledgment of man’s prison of grief, eternal if left to himself and his fallen nature, reveals itself as the true basis for why “there is no end to love.”  It’s not the simple “I’ve had fun times on the beach, so life is good.”  It’s not “we’ve found each other, so love is forever.”  Love is a reaction to and the only fitting salvation from grief.  Since grief does not end (in this lifetime) love will not end (ever).  I don’t know of a more comforting thought, really.

I haven’t quite sussed out the last two lines about stolen days, though I suspect the use of “stolen” is different from the “stolen” in “The Miracle,” since it seems to me we are the ones doing the stealing in “California,” stealing days of happiness and moments of love and joy away from the grief.  We certainly don’t want to give those back, and perhaps they are enough, in the end.  That makes sense, I suppose.

“Song for Someone”

This is one of those songs if you just listen to it casually once or twice without paying attention to the words you get a very faulty misapprehension of how good it is.  That could be said about the entire album, of course.  From the first line, whatever “write good lyrics” pills Paul Hewson has been taking in the last five years pays off again.  I mentioned “So Cruel” earlier; perhaps this is a companion or sequel, as it is about healing and restoration.  We have a great lyrical irony, in that this song purports to be universal (if my assumption about the “someone” being fit for anyone doesn’t take us all to Pleasure Island), though it frequently references private conversations and personal experiences.  Again we have the modified chorus trope: the third line in the three choruses is different each time.  (I can imagine the uproar if the second version was “with or without” instead of “within or without.”)

The best and worst parts of this song come at the end.  The final chorus begins with a wonderful pair of lines: “And I’m a long, long way from your Hill of Cavalry / And I’m a long way from where I was and where I need to be.”  I’m not under the impression the “Someone” this whole time has been Jesus … though, come to think of it, that would be totally awesome (and change the meaning of this song drastically).  Hold that thought.  The second of that pair is a wonderfully honest line about how far Bono has come in his spiritual journey and how far he still has to go — not since October have we heard anything this direct (except “Yahweh,” perhaps).

Now, if the “Someone” is actually Jesus throughout the song, and thus most of the “you”s are also Jesus, that would indeed elevate this song exponentially in both my appreciation for it and, more importantly, its quality.  The first two lines of the song don’t seem to fit with that interpretation, though, especially as it would be unthinkable to say to Jesus “my scars are worse than yours, you know.”  But then, Jesus does have eyes that can see right through us.  He does “let [us] in to a conversation / A conversation only we could make.”  He does “break and enter [our] imagination / Whatever’s in there it’s [His] to take” — that fits, too.  The last line of verse two, “You were slow to heal but this could be the night,” also doesn’t seem to fit either, however.  Also, I don’t know why Jesus would let the light go out, but perhaps the choruses are directed toward us, the audience: the listener is the “you” of the chorus.  We can’t always see the light though we should have faith it is always there; we can’t always be the world we want to be; we have the responsibility not to let the light go out.  If most of the “you”s are Jesus, the line “If there is a kiss I stole from your mouth” would take us immediately back to “Until the End of the World” and “When Love Comes to Town.”  I’m not sure about the whole song, but there’s no denying whose “your Hill of Cavalry” it is.  Maybe Jesus is the “someone” the song is for, and we are the “someone” the song is to?  Regardless, this is another superb song.

The worst part of the song I alluded to above is only that after this great last version of the chorus (or bridge, maybe), we very much desire one final round of “And this is a song, song for someone,” but we don’t get it.  Maybe the live shows.

“Iris (Hold Me Close)”

This song feels like it escaped from The Unforgettable Fire, and since that is one of my favorite U2 albums, that’s clearly not a slight.  It’s a lyrically diverse song, even if one is tempted to dismiss it because of the musical sound.  Initially I was a bit disappointed by this one, musically, but it does grow on me, especially as I understand the words better.  “Iris” plays a few roles in this song, emphasizing the “seeing” theme of the song and possibly being an actual woman named Iris.  Of course, once we find out Iris Hewson was Paul’s mom and this is another overtly personal song about Paul’s young life, that part comes into sharper focus.  The Freud fans will likely latch on to this notion and interpret the ending refrain as “one needs to free oneself from one’s parents in order to fully become the person one is to be,” but I think it’s more Robert Burns than Freud.  As Burns says, if we could see ourselves the way others see us, we would be much more free to be who we should be.  And truly, as Christians, we know there is no better (or no other way at all) to be truly free to be ourselves than to be ourselves in Christ.  All in all, it’s a very moving song by a man who lost his mom when he was very young, a man letting his mother know she is always with him and possibly wants her to be proud of him.  I don’t think there is doubt about that.

“Volcano”

“Volcano” makes you wonder if this album has been locked in some Island vault since the mid-’90s and has suddenly escaped.  It’s hard not to find this song somewhat goofy, though its message is important like the rest of the album.  This album impresses you the more you learn about it and the influences that have shaped it (again, resources elsewhere can help far better than I can) and the keener one hearkens to the thematic/lyrical motifs strewn throughout multiple numbers.  Waves and seas, eyesight and insight, identity, faith and doubt … sure some of those are fairly typical U2 fare, but the intentional lyrical development of certain phrases and ideas in multiple numbers creates an impressive unity to this album easily unnoticed by the casual listener/hearer.

Even with the dangerously goofy dance-techno-like beat of the chorus, which comes dangerously close to undermining the seriousness of the lyrics, the variety within the song works to a good effect, taken as a whole.  The “You were alone / … You are rock n roll / You and I are rock n roll” breakdown toward the end gives the song a helpful push to the conclusion the chorus alone wouldn’t have given it, since its (the chorus’s) sound may have been too repetitive to make for a strong enough finish.  The basic message seems to be a warning for easily-hotheaded people about the dangers of that, which, while not anywhere close to unique for a message, does not appear all that frequently as a peppy remix-like number.  I need to appreciate this song more than I currently do.

“Raised By Wolves”

U2 has been singing songs about Ireland’s war on terror for about 40 years now, but it has never been so personal as this song.  It’s a straightforward song for the most part, though it does have some lyrically impressive lines (“My body’s not a canvas” … “Boy sees a father crushed under the weight / Of a cross in a passion where the passion is hate”).  The bridge, “I don’t believe anymore / I don’t believe anymore,” is for me the most inscrutable section of this song.  If it is about young Paul Hewson rejecting the faith that has brought about (supposedly) these sorts of things, that’s understandable, though that doesn’t seem to mesh with the history of U2’s music (especially with “I Will Follow” and October coming closer to this life experience than War, and War, we must remember, ends with “40”).  If it is older Paul Hewson not believing in something, that is even less credible.  I just don’t get it yet, but that’s not a bad thing.

The chorus is likewise thought provoking, partly because I don’t have a good grasp of it, either.  Musically, it’s an edgy song, certainly the edgiest political song since “Love and Peace or Else,” and that edginess makes the song.  The way Bono sings the chorus is also a highlight of the song.  I suspect the line “Raised by wolves” is a negative thing, if it is a comment on how his generation was led/affected/burdened by the terrorism and conflict (certainly he is not referring to his own parents or any of the band’s parents, since they have always been open about the tremendous support their families always showed them).  But the next line “Stronger than fear” presents itself as a positive thing, as far as I can tell.  Then the final two lines, “If I open my eyes, / You disappear” return to a negative idea.  It’s another song that would improve with understanding its origins, but it is also translucent enough to assure us of its quality, even if its full meaning is immediately opaque.

“Cedarwood Road”

Another overt homage to friends and experiences of their youth, though this time the overall impression almost dares us to consider it positive, despite being replete with echoes of bombings and loss and pain from the previous song (again, the continuity and overlapping and motif spreading throughout the album snowballs our appreciation for this album the more we grasp it).  Guggi is one of Bono’s lifelong friends, a fellow survivor of those dark times, though he didn’t survive quite so successfully.

The music of this song is perhaps its most noteworthy component, so to speak.  Say what you will about The Edge, and I’m sure you will, he can still come up with some catchy, integral licks (“The Miracle” has some catchy riffs, too).  They only seem familiar because he makes them fit so well.

This is an album of great song endings (even if I think “Song for Someone” ends one section too soon).  “A heart that is broken / Is a heart that is open” is a fantastic line, though our enthusiasm for it is likely tempered when we remember (to what limited degree we can appreciate it) the great volume of pain that generated its profundity.

“Sleep Like a Baby Tonight”

I don’t have much to say about this song.  It has my least favorite line on the album, “Tomorrow dawns like someone else’s suicide.”  It has that “Babyface” feel to it, and we jump, not cynically I trust, to a conclusion there is more here than our initial impressions give us, since U2 and lullabies don’t mix.  As I’ve said, I haven’t done a whole lot of research, since I wanted this exploration to be mostly my own experiences and reaction, but what little I saw (mostly accidentally) about this song indicated this is about a priest (the kind of priest Alan Moore writes about in V for Vendetta … yeah, that kind of priest).

Does that make this a bad song?  Certainly not.  Unpleasant?  Perhaps.  Is it a social problem we should know about, do something about, bring to an end?  Certainly.  Musically, it’s another impressive stretch for a band most people likely thought had run out of ideas, even if it reminds us of an earlier song.  Bono’s falsetto gets a healthy workout once again, another facet of U2 most people likely thought had faded into the mist.

“This Is Where You Can Reach Me Now”

I’m sure you already knew Joe Strummer, to whom this song is dedicated, was The Clash’s front man, telling us this song reflects the influences The Clash had on young U2 back in the day.  I’m not as familiar with The Clash (or any in the punk scene, apparently) as I probably should be, but what little I do know makes the sound of this song (and its military theme) wholly believable.  It’s a very straightforward song, as far as I can tell, though it’s also highly probably I’m missing out on a great deal of meaningful subtext.  It’s also quite likely I’m misinterpreting much of this album, but that has never stopped me before.

“The Troubles”

Another very personal song (yes, we’ve said that eleven times now, I understand), this one is about the pain of abusive relationships and the freedom that comes from escaping it and reaffirming one’s self worth and value.  Musically, it’s another impressive stretch for the band.  Lyrically, it’s another remarkably courageous display.  If the last half of the album is not as “enjoyable” as the first half, it’s only because the honesty and openness make us uncomfortable, not because it’s an inferior half.  I’m not a big fan of rehashing my painful memories (though someone should tell that to my subconscious, since it’s a big fan of running that tape about 12x a week) — I doubt I’d have the courage to write almost a dozen songs about some of my positive life-shaping experiences, let alone the negative experiences.  Thank you, men.  The people who find you “no longer relevant” must have thought the same thing about Don Quixote … and look how well that ended for them.

So there you have it.  I like this album a great deal, and I think you should, too.  It will definitely go down in U2 history as one of their best.  I don’t know how many more albums these four have in them — hopefully we will not have to wait so long for Songs of Experience (considering their recently-announced tour, “The iNNOCENCE & eXPERIENCE Tour,” is purportedly going to focus on Innocence songs one night and Experience songs the following night in pairs, that gives great gusto to our hope).  If they release Experience in a year or two, then, a few years later, top it all off with Man, I’d be quite satisfied (though if they can release several albums in the coming decades, that’s fine with me, too).

It holds up to the scrutiny.  It is an incredible gift, not just because it was free.  I did get the 2-disc deluxe edition for Christmas from my wife, which was a very pleasant surprise.  The bonus disc songs, including alternate takes of “The Troubles” and “Sleep Like a Baby Tonight,” while perhaps less “canonical” improve our appreciation of these songs even more (though I haven’t listened to them enough yet to say more).  The 30-minute acoustic set is definitely worthwhile, and the otherwise unreleased songs are obviously a must-have for U2 fans (those who don’t get the special Japanese releases, of course).

You probably have this album, whether you wanted it or not.  Let’s not rehash that again.  Instead, now that you know about it more, give yourself a tremendous boon and listen to it carefully.  Soak it in.  Embrace the honesty, the openness.  Even if you don’t fully interpret everything correctly, as I most assuredly have not done myself, appreciate it for what it is: a superlative album from one of the great bands of all time.

It’s an album about many things, but it is fundamentally an album about love.  Don’t chase love like every breaking wave.  Let it take you.  Love, as we know, conquers all.  Let us, too, surrender to love.  You’ll be glad you did.

Two Odes Analyzed

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Garrett Fields and Michaela Seaton Romero

“Ode to the West Wind” Analysis

Garrett Fields

The poem written by Percy Shelley, “Ode to the West Wind,” personifies the winds in the west.  It is seen as a powerful force that destroys but also preserves.  It kills the decaying and weak to make a path for the new.  It destroys the old and provides a new environment for the new.

In the first stanza, Shelley says the West Wind is “wild.”  It blows away the leaves that have died and started to rot.  It makes way for the springtime after the rough winter.  The wind takes the seeds off the trees and bushes and buries them in the soil so they can spring up into new life a few months later.  The seeds bloom into new life during the spring.  It destroys the old and starts a new fresh beginning in the spring.  This is why the west wind is described as both a destroyer then a creator, or a preserver.

In the next stanza, Shelley talks about the sky.  He talks about the effect of the winds on the clouds.  The winds break the clouds apart almost like the decaying leaves of a tree.  The clouds become rainclouds and look ominous over the earth.  The clouds are compared to the outspread hair covering the sky from the horizon to its zenith.  The craziness of the sky is compared to Maenad, worshipper of the Greek god of wine.  Shelley uses this comparison because Maenad worships the god in a sort of wild and crazy way, lifting her hair like tangled clouds.  These indicate an approaching storm.

The West Wind then becomes a funeral song.  It is being sung because the year is dying.  The dark night sky becomes a grave or a tomb where the clouds mold the tomb.  They will soon pour down rain.

In the third stanza, the West Wind blows across the Mediterranean Sea.  He describes it as a vast sleepy snake, which dreams of old civilizations rich in flowers and vegetation.  In the sea’s sleep, it sees “old palaces and towers,” which quiver when the wind blows.  The West Wind also affects the Atlantic Ocean.  The plants under the surface tremble at the sounds of the strong breezes.  They fear the power of the West Wind.

In stanza four, the West Wind becomes a more personal force.  Shelley said if he were one of the leaves, or the clouds or waves, he would be able to feel the power of the West Wind.  He said during his childhood he had the power and speed of the West Wind.  Shelley said he no longer has the strength and speed like he did in his childhood.  The burdens of life have dragged them down.  He is facing problems in his life, which have drained his strength.  He now looks to the West Wind for help.

In the last stanza, Shelley offers himself to the West Wind in the same way as the leaves, clouds, and waves do.  He wants the wind to be a musician, and he should be used as a lyre for this purpose.  The music could be gloomy but a sweet sound.  Then he compares himself to a burning fire with sparks and ashes.  He requests the West Wind blows his sparks and ashes among mankind.

Shelley ends his poem with the hope the West Wind will take his words across the world.  Winter is a symbol of death and decay, but spring brings new life and hope.  He portrays this poem as saying if there is despair and pain now, then hope and optimism are just around the corner.  If winter is here, spring isn’t far behind.

“Ode on a Grecian Urn” Analysis

Michaela Seaton

“Ode on a Grecian Urn” is a great example of Romantic poems.  It is a highly emotional poem addressing things not present.  Written by John Keats, “Ode on a Grecian Urn” utilizes moving language, sensations, and images to get its point across.  The main theme is constancy or eternity, the innocence that comes with not changing.

In the first line of the first stanza, he says “Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness” which literally means pure bride of quietness.  It isn’t actually talking about the marital vows of an urn, it is talking about how the urn is silent; she’s not an “adulterer” to quietness, literally meaning the urn was adopted by silence and slow time.  She keeps all her secrets, while still showing the story upon her.  The second line is similar in its message: “Thou foster child of silence and slow time.” Once again, Keats uses imagery to show how he sees the urn, as a perfect representation of stagnant time.

The next two lines, “Sylvan historian, who canst thus express/A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:,” talk about the urn’s job as a historian.  Keats compares her job to his job as a poet.  She uses pictures to tell her tale, while he uses words and rhymes.  In his opinion, her way of telling the story is superior.

The next three lines are the first close look at the urn: “What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape / Of deities or mortals, or of both,? In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?”  This is talking about the actual artistic qualities of the urn.  Apparently, it is ringed with leaves, perhaps contains shapes of gods and men frolicking about in different areas of nature and life.

“What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? / What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? / What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?”  These next three lines pose questions about the urn, asking what it is revealing about history, what stories is it telling.  Keats is telling the readers what is coming up.

Then comes the next stanza.  In the first two lines Keats says “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard / Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;” In this stanza, it appears he has turned the urn so one of the scenes is showing, a scene with flutes.  When he says the unheard melodies are sweeter than the heard, he is probably talking about how with the scene pictured on the urn, the music and fun you imagine is happening is perfect, while in real life often expectations are not reality.  Those people on the urn are actually living, in his mind, but simply frozen in time.

Lines 3-4 say “Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d / Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.”  In these lines, Keats is ordering the pipes to play to his imagination, which ties in with the previous lines.  In his imagination, any scenario he creates will be perfect in his mind.  The melodies have no tunes in the real world, but in the imaginary world they are the perfect notes.

The next two lines say “Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave / Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;”  In this, the youth is in an eternal spring beneath a tree that will never lose its leaves.  He is stuck in the same position, playing the same song but never being able to change.  For Keats, however, this is preferable.  The youth never has to experience the pain of passing time.

The next four lines say “Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss / Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve / She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss / For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!”  This scene seems to be referencing a young man chasing a maiden.  This is probably what Keats was talking about earlier, with “mad pursuit.”  In this scene, the man is ever chasing the maiden, but Keats tells him not to despair.  Keats knows because they are frozen in time on the urn, he will never stop chasing the girl, and the girl will never lose her beauty.  It’s much different in the world where time marches on.

The third stanza begins with “Ah, happy, happy boughs! That cannot shed / Your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu.”  Again, there is an almost Norman Rockwell feeling to the urn; it’s like what an ancient Greek version would look like.  The tree is stuck in perpetual spring.  Never will it lose its leaves.  Keats obviously thinks this is a good state to be in, never will the tree have to suffer through a winter.

“And, happy melodist, unwearied / For ever piping songs for ever new / More happy love! More happy, happy Love!” are the next three lines.  Once again, Keats is showing how happy he considers the scenes on the urn to be.  This melodist is playing a song that will never go out of style, with a pipe that will never break.  He is, and always will be, happy.  Keats envies him, and he calls for more happy love songs; he wants to feel what he imagines it would be like, a perfect happiness that never ends because time cannot touch it.

The next two lines state “For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d / For ever panting, and for ever young”.  This line seems to be talking about the birds and the bees.  Joy that man and woman can experience on the urn for ever and ever and never tires.  The next three lines also talk about this passion, but in the real world.  They say “All breathing human passion far above / That leaves a heart high sorrowful and cloy’d / A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.”  In this one, Keats seems to be saying the people in the world “above,” those who are looking down on this urn, they, too, experience passion, but it ends.  Once the deed is done, it is over, and on comes the regret.  A fever, a dry mouth, a muddled brain are left behind, a stark contrast to the moment of happiness.  To Keats, the people on the urn, the men or gods chasing the maidens, are still in the moment of happiness.  They aren’t regretting any decisions right now, and they never will because for them time does not exist.

This is where stanza four begins with the line “Who are these coming to the sacrifice?”  Keats has turned his attention off the scene of the lovers and onto one where a sacrifice is about to take place.  He wonders who is coming to watch it happen.  Lines 2-4 give a better picture of what is happening.  “To what green altar, O mysterious priest / Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies / And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?”  He asks the priest where he is taking the bellowing cow, but the priest will never reach the green altar because they are all frozen in time.  The heifer is outfitted with flowers, so she is probably destined for the gods as a holy sacrifice.

The next three lines say “What little town by the river or sea shore / Or mountain built with peaceful citadel / Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?”  The priest and cow have a following, a crowd coming with them to the altar.  Keats imagines what their little village would look like, desolate with all its people gone to worship their gods.  However, the town could be by a river, or a sea shore, or on a mountain; so the town is not pictured on the urn since we do not know what it looks like.

The last three lines state “And, little town, thy streets for evermore / Will silent be; and not a soul to tell / Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.”  In these, he address the sad state the town is left in for eternity.  It will be forever empty, its people will never return.  Although most of his words have been happy, yearning for a stop in time, these seem sad.  He feels sorry for the village, whose people are gone and never coming back.

In the fifth stanza, he begins with “O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede / Of marble men and maidens overwrought / With forest branches and the trodden weed.”  In these, he both praises and dismisses it. At first, he marvels at its shape and fairness.  But then he seems to think it too ornate, too fancy.  There are too many branches, the details are too well done, like it looks alive.  It almost sounds as if Keats is jealous of it, because the pictures it displays show what he cannot have: eternal happiness.

“Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought / As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!” say the next two lines.  He seems to be accusing the urn of teasing him into thoughts about eternity, like one would tease a knot out of a ball of string.  Keats does not like what he is thinking about eternity.  The eternity shown on the urn is not the eternity that we live in.  There, there is constant happiness and joy, while we must suffer here.

The next three lines state “When old age shall this generation waste / Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe / Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st”.  Keats imagines even after everyone in his generation has died, this urn will still be around.  The problems of the current generation will be no more, but the new generation will have different ones.  Even still, the urn will stay the same.  In fact, it gives the same advice to every generation.

The advice is in the last two lines of the poem, which say “Beauty is truth, truth beauty, — that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” He is not saying simple truth and beauty are the same.  He is saying beauty, what is the meaning to our lives, is the same as truth, which is the meaning for our being here.  These thoughts can be had while looking at the urn, thoughts of life, regrets, and eternity.  No matter what generation looks upon it, they are all going to see that, feel what Keats felt.  To him, you don’t need to know the truth of the history books, or the celebrities, or the medical magazines, you simply don’t need the truths that are passed down from generation to generation.

I enjoyed “Ode on a Grecian Urn.”  Although I certainly did not agree with its suggestion that we throw out the truths of the past, I do understand his longing to live in a moment in time that is always happy. Those happy people on the urn represent what I’ll never have until Heaven: eternal bliss.  But at least I am assured in my eternity; Keats is not so lucky.

“Ode on a Grecian Urn” addresses much deeper issues than can be seen on first glance.  Questioning truth, examining eternity, and wondering about beauty are often not seen in poets of today.  Keats throws out what had been taught in previous generations and focuses on the one thing he believes to be constant: beauty.

Poverty of Charles Dickens in Great Expectations

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Michaela Seaton Romero

Charles Dickens was an influential writer whose work was heavily influenced by the poverty he experienced and witnessed.  Great Expectations emphasizes this theme of poverty.  In many ways, the main character mirrors Dickens himself and his own struggle with poverty.

An orphan, the main character Pip lives with his abusive sister and her husband, the village blacksmith.  Over the course of the book Pip runs across escaped convicts, jilted old ladies, and cold-hearted beautiful women.  He goes from his marshy village of Kent to bustling London.  He goes from one of the poorest of the poor to rich and must acclimate to that society.

Dickens is similar to Pip in many ways.  Although he lived with his mother and father during his childhood, he spent part of his childhood in Kent, just like Pip.  They also lived in during the same time period, when the Industrial Revolution was taking place and there was great social upheaval.  He also moved to London, just like Pip, although he moved there earlier than Pip does in Great Expectations.  Likely he met many different type of folks in London that gave rise to characters like Joe and Estella.

Dickens, unlike many other famous people, found relative success during his lifetime, and he had to adjust to society as a person with money.  Pip also had to adjust to gentleman society, and there were strict rules to follow.  Climbing the social ladder required learning a whole new set of skills and expectations as Pip soon realizes as he studies to be a gentleman.  Dickens also would have experienced the disparity between the desperately poor and those who were well off, or at least moderately so.

Pip studies to be a blacksmith under Joe, but he feels himself too good for this after getting a taste of the genteel life with Estella and Miss Havisham.  Dickens also worked a job he did not feel put all his skills to use, at a blacking warehouse when his father was in debtor’s prison.  Eventually he is able to gain more education and raise his status and wealth, just like Pip does.

The entirety of the book is centered on social status and wealth, or lack of it.  Pip’s purpose in life is to gain recognition and marry a woman of higher status.  He doesn’t just care about money, he cares about where the money came from.  When he finds out his fortune is due to a convict he helped once, he is disgusted.

Dickens’s status also rose, and he was able to chronicle the trials and problems he experienced in the character of Pip.  Even though he became famous, Dickens’s poverty had a tremendous impact on his life, and this can be seen in Great Expectations.  Pip desires social improvement, but when he finally attains it, he finds himself still feeling empty; there are still the basic immorals and depravity he saw as a blacksmith’s apprentice.  Dickens is trying to say no matter how much money you have, it is moral improvement that makes a difference, not money.


Bibliography

Zhou, Linda. “About the Author: Charles Dickens.” Great Expectations. Web. 4 Mar. 2015. <http://greatexpectationsnovel.weebly.com/about-the-author.html&gt;.

An Account from a Confederate Soldier … Shot Down?

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Justin Benner

The Civil War was not a good time to be an American.  This conflict that lasted for a few, bloody years pitted brother against brother, father against son, and family against family.  Most conflicts America has been involved in have not affected us in such a manner.  This is to say the Civil War was a crucial time in our nation’s history.  It helped form racial equality and freedom never thought imaginable.  But this outcome would have been drastically different had the Confederacy won.  Such a victorious Confederate army might have existed if it were not for the thwarting battle known as Gettysburg.  From July 1-3 of 1863, Union and Confederate troops were gridlocked in one of the bloodiest Civil War conflicts.  It was not looking good for the Confederacy by day three, when the Union controlled most of the high ground and hills and began shooting artillery down onto Confederate positions.  It was at this moment when Robert E. Lee made the risky, and debatably ludicrous, decision to attack the strongest Union position.  When this attack failed, the Confederates retreated with great losses.  One might think a Confederate account of Gettysburg would be pessimistic, but the journal entry of Randolph McKim proves this to be quite the contrary.

The journal account gives off a feel the Confederate state of mind was in a sort of “better luck next time” mode.  This was a huge offensive into the north.  He starts off his account with giving the reader details about positioning.  He states things like “…there was a double line of entrenchments….”  These types of statements run throughout the account, probably in an attempt to keep the reader up to date in the events.  This account only covers the third day, as well.  Taking a quick read through you can see any attacks the Confederates made were either repelled or forced retreats due to losses.  The account does not describe any land gains made by the south but rather quite the opposite.  The only reference to any successful advance comes in the last paragraph, in which he says: “We were beaten back to the line from which we had advanced with terrible loss and in great confusion.”  So we see even in the one reference he makes to any successful advance he mentions it was with terrible loss and with not much leadership.  Perhaps the South could have won the battle if they just kept their casualty count to a minimum!  Pickett’s failed charge put the nail in the South’s coffin for the battle that day.  With the North holding the high ground and relentlessly bombarding the South, and the casualty count increasing exponentially, the South had no choice but to retreat back to Confederate-controlled areas.

There are a few conclusions we can draw from this.  One is even though the South was losing, badly at times, they kept trying.  They attacked the Northern positions multiple times, each time with more vigor.  Secondly, the South believed in their cause.  It’s one thing to secede from the Union, but these men and boys were willing to lay down their lives to protect their way of life.  Such a sacrifice can still be seen today in the modern armed forces.  Thirdly, the South was not going to retreat out of Gettysburg until it was absolutely tactically necessary.  If the South didn’t think that, then they would have left Gettysburg by day 2 after suffering plenty of casualties.  The last conclusion we can make is Gettysburg may not have been as huge of a morale loss as we might think.  If that were the case, then the overall tone of the account would be much more negative and criticizing of superior officers.  Instead we see a blow by blow account of the last day of battle from the eyes of a soldier describing how groups of soldiers moved and how the enemy reacted.  Perhaps this soldier should have been a reporter instead.

White Bean Chili

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Mrs. Lang

Recently, the generous parents at Summit Christian Academy brought in some yummies for us to enjoy at a very special luncheon.  Certainly the highlight of the event was the delicious slow cooker full of white bean chili.  I only got two bowlfuls, likely because some of my colleagues were being somewhat selfish and not eating all that delicious salad I didn’t take, but such is life.  Fortunately, Mrs. Foster in her infinite wisdom requested the recipe from Mrs. Lang, and I am passing it on to you, without her permission.  Please don’t tell her.  Enjoy it anyway.

Prep Time: 30 minutes

Soak: overnight

Cook: 2 hours and 20 minutes

N.B.: once you try this cheesy white bean chili, you may never go back to the red stuff.

Ingredients

  • 1 pound dried Great Northern beans
  • 2 medium onions, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 3 (4.5-ounce) cans chopped green chilies, undrained
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 teaspoons ground cumin
  • 2 teaspoons dried oregano
  • 6 cups chicken broth
  • 5 cups chopped cooked chicken breast
  • 3 cups (12 ounces) shredded Monterey Jack cheese with jalapeño peppers
  • ½  teaspoon salt
  • ¼  teaspoon pepper
  • ¼  cup chopped fresh cilantro (optional)

Procedure

· Sort and rinse beans; place in a large Dutch oven.  Cover with water 2 inches above beans; let soak overnight.  Drain; set beans aside.

· Sauté onion in hot oil in Dutch oven over medium-high heat until tender.  Add green chilies and next 3 ingredients; cook 2 minutes, stirring constantly.  Add beans and chicken broth.  Bring to a boil; cover, reduce heat, and simmer 2 hours or until beans are tender, stirring occasionally.

· Add chicken, 1 cup cheese, salt, and pepper.  Bring to a boil; reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, 10 minutes, stirring often.  Stir in cilantro, if desired.

· To serve, ladle chili into individual soup bowls.  Top each serving with remaining 2 cups cheese.

Yield: 13 cups

Per 1-cup serving:

  • Calories 359
  • Fat 12.3g
  • Cholesterol 71mg
  • Sodium 984mg

The Fall and Rise of Great Detectives

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Christopher Rush

Two of the greatest literary detectives are assuredly Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe and Bob Kane’s Batman (or, Bruce Wayne, when hosting in his stately manor).  Both have very little in common beyond their basic commitment to right wrongs and bring perpetrators to justice, considering Wolfe will usually only bring justice when he is paid for it and rarely leaves his home and Batman prefers anonymity and patrolling the streets practically constantly.  Both do have a certain moral malleability, even with Batman’s commitment never to kill (something we are occasionally led to believe Wolfe has done in his youth, if for a certain kind of justice), but we are never far from the firm conviction these great detectives are valuable assets to the fight against crime — certainly never for very long, at least.  One significant thing they do have in common, as with most great literary detectives and epic heroes of other ilks, is their catabasis and anabasis, requisitely occurring because of their nemeses.  Of course, Batman has more arch-nemeses than the shore has sand, but no one has taken him to his nadir as one behemoth of a villain: Bane.  Nero Wolfe, having managed to offend and upset everyone from Serbian diplomats to the head of the Central Intelligence Agency, likewise, has no dearth of enemies—but no one has so altered and affected his life like the scourge of the underworld: Arnold Zeck.  Within recent memory, I have read the three collections of Batman’s epic encounter with Bane and its aftermath and the three novels detailing Wolfe’s brief but cataclysmic history with Zeck.  In an effort not to spoil too much of the mystery, action, adventure, plot, and (most important of all) great character moments, I include hear my brief reviews after I read them.  I refrained from spoiling too much in hopes you will pick them up and read them for yourself, if for nothing else than to have some great reading experiences.  We begin with the three Nero Wolfe adventures written by Rex Stout and conclude with the three recent-ish TPB collections of Batman’s fall and rise in the mighty Knightfall Saga, mostly written by Chuck Dixon.

And Be a Villain ⭐⭐⭐

If I call this “another satisfactory addition” to the Nero Wolfe canon, you should realize that is no slight against this book.  It would be impractical to require each Wolfe novel to be an innovative, life-altering humdinger.  This is another enjoyable Wolfe story, which dallies with tedium at times but refrains from indulging too much (even more successfully than Too Many Women) and provides nice moments both of tension and humor.  We are treated to a surprising rare scene in this story: Wolfe gives Cramer all he knows before the murder is solved and asks him to effectively take over.  While this is a genuine offer, Wolfe returns to form by the end, effectively blackmailing the police to get what he wants (though, nicely, not at Cramer’s personal expense).  The mystery itself is a nicely complex puzzle: not only is it a “whodunnit,” but also it develops into a “was that the right victim?” investigation.  Most Wolfe fans probably remember it for the first Arnold Zeck story, who will apparently become Wolfe’s arch-nemesis, but I don’t know much about that at this point.  It does add a sense of tension to the story that feels a little off, like Psych’s Yin-Yang series (despite being a series about murder/mayhem, it’s usually much lighter than having an “arch-nemesis”) — but still, it adds some spice and freshness, even if it’s not something fans really clamored for.  And Be a Villain isn’t a knockout, but it has some engaging twists and turns and those moments we enjoy.

The Second Confession ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Though all Wolfe stories are different to some degree, this was clearly the most distinct in the canon thus far: Wolfe not only leaves his house (which he has done in other stories, to be sure), but his house is attacked by the mysterious person quickly becoming an arch-nemesis to Wolfe.  The pacing is much more rapid than most Wolfe books: we have a sense of urgency from the beginning that drives through the first half of the novel.  Even when the pace slows down around the ¾ mark, we still feel along with Wolfe and Archie things are not as “back to normal” as they may superficially appear.  Thus, for once, the slowing down section just before the rapid tortuous conclusion is a welcome relief.  Another unusual stylistic flavor in this entry is the almost episodic feel to the early chapters.  It is almost as if the chapters were serial entries in a magazine, or the classic serialized shorts from Columbia Pictures, each ending with a shocking, unexpected twist.  It almost “feels” like it is not Stout writing these chapters, but we are confident and assured this plot is in the hands of the master.  There is not as much humor in this one as many of the others lately have had, but there is a far more convincing romance between Archie and the female “lead” than in, say, “Before I Die.”  The lack of humor is not a problem, though, since the fast pace, the political undercurrent (which does not stay “under” for long), and the palpable tension distract us enough to make this atypical Wolfe adventure one of the best yet.

In the Best Families ⭐⭐⭐

I strongly suspect this is a unique book in the Wolfe series for many reasons, many of which will not be mentioned to avoid too much plot spoiling.  As one of those “wholly different” episodes, like the brownies episode of Barney Miller or “Dreams” in M*A*S*H, the feel is totally different and thus “off” for most of the book.  It starts off fairly typically, but it’s not long before the drastic changes happen quickly and in full force: Wolfe disappears, the orchids go to Hewitt, Fritz goes to Rusterman’s, and Archie gets his own office.  I certainly do not begrudge Rex Stout for doing something different — it is good to break out of a routine once in a while, no matter how salubrious the routine.  I’m glad he did it; I’m glad Wolfe had an arch-enemy after a fashion (most of their “relationship” being phone conversations); I’m glad it ended after three stories — too many more stories would have felt dragged on.  Still, the differences make this work, even in its necessity, less enjoyable than the “usual” stories.  Many no doubt love this even more because of its distinctions, and they are welcome to that affection.

For me, the irritation of this book is Archie’s true feelings about his housemates: once it seems like that 10-year-some phase of his life is over, Archie has mostly negative things to say about Fritz, Theodore, and Wolfe.  Being a romantic, sweet person, I naturally assume Archie and Fritz are friends: apparently they aren’t, even though Fritz cares for him.  It’s almost reminiscent of Huck and Jim’s relationship, with Fritz as the caretaker role more than friend.  Archie comes off as a pretty big jerk in this one, and one almost wants Cramer to actually beat him up when the situation arises.  Stout does a good job of getting us to feel the long passage of time without slowing the story down too much (far better than in Too Many Women), and though the story does drag a bit, it picks up with good alacrity toward the smashing conclusion.  It ends nicely, fittingly, and the suspense is well done.  It likely won’t make you think less of Archie, but be prepared for some harsh honesty from the characters in this one, understandably brought about by the harsh edginess of the situation.

Knightfall, vol. 1 ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Finally, after all this time, it’s come out in a nice TPB, and I have read it.  Without all the preliminary prologue stuff, non-Batman readers might be a bit lost for a time, such as who Jean-Paul is, why Bruce is already beleaguered, when Bane fought Killer Croc, for examples, but it shouldn’t bother people too much.  Bane’s origin is dark, but he doesn’t do much except wait throughout the TPB, other than the entire Arkham thing and breaking Bruce Wayne’s back.  It’s not nearly as boring as that sounds, since he is a fairly intelligent villain, though the addiction to Venom diminishes him somewhat, since it’s not just about his personal strength and intellect.  Anyway, the inevitable backbreaking isn’t the climax of the story, which is more impressive than I thought it might be — the real story is the destruction of Batman, the idea, the symbol.  As Bane says toward the end, J-P as the new Dark Knight (emphasis on the Dark, not the Knight) does more to destroy Batman than he did, since he just broke Bruce Wayne: turning Batman into no better than the evil he conquers, Jean-Paul becomes perhaps a worse nemesis for Bruce Wayne than even Bane is, but we’ll see what happens in part two.  The pacing is an odd thing for a 19+ part series, depending on whether you add the non-numbered parts of the story: sometimes issues take place immediately after each other, sometimes days pass, but all of it is fairly rapid in the beginning, following Batman and Robin’s attempts to recapture the inmates from Arkham, though Batman doesn’t treat Robin all that well whether he is Bruce or Jean-Paul.  Even so, one doesn’t need to pay too much attention to the time factors, since the breakdown of Bruce Wayne is the central idea of volume one, and the creative teams do a fairly fine job with it.  The clash of ideas (the nature of good, for example) are highlighted at times, though they take a backseat to the action more often than not, but it’s still a good read that holds up after all these years.

Knightfall, vol. 2: KnightQuest ⭐⭐⭐

This middle volume is a little bit of a letdown, though that isn’t too surprising, considering where it falls in the spectrum of the whole major arc.  The good news of this volume is it collects for the first time a lot of the issues involved in this period.  Fans of The Search may be disappointed, since it does not have any of those issues (and probably should), but by this point no one should be surprised this collection is missing them, and those who are interested in this storyline will find enough to be interested anyway.  Fans of the real Batman may not need this collection, though Azrael/Jean-Paul Valley fans will certainly be glad this collection exists, even if the stories aren’t all that meaningful for most of the collection.  It does have some highlights here and there, but it does take a fairly long time to build up any steam or interest, especially to the casual Batfan.  The only really interesting thing going on for most of the collection is J-P’s internal conflict: is he an Angel of Death, a heartless assassin like his father wanted him to be; or is he an Shadow Instrument of Good, a noble defender of the poor who has to take the grime of corruption upon himself?  This culminates in one of the darker issues of the collection — some may say “especially for 1993!” but dark is dark, regardless of what year it is published.  The other “highlight” of the collection is Gordon’s increasing despair with the new Batman.  It’s not enjoyable to see him realize he is now all alone, but his character moments are great in its way.  The culminating panel of Gordon destroying the Bat signal should have received a bigger space for such a drastic event.  Completists will most likely want to pursue the diasporic issues (lists of which are available elsewhere), if they don’t already have them, but those who are only interested in the major Knightfall Saga will be more than satisfied by this 20-year reunion collection.  It’s not as good as the first, but it was good to finally read what the KnightQuest was all about.

Knightfall Vol. 3: KnightsEnd ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Finally, I have completed this journey started almost 20 years ago.  I know the trades don’t include every single tie-in, and perhaps some day I’ll try to track those down, but I am quite satisfied (for the most part) with the way this story concludes.  The first half of the collection, KnightsEnd (or Knight’s End, perhaps) resolves the issue of Bruce Wayne vs. Jean-Paul Valley in an unexpected yet predictable way, as the basic story does what Keats says true art does: being both surprising and familiar at once, giving us the impression “but of course, it couldn’t have happened any other way,” which is about as close to calling this “literature” as anyone will likely get.  Some may be disappointed the climactic confrontation between Jean-Paul and Bruce does not end in the knock-down, drag-out fight we are expecting, but as Batman has always been about more than just fighting, a detective who thinks things through, performing the impossible with relative ease, the highly-symbolic conclusion is truly moving and fitting.  The only real problem with the end (as with the epilogue Prodigal storyline’s conclusion) is its abruptness.  We could have used another page or two (no need for more), at least of J-P walking away into the fading darkness as Bruce returns back to the dawn.

Similarly with Prodigal, the main point of contention between grown-up Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne is they never talked it over, never discussed their rift and differences, never discussed Dick’s hurt over being apparently rejected in favor of Jean-Paul as the replacement Batman: here the authors recognize a key aspect of these characters, and instead of giving us a wonderful un-sappy heart-to-heart between these two veterans, we get a few panels of sort-of-obvious semi-platitudes, a different scene, and then a final resolution of implied “well, it’s all okay now.”  Had they given us a genuine dialogue of authentic resolution, this would definitely have been a 5-star review, missing tie-ins and all.  Do these stories have some goofy moments? some confusing references to pieces not missing?  Sure it does.  Most TPBs do.  Is the final page of the TPB an odd way to end a 1,900-some-page odyssey of identity, especially with Batman in shadow?  Indeed.  Could we benefit from learning what Bruce did while he was away, allowing Dick to don the cape and cowl for a time?  Sure.  But that’s not really what this is about.  In one sense, it’s about trust and the “idea” of “Batman.”

The pacing of KnightsEnd is quite impressive, even if the sensations it evokes are compressed as each issue is rapidly accessible in the TPB form instead of waiting a couple of weeks for the next installment.  Bruce Wayne, on his quest to recapture his mantle, goes to the world’s deadliest killer to re-hone his martial skills, getting metaphorically to the edge of killing while he literally gets to the edge of Gotham’s highest point, still unwilling to let go of his failures and fly free again.  The inevitable climax of Robin and Nightwing seeing Bruce “kill” someone (and the proper reveal of the truth) brings Bruce’s personal rehabilitation to a fitting conclusion, enabling his appropriate symbolic conclusion with Jean-Paul later.

Prodigal is a similar kind of story, with a surprising number of “light” moments between Dick and Tim running a mansion without Alfred.  That they are both youngish and enjoy (to an extent) going out and fighting crime brings for a few brief issues a vitality the usually-dark Batman-as-man-on-a-mission feel doesn’t give.  This doesn’t last, of course, as Dick starts to evaluate his life of (from his perspective) mostly failures, culminating in Bruce’s giving the mantle to Jean-Paul instead of him.  As stated above, the absence of a lengthy conversation between the two of them at the end was a real failure on the creative staff, but such is life.  Perhaps the saddest thing of the storyline is just as Dick starts to get the hang of things, just as he starts to find his place, poetically having defeated Two-Face alone, Bruce returns yet again to resume the cowl.  In the missing conversation, we are to assume Dick is mollified by Bruce considering him a son enough to resume his role as Nightwing and truly be content being his own man with his own superhero identity.  Fair enough.

Lastly, a word should be said for poor Commissioner Gordon.  What is he, the whipping boy of the DC Universe?  Can nothing go well for this defender of justice?  Here was another missed opportunity for a great conversation between secret-keeping heroes.  Dick knows Gordon knows he’s a different Batman; he could quite easily have said “I used to be Robin.  You can trust me.”  It’s all about trust, after all — why not bolster Gordon’s trust in him?  Ah, well.

All in all, it’s a satisfying conclusion to a full, good story.  If one is tempted to consider this corny and lacking in enjoyable violence, one should be tempted to step back and reflect about life, morality, and what is important.  The benefits of this experience outweigh the detriments, especially for the cost and convenience of these TPBs.

There you have it.  You can destroy their possessions, you can break them physically, but you cannot keep good detectives down.  It’s comforting to know some heroes will always be there to right wrongs and promote justice (even if doing it for money or while dressed as a bat).  If I haven’t made these stories sound all that appealing, please remember these reviews are intentionally light on the good stuff so as not to spoil your enjoyment of them when you get the chance to read these treasures.  Go out and get a copy of the fall and rise of these great detectives — you’ll be glad you did, especially if it entices you to read even more Nero Wolfe or Batman adventures.

The Wild Bunch Revisited

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Christopher Rush

This is a violent movie.  It also has some moments of explicit adult content, in both language and visual imagery.  Most of the characters are coarse, greedy men struggling to live up to a moral code of their own devising.  But still.  This is a good if not great movie.  Now, please don’t get the impression we are tired of recommending family-friendly classics here at Redeeming Pandora.  We aren’t going to extol the merits of Pulp Fiction or A Clockwork Orange in my lifetime (only one of which I’ve seen).  I was planning on writing a little something about Wild Bunch even before Daniel Blanton submitted his treatment of Fight Club last time, and since I advertised it I wanted to follow through.  I wouldn’t want to be disloyal.

Speaking of which …

Loyalty is a dominant theme of this movie, and it’s certainly the ideas discussed and explored by this film that makes it so impressive.  Loyalty is connected to humanity: the less loyal you are, to your friends, your mission, your values, the less human you are, the closer you are to animals.  The whole climactic finale of the movie is driven by the bunch’s inability to obviate their failure to uphold this value.  Many who dislike the movie I would imagine liken the characters to animals anyway, since they are fairly rough and course for much of it.  They do steal, kill, and cavort their way through what passes for life.  And yet.  William Holden’s character, especially, tormented by the moments of disloyalty in his life (those he’s suffered and those he’s dispensed) drive him to cling to one vestige of his long-moribund humanity, loyalty to those with whom he travels.

The movie’s other theme, the death of the “ol’ West,” a popular subject for director and co-writer Sam Peckinpah, is a fitting companion to a story of men trying to cling to something — yet it is impressively ironic as well, since the Wild Bunch aren’t trying to cling to the way things used to be.  They are tired of living this sort of life, and with a new world of automobiles, international finance, and the disappearance of open ranges, they are attempting to adapt to the new ways of life.  They only embark on the major plot thread of the movie because their supposed “last big score” turns against them at the beginning of the film.  After all, one needs money if one is to retire and embrace a new way of life in the “modern world.”  Of course, with all the odds against them, the chances of this old group of ragtag gunmen, whose moral code is as elusive as their financial solvency, achieving a successful adaptation into a new world is unlikely.  The only thing they know is how to be themselves.  And that tension makes for a great movie.  (I guess I do think it’s great after all.)

The stellar cast (William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, Robert Ryan, and more) definitely helps the film excel as well, especially with some actors in roles that don’t surprise us and some that do.  Is this movie for you?  As I said, it’s got a good deal of asperity: coarse language, brief nudity, and violence that may make Quentin Tarantino blush.  For the kids out there, put it on the back burner until you’re a little older and wiser.  For the adults out there, I’d say give it a try.  You can be bothered by the rough stuff (I certainly am — I don’t excuse it at all), but what’s underneath all that is as intriguing a complex of ideas and characters and values worth fighting (and dying) for that make for a great movie.  As they say in the film, in one of the best “realization moments” of any film I’ve seen, “why not.”

When Sci-Fi Becomes Sci-Fact

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Chris Glock

We’ve all read a science fiction story and thought about how great it would be if some of these inventions existed.  The genre of science fiction is full of unbelievable seemingly impossible inventions that would make everyday life so much easier.  Sometimes these inventions actually turn out to be feasible; many of our gadgets today were once just part of someone’s imaginary future world in a story.

Part of the reason science fiction has so many fantastical inventions is because of the freedom of imagination the genre has.  In the future in a different world anything is possible, allowing for authors to imagine endless amounts of devices and gizmos.  With all of these inventions, though, it’s only a matter of time before some of them are implemented in real life, right?  Well, some already have been.  Older novels have been predicting our current technology for years.

Earbuds, a common part of everyday life.  Earbuds are an invention used so often people rarely think about their complexity.  Even though they had bulkier headphones, earbuds weren’t around in 1953 and wouldn’t be for roughly half a century.  But when  Ray Bradbury published his dystopian classic Fahrenheit 451, he was able to conceive such an invention.  Though  he did not go into great depth, the “little Seashells in her ears, the thimble radios tamped tight, and an electronic ocean of sound, of music and talk” are unmistakably an idea of our modern earbuds.

Arthur C. Clarke predicted using geostationary satellites for telecommunications, namely television signals, 20 years before the first commercial satellite was launched.  He mentioned this in the magazine Wireless  World in 1945.  At the time, geostationary satellites were already being widely talked about as potential for radio communications.  A geostationary satellite is “a satellite in an equatorial circular orbit at a distance of approximately 42,164 km from the center of the Earth, i.e., approximately 35,787 km (22,237 miles) above mean sea level [at] a period equal to the Earth’s rotation on its axis (Sidereal Day=23h56m) and would remain geostationary over the same point on the Earth’s equator.”

Not impressed?  Well, Jules Verne predicted the moon landing a full century before it happened.  In his story From Earth to the Moon, he tells about the journey of three men completing the first manned space flight to the moon.  While parts of it are pretty far off, such as the vessel being launched from a cannon, other details are uncannily close.  For example in Verne’s novel the launch from Florida predates the Kennedy launch site by more than a century.  While his science was obviously flawed, many of his calculations referring to outer space travel are surprisingly close.

While it isn’t “literature,” Star Trek predicted many inventions we have today.  While ours isn’t quite as advanced, our modern 3-D printers are similar to the replicator used in Star Trek.  And our iPads are almost identical to the PADD (Personal Access Display Device), and the virtual display used by the Dominion bears a striking resemblance to Google Glass.

With the growing number of science fiction works and increasing dependence upon technology, it’s inevitable some authors would have gotten some stuff right.  They’ll probably continue to predict stuff correctly as well.  And while there are many of these predictions that came true, there is an even greater amount that didn’t.  However, we’re still progressing and may one day see teleportation or the hoverboards promised to us by Back to the Future.

Euclid’s Logical Architecture

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Jared Emry

In Euclid’s Elements, Euclid follows a certain architecture for how he structures his logic. Mathematics at its core is pure logic. It is not bound to anything but itself. The logical architecture is in itself the framework of any particular theoretical mathematical reality. In math, the framework can be endlessly changed, but everything else is based upon extrapolation of that framework. Euclid provides a framework and much extrapolation upon the framework throughout the elements. Although this structure can be seen throughout the Elements, focus will be drawn to the first book. And due to space and time constraints, the structure will mainly be focused on the context, up to the twelfth proposition, in relation to the whole, from the definitions to the postulants and from the common notions to the propositions.

When Euclid begins to set up the theoretical reality of the Elements, he begins with three fundamental types of truth. The first of type of truth is definition. The definitions are truths of the factual level. This is this and that is that. It identifies basic parts of his theoretical reality in the same way a scientist tries to reduce the universe into fundamental scientific facts or laws. The first definition is a point is that which has no part. The second definition is a line is a breathless length. These two definitions are fundamental to Euclid’s Elements. They are not based upon each other and can be seen as foundational laws. We also see extensions to some definitions in later definitions. The definitions are the basis on which geometry is extrapolated and other fields in math are based. However, these definitions should not be seen as constant; they are free to be changed to create a new theoretical reality of mathematics.

The second of the three fundamental types of truth are the postulates. A postulate can be defined as a fundamental principle accepted as self-evident without proof. The postulates are claims to be considered true regardless. These can be thought of as a special revelation the same a religion may claim special revelation from a God. Euclid’s postulates are necessary for his theoretical reality to make sense. Some philosophers thought the foundations of reality are ultimately unknowable and only the individual can decide what foundational theory is true for them. Similarly, mathematics in general can have postulates that may seem to concur with reality or not. Since mathematics is pure logic, it is not constrained by any physical reality. Euclid provides in his Elements a definite special revelation of the foundations of his theoretical reality with these postulates. The postulates can almost be viewed as a form of religious dogma or worldview Euclid uses to explain the operations of his theoretical reality. They are Euclid’s five commands. They dictate certain things are possible and these things be considered fact. The first of these is to draw a straight line from any point to any point. This could be said differently as it is possible to create a straight line between two points. The second in the same fashion could be said differently as it is possible to create a straight line so it is straight. However, these slight rephrasing may disrupt some of Euclid’s nuances.

The third of the three fundamental types of truth are the common notions. The common notions are generally accepted logics. They are common for they are generally understood by human sentience. And they are notions because they are abstract reasoning. The common notions reflect the general revelation of man. Man understands the universe he lives in has general rules for functioning. In Euclid’s Elements, these are those rules. For example, the fifth common notion is the whole is greater than the part. It makes sense to the common understanding of sentience a whole is greater than the part, because it is not known to them an example otherwise. The common notions could be left out and more could be added. They act more as a shove toward logical extrapolation, a gentle guide toward the laws of the theoretical reality Euclid is creating in his Elements.

The fourth part of Euclid’s Elements is the propositions. Propositions are hypotheticals that can either be disproven or proven. An assertion is examined through the use of the common notions in the light of the definitions and the postulates. It takes the provided truths and logically analyzes them to see whether or not another truth can be extrapolated from them. Each proposition expands upon the foundation to create multiple and exceedingly more profound layers in the theoretical reality. This profoundness can be seen through the elegance of the each proposition alone, but they can also be overlaid to show their interactions and how they have built upon each other. Each proposition adds to the complexity of raw extrapolated logic. It is from this superposition of the layers Euclid’s theoretical reality can be seen as truly elegant. Euclid takes the layers a step at a time, first proving one thing, and all necessary corollaries and other needed propositions on the layer, before taking the next step up.  The ultimate layer of the first book is with proposition forty-seven, the Pythagorean Theorem. The Pythagorean Theorem is well known for being mindlessly memorized as a2+b2 =c2. Although the Pythagorean Theorem taught in that simple algebraic form, it is based on tons of logical extrapolation from several dozen propositions. It should be remembered there are no numbers or variables in the Elements and it is built only by extrapolation and inquisitive shape line arrangements. The Pythagorean Theorem is proven by comparing lines together in context of the previous propositions.  Euclid’s Elements are intuitive at their core.

Euclid’s logical architecture in the Elements provides insight to the complicated, because it is the process from the simple to the complicated. It is easier to climb a staircase one step at a time rather than trying to jump from the bottom of a staircase to the top. The book leaves the reader to find the theoretical universe behind the words but gives the reader freedom for his own intuition to guide him. In Euclid’s Elements, intuition is the only path to understanding. To be intuitive with logical frameworks is to find the heart of mathematics. Euclid makes it easy to grasp and to love the pursuit for that reality. On this staircase, each step is provided, but the steps have to be made not memorized. Unlike the bulky mimic taught in many math classes, mathematics is imaginative, fantastical, and intuitive.  In this elegance lies the heart of beauty itself, for mathematics is best defined as “the art of expression.”

Bibliography

Devlin, Keith, Ph.D. “What Is Mathematical Thinking?” Devlin’s Angle. Mathematical Association of America, 1 Sept. 2012. Web. 02 Feb. 2015.

—. “Will the Real Geometry of Nature Please Stand Up?” Devlin’s Angle. Mathematical Association of America, 2 Sept. 2014. Web. 02 Feb. 2015.

Lockhart, Paul, Ph.D., and Keith Devlin, Ph.D. A Mathematician’s Lament: How School Cheats Us Out of Our Most Fascinating and Imaginative Art. Jackson: Bellevue Literary, 2009. Print.

Overlooked Gems TV Edition: As Time Goes By

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Christopher Rush

One may accuse me of being an anglophile if one wishes, but it is fair to say a good deal of the time television series from our cousins across the pond are superior in numerous ways to their American “counterparts.”  This is perhaps not always true, assuredly, since I did just say “a good deal of the time,” which is not a lengthy way of saying “always” (which, as an amalgam of “all” and “ways” seems like a strange expression to use for time and not methods).  Still, the BBC has given us a wealthspring of enjoyable series.  It is no secret I am a lifelong fan of Red Dwarf and Doctor Who (the original run, since I haven’t much experience with the relaunch).  Elsewhen I have mentioned the superiority of crime-drama shows such as Cracker and Prime Suspect.  Jeremy Brett’s Sherlock Holmes cannot be topped, and that’s just a fact.  Rumpole of the Bailey, Poirot, A Bit of Fry and Laurie, Jeeves & Wooster, Whose Line is it Anyway? — most of you likely agree with the general high quality of the BBC’s offerings, and we haven’t even mentioned the contemporaneous shows and their international popularity (mainly because I haven’t seen them yet, though you could check out some of the recommendations given earlier this issue).  To this list of delightful shows I add a show certainly not overlooked in its native England but far too long overlooked by Americans, the delightful As Time Goes By.

The premise for the series strikes one immediately as being wholly British — not in the sense of tea, crumpets, or Scotland Yard, but as a premise only the British would consider for a television series: a young couple in love, separated by war and communication breakdown, meet again 40 years later and slowly rekindle their relationship (and romance — sorry for the spoilers).  A show about two experienced people, getting along in years, both fairly set in their ways, does not seem at first glance to be a show with a lot of appeal … but somehow, the simplicity, the general aura of ease and calm create such an atypical show that draws you in and feels most of the time as a refreshing, relaxing relief from the antagonism-filled workday you have temporarily escaped.  Sure, the show has its inane moments: characters do bizarre and occasionally frustrating things here and there, but the vast majority of the time we know we are going to be in for an enjoyable time with these characters.

The two central characters are Jean Pargetter and Lionel Hardcastle, played by Judi Dench and Geoffrey Palmer (the powerhouse casting certainly helps the enjoyment of the series).  Jean is a semi-recently widowed mother of her twice-divorced daughter Judi.  Jean owns and manages a typing/secretary agency (perhaps dating the early seasons a bit … the subplot of a late episode revolves around getting a modem), and Judi works for her.  Judi’s own secretary, Sandy, becomes a major supporting character before too long in the series.  Lionel, after his time in Korea (at which he is kicked by a mule, prompting Jean to dub him Lionel Hardcastle, kbm, mimicking the British knighthood system), becomes a coffee plantation manager in Kenya, marries, divorces, and returns to England and writes a book about his experiences.  His publisher, Alistair Deacon (a truly great character who must be seen to be believed — and even after seeing him you won’t believe him), urges Lionel to get a typing secretary to help him finish his book.  This throws our main characters together, starting the rekindling process slowly but surely.  It takes some time for their friendship to resume and grow over a few seasons, but the pacing (thanks to the shorter British season-lengths) is not a problem, especially if you have the whole show on dvd or Amazon Prime™.  Soon enough, we meet family members and others who become recurring characters each season, and the focus of the show shifts from rekindling friendship and life at the agency to home life, new business opportunities, and other character-driven stories, all the while giving us good laughs, intelligent dialogue, and simple stories that give you more value and enjoyment than you think you’ll get most of the time.

My favorite character is Lionel, mostly because we’re pretty similar (overlooking the fact I’ve never been a coffee plantation owner in Korea, a soldier, divorced, or British).  Lionel gets grumpy rather easily, though I don’t think I do, not as badly as he does, but there’s enough Eeyore and Marvin the Android in there to remind you sooner rather than later his soft, nurturing side is going to override whatever momentary goofiness is interfering with his relaxation.  One gets the sense he’s the kind of parent/husband you want Mr. Bennet to be but never will.  Lionel, for all his gruff, is an intelligent, caring man — the show does revolve around his ability to re-woo the long, lost love of his life, after all.  Like Lionel, I have difficulty understanding the younger generation (as also indicated earlier this issue), I enjoy being at home more than most other places, I would totally enjoy being on the lecture/book-writing circuit, and I am skeptical of technology (we’ve already had that conversation).  Unlike Lionel, I don’t follow rugby or cricket, I don’t pop down to the pub for a quick half, I don’t walk to the neighborhood grocer for groceries, and I don’t like custard tarts.  Three of those could easily be addressed if I lived in England like Lionel is fortunate enough to do, however.

He’s certainly not a perfect man; his flaws come out with fair regularity (it is a situation comedy, after all), and he does let us down at times when his bluster and self-centered drive for things to be more comfortable and easy than they usually are override good sense and common courtesy.  But, then again, that would be another area in which we are similar, and that well-rounded humanness of Lionel’s character makes those many bright spots when he comes through and saves the day and says just the right thing all the more enjoyable.  He’s probably the most lovable wet blanket you’ll ever meet on the screen.  The plus side is seeing those flaws encourages one (me) to improve those flaws within oneself (myself).

I don’t want to ramble on about too much else, since the point of this was to introduce you to an overlooked series, not tell you everything you should know so you don’t have to watch it (like I did with Centennial way back when).  Jean, Judi, Sandy, and Alistair (especially Alistair) all are good characters with their ups and downs, and the second tier of supporting characters that flesh out the series starting in season two make the show even better.  It is the television equivalent of putting on your favorite jim-jams, eating your favorite goodnight snack, and spending time with people you really care about, all the while being believable, realistic, and worthwhile.  It is sentimentality at its finest.  Do yourself a tremendous boon and get and delight in As Time Goes By.