Choice by Angela Morgan

I'd rather have the thought of you 

To hold against my heart,
My spirit to be taught of you
With west winds blowing,
Than all the warm caresses
Of another love's bestowing,
Or all the glories of the world
In which you had no part.

I'd rather have the theme of you
To thread my nights and days,
I'd rather have the dream of you
With faint stars glowing,
I'd rather have the want of you,
The rich, elusive taunt of you
Forever and forever and forever unconfessed
Than claim the alien comfort
Of any other's breast.

O lover! O my lover,
That this should come to me!
I'd rather have the hope for you,
Ah, Love, I'd rather grope for you
Within the great abyss
Than claim another's kiss --
Alone I'd rather go my way
Throughout eternity. 

Some thoughts…

On the poet: Angela Morgan (1875-1957) was an American poet who worked as a journalist in Chicago and New York. On her beat she covered court cases, interviews, and topics of a social or human interest nature. Her first book of poetry, The Hour has Struck, was published in 1914.

On this poem: Perhaps it’s the masochist in us that finds poetry of unfulfilled love appealing. There must be an exquisite agony that the object of one’s affections either will not, or cannot, reciprocate one’s feelings.

I'd rather have the thought of you… 

I'd rather have the theme of you… 

I'd rather have the dream of you… 

I'd rather have the want of you…

So, nothing substantial then; she’s not going to settle for anything messy or real or unpretty. Oh, well.

Forever and forever and forever unconfessed 

Unconfessed…Unconfessed?

WAIT A MINUTE! She hasn’t even made a single move to realizing the dream, the theme etc. etc. What the hell’s wrong with her?!!? She’d prefer to mope around, marinating in thoughts of impossible romance, and bravely go her lonesome way throughout eternity. Martyrs mostly send the wrong message to posterity; and martyrs in love are positively annoying.

Buuuut…it’s her Choice. And I’m all for women having choices. So, there’s that.

Why, though? I mean, why leave unuttered this great heaving, throbbing amour that scorns another’s caress or, even all the glories of the world?

Perhaps, ‘Lover’ is already spoken for? Either show honorableness, or, play by the policy that all is fair in love and war. That’s a choice, I guess.

What if it’s a variety of love that dare not say its name? Either to thine own self be true, or bow to society’s tyranny and vengeful retribution. There’s another choice. And a tough one at that.

What if Lover is sailing the seven seas with either Adventure as their only mistress, or a gal in every port? What if Lover is a celibate priest, monk, or hermit? What if Lover has nobly dedicated self to a higher cause and is impermeable to emotional distractions?

Hmmm…on second thoughts, the narrator/poet might have any number of solid reasons to stay silent about her feelings. That might even be a wise choice under some circumstances, I suppose.

In fact, I can think of only one instance where her decision could be wrong – if the only thing holding her back is the fear that when Lover chooses, it won’t be her. And you know what they say – faint heart never won fair gentleman. Or, something along those lines.

On a personal note:

I hope, Readers, that none of you are under any similar compulsion to let your love go unconfessed. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Killers of the Flower Moon - The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI by David Grann

Rating: 4 Stars

History books don’t cover all that we ought to know. So thank god for nonfiction literature and for investigative journalists like David Grann. In his stellar hit, Killers of the Flower Moon, he reconstructs an almost forgotten story of criminal conspiracy and racial injustice that should be required reading for anyone interested in the history of the United States.

In 1921, an Osage woman is reported missing and is soon found dead. She isn’t the only one. Within the space of a couple of years, 24 people, mostly Osage, are murdered; some with brutal violence while others were suspected to have died of slow poisoning. Frustrated with their local law enforcement, the terrorized Native American community demands federal intervention. Enter the fledgling Bureau of Investigation, later known as the FBI. What is uncovered is a ruthless plot where the high and low of society are involved in the criminal exploitation of the Osage. If discovering the perpetrators was a Herculean endeavor, obtaining justice for the dead proves to be an even more challenging task.

KotFM is mesmerizing narrative nonfiction that has the pulse and pace of the best crime fiction. I would have liked a little more suspense, but the author telegraphs the key suspects from the onset. Perhaps that’s because this is historical and was widely reported in its day.

Grann covers the story from three main perspectives. One is of the FBI. Blasé as we have now become with the wonders of modern forensic science, this period recalls an age where crime scene investigation was still in its nascency. Adding to that, the wild, wild, west was a place that was fundamentally hostile to federal law enforcement. But the Osage Reign of Terror highlights the nation’s desperate need for agents of the law who were unswayed by local political interests.

This is also the case that brought J. Edgar Hoover to the limelight. While we certainly learn quite a bit about the man who became synonymous with the Agency he directed for several decades, it is an agent called Tom White who represents the human face of the Bureau in its investigation into the Osage murders. In a story of mind-boggling greed and malevolence, White’s integrity and decency shows that the flawed America of that day (and this day) is a multi-faceted place where good and evil exist side by side.

Ultimately, however, it is the story of the Osage that holds center-stage. A people who have been hounded and persecuted for centuries face yet another round of callousness and depraved indifference at the hands of their tormentors. Though the crime might have been solved, justice is not served; not really. When one group of people habitually preyed on another, and habitually faced little to no consequence, there can be no legal redress. We can only hope that somewhere along the way we are learning something from history, as our species wearily inches its way forward.

Conan Doyle for the Defense by Margalit Fox

Rating: 4 Stars

 In ‘Conan Doyle for the Defense’, Margalit Fox examines one of the most infamous trials of the Victorian Age in a style that combines the best elements of fiction and nonfiction writing.

A wealthy elderly lady is found bludgeoned to death in her home in Glasgow in 1908. The Glasgow police glom on to a suspect despite a staggering lack of evidence connecting him to the crime. What then follows is a miscarriage of justice that sets a textbook example of how not to try a case.

Fox deftly captures the zeitgeist of a historic era at the junction of raging social forces. A nation that unapologetically established an empire is paranoid about all the foreigners encroaching on its own turf. Oscar Slater, a man of German-Jewish origins, is framed for the murder of Mrs. Marion Gilchrist by the Glasgow P.D. The incompetence and/or corruption of the police force meet their match with prosecutorial and judicial misconduct. The end result is that Slater served nineteen years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.

The case captured headlines at its time. Despite the prevailing mood of xenophobia, there were many who were sufficiently troubled by the weak case against Slater, and the biased trial that he was subjected to, that there was a persistent effort to see justice done. The attempts to exonerate Slater began to gather steam when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle joins the fight. Conan Doyle – writer, physician, rationalist, veteran, sleuth, gentleman, and a knight of the old order…

At The New York Times where she is a senior writer, Margalit Fox is a member of the obituary news department. I do appreciate stylish send-offs. ‘Conan Doyle for the Defense’ is a study of flawed police procedure and a failed justice system; but it is also a glowing tribute to the literary mastermind who was Holmes and Watson in one.

Margalit Fox’s ‘Conan Doyle for the Defense’ - Discussion Questions

Margalit Fox

(1961 - Present)

1.      The author postulates that it was the mind-set of the Victorian age that made someone like Oscar Slater such an easy scapegoat. Do you agree?

2.      Examine the faulty testimony, police corruption, weak defense, and prosecutorial and judicial misconduct that led to the conviction of an innocent man.

3.      “Slater was held too guilty to be released, yet not guilty enough to be hanged” – despite the prejudices and narrow mindedness of the Victorian age, there was enough unease about the case against Slater that his original death sentence was commuted. Discuss the conflicted feelings raised in Glasgow society by this trial.

4.      Arthur Conan Doyle was veritably Sherlock Holmes in many ways. Like his fictional creation, he too was a man who embodied iron clad values of justice and honor, as well as keen intellectual acumen. Discuss the life and character of Conan Doyle.

5.      Conan Doyle interceded successfully on behalf of two innocent men falsely accused of crime – discuss the similarities and differences in the cases of George Edalji and Oscar Slater.

6.      What was Conan Doyle’s methodology in challenging the conviction of Oscar Slater?

7.      Talk about the plausible motive and alternate suspect in the murder of Marion Gilchrist that were discovered by Doyle and the other sleuths who were crusading for Slater.

8.      Powerful forces were arrayed against reopening the investigation into the Gilchrist murder. Talk about the political reasons and vested interests that obstructed the exoneration of Oscar Slater.

9.      No good deed goes unpunished – discuss the falling out between Conan Doyle and Slater.

10.  Racial profiling – from the past to the present day. Discuss

Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders

Rating: 4 Stars

2017 Booker Prize

When I first heard of this book it vaguely struck me as something unsavory, and I felt a stab of indignation on behalf of the 16^th President. Hadn’t the poor man done enough; hadn’t he suffered enough? I calmed down after realizing my brain-fumble – not Lincoln in the Bordello; it was ‘Lincoln in the Bardo’. Duh.

In Tibetan Buddhism, bardo is the intermediate stage between life and death. The author conceived the idea for this novel when he learned that President Lincoln had paid several visits to a crypt in Georgetown, to hold the body of his recently deceased son. The story revolves around the untimely demise of twelve year old Willy Lincoln and the transitional phase of the boy’s bewildered spirit – uncertain as to whether he should stay behind with his father or move on to whatever realm of being awaits him.

The book is a quirky amalgam of actual historical documents, ingenious creative elements, and, word-crafting. While some of his literary experiments seem a little labored, others work very successfully. The writer deals gently with the grieving president in anguish over the loss of his child. The Lincoln we see here is the Lincoln vindicated by history and immortalized in popular culture – a very human man under extraordinary circumstances, shouldering an immense burden to the best of his abilities.

Considering that the subject is both moving and macabre, there is a surprising amount of humor here. The levity comes from the host of wraiths who are malingering in the cemetery, believing that this denial of the obvious shows their strength of character. These shades are a boisterous, bawdy, and, talkative bunch. They have a lot to get off their chest, and they think they have many reasons to hang tough. Three in particular befriend the little Lincoln and try to help him migrate to the next plane of existence because the bardo is a dangerous place for the young ones.

“…to be a child and to love one’s life enough to desire to stay here is, in this place, a terrible sin, worthy of the most severe punishment.”

The reasons for this are never made clear. Actually, the author does not give much detail, depth, or, clarity to the Great Beyond. He shies away from anything approaching actual religion, spirituality, mysticism, or, the occult. That doesn’t affect the book negatively, because oddly enough this story is more about life than death.

The Narrow Road to the Deep North by Richard Flanagan

Rating: 4 & ½ Stars

2014 Booker Prize

If I had done my usual due diligence before picking up this book, I would have discovered that this was yet another book about World War II. Not just about the Second World War, but a story about Japanese POWs. Then I would have avoided it; because reading ‘Unbroken’ was traumatizing enough, and why would I go through something like that again? But that would have been my loss.

Flanagan’s TNRTTDN is in equal parts ravishing and heart-breaking. The crux of the larger narrative is the building of the Burma Railway in 1943 – a construction feat engineered by the Empire of Japan, on the backs of forced labor and under the most savage conditions. The human cost of the Death Railway, as it was otherwise known, was horrific: an estimated 102,000 people – 90,000 civilian laborers and 12,000 Allied prisoners perished in the effort. The deaths were due partly to tropical illnesses; but overwhelmingly, the ultimate reason was the barbarous indifference of Japan to human life and suffering.

On a more intimate scale, the story is about the Australian POWs – those who succumb to the Death Railway, as well as its survivors. Flanagan, whose own father was one of the Australian survivors, has invested the historical narrative with depth of research and poignant humanity. The toll of building the railway is explored through the perspective of different POWs; as well as through the eyes of their embattled Japanese tormentors – men who were tasked with performing the impossible and who would give no quarter because they belonged to a time and culture where clemency was equated with weakness.

But TNRTTDN is also a love story. The novel’s protagonist is Dorrigo Evans – a senior medical officer at the Burma Railway who later becomes a renowned surgeon. Evans seems to have a charmed life in many respects. As an officer, he was not subject to the same privations as the other prisoners at the labor camp, and afterward he’s, quite rightly, hailed as a hero. But the public éclat that’s lavished upon him, and the good fortune of having family and friends leave no impression upon Dorrigo, obsessed as he is with the woman who got away, the love of his life – Amy Mulvaney.

One of the motifs of this book is the vastness of human history – the bewildering force of circumstances beyond our control that shape the destinies of nations and individuals. The other is the inexorable sweep of time in erasing all events, men, and man-made things. What may remain is memory. Remembrance is important – hence the seemingly endless stream of books that exhume old wars and past injustices. We remember our history so that we do not repeat its mistakes. But cling too desperately to the past, and we lose our happiness in the present. Few books I’ve read have expounded this as eloquently as ‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North’.

Richard Flanagan’s ‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North’ – Discussion Questions

Richard Flanagan

(1961 - Present)

1.      “Nothing endures…Not empires, not memories…we will die, and who will understand any of this?” Throughout this novel the running motif is the power of time to sweep away all men, all incidents, and all memories into insignificance. Yet, more than fifty years since its conclusion, books continue to be written about the Second World War. Why? What relevance does a book like TNRTTDN offer its readers? What did you discover from it?

2.      This is a book that is both powerful and painful to read. What aspect of this novel had the most impact on you?

3.      Discuss the hypocrisy and double standards of the war crimes trials, where those on the lower rungs of military hierarchy were held responsible for following orders they received from their superiors. Did these trials ever serve justice? Do you feel justice was possible for these crimes?

4.      Darky Gardiner, Tiny Middleton, Rooster McNiece, Rabbit Hendricks, Bonox Baker, Jimmy Bigelow etc. – discuss the strategies they, and other prisoners, adopted to survive the inhuman conditions of the POW labor camps.

5.      War crimes, Colonialism, Slavery, Genocide, Racism, Discrimination, Suffering - how do we forgive these historical wrongs? Should we make an effort to keep alive memories of injustice and conflict; or strive to put them behind us as deterrents to good will in the future? Is it possible to find a balance?

6.      The Burma Railway began construction on 15 September 1942 and was completed ahead of schedule on 17 October 1942. The Death Railway, as it has been called, was both an engineering miracle and a tragedy bordering on human holocaust. Discuss.

7.       How can a civilization condone depraved cruelty and indifference to fellow human beings and still claim to call itself a civilization? How much can be explained away by ‘cultural differences’ and the ‘madness of war’? What defies explanation or justification?

8.      How successful is the author in melding Dorrigo’s personal story with the wider narrative of the POW experience?

9.      “A happy man has no past, while an unhappy man has nothing else.” Dorrigo Evans; despite being admired, respected, and loved, lives a joyless existence for the greater part of his life. What were his obstacles to happiness and peace of mind?

10.  ‘Amy, amante, amour’ – What does Amy Mulvaney mean to Dorrigo Evans? What was unique about their relationship that he’s unable to find with his wife, or the countless other women in his life? Is Amy his one true love? Does she represent for the romantic, poetry-loving Dorrigo an idealized version of what love should be, rather than what it actually is? If Amy is the love of his life, why does he let slip the many opportunities to commit to her? Dorrigo Evans - a hero in every other way; is he a coward when it comes to matters of the heart?

11.  This book is in a way, an ode to the masculine mystique – honoring traditional ideals of manhood that elevate character, but at the same time also limit individuality. Dorrigo Evans is a prime example of this. Discuss.

12.  Dorrigo Evans was called ‘the Big Fella’ by his men. How does Dorrigo earn his men’s trust and respect even under the grueling conditions in which they lived? Discuss his leadership.

13.  Flanagan writes this about books: that they have “an aura that both radiated outwards and took him inwards to another world that said to him he was not alone.” The depiction of tragedy and suffering in art is not meant to be either gratuitous or for shock value – the aim is catharsis. Great literature achieves more than catharsis; it leaves us with a deeper understanding of the human condition. Does this book accomplish that?

Auntie Poldi and the Sicilian Lions by Mario Giordano

[Trans. by John Brownjohn]

Rating: 3 & ½ Stars

Auntie Poldi is newly transplanted to Sicily from her native Munich. Despondent from the recent death of her husband and several financial setbacks, Poldi has decided to drink herself to death. And she has chosen Sicily as the perfect backdrop for her demise. The mystery begins when her young handyman is found with his face nearly blown apart by an old mafia-style weapon. The only problem is that there aren’t any Mafiosi in Giordano’s modern Sicily. But even if there were, Poldi is not the kind of woman to back down from them.

Auntie Poldi is an unconventional detective by any consideration. A grieving widow with a lust for life and a weakness for handsome policemen, she lurches around Sicily in a regularly inebriated condition. Still, she always has enough clarity to ask the right questions; and the chutzpah to bother the wrong kind of people with her relentless demands for answers. Grief and depression always loom in the background of her mind. Nevertheless, Poldi has a vitality that has her greeting life with her usual, “Namaste!”

Perhaps like me, you too have bought into the clichés about Italy and the Italian people – their joie de vivre, love of famila, love of food, their dramatic flair,  and, the ardor of their romantic affairs. Well, make no mistake about it; this book continues to perpetuate all those stereotypes. Reading this novel has left me craving marzipan, and Sicilian style almond-milk.

Poldi is assisted in her investigations by her quartet of helpful in-laws; and her sounding board is her nephew who is wrestling with himself to conjure up a literary masterpiece that seems a strange hybrid of ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ and ‘Odyssey’. This nephew also does double-duty as the first-person narrator of this novel – an unwieldy and needless technical device. The climax is unabashedly deus ex machina. But these minor flaws aside, the book is an undemanding charmer; its most winsome attribute being its eccentric, loveable heroine. Namaste, Poldi!

The Same Stream of Life (Trans. from Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day 
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. 

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth 
in numberless blades of grass 
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers. 

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth 
and of death, in ebb and in flow. 

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. 
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.

Some thoughts…

On the Poet: Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) was an Indian poet who first gained international recognition when his ‘Gitanjali’, an anthology of Bengali poems, was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913. He was the first non-European to win this coveted honor. Outside of India, he might be known mainly for his poems; but within his own country - and especially in his beloved Bengal - he left behind a lasting legacy as a national hero, humanist, universalist, and educator. He is the author of the national anthems of both India and Bangladesh.

On a Personal Note: I had initially chosen this poem for Earth Day – there is such a joyous revelry in his description of Nature. But then, I learned about the more recent impact of this poem…

On this Poem: In 2008, a video of a young man named Matt Harding went viral. It starts simply enough, with Harding doing an enthusiastic jig in a couple of different places. But the locales are far from usual. And very soon, he’s no longer the only one dancing.

The video was edited and re-edited over a period of several years. One of the most popular versions is the one with the background score sung by a young Bangladeshi American, Palbasha Siddique. And the song is ‘Praan’ – Tagore’s ‘The Same Stream of Life’ in the original Bengali.

Poetry is powerful in itself. Even though a few scenes may have been Photoshopped, this well-conceived video still conveys Tagore’s message more persuasively than words alone could.

“The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day 
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.” 

The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton

Stars: 3 & ½

2013 Booker Prize

Eleanor Catton’s ‘The Luminaries’ is a multi-faceted dazzler – historical fiction; mystery; whimsical romance; and with a touch of the paranormal thrown in for some extra effect. Yet this olio somehow works without any clumsiness.

The story is set in 19^th. century New Zealand. Walter Moody, newly arrived from England, comes to the west coast town of Hokitika with an intention to try his luck in its goldfields. But his entrance coincides with recent events that have upturned the little town: Emery Staines, Hokitika’s wealthiest man, is missing and presumed dead; Anna Wetherell, a favorite town prostitute; appears to have made an unsuccessful attempt to take her own life; Crosbie Wells, a local hermit, has died under mysterious circumstances; and, Alistair Lauderback, an ambitious politician, is being blackmailed. What this quartet has in common is their mutual acquaintance with the sinister Francis Carver, and his accomplice, the equally devious Lydia Greenway.

Twelve concerned citizens of Hokitika share the information they possess with Moody; determined to find justice for the victims and absolve themselves of any role they might have unwittingly played in the tragic events.

While Ms. Catton employs a slightly modified (thank God!) version of the Victorian style of expression, the most striking aspect of this novel is in its elaborate organization of character and apportioning of timeline according to astrological principles. If you have ever dabbled in the zodiac, this book will probably offer you an extra element of enjoyment. If that’s really not your thing, the character chart may seem superfluous and the titles won’t make much sense. But the book still will; so don’t worry about it.

The bare skeleton of the plot is simple enough. The intricacy lies in how deftly the actions and their consequences are interlaced. The author retains her audience’s interests by switching between past and present; revealing only tantalizing glimpses of the plot at a time; and from multiple perspectives to boot. At 800 plus pages, this is the longest book to have ever won a Booker prize. And yet despite its voluminous might, any reader who expects events to be neatly resolved and the tale to come to a tidy finish will be disappointed. Yes, justice (both the poetic and legal kind) is served, but much is left to our inference. The answers are there; but you should have been paying attention. Or just read it all over again. Go ahead, I dare you.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds (Sonnet 116) by William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds  

Admit impediments. Love is not love  

Which alters when it alteration finds,  

Or bends with the remover to remove:  

O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  

It is the star to every wandering bark,  

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.  

Love ’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  

Within his bending sickle’s compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  

  If this be error, and upon me prov’d,  

  I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.

Some thoughts…

On the Poet: William Shakespeare (1564-1616), wrote in addition to his plays, 154 sonnets featuring love, beauty, and impending mortality as their main themes. They were published in 1609 and abound in controversy and mystery. There is not only the eternal question of whom they addressed; but also, to whom they were bequeathed; and, whether the publisher (Thomas Thorpe) had secured the Bard’s permission to publish his poetry. And whether, in fact, Shakespeare himself was the author of all 154 sonnets.

Barring any conclusive evidence to the contrary, let’s give the Bard the credit of authorship; and set aside the other controversies for the experts to sort out.

On the Poem: The term sonnet is a derivative of sonetto - Italian for ‘a little sound’ or ‘song’. The ordinary sonnet consists of fourteen lines. The Shakespearean Sonnet is notable for having three quatrains and a couplet with a rhyming scheme of abab, cdcd, efef,gg. 

On a Personal Note: What I find most striking about this poem is its deliberate, discursive tone. 

Let me not to the marriage of true minds  

Admit impediments.

The poet is not talking of marriage in a literal sense, but of hearts united in love. No obstacles should be permitted to bar such a union.

The next few lines are a thoughtful look at what love is by eliminating that which it is not.

Love is not love  

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Love is constant in the face of inconstancy – be it the fickleness of the beloved, or changes in circumstances (you know - ‘for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health’).

Or bends with the remover to remove:  

O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,

No one can ‘remove’ true love; it abides, it endures, it prevails.

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  

It is the star to every wandering bark,  

 Love is steady in the face of storms; the North Star by which we navigate our lives.

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

This line continues the previous nautical allusion and the metaphor of the North Star; the interpretation is that though the star’s make-up is unfathomable, yet its position is known to mariners.

Love ’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  

Within his bending sickle’s compass come;

The charms of youth are subject to the changes inflicted upon them by Time. Love, however, is untouched by its vicissitudes. The ‘bending sickle’ is a reference to the Grim Reaper, a personification of Death. Time brings Death in its wake.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  

Love is immutable, eternal; ‘…until death do us part’.

 If this be error, and upon me prov’d,  

 I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.

And if it may be proved that what the poet says is false, then he has never written anything true; nor has anyone ever loved.

The poet employs some weighty metaphors and Elizabethan legalese to declare his point. But leaving aside its solemnity and logical deconstruction, the essence of the poem is the essence of love – l’amour est éternel.