Dorothy Dunnett

Eight years ago today, Scottish historical novelist Dorothy Dunnett died. The first of her books I encountered was Queens’ Play, the second novel in the Lymond Chronicles. I had no idea what was going on—the hero is in disguise, so for the first hundred pages or so I couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad even with a program (if the lengthy list of characters can be so designated)—but I couldn’t put it down. Maybe I fell for what Yeats called “the fascination of what’s difficult,” but in the end it was completely worth it. I went back to the library and found the first book, The Game of Kings. All the pieces started falling into place.

For about twenty years, I seemed to be the only person in the world who had ever heard of or read anything by Dunnett. Even when I recommended her novels to friends, the fascination didn’t seem to take. Except on my sister, who, being related to me, is of course unusually perspicacious. In 1994, I joined the Internet and it occurred to me to look for fellow Dunnett-readers online. Oh—there they were! Over the course of the next several years, as Dunnett’s House of Niccolo books were being published, the enjoyment of reading them was enhanced by having people to discuss and speculate with, even if they were scattered from London to Tokyo.

About a week after her death, my sister and I were in Dublin with about twenty other devoted readers of Dunnett’s fiction, most of whom we had become acquainted with originally online through Dunnett e-mail discussion groups. When Dorothy Dunnett toured the US in 2000 to promote the final novel in the eight-book House of Niccolo series, Gemini, we had met a large number of these people for the first time at an event in Philadelphia, and we had met the author herself. We braved a trans-Atlantic flight just two months after 9/11 to see some of these people again, and—we had expected—to meet Dorothy again. There’s no good time to lose someone you admire and respect, even less someone you know and love (and some at this gathering did know Dorothy Dunnett well), but it is good to be with friends at such a time.

Dunnett’s novels are difficult and rewarding. They fulfill at least one criterion for the definition of “classic”—they reward repeated re-readings and connect to many other intriguing paths. Elspeth Morrison worked with Dunnett on two Companions to the novels, which identify historical characters and events, translate or give sources for the many literary quotations. In Dunnett’s obituary, Morrison quoted Sir Lewis Robertson on Dunnett’s books:

Dorothy Dunnett’s works called forth admiration, awe, bewilderment, almost reverence for the scale, the ingenuity of the plots, the unique sweep of the narrative, the quick felicity of the language and so much else.

She was the best.

Gratitude

This seems as good a day as any to borrow pages from fellow blogger Nikki Faith and Gratefulness.org and list things I’ve been thankful for this week:

1. My family–they know who they are.
2. A chance to get to know one of my colleagues a little better as we met to talk over her research project. I don’t know if I helped much, but a good meeting all the same.
3. Bishop  Alexis Bilindabagabo, who spoke at Campbell and at my church last week about the ministry of reconciliation and peace-building.
4. Faithful friends, especially C, whom I’ve known since grad school days, and who is an inspiration and encouragement in many ways.
5. A good book—am currently finishing Dorothy Dunnett’s King Hereafter, which I skimmed & dipped into here and there to prepare a conference paper. Now I can really enjoy it—again.
6. My two cats, who think they own me, but amuse me anyway. They wanted to be #1 on the list, but I have to maintain some order.
7. New shearling slippers from L.L. Bean—I am now ready for winter. Bring it on!
8. Actually getting my SC4 proposal in before the original deadline, so now I don’t have to worry about it until Spring. Hmm–was that gratitude, or gloating? I’d better quit while I’m ahead.
9. Nov. 8—birthday of Dorothy Day

 

Try doing that with a modern book

Medievalists.net is one of my favorite sites. They collate all kinds of fascinating (to medievalists, anyway!) articles and news stories, like this one on their blog, about an NC State research project to trace the source and dates of medieval manuscripts using DNA testing on the parchments:

North Carolina State Assistant Professor of English Timothy Stinson . . . says genetic testing could resolve [problems in determining manuscript origins] by creating a baseline using the DNA of parchment found in the relatively small number of manuscripts that can be reliably dated and localized. Each manuscript can provide a wealth of genetic data, Stinson explains, because a typical medieval parchment book includes the skins of more than 100 animals.

It’s exciting to see science, history, and literature working together!

They also provide a trove of images of the recently discovered Staffordshire Hoard of Anglo-Saxon-era gold & gems, and an interview with Ian Mortimer, author of A Time Traveller’s Guide to the 14th Century. Although the title initially makes me think of one of the best books about time-travelling to the 14th century, Connie Willis’s The Doomsday Book, it seems as if Mortimer may have found a way to make history come alive:

The idea that became Time Traveller’s came to me in 1993. It was to write a history book that not only appealed to the reader but also directly prioritised their interests. Being a fan of the Douglas Adams books, my first idea was a ‘hitchhiker’s guide to history’. I planned to include all the extraordinary facts I knew about the English past, from Henry VIII passing legislation requiring those guilty of mass poisoning to be boiled alive (it was enacted twice), to nineteenth-century wife sales, reactions to public executions, great escapes, secret treaties, etc.

Sounds a bit silly on the surface of it, but he seems to have done the serious research and I suspect you’d know a lot more about life in the 14th century after reading Mortimer’s Guide than after reading Barbara Tuchman’s A Distant Mirror–which medievalists have probably read anyway.

This post not titled

…”It’s a small world,” because then you’d have one of the top-ten “Get out of my brain!” songs circling horribly around in there, and it would be my fault. It’s probably already happening. I’m sorry. I could also have called the post “It’s all connected,” because I’m thinking of how once you have spent a lot of time with a book, an author, a TV show, or anything, many other things either remind you of that original “fandom,” or really are connected to it, sometimes in unexpected ways.

For example, earlier this week, my British Lit survey classes were reading book 4 of Paradise Lost, in which Satan faces the flipside of his boast in bk. 1 that “The mind is its own place, and in itself / Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n” (1.254-5), when he leaves Hell for Earth, only to realize “Which way I fly is Hell, myself am Hell” (4.75). This morning in chapel, the speaker gave a modern example: a criminal in solitary confinement is not alone; he is only confronted with himself and his crime(s).

A less dire example: ABC’s revised sci-fi show V (reviews by Todd Hertz, Nik at Nite, Nikki Faith) has cast actors from a number of previous sci-fi shows that fans should recognize, including Morena Baccarin (“Inara” of Firefly) and Alan Tudyk (“Wash” from Firefly and “Alpha” from Dollhouse). Executive producer Jeffrey Bell used to work with Joss Whedon on Angel, and in an interview with Todd Hertz, referred to Buffy:

What does sci-fi allow you do in terms of storytelling that maybe other genres don’t?

What I love about genre storytelling is it allows you to tell stories as metaphor. When they first started Buffy the Vampire Slayer, they’d talk about each episode’s “themons” as opposed to demons. For instance, you had the girl in high school who turned invisible as a metaphor for being the shy, wallflower girl who feels like she doesn’t exist. And then, the very idea of a hellhole being under the high school? That’s one of the great metaphors in television. With these genres, you can tell really rich stories that don’t feel literal. You can talk about areas that people may not want to sit and watch a show about—but mask it in action, fantasy or science fiction and make it more palpable. I love that.

So do I! And “themons”?! Has anyone connected to Mutant Enemy mentioned that before? How great is that? I’m totally using it (properly attributed, of course!) in my next essay on BtVS.

WILLOW: It’s all connected. The root systems, the molecules…the energy. Everything’s connected.(Buffy 7.1 “Lessons”)

Two Biblical movies and a TV show

Carmen at in the open space tagged me with a Bible Movie Meme started by Matt at Broadcast Depth. It asks you to name your three favorite “Bible movies” and one that you would like to see made. Like her, I’m taking some liberties with the directions (we share at least one favorite). My colleague Ken Morefield has posted his (cautious) favorites as well.

1. Ben Hur—OK, maybe not really a Bible movie, but since it’s subtitled “a tale of the Christ,” I think it qualifies. Defines the term “over-the-top Hollywood epic”—well, after Lawrence of Arabia—and also embodies Biblical values of grace, healing, rebirth, and forgiveness. Plus, chariot race. It’s extreme, but also somehow irresistible. Sort of like Gone with the Wind, but that is more of a guilty pleasure.

2. Kings—not a movie, but this 13-episode TV revision of the story of Saul and David from 1 Samuel brought us some of the most intriguing treatment of religion, faith, and contemporary culture in recent years. Shiloh—which looks a lot like a somewhat futuristic New York—is the newly rebuilt capital of the kingdom of Gilboa, with “Silas” (Saul) as its divinely appointed king. Of course it was too too good to last. Well, maybe not TOO good—at times the sort-of Shakespearean style writing falls between high and low stools, but Ian McShane as King Silas usually makes it work somehow anyway. There’s plenty of material left in 1 & 2 Samuel to have kept this combination spiritual family drama/battle adventure going for a while.

3. The Gospel of John—It may not be the most artistic gospel film ever, but I was particularly taken with Henry Ian Cusick’s charming and compelling Jesus (and that was before I’d seen the actor in anything else, such as Lost). The low-key but generally authentic settings put more emphasis on the text, and one is struck by Jesus repeated statements, “I am telling you the truth.”

Arg…I had to edit this post in a major way twice as I was distracted and hastily stopped after #3.

So really, a movie based on the Bible that I would like to see made? That’s a difficult one, but what immediately came to mind was the Anglo-Saxon poem “Judith,” based on the apocryphal book of Judith. For one thing, it has plenty of battle action; and secondly, it has the wise, beautiful, courageous, and wily Judith. And a beheading. On the other hand, it is kind of talky. But the book is always better than the movie.

Patronizing TV

August 11 is the feast day of St. Clare of Assissi, admirable in so many ways for an example of service, self-sacrifice and austerity. Less well-known, however, is the fact that since 1958, the pope declared her the patron saint of television:

On Christmas night, 1252, the nun received the grace of seeing from her cell the Church’s celebration of Christ’s birth.Cardinal Bertone dubbed it “an experience of mystical television,” Vatican Radio reported.

St. Clare has been the patroness of Slayage: the Online International Journal of Buffy Studies—because Joss Whedon = quality television. And until April this year, she patronized a promising TV critic’s blog, Thank Heavens for St Clare.

Really, though, you don’t need a saint to figure out what’s quality television. You just need to use your discernment and change the channel as needed. That sounds like a license to channel surf. No. All right, maybe. I can tell in two to ten seconds that no one needs to watch Wipeout. Actually, I can tell just from the title. But a drama with a developing narrative arc will take some watching—maybe an entire episode, maybe two or three. Or six or seven. Not unlike the need to read a few chapters rather than just a page or two of a good book before deciding whether it’s really worthwhile.

Preparing for a new semester of reading both written and visual texts, then. And speaking of quality television, check out Mockingbird’s comments on the “lost” episodes of Dollhouse.

Thank you!

I’m now pinkazalea’s #1 fan, since she posted this detailed, thoughtful and generally positive review of Buffy Goes Dark. She’s working on her own BtVS book, and I look forward to reading it!

Books you can actually read

…if you haven’t already: 12 favorite 20th century fantasy novels/series from Allan Yeh, along with some musings on the origins of fantasy literature. Some of these books are also on my list, such as the Narnia Chronicles, The Lord of the Rings, and George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series—at least the first two books. I had to wait so long for the next two that I literally “lost the plot” and haven’t had time to re-read, but I’m sure they’ll all be worthwhile when I do!

Yeh includes Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series as his “favorite,” and that’s his prerogative, of course. In my opinion, any series that “bogs down” for five—five—books (vols. 7-11) is out of control. Many friends recommended WoT to me, but I got bored after book two. Nevertheless, these books have their appeal, obviously, or there would not be so many.

As a medievalist, I’m required to note that in his comments on Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, Yeh says:

Tolkien wanted to write the first British mythology. Some may object that King Arthur should rightfully fill that spot, but actually the Camelot legend began with Sir Thomas Malory, a Frenchman, who wrote Le Morte d’Arthur.

A couple of errors here: The Camelot legend did not begin with Malory (late 15th c.), but long before him in Britain (before the Anglo-Saxons), Wales (5th-10th c.), and France (12th c.). Also, though we don’t know much about Sir Thomas Malory, most scholars are pretty sure he was English, born in Warwickshire (Le Morte Darthur, Norton Critical ed., Stephen H.A. Shepherd). Like many an upper-class person of his day, he seems to have been able to read/speak French well enough to use several French versions of Arthurian legends as sources for his compilation.

If you can, read Malory before reading T.H. White’s The Once and Future King. If not, White will probably influence the your reading of Malory, which may not be a bad thing.

Summer non-reading

A few days ago I posted a link to a “summer reading” list of the longest books in English. For those who would prefer not to read at all, The Believer’s brief “reviews” of “imaginary beach reads for summer,” including enticing non-nonfiction such as:

Rhode Island in the ’70s
by Jason Okes
Some historians paint in swaths on a huge canvas; others work in miniature. Count Okes—an assistant professor at SUNY Stonington—lies among the latter. In this probing work, he argues that a distinct culture, based around the Newport Creamery, an “I-95 aesthetic,” and a transformed Providence, contributed to the emergence of a new, unrestrained Rhode Island that made itself felt musically, socially, politically, and sexually.

And intriguing non-existent novels such as:

Maple Street
by Karen Deerwit
Deerwit has won a small, fanatical following by virtue of sentences like this one, which opens her book: “For my father, fishing was joyless, as all activities are for a master who has attained his highest level of accomplishment and still found himself unsatisfied.” If that doesn’t hook you, keep moving; if it does, you’ll join the cadre clamoring for more recognition of this undiscovered chronicler of the strange and minute.

And if you don’t want to not-read those, write your own! Or do I mean, don’t write your own?

Do we really need this?

Last year, if I recall correctly, the SciFi channel treated the world to a twisted update/revision/parody of The Wizard of Oz called Tin Man, with Zooey Deschanel as “D.G.” (Dorothy Gale–get it?):

It had its moments, but surely a great part of its success (including the advertising angle in the trailer above) depended on audience awareness of the “original” version—that is, the 1939 Judy Garland movie. Not nearly as many people have read the book(s).

Now it seems SciFi is giving the same “re-imagining” treatment to Alice in Wonderland, according to Maureen Ryan, with Kathy Bates as the Queen of Hearts

Tim Curry will play Dodo, Colm Meaney (“Star Trek: Deep Space Nine”) will play the King of Hearts and Alessandro Juliani (Felix Gaeta on “Battlestar Galactica”) will be the 9 of Clubs….

Among the other actors in the cast are Philip Winchester (“Crusoe”) as Jack of Hearts, Matt Frewer (“Watchmen”) as the White Knight and Andrew Lee Potts (“Primeval”) as “Hatter.”

Some nice casting, but here’s the thing: have enough science-fiction/fantasy fans (people who usually watch this kind of TV) read Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking-Glass to appreciate what’s being done here? Assuming it’s done with even as much imagination and wit as Tin Man? Every year I poll students in first-year comp classes and/or British Lit. surveys–how many have read Alice? Usually the maximum number is three or four. A few others will say they have seen the animated movie. Alice is already a classic of fantastic imagination…how much wackier can you make it? Or will they try to sort of “un-wack” it by making everyone metaphorical? Arg.

Will the new version include “Jabberwocky“? I hope so!