A Christmas Carol and An Amy Adams Christmas (Stars 2018)

Full disclosure: A member of the cast gave me a comp ticket for this show. So assume I am horribly biased and all that. Of course, I always blog about whatever the heck I want, and don’t claim to any sort of objectivity. So take this review with the usual block of salt.

***

I’m not sure how many of my readers are American Idol fans. I never really got into it, mostly because I just don’t watch much television. (If you want to know how I read over a book a week, it’s because I decompress that way, not with the tube…) But, at least for the first few seasons, I knew enough people who cared, so I kind of at least kept up with what was happening.

For those of us from Bakersfield, California, it was season three that mattered the most, because one of our own, Amy Adams, was a legitimate contestant. Bakersfield is an interesting place. Outside of California, it would qualify as a pretty dang big city. The metro area has over 800,000 people, making it number 62 in the US. (By comparison, the city itself is twice as big as Salt Lake City, and the metro area nearly as large.) But, despite its size, it feels very much like a small town. For example, both the legal community and the music/arts community are close knit and mutually supportive.

 Amy Adams on American Idol

And, relevant to this post, we really tend to embrace our own. Look at Buck Owens, who drew a crowd at his nightclub up until his death. (I had the honor of playing with him as part of a joint Buckaroos/Bakersfield Symphony concert back in the day.) If you are from Bakersfield, and embrace us, we will embrace you. It’s a thing I like about this town. Bakersfield’s Amy Adams should not be confused with the more famous actor, Amy Adams. After some success in Vegas and on tour, our own Adams came back to Bakersfield, had a couple of kids, and got involved in our local scene, teaching and working with youth. Which I think is pretty cool.

 Amy Adams, more recently, with a bit less pink, but still with all the spunk.

I’ve reviewed a few shows at Stars Dinner Theater before - it’s one of the longstanding local institutions that tends to focus on the “usual suspects”: the standards of music theater. Nothing wrong with this, and it has been a fun way for the kids to see some of these live. I tend to be intrigued by the more offbeat productions, and it is nice to see that they have branched out a bit lately.

This particular production was a double bill. The first half was a one act adaptation of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol by Ed Hopkins, followed by a musical review put together by Amy Adams.

Let me start with the Dickens. I have been a Dickens fan ever since my mother read David Copperfield to me and my siblings when I was about 9 years old. Since that time, I have read ten of the major novels, all five Christmas novellas, and a bunch of the short stories. For a decade or so, I read a Christmas novel every year. Although I have a soft spot for The Haunted Man, there is no doubt that A Christmas Carol is in the pantheon of greatest stories of all time. The kids and I watch the Muppet version every year, and it never gets old. (I am also partial to the old Alistair Sim black and white movie. So classic.)

The fun, of course, for the writer and director, is how to stage this story. Dickens is pretty long on description, which is better show than told on stage. On the other hand, there are some amazing zingers in his dialogue, which really should be preserved if possible.

I am happy to say that Ed Hopkins did a fine job of striking a balance between drama and the original. All the lines I was hoping to hear were preserved intact, and the occasional narration by Bob Cratchit was likewise drawn from the original. As a one act adaptation, it was quite enjoyable.

The key to any version of A Christmas Carol, is, of course, Scrooge. In this case, Kevin McDonald played that part. I have mentioned his fine work in previous posts. I was not disappointed in this production. McDonald captured the many moods of Scrooge, from vicious cruelty, to fear, to irrational exuberance in a memorable and riveting manner. I would be hard pressed to imagine a better choice for this role. (Disclosure: Kevin comped my ticket, and is hilarious on facebook, so I am undoubtedly biased. But I did like his work before I actually met him online or in person.)

 Amy Adams (The Ghost of Christmas Present) and Kevin McDonald (Ebenezer Scrooge)

I’ll also note the work of another online friend of mine, Norman Colwell, who played the ghost of Jacob Marley. Norman spent several decades in radio and TV, but really got into the stage late in life. Of his 77 total stage appearances, 71 have come since he turned 70. That is badass. And I loved his portrayal of Marley, with a combination of deadly (or is that undead) seriousness and slapstick humor.

Amy Adams took the part of the first two ghosts. Two real-life couples played the central couples in this work: Peter and Gianna De Keles as the Crachits, and Patrick and Karri McNeal as the Fezziwigs. I find it fun when casting is done this way. The real life chemistry often bleeds into the drama. I’ll also mention stage veteran Paula Einstein and Lindi Pellett as the charitable organization representatives, and Brent Starrh and Elizabeth Mackay as Fred and wife. I am not sure whether it was Peter Antongiovanni or Evan Clason who played Tiny Tim on the night we went, but he got the biggest applause of the night - and deserved it.

I am sure I am missing a number of other fine actors, but such is the nature of a blogging hobby. I enjoyed it, and can’t think of any sour note.

After the intermission, we got what was basically a musical Christmas revue, with Amy Adams’ eccentric family as the subject. It is my understanding that Adams co-wrote and directed this portion of the production. My favorite part of this segment of the evening was the music. With a cast of 20+, the arrangements were much more sophisticated and interesting than a standard SATB pulled off the shelf. It wasn’t clear if Adams did these herself, or just found the arrangements and made them happen, but either way, I was impressed. Stars generally has good quality vocal work (see Caley Mayhall in Ragtime), but the ensemble work was particularly impressive in this case. Adams appears to have a knack for raising the level of performance. Both pitch and ensemble were outstanding - as a musician myself, I noticed.

Let me also mention the fine work of the three piece live band. Piano, bass, and drums. I know musicians are expensive and take up space, but there is nothing like live music. Well done, guys, and thanks for your commitment to art.

In any event, an enjoyable night.

Turning from the specifics of this performance, I want to look a bit at Dickens and a theme that really stood out to me this time.

Anyone who has read Dickens extensively knows that behind all the good humor and optimism lies a deep hurt. Even A Christmas Carol turns out to be a really dark story, if you think about it. But for a bit of supernatural intervention, Tiny Tim dies, Scrooge dies forgotten at best, and the Victorian economic machine continues to grind the poor into dust.

There is a real life reason for this. There is a singular event in Dickens’ childhood which he never really got over, and which keeps appearing throughout his fiction. When Dickens was age 12, his father was arrested and imprisoned for debt, ending Dickens’ education, and forcing him into grinding child labor. In essence, this event broke apart their family, and terminated Dickens’ childhood. Yeah, no surprise he never got over it. His dad was just an expendable cog in the economic machine - never mind he was working. His family was destroyed and his wife and kids thrown on the mercies of a heartless society. Sure, Dickens survived and became a famous novelist. But many more died as children, forgotten, and unmourned.

I was reminded of this at several points in the evening entertainment. The first was when Scrooge himself spoke of his own trauma: his mother died giving birth to him, and he likewise rejected his nephew Fred, because Scrooge’s beloved sister Fan died giving birth to Fred. (One of those mundane commonalities of the Victorian Era we tend to forget…) Soon afterward, Scrooge turns a homeless boy out, scorning his carolling. Even in a Christmas story, the menace of cruel fate and crueler humanity is front and center. (Of his five Christmas novels, I think only The Cricket on the Hearth is mostly good cheer, and even it has an undercurrent of poverty. And damn, The Chimes is so dark.)

Both the left and right have tried to claim A Christmas Carol as proof of their particular politics. I rather used to think both had a point once upon a time. Of course, that was back before the GOP went full social darwinist, so it was... a different time. After more careful readings, though, I realized that the heart of Scrooge isn’t really that of a smug liberal. (Although, to be sure, there is plenty of approbation due to those who prefer their segregated, gated neighborhoods while relying on government aid to assuage their personal consciences.) Scrooge actually is the modern social darwinist in so many ways.

His cure for poverty?

Wait for it...PRISONS. And workhouses, where the poor are put to slave labor for long hours in exchange for starvation food and housing. Seriously, before you compare our modern safety net to Victorian institutions, take a minute to research them. Socioeconomic status translated into literally decades of life expectancy. As Scrooge himself said, “If they are going to die anyway, they should do so quickly and decrease the surplus population.” It was this idea of much of humanity being “surplus” that led to the imprisonment of Dickens’ father. It is this idea of “surplus” which leads to the disdain for impoverished refugees today. And more.

As Dickens points out, we might not really want to categorize humanity as “surplus,” considering that we don’t really know that it won’t be us ourselves who are truly the surplus. There is the strong hint that Scrooge himself is “surplus,” one of those whom nobody will miss.

Two songs in the second half of this production tied in perfectly with Dickens’ theme. The first was one of my all time favorite Christmas songs: “Oh Holy Night.” I wrote about this (and a few other carols) two years ago. Kudos to Amy Adams and company for including those amazing lines from the second verse: “Chains shall he break, the slave is our brother / and in His name, all oppression shall cease.” Let us not forget that, while the American translation was expressly abolitionist, the French original also focused on the oppression of the poor by the powerful. Charles Dickens would approve.

The second song was one sung by Gianna De Keles, “My Grown Up Christmas List.” This modern song, written by Linda Thompson (lyrics) and David Foster (music) was originally recorded by Natalie Cole, although it didn’t really become at hit. As those of us with an Evangelical background remember, Amy Grant’s 1992 version is the one which propelled the song to prominence. Later, Kelly Clarkson (hey, there’s an American Idol reference again) blew it all open in 2003 with her recording. In any event, the lyrics are quite good, and speak to the age-old problem of the way we tend to destroy the families of the poor, then blame them for it. Again, Charles Dickens would approve.

Call me a sentimental fool, but I still wish for this. I wish we would stop tearing lives apart in the name of (fill in the blank: mass incarceration, border “security,” war, hate, racism, you name it.) I wish we would put aside our ideas of what is “deserved” and start really looking at what we do to children in particular. Perhaps, this Christmas, more of us can find some empathy in our hearts and stop building walls - and build a bigger table instead.

I suspect that the theater audience here in Bakersfield skews toward the “liberal” side, for lack of a better term. (I’m still struggling with the idea that I somehow am a Commie because I don’t embrace White Nationalism and Social Darwinism.) But still, there was a certain political component to this production by its very nature. You put that pinko Dickens on stage, and sing about Christmas and the brotherhood of humankind, and, well, before you know it, you push back against hate. It’s a beautiful thing.

Amy Adams has a fine voice. It definitely has a country girl twang, so it is definitely a Bakersfield type. I’m a musical omnivore, so I enjoyed it, but your mileage may vary, depending on if you love or hate country. I appreciated that she didn’t feel the need to grab the spotlight, but let everyone else shine, taking advantage of her moments without acting like a diva. As I mentioned above, it was the work on ensemble singing that impressed me most.

I’m going to go with the Amy Grant version of the song, just for the 1990s nostalgia and my own memories. Long live the electric keys of the era...they take me back whenever I hear them.

***

Do you remember me

I sat upon your knee

I wrote to you with childhood fantasies

Well I'm all grown up now

And still need help somehow

I'm not a child but my heart still can dream

So here's my lifelong wish

My grown up Christmas list

Not for myself but for a world in need

No more lives torn apart

That wars would never start

And time would heal all hearts

And everyone would have a friend

And right would always win

And love would never end, no

This is my grown up Christmas list

As children we believe

The grandest sight to see

Was something lovely wrapped beneath the tree

But Heaven only knows

That packages and bows

Can never heal a heartached human soul

No more lives torn apart

That wars would never start

And time would heal all hearts

And everyone would have a friend

And right would always win

And love would never end, no

This is my grown up Christmas list

What is this illusion called the innocence of youth

Maybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth

No more lives torn apart

That wars would never start

And time would heal all hearts

And everyone would have a friend

And right would always win

And love would never end, no

This is my grown up Christmas list

This is my only lifelong wish

This is my grown up Christmas list

Dodger by Terry Pratchett

Source of book: Audiobook borrowed from the library

While audiobooks are usually a staple of our vacations, I didn’t listen to quite as many this time. The primary issue was that our anticipated Wodehouse book had too many scratches to play, so we were not able to hear that one. A sad experience indeed.

However, we were able to listen to Dodger, by an author who is quickly becoming a favorite of my older children. (Well, me too!)

Dodger isn’t part of the Discworld series, but instead is a “Historical Fantasy” set in London in the early years of Queen Victoria’s reign. The title character is a clear nod to The Artful Dodger of Dickens’ Oliver Twist, and numerous historical and literary characters make their appearance in the course of the book.

The plot is set in motion when Dodger, a “tosher” (one who seeks treasures in the sewer) and pickpocket, hears the cries of a woman in distress, and he rescues her from a couple of thugs. The commotion also draws the attention of two gentlemen, Charlie Dickens (the historical novelist) and Henry Mayhew another historical figure. (Mayhew was a friend of Dickens, a co-founder of Punch, and the author of London Labour and the London Poor; which would be as influential in fomenting social reform as Dickens’ novels.

The mysterious lady, known as “Simplicity,” is reluctant to reveal her true identity, which turns out to have serious implications in international politics. I won’t ruin a delightful plot any further except to say that there are people who want “Simplicity” very much dead, and Dodger finds himself caught up in the intrigue and thus becomes a target himself.

Pratchett fills the book with a plethora of real historical figures, although he takes some liberty in the chronology to get them all in the same place at the same time.

Dickens is a major character, as is Mayhew. Benjamin Disraeli, the future Prime Minister, also plays an interesting part. Dodger recognizes him as a fellow “dodger,” and notes the similarities between the prevarications of politics and the necessities of survival in the underworld.

Another fascinating - and real - character is Angela Burdett-Coutts, a wealthy philanthropist. Pratchett said that one of the reasons he wrote Dodger was to bring her to the attention of modern readers. And really, read about all the stuff she did. What an incredible woman!  In many ways, she was ahead of her times, both in her feminism, and in her sensitivity to modern concerns about racism and colonialism.

Readers will also notice the presence of Robert Peel, founder of the modern police force; John Tenniel, illustrator of many works, but best known for the original Alice In Wonderland; and Joseph Bazalgette, who would go on to engineer one of the greatest accomplishments of the modern world: the upgraded London sewer system, which would eradicate cholera from London and set the pattern for most of the sewer systems in use today. That’s a pretty good list of Nineteenth Century English rock stars.

In addition to these real characters, there are a host of fictional ones that are a nod to Oliver Twist and other Dickens novels. Chief among these is Solomon Cohen, kind of a “Good Twin” to the Fagin of Dickens’ book. Solomon shares lodging with Dodger, and is a kind of mentor to him, as well as serving as the voice of Pratchett himself occasionally. Many of the best lines go to Solomon, particularly as he philosophises about religion.

In one scene, Solomon describes his “complicated” relationship with God. After being the victim of a pogrom, Solomon escapes continental Europe, but without his faith. He informs God that he doesn’t believe in him any more. “What did God say?” asks Dodger. “He said to get back to Him when I change my mind.” So this kinda-sorta faith permeates Solomon’s existence. And it leads to some interesting decisions. For example, Solomon decides that he will eat pork. Why? He figures that God will understand that he is an old man and very hungry, and will forgive him for accepting whatever meat he can obtain rather than starving. And so it goes for a variety of ceremonial concerns. Solomon must live, and he figures God will understand.

Sweeney Todd also plays a pretty significant role in the book, although his personal appearance is fairly short.

Pratchett portrays the London of 175 years ago in a realistic and gritty manner. Piss and shite (he uses those words) are everywhere, as are death, disease, pregnancy, prostitution, and suicide. He doesn’t shy away from any of these, but put the reality out there. However, Pratchett was such an optimist that he couldn’t write a truly dark book if he tried. Amid all the horrid realities, there is such a ebullient air that you cannot but feel as if it will all come out right in the end, in some way.

This is really a microcosm of Pratchett’s very existence. He, sadly, passed away a few months ago, the victim of an early form of brain disease. And yet, all the while, he was ever positive and pragmatic and full of life while knowing he was likely dying. In the midst of the unsolvable and unanswerable, he still went about shining his light as he knew best. And thus, both Solomon and Dodger are him. Despite all that happens, and all the injustice in the world, they both keep on doing what they do best, trying to survive and even thrive in their own way, not complaining, but just living.

Like Dickens, Pratchett exposes the dark underside of Victorian society, which let far too many fall between the cracks. However, while Dickens dealt with an ongoing reality, Pratchett illuminates a past which is, thankfully, a past, and not a present, at least in the Western world. Still, many of the issues remain at some level. How do we deal with an economy in which honest work is often ill-compensated and unhealthy to the point that some elect to live on the wrong side of the law? How can we assist victims of domestic violence to escape? How do we address the difference in life expectancy between the rich and the poor? Does the “good of society” justify the sacrifice of individuals?

As usual, Pratchett’s writing is both entertaining and thoughtful. My two older daughters absolutely loved this book. We didn’t quite finish it by the end of our trip, so they stayed up with me a couple of nights so we could get to the end. We also had some fun discussions about the history and the philosophy as we went along. Pratchett also gets bonus points for writing interesting and complex female characters. While his early work, The Carpet People lacked them, he eventually began to work women and girls into his books, even using a female as a memorable protagonist in a number of his Discworld books. I look forward to reading or listening to more of his books with my kids.

The Haunted Man by Charles Dickens

Source of Book: I own this.

Date originally posted on Facebook: December 20, 2010

In addition to one of the best Spock lines, (“Perhaps ‘because it is there’ is not sufficient reason for climbing a mountain.”); Star Trek V: The Final Frontier contains an interesting scene.

Sybok, the prophet, if you will, for the personage alleged to be “God” in the movie, has been gaining control of various characters by revealing to each their most secret pain, and then offering to take that pain away. Dr. McCoy tries to convince Kirk to give in to Sybok, saying, “This man took away my pain.”

Kirk responds, “[Pain and Guilt] are the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. We lose them, we lose ourselves. I don’t want my pain taken away! I need my pain!”

But Charles Dickens was there first.

Dickens wrote five Christmas novels in addition to twenty-some Christmas themed short stories. The first was A Christmas Carol, perhaps the best known story in our modern times. My (admittedly incomplete) research seems to indicate that no other story has been made into as many movies as this one. I would even be willing to wager that a random sample of persons would reveal more familiarity with this story than the nativity itself. Oddly enough, I have found that few have read the original. No excuses! Read it this season!

For the last five years, I have read one Dickens Christmas novel each December between the craziness of Nutcracker week and the frenzy of food, family, and fun that is the holiday itself. This year, I reached the last one, The Haunted Man. Starting next year, [2011] I intend to include the kids in this tradition, starting back at the beginning.

In chronological order, the novels are, A Christmas Carol, The Chimes, The Cricket on the Hearth, The Battle of Life, and The Haunted Man.

None of the others quite rises to the level of the original – perhaps an impossible task. Each is charming in its own way, however, and worth reading.

The central premise of this story is the role of pain in making us human. Mr. Redlaw, a successful, if eccentric, chemist, is described as appearing haunted. As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that he is haunted both by his memories of his tragic past and by a phantom that he alone sees. This phantom resembles him, being perhaps a metaphysical embodiment of his darkest self. Mr. Redlaw grew up under circumstances nearly identical to that of David Copperfield, himself semi-autobiographical. Later, Mr. Redlaw’s best friend jilts Redlaw’s sister, instead marrying Redlaw’s sweetheart. Redlaw’s devoted sister later dies, leaving Redlaw embittered at fate.

The phantom offers Redlaw a gift: the phantom will erase Redlaw’s memory of all sorrow, wrong, and trouble. This sounds good to Redlaw, despite some misgivings, after he is promised that none of his other mental faculties or memories will be disturbed. There is a catch, however. Not only will Redlaw receive this gift, but all he comes in contact will receive the gift from him as well.

I do not wish to spoil the story, so I will not reveal any more about the plot.

It is worth noting that Dickens’ Christmas novels are remarkably dark. We tend to think of Christmas as unfailingly optimistic, bright, cheerful. Dickens instinctively grasped the need for a contrast of light and dark, deep unhappiness that will reveal joy in its splendor. Besides, the shiver of reading a good ghost story by the glimmer from the lights on the Christmas tree is unmistakable.

If you have not read A Christmas Carol, you simply must. Read it to your kids. As to the others, kids would enjoy The Cricket on the Hearth. The Battle of Life, despite its underwhelming title, and The Haunted Man would be suitable for older children, who might not get the point. The Chimes goes to a very dark place. Consider that one in the same class as Edgar Allen Poe – kids prone to nightmares might want to grow up a little.

A note on my copy of this book:

My copy of the five Christmas novels is a Heritage Books boxed hardback. I have nearly a dozen of these by Dickens that match, several of which I have collected used at library sales and used book stores. This book, along with a few others that started my collection, were given to me by Dale Brooks. (The now retired Music Theory professor from Bakersfield College, and the husband of my former violin teacher) In addition to this generous gift, he also introduced me to and gave me my first books by P. G. Wodehouse, Anthony Trollope, and Wilkie Collins. For this, I am truly grateful.

Rilla of Ingleside by L. M. Montgomery

Source of book: My wife owns the entire Anne series.

For those of you who have not been following my blog, I participate in an online book club, hosted by my friend Carrie at readingtoknow.com. Here is our 2013 list, with instructions on how to participate if you wish. As usual, I will be picking and choosing which books to read, based on my level of interest, available time, and sunspots.

This month’s selection was anything by L. M. Montgomery, picked by Carrie, who is a huge fan of the author. I recommend searching her blog if you want to know more about the author or her books. On to the review!

Embarrassing confession time. I had a HUGE crush on Anne of Green Gables in Junior High. I read the first four books multiple times, and watched the movies more times than I wish to recall. In fact, I could say I crushed on Megan Follows in her Anne portrayal as well. As a musician, I was also fond of the Hagood Hardy soundtrack. My string quartet still uses the music from the scene where Anne dances with an imaginary man until Gilbert cuts in. I have been singularly unsuccessful at finding this on youtube, so I can’t paste a clip here, but true fans will know exactly what I am talking about.

Over the years, I have thought of what exactly drew me to the stories when I was young, and why I was never able to go past the first four books.

The Anne books are, more than anything else, a delightful coming-of-age story. Anne is awkward, emotional, horrifyingly honest, and yet loving and loveable all in the mix. In many ways, she is familiar to anyone who felt out of place in those horrid years between childhood and the later teens. (You might be able to pay me enough to go through High School again. But it would be a lot of money, believe me! You couldn’t pay me enough to do Junior High again. No way.) Anne is a notable character because she is so real and believable, and not just in an aspirational way. Many of us, when we were young men, thought it would be cool to be Robin Hood, or Odysseus, or Tom Sawyer, but these were dreams. I felt like Anne could be me. (At least internally. I was far too square to ever get into her kind of trouble. Although staging The Lady of Shalott was pure genius.) I have always felt a bit odd - a male bookish introvert is rarely popular - to say nothing of a short one. My homeschooling experience, if anything, helped with this, as it freed me to hang out with similarly geeky sorts and discover who I was without the constant disapproval of the cliques. However, this certainly led me to feel that Anne was, to use her phrase, a “kindred spirit.”

I was thinking about it as a read the book over the last few weeks, and I have decided that, in retrospect, I both wanted to marry Anne, and wanted to be her. One the one hand, Anne was similar to the woman I wanted to marry. Perhaps not one quite as prone to extremes of emotion, but one who was real and adventuresome, and wanted to talk about literature and life and dreams and so forth. One who felt herself neither superior nor inferior to me, but who wanted to be a friend first. The last thing I wanted was to be a “husband,” that is, the cardboard cut-out of a man that would fit the woman’s dream of her perfect life. This was why it was satisfying to read of the Anne/Gilbert romance, because they respected each other, and didn’t give their hearts away lightly, nor their hand in marriage to anyone they could not respect and love passionately.

On the other hand, I found that Anne was not simply a “real woman.” She was a real person, someone who represented the universal struggle of humans, male and female, to transition to adulthood. It was this facet of her that, I think, prevented me from enjoying the later books.

Montgomery is in some ways the other side of the coin from Charles Dickens, who could not write a believable young female to save his life. Montgomery had the opposite problem: she did not write young male characters well. Gilbert is probably the best, but he becomes the equivalent of Agnes (in David Copperfield) as the stories progress. Too good to be true, and thus boring. The related problem for Montgomery is her difficulty with adulthood. Like Dickens, her portrayal of quirky old folks is excellent. There are a gallery of memorable characters - but no ordinary adults. At least not real ones.

This particularly struck me in Rilla of Ingleside. Rilla herself is a great character. She is believable and relatable, and she grows from a shallow and flighty teen to a more serious and responsible grownup, as the result of war, responsibility, and loss. So far, so good. A good character, well drawn, and a compelling story. What was disappointing to me is that Anne herself has become completely colorless. What the heck happened? How did she go from a vibrant personality to being a “generic mother” such as might be purchased in my friend Sara’s shop-of-stock-characters? She and Gilbert have NO recognizable personality in the book. They both do and say the perfect thing in every situation.

I think this is why I lost interest in the later books. Montgomery neither understood nor liked adulthood. Perhaps it is because she never really had a true childhood, perhaps because her own relationship with the adult world was unpleasant. (She married because she felt it socially necessary, not because she truly loved. By most accounts, she was unhappy in her role as preacher’s wife, and her husband suffered from mental illness. She probably committed suicide.) Perhaps it is just that balancing adult responsibility with one’s personality is hard work. The tension between the requirements of society and the needs of the inner life have made for many a great novel, of course, and one wonders if she might have written a devastatingly bitter book for adults had she felt free to do so. I feel like she never really figured out how to be herself in the context of society, and that she was deeply unhappy outside of the confines of her books. However, she wrote some remarkable young adult literature, the first of which captured that elusive moment in such a memorable way.

Aside from the disappointment that the real Anne disappeared, here are my thoughts on Rilla.

I found it interesting that Sarajevo has played such a crucial role in both ends of the 20th Century. One tends to forget that the Balkan War of the 1990s was really a continuation of a conflict that started a century or more before World War One, sparked that war, and continued as soon as the Soviet era dictatorship crumbled. Some hate lives beyond time and circumstance.


Second, I loved the line about fifteen year old girls. Rilla was “as fond of italics as most girls of fifteen are...” And fifteen year old boys, I might add.

Rilla, in the tradition of Montgomery’s heroines, completely misunderstands men throughout the story. She figures that Ken Ford, who she loves, doesn’t return her affections, because he calls her by a childhood name that irritates her. (Montgomery understands this stage of male infatuation, but one doubts she quite understood deep, adult passion, though.)

Also good was Walter’s view of war. (Walter is the poetic brother of Rilla, and he predictably gets offed in the war, as he is too good for this earth. Perhaps this was an echo of the real life deaths of poet Joyce Kilmer and author Hector Hugh Munro, aka Saki?) Unlike the rest of the men, he finds war to be “a hellish, horrible, hideous thing - too horrible and hideous to happen in the twentieth century between civilized nations.” Montgomery died before the Second World War, and I doubt she ever knew just how terrible Stalin’s purges were. If only Walter had known how ghastly the history of the century would be, I doubt he would have remained as poetically optimistic. Or perhaps he would have. Walter is not exactly believable as a character, but as an archetype, he is in the vein of Tom Joad and others who live beyond death as an inspiration to the living.

Other fun stuff: I loved the references to parenting books. (Rilla adopts a war orphan and raises him “by the book.”) Anyone with a real child, let alone a crowd of them knows that there is no such thing as a “typical” child, and that they will do everything in their power to ruin any preconceived notion of parenting. The scene with the “war wedding,” where so much went wrong, and yet it worked out in a memorable way was well done. Another good one was Susan rejecting the ludicrous proposal from “Whiskers-on-the-Moon.” These are the things that one eagerly anticipates in Montgomery’s writing. Susan is a memorable character in general, and the only one other than Rilla that is well developed in this book.

One final note. There is an intriguing exchange between the clergyman, Mr. Meredith, and some others on the nature of the Divine, and whether the affairs of men, even a great war, are somehow beneath His notice. Mr. Meredith opines that “an infinite power must be infinitely little as well as infinitely great.” Thus, “He changes times and seasons; he deposes kings and raises up others.” (Daniel 2:21) is balanced by, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.” (Matthew 10:29)

Overall, I have mixed feelings about this book. Rilla’s story was well written, and the book had some moments of humor, pathos, and introspection. However, I was disappointed by the lack of development of the secondary characters. One wonders what Anne’s inner life would have been throughout the dramatic events in this book.

Dr. Thorne by Anthony Trollope

Source of Book: I own complete Barsetshire books.
Date originally published on Facebook: August 15, 2010

Regular readers of this blog know that I am a huge fan of Anthony Trollope. Here is my first full-length review of one of his novels: 

Marriage! Money! Blood! Psychological Analysis! It must be another Trollope.

One of my goals in life is to introduce my friends to this underrated Victorian author. During his lifetime, Trollope was popular, on the same level as Dickens and Collins. However, he made a fatal mistake near the end of his life, and his reputation never recovered. Trollope was unfortunately honest in his autobiography when he admitted that he diligently wrote a certain number of words and pages each day. This, of course, flew in the face of the preferred narrative: The Brilliant, Moody Artist is suddenly struck by Inspiration, writing furiously while the muse is with him. The idea that art might be produced by hard work was too much for the romantic to bear, and Trollope's reputation fell.

Not only did his books lose much of their popularity, his other contribution to the world also was forgotten. Trollope spent his early career working for the Post Office. He invented the postal drop box, the one found on most city corners in England.This was one of several innovations that can be traced to his efforts. He probably deserved some renown on the basis of his work in this area alone. However, he also enjoyed writing, and had some considerable success. With 40 or so novels and a number of non-fiction works, he was fairly prolific – a considerable advantage to an avid reader.



As to the subject book, it is one of a series, The Barsetshire Chronicles, which follows the stories of the residents of an imaginary cathedral town and the surrounding area. There are a total of 6 books in the series, starting with The Warden, an early success for Trollope. Dr.Thorne is number 3.


As with most Trollope novels, the book examines the themes of love and money, as applied to the minor gentry. Dr. Thorne's illegitimate niece Mary falls in love with Frank Gresham, the son of the local squire. The Gresham estate has been largely impoverished by Frank's parents, through the poor management of his father and especially the profligate spending of his mother, Lady Arabella.


The solution is, of course, that Frank must marry money. Frank has other ideas, and is determined to marry whom he chooses.

As is typical with Trollope, he refuses to let the plot drive the book. The reader will generally have a good idea how the book will end because Trollope deliberately defuses the suspense. His craft is shown in how he works out the motives and actions of the characters in the process.


If I were to list the two best things about Trollope, it would have to be this: he writes realistic characters, and he is subtle and gentle in his satire. These two things work together. All of Trollope's characters refuse to fall into categories. It is rare to encounter a true villain, and the protagonists are all flawed and complex. This is not to say that there are no admirable characters. There are, and such characters are in many ways more admirable and sympathetic because of their humanity. Likewise, the less likeable characters are complex and understandable. Trollope recognizes that there are few truly evil persons but many flawed, selfish, frustrating persons.Trollope strikes me as writing the best female characters of any male author I have read to date. The big weakness of Dickens, for example, is his inability to write a female character that was not a caricature. Although Dr. Thorne does not have a female quite on the level with Caroline in The Bertrams, one of his best novels, this novel is primarily driven by the female characters. It is their thoughts that occupy the bulk of the pages.



The second strength of Trollope's writing is his subtlety in satire. He refuses to take the obvious shot straight on, but instead, with understated language, allows gentle wit to have its devastating effect. The key here is to read carefully so as not to miss the jewels hidden in the language. The advantage of Trollope's gentle approach is that the reader is forced to see himself and his own weakness and cannot simply laugh at the pathetic straw man set up by the author.


Dr. Thorne has all of these elements, particularly the devastating deconstruction of class, money, and hypocrisy. Particularly good is his portrayal of Lady Arabella, who cannot fathom that she herself has ruined the Gresham estate. For the best of motives (as she sees it), she is eager to sacrifice her son's heart to restore his wallet.


The weakness of the book is the plot, which counts on certain legal facts which are at best doubtful. (Lawyer quibble here) Trollope himself recognized this, and was a bit embarrassed that Dr. Thorne was one of his most popular books. However, despite this minor defect, a thoroughly enjoyable read.


As an additional note to prospective Trollope readers: Dr. Thorne, though part of a series, need not be read in sequence. This book would not be a bad introduction to Trollope for the reader who is unsure if he or she is willing to commit to reading several books.

Anthony Trollope, another contestant in the Victorian Facial Hair Pageant.

Reading A Christmas Carol with my Kids

Source of book: I own several copies. See below for notes on the edition.

Every year, for the last five years, I have spent the week after our insane week of rehearsals and performances of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker ballet reading one of Charles Dickens’ Christmas novels. Last year, I read the last in the series, The Haunted Man. My review of that book resulted in the first print publication of my writing. (I now have a weekly column for our local bar association’s newsletter. No, I don’t make a dime off it, but it starts conversations, which is surprisingly fun.) This year, I decided to introduce my children to the joys of Charles Dickens.

My first introduction to Dickens was when I was about 9 or 10. My mother loved David Copperfield, and read it to us as soon as she thought we could understand it. My sister must have been about 6, so I figured my girls at least would be ready. So yes, I came from a weird family, and am doing my best to carry on the family tradition.

We read this over a period of four days. The book itself is divided into five sections, labeled “Staves”. (A stave is one of the five lines in a musical staff. It’s a carol. Get it? All of the Christmas novels have some sort of internal reference in the chapter headings.) The last section, the epilogue, is short, so I combined it with the previous section on the last day.

I admit I had a great deal of fun using proper voices for this book. Grouchy old Scrooge is particularly fun, as are Marley and the Christmas Ghosts. That part of the story was easy for the kids. Where it got harder was when Dickens described the past and future events. The references are a bit elliptical, to say the least – best understood if one has both knowledge of the nineteenth century and familiarity with Dickens’ writing style. I had to stop every few paragraphs and give the kids a synopsis of what was really going on. Fortunately, they have good attention spans and were willing to let the story unfold slowly. Ok, so Fritz fell asleep a few times, but he is only three.

Since I became a parent, I have been amazed at how early children develop a sense of justice. This develops far more quickly than their speech. They know they have been slighted, even when all they can do is scream about it. Thus, Scrooge, with his “humbug” and “surplus population” and all was instantly a compelling character. So too were the ghosts, with each his unique appearance and voice. Or lack thereof. The final ghost is spookiest of all because all he does is point.

I imagine most people are already familiar with the plot. I did some online research last year, and found over a dozen movies based on this book. I even suspect that more people could recite the plot than could coherently give the original Christmas story. This is, after all, one of the most memorable plots of all time.

If you have not read this, what on earth are you waiting for? It is roughly 100 pages – easily readable in a few evenings. It is also a good introduction to the good and the flawed aspects of Dickens’ writing.

As a follow up, the kids and I watched A Muppet Christmas Carol this evening. While no substitute for reading the real thing, this version is remarkably true to the original in both substance and spirit. Having read the book immediately prior, I was impressed again with how many of the best lines from the book made it directly into the movie – a movie aimed at children, no less! The two versions I am partial to are the Alistair Sim rendition, Scrooge (1951) and the Muppet movie. Despite their different approaches, they best capture that actual spirit of the book.

Anyway, the kids remembered the plot exceedingly well by the time we got to the movie. I was impressed that Ella particularly had carefully noted what each ghost looked like, and was able to point out to Fritz who all the characters were. Perhaps next year we will read this one again, or continue with The Cricket on the Hearth.

For tonight, I will go to bed with the memory of the sound of Fritz saying, “Ebenee Scooge” and “Fozziwig”.

Notes on the edition:

I own at least three copies of this book. The first is part of a Heritage Books collection of Dickens that I have collected over the last 20 years. I received my first few from Dale Brooks, who was kind enough to introduce me to both P. G. Wodehouse and Anthony Trollope when I was a teen. The five Christmas novels were one of these first books. The second is part of the Reader’s Digest hardback series The World’s Best Reading. These should not be confused with the condensed books from the same publisher. These are all unabridged classics in a good quality hardback binding. I have collected nearly 100 of these one at a time from used book stores, eBay, thrift stores, and library sales. My first was Twain’s The Innocents Abroad, which is still one of my favorite books. The last is the edition that we read from this time. Published by Candlewick Press, it was a gift from my mother-in-law several years ago. (This alone should tell you how blessed I am to have her as a relative.) This book is gorgeously illustrated on at least every other page. Usually, I am disappointed by the modern illustrations in Dickens, being partial to the originals by “Phiz” and George Cruikshank and others. (A good website for the originals is: http://charlesdickenspage.com/illustrations.html) In this book, P. J. Lynch as done an excellent job of capturing the nuance of the prose. Each character looks precisely as he or she should, but with a more modern feel to the backgrounds and atmosphere. I can highly recommend this edition as an excellent hardback and an essential part of any serious library. 

Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens

Source of book: I own this

“Selfishness is that detestable vice which no one will forgive in others, and no one is without himself.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher

In classical Greek drama, a tragedy is a story about a great man undone by his fatal flaw. Subsequent tragedies by Shakespeare and others have continued this tradition, highlighting the effects of the fatal flaw on the central character of each play. In most cases, this flaw is pride.

To a degree, Martin Chuzzlewit is a tragedy written as a prose novel; or rather, several tragedies. Pride is not the fatal flaw in this book, however. Dickens chooses selfishness as his central theme. This fatal flaw afflicts the majority of the major characters, and threatens to lead each to his or her doom.

The title of the book is ambiguous, as it could refer either to Martin Chuzzlewit, the old man; or to Martin Chuzzlewit, his grandson. Selfishness on both sides (mixed with pride) causes a rift between the Martins when young Martin desires to court young Mary, who old Martin has essentially adopted as his ward. The rift develops in spite of the fact that old Martin ultimately desires the match, but wanted it to be his idea.

Selfishness also drives old Martin’s brother Anthony and Anthony’s son Jonas, who becomes so consumed that he…well, I refuse to spoil the plot. You will have to read it for yourself.

The most selfish character of them all, however, is the unforgettable Seth Pecksniff.  Pecksniff: the name has entered the vernacular as a synonym for hypocrisy.  His selfishness is the worst of all because he disguises it with false humility and fake virtue. Interestingly, this false face is convincing to many, but fails to fool the most selfish of the other characters. Anthony sees right through it, as does Montague Tigg, the con artist extraordinaire. Pecksniff is in this way, the most important and unforgettable character in the book. It is his eventual comeuppance that is the most satisfying: I felt a twinge of pity for every other character at one point or another, but relished the schadenfreude far too much when Pecksniff took his delightful fall.

Dickens was an optimist, however, and did not allow the fatal flaw to destroy all of his characters. Young Martin is able to overcome his selfishness and change his destiny after an ill fated trip to the United States.

The episode in America is the turning point in the drama that reverses the course of events; but it also caused the most controversy among Dickens’ American fans for its harsh depiction of the American character.

Dickens travelled to the United States for a tour in 1842, when he was already a major celebrity. Although he was acclaimed and the tour could be considered a success, Dickens apparently was left with a negative impression. Martin Chuzzlewit, written in the two years following the tour, reflects Dickens’ view of the United States at that time. His descriptions lack his usual sense of humor and good will, and have a rather bitter flavor. This is particularly odd given Dickens’ general ability to write kindly about the various laughable and flawed characters found in his native England. From Oliver Twist’s Nancy to David Copperfield’s Mr. Micawber, to this book’s Mrs. Gamp, Dickens is able to leave a redeeming feature or two in all except for the true villains. In this case, however, he is unable to make even one of his American characters sympathetic. All that is reserved for the British expatriates.

Admittedly, Dickens does have some points in his criticism. He was an abolitionist, so slavery bothered him – rightfully so. However, he demonstrates, perhaps, the natural intolerance present in one recently converted. (Recovering alcoholics are generally the most intolerant of alcohol, for example.)  Britain abolished slavery throughout the empire in 1833. Dickens visited the US in 1942, less than 10 years later.

There is also another likely reason for Dickens’ vitriol. International copyright laws were not yet establish, so unauthorized re-printings of Dickens’ works were readily available in the United States – and Dickens received nothing from these in royalties.

This might explain why Dickens wrote so harshly about American manners. In my opinion, he was a bit hypocritical in this. He viewed them as savages, much in the same way Americans (and the British) viewed African-Americans.

Dickens is on firmer ground writing about the land scandals and swindles common in the United States at the time. Dickens also effectively mirrors these swindles later in the book in the episodes involving Montague Tigg and the Anglo Bengali Life Assurance Company.

Back to the transformation of young Martin, who has traveled to America with Mark Tapley, the eternal optimist. Young Martin is first influenced by Mark, and is truly transformed when he, for the first time, performs a selfless act in nursing Mark through an illness. Young Martin’s change of heart leads, although not immediately, to a reconciliation with old Martin, and redeems that part of the story.

As is usual with Dickens’ longer works, there is a mix of strong and weak writing. Maintaining the quality throughout 800 or more pages released as a serial in a magazine over the course of a year is difficult, to be sure. Dickens did a good job of maintaining the readers’ interest, but sometimes let things get ragged around the edges.

In this particular book, Dickens did a better job with the plot than some of his others. It is a bit less unrealistic than many of his others, and relies less on sentiment and coincidence.  It is also well paced, with the jumps between parallel stories adding to the suspense. Dickens also does a good job of keeping incidents for the most part in line with the narrative arc. He sometimes struggles with this, creating characters which seem there for mere comic relief that have nothing to do with the story.

Where this book is weaker is in the ever present temptation to preach rather than show. I can think of a few passages in which I felt that Dickens had already made his point through the story or dialogue, and didn’t need to hammer it in with a lecture. This is, of course, a notable flaw in Dickens as a whole, and not limited to him either. Plenty of authors simply cannot resist saying, “In case you didn’t get that…”

Dickens’ also has his usual problem with female characters. The caricatures are well done, as usual – quite recognizable as familiar types from the era and place. Gamp, Todgers, Lupine, Mrs. Hominy.  Dickens can write a good female villain, although not in this book. He generally writes scoundrels well.

The two main females fit the Dickens stereotypes: the good, quiet, small, helpful yet helpless sorts. The “ministering angel”, if you will. They seem to have no opinions of their own, and never change or grow. It would be easy to set this down to Victorian chauvinism except for the fact that strong females were present prior to Dickens (see Jane Austen, Jane and Sir Walter Scott). Furthermore, Anthony Trollope, Wilkie Collins, George Eliot, the Bronte sisters, and others wrote compelling female characters. The objection is not only in the “little woman” personality but by the lack of dynamic characters. If women are to be humans, not decorations or caricatures, they must grow, change, and develop as the men are allowed to do.

Martin Chuzzlewit does contain a gallery of memorable characters, in true Dickens fashion.

Mark Tapley is of the few Dickens characters who is both good and non-nauseating. He is essentially, Dickens’ voice in the book – the good humored side of Dickens. He may be unnaturally cheerful, and have a heart too good to be true, but he also is so laughably hard on himself that he can’t be hated.

 I can’t decide for certain if Tom Pinch is annoyingly good or not. On the one hand, he is far too good and patient to be completely likeable. On the other, there are two redeeming qualities. First is that his goodness and his timidity are so intertwined that you want to yell at him to “buck up!” Thus, it is so satisfying when he finally gets his dander up and tells Jonas off. The other is that he is humanized by his unrequited love for Mary. He endures such sorrow throughout the book that one feels he is human – he indeed feels pain and struggles with it.

Mrs. Gamp is a memorable caricature with her own peculiar version of selfishness. The imaginary friend who flatters her is a stroke of genius by Dickens.

Young Martin is a truly dynamic character, and more representative than Dickens’ early protagonist, Oliver Twist. Martin is less loveable than many heroes, particularly at first. His transformation is a key to the story, and it is fairly believable, resulting from hardship and selfless action rather than from a mere epiphany. One also senses that he has a bit more to grow.

I also wanted to mention a particularly interesting parallel between Montague Tigg and his Life Assurance Company and a now defunct local real estate company whose demise also led to widespread losses and criminal charges. In each case, the proprietor used ostentation to give credibility. In both cases, this was quite effective, and also a good reason to be wary of those who flaunt their wealth and good taste.

As a final remark, this book is an inspiration toward living beyond one’s self. The characters that find happiness are those that learn to look beyond their own selfishness and seek the good of others.