Old Mortality by Sir Walter Scott

Source of book: I own this. 

I have a running list of unjustly neglected authors from the past. These are men and women who have fallen out of fashion in our own times. Some have seen their reputations take a hit for one reason or another, but more simply aren’t read by much of anyone anymore. 

One of those authors is Sir Walter Scott. 

Scott should be remembered, if for no other reason, for founding the entire genre of historical fiction. And he was no hack either. He extensively researched his books, often citing the original sources where useful, and noting where the history ended and his fiction began. While not possessed of all the resources we have today, he made every attempt at authenticity. And even more than this, Scott is largely responsible for our modern views of Robin Hood, Queen Elizabeth I, Richard the Lion-hearted, Rob Roy, and others of British fame. 

I first read Scott in my teens, when I picked up Ivanhoe. That book, to my astonishment, contained much of Disney’s Robin Hood movie in its pages. From there, I have read a number of others. Since starting this blog, I reviewed Heart of Midlothian and The Lady of the Lake. 

Technically, Old Mortality wasn’t my first choice. I was going to read The Abbot, but a few pages in, it became clear that it was the second in a set of stories, of which The Monastery was the first. Since I didn’t own that one, I grabbed another, namely this one. I believe it was a good choice, a book considered one of Scott’s best - even if nobody seems to have heard of it. 

The book is set in the period of time between 1679 and 1689, during a Scottish uprising by the Covenanters. Which, well, I didn’t know much about, as I am neither Scottish nor Presbyterian. So, anyway, here is the background history:

After the death of Elizabeth I without an heir, the Tudor dynasty came to an end. The closest relative pursuant to the English system of royal succession turned out to be James Stuart VI of Scotland, also known as James I of England. Yes, King James should be familiar for the bible translation he commissioned, and for founding the Stuart dynasty. 

Thanks to John Knox, Scotland had its own Protestant Reformation, and the Catholic Mary Queen of Scots overthown. From that point, Presbyterianism became the official religion - and like the rest of Europe at the time, doctrine was enforced by the sword. 

The ascension of James I created difficulties, however. England’s religion was - post Henry VIII - the Church of England - Anglicanism. Which wasn’t particularly compatible with Presbyterianism. See, for just one example of a doctrine people killed for, the Calvinist/Arminian scism. James kind of let things ride. The Scots could do their thing, he would officially convert to the Church of England so he could run the thing, and the boat stayed mostly unrocked. 

His son, Charles I, on the other hand, teamed up with Archbishop Laud, and tried to force Anglicanism on the Scots. This did not go well. Protests, bloodshed, etc. And Charles I got to be unpopular in England too. Enter, the English Civil War (part 1). With the Irish Catholics likely to provide aid to the Royalists, Cromwell’s Roundheads enlisted the Scots via a document entitled The Solemn League and Covenant - which gave the Covenanters their name. Basically, the Scots would fight with the Puritans, and Presbyterianism would be adopted as the official religion of England. No, that didn’t go well either. 

So, after Cromwell’s rule crumbled after his death, and Charles II came back to England, the Covenant was outlawed, and so on. Fast forward to 1679. (I skipped a good bit here. For the English perspective on this period, I recommend George Trevelyan’s excellent book, England Under the Stuarts, although it only touches on the Scottish part of the history.) 

A compromise was reached, whereby certain Presbyterian ministers could get a license and a church, but only with the Crown’s blessing - and a pledge of loyalty. So, with the Covenanters being suppressed by Charles II, and the moderates labeled heretics by the die-hards, things were set to blow up. The Covenanters murdered Archbishop Sharp, and met the royalist troops in battle. These events form the center of Old Mortality, particularly the battles at Drumclog and Bothwell Bridge. For the specifics, Scott follows the contemporary accounts closely, while adding characters and details. About three quarters of the way through the book, these events come to a rather gruesome end - the rebels are defeated and either executed or exiled. The story then resumes ten years later when the protagonist comes back from exile after William and Mary ascend the throne and proclaim religious tolerance. The Covenanters attempted one final revolution, and were soundly defeated. From then on, separation of the Presbyterian Church from the British government was official and final. 

As with most of Scott’s books, the title Old Mortality has next to nothing to do with the book itself. “Old Mortality” is an invented character to set up the framing story. In this set of books, “Tales of my Landlord,” the anonymous Scott claims that these are tales told by his fictitious landlord. In this case, the landlord claims he heard them from “Old Mortality,” an ancient man who has dedicated his life to keeping the graves of the Covenanters in good repair. Obviously, the book isn’t much about him at all. He is there in the first chapter, and then he is gone for good. 

The plot itself centers on the romance between Henry Morton, the young son of a deceased Covenanter, and Edith Bellenden, the daughter of a loyalist. Henry would prefer to be left out of the wars altogether, but is drawn in when Covenanter John Balfour of Burley, on the run after the murder of Sharp, calls in a favor in the name of Morton’s father. Henry shelters him for the night, but is then arrested for treason as a result, even though he knew nothing of the murder. 

Side note here: Balfour was a real person, but he was NOT Balfour of Burley (Burleigh) - Scott made a mistake here. He meant Balfour of Kinloch - and even uses the name in a few places - who was indeed a Covenanter. It may be that either Burley sounded better, or Scott confused the two. 

As a result of circumstances, Morton gets freed and asked to help lead the Covenanters. He reluctantly agrees to do so, essentially leading the moderate party willing to settle for religious toleration, rather than a new theocracy, which is what Burley wants. 

This being Scott, you know at the outset that the lovers will get together eventually, and that the battles will play out roughly as they did in real life. But there is more than that. 

One of the things that has struck me about Scott over the years is that he is delightfully modern in sensibility. Sure, his writing style is very early 1800s, and his deference to the aristocracy seems a bit odd to us Americans. But his values are modern, and have aged extremely well. Better, in my view, than those of many later Victorian writers. 

Because Scott wrote historical novels, his characters are of their time in many ways. You won’t for example, find a modern feminist in the days of King Richard. But you will find marvelously strong and three dimensional female characters. (Um, hi there, Dickens…) Scott doesn’t place his women on a pedestal like a true Victorian either. He celebrates strong women, and shows the obvious that women have always run things more than patriarchists would prefer. 

The best values that Scott stands for are the moral and humane values. In every book - but particularly this one - he advocates for freedom of religion and conscience. He fully supports the separation of church and state, one of the greatest ideas mankind has had in the last five hundred years. And more than that, Scott shows respect for diversity, whether between the Anglican and the Presbyterian, or between Christianity and Islam. Scott assumes that men of good will are admirable even when they differ. 

Old Mortality, in particular, addresses the question of religious tolerance, and advocates strongly for the separation of church and state. I wrote down a number of quotes that resonated with me in our own times. First is this one, from the opening pages, where the fictitious landlord expounds on the Covenanters and their loyalist opponents. 

Although I am far from venerating the peculiar tenets asserted by those who call themselves the followers of those men, and whose intolerance and narrow-minded bigotry are at least as conspicuous as their devotional zeal, yet it is without depreciating the memory of those sufferers, many of whom  united the independent sentiments of a Hampden with the suffering zeal of a Hooper or Latimer.

Good lord, if you want to describe the Dominionists of today (who often claim a connection to the Covenanters) - or pretty much all of the Religious Right, that surely fits. Their devotional zeal is indeed overshadowed by their intolerance and bigotry expressed as political violence against everyone else. 

Henry Morton is clearly intended from the start to be the noble hero. Here is how Scott describes him. 

Henry Morton was one of those gifted characters which possess a force of talent unsuspected by the owner himself. He had inherited from his father an undaunted courage and a firm and uncompromising detestation of oppression, whether in politics or religion. But his enthusiasm was unsullied by fanatic zeal, and unleavened by the sourness of the Puritanical spirit. From these his mind had been freed, partly by the active exertions of his own excellent understanding, partly by frequent and long visits at Major Bellenden’s, where he had an opportunity of meeting with many guests whose conversation taught him that goodness and worth were not limited to those of any single form of religious observance. 

One hundred percent yes. Again, Scott proves to be both progressive and a direct rebuke to the religious (and racist) fanatics of our time. Hey, and Scott also completely nails a major source of the problem: a theonomic and literalist approach to scripture. Throughout the book, the Covenanters are continually “proof texting”: applying verses out of context in justification of abhorrent behavior. There is quite a generation gap here too, as Morton represents the more moderate younger generation, against the older, fanatical generation represented by Burley. Here is, in part, Morton’s response to Burley during a discussion of their goals. Morton wants freedom of conscience. Burley wants to purge the land of heretics. Morton listens, but notes that he is unmoved by the fanatical language. 

“I revere the Scriptures as deeply as you or any Christian can do. I look into them with humble hope of extracting a rule of conduct and a law of salvation. But I expect to find this by an examination of their general tenor, and of the spirit in which they uniformly breath, and not by wresting particular passages from their context, or by the application of Scriptural phrases to circumstances and events with which they have often very slender relation.” 

I find a lot of myself here. And to draw a necessary line, so did the abolitionists, who argued against a literal, theonomic defense of slavery using the “general tenor and spirit” argument. (See this post, as well as Mark Noll’s excellent book, The Civil War as a Theological Crisis for more.) In my experience - and in history, as Scott details - theonomy and literalism are used to weaponize scripture, and justify atrocities. Scott circles back to this idea near the end - see below. 

Scott, like many authors, chooses to name minor characters in ways that describe them. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the names used for the various preachers associated with the Covenanters. The most moderate (although not by that much) is Poundtext, while a more radical one is Kettledrummle. The craziest, though, is Habakkuk Mucklewrath, which is both fun to say, and deliciously Scottish. It is these preachers who combine with violent men like Burley to stir up the masses toward violence, alas. 

While Morton is the hero, he has a counterpart on the Loyalist side, Lord Evandale. Evandale shares a great deal with Morton, actually, as both acknowledge the legitimate grievances that the Presbyterians have suffered, and would like to see a humane compromise and peace. Evendale ends up receiving aid from Morton, and also from other compassionate Covenanters. He notes the aid from a peasant woman who aids him despite hating his side. 

“[S]he was in principle a rigid recusant, but she saw my danger and distress, considered me as a fellow-creature, and forgot that I was a Cavalier and a soldier.” 

Later, Evandale expresses his view of the political situation:

“I give you my honor, Major Bellenden, that I have been for some time of opinion that our politicians and prelates have driven matters to a painful extremity in this country, and have alienated, by violence of various kinds, not only the lower classes, but all those in the upper ranks whom strong party feeling or a desire of court interest does not attach to their standard.”

And yes, so very relevant today - but not in the way that my former Evangelical tribe believes. Rather it is they, the corrupt prelates, in unholy marriage with a violently oppressive political movement, who are alienating all those who abhor both political ambition and racist and religious violence. 

Again, Morton sounds the same call, in a letter to Bellenden: 

“My most earnest and anxious desire is to see this unnatural war brought to a speedy end by the union of the good, wise, and moderate of all parties, and a peace restored which...may substitute the authority of equal laws for that of military violence, and, permitting to all men to worship God according to their own consciences, may subdue fanatical enthusiasm by reason and mildness, instead of driving it to frenzy by persecution and intolerance.”

And later:

“I wish to have free exercise of my own religion, without insulting any other; and as to your family, I only desire an opportunity to show them I have the same friendship and kindness as ever.” 

This is all powerful stuff, and surely resonates today, in our own time, when a fanatical group in our nation wishes to impose its own purity rules on others, and is more concerned about purging heretics (and anyone outside their own tribe) than in showing love for neighbor. 

The problem for the Mortons and Evandales of the world, though, is that a mere call for decency and tolerance falls on deaf ears for the fanatics. They, like Fascists throughout history (that’s a whole other post…), have no use for modern Enlightenment values. Their values are that of tribalism, idolatry of the past, and worship of violence. Ultimately, they must first be defeated, politically, and sometimes militarily. Ultimately, all the peacemaking of Evandale and Morton goes to complete waste. It is left to the Crown to utterly crush the Covenanters, and deprive them of political power. 

But this is only part of the story. The Covenanters didn’t actually go away; they just went underground. And they continued to insist on the restoration of the Solemn League and Covenant - the establishment of a theocracy. They railed against the edicts of tolerance issued by the Crown.

The principles of indulgence thus espoused and gloried in by the government gave great offense to the more violent party who condemned them as diametrically contrary to Scripture; for which narrow-spirited doctrine they cited various texts, all, as it may well be supposed, detached from their context, and most of them derived from the charges given to the Jews in the promised land. 

Um, yep. America Scotland as the new Israel, and Fundamentalist Calvinist doctrine as the only True Christianity™, and the call for violence and political crushing of everyone else. The theonomic and literalist use of Scripture. The more things change…

But Scott also notes that the Covenanters bore the seeds of their own destruction. And perhaps suggests a constructive way forward. First, obviously, the fanatics and hatemongers have to be deprived of political and military power. But after that is done (as in the case of the Nazis), the key is to defuse the next generation. The Burleys of the world - I would say the white Evangelical Baby Boomers of today as an analogy - will mostly never change. They will spit hate to the end of their days, dream of crushing their enemies, and long for the days when they were in power. Just like Burley. But the next generation won’t be with them. 

Scott notes the result of the edicts of William and Mary. The average Scot didn’t understand their fanaticism and persecution complex. Life was basically good. They could worship as they pleased, and the idea of a Puritanical theocracy looked increasingly ludicrous to them. Without the legitimate persecution, the Covenanters became either a laughingstock, or, like Old Mortality himself, and anachronism of a bygone age. 

We are seeing this play out as we speak. As Boomer (white) Evangelicals sell their souls to a racist demagogue and a pack of anti-Christian xenophobic theocrats, their grandchildren are fleeing the insanity. 

Sir Walter Scott, writing more than 200 years ago, got it right. Those who are most concerned with “doctrinal purity” are the exact same people who lust to do violence to those outside the “pure” tribe. For some weird reason, a belief that God is obsessed with purity leads to actions to purge the “filthy” Others from the faith - and indeed existence itself. Scott also gives some hope: that after the fires of hate and violence are isolated and die out, a better day can dawn, and the Mortons and Evandales can ultimately win out over the Burleys and Kettledrummles of the world. 

***

Just a note for Scott neophytes: 

Although many of the “Waverly” novels are quite good, I wouldn’t necessarily start with them. Old Mortality, like Heart of Midlothian and others, contain quite a bit of dialect. I found that my collection of Robert Burns’ poetry was helpful, as it has an extensive glossary in the back. Basically, Scott’s language and style take some getting used to even without the language barrier. 

If I had to pick one to start with, I would go with the well known trifecta: Ivanhoe, The Talisman, or Kenilworth. Any of these are a good introduction to Scott. One possible alternative option would be Quentin Durward, which has little to do with the title character, and everything to do with Louis XI of France, and the transition from Feudalism to Modernism. Although it does lack interesting female characters. For those, well, Ivanhoe and Heart of Midlothian are excellent...

Rogue Knight by Brandon Mull

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

After a law school colleague mentioned her kids like Brandon Mull, we gave them a try on audiobook. In general, they are fast paced, full of imagination, and good for keeping a driver awake on a long drive. We started with Fablehaven, which is his first series. We never got beyond the first book on our trips, but my sons have really taken to them, particularly my younger one. They have read at least the first three books - and I suspect it may be all five. I lost track of what they borrow from the library long ago. Next was The Candy Shop War, which has a single sequel that my kids own, but I haven’t read. We ended up with that one because I ordered it before Fablehaven, but it took forever for our library to get it from another library in the system. Finally, last year, we listened to Sky Raiders, which is the first of the Five Kingdoms set. Since the next in the series was readily available on audiobook, I decided to continue that series this year.

Perhaps the most notable characteristic of Mull’s writing is his seemingly endless imagination. At last count, Mull has written six different series (or at least parts of them), each with its own unrelated world. And these worlds are hardly just there for the plots, they unfold into dazzling universes full of detail and wonders around every corner.

The plots and characters are interesting, but not on the same level as the worlds. The books are aimed at ages 9-13, which seems more or less right, although older and younger can enjoy them. (Particularly my kids, who aren’t exactly typical in their reading habits.) 

Rogue Knight picks up the story of Sky Raiders exactly where the latter left off. These books were clearly intended as a set of five from the outset. There are five kingdoms, and each is (apparently) explored in turn. Each contains its own kind of magic and “shaping” power, as well as its own dangers and mysteries. Sky Raiders took place in Sambria, while Rogue Knight is mostly set in Elloweer, the home kingdom of Twitch, who is kind of a human grasshopper hybrid.

As in the first book, Cole is one of a group of kids kidnapped and sold into slavery in The Outskirts. He has escaped captivity, and is on the run along with Jace, a fellow slave, and Mira, one of the daughters of the High King, who faked his daughters’ deaths and stole their magical powers years ago.

There are some plot similarities between the two books, which are driven by two factors. First is plot-based. The High King has lost control of his daughters’ powers, and they are - in some way or another - running amok in their respective kingdoms. Thus, the quest is largely the same: discover the missing daughter, and reunite her with her power. The second is, in my opinion, that Mull (who is roughly my age) is of the first video game generation. So many elements in this series in particular remind me of the old NES games. Explore, gain magical items and skills, rescue the princess, and defeat the big boss. I noted that in Sky Raiders, the floating castles are so much like video game dungeons - in a good way - that that part of the book felt like discovering a new game for the first time - over and over as new castles were explored. Alas, it was time to move on before I felt Mull had run out of fun ideas. Fortunately, there were other parts of the world to explore.

Rogue Knight retains some of the video-game plot elements, but with a different feel. Elloweer is a very different place. In Sambria, shapers fashion “semblances” and “renderings,” which are analogous to robots and tools respectively. They do their task, but without intelligence beyond their programming. (Although in some cases, the AI is better than others.) But all this shaping is physical. Things actually physically exist. They are cool magical technology, but they are no more mysterious than our own tech.

In contrast, Elloweer’s version of shaping is focused on “seemings.” These are things that appear to be, but are not in reality. Everything is an illusion - a really good illusion, and sometimes one that can kill you just fine - but they do not have physical existence apart from actual objects. Thus, a skilled shaper can make you look to others like someone else, but you will still be yourself underneath it. Only the most skilled shapers can make seemings independent of objects (or people) that stand alone. However, for many purposes, seemings are quite useful - as long as they aren’t destroyed by a “scrubber.”

Another interesting thing in Elloweer is the “confidence lounge.” These are kind of like a brothel or opium den - except for secrets. The clients go in, get a changing disguise, and swap gossip and intelligence. Yeah, a bit more g-rated - and yet spookier - than the analogues - these are kids books.

So anyway, Cole, Jace, Twitch, and Mira having defeated the boss in Sambria and reunited Mira with her powers, head to Elloweer, responding to a distress signal from Mira’s sister Honor. And hear about the twin terrors laying waste to Elloweer. The first is a mysterious terror who is creating an army of zombies (more or less) out of the inhabitants. The second is the Rogue Knight, who takes advantage of the challenge system of politics which governs the kingdom, and turns the taxation on its head (kind of like Robin Hood…) Both are unknown factors. The third factor is a mysterious figure imprisoned at the edge of the world, who appears to be a spiritual power from outside of the Five Kingdoms.

And then there are the minions of the High King, on the lookout for Cole and his companions. Things get intense, shall we say.

As in his other books, Mull is actually fairly thoughtful, introducing ethical dilemmas at age appropriate levels. The value of loyalty to one’s friends, compassion to one’s enemies if possible, and the limitation of collateral damage in a just war are all good lessons which are weaved throughout the books. In this particular book, I really noticed the theme (begun on the first one) that power itself causes destruction, unless it is kept under the control of those to whom it belongs. This goes beyond the “power corrupts” truism, and beyond the idea of choosing to use one’s power for good and not evil.

Rather, in this world, power which is stolen is catastrophically dangerous. The little kid, Brady, who accidentally creates a fantasy/nightmare world in the first book, has his power stolen, which then devours its new host and goes on a rampage (much as Mira’s did in the first book.) Honor’s power too becomes destructive - and is really only controlled and channelled because the evil characters in the series try to graft the power to an honorable person. (Hey, nice parallelism there, Mull…) If anything, the lesson here seems to be to be content with your own power, develop it, and use it for good. Stolen power just destroys the thief, leaving destruction it its wake. That seems true about our world as well.

I also credit Mull for creating believable and sympathetic characters. Even the sarcastic and egotistical Jace is likeable in his own way - even more so in the second book, as he cracks his shell a bit to reveal his true self. Mira still remains an enigma - but that is part of the plot. She isn’t some kid out on an adventure, but a centuries old princess stuck in a kid’s body.

I wouldn’t put Mull’s books in the pantheon of children’s literature exactly, but as highly imaginative fantasy, with age appropriate explorations of themes and dilemmas, and careful plotting, they are definitely in the category of “good.” Mull is no Terry Pratchett, but he doesn’t exactly write fluff either. These books seem like they will age reasonably well, as they are not tied to current culture particularly (video game aesthetics aside), but rely on the timeless appeal of adventures, quests, and magical worlds.  

The audiobook, like Sky Raiders, was narrated by Keith Nobbs. He is a youngish actor, and seems to fit the Five Kingdoms books well. His voices aren’t quite as varied as the very best readers, but they aren’t bad. You can definitely tell who is talking, as long as there are no more than 5 or 6 characters talking in a scene. My wife noted the strange use of Eastern European accents for many of the more “exotic” characters. It does seem weird a bit, I guess, and I am not sure of the book itself has those in there. (Unlike the way Twitch talks, with periods after every other word…)

I also should note that one of the disks was horribly scratched and unplayable. After a previous audiobook issue of this nature, I have always checked the disks for playability before we leave on a trip. In this case, I just grabbed the print book, and my wife read to us for the hour or so it took to get through that disk. She is a fantastic reader herself, so no drop-off in quality. She’s probably glad she didn’t have to read all 11 disks, though…

 

Eclipse

The kids and I traveled to see the total solar eclipse last month. I actually wrote this up right after we got back, but waited to publish it on my blog until the version I wrote for the Res Ipsa Loquitur (our County Bar Association magazine) to come out first. None of my pictures turned out, but my eldest daughter’s did.

***

Technically speaking, eclipses aren’t all that rare. A total solar eclipse (where the sun is completely blocked by the moon) occurs, on average, about every 18 months. However, each eclipse is visible only from less than 1 percent of the earth’s surface, so the chance of seeing an eclipse from any given location is much more rare. In fact, a given location will see an eclipse once in more than 100 years. That’s an average, not a hard number, so it could be more or less, depending on the rather complex mechanics of the earth, moon, and sun.

The continental United States hasn’t seen a total eclipse since 1979, when I was too young to have appreciated it. Also, it was over the northwest only, and it was mostly blocked by clouds. I follow astronomical events - we view the Perseid meteor shower most years, for example, and watched the last few lunar eclipses. We also attended the Astronomy Festival at Bryce Canyon National Park back in 2014. Thus, I put the 2017 solar eclipse on my schedule a couple of years ago, and made plans to see it. After all, the western US won’t see another total eclipse until 2045. If I am around, I’ll probably plan to see that one too. (The eastern US will get one in 2024 - plan ahead now…)

The path of totality went across the United States from northern Oregon down to South Carolina. The path itself is less than 100 miles wide, so it was important to find a spot within that narrow band so that we could see totality. I selected eastern Oregon for three main reasons: first, it was close enough for us to drive rather than fly; second, it had a high statistical likelihood of clear skies; and third, it was in the middle of nowhere, so we would (I hoped) avoid some of the crowds and traffic. Fortunately, all three proved to be true, and we had a great opportunity to see this phenomenon.

We camped in the Wallowa-Whitman National Forest, in the Elkhorn Mountains, just outside of the path of totality. We then drove a few miles south, to the Crane Flat staging area, which was set up by the Forest Service. Let me say that the Forest Service did a phenomenal job in preparation. They had information and swag at various locations along the main highways, and they set up the viewing areas with toilets and catering, and generally kept things running smoothly. They also were great with the kids, answering questions, and listening to their stories.

Morning dawned on Monday with brilliantly clear skies and pleasant cool temperatures. Unless you knew the eclipse was coming, there was no indication that anything was out of the ordinary. Then, around 9:15 AM, it began. Using the glasses to protect our eyes, we saw just a bit of a nibble out of the disk of the sun. The moon was moving in. Within a few more minutes, the sun looked a bit like the Death Star, then like Pac Man.

At this point, the sun still seemed bright, and the day warm. But soon, as the eclipse reached fifty percent coverage, it started to change. With half the light, it started to cool off, and the day wasn’t as bright. But, because the sun was still relatively high, rather than at the horizon, it felt much different from a sunset.

As more and more of the sun was blocked, it rapidly got colder and darker. And yet, the shadows weren’t right. Dusk should have long shadows, not short ones, and the sky should turn red and yellow, not deep blue. It was a peculiar feeling.

Picture by Ella Swanson

The eclipse approached totality, with only a sliver of sun left. It was darkish, like dusk, and at 5000 feet elevation, it was getting noticeably cold. Most of the viewers put on jackets or sweatshirts. Totality started just after 10:15. The last sliver of sun seemed to disappear fast. The last wink of light at the edge created the “diamond ring” effect for just a couple seconds, then totality. Cheers erupted from the forest around us from people camping just off the road.

Diamond Ring, Picture by Ella Swanson

A total eclipse doesn’t create total darkness. Instead, the light is kind of like dusk, but oddly lurid. The reason why is that the sun’s corona provides as surprising amount of light. During the eclipse, the corona becomes visible to the naked eye. I must say, this was the most magical part of the eclipse, seeing that corona in person for the first time. In addition, a couple of solar flares could be seen. It was thrilling to realize either could have swallowed the earth many times over. The scale is just huge.

Totality, with a great view of the corona and a solar flare at the very top. Picture by Ella Swanson.

All too soon, totality was over. At our location, it lasted about a minute and a quarter. The “diamond ring” reappeared briefly, then the crescent, and the light gradually came back to full and the temperature warmed over the next half hour. It was over so fast, the event of a lifetime, but it was unforgettable. The kids and I drove a thousand miles each way to see it, and it was worth it to experience the event together.   

Peter and the Shadow Thieves by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson

Source of book: Audiobook from the library.

This is the second in what has become a pretty long (and undoubtedly lucrative) series. I previously reviewed Peter and the Starcatchers here. I recommend reading the other review first, as I will not duplicate much.

As a basic matter, this series is a spinoff of prequels to Peter Pan, based largely on Barrie’s book, but also on the Disney movie, which is much better known. My eldest daughter loves these books, and she is the one who requested we listen to them. We have books one and three (from a library sale) but not this one. 

Peter and the Shadow Thieves continues the story from the first book, and reveals some of the mysteries. The “star stuff” that ended up on Mollusk Island (aka Neverland) has been sent back to England under the careful watch of senior starcatcher Leonard Aster, the father of Molly, who was a major character in the first book. It is to be held until the proper time for the “return,” where the stuff goes back to, I guess, where it came from.

However, things go awry. First Mate Slank returns to the island with a new captain (Nerezza) and a mysterious, non-human villain, Lord Ombra. (That this sounds like “Umbra” is not coincidental, although I wonder why the authors didn’t just go with the latter.) He is the “shadow thief” of the title, able to turn creatures into zombies and read their minds if he can just access their shadows. He is, naturally, after the star stuff himself.

After he learns that the star stuff went back to England, he leaves the island. Peter decides to hitch a ride (with Tinkerbell along to help) to warn the Asters, and attempt to prevent the capture of the star stuff before it can be returned.

That’s about as far as I will go with the plot, as this is a plot-driven series.

I had a few thoughts listening to this book in connection with how it compares to the first one. On the positive side, I felt that the action was less of the “set piece” nature than the first book. It read more like a, well, book, and less like an action movie. That’s an improvement. Particularly since it didn’t feel like the action scenes went on too long as it did in the first book. (I think the authors could have cut about half of the last big scene and the book would have been better.) Also good was the idea of Ombra. A nice horror/zombie trope, well executed. Also, Ombra makes a good villain for this sort of book. It isn’t intended to have particularly nuanced characters. There are good ones, and evil ones. And not a lot of gray. So Ombra works well, because he isn’t human, and can thus be unadulterated evil.

The setting of much of the book in England is also rather fun. Nothing against the island, but London is more familiar to me, shall we say, and it also has a better variety of characters.

Another thing I liked was that Tinkerbell becomes more of a major character, and one that does have some complexity. She is insanely jealous of other females, but usually does the right thing anyways. She is also resourceful and intelligent, and thus a strong female character.

On the other hand, though, Molly is a total disappointment in this book. It is hard to believe she is the same character. In the first one, she was a real match for Peter - even better than he, actually. She generally shows sound judgment, thinks clearly, and contributes to the good result at the end. Peter is the hero, of course, and must be because of the source material. But Molly was a good counterpart. In this book, however, Tink takes the role as competent female and Molly ends up making bad decision after bad decision. Despite Leonard’s claim at the end that she saved him, it is pretty clear she did her level best to mess everything up, leaving Peter to bail her out. It’s pretty clear why, too. In this book, she is too emotional and worried about her mother to actually use her brain. It would have been one thing if she had been written that way from the beginning, but she was such a good character in the first book that this was a real disappointment.

I will also note one odd thing about the plot. For much of the first half, there is a second parallel plot involving the Lost Boys back on the island. Then, in the second half, this plot just disappears, leaving things in suspense. While I am sure it will eventually be picked up in a later book, it was weird that it just disappeared, rather than being teased. (The Wikipedia article is inaccurate in this sense - at least about the audiobook. The book clearly ends before the actual return to the island.)

The audiobook was, like the first, narrated by Jim Dale, who does a fine job. These books are meant to be suspenseful, and that quality makes them a bit nerve wracking as driving books (although they ARE effective at keeping one awake and alert). Dale maintains the suspense while also dialing the tension back to a reasonable degree, the way an effective storyteller does. The words create the suspense, not the edge of the reader’s voice.

The Book of Three by Lloyd Alexander

Source of book: Audiobook from the library, but we own this one too.

A couple of friends have been urging me to read this book - and the series - for some time. When I brought home the audiobook, I discovered that my kids had already read it. Well, the older ones, at least, and in particular, my second daughter who has introduced us to a lot of cool books about mice and more, rather liked the book.

I’m not quite sure how I missed these books as a kid. After all, they were written in the 1960s, not the 2000s like a lot of the books I never read. They also seem like the kind of thing I would have read. Somehow, I never discovered them.

Anyway, this book is the first in the Pyrdain Chronicles, a five book set. They are set in a fictional kingdom, which the author says might, not coincidentally, resemble Wales, but should not be used as a guide for tourists. Some of the characters are historical/legendary, others are fictional but are drawn from the Mabinogion (which meant that I was somewhat familiar with them from Bulfinch’s Mythology), and others are Alexander’s own creation. The one disadvantage of the quasi-Welsh setting is that the names are difficult to spell, and murderous to pronounce. Kudos to audiobook reader James Langton for keeping his tongue untied throughout.

The book draws on many elements of mythology (and yes, the monomyth is definitely here…), including the hero with a mysterious parentage (which we presumably learn in a later book), the power of knowing someone’s name, the magical elder, and the general fantasy types and objects. However, despite the familiarity, the story itself is well told, has memorable characters, and made for a good traveling book.

Taran is the protagonist, the young and green boy on the verge of manhood who must come of age. His companions eventually include the half human half animal Gurgi, whose skills of alliteration and groveling are expert level; the young woman, Eilonwy, who has a sarcastic edge and definitely is not the damsel in distress; and Fflewddur the king-turned-bard whose magic harp breaks strings whenever he stretches the truth. And then there are the supporting characters, from the semi-historical warrior prince Gwydian to the animal whisperer Medwen, to the world’s only oracular pig, Hen Wen.

Because we listened to this book back to back with The Light Fantastic by Terry Pratchett, it was fun to contrast the two styles. Both are fantasy, and both involved a quest of sorts. The macguffins were different: Taran must warn of an invasion, while Rincewind the incompetent wizard must return the spell that is lodged in his head. But both characters are in way over their heads. Pratchett is definitely aiming for an older audience, at least young adults, with pointed satire and a few risque allusions. Alexander, on the other hand, is straightforward children’s literature, with adventure, humor, and themes suited to those ages. Both were enjoyable in their own ways. And my kids, of course, tend to enjoy books for various ages, and tolerate fairly adult books. (Case in point: we also listened to A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, and my 11 year old son in particular loved it.)

One disappointment was that the title (which refers to a mysterious book) seems to have little to do with the book itself. The book appears at the beginning and end, but is never really explained, and plays little role in the story. One wonders if an editor picked the title as being catchy rather than being the best title. This is no knock on the story itself, just the choice of the title. I also wonder if the mysteries will unfold later in the series - there are a number of unanswered questions.

We may have to locate the rest of the series, either in audiobook or in printed form, as we enjoyed listening to this one.

 

Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson

Source of book: Audiobook from the library (but I do own a good hardback of this book too)

One of the very first audio books we listened to on our camping adventures was Treasure Island. I figured we were due for some more Stevenson, and Kidnapped was the obvious choice. I have, of course, read the book multiple times, but it has been quite a while since I last read it. I still cannot decide whether I prefer this book or Treasure Island. On the one hand, much of what we have ingrained in our cultural consciousness about pirates, treasure, and indeed a whole genre, comes from Treasure Island. On the other, Kidnapped has its own share of memorable characters and recurring themes of friendship, loyalty, betrayal, and the conflict between competing duties. 

 N. C. Wyeth's illustrations are still the best ever.

The plot itself is pretty sparse. Young David Balfour is orphaned, and goes to his estranged uncle to seek his fortune, but is betrayed and sold into slavery. The ship, however, is wrecked in the Hebrides after taking on a mysterious passenger, Allan Breck Stewart, an actual person. Actual events (although not quite historically accurate) then ensue. The king’s agent, Colin Roy Campbell, is murdered by a sniper, and David is suspected of being an accessory - and Allan the shooter. The two of them flee across Scotland in a memorable journey and adventure. Allan must eventually reach France and safety, while David (who isn’t known by name, and thus cannot be connected to the murder except by his connection to Allan) wishes to contact the family lawyer and reclaim his inheritance from his nefarious uncle.

So much for the plot. Other than David, who is purely fictional - his last name was Stevenson’s mother’s maiden name - and the characters connected with David’s family, the major characters are all drawn from history. Kidnapped is thus historical fiction, much in the vein of Sir Walter Scott. In fact, Scott’s Rob Roy is set after the Appin Murder, and mentions both the event and Allan Breck Stewart. Stevenson was inspired by Scott’s novel to write his own.

Certainly Stevenson can write an exciting fight scene. The standoff in the roundhouse is one of the finest, and stands with the parallel scene in Treasure Island as inspiration for so many set pieces which have come afterward, both in print and on the big and small screens.

But what makes this book so satisfying is the friendship between David and Allan, made more realistic by their all too inevitable quarrel, precipitated by exhaustion and fear, and resolved not by apologies but by pity and mutual need. I have long felt that Stevenson captured something true about friendship here, that words often get in the way, and that some things cannot just be resolved by talking it out. Catharsis, such as it is, comes through actions and through a needed rest.

Since it has been a lot of years since I read this, and since I am a much older and experienced man, I did note some things which I did not recall from my previous readings. One of these was the mention of what is essentially a Scottish version of Irish Cream. (Atholl brose.) For those who care, it has whiskey, honey, and cream - but also the liquid from soaking oatmeal in water overnight. I am inclined to believe that I was below drinking age when I last read this, and my knowledge of ardent spirits (to quote Jeeves) wasn’t exactly extensive. It might be fun to try to make my own version of this drink.

Another thing that kind of passed me by was the specifics of the Jacobite Rebellion - and really, the various religious sects mentioned. David is a Covenanter - a Scotch Presbyterian. This theology has so influenced religion in the United States that it is hard to overstate it. I will also note that these beliefs are crucial to a main character in The Heart of Midlothian, which is one of Scott’s great works featuring Scottish characters. The Jacobites, of course, were Catholic, while George II and the English were Anglican. But the subtleties were lost on the young me, of course, particularly the history of religious warfare in Great Britain.

I should also mention the use of Scottish dialect in this book. I did stop the CD and explain a few words to the younger kids. My second daughter loves this book, and is already plenty fluent. I consider this book to be a bit of a gateway drug into the world of Scots. Stevenson intentionally kept the dialect accessible, as he was aiming for a younger audience. From Stevenson, one can then read Sir Walter Scott, which is a bit more difficult. Advanced level readers will tackle Robert Burns.

This audiobook was read by Jim Weiss, a veteran of audiobooks, and a fine reader. I particularly appreciated his distinctive female voices, which seemed to come from a totally different person. He handled the dialect perfectly, and distinguished between various gruff Scots remarkably well. I would definitely recommend him as a narrator.

This book was one of the first classics I read as a kid, and it was one reason that I eventually tackled Scott. My kids too enjoy Stevenson, and I encourage parents to introduce their children to him as well - and at a younger age than they tend to think. Even younger kids will appreciate the adventure and the excellent writing.

Sky Raiders (Five Kingdoms) by Brandon Mull

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

One thing I must say about Brandon Mull: he is an outstanding world builder, with an amazingly fertile imagination. Whether it is Fablehaven, with its wildlife preserve for fairy creatures, or The Candy Shop War with the wizards that live among us and control children using treats, Mull creates universes with internally consistent rules, delightful devices, and endless possibilities for adventure. 

Sky Raiders is the first in the Five Kingdoms series, and was clearly conceived from the outset to be one in a longer story arc. His first book, Fablehaven, is self contained, understandable since he needed a successful book before trying to sell a longer series. Eight years and over a dozen books later, the Five Kingdoms series appears to have been planned that way.

As with Mull’s other books, the best features of this book are the abundant imagination that went into the world of the book, and the skillful storytelling. Mull’s plots tend to be well paced, alternating action with description so that neither dominates the other. On the one hand, the descriptions never go on for so long that they get tiresome - if anything, I always want a little more detail than he gives. On the other, the action and adventure always complement, rather than overpower, the setting. I never felt that Mull was writing with the inevitable blockbuster movie in mind.

The weakness of Mull’s writing, if you wish to be picky, is in his characterization. Not that his characters are poorly written, exactly, but that they tend to be a stand-in for the reader more than the focus of the story. This is in contrast to writers like, say, Terry Pratchett or Richard Peck, for whom the characters are usually the primary concern. But this isn’t necessarily a knock on Mull. The books he writes are not intended to be deep in that way: they are straight up adventure stories, not literary novels. That said, they aren’t just shallow fluff either. The ethical dilemmas are less complex, but they are there, and Mull doesn’t gloss over tough issues. They just aren’t the focus.

The plot in Sky Raiders is set in motion when Cole and some friends visit a haunted house attraction in their city, and are unexpectedly kidnapped and taken to some place outside of, well, the known universe. Scratch that. Cole’s friends are kidnapped and sold into slavery, and he follows them to try to rescue them. Things go wrong, and he too is enslaved.

I like the way that Mull writes about capture and enslavement. Without being preachy at all, he lays out in a straightforward manner the horror of being kidnapped and sold. He doesn’t have to make the explicit connection, but I would suspect the average kid reading this book would be able to empathize with those taken in the slave trade in Africa. Kudos to Mull for not sugar coating the violence in these scenes.

Before the slave train can reach the market, though, Cole is sold to the Sky Raiders. This is where the book veers from realistic SciFi into true fantasy. Let me give a brief explanation of this part of the book’s world.

At the edge of this world (which seems flat) is a literal edge: “The Brink,” as the residents call it. This sheer and seemingly infinite cliff overlooks an equally infinite space. On each side, extending as far as can be seen (but not infinitely), is a wall of clouds. No one who has entered the cloud walls has ever returned. From the eastern wall comes a succession of floating castles that traverse the sky to the other wall, where they disappear. The Sky Raiders are one of several “salvage” companies which travel out to the castles and take whatever they can get for use and resale. These castles are occasionally benign, and the Raiders can take what they want without interference. However, many more are fraught with danger.

At this point, I should probably explain some of the underlying reality that Mull builds. The magic (or technology, which is largely the same thing…) is “shaping.” In the section of this world that Cole goes to, Shaping is used to create things. Objects and other non-living things are called “renderings,” while quasi-living objects are called “semblances.” It is these quasi-living objects that are the most interesting. One might perhaps compare them to androids, as they are created to act as though they are living, without actually being fully sentient. Some are extremely simple, and can only repeat a few lines, while others are rather difficult to tell apart from truly living creatures. In fact, one of the more interesting questions raised by this book is when the line is crossed between semblance and existence, between programming and sentience, between life and non-life.

An outstanding scene in the book occurs when Cole, scouting out a new castle, finds a semblance who is basically a Roman centurion. Through a combination of conversation and a magic object whose purpose Cole discovers accidentally, the semblance becomes self aware. Has he crossed the line to personhood? He is clearly not fully human, as he cannot leave the castle without disintegrating, and he still is mostly a slave to his nature - that is, his programing. But he is now capable of a limited degree of free will, and rational thought, which is more than a semblance can ordinarily do.

It is also in this scene that Mull gets at a rather profound truth about the human existence. We humans are a lot like the semblances on the castles. We do not remember how we came to exist (anyone remember being born?), and we float along for a brief few days before we disappear. For those of us who have a belief in a higher power an afterlife (Mull is a Mormon), the metaphor is perhaps even more interesting. Who makes the castles? Nobody knows for sure, and certainly nobody can see them being built. (Except one person, maybe…) Why do they even exist at all? What happens to them when they disappear into the other cloud wall? It is one thing to stand on the outside as Cole and the other truly living beings do, and quite another for the semblances like the centurion, who knows only the castle and the “memories” that were programed into him. We exist for such a small period of time, and the beginning and the end are mysteries still.

It would have been fun to have spent more time in the book among the castles. I suspect Mull envisioned these almost as levels in a video game. Get in, defeat the big boss, get out with treasure. (Mull is roughly my age, and I can see a lot of our common culture in the writing…) But, all good things come to an end, and Cole finds he has a lot more to worry about than getting back to his friends and rescuing them. There is a great political crisis in this world, with hidden identities, and evil king, and great power run amok. Cole and the friends he makes have their work cut out for them, and this book ends long before a true resolution to the overarching problems is found. The conclusion is presumably several books away.

Anyway, this is yet another interesting and entertaining book by Mull. He is good at what he does, and seems to have an endless imagination for new worlds and the wonder of a child even in his middle age.

My kids are fans of all the Brandon Mull books we have listened to together so far. My sons are particular fans of Fablehaven, and have read some of the sequel books. I would add that they are particularly well suited to the use we make of them, which is getting us through long trips in the car. The pacing helps the driver stay awake and alert.

This audiobook was read by Keith Nobbs. I forgot to note who read the other Mull audiobooks we listened to. Nobbs does a competent job - in fact, you don’t notice him much, which is a complement. So far, all three Mull audiobooks seem to have good production values and reading styles.