The Man of Mode by Sir George Etheredge

Source of book: I own this.

The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries must have been an interesting time for the citizens of England. A seemingly trivial event - a pretty woman catching the eye of a married monarch - led to a century-and-a-half of religious and political upheaval and forever changed both church and state in the English speaking nations.

Henry VIII probably didn’t intend to change the world: he wanted a male heir, and was none to fond of Catherine anyway. Perhaps Anne Boleyn would be a better choice. If the pope hadn’t been so stubborn, perhaps the Anglican church would never have come into being, and Spain and England would have remained allies. Henry could have had his divorce, and the Catholic Church would have retained its precedence in the British Isles. Instead, Henry broke with Rome, and England eventually became a predominantly Protestant nation.  

(This wasn’t the only way that Henry inadvertently caused a revolution. Lawyers know that the idea of the trust was formed in response to Henry’s “Statute of Uses,” which was an attempt to curb tax evasion. Henry needed money, and his attempt to obtain it caused a revolution in the law of estate planning.)

The ride was a bit bumpy, however. After Henry’s death, Catherine’s daughter Mary attempted to re-convert England to Catholicism, spilling a great deal of blood in the process. Then, Anne’s daughter Elizabeth returned to Protestantism. Since Elizabeth didn’t leave an heir, the line of the Tudors ended, and James I of Scotland - who rather liked being head of the Church of England, tangling with Parliament, Puritans and Presbyterians alike.

His son Charles I was even worse, believing strongly in the “Divine Right of Kings” to do whatever they wanted. Not content to feud with both the English and Scottish parliaments, he suppressed the Puritans, and attempted to conform the Scottish church to the English pattern. Things eventually came to a head, and Charles ended up losing his.

The intervening period began as a commonwealth, with the Puritan-leaning Parliament in charge. A whole host of political, judicial, and religious reforms followed. Among them was a series of “moral” laws, mandating the observance of the sabbath and shutting down all of the theaters.

The commonwealth gave way to the “Protectorate,” the rule by the “Lord Protector,” Oliver Cromwell, with the support of the army. Cromwell’s son Richard wasn’t a capable as his father, and discontent grew.

Eventually, the son of Charles I, the soon-to-be Charles II, agreed to return to be king of England, and the monarchy was restored. While Charles II had Catholic leanings, he did not attempt anything further than unsuccessfully pressing for toleration of Catholics. His son, James II, however, was openly Catholic, and not only ordered religious toleration (which was not popular) but appointed Catholics to high government posts. He also appeared to very much believe in the Divine Right of Kings.

This led to the invitation to William of Orange to come assume the throne. (William had married the sister of James II.) At last, this put an end to the controversy. The monarchy lost much of the power it had had under the Stuarts, Parliament became the preeminent institution, and England became thoroughly Protestant.

Rather a long introduction, but this play makes more sense in light of the historical background.

The Man of Mode, or Sir Fopling Flutter, is one of the better known Restoration Comedies. The Puritan Cromwell, believing all acting and theater to be evil, abolished them at the outset of the Commonwealth. In retrospect, it is hard to believe that this could occur so soon after the writing and performance of Shakespeare’s masterworks. However, there were also many bawdy entertainments, and theaters attracted prostitution and gambling as well. While many sought to clean up the theater, the Puritans distrusted all amusements as being a distraction from spiritual things and a waste of time; thus, they also sought to do away with ballad singers, dancing, game festivals, and even mirrors (due to concerns about vanity). (Political considerations were also present: then as now, artists tended to mock the status quo.)

England eventually tired of Puritan rule - they were fed up enough to invite nearly Catholic Charles back. When the Restoration came, the theaters were re-opened, and a floodgate of new works spilled forth. (In the New World, the Puritan influence keep the theaters close for an additional hundred years, and indeed, there remains a segment of American Christianity that still avoids theaters of all kinds, whether for plays or movies.)

Of the new works, the one genre that lasted beyond the time was the so-called Restoration Comedy, which featured a new kind of character, the Rake. Short for “rakehell,” the rake was a man of wit and means, who wasted it all on wine, women, and song. Particularly the women, as the rake was always a notorious womanizer. In most cases, the rake was reformed to some degree, usually by marriage.

The Man of Mode is notable for its witty dialogue and its piercing commentary on social manners. It also caused a stir at the time because all of the characters - even the minor ones - are based on real persons. The protagonist, Dorimant, is a thinly veiled portrait of John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. (Rochester would die at age 33 of syphilis and alcoholism, naturally.) His friend and fellow womanizer and wit Medley, is probably Etheredge himself: Etheredge and fellow playwright William Wycherley ran in the licentious aristocratic circles themselves. Sir Fopling Flutter (a great name for the character) was also based on a real person, in that case a flamboyant dandy who attempted to look French. 

The only known portrait of Etheredge, by an unknown artist.

The plot itself is not complicated, but is a little hard to follow due to the language. On stage, it would probably be easier to keep the characters straight. Dorimant wants to dump his current mistress, Mrs. Loveit, for the younger Bellinda. He attempts to engineer a break that doesn’t make him look bad by making much of Sir Fopling’s attentions to Mrs. Loveit. Meanwhile, young Mr. Bellair and his flame Emilia wish to marry, despite his father, old Mr. Bellair, who has his eye on Emilia himself. So, young Bellair pretends to flirt with Harriet (who is the wittiest and most interesting female in the play) to throw his father off the scent until he can get a minister to do the deed. In the end, Dorimant finds himself rejected by both Mrs. Loveit and Bellinda, and is put in the position of having to marry Harriet, who is probably the only woman who can tame him.

I found Etheredge to be a step below my two favorite masters of the biting comedy, Oscar Wilde and Molière, but amusing nonetheless. As I noted in my post on The Importance of Being Earnest, nearly any random line in that play is delightfully quotable. Molière’s dialogue likewise sparkles, and his observations of human nature are remarkably relevant 350 years later. The Man of Mode has scenes that seem more of their time than timeless, but there are plenty of moments that can still draw a smile or spark of recognition.

The introduction is a deliciously biting bit of wit, written for the play by Sir Car Scroop, an otherwise unnotable wit. (A common practice of the time.)

But I'm afraid that while to France we go,

To bring you home fine dresses, dance, and show,

The stage, like you, will but more foppish grow.

Of foreign wares why should we fetch the scum,

When we can be so richly served at home?

For, heaven be thank'd, 'tis not so wise an age

But your own follies may supply the stage.

Though often plough'd, there's no great fear the soil

Should barren grow by the too frequent toil,

While at your doors are to be daily found

Such loads of dunghill to manure the ground.

'Tis by your follies that we players thrive,

As the physicians by diseases live;

And as each year some new distemper reigns,

Whose friendly poison helps t'increase their gains,

So among you there starts up every day

Some new unheard-of fool for us to play.

Then for your own sakes be not too severe,

Nor what you all admire at home, damn here.

Since each is fond of his own ugly face,

Why should you, when we hold it, break the glass?

Dorimant also gets some fun lines, such as this one as he banters with Mr. Medley about his plan to dump Mrs. Loveit.

DORIMANT: Most infinitely; next to the coming to a good understanding with a new mistress, I love a quarrel with an old one. But the devil's in't, there has been such a calm in my affairs of late, I have not had the pleasure of making a woman so much as break her fan, to be sullen, or forswear herself these three days.

While Dorimant is focused on his womanizing schemes, Medley is there to spread the gossip and make merry over all the intrigue, while he himself stays aloof. Lady Townley and Emilia discuss Medley’s propensity to exaggerate.

EMILIA: I love to hear him talk o' the intrigues. Let 'em be never so dull in themselves, he'll make 'em pleasant i' the relation.

LADY TOWNLEY: But he improves things so much one can take no measure of the truth from him. Mr. Dorimant swears a flea or a maggot is not made more monstrous by a magnifying glass than a story is by his telling it.

Perhaps the most memorable cut is given by the ever-witty and cynical Harriet while speaking about another woman (who is named but doesn’t actually appear in the play) to her maid.

BUSY: Ah, the difference that is between you and my Lady Dapper! How uneasy she is if the least thing be amiss about her!

HARRIET: She is indeed most exact. Nothing is ever wanting to make her ugliness remarkable.

BUSY: Jeering people say so.

HARRIET: Her powdering, painting, and her patching never fail in public to draw the tongues and eyes of all the men upon her.

BUSY: She is indeed a little too pretending.

HARRIET: That women should set up for beauty as much in spite of nature as some men have done for wit!

That last line is highly quotable.

Soon afterward follows my favorite scene, where young Bellair and Harriet are pretending to flirt with each other, while exchanging witty banter completely contrary to that appearance. In fact, they start by promising in all possible false seriousness to never marry each other.

BELLAIR: What generous resolution are you making, madam?

HARRIET: Only to be disobedient, sir.

BELLAIR: Let me join hands with you in that.

HARRIET: With all my heart. I never thought I should have given you mine so willingly. Here.

(they join hands

I, Harriet—

BELLAIR: And I, Harry—

HARRIET: Do solemnly protest—

BELLAIR: And vow—

HARRIET: That I with you—

BELLAIR: And I with you—

TOGETHER: Will never marry.

HARRIET: A match!

BELLAIR: And no match!

Sir Fopling is a relatively minor character in the play, but his role is one of clown. He is over-the-top foppish, with his insistence on a whole train of French servants to accompany him everywhere, his affected French accent, and his garishly Continental attire. As in much English literature, a great deal is made of the differences between France and England (who after all, did manage a Hundred Years’ War), however minor. One bit of wit makes a comparison between music with kettle drums and trumpets on the one hand, and sweet flutes and French hautboys (oboes). Fopling is still humorous because he is recognizable as anyone who goes too far trying to be cool. He just doesn’t get how far he is from any form of good taste.

One final line struck me. Lady Woodvill, who has fallen for Dorimant’s charms, not realizing who he is, falls into a banter with him about how inferior the present is to the past, and young folks to persons of her age. Nobody gives proper deference to more noble blood like they used to.

DORIMANT: Forms and ceremonies, the only things that uphold quality and greatness, are now shamefully laid aside and neglected.

LADY WOODVILL: Well, this is not the women's age, let 'em think what they will. Lewdness is the business now, love was the business in my time.

I noted this in my discussion of Anthony Trollope’s excellent tragedy, He Knew He Was Right, that nothing really changes. Each generation thinks that the generation that follows is scandalously unchaste. Trollope poked fun at it in the 1860s. Here, Etheredge takes his shot in the 1670s. Each generation is sure that it invented love, and that young people simply don’t and won’t understand it. Nothing is new under the sun.

Overall, a worthy read, if not in the pantheon. There are plenty of witty lines (and some bawdy ones too), even if some of it seems to be silliness. I would recommend Molière over Etheredge, if one was going to read just one comedy from this era.

The Age of Wonder by Richard Holmes

Source of book: Borrowed from the Library
Date originally posted on Facebook: January 6, 2011


This is, without doubt, one of the best non-fiction books I read in the last five years. Highly recommended.

The Age of Wonder, as defined by the author, ran from 1769 to 1830. During this time, great strides were made in the sciences of astronomy, chemistry, and many others. This era is brought to life in an enthralling manner in this book.

This book could easily have been academic, dry, or pedantic. Fortunately, it is none of the above. Holmes has written extensively about the Romantic era, in particular about its poets: Coleridge, Shelley, Wordsworth, Southey. This book seeks to take the spirit of the era and show how it pervaded its science as well as its literature.

In essence, this was a time when nature still held wonder and magic. All too often thereafter, science has tended to be viewed as clinical, nerdy, divorced from feeling. In contrast, the thrill of discovery, the danger of experimentation, and the poetry of creation were and sometimes still are bound up in the exploration of the natural world.

The decision to correlate the poetry and the science of the era was hardly accidental or a mere device. Erasmus Darwin (grandfather of Charles, and a significant intellectual in his time), straddled the line by writing with knowledge and verve on science as well as other topics. Coleridge was a close friend of Humphrey Davy, as were a number of other poets. These were people that knew each other closely, and conversed and discussed all of the intellectual pursuits.

The book closely follows the careers of three particular men and one woman. The first is Sir Joseph Banks. The longstanding leader of the Royal Society, Banks first came on the scene as a result of his voyage with Captain Cook to Tahiti in 1769. His influence dominated British science from then on, although he is unjustly forgotten by many in our day. 

Sir Joseph Banks, as painted in 1773 by Joshua Reynolds

The second is William Herschel, probably the greatest astronomer to follow Sir Isaac Newton. Best remembered as the discoverer of the planet Uranus, he was also a skilled manufacturer of telescopes, and probably did more to map the stars than any one person before or since. However, he did not work alone. His sister Caroline, the third figure to receive special attention in this book, was nominally his assistant, but she should be considered an eminent scientist in her own right. Caroline discovered numerous comets on her own, and was equally responsible for much of her brother’s work. The two of them were a team that could be the substance of legend. 

Caroline Herschel at age 92. Lithograph by George Muller. If being one of the most legendary astronomers of all time wasn't enough, she also belongs in the "short person hall of fame." Deformed by typhus at a young age, she stood 4' 3".

William Herschel. Portrait by Lemuel Francis Abbott. William was also a skilled musician, playing oboe, violin, harpsichord, and organ. His violin skills were enough to give him a side career as a soloist. In his "spare" time, when he wasn't discovering planets and mapping the sky, he also composed 24 symphonies (see below) and numerous other works.

 

The fourth figure is Sir Humphrey Davy. A complex character, Davy could likely have become a renowned poet, had he not decided to follow science instead. Davy experimented with gasses early in his career, coming close to the invention of anesthesia. Later, he invented the miner’s safety lamp that bears his name. He too was a great influence on those to follow, taking the reins of the Royal Society after Banks’ death. 

 Sir Humphrey Davy. Portrait by Thomas Phillips.

In addition to these figures, the book includes chapters on early balloon flights, Mungo Park’s expeditions to Africa, and the dark side of science as envisioned by Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Throughout the book are quotations from the poems of the era on the subject matter, including several from Davy himself.

Perhaps Mary Shelley deserves an additional mention as having written what is believed to be the first science fiction story. The book grew out of a discussion on science between a group of poets and intellectuals including her husband Percy, Byron, and others. It was agreed that each (of the men at least) would write something on the subject. While Percy Shelley and Byron’s poems were memorable in their own ways, it was Mary’s novel that has become the icon familiar to all.

This book is an excellent read, bringing the era to life without resorting to sensationalism or dumbing the topic down. Holmes clearly loves his topic and its characters. I thoroughly recommend this book, particularly to those who do not see science and poetry as mutually exclusive.

A final note: Concurrently with this book, I have been reading Jules Verne’s book, The Mysterious Island. Although Verne wrote after the Age of Wonder, his writing carries the same spirit. Perhaps after that, I will need to read Frankenstein. (See my review here.)

Just for fun, here is a selection of William Herschel's music. 

Herschel composed in the decades before Mozart and Haydn, the early days of the Neoclassical period, when the symphonic form evolved out of the dance suites, sonatas, and concertos of the Baroque era. His style is similar to his contemporaries Carl Phillip Emmanuel Bach, Carl Stamitz, and Luigi Boccherini. This work is quite charming, if a transcendent masterpiece like the best of

City Life by Witold Rybczynski

Source of book: I own this.

Occasionally, my wife brings home random books that were available for next to nothing. In this case, the book was one that I wanted to read, but had been planning to check out from the library. However, considering it cost 50 cents or less, it was actually more economical that the gas to travel to the library.

If I had to describe myself, I would have to say that I am not a country boy. I was raised primarily in the Los Angeles area, but I don’t think I am exactly a stereotypical urban denizen either. Like a great many in this country, I grew up in suburbia. I have lived in detached houses on individual lots, and traveled by car rather than public transportation. I have always spent time in the outdoors, including the wilderness, so I am not really a “slicker,” but I haven’t ever really experienced small town or rural life.

Anyway, one important skill to have if one wishes to live in a large, sprawling city like Los Angeles is that of navigation. Getting from one place to another can be a bit of a task if one does not know the basic layout of freeways and streets. I honed this skill as a child, and even then became interested in maps and how cities were structured. I was interested enough that I used to spend weeks drawing my own cities, towns, and subdivisions on dozens of attached sheets of paper. (I seem to have lost these, but I still have a collection of house plans I designed while in Junior High, complete with exterior elevations. I considered studying engineering before settling on the law.) And then, eventually, I became hooked on SimCity. I spent many hours playing around with different layouts and ideas, from cities with grids to cities designed to maximize property values. 

The original Sim City. Anyone else remember this?

But how do cities get their structure in the first place? To what degree did a master plan such as those I created play a role, and how much just happened?

Rybczynski explores a limited facet of this question in this book. A complete history of the development of cities would take multiple volumes, so he focuses on the development of the city in the United States. He also brings in cities such as Venice and Paris on occasion as a contrast or illustration.

I became acquainted with Rybczynski through his occasional articles on architecture in publications such as the Atlantic and the New York Times. He has an intriguingly international background, born to Polish parents Edinburgh, raised in London. He taught architecture in Montreal for a couple decades, before moving to Pennsylvania. I found that his writing was accessible, but informative. City Life was written nearly 20 years ago, and is one of several of his books that I would love to read.

There is plenty of interesting history in this book, with a particular focus on the designs and redesigns of Chicago. Time is also spent on important designers such as Frederick Law Olmstead, and on influential writers such as Tocqueville and Le Corbusier.

One new thing I learned was the origin of the word “ghetto.” The first, created in Venice to house Jewish refugees, was called the New Ghetto: the New Foundry or ironworks.

I also found interesting the three types of layout philosophies as described by Kevin Lynch. The first is the symbolic layout, such as Washington DC and other capitals in the old and new world, designed to symbolize some idea, religion, or philosophy. (DC shows the separation of powers, for example.) Second is the practical layout, which usually is in the form of a grid, and is calculated to maximize practical use. The third is the organic layout, which characterizes medieval towns which grew around the terrain, and is often characterized by crooked streets. All three can be found in cities throughout the world. Los Angeles itself shows characteristics of all of the layouts in different places.

History sometimes reveals surprises, and the biggest one in this book was the fact that several of the supposed “modern” ills of American cities were not in fact caused by the automobile, but existed long before. For example, sprawl began immediately. Christopher von Graffenried, the Swiss baron who founded New Bern, commented that “in America they do not like to live crowded, in order to enjoy a purer air, I accordingly ordered the streets to be very broad and the houses well separated from one from the other.” He wrote this in 1710.

Another surprise in this vein was that homogeneity of culture and consumption pre-dated television, malls, mass retailers, and mail order catalogues - to say nothing of the internet and the automobile. Tocqueville attributed this to the “spirit of equality.” In the 1830s.

The author also spent time on housing projects, poverty, and race. While I grew up in a poorer, primarily minority area of town, I never lived in a true ghetto, and certainly nothing approaching a true housing project

My knowledge of the horror of the “projects” comes primarily from books such as The Cross and the Switchblade by the late David Wilkerson and The End of Youngblood Johnson, which was a pretty bleak inside view. As Rybczinski points out, the problem with the projects wasn’t primarily an architectural issue - although they were often ugly - but one of stigmatization. The high rise blocks contributed to social isolation by concentrating the impoverished and removing them from mixed neighborhoods. By making the projects radically different from the housing for middle class, it made a line of demarcation. Unsurprisingly, the upwardly aspiring residents soon left for less stigmatized housing, while the projects ended up collecting and concentrating the poorest of the poor, with many soon housing welfare cases only. 

The infamous Cabrini Green project in Chicago.

 

This issue continues to be an important challenge in urban planning. There is a tension between those who wish to live in homogenous neighborhoods and those who wish to see more diversity of race, social, and economic status. I have seen a rise lately in the number of communities that are gated, in an attempt to keep the “undesirables” out. One wonders if this is a continuation of the same impulse that led many of the early planned developments to have racial restrictions in the deeds. (Even though these were ruled unenforceable in 1917, some developers continued to put racial restrictions in deeds until 1948. I actually ran across one of these deeds in one of my cases a couple of years ago. It was for a development near Mission Bay in San Diego. Right there on the deed: no “Negroes” can own the property or be a member of the property owners’ association.)

As the author points out, the suburbs are far more mixed than popularly believed. I certainly can attest that here in California, many - probably most - middle and lower middle class neighborhoods are an interesting mix. The problem for cities remains dealing with the “ghettos.”  This book is not a social science prescription, and the author simply notes the issues and the ways that architects and city planners have attempted to address the issue. If there was an easy, simple answer, then I suspect we would already be using it.

This book is a quick read, full of interesting history and ideas. It isn’t too technical, but focuses more on the stories than on the details of design.

Thoughts on the retirement of Rebecca Brooks

It is nearly time for the concert to begin. However, there is still one vacant seat in the orchestra, in front, to stage right of the podium. Then as the lights begin to dim, the concertmaster makes her way to the front, violin in hand, takes a bow, and signals to the oboe that the orchestra is ready to tune.

In addition to this ceremony, the concertmaster is responsible for leading the string section, coordinating the bowings, and for leading by example as to proper technique and phrasing. She also plays the short solos within many of the great works, and is expected to play things right, the first time, and every time. It is a great responsibility, to be sure, but a concertmaster also sets the tone for an entire orchestra. A skilled player who is also a demonstrative leader is easy to follow. A leader who adds to those qualities a kindness and helpfulness becomes an inspiration.

This Saturday, May 11, Rebecca Brooks will take that walk to the front of the stage for the last time, retiring after serving as concertmaster of the Bakersfield Symphony Orchestra for the last 48 years. In her case, “bounce to the front of the stage” will be a more accurate way to put it. She has always had that lightness of spirit and enthusiasm which is unmistakable in the way she walks.  

Mrs. Brooks came to us from the Seattle area long before I was born. I remember that she showed me one day a newspaper clipping from her high school days, and I was surprised that she still looked pretty much the same. Shortish blond hair, the same smile. I remember too, that she and her prank-playing brother were both adopted, and that her mother took great pains to ensure that they were musically trained. (I also remember the story about her brother playing a piece exactly one note behind another player who was practicing in the next cubicle. That’s just mean!)

I first met Mrs. Brooks over 20 years ago, when I became her violin student as a teenager. I admit I was a little skeptical before I met her. We had recently moved, and my brother had started with her first, and I was even less fond of change then than now. However, by the end of the first lesson, I was sold.

I think from the very beginning, we were more than just teacher and student. We were friends, and have continued to be friends ever since. It wasn’t just the music - although it was about music. We talked about literature and hiking and traveling and really all kinds of stuff. (Her husband Dale also introduced me to P. G. Wodehouse and Anthony Trollope, and contributed to my own library a number of books he replaced with better editions.) Without a doubt, she has had a significant influence on my life.

A few memories are particularly dear to me. I remember that she called me personally when I won the audition for Youth Symphony concertmaster - she prepared me very well, but it was a bit of an upset due to the stiff competition. I remember the many hours of work we put in together on the Saint Saens violin concerto, which enabled me to play it with the Bakersfield College orchestra. And she was there cheering me on.

She has demonstrated the sound of the violin for the children at our Young People’s Concerts. While she has a nice array of short clips, her most-used one is the voice of Scheherazade - one of the solos that we worked on together when I played it with BC.

When I started studying with her, I had primarily played works from the Baroque and Neo-Classical eras, and it was left to her to introduce me to the great Romantic Era works, starting with the Mendelssohn concerto. I remember that she kept encouraging me to stop making my shifts so precise. I think “mechanical” was the word she used. Ouch. She urged me to make “sexy” slides. This was not easy for me: sexy is not exactly my natural talent. But she did get me to loosen up a bit and be expressive. I still smile though, every time I think of “sexy slides.”

I love her stock answer to the question, “Which Brahms symphony is your favorite?” “The one we are playing next.” It is fitting, then, that we are playing the incomparable Second Piano Concerto for this final concert.

For the last 17 years, she has been the one who (unless my wife is able to attend) has attached the flower to my right lapel before each concert. I am not the only one. I think this is part of her unofficial “orchestra mother” job. (Arcane orchestra fact: string players place their instruments on or against their left shoulders. Except in the case of the string bass, the flower would be squashed on that shoulder. So, even the men wear the flower on the right side.) I will miss that, and the little conversations that we always have backstage.

One measure of the impact of any teacher is in the accomplishments of her students. There are several generations of Mrs. Brooks’ students in the Symphony. I find that to be an inspiring legacy. We all know how much she contributed to us as musicians and as human beings.

Mrs. Brooks represents to me the ideal leader. While many try to lead by intimidation and forcefulness, she has always led from encouragement. One should never mistake this for weakness. She has always been feisty, and has always been willing to correct, whether for a musical flaw, or for a subpar attitude. But she is gentle. I know she is on our side, and wants to see us successful. I know she always is ready to share a brilliant fingering idea, or answer even the silly questions of technique. Leadership by example and by encouragement.

The last several years have been a season of change. In my legal practice, we have seen more than half of the judges in our county retire and be replaced by new men and women. Many of the old guard in the musical community have also retired, and new faces are everywhere. I am naturally a conservative - perhaps even a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. I do not particularly welcome change, I will admit.

Our new concertmaster, Julia Haney, will be a fine replacement. She too is a brilliant musician and also a delightful person. I have no doubt she is an excellent choice. But I will deeply miss Mrs. Brooks. While she will continue teach, the orchestra will not be the same without her.

So here’s to you, Mrs. Brooks: teacher, leader, mentor, and above all, a good friend.

Notes:

For a fine article and interview, see this link on the BSO page.

Any post like this must have some musical clips.

For the first one, I will note that Prokofiev is probably Mrs. Brooks’ favorite composer. I wish I had been alive when she and Mr. Brooks worked their way through the violin and piano sonatas together. Here is a clip from #2, which is quite delightful.

For the second one, I refer to the story of her returning home to find Mr. Brooks rocking one of their infants to the strains of Prokofiev’s The Avenging Angel. I would say something about how odd of a choice this is, except that my second daughter (the aspiring violinist) used to beg for Stravinsky as her bedtime music.

Finally, I have to include some of the Brahms. We played this piece my first season with the Symphony along with Anton Nel, and it immediately became my very favorite piano concerto. The third movement even makes me wish for a moment that I had chosen cello over violin. For a moment. I will probably choke up when we play this Saturday. Even listening to it as I type, I think my eyes shine a bit. I think Brahms made bittersweet come to life in this work.

A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Source of book: Free download on my Kindle.

This book is one in my ongoing series of books that I read while waiting for my turn in the courtroom.

Before Edgar Rice Burroughs wrote the first of his Tarzan books, he primarily wrote science fiction. A Princess of Mars was serialized in 1912, and released as a complete book five years later. Recently, the book was turned into a movie, John Carter, which was a bit of a flop.

Burroughs was a largely unsuccessful middle aged man who bounced between low paying jobs in Chicago and Idaho, and never seemed to find regular wages. During a time of minimal employment, he started reading pulp magazines, and decided he could write better stories than those he was reading. A Princess of Mars, which was originally entitled Under the Moons of Mars, was his first commercial success. Ten sequels would eventually follow, but it was the Tarzan stories that would make him a superstar.

A couple of other interesting facts about Burroughs: he signed up as a war correspondent during World War Two - in his late 60s, making him one of the oldest war correspondents ever. Second, the San Fernando Valley neighborhood of Tarzana (a mere 10 miles from where I was born) is named after Burroughs’ ranch of the same name, which he named after his character.

I would say that this book is definitely the cheesiest thing I have read this year. I knew that going in: it is, after all, pulp. That said, the writing is better than the average representative of that genre, which is probably why Burroughs has inspired and influenced science fiction writers for the last 100 years. There is little about the writing itself that is wince-worthy, but not much that is better than good either. In fact, this book would serve as an excellent example of the difference between competent writing and poor writing, on the one hand; and between competent writing and excellent writing on the other. It does its job, but doesn’t transcend. In this genre, that isn’t a bad thing.

The basic gist of the story is that John Carter, a human from Earth, finds himself inexplicably on Mars. He is initially captured by the savage “green martian” race, earns respect and makes a key friend. He also meets a captive member of the more civilized “red martian” race, falls in love with her, and eventually makes his escape with her. Later, he is able to more completely rescue her and win her heart. He also manages to bring some civilization to a branch of the “green martian” race.

On the plus side, Burroughs creates an imaginative world, complete with two contrasting civilizations. The Mars he envisioned: a planet in decay after a glorious past, with the survivors of a massive climate change clinging to survival has endured as a science fiction meme, and its influence can be seen in so many later stories.

His portrayal of the “green martian” civilization is interesting as well. They do not bond with each other or with their offspring, which are scientifically selected and incubated, and no one knows which children belong to which parents. (In some ways, this is a more “primitive” version of the vision in Brave New World. It is easier in this case, because Martians all lay eggs, rather than birth live young.) This lack of emotional connection leads to a violent society, focusing on war and on glory, but never on love or friendship. The change in their society occurs because one of their warriors dares to fall in love, and later bond with his daughter.

The sour note in Burroughs’ vision is the rather obvious modelling of the “green Martians” on Native American stereotypes. This is hardly unique to Burroughs, of course. Many adventure writers from his era and before tended to have colonialist and racist prejudices that were taken for granted by readers of the era. Rudyard Kipling and H. Rider Haggard come to mind. The tired old trope of “white man enlightens the savages” has been with us for centuries - as has the competing and equally tiresome “myth of the noble savage.”

I find it interesting that the movie (and some others that likewise attempt to revive old school science fiction) had difficulties at the box office. In the last few decades, the technology to bring imaginary worlds to life has been perfected. It would have been unimaginable to attempt to duplicate the beasts and Martians until recently. However, public taste has changed. A story like this would have worked in the 1950s, but could not have been made convincing given the state of special effects at the time. However, the plot seems silly to our modern tastes, and we are too jaded by CGI to really care about whether the effects match Burroughs’ written descriptions. Hollywood far too frequently forgets that a compelling story trumps star power and special effects, no matter how expensive. If the story doesn’t speak to us, it’s just explosions and adrenaline.

I should also mention the fascination that nudity held for writers like Burroughs and Haggard. Part of the mystical appeal of the “savage” was the lack of clothing. This story keeps to this tradition, although there is nothing graphic. A kiss is as sexual as it gets - unless you count an egg in an incubator at the end. However, some of the book covers are more than a bit suggestive. 

Not a bad read, but nothing particularly special, in my opinion. A good adventure tale, but not particularly deep.

One of the few non-racy covers.