Washington Irving: An American Original by Brian Jay Jones

Source of book: Borrowed from the library

 

I have read two other biographies by Brian Jay Jones: Becoming Dr. Seuss, and Jim Henson: The Biography. I like that his books aren’t hagiographies, but also aren’t hit pieces. His subjects are presented in their full humanity. 

 

Washington Irving: An American Original, is a bit different from the other two. Both Dr. Seuss and Jim Henson were alive during my own lifetime, and both lived in a very different media environment than Washington Irving. Thus, there is so much more information available on their personal lives. And also, living people to interview regarding the events and the people involved. 

 

For a figure who lived in the 18th and 19th centuries, in the newborn United States, there is a lot less to work off of. On the other hand, it was an era of extensive correspondence and diary writing, so certain aspects are easier to find than others. 

 

In the case of Irving, his own writings, in letters, notes, and diary entries, are deliciously witty and personal. So much of the person shows through, and I think he would be a good addition to my own dream dinner party guest list. 

 

Most of us know Washington Irving from two of his stories, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” and “Rip Van Winkle.” These two have become part of the American cultural fabric - indeed the American mythology itself. And deservedly so - they are great stories! 

 

However, many have never read beyond these two, and have missed the delightful world that Irving created, as the first American author to support himself with his writing. 

 

Years before starting this blog, I read pretty much all of his fiction. The fact that I downloaded it off of Gutenberg and read it on my Palm tells you something about the era. These days, I have a hardback with much of his shorter fiction. 

 

I will particularly note that The Alhambra and A History of New York are favorites of mine. 

 

Irving also wrote non-fiction, particularly biographies of persons from Columbus to Mohammed to George Washington. These haven’t aged as well as his fiction. It was a different era, with different standards of research and objectivity. But they paid his bills at the time - which was important. 

 

This book talks a lot about the specific circumstances of Irving’s family. He was the last child in a large family, with a 20-year span in ages. The family importing business supported everyone for years, but failed due in no small part to the mismanagement of the European branch by Irving’s brother Peter. From then on, Irving had to support not only himself, but several of his siblings. He wasn’t thrilled at having to live by his pen, but he did it, becoming America’s most famous author at the time, even though he is less read these days than he should be. 

 

Also virtually unknown to most is that Irving originated two of the most familiar terms applied to New York City. 

 

Yes indeed, the name of “Gotham” was created by Irving, in a story about a city that was clearly meant to be New York. 

 

His character of Dietrich Knickerbocker - the supposed Dutch settlor who narrates A History of New York as a pseudonym for Irving, has become so associated with the city that its professional basketball team is named after him. 

 

Yet another unknown fact about Irving is that a dream sequence in A History of New York is considered to be an early appearance of Santa Claus in a form similar to that which would be popularized in the subsequent decades. 

 

Not only that, but none other than Dickens himself (who admired Irving) would credit Irving’s early Christmas stories as the foundation for his own, including the ghost story elements.

 

And there’s one more! An early story of his coined the phrase “almighty dollar.” 

 

Jones argues that Irving is a perfect embodiment of the young United States, for better and worse. He was a literary superstar, brutally handsome, charming and personable. He hung out with the glitterati of the day, would have been a tabloid darling. But he also was terrible with money, struggled with writer's block, feuded with his publishers, and suffered from imposter syndrome. 

 

His love life was also…interesting. Jones makes a pretty good case that he was gay, or at least bisexual. But probably the former. He had close relationships with men throughout his life, and, although nothing explicit was in the open in that era, there are enough indications of these relationships that his homosexuality is not just plausible, but probable.

 

Those who disagree point to his early engagement to a young woman, who tragically died of tuberculosis before they could marry. After that, he pled a broken heart as the reason why he never married. The closest he came was to propose to a young woman half his age - she turned him down, to nobody’s surprise. 

 

Irving started out as a lawyer. A very bad one, primarily because his heart wasn’t in it. This was pretty much his only option for a career at the time, since he was uninterested in being a part of the family business. (And, he had multiple brothers already working there - a place wasn’t really open for him.) 

 

His real interest (other than being a society gadfly) was in writing. He and some friends started out with a magazine, Salmagundi, in which some of Irving’s alter egos would appear. The publication was mostly satire, taking shots at more serious periodicals as well as local political and social figures. 

 

His next project - and his first big hit - was his spoof of more serious histories of New York, A History of New York. 

 

And it all started with a clever marketing hoax. 

 

Notices were taken out in local papers about a missing elderly historian, Dietrich Knickerbocker, said to have disappeared. This created quite a stir, and prepared the way for the “discovery” of Knickerbocker’s great manuscript. 

 

By the time the book was published, the stir was sensational, and the fact that the book was hilarious, wickedly satirical, and very much aligned with the mood of the times, led to its becoming a smash. 

 

And then, writer’s block struck. 

 

Irving would move to London, to try to rescue the family business from Peter’s mismanagement. He would serve for a while as an assistant to the American ambassador - a job he did quite well. (He would years later be appointed ambassador to Spain, where he likewise shined. He was a good schmoozer, read people well, and de-escalated tensions to pave the way for agreements.) 

 

Eventually, his need for money led him to write again. And also, meeting Sir Walter Scott, who became a good friend. 

 

He resurrected the character of Geoffrey Crayon (from his Salmagundi days), writing a series of books mostly about Europe. And also the two famous stories mentioned above, which established his literary reputation.

 

He would eventually return to America to great acclaim, build a beautiful home in upstate New York, dote on his favorite nieces and nephews, and finally die at the relatively old age of 76, surrounded by family and friends. Not a bad life at all.  

 

I won’t get into the specifics of the biography beyond that. It is a fascinating story of a fascinating man, and better told by Jones than me. 

 

I would be remiss if I didn’t quote a few of the witticisms in the book, both by Irving and others.

 

In describing his rigid Calvinist upbringing, Irving had this to say about religion:

 

“When I was a child, religion was forced upon me before I could understand or appreciate it. I was made to swallow it whether I would or not, and that too in its most ungracious forms. I was tasked with it; thwarted with it; wearied with it in a thousand harsh and disagreeable ways; until I was disgusted with all its forms and observances.” 

 

He was hardly the only one to find fundamentalist religion to be a turnoff. Later, he would include ideologues in general in his condemnation.

 

“I have no relish for puritans either in religion or politics, who are pushing for principles to an extreme, and overturning everything that stands in the way of their own zealous career…I always distrust the soundness of political councils that are accompanied by acrimonious and disparaging attacks upon any great class of our fellow citizens.” 

 

 At one point, finally offered the government sinecure he had earlier dreamed of, declined. 

 

“It is not so much the duties of the office that I fear, but I shrink from the harsh cares and turmoils of public and political life at Washington, and feel that I am too sensitive to endure the bitter personal hostility, and the slanders and misrepresentations of the press.” 

 

Irving didn’t like critics much, and critics all too often were harsh on him even as the public bought up his books. Irving’s best friend (and probably his lover as a young adult) Henry Brevoort, took Irving’s side in a letter after a scathing review by Francis Jeffrey. 

 

“His foible is an unceasing effort to act the high finished gentleman. Consequently he is blessed with such an immaculate degree of taste as to contemn every thing in the world both moral & physical.” 

 

I love seeing that sadly archaic word, “contemn” again. It really should come back into common usage. It is not the same as “condemn,” but is related to “contempt.” No need to go destroying things or sending them to hell. Just a good cutting look or remark. 

 

Irving ended up spending over a decade and a half in Europe before returning. In a letter to one of his brothers, he explained himself. 

 

“Do not, I beseech you, impute my lingering in Europe to any indifference to my own country or my friends. My greatest desire is to make myself worthy of the good-will of my country…I am determined not to return home until I have sent some writings before me that shall, if they have merit, make me return to smiles, rather than skulk back to the pity of my friends.”

 

Indeed, he did return to smiles, a true American celebrity. 

 

A rather significant topic in the book turns out to be copyright laws. Irving had to be careful to secure publishers both in European countries (England in particular) and in the United States, otherwise the law would permit the stealing of his works. Not-in-print works were fair game. 

 

Irving also complained about readers who thought the books were too expensive. 

 

“If the American public wish to have literature of their own, they must consent to pay for the support of authors.”

 

This remains true today, as does the conflict between creators and publishers over rates. 

 

There is also an incident where a British publisher insisted Irving change some of his stories to be kinder to the clergy. Irving complied, but grudgingly, noting that he based his characters on his own experience, promising “not to venture too far even when I have fact on my side.” 

 

During his career as a diplomat, he did get some pithy observations in. On attending the young Victoria’s grand ball, the social event of the year, “he noted that the only person who didn’t seem to be having any fun was the young queen, who was constantly pushing her own crown up off her forehead.” 

 

Those of us of a certain age probably think of this:

 

Another funny line came when the railroad was run within a few hundred feet of his beautiful country home. 

 

“If the Garden of Eden were now on Earth, they would not hesitate to run a railroad through it.” 

 

I also liked his musing upon turning 70, quite the old age in that era. 

 

“I have reached the allotted limit of existence - all beyond is especial indulgence. So long as I can retain my present health and spirits, I am happy to live, for I think my life is important to the happiness of others; but as soon as my life becomes useless to others, and joyless to myself, I hope I may be relieved from the burden; and I shall lay it down with heartfelt thanks to that Almighty Power which has guided my incautious steps through so many uncertain and dangerous ways, and enabled me to close my career in serenity and peace.” 

 

What more can any of us hope for?

 

It was a fun experience to learn more about Washington Irving’s life, and about who he was - I really think he would have been a blast to be around. 

 

But more than that, I truly wish more people would discover his delightful writing beyond the two best-known stories. 

 

Selected Fairy Tales by Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm

Source of book: I own this.

 

This year, for our annual “Spooky Lush” party, our founders and hosts chose Grimm's Fairy Tales as the text, and selected a couple dozen or so stories to feature. This was fun in no small part because there were so many potential costumes to choose from - I went as a woodcutter, but we also had everything from the Goose Girl to the Prince to The Girl Without Hands. It was a blast as usual. (Related, local readers are welcome to join. Go follow The Literary Lush Book Club on Facebook, and sign up for a monthly meeting.) 

 

I won’t give much of an introduction to the Grimms - their history is pretty well known. The stories are versions of the many folk tales they heard from the disappearing class of oral storytellers in a modernizing Germany. 

 

Our discussion was a lot of fun this time, because the stories give plenty to talk about. Many people are only familiar with the Disney versions, which are sanitized for the tastes of adults who think they know what is good for children. (Real life children have more of an appetite for gore than many adults realize, and are capable of deeper thinking than “happily ever after.”) I mean, wouldn’t Cinderella have been better if the step-sisters had chopped off their toes? 

 

I’ll start by listing the stories on the list, as well as some additional ones I read for fun. 

 

Snow White and Rose Red

King Thrushbeard

The Maiden Without Hands

The Poor Miller’s Boy and his Cat

Show White and the Seven Dwarves

Rumpelstiltskin

Little Red Riding Hood

Cinderella

Rapunzel

Hansel and Gretel

The Frog Prince

The Bremen Town Musicians

The Cat and Mouse in Partnership

The Devil and His Grandmother

The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces

The Mouse, the Bird, and the Sausage

 

I also read:

 

The Wonderful Fiddler

The Fox and the Cat

The Magic Fiddle

Three Little Tales About Toads

The Singing Bone

 

There were other stories that other members read as well. 

 

A few of the stories were new to me, such as “The Mouse, the Bird, and the Sausage.” After all, not too many fairy tales have anthropomorphic sausages. Talking animals, yes, but not foodstuffs. 

 

Likewise, “The Devil and His Grandmother,” sometimes named “The Dragon and His Grandmother,” was an interesting twist on the idea of a bargain with the Devil. Want to get out of it? Go talk to his Grams. 

 

One of the questions raised in our meeting was whether the stories all had morals or not. There were a few that were so all over the place that it was difficult to find any single moral. Others were more straightforward. And some seemed just for fun, not moral instruction. 

 

A common thread running through many of the stories, however, is that pride and vanity either results in bad things happening to you, or, it might make you the villain of the story. 

 

In contrast, being “clever and crafty” could go either way. If linked to pride, being clever and crafty is a bad thing. Better to be “innocent and simple.” But on the other hand, if you are humble, cleverness and craftiness may lead you to wealth and honor.

 

There are a few bits I wanted to mention that seemed interesting to me. First, in “Rumpelstiltskin,” among the other names that queen tries out, she guesses Casper, Melchior, and Balzar. Those of us raised in a certain religious tradition will recognize those as the names church tradition assigns to the Magi - who are given neither names or a number in the Bible. 

 

I also liked that, in “The Maiden Without Hands,” the poor abused and neglected girl finally finds her way to a cottage with “Everyone who dwells here is safe” on a sign. In our troubled times, my goal is to be that kind of place, where people are safe. Fortunately for the maiden, the owner of the house is the good kind of woman - the good fairy. And not one of the witches. 

 

“King Thrushbeard” also has an interesting moment. The impossibly picky - and insulting - princess finds herself married to a rough peasant (who is the king in disguise of course) who makes her (gasp!) do housework and other tasks. He does not want a “helpless” wife - and he is wise in that. While I do not hold to the specific gendered tasks of the old stories, a woman (or a man!) who is incapable of basic tasks, relying on servants or one’s spouse for all that is indeed undesirable. 

 

Finally, I want to mention the old woodcuts in my book (which purports to be the complete Grimm tales.) I have a soft spot for woodcuts in general, and the sort that old books are illustrated with in particular. I can’t even remember when I got this book - it has been decades, but it is a nice hardback from 1981, reproducing the early English translations from unknown dates in the 1800s. 

 

In closing, I want to mention that, while I by no means want a return to brutal and punitive treatment of children, I do think that in some ways our modern parenting tends to be a bit overprotective. My own kids were raised rather “free range,” and were expected to do chores, solve problems on their own when able, and take responsibility for themselves. 

 

Part of this was not policing their reading. They were encouraged to read what they wanted, both from the public library and our own extensive collection of books. We read to them stuff that was a bit beyond their current level (as did my parents when I was a kid), stretching their skills. 

 

The old fairy tales - ones from all around the world - were a part of this. Rather than try to overprotect our kids, we read difficult stuff, with dark themes at times. Ditto for our audiobooks - you can find those all over this blog. It was surprising how thoughtful my kids were at very young ages, and how well they handled more difficult ideas. Kids are stronger than we assume. 

 

The old fairy tales are not perfect - they reflect the values of certain times and places - but they are an interesting look into the human psyche, which is why they tend to have common elements all around the world. Kids should read them. But also adults - we too can benefit. 

 

The Children's Hour by Lillian Hellman (BCT 2025)

This play was originally scheduled to be performed at Stars Playhouse, but when that venue folded earlier in the year, it appeared that I might not get to see it. 

 

Fortunately, Bakersfield Community Theater took over the production, and did a great job with it. I saw it on closing weekend, so the run is over. You will just have to catch the next play. 

 

I previously read another play by Lillian Hellman, The Little Foxes, and wrote about it. That post contains some biographical information, including Hellman’s feuds with other artists, and her courage in pushing back against Joseph McCarthy’s witch hunts. I won’t repeat all that in this post, but I do recommend reading the other one. 

 

The Children’s Hour is one of the earliest plays Hellman wrote, but it seems to anticipate the anti-communist fervor of the future, and the way that an innocent person’s reputation can be destroyed by false accusations. 

 

The play is also daring in its approach to homosexuality, in an era when the psychology profession was newly pathologizing same-sex relationships. Unfortunately, we are still dealing with bigots seeking to suppress even the knowledge of human sexual diversity, nearly 100 years after Hellman wrote this play. 

 

Hellman based the play loosely on an actual legal case in Scotland in 1810. I’ll discuss the real-life case a bit at the end of this post, because it is more complicated than the scenario Hellman presents, and fascinating in its own right. 

 

In the play, Martha and Karen run a private school for girls, the culmination of years of saving, planning, and effort. 

 

All is not well, however. Mary Tilford, a spoiled brat of a girl, who struggles socially and compensates by telling constant lies, retaliates for being punished (perhaps overly punitively) by telling her grandmother that Martha and Karen are lesbian lovers.

 

Unfortunately, the grandmother eventually believes Mary, and spreads the lie around causing the students to be withdrawn from the school. 

 

Martha and Karen respond with a libel lawsuit, which fails. From thereon, everything falls apart in the fallout. 

 

The play explores a number of questions, and Hellman avoids the easy answers. It is surprising to me that Hellman was criticized at the time for supposedly making the characters in this play all good or all evil, which is simply not true at all. 

 

Just as an example: Mary is indeed horrible. She is a pathological liar, a blackmailer, an narcissist. But if you listen carefully, you also discover that her father committed suicide, and her family refuses to talk about it or even admit it. Her acting out is a terrible way to respond to her trauma, of course, but she is a teen child who is getting zero constructive help. 

 

Likewise, although modern audiences likely root for Martha and Karen, and feel sympathetic to them, there is the question as to whether they exacerbate the problems. They are punitive rather than helpful with Mary, and filing the lawsuit only makes things worse. Karen then proceeds to throw away her fiance, the faithful Joe. 

 

If there is any truly good character, it is probably Joe, but he, as a physician, fails at understanding the psychological dynamics, and thus misses his chances. He too treats Mary punitively, and then makes the unilateral decision to sell his practice and flee to a new place with Karen. Nothing here is bad, and his motives are good throughout, so you feel for him. But he too is flawed. 

 

And then, there is the problem of the grandmother, whose actions cause the most real damage. But she has no easy decision. I imagine all of us parents would want to protect our children. While mores have changed regarding same-sex relationships, it is a difficult question if a child accuses a teacher of misconduct. How does one separate truth from fiction? Does one err on the side of protecting a child from a sexual predator, for example, or on the side of not destroying an innocent teacher falsely accused? This is no academic matter, given the history of moral panics that have sent innocent people to prison for decades. 

 

I’ll also note that, from the lawyer’s point of view, literally everything about how the accusation was handled in the play was terrible. No isolation of witnesses, no care to avoid suggesting the right answer to a child. The investigation was tainted from the beginning. 

 

Hellman also looks at how communities turn on those they consider “different.” In many ways, the truth doesn’t even matter. The accusation was made, and the seriousness of the charge mattered more than the credibility of the evidence. 

 

What perhaps surprised me the most was that Hellman went a lot further than the usual when it came to the question of same-sex relationships. It would have been easy (particularly in the 1930s) to have just left the accusations as clearly false. 

 

Instead, by having Martha confess her attraction to Karen, Hellman dares the audience to ask, “so what if they were having a lesbian relationship?” She challenges the very prejudice and bigotry against LGBTQ people by writing Martha and Karen as sympathetic characters, and suggesting their potential love is not in fact “abnormal.”

 

Beyond the words of the play itself - Martha’s confession of love - there is a certain amount of interpretation to be done by the actors. In this version, the affection went beyond the Hayes Code limitations that the classic Audrey Hepburn and Shirley McClain movie was limited to. 

 

That, in turn, raises the question of Karen’s reaction. In the moment, the kiss draws a startle and a denial of reciprocation, but I think there is some ambiguity. This was definitely drawn out in the final scene - a pantomime of the characters at Martha’s funeral, where her ghost hugs the bereft Karen. 

 

If you combine this with the way that Karen rejects Joe, knowing they will never again be together, at least hints that Karen’s feelings are more complicated that pure heterosexuality. 

 

In the breakup scene, which is emotionally intense to put it mildly, there are further questions raised. Karen accuses Joe of having doubted her, wondering if there was something between her and Martha. And, to be honest, Joe is only being human here. He also only responds after Karen pretty much browbeats him into saying what she wants him to say. 

 

But by that time, Joe has also already indicated that he fully intends that Martha come with them to a new life. 

 

If in fact Joe has misgivings about the nature of the relationship, he has essentially indicated that he is okay with there being something between Karen and Martha. He either has chosen to believe there is nothing, or he has accepted a degree of non-monogamy. Either way, he is being beyond accommodating. 

 

My wife and I discussed this afterward, and she indicated that she thought that by the time this conversation took place, there was literally nothing Joe could have done or said. Karen was just too traumatized and/or ambivalent about her sexuality to accept Joe’s acceptance and love for her. 

 

In the end, the lie has destroyed at least three lives, and no amount of apologies by the grandmother can fix the damage, as much as she wants to. 

 

Likewise, the cowardice of Karen’s aunt, whose fight with Karen triggers the idea of the accusation in Mary, cannot be undone. Her refusal to come testify at the trial leads directly to the loss of the case. One can see her perspective, I suppose. Being involved in a lurid case is no picnic, although since the aunt is an actor by profession, lurid scandal may not actually be a bad career move. 

 

Bakersfield Community Theater has been on a roll lately with a series of classic plays from the mid-20th Century. I for one have been very much enjoying seeing these classics brought to life. 

 

I did also want to mention that I loved how the opening and closing of the play were done in pantomime, starting with a school photo, and ending with the placing of flowers on Martha’s grave. It was a good artistic touch. 

 

There are a few longtime stage veterans in this one: Julie Gaines as the grandmother, Jan Hefner as the aunt. As usual, they were excellent. 

 

A number of young women played the schoolgirls. I will particularly call out Alana Edwards (last seen by me in BC’s production of As You Like It) as Rosalie, the main victim of Mary’s bullying. Her physical acting in this was utterly convincing. 

Martha (Ruth Luna) and Karen (Paige Green) (rear)

Mary (Dakota Seaton) and Rosalie (Alana Edwards) (front) 

As the only male character, Cameron Kovac carried himself with the good nature of the country doctor he is portraying, and made for a thoroughly likeable character. 

 

Then there are the three main characters. Playing the villain isn’t for everyone, and playing a particularly unlikeable, entitled, cruel, and hateful child villain is even harder. Dakota Seaton simpered and whined and bullied and cried her way around the stage, a true force of nature and infuriating to watch. I mean that in the best way. She totally inhabited the character the whole time, truly becoming Mary. I was impressed. 

Mary Tilford (Dakota Seaton)

Martha and Karen need to be discussed together, because the chemistry between the two of them is crucial. Done right, there should be just enough sexual frisson to raise questions and make Mary’s accusation plausible, but not so much that it distracts from the other issues the play addresses. 

 

Martha was played with a certain frustrated yet confident poise by Ruth Luna. It was easy to understand why Mary drives her insane, why her awful aunt is a millstone around her neck, and why she reacts to Martha’s impending marriage with a horror she doesn’t even begin to understand until the end. 

 

In contrast, Karen, played by Paige Green, was the gentler one, the one who feels deep emotions, and cannot fathom why anyone would deliberately hurt her. I must say, this too was an impressive physical acting performance - Green literally shook at times, cried at others, and poured so much into the character. I have to imagine she was physically exhausted at the end of each performance. (As a performer myself, I absolutely know that feeling when you left it all on the stage, used every last neuron and emotion, and put your own self fully into your art. It is truly exhilarating and draining at the same time. And you need time to recover.) 

 I loved the matching outfits.

Martha (Ruth Luna) and Karen (Paige Green) 

Our local theater scene is quite good here in Bakersfield. A lot of talented and dedicated people put a lot into bringing stories to life, and I appreciate what they bring to our community every time I experience their artistry. 

 

***

 

The original court case:

 

As a lawyer, I am always going to look up what I can about a legal case that makes it into literature. This one had some fascinating things to think about. 

 

First of all, unlike in Hellman’s drama, the original case had a strong racial element in it. The accuser was the illegitimate child of a British aristocrat with his Indian mistress. He acknowledged her as his child, and apparently the family - including the grandmother - accepted her. 

 

Her experience at school was another matter, apparently. As the only non-white child in the school, she was relentlessly bullied, and allegedly singled out for punishment by the teachers. 

 

Thus, when she eventually made the accusation against her teachers, there was more going on than a mere dispute over discipline. 

 

When the teachers brought the action against the grandmother for libel, it went to a panel of seven judges rather than a jury. (Very different from our American system.) The trial was a shitshow. The judges were hardly unbiased, feeling pressure from the community which was already in turmoil over the racial and sexual issues involved. 

 

The proceedings were kept confidential, and transcripts released only to select people and otherwise kept secret for years.  

 

Perhaps worst of all, the judges were split between two equally patronizing points of view. Either they couldn’t imagine what two women could possibly do sexually with each other - this was the era of seeing women as asexual and defining “sex” only as penetration - or they couldn’t believe a child could make something up like that. 

 

Oh, and also the “brown people are sexually corrupted” trope. Yeesh. 

 

The aftermath of the trial, while it didn’t involve suicide, was tragic enough. 

 

Ironically, unlike in the play, the women eventually won the libel lawsuit. But because of the lengthy appeal process, legal fees ate up most of the award, leaving them with a pittance. 

 

Despite winning, public opinion turned against them, and they lost their jobs. 

 

One of the teachers managed to reinvent herself somewhere else and had a decent, if somewhat impoverished life. The other never did manage to recover, and died relatively young, dependent on relatives for her support. 

 

I would also note that in the real-life case, it is very likely that the accusation was completely false. Hellman’s version allowed for the ambiguity, which I think is a good version of artistic license. 

 

***

 

Ongoing relevance:

It is interesting to note how little has changed in the over 200 years since the original court case. Society still persecutes LGBTQ people - and slander is still a major weapon used. 

 

As in the play, bigots always use “what about the children?” as their excuse for harming LGBTQ people. Gay and transgender people are no more likely to be predators than any other group - and in fact the biggest danger to children comes from white, heterosexual males. Specifically, children are most at risk of sexual abuse in their own families, and in institutions where gender and generational hierarchies are emphasized - conservative churches of all varieties have had huge scandals in the last few years over institutional protection of pedophiles and predators. 

 

Unfortunately, too many people are all too eager to draw a line between “different from me” to “a risk to my children” and scapegoat LGBTQ people. 

 

Also relevant today is the way that many people are drawn to a scandal, and eager to believe it regardless of evidence. At least as long as that scandal reinforces their existing bigotry and tribalism. 

 

Case in point: do you really think that the Republicans in Congress are blocking the release of the Epstein files to protect Bill freaking Clinton? Just saying. 

 

This has, unfortunately, been a longstanding pattern. Don’t look at the risks close to home, even though those are the very real tangible threat. Instead, scapegoat “those people” and persecute them so that you can feel “safe,” even though that safety is an illusion. 

 

I have many friends and family who are LGBTQ, and all this horrifies me. I want everyone to thrive and feel free to live their lives in peace. To quote Maya Angelou:

 

Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,

Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.

In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.

At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.

We listen carefully as it gathers strength.

We hear a sweetness.

The word is Peace.

It is loud now. It is louder.

Louder than the explosion of bombs.

We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.

It is what we have hungered for.

Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.

A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.

Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.

 

***

 

My own life experience:

 

The problem with libel and slander is that false accusations can have real-life effects. Because of my own experience, many moments in this play pulled on some emotions in ways I wasn’t expecting. 

 

Mary Tilford is a great character in no small part because of how realistic she is. True, she is over the top in the way dramatic characters need to be, but the core of her character, her behavior, and her words are all too realistic. 

 

The genius of how she destroys people is that she doesn’t really lie. Not that much at least. Rather, she takes truth and twists it to mean more than it actually did. Or, when she does repeat a lie, she makes sure she is quoting someone else, in order to deflect blame and create plausible deniability. 

 

There is just enough there in what Mary says to create the impression of a lesbian relationship where none exists. 

 

By herself, though, Mary can only do so much. What she needs are for the adults to be her enforcers. She can intimidate Rosalie with threats of punishment from the adults for her borrowing of the necklace. She can ruin Martha and Karen’s reputations because her grandmother is a credible adult that others respect. 

 

This too matches my own experience in my birth family, where an obviously false accusation of sexual misconduct against my wife became a means of character assassination and control. And it happened because the supposed “grownups” failed to address the lie. The Mary Tilford was protected, even if not entirely believed. 

 

In the final scene in the play, I felt that there was only one thing that wasn’t quite realistic. From my own experience, the Mary Tilfords of this world (like the Donald Trumps they resemble) don’t tend to feel remorse for the destruction they cause. A real-life Mary may well have placed the flower, for show, but would also have considered herself fully justified in destroying that life. After all, she should have been treated as the center of the universe, and if she had, none of this would have happened. 

Three Days in June by Anne Tyler

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

 

After the last audiobook I listened to, which was so emotionally intense that it about did me in, I went with a bit lighter fare for my trip to fetch my youngest kid from science camp. 

 

As I often do when the books on my list are on hold and haven’t come in yet, I scrolled through the list of “available now” selections, and looked for ones with listening times roughly suited to the known driving times I would have.

 

That’s how I ended up listening to Anne Tyler. 

 

This book - and indeed Tyler's books generally, are Chick Lit, although not fluff, if that makes sense. The plots are very domestic, small scale, personal. The endings are described using words like “sweet,” “sentimental,” and “cozy.” Which, I guess in this case, kind of applies, although more because of an implied happy ending rather than the ambiguous or tragic ones usually preferred for literary fiction. 

 

On the other hand, the plots are character driven, focusing on how real people would react to realistic situations. In that sense, her writing feels like one of Anthony Trollope’s more domestic novels. The characters are realistic, complex, realistic, and interesting. Definitely not the caricatures you often find in genre fiction. A few of the plot points felt a bit contrived, but not egregiously so. 

 

Books like these are difficult for me to categorize. They are more thoughtful than genre, but not as psychologically deep as literary fiction. But maybe I am suffering from the cultural bias against so-called “female” literature, and the tendencies to see relationships as less “serious” topics for literature than broader social issues. Plus, she has won a Pulitzer...

 

Whatever the case, I enjoyed the book, and found the characters likeable. Particularly Max, who deserves a better life than he got. 

 

The book is set over a three day period: before, during, and after the day of the wedding of Debbie, the daughter of the narrator, Gail, and her ex-husband, Max. 

 

Right before the wedding, Debbie is told by her fiance’s sister that he may have cheated on her. But, well, there are competing stories and motives, and whatever. Debbie decides to proceed with the marriage, despite Gail’s misgivings.

 

The problem is, however, that Gail has other reasons for overreacting. And, in a twist from the usual stereotype, it isn’t that Max had cheated on her - he never did. It was she who cheated, and then eventually left Max despite his willingness to just forget about the betrayal and move on. 

 

You can also throw into the mix Debbie’s micromanaging mother-in-law, Gail’s retiring boss who is laying Gail off so the new boss can bring in her own staff, and a senior citizen cat in need of a home. Because stories are always cozier with a cat. (Okay, maybe not in the case of The Master and Margarita, or Mort(e)...) 

 

Over the course of the novella, the characters have to come to terms with their pasts, and their own beliefs about love, marriage, and family. Which is pretty relevant to all of us. 

 

One of the things I particularly thought was good was the way the author gently notes the way that our deepest fears aren’t really about what other people did to us, but about what we know we ourselves are capable of. We project our weakness even more than our traumas. 

 

I also liked Max, even though I probably would have found him irritating to live with at times. He is a bit of a free spirit, not always planning the future (although he isn’t irresponsible - he just lives in the moment.) He likes cats, which is always a plus in a guy. He cooks, and is generally a thoughtful sort of guy. 

 

Ironically, one of the criticisms that Tyler regularly receives is that her males are “testosterone challenged.” Which, being a cishet male, I am not exactly sure what women mean by that in this context. I tend to read it as they don’t think of themselves as alpha males, and avoid toxic masculinity. Which is a plus. 

 

Because of that, I don’t find Max to be a “sad sack.” If a female character had remained single after a divorce, worked in her career, kept a relationship with her daughter, and after retirement worked as a volunteer, would we consider her a “sad sack"? Or just a woman who didn’t find it worth it to chase another man? So why not for a man? 

 

And seriously, if you are going to (for a whole cascade of reasons), end up showing up on your ex’s door, with a cat, needing a place to spend a couple of nights for your daughter’s wedding, spending your time preparing meals and taking care of details sounds…totally functional and decent. 

 

Yeah, Max is the man, whatever the critics say. 

 

Gail, as the narrator, clearly has some work to do on herself, although she is flawed, not a bad person. Everyone in this book, even the micromanaging mother-in-law, seem like the sort of people one could get along with well enough. Just a bunch of normal, quirky humans with the usual baggage. 

 

Perhaps Gail just needs a cat. That’s at least my theory, and I think it is quite plausible. 

 

The narrator was J. Smith-Cameron, who did a fine job. 

 

Poetics by Aristotle

Source of book: I own this

 

There are essentially two kinds of people in the world: those who are still pissed about the destruction of the Library of Alexandria, and those who are “uh, what?” 

 

I am clearly in the first category. (H/T to my friend Tai for reminding me about this recently.) 

 

The library fell victim to a series of setbacks, over a several-hundred year period. Some, like the fire that started during the siege by Julius Caesar that spread to the building, were individual catastrophes caused by war. Others were death by a thousand cuts: the funding for the library was reduced, leading to the selling of books to support what remained. 

 

Whether the burning ordered by Muslim fundamentalists ever happened is debatable, as is a competing story of Coptic Christians ordering the destruction of secular books. 

 

Whatever happened, the library eventually disintegrated, and with it was lost much of the literature of the ancient Mediterranean world.

 

I mention all of this because this post is about only the first half of Poetics by Aristotle. The second half, which is all about comedy, has been lost to us. As have thousands of plays, poems, and other works of the time. There are several mentioned and quoted in Poetics, and those quotes are all we have left of plays that Aristotle thought were the finest of Greek antiquity. 

 

Sigh. What might have been…

 

I’m not a big fan of the so-called “classical” education thing. Too much of it is steeped in white supremacy, a nostalgia for when higher education was a way of maintaining social status for wealthy white males, when the emphasis was on learning Greek and Latin and the old classics in order to be “educated” in the subculture of the aristocracy. 

 

This was a time, after all, when even a premier institution like Harvard didn’t even require a knowledge of arithmetic, let alone any higher math or science. It was about cultivating the air of a gentleman, not practical knowledge. 

 

That said, I do believe that a working knowledge of the thinkers of the ancient world are in fact helpful in understanding our modern world. Our current culture - indeed any culture ever - hasn’t arisen spontaneously ex nihilo. Rather, every culture has built on what came before, and will serve as the foundation of what comes after. Human society evolves. 

 

Understanding current Chinese culture requires some knowledge of the ancient texts which still influence that culture. 

 

For all of us living in the West, we will fail to understand our culture without understanding the ideas that lie at the heart of the history of that culture. 

 

Those of us raised Christian will sometimes (although not as often as you might think) have a good knowledge of the Bible. More rarely, we might have some knowledge of the writings of the Church Fathers such as Augustine. 

 

But shockingly, few seem to understand the Greek roots of most of the ideas in the Christian Scriptures (aka the New Testament), and this means that far too many misunderstand the writings of Paul, the teachings of Christ, and even the use of Greek ideas like the underworld. 

 

Because the writers of the Bible were in conversation with the ancient ideas that predated them by hundreds of years, the context and meaning of many passages require an understanding of what that conversation was about. 

 

One of the big epiphanies in my deconstruction from Evangelical/Fundamentalist doctrine was reading Politics by Aristotle decades ago. 

 

To understand Paul’s use of the “domestic codes” throughout his letters, you have to go back to the OG, where Aristotle lays out his views of the idea organization of society. Specifically, the belief that free Greek men should rule over women, children, and slaves, who were by definition subhuman and unable to govern themselves. 

 

Paul’s ideas, when seen in that context, are clearly a repudiation of Aristotle’s belief. And yet modern interpreters have taken him as confirming the hierarchies that Aristotle claimed. It is a bizarre inversion of meaning. 

 

So, I believe that understanding Aristotle, Plato, and other philosophers is helpful in understanding our own time. 

 

That’s a really long introduction to get to Poetics, which is more accurately about drama, not poetry as we think of it. It does touch on lyric poetry and epic poetry (particularly Homer), but the bulk of the book is about the various forms of drama, with a focus in the part we still have on tragedy. 

 

I am not going to summarize the ideas in this book. Many are ones that any of us who have spent any time studying literary theory or even drama generally are already familiar with. 

 

The Classical Unities; hubris, nemesis, catharsis; the distinction between the noble-born characters of tragedy and the common-born characters of comedy; the basic structure of a three or five act play; and so on. 

 

And perhaps the most influential ideas in Western literature: the narrative arc and character-driven plot. 

 

The book is a fascinating read, although it definitely feels dated in many areas. Which, well, to steal from Yoda, when 2500 years you reach, look this good you will not. 

 

The very fact that reading this book I could see the roots of so much that literary theory is still talking about is a testament to Aristotle’s clarity of thought, and close observation of human nature and its relation to the art we produce. 

 

There are a few passages which I thought particularly interesting. 

 

Tragedy, then, is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with every kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separate parts of the play; in the form of dramatic action, not of narrative; through pity and fear effecting the proper purification of these emotions. 

 

Aristotle thought that tragedy needed specific elements in order to be effective.

 

Every tragedy, therefore, must have six parts, which parts determine its quality - namely, plot, character, diction, thought, spectacle, song.

 

For a time in the 20th century, except for opera, tragedy didn’t come with that much song - songs were for comedies. However, it is good to see the idea of the musical tragedy making a comeback. It is perhaps no accident that one of the best modern musicals I have seen is based on a Greek myth. 

 

Unity of plot does not, as some persons think, consist of having a single man as the hero…As therefore, in the other imitative arts, the imitation is one when the object imitated is one, so the plot, being an imitation of an action, must imitate one action and that a whole, the structural union of the parts being such that, if any one of them is displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and disturbed. For a thing whose presence or absence makes no visible difference is not an organic part of the whole. 

 

There is a certain satisfaction in a story of this sort, one where everything necessary is present, and nothing present that is not. Not that there isn’t another kind of pleasure in a rambling story, say, by one of the Victorians. But a tight plot with that unity is amazing when it is done right. 

 

Aristotle also talks about why certain kinds of “tragedy” are unsatisfying. There is nothing particularly interesting about a good man who finds success, or a bad man who sufferers consequences. Likewise, there is no real point to a good man who suffers blind misfortune. There is no connection to reality in any of those cases in a way that resonates universally. 

 

A plot of this kind would, doubtless, satisfy the moral sense, but it would inspire neither pity nor fear; for pity is aroused by unmerited misfortune, fear by the misfortune of a man like ourselves. 

 

Thus, the proper subject for a tragedy is a basically decent, good man, who is brought low by a tragic flaw, a single - and all too human - failing that brings him down. 

 

One can, for example, see ourselves in Hamlet, too paralyzed by fear and indecision to act, even to protect himself. Or Macbeth, seduced by ambition and goaded on by a woman questioning our manhood. Or Lear, disappointed that his offer of an inheritance inspires a rather cold response from his child. Or Othello, who allows the seed of doubt about his spouse - and indeed his own impotence - to ruin everything. 

 

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention one quote that betrays Aristotle’s chauvinism. I do this in part because it is such a great example of how Paul’s pushback against Aristotle is clear in context.

 

With regard to the characters there are four things to be aimed at. First, and most important, they must be good. Now any speech or action that manifests some kind of moral purpose will be expressive of character: the character will be good if the purpose is good. The goodness is possible in every class of persons. Even a woman may be good, and also a slave, though the one is liable to be an inferior being, and the other quite worthless. 

 

Contrast this with Galatians: 

 

There is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer slave or free; there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.

 

Stick that in your pipe, Aristotle. That this is a clear rebuke is evident when you know the cultural context. Women are not inferior. The enslaved are not inferior. Other ethnicities are not inferior. We are all equal. 

 

Aristotle, like any good writer and thinker, had many good things to say. And also some glaring blind spots. 

 

The key in reading is to understand. To use discernment. To understand how ideas are interconnected, and influence all that comes after. To understand ideas as a conversation rather than dictation, and to draw from the conflict the ideas that most support human thriving is the goal. 

 

I am disappointed, however, that the second half of this book has been lost, because I would be very curious to know what Aristotle thought was humorous. (And believe me, the old Greek comedies can be hilarious.) What might have been. 

 

Whiskey Pete, Bill Gothard, Beards, and Me

 

Not too long ago, notorious DUI hire* “Whiskey Pete” Kegsbreath addressed a bunch of military leaders. While I could spend a few posts on all the incompetence, stupidity, and arrogance displayed in all of this, I wanted to talk instead about a line in the speech that I think I have some insider knowledge about. 

 

*DUI Hire: Drunk, unqualified, and incompetent. This appears to be the primary qualification for working in the Trump Regime, second only to “loyal to Trump rather than the Constitution, rule of law, or any ethical value.” 

 

The line in question is one where Kegsbreath says that he will eliminate beards among soldiers. There has been a lot of speculation about the reasons for this. Is he trying to keep African Americans, Sikhs, Muslims, Orthodox Jews, and so on, from serving? Maybe. 

 

But the specific use of the term “beardo” caught my eye, because I was once part of another organization that took serious issues with beards - and that term was thrown about a bit. 

 

Per the Oxford English Dictionary, the term originated in the 1930s, at a time when facial hair was transitioning from the big (and often unusual) beards of the 19th Century, to an era of moustaches. (From Hitler to Clark Gable…) At the time, it was just slang for “man with a beard.” 

 

The term “weirdo” itself didn’t arrive until the 1950s. Humans being what they are, the two were eventually combined, which is how I heard it as a kid and thereafter. The 1980s were again an era of mustaches, with subgenres such as “law enforcement,” “pastor,” and “gay guy.” Beards were out, and those who wore them, “beardos.”

 

That said, in the 1990s, things shifted again. Your basic white guy grew a circle beard. 

 

The 1990s were when my birth family joined Bill Gothard’s cult. You could look like anything you wanted to come to the seminars, but if you actually applied to join the organization, you had to submit a photograph of the family. And, if someone had facial hair, you had to give a damn good explanation for why. 

 

Because beards were almost entirely forbidden. 

 

Does this seem a bit, well, weird? 

 

It did to me at the time, because beards were coming back in for right wing religious guys - you know, masculinity and all. In addition, lots of the guys in this subculture did Civil War reenactments, and have you seen the beards from that conflict? Seriously. 

 

As it turns out, Bill Gothard, like James Dobson and a bunch of other old white males from that era, associated facial hair with….the 1960s. Hippies. Only hippies had beards and moustaches. Good people shaved their faces. 

 

Gothard, Dobson, and the rest literally made their careers fearmongering about hippies. And specifically, those hippies who protested the Vietnam War. 

 

Facial hair meant you were a hippie which meant you were against the war which meant you were an evil rebel which meant shave your goddamn faces if you want to be taken seriously.

 

I’m pretty sure Kegsbreath is coming from the same place. 

 

Back when we should have won the Vietnam war, but for those dirty beardo hippies, the military required shaving and “high and tight.” Back before those same hippies protested Jim Crow and brought us all this Diversity, Equity and Inclusion woke stuff. 

 

The irony here is that facial hair actually has a strong association with military service. And not just in the 19th Century. 

 

You may have noticed that the Amish and other conservative Mennonite groups have a distinctive facial hair pattern. Specifically, the men wear trim beards, but no moustache? Ever wondered what that is? 

 

My ancestors were Mennonite, although the family became more mainstream Evangelical after emigrating to the US in the 1880s and 90s. At that time, as the family photos show, the beards mostly disappeared, particularly on my mom’s side. (My grandpa had a Colonel Sanders look most of the time I knew him, and one of his brothers had a trim beard.) 

 

The reason for the beard but no moustache is that for centuries in Europe, the big ‘stache was a signifier of military command. Particularly in Germany. 

 

Mennonites are pacifists. They do not serve in the military. Which is why my ancestors on both sides were hounded out of Germany, first to Russia, then to the United States. 

 

The beard without the moustache is a deliberate social protest, a signifier that pacifism extends to the eschewing of the military “look.” 

 

Also a bit bizarre in the case of Kegsbreath is that his pastor-hero Doug Wilson has a big beard, which he uses as a signifier of his great masculinity (as well as a place to store the odors of his two other man-extenders, whiskey and cigars.) 

 

This is why I think Kegsbreath is really doing the “no dirty hippies in the military” thing. 

 

There is an interesting post-script to this in my own life. 

 

I’m a short guy. I used to be pretty skinny (sigh), and when I was a young man, I looked really young. (For a couple decades, I kept getting asked if I was old enough to be a lawyer.) I intentionally kept my first drivers license just for the photo.

 

This came to a head when I was 20. I was already in law school, and played my violin in a band with some middle-aged female friends, who did the church circuit locally. (They were quite good - tight vocals, original songs) 

 

After one gig, a little old lady came up and asked me if I was age 12. 

 

[Insert existential scream]

 

No, I explained, I was 20. 

 

And then I went home and started to grow my beard out. 

 

I have explained elsewhere that the law school I “attended”** was affiliated with Gothard’s cult. I was actually in the inaugural class, which was…interesting.

 

**Attended: that might be a strong word for “went to three conferences and my graduation but was otherwise mostly on my own.”

 

Gothard himself showed up for our graduation, and gave a commencement address that was the most narcissistic blither I had ever heard up to that time.***

 

***Trump is even better than Gothard at making everything about himself and rattling on endlessly in his narcissism. 

 

It was literally all about himself, and how he expected us all to use our degree to help him build his organization. Even my parents, who wouldn’t leave the cult for a few years, commented on how terrible it was. 

 

It wasn’t until many years later that I heard from a friend who worked in the organization at the time (and like me despises Gothard and everything he taught), that my beard was a great irritation to Gothard, and that he complained about it for weeks afterward. 

 

I feel quite proud of that. My one visible source of rebellion against the cult got in the craw of the cult leader. 

 

So anyway, those are my thoughts on Kegsbreath, Gothard, and facial hair.