From the first pages I sensed some artificiality in this book. I did not feel real action and characters, it looked more as author trying to illustrate certain ideas and situations. After reading about the author HERE I got clear picture. Irvin Yalom, a psychiatrist, wanted to demonstrate a case study of a person experiencing alienation in the society. He selected two cases - - B. Spinoza, Jewish philosopher, who did not accept religion of his community. As a result he has been excommunicated for the Jewish society. - A. Rosenberg, a main Nazi racial theorist, whose works were highly appreciated by Germany leaders, but at the same time he was shunned by them. Looks like the author used such technique before - books inspired by Schopenhauer and Nietzsche. As I am not interested in Rosenberg theories and life story, I concentrated on Spinoza, but here I was also disappointed. I got impression, that the author is reusing over and over just one point - god and nature are one and we, humans, should live life free of any emotions and relations with others. At that time I concentrated mainly on Spinoza's theories, but here I
I know and appreciate, Christos Tsiolkas as an author 2 books - The Slap and Barracuda.
The third one, Dead Europe, I could not read. Quite early in the book, I got impression, that it is a traveler's advice, how to find a cheap homosexual partner in Athens. Damascus - somehow I thought it is a book based on the last war in Syria and the plight of fugitives. First pages put me into right direction - St Paul, beginnings of Christianity. I stopped reading - why an author like Christos Tsiolkas, whose all books are deeply rooted in current issues, would go 2,000 years back, to dig into history of religion, which became marginal in general and hated in some circles? First I wanted to find answer to this question. The author declares it openly - in his young years, somehow interest in St Paul activity coincided with author's personal doubts about his own identity and place. Now, having the last two firmly established, he returned to the other fascination of his youth. I returned to reading the book, but quite early I had to put id down again. Simply concentration of dirt, sheet, vomit, bile and vulgarity was beyond my endurance. After some break I returned. Personally I found 2 interesting points - 1. Enormous social barrier, which Moses' laws created between Jews and the rest of ancient world. From Gospels we know, that Jesus was a bit flexible in following these rules - he dined with tax collectors, did not observe Sabbath very strictly. But on the other hand he declared that he does not intend to question any point in Moses' law, that his only aim is to bring lost children of Israel on the correct path. The book only slightly touches issues facing Saul, the Jew, in his encounters with multinational Christian communities. Still I appreciated it as it was the first time I realized this issue. 2. How essential to the newborn Christians was the message - Jesus will return (soon). It explains why it became so popular among lower classes and slaves in Roman Empire. Our burden will end soon and we will enjoy heaven while our oppressors will grind teeth in hell. Other than that I did not find anything valuable in this book. One important thing completely missed are his writings. Compared to other Evangelists recognized by the official Christian churches they represent completely different style. Instead of poetic ecstasy (John), simple report (Mark), passionate story (Matthew) and detailed story (Luke), in Paul's writing I find clear, logical, classical thinking typical to Greek philosophers. How come a person deeply submerged in Jewish society changed so much? Damascus does not contain any hint. Saul is presented firstly as quite rough worker in a leather tents production workshop, then as a passionate Apostle. In the last chapter, his nephew mentions something about his thorough education. That's all. Saul's close contacts with Timothy and Thomas the Twin I found rather dubious and confusing. Plus dirt, vulgarity and cruelty all the way - thus my rating.
Last week I spent long hours in State Library of Victoria.
2 posters attracted my attention...
How right - what could be a better place to satisfy curiosity?
Next poster confirms...
This is a Starting place!
But precisely where, WHERE?
And now my curiosity remains even more curious - how the Library conveyed this message to women?
Update. Above question worried me so much, that eventually I stated it in a letter to SLV. Here is their response:
In line with the 'Inclusion and Reach' pillar of the library strategy the cubicles in the ladies toilets feature similar advertising to contemplate (see attached).
Well, I am very thankful for the answer and happy that females haven't been ignored.
I also realized, that wall urinals is probably the last physical advantage of male gender. Not only for natural functions, but also as a good place for a reflection.
High note is probably a reflection of my disappontment with my this year's reading. Runner is a very down to earth relation of life in poor suburbs of Melbourne just after the I WW. Charlie, a boy, whose family is fighting for survival after his father's death got a chance to improve their financial condition. The chance is linked with strange connections and high risk. Charlie takes all, but at each stage is nurtured by love to his family and loyalty to friends.
I found this book very strange. Basically there is no plot, no story. There are many facts, but they do not constitute any defined whole. I felt as travelling in unending Mexican desert without any aim and few times considered quit. What was OK, then? Few insights into nature of Mexican catholic church - it's integration with traditional ceremonies and beliefs. Few local priests not agreeing with discipline and correctness brought from Europe. In this landscape, 2 French priests looked to me odd and artificial.
Additional element was their good natured greed, to get money for development of churches.
Somehow al this matched all shortcomings and failures of Catholic Church in today's Europe.
Actually I did not like it at all. I gave one extra star as acknowledgement of some novelty in the writing style. Why I did not like it? Because there is NO STORY! Author does not bother to give names to most of the characters and it reflects the climate of indifference. I do not know what was the criteria to name few people, still there is no consequence, they are nobody's with names. There is a try to drop a connecting thread - the wandering wolf, but I do not see it connecting anything, just another appearance without consequences. Probably some experts will find a deeper sense in the absolutely unemotional writing style, atomization of characters. But I reach for the book to get feeling of some involvement.
My first impression was very bad - this bombastic title. As a result I treated the book initially with some suspicion and needed some time to regain confidence. Second impression was also on negative side - lies that shaped the world. For initial few stories from antiquity I did not find any serious consequences of a lie. On the positive side I put interesting format of each story and solid work over historical data. At this stage the deficiency was on my side - I felt overwhelmed with number and variety of facts and details. I admit - this book was too hard for me. Stories I enjoyed/appreciated most: Galileo, Vichy government, Fire of Rome, Chairman Mao win.
It was supposed to be the 10th time, on 1st Sunday of June.
Supposed? I registered at the earliest date, but in March came days of uncertainty and finally decision - the walk has been postponed till some unknown date :(
For long months it looked as postponed forever and finally a decision - do it your own way - on Sunday -18 October.
My own way? It had to be not far from home so the choice was simple - walk a bit longer than one hour in Wattle Park. And what about majestic Albert Lake and black swans?
Well, there is a creek or two and a bit of a pond, and ducks - it should do.
The day was a bit hazy. I took my nordic walking poles and started walk from home. I reached a completely overgrown pond...
No ducks, only frogs croaking.
Still I remember ducks here, they were very civilized ducks, I am sure they would not abandon a place without leaving a note.
I was right...
Just 200m east - Gardiner Creek...
My first concern was quality of water - was it used before for hands washing?
Anyway, I am used to hardships and restrictions, additionally I was encouraged by a single duck - just look carefully, it is there.
So I walked joyfully powered by memories from old days and hopes, that next year I will do it in Albert Park, and black swans will be there...
Due to uncertainty I did not make much noise about this walk, so I declared a quite modest fundraising target - $199. And I exceeded it by a dozen!
Thank you very much my sponsors.
To see my memories from previous years - click a multiple sclerosis label under this entry.
I found this book revolting, actually I realised, that it upsets me and makes me angry, so rejecting it was a sort of the last rescue. I have to give credit to the author for my reaction, it proves some skill, but I found it harmful. What went wrong? After reading some 300 pages I found all characters are strongly artificial, exaggerated and put into some extremely cruel circumstances. Author intertwines the story with relation of some historical events. Again, events are well dramatized, but their connection to the story is very remote.
At the beginning of February 1999 I flew from hot summer in Melbourne Australia, to cold and wintry Minneapolis.
My intention was to compete in American Vasaloppet in Mora, Minnesota. The winter was poor in snow but I managed to have decent skiing in few parks in Minneapolis.
On Thursday, 3 days before the race, I heard on the radio, that the race has been cancelled due to the lack of snow. It was a shock! Next morning I rang the race office.
They confirmed the bad news - sorry, the race is cancelled.
- That's impossible! I came here all the way from Australia! It cannot be!
- We are very sorry, but it is cancelled.
- But there is quite good snow in parks in Minneapolis...
- We also have good snow in the forest. But the race is run in the open area and there is no snow there.
- So shift it to the forest!
- That's impossible, we have around 4,000 participants, we cannot squeeze them on narrow tracks. Anyway, the decision is FINAL, there is NO RACE!
I tried the last chance - please connect me with the club secretary. I had Valerie Brown at the other end of the wire and I laid down my proposal:
I understand that you are unable to run the regular race. But on the other hand there is still quite good snow in the forest. And on another hand, I came here all the long way from Australia.
Why not to put these two hands together and let me do a solo race in the forest?
There was a moment of silence and then ... come to Mora, we'll see what we can do for you. I heard smile in Valerie's Brown voice.
I came to Mora on Saturday morning. It was sunny, cold and snowless. The big, red Dalarna Horse reminded me my race in Sweden 3 years earlier....
I went directly to the race office. It was the saddest place in the world. Thousands of race bags and bunches of medals for finishers. I took one of them in my hand.... Valentine Day.. Yes, of course! It will be Valentine Day tomorrow! A heart, two skiers inside, Love to ski .
- What are you going to do with them?
- They all will be scrapped.
- O, no! You must let me to race for this medal!
We studied maps of ski trails in the forest. Valerie showed me ones where the snow should be OK. I did simple arithmetic...
- Valerie, so if I will ski around these loops until I clock over 58 km, will you give me such a medal?
- Find his racing bag - she said.
A couple of club members drove me to the forest to see how it looks. I found it in much better condition than expected.
After return to the town, I still managed to participate in sled races with some Swedish guests (I am the one in the red top) and eventually went to sleep as the happiest person in Mora.
9 o'clock Sunday morning, blue skies, light frost, no wind. In the Log Cabin I left a bag with warm clothes and some food and drinks. I put on my red racing suit with kangaroos on the back and on the leg.
I put on my race number 503, START!!!
For a long time I was the only person on the trails. Later some people arrived, whole families for a relaxing session of skiing in the sun. Some of them were quite shocked when out of sudden a crazy racer appeared...
- Go away from the track - shouted parents to the children - thousand skiers will be here in a moment!
- But they said , that the race is cancelled?
I left them in such puzzled state and skied on and on - 5 times around The Point Trail, 4 times Beaver Dam Trail and every possible trail between and around. Eventually my log showed more than 60 km, it was almost 3 pm. I skied back to the Log Cabin where some club members waited for me with the medal of my dreams.
Back from home, I wrote a detailed report of my effort, it showed almost 65km. What a surprise it was when few weeks later I received mail from Valerie Brown. She sent me a special diploma...
... and another medal. Valerie explained, that some of "Love to Ski" medals have been given to sponsors and volunteers so for me she sent a special one - Winners's Time + 50%, Year 1999....
And there is ONE and ONLY ONE such medal in the World!
23 personal relations from a pilgrimage to Mecca.
Most of them are just pages from travel diary - names of places, list of events, very rarely there is some religious reflection, but lots of social gossip.
Only 3 relations I found really interesting.
Year 1927 - Mohammad Asad. Austrian of Jewish origin, who wholeheartedly converted to Islam. His relation is truly inspired by his beliefs.
Maybe worthwhile to mention, that in later years Mohammed Asad was very involved in creation of Pakistan and occupied high position in Pakistani government, he served as a plenipotentiary minister in United Nations. He is also an author of highly praised translation of Qur'an.
Year 1927 - Winifred Stegar, a pilgrim from Australia. The strange thing is, that there is no relation of her visit to Mecca. Her story is cut at the city borders.
I read a voluminous biography of Winifred which contains a long relation of visits to Mecca an Medina. There is absolutely no religious inspiration in it, but lots of relations about maltreatment, cheating, robbery.
Year 1964 - Malcolm X - Afro-american activist who calls himself an extremist.
This one I found most authentic.
Od dwóch dni to główny temat w australijskich mediach.
Julian Assange - podaję link do anglojęzycznego wpisu Wikipedii - KLIK gdyż wpis polski jest bardzo ubogi - KLIK. W anglojęzycznym wpisie pojawia się powiadomienie - artykuł jest aktualnie przedmiotem zmian.... Rzeczywiście, w chwili gdy zacząłem ten wpis internet podpowiadał: - godzinę temu (czyli około 2 rano w Polsce) Julian Assange pleaded guilty - przyznał się do winy. - 22 minuty temu - sąd zaakceptował przyznanie się do winy.
Przed nami jeszcze kilka kroków, zatem ograniczę się do historii. Julian Assange - wyjątkowo pokręcony życiorys... Urodził się 3 lipca 1971 roku jako Julian Paul Hawkins - rodzice - Christine Ann Hawkins - artystka plastyk i John Shipton - aktywista pokojowy, zawód budowlaniec. Rodzice rozdzielili się jeszcze przed urodzeniem syna. Gdy Julian miał jeden rok matka wyszła za mąż za Bretta Assange wraz z którym prowadziła grupę teatralną - Julian uznał go za swojego ojca. 6 lat później para rozwiodła się, matka związała się facetem związanym z mocno podejrzanym kultem, ten związek rozwiązał się po trzech latach. Wikipedia policzyła, że Julian Assange w okresie dzieciństwa mieszkał w 30 australijskich miastach (nie sądziłem, że w Australii jest aż tyle miast) - pewna stabilizacja nastała w Melbourne - Julian (17 lat) wprowadził się do rodzinnego domu razem ze swoją dziewczyną. Już w wieku 16 lat Julian był wykwalifikowanym hackerem, swoją wiedzę uzupełnił studiami matematyki i fizyki na kilku uniwersytetach - oczywiście studiów nie ukończył. Był już notowany przez policję co nauczyło go ostrożności w kontaktach z grupami hackerów. W wieku lat 20 miał już na swoim koncie włamania do sieci informacyjnej NASA i Pentagonu. W wieku 18 lat (1989) ożenił się ze swoją rówieśnicą, Teresą, urodził się im syn, Daniel. Małżeństwo rozpadło się i toczyło walkę o to kto ma się opiekować synem, dysputa była tak emocjonalna, że Julian podczas niej osiwiał (przedtem miał brązowe włosy). Jak potoczyły się losy Daniela? Jedyna co znalazłem, to że Julian pzapewnił synowi bardzo dobrą edukację i wprowadził go w arkana hackerstwa.
W 1994 roku Julian został postawiony przed sądem z 31 zarzutami przestępstw, w tym również defraudacje. Podczas procesu Julian popadł w głęboką depresję i w rezultacie został umieszczony w szpitalu psychiatrycznym i spędził 6 miesięcy - cytuję: "śpiąc w dzikich terenach w okolicach Melbourne".
W roku 1996 proces dobiegł końca, postawione zarzuty groziły karą łącznie 290 lat więzienia, jednak prawnicy utargowali, że jeśli przyzna się do 24 zarzutów to skończy się na grzywnie - A$2,100. W ramach dobrowolnej rehabilitacji Julian pomógł australijskiej policji schwytać kilku dystrybutorów dziecięcej pornografii.
Rok 2006 - Julian został członkiem zarządu WikiLeaks - KLIK - organizacji ujawniającej gwałcenie praw człowieka. korupcję, zbrodnie wojenne.
W 2010 roku amerykański żołnierz Bradley Manning zgłosił się do WikiLeaks i udostępnił im około 750,000 tajnych dokumentów. Został zidentyfikowany przez wywiad USA i w 2013 roku skazany na 7 lat więzienia. W tym samym roku Bradley poinformowałwładze, że od dzieciństwa miałproblemy z identyfikacją płciową, przez kilka lat był gejem, teraz zdecydowanie jest kobietą - imię Chelsea Poniżej ich zdjęcia - w okresie służby wojskowej i obecnie...
W 2017 roku prezydent B. Obama zredukował jej wyrok i odzyskała wolność. Życiorys Chelsea Manning - KLIK - jest prawie tak samo pokręcony jak życiorys Juliana.
Wracam do tematu... Podczas swojego procesu Chelsea Manning twierdziła, że nikt z WikiLeaks nie wywierał na niego/nią żadnego nacisku. Administracja USA nie uznała tego argumentu i gdy prezydentem USA został D. Trump postawiła Julianowi formalne zarzuty.
Nadal rok 2010 - Julian Assange odwiedził Szwecję i natychmiast po powrocie do Anglii został oskarżony przez dwie Szwedki o nadużycia seksualne, Szwecja wydała Europejski Nakaz Aresztowania. Julian obawiając się ekstradycji do Szwecji zgłosił się do ambasady Ekwadoru w Londynie i poprosił o azyl. Jednym z jego argumentów było, że Szwecja może dokonać jego ekstradycji do USA.
W ambasadzie Ekwadoru Julian spędził 5 lat, otrzymał w tym czasie ekwadorskie obywatelstwo. Były to całkiem aktywne lata, Julian był zaangażowany w liczne akcje, między innymi w przyznanie Katalonii niezależności. W międzyczasie Szwecja wycofała oskarżenia przeciw Julianowi, ale życie nie lubi próżni, Julian popadł w konflikt z władzami Ekwadoru, stracił obywatelstwo i opuścił ambasadę, czekali już na niego angielscy policjanci i od 11 kwietnia 2019 roku siedział w angielskim więzieniu czekając na ekstradycję do USA.
W 2017 roku, czyli jeszcze jako Ekwadorczyk, Julian pobrał się ze Stellą Moris, mają dwójkę dzieci...
Niektóre źródła podają, że Julian ma conajmniej 7 dzieci.
Co się działo w ostatnich miesiącach było tajemnicą, rezultat jest następujący... Administracja USA zdecydowała, że jeśli Julian przyzna się do stawianych mu zarzutów to zostanie ukarany 62 miesiącami więzienia, na poczet wyroku zostaną zaliczone miesiące spędzone w londyńskim więzieniu - tak się składa, że spędził tam 62 miesiące - a zatem ostanie uwolniony.
Oto treść zarzutów: "Conspiring with Chelsea Manning, at that time a U.S. Army intelligence analyst, to unlawfully obtain and disclose classified documents relating to the national defense. After obtaining classified national defense information from Manning, and aware of the harm that dissemination of such national defense information would cause, Assange disclosed this information on WikiLeaks". Źródło - KLIK. Tłumaczenie: "Spisek z Chelsea Manning, wówczas analitykiem wywiadu armii USA, w celu nielegalnego uzyskania i ujawnienia tajnych dokumentów dotyczących obrony narodowej. Po uzyskaniu tajnych informacji dotyczących obrony narodowej od Manning i uświadomieniu sobie szkód, jakie mogłoby spowodować rozpowszechnianie takich informacji dotyczących obrony narodowej, Assange ujawnił te informacje na WikiLeaks".
Komentatorzy są zgodni, że jest to kryminalizacja dziennikarstwa trudno jednak mieć pretensje do Juliana Assange, że po 12 latach więzienia chciał odzyskać wolność. Strona amerykańska wydała oficjalne oświadczenie, że żaden obywatek amerykański nie doznał żadnych szkód w wyniku tego "spisku".
Prawnicy Juliana uznali, że postawienie stopy na kontynencie amerykańskim jest jednak ryzykowne i znaleźli sąd USA położony najbliżej Australii - Saipan na Wyspach Mariańskich - KLIK.
Julian poleciał na Mariany prywatnym odrzutowcem, w Bangkoku dołączył do niego australijski ambasador w USA. O 9:18 rano lokalnego czasu - zgodnego z czasem w Sydney i Melbourne - Julian przyznał się do winy, godzinę później sąd zaliczył mu odbytą karę i stał się WOLNY. O 21:15 (13:15 w Polsce) spodziewamy się go w stolicy Australii - Canberze.
P.S. Te Wyspy Mariańskie budziły mój niepokój - pamiętam z lekcji geografii, że tuż obok jest Rów Mariański - ponad 11 km głębokości. Aż się prosiło, żeby podczas wychodzenia z sądu ktoś go popchnął do tego Rowu. Na szczęście - nie :)
Difficult book to read, difficult to write.
Extraordinary life of a woman of an extraordinary character.
But the essence of this life was neglect, poverty, contempt, extremely hard work, disenchantment with each side of a very long and busy life.
I admire an author for undertaking such a task as she must have known that reading it will be a hard, not rewarding effort.
I am grateful to the author for telling this story, but my reflection is bitter - so many lives look like not worth living.
Brief story of Winifred Steger life here...
Born in 1882 in London to house-painter had relatively normal 9 years of childhood. In 1891 her father decided to migrate to Australia, his wife, mother of Winifred abandoned him and her daughter at he time of ship embarking.
Father of Winifred got allocated an absolutely worthless piece of land in remote Queensland. He did not send his daughter to school and all her time was filled with backbreaking work. When she was barely in her teens father frequently was going for work in towns leaving daughter alone in charge of a farm. When she was 16 she got pregnant with an itinerant shearer. Winifred's father reacted to this with anger and contempt. When a baby was due he delivered his daughter to child's father's household and forced him to marry her. Then left her there. Again she was received by her parents in law with contempt and hostility.
In next 7-8 years she delivered 4 children. She was living separately in a metal shed, her children taken for care in in-laws home. Her husband visited her irregularly not showing any concern about her or their children. At some stage he threatened her with gun so she ran away from home and ended close to Toowoomba where she worked 7 years as a barmaid.
There she met Ali Acka Nuby, who was running a general store. He was a great love of her life. They had 3 children together, she registered them under her first (and only) husband name.
During this relationship Winifred converted to Islam. She realized that this religion imposes many restrictions on women and she tried to moderate them and give women more rights. Her partner started working as a camel driver and Winifred proved to be very useful in sorting out paperwork for camel trains. After some 7 years Ali Nuby traveled to India to visit his family and there he died of cholera. Winifred had no share in her estate as they were never married and the only source of her income was backbreaking work as a washerwoman. Mullah in the local mosque found her a husband - Karum Bux - to provide some stability for her and her children. Again this marriage of convenience was not officially registered. Karum Bux was a very devoted Muslim, very often disappointed, sometimes scared with Winifred's liberated approach to religion. After 2 years of relation he got idea to make a pilgrimage, Hadj, to Mecca, holy place of Islam. Winifred forced him to take her for a trip and during very demanding and dangerous journey she proved that a woman can win a respectful place in Islam. Years later the relation broke, Winifred got a post of governess at the court of royal family of Afghanistan. This job not lasted long due to cruel power struggle in Afghanistan and after few months stay in India she returned to Australia where she started running a mess for miners in Tenant Creek. At the same time she became a regular contributor to newspapers in Adelaide where she published stories from her life. After the end of II world War she moved to Alice Springs where she ran a poultry farm. In her 90-ties she moved to Adelaide where she spent last years of her life in age-care home.
Animula, vagula, blandula. Hospes comesque corporis
Quae nunc abibis in loca Pallidula, rigida, nudula, Nec, ut soles, dabis iocos...
Written by Roman Emperor Hadrian shortly before his death - CLICK. Roving, amiable little soul. Body's companion and guest. Now departing in regions pale, cold and bare, no place for your sense of humour. Translated partially by Wikipedia, partially by me.
We just had a shortest day of the year, there is cold and misty outside.
I think with worry about my soul.
My body will not provide a safe and comfortable lodging for it. Not for long anyway.
For so many years I was sure we were .one.
I think we were and somehow it never came to my mind to worry about my inseparable partner - amiable, little soul. So loyal and reliable to me.
And now, I am the weakest link. My body I mean, it will not last long.
I was never convinced to religious way of life.
Now I think with worry, that it could have given me some peace of mind. I could hope that my soul will end in eternal light among millions of heavenly choristers. I do not think with enthusiasm about it, but there is some safety in such a concept.
But without?
Exceptional life.
I am impressed by each aspect of Joice's life and action.
I have also to admit, that it might have been not easy to put into a book.
There was hard selfless work day after day, it is not easy to turn it into an exciting story.
I am looking forward for time when libraries will open to public and I will be able to confront this book with original writing of Joice Loch. I strongly believe that I will find extra value.
So far my main reservation to the book is number of errors in reporting historical events.
I understand that such errors could have been done in original writing of Joyce Loch, in many cases she heard stories from not reliable sources.
I am disappointed that these mistakes have been copied by Susanna de Vries into her book without any comments.
"Nightmare, product of a sick imagination" - Emil Zola. I totally agree. In this book Leo Tolstoy totally condemns sexual and maternal instincts. According to the main character , the only human, or godly way of life is total abstinence. If it is going to lead to the end of human race, so be it. Author himself, two years after book publication, stated: there is something hideous in The Kreutzer Sonata, something evil in motives which led me to write it. Nothing to add. I read a version available on Project Gutenberg. Translation by Benj. R. Tucker. I felt comfortable for most of the book but what about this: "But he who wrote Beethoven’s ‘Kreutzer Sonata’ knew well ..." He who wrote Beethoven's sonata? Did not Tolstoy know who wrote it? I had to check the Russian original - "Ведь тот, кто писал хоть бы Крейцерову сонату, – Бетховен, ведь он знал, ..". Direct transalation - "After all, the one who wrote the Kreutzer Sonata, Beethoven, he knew...".
Ballet Spartacus, music by Aram Khachaturian, presented quite frequently on ABC Classic.
What's the point of the title question?
Well, 3 years ago, me and my wife, been to performance of Spartacus in Melbourne Arts Centre. This melody came and we exchanged shocked looks - but this is Gershwin???
At home I started Google search.
Luckily at some stage I remembered the name - Stormy Weather - bingo...
So not G. Gershwin, but Harold Arlen, the rest is as I remembered.
Written in year 1933.
1933?
Aram Khachaturian was then 30 years old and started his musical career.
He composed music to Spartacus 22 years later, in 1955.
Hmmm....
I am not interested in copyright issues, just... how come nobody noticed this similarity?
Maybe I have no sense of melody???
Dive into Google again.
It was not easy, but I found something:
"..but the celebrated Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia—the ballet’s single “hit”—bears an uncanny similarity to Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You...".
Can't take my eyes...??? - KLIK.
Ooops, so I am rather deaf :(((
Luckily there is a reader comment under this article:
"Not only does Aram Khachaturian’s “Adagio of Spartacus And Phrygia” has a strong resemblance to the Frankie Valli song, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” in terms of certain sections of the melody and chord structure, it also is quite similar in nature (or melodically) to the song, “Stormy Weather”. So many classical themes have become the foundation for many American or modern popular songs..."
Source HERE. Some consolation.
What amused me immensely was the highlighted part - classical themes used by modern composers.
I read at least eight J. Barnes' books and in most of them, exceptions are some short stories, I got impression, that the author is not telling the story, but testing some ideas or writing styles.
Arthur and George takes enough space (580 pages) to test/present more than one genre.
Test 1 - George - young person completely dehumanized, reduced to just one dimension.
Test 2 - mysterious letters - long, much too long, relation of absolutely nonsensical letters and some malicious actions.
Test 3 - George 1 - young person of noble background and greater than life personality. Author speeds through numerous events not giving reader a chance to be closer to this great character.
Test 4 - Law 1 - some nonsensical cruel events happen. Innocent person is charged. Detailed description of police inquiry and proceedings in the court.
This part I appreciated most.
Test 5 - George 2 - person in prime of his life put in circumstances which should not happen to real gentlemen. Very interesting yarn, but author avoids deeper engagement.
Test 6 - Law 2 - revision of test 4. Again, very interesting and engaging story. Apparently author feels comfortable in this environment.
Test 7 - George, maturity. Like George 2 - author keeps all the time a safe distance, which does not allow the reader to warm up to this exceptional person.
Summary.
I have no idea what was the purpose of writing this book. I have to admit, that at least 3 times I was close to abandoning it. I ended feeling not satisfied.
What I would like to now, is to read Arthur Conan Doyle life story. Not dry biography, just a good story.
Story taken from a book - One Thousand Roads to Mecca - CLICK.
Motto: Yes, I am an extremist. The black race here in North America is in very bad shape. Show me a black man who is not an extremist and I will show you someone who needs psychiatric care.
Hadj 'in Arabic means: to direct yourself to a specific goal. In Islamic law, this means going to the Ka'ba, the holy house, and performing the pilgrimage ceremony.
At the airport in Cairo, groups of travelers became pilgrims, assumed a state of sanctification. I was nervous and prepared to observe others and act like them.
By assuming the state of ihram, we take off our clothes and cover ourselves with two white cloths. One, izar, is wrapped around the hips. The second, rida, is wrapped around the neck and left arm, leaving the right arm uncovered. For this simple sandals and a bag with money and documents.
Each of the thousands of travelers dressed the same, king or peasant, is no different. We all cry: Labayk! Labayak! - Here I am coming to you, Lord!
A plane with pilgrims takes off every few minutes, but the crowds at the airport are not diminishing. On the plane, white, black, brown, yellow - all brothers, who worship the same God and respect everyone everyone.
Jedda airport looked even more crowded than Cairo. Each group of pilgrims has been assigned a guide - a mutawwif - who will lead us from Jedda to Mecca.
I got mixed up in the middle of the group, I was nervous. I am at the root of the Muslim faith, and in a moment I will have an American passport for inspection, which is the complete opposite of the essence of Islam. I was so nervous that I broke my bag key. So I broke the zipper to open the bag so they wouldn't suspect that I was carrying something forbidden. Finally, passport control. The clerk looked at me and said something in Arabic. I showed him a letter of recommendation from Dr. Shawarbi (director of the Islamic Federation in Cairo). The clerk started arguing with my random traveling companions.
They explained to me that I would be handed over to a religious court, Mahgam Sharia, who controls so that unbelievers do not end up in Mecca. My passport will stay at customs.
I did not have the courage to protest, my guide took me to a shelter right next to the airport, found me a place in a 15-person room. Most of the guests slept on rugs on the floor. The guide took me to a corner and explained that he would show me the correct prayer positions. I tried to imitate his movements, but it didn't work. My ankles refused to give in to what Muslims do all their lives. Asians sit on their heels, Westerners sit on chairs.
I had no dream in my head. I practiced persistently. In the end, I thought I figured out the way, but after three days my ankles were still swollen. I thought that in our organization Nation of Islam maybe we should introduce the teaching of basic Muslim rituals. It was dawn, the people around them got excited.
I realized how big a role the carpet plays in their lives. Everyone has their own prayer rug, each family or group has a larger rug. After praying, they covered the rug with a tablecloth and ate their meal, then took off the dishes and tablecloth, and they had a living room. Now I understood why the trader with stolen goods was paying me such a good price for Eastern carpets when I was acting as a Boston burglar.
Time passed, I did not know what awaited me. After a while, I noticed people sitting at the table with a telephone. I showed them a letter from Dr. Shawarbi and asked them to call the number provided there.
Dr. Omar Azzam came to see me in an hour, he took me to his villa. Soon my passport and documents seized at the border were brought there, I was informed that my court hearing would be held in the morning.
After asking many questions, the court decided that I was a full-fledged Muslim, entered my name on the register and gave me two books to read. I went back to Dr. Omar's villa, got some sleep when the phone rang. The chief of protocol from Prince Faisal called - after lunch the prince's car will pick me up. The car drove me to Mecca. We parked in front of the Grand Mosque, washed and entered, surrounded by a crowd of praying pilgrims.
Seven laps of the sacred stone. Like here...
I walked and prayed, and my guide made sure that pilgrims did not step on me. Then I drank water from the well of Zamzam and we ran between the two hills of Safa and Marwa where Hagar (Abraham's exiled wife) once wandered looking for water for her son Ishmael.
I visited the Grand Mosque three more times and circled the Ka'ba stone. Last time, after dusk, we went to Mount Ararat.
This visit ended the series of pilgrim rituals. We also threw the traditional seven stones at the devil.
Some of pilgrims cut their hair and beards, I spared them for fear that my little daughter would not recognize me when I returned.
America must learn about Islam because it is a religion that wipes out racial problems from society. During these eleven days in the Muslim world, I ate from the same plate, drank from the same glass, slept on the same rug, and prayed with people of all colors of skin. We were all brothers because faith in God wiped out the "white" from their minds, from their behavior, from their approach to others.
I started reading this book with quite positive approach.
Earlier I found many accusations questioning Aboriginal origin of the author so I looked in the book for a mention of it and using it to author's advantage.
Did not find any so I consider this issue as completely irrelevant to the contents of the book.
As for the book I was disappointed with amount of rhetoric compared to factual analysis.
Actually my feeling is, that for presenting the the facts plus objective analysis, 50 pages would be enough.
Another point is constant accusation of colonizers for their behaviour, ignorance and misjudgements.
Well, that is how European people were 200+ years ago regardless of their nationality and the county they colonized.
As for presented facts... I did not find too many surprises.
One of them was mention of sizes of some buildings.
Here I would question one case - "...Sturt had seen a sophisticated village of seventy domed huts... each capable of housing up to fifteen people (...) they were eight to ten feet in diameter, and about four and a half feet high.."
Ten feet in diameter, and a fire in the middle, and fifteen people around? Sorry but I cannot see more than 4 very squeezed people there.
Author mentioned , I think once only, about animals held in enclosures close to homes, but he never mentioned what animals were held there.
Author raised a number of quite relevant questions - why Australia is so shy with mass scale production of kangaroo meat?
I fully agree - why?
Answer looks easy - opposition of existing meat industry.
Another author's question - why there are practically no restaurants offering Aboriginal food?
Here I do not find answer, my feeling is that it would be a business success. So why no ABoriginal community tried?
Summary, I would rate this book much higher, close to 4 stars if redundant rhetoric was reduced.
And final point - "..incident occurred at a latitude of 127 degrees 47 minutes south...".
Could someone find this latitude, please!
South end of my map reaches South Pole at 90 degrees south.
It is obvious error of the publisher (Magabala Books), from other details I deducted, that the real coordinates were 27 degrees 47 minutes.
I would expect that they could have paid a bit more attention in editing so important and popular book.
My feelings about this book changed many times during reading it. 2 1/2 is preferred rating. Firstly I felt strong interest in the the spy story and complicated relations between British and US intelligence. Then I got strongly bored with lengthy details of work progress, topography of Berlin etc. Then my interest grew with introduction of a love affair. It was somehow tempered when elements of cruelty appeared in the story. I related them to other such cases in earlier books of this author - Cement Garden, Comfort of Strangers. Additionally it looked like author did not know how to continue the story. He resorted to cruelty again. I found it sometimes amusing, but also disgusting. Finally the plot takes dramatic turn which I found quite smart, but all this was somehow wasted by the quite lackluster Postscript.
Before that I was contacted few times by City of Yarra with updates on state of the place of my concerns.
Personal vision confirmed these updates, see below...
Judging by belongings left on site, the occupant(s) feel safe here.
I appreciate practical approach of City of Yarra to presented issue, specifically in current time when there are many pressing issues.
Of course at the time of signalling this case I could not predict that it will coincide with Covid-19 disaster. On the other hand I hope that in its way it contributed to general health and safety.
Week ago I reported HERE a dirty and messy place very close to the school and a response I received from the local council (City of Yarra).
The response was quite positive - they assured me that they "... will continue to clean and check it on regular basis".
Today, another Thursday, I hurried to the school to pick up my grandchildren and by the way to see the outcome of "cleaning... on regular basis".
Here is the update...
Well, how to say it?
Exactly same items were there on 18 Feb 2020. Including this particular loaf of bread.
Apparently my, old fashioned camera, missed all signs of regular cleaning.
It started quite witty, but I had a worry.
The inspiration to this book, F. Kafka's Metamorphosis, was quite uninspiring for me.
Unfortunately, after some 20 pages, my worries were confirmed.
In my opinion this book is more a political pamphlet than a book.
Author so much enjoyed sarcasm, that he forgot about any substance to his story
Every Thursday we pick up grandchildren from school.
2 weeks ago we noticed such a picturesque scene...
This is a car park owned/administered by a number of companies.
This place is just 20 m from the entrance to Collingwood College.
I was sure, that all this stuff must have been brought here last night so, surely, it will be cleaned in few hours.
So I was quite astonished when I saw the same picture week later.
I wrote a report to City of Yarra Council with a copy to Collingwood College.
Next day I got a call from the school principal. He told me that he reports this problem regularly to authorities.
I got also a confirmation from City of Yarra, that they received my report.
Then, yesterday (5/3/20), I saw ...
Actually this parking spot neighbours a shock absorber workshop. Maybe it is a part of the treatment?
After returning home I found a response from City of Yarra.
Here is a significant quote:
"...Council is aware that people have been sleeping rough at this site and we have been working closely with our local homelessness outreach service to engage with people at the site.
Whilst we have no current plans to move on any of the people at the site, we will continue to clean and check it on a regular basis.
As the photos you have provided show a fair amount of food scraps present, we will aim to organise another clean of the site in the coming days..."
I highlighted most essential part - clean and check on regular basis.
I can assure you that the food in the trolley stays there from at least 18 Feb 2020.
At the beginning of January, as for last 3 years, we visited Ballarat for an annual music festival - Organs of the Ballarat Goldfields - LOOK We had few very busy days there and returned home convinced, that music is much more valuable than gold. Still, when the musical emotions mellowed, we felt some longing for Ballarat and its gold plated climate.
This time we decided to have some exciting company - our 4 grandchildren.
Few days accommodation for 6 people. Not so simple.
Luckily our son did some preliminary search aon Airbnb and here we were, in a backyard of a seasoned gold digger...
Then we looked the other way... no, it was a backyard of enchanted house.
Each fireplace guarded by mice
Old record player and a selections of proper music: Beatles, Elvis and Co.
Amby testing phone, Felix setting an old clock.
Girls testing their bed
Note: next to the bed there were some carefully selected books, such as - How to kill your husband (and other handy household hints) - MORE.
Below - bedroom for boys.
Bedroom for grandparents
Boxes of fancy dresses
Strategically placed carafes with port, sherry...
But next day the magic was put to the background, time for GOLD.
We were not discouraged by a poor weather and a muddy road
Actually mud and muddy waters were our element. This and other parts of our story are here:
Still Gracie managed to colour a candle...
... and Matilda to get arrested.
Luckily smaller kids were taken in custody by responsible people.
The Spinoza Problem by Irvin D. Yalom
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