The Adventures of Henry Thoreau: A Young Man's Unlikely Path to Walden Pond
© 2014 Michael Sims
384 pages
Shortly before retreating for two years to his self-built cabin at Walden Pond, Henry David Thoreau accidentally started a forest fire. A simple attempt at having fish for lunch reduced 300 acres of woodlands to charcoal, and very nearly ignited Concord. The village pariah would eventually be pardoned, for the town had known him before his attempt at civic ignition; they knew his reputation as the nice if odd boy from a respectable family of teachers and pencil merchants. Before Henry David Thoreau loomed large over American literary history, eventually helping inspire the environmental and civil rights movements, Henry was that nice if odd boy. The Adventures of Henry Thoreau examines Henry's life outside of Walden, giving a history of his life as he lived it -- as a boy, as an awkward, courting teenager, as a adventure-thirsty young man who explored the whole lengths of rivers with his brother.
Michael Sims puts a human face to the man who has cast such a long shadow over American history. Here, Henry is no icon, but a frequently distracted student who barely gets into Harvard and who itches to escape it. Throughout his life, his abiding passion is the outdoors. Raised a Unitarian, Henry was already predisposed to look askance at traditional religion. For him, spirituality was an individual journey, and he communed with God best in the outdoors, skipping church to take long walks in the wilderness. He idealized Nature, and revered the native Americans as having lived more closely connected to it. But his lust for the natural wasn't limited to getting "moony-eyed over mountains"; his mind also had a scientific cast, and those long hours of meticulous study resulted in one work of technical import. These aren't solitary quests, either; young Henry is companionable. He takes long walks into the woods with remarkable friends, like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Nathaniel Hawthorne; spends weeks on a river with his brother, and even takes classes of children into the wild to teach them how to observe, investigate, and come to understand the world around them. As the books wear on, however, these connections fall away; he leaves his work as a teacher, his brother dies, and his object of affection rejects him on the advice of her father that Henry's prospects are too dismal to make him a fit husband. Throughout, he escapes increasingly more into solitude, and though he dies at home, with family watching over him, he seems a lonely figure sometimes substituting philosophy for people. He sought an authentic life free of distractions, and produced extraordinary work as a thinker -- but in light of the ordinary happiness of his early years, one wonders if the later monkishness was truly necessary.
Related:
I to Myself: from the Journal of Henry David Thoreau, Henry David Thoreau
Walden, Henry David Thoreau
"On Civil Disobedience", Henry David Thoreau
* "moony-eyed over mountains", as a skeptical professor of mine once described those who identify as spiritual, but not religious
Pursuing the flourishing life and human liberty through literature.
"Once you learn to read, you will be forever free." - Frederick Douglass
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Born Fighting
Born Fighting: How the Scots-Irish Shaped America
© 2004 Jim Webb
384 pages
Born Fighting is a family story of the Scots-Irish, a clan of forgotten men. Beginning with the Celts, author Jim Webb moves swiftly through British history to the establishment of the Ulster Plantation. Faced with continued resistance to the British crown by the feisty Irish, who were even more suspect by their frequent fraternization with Catholic powers like France and Spain, King James hit on a novel solution: move in their equally feisty, but virulently Protestant, Scottish cousins. As anyone remotely familiar with Irish history can guess, that didn't end well; northern Ireland was a warzone even throughout the 20th century. But the Scots of the Ulster Plantation didn't stay there; they emigrated to the United States in large numbers, where they continued being...lively. Constitutionally incapable of bending a knee to a king, they pushed into the American interior, driving the frontier of colonization forward, provoking the natives into war and prompting a revolution. Although some would eventually make it to the west coast, the hills of Appalachia and the American South were settled in large number by these rebellious Presbyterians. Settling down didn't change too much, though; when Abraham Lincoln called for troops to suppress the secession of South Carolina, the size of the nascent Confederacy doubled as the distant descendants of Robert the Bruce closed ranks to defend their land and kinsmen from invasion. Although they were defeated in battle, they continued to shape American history, swelling the ranks of the soldiery and producing country music.
Although Born Fighting has the scope of a historical survey, it's much more personal. As mentioned, this is a family story, and it's framed by Jim Webb's journey into the Appalachian mountains to find his family's bones, and the quest that ends at an ancestral graveyard causes him to ruminate on how his people came to be in that land, so far removed from the hills of Britain and Ireland. It's thus quite romanticized, its characters assuming airs of heroism or tragedy as the story waxes on. The rough, ornery wildness that Webb celebrates here as an antidote to tyranny is the same 'cracker culture' that Thomas Sowell condemned in Black Rednecks, White Liberals as completely-self defeating. Webb doesn't completely overlook his kinsmen's flaws; his defense of the South owns up to slavery as the cause of secession, but he rightly distinguishes that from the motive for fighting. Slaves, like private jets and palatial estates today, were not owned by most southerners; most, in fact were owned by a few dozen elite families. The country boys wearing grey weren't fighting to keep their slaves, they were fighting because fighting rule from on high is a family tradition. The Scots-Irish, Webb writes, could respect authority from men who literally led them in battle, but never from enthroned men who dictate from afar, whether they be Caesar and Pope in Rome, or the president in D.C.
Born Fighting makes for fun reading, and it's not immaterial: there are reasonable arguments here, taken from completely respectable surveys like Churchill's History of the English Speaking Peoples, and WJ Nash's The Mind of the South. There's always more to the story, though, and southern whites have not always been completely opposed to authority on principle. The New Deal that Webb mentions resistance to was much beloved by the poor South, black and white alike. In fact, a song mentioned in Webb's section on country music refers to Roosevelt "saving us all", creating programs like the TVA that put the singer's family back on its feet. Taken as a fond retelling of family drama, however, its weaknesses can be forgiven. There are other works for the serious readers. Like Cool Hand Luke, this is a celebration of a man, of a people, who can't be told what to do and won't give up going their own way, no matter how many times they're beaten.
Related:
Poor but Proud / Dixie's Forgotten People, Wayne Flynt
The Redneck Manifesto, Jim Goad. Similar in intent, but much more vulgar.
A Renegade History of the United States, Thaddeus Russell
© 2004 Jim Webb
384 pages
Born Fighting is a family story of the Scots-Irish, a clan of forgotten men. Beginning with the Celts, author Jim Webb moves swiftly through British history to the establishment of the Ulster Plantation. Faced with continued resistance to the British crown by the feisty Irish, who were even more suspect by their frequent fraternization with Catholic powers like France and Spain, King James hit on a novel solution: move in their equally feisty, but virulently Protestant, Scottish cousins. As anyone remotely familiar with Irish history can guess, that didn't end well; northern Ireland was a warzone even throughout the 20th century. But the Scots of the Ulster Plantation didn't stay there; they emigrated to the United States in large numbers, where they continued being...lively. Constitutionally incapable of bending a knee to a king, they pushed into the American interior, driving the frontier of colonization forward, provoking the natives into war and prompting a revolution. Although some would eventually make it to the west coast, the hills of Appalachia and the American South were settled in large number by these rebellious Presbyterians. Settling down didn't change too much, though; when Abraham Lincoln called for troops to suppress the secession of South Carolina, the size of the nascent Confederacy doubled as the distant descendants of Robert the Bruce closed ranks to defend their land and kinsmen from invasion. Although they were defeated in battle, they continued to shape American history, swelling the ranks of the soldiery and producing country music.
Although Born Fighting has the scope of a historical survey, it's much more personal. As mentioned, this is a family story, and it's framed by Jim Webb's journey into the Appalachian mountains to find his family's bones, and the quest that ends at an ancestral graveyard causes him to ruminate on how his people came to be in that land, so far removed from the hills of Britain and Ireland. It's thus quite romanticized, its characters assuming airs of heroism or tragedy as the story waxes on. The rough, ornery wildness that Webb celebrates here as an antidote to tyranny is the same 'cracker culture' that Thomas Sowell condemned in Black Rednecks, White Liberals as completely-self defeating. Webb doesn't completely overlook his kinsmen's flaws; his defense of the South owns up to slavery as the cause of secession, but he rightly distinguishes that from the motive for fighting. Slaves, like private jets and palatial estates today, were not owned by most southerners; most, in fact were owned by a few dozen elite families. The country boys wearing grey weren't fighting to keep their slaves, they were fighting because fighting rule from on high is a family tradition. The Scots-Irish, Webb writes, could respect authority from men who literally led them in battle, but never from enthroned men who dictate from afar, whether they be Caesar and Pope in Rome, or the president in D.C.
Born Fighting makes for fun reading, and it's not immaterial: there are reasonable arguments here, taken from completely respectable surveys like Churchill's History of the English Speaking Peoples, and WJ Nash's The Mind of the South. There's always more to the story, though, and southern whites have not always been completely opposed to authority on principle. The New Deal that Webb mentions resistance to was much beloved by the poor South, black and white alike. In fact, a song mentioned in Webb's section on country music refers to Roosevelt "saving us all", creating programs like the TVA that put the singer's family back on its feet. Taken as a fond retelling of family drama, however, its weaknesses can be forgiven. There are other works for the serious readers. Like Cool Hand Luke, this is a celebration of a man, of a people, who can't be told what to do and won't give up going their own way, no matter how many times they're beaten.
Related:
Poor but Proud / Dixie's Forgotten People, Wayne Flynt
The Redneck Manifesto, Jim Goad. Similar in intent, but much more vulgar.
A Renegade History of the United States, Thaddeus Russell
Labels:
American Civil War,
American South,
Britain,
Celts,
Europe,
history,
Ireland,
race
Thursday, March 19, 2015
The Importance of Being Earnest
"The Importance of Being Earnest"
© 1895 Oscar Wilde
The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern life would be very
tedious if it were either, and modern literature a complete impossibility! (Algernon,
Act I.)
Algernon and
Earnest are two pals who have more in common than they realize. When Earnest
visits Algernon, planning on proposing to Algie’s cousin at a family
lunch, a mystery is waiting for him.
Algernon has recovered a lost cigarette case, one he knows to belong to
Earnest, but which for some reason is inscribed to an Uncle Jack from his
adoring niece Cecily. Who is Jack?
Who is
Jack, indeed? That’s a three-act
question. Jack, it turns out, is the
real name of Earnest. In real life, he’s
a respectable gentleman in the country with a young ward, for whom he must be
very proper and upright. When it gets too much, he likes to escape to the city
to see after his libertine brother, Earnest. Algernon isn’t in the least bothered to learn
that he knows his friend under an assumed name – Algy likes to pretend he has a sick friend in
the country, Bunbury, who occasionally needs help. (The occasion invariably
coincides with party invitations from Algernon’s aunt.) When Algernon decides to visit Jack’s country
estate pretending to be the scoundrel brother Eanrest, hilarity ensues.
Strictly
speaking, hilarity was ensuing long before that. Wilde once equipped that nothing succeeds like
excess, and this play’s abundance of witty dialogue may hint at truth in the
saying. Part of the humor comes from
Wilde turning social conventions on their head; his rich characters complain
that the lower orders aren’t setting a good example for the uppers, characters
despair of hypocrisy in a good man who pretends to be naughty, and at least one woman proclaims that men’s
proper place is in the home, and once they leave it they become altogether too
feminine. It’s a very silly play, and
even a little meta: towards the end Aunt Augusta complains that contrived
coincidences like this simply have no place in ‘good’ families like hers. This is a topsy-turvy plot, wherein characters
are alternatively sparring and then defending one another, traveling from sobs to shrieks of joy at a moment’s notice.
It’s magnificent fun, especially in the hands of talented actors.
Labels:
English Literature,
humor,
Oscar Wilde,
the play is the thing,
Victorian
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Selma 1965
Selma 1965: the March that Changed the South
© 1974, 1985, 2015 Chuck Fager
257 pages (2nd edition),
Last weekend, my hometown suddenly became host to two presidents, a hundred members of Congress, and enough people to see it swell over ten times in size.The event was the 50th anniversary of the Selma march. In 1965 over half the population of my hometown couldn’t vote; its black populace. Though guaranteed suffrage by the US Constitution, local registrars threw up impediments in the form of extensive literacy tests and limited registration times to keep the vote restricted. Although these tests limited poor blacks and whites alike, the effects were especially manifest in the black community: less than 1% of the same were registered to vote. The greatest obstacle in the face of full citizenship, local voting-rights activists thought, was not the scheming of the elite or even the lack of concern of the city's white population: it was the utter resignation of the city's poor blacks, who seemed to have given up hope. With the aim of inspiring the same, local voting rights leaders, working with national organizations like the Students Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, invited Martin Luther King, Jr. to add his energy and talent to the campaign. That invitation put Selma at the center of a national crisis on Sunday, March 7th, when King's strategy of provoking responses drew the wrath of the Alabama State Troopers onto a peaceful mob marching towards Montgomery. Weeks later, another far larger march crossed the bridge and trekked three days to the Capitol, and among its numbers was young Chuck Fager. His history of the Selma movement covers the road from despair to jubilation in a manner respectful of the fact that Selmians, black and white alike, had found their city as the site of the American nation's final attempt to work out its salvation from a history of racial strife.
King, following the dictium of Gandhi that the function of a civil resister is to provoke a response, launched a series of actions designed to thwart being ignored. The status quo would be strained, the establishment would be pushed, and either it would give way or fight back in such a way that the sin within could not help but be exposed. A series of increasingly aggressive displays, including night marches on the courthouse, followed. City leaders fumbled for an appropriate response; they knew pushback was exactly what King wanted, but something had to be done. Nothing good would come of mobs wandering about at night. Under such stress, rationality proved a poor opponent for human nature; thoughtful indecision gave way to the unfortunate authority invested in Sheriff Jim Clark. Clark was a swaggering lawman whose bellicosity was such that the Council was attempting to divert away his power into a new public safety manager, but in that late winter of '64-'65, he still had his teeth -- and he knew how to respond to any challenge, with the baton.
On March 7th, the growing movement within Selma began what was to be a march to Montgomery to plead for the Governor to intercede. It didn't matter that the registrar's office and the city council were making timid attempts to appease the movement; this was a drive gaining power, and only sweeping changes would satisfy. Across the bridge, in Selmont, were waiting a formation of Alabama State Troopers, and a roughneck posse led by the the sheriff. What followed was war, pure and simple. While King had wanted to expose the violence inherent in the system, he awoke the violence inherent in the human animal at war. When the six hundred marchers were ordered to turn back and refused, horror was released. There were no peace officers subduing unruly subjects that day, only Mongols in police uniforms, striking into the mass with the ferocity of a warband and routing them. Not content to simply turn back the march, the State's troopers chased the gas-stricken crowed across the bridge and into the city, block after block, hunting down and beating any man, woman, or child on the street around the movement's epicenter within the projects, Brown Chapel.
The horror of that day is remembered as Bloody Sunday, but it is what followed afterward that makes it one of the pivotal movements in American history. The black people of Selma were beaten, but not broken, by the State's retaliation. King and other leaders upped the ante, calling for ministers and volunteers throughout the nation to join them. And they came, by the hundreds. Fager places particular importance on the swelling numbers of white 'outside agitators' who joined Selma's black community in fighting for full voting rights: taking their perspective, Fager writes that the black populace was astonished and moved by so much white support. Here at last was hope that racism need not forever exist. Eventually they marched again, though it took several weeks: an immediate attempt on March 9 ("Turnaround Tuesday") was stopped by the State troopers again, but by March 26th the Federal government had moved. It couldn't help but do so: scenes from March 7 had been broadcast throughout the country which was now demanding action. With National Guard troops present and the eyes of the nation upon them, King led a third march across the bridge, this time to Montgomery.
Selma 1965 succeeds wonderfully in bringing together two dramas; the struggle of the city's poorer classes to claim the franchise that was their right, under the law, and the culmination of the national Civil Rights movement, being its last and best publicized campaign. Although it began as a local movement, and King aside was being maintained by Selma's own black leaders, after Bloody Sunday it became the object of national attention. Crowds formed in other American cities to 'march with Selma', and three of the four people who lost their lives in connection with the Selma campaign were out-of-state visitors who answered King's call. Some were accidents -- While transporting protesters and supplies,Viola Liuzzo had the luck to encounter a carload of Kluckers from Birmingham, who seized the opportunity to shoot her down. Other casualties included Jonathan Daniels, a seminarian who defended a young girl from an aggressive lawman in Haynvesville, and another young man named Jimmie Lee Jackson in Marion who shielded his grandmother from the constable's bullets. Only James Reeb died in Selma those dark hours; another clergyman, he took a wrong turn and was beaten in the streets outside a roughneck bar. These deaths increased the tensity, and slowly control trickled out of the hands of local governance and into federal courts.
The original version of this work was a triumph, I think, an impassioned history of the Selma march which managed to be fair to its citizens, whose own failures were not extraordinary and who certainly did not ask to become the poster children for racial hatred. The city fathers were just as contemptuous of the Kluckers following King to stir up trouble their way as they were of him stirring up trouble his way. They were raised in a tradition that was wrong; the bridge forced them to own up to the injustices. Fager notes in his original version that the progress that followed the violence was extraordinary. The additional sections added for the 50th anniversary, however, are not not nearly as strong, dedicated as they are to the noisy fight between two lawyers and a special interest group over the placement of a Civil War bust in a cemetery that can only be seen if you go looking for it. It's an ugly fight on the margins, one the city's people are utterly sick of seeing publicized regardless of skin color. This was certainly a worthy read for me, connecting stories I've heard since childhood into a coheisve hole, and filling my home's streets with historical actors.
Related:
A Power No Government Can Supress, The Zinn Reader; Howard Zinn
© 1974, 1985, 2015 Chuck Fager
257 pages (2nd edition),
Last weekend, my hometown suddenly became host to two presidents, a hundred members of Congress, and enough people to see it swell over ten times in size.The event was the 50th anniversary of the Selma march. In 1965 over half the population of my hometown couldn’t vote; its black populace. Though guaranteed suffrage by the US Constitution, local registrars threw up impediments in the form of extensive literacy tests and limited registration times to keep the vote restricted. Although these tests limited poor blacks and whites alike, the effects were especially manifest in the black community: less than 1% of the same were registered to vote. The greatest obstacle in the face of full citizenship, local voting-rights activists thought, was not the scheming of the elite or even the lack of concern of the city's white population: it was the utter resignation of the city's poor blacks, who seemed to have given up hope. With the aim of inspiring the same, local voting rights leaders, working with national organizations like the Students Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, invited Martin Luther King, Jr. to add his energy and talent to the campaign. That invitation put Selma at the center of a national crisis on Sunday, March 7th, when King's strategy of provoking responses drew the wrath of the Alabama State Troopers onto a peaceful mob marching towards Montgomery. Weeks later, another far larger march crossed the bridge and trekked three days to the Capitol, and among its numbers was young Chuck Fager. His history of the Selma movement covers the road from despair to jubilation in a manner respectful of the fact that Selmians, black and white alike, had found their city as the site of the American nation's final attempt to work out its salvation from a history of racial strife.
King, following the dictium of Gandhi that the function of a civil resister is to provoke a response, launched a series of actions designed to thwart being ignored. The status quo would be strained, the establishment would be pushed, and either it would give way or fight back in such a way that the sin within could not help but be exposed. A series of increasingly aggressive displays, including night marches on the courthouse, followed. City leaders fumbled for an appropriate response; they knew pushback was exactly what King wanted, but something had to be done. Nothing good would come of mobs wandering about at night. Under such stress, rationality proved a poor opponent for human nature; thoughtful indecision gave way to the unfortunate authority invested in Sheriff Jim Clark. Clark was a swaggering lawman whose bellicosity was such that the Council was attempting to divert away his power into a new public safety manager, but in that late winter of '64-'65, he still had his teeth -- and he knew how to respond to any challenge, with the baton.
On March 7th, the growing movement within Selma began what was to be a march to Montgomery to plead for the Governor to intercede. It didn't matter that the registrar's office and the city council were making timid attempts to appease the movement; this was a drive gaining power, and only sweeping changes would satisfy. Across the bridge, in Selmont, were waiting a formation of Alabama State Troopers, and a roughneck posse led by the the sheriff. What followed was war, pure and simple. While King had wanted to expose the violence inherent in the system, he awoke the violence inherent in the human animal at war. When the six hundred marchers were ordered to turn back and refused, horror was released. There were no peace officers subduing unruly subjects that day, only Mongols in police uniforms, striking into the mass with the ferocity of a warband and routing them. Not content to simply turn back the march, the State's troopers chased the gas-stricken crowed across the bridge and into the city, block after block, hunting down and beating any man, woman, or child on the street around the movement's epicenter within the projects, Brown Chapel.
The horror of that day is remembered as Bloody Sunday, but it is what followed afterward that makes it one of the pivotal movements in American history. The black people of Selma were beaten, but not broken, by the State's retaliation. King and other leaders upped the ante, calling for ministers and volunteers throughout the nation to join them. And they came, by the hundreds. Fager places particular importance on the swelling numbers of white 'outside agitators' who joined Selma's black community in fighting for full voting rights: taking their perspective, Fager writes that the black populace was astonished and moved by so much white support. Here at last was hope that racism need not forever exist. Eventually they marched again, though it took several weeks: an immediate attempt on March 9 ("Turnaround Tuesday") was stopped by the State troopers again, but by March 26th the Federal government had moved. It couldn't help but do so: scenes from March 7 had been broadcast throughout the country which was now demanding action. With National Guard troops present and the eyes of the nation upon them, King led a third march across the bridge, this time to Montgomery.
Selma 1965 succeeds wonderfully in bringing together two dramas; the struggle of the city's poorer classes to claim the franchise that was their right, under the law, and the culmination of the national Civil Rights movement, being its last and best publicized campaign. Although it began as a local movement, and King aside was being maintained by Selma's own black leaders, after Bloody Sunday it became the object of national attention. Crowds formed in other American cities to 'march with Selma', and three of the four people who lost their lives in connection with the Selma campaign were out-of-state visitors who answered King's call. Some were accidents -- While transporting protesters and supplies,Viola Liuzzo had the luck to encounter a carload of Kluckers from Birmingham, who seized the opportunity to shoot her down. Other casualties included Jonathan Daniels, a seminarian who defended a young girl from an aggressive lawman in Haynvesville, and another young man named Jimmie Lee Jackson in Marion who shielded his grandmother from the constable's bullets. Only James Reeb died in Selma those dark hours; another clergyman, he took a wrong turn and was beaten in the streets outside a roughneck bar. These deaths increased the tensity, and slowly control trickled out of the hands of local governance and into federal courts.
The original version of this work was a triumph, I think, an impassioned history of the Selma march which managed to be fair to its citizens, whose own failures were not extraordinary and who certainly did not ask to become the poster children for racial hatred. The city fathers were just as contemptuous of the Kluckers following King to stir up trouble their way as they were of him stirring up trouble his way. They were raised in a tradition that was wrong; the bridge forced them to own up to the injustices. Fager notes in his original version that the progress that followed the violence was extraordinary. The additional sections added for the 50th anniversary, however, are not not nearly as strong, dedicated as they are to the noisy fight between two lawyers and a special interest group over the placement of a Civil War bust in a cemetery that can only be seen if you go looking for it. It's an ugly fight on the margins, one the city's people are utterly sick of seeing publicized regardless of skin color. This was certainly a worthy read for me, connecting stories I've heard since childhood into a coheisve hole, and filling my home's streets with historical actors.
Related:
A Power No Government Can Supress, The Zinn Reader; Howard Zinn
Labels:
Alabama,
Civil Rights,
history,
politics,
Politics-CivicInterest,
race,
Selma
Saturday, March 14, 2015
The Iron Web
The Iron Web
© 2009 Larken Rose
363 pages
© 2009 Larken Rose
363 pages
All Jessica wanted to
do to celebrate her 19th birthday was go camping and test out her skills
navigating with a GPS. At no point during the celebration did she want to
include her passenger plane getting shot down from the sky and crashing in the middle of a war zone. But that's life. Her new home, Graveston, is the site of a Waco-style standoff between the Federal government and what the news is calling an
anarchist cult. Jessica is nursed back to life by a kindly priest living in the no-man's land between the lines, but to her perplexity he doesn't
seem to be too alarmed at the nearness of the terrorists. Nor, for that matter, do his amiable neighbors. When a Humvee crashes through the wall and dumps a
bunch of ATF agents, guns a-blazing, she
realizes why. Her rescuers are the
terrorists! She's not the only one in for a surprise, however: when one of the Federal agents left behind in the raid becomes captured by the 'cult', he too is taken aback by the lack of evil villainy. These people don't seem to be concocting any nefarious schemes; they're not building bombs, robbing banks, or planning the assassinations attributed to them by the media. Some of them are even pacifists! Something is rotten in the state of Arizona.
The Iron Web is a philosophical argument doubling as a thriller. At its heart is the titular iron web, which is less a terrorist organization and more a symbol of self-ownership and voluntary association. The book is peppered with conflicts between people and the will of the state, establishing tension that leads to good arguments. Argument constitutes the meat of the book, in fact, though it's no extended lecture; conversations occupy the intermittent quiet moments between the agents' assaults on the besieged community, of which Jessica and the ATF agent Jason find themselves unwitting members. Although the people they met hold to various and sometimes completing political philosophies (there are Constitutionalists, anarchists, and hippies are among their number), all agree to the same principle: no person has ownership over another. The 'web' is a visual representation of how people's lives are knit together through voluntary exchanges; in the story, the symbol is displayed by persons interested in dealing with one another off the books, creating an underground economy independent of the state. No bombing campaign could frighten the US government more than such subversiveness! Another viewpoint character named Betsy, an executive assistant attached to a senator about to be inaugurated as president, offers still more room for tension: the closer the senator gets to assuming political power, the more manipulative and abusive he reveals himself, and Betsy starts to question just who it is she's been following. He won on a campaign of fighting terrorism at home, but his plans for the future involve the effective abolition of free speech. Her disillusionment with the president-elect rises as the 'terrorists' are pushed to their breaking point, but this would be no thriller were the ending predictable. Just as the Iron Web is not a terrorist organization, so to are other appearances deceiving.
What makes The Iron Web work so well as a novel is that its ultimate villains are, in effect, the reader. The ATF agents persecuting the Iron Web are not out to perpetuate a police state and push around the weak; they sincerely believe themselves to be the champion of law, order, and justice. Jason becomes the Web's confederate, but he could have just as easily killed them at the state's bidding had he not been injured in an earlier attempt to subdue them. What altered was his awareness, and Larken's aim is to shift the readers'. Blame is laid, V-like, at the foot of the American people who have allowed the state to become God, who tolerate its invasion of every aspect of their lives, to allow its violence to become the norm. Not the violence of the ATF's campaign against the Iron Web, its pushing them further and further into the woods, burning their homes and shooting them down one by one. Confrontations like these are out of the ordinary. What's most insidious is the mundane tyranny of the state's agents that people encounter virtually every day -- creepy TSA agents, petty cops, corrupt politicians, and exacting IRS officials. The 'leader' of the Iron Web community, and Rose himself, urges those who believe in self-ownership to practice what they preach, and own up to the responsibility that comes with that ownership: resist. Few readers are likely to adopt, whole-cloth, the author's radicially individualist philosophy, but this is a book whose challenges are less preachy than fun. I've read it twice this year, and the ending was just as astonishing the second time around. This is absolutely reccommended.
Related:
V for Vendetta
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Runaway Slaves
Runaway Slaves: Rebels on the Plantation
© 2000 John Hope Franklin, Loren Schweninger
480 pages
Easily the most horrible aspect of American history, is the institution of slavery. Indentured servitude had been a historical norm for centuries before, of course, usually the mark of war, but in America it was paired with racial ideology to become utter evil. Although it eventually perished in 1865 at the hands of the 13th amendment, those whose lives it claimed were not necessarily willing to wait for freedom to be granted; instead, they took it. In Runaway Slaves, historians John Hope Franklin and Loren Schweninger establish how chronic absenteeism and escape were throughout the slave states, revealing the institution's gross unnaturalness and complete incompatibility with the human spirit.
Precious few people in the 21st century need to be convinced that slavery was wretched, and the few who maintain that it was a necessary evil, or that its abuses were exaggerated out of proportion, would do well to confront Runaway Slaves, presenting as it does not only one human story after another about men, women, and even children resisting tyranny over their lives, and 'voting with their feet' by escaping into the wild, but statistical evidence that reveals how persistent a problem runaways were. Readers might expect the abused to flee, and so they did, but here too are stories of slaves who were treated 'well' -- plantation pets, like the few Jefferson kept in his mansion and doted on. Even when provided with an allowance, comfortable quarters, and easy work, slaves still persisted in running off from time to time ,to the utter bewilderment of owners who concluded that some Africans were simply born mad. The runaways were not simply driven by some principled insistence that they ought to be free; the most common motive cited here is reunification with family. Of course, the data is incomplete; many runaways simply disappeared into history, and their motives and stories will never be told. Most did not attempt to to transverse the entire country to make into a free state, or Canada; instead, Franklin and Schweninger report, they either lingered around the edges of plantations (to be close to family, or help them escape), or migrated to a large city like Baltimore or New Orleans, where they could lose themselves in the masses that included substantial populations of free blacks. Because the data the authors work with spans most of the 19th century, readers will also appreciate slavery evolving as an institution; legal terms of servitude that expire give way to perpetual bondage, and captured African tribesmen still bearing the tattoos and piercings of their tribe's customs become the fathers of generations born into slavery, knowing nothing else.
Runaway Slaves is a solid piece of historical writing, providing human faces to the many thousands gone, turning a multitude once viewed as a factor of production into lives who must be reckoned. As soul-wearying as it can be to realize how many lives were wasted away in bondage, there is also room for hope in the fact that resistance was never absent from the scene. Regardless of beatings or bread and circuses, men are, and of a right ought to be, Free.
© 2000 John Hope Franklin, Loren Schweninger
480 pages
Easily the most horrible aspect of American history, is the institution of slavery. Indentured servitude had been a historical norm for centuries before, of course, usually the mark of war, but in America it was paired with racial ideology to become utter evil. Although it eventually perished in 1865 at the hands of the 13th amendment, those whose lives it claimed were not necessarily willing to wait for freedom to be granted; instead, they took it. In Runaway Slaves, historians John Hope Franklin and Loren Schweninger establish how chronic absenteeism and escape were throughout the slave states, revealing the institution's gross unnaturalness and complete incompatibility with the human spirit.
Precious few people in the 21st century need to be convinced that slavery was wretched, and the few who maintain that it was a necessary evil, or that its abuses were exaggerated out of proportion, would do well to confront Runaway Slaves, presenting as it does not only one human story after another about men, women, and even children resisting tyranny over their lives, and 'voting with their feet' by escaping into the wild, but statistical evidence that reveals how persistent a problem runaways were. Readers might expect the abused to flee, and so they did, but here too are stories of slaves who were treated 'well' -- plantation pets, like the few Jefferson kept in his mansion and doted on. Even when provided with an allowance, comfortable quarters, and easy work, slaves still persisted in running off from time to time ,to the utter bewilderment of owners who concluded that some Africans were simply born mad. The runaways were not simply driven by some principled insistence that they ought to be free; the most common motive cited here is reunification with family. Of course, the data is incomplete; many runaways simply disappeared into history, and their motives and stories will never be told. Most did not attempt to to transverse the entire country to make into a free state, or Canada; instead, Franklin and Schweninger report, they either lingered around the edges of plantations (to be close to family, or help them escape), or migrated to a large city like Baltimore or New Orleans, where they could lose themselves in the masses that included substantial populations of free blacks. Because the data the authors work with spans most of the 19th century, readers will also appreciate slavery evolving as an institution; legal terms of servitude that expire give way to perpetual bondage, and captured African tribesmen still bearing the tattoos and piercings of their tribe's customs become the fathers of generations born into slavery, knowing nothing else.
Runaway Slaves is a solid piece of historical writing, providing human faces to the many thousands gone, turning a multitude once viewed as a factor of production into lives who must be reckoned. As soul-wearying as it can be to realize how many lives were wasted away in bondage, there is also room for hope in the fact that resistance was never absent from the scene. Regardless of beatings or bread and circuses, men are, and of a right ought to be, Free.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
@ War
@ War: The Rise of the Military-Internet Complex
© 2014 Shane Harris
288 pages
In the 21st century, intelligence and war are no longer the domain of pipe-smoking spooks hiding behind newspapers, and uniformed soldiers on the march. When so much of a nation’s livelihood rides on computer networks – both internal ones, allowing massive systems to be controlled from a central office , or an external connection to the internet at large – protecting those systems from harm is as important today as protecting factories and bridges was for the powers of World War 2. @ war is a quick review of new vulnerabilities and opportunities exposed by the digital age, an unsettling account of power on the rise. Attacking networks offers new means to conventional ends (stealing plans for military technology remotely, for instance), as well as new ends altogether, like using viruses to shut down energy networks or cause financial market crashes.Additionally, cyber warfare has changed the nature of the powers involved: while few powers would take the risk of sending a strike team into a foreign country to engage in widespread sabotage during times of peace, the ethereal domain of the internet allows for powers within China to continually engage in skullduggery against US companies. The same are also engaging in skullduggery right back, which is another interesting facet. Mention the privatization of war, and paid mercenaries like Blackwater come to mind – but this is warfare of another kind. Private digital security firms, in fact, are sometimes more feisty than the state’s own, biting back with next-gen tools. Not that the two are necessarily competing; as Edward Snowden revealed, connections between private companies like Google and AT&T and the government are commonplace now. Google works with the NSA to help increase its own security, and telecommunications companies build in backdoors to their machines and software that give the government easy access for listening in. Cyberwar may be a less bloody domain of martial conflict, but the power accretion in the hands of both governments and corporations is no less dreadful.
Monday, March 2, 2015
The Marriage Game
The Marriage Game
© 2015 Alison Weir
416 pages
© 2015 Alison Weir
416 pages
In Greek
mythology, the gods punished Tantalus by
subjecting him to perpetual hunger, made worse by the fact that food and drink
were both seemingly close at hand.His every attempt to drink the water he stood in or to pluck fruit from the limbs hanging low with bounty above him, was thwarted; the objects of his desire both moved away from his touch. The Marriage Game tantalizes readers in much the same fashion, being the story of how Queen Elizabeth kept half the royal princes of Europe, and one longsuffering English noble, on the string for two decades. Although touching on diplomacy and war throughout Elizabeth's reign (diplomacy and marriage being interconnected affairs in Tudor days), The Marriage Game is chiefly a tale of emotional manipulation and self-torture.
Among the requirements for peace and stability in premodern Europe was a unbroken line of succession among the monarchy. If a king died without a clear heir, competing claimants could ruin a nation with civil war. Such was Henry VIII's urgency to make sure he had an incontrovertible successor that he went through six wives trying to find one who could given him a son who lived. Elizabeth faced the same dilemma to a greater degree, being the offspring of a suspect marriage: she needed a source of legitimacy more than anything. Why, in days steeped in tradition and with so much at stake, did Elizabeth avoid the marriage bed? Possible motives are teased out through the novel, among them a skepticism of marriage borne of seeing her father's collection of beheaded and divorced wives, the fear that husbands and sons would be threats to her supremacy, and the fact that the possibility of marriage was an excellent diplomatic tool. So long as the princes of Europe thought Elizabeth might marry into one of their families, they were less disposed to threaten war -- useful, given that Elizabeth's precariousness, the questionably-legitimate ruler of a state divorced from the Catholic faith of all of Europe. If she actually married into those families, all would be lost: England would be entangled into France and the Holy Roman Empire's innumerable conflicts, or worse yet into the brewing religious wars that would set fire to the blood of England's own bloodthirsty radicals and reactionaries. But if she could only make them think they had a shot, England might safely navigate the rocks and shoals of 16th century Europe.
Leading on the aristocracy is one thing, leading on herself and a subject she evidently loved -- along with the reader -- quite another. A variety of European princes try to woo Elizabeth's hand; French princes, Spanish kings, a Holy Roman archduke, some Swedish fellow -- but none stood a chance against her own "Eyes", her Master of Horse, her Robert Dudley. Friends since childhood, and heavy-petting companions, Robert and 'Bess' spend the entire novel being miserable over one another. They are in love, regardless of how many people they lead on, but this is one relationship doomed from having its happily ever after. They are enraptured by one another, yet never find fulfillment; Elizabeth is forever dancing away, either because the country would riot at a queen marrying a lower-born noble whose parents were condemned as rebels, or because it's too diplomatically useful to be courted as a wedding prize, or because she is intimidated by the very act of consummation. Regardless of the reasons, it's utterly exasperating, because the same scenes reenact themselves throughout: Elizabeth and Robert get close, vow marriage, Elizabeth says 'Just wait next year', expects Robert to support in council her plans for blowing off this European noble to woo that European noble, then gets huffy when he glances at women who aren't royal teases. Two decades this goes on, as he gets fat and tired and she gets toothless and wrinkled. (And then they die.) Even when Elizabeth's councilors have given up hope of her marrying European royalty, and grown to appreciate her rascal-at-court, she vacillates. If it weren't based in part on a true story, who on Earth would subject themselves to 300 pages of two people wanting nothing more to be the other's everything, not letting themselves do it, and then dying, buried with more regrets than flowers?
Although The Marriage Game can be enjoyed, Elizabeth and Dudley are pathetic in the truest sense of the word, and Elizabeth borders on manipulative. Unfortunately, aside from some slight mentions of diplomacy (hard to skip the Spanish Armada) and a few token mentions of religion (also hard to skip the Pope giving the OK for Elizabeth to be forcibly removed from office), the entirety of the book is taken up with Elizabeth's romance. It is virtually the only thing anyone is concerned with in the novel. Even when the Armada sets off, it seems to be predicated on the Spanish giving up on an Elizabethan romance. Elizabeth was a woman worthy of awe, and an admirable monarch, but the Bess of this work is a vain, manipulative princess who allows life to waste away with control games. It's a sad story, and an unfortunate sequel to Weir's charming The Lady Elizabeth.
Among the requirements for peace and stability in premodern Europe was a unbroken line of succession among the monarchy. If a king died without a clear heir, competing claimants could ruin a nation with civil war. Such was Henry VIII's urgency to make sure he had an incontrovertible successor that he went through six wives trying to find one who could given him a son who lived. Elizabeth faced the same dilemma to a greater degree, being the offspring of a suspect marriage: she needed a source of legitimacy more than anything. Why, in days steeped in tradition and with so much at stake, did Elizabeth avoid the marriage bed? Possible motives are teased out through the novel, among them a skepticism of marriage borne of seeing her father's collection of beheaded and divorced wives, the fear that husbands and sons would be threats to her supremacy, and the fact that the possibility of marriage was an excellent diplomatic tool. So long as the princes of Europe thought Elizabeth might marry into one of their families, they were less disposed to threaten war -- useful, given that Elizabeth's precariousness, the questionably-legitimate ruler of a state divorced from the Catholic faith of all of Europe. If she actually married into those families, all would be lost: England would be entangled into France and the Holy Roman Empire's innumerable conflicts, or worse yet into the brewing religious wars that would set fire to the blood of England's own bloodthirsty radicals and reactionaries. But if she could only make them think they had a shot, England might safely navigate the rocks and shoals of 16th century Europe.
Leading on the aristocracy is one thing, leading on herself and a subject she evidently loved -- along with the reader -- quite another. A variety of European princes try to woo Elizabeth's hand; French princes, Spanish kings, a Holy Roman archduke, some Swedish fellow -- but none stood a chance against her own "Eyes", her Master of Horse, her Robert Dudley. Friends since childhood, and heavy-petting companions, Robert and 'Bess' spend the entire novel being miserable over one another. They are in love, regardless of how many people they lead on, but this is one relationship doomed from having its happily ever after. They are enraptured by one another, yet never find fulfillment; Elizabeth is forever dancing away, either because the country would riot at a queen marrying a lower-born noble whose parents were condemned as rebels, or because it's too diplomatically useful to be courted as a wedding prize, or because she is intimidated by the very act of consummation. Regardless of the reasons, it's utterly exasperating, because the same scenes reenact themselves throughout: Elizabeth and Robert get close, vow marriage, Elizabeth says 'Just wait next year', expects Robert to support in council her plans for blowing off this European noble to woo that European noble, then gets huffy when he glances at women who aren't royal teases. Two decades this goes on, as he gets fat and tired and she gets toothless and wrinkled. (And then they die.) Even when Elizabeth's councilors have given up hope of her marrying European royalty, and grown to appreciate her rascal-at-court, she vacillates. If it weren't based in part on a true story, who on Earth would subject themselves to 300 pages of two people wanting nothing more to be the other's everything, not letting themselves do it, and then dying, buried with more regrets than flowers?
Although The Marriage Game can be enjoyed, Elizabeth and Dudley are pathetic in the truest sense of the word, and Elizabeth borders on manipulative. Unfortunately, aside from some slight mentions of diplomacy (hard to skip the Spanish Armada) and a few token mentions of religion (also hard to skip the Pope giving the OK for Elizabeth to be forcibly removed from office), the entirety of the book is taken up with Elizabeth's romance. It is virtually the only thing anyone is concerned with in the novel. Even when the Armada sets off, it seems to be predicated on the Spanish giving up on an Elizabethan romance. Elizabeth was a woman worthy of awe, and an admirable monarch, but the Bess of this work is a vain, manipulative princess who allows life to waste away with control games. It's a sad story, and an unfortunate sequel to Weir's charming The Lady Elizabeth.
Labels:
Alison Weir,
Britain,
historical fiction,
Tudor England
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