MOURNING

“We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.” - Kenji Miyazawa

I watched a video on the news this morning that coloured all of my day black. It was from Haiti and it had graphic images of two young men shot by police because they were suspected of stealing a few bags of rice. One of them survived even though shot in the back, while the other one expired there on the street, bleeding to death while everyone watched, including the cameramen taking the video. The body remained there for hours, until the relatives were notified and the wailing mother cried her eyes out over the body of her son, shot dead for a bag of rice.



Sainkho Namtchylak from Tuva, singing “Midnight blue”.

EATING WEEDS...

“By working faithfully eight hours a day you may eventually get to be boss and work twelve hours a day.” - Robert Frost

Another very busy week, with lots of meetings, much to chase up on, lots of submissions to write and quite a few issues to resolve. At least I have quite a feeling of achievement as there have been some very favourable outcomes in the last couple of days to show for all my hard work. It is also good to work with people that one can depend on and to be able to collaborate with as a team. One can achieve a lot more, but also there is that great feeling of camaraderie that bonds people together.

We have a fairly quiet weekend planned this week, with hopefully some time to rest and relax. It’s always hard to have a weekend full of commitments and activities when the week has been so tiring. Nevertheless, the simple fact of being at home and not going into the office can be enough of a respite. Most people tend to bring work home nowadays, and yes, I am guilty of that. However, one can work differently at home and there is no pressure, precisely because one works alone.

For food Friday today, I’ll tell you what we had for dinner, which was derived totally from our own garden in the back yard. No, it wasn’t roses (some of you may know that our back garden has mainly rosebushes in it), but rather food from the few small plots that we have where we grow seasonal vegetables and some fruit. In summer, we have a couple of tomato plants, some cucumber vines, an eggplant, a couple of capsicum plants, some bean plants, a couple of zucchini plants and some seasonal greens. In winter there are leeks, some broad beans, lettuces, spinach, snow peas, broccoli, etc. All year around of course, there are herbs growing everywhere so we always have on hand some parsley, dill, mint, rosemary, oregano, sage, chives, etc.

In summer a characteristic green that we plant is a typical Greek one, which is considered a weed in most Western countries, although consumed widely in various other places around the world. It is the humble blite or purple amaranth (Amaranthus blitum, to give it its botanical name). This needs little care, is multi-cropping and provides for a delicious, healthful and satisfying meal. It is always prepared and served together with other vegetables and greens. For example, also growing in the garden we have the black nightshade (Solanum nigrum) which is added to this dish in smaller amounts, and some French beans, a few baby zucchini and a couple of potatoes, as well. Blites, black nightshade, zucchini, beans and potatoes are all boiled together until tender, strained and served with a simple olive oil and balsamic vinegar dressing. Some crusty bread and a few pieces of cheese complete the meal, which believe it or not is very filling and satisfying.

The blites have lots of vitamins, minerals and fibre, as do the black belladonnas and the other vegetables. However, the black nightshade (a distant cousin of the deadly nightshade – Atropa belladonna) also contain some bitter principles that act as liver tonics. A very healthful meal, and completely organic, as it is harvested right from our own backyard! (we have sometimes even planted a few potatoes).

Enjoy your weekend!

AGNES'S PALLIA

“Faith is the bird that sings when the dawn is still dark.” - Rabindranath Tagore


Today is the feast day of St Agnes, who was held in very honour amongst all of the virgin martyrs of Rome by the primitive church, since the fourth century. Her name in Greek means “pure” and the Christmas rose, Helleborus niger, is dedicated to St Agnes.  Her feast day was celebrated on this day from 354 AD. Although there are numerous apocryphal stories regarding her martyrdom, there is no accurate and reliable narrative, at least in writing, concerning the details of her life and death. One thing seems to be universally agreed upon, this being that she was only 12 or 13 years old when she died a violent death under torture.

According to tradition, she was a beautiful virgin who turned away all suitors, declaring that she could have no spouse but Jesus (nuns are still to this day known as “Brides of Christ”). The rejected suitors informed Roman officials that she was a Christian, and she was punished by being exposed in a brothel. There she was left miraculously unharmed; the only man who attempted to violate her was struck blind, and she healed him with prayer. She was later murdered during the persecutions ordered by Diocletian, which occurred in 304 AD. After this point, Agnes's name appears several times in the historical written record. In the decades after her death, Agnes's tomb became a place of pilgrimage and she is considered a protector saint of young girls.

On St Agnes's feast day, two lambs from the Trappist monastery at Tre Fontane outside Rome are adorned with crowns and ribbons of red and white and blessed at her church by the Pope. They are then taken to the abbey of St. Cecilia in Trastevere, in Rome, where Benedictine nuns raise them. Their wool is shorn on Holy Thursday, and palliums (or pallia, if you want to be picky!) are then made from it. These are circular ceremonial bands worn over the shoulders in Roman Catholic ecclesiastical dress and signify one of the highest church offices. The Pope bestows a dozen or so annually to his archbishops.

Young girls in England made cakes on this day to commemorate St Agnes’s martyrdom. In some villages, once the cakes were made, the young women took one and climbing the stairs backwards, prayed to St Agnes and then ate the cake. This ritual was meant to reveal in a dream the man the young woman was to marry. Several other divinatory traditions relate to St Agnes. On St Agnes’s Eve, young women took their shoes put a sprig of rosemary in one, a sprig of thyme in the other, sprinkled them with water, placed them one on each side of their bed and said:
    St Agnes, that’s to lovers kind,
    Come ease the trouble of my mind.
They would then dream of their future husband.

pallium |ˈpalēəm| noun ( pl. pallia |ˈpalēə| or palliums )
1 a woolen vestment conferred by the pope on an archbishop, consisting of a narrow, circular band placed around the shoulders with short lappets hanging from front and back.
2 historical a man's large rectangular cloak, esp. as worn by Greek philosophical and religious teachers.
3 Zoology the mantle of a mollusk or brachiopod.
4 Anatomy the outer wall of the mammalian cerebrum, corresponding to the cerebral cortex.
DERIVATIVES
pallial |ˈpalēəl| adjective (in senses 3 and 4) .
ORIGIN Middle English: from Latin, literally ‘covering.’

PAGES FROM THE PAST

“The past is not a package one can lay away.” - Emily Dickinson

Readers of this blog may remember me mentioning on a couple of occasions that I have been in the habit of keeping journals and visual diaries for a few decades now. Occasionally when I have a clean-up around the house I will find a mysterious box all taped up and marked “N’s personal papers”. It more often than not contains some of these journals and diaries. It happened last weekend when I was cleaning my study that I shifted some furniture allowing me to get into a little cupboard under one of my bookcases. I had not been able to open this cupboard fully for several years. In it I found one of these “personal papers” packages that I mentioned and I spent a couple of hours immersed in browsing through its contents and reading some of what I had written ages ago – ah, youth!

This experience stimulated me to write the poem below.

Pages from the Past

A notebook by pure chance discovered,
Brings back old pages from the past;
As my experiences lie bare, uncovered
My feelings backwards are cast.

The even script, my younger self belies
My thoughts of yore, there are manifest.
Old tears, laughter, truths and even lies
Appear in pages, like flowers pressed.

My heart’s first stirrings faithfully recorded
The bitter disappointments, and the sheer joy;
I read, and on the train of the past boarded,
Travel to foreign parts of me, when a boy.

My inner being revels and perfectly resonates
With my younger self, my innocence engaged;
I look at my lined face, surprised that the fates
Have willed a youth, in body so much aged.

My pages from the past, the yellowed paper,
The mind’s awakening and the soul’s flight
Captured forever, and their evanescent vapour
Wafts in, a sweet aroma, a bright light…

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday.

CRASH

“Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.” - William Shakespeare

At the weekend, there was a horrific fatal car crash in a suburb a few kilometers from where we live. I know the road where it happened as it is a couple of blocks up from my previous job. Plenty Rd, the main road there is already notorious for car crashes and there are several markers on the verge commemorating the lives lost. It is a long straight stretch of road leading to the outer suburbs, with two lanes on either side, separated by a median strip planted with bushes and greenery.

The accident claimed the lives of five teenagers last Sunday and the 19-year-old driver was possibly intoxicated (toxicology reports are pending). The driver, who was also a P-plater had been drinking at a party immediately before taking the wheel of the car. The car hit a large tree after mounting the median strip and spinning out of control, at an estimated 150 km/hr. The immense force of the impact uprooted the tree and caused it to fall on the wrecked car. Five young men died at the scene and the sole survivor was a 15-year-old girl, whose brother bravely put his body across her to protect her from the impact. She is presently in hospital fighting for her life.

Distraught relatives of the same young man who protected his sister have described him as a fine young man who liked fast cars. His uncle and aunt were at a loss to comprehend why Anthony would be in a car travelling at a speed of at least 140kmh or why he would allow his little sister to be in that Ford Falcon XR6 sedan with him. As soon as the girl recovers she may be able to shed some light in the events that surround the accident. However, it is simple to understand the basics: Youth + alcohol + fast cars + inexperience = Fatality.

The very next day after the crash, three more teenagers were caught driving at high speeds within 10km of the same crash site. Police early on Monday morning intercepted a 19-year-old probationary driver from South Morang driving at 165km/h in a 70km/h zone along Mahoneys Road, Reservoir. He is to be charged on summons for excessive speed. Less than an hour later, an 18-year-old driver was caught in McDonalds Road, Epping, travelling at 89km/h in a 60 zone. A 19-year-old woman, also a P-plater, was detected driving at 106km/h along the same road about 2.30am Monday morning.

These drivers will lose their driving licence for one month and six months respectively, however, the Assistant Commissioner of Police, Mr Lay, conceded that hoon legislation doesn’t seem to be working. Already there are proposals to confiscate cars of young drivers who commit serious traffic offences (related to alcohol and speeding mainly). The cars should be crushed, some people suggest, while others say that they should be sold and the money donated to rehabilitation hospitals. Others suggest that speed delimiters be fitted to probationary drivers’ cars. In any case, the crash has started a big debate on the failing measure that are in place to reduce teenage fatalities on our roads.

I keep thinking of the families of the five dead teens. Imagine the telephone or the doorbell ringing in the middle of the night and being confronted with news of this sort. The sheer waste of young life, the immense stupidity of a few minutes that culminated in a few seconds of alcohol-fuelled, excess speed. I think of the young man who shielded his sister and try to imagine what was going through his mind for those last few split seconds. I think of that young girl who survived waking up in hospital asking to see her brother and her friends. Will she be able to sleep without having nightmares ever again? Lives lost, lives broken.

The grandmother of one of the victims encapsulates the pathos of the whole situation in one of the meorial notices published in the newspaper today:
            “A young man who lost his way, Rest in peace. Love – Nanna”.

BURTON GOING APE

“Culture is roughly anything we do and the monkeys don't.” - Lord Raglan

We wanted some pure escapist nonsense on Sunday afternoon, as we stayed in, did some housework, some gardening and we were depressed enough with the news of the last week. We decided to watch the Tim Burton 2001 remake of “Planet of the Apes”. Of course we had seen the Franklin Schaffner 1968 original “Planet of the Apes” with Charlton Heston, but knew nothing of this remake. It was on special at the DVD shop so I had bought it on impulse, seeing it was directed by Tim Burton. Well. Its time to be watched came yesterday.

Burton has some good, offbeat films to his name: “Beetlejuice”, “Batman”, “Edward Scissorhands”, “Batman Returns”, “Ed Wood”, “Mars Attacks!”, “Sleepy Hollow”, “Big Fish”, etc, etc. I thought that if he were involved in a remake of a classic such as “Planet of the Apes” it would have a new twist, a new retelling of a familiar tale. The film was watchable, but not of the high standard of “Edward Scissorhands” or “Ed Wood”, for example. Compared to the original, Burton’s version fails on several grounds. The young protagonist Captain Leo Davidson, played by Mark Wahlberg is overwhelmed by the men in monkey suits and cannot command enough presence to even touch upon the heroic stature of Heston. He is still wet behind the ears as far as a heroic lead is concerned and his acting although tolerable is simply not commanding enough. The apes have the benefit of state of the art advanced make-up technology and the villainous Thade (played by Tim Roth) does an excellent job of aping it up, easily the best actor on the set. Ari (played by Helena Bonham Carter) tries to do as much as possible with her role, but the material she has to work with is flimsy. Kris Kristofferson has a cameo appearance as Karubi, an enslaved human (a waste of his talent, I think) and Estella Warren (playing Daena the scantily daughter of Karubi) provides some eye candy (I think she only uttered a dozen words in the whole film!) but is otherwise a weak ove interest and is easily overwhelmed by Ari, the apess(!).

The sets and cinematography are very good and the two moons of the planet look quite fetching in the sky. The ape city is convincingly alien and the ruined spaceship set is quite good. The battle scene is staged competently and the special effects are good. I loved the space pods (I want one for Christmas!) and the real chimps were cute and provided some pathos at times.

There was one flaw that made the whole movie predictable and its ending a given. When Captain Davidson gets in the pod and encounters the electromagnetic storm, we see the controls of his console. How much better the film would have been if we had not seen that vital detail – please oh please cut it out! Hence the surprise punch of the scene with the Statue of Liberty in the original movie! I also found the final scene of the remake very corny and a set up for a sequel if ever there was a set up for a sequel (however, thankfully, a sequel did not eventuate!).

The movie’s basic premise and “moral” if you like, is very much watered down compared to the original. In Schaffner’s original film, the apes are the only intelligent and articulate beings on the planet. Although they have only attained a pre-industrial level of civilisation they are a far more advanced species than the planet’s humanoid inhabitants, who lack the powers of speech and reason and live an animal-like existence. A true role-reversal. In Burton’s remake, humans and apes have similar powers of speech and intellect. The only reason humans are slaves is that the apes have greater physical strength, which enables them to dominate the planet even if they are a minority. The apes in the original film are noble and more civilised than humans. In Burton’s version, they are more aggressive and more obviously animals than in the original film; they can still move on all fours and emit fierce shrieks whenever angry or excited. The planet’s human population are like “noble savages” who long for freedom from the domination of the apes, and a few liberal, pro-human apes, especially Ari, the daughter of an ape senator are “human rights activists” who wish humans and apes to live as equals.

Schaffner’s film became a classic because it tackled head-on topical concerns of the late sixties: Racism, fear of a nuclear holocaust, the relationship between man and nature, the relationship between religion and science, Darwinism and animal rights. Burton’s film is a thinly veiled paean to animal rights (and a heavy-handed one at that).

Overall, the film was good for a Sunday matinee, which was when we watched it and it provided s with a few laughs. Watch it as a curiosity, as a “passa-tiempo”, as a bit of escapist nonsense.

PICASSO'S CHARNEL HOUSE

“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.” - Edvard Munch

Pablo Picasso for Art Sunday today. His painting “The Charnel House” (1944-45. Oil and charcoal on canvas. The Museum of Modern Arts, New York, NY, USA) encapsulates the horrors of violent death.

This was painted as reports of the death camps began to filter through Europe. The picture is painted in the gray tones of a newsreel and has an unfinished air. Picasso left ghostly, partially rubbed-out lines in the image; the colour is devoid of life. A still life in the upper left appears barren, abandoned. But “The Charnel House” is yet another example of Picasso's intuition about how an artist must approach the century's horrors. Not long after he painted the picture, writers would argue that art must fall mute before the Holocaust, that no image could represent its meaning in anything but the most broken, partial manner. In The Charnel House, Picasso begins but does not presume to end the accounting of the Holocaust: His lines fade toward nothingness.

HAITI AGAIN...

“The keenest sorrow is to recognise ourselves as the sole cause of all our adversities.” – Sophocles

The devastation left behind the earthquake in Haiti is something that is tragic and extremely upsetting. The horror of the situation there is unimaginable and I feel quite powerless to help. I wish there were something more substantial I could do than handing over my donation.

"We have already collected around 50,000 dead bodies. We anticipate there will be between 100,000 and 200,000 dead in total, although we will never know the exact number," Interior Minister Paul Antoine Bien-Aime told Reuters.

Some 40,000 bodies had been buried in mass graves, Secretary of State for Public Safety Aramick Louis said. If the casualty figures turn out to be accurate, the 7.0 magnitude quake that hit impoverished Haiti on Tuesday would be one of the 10 deadliest earthquakes ever recorded.

Three days after it struck, gangs of robbers had begun preying on survivors living in makeshift camps on sidewalks and streets strewn with rubble and decomposing bodies, as quake aftershocks rippled through the hilly neighbourhoods.

These three extracts from the news point out the enormity of the disaster and the vile side of human nature that inevitably shows up following any such disaster. Not only do survivors have to cope with the shocking desolation, but they also have to fend themselves against the monsters intent on looting, robbery and murder. As if the ruination wrought by nature were not enough, some devils under the guise of human beings complete the destruction…

I can only turn to Bach for comment on this tragedy.



Andor Foldes plays Bach's Chromatic Fantasy & Fugue in D minor.

CHUTNEY

“This is every cook's opinion -
no savoury dish without an onion, but lest your kissing should be spoiled, your onions must be fully boiled.” - Jonathan Swift

A couple of weeks ago I found myself in the kitchen all alone and got the urge to cook. We had a tea-towel hanging up to dry and on it was a recipe which I had always noted but we had never ever tried. On impulse, after reading through the ingredient list, I decided there and then to try it as we had all the requisites:

Apple & Pear Chutney

Ingredients
    • 1.5 kg chopped cooking apples
    • 1.5 kg chopped firm pears
    • 500 g chopped onions
    • 600 g brown sugar
    • 1.5 litres vinegar
    • 2 tbsp chopped mint
    • 5 tsp salt
    • 2 tsp ground allspice
    • 1 tsp mixed spice
    • 1 tsp curry powder
    • 1 tsp turmeric powder
    • 1 tsp mustard powder
    • 15 g coriander seeds ground
    • 20 g grated fresh ginger

Method
Combine all ingredients and simmer until thick. Put in sterilised glass jars and seal.

The result was quite delicious and was easy enough to make. Although chutney is considered as typically Indian (its name from the Hindustani chatni) is in fact a British specialty dating from the colonial era, just like pickles. Chutneys are put in glass jars and kept in the pantry like jams. They enliven slightly insipid dishes, mainly cold ones (chicken, fish, ham, leftovers). The sweet/sour/spicy/fruity taste may not be suitable for everyone’s palate and be warned if you’ve never tasted it before, this dish may be an acquired taste.

ON HATE AND HAITI

“Whatever you condemn, you have done yourself.” - Georg Groddeck

The catastrophic earthquake in Haiti is dominating our news bulletins and once again the world watches in horror as the death toll climbs. At present it is feared that up to 100,000 people may have lost their lives when the magnitude 7.0 Richter earthquake flattened massive areas of the capital Port-au-Prince yesterday. The city is plagued by poverty and has many rickety buildings built to deficient standards, while in the slums, the jerry-built hovels adhere to no regulation and are not part of the city planning process. Add to that the proximity to the city of the major tectonic plate rift (the closest being about 15 km) and the superficial nature of the quake, and one understands the magnitude of the damage and the destruction caused.

The world has responded swiftly to provide aid and immediate help in order to save as many of the lives of the people trapped in debris and dilapidated buildings. The threat of aftershocks, some of which may happen at any time now and which may be as high as 6.5 Richter is another factor to consider. Time is of essence and real help is needed urgently to help the devastated nation.

In comments that add gross insult to the immense injury and loss that the Haitian people are struggling to come to terms with, American televangelist Pat Robertson has blamed the devastating earthquake in Haiti on a pact between the impoverished nation’s founders and the devil. Speaking on his television program The 700 Club, Mr Robertson said the pact happened “a long time ago in Haiti. They were under the heel of the French, you know Napoleon III [sic] and whatever. And they got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said 'We will serve you if you will get us free from the prince.' True story. 
And so the devil said, 'OK it's a deal'. And they kicked the French out.”

Mr Robertson said after the pact, the Haitians “revolted and got something - themselves free. But ever since they have been cursed by one thing after another.”
 Mr Robertson said the curse was evident when Haiti was contrasted with its neighbour, the Dominican Republic. “That island of Hispaniola is one island. It is cut down the middle - on the one side is Haiti, on the other is the Dominican Republic. 

Dominican Republic is prosperous, healthy, full of resorts, etc. Haiti is in desperate poverty. Same island. 

They need to have, and we need to pray for them, a great turning to God and out of this tragedy I’m optimistic something good may come.” Said Mr Robertson.

Mr Robertson’s outspoken comments have caused much controversy in the past. 

He was widely criticised for his 2005 call for Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez’s assassination. He also said the 2006 stroke suffered by then-Israeli prime minister Ariel Sharon was punishment from God. He blamed the September 11 terrorist attacks on civil liberties, promised a disastrous tsunami in America in 2006 and a terrorist attack on United States soil in 2007. When both predictions failed to happen, Mr Robertson said people must have prayed to God, and “God in his mercy spared us.”

At this time of great national tragedy, in Haiti, where immense human suffering is evident in all of its awesome extent, comments of the type made by Mr Robertson are neither Christian nor helpful, in my opinion. Adding to the country’s woes, which include years of social unrest, crime, political tumult and natural disaster, this latest earthquake has made the Haitian people regard it as an especially cruel and incomprehensible event. It is fortunate that people who do advertise themselves as “Christians” as Mr Robertson does, have been propelled into action and are providing real Christian charity, rapid and decisive action and not hurtful and insulting words; help, not blame; comfort and not threats of divine wrath…

MY BITTER BLOOD

“If I had a formula for bypassing trouble, I would not pass it round. Trouble creates a capacity to handle it. I don't embrace trouble; that's as bad as treating it as an enemy. But I do say meet it as a friend, for you'll see a lot of it and had better be on speaking terms with it. - Oliver Wendell Holmes

Our lives are a curious mixture of the external and internal, the things that we experience from without, and what we are within. We process and we balance, we mix and try to make of the mixture happiness, even in adversity. The measurements need be accurate for one drop too much or too little will make the mixture spoil and our world collapses around us. This is a poem I wrote as I recovered from my black mood of late…

My Bitter Blood

My blood is bitter, and it percolates though my flesh,
Making me twisted, rancorous, acrid;
My words astringent spilling from my dry mouth
Like falling, wilted autumn leaves.

My blood is acid, burning and eating my tissues,
Making of me an empty, burnt out husk;
My feelings ashes, my emotions charcoal
Like the forest devastated by a wild fire.

My blood is salty, and it hardens my body,
Drying me out, parching me, desiccating me;
My eyes unseeing, blinded, destroyed,
Like a withered mummy in a sarcophagus.

My blood is sour, and it makes my bones brittle,
Crushing, making them acerbic, dissolving them;
My resolve exhausted, my fortitude weakened,
Like a pearl melting in vinegar.

My heart only stays sweet,
Its dulcet beating unaffected
By bitter, acid, salty, sour blood.
Love still nourishes it, saves it from adversity,
And makes me live, still;
Even if my blood is poisoned from without…


Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday

MY FAIR LADY, PYGMALION & ROXXXY

“There is no such cosy combination as man and wife.” – Menander

You know about the musical, “My Fair Lady”, don’t you? It was even made into a film with Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn. You know, the one about “the rain in Spain falling mainly in the plain…” It is based on the George Bernard Shaw play “Pygmalion”. It is about the guttersnipe flower seller of Cockney London who is transformed into a society lady by a phonetics professor. There is a relationship with the Pygmalion of Greek mythology, hence the title. As you may not know the Greek myth of Pygmalion, here it is:

Pygmalion had some bad experiences with women and he came at last to abhor the whole sex, resolving to live his life as an unmarried misogynist. He was a sculptor, and had made a statue of a woman out of ivory, so beautiful that it resembled no living woman, so perfect was it. Pygmalion admired his own handiwork, and at last managed to fall in love with the statue. He would often lay his hand on it as if to assure himself if it were living or not, and could not even then believe that it was only ivory. He caressed it, and gave it presents such as young girls love, - bright shells, little birds, flowers, beads and trinkets. He put a coloured dress on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers, neck and ears. He laid it on a couch spread with expensive cloth, and called it his wife. He named it Galatea, meaning “milky white” on account of her lily-white ivory limbs.

The festival of Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty, came and when Pygmalion had performed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said: “Ye gods, who can do all things, give me, I pray you, for my wife” - he dared not say “my ivory virgin,” but said instead – “one like my ivory virgin.”  Aphrodite who heard him knew the thought he would have uttered; and as an omen of her favour, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up three times into the air. When he returned home, he went to see his statue, and leaning over the couch, gave a kiss to the mouth. It seemed to be warm. He pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his hands. The statue was indeed alive! Pygmalion thanked the goddess and kissed his perfect woman. Galatea felt the kisses and blushed, and opening her eyes to the light, fixed them at the same moment on her lover. Aphrodite blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union Paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to Aphrodite, received its name.

There are several cautions in these stories and their morals I’m afraid, are slightly immoral. All these stories are about manipulation and changing someone so that they conform with what we want, what we imagine to be perfect, what we need to satisfy our own selfish desires. In how many modern relationships would we find our partner acquiescing to our wants in this manner, willing to change themselves completely so that we conform to his/her ideal? Would we want a partner who is so malleable who is so much under our control? Is it a relationship or is it an enslavement? In this way both the Pygmalion myth and the Pygmalion play have disturbed me somewhat.

I now have cause to be disturbed even more. We are about to experience the Pygmalion legend in reverse, in real life! The real woman is becoming a statue! How? Well hitting the news lately (and the marketplace also, very soon) is Roxxxy, “the world’s first sex robot”! This is a full size doll specifically designed to engage in the sex acts of your fantasy – but there is more! It is a talking robot with a personality who knows your likes and dislikes and will even sense when it is being moved (it cannot move itself) and will respond appropriately when sensors in different parts of its body detect movement or pressure.

The robot is customisable to the extent of not only the obvious external characteristics like hair colour, bra size, height, etc, but also one may specify traits of personality, from “Frigid Farrah” to “Wild Wendy”. The robot will then respond accordingly, depending on the sensory inputs it receives and processes, true to its personality. The creators of the robot say that this is an important characteristic of their machine, which distinguishes it from the sex dolls that are already in the market. Their robot provides interactive sex, but also “more”, in the form of a “conversation” (if you can call pre-recorded phrases repeated ad nauseam a conversation) or even a “relationship” (now this I really object to!). However, no doubt there will be many men queuing up to hand over their $9,000 in order to purchase their own version of Galatea.

Roxxxy is only the beginning, as in the near future male sex robots will become available. As the technology improves, the life-like characteristics will increase in sophistication and the interactivity will no doubt become even more humanoid. Motion and artificial intelligence will compound the illusion so that in the near future we may see “robot companions” or “robot partners” marketed and no doubt widely used. We may even see humans falling in love with a robot! I have blogged about the topic of humanoids in a previous blog and I wondered about the legality of some of the activities that one engages in with a complex humanoid robot.

Are we to be grateful to technology for providing us with what our wildest fantasies can barely visualise? Are we to be grateful for the robot that will make prostitution obolete? Will such a robot be made available to the rapist so that humans do not suffer his violent advances? Are we to sanction the creation of child sex robots for the use of paedophiles? “Killable” robots so that the paranoid sex murderer may indulge his sick pleasures with impunity? Are we protecting society by allowing this to happen or are we contributing to its complete and utter moral, ethical, social and biological downfall (I can’t imagine there will be a sex robot that can become pregnant after having sex with its owner!)? Should we monitor the sex acts that are performed with each robot (remember the sensors?) and persecute “perverts”?

The whole topic has perplexed me and made me question deeply where we are progressing as a society. When the robots can walk amongst us and masquerade as humans, would we all succumb to the temptation of choosing a partner who not only fulfils our every desire in term of body type, physical traits and characteristics, who acquiesces to our every desire and whim, and who is the perfect partner in terms of sex, personality, conversation and also admires and “loves” us no matter how rotten a scoundrel we really are? This idea repels me and causes me to have great doubts as to whether long-term of our civilisation is possible…
(Picture is Paul Delvaux’s “Pygmalion” of 1939)
 
What do you think?

MAN VERSUS MACHINE!

“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.” - Lesley P. Hartley

We watched a classic old movie yesterday, the 1957 Walter Lang film “Desk Set” with Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. This dynamic duo and real life “illicit” couple made several films together and was able to bring the marvellous chemistry of their real life onto the screen. Something which is not always the case (compare for example the lack of chemistry between Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in “Cleopatra”). The movie was lightweight, enjoyable, fun and an insight into other times and other places – interesting how time changes a place so that it becomes almost unrecognisable! The New York of 1957 is another place to the New York of 1987 or of 2007…

I am sure that in a few decades old films will be widely used in schools to teach history, sociology, economics, science. They are already historical documents in their own right, but a well-made film conserves a picture of society as it was, it shows how people interacted, what their environment was like, their mores, their habits, their relationships, their beliefs, their fears, their joys, their ethical values. It is interesting also to see what emphasis was placed on dialogue, rather than special effects or convolutions of the plot. It is rare to see a modern film where witty repartee plays a central role in the action of the film.

The plot of this film revolves around a mysterious man hanging about the research department of a big TV network. This in itself is an interesting proposition as most people nowadays find this a wonderfully quaint notion: To have a whole department with many staff doing what a simple search engine like Google will do in seconds today. The man proves to be engineer Richard Sumner (Tracy), who’s been ordered to keep his real purpose secret. His task is to computerise the office with a super-duper (ginormous) IBM computer (using punched cards, now that’s antique!). Department head Bunny Watson (Hepburn), who knows everything, needs no computer to get to know who Richard is and what his agenda really is. The resulting battle of wits and witty dialogue pits Bunny's fear of losing her job against her attraction to Richard.

The tale of man versus machine is well told by this film and it makes an overwhelmingly positive statement in terms of who the winner is (or does it? And of course reality and the future has something to say about this battle – remember what I said about Google?). The fear of machines replacing people in their workplace has been with us for hundreds of years. During the industrial revolution anti-machine sentiment was raised high and it culminated with the Luddite movement. The Luddites were organised groups of early 19th-century English craftsmen who surreptitiously destroyed the textile machinery that was replacing them. The movement began in Nottingham in 1811 and spread to other areas in 1812. The Luddites, or “Ludds”, were named after a probably mythical leader, Ned Ludd. They operated at night and often enjoyed local support. Harsh repressive measures by the government included a mass trial at York in 1813 that resulted in many hangings and banishments. The term Luddite was later used to describe anyone opposed to technological change.

Most people would find this Luddite concept quaint, and who would, nowadays, give up their computer either at work or at home? We may have lost our old jobs, but we have created new ones to replace them. No machine will run itself – it needs human input at several stages of its operation. What computer will program itself or repair itself or build a clone of itself? We may have machines, but machines and technology requires constant human support.

Now back to the film. Lightweight it may be but nevertheless enjoyable. The acting is old fashioned, the script simple, but the interaction between the leads fantastic and the supporting cast well chosen (Gig Young, Sue Randall, Joan Blondell and Dina Merrill). The treatment of Bunny by her long-term lover (Young) is a sub-plot and may have many people today cringing at the way he mistreats her (but I guess, it still happens now, although I should hope not as commonly as it used to).

Watch it and relax – it’s bubbly, but it’s also good history and sociology!

ART SUNDAY - CHARLES CONDER

“Hope, deceitful as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our lives by an agreeable route.” - François Duc de La Rochefoucauld

The black mood has left me and today I felt much better. Sadness, just like happiness is fleeting. It a wise person who does not dwell to much on either one of these emotions… According to the Greek historian, Herodotus, the King of Persia once called all of the wisest men of the kingdom together. When they were assembled the king said that he wanted them to discover one truth “a single truth that will be true for all men at all times.” The wise men retreated and disputed among themselves. And after much time they came back to the king and told him they had his answer. When the king asked for this absolute truth, the chief wise man answered...
“And this too shall pass away.”

For Art Sunday today, an Australian artist, Charles Conder (1868-1909). Charles Conder, or ‘K’ as he was known to his friends, was the third of five children and was born on 24 October 1868 at Tottenham, Middlesex, England. He arrived in Sydney on 13 June 1884 and met with another great Austraian artist, Tom Roberts, in Sydney in March 1888. Roberts encouraged Conder to visit Melbourne and in the Spring of 1888, Conder painted with Roberts at the Box Hill camp. From May 1889 to April 1890, Conder lived at Eaglemont and shared the old farmhouse on the Mount Eagle estate with Arthur Streeton. It was here that Conder and his fellow artists planned the 9 x 5 Impression Exhibition, at which Conder exhibited 46 works. He returned to Europe on 26 April 1890, and married Stella Maris Belford in Paris on 5 December 1901. Charles Conder died on 9 February 1909 at Virginia Water, Windsor, England.

This painting of his, “A Holiday At Mentone” is a favourite of mine. It was painted in Melbourne in 1888, at the then seaside resort town of Mentone to Melbourne’s South. Today Mentone is a seaside suburb, fairly close to the City. This painting is suffused by harsh, bright, Australian sunlight, just like we had today (tomorrow we are expecting a top of 41˚C). It is almost surrealistic in its effect, given the Victorian seaside holiday dress, which seems hardy different to what they would be wearing in town. The man lying on the sand right at the middle of the painting has struck me as particularly odd and quite funny. The hats worn by everyone are also amusing and hardly the sort of headgear that would provide sun protection. The promenade along the sea and also on the raised walkway is what the painting is all about. One went on holidays to be seen and to see, and also it may have provided one of the few opportunities for flirting…

MOZART ON SATURDAY NIGHT...

“Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley

And in this case, it is Vladimir Davidovich Ashkenazy, playing the adagio from the Piano Concerto No.23 in A major K 488 by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart…

FLAT FRIDAY... COMFORT ME

“Nothing is more miserable than man, of all upon the earth that breathes and creeps.” - Homer, Iliad

This evening I am feeling very flat. In fact more than flat. Melancholy, disappointed, sad, dismayed, distressed. The reason? Nothing and everything. A combination of many things over the last few days. Disappointment with people – family friends, colleagues. Disenchantment with work (some issues that have been brewing for some time and have just come to a head). The post-holiday flatness and return to work. The sudden change of weather and the unexpected sapping heat…

I’ll keep this brief tonight and after searching through my recipe book, I attach this feel-good, utterly decadent and sweet recipe. This is comfort food at its worst (best?) designed to drive away these blues I’m feeling…

Dark Chocolate Bavarois

Ingredients (serves four)
Bavarois

• 4 egg yolks
• 2/3 cup caster sugar
• 1 cup milk
• 1 vanilla bean
• 2 teaspoons gelatine
• 185 g molten dark chocolate
• 1 cup thickened cream

Sauce

• 100 g grated white chocolate
• 3/4 cup thickened cream
• 1/4 cup of liqueur (Baileys, e.g.)

Method

•    Beat egg yolks with the sugar until light and creamy.
•    Scrape out the contents of the vanilla bean and put into the milk with the husk. Slowly bring milk to the boil and strain, pouring the milk little by little over egg mixture without stopping the mixer.
•    Return mixture to saucepan over low heat stir constantly until mixture thickens slightly (about 3 minutes) to a custard-like consistency.
•    Dissolve gelatine in 1/4 cup water over double broiler
•    Remove custard from heat, stir in gelatine and melted dark chocolate.
•    Cool for 10 minutes.
•    Beat cream until soft peaks form, fold into chocolate mixture. .lightly grease and flour four one-cup capacity mini moulds, pour in the mixture and refrigerate until set.
•    To make the sauce, combine chocolate and extra cream in a medium saucepan, stir over low heat until combined.
•    Cool to room temperature.
•    Ease bavarois out of moulds and pour the sauce over the top and serve.

If you visit this blog regularly and have never commented, how about saying “hello”? There are an awful lot of lurkers out there…

Have a good weekend.

ON EVERYDAY MIRACLES

“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.” – Albert Einstein

The birth of a baby is the everyday miracle that we often take for granted, especially if it doesn’t involve us personally. If a baby arrives in the family, we all become acutely aware of this magical mystery and we look upon the new arrival with eyes of wonder and thankfulness. Wonder about this brand new life that has been created, thankfulness that all has gone well and that the new baby is healthy and strong.

In my line of work it is too often that I see things going wrong and some complication of the pregnancy or another problem, which can occur genetically or is acquired causes congenital disease in the baby. The effects of this are devastating enough, but if something is gravely wrong, then the baby can die and this has catastrophic consequences for the parents. A celebration turns into mourning and the happiness of the birth becomes the untold sadness of a baby’s death. In the past infant mortality was so high, that a woman expected to see most of her children die in babyhood or infancy. Nowadays, we regard deaths of babies as a rare and unfortunate occurrence, so unusual that when it occurs it ravages the family.

The other common occurrence in the past, which fortunately has been curbed now is the high mortality of the mother around the time of delivery. Puerperal fever, uncontrollable haemorrhage, all manners of infections, eclampsia, were just some of the problems confronting a pregnant woman. In the past, it was not unusual for many young mothers to succumb to one of these deadly diseases.

On the matter of babies born with serious disorders, medicine has advanced enough in order to deal effectively with these congenital diseases. For example, most congenital heart disease is now treated effectively. For others, however, the problem remains. Down’s syndrome is one of these, where we do precious little to treat the multiplicity of disorders that arise later in the life of that individual.

Therapeutic abortion is something that many couples will consider if a test has shown that the woman is carrying a child with a serious disease. Other couples will not only never consider such an abortion, but the woman will not even get tested during the course of the pregnancy. Their philosophy is: “Any baby is a good baby, it deserves to live as long as it does.” We have friends whose child has Down’s syndrome. Although there have been problems, they love their child and they receive much love back from him. When I see the simple joy in that child’s eyes and a soul without any trace of deceit, duplicity, evil or dishonesty, I wonder if we have things right…

Which brings me to the subject of wanted versus unwanted pregnancies. How many women are there out there who want to become pregnant and they cannot? At least as many as those who are pregnant and have no wish to be. Abortion or giving up the newborn for adoption are the options for this latter case. For the former, in vitro technology and fertility treatments of all sorts can sometimes help. If no help can result in a pregnancy then adoption is an option. But how difficult this has become in countries like ours! But that’s another topic.

miracle |ˈmirikəl| noun
A surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency: The miracle of rising from the grave.
• A highly improbable or extraordinary event, development, or accomplishment that brings very welcome consequences: It was a miracle that more people hadn't been killed or injured [as adj. ]: A miracle drug.
• An amazing product or achievement, or an outstanding example of something: A machine which was a miracle of design.
ORIGIN Middle English: via Old French from Latin miraculum ‘object of wonder,’ from mirari ‘to wonder,’ from mirus ‘wonderful.’

EPIPHANY

“Prayers go up and blessings come down.” – Yiddish Proverb

Today is the Feast Day of the Epiphany. The Epiphany (also called Theophany = manifestation of God) celebrates three important events in the Christian calendar.  The first is the arrival of the Magi in Bethlehem and the adoration of the Christ Child; the second is the baptism of Christ by John the Baptist; the third the miracle at Cana, where Jesus turned water into wine, when there was no more wine for the guests at the wedding Jesus was invited to.  In the Western churches, the adoration of the Magi is the most important of these celebrations while in Eastern churches, Christ’s baptism is the most important.  The word “epiphania” in Greek means “manifestation” and refers to the appearance of the Christ child to the Magi. The winter jasmine (yellow jasmine), Jasminum nudiflorum, is a flower symbolic of the Epiphany and is also an attribute of the Virgin Mary.

In Greece this Feast Day of Christ’s baptism is celebrated with brilliance and there is a traditional blessing of the waters. There is an early morning liturgy in church, which is bedecked with greenery. The priest followed by the congregation then makes his way to a body of water (typically the sea, but it can also be a lake or a river, or even a swimming pool) in order to bless the waters in commemoration of Christ’s baptism in the River Jordan. The priest chants the blessing and throws a cross into the water. Young swimmers dive into the water to retrieve the cross. The person who brings back the cross to the priest kisses his hand, receives his blessing and a religious gift (in the past it used to be a gold cross to wear on a chain around the neck).

The priest has also blessed a large basin of water, which becomes “holy water” (ayiasmos), which is distributed to the faithful to take back home in order to bless the house. Whoever has fasted for three days before this blessing may drink three gulps of the “holy water” which will protect them from disease and evil. The fast is then broken at lunchtime and traditionally roast pork with celery and leeks is eaten on this day. Here is the Greek Carol of the Epiphany.



Κάλαντα Φώτων

Σήμερα τα Φώτα κι ο φωτισμός,
Η χαρά μεγάλη κι ο αγιασμός.

Κάτω στον Ιορδάνη, τον ποταμό,
Κάθεται η Κυρά μας, η Παναγιά.
Όργανο βαστάει και κερί κρατεί
Και τον Άϊ Γιάννη παρακαλεί:

“Άϊ Γιάννη αφέντη και βαπτιστή,
Βάπτισε κι εμένα, Θεού παιδί.
Ν’ ανέβω επάνω στον ουρανό
Να μαζέψω ρόδα και λίβανο.”

Καλημέρα, καλημέρα,
Καλή σου μέρ’ αφέντη με την κυρά!

Greek Epiphany Carol

Today is the Epiphany and the enlightenment,
Great joys of blessing and the Holy Water.

Down by the Jordan River,
Sits Our Lady, the Virgin Mary,
Holding a lute and a lit candle,
And She asks St John the Baptist:

“St John, Master and Baptist,
Baptise me as well, a child of God.
So that I may rise up to Heaven
And pick roses and incense.”

A good day, a good day,
A good day to you Master, and to the Mistress too!

THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS & TWELFTH NIGHT

“No party is any fun unless seasoned with folly.” - Desiderius Erasmus

You have all heard about the Twelve Days of Christmas, but many of you may not know what this actually signifies. Contrary to much popular belief, these are not the twelve days before Christmas (the days before Christmas are the days of Advent), but in most of the Western Churches are the twelve days from Christmas until the beginning of Epiphany, on January 6th. The 12 day count begins from December 25th until January 5th. In some traditions, the first day of Christmas begins on the evening of December 25th with the following day considered the First Day of Christmas (December 26th). In these traditions, the twelve days begin December 26 and include Epiphany on January 6.

The Christmas Carol “The Twelve Days of Christmas” may be regarded as a nonsense children’s song, but its origins are religious and instructional:

The First Day – December 25: A Partridge in a Pear Tree
The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, whose birthday we celebrate on December 25, the first day of Christmas. In the song, Christ is symbolically presented as a mother partridge that feigns injury to decoy predators from her helpless nestlings, recalling the expression of Christ’s sadness over the fate of Jerusalem: “Jerusalem! Jerusalem! How often would I have sheltered you under my wings, as a hen does her chicks, but you would not have it so…’ (Luke 13:34)

The Second Day – December 26: Two Turtle Doves
The Old and New Testaments, which together bear witness to God's self-revelation in history and the creation of a people to tell the Story of God to the world.

The Third Day – December 27: Three French Hens
The Three Theological Virtues: 1. Faith, 2. Hope, and 3. Love (1 Corinthians 13:13)

The Fourth Day – December 28: Four Calling Birds
The Four Gospels: 1. Matthew, 2. Mark, 3. Luke, and 4. John, which proclaim the Good News of God's reconciliation of the world to Himself in Jesus Christ.

The Fifth Day – December 29: Five Gold Rings
The first Five Books of the Old Testament, known as the Torah or the Pentateuch: 1. Genesis, 2. Exodus, 3. Leviticus, 4. Numbers, and 5. Deuteronomy, which gives the history of humanity's sinful failure and God’s response of grace in the creation of a people to be a light to the world.

The Sixth Day – December 30: Six Geese A-laying
The six days of creation that confesses God as Creator and Sustainer of the world (Genesis 1).

The Seventh Day – December 31: Seven Swans A-swimming
The seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: 1. Prophecy, 2. Ministry, 3. Teaching, 4. Exhortation, 5. Giving, 6. Leading, and 7. Compassion (Romans 12:6-8; cf. 1 Corinthians 12:8-11)

The Eighth Day – January 1: Eight Maids A-milking
The eight Beatitudes: 1. Blessed are the poor in spirit, 2. Blessed are those who mourn, 3. Blessed are the meek, 4. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, 5. Blessed are the merciful, 6. Blessed are the pure in heart, 7. Blessed are the peacemakers, 8. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. (Matthew 5:3-10)

The Ninth Day – January 2: Nine Ladies Dancing
The nine Fruit of the Holy Spirit: 1. Love, 2. Joy, 3. Peace, 4. Patience, 5. Kindness, 6. Generosity, 7. Faithfulness, 8. Gentleness, and 9. Self-control. (Galatians 5:22)

The Tenth Day – January 3: Ten Lords A-leaping
The ten commandments: 1. You shall have no other gods before me; 2. Do not make an idol; 3. Do not take God's name in vain; 4. Remember the Sabbath Day; 5. Honour your father and mother; 6. Do not murder; 7. Do not commit adultery; 8. Do not steal; 9. Do not bear false witness; 10. Do not covet. (Exodus 20:1-17)

The Eleventh Day – January 4: Eleven Pipers Piping
The eleven Faithful Apostles: 1. Simon Peter, 2. Andrew, 3. James, 4. John, 5. Philip, 6. Bartholomew, 7. Matthew, 8. Thomas, 9. James bar Alphaeus, 10. Simon the Zealot, 11. Judas bar James. (Luke 6:14-16). The list does not include the twelfth disciple, Judas Iscariot who betrayed Jesus to the religious leaders and the Romans.

The Twelfth Day – January 5: Twelve Drummers Drumming
The twelve points of doctrine in the Apostles’ Creed: 1. I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. 2. I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord. 3/ He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary. 4. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell. 5. On the third day he rose again. He ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father. 6. He will come again to judge the living and the dead. 7. I believe in the Holy Spirit, 8. the holy catholic Church, 9. the communion of saints, 10. the forgiveness of sins, 11. the resurrection of the body, 12. and life everlasting.

Tonight is the Twelfth Night, and tradition has it that Christmas celebrations are to end today and decorations must be taken down on this day.  However, a sprig of holly should be retained in the house to protect the occupants against lightning.  Twelfth Night celebrations were once very popular and traditionally, this night was one of the merriest in the Christmas season.  Twelfth Night parties were held everywhere, ostensibly to celebrate the arrival of the Magi in Bethlehem, however, many of the traditions surrounding the Night’s celebrations were pagan in origin (see Shakespeare’s play: “Twelfth Night”).

A Twelfth Night cake was baked for the occasion of the celebrations and a single bean was hidden in it.  The person who found it in his piece became the Bean King for the Night.  This tradition hails back to the Roman Saturnalia where a King was chosen by lot.  The bean was a sacred seed in ancient times. A pea was sometimes baked in a second cake in order to choose a Twelfth Night Queen, also.  These cakes have now merged with the tradition of the Christmas Cake and the Christmas Pudding (the latter which may contain the silver sixpence to determine the lucky one amongst its consumers: Compare this with the Vasilopitta [see my blog on January 1st]).

At the Twelfth Night party, it was customary to draw cards, on which were represented certain stock pantomime-like characters, exemplifying humorous national traits, for example, Farmer Mangelwurzel, François Parlez-Vous and Patrick O’Tater.  People had to act out the part of their chosen character and also submit to the humorous “commands” of the Bean King. Whenever the king raised his glass, the others did the same, shouting out “The king drinks!” Guessing games, riddle-solving, fortune telling, play-acting and miming were some of the things to amuse the party guests. Much laughter, good humour, fine food and drink were expended on these occasions.

In Jan Steen's 1668 painting of the Twelfth Night above, men, women and children form a cheerful crowd around the dining table, some in the fashionable middle-class dress of the day, while some are wearing different household utensils on their heads. Wearing the king's crown is a boy who stands on a small table, being helped to drain his glass by an elderly woman beside him. The jester, identified by the inscribed scrap of paper in his cap, is on his feet in front of the table, providing a rhythmical accompaniment with an earthenware pot and a small stick. On the far left, an older man with a metal funnel on his head has made a fiddle and bow from a ladle and a roasting spit, while someone else at the back is playing a real violin. On the opposite side, clearly keeping their distance, is a more genteel group gathered around a preacher and taking no part in the merriment. The painter and his wife, however, have joined in the disorderly celebration, being seated at table in the middle of the painting.

A BOOK AND FILM REVIEW

“Do not do an immoral thing for moral reasons.” - Thomas Hardy

My first day back at work today was very busy with meetings, lots of correspondence and emails to attend to, as well as catching up with all the staff. In the morning, I planned to get in extra early, so at 6:20 am, I was at the train station, only to find out that my train had been delayed for 15 minutes. I ended up getting in at work at 7:05 am, about my usual time even when I get the next scheduled train. The joys of our privatised public transport system…

Last weekend we watched an excellent movie. This was the 1993 James Ivory drama “The Remains of the Day”, starring Anthony Hopkins, Emma Thompson, Christopher Reeve and Hugh Grant. It is based on a novel by Japanese/British novelist, Kazuo Ishiguro. “The Remains of the Day” (1989) is the third published novel of Ishiguro and is one of the most highly-regarded post-war British novels. It won the Booker Prize in 1989 for Best Fiction, and ranks in the Sunday Times list of the 100 greatest novels. The film is an excellent adaptation of the novel with the leads amazingly well cast and giving a recital of their considerable acting abilities. Anthony Hopkins in particular, is exceptional in this film.

This is gently flowing, lilting movie with little action or incident, yet it is amazingly involving and there are some strong undercurrents of bottled up emotion, as well as a philosophical consideration of ethics, as seen from different viewpoints. Personal morality is also explored and there are also developed strong themes of racism and class inequality. Ishiguro has written a remarkably English novel that captures the spirit of the time and place of pre-second World War England, with some amazingly astute characterisations of the people of a vanishing species. The author, although born in Japan was raised and educated in England and has understood his adopted country exceedingly well, as his novel shows.

The story concerns James Stevens, an English butler, who dedicates his life to the loyal service of Lord Darlington (who is sketched out in increasing detail in flashbacks). The novel begins with Stevens receiving a letter from an ex-colleague Miss Kenton, previously the Housekeeper at Lord Darlington’s estate, describing her married life, which Stevens believes hints at her unhappy marriage. The receipt of the letter allows Stevens the opportunity to revisit this once-cherished relationship, if only under the pretext of possible re-employment of Mrs Benn (as Miss Kenton now is) at the Estate. Stevens’ new employer is a wealthy American (Mr. Farraday) who encourages Stevens to borrow a car to take a well-earned break, a “motoring trip”. On his trip to meet Mrs Benn, Stevens has the opportunity to reflect on his unmoving loyalty to Lord Darlington, the meaning of the term “dignity”, and even his relationship with his now deceased father. Ultimately Stevens is forced to ponder the true nature of his relationship with Miss Kenton during their time together at the Estate. As the film progresses, we become aware of Miss Kenton's one-time love for Stevens, and his for her.

Working together during the years leading up to the Second World War, Stevens and Miss Kenton fail to admit their true feelings. All of their recollected conversations show a professional friendship, which came close but was never given the opportunity to cross the line into romance. Miss Kenton, it later emerges, has been married for over 20 years and therefore is no longer Miss Kenton but has become Mrs. Benn. She admits to occasionally wondering what her life with Stevens might have been like, has come to love her husband, and is looking forward to the birth of their first grandchild. Stevens muses over lost opportunities, both with Miss Kenton and with his long-time employer, Lord Darlington. At the end of the film, Stevens focuses on the “remains of his day”, which has a multiplicity of meanings:  His future service with Mr. Farraday; the evening of his life and the wreckage he has made of it; the last vestiges of England’s grand houses – the estates in one of which Stevens serves; and the remains of the British Empire, once great, but at the time of Stevens’ writing of the letter, on the verge of complete and utter collapse…

Stevens comes to realise also that perhaps his utter and unquestioning loyalty to his master, Lord Darlington may have been misguided as his master had actively cultivated ties with the Nazi cause. This is an understated moral and ethical dilemma that Stevens was always aware of but actively ignored under a veneer of faultless service to a master he considered to be fair, benign, noble and above all else, a gentleman. His wish to be the perfect butler, the perfect “gentleman’s gentleman” has supervened and has quashed his responsibility to himself as a human being.

This is an excellent film, which is a good adaptation of an excellent novel. See it or read the novel, or both!