I am taking time away from staring at my television screen, where the first six Star Wars films have been showing in an endless loop for the entire weekend on a certain cable channel. If I couldn't reproduce the scripts for those films from memory already, I'm certain that I've added some reinforcement, particularly from the first three episodes. I was never very strong with those, since they weren't chronologically realized at a point where they would etch themselves indelibly on my childhood and psyche.
But first, the playlist from my last encounter with the random function on my iPod Nano. Interestingly enough, I think that a track has repeated from an earlier play series - "(What's the Story) Morning Glory" by Oasis has popped up improbably twice in a week - a bit of a triumph, considering some ridiculous number of tracks - close to 2,000 if my estimations are correct. Also interesting to note that a solo Beatle track is adjacent to a Beatle track proper. Another improbable occurrence.
Soapy Songlist
- Licks Off of Records, by Martin Mull
- Waiting for the Sun, by The Doors
- I Feel Fine, by The Beatles
- The World Tonight, by Paul McCartney
- (What's the Story) Morning Glory, by Oasis
- It's All Over Now, by Big Sugar
- What's My Name?, by DJ Earworm
Turtledove
Having just finished reading Harry Turtledove's "Supervolcano," I thought that I may as well throw in my tuppence about his writing, his works in general, and the reason why I continue to read the stuff that he belts out there.First off, I almost feel guilty reading Turtledove's books because it almost seems like literary masturbation. I instantly understand (grok) every single one of his references and allusions, as well as his multiple quips, malapropisms, malaphors, and spoonerisms. I've made them all myself, numerous times. I can almost skip over them in the text, because I can feel their context being woven before I get to them. A quick example would be his descriptions of snowbanks being "taller than a tall man." Who doesn't think of Sappho's fragments when they hear that turn of phrase? Other , less classically-oriented examples include phrases such as "no bout adoubt it" and burning bridges when one comes to them. As another example that leads to my next point, Turtledove depicts a character in "The Videssos Cycle" using a very realpolitik diplomatic manoeuvre to drive opponents against one another with the intent of annihilating both, and at the risk of destroying the people and lands around them. He rather deftly mentions that a person doing so would make a desert and call it peace. The same adage, borrowed from Tacitus, pops up in his other works as well. I do not criticize for recycling, since it gives a greater sense of narrative continuity.
Back in 1992, Turtledove published "The Guns of the South," an entertaining alternate history of the American Civil War, but one which never seemed to me to have as much validity as the remainder of his works. Re-reading it now, the inauthenticity seems more pronounced. In the book, Turtledove really soft-sells the Confederacy, and works the myth of "kindly old General Lee" - the Virginia gentleman who didn't like slavery, but took up arms against the Union to... erm... defend his plantation and his honour, or some such twaddle. After Lee's death in 1870, Frederick Douglass wrote that “We can scarcely take up a newspaper . . . that is not filled with nauseating flatteries” of the old general.
To get to my point about narrative continuity, Turtledove seems to have realized that his historical analysis was slightly misplaced. Lee was not some sort of "live and let live" - "all men are equal in the eyes of God" sort of folksy hero, but a bigoted racist that saw racism as an institutional form of subjugation and reformation necessary to prepare unworthy savage souls for heaven, if they were subservient enough in this life.
As any good author should, Turtledove did not renovate or negate his earlier work. Instead, using a later book, he has an academic character in a lecture situation present the factual historical evidence to demonstrate the crucial element of slavery within the secession movement. This acts metatextually to distance himself as an author from the "Lost Cause" revisionist historians intent on lionizing the Confederate States as defenders of constitutional freedom and dignity.
In addition to sharing turns of phrase and a desire for narrative integrity, he and I apparently share a great deal of pop culture knowledge. Every nod towards Douglas Adams or Monty Python is warmly appreciated, and his musical preferences would seem to align with mine. His references to the lyrics of Bob Dylan, Warren Zevon, and Creedence Clearwater Revival are met with measured approval.
So, I'm a bit jealous because he put all of my thoughts and mannerisms down on paper and published them before I did. I might even go so far as to say that character interactions in the Supervolcano trilogy seem to follow the patterns described in my 2004 blog article HERE. All of the romantic relationships between men and women follow the pattern of extroverted, charismatic, and physical specimens being awful romantic choices for women and men, with terrible repercussions. Stoic and socially recalcitrant figures lead to happier and more successful relationships. In other words, characters suffer whenever they choose sexy and charming, but reap rewards when they form attachments with the less spontaneous and glamourous. I suspect that Harry and I may have some college experiences in common.
Speaking of which, Turtledove's references to Canada are entirely welcome. He's gone so far as to describe the Bay building in downtown Edmonton, which I found refreshing. I haven't read his entire catalogue of titles, but I would not be surprised to see him mention the Jubilee Auditorium of the same city, which is adorned with an adage from Suetonius' Life of Augustus: "He found a city built of brick – left it built of marble."
So what are my criticisms of Harry Turtledove? Aside from the fact that I'm reading what appears to be my own thoughts, I reckon that he has a couple of problems in terms of his execution. Romantically, his attachment to the principle of monogamous fidelity leads to some predictability. Perhaps more pointedly, he occasionally drifts into editorialism. He doesn't do this a lot, but in certain cases like Balsamon the Patriarch in the Videssos Cycle, or Jim Farrell in the Supervolcano Trilogy, he tells the reader what judgment the reader ought to form. Rather than just depicting the character's speech and actions, Turtledove will explicitly say that the character is witty or clever or entertaining or delightful. That tends to stick in the craw of an active reader. Being told to like a character is a profoundly different experience than independently developing a fondness for that character.
In any event, I've rabbitted on for far too long and should probably go take some medication and kip on the chesterfield whilst watching more Star Wars for a bit. If I've forgotten an aspect of Harry Turtledove's trade and techniques that bears relevance, I'm sure that I'll fill another blog post with it.
Until next time, good night England and the colonies.
Cheers,
—mARKUS
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