**spoiler alert** I first read Mill on the Floss when I was thirteen years old. It was an English class assignment for my older sister, and, as I freq**spoiler alert** I first read Mill on the Floss when I was thirteen years old. It was an English class assignment for my older sister, and, as I frequently did, I stole away to read the book while it was in her possession. I remember being blown away and the two of us discussing it at length, and I have always regarded it as my favorite Eliot, although I have read many others since and consider Middlemarch to be a masterpiece of literary achievement.
The thing is, I came to it this time from a much older point of view, and while I’m sure that the love story and the tragedy were the focus of my first reading, the familial love and the questions of how much we owe to the feelings of others, if those are soothed to the detriment of ourselves, are the central issues I found myself struggling with this time around.
Maggie is quick and bright, but her father, who loves her dearly, expresses a concern that such attributes are not an asset in a girl. Tom, her brother, is not suited for study, and would make a better use of his time by learning the business of the mill, but he must endure the schoolhouse because he is meant to make something more of himself. Frequently we see society forcing round pegs into square holes and wondering at the shavings that are left behind.
No one tackles the serious issue of morality with a more even hand than George Eliot. She does not turn away from the hard issues, which always puts me in mind of Hardy, and she does not tie anything up with a bow to make it seem sweeter than it is. Is there a breathing human being who thinks Maggie Tulliver got a fair shake? At one point in the novel Maggie says to Bob, “I haven’t many friends who care for me.� and Bob answers, “Hev a dog, Miss!--they’re better friends nor any Christian.� I tend to agree with him that a dog would have served Maggie better than most of the people she knew, but the saddest part, for me, was that there were people who loved her dearly but none of the love she received could outbalance the lack of understanding that she encountered so often throughout her life.
What drew me the most to Maggie was her unparalleled capacity for love, her willingness to see the fault in herself, while being so unwilling to find it in others. She is the first, and perhaps only, character in this book who sees Philip for the remarkable young man he is, without any regard for his deformed person. Her struggle to do the right thing costs her everything she has, and yet it is not for herself that she shows the most concern, it is for others. And, she never, ever forgets the bond she shares with her brother, Tom, or ceases to wish to please him and gain his respect and love.
Eliot is a genius at creating real people. There is not an evil person in this book, although there are many, many instances where evil is perpetrated. Wakem is a businessman who sees no problem in dealing harshly with Mr. Tulliver, but he is also a father who wants happiness for his son and makes difficult concessions in an attempt to achieve that end; Mr. Tulliver is a foolish man who acts without regard for consequences, but he is also a loving father, a champion to “the little wench� and a man so honest that his last breath is taken only when he knows all his debts have been satisfied; Tom is a boy who has to assume the mantle of a man too early and who dwells too much on what society will judge instead of his own intimate knowledge of who his sister is, but he sincerely believes he is right to cling to the stubborn, unforgiving past that haunts him and that the most important thing in life is to salvage the reputation of his family, even at the cost of his sister; even the Aunts are so misguided and simple-minded that their actions that seem cruel also seem to rise more from ignorance than from malice. These people breath and exist within the confines of the book, but it is easy to imagine that they breathed and existed outside of it as well.
Maggie is a girl moved to please everyone and blame no one. Maggie hated blame; she had been blamed all her life, and nothing had come of it but evil tempers. But, who can accomplish such a goal? It seems the harder she tries, the more isolated she becomes. What use was anything if Tom didn’t love her? She is at the mercy of others because she cares so deeply for their feelings and sensibilities, and yet life has seen fit to land her in the middle of the fray...she cannot please one without alienating the other.
The words that were marked by the quiet hand in the little old book that she had long ago learned by heart, rushed even to her lips, and found a vent for themselves in a low murmur that was quite lost in the loud driving of the rain against the window and the loud moan and roar of the wind. ‘I have received the Cross, I have received it from Thy hand; I will bear it, and bear it till death, as Thou hast laid it upon me.�
In the end, whether she is right or wrong in her feelings, Maggie is steadfast. She has been given a cross to bear that seems unfair and too heavy, but she tries with everything inside of her to bear it with faith and without complaint. How many of us could do the same? If one believes in only the present and the body, Maggie’s story is a loss, but if one believes in the soul, ah, then Maggie is purged to purity by the fire she endures.
Finally, there is the river. It meanders through this book from beginning to end and it brings with it all the joy and all the sorrows found there. Maggie and Tom revel in their childhood on the river, but we are told early on that the river once destroyed the town and so we know that the river is a duplicitous thing. Not since Dickens use of the Thames, has a river been so integral to the heart of a story, for the Floss represents the years that rush by, the hopes and expectations that are swept away without a trace, the love that brings joy, like the river when it is calm and still, but can be so destructive when it races out of the control of its banks....more
I adore the writing of Daphne du Maurier. She blends suspense, moving description and psychological intrigue in a way that few other writers have mastI adore the writing of Daphne du Maurier. She blends suspense, moving description and psychological intrigue in a way that few other writers have mastered. The Flight of the Falcon is not one of her more acclaimed works, it is largely overlooked, but I have always thought it one of the best. There is a deeper meaning hidden within its pages, that would appear to me to be about temptation, self-illusion, the struggle of good and evil within a man, and the importance of being willing to dare and to try and to perish in the effort.
Armino Fabbio is a nondescript tour guide, making his way through the familiar territory of Rome, when he is plunged into his past by a chance encounter with a woman, a drunken destitute woman, who reminds him of his childhood nurse, Marta. Because of this encounter, he returns to his roots, a town named Ruffano, where his father was the curator of a museum before his death during WWII. In Ruffano, he discovers that the past that he believed to be dead and gone is alive and all-consuming.
Woven throughout this story are religious images, but not a moral treatise. Christ and Satan seem at war here, but which is which is sometimes difficult to determine. At one point a fellow character quotes him Nietzsche, “He who no longer finds what is great in God will find it nowhere; he must either deny it or create it.� Much of this book is about that need to believe or create. Nothing about Armino’s past seems cut in stone, everything malleable, and as the pieces unfold he must determine how these truths alter his present and future. What is clear is that he will never be able to be an anonymous, uninvolved, unattached tour guide again.
I hope to re-read many of du Maurier’s novels this year. It has been long enough on each of them that they come to me fresh and alive, and sometimes even surprising. She writes the way Hitchcock directs, with pace and development that build to a crescendo. I love that feeling of being swept along by the wind and then plopped back to earth again. I’m pleased she took me along on the Falcon’s flight.
If you have ever read any of Daphne du Maurier’s novels, you will immediately recognize what I mean when I say the narrator here is another of her ideIf you have ever read any of Daphne du Maurier’s novels, you will immediately recognize what I mean when I say the narrator here is another of her identity-free individuals. Like the new Mrs. De Winter in Rebecca or the tour guide brother in Flight of the Falcon, this narrator is a person without any sense of importance, sense of self or sense of his own value. He is so unloved and disconnected that he can assume another man’s life and involve himself immediately in the other man’s world to the point of burying himself inside the other man’s skin.
A scapegoat: a person who is blamed for the wrongdoings, mistakes, or faults of others. What an inspired title for Daphne du Maurier’s thrilling novel of exchanged identity. When John, an Englishman whose area of expertise is France, meets his doppelganger, the Comte Jean de Gue, he finds himself unexpectedly tricked into trading places. He goes from having no life or ties to being responsible for the complexities of a chateaux and the lives that revolve around it, and he finds out that the life he has assumed is one of a dubious and sometimes cruel individual.
"One had no right to play with other people's lives. One should not interfere with their emotions. A word, a look, a smile, a frown, did something to another human being, waking response or aversion, and a web was woven which had no beginning and no end, spreading outward and inward too, merging, entangling, so that the struggle of one depended on the struggle of the other."
As our narrator uncovers the secrets of Jean’s life, he begins to insert his own sensibilities into the lives he controls. But does he see these people as they are, or does he supply his on version of them? Does he help them, or does he simply confuse and disrupt their lives? What would they think if they knew he was just a stranger playing at being their son, husband, father, brother, lover or master? And, what does he discover about himself along the way?
Nobody writes romantic gothic fiction like du Maurier. She knows how to make something subtle important. She has great command of the psychological thriller and weaves her tales to that you are never far from the edge of your seat. She writes descriptions that turn buildings into characters, and characters that emerge as real people.
If you have never read du Maurier, you are missing one of the great writers. If you have not read this book, you are missing a treat....more
This is my third reading of My Cousin Rachel, and I was as riveted this time as the first two, and no closer to an answer to the haunting question: InThis is my third reading of My Cousin Rachel, and I was as riveted this time as the first two, and no closer to an answer to the haunting question: Innocent or Guilty? Daphne du Maurier is such a masterful weaver of suspense, never putting a foot wrong, not leaving a single dangling thread, and never giving you a moment’s respite from the tension and uncertainty. In short, she is devilishly mysterious.
In Philip Ashley she has created the perfect unreliable narrator. We cannot believe his version of Rachel, because even he does not know what his version really is. He waivers between finding her guilty without proof to innocent without reason. He is gullible, immature, and thunderstruck. So, we spend our time trying to see beyond the words he gives us and into the soul of a woman who is an enigma.
What du Maurier does better than any other writer of her time is create characters that are cloudy lens. Like the simple, naive narrator of Rebecca, who is so insignificant in her person that she doesn’t even merit a name, Philip is more aggravating than attractive and Rachel is more duplicious than charming, and whatever the truth of them is, it is hidden in a mist of unanswered questions.
I love du Maurier. I read her voraciously when I was a very young girl. I have determined to re-read all her books and what I am finding is that she has not dulled for me over time. She is just as brilliant and captivating now as she ever was....more
I have long meant to revisit this novel, one of the earliest Hardy’s that I read and always a great favorite with me. It had been long enough since thI have long meant to revisit this novel, one of the earliest Hardy’s that I read and always a great favorite with me. It had been long enough since the last reading that the book held surprises, which is always an added pleasure. What I remembered the most was the terrible incident that landed Mr. Henchard in his questionable situation, the auctioning of his wife at a fairground. (Not a spoiler, this is done in the first chapter of the book). From this bad act springs such a twisting tale of deceit and misunderstanding that it seems fate has oppressed this individual.
What makes this book such a tragedy is that there is not any real villain. Henchard is quick tempered and wrong in most of his dealings, but the harm he does is almost exclusively to himself. He is much too pitiful a character to represent anything truly sinister. He is a man who might have had everything good had he not destroyed it himself through jealousy, mistrust, and sheer pride. He might have had a friend in Farfrae, a good wife in Susan, and a daughter in Elizabeth-Jane, and perhaps this is the final tragedy, that he comes to realize this himself.
Henchard regrets his bad acts almost as soon as he commits them, but fate and his own stubbornness prevent his regrets from making any difference. The lies and secrets he keeps eat into not only his life, but the lives of those who become involved with him.
Henchard is willful and unbending; he attaches himself too easily, he wishes to be forgiving, but his nature is not that of a forgiving man. He wants to maintain that he is a man of position and character, but he is hiding a past that is immoral; he gives up drinking and he attempts to make amends as best he can, but he cannot alter the damage that has already been done. Self-destructive is the adjective that most comes to mind.
While Henchard is guilty of wronging others, it cannot be ignored that he is also wronged. As is so often the case, it takes but a reversal of monetary fortune to send the majority of those who respect him into a state that is quite the reverse. Every good deed, and there are many, is forgotten in the wake of his misfortune, and I found it appalling how little anyone seemed to grasp what such a stark reversal would do to the pride and self-image of such a man. He is utterly humiliated and left without a shred of dignity, although some of what he suffers is unknown to his main rival, Farfrae.
The truth was that, as may be divined, he had quite intended to effect a grand catastrophe at the end of this drama by reading out the name; he had come to the house with no other thought. But sitting there in cold blood he could not do it. Such a wrecking of hearts appalled even him.
His parting words brought me to tears, which says much about the power of Hardy’s writing, for this is not a man that inspires emotional attachment or complete sympathy.
I think Thomas Hardy is one of the greatest writers of all time. I would place The Mayor of Casterbridge among his greatest works. He has an ability to transport the reader to a particular place and time that is uncanny. I feel I have been in the seedy bar in Mixen Lane and walked the hills and roadway to Budmouth. I have heard the Casterbridge bells tolling the wedding and felt the knife digging into the heart of a man who knows nothing of how to make amends without undoing them almost immediately. Perhaps just a man fated to fail.
But the momentum of his character knew no patience. At this turn of the scales he remained silent. The movements of his mind seemed to tend to the thought that some power was working against him....more
UPDATE: This book is available for $1.99 at Amazon right now. If you have not read it, it will be the biggest bargain of your life.
****UPDATE: This book is available for $1.99 at Amazon right now. If you have not read it, it will be the biggest bargain of your life.
* Without a doubt, if I were listing the ten books not to miss, this would make the list. It is gripping start to finish and has everything needed to make a GREAT read....more
There is no one I would ever tell this to, except Cordelia. But which Cordelia? The one I have conjured up, the one in the roll-top boots and the turnThere is no one I would ever tell this to, except Cordelia. But which Cordelia? The one I have conjured up, the one in the roll-top boots and the turned up collar, or the one before, or the one after? There is never only one of anyone.
This is a story about the many faces and people we become as we progress through life and how we allow our former selves to dictate our present ones. It is about the weight of memory; the fragility of identity; the search for who we are.
It is easy to see this as a book about bullying, but it is so much more. It is a book about coming of age, about power and weakness, about the voices we carry inside ourselves that shape us and haunt us, about creativity and where it springs from, and about loss, what is taken and what is given away.
There is a myth that we grow up and leave the child behind. But do we? Doesn’t the child fashion the adult? Aren’t we always harkening back to those earlier days, even if we prefer not to?
Time is not a line but a dimension. You don't look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away.
This is the third time I have read this book, and it has left me this time with the same empty, aching, stripped clean feeling that I had the first time I read it. I feel as if I have traveled backward through my own past, although I was never bullied in this way, I never had the power in my own hands over another, and I never reached any pinnacle of success to know whether it would satisfy the childhood fears of inadequacy or not. Perhaps that is the point. We all have different lives, different experiences, and yet at the core we experience so many of the same feelings, hidden inadequacies, and secret selves.
As I age, I often find myself wondering if we ever truly know any other person. Even those with which we are most intimate never see us completely, there are always experiences and thoughts that remain hidden. With every person we know we share different pieces of ourselves, and if it is true for us, is it not also true for them that everything is never shared? This is a book that begs us to ask such questions–to reach for understanding of both ourselves and others, to not only look, but to see.
Margaret Atwood is a poet, which is evident in the way she uses words, rhythm and flow in writing her prose. Alias Grace is a non-biographical accountMargaret Atwood is a poet, which is evident in the way she uses words, rhythm and flow in writing her prose. Alias Grace is a non-biographical account of Grace Marks, a real woman, infamously convicted of murder at the age of sixteen. Atwood is deft in exploring Grace’s psyche by allowing her to tell her story to a doctor who is ostensibly probing her as part of research he is conducting into the nature of mental illness. While Grace is an obviously unreliable narrator, we are swept into her version of the events that lead to the death of her employer, Mr. Kinnear and his housekeeper, Nancy Montgomery.
The story is part who-done-it and part why-was-it-done, but it is mostly an intimate look into the world of a girl who finds herself in service at thirteen and has known little more than hard work and hard knocks for a lifetime. That lifetime might seem short, having only spanned sixteen years, but is terribly long when put into the perspective of the girl who is living it. Grace, who is quite intelligent and certainly not suffering from mental illness, is a complicated character. Her lack of opportunities, her crass beginnings, and the difficult mores of a Victorian society that often punishes the wrong party, make it impossible to regard her without feeling mixed emotions, a reaction that other characters in the novel appear to share with the reader.
Many questions remain unanswered at the end of this tale, but they are secondary to the questions raised by it. To what degree is Grace responsible for what occurs at Richmond Hill, is she an innocent who fears for her own life or is she the person who sets the wheel in motion, but more importantly to what degree is she responsible for her own fate or is it, as she herself says, that we are pawns of a capricious God and may as well take it as it comes and enjoy what piece we can.
This is a second reading for me and I enjoyed the ride even knowing what the outcome would be. Atwood has a penchant for storytelling second to none. I am always sad when her stories end and I must close the binder on the last page. But, as with all the best writers, the story doesn't really end then because I find myself days later pondering it still. Because this is not my favorite of Atwood’s works, I hesitate to give it five-stars, but then I think about it in comparison to other books and know that it is “amazing� while it is being read and just because it has a fairer sister does not diminish its beauty at all. ...more
This is one of the most overlooked wonders in fiction. This is Merlin, the wizard and the man, revealed to us as he must have been. The only thing wroThis is one of the most overlooked wonders in fiction. This is Merlin, the wizard and the man, revealed to us as he must have been. The only thing wrong with this story is that it ends...you want it to go on forever....more
Mary Stewart at her best, proving that she sprang upon the publishing world fully formed and ready to go. This novel has everything that separates herMary Stewart at her best, proving that she sprang upon the publishing world fully formed and ready to go. This novel has everything that separates her from the pack: a quickly paced plot, a mystery that doesn’t solve itself before the end of the book, descriptions of Roman ruins and natural beauty that transport you to the scene, a heroine who is just an ordinary girl but finds within her the strength to rise to the occasion, and just the right touch of love interest.
I do not read Mary Stewart and see what her characters are doing, I sit with them, eat with them, and herald the morn with them:
How long I sat out there, in a coign of carved stone and rough rock, I do not know. Long enough, I suppose, for my vigil did at length bring in the dawn. I saw the first light, forerunning the sun, gather in a cup of the eastern cloud, gather and grow and brim, till at last it spilled like milk over the golden lip, to smear the dark face of heaven from end to end. From east to north, and back to south again, the clouds slackened, the stars, trembling on the verge of extinction, guttered in the dawn wind, and the gates of day were ready to open at the trumpet�
I will admit that part of what makes me love her so much is my long-time relationship with her. She peopled my youth with her characters and stories. When I had graduated from Nancy Drew Mysteries, she was waiting for me, but while Nancy Drew remains a childish adventure, one that it is not even possible to recapture with the same delight, Mary Stewart is as delightful, thrilling and interesting now as she was then. She is a comfort read for me, and this particular book is the writer at the height of her skills and allure.
I am so glad to have read it again after all those years and to have found that, while I have grown old across all those years, it has not. ...more
Linda Martin, an orphaned English girl, has accepted a job as governess at Chateau Valmy in the French countryside. We know immediately that all is noLinda Martin, an orphaned English girl, has accepted a job as governess at Chateau Valmy in the French countryside. We know immediately that all is not as it seems in the Valmy household, as does Miss Martin, and the sorting of the good from the bad is a dangerous endeavor.
Reading Nine Coaches Waiting again was like coming home and finding someone had already lit you a fire and left you a hot toddy. I sank back into it, and it was as wonderful as the very first time I read it. When I was young I read this book more than once, and I thought I might find it had lost some of its allure now that I am so much older--NOT SO. It has all those wonderful details that draws one in: the orphaned governess, posing as less than she is, the French mansion with vast estate grounds and gardens, the handsome but rakish gentleman, and a life-or-death mystery that must be solved. The thing about Mary Stewart is that she takes all those well-worn elements and creates something new and thrilling from them. She transports you into this imagined world and anything that sounds unbelievable or cliche in a blurb just disappears into her creative and believable writing style. You find yourself holding your breath with Linda Martin and feeling her desperation as she attempts to unravel her suspicions from the facts.
I cannot express how much I love Mary Stewart and her writing. I have discovered that there are two books she has written that I have not read. I am waiting for copies of them to arrive. It is like knowing there is a Godiva chocolate bar hidden just out of reach. I want it now, but I am savoring the knowledge that it will be a delight beyond measure when I finally find its hiding place. Meanwhile, I decided to resample the chocolates that are already sitting on my shelf....more
I have put down this book once more with a sigh and a feeling that I have been in the presence of greatness. I have been there with Merlin, with ArthuI have put down this book once more with a sigh and a feeling that I have been in the presence of greatness. I have been there with Merlin, with Arthur, with Ambrosius; and I am reluctant, as always, to have it come to an end.
It was almost night, but over beyond Maridunum in the west, a lingering bar of light hinted at the dying sun. It threw a glint on the river skirting the palace wall where I was born, and touched a jewel spark on the distant sea. Near at hand the trees were bare with winter, and the ground crisp with the first frost. Arthur trod away from me across the grass, leaving ghost-prints in the frost. He reached the place where the track led down to the grove, and half turned. I saw him raise a hand. 4/13/20 -----------------
The Last Enchantment is Mary Stewart’s third installment in her Arthurian novels, and the last of the trilogy that centers around the character of Merlin. In her inimitable way, Stewart gives us the final days of Merlin and brings us full circle to the beginning of The Crystal Cave, in which we are introduced to an old man setting out to tell his tale of wonder in service to his god.
Arthur, now King of all Britain, must deal with all the obstacles to his reign that have become so much a part of the legend of his life. Evil, in the person of Morgause, his sister and the mother of his only child, rears its head and bites into the fabric of his glory, and Merlin must help him to steer a course through the dangers she presents. Guinevere comes into his life and with her the seeds of a love for his best friend that is forbidden but impossible to ignore. Merlin experiences love and possible betrayal, and the hardest of all things, the waning of his power.
The strength of this series for me has always been the perception of Merlin as a man and not a wizard, a tool of the gods but never a god himself. Stewart carries that theme right to the end in a way that makes you ache for Merlin and share his accomplishments and sorrows in a way that would be impossible if he were all-knowing or in control. The love he inspires in and feels for Arthur is palpable and his failure to understand women and their needs is evident as he deals with the female characters who become so important in his final days.
I said to the ghosts, to the voices, to the empty moonlight: ‘It was time. Let me go in peace.� Then, commending myself and my spirit to God who all these years had held me in his hand, I composed myself for sleep. This was the last thing that I know to be truth, and not a dream in darkness.
This is not the end of Merlin’s tale, but which of us would not be satisfied to be able to lay our lives down with so little fear and such faith?
I love this series so much and feel so much still when reading them, that I always feel the desire to be able to convey that feeling in some way and inspire others to pick them up and read. There is much of fantasy, history, and legend here, but there is more. There is love, betrayal, purpose, faith and the idea that a life that is lived for something other than self-service is a life worth living and full of reward. There is a sense that if you set yourself in the path of the gods they will guide you toward your true destiny, but that no man can ever go there by himself and without their help. There is the assurance that the encounters we have in life are worth having, even if in the end we must kiss them and let them go. And, perhaps that even in the lives that are touched with great doings and important events, it is the simple things, like the love of a man for his son, that are truly important.
I lifted my head, remembering, once more, the child who had listened nightly for the music of the spheres, but had never heard it. Now here it was, all around me, a sweet, disembodied music, as if the hill itself was a harp to the high air.
The music is there, all around us, and if we listen long enough we will hear it and it will be enough to satisfy us at last....more
It makes no sense that a book I have read this many times could still make me thrill with anticipation, bask in the beauty of the language, and cry wiIt makes no sense that a book I have read this many times could still make me thrill with anticipation, bask in the beauty of the language, and cry with genuine emotion; but it does. I could not have chosen anything better to read in these dark days--there is always the promise of light. 4/9/20 -----------------
After the thrills of The Crystal Cave, we pick Merlin up, bleeding on the side of the road out of Tintagel, and watch as he begins his journey into the life of the boy who will be King Arthur. One of literature’s great characters, Merlin is the bridge between Ambrosius and Arthur--the once and future kings, and for my money he embodies all that is fine about both of them.
Mary Stewart's Merlin appeals to me mostly because of his humanity. He pays a high price for his powers, and they are granted to him only at the whim and determination of his god. Thus, it is not Merlin who controls events or chooses history, but Merlin who works on earth to bring about a plan clearly forged in heaven. By that same token, he cannot always prevent tragedy, and he must bear, as all men do, his share of regret and disappointment. He states, “I was the god’s instrument, but I was not the god’s hand.� He knows his role and it prevents his being arrogant or self-important and makes him lovable and real. We are able to see him as a man who is given the difficult role of shaping the right future for a nation by trusting that God is behind him in whatever he must do. A pretty heavy burden.
In The Crystal Cave, we see Merlin as a boy and a youth, learning about his god and how to wield his powers. In The Hollow Hills, we see Merlin the man, who understands and has confidence in himself and what he can and should accomplish for his god. And, we see Merlin as a father-figure, with Arthur as his child, his progeny, his legacy.
Even the legend of Arthur is enhanced by Stewart’s presentation of Arthur as a boy rather than as we usually see him, a full-grown King. He is shaped by his foster family into a person of values and we see how he comes to rely on Merlin for both love and guidance. For anyone who has only the image of Merlin as a wizard in flowing robes, self-assured and able to command the thunder when he desires, I submit that this image is an empty jug compared to this Merlin of flesh and blood who must think and feel his way toward the purpose that lies in front of him, a purpose that is passed to him as a sacred duty by his own father.
There are moments of descriptive beauty that are awe-inspiring. There are moments of sentiment that bring tears to my eyes (even after multiple readings). There are moments of intelligent humor that make me smile and which give the characters who speak the lines depth and tangibility. Stewart is a masterful storyteller, with the wisdom and skills of Homer. She transports us. The only thing that makes coming to the end of this book tolerable is knowing that The Last Enchantment lies ahead!...more
With COVID-19 threatening all of us and altering our lives, I have found it hard at times to concentrate on the reading I had planned. I was once askeWith COVID-19 threatening all of us and altering our lives, I have found it hard at times to concentrate on the reading I had planned. I was once asked "if you were stranded on an island, what book would you take with you?" and I responded this one. Well, I am on an island, in a way, and I needed an old friend, so I pulled out my Merlin trilogy and just finished this first book. It is a great book for reminding you what you can overcome if you have God on your side. It was time...I like to meet up with Merlin once every few years in any case. -------------------------- Who was Merlin? Most of us know the Arthurian tales in some aspect or another, and in them each of us has an idea of the role of Merlin, the great wizard who guides Arthur to be a great king. Few of us have ever stopped to think that legends spring from men and to wonder who the man was who was Merlin. Mary Stewart stopped to ask that question, and then proceeded to answer it with such finesse and glory and brilliance that whatever image of Merlin you have ever held will be dispelled and only her version will ever feel satisfactory thereafter.
She begins with Merlin as a boy, a bastard born to Niniane, a Welsh princess. Because of his ignoble birth and the looming threat of his unknown heritage, he is either mistreated, ignored, or feared in his home and becomes solitary in his character. Were he a simple boy, he would never survive his childhood, but like his mother, he is blessed (or cursed) with the “sight�, an ability to know more than his five senses might tell him.
Through a set of unique circumstances and a bit of fate, he comes to be in service to a great king, Ambrosius, and in intimate contact with the volatile and often callous Uther Pendragon, the man destined to father Arthur, the greatest of British Kings.
Where Stewart takes us next is on a very believable, fascinating journey--that is magical in a way that has little to do with magic. She breathes life into every character she presents, not only Merlin but Ambrosius, the King; Uther, his brother; Cerdic and Cadal, Merlin’s servants; Galapas the keeper of the cave, and even the more minor characters like Belasius and Ulfin. There is not one character, no matter how minor his role, that does not serve his function and move the story forward to its pre-ordained end.
Stewart has a sweeping command of the history she presents and an undeniably smooth and fresh writing style that puts you right there in the history, sharing the moment. She has, as well, a deep understanding of what it is to be both human and exceptional, and we understand Merlin on both levels. Then there is the charm of her subtle humor that is always so well placed and so perfectly timed that she has made me chuckle aloud and pathos so real that it has brought me to tears.
In the end, while explaining man, she also explains the unexplainable that is God and how He works in the lives He bestows:
Mithras, Apollo, Arthur, Christ--call him what you will,� I said. “What does it matter what men call the light? It is the same light, and men must live by it or die. I only know that God is the source of all the light which has lit the world, and that his purpose runs through the world and past each one of us like a great river, and we cannot check or turn it, but can only drink from it while living, and commit our bodies to it when we die.�
I first read this book in 1970, at its initial publication. I can remember waiting with great impatience for the next volume to become available and feeling elated by the words between the covers. It was the same response that I had to Tolkien when I discovered him, and while Tolkien has found his audience at last, Stewart is still searching for hers. Stewart deserves a lot more praise and a wider audience in my view. I have read these books over again several times since my first reading and find them undiminished in the enjoyment they bring. They possess the power of a very good and ancient tale told in a new and fresh way. They are a gift you should give to yourself....more
WOW. Loved it. I was thinking about Clare and Henry long after I closed this book. It has been a long time since I have wanted to slow a book down so WOW. Loved it. I was thinking about Clare and Henry long after I closed this book. It has been a long time since I have wanted to slow a book down so I would not finish it too soon. It was like eating a single piece of dark chocolate, and it stirred some deep thoughts about life, free will and predestination....more
Loading...
