The Choice by Nicholas Sparks

Okay, I admit it.  I read a Nicholas Sparks novel. (Heavy sigh.) I think I knew exactly what I was getting myself into, but I was tired and wanted something easy to breeze through.  Well, it was easy all right.  I feel like some of my friends who commented that after reading Mockingjay they "wanted those lost hours back".  I didn't feel that way about Mockingjay, but excepting the fact that there's always something to be learned from every reading experience, reading 'The Choice' was definitely a few hours in which you're transported to a time that - let's be frank - doesn't exist.

The kind of time that is constantly smoothed over with a dreamy, sunset kind of feel.  Where people fall in love over a weekend, instantly know they are meant to be together, have a few arguments that you know don't matter (and you feel were thrown in as an afterthought with a nod to reality), and generally have (and constantly recognise they have) the best [fill in the blank] in the world.  Life, husband, wife, children, house, small town, job, talent, boat, family.  Phrases are thrown about that you feel grown men never say, much less think.  Guys ruminate reflectively on their lives.  Women are somehow both fiercely independent and desperately needy, whilst remaining incredibly beautiful at all times.  Beautiful, mind you, with the girl-next-door meets supermodel kind of beauty, and of course they have no idea how beautiful they are (but they manage to be casually confident in it).  You see where this is going?  No one in the entire novel is really ugly. Or annoying. Or bad. And that's where the distance from real life comes.  Granted, we don't read novels to live in the real world.  Even Jane Austen admitted that in order to find a man like Mr Darcy, she had to make him up.  But something's not quite right.

Naturally, there's a Crisis that occurs about halfway through the book.  This is common to all of Nicholas Sparks' novels (I say this not because I've ready any others, but because I've seen a few of the films - again not the best hours I've spent in my life).  There's the fairy-tale stage, followed by a short 'real life' stage (but not really real), and then the Crisis occurs. Someone gets cancer. Or leukemia. Or goes to war.  Or is in a coma.  Something drastic, and it's hard and challenging and burdening....but you (well, definitely I) never connect with the hero. Or the heroine, or anybody.  The only person in the entire book I almost liked was the hero's sister, who had a caustic wit and slung around sarcasm with her constant energy.  Naturally, she was gorgeous and talented and had a PhD and a guy who loved her although she wasn't sure if she loved him back, and she never once lacked even an ounce of confidence. I don't know why I liked her, she was like a Greek goddess in the modern woman's body.  Must have been the sarcasm.  But the hero, her brother, just sort of mooned around the whole time replaying moments in his mind, and (I doubt I'm ruining anything for anyone here, since I'd highly recommend you not bother reading this or any other Sparks novel) naturally gets exactly what he wants in the end, and they all live happily ever after.

The funny thing is, I'm not opposed in the slightest to people getting a happily ever after. (Okay, maybe on some of my bad days I am, a little, but that's just jealousy.)  And I love reading good fiction that brings it about.  But I think what frustrates me so much about this kind of novel is that you never connect to the suffering.  It's as though they suffer at a distance, in a disembodied way, and you're not allowed - even through the pages of the book - to come in and feel it with them.  Perhaps the author has never suffered to the depths of his soul as his imaginary characters have. I don't know - I could be completely wrong. Perhaps he has, and he's describing it the best way he knows how.  But if he hasn't, and his life has been pretty good, and he had a happy childhood and went to university and met his wife there and married her and had some children and worked a few jobs and wrote some novels...well...that explains a few things.  Because I admire so many authors for their incredible flights of imagination, but I'll tell you this from real experience: suffering can't be imagined.  Not the down-deep, life's-dreams-gone-wrong, bitter heartache of despair suffering.  You have to go through it.  I've had a little, and I have friends who've had a lot.  And I just get the odd feeling, reading this novel at least, that as hard as he tries, there's still a little sunset glow left.  And unfortunately that's the first thing to go in deep-down-suffering.  Oh, it comes back - praise God, it comes back.  But the moments when it's gone with no hope on the horizon, well, that's the bit I felt was missing for a novel like this to really connect. 

So, read it if you like....nah. Don't. Do something real with your time.  Phone your mother, or your sister, or a good friend.  Write a long email.  Bake a cheesecake.  Go to church.  Clean the house.  Just sit in a comfortable chair and watch the world go by.  You'll be better off.  And if a genuine Crisis comes into your life (or already has), face it with all the love and joy and defiance and spirit that's in you. 

From Fatigued to Fantastic by Jacob Teitelbaum, M.D.

Almost ten years ago, I was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS), also known in the UK as ME.  I've journeyed a long road to get to a place where I can manage my energy levels well, but I've been meaning to read this book for probably five or six years at least.  If you have CFS (or Fibromyalgia, or Lyme disease), or you think you may have it, this is an absolutely excellent resource to skip a lot of the pain, difficulty, expense, and heartache I went through discovering how to live well with something that is debilitating to so many.  I thank God regularly that I can live not just a 'normal life', but better than normal: I can genuinely say that if not for this illness, I would never have been able to do what I have in life.  That's because, until you're faced with the fact that your energy supplies are limited (on a daily basis), you tend to fling them around indiscriminately, knowing that after a rest, or a nap, or a good night's sleep, or a holiday, your energy stores will be replenished, and you can deplete them to your pleasure again.

CFS doesn't work like that.  The best way I can think to describe it is that before you get this illness, you view your energy stores as I've just described - like a great storehouse that depletes on a daily basis, but is always renewed.  After getting CFS, I came to realise that my storehouse was cut in half at one fell stroke, and would very likely in this life never rise to its full height again.  My experience is not everyone's - some are brought down much further than I ever was, and others have risen to higher energy levels than they ever had before.  But one thing among many that I have gained is the knowledge that energy is an extremely valuable, and not very renewable, resource in my life.  It is precious, and should be held and used and poured out with great care.

[Before I go on, I'd like to add that I am very, very cautious about 'encouraging' people that they have, or could have, CFS.  It is a diagnosis of exclusion, because there is no test that can be done to determine it, and I would strongly recommend some very simple steps to be taken for at least six months or a year before seeking to diagnose fatigue or weariness as CFS.  This is not to diminish the illness in any way - it's because I have experienced many, many well-meaning people who are tired or exhausted in their lives and they immediately jump to wondering if they have this illness, instead of doing some incredibly simple things like managing their nutrition well, sleeping 8-9 hours a night, drinking water like a camel, working less, exercising more, and taking basic vitamins.]  

For a 'medical tome', which this book primarily is, it reads very well.  The author has great turns of phrases that help you truly see how the body works - things like "M antibodies are like your body's storm troopers" and "caffeine is a loan shark for energy".  And even some hilarious statements that make you realise that he really does know how you feel (the author, a medical doctor, contracted CFS himself): "Some physicians still like to say that vitamins are excreted in your urine, so all you're doing by taking vitamin supplements is making expensive urine. Using this line of reasoning, these cynics can stop drinking water (it just goes out in their urine). That way, they'll soon stop annoying people who are in the process of getting themselves well."  I actually laughed aloud reading this - I could tell how frustrated he gets with physicians who don't understand - or don't try to understand - this illness, and the many things that can be done to improve it.  He even says, "I apologise for the medical profession's calling you crazy just because we cannot determine the cause of your problem. It is inappropriate and cruel."

The bulk of the book is spent discussing the four key areas that should be addressed for anyone with this kind of illness - sleep, hormones, infection, and nutrition.  I particularly found the sections on sleep and nutrition the most beneficial (and the most encouraging, since I was doing most of what he suggested, and because there are so many herbal/natural remedies as opposed to medical/prescriptive ones).  It reminded me of some basics I've fallen away from - like removing white bread, white rice, and sugar from my diet.  (Or, if you do have these, preparing yourself for the consequences.)  It also helped me understand in a new way why I was doing what I've been doing for so long - why D-Ribose is so effective for rebuilding energy, why margarine is so much worse than butter and what it does to your cell membranes, how extra Vitamin C protects the body from infection, and how much of an impact the lack of sleep can have in gaining extra weight.

It was nice, too, to have a short chapter on why you're not crazy, why most people who get CFS are "mega-type-A overachievers" (yes, me), and how that affects not only your contracting this illness, but prolonging it.  I remember when I first was diagnosed, and I made every effort to change things in my life, and after about 6 months I genuinely felt all my energy come back. I was thrilled - but instead of being wise and continuing on the path, I left it completely and began flinging it around immoderately again. I was the Prodigal Energy User, and it took me a long time to come broken and depleted back to the beginning, with a lot of sorrow for what was lost. 

I don't have any sorrow relating to this illness anymore.  Oh, maybe once in a while, on a bad day, or when I have to say no to something that it seems like 'everyone else' gets to do - but overall, if you asked me what I thought, I'd be thankful for it more than almost anything else in my life the Lord has chosen to give me.  It set me right when it comes to my energy - and that is a very valuable and precious resource. 

Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

Today I finished the last book in the Hunger Games trilogy.  The best word I can use to describe it is 'horrifying'.  This one, for me, was real in a way the other two never were.  Constant battle. Dead bodies. Nightmares. Pain. Torture. The beautiful turned enemy, the good hijacked to the purposes of the Enemy until no one knows what is real and what is not real.  For me it was like reading a nightmare - everything seemed to make sense, and then suddenly it didn't, nothing made sense, and you hoped with the rest of the players in the book that you and they would wake up to everything restored and a happy ending at last.  Except...no ending could be 'happy' when there is so much that has been lost.

This book more than any of the others says, the Hunger Games are not games. They are evil, ruthless, devised by those who have lost their humanity and wish only for a revenge that never satisfies, and then turn that into entertainment for all to celebrate, in a macabre way.  It was twice as horrifying when you look back into history and realise that much of her 'fiction' was drawn from the brutal games of the capitol that was Rome.  'Panem et Circenses' - "Bread and Circuses".  "In return for full bellies and entertainment, his people had given up their political responsibilities and therefore their power", says a Head Gamemaker in the book. And Katniss herself identifies the greatest danger when she comes to after a fierce battle and asks, "Was there fighting after I was shot?"  Her friend answers, "Not much. The workers...turned on the Capitol soldiers. The rebels just sat by and watched. Actually, the whole country just sat by and watched."  "Well," says Katniss, "that's what they do best." 

I think this is where the nightmare began to feel very, very real.  For the most part, we as a society find it far easier just to sit by and watch.  Complain about the current politics or politicians or potential leaders, and rally support on Facebook or Twitter...but don't bother to vote, because it won't make a difference anyway.  Gather round a screen for Britain's Got Talent or American Idol or Big Brother and get caught up in the lives of people you don't even know or understand.  Seek our own, and be content on full bellies and entertainment. 

Yes, I'd recommend the book, and the series - but it's not just a good read that you put down and then sigh and smile and go on with your life, glad that you have food and a warm home and your family nearby.  At least, I hope that's not what it is.  I hope it's hard, and a bit shocking, and brutally horrible. Spellbinding, yes, but not an easy read.  Nothing this heartbreaking and nightmarish should be.

Amish Peace by Suzanne Wood Fisher

Reading this book is like stopping to take a deep breath during the middle of a race.  I've always loved the stillness, beauty, and age-old traditions of the Amish - people who live with wisdom and grace in an unhurried way while the rest of the world spins like crazy tops all around them.  When I finished the book I felt like I would do well to go and live with the Amish for a year - work hard outside, make and eat good food, talk less, pray more, listen deeply, notice beauty, and have a stillness of soul that the rest of the world has given up on.  (My friend Megan says that with all my Apple technology, they wouldn't let me in, but I accept that I would have to leave all that behind.)

There was a lot in the book I really liked, although something that significantly detracted from its wisdom and my enjoyment of it was the questions at the end of every chapter. I've come to really hate this tendency in modern-day Christian books - as though I don't have a brain enough to simply learn from reading the book itself, but I have to be dragged and guided to a place of new understanding and growth, like a child who has to do homework instead of learning for the sheer joy of it, or (gasp) learning something you didn't think they would learn.  I felt that I was perfectly capable of being struck by a particular thought in the book, and I didn't have to be pushed and prodded to ask myself, "How dependent are you on modern conveniences?" or "Do you see dependence on others as a weakness or a strength?"  What frustrated me most is that it was in direct contrast to what the purported purpose of the book itself was. I doubt that the Amish would like it.  I imagine when reading they would stop and think about something that struck them, without having someone or something pointing, reaching, grabbing their arm to make them think along certain lines.  And then there were these random Amish facts at the end of each chapter - small items about how the Amish live that generally had nothing to do with the chapter I'd just read.  Made me feel as though there wasn't enough material for a 'good book', and so they packed in a little extra to please a modern world.  Misses the point entirely.

In spite of that, there were some very moving quotes and comments I thought I'd share:

"A man is rich in proportion to the things he can afford to leave alone." -Amish Proverb

"Time might pass slowly on Amish farms, but it is filled with a promise about what is to come: small miracles in the course of a day, long miracles of passing generations."

"A task takes as long as it takes."  -Amish proverb

"Drawing is in the eye, not in the hand." -Susie Lapp

"If you sense your faith is unraveling, go back to where you dropped the thread of obedience." -Amish proverb

"They had forgiven me, and they never, ever went back on that decision. And they backed it up with a real relationship. It was powerful." -Joel Kime (responsible for a car accident that caused the death of a young Amish woman)

"Blessed are they who have nothing to say, and who cannot be persuaded to say it." -Amish proverb

"When we fail to practice silence, God must go to great lengths to get our attention through all the noisiness of our own thoughts, the noisiness of our feelings, the noisiness of the world....There is no substitute for silence. No trick. No shortcut."  -Ruby Zook

"Swallowing words before you say them is so much better than having to eat them afterward." -Amish proverb

"You can tell how big a person is by what it takes to discourage him."  -Amish proverb

I did enjoy reading this book. It was an easy read, but a little tough to read all at one go - like trying to have dessert and dinner and coffee all at the same time.  It's best enjoyed one little piece at a time, mulling it over, considering it, and going back to it once you've given it some thought. Otherwise it just becomes the next book to read, and tick off the list.

Three Men In A Float by Dan Kieran/Ian Vince

I didn't even know what a milk float was until I picked up this book - and it isn't really fully described at first, so I did a little Googling to see images and understand.  It's an electric vehicle that was used in the 1950's to deliver milk - there are still a few that exist, but of course our desire for speed and convenience mean that we get our milk from grocery stores or corner shops, and the milk float, in Britain, has for the most part ceased to exist. 

The book is funnier than I thought possible - three men travel (in the aforesaid milk float) at half the speed of a cyclist, from one side of England to the other.  It's narrated in classic British style in a book more hilarious than anything I've read since Round Ireland With A Fridge, which made me laugh so hard in the bookstore I had to buy it to avoid the glares of those working there (in Britain a fate worse than death).

What I loved most about this book was its reminder to enjoy the travel opportunities nearest you (they didn't go to Europe, or America, or somewhere 'exotic', they simply explored their own home country), and to do it in a way that enables you to truly enjoy it.  "It certainly felt as though time had broken free from its normal routine; or perhaps re-established an older meandering one, distinct from the modern rigidity in which most of us find ourselves."  The concept of not being able to go a half a day without a charge (they had to constantly charge up their electric vehicle in odd ways) sounded ludicrous until I realised this is what we do with our phones and gadgets. We stumble into an Apple store, or park ourselves uncomfortably on the floor in an airport, simply to stay connected as we move through our travels and our life.  As the authors of this book and the travelers of this slow journey point out, travel has become "some kind of grandiose box ticking exercise", and I have seen that often enough to know it to be true.  "The world certainly seems to have been reduced to a list of places you 'have to see' before you die, as though merely seeing them gives you any kind of insight or experience from which you can learn something meaningful." I agree with these men that travel - the best travel, the kind that you learn from and grow from and laugh about later - should be slow and unhurried.  If you miss your train, you get another one, or you spend the night in a very dodgy "hotel" flanked by kebab shops and suspicious looking characters, trying to shower in a space smaller than your body, and sleeping on sheets that for some unexplained reason are dotted with a proliferation of cartoon hedgehogs. (True story. Geneva, Switzerland has a lot to overcome the next time I go there. But I tell you, I will never forget it.)

I spent the second half of the book wishing I could start the next book I'd picked up, which is not enviable, and I was tempted to give up this ridiculous effort at staying committed to only one book at a time. But then I remembered that what I've learned from reading Kidnapped and from these three men in a float, is that the best things often result from sticking to your guns and doing what is hardest. Keep reading, I tell myself. You're gaining more than you know. (As it turned out, the book I was so much looking forward to, J.K. Rowling's 'The Casual Vacancy', was such a great disappointment that I ended up not reading it at all, so there's another lesson for you.)

If you want a really good laugh, definitely pick up this book - if you can find it.  I got it for 59 pence at a charity shop, and my mind and life are the richer for it. 

Kidnapped by R.L.Stevenson

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Following the inspiration and motivation gleaned from reading How The Scots Invented The Modern World, I turned to another book I've been meaning to read for years, Kidnapped. 

It was startlingly easy to read (perhaps after the 'ye olde' language of Marmion and eulogies on David Hume), and quite funny in parts.  I loved the essential Scottishness of it all, the descriptions, the words I still hear to this day, the places I'd visited, the descriptions of heather and hills and unceasing rain. 

I was overwhelmingly struck by how anything adventurous or impressive is often made up of a great deal of very, very hard times.  I connected with this very well as my life of glorious adventure (as it appears to some, an international photographer living in Scotland) is not always easy going. There are pages given to David Balfour (our hero) wandering lost, cold, wet, sick, weary, angry, fearing for his life, and more - and that's probably a large reason I quite enjoyed the book.  "Classics" show life as real life, lived the way we live it, described with remarkable accuracy.  There's not always a fairy tale ending, and people and places are unpredictable.  I know what it is to be weary, exhausted, done for, and wanting to give up on the whole thing; and so I could associate with David.  "By what I have read in books," he says, "I think that few that have held a pen were ever really wearied, or they would write of it more strongly. I had no care of my life, neither past nor future, and I scarce remembered there was such a lad as David Balfour."  Perhaps one of those reasons is that we have the blessing and curse that extremes always fade in time - the things that are so horrible, and so difficult and wearying, we later wonder if they were so bad; and the things that are so amazing and beautiful, we tinge with a bit of what we call 'real life' and forget to rejoice in as we once did.  (Bear in mind that this very connection that I found may cause those who are expecting a rip-roaring adventure novel to be disappointed. In one sense, the story is about David wandering from place to place, and who he meets along the way, and how he determines his own character. It's not a swashbuckling boy's novel with thrills at every turn.)

In spite of this comradeship of affliction, I never really connected with David as a person or friend.  He made a good narrator, but I was more taken by the other characters he describes so well.  Alan Breck, who becomes his companion for half the book, is a more 'alive' and real character than any other, including David himself.  (Of course, this is probably because David sets off on his journey as a young lad with no real life experience of any kind, and so he is absorbing, like a sponge, the character and interests around him whilst trying to discover who he actually is himself).  Alan, with his fancy French clothes worn to tatters, his constantly referring to himself as "having a king's name", his Highland generosity and knowledge of lands and persons, his pride and unfailing loyalty, as well as a neat turn of phrase, make him a fascinating personage indeed.  Even Hoseason , the captain of the ship on which David is taken at the beginning, fascinates.  "He was neither so good as I supposed him, nor quite so bad as Ransome did; for, in fact, he was two men, and left the better one behind as soon as he set foot on board his vessel." There's also Cluny, an almost royal personage who lives quietly in a hidden place, surrounded by loyal followers, and says, "My life is a bit dreigh; I see little company, and sit and twirl my thumbs, and mind upon a great day that is gone by, and weary for another great day that we all hope will be upon the road."  There's Ransome, the young lad on the ship with David, who "could not say how old he was, as he had lost his reckoning....He swore horribly whenever he remembered, but more like a silly schoolboy than a man; and boasted of many wild and bad things that he had done...but all with such a dearth of likelihood in the details, and such a weak and crazy swagger in the delivery, as disposed me rather to pity than to believe him."   And then there are all the "little people" on their journeys who are rich in generosity, hospitality, and the Scottish language, if not always in manners or wealth. And they are all the better for it. 

Again I found myself glad that I know many of the places described on David's journey.  The Hawes Inn in Queensferry still stands, and one day not very long ago I had a mug of hot spiced ale and a warm meal whilst looking out the tiny thick glass windows to the forth bridges and the water beyond.  (You can visit the town through my eyes here.)  The Isle of Mull is as remote as hauntingly beautiful as it ever was, and the houses and cottages as far between. The rain falls on me in Scotland as unceasingly as it did on David Balfour, and many of the words and turns of phrases are heard to this day.

The ending is...odd. I won't go into too much detail lest I prevent you from reading this excellent book, but it wound up with such a rush (and not a flourish but more like a flop) that I sat dumbfounded for a moment wondering if Stevenson had gotten interrupted and thought he would return soon, or alternatively was perhaps knocked over the head and kidnapped himself, with the kidnapper kindly dashing off a short paragraph in his absence. In spite of this, it's still one of the best historical novels I've read in a while, and encourage you to brew your most Scottish cup of tea and read it all the way through. And if you can manage it, drop by the Hawes Inn for a mug of ale.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I love reading books before films come out (or before I see the film).   We all know that ten times out of ten, the book is better. It has more description, it gives you better insights into the heroes and heroines, and what's best of all, you get to imagine what they look like before Hollywood swoops in and makes up your mind for you.

I think that's one of the things I love best about reading.  You get to push your imagination to do some hard creative work - it doesn't just sit back and have everything brought to it, as in a film.  (Interestingly enough this meshes well with the concept of the Hunger Games, in which people have to fight for their lives, livelihood, and everything they care about, with nothing handed to them on a platter.)

The Hunger Games (the first book in the trilogy) did not disappoint when it came to readable entertainment.  (The copy I had proclaimed joyfully that Stephen King and Stephanie Meyer couldn't put it down, just in case you weren't sure.)  If you've read any of this blog, you'll know that it's been a while since I picked up a page-turner like this one, an easy read in the sense that I didn't have to stop every few minutes and make sure I understood all the words or could grasp the political or historical implications of what I was reading.  This pushing of myself to read books I don't necessarily 'feel like' reading also had the added benefit of enabling me to put the book down halfway through.  This type of book used to keep me up reading til 3 or 4am, until I finished it, even if I could hardly keep my eyes open. 

When I did finish it, I was disappointed to discover that it left you wishing that you had book two ready at hand.  It feels a little as though the author has, instead of writing a full story and letting you read the whole thing, been persuaded by her publishers to split it into three so that she and they make more money.  Of course this didn't work on me because I beat the system by borrowing a copy from a friend.  (Although interestingly enough, and as a side note, I was startled a bit when I asked one friend who had just finished it if I could borrow her copy, and she said, "Oh, I read it on my Kindle".  It made me realise that one of the many downsides to the digitisation of society is that everything is individual.  I often put little pencil-marks next to quotes or sections I like, and friends of mine love to borrow books from me because it gives them an insight into what I enjoyed. No such thing with Kindles.  And I like being able to read anytime - even when a plane is taking off, or landing, or whether or not I have a charged battery.)

The book was very readable (including a few genuine mouth-drops, which is impressive), but it reads fairly dispassionately.  Despite my interest in the heroine, I felt that Katniss herself wasn't overly zealous about anything - her life, her death, the boy she's supposed to be in love with.  Perhaps, though, that's appropriate considering the society in which she lives, where an ominous Capitol feeds twelve children a year to a "game" that is more brutal than life, a bitter sacrifice year upon year for seventy-four years running, until the world that plays with people as toys, and the players themselves, become as numb as the computer screens on which they watch the games.

And strange to say, it didn't strike me as this horrifying thing that could happen...in many ways I feel it already has.  Big Brother; the emails about Christians being imprisoned or tortured for their faith; starving children who barely get a 'like' on Facebook...sadly I think the appeal of the Hunger Games is not the horror that this might happen, but the deep-down keen interest by most of the world that is already wishing it would.

Marmion by Sir Walter Scott

Inspired by my recent read about how the Scots invented the modern world, the next book I selected was the famous poem 'Marmion', by Sir Walter Scott.  My initial interest in the poem was inspired by one of my favourite Scottish fiction authors, D.E. Stevenson.  In some of her novels, one of the main characters will tell an old Scottish story, but will do it with such interest and feeling that instead of sounding like a history lesson, it resounds with romance and beauty.  Marmion is a poem, and not a historical lesson, of course, but it's based in historical truth, and if Sir Walter Scott is said to have invented the modern historical novel, then this is the place to begin.

Marmion is a delight from beginning to end.  It's a classic ballad, a love story, a stirring tale that takes you back to valiant knights and glory lost and battles fought.  Pale maidens, eager but untested youths, ghostlike figures, nuns, abbeys, castles, ships on seas and blood-stained battlegrounds, waving banners and secret letters, fear and joy and pain and love and hope revived and honour regained.

The language, like Shakespeare's, takes effort at first to wrap your head around. It's hard trying to read Marmion on a train, with a group of loud drunken boys singing at the top of their lungs; or when text messages are appearing on my phone, or after I've finished a day at my computer working with email and websites and online marketing.  But once you settle in, and turn off (or tune out) all the distractions, it captivates your mind and your heart, and you find yourself wishing you and those around you spoke so graciously or fiercely as you read. And much of it, if you interpret it aright, applies well today.  "Arise, Sir Ralph, de Wilton's heir! For King, for Church, for Lady fair, see that thou fight." - "Grieve not for they woes, disgrace, and trouble; for He, who honour best bestows, may give thee double."  Some quotes we know so well I expected to see them in quotation marks, then realised with a start that this was the statement in its infancy, before it was known.  "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!"- "And come he slow, or come he fast, it is but Death who comes at last."  

Some of it must be read aloud - I found myself muttering away to myself as I read, or sighing, or laughing aloud.  Marmion is told by one of his young charge that the Palmer had left quickly in strange array.  "In what array?' said Marmion, quick."  Young Blount begins, but takes so long over his speech that Marmion cuts in,  "Nay, Henry, cease! Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace. Eustace, thou bear'st a brain - I pray, what did Blount see at break of day?'"   But some of the phrases inspire, or make me sigh to think I could ever write.  "But, when I think on all my wrongs, my blood is liquid flame!" - "Then happy those, beloved of Heaven, to whom the mingled cup is given; whose lenient sorrows find relief, whose joys are chasten'd by their grief."  "O, life and death were in the shout, recoil and rally, charge and rout, and triumph and despair." 

Clare, the sighing beautiful maiden, does not move me.  I find her insipid and pale, drifting along battlements and moaning in her spirit for the hard lot that is her life.  I feel a little like Gilbert Blythe, telling Anne Shirley, "Anne, nobody speaks that way. Look at that sap Percival who sits around mooning the entire time. He never lets a girl get a word in edgewise."  Anne insists that his poetry would win any girl's heart, but Gilbert retorts that "In real life she'd have pitched him."  I did feel a little like 'pitching' Clare for all her mooning...and to further confuse things, I was a full two-thirds of the way through the poem when I realised that Marmion (who is strong and valiant and fierce) is supposed to be the enemy, and I am supposed to be championing the also colourless Sir Ralph de Winton.  (With a name like that, I'm surprised he achieves anything battle-worthy.)  And I find myself agreeing with the editor's commentary at the end of the poem, that "it is in his incidental characters that Scott's gift of happy characterisation gets freest scope."  I've already mentioned the two young lads who make me laugh aloud, and the story of the ghostly warrior gives me a delicious shiver.  The most moving moment for me is when the Earl of Douglas, fierce, proud, refuses to shake Marmion's hand as he prepares to leave Tantallon Castle.  "Douglas round him drew his cloak, folded his arms, and thus he spoke: 'My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still be open, at my Sovereign's will, to each one whom he lists, howe'er unmeet to be the owner's peer. My castles are my King's alone, from turret to foundation-stone - the hand of Douglas is his own; and never shall in friendly grasp the hand of such as Marmion clasp."  And Marmion's "swarthy cheek burn'd like fire", and he roars, and wheels, and dashes out of the castle, and the Douglas orders the gate to crash, but the portcullis clangs shut having only managed to slice of the plume of Marmion's glorious helmet.  The descriptions of Tantallon Castle are all that I imagined them to be, and I move it higher on my list of places in Scotland to visit, so that I can stand there at the edge of the sea, with the wind whipping my hair, and see the whole story laid before me, perhaps quoting in my mind some of the verses:

 "Far less can my weak line declare
Each changing passion's shade;
Brightening to rapture from despair,
Sorrow, surprise, and pity there,
And joy, with her angelic air,
And hope, that paints the future fair,
Their varying hues display'd;
Each o'er it's rival's ground extending,
Alternate conquering, shifting, blending,
Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield,
And mighty Love retains the field."

Of course this is what made - and makes - Sir Walter Scott's works classic.  Strength, and fight, and love, and beauty.  What more do we each look for?  What do we feel unworthy of, yet still seek on?  And Scott knows this propensity of his readers, knows that the best he can wish is this, and with this he finishes his great poem:

"To every lovely lady bright,
What can I wish but faithful knight?
To every faithful lover too,
What can I wish but lady true?
And knowledge to the studious sage;
And pillow to the head of age.
To thee, dear school-boy, whom my lay
Has cheated of thy hour of play,
Light task, and merry holiday!
To all, to each, a fair good-night,
And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light!"

How The Scots Invented The Modern World by Arthur Herman

This book has been sitting on my 'To Read' shelf for a long time - probably at least a year or two.  I love the idea of it, that the Scottish nation has influenced the modern world in more ways than many people (including the Scots) even realise.  But I had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't be an 'easy read', something to curl up with on a Monday evening with a cup of hot chocolate, so it stayed on the shelf until this year's resolution brought it out.

I am glad that I read it, and I would recommend it.  I'd recommend it for its overview of Scottish culture, the remarkable level to which this small country did influence (if not invent) the world as we know it, and a different perspective on British history as we've probably known it.  But unless you're (like me) in the midst of a strong resolution to read a full book all the way through to the end, I'd intersperse it with some other lighter books, because this can be hard going.  The first half is more of a political and economical history book - sprinkled with phrases like "James Mill made this quasi-paternalist view the cornerstone of British colonial policy".  You get the feeling that the author just shivers with delight at reading another tome by Adam Smith or David Hume, and imagines that you do, too.  He spends pages of detail on a publication like the Edinburgh Review, why it was influential, who contributed to it, how long it lasted, and why it was a shining beacon of truth and beauty in a land coming to know itself.  On Jacobitism and Ulster Scots and Culloden and the Forty-Five, and sometimes I'd read a paragraph three or four times before I saw a glimmer of understanding.  Partly that's me - I tend to read and skim quickly, and this isn't my normal kind of reading - but partly it's just this author's way of focusing on what's most interesting to him.  As per usual, with authors!

What also made it hard going was the classic hard view on the Presbyterians and Calvinists.  He starts right in quite literally on page one of chapter one saying that Calvinism's "austere and harsh dogmas...that the God of the Bible was a stern and jealous God, filled with wrath at all sinners and blasphemers...were themselves natural extensions of Knox's own personality".  As a Calvinist who attends a Reformed Presbyterian church in Scotland which is directly descended from the churches of that time and place, it's never enjoyable to see your beliefs and denomination reduced to that which is harsh, unkind, and miserable.  Statements like "the Kirk wiped out all traditional forms of collective fun" (and then listing out pagan rituals), or "one of the pillars of 'worldlie strength' that Knox despised was political authority" (it wasn't a despising of authority, it was a desire to see that authority relegated to its correct place, under God's authority), or "the Covenanters were inspired less by their love of democracy than by their hatred of Satan".  The author seems to almost thrill in scaring us with these horror-mongers who crept around the church, rooting out all fun and joy and laughter, and replacing it with anger, hatred, and wrathful judgment.  Sadly, this is a fairly typical view of Calvinistic theology by those who wish to see Scotland grow and thrive: I've attended business seminars at which the speaker proclaimed that one of the reasons Scots don't start businesses is because their spirits were crushed by Calvinistic theology.  Naturally many people want religion to be warm and welcoming, with no one feeling bad at any time, and I can definitely confirm that God's Word does not have that as its primary objective.  As a matter of fact, a clear understanding of the Scriptures indicates that you must have the bad news (we are sinners, we deserve God's judgment) in order to get to the good news (God in love paid the penalty Himself for sin, and we thereby escape that wrath and judgment, entering into abundant joy!).  But lest I turn this into a sermon (too late), I'll just say that one of the things I appreciated about this book was understanding how many people do view this aspect of Scotland's history.  There's no point only reading books with which you agree!

As you move into the second half of the book, things begin to speed on a bit.  The heavy-going of discussions on economics and descriptions of battles begins to move into details of Scots who invented, contributed, supported, delivered in thousands of ways you never knew.  You must give massive credit to the Scots (and I do); you truly get a sense of how they did indeed, for such a tiny country, massively impact the whole world.  The telephone, Morse code, universities all over Britain and England and America, the steam engine, the proliferation of exceedingly well-trained and educated Scottish doctors, the immigration of Scots especially into Canada and the United States, are just a few examples of many.  Andrew Carnegie (himself a Scot) says, "America would have been a poor show had it not been for the Scotch."  Sir Walter Scott:  "I am a Scot and therefore I had to fight my way into the world."  It's fascinating to learn about Sir Walter Scott, and his influence on the culture.  "Scott had not only invented the modern historical novel, but one of its enduring themes: the idea of cultural conflict. He revealed to his readers that the development of 'civilisation' or modernity does not leave  clean or neat breaks; one stage does not effortlessly pass on to the next."  The same for David Livingstone and Andrew Carnegie - the look into their lives was revealing for themselves, for their country, and for the results that were borne out of their efforts.

It made me want to read more of the greats - more Sir Walter Scott, more Robert Louis Stevenson; to read biographies of Andrew Carnegie and David Livingstone (although not, I confess, any more about Adam Smith, David Hume, or Francis Hutcheson - I think he covered those pretty thoroughly).  And this is often the beauty of pressing on through a classic, but challenging, book - it inspires you.  It doesn't leave you worn out and exhausted from staying up all night to 'find out what happens', it livens you up a bit, stretches your mind and imagination, increases your sense of pride and nationality, and brings the past just that little bit more into the present, so that you press on with more focus and commitment to what lies before you.  It made me thankful - as a Christian, for what God did in and through Scotland and its reformations.  It gave me newly opened eyes to the history and beauty surrounding me on a daily basis.  It rang true that so many Scots had such a remarkable combination of a hardworking ethic combined with creativity and a willingness to take risks.  As one who is American-born, and Scottish by naturalisation, I'm proud to see a combination of these very factors in my blood, and to understand a little better why.  If I look back to the very beginning, and take on board what Herman proposes, then I'm merely returning to my roots, not creating new ones.  Many Americans would feel the same - sometimes in Scotland we feel as though every American who comes through insists that they, too, are Scottish, even though they're not quite sure how or why.  The author here would agree - and reading his defense of the incredible outpouring of talent and energy that went into the United States from Scotland, I'm tempted to, as well.

Herman tried to end the book by putting a twist on Samuel Morse's first message, "What hath God wrought?"  As one whose focus is not God and His wonders, the author of this book wanted to put all the glory on the Scots.  I feel fairly confident that many of those whose works he so gloriously lauds would refuse that honour, and turn it back again on the God they worshiped, imitated, and loved.