William Shakespeare – Henry VI: Part One (1591)
Play – read via the marvellous Shakespeare app for the iPhone during August 2011
- 3 nods out of 5 -
Shakespeare this, Shakespeare that. The old Bard is so highly revered not even the Worm – ever the critical book reader – has so far fallen for his charm of prose. In the past two years the Worm has reviewed the 5 nodder that is Macbeth, mused over the merits of Julius Caesar (4 nods); while even his attacks upon the false and weak love of Romeo and Juliet was withstood (4 nods). Seemingly confirming Shakespeare as a gold standard of English literature.
Which is why the Worm turned to Henry VI: Part One. Amongst the bigger names of the Shakespeare canon, this one is comparative small fish; however, its appearance in the 1590s (along with Parts Two, Three and Richard III) secured the author’s weight as a man of presence and genius. Today it is known as one of his weaker works, with a dispute raging amongst who had a hand in writing what (a debate, the Worm assures you, left alone for Shakespearian scholars!). Perhaps the Bard would slip up under the Worm’s lens.
King Henry VI himself is something of a forgotten character, especially when stood aside other excelling monarchs of the past. He never had the conquering spirit of William, not the marrying zeal of Henry VIII, nor even the manly heart of Queen Elizabeth; Even the madness he displayed has been overshadowed by that of King George III. He was the son of Henry V – yes, he of Agincourt (‘too famous to live long! England ne’er lost a king of so much worth’) - and came to the throne as a minor. His reign was one of instability, leading to the upheaval that has become known as the War of the Roses: Henry was ejected once, regained his throne, only to be chucked in the Tower of London where he was left to die. An odd character to centralise on, but then, Shakespeare is known for the art of drama.
The three parts of the play stretch the entirety of Henry’s life; though, Part One concentrates on the young man, the loss of the French territory that his father had won, as well as the beginning rupture of the houses of York (the white Rose) and that of Lancaster (the red Rose). As is common with many of Shakespeare’s titular plays, the seeming central character has little action and less to say, as happens here with Henry upstaged by the likes of the vengeful Richard of York, Joan of Arc and the heroic Talbot.
On Henry V’s death he became ruler of both England and France. Talbot – ‘the Frenchmen’s only scourge’ is left in France to secure the throne for Henry, and all agree he is the best man for the job: ‘Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. Lo, there thou stand’st, a breathing valiant man, Of an invincible unconquer’d spirit!’ The French, understandably, are reluctant to bow down and accept such a fact, and on the crowning of Henry VI they revolt under the new and inspired leadership of Joan of Pucelle (aka: Joan of Arc). Joan becomes the nemesis of the English forces, with Talbot marking her appearance in the play: ‘Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; A woman clad in armour chaseth them’.
The subplot running in the background is the gathering storm that will become the Wars of the Roses. Richard recovers his family title of Duke of York, and now bestowed with knowledge that it is his line of descent that is all the more valid than Henry’s, he starts causing a ruckus behind the scenes. The Duke of Warwick ominous predicts a riot:
‘And here I prophesy: this brawl today,
Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden,
Shall send between the Red Rose and the White
A thousand souls to death and deadly night’
The two antagonists of both clans – Richard of York and the Duke of Somerset – come to France to help Talbot in the war; however, due to both mistrusting the other, neither comes to Talbot’s help when he becomes overawed by the French forces. As Sir William Lucy reflects: ‘Thus while the vulture of sedition feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss the conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth. Whiles they each other cross, Lives, honours, lands and all, hurry to loss.’
Talbot’s final battle scene, standing alongside his son, John, is the fitting climax of the play. Both are the courage of an England that is now past, displaying valour and spirit. Talbot sends his son away to carry on the family name, to which John refuses, as he states if he was to run the family name would be worthless. As the French move in, Shakespeare wonderfully dialogues the scene in rhyming couplets:
TALBOT:
Shall all they mother’s hopes lie in one tomb?
JOHN:
Ay, rather than I’ll shame my mother’s womb.
…
TALBOT:
My age was never tainted with such shame.
JOHN
And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?
Both perish in battle and England is forced to recognise the growing power of France. But as Lucy concludes, it is ‘the fraud of England, not the force of France’ that wins the day.
Despite this fantastic climax, alongside more clever word play in the final act between the Duke of Suffolk and Margaret, the play itself is a rather confused affair. The first three acts flit between England and France, between the defence of Henry V’s conquered land and the conflict in the royal court. Richard of York may claim credit in burning Joan of Arc, but aside from that he does little else but bog down the plot. Shakespeare appears overwhelmed the amount of back-story he must plant, due to the impending battles and wars to come between the houses of York and Lancaster.
Of course, the Bard would continue on to cement his name and perfect such short-comings. And even with its slightly negative reviews down the centuries and its obvious imperfections, Henry VI: Part One remains an interesting play. It really does appear that Shakespeare is the gold standard of literature.
Read it here:
http://shakespeare.mit.edu/1henryiv/full.html
Wednesday 31 August 2011
Saturday 27 August 2011
Italy: A Short History - Harry Hearder
Harry Hearder – Italy: A Short History (1990)
History – 270 pages – my copy (paperback; 1991) a loan from Plymouth University library, courtesy of Jay – read during August 2011
- 2 nods out of 5 -
The Worm has always had a fondness for a modest title; and there is none more modest than those that claim to be ‘a short history’. Many histories are written with great intentions in mind, of sweeping generalisations, of the great search of the all embracing answer. The short history does not belong to this section. Often there to fill a niche market, it is the quick buck for the publisher and the writing credit for the author.
Of course, modest books make great reads. Harry Hearder’s history of Italy is not one of them. But this is not to say that is does not serve its purpose. In the short space of under three hundred pages the entirety of Italian history is on display: from the Roman Republic right through to the modern republic. Space is found for prehistoric Italy and the arrival of the Greeks and society of the Etruscans, the Risorgimento and the ‘Fascist disaster’. As these mighty periods show, Italian history is far from dull and uninspiring. Within these pages are the deeds of great men, of Cicero and Caesar, of Garibaldi and Cavour, of Mussolini and Medici.
Such events astound the reader and Hearder does a pleasing job of blending in the right characters in the correct chapters. Of course, the Renaissance covered in thirty pages fails to convey its true sense; but as a taster to a fascinating country it ticks the boxes. What puts this history above other rivals is Hearder’s amiable personality and sense of phrase, shown nowhere more clearly than in his description of the cautious Cavour, one of the chief unifiers of Italy in the 1860s: ‘He loved moderation immoderately.’
A modest read with modest intentions. But unlike Churchill’s Clement Attlee, Italian history – no matter how short – has little to be modest about.
History – 270 pages – my copy (paperback; 1991) a loan from Plymouth University library, courtesy of Jay – read during August 2011
- 2 nods out of 5 -
The Worm has always had a fondness for a modest title; and there is none more modest than those that claim to be ‘a short history’. Many histories are written with great intentions in mind, of sweeping generalisations, of the great search of the all embracing answer. The short history does not belong to this section. Often there to fill a niche market, it is the quick buck for the publisher and the writing credit for the author.
Of course, modest books make great reads. Harry Hearder’s history of Italy is not one of them. But this is not to say that is does not serve its purpose. In the short space of under three hundred pages the entirety of Italian history is on display: from the Roman Republic right through to the modern republic. Space is found for prehistoric Italy and the arrival of the Greeks and society of the Etruscans, the Risorgimento and the ‘Fascist disaster’. As these mighty periods show, Italian history is far from dull and uninspiring. Within these pages are the deeds of great men, of Cicero and Caesar, of Garibaldi and Cavour, of Mussolini and Medici.
Such events astound the reader and Hearder does a pleasing job of blending in the right characters in the correct chapters. Of course, the Renaissance covered in thirty pages fails to convey its true sense; but as a taster to a fascinating country it ticks the boxes. What puts this history above other rivals is Hearder’s amiable personality and sense of phrase, shown nowhere more clearly than in his description of the cautious Cavour, one of the chief unifiers of Italy in the 1860s: ‘He loved moderation immoderately.’
A modest read with modest intentions. But unlike Churchill’s Clement Attlee, Italian history – no matter how short – has little to be modest about.
Tuesday 23 August 2011
The Year of the Flood - Margaret Atwood
Margaret Atwood – The Year of the Flood (2009)
Novel – 500 pages – my copy (paperback; 2010) bought from Waterstone’s in Plymouth during May 2011
- 2 nods out of 5 -
For those who are regular readers of this blog (there are people out there, aren’t there?!) many of you will know the glowing review the Worm have to Atwood’s Oryx & Crake (read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/05/oryx-and-crake-margaret-atwood.html): a fantastic piece of speculative fiction. Its world is our possible future, one full of multi-national corporation horror, of technological wonder and human greed. Such was its impression it made No.8 in my list of Top Ten Reads of 2010-11. So, one can understand the trepidation the Worm reserved for the forthcoming read of this (loose) follow-up.
So, the story? The Year of the Flood follows the intertwining stories of two central characters, Ren (first person perspective) and Toby (third person). Their lives are the countdown to the year of the waterless flood that is the virus transmitted throughout the planet that destroys all human life. Both characters become members of God’s Gardeners, a group of ethical hippies who believe there is a different path to the mainstream, with their leader Adam One preaching of impending doom. We read the countdown to the flood and the resulting fall-out in ominous Year Twenty-Five.
Let’s make one thing clear: if anyone is searching for a neat conclusion to the fate that befalls Snowman at the end of Oryx & Crake, you shall be waiting a long time. Despite it being the same dystopian, rather scary vision, The Year of the Flood lacks the heavyweight punch of its predecessor.
Perhaps it is Atwood’s search to find a female counter-part to this vision of a bleak future that means these two characters take such a central stance, with greater emotion away from Crake’s humanity-less vacuum; but nothing can placate the annoyance that is the Ren character (needy, clingy, rudderless), whilst the substitution of Jimmy’s feeling of loss is not offset by that of Toby’s.
But nothing compares with the irritation of the God’s Gardeners group. Slightly kooky and interesting at first with Atwood’s hymns from their very own Oral Hymnbook, the characters displayed are completely hollow and undeveloped. Even Zeb, the hell raiser of the gang, fails to stir any passion; and it is a pity his breakaway sect isn’t looked into with greater detail, including his dalliance with Crake. Every time we are given an insight into the terrifying world of Oryx & Crake, Atwood seems intent on dragging us back to the emotional needs of Ren, or to the cardboard copy bad-guy that is Blanco.
Like Oryx & Crake, this book ends with a cliff-hanger: ‘We listen. Jimmy’s right, there is music. It’s faint and far away, but moving closer. It’s the sound of many people singing. Now we can see the flickering of their torches, winding towards us through the darkness of the trees.’ And despite the previous five hundred pages of slight annoyance and frustration, the Worm will be sure to buy a forthcoming copy of any future follow-up. Atwood is a master at posing questions; and the Worm is eager to find answers.
Buy it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Year-Flood-Margaret-Atwood/dp/1844085643/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1314137559&sr=8-1
Visit Atwood’s website here:
http://yearoftheflood.com/uk/
Novel – 500 pages – my copy (paperback; 2010) bought from Waterstone’s in Plymouth during May 2011
- 2 nods out of 5 -
For those who are regular readers of this blog (there are people out there, aren’t there?!) many of you will know the glowing review the Worm have to Atwood’s Oryx & Crake (read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/05/oryx-and-crake-margaret-atwood.html): a fantastic piece of speculative fiction. Its world is our possible future, one full of multi-national corporation horror, of technological wonder and human greed. Such was its impression it made No.8 in my list of Top Ten Reads of 2010-11. So, one can understand the trepidation the Worm reserved for the forthcoming read of this (loose) follow-up.
So, the story? The Year of the Flood follows the intertwining stories of two central characters, Ren (first person perspective) and Toby (third person). Their lives are the countdown to the year of the waterless flood that is the virus transmitted throughout the planet that destroys all human life. Both characters become members of God’s Gardeners, a group of ethical hippies who believe there is a different path to the mainstream, with their leader Adam One preaching of impending doom. We read the countdown to the flood and the resulting fall-out in ominous Year Twenty-Five.
Let’s make one thing clear: if anyone is searching for a neat conclusion to the fate that befalls Snowman at the end of Oryx & Crake, you shall be waiting a long time. Despite it being the same dystopian, rather scary vision, The Year of the Flood lacks the heavyweight punch of its predecessor.
Perhaps it is Atwood’s search to find a female counter-part to this vision of a bleak future that means these two characters take such a central stance, with greater emotion away from Crake’s humanity-less vacuum; but nothing can placate the annoyance that is the Ren character (needy, clingy, rudderless), whilst the substitution of Jimmy’s feeling of loss is not offset by that of Toby’s.
But nothing compares with the irritation of the God’s Gardeners group. Slightly kooky and interesting at first with Atwood’s hymns from their very own Oral Hymnbook, the characters displayed are completely hollow and undeveloped. Even Zeb, the hell raiser of the gang, fails to stir any passion; and it is a pity his breakaway sect isn’t looked into with greater detail, including his dalliance with Crake. Every time we are given an insight into the terrifying world of Oryx & Crake, Atwood seems intent on dragging us back to the emotional needs of Ren, or to the cardboard copy bad-guy that is Blanco.
Like Oryx & Crake, this book ends with a cliff-hanger: ‘We listen. Jimmy’s right, there is music. It’s faint and far away, but moving closer. It’s the sound of many people singing. Now we can see the flickering of their torches, winding towards us through the darkness of the trees.’ And despite the previous five hundred pages of slight annoyance and frustration, the Worm will be sure to buy a forthcoming copy of any future follow-up. Atwood is a master at posing questions; and the Worm is eager to find answers.
Buy it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Year-Flood-Margaret-Atwood/dp/1844085643/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1314137559&sr=8-1
Visit Atwood’s website here:
http://yearoftheflood.com/uk/
Friday 19 August 2011
The Rise & Fall of the House of Medici - Christopher Hibbert
Christopher Hibbert – The Rise and Fall of the House of Medici (1974)
History – my copy (paperback; 1985) bought for the staggeringly low price of 50p from Music & Goods Exchange, Notting Hill, sometime in 2008
- 3 nods out of 5 -
Earlier this summer the Worm walked on the very same streets as did Cosimo Medici and Lorenzo the Magnificent. Do these names mean nothing to you, dear reader? Then, perhaps it is time to immerse yourself in the dramatic house of Medici, only of Florence’s premier historic families.
The Medicis were a banking family who obtained bigger depths of wealth and a greater hold of power. In the 1400s Cosimo took control – somewhat ostensibly – in Florence, while his grandson Lorenzo became a patron of the arts, even giving a home to a young Michelangelo. In the 1500s the Medicis became popes in Rome and dukes of Tuscany. Many a-time they were chased out of Florence by ardent republicans, only to return to heal wounds and silence squabbling factions. It was amongst one of these incidents that led Machiavelli to write his world famous The Prince; a book that was to earn his enduring – perhaps unwanted – legacy.
In the 1700s the house was to finally cease: it was one usurpation too many. But it was not the final end of a name that has proven its strength with historians and readers throughout the generations of time; in Florence, one of the world’s great cultural cities, Medici is seen on every street corner. Such fame prompted the historian Christopher Hibbert to write an enlightening and entertaining narrative of this illustrious clan.
Never jaw-dropping, Hibbert proceeds to put in a work-man like performance in his treatment of the Medicis; a poor history was not be expected by the man who has brought countless biographies to the bookshelves, concentrating on English figures in history from the Duke of Wellington to Disraeli. Concentrating primarily on the golden generations of the first Cosimo and Lorenzo (who each have a whole section to themselves), the last two centuries (1537-1743) are crammed into fifty pages. Perhaps the author himself knew too well that usurpation after usurpation was too much for the reader to maintain across three hundred pages of death, plotting and plunder. Yet it is with the earlier Medicis in which the legend lies; after all, Michelangelo didn’t dine with the likes of Cosimo III.
Other books upon the Medicis have come and gone; but Hibbert’s treatment remains a gold standard – in the English language, anyhow – of these characters and their descendents. For anyone who wishes to delve further into Italian history, and wish to understand the city of Florence, Hibbert’s history is a welcome read.
Buy it here on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rise-Fall-House-Medici/dp/0140050906/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313784866&sr=8-1
Read more about the author here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christopher_Hibbert
History – my copy (paperback; 1985) bought for the staggeringly low price of 50p from Music & Goods Exchange, Notting Hill, sometime in 2008
- 3 nods out of 5 -
Earlier this summer the Worm walked on the very same streets as did Cosimo Medici and Lorenzo the Magnificent. Do these names mean nothing to you, dear reader? Then, perhaps it is time to immerse yourself in the dramatic house of Medici, only of Florence’s premier historic families.
The Medicis were a banking family who obtained bigger depths of wealth and a greater hold of power. In the 1400s Cosimo took control – somewhat ostensibly – in Florence, while his grandson Lorenzo became a patron of the arts, even giving a home to a young Michelangelo. In the 1500s the Medicis became popes in Rome and dukes of Tuscany. Many a-time they were chased out of Florence by ardent republicans, only to return to heal wounds and silence squabbling factions. It was amongst one of these incidents that led Machiavelli to write his world famous The Prince; a book that was to earn his enduring – perhaps unwanted – legacy.
In the 1700s the house was to finally cease: it was one usurpation too many. But it was not the final end of a name that has proven its strength with historians and readers throughout the generations of time; in Florence, one of the world’s great cultural cities, Medici is seen on every street corner. Such fame prompted the historian Christopher Hibbert to write an enlightening and entertaining narrative of this illustrious clan.
Never jaw-dropping, Hibbert proceeds to put in a work-man like performance in his treatment of the Medicis; a poor history was not be expected by the man who has brought countless biographies to the bookshelves, concentrating on English figures in history from the Duke of Wellington to Disraeli. Concentrating primarily on the golden generations of the first Cosimo and Lorenzo (who each have a whole section to themselves), the last two centuries (1537-1743) are crammed into fifty pages. Perhaps the author himself knew too well that usurpation after usurpation was too much for the reader to maintain across three hundred pages of death, plotting and plunder. Yet it is with the earlier Medicis in which the legend lies; after all, Michelangelo didn’t dine with the likes of Cosimo III.
Other books upon the Medicis have come and gone; but Hibbert’s treatment remains a gold standard – in the English language, anyhow – of these characters and their descendents. For anyone who wishes to delve further into Italian history, and wish to understand the city of Florence, Hibbert’s history is a welcome read.
Buy it here on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rise-Fall-House-Medici/dp/0140050906/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313784866&sr=8-1
Read more about the author here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christopher_Hibbert
Wednesday 17 August 2011
The Velveteen Rabbit - Margery Williams
Margery Williams - The Velveteen Rabbit (1922)
Short Story – read as an app on the iPhone during July 2011
- 3 nods out of 5 -
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
And so begins the Velveteen Rabbit’s quest to become real. The rabbit in question is not made of flesh and bone, but rather stuffed of sawdust. The love he seeks is that of a young boy; only for this love to be put in near tragic jeopardy by the book’s end.
Written by Margey Williams, and wonderfully illustrated by William Nicholson, The Velveteen Rabbit has been a favourite with generations ever since its first publication back in 1922. It has its fans within both libraries and those in the media and popular culture. And it is easy to see why when the author writes in such a simple and emotive style, along with the illustrator's amusing and fanciful images, reminding us of another time before modern technology, of Playstations and MTV.
The surprising thing about this book, reading it as an adult, is the way the reader is thrown into the story; as particularly shown in the mocking of our hero by real rabbits that live in the wild:
"He hasn't got any hind legs!" he called out. "Fancy a rabbit without any hind legs!" And he began to laugh.
"I have!" cried the little Rabbit. "I have got hind legs! I am sitting on them!"
"Then stretch them out and show me, like this!" said the wild rabbit. And he began to whirl round and dance, till the little Rabbit got quite dizzy.
"I don't like dancing," he said. "I'd rather sit still!"
But all the while he was longing to dance, for a funny new tickly feeling ran through him, and he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump about like these rabbits did.
Imaginative and whimsical, The Velveteen Rabbit is a joy to read throughout. Children books enable the reader – of any age – to step inside a new world and rediscover that element of magic. Although not all children books are able to entertain and play with our emotions to the fine extent as Williams’ short story. Read this story to take yourself away from reality and be prepared to enter another world.
Read it here:
http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/williams/rabbit/rabbit.html
And better yet, buy it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Velveteen-Rabbit-Margery-Williams/dp/1405210540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313535702&sr=8-1
Short Story – read as an app on the iPhone during July 2011
- 3 nods out of 5 -
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
And so begins the Velveteen Rabbit’s quest to become real. The rabbit in question is not made of flesh and bone, but rather stuffed of sawdust. The love he seeks is that of a young boy; only for this love to be put in near tragic jeopardy by the book’s end.
Written by Margey Williams, and wonderfully illustrated by William Nicholson, The Velveteen Rabbit has been a favourite with generations ever since its first publication back in 1922. It has its fans within both libraries and those in the media and popular culture. And it is easy to see why when the author writes in such a simple and emotive style, along with the illustrator's amusing and fanciful images, reminding us of another time before modern technology, of Playstations and MTV.
The surprising thing about this book, reading it as an adult, is the way the reader is thrown into the story; as particularly shown in the mocking of our hero by real rabbits that live in the wild:
"He hasn't got any hind legs!" he called out. "Fancy a rabbit without any hind legs!" And he began to laugh.
"I have!" cried the little Rabbit. "I have got hind legs! I am sitting on them!"
"Then stretch them out and show me, like this!" said the wild rabbit. And he began to whirl round and dance, till the little Rabbit got quite dizzy.
"I don't like dancing," he said. "I'd rather sit still!"
But all the while he was longing to dance, for a funny new tickly feeling ran through him, and he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump about like these rabbits did.
Imaginative and whimsical, The Velveteen Rabbit is a joy to read throughout. Children books enable the reader – of any age – to step inside a new world and rediscover that element of magic. Although not all children books are able to entertain and play with our emotions to the fine extent as Williams’ short story. Read this story to take yourself away from reality and be prepared to enter another world.
Read it here:
http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/williams/rabbit/rabbit.html
And better yet, buy it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Velveteen-Rabbit-Margery-Williams/dp/1405210540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313535702&sr=8-1
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)