#262 A Tale of Two Cities (1859)

Author: Charles Dickens
Title: A Tale of Two Cities
Genre: Novel
Year: 1859
Pages: 300
Origin: read on the Kindle
Nod Rating: 5 nods out of 5

 

‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.’ A few simple words, and yet they remain enduringly famous as one of the most memorable opening lines to a novel:

‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.’

 

These very words – as well as the French Revolution historical setting – drew the Worm back to another foray into the world of Dickens. Recent reads in the past five book reading seasons have included the equally excellent Hard Times and David Copperfield. What would A Tale of Two Cities have to offer?

Set over a period of years, the book is set during the French Revolution era; the two cities under consideration are that of London and Paris. In London Lucie Manette is reintroduced to her father, Dr Manette, and in time she marries the son of a French aristocrat, Charles Darnay. Also in love with Lucie is the cad Sydney Carton, who remains distant despite becoming a family friend. The novel gathers pace and shape after the fall of the Bastille in 1789; as Carton states: ‘this is a desperate time, when desperate games are played for desperate stakes.’ Darnay returns to his homeland in order to help a former servant, and in doing so he is imprisoned as an enemy of the people. The Manettes attempt to help Darnay, yet their attempts are not entirely successful, with Darnay facing the guillotine. In an attempt to help the Manettes, Carton nobly changes places with Darnay and faces death at the novel’s end.

Dickens focuses on a couple of key themes: death and resurrection (particularly with the first book being named ‘Recalled to Life’), the right and wrong of the law, as well as the idea of love conquering all. Due to the weighty themes there is a noticeable lack of humour, however, the usual Dickensian wit is present: ‘Tellson’s was the triumphant perfection of inconvenience’, and regarding the guillotine: ‘it was the best cure for a headache.’

The novel reaches a dramatic highpoint which differentiates it from other reads, principally that of David Copperfield. Rather than drawing out a meandering plot for hundreds of (unneeded) pages, A Tale of Two Cities is precise in its intentions and execution. Plot is of higher importance, rather than the characters of which Dickens is so well – and justly – famed. Perhaps it is because of this, rather than the “serious” nature of the novel, as to why A Tale of Two Cities stands out in the back catalogue of Dickens’ works. It obtains the maximum 5 nods from this reviewer, the same reviewer who now doubts that it will be bettered when he next returns to Dickens in the year ahead.

 

Read it here

 

#261 From Hell (1999)

Author: Alan Moore & Eddie Campbell
Title: From Hell [Collected Edition]
Genre: Graphic Novel
Year: 1999
Pages: 550
Origin: borrowed and enjoyed
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5

 

The Worm’s initial meeting with From Hell was in the form of the Johnny Depp movie from 2001. The film was terrible. The less said the better. Fast-forward a decade and the Worm’s current (seeming) fixation on Alan Moore led him to the original graphic novel version. Published in sporadic serial form over a 7 year period, between 1989 to 1996, the novel focuses on the Jack Ripper murders of Victorian London.

Yes, Jack-the-bloody-Ripper. A seemingly ever-enduring and popular legend. This is just the reason that Moore has picked such a theme, developing and elaborating on various conspiracy theories involving the birth of an illegitimate royal baby. Prince Eddy – the Duke of Clarence – fathers a child with a commoner, Annie Crook. When Queen Victoria becomes involved the decision is made to “correct” Annie with the help of William Gull who damages her thyroid gland, whilst the baby is secretly taken to Annie’s parents. The plot thickens when Annie’s friends – a group of prostitutes – become aware of the scandal and attempt to blackmail those involved. Ever the trusty right-hand man, Gull is sent to deal with the women: one by one they meet a grisly end, thereby giving the genesis of the Jack the Ripper alias.

Gull is an intriguing character. Much time is spent developing his story, from childhood, as well as a deep exploration of his links to Freemasonry. Within Gull the writer Moore hints on the connections within time (the supposed “fourth dimension”) with everything in a specific order, with links made to other murders and crimes committed in later years, such as the Sutcliffe murders. Moore hints at this throughout the various chapters, particularly in Gull’s experiences of witnessing modern-day life (such as peering in at a television set in a Victorian alley-way, as well as appearing in a modern office furnished with computers). The horrors of later days to come were prefigured in the Ripper murders: “For better or worse, the twentieth century. I have delivered it.” Gull delivers to a speech to the twentieth-century office workers:

“With all your shimmering numbers and your lights, think not to be inured to history. Its black root succours you. It is inside you. Are you asleep to it, that cannot feel its breath upon your neck, nor see what soaks its cuffs? See me! Wake up and look upon me! I am come amongst you. I am with you always!”

Interestingly, Moore links both murderer and murdered into the same boat, yearned and desired after by later generations: “Ah, Mary, how time’s levelled us. We are made equal, both of mere curios of our vanished epoch in this lustless world.” Yes, Jack-the-bloody-Ripper, perfect fodder for Moore to make a point about the passages of time.

The wealth of research into the period, theories and historical characters is clear to be seen (as testified by the various notes and references made available in the collected edition). Victorian London is brought life, with Moore unable to bring in a few notable – but pointless – connections, such as the Elephant Man. However, other central characters – such as the “physic” Robert James Lees and the police-inspector Abberline – are more well-rounded.

The artwork has none of the razzmatazz expect of modern day comic books.  Printed in black and white, it adheres to a structure of nine panels on every page (aside from a few deviations). But the story is so much greater than the artwork alone, and despite being slightly dense and inaccessible in parts, From Hell is a considerable work. Particularly within the graphic novel field, packed as it is with pointless and faceless superheroes who continually save the world in an empty and unsatisfying manner. As such, the Worm heartedly endorses it to the level of 4 nods out of 5. This is a must-read for any fan of Moore’s work.

Read about it here

#260 Leaves of Grass (1892)

Author: Walt Whitman
Title: Leaves of Grass (Deathbed Edition)
Genre: Poetry
Year: 1892
Pages: 400
Origin: read on the iPad
Nod Rating: 2 nods out of 5

 

For a long time Leaves of Grass has held a fascination with the Worm. A seeming modest collection of poems, the book has a long list of admirers from its initial date of publication to the present day. The Worm has gazed at various publications of the collection in many book-shops, always wondering whether or not to take the plunge. Such is Whitman’s association with America – and late nineteenth-century American history – that the Worm was scared off due to not knowing enough about the period to really savour and enjoy his supposed talent for stringing words together.

The Worm was able to download Leaves of Grass recently. However, unfortunately for him, it was not the modest volume thumbed on many a book-case, but rather the final edition of Whitman’s collection. Due to spending the bulk of his life revising and rewriting his initial publication from 1855, the final “death-bed” edition of Leaves of Grass runs to over four-hundred poems.

Ah, the Worm hears you say, quality and quantity: what a rare treat. Indeed, dear reader, both of those Qs together is a rare treat. But such a treat is not to be found within the pages of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. Allow the Worm to explain why…

Firstly, the scope of this collection of poems is too vast to be about anything in particular. A short volume is succinct and allows the writer and poet to express their thoughts and feelings on a subject. But four hundred poems? Why does Whitman need four hundred poems to say what other poets could say in ten? Whitman attempts to encompass as much as possible about American culture as it then stood in the late-nineteenth century. However, by doing this he runs the risk of becoming all sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Whitman’s tool for attempting to cover everything: listing. This is a technique used in order to outline basic information. Whitman uses it – armed with the almighty comma – as a poetry technique. We’re given a list on the American vastness, on its people, on its past, on its potential, the paving-man, the canal boy, the conductor, the child, the regatta, the drover, the peddler, the bride, the opium-eater, the prostitute, the crowd, the President: list, list, list! Rather than poetry it reads like a sermon, a Bible of lists of America.

This “listing” technique is further exacerbated by the lack of any rhyme or meter. Words are chucked together, with no regard for length, structure, or fluidity. Whitman continues to rewrite throughout his life, but seemingly, he does not edit. More words and piled on top of one another, forever hoping to get to the heart of the matter in what he truly means to say. But despite the words stacking up, true meaning seems to elude him. Rather than take a step back to think about such meaning Whitman continues to scoop on the words, one after the over, until us – the readers – have our bellies filled with sickly prose.

Now, such words appear to be harsh. They are meant to be harsh. However, the Worm did manage to enjoy or poem or two of this ridiculously massive collection. There are lines to be enjoyed: ‘Who goes there? Hankering, gross, mystical, nude; How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?’ Regrettably, such lines are hemmed within a sea of merciless listing.

Before his death, Whitman noted how he wished for the final “death-bed” edition to supersede all previous ones. The next time the Worm touches Whitman it will be the first edition of Leaves of Grass only. Life is far too short to wade through the listing that Whitman should be – but seemingly isn’t - infamous for. But such is Whitman’s legend and hold over the United States of America, the Worm is not holding out for such a critique to gain any foundation.

 
Read all about it here

#259 Tudor Cornwall (1941)

Author: A.L. Rowse
Title: Tudor Cornwall
Genre: Local History
Year: 1941
Pages: 450
Origin: bought from Waterstone’s many moons ago
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5

 

It has been a while since the Worm returned to one of his favourite reading pursuits: the history of that most beloved of duchies/counties/countries (delete as your politics dictates): Cornwall. And what better historian to reacquaint the Worm with such history than the cantankerous A.L. Rowse? Rowse’s name is well established with the Tudor period, particularly in his scholarship on Shakespearian works. However, Cornwall is his place of birth, and Tudor Cornwall holds an esteemed reputation with Cornish historians the world over.

Rowse traces history from the lawless time of the Wars of the Roses in the late fifteenth century, the arrival of the Tudor dynasty, the turmoil under various rulers – principally that of Henry VIII – and the later focus on the trusty Elizabethan sea-dogs and the war with the super-power Spain. Due to such illustrious characters during this period, as well as the great religious changes, the sixteenth century offers easy pickings for anyone wishing to highlight its history.

In particular, focus is devoted on the principal rebellions, including the 1497 rebellion led by the legendary (or, would be legendary if only people remembered the legend) An Gof, the failed and foiled Perkin Warbeck uprising, as well as the 1549 Prayer Book Rebellion that engulfed social, religious and political barriers. Rowse charts the change of mood in religion, from a Catholic enclave to one that took pride in the state’s Protestant exploits. 1549 is seen as a decisive date in Cornish history: with an English prayer-book imposed on the region the Cornish language received a further nail in its coffin. Furthermore, during this period powers are taken away from the corners of the kingdom, placing greater central control within the capital of London. Rowse comments on the change from feudal anarchy, highlighting the painful transformation for such a remote county as Cornwall.

As well as the big themes that connect all of England together, special attention is provided for the local dimension. This includes the layout of the land of the country, its industry and trade, the social structure within Cornwall, as well as ‘the life of the society and of the individual’. The depth of research is striking: this is no mere overview of the Tudor period, but rather an extensive and exhaustive academic piece of work. It is a shame that the county has not received similarly in-depth attention from later historians (although it must be noted that Cornwall has been fortunate to receive the attention from the Institute of Cornish Studies).

When compared to modern-day historians and writers, it is clear that Rowse is a man stuck within his time. Opinionated and severe in his judgements, Rowse lives up every bit to that school of historians from the mid-twentieth century (and earlier) that spent time investigating Tudor England (particularly G.R. Elton). What with the smiling face of the modern-day TV personality historian, sometimes the Worm longs for such an old-fashioned historian to become popular once more in order to shake a few feathers.

Read about A.L. Rowse here