'Emma', Jane Austen's Finest Novel By Far

Author Sophia Alexander with
Emma by Jane Austen on her well-loved e-reader

Emma is the most idealistic and enjoyable of Jane Austen’s novels, in my decided opinion. Emma Woodhouse is a sassy, classy, clever young protagonist who becomes truly penitent upon realizing her mistakes, her rudeness, and her presumptions. Nevertheless, to our relief, Emma Woodhouse retains enough charming impudence to quip near the end of the book:

“Oh, I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up with any other.”

Few novels have such delightful dialogue, such perceptiveness into people’s characters. And though my heart sank a bit at the end, as I hadn’t remembered quite how classist even this novel of hers seems, I am reexamining that a bit here below.

The following does contain spoilers:

First, a caveat: I’ve watched film adaptations of Emma, and Gwyneth Paltrow’s 1996 portrayal of Emma is indelible in my mind, despite her physical description hardly matching how Jane wrote Emma!  I have rewatched it more times than I’ve read the novel, so it does influence my view of this work. It’s exceptionally true to the sparkling wit in the story, and the filmmakers subdued less pleasant aspects, such as where at the end of the novel Emma realizes that she must let her friendship with Harriet fade, because Harriet is going to be a farmer’s wife, despite Harriet always having been the truest of friends to Emma.

  Meanwhile, it rankles that Emma plans to foster her friendship with the wealthy young man, Frank Churchill, who deceived everyone, including Emma, into thinking he was courting Emma. His soon-to-be wife, Jane Fairfax, actually spurned Emma’s belated attempts at friendship, but she, too, will be residing within Emma’s inner circle. In fact, Emma’s pivoted to regarding Frank as being like a dear brother. However I might tut, though, this adjustment for the sake of harmony is admirable, so I’m not saying that Emma should have sought retribution. Her affection for Frank had always been sincere, and there was much promise of good, enjoyable company for their future, rather than the sour dynamics so many would have wound up perpetuating. Emma’s grace and good sense win the day (and months and years ahead).

  Despite her plans to gradually withdraw from Harriet, there is much to learn from Emma. We could do worse than to emulate the delicacy and grace with which she deals with her Highbury community (a ‘populous village, almost amounting to a town’) and through life.  She winds up poised for a very comfortable future—and does her best to be kind to everyone affected. In fact, she’ll still be Harriet’s friend to a degree, even accompanying Harriet to her wedding.

  Perhaps Jane Austen is simply pointing out the obvious. By nature Emma and Harriet will begin moving in different circles. Harriet won’t be at the balls Emma goes to, and Emma won’t be at the barn-raisings. Remember that Emma’s initial efforts on Harriet’s behalf were largely meant to keep Harriet within her immediate circle. Now Jane Austen simply observes, “Harriet will be over there now, with those farmer folks, not over here with Emma.” Still, it seems to undervalue the deep, intrinsic value of a true friend, precious indeed; isn’t it worth going to some lengths to preserve such friendships? Yet perhaps Emma is simply adjusting (more gracefully than I think myself capable of doing) to how things simply are. In other words, she’s wisely planning not to overextend herself.

  I may not entirely buy into Jane’s worldview, but again, her wisdom as to the human condition is far from piddling. Regarding Mrs. Churchill of Enscombe, who was thrown off by her brother due to making an ‘unsuitable connexion’, “She had resolution enough to pursue her own will in spite of her brother, but not enough to refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother’s unreasonable anger.” Indeed, throughout this novel, Mrs. Churchill is a sickly woman, dying by the end of the novel. Jane understands the complexity of the human condition. She knows the importance of family ties and connections to our mental and physical well-being, and I assume this character description was written in anticipation of Mrs. Churchill’s eventual demise.

  Emma teaches grace, poise, and adaptability—remorse, too—and consideration of other people’s feelings, including people of all classes. However, while Emma did have to live and function within her existing society, it’s lamentable that Jane Austen does not use the power of her pen to push boundaries whatsoever, maintaining a most conventional perspective on social classes and even slavery (implicit in Mansfield Park) during a time when many were demanding better. Yet in her own way, through creating such a kind-hearted, well-meaning character as Emma, who really does her best, Jane is setting a better-than-average example, isn’t she?  Every little shift towards kindness helps. Remember that conventional folks are reading and loving this novel, absorbing its messages, when they wouldn’t so much as bother with some socialist or abolitionist tract. Emma’s conventional devotion to her father is commendable and inspiring—and then the scenario involving Miss Bates (spinster daughter of Mrs. Bates, ‘a very old lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille’) humbles Emma, making her ashamed of not being kinder to Miss Bates, especially given her diminished circumstances.

  So I’ll posit that Emma is still a masterpiece that deserves to be widely read, as it’s not only entertaining but teaches poise, grace, and kindness to the less fortunate. Well done, Jane!

*Here are a few quotations that I found interesting and/or amusing:

In speaking of expensive schools that we might liken to so many of today’s ever-more-costly universities, Jane describes them as being “where young ladies for enormous pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity.” Not entirely wrong, for all that they give tremendous value, too. Doesn’t that expression, ‘screwed out of’ sound so modern?

Regarding Emma’s sister’s children who lived in London: “all the holidays of this autumn had been given to sea-bathing for the children”.  Not only do I find the frequent autumn (brr!) sea-bathing in the early 19^th century of interest, but it brings to mind the dire lack of sanitation systems in crowded London at that time, so awful that Mr. Woodhouse’s assertion, “Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be,” was not at all baseless. Cholera was rampant there, actually.

Emma’s father says, excusing himself, “We invalids think we are privileged people.” Indeed, Emma has to accommodate to her father’s limitations, wisely realizing that he isn’t very flexible, most of all in his restrictive opinions. She nonetheless loves him unreservedly, much as we love Jane Austen herself.

Read my blogs about Jane Austen's other novels at the links below:

*Sense and Sensibility (1811)

*Pride and Prejudice (1813)

*Mansfield Park (1814)

*Northanger Abbey (1818, posthumous)

*Lady Susan (1871, posthumous)

In Defense of Mrs. Bennet in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen

author Sophia Alexander with her aged hardcover of
Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen

In my grand re-read of Jane Austen’s works for her 250^th birthday tomorrow, I began with Pride and Prejudice, having inherited a hardcover nearly as old as my parents. Originally published in 1796 under the title First Impressions when Jane was just 21, it was later rereleased, after much revision, in 1813 in its present title and form.  This novel boasts her delightfully famous opening line:

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

Perhaps the most generally beloved of Jane Austen’s works, it ranks, for me, only behind Emma and Sense and Sensibility. To a lesser degree than Emma, characters realize the error of their ways—that Lydia doesn’t do so is actually charming, a pleasant relief from all the soul-searching—and it’s likewise chock-full of sharp exchanges and witty banter. However, while Jane Austen is consistent in her character depictions, I’ll admit that I once more find myself at odds with her, this time regarding her assessment of Mrs. Bennet… and I have an intriguing revelation to share about Mr. Darcy.

Since I failed to write up my blog earlier this year, when I read it, I’ve just listened to the audiobook as well, which I found to be excellent. This signifies because Jane Austen via audiobook seems almost preferable to her written books; as I read the novel, I'd found myself saying, “This is practically a script!” Jane doesn’t waste a lot of time on senses and metaphors and all such. Nope, she sets the stage and then she’s straight to the heart of the matter, the interpersonal dynamics.

Beware of Spoilers:

Alright, I'll begin with these by defending Mrs. Bennet. But first let us excuse Jane on account of her youth; it's only natural that she might not, at the age of 21, intuitively grasp the wisdom of Mrs. Bennet's behaviors. Also, let's give Jane a modicum of credit for her end-of-book disapproval of droll Mr. Bennet for his contempt of his wife. For that instant, it seems that Jane doesn’t actually see Mrs. Bennet as quite as silly as Elizabeth believes her to be—for all that this notion is at odds with the entire rest of the novel. Still, it indicates that Austen must have had at least one pang of remorse for her treatment of Mrs. Bennet throughout the book.

The fact is that Mrs. Bennet only ever thinks of her daughters’ futures, wanting them to be as comfortable and happy as possible—especially as she knows there are no provisions for them after the eventual demise of Mr. Bennet, given the entail that will give away his estate to a male relative. Elizabeth, however, is continually disgusted by her mother’s overt efforts to further good matches, even doing her best to counter her mother’s efforts, such as when she marches straight back into the drawing room where Mrs. Bennet has with some difficulty contrived to leave Miss Jane Bennet (the eldest daughter) alone with her suitor, Mr. Bingley. Thankfully, Elizabeth is too late. He’s already spoken to Jane, and they are engaged. So Mrs. Bennet succeeded in the end after all, despite Elizabeth. And given that Jane Austen herself never married, I'm guessing she was far too much like Elizabeth Bennet in contriving not to further along relationships. No doubt she never seemed overeager in her life.

At some level, I suspect Jane realizes this, for all that she refuses to give Mrs. Bennet proper credit. (In fact, she sometimes blames Mrs. Bennet’s behavior for driving off suitors.) But it’s also Mrs. Bennet who promptly adapts and forgives Lydia in the end, saving their familial relations with her; as ridiculous as Austen depicts Mrs. Bennet to be in that scenario, the elder girls have to convince their father to forgive, too. One might argue that Mrs. Bennet shouldn’t forgive so easily, that a bad example is being set by Lydia for her sisters—and I do find that a valid concern—but perhaps modeling the prioritization of harmonious family relationships is a superior lesson. After all, Mrs. Bennet’s daughters might one day also have to deal with their own foolish children in similarly compromising circumstances.

Okay, so now for the Mr. Darcy revelation—it’s not an original thought of my own, but something I came across on a YouTube video some months ago. An earnest young woman who professed to be 'on the spectrum', having written up a school paper about Jane Austen’s male protagonists likewise neurodivergent, wanted to share this broadly. Her idea was that it would be such great representation to show that some of the all-time most iconic fictional male love interests actually had autistic traits. I heard this with some impatience, but her words stayed with me, and upon re-listening to Mr. Darcy’s unpleasant behavior and Elizabeth’s straightforward initial dislike of him, I grudgingly have to admit that she seems correct! (Mr. Knightley from Emma may likewise be neurodivergent, if not as obviously.)

On that note, I did find the book version different from the film version in that there were no early sparks of attraction. Actually, Elizabeth and everybody else in her community truly dislike Mr. Darcy upon first acquaintance, despite Elizabeth later admitting he’s one of the handsomest men she’s ever met—remember that Jane originally titled the novel First Impressions, so this is getting to the heart of the matter. Mr. Darcy is often awkward, rude, and silent. That said, it’s later endearing how he takes to heart Elizabeth’s critique of him and tries to make amends.

Please note that ‘silly’ Mrs. Bennet also has quite the aversion to Mr. Darcy, despite his wealth, until Elizabeth becomes engaged to him, at which time Mrs. Bennet swiftly adapts, seeing all the benefits of the attachment. In fact, her disapprobation of Mr. Darcy stemmed from his former rudeness to Elizabeth, so again... she’s a woman of sound mind and wise principles entirely centered around ensuring her daughters' well-being, for all that she receives little credit and is even scorned. Truly, without Mrs. Bennet's interventions, the romances in Pride and Prejudice may never have occurred at all, and then where would they all have been? 

Let me conclude, as I tend to do, with sidenotes:

I’m tickled by the different pace of life in the early 19^th century. When Elizabeth Bennet visits her friend for a six-week stay, the lady at the nearby estate tries to convince her it’s ridiculous not to stay for at least eight weeks. Things are so quiet there that it’s an event when someone merely passes by the house. Seems rather snoopy, but how intriguing that they find others’ comings-and-goings of such interest! While they know more about each other, however, they simultaneously seem more reserved in their behavior, more contained. But those aren’t necessarily related, as such reserved behavior is classic for well-to-do Brits (Elizabeth Bennet actually considers herself fairly poor, but they do have servants).

Speaking of societal level, middle-class young ladies seem generally expected to know how to play the piano. The heroines of these old novels are rarely virtuosos; they just sing and play sweetly. Perhaps when I first read this novel in high school, I realized how out of place I'd have been in that society without piano skills whatsoever, as shortly after that, I did start playing piano, content with just a few basic skills. I can't quite otherwise comprehend why I was so complacent about achieving mediocrity! (Yet as to the wisdom of early musical training, Socrates asserted that without it, one can never achieve the same level of grace, and I do believe this to be true. In fact, the Greeks trained their children musically on a broad scale, whereas the Romans didn’t tend to do so; this seems pertinent because I find Greek sculpture is often more generally artistic than Roman sculpture—long-lasting evidence of superior grace?)

To conclude, here is a saved personal anecdote written about a year or so ago that relates back to the people-watching:

This little studio is so bright, with such clean windows that I have been gazing out of them as I suppose my ancestresses used to do. The little old ladies in Germany would watch us walking by their windows, too. And Granny totally knew who had been by her Main Street house. She spent much of her time on her screened-in porch, shelling beans and peas or cracking pecans while keeping tabs on the neighborhood. I’d been baffled by it, even mildly scornful, but here I am today, just staring out the window absently, then with more interest as people walk by. Jane Austen's characters aren't sheepish in the least about noticing passersby, about speculating where they are going, etc., and I suppose I'm no different at heart. Just a little while ago, a thin woman walked by with a chubby boy and their dogs, setting me to wondering whether she was actually walking the boy as much as the dogs. Just wow, such nosiness, but seems it's in our bones!

Read my blogs about Jane Austen's other novels at the links below:

*Sense and Sensibility (1811)

*Pride and Prejudice (1813)

*Mansfield Park (1814)

*Northanger Abbey (1818, posthumous)

*Lady Susan (1871, posthumous)

RIP Sophie Kinsella, beloved Shopaholic author

Sophie Kinsella, author

Today would have been Sophie Kinsella's 56th birthday, had she not passed away on Monday from a glioblastoma that has been affecting her these past three years, at least. I loved listening to her audiobooks as I did chores, as she has a lively, blithe sort of humor that hits the spot for me. 

I once created a mural of some of my inspirational writers and artists surrounding me in which Sophie is directly under my own picture, symbolizing how she was shoring me up with her humor. It hangs in my study. I'll admit that when I tried to actually read her novels in print, I didn't find them nearly as engaging as the audiobooks, perhaps as the plots aren't particularly intricate, so I decided that the hilarity is better heard than read.  Still, she cheered me through some rough patches, and I have a huge soft spot for this wonderful author.  My favorite of her books is actually Twenties Girl, and I enjoyed Remember Me a lot, too, but the first couple of Shopaholic novels, especially, are the ones that put me in stitches. The content of some of her newer works didn't appeal to me as much, so I haven't stayed up to date on her writing, but here's something I wrote back in 2009: 

"...[I've been] inspired by the book of a new favorite author, Sophie Kinsella.  I LOVE SOPHIE KINSELLA!!!  She's a fabulous, wonderful author with an amazing ability to inspire with her ridiculous, lighthearted situations.  She is a wonderful Sagittarius, as are many of my very favorite people (though ironically, NONE of my immediate family members are Sag).
 
I am on my third Kinsella book, which is her original Confessions of a Shopaholic. Becky Bloomwood is a lovable character with a penchant for getting herself into scrapes. Her life is a roller coaster of highs and lows, and, though it does seem a bit shallow, she inspires by constantly letting insurmountable troubles fall away in her unbelievable optimism! This story encourages us to Try, Try Again! It's also a boon for our egos, as our own faults seem less severe after making so many allowances for Becky's!
 
I actually identified a bit with Becky when I would feel her horrible, mortifying lows and wallow in them just a tad, only to feel myself lifting out of those lows way before I expected to when she would bounce back with her cheery, perky, optimistic attitude.  You just can't resist laughing at her...and knowing that she's right!  No sense in wallowing!
 
I have watched small children instantaneously jump from tantrum to cheery play, and I've often been quite relieved that they don't have the self-consciousness to resist that jump.  Truly, I think many of us are attached to our troubles out of a sense of congruity.  If we're devastated tonight, then it would be terribly shallow to be bright and perky tomorrow--and it would somehow negate the authenticity of our feelings, goes the logic.
 
Yes, I did feel disconcerted at times by Becky's ability to bounce back and not dwell on her troubles, but I also felt inspired.  We create our lives, and a big part of that is trying to achieve our goals.  Clinging to negative emotions or situations makes our life about those, instead of a balance of highs and lows.  Perhaps we should just aim to fully experience them as quickly as possible and then we're off to experience the next high with full enjoyment. 
 
I suppose that's part of the attraction of the book for me.  Becky DID experience those lows.  She berated herself, felt extreme humiliation, fully realized and experienced the drama of the situation.  Utterly satisfactory wallowing and wailing!  Her indomitable spirits surged back, though, unfailingly. She did acknowledge her likeness to a child at one point, when she commented "like a child on Christmas morning...well, okay, like ME on Christmas morning."

Children have a certain wisdom in their unaffected simplicity in dealing with trials.  We MUST bounce back in order to enjoy our lives, because we ALL have problems.  So in this sense, Happiness is dependent on letting go of our attachments, much as the Buddhists tell us.  I would say the attachments to our troubles are some of the first attachments we need to eliminate....

...[So, Sophie Kinsella is currently my new favorite author of the moment], but it just occurred to me last night the coincidence that I'd set up my 'Mii' character on our 'Wii' with the name Sophii... and with the birthday of 12/12 (the 180 degree opposite birthday of mine, for my Mii alterego). Anyhow, Sophie Kinsella's birthday happens to be December 12th! Isn't that almost uncanny that I picked the same name and birthday of my next favorite author, before I'd even heard of her?"

'Louise Juliane, Electress Palatine, and Her Times' by Fanny Elizabeth Bunnett

Author Sophia Alexander with her copy of Louise Juliane's Biography

I was grateful to discover this 1862 English-language biography of Louise Juliane (1576-1644), great-grandmother of King George I of England. She was the daughter of William the Silent, mother of the ‘Winter King’, and grandmother of Sophia of Hanover.  I was grateful, that is, to find this rather unique source of information, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a source of entertainment. Not only is the information dry, but it should be taken with a few large salt crystals. The author makes many lofty assumptions about the people she’s writing about, assuming they’re all as devout as the author no doubt aspires to be. All that said, I still very much appreciate the overview of Louise Juliane’s life--along with Bunnett's brief historical and political summations of the Protestant powerhouses with which Louise Juliane associated.

Since Sophia of Hanover features prominently in some of my current writing, Louise Juliane has been of some interest to me, having raised three of Sophia of Hanover’s siblings, Karl Ludwig (later Elector Palatine), Princess Elizabeth (a brilliant philosopher, friend to Descartes, and later ruling abbess of a small, independent territory), and soldier Maurice, for a goodly portion of their childhood. Her strict, modest Calvinist values were quite different from her more exuberant, royal daughter-in-law’s: Elizabeth Stuart had more panache as the ‘queen of hearts’, having been raised Anglican as the daughter of King James I of England; she was even queen of Bohemia before the Thirty Years War sent her and her family to The Hague as refugees. 

In contrast to the exuberant Stuart court, Louise Juliane’s own natal family had been strictly religious, perhaps severely so. Her mother, Charlotte de Bourbon et Montpensier, had been raised several years in the abbey of Jouarre. She’d died while Louise Juliane was still young, and so Louise Juliane was raised in the Netherlands by her stepmother, Louise de Coligny, after her father, a prince of Orange who championed the Protestant cause, was assassinated. After Louise Juliane’s marriage to Frederick IV, Elector Palatine, she resided in Heidelberg and thereabouts, but in her older age she lived in Berlin with her married daughter, the electress of Brandenburg, which is where Louise Juliane raised the three Palatine grandchildren mentioned above (until they left to join their mother in The Hague, though Princess Elizabeth of the Palatinate did later return to Berlin for a time in her adulthood).

Bunnett provides wonderful quotes from letters, which are my favorite part of the biography. Louise Juliane's mother, Charlotte de Bourbon, tells her own mother-in-law, “My eldest girl, Louise Juliane, says that you will love her the best, because she has the happiness of bearing your name.” Louise Juliane’s personality could be glimpsed, despite Bunnett’s religious filter, when the new widow said: “I feel as though I had given small proof of my sorrow by still living, if I dare to say so, against my will. Nevertheless, I place my hand upon my lips that I may not transgress the limits of moderation and irritate God still further, as He has appeared to be, by a fresh blow upon my eldest son [Frederick V, later the ‘Winter King’], who has been at death’s door from small-pox, the severity of the sickness taking away almost all hope from those who were near him. In this has God shewn me what He could still do to me.”

Perhaps it simply reflects the Calvinist theory of predestination, but more than once she is found saying things along these lines, including this that she sent to King James I/VI: “Having heard from my son of the great affliction which it has pleased God to send your majesty and your people by the unexpected death of the late prince of Wales…”  She seems to hold God accountable for every affliction that befalls her or anyone else, even while hedging that we don’t know his reasons, that we aren’t so wise as him, and it must be for the best.

Her sense of guilt about surviving her husband reflects, perhaps, on her own young mother dying—they claim of grief—when Louise Juliane was barely six. Charlotte de Bourbon died only days after William the Silent was shot in the head by an assassin, an injury from which he actually recovered. I speculate that his counselors may have suspected her of colluding with the Catholics, given her Catholic background, and you can take it from there… but that doesn't seem to be what Louise Juliane thought. Louise Juliane's own letters reflect only strict Calvinist doctrine—though I suppose she could have been wary of irritating any suspicious, flammable ministers who might be reading her letters and could contemplate taking out their fury on the surviving wife, as perhaps had happened to her own mother. Whatever the case, her mother’s death must have left quite an impression on Louise Juliane as a girl, as she herself fell incredibly ill when her father actually was assassinated two years later. Everyone worried for the girl's life for weeks—which leads me to think that at the time she actually did believe that her thirty-five-year-old mother had simply died of grief—and thus this impressionable, devout daughter was doing her best to follow suit.

Despite reading this biography in full, I still am not sure I have a solid sense of Louise Juliane, the woman who was mother-in-law to the Winter Queen.  The author is sure that Louise Juliane had infinite patience and wisdom, and it does seem that her letters were discreet--so discreet as to be a bit dull, for the most part. 

Louise Juliane's sense of prudence can be seen when she advises her son against accepting the crown of Prague. He didn't listen, unfortunately. This affront to the Holy Roman Emperor was pivotal in setting off the Thirty Years War, in which nearly half the German population was decimated in certain regions. However, there are assertions that Louise Juliane was antagonistic towards her daughter-in-law, and my curiosity is not yet satisfied on this score. Maybe I will learn a little more about her character if I ever manage to get through some of her correspondence with her younger sisters. It's in French, which I know a little of, and so hope to one day muddle through it.

Bunnett's biography of Louise Juliane is recommended for anyone who has a personal interest in Louise Juliane or her direct family members--and also for those who are trying to develop a better understanding of the Thirty Years War, of the history of Germany, or of the family roots of the kings and queens of England past King George I. Though the subject of the biography is female, the broader history is standard and male-oriented.

(I'm publishing this blog on what would be Louise Juliane's 449th birthday.  She was born on 31 March 1576 in Delft.)

'The Princessa: Machiavelli for Women' by Harriet Rubin Is Anything But Macchiavellian

Author Sophia Alexander
holding Rubin's The Princessa

The Princessa (1997) is anything but Machiavellian—for women or otherwise!  The title is catchy—shocking, even—and I suppose they went with it for that reason, plus it does convey the promise of gleaning tactics for getting what you want.

  I liked many of the concepts that Rubin expounded. It never hurts to consider ideas like her poorly-termed ‘besting’, which she uses to describe authentically working for the best for everybody involved, including the ‘enemy’—which will help them to trust you and see you as more of an ally. Rubin promotes bravery and honesty, while discouraging petty tit-for-tatting, all of which I applaud. However, the way she lays out her ‘tactics’ certainly does make the honest expression of emotions sound manipulative—which concerns me that she’s providing fuel for any gaslighters out there who might be trying to figure out us women. Yet since that art-of-manipulation was rather the implied promise of the title, I suppose she did the best she could while still giving good, wholesome advice.

By this same token, however, I fear it may convert ordinary readers into being gaslighters themselves! Near the end, she interprets others’ ‘urgent’ messages as manipulative maneuvers, and she encourages readers not to let such measures ruffle our equanimity. Once others learn that we won’t fall prey to this tactic, they’ll stop using it on us, she asserts. I blinked, thinking, “Obviously, since they’ll know that we’re not someone to go to in times of crisis.” Rather a shame to make people give up on us—including bosses and mothers!

Rubin does include a few inspirational stories of peaceful resistance—like Ghandi’s and a French pastor’s wife, Magda Trocmé, who hosted Jewish refugees openly, refusing to be secretive about it. Magda got by with it for a long time, too, which is the inspirational part of the story, though of course it eventually landed her in some trouble.

Unfortunately, the book began with a frustrated trio of women whose lives were a disaster despite some outward success, but it never cycled back to telling us how their lives had improved as a result of these strategies. Instead, it fell at last on the teachings of Stoicism, with the uplifting final encouragement: “When does a candle shine the brightest? The answer is always in the dark.” 

So I really must conclude, in the absence of encouraging updates, that for all Rubin’s research, her new tactics had not yet yielded much tangible benefit for herself nor for her friends.  Instead, she presents Epictetus’ Stoic advice to focus on controlling our own perspectives, sometimes the only thing we have any power over; having been a slave for many years, he knew what he was talking about. Despite this wise encouragement, the reader walks away from the book awash with a sense of powerlessness, the theme of her final story—which was about a damaged POW taking comfort in the wise teachings of Epictetus. While the teachings may help us to cope, it’s hardly what any woman was going for when she picked up the book, I’m fairly certain.

 

A Restrained & Complex Cast in 'The Clockmaker's Daughter' by Kate Morton

Author Sophia Alexander with 
the audiobook of Kate Morton's
The Clockmaker's Daughter

The Clockmaker’s Daughter by Kate Morton is a complex, somewhat sad, but delicious ghost story to bask in, restrained in a rather Victorian manner. The story meandered, encompassing protagonists of different eras, but the writing was beautiful, and the author’s characters have a certain poetic refinement that I cherish now more than ever.  I adored Joanne Froggatt’s narration, too, which certainly adds to my recommendation of this novel.

At the heart of the story is a mansion in the countryside where most of the central characters eventually wind up for some period of their lives—including the ghostly presence of Birdie, though she only flits through sporadically, at most a faint influence. The whole cast of characters have their own intricate stories, the fates of several kept dangling until the very end.  There is romance, much of it bittersweet.

My biggest critique, I suppose, is the meandering nature of the story, but Kate Morton eventually ties together the disparate stories in a most satisfying way. This is so well done that I’d retract my criticism… except that this tendency to skip tracks did cause me to put down the story on more than one occasion, feeling utterly lost at yet another new storyline.  So if you do give this beautiful novel a go, just keep barreling through, knowing that the strands will all come together eventually.

This is my first Kate Morton novel, but I anticipate more in the future. First, though, I may just repeat this one!  I don’t tend to repeat novels (at least not within the same decade), with just a few special exceptions, but I may soon just start this one over from the beginning, now that I understand the cast of characters and their relationships to one another better.

Dystopian America in 'The Seclusion' by Jacqui Castle

Author Sophia Alexander with
'The Seclusion' e-book by Jacqui Castle.

The Seclusion by Jacqui Castle depicts a dystopian America where citizens are chipped, and everyone is specialized to the exclusion of other skills and information in order to keep them dependent on the Society as a whole. They are fed propaganda daily, required viewing, and only a fraction of the original population remains, all gathered into walled cities in which surveillance cameras watch them continuously, everywhere, and from which they are never allowed to leave. Patch Collins, however, has one of the rare environmental jobs which send her outside the city to gather contaminated soil samples, exposing her to artifacts and granting her the unusual opportunity to make an escape.

I chose to listen to this book because it won the Indie Author Project contest--and maybe because I was secluded at home due to a cold (and had already purchased it).  The concept is fantastic and visionary.  The warning is valid, and the writing is good, but I do have some critiques.

For all that the author is balking at propaganda, she follows the current trends in literature for young adults by making the mother a traitor—not an inspirational traitor, but a traitor-to-family-and-friends sort of traitor, a turn-you-in-to-the-Gestapo sort of traitor. There are numerous gay individuals/couples, and Patricia herself is soon called a rather gender-neutral ‘Patch’.  It’s always a man who helps Patch, and she only superficially interacts with any woman in the entire course of the novel.  I find this a deeply disturbing, anti-feminist trend, and I’m particularly saddened that such a visionary author would fall prey to it.

Perhaps my next critique is really an extension of the previous one. Patch’s interpersonal skills are grating. She seems to have little-to-no self-control in communicating with others, which does not seem to tally with the Society described, where the least offense would have you disposed of.  While I relished that the book began with Patch smugly proud of her Society and the Board that protected them all, her transition to awareness was less than convincing.  I would have bought it better if she had had more doubts/discomfort from the get-go about whole-heartedly condemning the ‘traitors to the Society’ that were once her friends and family.  Patch not only condemns her dear friend (from her past), particularly, but she holds a huge grudge at her for not being more loyal to their Society.  So not only was Patch’s friend likely dead, but Patch, supposedly her lifelong best friend, truly held her memory in contempt—with little apparent evidence/reason to, only that the Society condemned her as a traitor and must be right.  This sort of extreme loyalty to the Society leaves me unconvinced when the slightest trouble for Patch herself results in Patch reworking all her views, seeing through the propaganda, etc.

On the other hand, I suppose there is a certain authenticity in Patch’s constant scrambling, in her confrontational personality, in her gauche behavior. I found it strange and uninspiring that her friends and family were so much nicer and savvier than her, tolerating her behavior quite well… but I reserve judgment to a degree, as when I occasionally revisit older movies, such as the first Star Wars or Labyrinth, Luke and Sarah seem to be intolerable brats, whereas I admired them immensely as a girl!

I’m also left with a few questions about logistics that might possibly be answered if I were to revisit the book, I suppose.  I just didn’t see early-on how some of her plans could work, given the ever-present cameras and monitoring. She was counting on the feeds being ignored at first, but after she knew they were watching her more closely… well, I don’t know. I left feeling that her escape strategy needed a bit more tweaking to be completely convincing.

That said, when in the latter part of the story the logic of another escape choice evaded me, it did backfire on her. So unfortunate, but also validating to know that the author recognized this error in judgment, at least. I just didn’t see why Patch’s friend Rex went along with it so meekly. Choices in a crisis, however, wouldn’t always be of the highest logic, though, would they?

All that said, I immediately downloaded the sequel, and I’m listening to that now. Jacqui Castle has created a convincing dystopia… even if her protagonist does have the social grace of an insufferable entitled brat. Just shaking my head…

Jane Austen in her 250th Year

Happy New Year's Day! I began the process of reviewing Jane Austen's novels a couple of years ago, and I'm now committing to completing them in this coming year, as 2025 will mark Jane's quarter-millenial birthday--250 years since the birth of one of the earliest, best-known female novelists! Jane's witty, incisive pen makes her good company, for all that she's... well, read the following blogs to find out what else I think of her (I'll update these as we go along):

*Sense and Sensibility (1811)

*Pride and Prejudice (1813)

*Mansfield Park (1814)

*Northanger Abbey (1818, posthumous)

*Lady Susan (1871, posthumous)

Lloyd Alexander’s Farewell Novel, 'The Golden Dream of Carlo Chuchio'

At last I've completed my final unread book by my favorite author—Lloyd Alexander’s very last novel—on this, the year of his centennial birthday. I have now read all of his published books and novels, achieving my goal for this year, in his honor.  As an author myself, I’d once taken to calling him my ‘favorite childhood author’, but I can’t fathom ever calling any author aside from him ‘my favorite author’ without qualifying it.  I bought his last novel, The Golden Dream of Carlo Chuchio (2007), long ago, and for some reason only read half of it at that time. This time, I read it aloud to my husband a chapter or two per night, enjoying it thoroughly.  We’ve been saying, “You’re a Chooch!” to one another, as Chuchio is called by many who know him, and it really does seem to be a light-hearted novel on its surface.

Author Sophia Alexander with her favorite
author's final novel

It’s not—at least not for me, not essentially. 

However, as I am not a truly objective party, it’s hard to know how much to recommend it to the unfamiliar reader. It’s fine as a novel in and of itself. Not one of his very best, but his writing craft is honed, and it certainly has his authentic voice and inspiration (unlike some of his early commission works). The novel meanders a bit, as others written in his last decade of life seem to do, but his trademark tongue-in-cheek (and sometimes slapstick) humor still makes us laugh.  So yes, go ahead and read it to your kids—or husband, as the case may be.

Lloyd Alexander dedicated this novel “for young dreamers, and old ones.” This feels personal, as at about age 12, when I was actually living in Pennsylvania (he was in Philadelphia, PA), I dreamt in a totally ordinary fashion that Lloyd Alexander was my father. In my dream, he walked into my room to wake me up, saying, “Good morning,” and peering out my little window as the sun shone in.  It was the simplest thing, absolutely normal, yet my heart was so glad.

I say now that he’s my ‘literary father’. His Chronicles of Prydain were my favorite series then (and certainly where to start if you appreciate YA or Middle-Grade Fantasy).  Since then, I have read everything of his that I could get my hands on. His were the first books that I ever requested a bookstore order for me.  Later, my husband and I hunted down his out-of-print novels online.  He even gave us one himself when we visited him on our first anniversary, about 13 years before his passing.

Some of his earlier, out-of-print works are memoirs, so precious to me. Janine Is French stands out above all for me, though I’ve come to realize that he spun this memoir about his wife rather artfully, making something lovely out of a difficult situation. I don’t love it less for that, though. I do read between the lines now, shaking my head. But it is beautifully done.

In Carlo Chuchio, young Kuchik asks, “Are you saying, Chooch Mirza, these [folktales] are lies?”

“Yes,” I said, “but some lies are better than others.”

He did love Janine, so much. She passed away at age 90, only two weeks before him (he was 83). He wrote this book somewhere near his passing, no doubt within that last year of their lives, as it was published by his estate after his death, and he did tend to publish almost annually. 

(Spoiler Alert.)

At the end of Carlo Chuchio, the love interest, Shira, has decided to journey onwards, about to cross a river that she’s dreamt of crossing.  She weaves a branch into a circlet, explaining that journeyers carry wreaths of willow to remember where they come from. I can’t help but think of the river Styx. (Lloyd Alexander read mythology insatiably as a boy.)  Chuchio tells her, “Weave a circlet for me. I’m going with you.”  And he did.  He truly did.

So, from my perspective, I see Carlo Chuchio not only as a farewell to readers for himself, but as a second, minor ode to Janine. I don’t think she’s in most of his books, actually—rarely the inspiration for a fictional character, at least not obviously. I think I do see her a bit in Mickle (from The Westmark Trilogy, his darkest YA fantasy series) and here, in the character of Shira.

Despite their hidden marital troubles, I’m convinced Lloyd Alexander was speaking of Janine when his character, Carlo, tells Shira’s little brother Kuchik simply, “I love your sister.”  This was the essence of his life, it seems, as she was getting ready for her journey—their journey—beyond the river Styx. He’d lived with her, mostly childless, for nearly 60 years.  And the charming ‘lies’ in Janine Is French perhaps gave his true heart away, after all.

I recently read an enlightening short story of his written in a peculiar, artsy, existential style when he was quite young (his earliest published work that I’ve seen) but jaded from the war, and he seems to have written it about Janine, saying (and I may be paraphrasing), “It’s you, it’s always you.”  I’m not sure that ever actually changed.

All that said, The Golden Dream of Carlo Chuchio is more the story of Carlo than of Shira or even Carlo-and-Shira. It’s memoir-like at times, Carlo being Lloyd, of course. Uncle Everiste’s early frustrations with the hapless Chooch mirrors Lloyd’s father’s frustrations with him. Interestingly, though, Lloyd had ceased to travel by the time we even met him in 1994, saying that the last time he’d gone somewhere, many years before, that had been it, as the river had caught on fire! (I'd love to know the specifics on that, but I don't think I asked at the time.) So Carlo’s restless, ceaseless travels are perhaps more analogous to his writing career progress than to his physical journeys.  On the other hand, maybe not—he’d traveled much in his early years, and he’d been happy to settle down with Janine in Philly—much like Carlo was happy to settle with Shira at her homestead—but then when she had to move on, over the river, he chose to go with her.

In his old age, perhaps all those decades in Philly seemed like the blink of an eye. Shira’s home was where the treasure was (like his Newberry medals, books, etc., in Philly), but he was leaving it all to be with her. Perhaps this earthly realm even seemed more Shira’s domain (hence it being Shira’s family home instead of his) because of her grandchildren and such—she had deeper roots to keep her here, though he’d been happy to share her space. And wished to continue doing so.

I’m sure I’ll continue, as I’ve always done, to re-read and sometimes review Lloyd Alexander’s books, for all that this feels so final. And that’s the beauty of literature, isn’t it? That we can continue to read and even re-read the thoughts and imaginings and wisdom of brilliant people long since gone.

I’ve only just realized that I’m finishing his entire published works and am reviewing his final novel at the same age he was—exactly a half-century—when my life was just commencing. He began with memoirs and advanced to fantasy. I began reading his fantasy novels and have come to favor reading his memoirs. Ebb and flow, beginnings and endings… the written word is less bound by time than most. Yet Lloyd Alexander still said farewell, in a way, as Carlo Chuchio, once more recasting his life, this time as a hapless Chooch who ultimately does find his beloved—and his treasure, but it was always more about the journey, anyhow.

Redeeming the Witchy Greek Goddess that is ‘Circe’ by Madeline Miller

 

Author Sophia Alexander holding her copy of Circe by Madeline Miller

I had asked Odysseus: “What did you do? When you could not make Achilles and Agamemnon listen?”

He’d smiled in the firelight. “That is easy. You make a plan in which they do not.”  

-p. 272, Circe

Circe, daughter of the Greek Titan Helios and granddaughter of the Titan Oceanus, is infamous for turning sailors into pigs when they land on her island. However, in this tale by incredible storyteller Madeline Miller, this much-maligned goddess’s situation is revisited so convincingly—from her perspective—that one wonders how her situation and actions were always so ill-depicted before. Miller has me convinced, as what else would be so likely to bring a nymph living alone on an island to do such a thing?

That said… even as Miller subtly points out the misogyny of extant myths by correcting them in Circe’s interests, I find her protagonist to be rather misogynistic in her own right, for all that I didn’t sense that Miller meant her to be. In Circe’s millenia or so of life, she never has a truly close female friend. During her exile on a deserted island, which lasts for centuries, she is finally sent other nymphs for attendants/company, but she never makes a single friend among them, nor does she seem to really try. The people who matter most to her are always male.

Circe even hates her mother, and her mother hates her.  Miller somewhat rectifies this offense to mothers later in the story, but even that is with regards to a mother’s relationship with her son, not a daughter.

Meanwhile, the story drips with lush, poetic descriptions and brings to life a number of the Greek gods and heroes in all their vanity and cruelty and beauty and self-interest. I was gripped by the tale from beginning to end and highly recommend it for its power and prose—and, of course, for its educational value in helping us to get a slightly better grip on those Greek myths. Madeline Miller holds a Master’s degree from Brown University in the Classics, and so within this novel we can absorb select drops of her coalesced Classical brilliance and understanding. All it takes is sacrificing just a few short, exquisite days of our mortal lives on this, Miller's altar to Circe. Totally worth it.

Founding Origin Story for Southerners Via Lost Colony Roots In 'The Only Land I Know' by Dial and Eliades

Author Sophia Alexander with the Lumbee heritage book, The Only Land I Know

The Only Land I Know (1996) by Adolph L. Dial and David K. Eliades* may unlock certain mysteries of our heritage and as such should hold widespread interest for a vast number of Southerners and American historians. The work is a rather brief and perhaps overlooked history of the Lumbee tribe of North Carolina in which Dial and Eliades have almost convinced me of Lumbee descent from Sir Walter Raleigh’s ‘Lost Colony’, the first group of English colonizers to settle in North America. They’ve also stolen my thunder in postulating the resultant wide distribution of native Lumbee genes, a speculation which could hold significance for a large contingent of American Southerners.

I heard about the early English settlers’ mysterious disappearance during an anniversary trip to the Outer Banks when we visited Roanoke Island; while there, we saw the outdoor play The Lost Colony, featuring Eleanor Dare and the first-known English baby birthed on American soil, Virginia Dare. These 1587 travelers had been miserably low on supplies as soon as they landed in America, and so their leader was forced to turn around and head right back to England to fetch more supplies. Unfortunately, he ran into delays for three solid years (no thanks to that Spanish Armada!), and by the time he made it back, the ‘Lost Colony’ settlers had abandoned their original settlement on Roanoke Island.  Well, the Roanoke Island Park Visitors Center postulates different possibilities as to their fate, and various historians have assumed their demise, but Dial and Eliades tell of how they moved off with a few Hatteras (Croatoan) native families and eventually settled in a remote, swampy area of North Carolina in present-day Robeson County, mostly retaining their English heritage—so much so that when English settlers moved through the area over a century later, they came across English-speaking, gray-eyed, bearded ‘natives’ who lived in a mostly English fashion and were familiar with the ability to speak-through-books, something their grandparents had done. Not only that, but 41 of the original surnames found among the original 95 surnames of the Lost Colony settlers were still in use by this group of ‘natives’ when a study was conducted.

I ordered this book, actually, after discovering what seem to be Lumbee ancestors on both sides of my family, to my astonishment (no, not the same line!**). Most white Southern families hushed up any non-white descent—and granted, it sounds like some of my Lumbee ancestors may well have had gray eyes and beards—but before even receiving this Lumbee history book, I’d already gotten excited about a theory I had of why I had all these Lumbee ancestors. It’s very simple!  What killed most Native Americans?  The smallpox!  Well, if English people without smallpox mixed with natives over a century before their descendants’ exposure to the smallpox, then their European genes would have protected many of the mixed-race Lumbees (likely meshing Eastern Siouan and Cherokee blood-strains among others). The Lumbee are now deemed the largest contingent of Native Americans east of the Mississippi. Dial and Eliades point out this smallpox-immunity causality, too, thus stealing my thunder, as I’d treasured my idea as original!

That said, my own genealogical research goes further, my theory continuing on to suggest that Native American genes (particularly from the Lumbee) are more generally widespread among ‘white’ Southerners, specifically, than they are among other American white regional populations, thanks to both our Lost Colony ancestors’ smallpox immunity and their ‘English ways’; likewise, I’d postulate that the incidence of Native American genes decreases among whites, in general, the further from Robeson County, NC, that we go***.  The same may be true for black families, as well, of course.

Recall that these Lumbees were already rather close to the English in their lifestyles and complexions, so we can presume mixing would more readily occur, as these people would not seem so ‘different’ to the new white settlers, certainly not as ‘primitive’ as other tribal Indians.  This all works together to support a notion of wider-spread dissemination among Southerners of native Lumbee genes from the Robeson County, NC, area.

My own Lumbee ancestors were already residing in South Carolina in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. Unfortunately, most common genetic testing currently omits large swathes of East Coast Native American genes, so it’s presently not a simple matter to check to see if you might have Lumbee genes, and you’re likely to be disappointed trying that route.  (I fortunately had my paternal grandfather tested ages ago by a now-defunct company that indicated on their limited panel that he had some Siouan heritage—and I fervently wish I had run a Native American panel on my other grandparents when I had the chance!)

One last optimistic point:  if my theory is true about widespread native Lumbee genes amongst us Southerners due to Lost Colony ancestry, this also means that a vast number of us Southerners are descended from the very first English settlers in America, preceding the Mayflower as well as Jamestown settlements!  Now, isn’t that somethin’ else?

Alternative theory:  [This is solely my own musing and is not inspired by this volume of Lumbee history, but it feels pertinent to include!:]  Pirates were rife along the NC coast, and many had covert settlements along the Outer Banks around the turn of the 18^th century.  Could it be that pirates settled in along with some lingering Native Americans there in Robeson County, adopting the popular ‘Lost Colony’ story to explain their English language, looks, and presence?  Perhaps they needn’t have been there so terribly long to be convincing before explorer John Lawson came through around that time!  One of the arguments for The Lost Colony ancestry for modern-day Lumbees is that they still use words common in 16^th-century English, or at least that was true in 1996. However, a similar phenomenon is also true on nearby Ocracoke Island (known to be settled by pirates) with the Ocracoke brogue having words from the 1600s; that brogue is dying out, but I did get to hear it from one older fellow in 2021!

All that said, I’d be surprised if pirates actually held the list of Lost Colony names to use as pseudonyms, and so I still veer towards the Lumbee being ‘authentic Lost Colony descendants’, but I felt the need to mention this piratey-alternative-possibility (which, again, I came up with myself).  After all, pirates could have paid someone to retrieve the list of Lost Colony settlers for them from England or elsewhere, as a good alibi might have been worth some coin to them.

Even if this were the true version of events, a few decades of pirate-native mixed bloodlines likewise would have protected their mixed-race descendants from smallpox, and instead of Lost Colony ancestry, it could be that us white Southerners have widespread pirate blood in us from the Lumbee!  Along with their Native American genes, of course…

*For the general public, I only recommend the beginning portion of this book, as it quickly devolves into the sad history of the Lumbee tribe’s more recent troubles, which holds far less personal interest for me, at least.

**Personal sidenote: My own family lines include Locklears (the most common Lumbee surname) on my mother’s side and Braveboy/Brayboys on my father’s side—honored for serving with the Swamp Fox in the Revolutionary War.  The ‘magical’ part of this research process was discovering yet a different ancestor from a line thought to have some native blood, whose given name, according to his daughter’s death certificate, was ‘Dare’!  I at first speculated that it might be a nickname, wondering what my great-great-great-great grandfather had done to merit it, but a day or two later I sat bolt-upright with the thought that it could be from the surname Dare!  Mind you, I may not be the direct descendant of Eleanor or Virginia Dare, as the ‘myth’ of the Lost Colony was handed down among the Lumbee, and it could simply have been a popular name among families already attached to the story of the Lost Colony (consider the number of George Washingtons there were, including George Washington Carver and some, named in that manner for GW, including in my husband’s own family). Anyhow, this supposed-ancestor Dare Hodge spurred me to seek out this book and this story, even though I have no real proof that he’s connected to the Lumbees himself at all.  I’m fairly certain the Locklears and Braveboys are Lumbee, however.

***Not to suggest that all white Southern families have Native American blood, of course.  In fact, I was dismayed some time back when I read historian Walter Edgars’ description of my ancestors’ area of South Carolina, in which I recall him as saying that they were uneducated, backwoods, and savage!  I can’t find the quote, so I’m paraphrasing, possibly taking imaginative liberties. Nonetheless, these people constituted large swathes of South Carolina, so I do think it’s widespread, anyhow, this Native American gene dissemination over centuries—be it via pirates or be it via The Lost Colony.  And my ancestors were in the thick of it, either way!

New Official Author Website!

I love this blogsite. You know I do!  And that's why it's taken me so long to get around to creating an official author website.  But it's finally out there, and I'm rather pleased with how it looks. It has nothing, really, that this blog didn't already have, except perhaps a more user-friendly aesthetic and a professional website address.  Check it out at sophiaalexander.net!

Jewish Kansan Adventure in 'August Bondi: Border Hawk' by Lloyd Alexander

I am slowly progressing on my journey to finish reading my last four unread books by my childhood favorite author, Lloyd Alexander, on the year of what would have been his centennial birthday.  August Bondi: Border Hawk is a cowboy-style story about a Jew from Vienna whose family immigrates to America, and he winds up fighting for Kansas to be a Free State (as opposed to a slave state).

I have to admit that August Bondi: Border Hawk is not recommended reading from my camp—not unless you have an abiding interest in the abolitionist revolutionary John Brown and/or have deep roots in Kansas and/or are a Lloyd Alexander devotee, no matter what. 

Sigh… Lloyd Alexander put out some literary treasures around this time, but he didn't put as much heart into writing commission work, apparently.  I suspect it’s commission work, anyhow.  It’s tolerably readable, but his wit and his heart are not much there.

The most amusing part of the whole book for me is when August Bondi has been swimming in the river and then pulls his ‘tunic’ back on. Perhaps the undershirts of Union Civil War soldiers were sometimes called tunics, but since Lloyd Alexander is famous almost exclusively for his YA fantasy novels, I felt suddenly transported into the wrong story--and would have liked to stay there.  

The second funniest thing in the whole book is that every time John Brown appears, almost to the end, he has ‘blazing eyes’. Eventually it started to make me laugh, even though the story was never meant to be funny.  I just plowed through the book, really, reading it aloud to my husband (who at once became a Lloyd Alexander fan upon meeting me). I suspect that Lloyd Alexander just plowed through writing it, too.

My favorite passage of all was when August Bondi is talking about how there are good men on both sides. He’s simply being open-minded, but my husband took issue with this passage—and it made me wonder whether or not that view was actually shared by August Bondi (Lloyd Alexander drew from his memoirs for writing the biographical novel). It seemed, however, to be Lloyd Alexander suddenly speaking for himself, at least for a moment. Unless I learn otherwise, I’ll assume this much-beloved author was attempting to inject some wisdom into a tale of adventure and strife, hoping it would stick and plant a seed of rationality.

(I'm publishing this blog on the birthday anniversary of Lloyd's wife Janine Denni Alexander. She's lovingly depicted in Janine Is French, just about my all-time favorite book—but not one of his famous ones. She was older than Lloyd, a war bride born 108 years ago today in France.)

Bill Bryson’s 'A Short History of Nearly Everything' Should Be Required Reading

Happy 20th publishing birthday to a science classic!  A classic I only got to just last year. I was blown away by Bryson’s summary of the history of science (up until 2003), including not just the major players (mostly scientists) and the gossip that interests us in them, but so many of the fundamental takeaways of their discoveries.  By relating the history of science to us in the order that he does, we gain a better appreciation of why these discoveries matter and how they changed science. These lead to improving our holistic understanding of the universe altogether.

    One of my biggest takeaways is how the dynamic crust of the earth and our volatile climate are the keys to life on our planet and probably any planet. So the same extreme climactic events that we dread are exactly how we got here in the first place!  On that note, we're in a comparatively balmy and peaceful lull at the moment, and while climate change is inevitable, pumping out greenhouse gases will only precipitate extreme weather, thus upsetting this delicate balance that we've lucked into for the last few thousand years. 

Author Sophia Alexander
with Bill Bryson's brilliant
A Short History of Nearly Everything

        My biggest critique so far is that the book's name doesn’t reflect its scientific focus. I don’t mind for myself, but seeing as how most of my current studies are in history, it’s brow-crinkling every time I recite it—and I certainly have been talking quite a lot about this book. He is continually putting information in perspective so that I can appreciate how amazing and fundamental it all is.

        I do question some of his ‘facts’—like his claim that we each have over a billion atoms that were once in Shakespeare himself.  Hmm. People in Australia do?  In Japan? In Madagascar? In Chile?  I blinked as my engineer son mused that he’d have to see what sort of dispersal rate they factored into their equations to see if there was any merit to that figure. Granted, we do shed cells continuously, but the body generally is interred after death, and it’s hard to imagine that many of those atoms finding their way to the nether regions of the earth (from where they began, that is).  Perhaps.  It certainly gave me something to consider!  In fact, I did have ancestors in London during Shakespeare’s time, so perhaps I should just own it:  I am Shakespeare, clearly, and so are you!

Oh, that’s just a fun little factoid, but he gives a ton of them, most of which I didn’t react to quite so unbelievingly. Truly, my favorite part of the book is really the first couple of chapters, in which he talks about the universe—so get a free sample download to your Kindle, or listen to the audiobook!   I was stunned at the sheer size of our solar system, beyond anything I had imagined. Pluto is basically a near neighbor to us at the center of the solar system. Conventional travel beyond our solar system seems sheer folly to anyone with common sense. Bryson has also, by the way, rather convinced me that Pluto is not technically a planet (heretical, I know, to most of us who grew up with Pluto being one).

2003 may seem out of date for a science book, but I’d argue that it isn't for this basic and holistic grasp of science. Most of the basics were down pat by then—but then again, I just saw a paperback 2016 edition online, so perhaps it's been revised. Regardless, much of his information seems solid to me (I do hold science degrees, which might make it a bit more digestable for me), and he received scientific honors as well as literary ones for this masterpiece.  If all advanced middle-school students had it for required reading, I suspect we’d have a lot more science majors out there today! 

For the last couple of pool seasons, this has been my poolside 'fun read', believe it or not, and that special combination of events--a perfect climate with an eye-opening book--have now established Bill Bryson as one of my favorite authors, just from this single great work. That said, I do intend to read more of his writing, for sure.