This is a terrific and fast-paced novella telling the story of four orphaned siblings sailing the oceans in search of monsters to kill and information about their parents. Each character is well-drawn and strongly individual and true to life, the descriptions of the sea-monster hunts are exciting, and the whole thing is perfectly paced. I loved it. It’s a great book for anyone 12 and up, folks who love adventure stories, who wanted a little more excitement in Swallows and Amazons, who like cryptozoology, who like sailing, and who want a fresh and interesting bunch of characters.
I’ve been working on adapting Saki (H. H. Munro)’s short story “Tobermory” as a (darkly) comic libretto. In one scene, a character sings the rather lugubrious song “Melisande, In the Wood,” in which composer Alma Goetz set text by Ethel Clifford.
The piece was published in 1902 and was apparently very popular. Victor put out a recording of it in 1924 featuring singer Edmund Goulding and pianist Clara Novello Davies. I can’t find that particular recording, but you can hear Essie Ackland singing it on an HMV recording from 1929 on YouTube; there are a few other recordings of it there as well.
However, the song and words are still under UK copyright, so for my adaptation of “Tobermory” I needed to write something to replace it. The composer asked for something very similar in form and style. I wrote three new texts: the first was very much in keeping with the original:
“Melisande, in the Cave”
Look down, look down beneath the stone, Melisande,
and search for your cast-off ring.
With your eyes for tears and your mouth for song
and your fear-clipped little wings.
Bend down, bend down beneath the stone, Melisande,
do you see the ring you rejected?
Only you can know your own truths, Melisande,
and why you alone are disaffected.
Disaffected, suspected, Melisande,
Breathe deep, breathe deep of the stone, Melisande,
of the still air and the wet breathe deep.
One day you will lie amid stone, Melisande,
and your husband and child will weep.
For the second, I tried to capture a bit of Saki’s language from other stories written around the same time as “Tobermory.”
“Melisande of the Green”
Melisande, Melisande, I can see your tears:
you are a feral girl, full of wildness and fears.
Melisande, Melisande, you speak so few words:
you are a forest cat, preying on little birds.
Woman of the woods, sister of the stream,
you confound us, Melisande.
Walking in the castle, long hair afloat,
have we all just been conned?
Are you a goblin or werewolf, mythic?
You confuse us, Melisande
Melisande, Melisande, lady of the green,
you have hidden depths, natural powers, all unseen.
Melisande, Melisande, the marsh and field
bend to your touch as your magic is revealed.
As I wrote this second text, I began to think of Melisande as a kind of proto-Poison Ivy.
She’s got the long hair and comes from a botanically rich environment and causes conflict between men. Maybe she’s also related to Swamp Thing, being “of the green.”
My third text was entirely satirical, imagining Melisande among the Victorian or Edwardian society ladies of Saki’s story, out of her depth trying to furnish Golaud’s dreary castle:
“Melisande, in the Drawing Room”
Do sit, do sit down, dear Melisande
and take some tea with sugar.
With your trembling pinkies and blinking eyes,
you look quite snookered!
Do tell, do tell us all, Melisande,
did you make a terrible bargain?
You are new to society, Melisande, quite new,
Perhaps you were confused by the jargon?
It is easy to be taken in, Melisande,
Do drink, do drink some sherry, Melisande.
We all do when it’s bleak.
It has happened before, dear Melisande,
someone’s always selling fake antiques.
The composer liked the very close mimicking of the first song, so that’s what we’ll use in the opera. The second and third texts are available if anyone wants to set them or use them for anything–contact me for details! I’d actually love to write a suite of texts for songs that intertwine comic heroes and villains with well-known operatic or other musical tropes.
Once Upon a River by Diane Setterfield. 4/5
I really liked this slow-paced, somewhat wandering but frequently enchanting tale that takes place in a small English town with borders on the land of death. A child is found in the river, apparently dead, and brought to a pub, where she seemingly comes back to life. She does not speak, and she could be one of several children gone missing in recent years. As the story of the child’s true identity unfolds, so do the related tales of the publican and her family, a local aristocratic couple, a mixed-race family, and the myth of the river’s ferryman. Beautifully written.
The Penguin Book of Hell by Scott G. Bruce. 4/5
A great compendium of writing on hell and hellish places from ancient Greece and Rome through early and later Christianity, as well as the more literal hells of the Shoah and other genocides. The excerpted texts are presented with backgrounds about their authors and time periods, and offer fascinating information about how people have conceptualized hell in different social, political, and geographical contexts.
The Waking Forest by Alyssa Wees. 1/5
Written with a Gothic sensibility and lush and formal language, this book is like a lovechild of The Virgin Suicides, Hans Christian Anderson, and every banal YA about Girls With Powers who are also, unfortunately, not very intelligent. Characters are described to the nth degree, everyone is Mysterious and Dark, dreaming is waking and waking is dreaming and visions are reality and reality is—who cares? I suppose this was intended to be “darkly beautiful” with intrigue and secrets at every turn, full of magical animals and magical people and non-magical people and some kind of ideas of what is Just and Fair, but it’s a hot, boring mess.
The Crate by Deborah Vadas Levison. 1/5
If ever a book needed a developmental edit, it’s this one. The author attempts to tell the story of how traumatic it was–or wasn’t, maybe? for her family to find out that one of their hired handymen had killed his partner and left her in a crate under the deck of their country house. Along the way, the author tries to connect this trauma with her parents’ experiences in the Holocaust. It doesn’t work, and the author comes off as naive, privileged, and not terribly bright. The other figures in the book–her husband, her brother, her kids, and even her parents–are all one-note creations and the story itself is surrounded by badly out-of-chronology anecdotes that confuse the timeline and are totally irrelevant. This might have made a good magazine article, pared down to its essentials and written well, but as a book it’s not worth the time it takes to slog through it.
There Are Things I Know by Karen B. Golightly. 5/5
This is a great children’s book about an observant and clever little boy who is kidnapped and must rely on his wits to save himself. It’s about the power of watching and listening, and of knowledge and knowing how and when to trust someone. Author Golightly creates a unique and true voice in young Pepper, one that I think many kids and parents will find relatable and honest. And while the book serves to teach a lesson, it’s never pedantic or preachy–it’s an adventure story that will help children learn to protect themselves.
Looking for Lorraine by Imani Perry. 4/5
At the beginning of this book, the author discusses her connections with and similarities to Lorraine Hansberry, and intimates that this will be a personal kind of biography. And while it is beautifully written and well-conceived as a biography, I never felt the connections Perry suggests are present. Instead, it’s a good introduction to Hansberry and her closest friends and a few of her lovers, and it’s a pleasant read, meandering from moment to moment in Hansberry’s life. It emphasizes her social justice concerns and work, but it tells us that she was passionate rather than letting her own words do that work. It tells us that she was young and gifted and black, but quotes her own words only fleetingly. It’s an excellent book, but that introduction promised so much more.
The Alehouse at the End of the World by Stevan Allred. 2/5
I wanted to like this book. It’s elegantly written and has some very interesting ideas about the nature of self and life and death, and makes use of historically-relevant metaphorical figures. But it is dull, and it is repetitive, and all of the elegance and metaphor in the world can’t help it move along a little faster and in a way that makes any of the characters seem anything but cardboard.
The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi. 1/5
In this book, a group of incredibly wealthy and powerful young people–and some of their poorer friends, some of whom are actually the wealthy folks’ slaves, gather together–or are forced to–in order to pull off a heist that will return one of said wealthy young people to the ranks of even more wealthy and powerful people. Everyone is young and gorgeous and magically talented and wears fabulous clothes and entertains in grand and whimsical and decadent places and ways and what a bunch of incredibly horrible snobs, who believe that your bloodlines make you better than other people and who use people in horrible ways to attain recognition of said bloodlines and what an utter waste of paper and ink.
The third of my four essays on music for silent film is now up at NewMusicBox! In this essay, I discuss how music influences the perception of film. As an example, I use a scene from Buster Keaton’s 1927 film The General, which has been scored by multiple performers and groups and thus offers a great selection of different approaches. This essay is condensed and extracted from a larger article I’m working on in which I examine the visual and aural aspects of Civil War nostalgia both during the 1920s and today in relation to the film’s scoring and marketing.
My poem “Invasive Species” is out now in Infinite Rust‘s Fall 2018 issue at http://infiniterust.com/current-issue/ (issu version) or http://infiniterust.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Infinite-Rust-Fall-2018-1.pdf (PDF version). It’s on page 30 in both.
The Western Wind by Samantha Harvey. 5/5
In a small medieval village in England, a priest narrates his story backwards, allowing the reader to linger on simple words and constructions that slowly reveal the story as a whole. A man has died. But how, and why? And who surrounds the man, and the priest, in the village? Who is touched and touched by this tale? Harvey’s language is ravishing and spare and evocative and perfect for the ekphrasis of this novel. Balancing between narrative and description and prose poetry and incorporating the everyday misery and joy of life, this novel is one to savor and treasure and teach and share.
A People’s Future of the United States by Edited by Victor LaValle and John Joseph Adams. 5/5
A great collection of short stories that speculate on the future of the United States…or whatever it becomes. The stories by Charlie Jane Anders, Tananarive Due, N. K. Jemisin, Seanan McGuire, Daniel José Older, and G. Willow Wilson show why these authors had and deserve large audiences and followings. All of the stories feature “badass” characters, as requested by the editors, and they all do deliver, from people who keep information free and available to those who physically protect others. This will make a great gift for readers who want tightly written dystopic fiction in which there are still threads of hope.
Welcome to Dystopia by Gordon Van Gelder. 3/5
Dark and witty and smart and depressing stories about a future in which technology controls just about everything, and anything can be done to you, or your friends, or the planet, by technology. The theme is, of course, dystopia, but while the stories are individually mostly good reads, the collection as a whole starts to feel rather Luddite in nature about a third of the way through. The writing throughout is solid, but the repetitiveness of similar ideas dulls.
The Water Cure by Sophie Mackintosh. 2/5
Three sisters have been raised by psychopathic parents in an isolated compound, being forced to engage in rituals that inflict physical and psychological harm on themselves and each other. When first their father disappears, followed soon after by arrival of three strangers and then the disappearance of their mother, the sisters are forced to face new possibilities and realities. Narrated by the sisters, this is an incredibly disturbing read that asks audiences to examine the nature of religion and other belief systems, the roles of education and ignorance in families, societies, and institutions, and the ways in which women victimize other women. Content warning for rape, incest, murder, and other violence.
City of Ash and Red by Hye-young Pyun. 1/5
I can’t tell if this was supposed to be dismal or absurdist or both. A nameless male protagonist whose work centers around killing pests is sent to work in a similarly unnamed city far from home, where society has crumbled and the city is filled with trash and pestilence. The protagonist should get no sympathy, however, as he’s an admitted rapist and abuser, and as his life and the meaning in it spiral away, well, I cared less and less. I think on the surface this is a metaphor for inhumanity, and on a deeper level suggests that everyone is capable of violence. Content warning for rape and other violence.