PowerOfBabel

Depends On Your Definition of Fantasy

2012-02-01T22:19:00.002-06:00

"There are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year-old's life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes, leading to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood, unable to deal with the real world. The other, of course, involves orcs."

--Kung Fu Monkey blog.

Wandering About

2012-01-31T08:44:00.001-06:00

Happy Chinese New Year 2012!

2012-01-23T07:27:00.002-06:00

Happy Chinese New Year! This is the 4709TH or 4710TH year of the Chinese calendar (depending on who you ask) and is a Male (Yang) Black Water Dragon Year. All born in a Dragon Year are creative, egocentric, and flamboyant, but Water Dragon Year people are more sympathetic and responsive to other people. According to astrologers this could be a slow and sluggish year. And look to your kidneys and stomachs!

Even More Harps

2012-01-18T09:26:00.006-06:00

Harping On A Theme

2012-01-16T08:09:00.009-06:00

Pictures of harps and harpist, with the odd lyre or kantele thrown in. Elves and angels, magicians, mermaids, and monkeys, Apollo, Vainemoinen, Orpheus, David, and Morgan of Hed; even before and ever since Pythagoras bundled the Music of the Spheres into seven mystical notes folks have enjoyed plucking out a tune to restore harmony and drive the evil spirit away.

Arthur Szyk: The Canterbury Tales

2012-01-10T22:16:00.006-06:00

Arthur Szyk (1894-1951) was a graphic artist, book illustrator, stage designer, and caricaturist. He was Jewish, born in Poland, and all his life he worked both for his homeland and his faith. Before World War Two his work was renowned in Poland, France, and Great Britain; after he moved to the USA his work became truly popular for his scathing caricatures of the Axis leaders Hitler, Mussolini, and Hirohito. His work was characterized by a rejection of modernism and its embrace of Medieval and Renaissance traditions, especially illuminated manuscripts. He illustrated such traditional works as Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales, the Haggadah, and Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, a selection of whose pilgims are shown here.

The Three Royal Monkeys: Pictures and Poem

2012-01-05T22:34:00.004-06:00

The Mulla-Mulgars' Journey Song

That one
Alone
Who's dared, and gone
To seek the Magic Wonderstone,
No fear,
Or care,
Or black despair,
Shall heed until his journey's done.

Who knows
Where blows
The Mulgars' rose,
In valleys 'neath unmelting snows--
All secrets
He
Shall pierce and see,
And walk unharmed where'er he goes.

The Three Mulla-Mulgars (or The Three Royal Monkeys, as it is sometimes titled) by Walter de la Mare is a wonderful children's book first published in the USA in 1919. It is full of adventure, beautiful poetic imagery, and magic. It is the story of three monkey brothers who, after the death of their mother, try to journey back to the fabled land their royal father came from and to which he had returned long ago. Along the way Thumb, Thimble, and little Nod face cannibalistic apes, fierce panthers, and harsh landscapes, aided only by their strength, wits, and the magical Wonderstone that their father left them. I'm surprised no one has optioned this tale for a movie yet. The illustrations are by Dorothy Lathrop.

The Wood-Cutter and the Angel of Death

2012-01-04T21:05:00.003-06:00

A wood-cutter was carrying a heavy load of wood to the market on his back. The road was long and hard, and when he grew weary he let the bundle down and threw himself to the ground, crying bitterly, "O Death, come to me now!"

Immediately the Angel of Death appeared and asked, "Why have you summoned me?"

Frightened, the man asked meekly, "Please, could you help me get up and put this load back on my shoulders?

Moral: Even though life has its griefs, man prefers a life of wretchedness to death.

Happy Birthday, J. R. R. Tolkien

2012-01-03T07:51:00.002-06:00

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was born this day, January 3, in 1892, to Arthur and Mabel Tolkien, an English couple living and working in Bloemfontein, South Africa. It would be hard, at this date, to calculate the impact this orphaned Catholic philologist had and continues to have on our modern popular culture not only by his own work in literature but by his influence on other writers, artists, film-makers, and musicians. His work brings a breath of beauty, courage, and faith to lives that are otherwise sterile, shallow, and bleak. "For some the only glimpse. For some the awaking." Happy birthday, Professor.

Jack Frost

2012-01-02T21:50:00.002-06:00

January: Rhymes and Lore

2012-01-01T17:00:00.003-06:00

January was named after the Roman deity Janus, god of gates, doorways, and bridges; overseer of beginning and ending times, and all transitions. He was depicted as having two faces, because he both looked backward at the past and forward to the future. In Rome, the temple of Janus had gates that were open in times of war and closed in times of peace: in the long history of the Empire, the Gates of Janus were closed only a handful of times.

*****

January brings the snow,
Makes our feet and fingers glow.

*****

God be here, God be there,
We wish you all a happy year;
God without, God within,
Let the Old Year out and the New Year in.

*****

He who is born on New Year's morn
Will have his way as sure as you're born.

*****

Married when the year is new,
He'll be loving, kind, and true.

*****

The country people of England used to say "The blackest month of all the year/ Is the month of Janiveer." This was not only because the sun is at its feeblest in January but also because all sorts of otherworldly beings were supposed to roam the earth during the critical twelve days following Christmas.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T18:23:00.003-06:00

Ring Out Wild Bells

Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty night:
The Year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells across the snow:
The Year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out the slowly-dying cause,
And ancient forms of petty strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

--Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Adoration of the Magi

2011-12-25T19:24:00.001-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Shepherds In The Fields Abiding

2011-12-25T19:21:00.002-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Angels

2011-12-25T19:18:00.002-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Mother and Child

2011-12-24T19:45:00.003-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Star of Bethlehem

2011-12-23T06:26:00.002-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Journey To Bethlehem and Flight To Egypt

2011-12-22T06:56:00.002-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: The Running of the Deer

2011-12-21T20:49:00.003-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Sleigh Bells Ring

2011-12-21T20:44:00.002-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: The Little Drummer Boy

2011-12-17T20:29:00.001-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Texas Xmas

2011-12-17T20:18:00.002-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Churches

2011-12-17T06:47:00.001-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Lion and Lamb

2011-12-14T15:56:00.001-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Animal Christmas

2011-12-14T11:36:00.002-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Snow Ladies

2011-12-14T07:10:00.002-06:00

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Three Kings

2011-12-09T05:57:00.006-06:00

THE THREE KINGS OF COLOGNE by Eugene Field

From out Cologne there came three kings

To worship Jesus Christ, their King.

To Him they sought fine herbs they brought,

And many a beauteous golden thing;

They brought their gifts to Bethlehem town,

And in that manger set them down.

Then spake the first king, and he said:

"O Child, most heavenly, bright, and fair!

I bring this crown to Bethlehem town

For Thee, and only Thee, to wear;

So give a heavenly crown to me

When I shall come at last to Thee!"

The second, then. "I bring Thee here

This royal robe, O Child!" he cried;

"Of silk 'tis spun, and such an one

There is not in the world beside;

So in the day of doom requite

Me with a heavenly robe of white!"

The third king gave his gift, and quoth:

"Spikenard and myrrh to Thee I bring,

And with these twain would I most fain

Anoint the body of my King;

So may their incense sometimes rise

And plead for me in yonder skies!"

Thus spake the three kings of Cologne,

That gave their gifts, and went their way;

And now kneel I in prayer hard by

The cradle of the Child to-day;

Nor crown, nor robe, nor spice I bring

As offering unto Christ, my King.

Yet have I brought a gift the Child

May not despise, however small;

For here I lay my heart to-day,

And it is full of love to all.

Take Thou the poor but loyal thing,

My only tribute, Christ, my King!

Eugene Field (1850-1895) was an American poet and journalist, most famous for his poems about childhood, such as "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" and "The Duel." Cologne (or Koln) was the cathedral city in Germany where the reputed remains of the Three Kings are said to be housed.

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Snowmen

2011-12-08T06:28:00.003-06:00

On the other hand, I've always really liked snowmen on Christmas cards. I even have a book, half serious, half humorous, called The History of the Snowman, by Bob Eckstein, on the snowman in history, art, and popular culture. There is, regrettably, a paucity of them in Nanny's cards. You can always tell a Christmas snowman by the holly in his hat.

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Lil' Angels

2011-12-07T07:02:00.004-06:00

The genre of what I call "Lil' Angel" cards are perhaps my least favorite theme for Christmas; but they are so evocative of a certain time and attitude and sentiment that is almost vanished that just seeing them brings back very vividly a set of old memories and feelings that one can almost taste and smell. Which is important to someone to whom memories are very important, even if they are not the jolliest of memories.

Nanny's Christmas Cards: Santa Claus

2011-12-05T20:41:00.005-06:00

My grandmother had an amazing batch of Christmas decorations. When she passed away, one of the things I saved was a large collection of Christmas cards, dating from (I believe) the late Sixties to the mid-Nineties. Here are some of the odd, interesting, or funny ones, which I intend to present by theme. Today, variations of Santa Claus.

Headed That Way...

2011-12-03T06:17:00.001-06:00

From Libico Maraja's Illustrations for "A Christmas Carol"

2011-12-01T07:05:00.001-06:00

Happy Birthday, C. S. Lewis

2011-11-29T07:53:00.003-06:00

"They accuse us of arrested development because we have not lost a taste we had in childhood. But surely arrested development consists not in refusing to lose old things but in failing to add new things? I now like hock, which I am sure I should not have liked as a child. But I still like lemon-squash. I call this growth or development because I have been enriched: where I formerly had only one pleasure, I now have two. But if I had to lose the taste for lemon-squash before I acquired the taste for hock, that would not be growth but simple change. I now enjoy Tolstoy and Jane Austen and Trollope as well as fairy tales and I call that growth; if I had had to lose the fairy tales in order to acquire the novelists, I would not say that I had grown but only that I had changed. A tree grows because it adds rings; a train doesn't grow by leaving one station behind and puffing on to the next."

--from "On Three Ways of Writing for Children," (1952).

The Erl-King

2011-11-28T07:11:00.004-06:00

The Erl-King

Who rides so late in a night so wild?

A father is riding with his child.

He clasps the boy close in his arm;

He holds him tightly, he keeps him warm.

"My son, you are trembling. What do you fear?"

"Look, father, the Erl-King! He's coming near!

With his crown and his shroud! Yes, that is he!"

"My son, it's only the mist you see."

"O lovely child, oh come with me,

Such games we'll play! So glad we'll be!

Such flowers to pick! Such sights to behold!

My mother will make you clothes of gold!"

"O father, my father, did you not hear

The Erl-King whispering in my ear?"

"Lie still, my child, lie quietly.

It's only the wind in the leaves of the tree."

"Dear boy, if you will come away,

My daughters will wait on you every day;

They'll give you the prettiest presents to keep;

They'll dance when you wake and they'll sing you asleep."

"My father! My father! Do you not see

The Erl-King's pale daughters waiting for me?"

"My son, my son, I see what you say--

The willow is waving its branches of gray."

"I love you--so come without fear or remorse.

And if you're not willing, I'll take you by force!"

"My father! My father! Tighten your hold!

The Erl-King has caught me--his fingers are cold!"

The father shudders. He spurs on his steed.

He carries the child with desperate speed.

He reaches the courtyard, and looks down with dread.

There in his arms the boy lies dead.

--Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe (1782)

tr. by Louis Untermeyer

The Erl-King (Der Erlkoenig) was a very popular ballad by Goethe, illustrated and set to music many times. The literal translation of the title is The Alder King; it is sometimes translated as The Elf-King, and it is typical of the old tales of the dangerous elves or fairies who lure mortals (drawn by their human beauty) into their perilous realm. It is a fine example of Gothic romanticism, with its mix of death and beauty, and its influence trails into modern literature, from Goethe to Lord Dunsany (The King of Elfland's Daughter) to Neil Gaiman (Stardust).

The Terrible Tale Told Out

2011-11-21T09:37:00.004-06:00

Pilgrims' Pride

2011-11-19T09:55:00.005-06:00

From the 1954 Childcraft Volume II, Storytelling and Other Poems, a beautifully designed and illustrated book.

A J. C. Leyendecker Thanksgiving

2011-11-17T06:28:00.001-06:00

The Hidden Folk

2011-11-14T09:25:00.004-06:00

"The Origin of Elves"

Once, God Almighty came to Adam and Eve. They welcomed him gladly and showed Him everything they had in their house, and they also showed Him their children, who seemed to Him to be very promising. He asked Eve whether she had any other children besides the ones she was just showing him. She said, "No." But the truth of the matter was that Eve had not yet got around to washing some of her children and was ashamed to let God see them, and so she had pushed them away somewhere out of sight. God knew this, and said: "That which had to be hidden from Me, shall also be hidden from men."

So now these children become invisible to men, and lived in woods and moorlands, knolls and rocks. From them the elves are descended, but human beings are descended from those of Eve's children whom she did show to God. Human beings can never see elves unless the latter wish it, but elves can see men and enable men to see them. It is for this reason that the elves are called the Hidden People.

--an Icelandic story, from Scandinavian Folktales, ed. Jacqueline Simpson.

Just Mooning About

2011-11-11T08:38:00.009-06:00

"All that I have to say is, to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man i' the moon; this thornbush, my thornbush; and this dog, my dog." --A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare.

"The Moon's my constant mistress--," --from Tom o' Bedlam's Song, Anonymous.

"The moon's too bright,

The chain's too tight,

The beast won't go to sleep tonight." --Leonard Cohen.

"I see the Moon,

And the Moon sees me.

The Moon sees someone

I want to see." -- Old Nursery Rhyme.

"The man in the moon

Came tumbling down,

And ask'd his way to Norwich.

He went by the south,

And burnt his mouth,

With supping cold pease porridge." --Old Nursery Rhyme.

"As we turned to go, the man in the moon, tangled in elm-boughs, caught my eye for a moment, and I thought that never had he looked so friendly. He was going to see after them, it was evident; for he was always there, more or less, and it was no trouble to him at all, and he would tell them how things were still going, up here, and throw in a story or two of his own whenever they seemed a trifle dull. It made the going away rather easier, to know one had left somebody behind on the spot; a good fellow, too, cheery, comforting, with a fund of anecdote; a man in whom one had every confidence." --from Dream Days, by Kenneth Grahame.

Creator's Quandary

2011-11-04T07:17:00.003-05:00

"I find my country an inadequate place to live," says Horvendile. "Oh, many persons live there happily enough! or, at worst, they seem to find the prizes and the applause of my country worth striving for whole-heartedly. But there is that in some of us which gets no exercise there; and we struggle blindly, with impotent yearning, to gain outlet for great powers which we know that we possess, even though we do not know their names. And so, we dreamers wander at adventure to Storisende--oh, and into more perilous realms sometimes!--in search of a life that will find employment for every faculty we have. For life in my country does not engross us utterly. We dreamers waste there at loose ends, waste futilely. All which we can ever see and hear and touch there, we dreamers dimly know, is at best but a portion of the truth, and is possibly not true at all. Oh, yes! it may be that we are not sane; could we be sure of that, it would be a comfort. But, as it is, we dreamers only know that life in my country does not content us, and never can content us. So we struggle, for a tiny dear-bought while, into other and fairer-seeming lands in search of--we know not what! And after a little--after a little we must go back into my country and live there as best we may."

--from The Cream of the Jest (1927), by James Branch Cabell.

An Ancient Ghost Story

2011-10-31T06:54:00.003-05:00

From The Letter "Concerning Phantoms," By Pliny The Younger

"Consider now, if the following story is not as wonderful and still more terrible than the former. I shall relate it in the manner that I received it.

"There was at Athens a very large and spacious house, but of evil report, and fatal to its inhabitants. In the dead of night, the clinking of iron, and, upon closer attention, the rattling of chains was heard; first, at a great distance, and afterwards very near. A spectre immediately appeared, representing an old man, emaciated, and squalid. His beard long, his hair staring, bolts upon his legs, upon his hands chains, which he rattled, as he carried. From these circumstances the inhabitants, in all the agonies of fear, continued watching through several melancholy, and dreadful nights. Such constant watchings brought on distempers, illness was increased by fear, and death ensued; for even in the day, when the spectre was not visible, the representation wandered before their eyes, so that the terror was of longer continuance, than the presence of the spectre. At length the house was deserted, and left entirely to the apparition.

"A bill however was posted up, to signify, that the house was either to be sold, or let, in hopes that some person, ignorant of the calamity, might offer for it. Athenodorus, the philosopher, came at that time to Athens; he read the bill; the price surprised him: he suspected some bad cause to occasion the cheapness, and, upon inquiry, was informed of all the circumstances, by which he was so little deterred, that they were stronger inducements to hire it.

"When the evening came on, he ordered a bed to be prepared for him in the first apartment. He called for lights, his table-books, and his pen. He sent all his servants to the farther parts of the house, and applied his eyes, his hands, and his whole attention to writing; lest, as he had heard of apparitions, his mind, if unemployed, might suggest to him idle fears, and represent false appearances.

"The beginning of the night was as silent there, as in other places. At length, the irons clinked, and the chains rattled. Athenodorus neither lifted up his eyes, nor quitted his pen, but collecting his resolution, stopt his ears. The noise increased, it approached, as it was now heard at the threshold of the door, and immediately after, within the room. The philosopher turned back his head, and saw the figure, which he observed to answer the description, that he had received of it. The apparition stood still, and beckoned with a finger, like a person, who calls another. Athenodorus signified, by the motion of his hand, that the ghost should stay a little; and again immediately applied himself to writing.

"The spectre rattled his chains over the head of the philosopher, who, looking back, saw him beckoning as before, and immediately taking up a light, followed him. The ghost went forward at a slow pace, as if encumbered by the chains, and afterwards turning into a court belonging to the house, immediately vanished, leaving the philosopher alone, who, finding himself thus deserted, pulled up some grass and leaves, and placed them as a signal to find the spot of ground.

"The next day he went to the magistrates, informed them of the event, and desired, that they would order the place to be dug up. Human bones were later found buried there, and bound in chains. Time and the earth had mouldered away the flesh, and only the skeleton remained; which was publicly buried: after the rites of sepulture, the house was no longer haunted.

"I give credit to these circumstances, as reported by others." --Pliny the Younger, 61-113? A.D.

And there you have the classic elements of the Ghost Story, established and set at the very beginning of Western civilization. The abandoned house with a history (with even the shady real estate effort!), the intrepid investigator, the restless ghost (with chains, yet; perhaps the trope setter for this detail), the grim secret revealed, peace restored by the proper care of the dead, the story told by "a friend of a friend." How many tales follow this pattern, in life and in literature; but does it confirm an influence by this story, or does it reflect experiences in real life? Happy Halloween.

Twenty Haunting Tales For Halloween

2011-10-29T13:42:00.005-05:00

In A Dim Room...Lord Dunsany

The Boy Who Drew Cats...Lafcadio Hearn

The Canterville Ghost...Oscar Wilde

The Water Ghost...John Kendrick Bangs

The Lonesome Place...August Derleth

The Haunted Dolls' House...M. R. James

The Whistling Room...William Hope Hodgeson

Feathertop...Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Devil And Daniel Webster...Stephen Vincent Benet

The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow...Washington Irving

The Monster Maker...William C. Morrow

The Haunted And The Haunters...Lord Lytton

Markheim...Robert Louis Stevenson

A Terribly Strange Bed...Wilkie Collins

An Account Of Some Strange Disturbances In Aungier Street...J. Sheridan Le Fanu

The Phantom Coach...Amelia B. Edwards

Captain Murderer...Charles Dickens

In The Vault...H. P. Lovecraft

The Monkey's Paw...W. W. Jacobs

The Fall Of The House Of Usher...Edgar Allan Poe

Twenty tales tailored by my own (rather old-fashioned) taste. This is the anthology I would like to see put together and published; they are not particularly about "terror" or "horror" but are what I would term "haunting." Both in the usual sense, and in the sense of lingering in the memory and emotions, long after the tale is told. Of course, you could glut the list with many by Lovecraft, Poe, and James, but I thought I should limit it to one apiece.

Just Fiddlin' Around

2011-10-28T07:04:00.002-05:00

Another surprisingly persistent trope, wherever chirping insects and stringed instruments are known.

MORE Witches!!

2011-10-25T15:48:00.007-05:00

It seems like I finished Witch Week just a little while ago, but here a whole year has cycled around and Halloween is almost upon us. While I have little more to say right now about witches, there is always more to see; I therefore present another gallery of witches from around the world and through the ages.

What The Scarecrow Said: Poems

2011-10-17T05:56:00.001-05:00

What The Scarecrow Said

The dim-winged spirits of the night

Do fear and serve me well.

They creep from out the hedges of

The garden where I dwell.

I wave my arms across the walk.

The troops obey the sign,

And bring me shimmering shadow-robes

And cups of cow-slip wine.

Then dig a treasure called the moon,

A very precious thing,

And keep it in the air for me

Because I am a King.

--Vachel Lindsay.

J. C. Leyendecker

2011-10-12T07:33:00.001-05:00

If you are like me, you have probably seen the work of J. C. Leyendecker and mistaken it for that of Norman Rockwell; this is completely understandable, because Leyendecker's art and career made him Rockwell's idol and later, mentor. Many of the themes and subjects that are identified as quintessentially Rockwellian, such as America, family, and holidays, were all influenced and developed from this bachelor immigrant's work.

Joseph Christian Leyendecker was born March 23, 1874, in Montabaur Germany; his family immigrated to Chicago, Illinois, in 1882. At the age of 16 he commercially produced 60 Bible illustrations even before he had any formal training; he then studied at the Chicago Art Institute, after which he spent a year at the Acadamie Julian in Paris, where he was influenced by the work of Toulouse Lautrec, Jules Cheret, and Alfons Mucha, a leader in the Art Nouveau movement.

In 1899 he returned to Chicago and began his formal commercial career. That year he produced the first of what would be 322 covers for The Saturday Evening Post; thus began what would be a forty-four year association. In 1900 he moved to New York, the hub of publishing and commercial art. Here he developed the Arrow Collar Man, an advertising icon which along with Charles Gibson's Gibson Girl defined fashionable American society in the Twenties. His magazine covers helped develop images and traditions that stick with us today; the New Year's Baby, the chubby Santa clad in red and white, flowers on Mother's Day (his picture of a bellhop delivering hyacinths on a cover of an issue celebrating the very first Mother's Day is credited with starting it).

During the Thirties, however, his popularity began to decline. It was the Depression, and the economic situation put an end to the starched collars and elegant appointments that had fuelled much of Leyendecker's commercial art. A change of editors at The Saturday Evening Post put a damper on his relationship with the magazine, and he had fewer and fewer commissions from them; in 1943 he published his last Post cover.

Leyendecker died on July 25, 1951, and was buried in Woodlawn Cemetery. Norman Rockwell was a pallbearer at his funeral, but he carried more than the body of his friend and mentor. He carried on an artistic inheritance that is still influencing culture today.

Happy Birthday, Miguel

2011-10-09T22:06:00.000-05:00

"Some hundreds of years ago there was born in one of the southern peninsulas of Europe a man whose life was very like the life of a boy in one of Mr. [G. A.] Henty's books. He did everything that could possibly be expected of a boy's hero; he ran away to sea; he was trusted by admirals with important documents; he was captured by pirates; he was sold as a slave. Even then he did not forget the duties of a Henty hero. He made several picturesque and desperate attempts at escape, scaling Moorish walls and clambering through Moorish windows. He confronted the considerable probability of torture, and defied it. But he was not like the unscrupulous prison-breakers, like Cellini or Casanova, ready to break the world as well as the wall, or his promise as well as his prison. He remembered that he was the hero of an honest boy's story, and behaved accordingly.

"Long afterwards his country collected the depositions of the other Christian captives, and they were an astonishing chorus. They spoke of this man as if he were a sort of saint, of the almost unearthly unselfishness with which he divided their distresses and defied their tormentors...And in all [the] still horror of heat and sleep [of the Turkish prison], the one unconquered European still leaping at every outlet of adventure or escape; climbing a wall as he might a Christian apple tree, or calling for his rights as he might in a Christian inn.

"Nor did our hero miss that other great essential of the schoolboy protagonist; which is accidental and even improbable presence on a tremendous historical occasion...Here also my hero in real life equalled any of the heroes of juvenile fiction; for he was present and took an active part in one of the most enormous and earth-changing events in history.

"This was the great battle of Lepanto, and of course our hero was there, sword in hand; of course he was wounded there. I can fancy him standing on the deck, with his arm in a sling and looking at the slender escape of Europe and the purple wreck of Asia with a sad, crooked smile on his face. For he was a person whose face was capable of expressing both pity and amusement. His name was Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, commonly called Cervantes. And having another arm left, he went home and wrote a book called Don Quixote, in which he ridiculed romance and pointed out the grave improbability of people having any adventures."

--from "The True Romance," by G. K. Chesterton.

Haunted Houses: Poems

2011-10-02T23:06:00.000-05:00

HAUNTED HOUSES

All houses wherein men have lived and died

Are haunted houses. Through the open doors

The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,

With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,

Along the passages they come and go,

Impalpable impressions on the air,

A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table, than the hosts

Invited; the illuminated hall

Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,

As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see

The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear.

He but perceives what is, while unto me

All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;

Owners and occupants of earlier dates

From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,

And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense

Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere

Wafts through these earthly mists and vapors dense

A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise

By opposite attractions and desires;

The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,

And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar

Of earthly wants and aspirations high,

Come from the influence of an unseen star,

An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud

Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light,

Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd

Into the realm of mystery and night,--

So from the world of spirits there descends

A bridge of light, connecting it with this,

O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,

Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

First Day Of October

2011-10-01T06:26:00.000-05:00

Fresh October brings the pheasant;

Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

Good October, a good blast,

To blow the hog acorn and mast.

If in October you do marry,

Love will come, but riches tarry.

--from "Mother Goose's Almanack."

New School Dragons

2011-09-19T23:02:00.001-05:00

"Dragons, now, dragons...the thing about dragons, or a thing about dragons, is...after the primordial stories about them, when belief was waning, say, during the Renaissance, is that the conception of them shrank. You take a look at some of those old pictures, and the dragons are usually shown from the size of, say, a sheep, up to the size of an ox, or slightly larger. Often the knight on his horse fighting the dragon towered over the crawling beast. It wasn't until well after the Victorian age that they started to swell up again; it was as if they had to grow to awesome size to compete with the redoubtable machinery and vehicles of science or the dinosaurs so recently rediscovered and popularized. Nowadays, of course, the dragon of Fantasy is seldom smaller than an elephant, but not so titanic as an apatosaurus, to allow a slim margin of artistic believability."

The Bell Witch: Monster Week Day 7

2011-09-17T21:44:00.001-05:00

The Bell Witch sort of just sneaks in here under the rubric of "monster," mainly because in my mind it's "one of them there Unknowns," rather like the Jersey Devil, or Springheel Jack, or Mothman. Also because I've enjoyed this version produced by Ripley's Believe It Or Not!/True Demons And Monsters, with its wild interpretation of what was reported as an invisible phenomenon. What was "Old Kate"? A witch? A ghost? A ghost witch? It certainly acted like a poltergeist. Scree-hee-hee, everybody.

Bonnacon: Monster Week Day 6

2011-09-16T22:36:00.001-05:00

The Bonnacon (or Bonacon, or Bonasus) is a peculiar type of wild beast, described as large, hairy, and bovine, with the mane of a horse and horns that curve inward on themselves, so that as defensive weapons they are of very little use. The way this monster protects itself is by releasing a blast of dung and foul wind so powerful it can devastate a spread of land over three acres, burn down trees, and singe the fur off hunting dogs. The Bonnacon is first mentioned in Pliny, and from there it spread to bestiaries throughout Europe. Some feel that it may have been some kind of misreported bison or buffalo.

Beasts of Revelation: Monster Week Day 5

2011-09-15T22:52:00.000-05:00

Back in the early Seventies, my family belonged to...a peculiar religion. Even the people in charge did not call what they did Christianity, although they used a Bible, of sorts, translated by a mystery inner cabal to fit their odd beliefs. They were a Millerite-type religion, constantly setting dates for the end of the world, duffing it, then hastily covering their behinds, all the while proclaiming the infallibility of their pronouncements. Anyway, at the time every single book and "magazine" (as they called their pamphlets) was illustrated with these Jack Chick-like cartoons of Revelation, showing their unique spin and interpretation of John's visions of the end times, including their own political gloss on their meaning. Eventually my parents wised up and we left their organization, but not before I missed every birthday, Christmas, Halloween, and secular holiday between the ages of six and fourteen (such celebrations were deemed worldly and even demonic). By the time I got out, we knew who the real monsters were.

Water-Folk: Monster Week Day 4

2011-09-14T20:34:00.000-05:00

Like the sea monster or sea serpent, various types of aquatic "people" share in the terror and mystique of the underwater world. But in addition to the common danger of being killed and devoured, the water-folk often pose a threat to the identity, to the very soul of those who encounter them.

There is a passage in the Bible describing how, at the end of time, the sea will give up its dead; perhaps because this verse seems to imply a different destiny for those lost there, the land under the sea was envisioned as a weird limbo, outside the normal fate of the dead. A fairly recent variant of this theme is Davy Jones' Locker. Creatures who would drag you down to this destiny were to be feared. Mermaids, in the earliest stories about them, would foretell and even raise storms to wreck sailors who ventured over their realm.

Closer to shore and even in inland waters such as rivers, lakes, and wells, the water-folk would be even more personal and humanoid, though always with a strong element of the watery world in their physical make-up, whether frog, turtle, or fish. They would be just as interested as their oceanic brethren in drawing victims underwater, whether to eat, enslave, or even marry them. More sinister than that, they might strike at their very humanity, changing their human body so that it resembles their own, making return to dry land impossible (this trope is used by H. P. Lovecraft in his Deep Ones). But worst of all they could trap the human soul: the Irish merrows kept them in soul cages, and the Russian vodyanoy in porcelain cups.

On a more benign note, it was a medieval notion that everything on land had a fish counterpoint in the sea; thus, sea-lions, sea-horses (and in those days "fish" applied to anything that swam). The imagination worked on anything unfamiliar drawn from the ocean, and various types of wonders were reported and elaborated on, so that monk-fish and bishop-fish were sometimes spoken of as resembling their terrestrial counterparts, and even acting piously until returned to their watery home.

Monsters such as Jenny Greenteeth in England or the kappa in Japan were used as explanations for drownings and also as warnings to avoid dangerous stretches of water. In that sense they can be said to serve a useful purpose. Kappas, if befriended or defeated, can also grant benefits such as bestowing superior medicinal skill.

Even without deadly intent, encounters can still be fatal. Stories abound of mermaids or water nymphs dragging those with whom they are enamored down with them, not understanding that they will drown. In an old Japanese folk tale a fisherman is taken by a turtle to the fabulous realm of the Dragon King. He spends an hour there, and then returns to the surface with a small box that he is warned not to open. He finds that three hundred years have passed; curious and puzzled, he opens the box, only to release his true age. In an instant he crumbles into dust.

Sea Monsters: Monster Week Day 3

2011-09-13T22:17:00.000-05:00

It is a commonplace observation that we know more about the surface of the moon than we do about the depths of the waters of the earth, and it is from the mystery and uncertainty of those depths that the sea monster arises. While the dragon is the pre-eminent trial and foe of the hero, the sea monster doubles that danger, inhabiting and mastering as it does an element foreign to human life, ventured into only with great risk and skill. Its ancientry is legendary: since the primordial conflict of Marduk and Tiamat, heroes and gods such as Perseus, Thor, Beowulf, and Sinbad have encountered water monsters and sea serpents; yet it is one of the few marvelous beasts from legend that modern man still seeks the possibility of in deep lakes and oceanic abysses. To merely see one rising from the depths and then sinking back into darkness is reported as an occasion of fear and awe, a vision or portent of power breaching from an unknown world.

Dragons: Monster Week Day 2

2011-09-12T14:29:00.000-05:00

"I never imagined that the dragon was of the same order as the horse. And that was not solely because I saw horses daily, but never even the footprint of a worm. The dragon had the trademark Of Faerie written plain upon him. In whatever world he had his being it was an Other-world. Fantasy, the making or glimpsing of Other-worlds, was the heart of the desire of Faerie. I desired dragons with a profound desire. Of course, I in my timid body did not wish to have them in the neighbourhood, intruding into my relatively safe world, in which it was, for instance, possible to read stories in peace of mind, free from fear. But the world that contained even the imagination of Fafnir was richer and more beautiful, at whatever the cost of peril."

--from On Fairy-stories, by J. R. R. Tolkien.

Bicorne and Chichevache: Monster Week Day 1

2011-09-11T16:47:00.000-05:00

Today's monsters are more of a sort of Medieval joke, a social satire, than anything anyone ever believed actually existed. They are the Bicorne and the Chichevache, and they are generally spoken of together, as a pair of opposites.

The Chichevache (or "scrawny cow"; also known in French as the Chichifache, or "thin or ugly face"; also called the Thin-gut) is described as an extremely thin cow with a miserable, ugly human face. It's state of malnourishment and misery was said to be caused by it's diet: it fed only on faithful and obedient wives, said to be in short supply.

The Bicorne (or Bycorne, Bicorn, and sometimes the Burrowing Bicorne; also called the Bulchin) in contrast looks like a grossly plump panther with a pleased expression. This is because the Bicorne feeds on hen-pecked, subservient husbands, of which it can find a great abundance. The Bicorne is said to have two horns (one suspects the ubiquitous 'cuckold horns' joke so beloved of the Middle Ages and Renaissance) that it drops when captured.

As obscure as these creatures are, they have a presence in literature: Chaucer in "The Clerk's Tale" cautions wives not to be too good lest the Chichevache devour them, and Bicorne horns are mentioned in the Harry Potter books as an ingredient in Polyjuice potion.

Panda and the Magic Serpent: Movie for a Summer Afternoon

2011-09-07T11:45:00.001-05:00

If anyone had asked me a few months ago what was the first anime that had engaged me, I would have said that it was the run of Dragonball Z on Cartoon Network that premiered about twelve years ago. Then with a start I might have remembered Alakazam the Great, Toei's take on Monkey and his journey to the west, which I had watched and enjoyed as a toddler in the Sixties. But what had become a vague, fugitive memory in my brain, and which was just as old, was Panda and the Magic Serpent.

Panda and the Magic Serpent (a.k.a. Hakujaden, Legend of the White Snake, The Great White Snake, The White Snake Enchantress) was the first color anime feature film, created by the Toei Company and released in Japan in 1958 and then (edited and dubbed) in the US in 1961. Although it had won awards overseas, it did not do as well in an America with its expectations set by Disney, and in less than a decade Panda was appearing on TV. This is where I saw it, before I was even in first grade.

The movie begins with a vast, supernatural storm striking China. In its wake, a magical white snake is transformed into a beautiful maiden, Bai-Niang, and a stranded fish is turned into her maid-servant, Xiao Chin. Years before (in snake form) Bai-Niang had been friends with a boy called Xu-Xian, whose fearful parents had parted them. Now that she is human she goes in search of him once more.

Xu-Xian, now an orphan, lives with his friends Panda (an immature Giant Panda) and Mimi, a Red Panda, in a tumbledown little house. Mysterious music responding to his flute playing and the mischievous Xiao Chin lead him and his friends to Bai-Niang, now living in a magically restored great estate nearby. While youth and maiden woo, their three sidekicks frolic. Their antics bring a wooden dragon decoration to life and the comedy relief is carried off, to plunge through the roof of a state treasure-house. The maid-servant finds two jewels shaped like stars and she gives them to the lovers.

Fa-Hai, a local monk with a magical crystal, has been on the trail of Bai-Niang and Xiao Chin, whom he believes are evil spirits. When he hears the jewels are missing, he sends the local authorities to the magic palace. The girl and her maid escape, but Xu-Xian remains and takes the fall. He is arrested, convicted, and exiled to a distant province. Panda and Mimi go in search of their friend. Fa-Hai follows the boy, feeling sure the spirits will seek him out.

Panda and Mimi finally find Xu-Xian, with the help of the White Pig Gang, whose gigantic leader Panda has defeated (making him the original Kung Fu Panda, by the way). Bai-Niang sends the boy a dream, telling him to meet her at the Thunder Pagoda, but the monk finds out about it on his crystal ball. He interferes before they can embrace, and a magical battle ensues.

Bai-Niang and Fa-Hai ascend to a spiritual space and match their powers against each other. The resulting fight leaves the monk hanging from a rooftop by his robes and the lady weakened and reverting to her serpent form. When Xu-Xian hears from the monk that he has defeated the evil spirit, he rushes back to Thunder Pagoda to find her.

Bai-Niang decides that she can never be with Xu-Xian unless she becomes truly human. She changes to her astral form and starts to leave; Xu-Xian rushing into the top of the tower sees her, tries to follow, and falls to his death. Fa-hai sadly takes his body to the Temple of the Golden Isle.

Bai-Niang travels through the heavens to the Dragon God, Master of All Spirits, who for the price of her immortality and magic powers gives her the Flower of Life to restore Xu-Xian. She returns to earth, where Mimi is waiting to lead her to the Golden Isle, where Panda and the White Pig Gang have followed Fa-Hai. The monk does not believe the now-mortal maiden, and will not let her boat land on the island. He turns the maid Xiao Chin back into a fish, and the Flower of Life falls into the sea.

But Xiao Chin still has her powers, and with the help of the Great Dragon Fish stirs the sea into a storm, and another battle with Fa-Hai and his crystal begins. Bai-niang's boat capsizes. Mimi and Panda retrieve the Flower of Life and restore Xu-Xian to life; seeing Bai-Niang in trouble on the stormy seas he plunges in to save her. Fa-Hai finds the Flower and realizes that the girl was telling the truth.

The monk tosses his crystal ball into the sea, which stills the storm and transforms into a boat, rescuing the lovers. Fa-Hai now gives the young couple his blessing; Bai-Niang and Xu-Xian sail off together under a rainbow sky, Xiao Chin returns to her life under the sea, and Panda and Mimi wave a tearfully joyous farewell.

The version of this film most widely available is presented by "Cartoon Craze" (Digiview Productions), and seems to have been created from stock in very poor condition. It is full of skips, jumps, and scratches; the beginning is particularly rough. This is a film that could truly benefit from a restoration and remastering, perhaps even a new editing and English dubbing (though it would be a shame to lose the narration of Marvin Miller, whose voice-overs included work on Pink Panther and Rocky and Bullwinkle; his most famous job was as Robby the Robot in Forbidden Planet). A little polish on this historical gem could really make it sparkle.

But even in its present condition it is full of considerable nostalgic charm, redolent of old times and different sensibilities. To me it speaks of long summer afternoons, when you could lose yourself for a few hours in strange worlds of fantasy and adventure, and sudden unknown by-ways to distant lands and ancient legends could open up before unsuspecting eyes. It is a splendid kind of movie for little children, whether in front of the TV or inside the heart.

Some Images Of Merlin

2011-09-05T06:01:00.000-05:00

Niel Hancock Crosses Calix Stay

2011-09-01T09:48:00.000-05:00

It is my melancholy task to note the passing of Niel Hancock on May 7th of this year, at the age of 70. He died of an aneurysm during an annual motorcycle trip to New Mexico. He was a Vietnam War veteran and a Buddhist, and these experiences and beliefs infused his works. He was an early practitioner of High Fantasy in the wake of J. R. R. Tolkien, publishing between the years of 1977 and 1990 his stories of Atlanton Earth. His books include The Circle of Light Series, comprised of Greyfax Grimwald, Faragon Fairingay, Calix Stay, and Squaring the Circle; Dragonwinter, a standalone volume; The Wilderness of Four Series, comprised of Across the Far Mountain, The Plains of the Sea, On the Boundaries of Darkness, and The Road to the Middle Islands; and The Windameir Circle Series, comprised of The Fires of Windameir, The Sea of Silence, A Wanderer's Return, and The Bridge of Dawn. The fate of a further volume or series entitled The Brandigore Gate, announced as long ago as 1999 and returning to the story of his heroes Dwarf, Bear, and Otter, remains unknown.

Pondering Why I Blog

2011-08-30T05:50:00.000-05:00

A little more than two weeks ago my computer crashed and I lost an extensive library of images and music that I had been gathering for almost five years (always back up your files, kids!). I realized several things in the time before I was able to replace my old desktop and get the new one up and running.

1) How much I had come to rely on my computer for most of my entertaining for casual moments. I constantly turned reflexively to the computer desk when I was bored, rather than books or TV.

2) How much I had come to rely on my computer for news, research, and keeping in touch socially.

3) How little some people (and among them I count myself) understood the urges and purposes behind my blogging.

I came to this realization during my efforts to obtain the replacement computer. A lady whom I know (and whose opinions on the business of life I greatly respect) evinced the opinion that there was very little practical value (i. e., monetary benefit) in my activities, beyond perhaps practicing my composition and writing skills. In fact, to her thinking, what I was doing was basically boasting about my possessions, bragging about my supposed superior mental skills, and indulging in a sort of constant sort of one-ups-manship with a network of strangers and fanatics.

I was stunned. I was confounded. I was even...flabbergasted. Before I could splutter out any explanations or justifications she passed on to other, more pressing matters, and I was left to flounder emotionally in her wake.

Well, I finally got my new computer, and with no small thanks to her good efforts. After some further fooferaw getting my web connection re-established, I am finally able to start posting again. But before I do, I thought I would consider my aims and motives in blogging, to make it clear to myself and to have a ready answer should the subject ever arise again.

I really can't blame the practical lady for her misapprehensions. I don't know for sure that she has ever even looked at PowerOfBabel. The literary by-waters I habitually navigate are of little interest to her (she enjoys mystery thrillers) and the world of action figures even less. So the few times I talked about my activities with her was to mention in passing things like my 500TH post or my 40,000TH hit or the people from foreign countries who had looked at my blog.

I suppose to anyone who doesn't realize what modest accomplishments these are in the world of blogging (especially over a four year period or so) it might seem like bragging. I believe most of her impression of on-line life comes from accounts of flame-wars, trolling, and Facebook tragedies. I do not know if she realizes that blogging for applause or recognition is rather like (to adapt Robert Graves dictum on poetry) dropping a rose petal into the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.

So, why do I blog? Its minor function is as a sort of informal journal, scrapbook, and commonplace record. I have a few scattered friends and family; the blog is an excellent way to keep in touch with them about my enthusiasms and activities. I make notes about things and pin them down for my own satisfaction. If anyone else finds these of interest or it helps them, so much the better.

But the main thing I do, I like to think, is serve my subject. It's not ranking, or popularity, or any sort of gain. That kind of thing is rather hopeless in my situation. But if I can bring forward some sort of obscure work, dust it off a little, and show its merits, or if I can illuminate a minor aspect of a larger work, I think my efforts are worth it.

Any sort of personal matter that enters my posts is usually by way of explanation of how I found out about something or what my credentials are for some assertion. I hope boasting has very little to do with it. I don't think I would ever monetize my blog because of the constraints it might put on what I could publish.

So there it is. I'm ready to start up again. Despite crashed computers, knock-you-down heatwaves, emotional distress, and my own dilatory nature, it's time to get back up on the horse once more. My next post should be much more interesting than this one, because it will be about something other than me.

Pondering What To Write

2011-08-01T23:40:00.001-05:00

Horrible Hall And Some Of Its Appointments

2011-07-19T09:47:00.001-05:00

On Being A Wizard

2011-07-16T20:54:00.000-05:00

"[Rincewind] objected to the fact that you had to be good at magic to be a wizard. He knew he was a wizard, deep in his head. Being good at magic didn't have anything to do with it. That was just an extra, it didn't actually define somebody."

***

" 'I don't think you understand. A wizard isn't what you do, it's what you are. If I wasn't a wizard, I wouldn't be anything.' "

--from Sourcery (1989), by Terry Pratchett.

The Stuffed Crocodile (or Alligator)

2011-07-11T12:49:00.000-05:00

"And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,

An alligator stuffed and other skins

Of ill-shaped fishes..."

--from Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare, describing an apothecary's shop.

"There the wizard sat in all his state. A stuffed crocodile canopied his head, a serpent's skin of large dimensions was spread under his feet..."

--from Anastasius (1836), by Thomas Hope.

The Century Magazine in 1914 lists the stage properties of a wizard as "his gown and wand, the stuffed crocodile, and the skeleton in the corner."

"There were tables strewn with archaic instruments of doubtful use, with astrological charts, with skulls and alembics and crystals, with censers such as are used in the Catholic Church, and volumes bound in worm-eaten leather with verdigris-mottled clasps. In one corner stood the skeleton of a large ape; in another, a human skeleton; and overhead a stuffed crocodile was suspended."

--from "The Return of the Sorcerer" (1931), by Clark Ashton Smith.

"There was a real Corkindrill hanging from the rafters, very life-like and horrible with glass eyes and scaly tale stretched out behind it. When its master came into the room it winked one eye in salutation, although it was stuffed."

--from The Sword in the Stone (1938), by T. H. White.

"Gradually, the children discovered other treasures; a chart on which the signs of the zodiac were nicely touched up by Miss Price in water colour; a sheep's skull; a chocolate box full of dried mice; herbs in bunches; a pot of growing hemlock and one of witch's bane; a small stuffed alligator, which hung by two wires from the ceiling.

'What are alligators used for, Miss Price?' asked Paul.

Again Miss Price's training in truthfulness overcame her longing to impress. 'Nothing much,' she said. 'They're out of date now. I like to have it there for the look of it.' "

--from Bedknob and Broomstick (1943, 1957), by Mary Norton.

"The marquis took in the room, eyes sliding from detail to detail. The stuffed crocodile hanging from the ceiling, the leather-bound books, an astrolabe, convex and concave mirrors, odd scientific instruments; there were maps on the walls, of lands and cities de Carabas had never heard of; a desk, covered in hand-written correspondence."

--from Neverwhere (1996), by Niel Gaiman.

"Like all wizards' workshops, the place looked as though a taxidermist had dropped his stock in a foundry and then had a fight with a maddened glassblower, braining a passing crocodile in the process (it hung from the rafters, and smelt strongly of camphor)."

--from The Light Fantastic (1986), by Terry Pratchett.

"There was a large crystal ball with a crack in it, an astrolabe with several bits missing, a rather scuffed octogram on the floor, and a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling. A stuffed alligator is absolutely standard equipment in any properly-run magical establishment. This one looked like it hadn't enjoyed it much."

--from Mort (1987), by Terry Pratchett.

"Because a raven sitting on a skull and going 'caw' is as much part of your actual wizarding modus operandi as the big dribbling candles and and the old stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling. Don't you know anything? I should have thought anyone knows that who knows anything about anything. Why, a proper wizard might as well not even have bubbling green stuff in bottles as be without his raven sitting on a skull and going 'caw'--"

--from Soul Music (1995), by Terry Pratchett.

"It was a wizard's study, so of course it had the skull with a candle in it and a stuffed crocodile hanging from the ceiling. No one, least of all wizards, know why this is, but you have to have them."

--from Going Postal (2004), by Terry Pratchett.

So, why do you have to have stuffed crocodiles?

There are two answers, the long one and the short one.

The short one is that they are cool and unusual, rather wicked looking, and give the impression that something out of the ordinary is going on where it is. This is why they are in bars and souvenir shops to this day.

The long answer is historical, convoluted, and a little speculative, and it goes back to the Middle Ages.

In those days, the main type of private travel was the religious pilgrimage, where citizens of Christian European countries would travel to the Holy Land in the Middle East to accrue spiritual merit. Like folks travelling in any age, they would bring back mementos of their journey, the more peculiar and exotic the better. Stuffed crocodiles were very popular, being unfamiliar in the cold northern climes; private citizens would bring back smaller specimens, whereas kings and other potentates could receive or import quite large examples. The impressive size of these could give rise to tales of dragons as their true origins receded into the past. Sometimes living examples would be taken home, and if they escaped in the warmer countries (like Spain or Italy) might have survived in a wild state, gone rogue, and have to be hunted down. There was one king who kept a crocodile in his moat, which may have given rise to the whole idea of moat monsters.

In any case, stuffed crocodiles became associated with the studies of theologians, natural philosophers, alchemists, apothecaries, and other studious sorts, in the days when these disciplines where not greatly distinguished from each other. Even surgeon-barbers might have a specimen hanging around to advertise their expertise: the beast's toothy grin could well have a customer rubbing his own jaw. Crocodiles would be figured prominently in Cabinets of Curiosities, chests or even whole rooms filled with peculiar objects and interesting specimens. With the discovery of the New World, alligators joined the crocodile among the curios.

But with the progress of travel, trade, and discovery, the big lizards became less and less unusual, fell out of fashion, and became relegated to second-hand shops and less progressive establishments. The memories of their association with more mystical, less scientific times persisted, however, and their use as props in magic shows kept this memory alive long enough to become part of the wizard's tradition in popular literature.

Pictures: 1) A Cabinet of Curiosities; 2) The Alchemist At Work by David Teniers; 3) John Dee and Edward Kelly; 4) Merlin's House, by Alan Lee, from The Sword in the Stone; 5) and 6) from Bedknob and Broomstick; 7) Sokurah's Workshop from The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, and 8) A Discworld Wizard by Dan Pence.

Kitsune: Japanese Fox Spirits

2011-07-08T21:24:00.000-05:00

Kitsune is the Japanese word for fox, and all foxes are magical, and belong to the Yokai (supernatural) world. Their main talent is the ability to change shape; they can look like anyone, regardless of age or gender. This power (according to legend) manifests when they are one hundred years old; with every hundred years they acquire a new tail as a sign of their age and power. The wisest, strongest, most magical members of the race are the kyubi no kitsune, or nine-tailed foxes; when they reach this exalted level their fur turns white or gold. Some of these are called zenko (good foxes), and serve the Shinto kami Inari, the God of Rice. In contrast to these are the yako (field foxes), who are wild, mischievous, and occasionally malevolent.

Kitsune have many powers: They can generate fox-fire (kitsune-bi) in their tails to mislead travellers, can fly, become invisible, appear at will in dreams, create illusions, and drain the life-force from humans. But they are most famous for their ability to change into human shape, and the stories of men marrying foxes are many. There are several ways to spot a fox in human form: often a tail or paw showing will give them away; they hate and fear dogs and will flee them; they may be 'fox-faced,' with close-set eyes, high cheekbones, and thin eyebrows. They can also possess humans, usually women.

Kitsune are also accompanied by hoshi no tama, or star balls; these are pearl- or onion-shaped orbs of fire that either float around them or are carried in their tails or jaws. Much of their power depends on these items, and they are, in a sense, their removable souls. If a human captures the hoshi no tama of a kitsune, the fox has to do what the human commands.

This is just one attribute that kitsune share with the Western 'faerie' tradition. Their morality is inhuman; their physical gifts of money or wealth are often worthless items transformed by illusion; their marriages to mortals often have unhappy endings, but may produce magically precocious offspring (Abbe no Seimei in Japan is almost an exact counterpart to Merlin in Britain). The kitsuni no yemeiri (fox wedding) is said to occur during a sun shower (rain while the sun is shining--in the West this is held to be when the Devil is beating his wife), and foxes resent uninvited guests who see these affairs, as the fairies resent those who spy on their dances.

Some anime and movies in which kitsune or people with kitsune ancestry appear are Inuyasha, Naruto, YuYu Hakusho, Pom Poko, and Onmyoji.

Samuel Johnson On The American Revolution

2011-07-04T10:36:00.000-05:00

"How is it that we hear the loudest yelps for liberty among the drivers of negroes?"--Samuel Johnson, 1775.

But mark you, in the original Declaration of Independence Thomas Jefferson had put in an anti-slavery clause, that was removed at the insistence of South Carolina and Georgia; their support was deemed essential. Samuel Adams said to Ben Franklin, "Mark me, Franklin, if we give in on this issue, there will be trouble a hundred years hence; posterity will never forgive us." In slightly less that those hundred years, we had the Civil War.

Benjamin Franklin: Quotation

2011-07-03T22:00:00.000-05:00

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." --Benjamin Franklin.

The Secret of...Alchemy!

2011-07-02T07:44:00.000-05:00

Percy: I intend to discover, this very afternoon, the secret of alchemy! The hidden art of turning base things...into gold!

Blackadder: I see. And the fact that this secret has eluded the most intelligent people since the dawn of time doesn't dampen your spirits?

Percy: Oh, no. I like a challenge!

Ole-Luk-Oie

2011-07-01T19:24:00.001-05:00

Ole-Luk-Oie is the Danish version of the Sandman, most famously described by Hans Christian Anderson in a story by the same name. His name is in two parts: Ole is a common Danish name, and Luk-Oie means "eye-shutter." He carries two umbrellas. One is covered with wonderful pictures inside, and this he holds over good children and gives them good dreams. The other is black, and this he holds over bad children, who then have no dreams and sleep heavily, and wake unrefreshed. He has a brother, also called Ole-Luk-Oie, whose other name is Death; he also shuts peoples' eyes.

The first three pictures here are from illustrations of Anderson's story; the fourth is from the Soyuzmultfilm feature The Snow Queen, where Ole-Luk-Oie (played by Mickey Rooney in the English dub) is narrator; and the fifth is from a proposed Disney feature that never got made. The story has influenced both James Branch Cabell (with Miramom Lluagor, the Lord of Dreams, and his half-brother Death) and Neil Gaiman (with Morpheus the Sandman and his sister Death).

For a really grotesque vision of the Sandman, look up E. T. A. Hoffman's version.

Pauline Baynes: Alternate Visions

2011-06-27T21:03:00.001-05:00

Pauline Baynes is familiar to most people as the illustrator of C. S. Lewis' Narnia Chronicles, and, to a lesser extent, the works of J. R. R. Tolkien. But as a professional artist she produced work for many more books, magazines, and posters. Seeing these often causes a weird sensation for me, like seeing an alternate world that has gone on for years, side by side with the familiar one, but unknown.

"The Three Dees"

2011-06-15T07:27:00.000-05:00

"What we mainly deal with are the Three Dees."

Giles furrowed his brows.

"What are they?"

"Well, there are Devils, which are the worst and most dangerous. That's fallen angels. Unbodied intelligences with a malevolent will; they hate everything but especially humans, seemingly, and have the cunning and malice to go at it hard. Then there's Daemons, which are what you might call spiritual animals, as it were. They arise out of nature and are attached to places and things. Mankind was supposed to be in charge of regulating them in the first place, but lost that ability a while ago."

The little man gave Giles a significant look.

"They're wild and kind of stupid, and every now and then one will break out like a fox in the henhouse and have to be whacked back into place. Then there's Dybbuks, which are the weakest but most common. That's dead people, or bits of them, that hang around after they should've passed on. You get your hauntings and obsessions and so on. Getting rid of Devils is rare and terrifying, like hunting tigers; dealing with Dybbuks is like cockroaches, rather personal and disgusting."

--from Under the Mountain, by T. M. Junge.

Feodor Stepanovich Rojankovsky

2011-06-13T22:33:00.000-05:00

Feodor Stepanovich Rojankovsky (1891-1970) was an artist who was born in Russia, studied in France, and moved to the USA in 1941. He produced pictures for over a hundred books (some of which he wrote) and won several awards for his work in illustrating children's books. He is most noted for his bold combinations of strong colors. Conversely, he also sold erotic art with a French flavor, mostly under the name of "Rojan."

Recent Toy Acquisitions

2011-06-04T19:29:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I remember with a start that I began this blog three and a half years ago mainly with the object of cataloging and talking about my action figure buys. It expanded in a sort of magpie-manner, picking up any news or picture or poetry that caught my eye along the way, and now mainly seems to be concerned with (broadly speaking) fantasy and art.

In a nod back to that earlier time, I present three new action figures I've got recently. Each cost approximately $15. I got the DC Universe The Wizard (Shazam) from eBay, the Tom Baker Fourth Dr. Who from Entertainment Earth, and the Captain Barbossa from Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides from our local Wal-Mart.

Shazam is a good addition to my collection of wizard action figures; he is a sort of bare essence of wizardliness with the furrowed brow, huge beard, and flowing robes. Tom Baker is my favorite Dr. Who, the only one I've really watched for any amount. Barbossa is possibly the best character in the Pirates franchise; probably the only figure I'll get from this release as they are of slightly poorer grade than previous figures. Unless they go on sale somewhere.

Frank C. Pape: Pictures From "The Russian Story Book"

2011-06-04T13:27:00.000-05:00

A selection of color illustrations by Frank C. Pape from The Russian Story Book (1916). This is from the period when he was doing more work for children's books and before he entered his "witty" phase, where he used much the same sort of fairy tale art, but ironically.

"The Horns Of Elfland": Favorite Poems

2011-06-02T18:30:00.000-05:00

BLOW, BUGLE, BLOW

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The splendour falls on castle walls

And snowy summits old in story:

The long light shakes across the lakes,

And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear, how thin and clear,

And thinner, clearer, farther going!

O sweet and far from cliff and scar

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,

They faint on field or hill or river:

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow for ever and for ever.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

Click on the picture above to enjoy the details of this Bernard Sleigh illustration.

The Lord Of The Mountains

2011-06-01T06:54:00.000-05:00

Between the historical lands of Bohemia and Silesia lie the Riesengebirge (Giant Mountains). There is a very old map of the area, and striding among the mountains may be seen a strange gigantic figure, horned and with a tail, walking upright with a tall staff. This is the earliest known picture of Rubezahl*, the Lord of the Mountains.

Rubezahl is a figure in German folklore, the tutelary spirit or genius of the mountains that derive their name from him. He is responsible for the weather of his peaks, and the thunder and lightning, rain, snow, and fog there reflect his capricious moods. He is Prince of the Gnomes in the Riesengebirge, and all lesser spirits are under his sway. The respectful way to address him is as "Lord of the Mountains" or "Lord John." "Rubezahl" is a name of derision and means "Turnip Counter," and it still angers him. According to the old tale he once captured a princess and swore he would do anything to win her love. She set him to counting the turnip seedlings in a vast field, and while he was busy doing so she made her escape.

Rubezahl is a shape changer, and appears in many forms, and can be anything from a gnome to a giant, and can be astonishingly ugly or "as fair as Apollo." He appears most often as an old man with a staff that appears to be an uprooted tree. He is something of a trickster, and his nature changeable. It was written of him in 1783 "...Rubezahl, you should know, has the nature of a powerful genius: capricious, impetuous, peculiar, rascally, crude, immodest, haughty, vain, fickle, today your warmest friend, tomorrow alien and cold;...roguish and respectable, stubborn and flexible..."

Rubezahl seems to take people as he finds them. To the simple and honest he is affectionate and helpful, but to the shiftless and lying his punishments can be severe. And the one sure way to provoke his wrath is to call him Rubezahl in mockery.

Rubezahl stories have been collected in many German books over the years, and many artists have painted him. Josef Madlener painted a picture of him as Der Berggeist (The Mountain Spirit); J. R. R. Tolkien had a postcard reproduction of this picture and labelled it "The Origin of Gandalf."

*There should be an umlaut over that "u."

A Column On Gollum: Portraits Of A Fallen Hobbit

2011-05-24T11:09:00.000-05:00

While the way that Gollum (the tormented fallen hobbit in the works of J. R. R. Tolkien) is imagined will probably be influenced for some time to come by his portrayal by Andy Serkis (and CGI) in Peter Jacksons' movies, it was not always so. When The Hobbit was first published in 1937, details of his size, shape, and even species were so mysteriously ominous that various forms of monstrous size and shape were presented as representations of him. Even when much more was known about Gollum with the publication of The Lord of the Rings, descriptions of his aquatic nature and webby hands would have him appearing like "a rotten evil swamp frog," and his skin has been every imaginable shade from green to grey to corpse-like. The pictures above are tagged with the artists last names, when known, and are in no particular order.

On The Trail Of Another Old Book

2011-05-18T11:52:00.000-05:00

In a sense, this story starts almost forty years ago. In another sense, it started last week with pirates and mermaids.

Last week, when I began seeing commercials for Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, with its images of sea-faring folk and mermaids, a picture was brought up from the old files in the back of my mind. It was of a small cabin (garishly lit) inside the belly of a whale. The captain had just opened the door, and inside was revealed the Devil and a mermaid, playing cards for his soul. Two equally vivid illustrations I also remembered from the book this picture was in: a young man finding the Devil's cat in a woodpile, and the three drunk friends and old man from Chaucer's "The Pardoner's Tale." Over forty years ago I had read this book in my aunt's house; I believe it was some Reader's Digest compilation for Young Readers. I have been on the look-out for this book ever since, not only for the stories within, but especially for the impressive illustrations.

When I was in college in the early Eighties I ran across the picture of the Devil's cat in a book, one in a yearly series of commercial art and illustration. I made a Xerox of the picture; like a fool I made no note of the artist or where it was published. I dug that picture out of my archives and made a new scan of it; the name is down there in the grass, but I can't make it out.

Anyway, I went looking around on the Web and using elements from what I recalled of the pictures. I was able to identify the story with the captain, the Devil, and the mermaid as that of Ichabod Paddock (a whaler), who is trapped in the belly of Crookjaw the whale, where the mermaid (a sea-witch) wins his soul. He is only saved when his wife forges a silver harpoon and spears the whale, overcoming the mermaid's magic and turning her into wood (a figurehead, naturally). The story of the Devil's cat in a woodpile is "Erkki and the Devil's Hide," sometimes just called "The Devil's Hide." It is a Finnish tale, the story of a young fellow named Errki, who goes to work for the Devil. They make a bargain; whichever of them loses their temper first will be skinned by the other to make a coat. The Devil does all in his power to upset Errki, but for every trick the Devil pulls, Errki does him one better; when the Devil puts his cat in the woodpile to prevent Errki from cutting wood, Errki simply cuts its head off. The Devil eventually loses his temper and has his hide stripped, after which he vows to leave the Finns alone. "The Pardoner's Tale" of course I knew from high school.

So much for the stories. I haven't been able to find the book. I'm not even positive (at this distant date) if it was a Reader's Digest book. I've looked for anything that even has a couple of the stories together. There are two "juvenile" books of the whale story: "Ichabod Paddock: Whaler" (1970) and "Crookjaw" (1994). I found "The Devil's Hide" in both an old collection of Finnish folk tales and in an anthology edited by Jane Yolen. I found a fellow named Frank Patton who seems to be dimly recalling (as I have) the same book; he remembers the name Ichabod Paddock but is apparently looking for the story "The Devil's Hide." This assures me at least that my memory is not simply a crazy imagination.

So perhaps my best lead could be the artist--if I could only find out who that is. My one clue there is that the style of the picture of Erkki is very similar to the style of an artist who did cover illustrations for Dell/Laurel leaf books, such as Beowulf: A New Telling by Robert Nye, or the covers in the 80's of the five Prydain books by Lloyd Alexander. Which could be helpful, except I can't find any indication anywhere of who that artist is!

So there my quest stands. If anyone, anywhere, can help me--the name of the book, the name of the artist--please, please do, so I can pin down this teasing memory at last.

Mismatched Quote And Picture--Or Is It?

2011-05-13T18:36:00.000-05:00

"Seeking gold and glory, leaving weathered broken bones,

And a long-forgotten lonely cairn of stones."

Koschei the Deathless

2011-05-10T10:58:00.001-05:00

Koschei the Deathless (or 'the Immortal') is a figure in Slavic (Russian, Ukrainian, Polish) folklore. He is an extremely powerful sorcerer, sometimes referred to as a 'Tsar,' or king. His power seems to derive from two sources: one is his talented talking horse, which steed he received for serving the old witch Baba Yaga in her stables; the other is his detachable soul. This soul is described as being in a needle, inside an egg, inside a duck, inside a hare, inside an iron box buried underneath a green oak tree on a small island in the middle of a sea on the other side of the world. While his soul remains hidden, he cannot be killed and is physically invulnerable. One way to restrict his power seems to have been to imprison him; at the beginning of one tale the hero finds the emaciated Koschei in a secret room, bound with twelve chains and given neither food nor drink. The compassionate hero gives the sorcerer three barrels of water, after which Koschei recovers his strength, bursts his chains, and promptly abducts the hero's wife. It is only with the help of animal companions (including a superior horse that the hero also gains from Baba Yaga's stable) that he is able to overcome Koschei and recover his wife. In other tales the hero finds the egg with the sorcerer's life, and either snaps the needle or smashes the egg on Koschei's forehead, causing 'the Deathless' to die. Although never explicitly described in the tales, Koschei's name may derive from the word for 'bones,' and he is usually depicted as bony, even skeletal, with a long rough beard. From this it would appear that although his powers give him immortality, he does not have eternal youth into the bargain.

Koschei the Deathless appears in James Branch Cabell's Biography of Manuel, but there he is a demiurgic creator who appears in various guises. Koschei is the villain in the Soyuzmultfilm animation of The Frog Princess, and also appears as a character in the Hellboy stories.