Bookish

The Journal of Hélène Berr. This was published last year from a manuscript that the author had given to the family cook bit by bit for safekeeping during World War II. Berr was a French 21-year-old daughter of a decorated WWI veteran and respected industrialist, an accomplished violinist and lover of English poetry, and Jewish. This is a record of how her world descended into madness. No happy ending. In France, she has apparently become known as "the French Anne Frank." Like Frank, Berr was taken to Auschwitz in 1944, then to Bergen-Belsen, and died shortly before the camp's liberation, of typhus. One review here.

After Steel.

1. Suffer through collapse of industry that once dominated region and supplied world with steel;
2. ?
3. Profit!

Felt!

Last one today. You may notice, starting around the 2-minute mark, the final verse to "Little White Duck."

Industry!

This is video from an alternate universe in which Benji and his cousins Dovid and Elisha play industriously, side-by-side, with no arguments or wailing.* ** *** Fascinating!



*But note what Benji does as soon as Jeanne turns her back. Way to use your fortitude, Dovid.
** Thanks, Nana and Poppa, for the awesome Chanukah gifts.
*** If you go to youtube to view, you can view in high quality. Makes a big difference.

Woo!

Benji "woos" Anne.

Bookish.

Oscar and Lucinda, by Peter Carey. Two gamblers stake a wager on the insane attempt to manufacture, transport, and build a glass church in the Australian wilderness. Endlessly inventive, though sometimes at the price of verisimilitude or moving the plot. This won the Booker in 1988 or so.

Bookish.

Prague, by Arthur Philips. American ex-pats in Budapest, c. 1990-91. Good collections of scenes from a special time and place, even if the characters could be a little disjointed sometimes (no doubt resulting from the semi-autobiographical nature). Anyway, there was some really good writing and good insights here.

Designs on the Land: Exploring America from the Air, by Alex S. MacLean. Pictures from above. The essays are forgettable. I declare a war on sprawl snobs.

Indian Summer: The Secret History of the End of an Empire, by Alex von Tunzelmann. The end of the raj, and partition of India and Pakistan, as told via the experiences of the Mountbattens, Nehru, Jinnah, and Ghandi. I'm pretty ignorant about this history, and I had no idea about the relationship between Edwina Mountbatten and Nehru. Highly readable and recommended.

Lush Life, by Richard Price. Slick, gritty police procedural in today's Lower East Side. Basically a tale of a random shooting as a result of a mugging, but solving the crime is not the point - you pretty much already know who did it. I was a skeptic initially, but it's true - the dialogue is amazing. Price has written for The Wire, and this book is also a glimpse into a world of slang that is largely foreign, to me anyway. Reminded me of Dashiell Hammett's Red Harvest in that respect, though Matty Clark is no Continental Op. One error I noticed - the book was set in October 2002, but at one point a character makes a reference to Baghdad as an exemplar of urban violence. I think that's probably unintentionally anachronistic. Kakutani rave, and Price profile.

Francis John Murphy, 1923-2008.

My grandfather died a week ago after suffering from Alzheimer's for some years.

My grandfather was a man of quiet virtues. His service in World War II in the navy was, as for many people of his generation, nothing to brag about – just a matter of doing his duty. In his roles as father and grandfather – and in my case, a grandfather who was more like a father – he again served with the greatest devotion, but in quiet ways. It may not amount to heroism to get up and go to work every day, and to come home with gentle affection for your family – but if that is the way you feed, clothe, and put a roof over the head of three people who depend on you…then it may not be heroic, but it’s definitely inspiring.

The impression that this kind of steady, solid life made on me can be hard to describe in words to others – the signature events are things like, in my case, teaching me how to shave, how to ride a bike, and how to parallel park, or taking me on a tour of the battleship USS Wisconsin when it docked at the Philadelphia Navy Yard - because I liked ships and he liked ships, and it’s hard to think of a better way to spend a few hours than clambering through steel corridors, marveling at 16-inch guns, and thinking about the sailors who served there. He liked to read books, and I like to read books. Sometimes I read books that he recommended. Exciting! These things of course add up to days, weeks, and years – and memories - even if they don’t really come in handy at parties.

In the end, that’s not important. You don’t have to know any stories about my grandfather’s life to really get what he was about. Instead, just look at the people who surrounded and loved him – his devoted wife, his two children, and his three grandchildren. And speaking for myself, especially now that I have children, I know that I recognize Grandpop – and lessons I learned from him - in myself and my actions every day. (But Benjy and Anne can relax, because I promise never to wake them up in the morning by dragging the sheets off and then dribbling cold water on them. Surprisingly effective, as it turns out!) In Anne’s case, Jeanne and I made that connection explicit, since her middle name is Frances, after Grandpop – ensuring in a concrete way that his memory will live on in her.

I deeply regret that he never really knew his great-grandchildren before passing into a world beyond knowing, a few years ago, but in small ways they may be able to see him in me. That is a kind of immortality.

To me, Grandpop’s life was about three words: patience, kindness, and love. Thank you, Grandpop, for showing me in your quiet, powerful way what it means to be a loving family man. I hope I can carry the message to your great-grandchildren.

Sing along Saturday.

Take your pick: the alphabet song, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, or Baa Baa Black Sheep.

Moving the pile.

Ghost Wars: The Secret History of the CIA, Afghanistan, and Bin Laden, from the Soviet Invasion to September 10, 2001, by Steve Coll. A primer on the law of unintended consequences, with memorable sketches of CIA chiefs Bill Casey and George Tenet. The key moral question, of course, is how do you decide when not to dither? Dithering can sometimes be the best among a set of bad options. In this case, it wasn't.

Bosnia: A Short History, by Noah Malcolm. Being written and published in 1992 gives this book an interesting (non-)perspective on the later developments in the conflict. I reject his view on Bogomilism and the Bosnian Church as the sheerest poppycock, however. The evidence is plain to see, if you only know where to look.