Fried Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe: by Fannie Flag.

How do love and friendship between two friends battle against a physically and in every other way abusive husband of one, long after her love (and the other friend's much loved brother) has died in an accident? The ultimate solution lies in the fact that all red flesh looks alike after all, and when served as a dish, the policeman who is on the side of the abusive male and persecuting the two women with a suspicion about the disappearance of the said abusive male (who had threatened them with everything he could and was quite capable of carrying out his threat, never dreaming delicate young women could strike back in defence) has no suspicion about what his latest free meal at the cafe the two women run consists of - he merely appreciates the taste.

From Here To Eternity: by James Jones.

Home truths about war and US military with heartbreaking and one being forced to recognise the truths of this work, From Here To Eternity is to US what All Quiet On The Western Front is to home truths of war in Europe and German army in wwI. A must.

Lincoln's Mothers: by Dorothy Clarke Wilson.

A very good book about some very good people, nice to read, and leaves one with a good feeling suffusing one's heart.

Lincoln spoke about his mother, and most people understood it to be about his birth mother who died soon after. The author here questions that automatic assumption, and while makes no dispute about someone who gave life to such a great man, hypothesises that it might in fact have been about his stepmother who influenced him and was responsible for encouraging his aspirations of reading and learning despite the harsh frontier life of Illinois - Indiana - Kentucky border where his future wife was brought up in a mansion in style with slaves while he lived in a log cabin.

The Canterville ghost, The happy prince and other stories: by Oscar Wilde.

“The Canterville ghost is one of the most delightful stories for all its subject's seriousness - for, like it or not, believe it or not, England is reputed to be riddled with ghosts, and whether the living are scared or amused or intrigued or bored or oblivious, it cannot be anything but torture for a departed soul to linger on in agony of the horrors suffered in life - or for that matter the punishment for misdeeds one did that preclude the progress of the soul.

So there is the very sensitive and loving young daughter of the visiting family who brings solace to the ghost, and the parents who simply refuse to believe there is anything of the sort anywhere at all, and the family servants who are taking care of the estate and the new tenants while keeping mum on the topic mostly. But then there is the pair of young twin boys who will be boys and this time in a good way, who not only see and believe what they see plainly and hear but fight back with all their arsenal - and the old ghost is no match for the tween pair. They set traps and the ghost is caught, they throw water and the ghost catches cold, and so forth, with increasing delight for the boys and despair for the ghost. Then there is the practical mother of the children who gets the bloodstains washed and wiped clean as a matter of fact every day, and they are all amused to notice that the colour of the blood stains begins to change to various shades of red - and then one day it is green, to the total perplexed attention of four out of five. The sensitive young girl is in tears meanwhile due to the stains, since the production of the stains by the ghost has been depleting her precious paints and she knows she will only be blamed if she were to inform them why the latest one is green. The parents are so rock firm in their lack of belief in ghosts!

Importance of Being Ernest:: by Oscar Wilde.

Delightful and seemingly silly comedy with Ernest being a name, one that more than one suitor of a couple of young women claim, and seem finally to have - what with a nanny who lost a baby by confusing it with a handbag she was going to check in at a safe storage facility, fortunate finding of the said lost baby transformed into a young male, and so forth.

The title however is a clue to the wit of the author, the subtle or perhaps under the circumstances not so subtle commentary on the prevalent norms that penalised him for his lack of reverence for social norms of the day, the tongue in cheek nature of the title being hollow since Ernest is only a name after all.

Importance of Being Ernest: by Oscar Wilde.

Delightful and seemingly silly comedy with Ernest being a name, one that more than one suitor of a couple of young women claim, and seem finally to have - what with a nanny who lost a baby by confusing it with a handbag she was going to check in at a safe storage facility, fortunate finding of the said lost baby transformed into a young male, and so forth.

The title however is a clue to the wit of the author, the subtle or perhaps under the circumstances not so subtle commentary on the prevalent norms that penalised him for his lack of reverence for social norms of the day, the tongue in cheek nature of the title being hollow since Ernest is only a name after all.

Lady Windermere's Fan: by Oscar Wilde.

With a name like that you would expect a delightful comedy, and you would be wrong - this one begins to break heart right from the word go. There is the very young Lady Windermere with her new husband she is very much in love with and the friend of the couple who is in love with her, and the whole society buzzing with the woman of disrepute new in town who the said husband has recently taken up with, including paying her very expensive bills; she even almost blackmails him to give her more money, and he is unable to refuse. The woman is audacious enough to make acquaintance of Lady Windermere herself, which might compromise the latter in view of the reputation of the former, and has boldness enough to demand that the husband gets her invited to the party the wife is throwing. The husband is desperate enough to ask, the wife refuses in all rectitude, and the husband sends out the invitation anyway in the wife's name, normally a privilege and a right that belongs solely to her. The wife upon seeing the woman she has not invited informs him she shall strike the woman with her fan, a public insult he implores her not to offer - and she lacks the courage to do so. Then she sees the huge amount he has paid out to the woman, and decides it is time to leave him, and takes support of the very persuasive friend who has been attempting to convince her he will be a far more faithful lover than the husband - of course he is not about to remind her of the life of ignominy she shall live thereafter as either an adulteress or as a divorcée, or worse if the said lover abandoned her.

And then comes the full knowledge offered by the author to the reader (but it is to be kept from the innocent young bride for her own security) and the twists that save her, and too the "other" woman. The end is truly delightful, after all the heartbreaks through the whole play.

Howard's End: by E. M. Forster.

A good exposé of caste system as understood - perhaps not so named, but well entrenched for all that - in UK, generally Europe, and even in US all except the aristocracy bit (and even that, albeit not supposedly so). Those that have money look down on those that do not, although those that have been brought up having it and expecting to continue the life that money allowed them to live are then in uncertain circumstances when money is not quite there for whatever reason - a will, an entailed estate, whatever.

A lover might then jilt a perfectly wonderful young woman with aplomb upon discovery - or with prior knowledge - of her penury or a little straitened circumstances resulting in lack of a sumptuous dowry, and expect no harsh consequences for himself; rather, she must expect to be socially outcast for having a well to do male trifle with her as if she were able to afford a dowry suitable to purchase his betrothal.

An older male with wealth might notice a younger woman in straitened circumstances and propose marriage to her expecting her gratitude, even that of her whole family, along with a prompt acceptance; after all he is providing her and them with a shelter and food on table, and they must see to his convenience in all things concerned no matter what else transpires.

If a young woman with no money takes up with a man of education and higher aspirations and attempts to help him out of a tender heart, she stands to be ridiculed or worse if he is married and - or - less well to do.

When all of the above come together in one story, it makes for quite a social commentary on the social hypocrisy regarding the said caste system of west, dealing with interactions of rich, poor and in between, their expectations and aspirations, education and dreams of a life with art and music and literature.

All Quiet On The Western Front: by Erich Maria Remarque.

One of the few looks at a war depicting it with all its horrors and unappetising, sordid details - perhaps an original in that sense. Not bugles but barely school graduate (or not even graduate) boys leaving in tears just held back while they can just about not cling to their mothers as the train is ready to leave; not glories but the real details of a war as it happens to normal soldiers. This is the reality when the war is as pointless as that begun by Germany in wwI, and the horror then spread to involve various other nations and their soldiers, what with the years of trenches and living in mud in all sorts of weather in northern Europe.

The author is respected and celebrated as one of the best for very good reason, even if he had done nothing but this one brilliant piece telling it like it was.

Mexico: by James Michener.

October 15, 2008

This is temporary I hope - I haven't finished this yet, partly due to an unwillingness to go on to watch a bullfight even on paper, what with the very evocative writings of this author.

He truly brings alive the history of the continent, of the indigenous and their encounters with the invading marauders who assumed supremacy due to colour and size, the change over from a once flourishing civilization that not much is known now about, to one in constant state of flux with various military and other regimes and neighbours looking down on the nation that was once great in various achievements.

But reading this made one aware of much of the world that one is generally unlikely to know about, and the history is sometimes - often more often than not so, amazing; and then again a little off-putting in the concepts about bloodshed.

And then the fights themselves, while reading this I found an unasked question being answered, though it was not mentioned here - not as far as I read.

One always wonders why torture an innocent animal like this, one that can be far more useful and friendly too, unlike dangerous ones that can turn into human-hunters, although mostly even they do so usually by accident.

And I wondered if it was not a necessity of food, and the difficulty of killing a bull in prime without a fight, that began as a needful activity and turned into a spectator sport. Else it makes very little sense really.

Various people that go throwing paint on fur coats have not paid attention to this and other cruelty to animals on everyday basis is also due to this - it is easy to shout against a luxury of a few that kills a few animals, but difficult to protest against food of many. This is all the more so, especially when huge financial interests are involved, the butchers (who have taken to call themselves farmers, as if they and not the animals are responsible for the cattle reproduction, which is not a sowing and harvest, it is a mammal reproduction of the species) and the markets that sell and the chains that serve it.

So the protest against mink coats that makes no sense to a vegetarian might be really a token by an awakening mind and consciousness that nevertheless weighs carefully the consequences - if you protest against any chains serving burgers, you might be thrown in jail or worse, asylum; while throwing paint on a coat you couldn't afford anyway is treated lightly, the rich one might be induced to buy another one after all!

It is a fight they pick carefully, and do not even protest the leather shoes or bags or briefcases when those have become unnecessary. And of course those are the least of it all - if you are going to eat a huge quantity of animals in a culture what do you do with the leftovers? The least is leather goods manufacture, which in fact can be done even without the eating part - after all the animals are going to die one day, on their own.

It is far easier to protest killing of foxes in distant regions where their roaming is not a threat to your children and your pets and your barn animals.

October 15, 2008
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December 9, 2010.

Finally one gets over the reluctance to go through a gory death or two, certainly of the innocent animals involved who are bred and brought up only so that they can be murdered for sport, never mind the honour of being mounted on walls of owners and breeders with pride about how they fought well, but also of the men involved in the killing of the animals, occasionally - after all it is an honourable way to kill the poor animals tricked into the arena to be killed, only with swords and other similar weapons rather than with a bullet at a distance safe enough for the killer.

Having sealed oneself to any sensibility of the gore involved, one proceeds to go through the rest of the book and it proves more rewarding with a history of Mexico along with the related parts of history of Spain, US, church, and so forth. It is a letdown to accidentally read the acknowledgement at the end to find that a good deal of it is "fiction" as stated by the writer, but then again, that is about specific people and names mentioned, including that of city of Toledo in Mexico. Other parts however are perfectly true, such as inquisition in Europe in general and Spain in particular. Palafoxes might be fiction, but burning of dissenters by church is as real and historical as bullfights or civil war of US.

That being the case, the initial uncanny feeling one gets while reading the history of Mexico, (with the history of its primitive and beastly nomadic tribals from northern parts creeping closer to and overtaking the far superior civilisation of the Builders who have grown too peaceful to resist the vicious onslaught due precisely to the vastly superior civilisation they have achieved - they have built, are peaceful, have civil administration, and other amenities and achievements more than comparable to any other of the period in the world - and the subsequent subjugation and massacre of the superior civilisation by the wilder tribes from north before the wild tribes settle down, adopt ways of the subjugated ones and absorb their culture and achievements and proceed to be civilised and build on top of the ruins they brought about), that it is all too similar enough to history of Asia (what with tribes of Mongolia and central Asia descending on India and reigning havoc with destruction and massacres before settling down and adopting much of Indian culture including superior buildings albeit built over the destroyed older ones), is all too easily explained after all. It is perhaps an coincidence of history after all, with similar events occurring clear across the world, but it is just as likely a history of another land written by someone more familiar with the more famous history of a much older civilisation overrun by tribes of Mongolia, central Asia, Arabia and then Europe, just as it happened perhaps in Mexico. The Goddess described by Michener with revulsion might be a fact of Mexican history, and then again his description might just be the reaction of Europe to images of Kaalie the Mother Goddess worshiped in India, a reaction that stems through a total absence of perception and comprehension. Certainly the description and the reaction is all too similar, with the difference of the thought that all such images stem from imagination rather than a greater perception of reality, for how could anyone with a more than feeble colour of visage and less than totally vicious lack of regard for others have any superiority of mind and spirit, goes the reasoning.

All this from a source that has historically brutal massacres of any dissenters merely for the reason of dissent, massacres held valid while dissent held abominable even now with usage of words and terminology describing the inquisition, the burning at stakes, the subjugation and conversion of other people, and so forth including enslaving of almost three continents and looting of their wealth while sneering at the people empoverished thereby. It is almost a vicious satire on the thinking of the dominant races that preach of their supposedly superior idols and the murders, massacres and slavery of others in the name of a philosophy of love and kindness, all the while boasting of their horror at idols of others who in fact are far more of the civilised and achieved people in terms of mind and spirit.
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Europe had gunpowder - from China - while Mexico and southern civilisations had astronomy, architecture, and much more; the meeting of the two civilisations resulted in havoc reigned on the latter by the former. Admission of all this is covered with equivocation by the descriptions of human sacrifices by a fictional tribe in a fictional city and building of structures of civil society over an already established city while stealing its valuable minerals - silver in this case - in the book; much of the fiction is only fiction re specific names, while the general history is all too real, only taken from various sources in Mexico and perhaps subconsciously from Asia as well.

The greatest virtue of the book is in the fact that one wishes to go on reading about the history of Mexico and various other parts of the continent of what is so falsely termed "New World" - twenty thousand years of life in the continent, including nearly a millennia of familiarity to Nordic Europe what with Viking settlements in Canada and as far south as Boston, is hardly what one would call "new", unless compared to far more ancient civilisations of Asia such as India or China - and this even apart from the dismay at the discovery of the author's declaration that the specifics herein are "fiction". So next one finishes the other book, not declared fiction by the author of that one but on the contrary one that questions the popular and assiduously propagated versions of history, by Hancock.

One nice point is the beginning of a consciousness in humans of the brains of cattle with the fast learning ability, all too similar to humans; another is about the genealogical relationship of qualities received from the parents - physical abilities from father, courage from mother. Put the two together, it is not difficult to understand how those that live with cattle in harmony rather than a relationship of slavery have a regard for the cattle, brought about by the perceived and understood qualities of gentle and yet strong, courageous species with an ability to understand, an ability to learn and love and more, all too like humans. And if this perception is allowed to filter through the ego it has to lead to the destruction of misogyny - for a clear evidence of qualities of cows compared with bulls has to lead anyone not too stupid to question if the inferiority of the human female is not an invention of male institutions of church and other sort to subjugate and enslave half of humanity for selfish purposes rather than an actual perception of qualities and differences thereof.