Ben Hur by Lew Wallace.

Roman occupation of Judea was no more benefic than occupations of various nations of other continents by nations from Europe in modern times, it is only that attempts to wipe out memory of that older occupation - or if not wipe out then bury it under a plethora of lies galore - is older, and conquistadores write history while wiping out that of those occupied and enslaved even in the later era. Here one sees the occupation as it was, and the crucifixions (- not only one, that of a Divine Being, but doubtless plenty of good men amongst those that were criminals against humanity and not merely against the occupying rulers -) as a part of it, unlike the later lies forced on those that chose to believe them.

This story focuses on one that was amongst the wealthy and on equal footing with the occupying Romans due to his status and education, and was enslaved during that occupation due partly to the jealousy of the rulers and particularly one that called him a friend, and partly to his having taken side with his poor people rather than the cruel occupational forces in the injustices they committed. In this he was not unlike any other freedom fighter, Divine or otherwise, but unlike his more famous contemporary (since then appropriated by the occupying colonial rulers while driving out, persecuting, falsely blaming and all but wiping out his people) persona, he was not crucified outright, but rather enslaved personally and tortured on and on. His fate and his personal qualities were his only help in freeing him - and bringing back his family to life was another matter, that of divine intervention.

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid (2006) A Memoir; by Bill Bryson.

Apart from all the fun, very informative in more than one way - from matinees being really a dark space for four thousand children to riot to match fights to how was alcohol stolen when no one distrusts neighbours, all of this in a prosperous and happy bygone era in a small town midwest US - and yet the nostalgia connects to those that lived that decade elsewhere and differently. Wonderful book.

Incidentally Bryson is a fan of my favourite show, and I have not found another one either until now, not an independant one anyway. The only difference is he watched it when he was young, and I watched it when I was finally free to relax a little post final graduation and during first serious professional post. Then it played at midnight and I stayed up to see it.

Everything Is Illuminated; by Jonathan Safran Foer.

Someone young goes into unknown territory, one moreover that has been demonised where he grew up, for sake of looking up a vital piece of the past, someone who had saved his grandfather from being captured and carried to death if not killed outright. To thank someone who existed once -

Gratitude is a rare virtue, and this tale a moving example of gratitude at its best, when one may not find the person to be thanked however belatedly. Belatedly it had to be, because of the various closed borders.

Love, Life and All that Jazz; by Ahmed Faiyaz.

Language mixed beyond real or tolerable for a serious reader, local background of India and Mumbai perhaps modern, perhaps imaginary, likely both. Truly ridiculous errors like someone in India waking up while a friend or a lover in UK is already in a classroom, and this is not about those that wake up late in the afternoon. An attempt to transplant a basically western, perhaps really of US, tale onto India, with poor grafting.

Down The Road; by Ahmed Faiyaz, Rohini Kejriwal.

Collection of stories with forced language - a mix of local with some English de rigueur - local colour and perhaps not quite local audience or readership in mind when editing or ordering the collection.

The Finkler Question; by Howard Jacobson.

It is not clear if he bores the reader out of socks for the sadistic fun of whether one shall chuck it after the first page or not, obfuscating the issues he deals with by the language as well as irrelevant details and descriptions, and worse. If one does plough through, one is then certain of never ever picking up anything by this pretentious bore. At the end he refuses to make it clear if the protagonist died of the attack which may or may not have been anti Semitic, in the heart of London. The porn details sprinkled like pepper all over do not work with the anti Semitic attacks described almost off hand (any concern hidden under ponderings and obfuscating language), they merely add to bad taste overall one is left with.

Almost Single; by Advaita Kala.

Reasonably good version of the corresponding variations from UK (shopping girl, what's the name?) and US (Prada et al), but is the hidebound traditional society of India, or even (New) Delhi, gone so far ahead as to let a bunch of women live alone and work and move about so freely and survive the city? Mind you they are without their own cars (most of the time) much less a hefty bodyguard or a bunch, or even chauffeurs for that matter, needed to ensure protection against stray male attackers. But on the whole definitely a feel good variation of the books of similar sort from UK and US, without pretension of local language making it unpleasant as some other recent reads do, although not without local colour and lingo for that matter.

Cranford: by Elizabeth Gaskell.

Cranford:- Life in a small town or village in nineteenth century England described with Gaskell's skill at human lives and characters' description - human nature may be pretty much the same, hence the recognition and amusement for a reader, while material life has changed and hence the value of a detailed account by a skilled and observant author.

Mr. Harrison's Confessions:- True if amusing portrait of a small town's attempts to hook the eligible bachelor new in town.

Doom of the Griffiths:- Tale from Wales of a legendary curse on someone who Brutus-like cheated a friend he owed loyalty to, the curse coming true against all possible expectations in a very roundabout way in the precise ninth generation it was for.

Lois The Witch:- Story of an innocent English orphan young girl sent to New England to seek out her only living relative by her dying mother getting caught up in the Salem mayhem due to the prejudiced and ignorant immigrants to the new lands and accused of being a witch due to a young spiteful child's plea for calling attention to herself through accusing someone of witchcraft. Sordid example of religious persecution that would not tolerate, much less understand, differences within branches of the same religion.

Curious, if True :- A man goes about looking for descendants of his illustrious ancestor Calvin in Tours and comes upon a castle with fairy tale personae come alive albeit unrecognisable - they have proceeded to live beyond the tales and are no more the same as described but have grown in directions the authors couldn't have thought of.

My Feudal Lord; by Tehmina Durrani.

Tehmina Durrani portrays a life with all its contexts - a nation formed on basis of an intolerant creed (and then she claims that democracy took root in India while in Pakistan it did not, as if democracy were a weed that accidentally takes root rather than a creed that needs protection of thought and action in every sphere of life by a nation awake to alternatives and not willing to allow them), a creed that demands much out of women but allows a lot of leeway to males no matter what is supposed to be done in name of fairness if anything, a powerful male who therefore can play with women as he chooses and break them for the fun of it, a society that is supposed to be intolerant of adultery but allows it between two married people as long as the male partner in the said fornication is one with power of various sorts, a society that flouts much when it is a question of money or power or spending on luxuries like carpets and paintings but thinks that an education is matriculation in a convent school with no other objective than teaching a girl how to look seemly in society, and much much more.

One of the most interesting points is about a society so hell bent on a skin colour never mind the supposed equality inherent in creed, that "whitewashing" one's descendants by marrying "white" women and producing offspring through them into one's nation and creed and family name is as common as status and money can allow the male. This is so extreme as to have the darker children of people proud of their skin suffer from the mother's disdain and harsh treatment with the grandmother explaining to the hurt children how they can win the said mother's love by lightening their skin and other servile methods. This is presumably much more harsh on daughters of the said mothers who hate their own darker progeny. And yet a constant theme amongst expats is the equality of all men in the creed, irrespective of colour of skin.

Durrani fails to connect the hypocrisy with hollowness of the basis of formation of her nation although she does manage to rise above some of her severe beginning handicaps and her subsequent fallings including into adultery and slavehood status to a second husband who abused her in every possible way after having wrenched her away from her loving first husband. She sees the point about her not loving her first husband in spite of his being a loving and gentle person while the second is anything but; nevertheless the desire to reinstate herself in her parents' society as acceptable socially after the dual handicap of a dark skin and a husband of lesser class (and they say they have no caste barriers!) is too powerful to stop her from getting caught in a marriage of abusive years and years.

That she finally managed to escape and survive is supposed to be a great victory of freedom with bugles - and the fact that many women in similar circumstances do not manage to escape but die sooner or later in the abusive relationship makes it true enough. That she does not see the hypocrisy and gaps of logic and information of her background says she has miles galore to go before she begins to comprehend just where the handicaps and hypocrisies begin.

The Motorcycle Diaries; by Ernesto Che Guevara.

If one comes to this book with any sort of expectations whether from having a glorified image of the author's life and work or - like I did - due to a strong impact of the film made after the book, repeating the journey of the two young boys well over a half a century later when the circumstances of the people of the continent are not really changed for better, especially those of the indigenous people of the continents, one is bound to be disappointed. This is unadulterated diary of a young male of that era, and whatever else he understood or learned or was impressed with that led to his life and work is here only fleetingly while the prejudices of his own roots often enough do show. He says more than once that he has not thought it proper to add to what he wrote then in publishing it later; fair enough.

If one does wish for a better view of the formation of the man that he became later, the visual impressions left by the film do a much better work of giving one what he saw and what impressions it left. One could, of course, undertake to repeat the journey oneself. One might however find the roads and other conditions not improved, and one's fitness to undergo such an ordeal must be taken into account beforehand. Personally I would take note of all the difficulties of roads mentioned herein before even a touristic travel to see the splendours of the continent, whether of cultural history or nature. Pity one could not do it while young and healthy.

The Tell-Tale Brain; by V. S. Ramachandran.

An interesting review of brain from a well known neurologist, for professionals and for those not in the profession. The author is either ambivalent about some aspects of his work and conclusions thereof - conclusions neither necessary logically nor valid logically but drawn nevertheless usually by most so called rationalists - or unwilling to look a bit further and see more. Correlation does not necessarily amount to a causal relation, much less necessarily one way, he and his ilk ought to remember.

A User's Guide to the Brain; by John J. Ratey.

Could have been written or edited better, but from point of view of information provided especially to non professionals very interesting, valuable, and so forth.

Fingerprints of the Gods: by Graham Hancock.

After finishing this one, with a few books read in between, I happened to pick up Chariots of Gods by Daniken, and was surprised - first, that I had not read it before (seen and heard about it often, though without anybody mentioning anything about its contents), and second, that this book is like an exercise at checking out various facts mentioned by Daniken in Chariots of Gods - Hancock goes into all of it at length and gives a different theory about it, one more suited to present times with more known about space and universe, albeit just as novel for standard scholars of the subjects; then he recants it all in a chapter after the book itself is finished, chapter giving an interview on BBC.

The following is the original review as I wrote it, with the above as it ought to occur, as a postscript - except that Chariots of Gods did come first and so does deserve to be mentioned before, which is why the paragraph above is left where it is at risk of duplication.
(May 6, 2011)

It is taking long to finish not because it is not attractive but on the contrary - it gives so much to think and mull over, one needs time to go over and go back to the book again before reading more, rather than finishing it like a racy read all at one go.

Gives a lot of information and raises a great many questions too, about various parts of the world that were supposed to be unknown until comparatively recently in human history.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010
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This book was in reading for nearly two years, perhaps longer, when the above was written; one reading over, I suspect it could take another or more before a good comprehension of all that goes into the theory formed here is well understood in detail. It is an intriguing theory, or rather, a banquet of many many theories brought together with much detail of facts around the world from archeological and legendary nature investigated.

When one finishes reading this, one would like to go on and know more and investigate more about the various possibilities. And then one goes on to read the BBC interview where the author reverses much of his revolutionary thinking, and whether in an attempt to placate the historians or otherwise simply bows down to the establishment and their comfortable assertions about age of civilisation et al.

This is where the cursory nature of his looking at legends around this world by whatever name comes in. Fact is people of various disciplines - sciences, history, archeology, whatever - of western establishment, and therefore of most of the world, do not dare to cross the church even when they are against all religion and avowed rationalists according to their own affirmations; their subconscious plays tricks and does not allow them to disobey several dicta of the institution that once burned people alive for daring to disagree, forever calling them heretics and making it sound like that was the greatest atrocity one could think of. So they might claim they do not care for religion or church but would face a huge wall of opposition all the more for the crossing of various bases of church dogma, which of course includes the age of civilisation.

And yet, by what miracle of meditation could another civilisation halfway around the world have known of the fact that the Himaalaya rose out of the ocean, or have a theory of evolution (cloaked in story of Divine appearances or Descent on the earth in successive stages), millennia before Darwin, is a question worth asking.

Moreover there is the engineering feat as well of bringing down Himaalayan mighty river Gangaa by one man, a legend firmly established and worth investigating.) This contradicts the theory that the civilisation is only a few millennia old like the church says. (Alternative, after science in recent decades having established the fact of the rising of Himaalaya from the ocean - just like the old, old legend goes in India since ancient times, is that India knows of such facts due to the sheer brilliance of its thinkers and seers who have extraordinary perception into knowledge west cannot imagine how, since very ancient times; which could be all too correct as well!

Although one must say this author too does the usual callous thing of taking an immense trove of knowledge and taking a few things and attempting to fit them to his own theory - for example, the interpreting of Samudramanthan (churning of oceans - by Gods and their opponents) as the apparently turning of heavens observed from an earth in process of the crust slipping over the core. This interpretation is suited to the theory of the author, but he forgets the churning is supposed to have brought up Himaalaya out of the oceans on the earth, not the Milky Way as the author interprets the ocean. So one needs to think over the discrepancy of the new interpretation and the known and understood one.

So never mind the recanting of the whole cataclysms periodically destroying advanced civilisations theory by the author for various reasons of his unknown to the reader, fact is some of it is known to be true and some seems to fit in with the various stories and legends. Precession of the axis of rotation is true and the changeover from Pisces to Aquarius is expected soon (although he does not make it clear how it happens, does the spring equinox shift to 21 February suddenly or is Aquarius already close to rising with the sun on 21 March, for one thing; and how is this related to the precession of the equinoxes, or is it separate, for another; and so forth); and so is the periodic shifting of the poles, even reversing, while the magnetic poles are already known to have been shifting and are away from the geographic poles. The author mentions and semi explains some of this, repeating but not explaining some parts very well.

Earth crust development theory is startling, unsettling, and one must admit it gives sleepless nights all the more so with a possible next date (21 December 2012) provided with ancient unexplained calculations from Mayan or older civilisations for the end of this civilisation as we know it. Global warming unsettling the earth is yet another factor known to scientists as well as people who do not live with their minds blinkered by the unwillingness to change gas guzzling habits. The latter makes the former seem plausibly loom on the horizon.

Why the author - having established after strenuous arguments that the engineering feats of the older buildings in Egypt and Mexico and Peru and so forth, with details of monoliths placed interlocking in huge structures and so on - now turns around and says they are the work of the known civilisations after all (who produced much inferior structures soon thereafter, which was his first argument for a much older and lost civilisation with tremendous knowledge of various kinds), is unclear - since he merely recants and gives no argument other than being convinced by the establishment after all with its theories he has fought so valiantly through the book.

All in all, much food for thought.
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After finishing this one, with a few books read in between, I happened to pick up Chariots of Gods by Daniken, and was surprised - first, that I had not read it before (seen and heard about it often, though without anybody mentioning anything about its contents), and second, that this book is like an exercise at checking out various facts mentioned by Daniken in Chariots of Gods - Hancock goes into all of it at length and gives a different theory about it, one more suited to present times with more known about space and universe, albeit just as novel for standard scholars of the subjects; then he recants it all in a chapter after the book itself is finished, chapter giving an interview on BBC.
(May 6, 2011)

Prime Obsession: by John Derbyshire.

The book and the style of writing are maddening, especially coming from a professional in the field - as often as not one wishes one could do more than raise eyebrows in a civilised manner and simply bop the fellow one on head, hard. It is bad enough he downplays or speaks degradingly of his professional colleagues in general, although not anyone in particular. He also refuses to provide extremely simple proofs claiming "that way lies madness" thus depriving non professionals of an opportunity of being charmed with the beauty of the subject of Mathematics. Why he feels the need so desperately to kowtow to idiots by disparaging the subject, the profession, the people in the profession, and so on, is difficult to comprehend for anyone unfamiliar with the atmosphere in general from early schools to colleges to universities - indeed generally any institutions short of stature compared to, say, Princeton or thereabouts - where jocks are worshipped and those capable of thought are abused verbally and in almost every other way beginning with epithets such as nerd, geek et al (and then comes the resentment against other cultures that actually do study, worship knowledge, and reap benefits of intelligence era in work and employment); but still, he need not have assumed the reader of such a book would have the same idiot bully attitude or that he would be stoned to death if he did not disparage his subject and badmouth it.

All that is bad enough, but having gone through the book it is far more maddening to find extremely important clues missing, almost as if he is afraid a stray reader might solve the Riemann hypothesis while reading this if he provided the important clues. He covers his back by mentioning that Mathematicians do handwave and leave gaps that are expected to be filled by the audience, but those are the sort that are more obvious, and one is not expected in the course of a lecture or a series of lectures in the subject to know why a sum of an infinite series of powers of positive integers becomes zero at negative even numbers even if the said sum can be shown to equal an infinite product of inverse terms involving primes, all primes. If one is needled, one has to go through the book over and over to find somewhere hidden in a corner a mention that a third expression for the same function is a product including sine function with half pi integer multiple, but if he has given why the third expression is equal to the other two infinite ones, one a sum and another a product, that is far too well hidden - or one has missed it due to some miracle.

All this exasperation and the double wish the book generates, one regarding going into the subject and another about bopping the fellow a few times on the head, still strangely enough does not do away with the fact that the book is very worth reading for someone not already deep in the subject. For those very familiar with all the mathematics herein I suppose the history nevertheless is extremely interesting. One does feel an immense sense of gratitude to all those great geniuses for not bending their minds to reap immediate rewards for personal benefit.

Fermat's Last Theorem: by Simon Singh.

Anyone who needs being reminded that there are mountain peaks of people out there through history past and present, and shall in all likelihood always be, far more brilliant and dedicated and hard working and perhaps lucky - some far from lucky but possession of all the other aforenamed virtues to larger extents - then that person can do no better than to pick up this little volume and read it start to finish. If then it makes one feel very small indeed, so one finds it hard to live with oneself and call oneself a human belonging to the same species as these giants, one better make sure one is in close proximity with someone who reminds oneself why one deserves to live.

Only Time Will Tell: by Jeffrey Archer.

If Archer does not come forth with a sequel, soon and satisfactory, one would not mind him being sent back in for a while to encourage him towards the process. The book is not only that good but drives one to fury ending the way it does, with an innocent victim of circumstance - and a poor bright one too, generally adored one on top of all his other excellent qualities - looking at the noose he not only did nothing to deserve but far more.

Generally I am beginning to suspect there has been at least one very high profile real story in English "society" of this nature: not only this is the second time Archer is writing about an upper strata bounder being vicious to the child he fathered and the woman who is supporting the said child, but there too is the work of Catherine Cookson with the basically similar storyline albeit very different plot and characters.

Chariots of the Gods: by Erich Daniken.

Many real mysteries, many questions, ... a must read.

In details this is the book that evoked many questions, and brought much to notice of general intelligent well informed reader that was swept under the rug by historians and archeologists alike in their prejudiced bibliophile view. Graham later went about exploring the places mentioned here and produced a huge tome with a completely different theory to explain the same phenomena, before recanting it. Daeniken gives the space travellers theory with much conviction on his part as to its being the only explanation and a need of human future, but he does give a good deal of details of world past in the process of his reasoning. Today we know a bit more about for example Mars, still, all in all this is worth a read.

The Long Walk: by Slavomir Rawicz.

Astounding, amazing story of grit and determination to survive, walking four thousand miles from Siberia to India. Based on true story - and there was more than one such story of survival, with another of escapees from Russia walking to Persia. One has to salute human spirit, and thank whatever brought the very uplifting tale to one's notice.

Amos Barton: by George Eliot.

For an early work this story has amazing insight into human nature and behaviour, along with a detailed description of the place and time, and also usage of the language far more extensive than what one is used to during 20th century even before the sms era.

Even if one knows nothing of the author it is easy to suspect post finishing the book that this is an autobiographical tale, and it mainly at heart is a very deeply loving daughter's heartbreaking tribute to her very beautiful and universally loved mother who was also a very good person, along with the outward story that is a factual exoneration of her father of a false blame and suspicion harboured by silly neighbours of the parish who could not imagine a beautiful woman taking an extensive stay with a family of a man of cloth even if his own wife was beautiful, much loved by all including himself, and very much present on premises.

Why the author could not show details of the family post the departure of the mother is what one immediately questions after finishing this abruptly ending tale - along with such questions as what happened to other children (only two are mentioned, did the rest die as children did of decease and starvation in poverty in Europe those days?) and why Patty did not marry. That can be only explained by the surmise that this is the story of Mary Ann Evans who took the pen name of George Eliot in order to be able to write in peace and publish at all (- misogyny was not so violent then as now what with crimes against women being more violent and explicit by the day, but women were not seen as people who could think and were certainly not allowed to write and publish, and being an exception was a harsh struggle, so Bronte sisters had male names to publish too as did Madam Sand -) and that she did not marry due to the horror and pathos of the marriage of her mother who died so early in her life, compounded by the fact that there was no dowry for Patty or Mary Ann Evans to help her marry with security of a middle class life, since her father was a poor man of cloth with several children to feed and clothe and shelter.

One cannot but help compare here, since it is very pertinent and relevant - Barton in all his poverty and ordinary Englishman's life and persona of someone who has been to university and is involved day to day in matters intellectual and religious (for Barton approaches religion and sermons within strictly the intellectual realm and bores his parish stiff, enabling them to distance themselves until they sympathise with his loss of his wife) and little or none of the luxuries or power in his life or riches for that matter, is nonetheless no different from the Mongol (Mughal is Persian for Mongol, and the close relatives of Kublai Khan that settled in India routed via Persia bringing that nomenclature) emperor Shah Jahan who built that extravagant mausoleum for his wife on top of the revered temple of the majority religion of the country, achieving two shots in one; both the women were worn out by extensive childbearing beyond their health capability and died due to this " excessive love from the husband", a husband who was incapable of forbearing his sexual appetite even when the consequences endangered the wife's health to the point of death.

Perhaps the only difference is that Barton (or Evans) had no harem to satisfy his needs elsewhere while preserving the loved wife's health and life, and Shah Jahan did but wore out the one loved nevertheless. Amelia Barton died after giving birth to seven children (or is it eight?) and Mumtaj Mahal to fourteen, but then the latter had servants galore to do all her work and take care of her as well, and no lack of physicians or food or remedies of any sort available around in half the known world.

Milly Barton was poor, overworked, starving, worrying about her children being fed and clothed, and paying the bills in all honour.

This says two separate and related things to any aware reader - one, those involved in intellectual and spiritual line of work are likely to be poor as a rule, whether vicars and curates of England or Brahmans of India or rabbis of Jewish diaspora anywhere for that matter, and especially more so when they have families of their own to support and are not allowed to make money by using any skills since they are men of cloth or are Brahmans as indeed they are not by tradition allowed in most of these cases. And two, the only difference in the various traditions mentioned here is that in the older ones the Brahman or the rabbi is at least nominally most respected member of the society while a curate or a vicar is not accorded that social respect without backing of independent wealth, which in fact gets him a better living too.

Positions of vicar, curate, etc might be obtained by anybody and are not hereditary, but that in practice merely means that the positions are either bought by someone for the person appointed or are doled out as a favour to someone for some reason for the favour; as a consequence those richer get higher positions and those from poor background get less paid ones if at all, in church as well in trade or military or any other sphere of work.

On thinking it over, men inheriting their father's trade is not so far off this buying of positions, since most poor in the world are limited to what knowledge their parents can provide them as heritage; and women all over the world are limited even now with everyone seeing them as reproductive functionaries and food preparing and other services providers, to be browbeaten and blackmailed and threatened into it irrespective of time, place, relationship, occasion, whatever.

Indeed the only women that escape it might be born princesses and queens regina of Europe, if any. Others may fight back, but this merely makes life unpleasant, and this is the choice offered them socially as a weapon to force them to submit - until they do submit they are constantly attacked. I have heard a supposedly educated scientist from space agency of Europe questioning sexual capacity of a very famous high profile chief of a computer firm only because he heard about her being appointed in that position, and he went worse from that point. Till date I suspect most people hold him innocent in the huge quarrel we had and of course he probably does not mention his wrongs if indeed he is aware of them, but then even if he did they would not seem wrong to most people but only humour, not to be taken seriously or pointed out the wrongs of seriously. He in fact said it was different if he made racist jokes, which he would not, and was very angry when informed it was not different at all.

His wife wanted to discuss caste system of India, and was nonplussed when pointed out that her not requiring her sons or husband to help her in the kitchen but requiring or expecting any woman around irrespective of age, including any casual visitor or invited guests or new acquaintances, was caste system.

Most men and probably most women too would think this is harsh against Barton and against someone who spent twenty years and millions of public fund to build the most famous mausoleum in the world, since men's sexual needs are held not only incontrollable but sacrosanct, with rape considered natural and of no consequence and in fact the woman's fault for being raped (why was she there, what did she were, did she not encourage it and want it and if so how does anyone prove it, what difference does it make unless it is a damage to her husband or father's honour) through most of the world even now when law is changing and some lip service to a woman's right to be not assaulted is paid at some places around the world.

But fact is, these women died of their husbands "love" for them, thoughtless as it was and driven by the physical needs of the husbands, and what difference does a tombstone or a mausoleum make to the one that is dead?

If that is not convincing, consider what a man - any man anywhere in the world - would say offered the same alternative, of repeated usage and death in youth with a handsome mausoleum as a memento to the "love". It is a no brainer - men would club anyone suggesting this to death, with no memorial.

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March 10, 2011. 

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Silas Marner: by George Eliot.

The story of two men, and a little girl, and rectitude and values, ethics and right choices, loss and redemption, love and caring and the joy they bring to life.

The wealthy young man married in what moment of temptation is left unsaid, but he did wish to not only keep his family hidden for fear of his society, he was in love with a good young woman, and did not wish to lose her. When the wife turned up in the village and was found dead - due to starvation and cold, having been neglected by the husband - he took the opportunity to say nothing about his connection.

The little child had wandered into the home of a stranger to the village society who had left a traumatic past behind him in the city, where he was persecuted due to his epileptic fits being mislabeled as dealings with devil and he had been thrown out of his work and his life. He had lived for years in the village, but connected with humanity only when he found the child in his home shortly after being robbed of all his money, all his saving, and insisted the child was his to protect and care for.

The father of the child let that be - and so lost the only child he was ever going to have, as it turned out.

Silas Marner gained a life by his act, his choice and his heart's truth in giving love and care to an orphan as he thought the child was. The father of the child lost all but his wealth by deliberately not acclaiming the child he knew was his, and while he married the good woman he loved, he knew he was not good enough for either her or her love, since he was an untruthful unworthy man by virtue of having denied his wife and his child, having neglected one until she died of starvation and cold, and having not claimed the child so she was taken and raised as an orphan by another man, who found the whole village gather round him in the process.

One of the most touching tales about human relationships, mistakes and redemption, crime and sin, fate and choices.

Silas Marner found life, and love of a daughter, with the little girl wandering in and falling asleep at his hearth; it was not his duty but a choice he made to keep the little one he could ill afford. Meanwhile her natural and legal father has refrained from admitting his family, falsified his identity in relation to the family he would not own, for sake of the good young woman he loved, and he lost much in the process of fall from rectitude.

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March 6, 2011. 

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