I hope those of you who read this post will indulge me as I simply write about Love, not necessarily in regard to any particular book or article. Again, I offer this in the spirit of the original essayists, who would use this form to think on paper and try out ideas and concepts. These are the somewhat coherent thoughts of someone writing on a dark, cold, and windy Sunday evening.
I suppose I could start with the famous Chapter 13 from 1st Corinthians about Love that seems to be read at most Christian weddings. I find it among the most poetic passages in the Pauline letters, but is Love that black and white. I wonder if the couples who choose this passage consider the full context of these words.
"1 If I speak in the tongues[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,[b] but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."
Is it really true that if I have faith, but not love then "I am nothing." Love never fails, but many of these marriages do, right? Does love always persevere? I realize that Paul make be expressing "Agape", God's love for humanity, but I think we as humans tend to put this in our own terms, don't we? I don't know if Love always perseveres, but I do know that it evolves and changes as do relationships. In fact, as the passage notes, we too have to mature and put away childish things, even sometimes our notions of what Love is and what it does.
After nearly 18 years of marriage, I still love my wife, but that Love is not necessarily the same type of Love that first brought us together. We have had so many experiences and changes to our lives that I don't think the Love could be the same. Our circle of Love has expanded to include not only the two of us, but our three children as well.
If you have paid attention you will see that I continue to capitalize Love. This is intentional, because I think it is important enough and powerful enough to deserve that distinction. However, I do this in part to also call attention to the fact that Love is a powerful force to be reckoned with. It is not merely the shallow sentiment found in greeting cards and Hummel figurines, it one of the elemental forces of our universe. I often prefer to think of Love as the Ancient Greeks did when they personified it as Eros. Even today in words like "erotic", we see the darker, dangerous, and sensual connotations of this term. Pardon the pun, but this type of love is not to be fucked with.
I can intellectual appreciate what Paul is saying by placing Love above both faith and hope, but I don't know about that. For me, I cannot imagine Love without faith and hope. Being in love and staying in love requires large elements of both faith and hope. If you don't have faith in what you love, the Love is never going to last. It seems to me that this is why Love can and often does persevere. Similarly, hope is for me an essential component of what keeps love going to. Who doesn't hope that their Love will stand the test of time? However, even these concepts leave us with an incomplete sense of what Love is. Love isn't some Platonic ideal state that just sort of finds you and the object(s) of your affection. You hve to work damned hard on your Love. And if you don't all the faith and hope won't keep that Love alive.
To conclude with a thought similar to that of Paul, I'll quote the Beatles who once sang, "All you need is love, love, love is all you need." Still not sure that's all you need, but it is a helluva start.
Peace and Love,
Czar
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
There is No Sun in My Life Today
In the Family Way
“There is No Sun in My Life Today”: A Day of the Dead Diary
by
Nicolas Shump
October 31- There is No Sun in My Life Today
These are the words spoken by my eldest son upon hearing of the death of his Great-Grandpa Homer. He goes on to say that nothing like this has ever happened to him before. He is nearly 7. There is a message on the answering machine as we return home from our Halloween festivities. My wife’s grandfather has died. He was nearly 89 years old. His birthday is in three weeks. We had already bought him a birthday card. It is All Soul’s Day.
October 31- Now and at the Hour of Our Death
Every night when we put our boys down for bed we say several prayers. For the last year or so, they have been saying the Hail Mary. Initially, I decide that the phrase “Now and at the hour of our death” seems too frightening for little boys, so I amend it to “rest.” Not a major change, only one word, but it did shift the emphasis away from the finality of death, which was my intention all along.
Recently, I looked through their religious education booklet where I discover that by next year my eldest son could begin his preparations for his First Holy Communion. He is supposed to be able to recite the Hail Mary. So my wife and I decide to teach them the correct prayer. We have only been saying the new version for a couple of weeks. At first, both boys tend to emphasize the word “Death,” practically yelling it out. We find this amusing to hear this, but as we pray tonight, I wonder if it has taken on a new meaning. We conclude with a special prayer for Great-Grandpa Homer.
October 31- The Communion of Saints
Another prayer the boys have learned is “The Apostles Creed”, though it is a children’s version found in their First Catholic Dictionary. A few weeks ago, one of the boys asked me what the “Communion of Saints” is. I said that we should look it up in their Catholic dictionary. According to the dictionary, the Communion of Saints is the entire Church, the whole community of believers, living and dead. I have always found this concept to be comforting, the belief that the dead are still part of our faith community. Catholicism for me has always included an awareness, if not a tacit presence of deceased relatives in my life. I recall watching my mother faithfully light candles and pray before the Virgin Mary. It might have been for her intercession, though often it was for souls in Purgatory.
Some readers might dismiss this notion as nothing more than base superstition, but I definitely affirm the Communion of Saints. I celebrate the continuing presence of the Dead in my life. Our society is too concerned with pushing death and the dying into some corner where it can be safely ignored. We care for the sick in nursing homes or in lonely hospital wards. We gladly let others take care of our sick and dying while we busy ourselves with the illusion that we can maintain our youth indefinitely and somehow cheat death. “Remember you are dust and to dust and to dust you shall return.”
November 1st- All Saint’s Day
It is also the beginning of El Día de Los Muertos/The Day of the Dead. I go to work to request bereavement leave, which is granted. We leave for Hays, Kansas when I return from my office. Darkness blankets the lonely Kansas plains as we head down I-70. My wife reminisces about her grandpa. She recalls little thing- the way he flipped a match around in his fingers, his sweet tooth, the westerns that he read, and his overalls. She cannot remember him wearing anything besides his overalls. A few days earlier, we had taken the boys to the KU Anthropology Museum for some Halloween activities. The skeletons known as calaveras immediately drew the attention of my sons. These drawings, which adorned the walls of the exhibit, have become a familiar symbol of The Day of the Dead. As we pass an altar/ofrenda my wife is amused by the Diet Coke can found on one of the altars. I explain to her that the relatives of the deceased believe that the dead can return on these days, so the families place favorite items on these altars in anticipation of their return. As I listen to my wife speak of her grandpa, I begin to picture what his ofrenda would look like.
November 2nd- What Will My Legacy Be?
This is a question that has preceded the death of my wife’s grandpa. What does a life mean? How do we measure it? At work, I come across an obituary for a retired member of the Association I work for. I read of his professional life, his military service and his family. Is this the sum of a human life? I think of my children, ages 7 and 6, and my wife; I suppose this is my legacy. But how will my children remember me? What moments will catch hold in their memory, incidents that I may have forgotten about completely?
A friend tells us that she is divorcing her husband because of repeated infidelity. They have three children. What legacy is her husband establishing for his family? I am both saddened and angered by this news. What motivates someone to betray his marriage vows? It is by nature a selfish act. No though is given to the damage done to his spouse or his children. How will he be remembered as a father? I have seen the destructive nature of divorce in the life and relationships of my siblings. Several have been married more than once, while others seem averse to the idea of marriage altogether.
November 2nd- Family Trees
In my office there is a family tree drawn by my eldest son. It is a small tree with our immediate family only. After today, we might be able to fill in some empty branches. At the funeral home, we meet some relatives for the first time. It is remarked that that one of my boys looks like a Bence, his great-grandpa’s family. He quickly responds that he is a Shump, but the resemblance is undeniable. We exchange phone numbers and addresses, along with promises to send pictures and Christmas cards. A cousin from Oklahoma speaks of genealogical information for the Bence family that he will send to us. Our boys are the only children at the service.
November 2- Saying Our Goodbyes
As we leave Hays, we make one final stop-two actually. At a local florist, my wife looks for something to put on her grandfather’s grave. Not finding a suitable flower arrangement, she settles on a small teddy bear. She says that it reminds her of her grandpa. At the cemetery places the bear on the grave, it is actually the grave of her birth father. Her grandfather’s remains will be interred with his son, Buddy. I think of how often my sons crawl into our bed at night. Everyone agrees that Homer would want to be with his son now.
November 3rd-The Sun Also Rises
It has been a long week already, although it is only Wednesday. I see a card on the kitchen counter from a dear friend who is writing to announce the birth of her new baby daughter. At the school book fair, my wife finds a book that we plan to give to our nephew who is going to be a father in the spring. We are going to be grandaunts and granduncles. Amidst the mourning life does go on. I look at our sons and think of the poignant words of my son that I chose for this column. I can only respond by hugging him and saying that “The Sun Also Rises.”
The Kaw Valley Independent, November 15-December 14, 1999 (Volume 3, Issue 17)
“There is No Sun in My Life Today”: A Day of the Dead Diary
by
Nicolas Shump
October 31- There is No Sun in My Life Today
These are the words spoken by my eldest son upon hearing of the death of his Great-Grandpa Homer. He goes on to say that nothing like this has ever happened to him before. He is nearly 7. There is a message on the answering machine as we return home from our Halloween festivities. My wife’s grandfather has died. He was nearly 89 years old. His birthday is in three weeks. We had already bought him a birthday card. It is All Soul’s Day.
October 31- Now and at the Hour of Our Death
Every night when we put our boys down for bed we say several prayers. For the last year or so, they have been saying the Hail Mary. Initially, I decide that the phrase “Now and at the hour of our death” seems too frightening for little boys, so I amend it to “rest.” Not a major change, only one word, but it did shift the emphasis away from the finality of death, which was my intention all along.
Recently, I looked through their religious education booklet where I discover that by next year my eldest son could begin his preparations for his First Holy Communion. He is supposed to be able to recite the Hail Mary. So my wife and I decide to teach them the correct prayer. We have only been saying the new version for a couple of weeks. At first, both boys tend to emphasize the word “Death,” practically yelling it out. We find this amusing to hear this, but as we pray tonight, I wonder if it has taken on a new meaning. We conclude with a special prayer for Great-Grandpa Homer.
October 31- The Communion of Saints
Another prayer the boys have learned is “The Apostles Creed”, though it is a children’s version found in their First Catholic Dictionary. A few weeks ago, one of the boys asked me what the “Communion of Saints” is. I said that we should look it up in their Catholic dictionary. According to the dictionary, the Communion of Saints is the entire Church, the whole community of believers, living and dead. I have always found this concept to be comforting, the belief that the dead are still part of our faith community. Catholicism for me has always included an awareness, if not a tacit presence of deceased relatives in my life. I recall watching my mother faithfully light candles and pray before the Virgin Mary. It might have been for her intercession, though often it was for souls in Purgatory.
Some readers might dismiss this notion as nothing more than base superstition, but I definitely affirm the Communion of Saints. I celebrate the continuing presence of the Dead in my life. Our society is too concerned with pushing death and the dying into some corner where it can be safely ignored. We care for the sick in nursing homes or in lonely hospital wards. We gladly let others take care of our sick and dying while we busy ourselves with the illusion that we can maintain our youth indefinitely and somehow cheat death. “Remember you are dust and to dust and to dust you shall return.”
November 1st- All Saint’s Day
It is also the beginning of El Día de Los Muertos/The Day of the Dead. I go to work to request bereavement leave, which is granted. We leave for Hays, Kansas when I return from my office. Darkness blankets the lonely Kansas plains as we head down I-70. My wife reminisces about her grandpa. She recalls little thing- the way he flipped a match around in his fingers, his sweet tooth, the westerns that he read, and his overalls. She cannot remember him wearing anything besides his overalls. A few days earlier, we had taken the boys to the KU Anthropology Museum for some Halloween activities. The skeletons known as calaveras immediately drew the attention of my sons. These drawings, which adorned the walls of the exhibit, have become a familiar symbol of The Day of the Dead. As we pass an altar/ofrenda my wife is amused by the Diet Coke can found on one of the altars. I explain to her that the relatives of the deceased believe that the dead can return on these days, so the families place favorite items on these altars in anticipation of their return. As I listen to my wife speak of her grandpa, I begin to picture what his ofrenda would look like.
November 2nd- What Will My Legacy Be?
This is a question that has preceded the death of my wife’s grandpa. What does a life mean? How do we measure it? At work, I come across an obituary for a retired member of the Association I work for. I read of his professional life, his military service and his family. Is this the sum of a human life? I think of my children, ages 7 and 6, and my wife; I suppose this is my legacy. But how will my children remember me? What moments will catch hold in their memory, incidents that I may have forgotten about completely?
A friend tells us that she is divorcing her husband because of repeated infidelity. They have three children. What legacy is her husband establishing for his family? I am both saddened and angered by this news. What motivates someone to betray his marriage vows? It is by nature a selfish act. No though is given to the damage done to his spouse or his children. How will he be remembered as a father? I have seen the destructive nature of divorce in the life and relationships of my siblings. Several have been married more than once, while others seem averse to the idea of marriage altogether.
November 2nd- Family Trees
In my office there is a family tree drawn by my eldest son. It is a small tree with our immediate family only. After today, we might be able to fill in some empty branches. At the funeral home, we meet some relatives for the first time. It is remarked that that one of my boys looks like a Bence, his great-grandpa’s family. He quickly responds that he is a Shump, but the resemblance is undeniable. We exchange phone numbers and addresses, along with promises to send pictures and Christmas cards. A cousin from Oklahoma speaks of genealogical information for the Bence family that he will send to us. Our boys are the only children at the service.
November 2- Saying Our Goodbyes
As we leave Hays, we make one final stop-two actually. At a local florist, my wife looks for something to put on her grandfather’s grave. Not finding a suitable flower arrangement, she settles on a small teddy bear. She says that it reminds her of her grandpa. At the cemetery places the bear on the grave, it is actually the grave of her birth father. Her grandfather’s remains will be interred with his son, Buddy. I think of how often my sons crawl into our bed at night. Everyone agrees that Homer would want to be with his son now.
November 3rd-The Sun Also Rises
It has been a long week already, although it is only Wednesday. I see a card on the kitchen counter from a dear friend who is writing to announce the birth of her new baby daughter. At the school book fair, my wife finds a book that we plan to give to our nephew who is going to be a father in the spring. We are going to be grandaunts and granduncles. Amidst the mourning life does go on. I look at our sons and think of the poignant words of my son that I chose for this column. I can only respond by hugging him and saying that “The Sun Also Rises.”
The Kaw Valley Independent, November 15-December 14, 1999 (Volume 3, Issue 17)
The Undiscover'd Country
A look at El Día de Los Muertos/The Day of the Dead
by
Nicolas Shump
In perhaps the best-known soliloquy in the English language, Hamlet struggles with the decision of whether or not to commit suicide. What prevents him from carrying out this deed is his fear of what he characterizes as “the dread of something after death/The undiscover’d country from whose bourn/No traveler returns.” (Hamlet III, i) For many Mexicans and Mexican Americans, there is no such fear. Instead, death is accepted as merely another part of the continuity of life. This is expressed in the many religious and cultural rituals that comprise El Día de Los Muertos/The Day of the Dead, which falls on November 2nd.
Thus while many of us gear up to celebrate Halloween, many Mexicans are making preparations for El Día de Los Muertos. The two are, in fact, closely related. Halloween precedes the Catholic Feast Days of All Saints (El Día de Todos Santos, on November 1st) and All Souls. While All Saints’ Day occupies an important role in the Catholic liturgical year, All Souls Day is equally, if not more, important in Mexican culture.
Many scholars trace the origins of El Día de Los Muertos to pre-Columbian Aztec religious ceremonies. According to Victor Mendoza Grado, this festival originally was “held during the Aztec month of Miccaihuitontli, which was presided over by the goddess Mitecacihuatl/The Lady of the Dead.” Originally, this festival was held near the end of July or the beginning of August. After the colonial encounter, the Spanish Catholic priests moved the celebration to coincide with the Christian celebration of All Saints and All Souls.
The result is a syncretic celebration that has allowed for a blending of pre-Columbian and European Catholic approaches to the remembrance of the dead. The festivities often begin with a procession known as La Noche de Duelo/The Night of Mourning. This candlelight procession to the local cemetery ends with friends and relatives of the deceased eating a meal at the cemetery.
It is common for the celebration to begin with an homage to the children who have died, also known as los angelitos/little angels. The adults are remembered on the following evening of November 2nd. In addition to the food for the families of the deceased, food is prepared for the dead as well.
The path to the food is marked with marigold petals, which serve a dual purpose. It is believed that such bright flowers help the Dead to see the path to the food. Additionally, marigolds, also known by their indigenous names, cempazuchitl or zempasuciti, traditionally symbolize death.
In addition to the pilgrimages to the cemetery, the Dead are remembered at home too with altars known as ofrendas/offerings. The term is used for the food, drinks, and other items collected for these altars. The food can take various forms, but sweet bread is a staple.
El Pan de Los Muertos/The Bread of the Dead is perhaps the best known of the many foods served during El Día de Los Muertos. The bread is a round loaf with coils of dough baked on top, which are supposed to symbolize bones or skulls.
The Day of the Dead served as a primary inspiration for one particular Mexican artist, whose legacy is still evident today. José Guadalupe Posada (1852-1913) was a popular and influential Mexican artist, whose images known as calaveras/skulls have become synonymous with visual representations of El Día de Los Muertos. Posada took the figure of the Grim Reaper, known in Mexico as a calaca, and transformed it into an icon of Mexican folk art and culture.
Posada deftly transferred this symbol of folklore into an image that served political purposes, as in his work known as Cuando la revolucíon Maderista (a reference to the Mexican revolutionary leader Francisco Madero, who briefly served as President of Mexico in the aftermath of the overthrow of Porfirio Diaz). Other images like El Jarabe en Ultratumba show calaveras shown singing and dancing.
With its irreverent attitude toward death, the Mexican belief of death as another cycle of life, it provides a contrast with the intellectual angst of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Whether it is clothed in the religious trappings of Catholicism or in the beliefs of pre-Columbian mythology, it is a hopeful and celebratory spirit that reminds us that the Dead need not live only in our heads, but can be found also in our hearts.
As Thornton Wilder once wrote, “There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”
The Kaw Valley Independent, November 3-November 17, 1998 (Volume 2, Issue 4)
by
Nicolas Shump
In perhaps the best-known soliloquy in the English language, Hamlet struggles with the decision of whether or not to commit suicide. What prevents him from carrying out this deed is his fear of what he characterizes as “the dread of something after death/The undiscover’d country from whose bourn/No traveler returns.” (Hamlet III, i) For many Mexicans and Mexican Americans, there is no such fear. Instead, death is accepted as merely another part of the continuity of life. This is expressed in the many religious and cultural rituals that comprise El Día de Los Muertos/The Day of the Dead, which falls on November 2nd.
Thus while many of us gear up to celebrate Halloween, many Mexicans are making preparations for El Día de Los Muertos. The two are, in fact, closely related. Halloween precedes the Catholic Feast Days of All Saints (El Día de Todos Santos, on November 1st) and All Souls. While All Saints’ Day occupies an important role in the Catholic liturgical year, All Souls Day is equally, if not more, important in Mexican culture.
Many scholars trace the origins of El Día de Los Muertos to pre-Columbian Aztec religious ceremonies. According to Victor Mendoza Grado, this festival originally was “held during the Aztec month of Miccaihuitontli, which was presided over by the goddess Mitecacihuatl/The Lady of the Dead.” Originally, this festival was held near the end of July or the beginning of August. After the colonial encounter, the Spanish Catholic priests moved the celebration to coincide with the Christian celebration of All Saints and All Souls.
The result is a syncretic celebration that has allowed for a blending of pre-Columbian and European Catholic approaches to the remembrance of the dead. The festivities often begin with a procession known as La Noche de Duelo/The Night of Mourning. This candlelight procession to the local cemetery ends with friends and relatives of the deceased eating a meal at the cemetery.
It is common for the celebration to begin with an homage to the children who have died, also known as los angelitos/little angels. The adults are remembered on the following evening of November 2nd. In addition to the food for the families of the deceased, food is prepared for the dead as well.
The path to the food is marked with marigold petals, which serve a dual purpose. It is believed that such bright flowers help the Dead to see the path to the food. Additionally, marigolds, also known by their indigenous names, cempazuchitl or zempasuciti, traditionally symbolize death.
In addition to the pilgrimages to the cemetery, the Dead are remembered at home too with altars known as ofrendas/offerings. The term is used for the food, drinks, and other items collected for these altars. The food can take various forms, but sweet bread is a staple.
El Pan de Los Muertos/The Bread of the Dead is perhaps the best known of the many foods served during El Día de Los Muertos. The bread is a round loaf with coils of dough baked on top, which are supposed to symbolize bones or skulls.
The Day of the Dead served as a primary inspiration for one particular Mexican artist, whose legacy is still evident today. José Guadalupe Posada (1852-1913) was a popular and influential Mexican artist, whose images known as calaveras/skulls have become synonymous with visual representations of El Día de Los Muertos. Posada took the figure of the Grim Reaper, known in Mexico as a calaca, and transformed it into an icon of Mexican folk art and culture.
Posada deftly transferred this symbol of folklore into an image that served political purposes, as in his work known as Cuando la revolucíon Maderista (a reference to the Mexican revolutionary leader Francisco Madero, who briefly served as President of Mexico in the aftermath of the overthrow of Porfirio Diaz). Other images like El Jarabe en Ultratumba show calaveras shown singing and dancing.
With its irreverent attitude toward death, the Mexican belief of death as another cycle of life, it provides a contrast with the intellectual angst of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Whether it is clothed in the religious trappings of Catholicism or in the beliefs of pre-Columbian mythology, it is a hopeful and celebratory spirit that reminds us that the Dead need not live only in our heads, but can be found also in our hearts.
As Thornton Wilder once wrote, “There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”
The Kaw Valley Independent, November 3-November 17, 1998 (Volume 2, Issue 4)
Monday, November 1, 2010
Summertime Blues
I have not read anything else written by Chris Knopf and am not familiar with his Sam Acquillo Hampton Mystery Series. This new novel, Elysiana, appears to be a departure for Knopf as it recounts a summer on the Jersey Shore in 1969. The main characters are Gwendalynn Anders who finds herself so stoned out of her mind that she somehows falls asleep in Michigan and ends up in New Jersey in Elysiana, the town whose name is also that of the novel. Gwendalynn eventually meets up with Jack Halcyon (I think Knopf chooses these names intentionally, but he doesn't really do much to show us how and why these names are important. Other characters include the ambitious and morally questionable Norman Harlan, the Borough Council president whose professional jealous leads him to think of taking out the mayor of Elysiana who stands in the way of Harlan having control of the town. Another antagonist for Harlan is Avery Volpe, the captain of the beach patrol. As you can imagine in a beach community, Volpe would have a certain standing in the community that relies on the beach for its livelihood.
There are numerous other characters who come in and out of the main narrative and who are connected admirably by Knopf's storytelling. The use of the beach patrol allows Knopf to create a cast of characters whose personalities would not normally interact, but do as members of the rather elite beach patrol.
Knopf brings his story to a climax by the presence of a rather destructive hurricane that is headed directly towards Elysiana. As the weather approaches, the various schemes, love triangles, and peculiar relationships tighten as well. Without spoiling the ending, the story has a series of what I think can be called "happy endings", but in several cases they are a bit too neatly resolved. The fate of several of the characters is rather incredible, though as a reader I felt myself glad to see these various endings. Still, I think that Knopf might have found a more sophisticated and believable manner of completing some of these stories.
I think Knopf is particularly good at drawing his characters and establishing relationships. However, I did feel that most of his female characters were quite traditional in their desires and life goals. Often they function as a form of sexual release for several of the characters even if there is not "sex" occurring between the men and women in the story. Here I feel that Knopf has fallen back into the generic trappings of mystery and detective novels that he is better known for. There is an elegiac tone in this book as the author takes us back to a perhaps more naive and hopeful time. It is a good read, though I think there is much in Knopf's fictional world that is underutilized.
Czar
There are numerous other characters who come in and out of the main narrative and who are connected admirably by Knopf's storytelling. The use of the beach patrol allows Knopf to create a cast of characters whose personalities would not normally interact, but do as members of the rather elite beach patrol.
Knopf brings his story to a climax by the presence of a rather destructive hurricane that is headed directly towards Elysiana. As the weather approaches, the various schemes, love triangles, and peculiar relationships tighten as well. Without spoiling the ending, the story has a series of what I think can be called "happy endings", but in several cases they are a bit too neatly resolved. The fate of several of the characters is rather incredible, though as a reader I felt myself glad to see these various endings. Still, I think that Knopf might have found a more sophisticated and believable manner of completing some of these stories.
I think Knopf is particularly good at drawing his characters and establishing relationships. However, I did feel that most of his female characters were quite traditional in their desires and life goals. Often they function as a form of sexual release for several of the characters even if there is not "sex" occurring between the men and women in the story. Here I feel that Knopf has fallen back into the generic trappings of mystery and detective novels that he is better known for. There is an elegiac tone in this book as the author takes us back to a perhaps more naive and hopeful time. It is a good read, though I think there is much in Knopf's fictional world that is underutilized.
Czar
Some Guys Have All the Luck
While I did not ultimately like Danny Tobey's debut novel, The Faculty Club, I must confess that I may have been colored by the author bio. It reads "Danny Tobey is a graduate of Harvard College and Yale Law School." Some guys have all the luck, right? It's pretty easy to hate a guy like this without knowing anything else about him, isn't it?
The novel begins with a flashback from the narrator recounting his parent's reaction to his acceptance into law school. Curiously the author refers to the school as "the greatest law school in the world, but doesn't name it. In fact, when the narrator describes the tour guide and the three lies associated with the founder of this particular school, he is actually referring to Harvard University. So the novel seems to be set at Harvard, though Tobey is rather vague on some of these details. I'm not sure why. The protagonist is Jeremy Davis, a first year law student who stayed at home because of his father's illness. Davis now finds himself surrounded by academic superstars who are Rhodes Scholars and have class, sophistication, and money well beyond his own.
He finds himself thrown into the company of three other students: Nigel, a young wealthy Black British student who first befriends Jeremy; John, a charismatic Harvard grad and Rhodes Scholar; and Daphne, a fantastically beautiful Yale grad and Rhodes Scholar as well.
Soon, Jeremy finds himself working for the distinguished Professor Ernesto Bernini who had formally been U.S. Attorney General, and competing with his new friends for 3 spots in an secretive, exclusive, and potentially dangerous club. When Jeremy is seemingly rejected from this club, he finds himself determined to find out what this club is all about and to potentially expose its secret rituals. He finds himself asking an old high school friend Miles to help him out. Miles seemingly knows everyone at this school and helps to introduce Jeremy to a somewhat shady character named Chance who is a reporter of sorts.
Before Jeremy was excluded from his candidacy to this club, he mets an older gentleman who seems to have a rather unusual if not macabre fascination with human skulls and crypts. This leads Jeremy, Miles, and Chance on a search to find the headquarters of the secret club called V & D.
When Jeremy was still competing for V & D, he and Daphne had teamed up to win the Mock Trial competition, defeating Nigel and John in the process. To do this, he had to basically expose a med student as a fraud who used her father's connections to cover up her academic deficiencies. To make matters worse, Jeremy and this med student, Sarah had met each other socially prior to the mock trial and left a possible relationship hanging in the air after a chance meeting.
After learning that his actions contributed to Sarah's suicide attempt, Jeremy tries to make amends, which are eventually accepted by Sarah who then becomes romantically involved with Jeremy. She too joins the other three in search of V & D.
These portions of the novel are well-rendered and plausible, if a bit imitative. However, the novel flounders as we get close to the climax involving the V & D. Here Tobey introduces a mishmash of medieval alchemy, voodoo, and a quest for immortality that truly doesn't hold together. Though we learn about the purpose of the V & D, there is considerable vagueness regarding the society and what Tobey calls "the sun pole."
We have a relatively happy ending, but an unsatisfactory ending to a novel that began with a very intriguing premise.
If you are curious about the inner workings of the Ivy League, this novel is for you. I think Tobey might have had a better book had he not tried to be so ambitious with his plot.
Better luck next time, Harvard.
Czar
The novel begins with a flashback from the narrator recounting his parent's reaction to his acceptance into law school. Curiously the author refers to the school as "the greatest law school in the world, but doesn't name it. In fact, when the narrator describes the tour guide and the three lies associated with the founder of this particular school, he is actually referring to Harvard University. So the novel seems to be set at Harvard, though Tobey is rather vague on some of these details. I'm not sure why. The protagonist is Jeremy Davis, a first year law student who stayed at home because of his father's illness. Davis now finds himself surrounded by academic superstars who are Rhodes Scholars and have class, sophistication, and money well beyond his own.
He finds himself thrown into the company of three other students: Nigel, a young wealthy Black British student who first befriends Jeremy; John, a charismatic Harvard grad and Rhodes Scholar; and Daphne, a fantastically beautiful Yale grad and Rhodes Scholar as well.
Soon, Jeremy finds himself working for the distinguished Professor Ernesto Bernini who had formally been U.S. Attorney General, and competing with his new friends for 3 spots in an secretive, exclusive, and potentially dangerous club. When Jeremy is seemingly rejected from this club, he finds himself determined to find out what this club is all about and to potentially expose its secret rituals. He finds himself asking an old high school friend Miles to help him out. Miles seemingly knows everyone at this school and helps to introduce Jeremy to a somewhat shady character named Chance who is a reporter of sorts.
Before Jeremy was excluded from his candidacy to this club, he mets an older gentleman who seems to have a rather unusual if not macabre fascination with human skulls and crypts. This leads Jeremy, Miles, and Chance on a search to find the headquarters of the secret club called V & D.
When Jeremy was still competing for V & D, he and Daphne had teamed up to win the Mock Trial competition, defeating Nigel and John in the process. To do this, he had to basically expose a med student as a fraud who used her father's connections to cover up her academic deficiencies. To make matters worse, Jeremy and this med student, Sarah had met each other socially prior to the mock trial and left a possible relationship hanging in the air after a chance meeting.
After learning that his actions contributed to Sarah's suicide attempt, Jeremy tries to make amends, which are eventually accepted by Sarah who then becomes romantically involved with Jeremy. She too joins the other three in search of V & D.
These portions of the novel are well-rendered and plausible, if a bit imitative. However, the novel flounders as we get close to the climax involving the V & D. Here Tobey introduces a mishmash of medieval alchemy, voodoo, and a quest for immortality that truly doesn't hold together. Though we learn about the purpose of the V & D, there is considerable vagueness regarding the society and what Tobey calls "the sun pole."
We have a relatively happy ending, but an unsatisfactory ending to a novel that began with a very intriguing premise.
If you are curious about the inner workings of the Ivy League, this novel is for you. I think Tobey might have had a better book had he not tried to be so ambitious with his plot.
Better luck next time, Harvard.
Czar
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