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| Publisher: John T. Cullen | Home Contents/Archive Letters About Copyright Links | Filed 22 May 2011 |
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More below the fold (Click):,
Any Future for Book Reviews?;
Credit Crunch, Book Industry;
Librarians Rage;
All Go But No Gas?;
iFlow NoFlow, Apple Ripped;
Where Is Steinbeck When We Need Him?;
What is a Book?.
Do Book Reviews Have A Future? Leading book critics ponder how the digital revolution is affecting the tradition of book reviews. On one hand, book endorsements have become methods for free publicity, whereby famous authors slather their names all over newbie books they may not even have read. We should make a fine distinction. A book review is an article, however long or short, in which the reviewer attempts to discuss the book in a coherent, reasoned fashion. A book endorsement is an approval, from some authority, requiring little more than a short blurb. Those 'best book I ever read' from big name authors are endorsements, just to clarify our definitions. I discussed previously how the operational flow of the Big Six industry involves garnering obligatory reviews and endorsements from their regular newspaper and magazine shills#133; (Daily Beast 12 May 2011)
Book Industry Credit Crunch During the Great Depression, to help retailers continue doing business, and to help themselves survive, book publishers created an awkward and unique system that no other industry I know of has permitted itself the luxury of. Book publishers would pay to publish and print books, and send them to retailers around the country with the message: just send us a cut when someone buys the book. That business model ('consignment') has dominated the print industry and all its foibles and inefficiencies ever since. Publishers take the investment risk up front, send their product to book sellers, and wait to receive their cut back. For the most part, the book seller then cuts a check back to the publisher, but what about the unsold product? The book seller's clerks sit around at the end of every month, with a huge pile of unsold books, and remainder them. For paperbacks, the covers get torn off, bundled, and sent back to the publisher for a paper trail. The books themselves go to the pulp mill, since it's illegal to sell them in this format. Hardcovers are treated differentlyusually sequentially discounted until there is no value left, and then either discarded or discounted for bare bones, maybe to surface at a thrift shop as a tax writeoff (charity) for the publisher. That practice has finally started coming to a halt with the Borders bankruptcy, and hundreds of millions of dollars in losses to the publishers. Now it's becoming Cash on the Barrel Head! (Publishers Weekly 9 May 2011).
Librarians Rage Against HarperCollins HarperCollins cannot seem to live down the growing rage among reasonable people, including mild-mannered librarians, against HC's Grendel-like carnivorous ploy to charge a full book fee after every 26 check-outs. This is on digital books only. You can keep a print book until it falls apart, glue it back together, and keep lending it at no additional fee even a century after publication. Maybe people were smarter in the past. Bon appetit, Morgoth-Murdoch, Happy Lusting to Ye. Cackle over the bones in your lair, while the librarians and other elves march your way bearing torches, pitchforks, and deadly Overdue notices (Library Journal 5 May 2011).
Count The Ways. Laura E. Kelly counts the ways in which print publishers can continue screwing up their future, simply by hating and refusing to understand digital ways (AOL HuffPo 10 May 2011).
P.S., this refers to Bookish, the last great hope of print publishing, here seen in its pre-launch state of unreadiness and confusion, following a grand announcement. Vroom! Vroom! and run out of steam
iFlow App: Post-Mortem. The author of this article suggests the brutal decapitation of a well-liked app harbingers harbingers a new wave of Al Capone-like, gangland competition on the mean streets of Lit City
and CNET thinks so too. (CNET 11 May 2011).
Where Are The New Steinbecks? This British article raises a point I have pummelled home about the Big Six in previous articles. Will any of their 'product' of the past half century be remembered generations from now? The U.S. is in a near-Depression state. Where are the mice? Where are the men? Where is Charley? Will someone write a pabulumistic vampire romance shallow as one micron to reflect today's anguish felt by tens of millions losing their homes, their retirements, and their dreams? You can bet that, if history is any guide, New York's editors are laboring over sentimental and formulaic trash, while today's Steinbecks are stacking boxes at 7-11 by day, while penning future classics that they will self-publish in digital editions but will anyone notice? (BBC 11 May 2011).
What Is A Book? A Banana? A Bicycle Seat? What is reality? Print publishers, drowning in their sense of loss, abandonment, ennui, and myopia, convene for an awkward dance with their digital nemesis in London. Think old men with shiny heads buying Beatles wigs to impress 21st Century high school girls. Here, let me hand you an airline regurgitation bag. Wise words from a newly created young female digital exec at one of those mausoleums: "“The printed book is a technical accident." True, but will the men in Beatles wigs screech in panicked rage, and toss you off the London Eye for saying the obvious? (Book Business 12 May 2011).
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Backdrop for Frieda and Herbert. Before the war, relations between Germany and England were in certain ways very close, which indirectly casts the story of Frieda and David Herbert Richards Lawrence in an intersting light. The British royal house, who changed their name to Windsor from Saxe-Coburg und Gotha in 1917, during the Great War, were of German descent. Queen Victoria (1819-1901) was an English princess of German descent via her grandfather, King George III who was at once King of England and King of Hanover, Germany. (Britain and Hanover had had a joint monarch since 1714.) Though George III never visited Hanover, his Continental holding was part of the complex network of feudal loyalties dating to European Medieval times. Ironically, as King of England, George was head of the Church of England (Anglican; Protestant), yet he was a monarch in the Holy Roman Empire (predominantly Roman Catholic; eventually Habsburg, Austro-Hungarian) as well. George's fourth son, Prince Edward (after whom the eastern Canadian province of Prince Edward Island is named), was Queen Victoria's father. Victoria's mother was George III's German wife, Queen Charlotte of Great Britain (for short), born Duchess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. Victoria, who became queen in 1837, married her cousin Albert of Saxe-Coburg und Gotha in 1840 (he died in 1861, and she plunged the world into mourning for the next forty years). The couple had nine children, who in turn delivered 42 grandchildren. Their children and grandchildren intermarried with royalty throughout Europe, making Victoria the 'grandmother of Europe.' At her funeral in 1901, her close relatives included at least 25 monarchs, arch dukes, grand dukes, dukes, crown princes, and several emperors. Victoria's third son, Arthur, Duke of Connaught and Strathearn (Ireland, now defunct), is listed by London's Sunday Times as accompanying the Kaiser (Emperor) of Germany (who was also King of Prussia) on a special imperial train from Potsdam near Berlin to the Channel coast, and thence by ship and train to London: "His Majesty (i.e., the Kaiser, Wilhelm II von Hohenzollern) wore the uniform of the 1st Dragoon Guards, the Queen of England's Prussian Regiment, and the Duke of Connaught (i.e., Arthur) was in his Prussian uniform of the Ziethen Hussars." There were many signs of the close relationship between the Germans and the British. Of all strokes of historic irony, the following is probably tops. As Queen Victoria lay dying in 1901, two men were at her bedside, holding her as she gasped her last breaths. One was her son Edward (1841-1910), the soon to be King Edward VII of England. The other was her first and favorite grandson, William, who was then already Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany. Edward held her in his arms as she died. Wilhelm held his beloved grandmother's hand and wept. In no more than 13 years, their two nations would be principals in a vast horror that would bleed the flower of European manhood dry, to the tune of more than 20,000,000 deaths between 1914 and 1918.
The Red Baron, His Family, and various U.S. Connections. During the Great War, Manfred, Baron von Richthofen (1892-1918) became the most famous fighter ace of all time. Flying a red, triple-winged Fokker Dreidecker Mark I canvas and wood aircraft, von Richthofen scored 80 kills and became famous, before being fatally shot down over Amiens on the Western Front in 1918. Manfred's brother Lothar was also an air ace, with 40 kills, before dying in a plane crash after the war in 1922. Baron Walter von Richthofen, an uncle of Manfred, immigrated the United States in 1877, and settled in Denver, founding the Denver Chamber of Commerce. Frieda von Richthofen (1879–1956) was a fifth cousin once removed. Frieda's sister Else von Richthofen (1874-1973) was a famous German social scientist. Like Frieda, Else (Ph.D. in Economics, Heidelberg, 1901; feminist) had a charming and varied marital and extra-marital life, her paramours including the sociologist Max Weber. The broader von Richthofen family has included many men and women who distinguished themselves in war, the arts, and the sciences.
Frieda and Herbert. Frieda (1879-1956) was born in Metz, France, an ancient Celtic (Gaulish) and Roman city with a long, rich history extending back at least 3,000 years. Metz lies in the pale between the modern French and German nations, and was contested territory in several wars. Metz today is the capital of the Lorraine region, and prefecture of the Moselle department, of France. Metz was the scene of Napoleon III's catastrophic defeat in 1871, in the Franco-Prussian War, at which time it became a German garrison city. Frieda's father was a baron and an engineer in the German army. In 1899, Frieda married Ernest Weekley, a British linguists professor, with whom she moved to Nottingham, U.K. and had three children. Selected Major Works of D. H. Lawrence: The Peacock (1911). Lawrence wrote The White Peacock starting 1906, and published its ultimate rewrite in 1911 when he was 21 years old. By then (1908) Lawrence had left the coal mining country for London and its vibrant literary and artistic environment. Like some of his more powerful later works, the novel reflects typical themes of his home life in the coal towns of Nottingham. It portrays the struggles of failing marriages, and the desire of a character to find spiritual and romantic equilibrium. It is fairly certain that Lawrence was bisexual, and that he had already by then (at age 16) had one of the most profound love affairs of his life with a young coal mining man near home. Like George Eliot, Thomas Hardy, and H. G. Wells, he wrote as well of social inequities and the plight of working people in an industrialized society.
The Trespasser (1912). Biographical fiction depicting the true story of a friend, Helen Corke, who had an adulterous relationship with a married man, which ended with his suicide.
Sons and Lovers (1913). Autobiographical fiction reflecting what Lawrence saw as the unhappy marriage of his mother, an expressive woman, with his father, whom he saw as dour. The novel, which represents the start of Lawrence's controversies, projects powerful Oedipal themes and tragedies. Each of his fictional heroine's three sons is so affected by an underlying, Platonic love with the mother, that each son becomes impotent toward women in adult life. Telegraphed in all of this must be Lawrence's personal struggle with his own conflicted and forbidden sexualities. This novel, which he took to Germany with him shortly before meeting Frieda there, was resoundingly condemned as 'unthinkable' by the famous publisher Wilhelm Heinemann himself. The book served to get Lawrence noticed by the London literary establishment and gained him the support and friendship of well-known authors including Ford Maddox Ford and many others.
The Rainbow (1915). Prosecuted in an obscenity trial, the novel frankly speaks of sexual desire and intimate relationships involving three generations of the Brangwen family. All copies were seized and burned. The stage was now set for Lawrence's unflinching themes and his conflicts with hyper-Victorian moral enforcers. The book's 1920 sequel would be Women in Love.
Women in Love (1920). Sequel to The Rainbow (1915). Follows the love lives of two sisters, Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen, in pre-war British society. Over sefenty years after its publication proclaimed one of the top 100 books in English literature, the book was widely condemned as putrid trash and other violent condemnations that began undermining Lawrence's health. Banned in U.K. after another obscenity trial.
The Lost Girl (1920). Depicts the sexual awakening of a young Midlands working girl, Alvina, daughter of a widowed draper. Her father buys a circus to regain his financial stability, but Alvina falls in love with the sensuous Italian Ciccio and flees with him to Naples, where she experiences a brief fling with sexuality and freedom. Won the most prestigious British literary award, a James Tait Black Memorial Prize (established 1919).
Aaron's Rod (1922). A coal mines union official, trapped in a stale marriage, abandons his wife and children and runs off to Italy. Italy, in Victorian and Edwardian British literature, as in E. M. Forester (Room With A View et al, represents the mysterious, forbidding, hot-blooded southern race of Roman Catholics who allegedly have lower standing in morals, intelligence, and most other qualities. No doubt a further projection of the virulent bigotry showered upon Britain's Irish subjects, and by WASPish imitation on Irish-Americans in the United States, this spirit is also reflected in slavish U.S. Anglophilian adulations like Henry James' Daisy Miller. The key is the Grand Tour, in which upstanding, white, upper crust Protestant northerners take a necessary but morally frightening journey through the riches of ancient Europe, which lie buried in purulent, Popish swamps infested by browner-skinned people who sleep all day and prey upon innocent young northern girls by night. There may well even be a pathological ingrowth of this in the inexplicable craze for vampire stories whose modern form originated with British sources (Lord Byron and the Italian-British John Polidori, 1816; Irish-British Bram Stoker. Be that all as it may, 1922 was also the year in which James Joyce published the controversial Ulysses, a novel soon banned and subject to obscenity trials in the U.K. and the U.S.focusing, of all things, of an Irish Jew having an extra-marital affaira trifecta of horror, loathing, and immorality in the day.
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Lawrence continued in this general vein, increasingly raising a drumbeat of alarm that would be viscerally captured in his description of Nazi-era Germans visiting Italy, in his posthumously published (1932) collection of essays, Etruscan Places. In 1923, Kangaroo warned of growing fascism in Australia. One wonders if he detected any in the United States, and perhaps was too frightened to mention the corporate domination of his own final resting place. In 1924, he published The Boy in the Bush, also set in Western Australia. In a sense, Lawrence is a Philip K. Dick-like author, in that Lawrence was officially reviled during his life, as PKD was abused and ignored. The two authors share in common that they have a large number of posthumous, widely acclaimed movies made, earning generally huge box office takes for their estates, while they had lived for the most part in poverty. The Boy in the Bush, like many of D. H. Lawrence's novels, became a TV miniseries in 1984, starring Kenneth Branagh.
The Plumed Serpent (1926) Written near Taos, NM, a novel about the Mexican revolution of 1910, led by Porfirio Diaz and Francisco Madero, which started as a war of progressive causes and degenerated into a many-sided civil war. It led to the Mexican Constitution of 1917, but peace came slowly, with violent outbreaks at least as late as 1926. Lawrence portrays political and spiritual themes. About this time, he contracted the third and final bout of tuberculosis, which would kill him by 1930.
Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928) Probably the novel he is best known for. First published in Florence in 1928, it could not be published in England until 1960. It was banned and panned in the U.S. until a famous Supreme Court case of 1959 caused the ideal of the First Amendment of the Constitution to be connected with reality, so that witch hunts against great artist became a thing of the past (at least, as long as pitchfork-holding hymn yodelers from biblical backwaters do not prevail politically, as is currently a greater fear in the U.S. than the late Osama bin Laden's only slightly less violently insane followers). Even then, in 1960, Penguin was hauled into court on obscenity charges, which were only dropped after a lengthy trial involving some of the nation's leading intellectual authorities. The chief prosecutor's lame and exceedingly dense protest was already mentioned above. Contains classical D. H. Lawrence themes in which he returns to the Cornish mining country of his youth (and his mother) to explore a sexual liaison with a young woman and her wealthy, impotent husband's groundskeeper. May be modeled on Lawrence's own homosexual affair with a young Cornish coal miner at age 16. In the background play themes of social disparity and the British class system. The groundskeeper in Lady Chatterley's Lover is Mellors, while the misanthropic gamekeeper in The Peacock is similar, and the tragic mother figure in Sons and Lovers is named Mrs. Morel. Of course, Lawrence was no doubt influenced by the notorious and beautiful Lady Ottoline Morrell (1873-1938), who moved in aristocratic, literary, and artistic circles (friends with Aldous Huxley, Siegfried Sassoon, T. S. Eliot, and D. H. Lawrence, and many artists). She was a literary inspiration for several famous authors, and is thought to be the seminal persona for Hermione Roddice in D. H. Lawrence's Women in Love.
Last Writes In 1929, Lawrence published The Escaped Cock, a reflection on Christianity, spirituality, the meaning of life, and death. The book was posthumously re-released as The Man Who Died. Lawrence's final novel, released 1930, was The Virgin and the Gypsy. A 1970 movie, based on the latter novel, starred Honor Blackman. The latter novel explores classic Lawrence themes of moral oppression, unhappiness, family scandal, and sexual exploration in forbidden areas in search of escape, sensual release, and freedom. Here, the forbidden exploration is, as frequently was the case in British literature, toward a Gypsy and his family.
Conclusion I have presented, rather informally, a brief and sketchy biography of D. H. Lawrence, given sort of a blur of a rich but tragic life lived with intellectual and artistic conviction in the face of all the mean-spiritedness, mediocrity, and repression that the world is very capable of. The story shines forth autobiographically between the lines of many of his books. He also wrote a rich legacy of essays, poetry, short stories, and plays during his short (44 year) life. He was an author who self-published because he had no other options.
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