regshoe

South Sea Tales by Robert Louis Stevenson (written and mostly published 1891-94; this collection published 1996). Robert Louis Stevenson spent the last few years of his life in the Pacific Islands, particularly Samoa, and his observations and experiences there furnished him with much material for writing. starshipfox recommended this collection to me back when I first read Kidnapped, and now that I've been getting more into that book and thought I should give some of his other stuff a try, I decided to check it out. There are two longer stories, 'The Beach of Falesa' and 'The Ebb-Tide', which focus on white characters and their experiences in island society; two fairytale-style stories, 'The Bottle Imp' and 'The Isle of Voices', starring native Pacific Islander characters and partly inspired by real Hawaiian folklore; and a couple of very short sketches. It's an odd and a fascinating mix. Stevenson seems to have had Views about the development of society in the islands, European imperialism, trade and missionary activity; his ideas about all this as expressed in the stories, particularly the two longer ones, are complicated and often pretty highly critical. 'The Beach of Falesa' is narrated by an unscrupulous British trader who tricks a native woman into a sham marriage (apparently a common practice!), but ends up really falling in love with her, having the marriage performed properly and working together with her in the story's main conflict against an even less scrupulous British trader. 'The Ebb-Tide' is a strange story of crime, dissipation and missionary religion and is rather memorably horrifying; but it also goes out of its way to highlight the mistreatment of native people by white colonists, as well as Stevenson's highly ambivalent thoughts about religion. Both of those are a lot to think about, but I enjoyed the two folklore-ish stories best, especially 'The Bottle Imp', a classic logic puzzle of a folktale whose solution—again significantly—relies on the wisdom, courage and loyalty of a Hawaiian woman and the folly and vice of a white man. The actual styles of the stories are highly variable—Stevenson has a lot of range in prose, mood and subject matter. Altogether very good stuff. I must read Treasure Island next!


For the White Rose by Katharine T. Hinkson (1905). I was delighted to discover another old historical novel about Jacobites, and even more so when a brief glance at this book suggested that it's about a loyal friendship between two women. It's narrated by Jane Evans, loyal and loving lady-in-waiting to the historical Lady Nithsdale who memorably contrived her husband's escape from the Tower of London where he was imprisoned awaiting execution after the '15: we follow Jane's early life and her decision to devote herself to the service of her beloved lady, their peaceful life in Scotland together before the Rising, and finally the '15 itself and the great adventure of the escape. (Whether Jane is supposed to be the Cecilia Evans who, according to Maggie Craig, was Lady Nithsdale's 'faithful companion' and actually assisted in the escape, I'm not sure; I suspect so, because the rest of the names of secondary players in Craig's account match those Hinkson uses). If you squint, it's kind of like Sutcliff's Bonnie Dundee if it was narrated by Darklis writing about Jean instead of Hugh about Graham. I did indeed greatly enjoy Jane and Lady Nithsdale's relationship, constant declarations of devotion and all (like Darklis, Jane has a love interest, but she nobly chooses to follow and serve her lady instead of settling down with him; this was a bit annoying, but never mind; and of course Lady Nithsdale's marriage is historical!).

Unfortunately the book has two major flaws. Firstly it's very short—125 pages of fairly large type in the edition on archive.org—and far too brief. The early part of the book is taken up by what should have been—and would have been, if it was actually Sutcliff—the slow, long backstory to a much more developed main plot, but instead the main plot is told with very little change of pace and is over in two chapters. Parts of it felt almost like a summary of a longer novel rather than an appropriately-paced novella, and Jane and Lady Nithsdale's relationship inevitably suffered a great lack of development and complexity as a result. The second big flaw is that Hinkson does not care about history at all. She gets things wrong which I think, in order to know enough to have come up with the plot in the first place, she must have known were wrong, and which she seems to have done deliberately in order to play into the myth of the romantic Jacobites rather than the real history. Lord Nithsdale's house is correctly named but placed in the Highlands when it was really in Dumfries, and some other characters are inappropriately Highland-ised (most egregiously, Hinkson/Jane claims that Jacobite visitors to the Nithsdales' house all wear Highland dress, while the wearers of Lowland/English dress are universally Whigs); James VIII/III is shown arriving in Scotland before the '15 begins and cheering the hearts of his Highland friends, when really he only arrived after the defeat was virtually certain and couldn't have met Lord Nithsdale before his capture. All this was very frustrating, and certainly a let-down for a reader used to the meticulous historical writing of D. K. Broster.


Re-read Mansfield Park by Jane Austen (1814; audiobook read by Karen Savage, 2011). I decided to try out listening to an audiobook while walking to and from the office and other suitable walks; this was a cunning way to get more reading time, and generally enjoyable! I found it a good way to re-read an old favourite book, though it certainly wouldn't have worked for a new book—between thoughts wandering off, my auditory processing being what it is and the general loudness of the outside world, I definitely missed quite a lot of detail. (While reading I often pause briefly to think over a line or go back and re-read a passage to take in the meaning better or just enjoy it again; not being able to do this is a major drawback of audiobooks for me).

However, what about the book itself? Mansfield Park is my favourite Jane Austen, and I loved revisiting it. I love, admire and support Fanny Price more than ever, and am confirmed in my shipping decisions (Fanny/Mary in an 'aww, Fanny totally has a crush, but it probably wouldn't have worked as an actual relationship' way, Fanny/Edmund as 'hmm, I don't love it, but it's what she wants and I support her' way, Fanny/Henry as ultimate NOTP of all time). I appreciated how much the whole thing is pro-quiet, steady, rural life, and the complexities of the relationship between Fanny and Mansfield (the book's actual OTP). Austen's language, especially the humour in her narration, works especially well read out loud, and I enjoyed how Savage gives personality to the characters. She's recorded several other Austen books, and I think I'll try another next—Persuasion, maybe, or Pride and Prejudice?


Rocks of Ages: Science and Religion in the Fullness of Life by Stephen Jay Gould (1999). Having enjoyed Gould's book about science and the humanities, I thought I'd see what he had to say about another (apparent) major conflict of science. In this book Gould propounds and develops his concept of 'non-overlapping magisteria', the idea that science and religion are compatible because they deal with totally separate areas of inquiry—science with empirical facts about the world, religion with questions of meaning and morality. I'd heard of this idea before, but enjoyed seeing it laid out here; Gould's writing is as erudite and eloquent as ever, a pleasure to read. I thought his actual arguments were pretty weak in places; he acknowledges that religion has historically laid claim to ground which he places under the magisterium of science, but seems not to appreciate or to acknowledge how important empirical claims about the world are to (much) religion and how much religion would have to change in order to fit a strict interpretation of his scheme. Gould is writing in an American context inevitably influenced most by (particular types of) Christianity; he says at the start of the book that his own perspective is that of a non-practising Jewish agnostic, but that he doesn't want to be too personal-essay-ish and won't say much about it—but I think I would have liked to see a bit more of that background brought in. I know that Judaism has much more of a tradition than Christianity of people who are atheist or agnostic and also religious, and I wonder if that context of compatibility influenced his ideas? I did enjoy the historical discussions—of the history of the myth of medieval belief in a flat earth (of surprisingly recent origin; Gould pinpoints it to the 1870s-80s and a specific, post-Darwin-influenced conception of the conflict between science and religion), and of the attempts by American fundamentalist Christians to ban the teaching of evolution in schools (obviously a bad and totally unjustifiable cause; but Gould explores how at least one major creationist was inspired in his views by a parallel and equally condemnable overreach on the part of scientists into the moral sphere of religion, using their interpretation of Darwinian evolution to support eugenic ideas).