The Little Book of Freemasonry, Sangeet Duchane (365 Books, Day 153)

A reference book B. had lying around.

This is decidedly not the reference book you want if you want to learn anything about Freemasonry. It is an unredeemable disaster.

It is, however, moderately entertaining if you enjoy unredeemable disasters. The question, of course, is in what direction the book will be terrible next. Will there be yet another uncaught typo? An inappropriate and uncaptioned illustration? A myth presented as unequivocal fact? A paragraph (or several) spun from the words 'it seems likely that', extrapolated upon so wildly that by the end of the page nothing seems less likely? The usual answer is, in fact, all of the above at once. I can't remember the last time I saw a book presented as fact that cited its sources less. There is no bibliography. There is no works cited page. There is no index. There is no list of photo credits, for crying out loud.

And the book states that it actually believes that the Masons were both literally descendants of the builders of Solomon's Temple and founded/carried on by the Knights Templar.

This is the sort of book where I would want to fact-check it if it were to tell me that two plus two is four.

It isn't even a good source for the usual conspiracy theories, because the writing isn't good enough to present them comprehensibly if you don't know what they are already.

I had a good time wincing and laughing, but in general: avoid avoid avoid.

The Little Book of Freemasonry, Sangeet Duchane (365 Books, Day 153)

A reference book B. had lying around.

This is decidedly not the reference book you want if you want to learn anything about Freemasonry. It is an unredeemable disaster.

It is, however, moderately entertaining if you enjoy unredeemable disasters. The question, of course, is in what direction the book will be terrible next. Will there be yet another uncaught typo? An inappropriate and uncaptioned illustration? A myth presented as unequivocal fact? A paragraph (or several) spun from the words 'it seems likely that', extrapolated upon so wildly that by the end of the page nothing seems less likely? The usual answer is, in fact, all of the above at once. I can't remember the last time I saw a book presented as fact that cited its sources less. There is no bibliography. There is no works cited page. There is no index. There is no list of photo credits, for crying out loud.

And the book states that it actually believes that the Masons were both literally descendants of the builders of Solomon's Temple and founded/carried on by the Knights Templar.

This is the sort of book where I would want to fact-check it if it were to tell me that two plus two is four.

It isn't even a good source for the usual conspiracy theories, because the writing isn't good enough to present them comprehensibly if you don't know what they are already.

I had a good time wincing and laughing, but in general: avoid avoid avoid.

You can comment here or at the Dreamwidth crosspost. There are comments over there.

Modern Nature, Derek Jarman (365 Books, Day 146)

This book is one of the main reasons I had to go on hiatus from writing these reviews for a while. You see, it hurt me very badly, and I can't tell yet whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, although probably a good thing on the whole. So it has taken a while to process.

I don't often see reviewers mention that a book has hurt them. It's personal information, I guess, of the sort that a lot of people try to keep out of a book review. It may be unprofessional to mention. It certainly does not assist in maintaining the fiction that the reviewer is in a state of godlike critical detachment and objectivity, but honestly that's not a fiction I am terribly interested in maintaining, and if you read many books, you know perfectly well that sooner or later one of them is going to leave you with scars. Sometimes it's the wrong day or the wrong time or the wrong subject matter; sometimes it's that something about the book or the author strikes you as immoral, unethical, or downright evil; sometimes it's that the book is very good and honest about things that are problems in your life, about which maybe you were not wanting to hear the unvarnished truth just at present.

Or, as with this book, sometimes it rings changes on your new and old griefs.

Derek Jarman was diagnosed as HIV positive in 1986. ( These are his diaries from 1989 and 1990. )

Modern Nature, Derek Jarman (365 Books, Day 146)

This book is one of the main reasons I had to go on hiatus from writing these reviews for a while. You see, it hurt me very badly, and I can't tell yet whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, although probably a good thing on the whole. So it has taken a while to process.

I don't often see reviewers mention that a book has hurt them. It's personal information, I guess, of the sort that a lot of people try to keep out of a book review. It may be unprofessional to mention. It certainly does not assist in maintaining the fiction that the reviewer is in a state of godlike critical detachment and objectivity, but honestly that's not a fiction I am terribly interested in maintaining, and if you read many books, you know perfectly well that sooner or later one of them is going to leave you with scars. Sometimes it's the wrong day or the wrong time or the wrong subject matter; sometimes it's that something about the book or the author strikes you as immoral, unethical, or downright evil; sometimes it's that the book is very good and honest about things that are problems in your life, about which maybe you were not wanting to hear the unvarnished truth just at present.

Or, as with this book, sometimes it rings changes on your new and old griefs.

Derek Jarman was diagnosed as HIV positive in 1986. ( These are his diaries from 1989 and 1990. )

You can comment here or at the Dreamwidth crosspost. There are comments over there.

Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach: A Play, Richard R. George (365 Books, Day 156)

This was yesterday's book, so tomorrow I'll do today's and tomorrow's and then I'll be caught up.

This is a pretty straightforward theatrical adaptation of Dahl's classic children's novel, with most of the text taken directly from the book and many of the more lyrical passages of the book given as soliloquies to the narrator. There are really two things which make it interesting. The first is Dahl's introduction, which describes the rather harrowing circumstances under which he wrote the novel (his infant son had been in a terrible accident, and the child's survival was still in doubt for the entire time of writing; he did live). Dahl describes the book as an act of total escapism which probably saved his sanity, and this does make me understand the novel better.

The other interesting thing is the suggestions for staging, blocking and costuming. George's adaptation is meant to be performed by children, if possible, and is assumed to have a budget of slightly under nothing; given the sheer number of effects that seem to be required, how does one do it?

Well, it's amazing what you can do with cardboard. The suggested costumes for the insect characters are entirely cardboard-based, and I have to say I think they would look pretty good. But the thing that impressed me the most is the giant peach itself: it is incredibly simple and I would never have thought of it.

It's a spotlight. You train the light on the appropriate spot on the peach-tree and make it larger and larger for the growing peach, and then of course when everyone is having scenes inside the peach you have them all standing in it with the other lights down, and when they're having scenes on top of it you bring the other lights up, slap an orange filter on the thing and have them stand just upstage of the light circle. I could see this being very effective indeed and it eliminates ninety percent of the effects from the production in one easy stroke.

In short, then, though this didn't have much new content, it was as I had hoped it would be useful for getting me to think about what goes into making a successful theatrical adaptation.

Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach: A Play, Richard R. George (365 Books, Day 156)

This was yesterday's book, so tomorrow I'll do today's and tomorrow's and then I'll be caught up.

This is a pretty straightforward theatrical adaptation of Dahl's classic children's novel, with most of the text taken directly from the book and many of the more lyrical passages of the book given as soliloquies to the narrator. There are really two things which make it interesting. The first is Dahl's introduction, which describes the rather harrowing circumstances under which he wrote the novel (his infant son had been in a terrible accident, and the child's survival was still in doubt for the entire time of writing; he did live). Dahl describes the book as an act of total escapism which probably saved his sanity, and this does make me understand the novel better.

The other interesting thing is the suggestions for staging, blocking and costuming. George's adaptation is meant to be performed by children, if possible, and is assumed to have a budget of slightly under nothing; given the sheer number of effects that seem to be required, how does one do it?

Well, it's amazing what you can do with cardboard. The suggested costumes for the insect characters are entirely cardboard-based, and I have to say I think they would look pretty good. But the thing that impressed me the most is the giant peach itself: it is incredibly simple and I would never have thought of it.

It's a spotlight. You train the light on the appropriate spot on the peach-tree and make it larger and larger for the growing peach, and then of course when everyone is having scenes inside the peach you have them all standing in it with the other lights down, and when they're having scenes on top of it you bring the other lights up, slap an orange filter on the thing and have them stand just upstage of the light circle. I could see this being very effective indeed and it eliminates ninety percent of the effects from the production in one easy stroke.

In short, then, though this didn't have much new content, it was as I had hoped it would be useful for getting me to think about what goes into making a successful theatrical adaptation.

You can comment here or at the Dreamwidth crosspost. There are comments over there.

poetry sale

My poem 'Telling Deaths' has been bought by Strange Horizons. I'll let you all know when it goes live.

I'm very happy that one's found a home, as it is among other things a memorial poem for a friend who died a couple of years ago, and also I think it's the best poem I've written as yet.

poetry sale

My poem 'Telling Deaths' has been bought by Strange Horizons. I'll let you all know when it goes live.

I'm very happy that one's found a home, as it is among other things a memorial poem for a friend who died a couple of years ago, and also I think it's the best poem I've written as yet.

You can comment here or at the Dreamwidth crosspost. There are comments over there.