Category Archives: Literature in the Lymes

The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho

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In the history of science, alchemy (from the Arabic الكيمياء al-kīmiyā’) refers to both an early form of the investigation of nature and an early philosophical and spiritual discipline, both combining elements of chemistry, metallurgy, physics, medicine, astrology, semiotics, mysticism, spiritualism, and art all as parts of one greater force. Alchemy has been practiced in Mesopotamia, Ancient Egypt, Persia, India, Japan, Korea and China, in ClassicalGreece and Rome, in the Muslim civilization, and then in Europe up to the 19th century—in a complex network of schools and philosophical systems spanning at least 2500 years.  (Wikipedia)

“The Alchemist”  is a book that everyone should read.  It may or may not introduce you to earth-shattering ideas about man and his individual purpose in the grand scheme of things, but the chance is worth the read.
To some people the message is obvious, but to the few to whom it is not, it should be heard.
A young Spanish shepherd meets a man who challenges him to fulfill his destiny.  Presumably, they both instinctively know what this is.  The young man has dreamed of finding treasure at the Pyramids in Egypt.
This is simple enough, but he will have to sacrifice everything to achieve this dream.
He will sell his sheep, give up the potential for love, and the safety of a known existence.
He will face numerous obstacles and overcome them with various degrees of immediacy and success.
Of course, each hurdle provides self-knowledge and a proliferation of awareness.  The shepherd we meet blossoms as the book develops.  We meet characters who do not follow their dreams and, by comparison, we see how reticence leads to stagnation.  You must accept loss as a instrument toward success and, for many, the risk is too great.
It is a quick read and I found it rather simple, but there is no denying the gravity of the message –  that you must always do what you know in your heart is right both for yourself and others.

“Hamlet” by William Shakespeare

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Amazing to read the book and realize that it was written in 1604.  Four hundred and four years ago, the troubles we fear are much the same. 

Hamlet is one of my favorite of Shakespeare’s 38 plays.  Not to be intimidated by him is a rarity.  I owe my fearlessness to a certain Gary Fountain, my English teacher at Miss Porter’s.  Not only was fear not allowed, we were coerced into memorizing the famous soliloquies from many of Shakespeare’s plays.

To my husband’s chagrin, I can still recite, especially late night at a party , Macbeth, Hamlet, and the prologue to the Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales ( I’ll torture you later ).

The gift I was so freely given was that, in overcoming my fear of recitation, I also vanquished my fear of Shakespeare.  And to prove how accessible he really is, my eldest daughter, CC (10) will be doing a joint review with me this time.Amazingly, she understood and enjoyed it.  In fact, her review will probably be more insightful than mine … but do not abandon me just yet.

Deception, betrayal, familial deceit;  it is depressing to register that these are still familiar vices to us all.  Hamlet , the Prince of Denmark , is maddened by the horrible realization that he has been betrayed by his mother and uncle and girlfriend Ophelia, among others (Polonius, Rosencrantz, Gildenstern et al ).  He has been unwittingly abandoned by his murdered father, the king of Denmark.He is alone by virtue of others’ cravings for power, money and lust.  His own murderous madness blossoms under his uncle’s needs and fears.  The Queen, his mother, is blinded by fervent lust and Hamlet is left spurned and suffering, “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.”  Interestingly, Shakespeare’s own son, Hamnet , also died sadly at age 11 in 1596.

Poor Hamlet.  One would be hard pressed not to capitulate to horror and shock when faced with murder, incest, and suicide involving the four people one relied upon the most … father, mother, uncle and lover.
Four hundred years ago Shakespeare’s tragedies were very popular.  He admittedly aspired to the more educated writers of the time and wrote lengthy diatribes, but Hamlet was a play to entertain the unsophisticated populace, who loved to see the peerage fall from their ivory towers …
Why, if the nobility could not maintain a modicum of kindness and dignity, then the laymen must not be so beneath them.Shakepeare also acted in his plays and is rumoured to have played the Ghost of Hamlet’s Father.  How can old Bill kill off the cast of characters and keep us coming back for more?  As a playwright, Shakespeare may have been the salve for the masses, but he was also the inspiration.

The introduction of his plays into the popular mainstream was a gift that still galvanizes us a half century later.  All 38 plays and 150 plus sonnets are still widely regarded.  So Hamlet’s very real questions are obviously still relevant today.
“To be or not to be.”  This is still the question.  Do you continue to suffer or end your suffering?  Is it more admirable to tolerate unfairness and catastrophe or to jump the proverbial ship?
What if you do capitulate to grief?  Will death be better?  Worse?  Can you abide the indecision that paralyzes mankind?
Hamlet never knew.  No one has answers to these questions 400 years later and I hope they never will.Some things are better contemplated than resolved, leaving our passion for The Bard to spring eternal.

Act II by Campbell Mann.  Age: 10.
Hi people, I’m Campbell Mann.  Yup, you guessed it, I’m the daughter of little-miss-crazy-book-reviewer.  OK ,enough of that, today we will review Hamlet by William Shakespeare.  Hamlet, the prince of Denmark finds that his father is dead, killed by some surprising murderers.  Yes, I’ll tell you who the murderers are – Hamlet’s mom and uncle.
They kill his dad because his mom loves her husband’s brother.  So together they kill Hamlet’s dad so they can get married … and they do.  Hamlet is not too happy when he finds that out.  His Dad’s ghost comes and tells him.  Then almost everyone dies.  His uncle accidentally poisons his mom.  His girlfriend’s brother (Laertes) kills him.  But before Hamlet dies, he kills his uncle.  Hamlet is dead.  Mom is dead.  Dad is dead.  Uncle is Dead.  Polonius and his kids, Laertes and Ophelia, are dead.  Cheery it isn’t.
I know what you’re thinking.  Pretty sad,right?  Well, 400 years ago the uneducated masses LOVED ( I mean really, really loved) to see the mighty die.  Shakespeare wrote this play and many others to entertain them.  Today, people think shows like House* and Project Runway* are entertaining (*yup, seen them both).  Four hundred years ago, Hamlet was just as exciting to them as these shows are to us.
See you later, peeps!
* Older reviewer’s note – not often because bedtime is at 7:30, but dramatic embellishment is encouraged.

“Endless Feasts: Sixty Years of Writing from Gourmet Magazine” Edited by Ruth Reichl

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I simply could not resist this book and for that I am glad.

I don’t subscribe to Gourmet but may reconsider, now that I know what I’m missing.

This is a delectable collection of stories fromGourmet over the last 60 years.  They encompass everything from fictitious musings and memorable lunches to outdated recipes and culinary biographies.

The settings travel from North Dakota to China.  We have lunch in Swiss chalets and enjoy a midnight feast of venison i Maine.  We see how the life of a foodie is formed and how gastronomy is integral to our well-being.

Once again, Ruth Reichl has found stories that reflect upon more than simply food.  This is not a cookbook or a how-to, unless possibly it is a how-to-live.The preponderance of engaging pieces is a credit to both Gourmet and Reichl.

Some authors take us on personal journeys that shaped their lives and some capture the foods and wines that shaped an era.  Others share the moments that make their lives worth living and the joie de vivre to be found in cooking.
I will not comment on every piece, but there are some that I just cannot resist.
As ever, M.F.K. Fisher is a gift.  Her Three Swiss Inns is so vivid in detail and her ability to capture ambiance so clever that she sets the bar high.  The tank of trout practically swims before our eyes.  Start the book after lunch unless you are reading in Gstaad because a sandwich break will be truly disheartening.
Robert Coffin’s pieces are almost my favorites.  In Night of Lobster and Night of Venison, his culinary escapades in Maine with hot biscuits, good friends, Scotch, and frozen tidal pools are concurrently corporeal and ethereal.  Down East Breakfast is brawnily viscous and will forever make you scowl at your sad little bowl of Cheerios.

Annie Proulx takes the proverbial cake, however, in A Garlic War.  Auntie Bella undertaking the de-transmogrification of her self-righteous son-in-law with cloves of garlic and puritanical sliced tomatoes is fabulously conniving.

A few Bons Mots have to remarked upon.  I laughed out loud at some and smiled knowingly at others.
Lucius Beebe, an example of gracious living, sums his needs up quite concisely, as follows, “A hot bird and a cold bottle.”
Mary Cantwell enjoys dining alone because she knows when she leaves,” I’ll be going home happy.”
Traveling, “Back down the cone of time to (his) fifth year,” finds William Hamilton,” outraged by what jellied consommé turned out to be.”
It goes on and on.  So many wonderful stories.  There is a plethora of humor and insight to be had in “Endless Feasts.”
Some I will always remember and others I will not, but overall it is a masterpiece of editing and writing.

“The Serpent’s Tale” by Ariana Franklin

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The Serpent’s Tale is just as enticing as Ariana Franklin’s first book, “The Mistress of The Art Of Death.”

Adelia is called to duty once again in aiding the KIng solve a murder.  King Henry’s mistress, Rosamund, has been killed and Adelia must help prove that the murderer is not Queen Eleanor.  If it is, a civil war will destroy the relative peace the country presently enjoys.

Of course, the usual litany of religious and political suspects are both for and against civil unrest.

Many have much to lose and many, much to gain.

Initially, Adelia gives nary a hoot, except for her infant daughter, Glytha, and Mansur.

At last juncture, she and Rowley Picot had chosen to go their separate ways because neither would capitulate with regard to their own futures.  Rowley wanted Adelia to be his respectable wife.  Adelia wanted to be a free woman.

King Henry is a more personable character now and, as a friend to Rowley, he and Adelia must help.  They are working together to help the King and, once again, an unlikely entourage sets out.

Romantically, maternally, and socially things are very different and it makes for an interesting sequel.  Familiarity breeds both affection and contempt, so discord abounds.

Less strife would be less fun and we can’t have that now, can we?

With Rowley and Adelia on unsure ground, a soon-to-be-weaned baby, nervy Glytha, another repulsively odiferous canine, and the tall, silent Mansur, we are in familiar territory.  Adelia travels to the lair of Rosamund and encounters nuns, bodies, the devil and more.

As ever, she is intuitive, strong-willed, slightly dowdy and downright delightful.  She compromises nothing and we’d put the book down if she did.

Her duty to the dead is foremost in her priorities (after her daughter) and all social ordinances be damned.  She is perceived to be socially inconsequential, so is able to quietly decipher the goings-on.  Being Adelia, she is in the middle of everything and this again proves to be dangerous when she butts heads with a disturbing individual or two.

When the entourage is re-routed, or should I say, abducted by Queen Eleanor and her martial law-abiding cronies, the book becomes enveloped in mystery.

With all potential evil-doers in one area, the level of angst rises.

Who is killing people?

Who is safe?

One character we have yet to suspect will, I think, return in later books.  With the writing prowess we now expect, Franklin (whose real name, incidentally, is Diana Norman) twists and turns through a medieval whodunit with both moral and religious undercurrents.

Once again, a good read.

Here’s hoping more will follow!

Editor’s Note:  Click here to read Mann’s review of “Mistress of the Art of Death,” also by Ariana Franklin.

“The Third Angel” by Alice Hoffman

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Truly, Alice Hoffman is a fairytale-teller.

Her stories are grounded and other-worldy concurrently.  I have yet to read something of hers that was not a thrilling amalgamation of both.  She manages to be entertaining and clever, without the sappy, too obvious ministrations of other plot-driven writers.

Alice Hoffman has written a wondrous book that encompasses the lives of the five leading female characters, their lovers, and their children.

We meet two generations of women.  Almost unbelievably, we hold our breath as they all tangle together, sometimes consciously, sometimes not.

Hoffman’s stories are as from from prosaic as you can imagine.

Lucy, Daisy, Bryn and Frieda’s stories all converge in London.  Either peripherally or directly their lives are destined to entwine. It is compelling to see from the reader’s unblemished perspective how their lives will be affected.

How amazing to meet someone as a child, who will be in your children’s future, and yet be unaware of it.  Hoffman’s gift of seamlessly manipulating a timeline is readily apparent when the lives of the next generation – the offspring – merge.  Paul, Maddie, Allie, and Stella’s actions have far-reaching effects, some of which we are aware of as we watch their parents’ lives unfold.

None of the standard introductions for Hoffman.  The tangled web is remarkable.  As we delve deeper and are shown whence these characters come, it makes us miss a heartbeat as we watch them intermingle.

As children, as adults, as mothers, and as lovers, these characters all infiltrate one another’s lives.  Each meeting has far-reaching consequences and the inevitability of fate dangling just beyond an apparently random encounter.
A chance meeting of Lucy Green’s in Hyde Park will prove to be with the woman, who will be her future son’s adopted grandmother.  A ghost in the ethereally tangible hotel is the catalyst in the lives of Lucy, her daughters, Frieda, Bryn and many more.  Even the hotel rabbit moves from person to person within this maze.
Hoffman accomplishes these maneuvers without guile.  The incredible plausability is a testament to her craftiness.  Every time you did not see the twist coming, which is thankfully often, you are delighted.
Despite the sadness and the seemingly inescapable truth of death, the story rings true.  Her analogy of the three angels is insightful.

Frieda’s father, the doctor, says it is all in front of us.  We have but to look and Hoffman opens our eyes.

The women agree, “ Love can be complicated or it can be simple”.  The plot of “The Third Angel” may seem complicated, but, in contrast, relishing it is simple.