No Man Is An Island
John Donne
No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
Find this poem online at All Poetry
Stopping by Woods On a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Find this poem online at Poetry Foundation
Literature
Answers were correct when questions were compiled in late 2023.
Each month we’re posing five pub quiz style questions, with a different subject each month. As before, they’re not difficult, but it is unlikely everyone will know all the answers – so hopefully you’ll learn something new, as well as having a bit of fun.
Literature
Answers will be posted in 2 weeks time.
Our monthly look at what happened 100 years ago.
On this day, 10 December 1923 …
Here are the answers to this month’s five quiz questions. If in doubt, all should be able to be easily verified online.
May Quiz Questions: Literature & Language
Answers were correct when questions were compiled in late 2022.
Again this year we’re beginning each month with five pub quiz style questions, with a different subject each month. They’re not difficult, but it is unlikely everyone will know all the answers, so hopefully you’ll learn something new, as well as have a bit of fun.
May Quiz Questions: Literature & Language
Answers will be posted in 2 weeks time.
Until now I had never read TS Eliot’s The Waste Land. So when Simon Barnes (yes, that Simon Barnes: environmentalist, journalist, author, former Chief Sports Writer of The Times) had a piece recently in The New European I took notice.
I know Barnes slightly; he’s a great fan of Anthony Powell’s A Dance to the Music of Time and gave the 2022 Anthony Powell Society Annual Lecture just a few weeks ago. So of course I took notice – especially as he read English at the University of Bristol, and I know him to be a thinker.
Why had I not read The Waste Land before? Well, I’m not a great reader of poetry; I never have been, partly because, like so much of English Literature, I was put off it by school. It’s not that I dislike poetry but all the
[sic] stuff turns me off, as does most modern so-called poetry that doesn’t scan and doesn’t rhyme – and I’m not even sure how Shakespeare brings off blank verse. So spare me, inter alia, Wordsworth, Tennyson, Longfellow (of the first type) and Allen Ginsberg, Simon Armitage, Carol Ann Duffy (of the second).
But there is poetry I like. Coleridge, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43997/the-rime-of-the-ancient-mariner-text-of-1834. Lewis Carroll, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43909/the-hunting-of-the-snark. TS Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats (see Eliot can write “proper” verse) – I knew the entire 66 lines of Skimbleshanks off by heart when I was about seven or eight. Roger McGough, Summer with Monika. C Day Lewis, Requiem for the Living. John Updike. Christopher Smart, Jubilate Agno.
But I’m sorry, The Waste Land is pretentious garbage – and the Four Quartets are not that far behind. It neither rhymes (OK, there’s the odd couplet) nor scans. For me it is in the same rubbish bin as Ulysses, Finnegan’s Wake, Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses, Edith Sitwell’s Façade. None of them make sense, and they’re pretty unreadable. Pseudo-profound bullshit, one suspects written to make money from a clutch of gullible critics. And were they gulled.
No, sorry, you enjoy it if you want to, but it says nothing to me. Just leave me alone to be a Philistine.
Alice Roberts
Anatomical Oddities
Simon & Schuster; 2022
How much do you know about your insides? Most of us have an idea of how our bodies work; for some it is fairly sketchy, but for others there’s a bit more detail. But unless you’re a medic you’re unlikely to understand the minutiae and you need an anatomist to point out the nooks, crannies and curiosities.
This is where Alice Roberts comes in. She is first and foremost an anatomist, with an incredible artistic ability. So just the person to explain the idiosyncrasies of our anatomy – which this delightful book both does and doesn’t.
Every part of the human body has a name, and a story (or several). Roberts has selected just under 60 pieces of anatomy; some known to us all; some totally unseen; but all with a story of language and/or discovery. The text is concise and clear; we’re treated to one-page sketches of the people who unearthed the anatomical secrets, and the meanings of the words used to describe them; with, on the facing page, an original illustration by Roberts.
So this book is an artistic and linguistic adventure taking us on a journey to discover some hidden landscapes of our bodies. The text is more about language, the derivation of the names of things, and their discoverers, than it is about form and function. I love these explorations of the language and names, but felt slightly cheated at the frequently superficial explanation of medical function.
In this context I also felt Roberts’s lovely art needed some explanation and annotation to show exactly what we’re looking at – it’s not always obvious which part of a drawing is the structure under discussion or how it fits into its surroundings. Nonetheless Roberts’s original art is interesting: quirky and bizarre, but always beautiful.
Roberts explores the quirks of evolution which have given us the weirdest and most wonderful pieces of anatomy – most of which we’ve never heard of – in an immensely readable and well produced book. Like all her books, this is a delight.
Overall Rating: ★★★★★
Charlie Boston
Understanding European Wines
Charlie Boston; 2022
Ordering details on http://www.charlieboston.com/
How many clues do you have when choosing a bottle of wine in a restaurant? If you’re like most of us, not very many, which is a state of affairs Boston sets out to help you correct. As he says …
I have always had an interest in wine, especially European wine, so I decided to write this book about European Wines.
Nowadays people so often assume the best value wines come from the southern hemisphere and, whereas Australasian and South American wines are frequently very impressive, in my opinion, they do not offer better value than European wines. Furthermore, in this day and age when we should all be concerned about “carbon foot prints”, it is hard to justify importing wines from the other side of the world, particularly when the best wines are right here on our doorstep.
The aim of this book is to allow those faced with the responsibility of choosing a wine from a wine menu to make an educated choice. There is no guarantee that the wine you choose will live up to expectations, but at least you will have expectations.
There you have it in a nutshell. This is a book for the amateur enthusiast who wants something European and enjoyably drinkable, with or without a meal.
Boston started off his working life in the wine trade, so he knows what he’s talking about; and this leads to some good hints and highlights, and some equally strong opinions. He doesn’t impress easily. Many (although I’m not one of them) will no doubt disagree with him over his hatred of the over-hyped and over-fashionable Prosecco. Amongst other scything comments we are treated to:
The fact is all the finest white wine in the world is made in the Côte de Beaune and all of it is made from Chardonnay. Accordingly, anyone who likes white wine and says they do not like Chardonnay is, I’m afraid, an idiot.
Retsina is considered to be the traditional wine of Greece. It has its origins in ancient times when the pots in which the wine was matured (“amphoras”) were sealed with pine resin. Nowadays, resin from the Aleppo pine is added to the must during fermentation to produce the distinctive resinated style. It is very much an acquired taste which, in my opinion, is not worth acquiring.
Naturally enough Boston concentrates on France, with Italy, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Spain and Portugal all getting their own chapters. There is then a chapter on sparkling wines; another on pudding wines; and notes about other countries in a further chapter. I found this slightly puzzling: why give Austria and Switzerland their own chapters, but not Greece, which in my limited experience has equally as many, and as good, wines? For me, Italy and Spain produce just a much good wine as France (which still produces the very top-most wines), with the added bonus that it is usually slightly cheaper.
This is a easy and often fun read, and I found I kept turning the pages and reading the next chapter. Boston’s style is light and chatty, but informative, although I did feel it to be a little lacking in detail – I wanted to know more; but that’s not the book’s aim.
Sadly my biggest gripe is the maps. Boston provides maps of most of the major wine areas. Many are excellent, whereas others are barely readable: either with tiny type (originals too much reduced in size) or very fuzzy. That’s a shame as they are otherwise quite interesting and useful. The maps, plus the glossing over of Greece, lost the book a star.
Otherwise this is well produced and and enjoyable read with some useful tips.
Overall Rating: ★★★★☆