Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner

by James Wallace Harris, 8/20/24

Sometimes you find yourself deep within the rabbit’s hole before you realize you’ve fallen into one.

I wish I had read the biographical entry for Sylvia Townsend Warner in Wikipedia before I read Lolly Willowes. It was her first novel, published in 1926. Warner was born in 1893 in Middlesex, England. She was greatly influenced by her father, a successful scholar, who died in 1916. Lolly Willowes is about Laura Willowes’ life after her father died. The story begins when Laura, called Lolly by her family, is twenty-eight, a spinster, who is forced to live with her brother’s family and take care of his children.

Warner was just five years older than Laura when she wrote Laura’s story, and unmarried. In the second part of the novel, Laura is forty-seven and lives a vastly different life. After Warner wrote Lolly Willowes she became involved with a life-long lesbian relationship. Warner authored many novels, many short story and poetry collections, worked in a munitions factory during WWI, became a communist, traveled to Spain twice during the civil war working with the Red Cross, and had a long productive life in several fields, including writing a biography of T. H. White. She died in 1978 at age 84.

In 1926 Sylvia Townsend Warner imagined it would take Laura twenty years before she could free herself from the roles society defined for her. Warner didn’t wait that long. I finished Lolly Willowes yesterday, and today I read the biographical piece in Wikipedia. It inspired me to order a biography on Warner by Claire Harman.

I bought Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner because the Kindle edition by NYRB (New York Review Books) was on sale for $1.99. NYRB is famous for reprinting forgotten classics. I often buy them when they go on sale, but what really sold me on Lolly Willowes is the blurb claimed it was the very first Book-of-the-Month Club selection. A quick peek at Wikipedia told me the novel was an early feminist classic, an international bestseller when it came out, and it was about witches and Satan. The book’s subtitle, “The Loving Huntsman” refers to the devil.

The NYRB edition is no longer available on Amazon, but since the novel is in the public domain, there are many editions available, including one for forty-nine cents. NYRB’s site still lists four novels by Warner, including Lolly Willowes, which does have a nice introduction by Alison Lurie.

Now, after all that build up, I’m not sure I can recommend this novel. Sometimes, forgotten classics are forgotten for a reason. The first half of this book tells us about Lolly’s upbringing and background. And it’s told rather than shown, meaning it’s a long narrative description. It’s not until Laura’s nieces and nephews grow up and have children of their own, becoming Aunt Lolly to a new generation, that she finally rebels. Laura moves to Great Mop, a small hamlet, to live alone. It’s here where she discovers she wants to become a witch and befriends the Devil.

At the beginning of the story we feel sorry for Lolly because she’s unmarried at twenty-eight. For most of the story we feel sorry for Lolly because for the next two decades she’s trapped as a live in aunt, in a role she doesn’t want. Then at forty-seven she defies everyone to go live on her own. It’s interesting that Warner has Laura gaining her freedom around the time of menopause. I am reminded of the sociological study, Sex and the Seasoned Woman by Gail Sheehy. Sheehy profiled women who felt that after menopause they no longer had to put husband or children first, and were finally free to pursue their own life. This fits with the novel.

Lolly Willowes came out in 1926, three years before Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own. Late in Lolly Willowes Lolly tells the Devil, “It’s to escape all that–to have a life of one’s own, not an existence doled out to you by others….” Doesn’t that remind you of Woolf’s classic title?

It’s this impassioned speech that Lolly makes to the Devil that finally launches the novel into orbit. It’s a shame that it comes so late in the story. I even wonder if readers would benefit from reading it before starting Lolly Willowes. It might make all the rambling story that comes before it more powerful.

Here is that speech. Don’t read it if you think it will spoil the story. She is addressing the Devil.

“Is it true that you can poke the fire with a stick of dynamite in perfect safety? I used to take my nieces to scientific lectures, and I believe I heard it then. Anyhow, even if it isn’t true of dynamite, it’s true of women. But they know they are dynamite, and long for the concussion that may justify them. Some may get religion, then they’re all right, I expect. But for the others, for so many, what can there be but witchcraft? That strikes them real. Even if other people still find them quite safe and usual, and go on poking with them, they know in their hearts how dangerous, how incalculable, how extraordinary they are. Even if they never do anything with their witchcraft, they know it’s there—ready! Respectable countrywomen keep their grave-clothes in a corner of the chest of drawers, hidden away, and when they want a little comfort they go and look at them, and think that once more, at any rate, they will be worth dressing with care. But the witch keeps her cloak of darkness, her dress embroidered with signs and planets; that’s better worth looking at. And think, Satan, what a compliment you pay her, pursuing her soul, lying in wait for it, following it through all its windings, crafty and patient and secret like a gentleman out killing tigers. Her soul—when no one else would give a look at her body even! And they are all so accustomed, so sure of her! They say: ‘Dear Lolly! What shall we give her for her birthday this year? Perhaps a hot-water bottle. Or what about a nice black lace scarf? Or a new workbox? Her old one is nearly worn out.’ But you say: ‘Come here, my bird! I will give you the dangerous black night to stretch your wings in, and poisonous berries to feed on, and a nest of bones and thorns, perched high up in danger where no one can climb to it.’ That’s why we become witches: to show our scorn of pretending life’s a safe business, to satisfy our passion for adventure. It’s not malice, or wickedness—well, perhaps it is wickedness, for most women love that—but certainly not malice, not wanting to plague cattle and make horrid children spout up pins and—what is it?—‘blight the genial bed.’ Of course, given the power, one may go in for that sort of thing, either in self-defense, or just out of playfulness. But it’s a poor twopenny housewifely kind of witchcraft, black magic is, and white magic is no better. One doesn’t become a witch to run round being harmful, or to run round being helpful either, a district visitor on a broomstick. It’s to escape all that—to have a life of one’s own, not an existence doled out to you by others, charitable refuse of their thoughts, so many ounces of stale bread of life a day, the workhouse dietary is scientifically calculated to support life. As for the witches who can only express themselves by pins and bed-blighting, they have been warped into that shape by the dismal lives they’ve led. Think of Miss Carloe! She’s a typical witch, people would say. Really she’s the typical genteel spinster who’s spent herself being useful to people who didn’t want her. If you’d got her younger she’d never be like that.”

Warner, Sylvia Townsend. Lolly Willowes (New York Review Books (Paperback) Book 5) (pp. 149-150). New York Review Books. Kindle Edition.

Even though I bought the Kindle edition, I listened to the audiobook edition because it was part of my Spotify subscription. Hearing this speech came across far more dramatically than I can read it in my head.

I find it fascinating that Sylvia Townsend Warner could be so accepting of Lolly selling her soul to the devil. I must assume it was her way of saying how awful being confined by the traditional woman’s role was to her. Yet, Warner also portrays the Devil as Lolly’s master. Has she not traded one form of servitude for another? The biographical piece in Wikipedia also said that Warner wrote essays against the church.

Lolly Willowes does have a great deal of details about middle class life in England in the late 19th and early 20th century. I’ve always enjoyed those kinds of details about English life. There were many passages that reminded me of D. H. Lawrence. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel the story was consistently told as a singular work of art. And the novel seldom featured dramatic dialog.

Lolly Willowes is not a modern novel even though it came out in 1926. I felt it was closer in style to George Elliot, but Lolly Willowes lacks the depth of Dorothea Brooke, but then Warner’s novel is only five hours on audio, and Middlemarch runs around thirty-five hours.

If you’re into English novels, especially those written by women, then give Lolly Willowes a try. However, if you want a solidly fun book about an English woman on her own, reading Miss Buncle’s Book by D. E. Stevenson, which came out in 1934. It’s interesting how different women can be just seven years later.

I must admit, that the more I read about Sylvia Townsend Warner, the more likely I am to reread Lolly Willowes in the future. Like many books, multiple readings brings out depths missed with just one reading. I may have missed a lot.

JWH

Precisely Expressing an Idea with Visual Tools

by James Wallace Harris, 8/19/24

Composing an essay makes me clarify my thoughts. We don’t think in sentences and paragraphs, but in vague words and images. It’s hard to write a sentence that says exactly what you mean the first time. The act of constructing a sentence helps us find out what we’re thinking.

Every day I watch videos on YouTube, and it’s become obvious that expressing an idea with both words and pictures can convey an idea more precisely. Have you noticed how infographics are being used more often in print and online?

I find this particularly true with the channel Useful Charts created by Matt Baker. Baker’s three videos explaining the types of atheists struct me as particularly clear and insightful. You should watch the series to see exactly what I mean, but I’m going to point out several things he did I thought were particularly good at making his ideas concrete.

I think the chart at the top of the page makes his point far better than if we were to just listen to the video or read the transcript. Of course, if he had written the information in an outline, it might have worked just as well.

  1. Implicit Atheists – A person who lacks a belief in God
    • Babies & very young children
    • Those who have never heard of the concept
    • Those who are truly undecided
    • Those who really don’t care
  2. Explicit Atheists – A person who firmly believes God does not exist
    • Those who have heard the concept, have seriously thought about it, and have concluded that they do not believe
    • What most people assume an atheist is.

But if you had to choose which form, words without graphics, or words with graphics, which helped you to see Baker’s points the easiest and fastest?

Later, Baker works to prove that people who think being an agnostic is different from being an atheist are wrong. Agnostic refers to a lack of knowledge, while atheist refers to a lack of belief. By Baker’s definition, most agnostics are atheists.

However, as the video progresses, Baker makes a good case that the term atheist isn’t especially useful because it doesn’t convey a worldview. That surprised me. I always tell people I’m an atheist, but Baker is right, the term doesn’t say much. The term atheist only says I’ve rejected the hypothesis that God created reality. It doesn’t say what I believe.

Baker claims that a worldview has three factors, ontology, epistemology, and axiology. From that I see my ontology is naturalism, my epistemology is science and reason, and my axiology is ethics. That particular combination is generally a humanistic worldview.

I should not tell people I’m an atheist but say I’m a humanist. But then, if people don’t understand the definitions Baker is presenting in his video, is that term any more informative? Baker goes into explain humanism and its history and says that humanists are naturalists aligned with science and reason interested in improving the world. That gives me a lot to think about.

The worldview image above is a mini lesson in philosophy, but the whole video is a mini lesson in how to classify your feelings about religion and philosophy.

In part 2 of the series, Baker goes into classifying atheists by personality types. For his dissertation he used the Meyers-Briggs classification system. Glancing through his dissertation, the information seems dense. It would take a bit of work to digest it. I bet the three videos explain his research far easier for most people to understand.

I’m left wondering if I should try to write my blog essays with more infographics. Or even try to write a whole essay in infographics.

Baker’s video on explaining atheists is minor compared to those where he explains larger subjects. Here’s his video on “37 Bible Characters Found Through Archaeology.” Don’t be put off that it’s about The Bible. It’s about how we know things. For example, most of the characters in The Bible that we can connect to history were from the Iron Age. And most of the characters that are considered myths come from the Bronze Age. Seeing that laid out graphically is very impressive.

I highly recommend spending some time watching the videos on Useful Charts. It’s making me rethink how to express ideas and concepts. Baker makes a wonderful video comparing commercial DNA tests people use for genealogy.

I was particularly impressed with his video on the “Western Esotericism Family Tree.” It explains a lot about people I’ve read about over the years.

JWH

Reading the Best Books

by James Wallace Harris, 8/16/24

Why read any book when you can read a terrific book? Yes, but which books are great? Recently, The New York Times asked 503 writers, critics, editors, and other experts on literature what were their favorite ten books published since the year 2000. The editors wanted to know what the best books were published so far in the 21st century. They produced this list (NYT-W). It’s a list of one hundred fiction and nonfiction books that tend to be more literary and serious.

But they also asked the paper’s readers to submit their favorite ten books published since the year 2000. That produced this list (NYT-R). That result seems to lean towards the bestsellers that readers love.

The Guardian back in 2019 created their own list of the best books of the 21st century. This gives a British slant.

Each list ranked the books 1 through 100.

I combined all three lists in a Google spreadsheet and sorted it by the books on the most lists. Eighteen books were on all three lists, and thirty-six titles were on two lists. Those 54 titles are the real standouts. The three lists produced 225 unique titles.

I shared my spreadsheet in case you want to look at it, or even download a copy.

My plan is to start reading all the books on the list, focusing on the ones that were on the most lists first. I’ve marked those I’ve already read.

I want to read and study these books. Eventually, I want to make a list of qualities that go into books that create a universal appeal. Now that I’m getting older, I don’t want to waste time reading mediocre books.

Not only do I want to broaden my taste in reading, but I crave finding books that I’ll remember. I don’t expect to remember much, because I can’t remember much anymore, but I want to read books that I remember something, some little takeaway that I can keep.

JWH

The Vegetarian by Han Kang

by James Wallace Harris, 8/13/24

The Vegetarian was first published in South Korea in 2007 and translated into English by Deborah Smith in 2015.

There are some novels that I take to immediately. I am enchanted by them on a word-by-word level because I love the personality of a character, or I love the voice of the author. Other novels, I merely like. They are readable because I want to know what will happen. I’m afraid The Vegetarian by Han Kang was like that. I kept reading not because I loved it, because I wanted to know where it was going and why.

I selected The Vegetarian to read because it was #49 on The New York Time’s “The 100 Best Books of the 21st Century” list, the one voted on by writers, critics, and editors. The Vegetarian wasn’t on the list of books voted for by readers. The writers’ list seemed to be filled with serious literature, while the readers’ list seemed to be filled with bestsellers. Nor was The Vegetarian on any of the public ballots. I wish all 503 ballots had been public because I would like to know what other books the nominators who voted for The Vegetarian liked to read. I’m not suggesting that The Vegetarian is a bad book, but its story is not pleasant.

In the original review of The Vegetarian in The New York Times, Porochista Khakpour called it transgressive literature. I had to look that up. Wikipedia defines transgressive fiction as “a genre of literature which focuses on characters who feel confined by the norms and expectations of society and who break free of those confines in unusual or illicit ways.” It goes on to say, “Because they are rebelling against the basic norms of society, protagonists of transgressive fiction may seem mentally ill, anti-social, or nihilistic. The genre deals extensively with taboo subject matters such as drugs, sexual activity, violence, incest, pedophilia, and crime.” Reading the full entry at Wikipedia clearly defined the genre and gave examples that made me better understand what Han Kang was expressing, including: Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller, Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs, A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess, Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, Crash by J. G. Ballard, Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis, as well as works from the past.

I wish I had read the review before reading the book. Especially when Khakpour says, “All the trigger warnings on earth cannot prepare a reader for the traumas of this Korean author’s translated debut in the Anglophone world.” And, “But there is no end to the horrors that rattle in and out of this ferocious, magnificently death-affirming novel.” The story is bleak, if not nihilistic.

Reading this makes the novel make a whole lot more sense – maybe. What is the point of being transgressive? This short novel is about a woman, Yeong-hye, that is presented in three sections. The first section, “The Vegetarian” is told by her husband Mr. Cheong. It describes how Yeong-hye quits eating meat, disturbing her family. The second section, “Mongolian Mark,” is told by Yeong-hye’s sister’s husband, who is not named but takes advantage of the mentally ill woman for his art. The third section, “Flaming Trees,” is told by In-hye, Yeong-hye’s older sister, who is crushed by events in the first two sections.

I don’t want to give too much of the story away, but at one-point Yeong-hye is committed to a hospital for having an eating disorder and is classified as being schizophrenic. With each section, Yeong-hye’s life goes further downhill.

As I read the novel, I thought I’d learn about how another culture, South Korea, handled mental illness. It’s not a disease that the United States handles well. I wasn’t thinking in terms of transgressive fiction. I just felt that all the characters in this story have either mental problems due to genetics, or personal problems due to cultural upbringing. For example, Yeong-hye’s father demands that she obey him, and hits her when she doesn’t. Or how In-hye’s husband abuses Yeong-hye sexually.

Normally, I read science fiction or nonfiction. The intent of science fiction is usually obvious. Typically, sci-fi stories are an exciting escape, or they’re about speculative ideas. You can tell how well the book is succeeding if the reading is fun or if the ideas blow your mind. Judging literary works is harder.

I’ve recently decided to take a break from science fiction and explore other forms of literature. I’ve always read widely, but never deeply into mainstream popular fiction. I chose The Vegetarian because it was on the recent 100 Best Novels of the 21st Century list.

I was an English major in college, so I’m vaguely aware of quality literature. Mainstream literary fiction can be fun to read, but I’m never sure why I’m reading it. Novels like Lessons in Chemistry and A Gentleman in Moscow are pure fun. The writing is clever, and the characters are endearing. They are like a captivating film. But when I’m finished, I tend to forget them.

With science fiction, which is usually poorly written compared to literary fiction, I do maintain a vague sense of their science-fictional ideas. For example, A Case of Conscious by James Blish was about a planet where a Jesuit encounters a species without original sin. Or that Flowers for Algernon was about a mentally challenged man who was temporarily given accelerated intelligence.

In the future I might remember that Lessons in Chemistry was about an eccentric woman in the 1950s who wanted to be a chemist but ended up with a successful cooking show. Or that A Gentleman of Moscow was about a charming aristocrat that was sentenced to house arrest in a luxury hotel after the communist revolution. But do such memories do those novels justice? Should I be working to get more out of fiction?

For The Vegetarian, I could say it was about a Korean woman who descends into madness and refuses to eat meat. Right now, I can cite the details but that won’t last long. I’m not sure what memories it will leave with me. Before reading the article in Wikipedia about transgressive fiction, I would have told people The Vegetarian is a sad depressing story that they might not want to read. Now I can say, if you’re into transgressive fiction then try it. But if you ask me why people would be into transgressive fiction, I couldn’t tell you. If you’re a fan of the genre, please leave a comment about what you get out of such stories.

The next novel I’ve started is Lolly Willowes; or The Loving Huntsman by English writer Sylvia Townsend Warner. It came out in 1926 and is considered an early feminist classic. Lolly Willowes was the very first Book-of-the-Month-Club book. It is delightful. It’s also about an excentric woman who is oppressed by her family and society, but it’s far from nihilistic. It’s available to read for free, but I recently bought the NYBR edition for $1.99.

Lolly Willowes is a very British novel, and I’ve read enough books about England that I’ve feel sentimental and nostalgic for its people, places, history, and traditions, like I do for America. So far, the story makes me feel good, unlike The Vegetarian. That again makes me wonder why we choose the books that we do.

I plan to read many of the books on the New York Times list. Even before the list came out, I had read twenty-five of them. I want to think about what we get out of fiction. Or what we want from fiction if we’re conscious in our approach.

I wish I knew how many writers voted for The Vegetarian to put it #49 on the list. I wish The New York Times had published the voting totals. Of the 503 voters, how many votes did each book get? I can’t believe there weren’t ties.

If you look at the way Lib Hub tallies votes and shows results, you’ll know what I mean. Here are the results for books published in 2023. For example, three books came in second by being on 19 different best-of-the-year book lists. Of the 503 votes in The New York Times list, how many votes did My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante get? I think it’s odd that of the over 50 public ballots, only two voted for My Brilliant Friend.

JWH

Exotic Dances: “The Karbardinka” and “Only This Green”

by James Wallace Harris, 8/10/24

YouTube is the TV channel I watch the most of any streaming video platform. I’m constantly finding something new and interesting. Last night I found videos of dances from unknown countries. At first, I thought they were from Russia and China, but that might not be the case.

They each appeal to me for two reasons. First, and most strongly, was the music. And second was the visuals of the dance and costumes. Both seem to be a mixture of old cultural heritages of costumes and musical instruments mixed with modern music and staging.

The first video is labeled “Caucasian Show in the Kremlin | Kabardinka Show • Ancient Princely Dance ‘Kafa’.” It looks Russian, but when I looked up Kabardinka dance on Wikipedia it took me to Circassian dance. It said it comes from Turkey. Wikipedia states, “There are several dances including the kabardinka. The version of this dance performed in Turkey is called Kafkas, from Kafkasya, the Turkish word for the Caucasus Mountain region that was home to the Circassian people before the Circassian genocide. Another similar dance is called the lezginka.”

Evidently, this is an extremely popular dance. Here is another stage of the dance, labeled “Ensemble ‘Kabardinka’ – princely dance ‘Uork kafa’.” This video has a longer description that was more informative than the Wikipedia article.

The video shows a stage version of the ancient Kabardian noble dance "Werk kafe" performed by the state academic dance ansmable "Kabardinka".

At first glance, the dance seems simple. The audience accustomed to representing the Caucasus with Lezginka, most likely, will not even understand what they saw. (It's not surprising).

Huerk kafe is a dance of the Kabardian (Circassian) aristocracy. This class of people was limited by strict protocol and codes, which naturally manifested itself in dance. Aristocrats were forbidden to show emotions, freedom of movement, turn their backs to their partner, touch and much more.

Despite the status, the guys' clothes are ascetic as possible. High origin was distinguished only by rich ammunition, which, in addition to all other elements, included the main one - checker. In the Caucasus, to fight, as well as, by the way, to dance, was a privilege. Therefore, in the appearance of men, checkers has a special place. Another distinctive element was the sleeve. Its length also indicated the status. It was impossible to do dirty household work with such a sleeve, which is very indicative. But this was also a practical application - the long sleeve prevented accidental contact between a guy and a girl.

The women's suit, unlike the men's suit, was full of luxury. In addition to the rich embroidery and the sleeves already mentioned, the status of the girl was demonstrated by the second swing sleeve and a high hat. Representatives of princely surnames additionally wore wooden shoes - Ph'e wake, which elevated them above those present. In the original images, the height of such shoes could reach 20 centimeters, which is still impressive.

Despite the above, the main decoration of the aristocrats was modesty and dignity. This made Circassian dances so beautiful, and the Circassians themselves famous all over the world.

If you can, you should watch these videos on a large screen television with good audio. They are impressive. Once I found the first video, YouTube started showing me others, basically variations of the same dance but with different costumes. Here is a more modern version of the dance.

As usual with YouTube, if it thinks you like one thing, it will show you similar things. This dance is even more spectacular, but harder to research because here’s the title: “文化自信，中国东方演艺集团《只此青绿》演活了千里江山图《2021哔哩哔哩跨年晚会》花絮.” I think of it as the dance of the leaning women.

I used Shazam to look up the music. I found an album on Spotify but not Tidal. But even on Spotify they used the Chinese characters. Like the Karbardinka, there are many variations of this dance on YouTube. Because they often come with a year, I wonder if it’s an annual performance like The Nutcracker.

I Google “文化自信，中国东方演艺集团《只此青绿》演活了千里江山图” but only got responses in the Chinese character set that Google didn’t offer to translate. I clicked on one return and then Google offered to translate. I’ll quote part of it:

At the turning point of inspiration, the romantic encounter between famous paintings and dance art has given "A Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains" a new expression that is beyond the world. Since the premiere of "Only This Green" - the dance painting "A Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains", the "green fever" has been rising, and many "green fans" have even performed across the city. Not only that, "Only This Green" has also gone from offline to online, from inside the circle to outside the circle, which has aroused extensive and heated discussions. Such a "phenomenal" storm of "national tide aesthetics" did not gradually slow down with the end of the premiere, but drove the development of "green" related peripherals, tourism and cultural and creative products with the trend of "wave".

Well, I guess I’ve gotten green fever. It’s nice to know that the dance is called “Only This Green.” With that title I was able to find a research paper on the dance that explained everything. Ah, the wonders of the internet. The dance is based on the painting “Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains” which I used at the top of this post.

The first version was dated 2021. Here’s the 2022 version.

I tried to find performance from earlier and later years, but couldn’t. If you can, leave a link.

There are over two hundred countries, and thousands more if you look back at history, so there should be many more cultural dances for me to discover on YouTube.

JWH