City of Djinns - A Year in Delhi (William Dalrymple, 1993)

(339 pages)

Written in 1993; would be interesting to know how well it's aged.  Author lives in Delhi for a year and builds his book around it; goes through weather cycle; describes various eras in the city's history, generally working backward.

Describes Partition as source of huge change - population doubled in ~10 years as Sikhs, Punjabis move into Delhi.  Partition stories.  His landlady was Sikh.  Larger Islamic presence pre-Partition.

Urdu/Mughal tradition . . . post-Partition remainers consider their difference from Punjabis and others stronger than Hindu/Muslim split (really?)  After Partition, Urdu tradition is concentrated in old Delhi; fading.  Punjabis considered provincials; better at commerce.  This part of the book perhaps outdated.

Discussion then goes back to early days of Brits.  They started in various areas in India but early Calcutta presence most relevant for Delhi.  Sent folks up the Ganges in mid/late 18th century; difficult journey completed overland.  Delhi already in decline - Persian invasion/massacre of 1739 perhaps the exclamation point - but Mughal authority still present (and ultimately usable by Brits).  City had faded to something of a backwater after recent glory.  Fraser/Scots as initial Brit presence - rough times, working to subjugate the countryside.  They tend to "go native" but as 19th century progresses - more conservative Brit style takes over.  Culminates in 1857 rebellion; things are going exactly backward:  viewing natives as "the other."  (Mixed race folk not accepted by either side.)  Destruction in Delhi as punishment for 1857; followed by building process for New Delhi as center of Brit authority in this part of the country.

He wastes some time on Sufi and eunuch concepts - didn't seem worth it, but he was able to find remnants to interview so used the material.

Then more on Mughals.  Aurangzeb details . . . 6th and last great Mughal emperor, died 1707.  Poisonings, intrigue.  Islamic fundamentalist for his times, created strains between Hindu and Muslim that flowered (supposedly the two were much more accepting of each other prior to this).

Delhi as Islamic since 12th century; Mughals show up 16th century.  As book winds up, I like how he describes Islamic dominance as a six-century interlude; British as a far briefer incursion; now back to Hindu per millennia prior.

Concludes with discussion how the Mahabharata fits into Delhi's history - that part is interesting.

Hymns of the Republic - The Story of the Final Year of the American Civil War (S.C. Gwynne, 2019)

(416 pages)

Book club selection (via Zach; session held (via Zoom) 23 August 2020).

Initially not a fan because it lacked battle detail, which I always enjoy.

But in the end the book works quite well - much more focus on personalities (North and South); that requires some summarizing, if not shortcutting, given that extensive biographies exist on most of these folks; but it feels like a good/fair overview.

Discussion of some of the political points was useful; Lincoln's need to obtain votes from the border states; the 1864 election; race issues had a certain immediacy compared to today.

The armies learning to "dig in" in a more systematic way that influenced war-making for a long time - hadn't thought of that - look at Petersburg, especially.  (Side thought: relatively little large-scale war happens after Civil War that tactics (perhaps, weaponry) to defeat trenches didn't develop (Spanish-American war; Franco-Prussian war; Russo-Japanese war; Boer war); perhaps this contributes to WWI trench stagnation, slaughter.  Interesting to think it was taking shape here in the Civil War.

Discussion of early Washington DC - small, yucky.  Interesting; it was a fairly new city without air conditioning.

U.S. Grant - gets a fair treatment, I think.  Still thinking about how interesting his memoirs are.

Sherman - he and Grant got it, in terms of modern (total) war.  Soldiers facing inevitable attrition rates; property destruction, etc.  Nothing glorious about it anymore, if there ever was.

Greek fire was mentioned for the second book club selection in a row (Confederate plotting here that came to naught).

Slaughterhouse Five (Kurt Vonnegut, 1969)

(215 pages)

I'm glad I read this, but I don't think I "get it" in terms of what the author is trying to do.

It's a story built around the WWII Dresden fire-bombing.

But mostly tracks the adventures of Billy Pilgrim - a rather strange fellow who ends up in the war, gets captured and sent to Dresden (where he survives because confined in a reinforced slaughterhouse), gets married to a wealthy spouse, runs (or perhaps "falls into") a thriving optometry practice, travels in time, and journeys to a faraway planet.

Anti-war; lots of clever writing; absurdist style; all that's fine.

But still.

A Soldier of the Great War (Mark Helprin, 1991)

(860 pages)

Premise a bit implausible - that this 70+ year old (the protagonist, Alessandro Giuliani) could walk overnight x kilometers alongside a kid he just met.  And I didn't love those parts of the book as much as when the author switched to just describing Alessandro's life and adventures (fortunately, that was most of the book).  (Mentioning this upfront but it's not a major problem - I'd definitely recommend this book.)

There are early passages that seem to be just floating out there, but author does a really good job of tying things together - sometimes with aspects I had forgotten over the course of hundreds of pages.

Quite a few fantasy touches - protagonist gets into multiple amazing situations, survives incredible dangers, meets one elite person after the next; the whole Orfeo (he of the blessed sap) story line.

As a youngster - encounter with Austrian soldiers, princess (and her fat relative), gondola ride with stricken orchestra member; horsemanship and the neighbor's daughter; mountaineering with Rafi. The lawyer Giuliani (his father)  Loves the family garden.

When get to wartime - stories of varied venues [northern Italy version of trench/front lines; dealing with deserters in two distinct ways; military prison; alpine maneuvering; POW], mostly areas that I've read much less about, so that part is interesting.

The kinds of conversations held by folks facing near-certain death; how they think of what might lie on the other side (or not); will I be remembered?  Author does a good job on this.

Author's technique of not writing scenes all the way to a conclusion - just giving the reader enough to know what's going to happen and leaving it to imagination - then picking up the story line - this really works well, I liked it.  Though he probably should have used the technique in the last half dozen pages.

Plenty of memorable characters - I liked Strassnitzky - the pacifist field marshal.  A general on the winter line charged with sending the Italian troops up towards Innsbruck - does a great job talking about the absurdity of what they were doing.

Alessandro's life gives a vehicle for the author to meditate on the nature of religious faith, the nature of love - for family-of-origin, for war buddies, for wife and child - of course there are no hard answers to any of this, but he offers lovely, thought-provoking things about these topics.

Proust-type touches - how memory of important people and events stays with us; also Alessandro's training in aesthetics - seeing beauty, linking to works of art. Significant chunks of the story line revolve around a couple art works; interesting.

O Pioneers (Willa Cather, 1913)

(158 pages)

Willa Cather is one of my very favorite authors.  I like this book, though it isn't one of my favorites of hers.

Alexandra Bergson takes over the family farm in Nebraska upon her father's early death, and makes a success of it.  Her parents (Swedish immigrants) had moved into what is called "the Divide" area of Nebraska when things were rather primitive there; she sees quite a bit of change and material progress.  Three brothers - two also are farmers, the third (Emil) gets a college degree.  Alexandra feels more connected to him.

The descriptions of the land resonate quite a bit, even if it isn't exactly Iowa.

Toward the end of the book Alexandra is discussing potential future disposition of her land (with Carl Linstrum) - and says "The land belongs to the future, Carl; that's the way it seems to me.  How many of the names on the county clerk's plat will be there in fifty years?"  One can look at the plat pages in the 1976 St. Joe history book and understand what she was talking about already in 1913.

There is another passage that resonated (copied below from the Project Gutenberg version of this book).  I think it's too hard on the farmer/small town community (as Cather can be) and tends to generalize the disconnectedness of the city - but I do know what they're talking about.  In 1960s St. Joe, Iowa, for example - you're connected in a meaningful way to pretty much everyone - one or more categories apply - of relative, neighbor, fellow parishioner, schoolmate, share the same working life (farming), etc.  The schedule of annual activities is well established; yes, you even know where you'll be buried.  If you grow up in that environment, you notice its absence.  Some of Carl's observations below are quite on point.  The transplanted city-dweller is extra grateful for spouse, children, immediate family. 

Yet - while I thought about it a bit, I couldn't quite see living in St. Joe long-term.  (Though it is wonderful to visit there.) 

_______________________

[Alexandra is again speaking to Carl, who had moved to St. Louis and taken a job there after his father failed at farming.  Carl is back visiting his former neighbors in the Divide.]

  Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair back from her brow with a puzzled, thoughtful gesture. “You see,” he went on calmly, “measured by your standards here, I'm a failure. I couldn't buy even one of your cornfields. I've enjoyed a great many things, but I've got nothing to show for it all.”

“But you show for it yourself, Carl. I'd rather have had your freedom than my land.”

Carl shook his head mournfully. “Freedom so often means that one isn't needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a background of your own, you would be missed. But off there in the cities there are thousands of rolling stones like me. We are all alike; we have no ties, we know nobody, we own nothing. When one of us dies, they scarcely know where to bury him. Our landlady and the delicatessen man are our mourners, and we leave nothing behind us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, or an easel, or a typewriter, or whatever tool we got our living by. All we have ever managed to do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant rent that one has to pay for a few square feet of space near the heart of things. We have no house, no place, no people of our own. We live in the streets, in the parks, in the theatres. We sit in restaurants and concert halls and look about at the hundreds of our own kind and shudder.”

    Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the silver spot the moon made on the surface of the pond down in the pasture. He knew that she understood what he meant. At last she said slowly, “And yet I would rather have Emil grow up like that than like his two brothers. We pay a high rent, too, though we pay differently. We grow hard and heavy here. We don't move lightly and easily as you do, and our minds get stiff. If the world were no wider than my cornfields, if there were not something beside this, I wouldn't feel that it was much worth while to work. No, I would rather have Emil like you than like them. I felt that as soon as you came.”