Killing Pablo (Mark Bowden, 2001)

This book was a birthday gift from KHG. It focuses on a 16-month effort to capture (though the goal turned simply to killing, once they figured out imprisonment was hopeless) drug kingpin Pablo Escobar; the effort succeeded in December 1993. The book also gave lots of background information about Escobar's rise to power in Colombia.

The story simply feels unbelievable - but apparently it all happened.

It seems impossible that one criminal (admittedly with a well-paid, loyal organization) could exert such control over an entire country. Seems he had a pretty simple system in dealing with people - (a) they could do what he wanted and be paid handsomely, or (b) they would be killed. Also seems he left no doubt that he would enforce the system - stunning numbers of murders of judges, police, anybody in the way. Accordingly, huge numbers of folks selected (a). The organizational reach was unbelievable - politicians, judges, police. He had intelligence about almost everything that was going on.

Particularly telling was his negotiated "surrender" leading to "imprisonment" in a luxe facility he built for himself (before eventually escaping by slipping through a cordon of hundreds of soldiers who somehow "didn't see" him). What a deal.

There was a Harrison Ford movie some years ago based on some popular novel where the story line was built around an Escobar figure. I thought it was pretty hyped up. I was wrong, the real-life guy had far more money and influence.

All this is a bit unsettling thinking of the drug violence in Mexico and elsewhere; also the incredible challenge of running honest politics in countries with this kind of heritage. (But that might get me started on U.S. politics.)

But you know what? There is some room for optimism. There were some honest folks that took PE down, and I'm guessing that took courage in quantities most of us couldn't even imagine, and very few are ever called on to show.

Good book.

From Here to Eternity (James Jones, 1951)

Another book that I never would have planned to read. But actually was looking forward to it after The Thin Red Line.

I also wouldn't have thought of the author (James Jones) - as anything special. But the book is just excellent. Not much at all about WWII - instead, Jones writes about the army in Hawaii in the last years building up to 1941.

I have zero direct experience with the Army, especially as it existed in the 1940s. But I'm convinced Jones had a gift for supplying the reader with snippets of understanding how some of this must have felt.

This is why I read.

For example, he writes poignantly about the loneliness and rootlessness of so many soldiers; this perhaps was even stronger in the years following the Depression. Strong scenes of a man (Pruitt) carrying his few things in a couple bags, moving into the bunk area, set up a couple things on the locker - and you've completely moved with all your stuff. And lonely among a room full of soldiers.

I think he also "gets it" in the way he writes about the unique camaraderie that develops in spite of (or probably because of) the shared Army experiences, miserable though so many may be. I liked the part where the soldiers fell into a shared work routine when "digging in" in one of the more serious field exercises as WWII neared. I think Jones liked big chunks of Army life.

He also "gets it" when it comes to writing about music. Pruitt - who is just a great character - is a talented bugler. Something that would seem mundane to me, but Jones insists that those who listen to the buglers multiple times a day can tell the difference. Pruitt leaves the bugle corps for Pruitt-ish reasons, but gets the chance to play Taps one night at the base. What a great scene, as Jones describes what's running through Pruitt and his listeners almost note by note. I really liked where Jones had a soldier step out of a bar during the middle of the song and say to a friend - as if winning a bet - that he knew it was Pruitt. It somewhat reminded me of Proust's efforts to describe music in words - the writers know it's ultimately impossible but make a great run at it.

Pruitt was a strong character; he realized he loved the army despite everything, and recognized he was destined to be a 30-year man. He was a good athlete (boxer); sharpshooter; musical (trumpet); tough, smart, uneducated. But he had developed a code of behavior from growing up in poverty in Kentucky coal mines and years on the lam in the Depression. His code was at cross-purposes with a long Army career. The second major character was Warden, and much of the story revolves around their interconnected story lines.

In fact there were lots of well-developed characters (which is a benefit of a really long book). You can look back at the list of folks - the Malloy, Karen Holmes, Maggio, Andy, Stark, Warden, Bloom, Galovitch, Holmes, Alma, Pete Karalson, and on and on - you felt that you knew them all. There were many scenes where they are talking through their thought processes, very interesting. Also many scenes where they focus on Army diversions such as wine & women.

A terribly sad scene was finding the Re-enlistment Blues on the seat of the car; coupled with Warden checking out Pruitt's belongings and just sitting there for an hour. In fact, the book consistently leaves me feeling something like wistful, though I don't exactly know why.

I've never seen the movie and there's no way it could cover this territory. It's well-reviewed, and hopefully it's good on its own terms.

I also had no idea this book was on The Modern Library's list of top 100 20th century novels (#62).

Paris: The Secret History (Andrew Hussey, 2006)

This book had been well-reviewed, but I was a bit leery because of the title (if a book is being marketed on the basis of "secret," it's probably not very serious). And I would say the book isn't great, but it certainly is extremely helpful in lining up all the things going on in Paris since Roman times. Much worth the time to read it.

This is particularly useful in sorting out all the changes from the Revolution through WW II.

Not to mention terms like the "left bank" - didn't realize older maps often had west to the top. The university history was stronger than I knew.

There was some discussion of Knights Templar, consistent with the discussion in this book.

First cafes (coffee rather than ale or wine) supposedly in the 1660s. Fancy restaurants appearing in late 18th century (including chefs of aristocracy looking for work after the Revolution.) Haute couture as wealthy mimic ex-royalty. Haussmann changing the look of the city; open boulevards, wrought iron railings. All sorts of leading ideas, regular turmoil, etc.

(Skipping some): Revolution, Directory, Bonaparte, Restoration, 1830 (Louis Phillipe - bourgeois king), 1848 (Napoleon III), 1870, Communards, etc. It's odd to think how much happened in such a short space of time; most folks would have lived through multiple stages.

Our Man in Havana (Graham Greene, 1958)

A light read but entertaining. I didn't realize this had been made into a movie with Alec Guinness.

Greene pokes fun at the intelligence community, much of which "fun" was quite on point as far as I know - inter-agency rivalries as well as rivalries among ostensible allies. Somehow that allowed a vacuum cleaner salesman to become a highly-touted intelligence source in 1950s Havana - despite the low quality (to be kind) of the intelligence being supplied. I liked it.

The Road to Serfdom (F.A. Hayek, 1944)

The author is referred to constantly in articles I read yet I had never had occasion to pick up any of his works. This book was a Christmas gift from Luis. I like that the book included a collection of related materials as the book has been published and republished in recent decades.

While our politicians lurch around passing inexplicable laws, I wonder if they could also adopt a law requiring each politician and government regulator to spend say 10 minutes each morning reading this work before they set about wreaking havoc.

Hayek was moved to write the book while observing England - in the late 1930s - repeating many of the factors that led to the rise of National Socialism - and Hitler - in Germany. His observations are remarkably relevant to America even now. He was concerned that central planning and control would necessarily stunt innovation and productivity and, in turn, freedom - the road to serfdom.

It was interesting to read someone with his perspective explain how the collectivists co-opt the terminology of freedom - all the way to the point that the term "liberal" is completely removed from its 19th century meaning.

He acknowledges that unfettered capitalism can't exist anymore, and that capitalism itself is full of faults. That doesn't stop him from convincingly making the case for the concept that free individuals will come up with practical solutions during the course of their normal interactions in a way that no government regulator can ever do.

Watching our leaders in action these days confirms this point of view. Watching the pack bray at AIG in today's news also calls to mind Hayek's observations (not to defend AIG - moreso that this involves populist rabble-rousing to deflect attention from the AIG bailout blunders). Unfortunately we are going through a set of conditions in which what seemed like an already ridiculously large government is going to expand by several orders of magnitude. Under what circumstance will Washington give up the control it's taking in banking, automobile industry (including suppliers as of today), healthcare? - and the list goes on. More sectors to lose dynamism in exchange for expending their energies seeking government favors. Aarrgh.

Fathers and Sons (Ivan Turgenev, 1861)

I liked this. Turgenev writes an accessible story of what later became characterized as a "generation gap." This occurs with each generation but doubtless is more pronounced at times of social upheaval - in this case, the run-up to the "liberation" of the serfs, etc.

Bazarov is the strongest character - refers to himself as a "nihilist," leads around Arkady and others. Their homes are relatively close by so they together visit each set of parents after graduation. Bazarov's father is a military alum; Arkady's a traditional gentlement, trying to cope with the new relationships with the serfs, deal with his beloved wife's death, run his dwindling estate. Arkady's father lives with his somewhat-dandy brother, Pavel - who is a neat character. Turgenev writes a number of nice scenes, including Arkady courting Katya.

I guess the Russian novelists were heavily politicized, apparently because there were few other developed outlets for expression. On the surface, this might seem to be an insightful story of generations coming to understand one another a bit. But I read that the book also prompted strong reactions across the political spectrum, with leftists thinking Turgenev was glorifying conservative values, and conservatives thinking he was glorifying "nihilism" (whatever that might mean, I think even Bazarov would have had trouble explaining).

The Sorrows of Young Werther (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1774)

I've wanted to catch up with this short book ever since going through a biography of Goethe. He wrote this when just 24; it perhaps represented an earlier stage of Sturm und Drang, though Goethe may not have even agreed; it seemed to be published just when the world was waiting for it.

Thomas Mann writes: "The world at once took possession of The Sorrows of Young Werther and it took possession of the world . . . It seemed as though the public in all countries, secretly and without their own knowledge, had been awaiting this very book by an unknown young man from a German imperial city; that this book with revolutionary, liberating power emancipated the fettered yearnings of the civilized world. Napoleon, the iron man of destiny, had the French translation in his knapsack through Egyptian campaign. He claimed to have read it seven times."

It was published in all the main languages worldwide; sparked perhaps the first mass marketing push (Werther cologne, clothes, endless similar); and made Goethe famous.

Yet today I think we would all find the protagonist simply ridiculous. Which makes it all the more interesting to think why the book was an unquestioned blockbuster - in commercial and artistic impact, plus in its effect on folks' thinking. Perhaps things were quite ripe for a reaction to rationalism, but go figure . . .

900 Days - The Siege of Leningrad (Harrison Salisbury, 1969)

Another World War II story that - if one were to write it as fiction - would be dismissed as simply too much to believe.

I had heard a bit about this siege in other reading, but it hadn't really hit home what was going on. I know it's difficult to measure these things but I would tend to believe statements that this was the worst disaster to befall any large modern city. Soviet Russia tried to suppress the goings-on after the war; the author had great familiarity with Russia from various connections, so could piece things together.

The beginning of the story is pretty well known - Stalin refused to believe his erstwhile ally, Hitler, was preparing to invade Russia notwithstanding endless clear evidence to the contrary. This led to all sorts of problems for Russia and, in particular, Leningrad. Preparations for war with Germany would have been considered "defeatism" by Stalin - so local authorities were limited in making preparations.

The Nazis had great early successes and effectively encircled the entire city. A large lake to the northeast (Lake Ladoga) was the only remaining route during the winter of 1941-42 (after it froze). It seems that the Nazis could have stormed the city and wouldn't have needed a siege - except they prioritized taking Moscow and diverted heavy armor at a critical moment. They then decided to settle in for the winter and starve the city into submission (while shelling and bombing constantly).

This winter also was supremely cold. Bad news in a city lacking fuel.

Food supplies dwindled rapidly. The author reports the ration for factory workers in November was cut to as low as 125 grams of "bread" per day (250 grams for factory workers). (Do the math, it's 454 grams per pound.)

And the "bread" on which folks tried to survive was an awful mix of flour sweepings, cottonseed cake, reclaimed flour dust, "edible cellulose," salt, etc.

What was going on for the general population in the winter of 41-42? (I focus on this because the remainder of the 900 days - while bad - wasn't as bad.)

1. A city of 3.5 million that was eerily quiet - no fuel for vehicles, streetcars, etc. Factories and stores closed - no goods, no power.

2. No heat in dwellings - in a bitterly cold winter.

3. Hunger made folks too weak to do much of anything - how could anyone function on a few ounces of marginally nutritional "bread?"

4. The survivors recall how children's sleds became the mode of transportation - you could haul your water, your relatives that were too weak to walk, your corpses.

5. Folks started dying in droves. Thousands per day in '41-'42. Everybody was repeatedly affected - estimates of losses reach one million persons, most of whom simply starved to death. Not imaginable.

6. Bodies everywhere - no smell because of super cold. Corpses stay in houses for weeks (too much effort required to remove them), lay on streets (folks just walked on by, what else was there to do?); many gathered up for mass graves.

7. Part of the eerie quiet: no dogs or other animals. Poignant stories of folks killing (and eating) longtime family pets.

8. Part of the eerie quiet: few children in the streets. Many were dying; others not allowed out much due to rumors of cannibalism, that children were preferred as yielding more tender meat. (Women supposedly better than men in the cannibal hierarchy, except perhaps soldiers who benefited from larger rations.)

9. And there was cannibalism - meat patties trading on the black market at Haymarket Square; some Leningraders that simply looked "too healthy" for the rations received.

10. Life with ration cards - reissued on the first of every month with no chance of reissue if lost; those that lost their card early in the month didn't have a chance without charity from others. Or theft. Black market trades - family heirlooms for half a loaf of "bread."

11. Yet a sense of camaraderie; some of the Stalinist repression lifted; some performances go on; lectures; Shostakovich composing while the shells fall; saving Hermitage treasures; etc.

Wow. I suppose it was heroic, but it's not easy to classify driving off the Germans - after almost three years - as a "win" when you lose one million people.

Remembrance of Things Past (Vol 3-7) (Marcel Proust)

So what to make of all this? Back in 2007 I read the first two volumes, described here.

I read the remaining five volumes in 2008 but hadn't yet put down any thoughts about this. The final five volumes were:

3) The Guermantes Way
4) Cities of the Plain
5) The Captive
6) The Fugitive
7) Time Regained

I haven't read anything like this. In part because 3300 pages gives an author so much canvas with which to work.

Proust is astonishly good at writing scenes involving conversation - he has a near-perfect ear for the manner in which people speak to one another. He also is a great observer of human behavior, one example being the way he describes how people - and this includes all of us - mentally construct justifications for whatever it is we choose to do at any given time - whether based on expediency, kindness, honest effort or whatever. Read this book, and you will be better at catching yourself doing this.

Some thoughts:

1. The role of memory. Perspectives on how our past affects and enriches our present.

2. I've never read anyone make such an effort to put into words the way that music works (knowing that by definition words cannot suffice). But it is an interesting, useful attempt This primarily is done through the device of Vintuel's sonata.

3. Similar effort with art per the painter, Elstir.

4. Similar effort with performing arts through Berma.

5. Similar effort with literature through Bergotte.

6. Proust's ability to describe - in long passages to be sure - the beauty in what might be considered mundane (hawthorn tree).

7. The richness and depth of our relationships and conversations - there is really so much going on if one slows down and takes notice.

8. The difficulty of appreciating these things unless break the chains of habit, the constant need to push ourselves away from habit, superficiality of what is now referred to as the news cycle, etc.

9. The impossibility of personal growth or useful thinking without some quiet time alone. Now considered peculiar behavior.

10. How despite the richness of relationships, art, nature around us, we ultimately are alone (the moment when his grandmother knew the severity of the stroke she had suffered, the loss of memory she was experiencing, the lonely downward path ahead)

11. Guermantes Way, Meseglise Way, Swann's Way - more than roads.

12. He constantly is pointing out the foibles of the aristocracy (and others for that matter). But still is painting characters of great complexity - a reminder that there is usually something there. The hastening decline of the aristocracy (after all, this was written in early 20th century).

13. Interesting WWI scenes toward the end.

14. Albertine. Charles Swann. Gilberte Swann. Odette. Baron de Charlus. Morel. Robert de Saint Loup. Oriane Guermantes and husband. Faubourg St. Germain. The Verdurins and the "faithful."

15. Numerous wealthy folks with apparently little to keep them occupied, leading to some less than constructive behaviors.

16. The narrator's effort - at long last - to write a great work about memory et al; the device of the party that he attends later in life where the attendees are wearing "masks."

Lots more going on here than I can grasp. I will buy a copy and page through this every now and again.

The Day of Battle - The War in Sicily and Italy, 1943-1944 (Rick Atkinson, 2007)

This book had quite a bit of attention when published in 2007. I liked it quite a bit. First time I've read in any degree of detail about the Italy campaign. That part of WWII in general seems overlooked (in comparison to e.g. Normandy).

A motivation for learning more about this is the participation of my uncle, Irvin Bormann, in this part of the war. He was killed in one of the major Cassino dustups. Reading the book, it's a wonder any of those guys survived some of the things they were asked to do. Much of the Allied attack strategy seemed like World War I (moreso than anything else I've read about WWII); high-casualty largely frontal attacks on entrenched positions.

The overall impression was that this was just an extremely difficult slog with a number of factors making things very tough. Such as:

1. Germans in 1943 and early 1944 still had quite a bit of firepower left in them. (Diminishing resources, but far less of the young boys/old men problems later into 1944 and into 1945.)

2. Italian terrain is a tough place to make war. There always is another line of mountains as you make your way north. Germans were always well prepared, well dug in. Few roads or open routes through which tanks could get involved; attacks were funneled through defined routes where the Germans had a relatively easy time inflicting casualties.

3. Americans were forced to attack in part to draw Nazi resources off the Eastern Front and away from Western Europe (Normandy invasion planning was in full swing and Italy was viewed mostly as a diversion.)

4. The attacking was extra difficult because taking on established uphill positions required lots of resources. And guess what - resources were being diverted to Normandy (men, ships, etc.). (This led to a big shortage of landing craft for Anzio that contributed directly to the problems there.)

5. To sustain the pressure/diversion, the Allies kept trying to push forward in winter. Something even Hannibal and other classical campaigners never tried to do. Constant rain, cold - just miserable conditions.

6. Lots of confusion about the real goals in the campaign, weak cooperation between Americans and British.

Patton had a key role in taking Sicily; I didn't realize this was where the slapping incident occurred that put him on the shelf for awhile.

Discussion of difficult Salerno landing; rivalries and distrust with British Eighth Army; up to Naples and to onto the Gustav line (including in particular Cassino, where things bogged down). Click to enlarge the map for a good summary.

Anzio was supposed to draw off Nazis to enable the Gustav line (and Cassino) to be breached - but one of the big attacks on Cassino was launched when things weren't really ready so as to keep the Germans occupied and permit the Anzio beachhead to be established in the first place. This was the tail wagging the dog. The description of this part of the Cassino battle is almost heartbreaking, one of the bloodiest episodes for Americans anywhere in the entire war. Sent to cross the Rapido River with Germans dominating the heights across the river with a clear field of fire (and no pressure brought to bear on the German positions) - awful casualties without getting so much as a toehold across the river.

Another big - and failed - assault on Cassino in the January 25 - February 12 timeframe. Yes, the timing of these efforts to take Cassino correspond to the date where Irvin was killed.

Finally enough materiel and men were amassed to break through, starting May 11. Better weather had arrived. Polish and Moroccan units were effective. They finally broke out of Anzio around May 23. After that it was onto Rome; Fifth Army (Mark Clark obsession) arrived June 4-5. A big achievement immediately upstaged by D-Day.

Discussion of the debate whether to destroy the abbey; the author pretty clearly thinks this was unnecessary except perhaps that the regular soldiers had developed a belief in the importance of destroying the abbey and it was affecting morale. Destruction of the abbey didn't help a bit, probably made things worse because the Germans now occupied the ruins.

There is a really compelling story at the end where one of the key leaders (Truscott) gives a speech at the beachhead cemetery at Anzio (picture below). He turned his back to the audience and spoke to the dead. Who can imagine this?

Interesting, the Moroccans apparently were pretty effective fighters. This author's description of their behavior with the local female populace corresponded with the Sophia Loren movie (Two Women) of 1961.

Ernie Pyle and Bill Mauldin were strong presences.

Sounds like the battle among the local partisans, Nazi sympathizers, side-switchers, etc. resembled behavior in the Balkans (and elsewhere, I suppose).

The author writes how the American troops were hardening over time; less likely to take prisoners as time went on . . .

Something interesting was the countless references to the classics as the Allies moved out of North Africa, into Sicily, and up the Italian boot - Aeneid, Odyssey (Cyclops, Sirens); Horace; Hannibal; Caesar; on and on.

I thought the author was pretty balanced. For example, he talked about the failure to pursue opportunity at Anzio, but pointed out the high risk of an under-supplied group breaking out with a long unprotected flank. Etc.

Old World and New: German and American Song (Katzin Hall, January 30, 2009)

Here was the blurb for the concert: "ASU faculty artists and guest artists celebrate German and American song, including Schumann's "Dichterliebe," Brahms' "Four Serious Songs," Barber's "Knoxville: Summer of 1915" and "The Promise of Living" from "The Tender Land," Aaron Copland's only major opera."

It sounded good. But wasn't. I think the performers did fine, but the programming was, let's say, suspect. Brahms' "Four Serious Songs" were certainly serious, and they were followed up by a group of 16 German songs that went on and on about the awfulness of life, love, etc. Wow. There were some nice moments in the second half but by this time we were pretty well shell-shocked.

First ASU concert that we didn't really enjoy. Had Chris, Kerry, Paul Jr., Mary Beth & Mike. Everyone had pretty much the same reaction. Another less than inspirational occurrence was the pizza at La Bocca on Mill Avenue (information here), where we went pre-concert.

Oh well.

Foucault's Pendulum (Umberto Eco, 1988)

OK, I had plenty of misgivings because the story revolves around secrets, secret societies, powerful hidden folks, etc. (DaVinci Code-ish). That's almost certain to generate a weak story line. And I had further misgivings because the book was an "international bestseller" - maybe that doesn't mean much in terms of actual sales, but it suggests a product pitched to an overly broad audience.

But Eco has more going on than tale-spinning - he is speaking to the question why humans are drawn towards secrets and conpiracies, what happens to the world-view of secret-seekers, etc.

Plot - the particular "secret" - involves the Crusades-era Templars and rumors of a long-term plan to take power over the world via subterranean currents or whatever. But the power-taking plan, or at least crucial elements, seems to have been lost over the centuries. Three employees of an Italian publishing house get deeply immersed and make up a version of the plan. The fictional plan (and efforts to implement it) end up, in their version, explaining just about everything that's happened in the last 1000 years across several continents. The plan then turns out to be of great interest to certain others, even though the plan is fiction.

The story was interesting enough, though too many sections didn't seem to add much to the story (including long passages from private writings of one of the main characters (Belbo) - I just started skipping these (though there was something there from the perspective of Italians dealing with World War II, shifting allegiances as the fortunes of the war shifted, etc.)). The story was told through the eyes of Casaubon (same name as the old husband in Middlemarch, not sure why but I doubt it was a coincidence).

What is a "secret," anyway? Author observes that there is nothing inherently magical about secret information, as so often is suggested - simply means that persons other than the secret-seeker have the information. He correctly points out that once the secret is known, its power - which generally is in the imagination of the secret-seeker - is gone. There are no secrets that unlock powers, or obviously these would have been exploited long, long ago.

In the end this business of secrets, Kabbalah, etc. seems to be another way of addressing the profound - and unanswerable - questions - why are we here, where did we come from, what happens after we die, etc. Humans have faced these questions forever, and have come up with a long list of ways of coping. (Probably at more profound levels in eras prior to endless distraction with media.) Many folks seem to like believing that there is a power and a system (or at least a conpsiracy) that if understood, gives us a measure of control or understanding over these eternal unknowns. Numerology - crack the code, understand something. And if there are conspirators out there implementing secret designs - well, that helps explain why things go wrong for you, and it's not even your fault! It was out of your control or even perhaps "meant to be" - a great cop-out. (Versions of this are of course popular with politicians - blame secret conspirators (fill in the details as needed: speculators, financiers, Jews, whatever) for the failure of your policies how convenient.)

So in the end all of this business about secrets or ancient rituals or Kabbalah or whatever doesn't lead anywhere. And still leaving us with the big questions . . .

Evening in the Palace of Reason (James Gaines, 2005)

This book was based on an interesting conceit - a visit by Bach to Frederick the Great during which Frederick posed a musical challenge - I didn't comprehend the intricacy, but it involved the use of canons and/or fugues. Frederick apparently was pretty sophisticated musically (though his employee - Carl Bach! - is thought to have come up with the challenge.) Anyway, Bach came up with what is now referred to as "The Musical Offering." I have listened to that CD quite often over the years but hadn't known about its background.

The book actually doesn't spend all that much time on this specific episode, which in the end didn't seem all that important to either party. But the episode did present an opportunity to compare and contrast the ages represented by Bach (old school Lutheran, belief in original sin etc.) and Frederick (Enlightenment, rationality, belief in perfectibility of man).

The author gave a brief biography of each protagonist; he concludes Bach was a bit of an individualist within the Lutheran tradition and in fact a precursor to the Romantics.

It was interesting to think of a person like Bach in those days -a village cantor or organist because there wasn't much else of a market for musicianship - recognized for talent, but in a role where followed orders and did music as a craft; his music depicted theological "truths." The notion of an independent artist expressing his or her own vision just didn't exist in that part of the world at that time. Yet Bach did some pretty independent composing, ergo the esteem in which the later romantics held him.

The portrayal of Frederick wasn't very flattering - the author spends a great deal of time explaining how his father was controlling and abusive, and how this appeared to affect Frederick's relationships ever after. He was intent on expanding Prussia, ended up with lots of wars. Apparently relatively progressive as a ruler; also somewhat forgotten until Hitler came along. Not sure why Hitler picked up on Frederick the Great, maybe he was as good a symbol as any that were available; I read that Hitler made the formal declaration of the Third Reich at Frederick's tomb. (I think the "first reich" was the Holy Roman Empire, and the "second reich" was the German empire as it existed after the unification by Bismark in 1870 through the end of WWI.)

The author gave a lot of details about canons and fugues, how they are constructed etc. I'm confident I still don't understand this, and could never pick out the elements - though I certainly like the sound of Bach's work of this nature, or at least the little to which I've been exposed.

Also, the author exults over Bach's B minor Mass and the Passion According to St. Matthew - I would agree that both are great listening. It's also interesting how Mendelssohn did a version of the B minor Mass that was catalytic in bringing Bach to public attention - after 100+ years of Bach having been largely forgotten.

Muhammed - A Biography of the Prophet (Karen Armstrong, 1992)

Reading this was a bit odd. I would like to be less ignorant about the roots of Islam and I think it was helpful to read this. But the author (who I later learned is quite a prominent writer and commenter on all things religious) seems to be anticipating a non-Muslim Western readership that is hostile to Islam. She ends up working too hard to define various occurrences as justifiable under or consistent with the Torah or the gospels or the New Testament; I'm not sure why she strains to make the effort, I would assume Islam doesn't require that kind of justification?

Her concluding comments leave no doubt she blames the West for any conflict that exists with radical Muslims, maybe she thinks this type of book will help enlighten the ignorant Westerners? But as far as I can tell, the West (and Christendom in general) has a long and well-publicized list of failings in relations among Christian denominations and non-Christian religions alike, but continually calling this out isn't very helpful and probably is irrelevant to discussing others?

She quite often takes the same approach with passages in the Koran; again, I'm not sure why this was necessary. She comes across as almost over-sensitive about perceptions of Islam as unfair to women, the harem, "religion of the sword," violence, relationships with Jews, etc. The effort to point out - or interpret where necessary - various Koran passages seemed unnecessarily strained. After all, it seems like all religions have authoritative writings full of admirable ideas about justice, social justice (widows, orphans), peace, family, etc., along with other passages that might sound awkward to the "modern" ear. The challenge is translating this into a workable civil society (including not having the various religions run into each other). I can see where this could be extra difficult where the political leadership's claims are based on divine authority rather than consent of the governed . . .

An interesting idea was the author's discussion of the differing emphases between Christianity and Islam, including a description of the primitive status of desert Arabia in comparison to more developed civilizations (Greece, Rome, Persia, Byzantium, etc.) or religious traditions. She notes that Muhammad was very preoccupied with not getting himself killed, establishing alliances, etc.; that there was no established civil order in this part of the world within which the religion could function. Christianity by comparison grew up in a (Roman) state with order - if directed aggressively at the Christians in the early going - in any event, the Christians didn't need to start with an army or establish their own state, they emphasized healing, preaching, submission; and then took over the Roman machinery when the time came. Also with the emphasis on "end of days" in the early going for Christians, why try to build anything? So there were very good reasons for Islam to have different, more practical, priorities. I think there are some interesting ideas here.

Muhammed's unfolding revelations were reminiscent of (what little I've read of) Joseph Smith; handy concepts came along as needed; admittedly can sound cynical but in the end if a charismatic leader creates something that works for folks on a large scale, it's impressive. And I certainly can't figure out how anyone generates inspirational ideas, by definition these are coming outside the normal process of analysis etc.

Piano (James Barron, 2006)

The author follows a concert grand (number K0862) through the 11-month building process in the Steinway factory in New York. This was quite interesting. But not as interesting as I had hoped. I was looking for more history of the piano, not so interested in the assembly and mechanical details.

He does a good job of conveying the individuality of the pianos; I also liked the stories of the various world-class pianists associated with Steinway.

As far as history, one does get a sense of the ascent of the piano - really a late 19th and early 20th century phenomenon. As discussed in the Liszt biography, the piano was developed into its modern form at that time and became something of a status symbol - communicated both prosperity and culture, so who wouldn't want one sitting in the front room? The drop-off in sales was massive once radio - and then the real killer, TV - became mainstream.

And I learned that I've heard K0862 (now renumbered CD-60 after assignment to Steinway's concert division, where the best grands go) on a recording by a family group - the "Five Browns" - they used the piano on their debut album, which I had received as a gift from one MB Stern.

Anyway, this read like a long newspaper article. Which basically is what it is . . .