J.R.R.Tolkien and C.S. Lewis; the Story of a Friendship

Colin Duriez

A sort of a biography of Lewis and Tolkien and the points at which their lives intersected. I did know that they were friends ~ i would think that almost everyone knows about the Inklings and the readings and talks that were done within that group of friends ~ but i don’t think that i knew previously that there was a work element in their friendship, as they both held similar views on the teaching of English and affected the Oxford School, or that Tolkien was able to influence Lewis’s move to Cambridge after he had been turned down for a professorship at Oxford several times. Different backgrounds the men had, though of similar ages (Tolkien was about six years older, i think), brought up in radically different locations, yet with similar experiences in that both experienced early loss of one (Lewis) or both parents and the dislocation that must involve.

Duriez is quite an accomplished writer, with a lot of expertise, it would appear, in Lewis-ology (surely there’s a word for that? There’s certainly an entire scholarly industry built around the man. Lewisania?), and this book reflects the work he has put into it ~ the subtitle seems to undersell it, as this is far more than just a “Story”. Apart from anything else, there are some sixty pages of back matter, which give some indication of the work he has put into the book. Worth my time; i’m glad i found it and read it.

Chaotic Attraction

Deep Simplicity

John Gribbin

John Gribbin is a fairly successful writer of science, making difficult concepts clearer for the non-specialist reader. In mine opinion, here he has fulfilled that mandate. The basic subject in this book is the mathematics of the edge of chaos and how real simplicity, applied with feedback, can create chaos or trend towards chaos and in fact be attracted to that edge; the conclusion Gribbin draws, and his purpose in writing, is to show how the notions of simplicity and chaos can be applied to the formation and development of life. I am by no means capable of reviewing the quality of his mathematics, or the science involved, suffice it to say that i saw no glaring errors (and, at my level, i wouldn’t expect to!); what i can evaluate is his writing and his ability to convey the messages he intends to.

In these areas, then, i find that he does well. I was aware of the concept of chaos previously, hard not to be for anyone who reads anything at all modern in science, but i would not have been able to explain it, so i certainly didn’t understand it; that has changed: I could now explain (not using mine own words, or not all of them) to a low level, and therefore i understand to a low level. Chaos, at least in the technical, mathematical, sense of the word in which it is used here, can be caused by the continued application to an input of one or more simple rules, the result of which application provides the input for the next iteration. Certain rules, chosen wisely, cause the results to trend closer and closer to what are called attractors, and the resultant patterns, the trends or the attractors or both, mapped show this chaos. A rather chaotic explanation, now that i look at it, but i seem to have grasped the essentials of what he was saying, i think. I just haven’t put it nearly so eloquently or neatly.

Dahl is always worth a read

Switch Bitch

Roald Dahl

I’m fairly sure that i first read this while at Loretto ~ either there or at UHill ~ which is a bit surprising as one doesn’t think of a school for adolescents (which category both places fit) as the ideal location for a book essentially about the passion and inevitability of sex. It is without doubt, however, that i have read this Dahl previously, and have gained just as much pleasure from it this time through. He is the master, in his short stories, of odd switches, changing point of view or behaviour so that his readers’ expectations are confounded; and what a joy that confoundment is!

Someone Like You

Roald Dahl

Found two Dahl books at the library, obviously, took them out! Takes me back to Loretto, sitting in the window in the newspaper area in the library, reading a subversive book ~ for there is no doubt that, to a sixteen year old, at least such a one as i, that Dahl is purposely subverting the proper view of life. And very enjoyably he does it, too. This particular book, i remember, i found flawed in that i did not enjoy the last story (or four stories, depending on how you view them) as much as the rest; on revisiting, i agree with my younger self, to the degree that i think they are of a slightly different quality and style, not quite in fitting with the rest of the book, and they might have been better placed elsewhere; i disagree with that self, however, that they are flawed or lacking, judgements which i now think i made then as a beginning reader, not yet fully able nor willing to accept variation as a quality. I trust i have now grown up a bit, and am slightly better able to read and judge.

The Mythos

The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Tales

H.P. Lovecraft

It is a good two and a half months since i took this book out of the library; what can possibly account for my taking so very long to read it? After all, it’s not that long (twelve stories in five hundred and fifty pages), nor difficult (first published in the pulp magazines of the first half of the Twentieth Century). The truth is, i’m not altogether sure what has held me up, other than life itself ~ i’ve tended to be at work quite a bit over the Christmas period, and then when i’m home i’ve gone to bed quite early, which has severely cut down on my reading time; i don’t think that there is anything in the book itself which has held me up ~ indeed, i have enjoyed it each time i’ve read it ~ so the time factor oughtn’t be any reason for me to have bad feelings towards it, or Lovecraft.

These dozen stories are what might be termed classic horror, along the lines of Poe, though more detailed, more developed, perhaps, than Poe was; they tend to revolve around Lovecraft’s creation of a mythos of Elder Ones and ancient evils based on some interstellar travellers who brought conflicts to Earth in the aeons prior to the present. These evils have been glimpsed by certain authors of the past, in particular Lovecraft’s favourite, Abdul Alhazred, whom he several times refers to as “the mad Arab”, and his book the Necronomicon which is completely forbidden and evil, yet seems to have been available to everyone in the stories who has wanted to see it. This apparent contradiction is one of the minor complaints that i do have about the book, and it appears in a stronger form in one of the later stories, “At the Mountains of Madness”, in which a couple of explorers are making their way through a long abandoned city of the Elder Ones, amazed at all the sculptures and reliefs they find, and they are able, within the constraints of the small amount of time available within the plot-line, to comprehend millions of years’ history as shown in those reliefs, as well as offer a critique of the relative degradation of the later ones. It’s as though Lovecraft lost track of what the time-line was within his story, and he compressed what would in actuality be many years of study, learning about a truly alien culture purely from its art, into a couple of hours or so. This kind of fault in a book or story is annoying, but not sufficiently so to prevent me from reading more; i have to say that, using my single criterion, this book was a success for me.

I'm left with questions

The Names of Things

John Coleman Wood

Another e-book read for Early Reviewers. I had a small gap in the reading of this and, unusually, found that what i had read had not remained with me sufficiently for me to pick up the book and continue; i had to go back to the beginning and start again. I only mention this because it is relevant to my review in that i, normally an involved reader, am able to follow several books at once (recently it was a dozen i had going), without confusing them, but this time i was not able to. I am not sure i can put my finger on the reason that i was confused, though a couple of ideas to come to mind, intimately linked with the book and my review. 

First of all, the plot is not told in chronological order but jumps back and forth through time from the present, the book's opening, to several different points in the past. Also, intermixed in the plot are snippets from an anthropologist's notes or writings; the implication is that they are those of the main character, a never named American studying in East Africa, though i think they could well be actual notes made by Wood in the course of his studies.

Another reason for my confusion, and this lasted far longer than my original start and restart, indeed, even after having finished the thing i still have less than complete clarity, is the names and personalities, such as they are, of the African characters. Wood's protagonist (awkward to refer to him this way, but he is nameless throughout) seems less interested in them as people than as objects of study and, as he is our reference point, our point of view, we are given almost nothing to distinguish them one from another. In fact, the anthropologist’s wife (also nameless, “she” and “her”) is also less a real character than a memory or image of one ~ perhaps this is intentional as, in the present she is dead. Ultimately, this particular issue for me revolves around a lack of distinctive character in the novel and, as i tend to prefer character-driven writing, that is something of a weakness.

Usually if a particular book ~ or sometimes it's all of an author's works ~ is less character-driven it will be more plot-oriented; in this case, however, i don't find that compensation. The plot in The Names of Things is thin, almost as though nothing happens, just the recording of a journey walked through some of the land of the tribe studied, along with the memories inherent. I don't really understand Wood's meaning or purpose behind the book; since there really is not much of a plot, as i mentioned, nor do the characters present anything new or compelling to me, certainly not the two North Americans, while the Africans are hard to distinguish though as a group perhaps new, why was the book written?

In a sense, it seems as though the sole purpose to the novel is to present what the life of an anthropologist is like; this would make it more autobiographical than anything else, which may i suppose explain the namelessness of the North Americans. At any rate, despite the several negative points i have made, i did not not enjoy the book so much as find it necessary to reclassify it in my mind. It clearly does not fit into my categorisation as “Novel, good”, yet it is not clearly a book to throw away; i am not sure exactly how to categorise it. Nor am i sure whether it is a success by my criterion; all i can say it that another book by John Coleman Wood would be much more likely to be picked up and read by me if it is non-fiction rather than fiction. That makes this an awkward review, i'm afraid, of what is, in a number of ways, an awkward book.

Gifts are Good

The13th Tribe

Robert Liparulo

Stephanie sent me this urging me to read it; that alone naturally disposes me towards liking it, as recommended books always find me prepared to be biased towards them. And so i have expected to enjoy it. And so, for the most part, i have. I do have to say, “for the most part”, though, because it was not complete or unadulterated enjoyment which i experienced. Let me tease out, then, the points which come to mind and try to separate those i liked from those i did not.

First of all, and this may not be the best of confessions to make, but i tend not to like “Christian books” as a genre. Novels, good novels, which happen to have Christians as protagonists, that's a different matter, usually, but all too frequently Christian authors seem to feel that they have to focus on the message and then leave the medium to a secondary place. The most usual ~ no, maybe not “most”, but a very common ~ manifestation of this is the book with some form of The Sinner's Prayer at some point in it. This is not always the kiss of death: I remember reviewing NoSafe Haven for Early Reviewers and reporting that i enjoyed it despite the presence of overt preaching and The Prayer; generally though, they are signs of poor writing in the cause of an ulterior motive.

Second, a positive point, i love the development of the idea, a group of people immortal ~ or almost ~ because God has changed something about their biology, and the struggles they have in trying to understand and repair the damage they have done to their relationship with God in order to be allowed to die. I do not actually like the mechanics of the premise ~ that this group of forty or so people were those of the Children of Israel who not only worshipped the Golden Calf but tasted the blood of a child sacrificed to it ~ which seemed clunky and rather less well worked out than other points of the plot; mechanics aside, and this is what i like, the thought that this group of people feel cursed and desperate to work their way back into God's good favour is clever and well done.

Third, i found the book surprisingly difficult to get into, despite the opening action scene, because there seemed to be a lot more exposition than events, and i wasn't buying it. In addition, perhaps a further problem, but i'll list it in this paragraph as it increased my difficulty in starting the novel, the main character, Jagger (and what kind of a weird, i'm-so-hip name is that?), was not at all appealing, at least at the beginning; it almost seemed as though Liparulo was writing purposely to make him repellent rather than attractive. Fortunately he picks up a bit further into the book, but he and his situation really were not a reason for me to carry on reading; while we're at it, talking about reasons to struggle while finding a way into the novel, the complete archaeology set-up was somewhat of a problem for me: I found myself unable to buy into the premise, the situation at St. Catherine's; although i know the monastery exists it just wasn't working for me.

Fourth, and this clearly shows how picky i can be, the title annoys me. I understand it; i understand the reasons for it; i understand the history, theology, and Biblical interpretation behind it. But it is still wrong. Jacob, aka Israel, had twelve sons, the progenitors of the twelve tribes; except for Joseph, who became father of two tribes, Ephraim and Manasseh, making thirteen already, so any further division such as Liparulo has invented at the foot of Sinai would clearly make a fourteenth. Clearly for the authors of the Bible twelve was an important, magical number; they got around the problem in two different ways. First, by dropping one or other of the tribes from the lists, usually Levi, justified because they became the priests and so were excluded from land distribution, or, on one or two occasions i believe, Simeon is dropped, because they were combined with Judah quite early on. Second, Joseph's two tribes are usually listed together, and many commentators or interpreters (i don't think the term appears in the Bible itself, though i am open to correction) call them “half-tribes”, thus keeping the count at twelve. By any honest method, however, there were thirteen tribes when Moses came down from Sinai, so any addition should be called a fourteenth.

Fifth, while trying not to give away the secrets, the plot twists are good and well done. Well, the main one, anyway. I had already worked out two, regarding the doctor with whom Jagger teams up in his battle against the evil forces, and felt relatively proud of myself for that; when, then, the other kicked in, kicked is exactly how i felt. An excellent surprise, hidden, timed, properly revealed. There are more points i could make, but they would really tend to reveal more plot points than would be responsible.

On balance, then, i have to conclude that, negative points taken into account, i did enjoy the book. I might or might not read another of Liparulo's based on this one, but i certainly wouldn't rule it out; qualified success, then.

Churchy Book

Last Rites; The End of the Church of England

Michael Hampson

Funny thing: The last book i read i ordered almost as soon as i had finished it as a gift for JAG, and this one i was thinking about ordering even before i was done, both for myself and as a gift for Lynne. Not certain at this point if i will, for either purpose, both being perhaps a little unnecessary, but certainly odd that two books in succession should have that effect on me, the same effect. This one, too, i started reading while i was in the library, keeping out of my flat, which was very cold that day, no heat and all; and i enjoyed what i read, obviously, so took it out, too. 

Hampson is in some ways analogous to me: He is just a few years younger than i, with some similar experiences (and some different, very different), including growing up and coming across the Charismatic movement in the late Seventies or early Eighties, becoming a minster (though in my case, of course, Baptist, not Anglican), and then leaving the ministry though still feeling some draw to it, and still wanting to be able to be active in the church.

Clearly, the biggest difference between us is that Hampson found it necessary to leave the ministry because he is a homosexual, and found that he was not welcome in the Church of England, despite the official position of the Church (which is akin to that temporarily of the US military, “don’t ask, don’t tell”), particularly with reference to John Jeffries, who was forced to withdraw his name from consideration for Bishop of Reading because of his orientation, although he had made a pledge of abstinence. Hampson does a very good job of explaining as he is easy to read and easy to understand; he explains the structure of the Church of England, deriving that structure from its history, and its theologies, both in the past and the present, how he was drawn to it, as well as how he became driven from its ministry, both because of his orientation and because of the actions of certain of his superiors within the hierarchy.

He also lays out a manifesto, a suggested structure for the future (not that it has any hope of being accepted ~ at least voluntarily), which would, in his view, accommodate different views, and put the Church back on its true path of finding and serving God. As i have no allegiance to the Church of England nowadays, this is another difference between us, but i can see that his ideas have merit, and are, to be sure, thoroughly and cogently explained. Altogether, an enjoyable book.

An Even Dozen

For some reason i have a large, even for me a large, number of books going currently. And so, naturally, instead of spending some time reading them, or some of them, i'm sitting down to write about them! Maybe i need to explore why i have so many, why each has attracted mine attention, in order to be able to focus on them properly.

The Man in the Queue, by JosephineTey. I've not read anything by Tey previously, though i have wanted to. Recently i bought a collection of a half dozen of her novels, so wanted to start with one. After all, she is an author one ought to have read, from the classic period of the British detective novel, the second quarter of last century. I started with this one because, as far as i can tell, it was her first; i firmly believe in order and organisation, and that applies to my reading as much as to anything else.

Essays on Duty and Discipline, edited by Isabel Marris. An old book, just over a hundred years old, and i have a hard time not reading old books. I love the feel, the quality, the easy to read print, the slightly thicker paper of the pages, the gold stamped cover. This is a series of essays by assorted members of the Quality of a century ago, from field-marshals to earls, from bishops to politicians, all focussing on what is needed to bring up children, primarily boys, to become excellent men, suitable replacements for themselves. Incredibly priggish, and yet, truth be told, fascinating reading, a lot of which makes sense today in a society which has lost the ability to create meaningful aspirations in the pursuit of celebrity and cash.

Thatcher's Britain, by Richard Vinen. I seem to have an history book going almost all the time, ranging from one of the Oxford History of England series through to the lightest and most popular retellings of familiar stories. This is one of two which are the current entries. I was fascinated by the title when i saw it in the catalogue, perhaps because i remember Thatcher with far more affection than most people seem to; in fact, since i have returned to the United Kingdom, i suspect i have not heard a single person, on the radio, in person, or in print, have anything positive to say about the Iron Lady, and i was curious to investigate why.

The Improbable Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, edited by John Joseph Adams. A series of short stories about the one character almost no one seems to be able to resist writing about; there are stories here by people from Anthony Burgess to Anne Perry, from Michael Moorcock to Stephen King, and lots and lots i've not heard of. All based on Conan Doyle's character, who seems to have such a compelling impact on authors and readers alike; in the latter case, he has caused whole mythologies, histories, and biographies to be developed; in the former, as here, he appears to inspire huge numbers of new stories, in this book alone about two and a half dozen.

Echoes of an Alien Sky, by James P. Hogan. Simple, straightforward science fiction, i picked it up in the library, taken by the title, which i thought i recognised. I was incorrect, but am enjoying the book.

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald. A dramatisation of this was on the BBC recently; i was able to hear parts of it only, and that has persuaded me that i needed to read it again. So far, i'm enjoying the experience.

Empire of Blue Water, by Stephan Talty. I ordered this from a catalogue mostly because it is about pirates and i thought Jacob might be interested in it. Turns out it's more of a history and less of a popular book, though certainly written to be popular. I'm learning a lot about Henry Morgan and his culture that i did not previously know.

Innocent Blood, by P.D. James. There was a time when i first discovered P.D. James and read everything available in the library of whichever town we happened to live in at the time; i thought i had read everything she'd published but was happy to be proven wrong when i saw this on a bookstall in the local marketplace. Naturally, i picked it up, and am enjoying the process of discovering it.

The 13^th Tribe, by Robert Liparulo. A book sent to me by my alpha writer; i have only just started this (a chapter or two in), but have expectations of liking it, if for no other reason than i trust her taste.

A novel coming to me in snippets from my alpha, as i perform beta reader services. This is as much fun and as satisfying to read as anything else i'm doing at the moment, not least because i get to be picky and pedantic, which are two things i am excellent at, and because giving feedback to an author is something that i do in my mind almost every book i read, but this time i get to do it for real.

The Names of Things, by John Colman Wood. Not a real book, just an e-book, but included because i am actually reading it. Obtained from Early Reviewers, so will finish it and post a review fairly shortly, i hope, which is my motivation for reading it. It does not appear to be of the highest quality, though i am not a long way into it yet.

The Odyssey, translated by Robert Fitzgerald. Currently i am reading this aloud to Jacob; as he is not with me the vast majority of the time it is a slow process. We usually manage to read one book each time he visits, which implies that we'll be doing it for some months yet. Fortunately, he is and always has been excellent at being read to, following and understanding sufficiently no matter the difficulty of the material, and he's had some great stuff read to him (The Lord of the Rings [an epic in itself] when he was nine, for example).

History as it wasn't

Well, it would appear that i have done it again. This book is one of a series of, maybe, a dozen and a half that i have been given over the past few years, through the Early Reviewers programme, in exchange for a review. There was one which i was utterly unable to finish (i reviewed it, to be sure; you can read that review at the other end of this link); and now Guardian of the Vision: Merlin's Descendants#3, which i have fought with for over a month and am officially giving up on, so this is the review of an unfinished book. It hurts my pride to have to do this: I can read anything, so i always say, without respect for genre, style, author, even meaning.

I have tried to read Guardian; with all my heart i have tried. Each time, though, i have managed to struggle through a chapter or two then throw it aside (not literally, don't worry ~ i have far too great a knowledge of and respect for the value of money to risk thus damaging the Kindle i paid nearly a hundred pounds for!) and turn to something else. Each time i have found myself thinking, or on one or two occasions saying out loud, “Blah blah blah!” which is as near as i come to the contempt the Greeks had for the meaningless language sounds of those they called “barbarians”. Nothing, in other words, seems to have any value or meaning here. Let me explain further

First of all, and it is hard for me to decide which of my complaints deserves to be first, there are the characters. I say “characters”, but i could just as easily have put “character”, because they are all slight variations on the same character, no difference in style, presentation, value, or charisma. None of them is attractive ~ of the main ones, anyway ~ none is clear protagonist, none is compelling, none makes me care about them or their actions. There are differences: One is female, two are male; one a priest, one a baron, one a witch; but truthfully, if you ignore those superficial differences, they are the same person.

A second issue is the structure. Radford has chosen to tell her story from several different perspectives, from those of each of the three main characters; two of those use a third person narration, the third (first chronologically) uses first. Except when it doesn't. In one chapter i was reading the other day, the first person narration changes to third person from one paragraph to another; but the focus doesn't change, nor does anything else at all: It is as though Radford simply forgot which person she was using and got confused. Certainly not what i look for in a skilled author.

A third difficulty is that Radford has her history wrong. Maybe i oughtn't worry about that; maybe it isn't important; maybe she has purposely written what she knows to be incorrect, and if i could have forced myself to finish the book i'd find out why. Perhaps the characters with the names of people from our history ~ Elizabeth Tudor, Marie Stuart, John Dee ~ aren't the same people, and the names are merely coincidence. Until i can be convinced of that, however, i struggle to understand why James Stewart, 1^st Earl of Moray, is given that title and appears as Regent of Scotland within the action of the novel, years before either were true. Simple historical inaccuracy, which ought to be avoided.

The next issue i have, and perhaps this one ought to have been first, as it is at least partially at the base of a couple of the others, is that Radford doesn't seem to have the knack of writing compelling prose. I may not have that knack myself, but i can recognise, by the effect it has on me, of creating the necessity to keep reading, the desire to know what's happening next (linked to but not the same as plot construction), giving me enjoyment sufficient to carry me till the next time i can read, using words cleverly and with pleasure, and making me see things in words i hadn't seen previously. And this prose does not do that. It is, sadly not in the best sense of the word, prosaic: Dull, flat, uninteresting.

The thing that is remarkable to me is that Radford must have ability and her previous works must have had audience, precisely because there were previous works: Guardians is the third book in a series. Her writing must be, or have been, sufficiently successful for some readers that her publisher is willing to put this one out there. I only hope that there is an audience for it somewhere; in my house there is not.

I notice, now that i thought i had come to the end of my review, that i have actually written nothing about the content at all, the subject or story of the novel. That was an accident, needing correction. It is an historical speculative fiction, wondering what would have happened had there been a family in England descended from Merlin, the Pendragons, whose essential family concern was to work with the powers of the land (monarchy and church, primarily) to prevent chaos from taking the country. This book (as i pointed out above, it is the third in the series) asks these questions about the time of Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots. There is trouble in the land, caused by the religious struggles, by the dynastic concerns of both Tudors and Stewarts, by a young Scottish witch who is in league with a demon whose sole desire seems to be to cause chaos in England. The Pendragon family has its own issues, of course, and how these are to be resolved must be the matter of the plot (i can only imagine, as i've been unable to finish it). I would assume that matters are left somewhat unresolved, in order to provide space for a sequel, could one be wanted.


Blah blah blah....

Moving movies

TheFilm Club

David Gilmour

I suppose that it is a good sign that, as soon as i finished this book, i ordered it from Abe Books as part of a birthday present for JAG. That’s gotta be a sign of success, even by my rather strict criterion!

Normally, based on the title alone, one would expect me not to enjoy this. I mean, what is to enjoy in a book about films? I am well-known within my family for having no patience with films, often quitting them a few minutes in because they haven’t bothered to catch mine attention, and i reckon i can better spend my time elsewhere elsehow. So i am not certain why i picked this up in the library, other than ~ and i promise, i don’t remember that this was the case, i’m just guessing ~ i may have done so to see if it was written by the Pink Floyd guitarist. It wasn’t; this Gilmour is a resident of Toronto, and that, i suppose, may have caught my attention once the book was in mine hand, as a fellow Canadian. Whatever the motivation, i did pick it up and, while still in the library, read the first third of the thing before taking it out.

So, what is it? Well, as the subtitle indicates, it is the story of a father, Gilmour, and his son whom he allows to drop out of school on the condition that they watch three films a week together, films of the father’s choice. It really isn’t clear what, other than desperation, put the idea of this approach into Gilmour’s mind, but against all odds it works. The two talk, Jesse, the son, goes through some difficult times ~ as does Gilmour himself ~ but eventually comes out the other side and, as far as one can tell, has made a certain amount of a success of his life. Gilmour gives a partial list of the films they watch, and an index to them in the back, with some interesting comments as he tells Jesse what they should be looking for while watching them; as he used to be a film critic, one can assume that he knows whereof he speaks. 

The interesting point, from my perspective, other than the father/son relationship i’ll address shortly, is that i found myself wanting to watch at least some of these films, or regretting that i’ve not had the opportunity to do so, perhaps thereby continuing mine education in an area where i am evidently, evidentially, lacking. Dirty Harry, for example; i know the famous line, who doesn’t, since Reagan quoted it? but i’ve never seen the film, for one reason or another ~ lack of opportunity, Lynne’s distaste, &c. ~ and now might find myself looking for the opportunity to do so. Perhaps, as i’m giving JAG the book, we’ll rely on some of Gilmour’s recommendations to guide our viewing, as that seems to be what we do fairly regularly when he visits.

So, on to that relationship. The disappointing fact is that i find myself in a very similar position to that of Gilmour; the details are different, as he is remarried, actually has another child who plays absolutely no part in the story, is on good terms with his ex-wife; the general sweep, though, is the same: Broken marriages, a son who is having difficulties in life, and an inability to know what to do to help that son, on the part of both parents, all are features of my life and his. I’m not sure that we are in the position to do anything as radical as Gilmour did ~ apart from anything else, i am employed and he was not, and JAG is in school, and Jesse essentially was not ~ but it is stimulating to see that from a difficult situation good can arise and result, that boys, sons, can struggle through difficult times and emerge as mature adults. Thus, in the end, i am delighted that i have read this book, and i will see if i can leverage it, in some way, into a stronger relationship between JAG and myself. Woo-hoo!