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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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10/6/2021 DAB Transcript

Jeremiah 6:16-8:7, Colossians 2:8-23, Psalm 78:1-31, Proverbs 24:26

Today is the 6th day of October, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible, I am Brian, it is wonderful to be here with you today. As we continue our journey and settled into this 10th month of the year, as we continue our journey through the book of Jeremiah and the letter to the Colossians. We’re reading from the Common English Bible this week, Jeremiah chapter 6, verse 16 through 8 verse 7.

Commentary:

Okay so, we’re reading in the 2nd chapter of the letter to the Colossians in the New Testament. And, what Paul lays out today is our reality and in describing that reality he’s kind of coming against some other behaviors that have been taught, like this is what will lead you to righteousness. So, he says don't let anybody judge you about eating or drinking, or about a festival, a new moon observance or sabbaths. These religious practices are only a shadow of what was coming. Don't let anyone who wants to practice harsh self-denial and worship angels rob you of the prize. And so, what is the prize? The prize was described today. Literally, I can't say it in another way that's better, or teach it, like Paul teaches it out of this letter exactly as it's intended to be received, so I simply want to reread about five verses while highlighting this is supposed to be the reality, we live in. This is supposed to be what normal looks like to us. And so, Paul says “See to it that nobody enslaves you with philosophy and foolish deception which conform to human traditions and the way the world thinks and acts rather than Christ. All the fullness of deity lives in Christ's body. So, all the fullness of God lives in Christ's body. And you have been filled by Him who is the head of every ruler and authority. In Him you were also circumcised with the circumcision not administered by human hands. The circumcision of Christ is realized in the stripping away of the whole self, dominated by sin. In other words, that was cut away and discarded, the self, dominated by sin. You were buried with Him through baptism and raised with Him through faith in the power of God who raised Him from the dead. When you were dead, because of the things you would done wrong and because your body wasn't circumcised, God made you alive with Christ, and forgave all the things you had done wrong. He destroyed the record of the debt we owed with its requirements that worked against us. He canceled it by nailing it to the cross.” Oh, that is our reality. And it's not like we have encountered these concepts in Paul's writings, but here it is laid out concisely, we aren't who we were. Things have changed. We have changed. In fact, so much so that who we were is well, dead, no longer existing. We have been resurrected into a new life. Again, this is kind of, I mean it's a mind blowing, let's not, let’s not take that off the table, its mind blowing. But it's also essential Christian teaching, like 101. It's the basic understanding. But man, if we could get the fundamentals, if we could get the basics down, because if we look at this and this is the reality, then why don't we live like this is the reality? Like, that’s the question, right? If this is the reality and we’re now living in reality than what are we doing, besides living in a false reality that is considerably less then what the good news offers us? On one hand, we can make this really encouraging and bolster ourselves and rise up, and yeah, we’re going to do this, but on the other hand, this is not really just about us. This is how the world will know, this is how Earth's people, who do not know Jesus will come to understand. We have been entrusted; we’re supposed to be living this reality. Anything less is just less.

Prayer:

And so, Holy Spirit, come into that. We confess that we have elected to live less, more of the time, then is easy to admit. The letter to the Colossians tells us that the fullness of God is in Christ, and we are filled by Christ who is the head of every ruler and authority, that's hard to get our mind, it's so big and so good, it's hard to get our minds around. And yet we choose to ignore things like this when there, they change everything. You change everything and we just try to moderate that which essentially makes us live less than You've offered. And we don't want to do that anymore and we need to not do that because we are the light of the world, a city on a hill, the salt of the earth. And so, come, Holy Spirit, not only let this message transform our own hearts and encourage us but give us a sense of purpose and understanding about why this reality has been offered to us in the first place. Come, Holy Spirit into this we ask You to lead and direct us and guide us. Lead us into all truth. We pray in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

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If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, if this mission to continue to bring the spoken word of God read fresh every day and offered to anyone who can hear it, anyone who will listen anywhere on this planet, any time a day or night, and to build community around the rhythm, as we call it the Global Campfire. This rhythm, the next step forward together. If that is meaningful to you, then thank you for your partnership, we wouldn't be here at all, if we weren't in this together. So, thank you. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Springhill, Tennessee 37174.

And of course, if you have a prayer request or encouragement; certainly, the Prayer Wall is a place to go but you can also hit the Hotline button in the app, that little red button up at the top, or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today, I’m Brian, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Prayer and Encouragements:

Hey everybody, Tony the Narrator here. Just a big shout out to everybody just to let you know that I’m praying with you and for you. I love all of you but yeah. Quick prayer request if possibly; my Mum’s come down with COVID for the second time. She's had both of the Oxford shots and she still come down with it and she's got a cold at the same time and it's really, she's, she's going through it, bless her, she's going through the ringer. She actually got it in November 2019 before we all knew what it was. So yeah, it was, it was, she was one of the very early cases and she picked up a new version of it so, if I could just, please beg your prayers over my mum. I’ve already told her that your all praying because I know that I can trust you guys in DABC. I’ve told her that she's got hundreds and hundreds of thousands of Christians around the globe praying over her right now because time is irrelevant when you’re speaking to the Lord and she also said to say thank you and she said all that’s lovely, which is very English thing, don’t worry. And so, yeah, please hold my mom up in prayers she’s going through it and this is a really beautiful opportunity for me to be able to share the gospel with her and to let her know that actually she's got a Jesus who is caring for her. So, guys, I love you so much. I'm going to be able to share the gospel with my mom because of you and I love all of you. You’re all mine.

Hello beautiful family this is Susan calling from Albuquerque. I just wanted to lift a couple people up in prayer. The first one: Mark the teacher in Australia, he called about his brother who's been missing in the Outback for a couple months now and can’t imagine how, how worried you must be. I'm just kind of speechless. I can’t imagine. And the other is Bonnie from Virginia who has managed, who came here from another country and I'm assuming it's from a culture that, where women are thought of as no less important than dogs. And I, you came over here and managed to escape from a very big abusive situation. Oh, my goodness, you are so courageous and I'm so grateful you are here, there is no accident you came here and we're just all loving you and supporting you and I just wanted to say that and I'm so glad you called in. So, Father I wanted to lift up Mark and Bonnie today and we come together because Your family we love you very much and we love Your children and our brother and our sister. Please encourage Mark. Please help him find his brother-in-law. I know that they're terribly worried and they need peace of mind, please comfort this family and help them find an answer very soon. And Bonnie, please continue her recovery from this abusive marriage. I'm all out of time now. Love you all.

Good morning my DAB family. This is Judy from Georgia. This message goes to Victoria Solider. Victoria, I'm so sorry my sister to hear about your brother passing. May God comfort and keep you in His care and comfort the rest of your family and give you the strength to get through this time of mourning. We’re all praying for you my dear. Have a great day everyone. God bless you all.

Good morning Daily Audio Listeners all around the world and here in the United States. This is Maurine from Alexandria. I want to call myself Dr. M, because that's how many people refer to me. So anyway, I wanted to let you know that I am so grateful to all of you for your contributions, for your prayers and I want to say a quick prayer for everyone today, Sunday. For your healing, for your deliverance, for God's peace and for God’s protection in your life. For all those who are suffering from COVID, I pray for God's healing. For all those who have lost their loved ones, I pray for God's comfort. For all those who are finding strength in the word of God, may you be strengthened in every area of your life. Father, thank You so much for my brothers and sisters all over the world. Thank You so much for this place where we can come together to pray and to study Your word. May Your divine presence strengthen, encourage, provide, protect and heal. In the name of Jesus, by the way, thank you for such a beautiful, beautiful time together daily. And we ask that your blessing continue on Brian and his family. Lord, we love You, we bless You, we worship You. In Jesus name. Amen.

Good morning everybody, it’s Susan from Canada, God’s Yellow Flower calling. I just want to lift up Victorious Solider in prayer today and her family, over the loss of her loved brother. Dear God, dear God, I am so thankful that her brother has been saved and is enjoying the benefits of his faith here on earth. I am joyful that his heart and soul and mind and body are with you, right at this time. But for those left behind God, it's hard. And I pray Your arms of comfort about each and every one of them and that You would strengthen them and guide them and lead them through this hour of grief. I pray dear Lord that You would especially bless Victorious Soldier with leadership she needs in guiding this family through this terrible time. In Jesus name I pray. Amen.

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unclebuns · 3 years

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General History Of Dogs

There is no incongruity in the idea that in the very earliest period of man’s habitation of this world he made a friend and companion of some sort of aboriginal representative of our modern dog, and that in return for its aid in protecting him from wilder animals, and in guarding his sheep and goats, he gave it a share of his food, a corner in his dwelling, and grew to trust it and care for it. Probably the animal was originally little else than an unusually gentle jackal, or an ailing wolf driven by its companions from the wild marauding pack to seek shelter in alien surroundings. One can well conceive the possibility of the partnership beginning in the circumstance of some helpless whelps being brought home by the early hunters to be tended and reared by the women and children. Dogs introduced into the home as playthings for the children would grow to regard themselves, and be regarded, as members of the family In nearly all parts of the world traces of an indigenous dog family are found, the only exceptions being the West Indian Islands, Madagascar, the eastern islands of the Malayan Archipelago, New Zealand, and the Polynesian Islands, where there is no sign that any dog, wolf, or fox has existed as a true aboriginal animal. In the ancient Oriental lands, and generally among the early Mongolians, the dog remained savage and neglected for centuries, prowling in packs, gaunt and wolf-like, as it prowls today through the streets and under the walls of every Eastern city. No attempt was made to allure it into human companionship or to improve it into docility. It is not until we come to examine the records of the higher civilisations of Assyria and Egypt that we discover any distinct varieties of canine form. The dog was not greatly appreciated in Palestine, and in both the Old and New Testaments it is commonly spoken of with scorn and contempt as an “unclean beast.” Even the familiar reference to the Sheepdog in the Book of Job “But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock” is not without a suggestion of contempt, and it is significant that the only biblical allusion to the dog as a recognised companion of man occurs in the apocryphal Book of Tobit (v. 16), “So they went forth both, and the young man’s dog with them.” The great multitude of different breeds of the dog and the vast differences in their size, points, and general appearance are facts which make it difficult to believe that they could have had a common ancestry. One thinks of the difference between the Mastiff and the Japanese Spaniel, the Deerhound and the fashionable Pomeranian, the St. Bernard and the Miniature Black and Tan Terrier, and is perplexed in contemplating the possibility of their having descended from a common progenitor. Yet the disparity is no greater than that between the Shire horse and the Shetland pony, the Shorthorn and the Kerry cattle, or the Patagonian and the Pygmy; and all dog breeders know how easy it is to produce a variety in type and size by studied selection. In order properly to understand this question it is necessary first to consider the identity of structure in the wolf and the dog. This identity of structure may best be studied in a comparison of the osseous system, or skeletons, of the two animals, which so closely resemble each other that their transposition would not easily be detected. The spine of the dog consists of seven vertebrae in the neck, thirteen in the back, seven in the loins, three sacral vertebrae, and twenty to twenty-two in the tail. In both the dog and the wolf there are thirteen pairs of ribs, nine true and four false. Each has forty-two teeth. They both have five front and four hind toes, while outwardly the common wolf has so much the appearance of a large, bare-boned dog, that a popular description of the one would serve for the other. Nor are their habits different. The wolf’s natural voice is a loud howl, but when confined with dogs he will learn to bark. Although he is carnivorous, he will also eat vegetables, and when sickly he will nibble grass. In the chase, a pack of wolves will divide into parties, one following the trail of the quarry, the other endeavouring to intercept its retreat, exercising a considerable amount of strategy, a trait which is exhibited by many of our sporting dogs and terriers when hunting in teams. A further important point of resemblance between the Canis lupus and the Canis familiaris lies in the fact that the period of gestation in both species is sixty-three days. There are from three to nine cubs in a wolf’s litter, and these are blind for twenty-one days. They are suckled for two months, but at the end of that time they are able to eat half-digested flesh disgorged for them by their dam or even their sire. The native dogs of all regions approximate closely in size, coloration, form, and habit to the native wolf of those regions. Of this most important circumstance there are far too many instances to allow of its being looked upon as a mere coincidence. Sir John Richardson, writing in 1829, observed that “the resemblance between the North American wolves and the domestic dog of the Indians is so great that the size and strength of the wolf seems to be the only difference. It has been suggested that the one incontrovertible argument against the lupine relationship of the dog is the fact that all domestic dogs bark, while all wild Canidae express their feelings only by howls. But the difficulty here is not so great as it seems, since we know that jackals, wild dogs, and wolf pups reared by bitches readily acquire the habit. On the other hand, domestic dogs allowed to run wild forget how to bark, while there are some which have not yet learned so to express themselves. The presence or absence of the habit of barking cannot, then, be regarded as an argument in deciding the question concerning the origin of the dog. This stumbling block consequently disappears, leaving us in the position of agreeing with Darwin, whose final hypothesis was that “it is highly probable that the domestic dogs of the world have descended from two good species of wolf (C. lupus and C. latrans), and from two or three other doubtful species of wolves namely, the European, Indian, and North African forms; from at least one or two South American canine species; from several races or species of jackal; and perhaps from one or more extinct species”; and that the blood of these, in some cases mingled together, flows in the veins of our domestic breeds.

#dog behavior #dog puppies #dog #puppy #my pets

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bluewatsons · 5 years

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H. D. Chalke, The Impact of Tuberculosis on History, Literature, and Art, 6 Med Hist 301 (1962)

If men could learn from history, what lessons it might teach us! -- S. T. COLERIDGE

Introduction

Disease has had an incalculable influence on the history of mankind. The earliest records tell of plagues and pestilences which devastated whole countries and had profound effects on social structure, contributing to unrest, famine, migration and wars.

But 'history is the essence of unnumerable biographies' and so individual ill health, both mental and physical, has had a great impact on world events, and on the Arts-literature, poetry, painting and music. A study of the biographies of the famous shows how often they have been dogged by illness of the mind or body, and it is interesting to speculate as to the effect this may have had on their outlook, productivity or scholarship. Consider also what those geniuses in the world of poetry or music who died young might have achieved had they lived! There is no doubt, either, that illness and early death of the parents plays a part in determining the habits and character of the children. Tuberculosis when it was in its epidemic phases in this country exemplifies this. The story of tuberculosis gives us, perhaps, as good a picture as any of the impact of disease on life and culture. Apart from leprosy, western civilization has known no communicable disease which may run such a protracted course, affecting almost any part of the body and giving rise to such long periods of ill-health and disablement.

History

No one can tell when the tubercle bacillus first became a parasite of man, or how infection began. There are at least some grounds for the supposition that it was of bovine origin, but whatever its source, man and his animals seem to have been affected a very long time ago. As a communicable disease, its spread would have been restricted until isolated groups of people began to adopt a wider community existence, sharing their dwellings with the sheep, pigs and cattle that had become domesticated (? c. 12,000 years ago), and extending their outside contacts. Movement farther afield as trade routes opened up (the horse, domesticated much later than the other animals, helped to make this possible) and the growth of centres of barter at the junctions of these routes and at the sea terminals, would aid the passage of infection. The human drift in search of game and better pasture was intensified as population increased; and with greater numbers at risk, in the less hospitable climates to the west and north in the wake of the retreating ice, more and more people would be prone to pulmonary complaints.

About 10,000 B.C. Neolithic man was moving into Europe, by 5000 B.C. leading a community life in lake dwellings. It seems that horseflesh was no longer used as a human food (the horse was not apparently as subject to tuberculosis as the cow or pig which were eaten in its place), and cow's milk became part of the diet. The thoracic vertebrae seen in a Neolithic skeleton found at Heidelberg, show collapse, strongly suggestive of tuberculous infection. The basins of the Nile, and the Tigris and Euphrates, cradled civilization in 5000-3000 B.C. It is understood that tuberculosis is not mentioned in the Ebers Papyrus, nor in the code of laws of Hammurabi of Babylon (2250 B.C.) (Burke). Elliot Smith found evidence of tuberculosis in five out of I0,000 Egyptian skeletons, the earliest dated 3500 B.C. and, quite recently, palaeopathology has revealed spinal caries and a psoas abscess in a mummy of the XXIst dynasty (c. 1000 B.C.). But the ancient Egyptians left no accounts of tuberculosis: the standard of health was high, as Herodotus (c. 400 B.C.), the traveller and descriptive writer, confirmed-though some centuries later.

Neither the Old nor the New Testaments give acceptable information of a disease such as the respiratory tuberculosis of modern times (Fraser). It is not to be found in the Mosaic Code, but the description in the Talmud of caseous nodules in the lungs of animals is noteworthy. Frazer (The Golden Bough) says that the Hindoos in Vedic times (I500 B.C.) sang: 'O consumption fly away with the Blue Jay': but 'consumption' in relation to those days may be a vague appellation. Did they-if indeed they knew phthisis in that era-receive the infection from the East or from the West? The latter appears to be the more probable in view of the early lines of communication between the two. It must be noted that, according to Francis, tuberculosis was common in domesticated wild elephants in ancient Hindoo times.

Cattle

A treatise on animal diseases written in A.D. 420 describes cough and emaciation, or consumption, as a serious disease of cattle. A tomb in Asia Minor, of a child offour and a half years dying in the third century B.C., records death from disease of the testicles, foot and intestines, with wasting of other parts: 'I have left the hated consumption as a heritage to my survivors' (Meinecke). The movement of herds of Lombardy cattle across Europe which commenced in the thirteenth century, and steadily increased, could conceivably have been linked with the high incidence of scrofula and other manifestations of bovine tuberculosis in man which continued until the present century.

Recent Discoveries

Theories about the beginnings of tuberculosis as a disease of man, and suppositions as to its first vectors, must be modified in the light of recent findings in palaeopathology, and the more accurate determination of the age of human and animal remains which carbon-14 estimation has made possible. Of outstanding interest in this connexion is the discovery of Pott's Disease, and rib deformity believed to be evidence of tuberculous disease of the chest, in a Californian skeleton (c. 400 B.C.) (Roney).

It is said that America had no aborigines, and that its first men crossed from Asia after the palaeolithic period (c. 15,000-I0,000 B.C.) when the two continents had only a short stretch of sea between them. After that time they appear to have been cut off from the Old World for many millennia. They had no domestic animals (the bison was untameable), and there was probably negligible tribal contact in a continent so vast, and so sparsely peopled. Was the disease already present among those who crossed from Asia to Alaska, and was the infection brought by the white man something they had known before? Among the first British allusions are those by Taliesin, the sixth century Welsh poet ('phthysis is one of the three tedious diseases'), and the Physicians of Myddfai who gave mouse dung for blood-spitting (Red Book of Hergest, 13th century). Evidence of probable tuberculosis in early Saxon skeletons is discussed by Brothwell.

Thus, whilst there is little doubt about the antiquity of non-pulmonary manifestations the extent and distribution of respiratory tuberculosis in ancient times is far more speculative. Yet, one wonders what part it may have played in the demise of those ancient civilizations whose history is lost. The balance of evidence suggests, however, that originally, phthisis was not an important disease of hot climates.

But there are more authentic facts about tuberculosis in classical antiquity, when phthisis-a wasting sickness with cough-must have been common. It was Hippocrates (400 B.C.) who gave the first clear description of consumption, and his writings have been quoted by doctors ever since, not always accurately, and often with the doubtful assumption-because of the frequent references to it in his works-that tuberculosis was very widely prevalent at that time. Its infectivity was suspected even in those remote days at least 2,200 years before Koch discovered the organism: Aristotle (d. 322 B.C.) wondered why those in contact with sufferers took phthisis, but did not do so after contact with dropsy.

Saxon and Medieval Britain*

Little is known about phthisis in Saxon and Medieval England, an epoch not remarkable for advances in medical knowledge. The killers of the age were epidemic diseases such as plague, typhus, smallpox and the sweating sickness, which removed many of those who might have succumbed to the more chronic phthisis. The country was sparsely populated, travel was limited, and industrialization had not begun. But although there is nothing to suggest that consumption was a major disease, it seems that leprosy was. Brought to Europe by the Army of Pompey in 61 B.C., by A.D. 620, according to the chroniclers, it was common in England: in the thirteenth century soldiers returning from the Crusades brought more infection with them, but in the next 300 years it slowly diminished and eventually disappeared altogether, to be replaced by its first cousin, consumption, which may now be following the same path.

Scrofula-the King's Evil

There is much more to be learned about a non-pulmonary form of tuberculosis, tuberculous adenitis or scrofula (from scrofa, a sow 'because these animals are subject to it'), which seems to have been abundant at that time. Supposed to be curable by the touch of a king, it was called the King's Evil. William of Malmesbury, the eleventh-century historian, records the royal touch as early as Edward the Confessor's reign. The physician to the Court of Edward II, John of Gaddesden, who wrote Rosa Anglica in 1320, exhorted sufferers from scrofula to apply for the Royal Touch if 'sovereign remedies' such as the blood of a weasel or dove's dung did not bring speedy improvement. Pepys and Evelyn give graphic descriptions of the ceremonies during Stuart times, when the press of people was so great that many were crushed to death: John Brown, surgeon to Charles II, calculated that the king touched nearly 100,000 between 1660 and 1682. Brown believed deaths from scrofula to be 'the highest ever', an increase he associated with the king's absence. Richard Wiseman, Serjeant Chyrurgeon to Charles II, noted that the blood of Charles I gathered after his execution 'on chips and handkerchiefs' had the same healing powers.

Dr. Richard Morton, 1689, who added much to knowledge of tuberculosis, separated scrofula into tuberculous and non-tuberculous forms; the tendency to spontaneous improvement to which he drew attention, and inaccuracy of diagnosis, must have accounted for many of the miraculous cures. Misconceptions about the aetiology of this complaint lasted a long time, and confused the new pathology of tuberculosis so ably demonstrated by Matthew Baillie a century later. (As late as I89I, in a Manual of Domestic Medicine by 'Physicians and Surgeons of the Principal London Hospitals' it is stated categorically that scrofula though often confounded with tuberculosis is quite distinct from it despite the occasional similarity of symptoms.) But despite diagnostic confusion, the evidence suggests a high prevalence of disease of bovine origin at that time. There is a descriptive passage in Macbeth: "Tis called the evil . . . strangely visited people all swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, the mere despair of surgery.'

Samuel Johnson was a sufferer. Queen Anne, the last English monarch to practise the Royal Touch, touched him when he was five years old, apparently without benefit. Johnson is an example of a genius whose characteristics should be considered in relation to his disability. He had a huge body, much disfigured by scrofulous scars, and a mighty mind, but 'disease of the spirits'; in his own words: 'There are perhaps few conditions more to be pitied than that of an active and elevated mind labouring under the weight of a distempered body.'

The Growth of Phthsis in Britain

The student of epidemiological history is hampered by the absence of accurate statistical facts. Bills of Mortality began in London in 1532, a plague year, and continued intermittently to begin with until I836, when the Births and Deaths Registration Act was passed. Notification of all forms of tuberculosis is as recent as 1912. The Bills gave only the proportionate mortality and not the death-rate per unit of population: the recorded cause of death was that given by the old women who acted as searchers, who have been described as drunken, venal and ignorant, easily bribed and ready to write 'consumption' when paid to conceal the presence of plague. Despite these inaccuracies, much can be deduced from the Bills. John Graunt (I662), a pioneer statistician, made the comment that the searchers could not tell whether emaciation and leanness were from phthisis or 'hectick fever'. By I799 consumption was given as the cause of one out of every four deaths in London. W. Woolcombe, M.D., in I8I8 published a masterly analysis of the data and also of figures obtained from parish registers and public dispensary returns. He found that the absolute and relative mortality from consumption had increased in many parts of the country since I 700-'the rate was so high as almost to exceed belief'. In a secluded Shropshire village, for example, the parish registers revealed a comparative mortality of one in six between 1750 and 1759, which in the next ten years rose to one in three. In other places, also, local epidemics were occurring. It seems that this was an epidemic phase in England, which showed little decline until the 1830s.

Causative Factors

What were the factors contributing to this spread of tuberculosis? There are many possibilities. The Restoration brought profound changes in the English way of life. The country became more prosperous, there was an improvement in the state of society and travel became easier; yet, within a century misery and wretchedness abounded and 1,200,000 of the 8,000,000 inhabitants were receiving parish relief.

The influx of susceptibles from rural England to London after the 'poore plague', consisted chiefly of persons 'at that period of life deemed most liable to invasion of phthisical disease'. For a time, we are told, there was a large number of weakly children reared who 'in a less improved state of society must have perished in infancy'. If it is agreed that the key to adult tuberculosis is to be found in childhood infection, the infants of that time may have laid the foundations of the adult consumption which later on spread over Britain.

Race and Environment

Housing, nutrition, habits, overcrowding, income, climate, occupation, psychological factors and racial susceptibility have time and again been cited as influences affecting phthisis morbidity and mortality, but as yet the role of the individual items has not been ascertained with any accuracy. The skein has not been unravelled. It will not be overlooked that the rise in tuberculosis started long before the Industrial Revolution of the 1780s, and began to fall at a time when hygiene and sanitation were of a low order, cholera and typhoid menaced the country, and maternal and infant deaths were excessive. Life was harsh and cheap: the only legislative welfare service was the Poor Law, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at H. D. Chalke Brownlee, commenting on the rise and fall of epidemics, thought that germs may undergo mutation and that the generation of an epidemic depended on the right mutation, corresponding with a suitable disposition of the population at risk. Today, can much more be said?

Young in a signal contribution to medical literature (1815) showed how the phthisis mortality varied in different parts of Britain and in other countries. There may be significance in the fact that the more isolated places-parts of Scotland, Wales and Ireland-do not appear to have met tuberculosis in epidemic form until more than 100 years after urban England. The decline in these countries has been correspondingly delayed. In places such as Nepal and Puerto Rico, tuberculosis is in epidemic form today. (The mass radiography of Gurkha soldiers reveals an incidence of 14-8 per 1,000.) Brownlee found that in Pembrokeshire a line could be drawn across the county, above it the tuberculosis rate was high, below it, low. In the north the people are Welsh of Iberian stock; those to the south are the descendants of the Normans. The anthropological characters are still evident, the place-names and language are different. Mining (coal, lead, slate, etc.), under-nourishment and tuberculous cattle, weighted the scales against the susceptible Welsh.

In due course some influence comes into action, which Newsholme thought prevents the excessive tuberculosis which an adverse environment evokes. He cited Ireland, where housing improvements did not retard the rising phthisis mortality; for some time in the U.S.A. it remained excessive, despite better living conditions-a higher racial resistance had not yet been acquired, and as happened to many other races, the Irish were not yet able to withstand the massive and repeated infection which beset them in urban life. The wider question of the origins, antiquity and recent incidence of tuberculosis in the several races of the Americas, New Zealand, Africa and eastern countries is of great interest, but it is too large and complex to be discussed here. More primitive peoples may be suffering from exposure to a new infection, or an old infection reintroduced, to which immunity has been lost. They are fortunate in having new methods of prevention and treatment to aid them, and in being able to take advantage of the experiences of those countries, which after centuries of struggle, are at last coming to terms with tuberculosis.

Other Sources of Information

Fortunately, there are sources of information ancillary to the statistical, which may be sought in contemporary literature, biography and art: some of these have been mentioned already as the sole record of the position many centuries ago; others, of more modern times, must be reviewed in a little more detail, in particular literature-biography, autobiography and fiction-from the beginning of the eighteenth century.

Shakespeare (died 1616) was exceptionally well-informed on medical matters and it is difficult to find any great author, not a doctor, who so often refers to the healing art (Bucknill). His infrequent allusion to 'consumption' and the rare references to its classical symptoms are, therefore, pointers to the impact of this disease on the life of his times. This lends support to the view that it was not until after his death that the sharp rise in incidence began. It is true that 'wasting disease', 'phtisick' (phthisis), 'rotten lungs', 'wheezing lungs' and 'lethargies' are spoken of in many of his plays, but the words seem to be applied indefinitely, relating to syphilis, ague and other conditions as well as to tuberculous disease:

... a rascally phtisick so troubles me ... I have a rheum in my eye too, and such an ache in my bones. -- Troilus and Cressida.

Consumption sow in hollow bones of man. -- Timon of Athens.

I was told you were in consumption. --Much Ado About Nothing.

Side stitches that shall pen thy breath up. -- The Tempest.

Pale primroses that die unmarried ... most incident to maidens. -- The Winter's Tale.

After 1700, novelists allude to symptoms and effects more often and descriptions of the pale heroine languishing in a decline are not hard to find, but usually the writers avoided the dreaded word 'consumption'. Consumptive children, said a writer in a popular work of the nineties, are the novelists' favourite little heroes and heroines, who appear like fairies to gladden the hearts of parents and friends for a short season. Victorian song writers also liked them. It is only in the past few decades, as the stigma has slowly disappeared, that tuberculosis has been named with any frequence; nowadays no details are spared of the early symptoms, the rigours of sanatorium treatment, and the dramatic episode of the sudden haemoptysis. (E.g. The Plague and I, Betty Macdonald; The Print Petticoat, Lucilla Andrews; Three Comrades, Erich Remarque.)

Swift, in The Tale of a Tub (I689), does describe languishing consumption, 'whose tainted breath destroys unhappy infants'; so does Fielding in Tom jones (I 740). Samuel Richardson, the author of the first English novel (I 740) makes Clarissa, in the book of that name, die of a decline, aged nineteen. Elaine in The Morte d'Arthur of Malory (1470) may well have been the first young lady of the English romance to have been so afflicted. The decline associated with the emotional disturbances of an unhappy love affair was a popular theme with Victorian novelists like the Brontes and Jane Austen, who were themselves tuberculous. You will remember Helen Burns in Jane Eyre (I847) who died of semi-starvation and neglected colds; and 'the vanished bloom and wasted flesh' in Shirley (I849), also written by Charlotte Bronte, about her sister. There were many more who 'faded like any flower in drought'. The closing scenes were usually happy, quite unlike those occurring in real life (there are no major crises in Jane Austen's works and no deaths). In considering these characters, it is to be noted that many authorities today believe that emotional and mental upsets act as exciting causes of active tuberculosis, and Kissen and others speak of a break in the 'love-link' in this connexion. One other youthful victim should be mentioned, poor Smike in Nicholas Nickleby, 'with sunken eyes too bright and hollow cheeks too flushed'.

Smollet, who had no success as a doctor, wrote admirably, despite his ill temper and vindictive nature: he had tuberculosis himself and wrote of it in many of his books. This passage is from Roderick Random (1748), about a sick parade at sea: '... one (sailor) complained of a pleuritic stitch and spitting of blood for which the doctor prescribed exercises at the pump to promote expectoration. In less than half an hour he was suffocated with a deluge of blood.' (When tuberculosis was rife, the early symptoms of lassitude and a dislike of work were often mistaken for indolence.) Tuberculosis was long an occupational disease of seamen: an epidemic occurred in the fleet blockading Brest in 1809. Washington Irving writes about the pressed sailor who dragged his wasted body homeward to repose and die (England's Rural Life and Christmas Customs). Unsatisfactory, overcrowded quarters, were conducive to contact infection, and when 'a long sea voyage' was a popular therapeutic measure for the consumptive, sources of infection were not lacking. Charles Kingsley (he had chest disease all his life, dying in 1875) shows how readily infection was spread in those days, when people like the ploughman's consumptive daughter slept in a stifling lean-to together with members of her own family, her baby and a newly married couple (Yeast). Kingsley's publisher and friend was Daniel Macmillan (40) who had to contend with the millstone of tuberculosis all his life.

One more novel is selected, this time from France-La Dame aux Camelias by Dumas fils (1848). It is based on the real-life story of Marie Duplessis, a kept woman, who had what she described as 'one of those diseases that never relent. I shall not live as long as others, I have promised myself to live more quickly'; she died at twenty-three.

Katherine Mansfield, in her letters, gives a realistic picture of her conflict with an ailment which ended with a haemorrhage.

Tuberculosis Among Writers

Numerous literary celebrities were themselves tuberculous; others may be presumed to have been affected, but biography often hides the truth and before the days of bacteriology and radiology, diagnosis must have been in doubt very often. Here are some names:

The Brontes (29) (30) (39); Jane Austen (41); Katherine Mansfield (35); R. L. Stevenson (44); D. H. Lawrence (45); LI. Powys (55); Sterne (55); Smollet (50); Mrs. Henry Wood (73)-she had spinal disease and wrote from a wheelchair. (In Channings Jenkins had a 'Churchyard cough . . . a sort of decline, my wife and brother died of the same thing sir'.) Kingsley (56); Orwell (46).

And from abroad:

Edgar Allan Poe (40); Thoreau (45); Whittier (85); Washington Irving (76); Chekov (44); Schiller (46); Balzac (52); Moliere (51); Prosper Merimee (67).

Poets

Poets are prominent in the list and more of them died young than other writers. Poets, unlike most other geniuses, do not need a long life to achieve immortality, a few lines may suffice. Those who had consumption seem to have written with a hectic urgency, as though knowing that their time was short; a certain melancholy, symptomatic of their illness, is not unusual. Descriptions of the decline, always clothed in poetic euphemism, are to be found in great number: e.g. 'Where youth grows pale and spectre-thin and dies' (Keats); 'And melancholy marked him for her own ... he gave, to misery all he had, a tear' (Gray).

The list of English poets is headed by Lovelace (40) who 'grew very melancholy, which brought him at length into a consumption'. His circumstances became so reduced that when he died in 1658 he was in rags and lived with beggars.

Others, with dates of death, are: Oldham (38) 1688; Philips (32) 1708; Hughes (42) 1719; Gay (47) 1732; ? Littleton (64) I773; Keats (24) I821; Shelley (30) drowned 1822; Hood (45) I845; Gray (23) 1861; E. B. Browning (55) 1861; Symonds (53) 1893; Thompson (48) 1907; Flecker (31) 1915; W. E. Henley (54) 1903, who was lame following the amputation of a tuberculous foot, was the prototype of Long John Silver, in his great friend R. L. Stevenson's Treasure Island.

Dylan Thomas (39), the modem poetic genius, did not suffer from tuberculosis, but, according to a biographer, he imagined he did; a belief which may have served as an excuse for his alcoholism. Death is near in all his verses and he had an obsession that a poet should die young and 'live in such a way as to risk his own destruction'.

These few names are of poets who, despite short lives, lasted long enough to become famous thanks sometimes to their ability to move to a more equable climate abroad; in others biographical details are obscure, but suggestive; many more must have died young and unknown.

Close contact in the home has always been the most potent means of passing on the infection, and many of the famous people under discussion were members of tuberculous households, among them the Brontes, Keats, Baillie, Hood, Smollet, Chekhov, Trudeau. De Quincey, Rembrandt, John Hunter and others in this category seem to have escaped active disease. The home-life of the members of these families was disturbed by poverty, the loss of a parent, the despairing atmosphere of long drawn-out sickness and the fear that they themselves might be similarly stricken. Tuberculosis, then, must be included among the causes of an unsatisfactory upbringing, leading to a feeling of insecurity, which is at the root of behaviour problems making their appearances later on. Poverty was the usual accompaniment of early years in the literary and artistic fields and this and an unsettled way of life favoured a lowering of resistance at a time when none could avoid infection. Sometimes drugs and alcohol were superimposed on the toxins of the tubercle bacillus.

Edgar Allan Poe may be cited: he lost his father when he was a year old, his mother after a lingering illness when he was three and a half, his frail, exquisitely beautiful wife Virginia, also tuberculous, died shortly after a marriage lived in penury and squalor. She appears frequently in his poems:

.... respite and nepenthe from the memories of Lenore.

.... the wind came out of a cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

Musicians

Purcell (37), who died in 1695, is the earliest English composer on the list; he caught a chill, said a biographer, after being kept outside his house by his wife as a punishment for keeping late hours! Many circumstances have been blamed for the onset of phthisis, but none as naive as this. Chopin (40) is the classical type and his temperament is clearly reflected in his music. Nevin (39), a lyrical genius who wrote The Rosary, struggled without avail against his ill-health. There are more names, including those of instrumentalists and singers. Mimi in La Boheme and Violetta in La Traviata are operatic consumptives.

Painters and Paintings

Relatively few artists appear to have been afflicted (although many must have died young before time was allowed them to achieve fame, their deaths accelerated by the conditions under which they lived); there are at least three notable exceptions:

Watteau (37), perhaps the greatest eighteenth-century painter, had an unhappy life. He was ill-fed and worked with feverish haste for long hours, painting exquisite romantic scenes which were in sharp contrast to the gloomy melancholy of his own life. He died in 1721.

Modigliani (36), an original genius, who died 200 years after Watteau, lived imprudently and defiantly, sustaining himself with alcohol and drugs and subsisting on a diet which, it is said, consisted mainly of sardines. His portrayal of young ladies with slender necks, slanting shoulders and peach blossom complexions-Mlle Victoria, the English girl, was the model for many of them-is characteristic.

Aubrey Beardsley (27), was an unconventional black-and-white artist, the originator of a new cult. Seldom has anyone produced so much in such a short time, his friends attributing his abnormal activity to a desire to forestall death and leave a legacy.

Portraits

Portraiture supplements biography. There can be few galleries lacking a canvas or two showing a possibly tuberculous subject. The tuberculous type has long been recognized. Hippocrates wrote of those most liable, as having smooth, fair, ruddy skins, blue eyes and shoulders projecting like wings. The nineteenth century writers gave pictures of the same kind. One of the most colourful is in Lavengro (1851), believed to be George Borrow's own biography; he describes his brother in these terms:

... a rosy angelic face, blue eyes and light chestnut hair ... it partook to a certain extent of the Celtic character, particularly in the fire and vitality which illumined it. So great was his beauty in infancy that people would follow .. . and bless the lovely face. Perhaps it will be asked here what became of him. Alas! his was an early and a foreign grave.

He became a painter, and was 'pale and unwell' on his last visit to his home. Unfortunately the reader is not told how and where he died. Another writer (1891) noted that:

Children prone to tuberculosis are generally pretty, slim, fair-haired with lithe active figures, delicately formed limbs, slender chests and waists, blue eyes and clear red and white complexions. They are intelligent, quick, volatile and a source of pride to their mothers and nurses. The tubercular children are pretty, the scrofulous children ugly.

Children of both types are to be seen on many a canvas, but, regretfully, the fate of the sitters is seldom known.

Experience in a twentieth-century tuberculosis dispensary hardly supports such a dogmatic opinion,* which confused predisposition with the visible effects of active tuberculosis, and was based on the premise that the disease was hereditary. These oft-repeated statements are, notwithstanding, of great interest, and there are many geniuses such as Shelley, to whom the description applies.

Fortunately the portraits of many persons-especially young ladies-known to have been tuberculous, are available for study. Models often chosen by the Great Masters for their beauty, languor and appealing sadness of expression, were often in the sickness of tuberculosis.

Botticelli, in his Venus and other paintings, idealized Simonetta the Florentine beauty, who died tragically in 1475 at the age of sixteen. Her counterpart was popular with many of his successors. The ethereal type became so fashionable that young ladies sought to emulate it by eating sand or drinking vinegar and lemon-juice to destroy their appetites (Dubos). This must have been a disastrous procedure in the days when tuberculosis was epidemic. Fashions do not seem to have changed much, but fortunately the teenagers of today with too much eye-shadow and mascara, which make them look fatigued and debilitated, run less risk of tuberculosis infection: we see them on television, sometimes, in plays and advertisements.

The pre-Raphaelite painters of the mid-nineteenth century (the founders of the aesthetic movement, which included Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Burne Jones, Holman Hunt, Millais, as well as John Ruskin and the poets Swinbume and William Morris) depicted pale, distraught young women, with sad and tired faces; the painters, like the poets, favoured morbid melancholy, which-without knowing, perhaps, the pathological reasons-they found in the young adult consumptive. One such was the beautiful Elizabeth Siddal, a tragic and temperamental beauty (Ruskin gave her DIPo a year to enable her to go abroad for her health), painted many times by Rossetti (The Annunciation, Beata Beatrix). He married his model, but after two unhappy years she died of an overdose of laudanum. She appears in pictures by Millais-Ophelia is her best likeness-Burne Jones and Holman Hunt. William Morris's wife, Jane Burden, another supposed consumptive, sat for his friend Burne Jones (Circe and ? Cophetua), and also to Rossetti (Queen Guinevere).

Rembrandt, a keen student of the human face and its changes of expression, was deeply affected by the loss from phthisis of his wife Saskia (33) and son Titus (28). His portraits of them leave little doubt about the correctness of the diagnoses.

The Linleys of Bath, a gifted musical family, knew to the full the tragedy of tuberculosis, which left hardly any survivors among twelve children. There are many paintings of them by Reynolds, Gainsborough and Lawrence, which like all masterpieces must be seen in the original to be appreciated. The two elder sisters, Elizabeth (Mrs. Richard Brinsley Sheridan) (39), and Mary (Mrs. Tickell) (29), were opera singers, and among the beauties of the time, who are shown together in a wonderful picture by Gainsborough, which immortalizes the delicate beauty and fragility of their disease. Elizabeth was the model for Reynolds' St. Cecilia and The Nativity. The progress of the decline, the ultimate result of which they foresaw only too well, was similar, step by step, in both sisters; children of both of them also succumbed in infancy.

Doctors

Phthisis has not spared doctors. Laennec (45), famous for introducing the stethoscope, was himself diagnosed by his own method of mediate auscultation. Kipling tells a delightful tale about him (Marklake Witches) in which, as a prisoner-of-war in England, he learned the use of the tube of holly wood from a witch wizard and diagnosed a young girl with 'cheeks pale except for two pretty pink patches . . little gasps at the end of her sentences as though she had been running'. Baillie (62), who wrote the first English textbook on pathology, describing the grey tubercle, was delicate, but worked at a feverish pace. He died of consumption. His mother was a sister of the greatJohn Hunter; she and five of her brothers and sisters died of phthisis: 'the genius of the Hunter family, like that of the Brontes, was much frustrated by this disease'.

Thomas Beddoes, a notable physician who died in i8o8, gave much to the literature of tuberculosis. He advocated treatment by inhalation (which afterwards he abandoned), and it is interesting to note that the superintendent of the pneumatic institute, as it was called, was Humphry Davy, who whilst there discovered the anaesthetic properties of nitrous oxide.

Genius

The researches of Havelock Ellis revealed that tuberculosis was the cause of most of the deaths of the more eminent men who died young; some poets and a few others excepted, great men live long, because they must do so to achieve eminence. The high proportion of philosophers, thinkers and reformers among tuberculous geniuses is noticeable. In their survival to middle age and beyond, they fought a hard battle against their affliction:

Spinoza (45); Descartes (54); Rousseau (66); Butler (68); Locke (72); Kant (80); Voltaire (84); Emerson (79); Ruskin (81).

Doctors and scientists include:

Priestley (71); Black (71); Matthew Baillie (62); Hans Sloane (92); Dettwaller (67); Trudeau (67).

Descartes, the father of modern philosophy, after living a secluded life for twenty years, went to Sweden at the invitation of Queen Christina. His weak constitution, writes a biographer, was overcome by the hard Scandinavian winter, and 'the exposure involved in waiting upon the Queen at five every morning for an hour's philosophic instruction'!

Spinoza. His sickly constitution forced him to devote the whole of his life to study. He learned the craft of lens polishing, and because he would accept no financial help, this became his only means of sustenance. His illness progressed steadily, aggravated, no doubt, 'by the glass dust from the lenses, which had done its worst'.

Sir Hans Sloane was always delicate; he had haemoptyses between 16 and 19 years of age, but he lived a careful and prudent life, reaching the great age of 92. He left 80,000 specimens, zoological and botanical, which formed the nucleus of the new British Museum. He followed Newton as President of the Royal Society.

Edward Livingstone Trudeau, the founder of the world-famous sanatorium in the Adirondacks, developed extensive tuberculosis at 25, infected, it is said by his brother whom he nursed during his fatal illness, a little time before. His own daughter was also a victim-Trudeau never recovered from the shock.

John Ruskin. At 21, at Oxford, 'he was seized with a consumptive cough and spat some blood', but unlike so many of the young geniuses of the time, this was not in his case the death warrant, for after two years' sojourn in Switzerland, Italy and other places, he seems to have recovered completely, out-growing 'his tendency to consumption'.

Cecil Rhodes (49) was another whose 'health broke down' in adolescence, and again at Oxford. Destined for the Church, his poor health was the reason for his abandonment of this career and instead joining his brother in Natal. At 21 his chest condition was such that a London physician gave him six months to live. He was impressed by 'a sense of the shortness of life' which must have had a profound effect on his character and activities.

Joseph Priestley, the discoverer of oxygen, had to give up school for a time because of ill-health. Whether or not he had tuberculosis cannot be affirmed with certainty; it is worth noting, however, that he lodged at one time with the Linleys of Bath, and was closely connected with the family affairs. His sister was treated by Dr. Beddoes when in the advanced stages of consumption: the protean treatment of those days is well illustrated by the tale that she found almost every symptom alleviated (temporarily, no doubt) on the second night after a stay in the cow-house!

It has been said that the toxins of tuberculosis stimulate the creative instinct and promote literary brilliance (Moorman, Marks); some go further, asserting that the quality of writing declines with quiescence of the disease. R. L. Stevenson believed that this happened to him, but he could hardly speak from personal experience, for the miraculous quiescence which he said brought him back from semi-death to life, if it did occur, was short-lived: and in his last years in Samoa his literary powers showed no signs of waning-neither, perhaps, did the activity of his pulmonary lesion-although the cause of his sudden death is uncertain. The characteristic urge to produce, and produce at speed, whether due to toxaemia and pyrexia, or the fear that the tide is fast ebbing, was shown by Stevenson, when, extremely ill and bedridden at Bournemouth, he wrote Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in three days. It will be recognized also that for Stevenson and very many like him, no domestic stability was possible during a lifetime of movement from one place to another in the illusory search for surcease of ill health.

A delicate constitution in early life, not rare in those who later became famous, restricts physical activities, giving a preference for the study to the playing field, with ample time for contemplation and scholarship. A feeling of physical inferiority may guide the thoughts down the pathways of reform or embittered revolt; a vein of gloom and melancholy running through the writings of certain of the poets is symptomatic, yet a few, like Hood, were able to laugh often and say: 'Here lies one who spat more blood and made more puns than any man living', as he lay in bed propped up with pillows, 'and grave and dejected of mien'.

It is intriguing to give play to the imagination and to consider what geniuses like Keats, Chopin and Watteau might have given to the world had they lived on, and to think of what mankind would have lost had tuberculosis cut short the lives of such as Shakespeare, Milton, Newton, Rembrandt, Beethoven, Rutherford or Fleming.

Others

The grim catalogue has many more entries, not only of personalities in the realms of literature, science and the Arts, but of men and women--honoured and dishonoured--in other walks of life. Then there is that incalculable number of unknowns that makes up communities and nations, whose personal and collective ill-health has conditioned national life and economy. This, the most important group of all, would need much more time to discuss than is available. Again, there are people of widely divergent backgrounds, such as Grace Darling (27), the heroine of the Fame Islands; Charles Byrne (22), the gin sodden 7 ft. 7 in. giant (his skeleton hangs in the Royal College of Surgeons) whose last days were spent in fear-which despite his lead coffin, proved to be justified-that his body would be snatched for John Hunter's dissecting table; and, quite recently, Gilbert Harding, who submitted to treatment with reluctance; the self-denying Simone Weil (43) in 1943.

Individuals Who Have Made History

The pages of history are not lacking in names of men and women, famous or infamous, in whom sickness of the mind or body has governed behaviour. Tuberculosis has played a part, and this paper would be incomplete without a selection of those who by their conduct or early death have changed history.

Hadrian, who died in A.D. 138 (62), was supposed to be tuberculous, but his last illness, during which his character changed and his good was forgotten, was more probably heart failure. =

Lucius, the young eccentric dilettante he named to succeed him, was soon wasting from consumption and died of a haemorrhage shortly afterwards. (Marcus-the great Marcus Aurelius-took his place.) Virgil's lines were quoted by Hadrian: 'This hero Fate will not display to Earth, Nor suffer him to stay' (Perowne).

Edward VI, who died in 1553 (15), had a visible and swift decline and a violent cough which nothing would relieve. His death was attributed to 'quack nostrums on a consumptive frame'. Northumberland acquired great influence over the ailing boy, to name Lady Jane Grey to succeed him. Had Edward not died, England would have been saved the bloodshed of Mary's reign.

Madame de Pompadour (43), the butcher's daughter, died after a rapid loss of weight and extreme emaciation. Her influence over Louis XV was disastrous for France in wars, loss of colonies and depletion of the exchequer. She overthrew the political systems of Europe. 'What remains of this woman', said Diderot, 'who cost so much in men and money?' She helped to bring about the French Revolution. Rousseau, another (?) consumptive, paved the way.

Napoleon's son (21), brought up in Austria, was frustrated and bewildered. Always delicate, he was pale with a constant cough, and later, fever, rigors and blood-spitting. Until almost the end he was diagnosed as suffering from a liver complaint, and persisted in arduous military activities until just before death. Had he lived and become Emperor-as a large section of the French population hoped-France might have been saved years of turmoil. (The necropsy on Napoleon at St. Helena showed 'tubercles on the lungs but ... a vast cancerous ulcer at the pylorus.')

Gavrillo Princip (22), the young Bosnian Serb whose assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand at Sarajevo in July, 1914, was the immediate cause of the First World War, was a small, thin, delicate youth with early phthisis, unfit for military service. A ready tool in the hands of the revolutionary Black Hand Society, his spes phthisica was a martyr's crown. His companion in crime, Chabrinovitch, attempted, unsuccessfully, to kill the Archduke with a bomb before Princip fired. He also was in poor health; discontented, bad-tempered and unhappy at home, he knew he had not long to live and was impatient to carry out the deed and take the cyanide which the plotters gave him. He was captured and died of tuberculosis in prison in I9I6, two years before Princip. In infamous immortality they achieved the recognition for which they craved.

Before and since, there have been many young criminals with a similar background and outlook; fortunately, their deeds have seldom had such appalling consequences.

Conclusion

This brief review has presented only a broad picture of the tuberculosis scene over the centuries. Inevitably much of it is hazy, for a disease so ancient has left scant record of its origins, early incidence or distribution; it follows, therefore, that, like the world history of which they are a part, the happenings of long ago are full of speculation, and what little evidence there is has been acquired indirectly. Despite the paucity of fact, there is a likelihood that the infection (which may have been of bovine origin) spread from the east, carried by man and his animals-in the drift to the colder and damper climates to the west and north-west, where, some historians say, he was prone to affections of the lungs.

The written records of successive civilizations yield more information, both positive and negative, and there is a mass of knowledge about Greco-Roman times, but, unfortunately, the Hippocratic school had no statistical method. Far less is known of the thousand years that followed-the Dark Ages when medicine made little progress. During the Renaissance, when modem history commenced, events began to be chronicled more frequently and more faithfully in lay and medical writing. But we have had to wait much longer for an acceptable statistical record and even now this is by no means complete. The historical record would have been even more meagre had it been restricted to medical treatises; fortunately, it can be supplemented by biography and contemporary literature: portraits, too, may help fill in the gaps, and even cave pictures and figures on pottery have something to offer. Evidence of spinal caries in Neolithic skeletons and Egyptian mummies has confirmed the antiquity of the disease: with the advances being made in palaeopathology much more information may become available soon about the location and date of early tuberculosis in man and animals.

The biographical field is itself limited. Next to nothing is known of the lives of many poets and others who were cut off early; even when the biographer has more to relate, there may be the vaguest of references to health or a predilection to avoid the use of gross words like 'consumption'. The perplexed medical historian sees the force ofStendhal's dictum that a part of every man's biography should be written by his doctor. The sketches made here are limited to certain celebrities whose personal stories are well authenticated; some illustrative passages from authors whose observations are believed to be reliable have also been given.

But the immortals form a minute part of the multitude of consumptives-the undistinguished, the ordinary men in the street-whose biographies have never been written (except in medical books, and in sanatorium and tuberculosis dispensary files of this century). Other than as prototypes of fictional characters, sometimes, they are only recognized in the mass, on account of their collective influence on national health and welfare. Tuberculosis, a chronic complaint, has been with the world for a long time, and its insidious repercussions though less dramatic than those of, say, plague, typhus or the sweating sickness, have been no less serious. Ill-health restricts working time, lowers productivity, calls for expensive medical care and influences national prosperity. Economic depression is a reason for emigration, which takes the fit and leaves the afflicted behind, and, conversely, immigration has more than once brought fresh sources of infection to this country. More than anything else, a poor national health standard, with its attendant misery, has always been the foe of happiness and contentment which are the pillars of a successful and peaceful community existence.

Whatever may have happened in the remote past, it is certain that the behaviour of phthisis in this country, and in western Europe generally, during the last three hundred years is without precedent. The sudden upsurge, the long phase of sustained activity, the slow decline and now the more rapid abatement as treatment has become effective, give a true picture of tuberculosis as an infectious disease, which differs from that of epidemics of acute infections only in time. Saturation of infection has ended, as herd immunity has increased, to be replaced by small foci, which are capable of being obliterated if detected early. The main reservoir is found in older males-a phenomenon which may be a reflection of living conditions at the turn of the century. At long last, thanks to vigorous action, intensified during the past decade, the century old menace of infected cattle has almost disappeared.

The epidemiologist of today is fortunate in having morbidity and mortality tables, tuberculin conversion rates and radiographic surveys to help him, but essential though they are, they tell only part of the story. Figures are impersonal, revealing nothing of the deep effects these changes have had on people, homes and communities. It is here, again, that the biographer, novelist and historian come to our aid and allow comparisons to be made between the distressing situations of yesterday and the happier state of affairs today, as a great burden is being lifted gradually from society and the words 'consumption', 'phthisis' and 'decline' are becoming ever less descriptive.

This is not the place to discuss why all this has come about, nor to try to enumerate and assess the relative importance of the many interacting contributory factors, which, if they have not yet vanquished the tubercle bacillus, are, at least, enabling man to come to terms with it.

The grim story of the past should not be forgotten; it should serve as a spur to a united effort to try to give the coup de grace to this invader from which the world has suffered so severely and for so long.

* Recent examinations of 290 skeletons in the Roman-British cemetery at York-'the largest and most significant find of its kind ever made'-yielded no evidence of tuberculous disease. Eburacum, Roman York, H.M.S.O., 1962, I.

t Population: 1066: 3 1/2 million; 1500: 5 million; 1625: 7 million; 1714: 9 million; I837: 26 million

* Careful recording over many years, of physical characters of patients with early tuberculosis did not suggest a preponderant type, but racial types (e.g. Irish and Welsh girls) with low resistance were noticeable in many clinics in urban England.

t The pre-Raphaelites always 'painted from the real thing', and it is said that the cold bath in which she sat as a model for this picture 'nearly killed her'.

Bibliography

ALDINGTON, R. Portrait of a Rebel. London, 1957.

BATEMAN, T. Report on the diseases of London. London, 1819.

BELL, W. G. Great Plague in London in 1665. London, 1924.

BELOES, T. Causes, early signs and prevention of pulmonary consumption. Bristol, 1799.

BERDOE, E. Origin and growth of the healing art. London, 1893.

BRAY, W. John Evelyn's Diary. London, 1870.

BROWNLEE, J. Investigation into epidemiology of Phthisis. London, 1918.

BUCKNILL, J. C. Shakespeare's Medical Knowledge. London, 1860.

BURKE, R. M. Historical chronology of tuberculosis. Baltimore, 1938.

CASTELOT, ANDRE. Napoleon's Son. London, 1960.

COULTON, G. C. The Black Death. London, 1929.

CRAWFURD, R. The King's Evil. Oxford, 1911. Dictionary of American Biography. Dictionary of National Biography.

DUBOS, RENE. Mirage of Health. London, I960.

ELLIS, HAVELOCK. Study of British Genius. London, 1904.

Encyclopaedia Britannica.

FAY, S. B. Origins of the World War. Vol. II. New York, 1929.

FRANCIS, J. Symposium of tuberculosis (Ed. F. R. G. Heaf). London, 1957.

FRASER, J. Short History of some common diseases (Ed. W. R. Brett). Oxford, 1934.

FRAZE R, S IR JAMES. Golden Bough (Abr. edition). London, 1922.

FRAZER, W. M. A. History of English Public Health. London, 1950.

FREIND, J. History of Physick. London, 1727.

GILES, J. A. Old English Chronicles. London, 1885.

----, Bede, Ecclesiastical History. London, 1900.

GRAUNT, J. J. Natural and political observations on bills of mortality. London, 1662.

GREENWOOD, M. Epidemics and Crowd Diseases. London, 1935.

HUBER, J. B. Consumption, its relation to man and his 'civilisation'. Philadelphia, 1906.

HUGHES, T. Memoirs of Daniel Macmillan. London, 1883.

KEMBLE, J. Idols and Invalids. London, 1933.

KISSEN, D. M. Emotional factors in pulmonary tuberculosis. London, 1958.

KOBLER, J. Reluctant Surgeon. London, 1960.

LEWIS, D. B. WYNDHAM. Moliere, the Comic Mask. London, 1960.

LOUIS, P. C. A. Researches in Phthisis (Tr. W. H. Walsh). London, 1844.

MARKS, JEANNETTE. Genius and Disaster. London, 1928.

MEINECKE, B. Ann. Med. Hist. 1927, 7, 379.

MERYON, E. History of Medicine. London, I861.

MOORMAN, L. J. Tuberculosis and Genius. Chicago, 1940.

MORTON, R. Phthisiologica. London, 1689.

MOYES, J. Medicine in Shakespeare. Glasgow, 1896.

NEUBURGER, M. History of Medicine (Tr. E. Playfair). London, 1910, 1925.

NEWSHOLME, A. Elements of Vital Statistics. London, 1923.

NICOLSON, H. Age of Reason. London, 1960.

REID, J. C. Francis Thompson. London, 1960.

ROGERS, SIR LEONARD, AND MUIR, E. Leprosy. Bristol, 1940.

RONEY, J. G. 'Palaeopathology of a California Archaeological Site', Bull. Hist. Med., 1959, 23, 97.

ROWLING, J. THOMPSON. Proc. roy. Soc. Med., 1961, 54, 409.

SALMON, ANDRE. Modigliani: A Memoir. London, 1961.

SIMPSON, R. R. Shakespeare's Medicine. Edinburgh, 1959.

SOUTHEY, H. H. Observations on pulmonary consumption. London, 1814.

TEDLOCK, E. W. Dylan Thomas. London, 1960.

WHEATLEY, H. B. Diary of Samuel Pepys. London, 1928.

WOOLCOMBE, W. Frequency and fatality of different diseases. London, 1808.

YOUNG, T. A. Practical and historical treatise on consumptive disease. London, 1815.

#tuberculosis #disease #history #The Past #literature #medical history #sociology of medicine #health #culture #disease and culture

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bbclesmis · 5 years

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Town & Country: David Oyelowo on Javert's Tragic Suicide in Les Misérables

The Masterpiece PBS miniseries ends tonight—and Javert meets his familiar, unfortunate end.

For many fans of the Les Misérables musical, Masterpiece PBS's new adaptation fills in the gaps. Where previously, they'd only heard a song lyric or two about Fantine's first love, the miniseries offers the whole story; the audience watches Jean Valjean toil as a prison laborer, rather than just seeing him newly freed.

The same holds true for Javert, Valjean's dogged nemesis. Here, the actor behind him, David Oyelowo, explains why it's so important to experience Hugo's narrative in its entirety (or at least, in six full hours).

Why did you want to be a part of this series?

Because I feel it's revelatory... People love this story because of the musical, because of those songs. Some of them have read the book. Some of them have a vague notion of what it is and maybe are intrigued to know more. But the point being that most people have a sense of what Les Miserables, so [it's great] be able to give them six hours of context and depth, and also history.

Victor Hugo does an incredible job of showing you what happened in the wake of the French Revolution. How socio-economically, culturally, and in terms of societal hierarchy, there was a very specific dynamic in place that enabled revolution. Enabled someone like Fantine, as played by Lily Collins, to fall through the cracks. Enabled someone like Javert, who starts as a prison guard and then works his way up to the higher ranks of being in the police force. And Jean Valjean, who starts in prison and becomes a mayor.

What was it like to play one of the most famous villains in literature?

Well, it was a privilege because I had more runway to bring context to him and why he is the way he is. Most people know that Javert obsessively purses Jean Valjean and that he meets a very sticky end at his own hand. But not necessarily why.

What kind of context did you hope to bring?

I wanted to analyze the juxtaposition of a kind of character who's very Old Testament, [against] Jean Valjean's character, who's very New Testament. [Valjean] feels very much like he is not worthy of redemption, and then goes on to accept redemption, and then goes further to be able to be generous towards other people. To take in Cosette. To be so human and fragile. He's very aware of his flaws, but he's also able to accept that he's worthy of being forgiven for any sins of his past.

Whereas Javert is very black and white. If you're a criminal you are a criminal, you are a criminal forever. That's born out of his own very complicated relationship with criminality; having been born in prison to criminal parents, resenting that fact, and so therefore wanting to push that side of himself away... Unbeknownst to him, [he is] even transposing that criminality that he feels is in himself onto Jean Valjean, and feeling the need to destroy it. It's not until he realizes that Jean Valjean is not still a criminal, is worthy of redemption, is a better person than he ever thought he was, that he realizes he is dedicated his life to something erroneous. So therefore he can't live with himself, which is why he ends himself.

When you were working on the show, did you think about how to draw allegories to today's political strife?

I think it was the tone of what we were trying to do. I'm a producer on it as well, and one of the things we consistently talked about was it feeling very raw and gritty and edgy; those smells and that dirt, to really feel that. There should be nothing chocolate box about it. There's a version of this that would be very presentational and very sedate... But it's a very real adaptation of it, which I think always makes something feel more relevant. But some of the themes that we pull out as well—Jean Valjean is in prison for 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread. You only have to look at the prison industrial complex here in America right now to know that there are a disproportionate amount of people of color and socio-economically deprived, or economically deprived I should say, people in prison for crimes that don't warrant the sentences. But it's because labor is needed to... it's also become a business, the prison industrial complex. It's not dissimilar to what was going on back then.

What was the vibe like on set?

It was a real privilege to do that because everyone was there for the right reasons and with the right attitude. We started, and it was incredibly cold. I mean, unbelievably cold in Belgium and northern France. By the time we were finishing it was brutally hot. So you needed a level of humor and dedication to not feel bogged down by six months of shooting it. It never felt old or tired. There was never any acrimony on the set because I think we all really believed in what we were doing and felt we were very lucky to be doing it.

How did you all tough through those conditions?

It was helpful. There were certain scenes that were very uncomfortable. I have a scene in particular where I shake Lily [Collins] off and she goes flying. She weighs about a bag of sugar. I threw her and she landed on her hip terribly, and I could tell within the take that she was really hurt. She kept going. It was a rainy night, it was cold. We were on slippery cobbled street. She kept going. I, of course, completely dropped out of character, thankfully the camera was not on me. But she got up and had the most enormous bruise on her hip. But we soldiered on.

These were all the things you had to endure but at the end of the day no one sees that at home. They just wonder whether you tell the truth or not.

Dominic West, who plays Valjean, said you two wanted to subtly suggest a sexual attraction between Javert and Valjean. How did you figure out how to do that, without making it too overt?

I think it's a testament to how attractive I am that Dominic thinks that and I didn't for one second. [Laughs.] I wasn't for one second to play any kind of sexual attraction towards him. I don't see any evidence of that in the narrative, but to me Javert is actually quite an asexual character. I think he is so dedicated himself to this singular thing, I don't think he has room to think of that kind of stuff. So I'm very happy that Dominic was playing that, and that we didn't discuss it.

https://www.townandcountrymag.com/leisure/arts-and-culture/a27485075/david-oyelowo-javert-les-miserables-interview/

#les mis bbc #bbc les mis #david oyelowo #javert #Interviews #articles #town and country #pbs

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sablelab · 6 years

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Covert Operations - Chapter 29

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Madeline has a new target in the White Room to interrogate and one that refuses to cooperate. Section One’s leader, Operations calls a briefing meeting to outline the Intel de Marillac has disclosed about other members of the Rising Dragons especially a Madame Cheung. Claire Beauchamp’s angst is exacerbated when her superiors outline her role in the new mission.

N.B. This chapter contains a situation of a violent nature.

THANK YOU so much for reading, taking the time to write a comment, liking this fiction and for the reblogs as well. I love reading your comments as they give me clues in how to shape this story. It is very gratifying to know that you are enjoying this tale of life in Section One for our two protagonists ... the good and the bad.

Previous chapters can be found ... https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

CHAPTER 29 (V)

Madeline made her way along the labyrinth of corridors to the White Room, located deep within the bowels of Section One, where interrogations were performed and where her newest target ... the Canadian Ambassador ... awaited her restrained in a steel chair.

An expert at extracting Intel from hostile captives and in evaluating and manipulating Section operatives, Section One’s Second in Command, Level 9 and Chief Strategist could be positively Machiavellian at times. For the first time in days the woman who specialized in psych analysis, profiling, interrogation, and torture techniques smiled, albeit her trademark Mona Lisa smile, because of the adrenaline rushing through her body at the prospect of accomplishing what she had planned for this target.

Having worked her way up in the ranks of Section One over the past twenty years, with cunning, determination and manipulation, Madeline was a conundrum herself. Accused of killing her sister, Sarah, by pushing her down the stairs she, like most operatives was recruited from prison. She had no compunction for the terrorists who found their way to the White Room or for that matter, for any operative who tried to buck the system and would willingly manipulate anyone, including herself, to achieve her ends. Her angelic sweetness, diabolical intelligence, phlegmatic appearance coupled with her strategic patience and iced charm made her a formidable adversary. Because of her beauty and elegance Madeline was perceived to be amenable to manipulation by terrorists because she was a woman, but they soon discovered that under the facade of her persona was a measured, calculating and resolute woman who took no prisoners. Indeed her measures for torturing hostiles verged on cruelty and with utilizing the Torture Twins to motivate targets to speak was a testament to how far she would go to gain what she wanted.

Madeline’s gait was that of a confident leader as she made her way to interrogate her target in the White Room and expel any information that would lead Section One to capturing their main antagonist. The Embassy mission had been successful and Claire Beauchamp had performed well in administering the tranquilizer that had brought on Alain de Marillac’s heart attack. The subterfuge that followed had also gone to plan and she looked forward to reading James Fraser’s debrief, but first she had a pressing appointment.

At long last the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. Tony Wong had implicated Alain de Marillac and now he would reveal what they needed to know about furthering their quest to find Sun Yee Lok. De Marillac had been a wild card … someone they had not suspected especially given his position of authority in the community and government. To find out that he was a member of the Rising Dragons was certainly unexpected, but Madeline knew she should never underestimate the human person’s propensity for evil. Terrorists came from all walks of life but they had many things in common … all were ruthless, determined and unflinching in obtaining their goals.

Ambassador Alain de Marillac was in a position of power but he’d obviously wanted more. Total power was corrupting and given his position of authority this is what had happened to him. Power had corrupted his moral decency … and being involved in his own daughter’s death showed just how low he would sink to obtain his ends. It … was contemptible. He … was contemptible.

Madeline had thoroughly scrutinized Geillis Duncan’s and Rupert Mackenzie’s debrief about the telephone calls that de Marillac had received at the embassy. They had provided important Intel on a mystery man that had contacted him and now Madeline would find out his connection and where this piece fitted into the bigger picture. She couldn’t wait to meet with Ambassador Alain de Marillac. He was about to pay for the consequences of his actions and would be surprised at what awaited him, for there was no going back to the life he had before coming to Section One … in fact there was no life for him at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The brilliant glare of a ceiling light focused on the lone piece of furniture illuminating the man strapped in the chair. Alain de Marillac sat shackled in the middle of a white room in a cold, metal chair. His hands and feet were manacled and there was no way that he could see to break from the restraints. He’d tried several times to loosen the binds that tied him to the chair but to no avail. There was no escaping and things looked hopeless for him unless he was able to outsmart the inquisitor he knew would eventually come.

Like many others before him, he wondered where he was. This place was like no other he had ever experienced. He had seen where Tony Wong had interrogated his victims, and he had seen pictures of torture chambers in books … but this room was surreal, eerie and ominously foreboding. Casting his eyes around there was nothing to identify where he might be. There was nothing too that he could associate with, but his imagination was overactive thinking that this room held many secrets … secrets of people in similar situations that he now found himself in.

He was aware that all was not as it should be.

So he waited. Alain de Marillac … Canadian Ambassador to China … triad member … murderer … and terrorist … waited for whom may come through the door and for what they may want.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sound of creaking hinges echoed in the sterile room as Madeline opened the fortified door and entered the White Room walking smartly until she stood in front of Alain de Marillac. She smiled but the smile didn’t reach her eyes on the contrary it was a foreboding smile that was tinged with a hint of a smirk.

“Hello Monsieur de Marillac … or should I say Ambassador de Marillac?”

He was taken aback by the sound of a woman’s voice and glancing up saw an elegantly dressed lady whose appearance he would soon find was deceptive. His tone was brash and laced with bravado as he replied.

“Whoever the hell you think you are you don't know who you're dealing with.”

Madeline smiled her Mona Lisa smile once more and circled de Marillac sitting in the steel chair. As she slowly circled she observed the reaction of her guest noting the rapid breathing, the telltale throb in his neck vein and the darting of his eyes as he tried to avoid eye contact. He sat up more erect in order to give the impression of control which in fact he had none here in the White Room.

“My people will carve you up and feed you to the dogs. I’m the Ambassador you know. I have rights.”

Still circling the chair Madeline replied. “Yes … Let's talk about your people. They have recently been involved in multiple murders in Hong Kong with a man named Tony Wong.”

“How preposterous! I’m the Canadian Ambassador to China ... not a murderer.”

“We already know about your connection to the Rising Dragons triad. We want to know the whereabouts of your leader.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sun Yee Lok? The man who is your Boss and Shan Chu? The man who orders the murders of innocents in Hong Kong?”

“Never heard of the guy.”

Madeline gazed at de Marillac with her steely cold eyes, “Do you think there's anything I won't do to get this information from you?”

“You can’t touch me. I have diplomatic immunity you know,” he stated matter-of-factually.

“And … I’m trying to be diplomatic,” Madeline replied with an undermining menace.

As she was speaking the White Room door opened again and a man and a woman entered, each bearing a sinister yellow case. The Torture Twins had entered carrying their briefcases of instruments and potions that would leave the hostile with no other choice than to impart the Intel they were after. The two people stood waiting for their instructions to begin their modus operandi.

Addressing Henry and Elizabeth, Madeline stated, “Shouldn't take long. Let me know when you're through.”

“I intend to make a formal complaint for wrongful detainment. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers. I’m the Ambassador after all.”

Ignoring de Marillac’s retort, Madeline turned to leave while Henry and Elizabeth placed their briefcases on the bench and approached the target in the chair. Nervous laughter emitted from Alain de Marillac but faded as Madeline closed the White Room door with a decisive click, leaving her torture specialists to their tasks.

His scream of agony echoed in the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sometime later Henry and Elizabeth exited the White Room to find Madeline waiting for them near the viewing window into the White Room. As they passed by her with their tools of trade, they stopped and Madeline asked, “How were the new units?”

“I think you'll be pleased with the results,” Henry replied with a wry look on his face.

“Thank you.”

They both nodded and Madeline acknowledged their tacit answer then she entered the White Room again.

Hearing footsteps approach Alain de Marillac sat more erect in the chair a beaten but proud man who refused to show how defeated he really was. Prominent twin slashes inflamed his cheeks as his face bore witness to the distinctive techniques used by the two people who had just left.

Admiring the torture twins’ handiwork, Madeline asked, “Are we ready to talk now, Monsieur de Marillac?”

Nodding his head Alain asked bravely, “What is this place? Who are you people?”

“Who is the mystery person who called you at the embassy? What is his role with you and the Rising Dragons?”

“I can't tell you what I don't know. You can torture me all day and that won't change.”

“It's a deal.”

“Who died and made you God?” He asked indignantly.

“Perhaps this might convince you Monsieur de Marillac.”

Madeline said nothing more, but just turned and picked up a stack of newspaper clippings which she showed to him. What de Marillac saw made his heart sink. He was staring at his own death obituaries.

Madeline looked at him, satisfied to see real fear in his eyes. “As far as the world is concerned … you’re dead. Now … tell me what I need to know.”

Later that same day...

Operations quickly walked into the Briefing room where Jamie, Claire, Fergus and other operatives sat waiting quietly with stony faces. Madeline too, sat to one side of the briefing table knowing what Intel Operations would disclose. Without any preamble he began the meeting by activating the holographic imager while the operatives listened to all that he had to impart. Those gathered watched as information and a picture emerged on the holograph screen. Pacing back and forth each time he spoke, Dougal Mackenzie relayed the Intel Madeline had coerced from Alain de Marillac about members of the Rising Dragons and in particular that of the oriental woman whose face glared back at those assembled. “This is Madame Cheung, the only woman member of the Rising Dragons hierarchy who was personally chosen by Sun Yee Lok.” Looking at the picture of the woman, Jamie asked, “What is her role within the triad?” “Her main role is to procure women to work in prostitution and her exclusive high-class escort service. Alain de Marillac’s daughter was in her employ. Madame Cheung was planning on expanding her business but with Annalise de Marillac’s death this had set her plans back somewhat. She is now on the lookout for brunette Western women of Annalise’s age and build.” Feeling more than one pair of eyes on her, Claire inquired, “She is our next target then?” Operations’ nod towards her confirmed what Claire was thinking ... she just knew that she would be involved to snare the woman on this mission in some way. Dougal Mackenzie turned to his second in command to continue. “Madeline?” “Alain de Marillac was kind enough to reveal to us the location of his mole, and gave us a description of the mystery man who approached women on their own for this Madame Cheung of the Rising Dragons.” “I have also done a voice analysis of the mystery man who we suspect was Alain de Marillac’s contact from the audio tapes of conversation between them at the embassy.” Birkoff added confidently. “The plan's simple.” Operations stated. “Claire will meet with this man. We’ll then track and follow him to his meeting to discuss Claire. That's where we’ll find Madame Cheung.” “When and where is this meeting to take place between Claire and the informer?” Jamie requested knowing that whatever plans Operation and Madeline had that they would not bode well for his Sassenach. Operations gave no more details to answer Jamie’s question but only stated, “Details are on your panel. You’re on standby so stay close to Section until you leave. That will be all.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ As the field operatives left the room Madeline spoke quietly to Claire before she had time to leave the briefing table. “Could we see you before you leave?” Nodding at her, Claire Beauchamp acknowledged her request wondering what Madeline had to further add to this mission but knowing that the voice of doom was highly likely. She’d read between the lines during the briefing knowing that Madeline obviously had plans for her and this Madame Cheung particularly given her preference for western, brunette women similar to Annalise de Marillac. Covertly noting the exchange between the two women, Jamie realised that his initial inclinations about his superiors’ motives were not too far from the truth. Madeline certainly had more in mind for Claire than what would be outlined on her PDA. He knew exactly just what she would propose to her for this mission given the Intel presented and Claire’s similar appearance to the deceased Annalise de Marillac. He would discuss it with her in privacy later at her apartment away from the prying eyes of Section One.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In Operations’ Perch, the two Section Leaders were grappling with the wisdom of their decision concerning Claire Beauchamp, hoping that she would be able to carry it off and also about Jamie Fraser’s reaction once he found out about it.

“It’s time to put Claire to the test,” Madeline stated but her words had a double meaning which Operations failed to recognise.

In her Machiavellian mind, she was not only testing Claire about her loyalty to Section One and what was to be asked of her, but also to see what she suspected might be true ... that Claire Beauchamp had a relationship with her partner James Fraser that was more than platonic.

Operations, however, was not convinced and said so. “Do you think it's premature?” “No. This mission will surely grab Madame Cheung’s attention. Now it’s just a question of how far she’s willing to go.” “We knew the probabilities going in … just under sixty percent. Is that good enough Madeline?”

“If Madame Cheung is drawn to Claire as I suspect she will be given her resemblance to Annalise de Marillac … then I believe we can be confident in the outcome.”

“And James?”

“James Fraser is Section. He will do whatever is necessary.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Come in Claire,” Dougal stated as Claire Beauchamp arrived at the Perch a little while later. She walked in and stood to attention with her arms folded in front of her. With a blank stare perfected like Jamie’s, and looking at Operations and Madeline, Claire waited for the axe to fall on her.

Without mincing words, Operations told her why she was there. “Claire, we feel that a connection to Madame Cheung can be extremely useful to us.”

“Of course.”

“However ... although the profile's already been set there are some changes.” Continuing Madeline outlined their plan. “We want you to undertake a deep cover on this assignment. It will be vital for the success of the mission. You will immerse yourself in Madame Cheung’s world and learn what you can about her dealings with the Rising Dragons and in particular Sun Yee Lok.” “Are you saying you’d like me to accept any proposal from her? “Yes.” “For how long?” “Indefinitely.” Claire’s heart dropped and her stomach was in knots. “And Jamie? ... Does he know about this?” “Not yet ... You can tell him in due course. Tell him you need to learn more about Madame Cheung and being in close proximity for some time is the best way. He’ll know this is true.” “Is that all?” Claire replied perfecting Jamie’s blank stare and not showing any emotion although her insides were churning up. “Yes.” Claire Beauchamp looked at her Section leaders while Madeline watched her closely too realising that she was internalising the fact that she was now on a deep cover mission. James Fraser had taught her well for Claire gave very little away in her stance and replies to their orders, but the fact they had asked her to go undercover with this woman was more than she could comprehend at the moment. She needed some time to digest what the mission would entail and how she would find the strength and fortitude to endure such a deep cover assignment without Jamie.

With a blank expression on her face Claire turned and left the loft. As she walked out, Madeline looked at Operations again. The Section leaders traded a glance.

They both looked pleased.

In Munitions ...

Murtagh Fitzgibbons was fiddling with a modified cam’s expansion card seemingly lost in the task at hand; however, he looked up smiling when he heard the honeyed sounds of Claire Beauchamp’s voice as she approached his section.

“Hey Murtagh,” she greeted him trying to appear upbeat for her friend upon coming into his area. “Hey Sugar.” She watched as he continued to fiddle with the apparatus he was working on. “I haven't seen you for over a week. Whatcha got there?” “Nothing much … just a cam I’m modifying,” he replied looking at her, “Heading out?” “Yep ... Have you seen Jamie?” “He just left.” “Oooh!” This was nothing new for James Fraser as he often left Section before anyone else. However, Murtagh failed to notice Claire’s disappointment in his reply about Jamie and continued to question her as he worked.

“So how are things? How’s the mission going?”

“So far … so good but we still don’t have Sun Yee Lok.”

“Proving to be a bit elusive is he?” “Yeah … you could say that.” “I see you have to go back to Hong Kong.” “Yeah.” This time Murtagh looked up at Claire finally noticing her reticent sigh. “Hey, why the long face then? You okay?” “I'm fine.” He put down what he was working on and gave her his undivided attention. “You don't seem so fine.” “Murtagh, it's just this place. It just gets to me sometimes, that's all.” “Is it the mission?” “Sort of … It’s another new mission within a mission.” “Well Jamie will be there to keep an eye on you.” “Maybe …” “What do you mean maybe?” “They’ve put me on a deep cover mission.” “What? ... Where?” “At Madame Cheung’s.” “Does Jamie know?” “Not yet.” “Don’t worry Claire; Jamie won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.” “I know ...” “You know how things are, Sugar. Things don’t just “work out” around here, they happen for a business.” “Yeah ... but, I’m not sure I can go through with it though.” “It’s only a numbers game Claire. They pull the lever, whatever comes out three cherries, that’s the jackpot.” “Murtagh ... it’s just that …” “What?”

Claire let her thoughts materialize ... “I was in bad shape this time last year. I don't want to feel that way again and ... I fit the profile again for this mission. I’m getting a bit sick of it. Tall, leggy brunettes! I wish I was shorter and blonde occasionally.”

“Oh, I see,” Murtagh replied biting his lip in mirth. He looked at Claire and his eyes crinkled with mischievousness, “Hey … come to think of it … Madeline fits THAT bill! She could take your place.” He winked at her with the cheeky, craggy grin that Claire loved, breaking her from her melancholy. “Don’t worry ... You’ll knock ‘em dead Sugar!" Laughing, she answered, “Thanks Murtagh … you always put things into perspective.” “Keep your powder dry. Sure as hell going to miss you Sugar.” “I’ll be back,” Claire replied and began to walk away but paused when Murtagh added in all seriousness. “Talk to Jamie. He’ll figure out something.” “Okay.” “Goodnight Murtagh.” “Goodnight Sugar,” he replied as he watch Claire Beauchamp walk away from his station with much on her mind and hoped in some ways that his words had given her some comfort.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

Should you wish to access the other chapters of this story … go to

https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

#jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #james fraser #claire beauchamp #covert operations #jamie and claire #ol fanfic #the lallybroch library #jamieandclairecrossover

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gwiiyeoweo · 5 years

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The Hexatheon were powerful gods, anyone would agree; legends and myths were passed through the generations, some written in dusty old texts or whispered to young ears at bedtime. Others existed out of the circle, obscure as they were considering the fervor given to the big Six, but they still existed.

For example, though Bahamut remains their patron god, the Lucians often pay homage to a certain Astral: Noctis, the Stellarian, the Wish Maker. And if the legends were true, Prompto figured it was worth a shot.

He just didn't expect the Astral himself to literally drop into his arms like a freakin’ falling star.

Pairing: Noctis/Prompto Rating: T

The gods were not to be trifled with, Prompto knew, and they could be as gentle as they were fierce.

Solheim had been born from Ifrit's fire only to be burned at the end, and Titan could very well drop the meteor he's been holding for eons at any given time (the guy definitely did not skimp out on arm day). Accordo had Leviathan's favor until the Tide Mother would decide to swallow the nation beneath her waves, and who knew what Bahamut could do to Insomnia, especially with all those giant swords of his. Though maybe Shiva could be a testament to that, seeing that she was busy burying Niflheim in ice and snow for pissing her off recently for whatever reason.

Old man Ramuh seemed content to just bless the rains down in Duscae, so he was a pretty chill dude in Prompto's opinion.

Prompto flipped through the pages of the 3rd edition Cosmogony: Volume 5 , lounging in sweatpants and a simple tee. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and wiggled around to get in that perfect comfy position, shoulders and back slumped against his plush couch. Beside him, his phone cycled through his playlist, all filled with instrumental music to read to. And honestly, he needed it if he ever wanted to get through a book or a study session, just to help drown out the busy drone of the loud Insomnian streets. Past dinner time and the city was still buzzing with life and thrumming its fanfare.

Now, he didn’t mean to complain. He was thankful that the foreign student exchange program included free housing. He had a nice, well-furnished apartment thanks to Insomnia’s education department, right outside the edge of the university’s campus. Unfortunately, the location meant he was plopped right in the heart of the city, where sirens and the thrum of engines were the most rampant. Prompto had quickly invested in a pair of noise-cancelling headphones.

Ignoring the hustle and bustle of city life, he idly tapped his fingers along the edge of his book as he skimmed through the text and images. The whole thing was dedicated to the Hexatheon and tales about Oracles and Chosen Kings. He read enough about that to commit to memory, but he was searching for something else.

The librarian had said the fifth volume was his best bet at finding info about the lesser Astrals, the gods that weren’t included in the Six’s circle. In his search for knowledge, he had come across a few research papers arguing about Carbuncle’s place among the gods; some argued that the little fox was simply a messenger, others were convinced it was an Astral itself. There had also been scholarly articles about twin messengers, often depicted as dogs, and whether or not they were more than what they presented as. But to be honest, Prompto didn’t care for any of them.

He was interested in the Stellarian, who had been frustratingly elusive despite all his mind-numbing efforts.

Prompto was beginning to think he bit off more than he could chew. He shouldn’t have picked an almost non-existent god to write his final paper on. Gods, his grade was gonna take a hit .

With a tired groan, Prompto shut his eyes and let his body weight fall to the side. He turned his head into the couch pillows and let out a muffled, frustrated scream.

This sucked. Hard.

Like, sucked Titan’s dick hard.

Maybe, just maybe if he crawled into his professor’s office and offered up a box of chocolates, she’d consider letting him change his topic. But being so far into the semester, he doubted his chances. And, well, the fact that nearly half of Insomnia hated him — professor included — didn’t really help his odds, either.

It was no secret that Lucis and Niflheim had been butting heads over the last few decades. At one point they had been a hair’s width away from declaring war on each other. It wasn’t until the current king, Regis Lucis Caelum, inherited the throne from his father, that the tension slowly smoothed out. Just a couple years ago, the two kingdoms managed to come to a truce. Of course, there had been doubts on this peace treaty. Many didn’t think it would last, or others believed it was all just a ruse for Niflheim to launch a surprise attack. Two years later, nothing happened. Sure, there was still some political unrest between the two nations; it had been, after all, only two years of peace following decades of strained relations.

Which, Prompto figured, was why King Regis included Niflheim when he proposed a student exchange program among all their nations.

He wasn’t going to lie. He had been real uneasy about being shipped out overseas into enemy territory like some sort of sacrificial guinea pig. Alright, it was kind of expected that he be elected as one of the students, since his parents were important figures in Niflheim’s Council, and he had a responsibility to shoulder some off-hand duties here and there. But still . He had felt like a baby chocobo being thrown into a den of Insomnia’s hunting wolves. It wasn’t like the Lucians were infamous for being cruel, rabid war criminals or something; but suddenly being told he was going to be sent on an airship to a nation his kingdom was about to declare war on had been pretty nerve-wracking.

And it wasn’t like his fears had been entirely unfounded, anyway. He hadn’t expected a nice champagne-popping welcoming party, but their sharp gazes and stiff expressions definitely had him on edge. He had been greeted with a cold formality and a robotic process like they just wanted to get him off their hands as quickly as possible. The whole thing had taken a few hours of verifying his visa and personal documents and whatever, and a quick audience with King Regis himself — holy shit holy shit , Prompto had repeated as a mantra — that surely involved a sweaty and shaky handshake. It was hard to remember; he had been close to passing out from anxiety, and he was pretty sure he had disassociated sometime during the whole thing, because the next thing he had known, a door shut behind him and he was standing in a brand new apartment.

As much as he’d like to say the worst was over, he couldn’t. He knew there was still tension between the two nations, and that he would be bearing the brunt of it. It was easy to tell he was a foreigner, a Niff, with his characteristic light hair and light blue, almost violet eyes, and the people of Insomnia had no trouble singling him out. On good days, he’d only hear whispers and gossip behind his back, followed by a snicker or a stank eye. And on bad days, well, sometimes things bordered on physical. He’d just coincidentally trip on someone’s well-timed foot, or someone wouldaccidentally bump into him with a full cup of scalding hot coffee.

At least, it seemed all of Insomnia seemed to know he was part of a government-sponsored program, and they had this unspoken rule to not mess up whatever chance they had of keeping this peace treaty. Which meant, not beating up the son of some very important government figures of a certain nation. Prompto had that, at least. Though sometimes, he wondered how long that protection would even last.

On the bright side, he made some fairly nice acquaintances so far. Ignis Scientia hailed from Tenebrae and was part of the student exchange program. The guy was a damn good cook, and his kitchen skills were only matched by his spectacular grades. His prowess over daggers, though, were a close second. Gladiolus Amicitia, on the other hand, turned out to be the son of the King’s Shield. The Shield . When Prompto had found out, all he did was leave his jaw on the floor until Gladio had laughed it off and picked it up for him. Okay, yeah, no wonder the guy was ripped as all hell, holy fuck!

But while they were pretty cool people, they were just that: acquaintances. There wasn’t a single person he could call a friend. And why would anyone want him? He was just a dirty Niff in their eyes.

And though he didn’t want to think he was that desperate, he turned to the only thing he had left — prayer.

It wasn’t a new concept, especially not to Prompto, having enrolled in several history classes that included the gods in their curriculums. The Hexatheon were powerful gods, anyone would agree. Legends and myths passed through the generations, some written in dusty old texts or whispered into young ears at bedtime. He learned ancient Solheim used to pray to Ifrit, but their hubris led to their downfall. Sometimes he would see the Lucians offer up their prayers to the Draconian in little shrines dotting across Insomnia, or King Regis himself leading a procession dedicated to Bahamut on channel eight.

In fact, he had expected just that: for Insomnia to dedicate itself to the Draconian alone. So when he had seen little altars made for a different god, surprise was an understatement. Hell, he had been shocked when he didn’t even recognize the name. Naturally, he had turned to the smartest guy he knew and asked Ignis who the Stellarian was. Turned out Bahamut wasn’t the only god they worshipped.

Though he didn’t have as large as a following compared to Bahamut, the Stellarian — Noctis, his other name — was quite popular.

So Prompto got curious.

And as luck would have it, there was almost nothing on the Stellarian. A Moogle search got him a few business ads (a cruise ship, a jewelry line, and a wine brand) and only a handful of helpful links. From what little he could glean off the internet, he did learn some interesting facts. For whatever reason, the Stellarian preferred the name Noctis, though he’s cycled through other names before, like Noct Gar. More importantly, he was known as the Wish Maker, who took the hopes of people and made dreams into reality (which explained his close affiliation to Carbuncle), and his motif revolved around the night and stars, true to both his name and title.

According to various first-hand experiences, Noctis had dark hair and steel-blue eyes, all topped off with a lazy grin. Prompto wasn’t sure if stories off the internet held any validity, but most of them agreed on at least that much. The only thing was, some said Noctis appeared as a young boy with all the soft sweetness of a child, others described him as a man in his late twenties, mid thirties, or sometimes even fifties, with all the scruff and wrinkled lines around his eyes to show for it. Forums speculated that Noctis was some incorporeal spirit, only appearing in a physical body according to what the witness would feel the most comfortable with.

Literature was less of a help. Most of the Cosmogony volumes didn’t even reference Noctis, much to Prompto’s frustration. Because his professor sure as hell wasn’t going to accept public forums and conspiracy sites as valid sources in his bibliography.

He figured it was his fault for doing research on something that actually interested him for once, because he should have expected at least that much considering his luck. Noctis may have failed him in getting an A on his paper, but Prompto still liked to believe in him.

He sat up from his couch, shoving the Cosmogony text off onto the carpet. He stretched out his arms, feeling his joints pop and crack with relief and satisfaction, and he could feel the ache in his butt when he stood from the couch. As plush and comfy as the cushions were, nothing could stave off the butt ache from sitting for so long. Prompto shuffled across the room and slid the glass door open, stepping onto the balcony that overlooked the streets of Insomnia.

Pictures could never do it justice. As dark as the skies were, the city was alive with all its neon signs and halogen lights. Electricity hummed under the concrete and asphalt, feeding the bright street lamps that lit up the roads. The roar of engines and the cry of sirens made their own loud music, drowning out the karaoke bars that were around each corner. Gralea was a large city in its own right and a leader in growing technology, but it lacked the vibrant life that Insomnia was teeming with.

Prompto leaned forward against the metal railing, gone cold as the seasons changed to autumn. He sighed into the night air, the cool breeze a refreshing sensation on his warm skin and tired eyes. He looked up at the dark sky, saw the thin shimmer of the famous magic-powered Wall that surrounded Insomnia. Whispers said King Regis was planning on dropping it sometime in the near future, once the threat of Niflheim was completely gone.

‘If only he’d drop it now,’ Prompto wished. He understood why the King did what he did, why he kept the barrier up. But the shine of the wall coupled with the light pollution from the city made it awfully difficult to see the stars. It was nearly impossible to tell the them apart from the magic, and he found that especially troublesome when he wanted to offer up his prayers to the god of, well, the stars, because that’s how it was supposed to work, right? It’s not like he could steal one of those mini altars set up here and there across the city, and he was pretty sure that would only make the Lucians hate him even more, if he could.

So Prompto would just have to settle and make do with what he had, pouring his belief into a night sky of fake stars. And just as he had been doing every night for the past few months, he closed his eyes and lifted his face to the dim lights of the skies, and breathed out a quiet wish across his lips.

(“Hey,” he whispered to no one but himself and the night sky, “I, uh, dunno if you’re actually out there. But I think you do, and so do a few thousand other people, I guess. But if you are out there, and you’re listening, then — well, geez, this is just weird, Prom. Just forget it.”

“So, umm, it’s me again, y’know, your boy Prompto.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another, holding an ice pack on his hand, where someone had spilled hot coffee on him. Again. “You’re probably too busy to listen to a pleb like me, but… ”

“Guess what, Noct? I can call you Noct, right? Okay, good. So anyway, this giant guy Gladio, the one that’s all buff and shit? Yeah, well, turns out he’s the son of the Shield! Can you believe that?”

“But you know, bud, as much as I like this one-on-one thing we’ve got going going on.. I mean, no offense, your holy Astral-ness, but it’d just be nice, y’know — to have a friend that I can actually talk to. Man-to-man. Ya feel me?”

“Noctis, please.” )

Maybe it was the sparkle of magic, or his eyes were just too tired that night; but for a fleeting moment, he saw the thin tail of a shooting star.

Before he saw the red sole of a boot crash into his face.

And as he literally started to see stars when the back of his head hit concrete, he was pretty sure he heard voices too.

“Oh shit, oh shit, Prompto, I am so fucking sorry. C’mon, stay with me here!”

Kweh, Kweh, Kweh —

With a heavy groan, Prompto rolled over to his side and slammed his hand on his chocobo alarm clock. On any other morning when he had his wits about him, he would have had the mind to feel bad about smacking the poor chocobo’s head, as plastic and inanimate as it was. But gods, he felt like utter crap. Like someone dropped a cinderblock on his head or something. It’s not like he got shit-faced drunk last night, so why did he —

His eyes shot open, and he frantically threw his blanket off, tripping over his own feet as he practically jumped out of bed. His head, though, wasn’t having it, and his entire bedroom spun around him as his legs gave out. He fell face first, though he managed to get his hands out in front of him to help break his fall, though his forearms might suffer from carpet burn for it. And ohhh god, his head was killing him. And his face. Especially his face.

But yeah, having someone practically shove their boot into one's face would maybe, just maybe do that.

Prompto squeezed his eyes shut, perfectly content with lying on the floor for now, as he tried to recall last night. He had just been minding his business, gazing at the sky and sharing a little one-sided chat with his favorite Astral, when all of a sudden all he could see was red. He could make out the sole of a shoe and some blob, which he deduced to be the person behind the shoe. The perpetrator had been rambling something out, like an apology, then everything had gone to black.

Yeah, that was one way to end a night, he guessed. Whoever the guy was, Prompto hoped he was okay too. Falling from that kind of height would surely result in at least a broken ankle, if not worse.

“Prompto?”

Holy hell.

His whole body jumped, and he let out the most squeaky scream he ever heard from himself, and practically scrambled on all fours to his nightstand, clawing at the drawer and hands wrapping around the gun he kept stashed there. He never thought he'd have to use it in Insomnia,wished he would never have to — not because he was afraid to shoot but because he had always been taught to shoot to kill. And he was two hundred percent sure killing someone, house intruder or not, would just make him look worse in the Lucians’ eyes.

'Yep, so peachy!’ he sarcastically thought.

What a great turn of events. The guy that fell from the sky and knocked him out, was gonna kill him or rob him or something. Rob him and kill him — if Prompto didn't pull the trigger first. But of all the ways to die, he never really thought of this as a scenario. He wouldn’t even say goodbye to his parents! And as distant as he had become with them, he missed his mom and dad. He loved them, and he knew they loved him too, as much as stressed out council members under the reign of a half-crazy emperor could. But while he knew he wasn't going to die here — or so he hoped, because some self-esteem issues aside, he was a damn good shot — in a foreign nation, an ocean and hundreds of miles away from his parent's, he was so not ready to be thrown under custody for something that really wasn't his fault to begin with.

And he never even got to see a chocobo in real life. He was gonna go to jail without even seeing a chocobo, and he found that so fucking tragic.

“Prompto! Hey, hey, it’s okay. Shit , I’m sorry. Look, I’m not gonna hurt you — well, I guess I already did with, well, last night. And I’m seriouslysorry. That, uh. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Prompto’s breath hitched, when he saw the intruder just sort of… Pop in from the edge of his vision. Crouched to the floor, his hands were offered, both palms up and coming up empty. Prompto kept his mouth shut, body still stiff in his stance, one knee perched on the floor and both hands taking their firm aim, and he stared at the guy’s hands. It took him a few seconds to realize that this home invader was trying to prove he had no weapons. Oh, okay.

So, maybe he could work with this? Maybe no one was going to die?

He took in a slow, shuddering breath, willing his body to relax. Prompto swallowed, slowly letting his gaze roam from the stranger’s hands and up to his face. Might as well put a face to the voice, right?

Except, he totally did not expect to see what he saw. The guy, well, looked almost the same age as Prompto. Kinda small, mostly unassuming — except, he was kind of handsome. Pretty, even. With those long eyelashes and deep blue eyes, the dark hair that perfectly framed his sculpted face. He looked like he was carved from living marble, he was just that pretty . And okay, Prompto was definitely out of it, if that was the first thing he thought of the man, when he was the same exact person who not only fell from the sky to knock him out boot-to-face but also had the audacity to tuck him into bed after breaking into his home then robbing him. Or something?

Like, seriously, who does that? If all of the city’s criminals were like this, then Insomnia was fucking weird as hell.

“Um, Prom? You okay? Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to land on you like that. That was embarrassing. And — ugh, shit, I’m so not good at this.” The stranger huffed, running a hand through his dark hair, and he grumbled something entirely foreign. Like, okay, that was definitely not a language Prompto’s ever heard before. And how did he know his name?

“Okay, so let’s try this instead. Prompto, I want you to take a deep breath and think. What was the last thing you said last night?” He quickly held up his finger. “Don’t answer that yet. But after you remember, I want you to look at me. Really look at me, okay? No but’s. Just try, Prom.”

“Uh. O-okay?” Prompto managed to choke out. Despite the warning bells screaming at him, that maybe listening to this complete wacko was not a good idea, he did anyway. He did his best and pushed through the raging headache, tried to recall what he had said before this nut job fell on top of him. He had gone to the balcony, talked to the Stellarian like he always did.

“Hey, Noct, how’s it going? I’m.. I’m doing fine, mostly. A little lonely, though, like always. But one thing: why you gotta be so mysterious? You’re really making me work for this research paper, you know.” He sighed, but not without a light laughter following. “But, honestly? I wouldn’t mind trading a grade for a wish. I mean, I get it. You’re busy, there’s a lot of important people out there. More important than me. But… I dunno, dude. Heck, I wouldn’t even mind if you dropped from the sky and fell on my face, but it’d be totally cool if we could talk one day. At this point, I practically consider you my friend.”

And then lo and behold, someone had indeed fallen on him. He guessed that’s how the saying went, to be careful what you wish for. And — wait. Wait. Wait .

Prompto’s eyes blew wide, and was he breathing? ‘Cause he totally forgot how to breathe all of a sudden. He felt his face drain of blood, and he was pretty sure his jaw was hanging open too. All he could feel was the hard beating of his heart slamming against his ribcage as it climbed into his throat and choked him of his words. Whatever coherent thoughts he had were drowned out by the rushing in his ears, but he was somehow managing to put two and two together. And even when he did, his brain was so fried that his math was giving him five’s and zero’s and fourteen’s.

“Oh. My. Gods.” He barely managed a broken whisper. “Noctis.”

And if he thought his brain was already fried, that dazzling smile, bright and soft like the shimmering stars, threw his brain into a blender.

“The one and only.”

“You’re Noctis.”’

“Yep.”

“Holy shit. No way. No freakin’ way!” Prompto broke away from his stance and crawled his way to Noctis, eyes still wide in shock and surprise, a half smile hanging from his lips in disbelief. He stopped just short of Noctis and sat on his knees, peering at the Astral like he was the most foreign, most strangest, most dazzling little thing he ever had the pleasure of meeting. To his credit, not anyone could just come face-to-face with a god. But here he was. Prompto, just a common pleb, here in front of one, in his little old apartment.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been just staring, but obviously long enough for Noctis to clear his throat and say something.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Noctis suggested, voice all warm with amusement.

“Uh, right! Sorry!” Prompto squeaked. He pulled back, suddenly aware that he was in the presence of greatness. But the sudden movement jostled his brain, and the pain and dizziness was doing him no favors, and he felt himself falling backwards —

Until two gentle hands grabbed a hold of his shoulders, keeping him from bonking his head again. “Woah there, tiger. C’mon, let’s get you back into bed.”

Prompto was about to protest, say that he was fine (he was not, in fact, fine) but Noctis seemed to see through the lie before he even had the chance to say it. Just as Prompto parted his lips to voice his reasoning, the Astral placed a careful hand on his forehead. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with exhaustion, and his limbs turned into putty. Noctis, despite his slim figure and lean arms, managed to gather Prompto together and lift him up with nearly zero effort. Well, he was a god, after all.

Prompto silently let himself be carried back to bed, and soon enough, he was all tucked in again, his gun having been gently pried away from his fingers and returned to the nightstand. The bed dipped where Noctis sat at the edge, and the Astral leaned over him.

“Okay, blondie. I need you to do one last thing for me,” he softly said. “Before you fall asleep, I want you to make a wish. Something like, ‘please fix my broken nose and get rid of this shitty headache’ or whatever. Got that?”

Prompto could only manage a weak nod. Keeping his eyes open was a battle all on its own, at this point. But wait, if he fell asleep, would Noctis still be here? What if this was all some fucked up dream?

Noctis, somehow noticing the distress, patted the poor boy's chest in reassurance. “Don't worry, I'll be here when you wake up. Gotta clean up my mess somehow.”

That mess probably meant himself, Prompto vaguely thought. But well, whatever, he just really wanted to sleep. As he let his consciousness melt away, he made sure to keep Noctis’ instructions in mind.

Strangely enough, Prompto woke up feeling refreshed and well-rested, which hadn't happened in at least a couple years, not like this. He blinked once, twice and slowly sat up, looking over to his chocobo clock. It was now noon, several hours after his alarm was set to go off. Several hours after all that happened. It felt like a fever dream. It had to be, because after all, that blaring pain in the back of his skull was now gone, and his face wasn't sore and swollen.

Except, Prompto could see where his bedroom door was left ajar, could see Noctis floating around in the kitchen, where the aroma of a strong brew wafted from. And okay, so maybe that wasn't a dream.

Hooooooo, okay. He could do this. He was not going to freak out. He was gonna step out of bed and walk out, all cool and composed. He had this.

With a deep breath, Prompto willed his heart to calm the fuck down, and he quietly swung his legs over the bed, firmly planting his feet onto the ground. He didn't want a repeat of the last time he tried, when he barely missed falling onto his face. So with step one done, he slowly pushed himself to stand, and once he got his knees to stop buckling, he quietly made his way out his room. The bedroom door creaked as he pushed it open, and Noctis. Oh man, Noctis , an honest-to-gods Astral, turned around to greet him with a smile in his eyes.

Good thing Prompto made sure his knees were steady, else they would have turned to jello.

“Hey. Feelin’ better?” Noctis asked, walking over with two mugs in his hands. Prompto nodded weakly, carefully taking an offered cup. “Still hot, careful.” Noctis warned, right as the blonde placed his lips around the rim.

Prompto was quick to pull back; he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of a god by spilling hot coffee on himself. But he may have already done that this morning. How was he even supposed to act in front of a god, anyway? He frowned into his cup, staring at his dark reflection.

“Prompto, you might want to sit down for this.” Noctis’ words jerked him from his thoughts, and who was he to deny the advice of a god? He quietly shuffled over to the couch, sitting at the far end, and let his mug rest on the table.

“So,” Noctis said, taking a seat next to him, “What did you think of Carbuncle?”

“Who?”

“Carbuncle. You met him, didn’t you?”

“Uhh… No? I mean, was I supposed to?”

“Oh.” Noctis hummed thoughtfully. “I asked him to help me patch you up. But I guess you’re one of those who forget their dreams.”

Well, he certainly didn’t remember dreaming at all for the past couple nights. But wait. He met Carbuncle, too? Damn, he must have been a saint or something in his previous life, if he got to meet not only one but two Astrals in less than twenty-four hours. Granted, he didn’t remember meeting one of them, but still. This was pretty sick. Getting kicked in the face and suffering a concussion was totally worth this.

“Wow,” Prompto breathed out, a drunk smile perched on his lips. “This is so cool.”

Beside him, Noctis snorted out of amusement. “Well, I hope so. It’s the one wish you kept asking of me, after all.”

“Oh! Right. I did wish for that, didn’t I?” As excited as he was and how special he felt, he also felt the pressure of making the most out of his wish. This was a chance of a lifetime, and he really didn’t want to waste it. Noctis was probably busy, and he couldn’t spend all day chatting. Prompto almost wished he had a heads up or something, just so he could have made a list of things he wanted to ramble about. But now that Noctis was actually here, sitting on his couch in his one-bedroom apartment, his mind was coming up blank with what to say or do. He felt a brief flash of panic cut through his chest. Every second he spent in silence was a precious second wasted. “I… I actually have no clue what I want to say.”

“Eh, that’s fine.” Noctis waved one hand in the air and took a sip of his coffee. He leaned forward to trade his mug with the remote control, setting his drink beside Prompto’s, and turned on the TV. He slumped back into the seat, lazily rolling his head to face Prompto. “Take your time, man. I literally have eternity.”

Prompto choked on his own spit. “Wha — no, you can’t!”

Noctis frowned, as if insulted. “What d’you mean I can’t?”

“I mean, well, you’re a god . You can’t be wasting your time on a pleb like me! You have, you know, more important things to do!”

“Hey, Prompto —”

“And, and, aren’t there like, kings or something you could be listening to instead? Like, uh, King Regis!”

“Okay, Prom, shut up for sec.” Before Prompto could come up with anymore excuses, Noctis reached over with his hands and squeezed the boy’s cheeks together. “You’re half-right. I can’t be wasting time on a single person, especially when there’s millions of wishes out there needing help. But I’m not wasting my time. And I’m not ignoring everyone else either.”

He withdrew his hands, but kept his eyes trained on Prompto. “I mean, it’s not like you know this, so I guess I should explain it to you. Do you know how many stars there are in the sky?” — Prompto made to answer but Noctis shot him a pointed look — “It’s a rhetorical question, don’t answer that. But there’s a lot.”

“You see, blondie, there’s as many ‘me’s’ as there are stars in this universe.” He waved a hand through the air, a trail of blue lights shimmering in its wake, then pinched a tiny glittering crystal among them all and held it up to Prompto.

“It just so happened that I plucked one out of the sky and personalized it just for you.”

Prompto wasn’t sure he one hundred percent understood it, but he liked to think he got the general idea. Turned out Noctis wasn’t a single individual but rather a lot of individuals that shared a consciousness. Like, a hivemind, Prompto noted.

“Think of it like a giant tree. Noctis is the tree, and the branches and roots reach all across Eos,” he had explained, placing a hand on his own chest, “A branch is a part of the tree, but the tree isn’t a part of the branch. And you could say I’m one of those branches. So in the same way, I’m a fragment of Noctis; but he’s not me.” Noctis had scrunched his nose, grimacing at his own words. “Okay. Yeah, that made more sense in my head. Sorry, not sure how to put it. Shiva would be better at explaining…”

Prompto had shaken his head. He had been pretty sure he got the gist of it. But it hadn’t changed the fact that this Noctis was here to stay, or at least, that’s what the implication was. He had no intention of ruining his perfectly happy moment just yet, so he had figured to store that thought for later. So instead, he had gotten up to walk over to the TV stand, had picked up a pair of controllers while looking at god in the eye and asking, “Play Blade Masters with me?”

And damn was Noctis a fast learner, because Prompto almost had his ass handed to him in their last match. Give or take an hour, and he was pretty sure Noct could master all the characters and their combos, even the ones with like ten inputs. “So, Noct — ah, shit! — you’re really here to stay?” Prompto leaned to his left and mashed his controller furiously, as if the added effort would translate into the game.

“Yep,” Noctis answered, eyes honed in on the screen, shoulders tense and thumbs raging on his controller.

“Neat.”

Noctis’ fighter got K.O.d, and he paused to lower his controller and flick Prompto on the nose. “You got your own personal god here, and all you can say is ‘Neat’?”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Prompto laughed, blossoming with an easy smile. “Hella neat.”

“Damn straight.”

#prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #ff15 #final fantasy xv #i can type

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sartle-blog · 5 years

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Rubens: The Early Years at the Legion of Honor

Okay, so maybe it’s not that kind of Rubens, but there are some similarities between this exhibition and a delicious Reuben sandwich. They both are glorious to behold, they both often contain significant amounts of fat, and spending a long time looking at either will make you really, really hungry.

The Legion of Honor’s latest show has been a long time in the making. Before he left the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco to head the Met, former director Max Hollein helped set in motion this last exhibition, which he considered a final parting gift to the city. He’s long gone now, but what better way for his legacy to go out with a bang than with a show all about Rubens? Born out of a collaboration between Sasha Suda of the Art Gallery of Ontario and the Legion of Honor’s own Kirk Nickel, not only is this the first show dedicated exclusively to the Flemish Baroque master in the United States in ten years, it’s also the first one ever to focus entirely on the early part of Rubens’ career.

And his early development is just as fascinating as his mature work. The exhibit picks up when Rubens has already been named a master painter in Antwerp, but has put off opening his own studio until he’s traveled and learned at the feet of the Italian Renaissance masters. Ever precocious, Rubens quickly picked up work in Italy as a court painter to the Duke of Mantua, who exposed the classically educated Rubens to all sorts of Greek and Roman goodies, as well as supported his travels to see the work of Michelangelo, Leonardo, Titian, Veronese, and Caravaggio. Rubens absorbed aspects of all of these artists’ work into his own and then created something entirely new: a sensual, exuberant, and emotive style that appealed to the spiritual, intellectual, and courtly world to which he belonged as a true gentleman painter.

Some of the work he produced in Italy is here on display, including his first known self-portrait, which shows him among a group of what is likely his Northern European compatriots in Mantua, true courtiers à la the “Book of the Courtier” by Castiglione.

Self-Portrait in a Circle of Friends at Mantua. Wallraf-Richartz-Museum and Foundation, Cologne.

And just look at all that sprezzatura. That’s Rubens there in the front, looking extra ~sensual~.

Rubens returned to Antwerp in 1608 following his mother’s death, and he decided to stay and open a studio. Antwerp had already experienced its Golden Age by this point and had a severe economic slump during the religious wars that had been consuming that part of the world since the Reformation. His return coincided with the brokering of peace between the Hapsburg-controlled Southern Netherlands and the Dutch Republic to the North in the Twelve Years Truce, and Rubens felt now was the perfect time to help rebuild the city as a center of culture with his humanist friends. A selection of portraits on display demonstrate his range as he painted the prominent locals, from the formal portraits of city patricians with finely detailed, carefully controlled brushwork, to the loose, genial portraits of friends and family that offer revealing snapshots of their personalities.

While there’s no denying the brilliance of his portraits, this exhibit focuses far more on his history paintings, scenes inspired by biblical and mythological events, which are often very grand. The glory and drama of Baroque art had been ushered in in part by the decisions made by the Catholic Church during the Council of Trent, which established certain expectations for how religious art should look. In their effort to restore the majesty of the Church through art, they ruled that religious scenes must be depicted with accuracy, clarity, and emotional power. As a serious Roman Catholic, Rubens took the dictum and ran with it, creating powerful imagery that is easy to read yet profoundly moving.

Lamentation. Princely Collections, Liechtenstein.

In the Lamentation, Rubens’ true genius is on display. Even in his most magnificent, large scale works, Rubens has a knack for zeroing in on a small moment, a tiny gesture, that was both emotionally potent and utterly relatable to the viewer. Here that moment is Mary tenderly closing her dead son’s eyes while plucking a thorn from his hair. These moments are so human, so visceral, that they allow the viewer to connect in new ways to the biblical figures of their adoration or study. Nobody had ever done this before to the same extent. Sometimes, like in The Holy Family with Saint Elizabeth, Saint John, and a Dove, he almost goes too far, humorously portraying baby Jesus fighting with baby John the Baptist over a dove (the embodiment of the Holy Spirit), John yanking feathers out of the poor bird’s wing.

The Holy Family with Saint Elizabeth, Saint John, and a Dove. Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Looks like somebody’s losing their Holy Spirit privileges until they can learn how to play nice.

Even in the enormous and violent Massacre of the Innocents we find the same small moments of emotional force that give the entire work that signature Rubens pull. The desperate claw marks one mother makes in the face of her child’s attacker, the mother whose face is hidden in her hair as she bends over her dead infant’s blue body…. within the turmoil, those intimate gestures emerge to form an arresting picture of cruelty and grief.

Massacre of the Innocents. Art Gallery of Ontario.

One of the most appreciated aspects of Rubens’ work during his time was his ability to mix beauty and horror in equal parts in a single image. The Head of Medusa, which is one of two versions and is here in the United States for the very first time, is one such work. The beautiful rendering of the snakes and salamanders, possibly done by Frans Snyders, complicates the horror of the ashen severed head around which they squirm, springing to life from drops of blood. This is just the sort of painting wealthy patrons loved to have hanging over their mantle pieces because it sparked interesting conversations about the nature of beauty and fear.

The Head of Medusa. Moravian Gallery in Brno, Czech Republic.

Similarly, Rubens’ Lot and his Daughters would have provided much fodder for conversation. It depicts the Old Testament story in which Lot’s daughters, believing they are the last humans alive, seduce their father to carry on the human race. Rubens based the face of Lot on a classical statue of a satyr (a sexually predatory being) while he took Lot’s pose from Leda, of Michelangelo’s Leda and the Swan, who is certainly the victim in that narrative. Thus, Rubens raises uncomfortable questions about victimhood, as well as the viewer’s complicity in that act of incest. The educated circles in which Rubens moved would have immediately picked up on all those references, and it likely would have allowed for some interesting talk at dinner parties.

After the vibrant colors and vast canvases of his history paintings, the exhibit’s final room all about print culture seems rather underwhelming at first. Rubens was a shrewd businessman and one of the most successful artists ever, so it makes sense that he turned to print culture as a way to disseminate his images even further, completing illustrations for books and also just making engravings of his best paintings. However, upon close inspection, the drawings in this room, while less flashy, are absolutely exquisite. The room is tied together nicely with a later image of the Raising of the Cross that proves just how important those early years of development in Antwerp were for Rubens. He would go on to become a tremendously prolific and successful artist, employing dozens of assistants in his workshop, collaborating with some of the top names of his day, becoming a successful diplomat, elevating the role of the artist in society, and even creating a brand new adjective for curvaceous ladies (rubenesque), but a few key prints suggest he may have had a certain sentimental attitude toward his early years of success in Antwerp. D'aww.

Daniel in the Lions’ Den. National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.

The exhibit ends where it begins, with three masterpieces of enormous size. The most dazzling is by far Daniel in the Lions’ Den. It’s the most beloved painting by school groups in the National Gallery for obvious reasons, so if you’re wondering whether or not you should go to this exhibit, the lions themselves should be a good enough answer:

And are you really going to argue with lions?

There is much to admire in Rubens’ work: the brushwork, at times subtle and refined, at times exuberant and free; the beautifully arranged drama of his scenes; the quantity of different facial expressions he was able to uncannily reproduce; his beautiful renderings of golden curls on the heads of children, etc. The list goes on. The exhibit is well curated, with a range of high quality examples from all over Europe. More wall text about Rubens’ truly fascinating life and personality would have been nice, but then I think I’m the only person who ever wants MORE wall text. (That’s what the catalog is for, anyway.) But if you do get bored, and I don’t think that’s very likely, there are a few games you could play: “Count the corpses” (There are a lot of them), “Count the dogs” (those baroque artists sure loved their pupperinos), and “Count the Women Making this Face”:

That would be the expression known as "I'm so in awe my face has become a potato."

“Rubens: The Early Years” runs from April 6, 2019 - September 8, 2019 at the Legion of Honor in San Francisco. You don't want to miss it. More information can be found here.

By: Jeannette Baisch Sturman

#peter paul rubens #baroque #baroque art #art museum #art history #history of art #rubens #rubenesque #legion of honor #sartle news #fine arts museums of san francisco #press preview #serious art history

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green-violin-bow · 6 years

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Hawksmoor, BBC Sherlock and historiographic metafiction

First:

This piece is not of academic quality or rigour. I left university eight years ago; I studied literature in two languages and did well at it. Nevertheless I am no longer in academia and have not written an essay since then. My sources are partial, dependent on what I can get access to through my local library, through academic friends, or what I choose to pay for on JSTOR. I work full-time and have put no time into e.g. referencing (always my least favourite part of essays).

Although I personally hold out hope for unambiguous Johnlock still, I would not class this as a ‘meta’ arguing that it will certainly happen. This is a reading, undertaken for my own satisfaction and interest, jumping off from the inclusion of ‘Hawksmoor’ as a password in one scene of The Six Thatchers. I do not particularly mean to suggest that Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat are deliberately playing with/off literary criticism. They may well be holding two (or more) time periods in tension, however, in a way that I choose to explore through the lens of the literary tools described here. I do not seek to challenge or disprove other fan theories.

I am no television/film studies scholar. There are probably layers and layers of nuance and meaning that I’m missing because I simply have no frame of theoretical reference in that field (and one of the primary ‘texts’ we are talking about here is, after all, a television show). The abundance of television and film references discovered by Sherlock fans have made it clear that the show’s creators deliberately allude to other visual media within modern Sherlock all the time. I believe my approach here is valid because Hawksmoor, a literary text, is pointed to in the show, and because ACD canon itself was a literary text. But I want to flag up this important way in which my analysis is deficient.

I tagged a few people in this but I’m aware this is more of a musing/essay than a traditional ‘meta’ so don’t worry about reading/responding if it’s not your thing!

The Six Thatchers

In The Six Thatchers, Sherlock visits Craig the hacker, to borrow his dog Toby. On the left of our screen (taking up an entire wall of Craig’s house, realistically enough…) are lines of code, in the centre of which is written ‘Hawksmoor17’.

I was interested in finding out more about this. I decided my first port of call would be the ‘detective novel’ Hawksmoor, by Peter Ackroyd.

Peter Ackroyd

Peter Ackroyd is a historian and author, who has written a huge array of fiction and non-fiction, including:

London: The Biography (non-fiction)

Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to the Present Day (non-fiction)

The Last Testament of Oscar Wilde (an imagining of the diary Oscar Wilde might have written in exile in Paris)

Dan Leno and the Limehouse Golem (novel, presenting the diary of a murderer)

Hawksmoor (novel)

In his work London is present, constantly, a character in itself, woven into the very fabric of the story as irrevocably as it is into the mythos of Sherlock Holmes.

Hawksmoor

In brief, Hawksmoor is a postmodern detective story, running in two timelines. Each timeline focuses on a main character: in 1711, the London architect Nicholas Dyer; two hundred and fifty years later, in the 1980s, Nicholas Hawksmoor, a detective, responsible for investigating a series of murders carried out near the churches built by Dyer.

Ackroyd plays with the ‘real history’ of London throughout, muddling and confusing the past with fictional events, with conspiracy and rumour.

There was a real London architect named Nicholas Hawksmoor who worked alongside Christopher Wren in eighteenth-century London to design some of its most famous buildings. He also designed six churches. Ackroyd chooses to change the eighteenth-century architect’s name to Nicholas Dyer, and to make Nicholas Hawksmoor the twentieth-century fictional detective instead – a deliberate muddling together of timelines and of ‘facts’.

Ackroyd had drawn inspiration for Hawksmoor from Iain Sinclair’s poem, ‘Nicholas Hawksmoor: His Churches’ (Lud Heat, 1975). This poem suggests that the architectural design of Hawksmoor’s churches is consistent with him having been a Satanist.

As well as changing the historical figure Hawksmoor’s last name to Dyer, Ackroyd adds a church, ‘Little St Hugh’. Seven, in total.

The architect Dyer writes his own story, in the first person and in eighteenth-century style.

Only in Part Two of the novel does Nicholas Hawksmoor – a fictional detective with a real man’s name – appear, to investigate the three murders that have so far happened in 1980s London. Written in the third person, the reader is nonetheless invited into Hawksmoor’s thoughts, his point of view.

As the novel proceeds, Ackroyd employs literary devices so that the stories – separated, apparently, by so much time – begin to blur. In particular, the architect Dyer and the detective Hawksmoor are linked. For instance, both men experience a kind of loss of self, a “dislocation of identity”, upon staring into a convex mirror (Ahearn, 2000, DOI: 10.1215/0041462X-2000-1001).

The cumulative effect of all the parallels is that the reader starts to lose any sense of temporal separation between the time periods; starts to see Dyer and Hawksmoor as almost the same person; to suspect each of them of being the murderer and the detective at the same time. The parallels between the time periods “escape any effort at organization and create a mental fusion between past and present” so that “fiction and history fuse so thoroughly that an abolition of time, space, and person is […] inflicted on the reader” (Ahearn, 2000).

Importantly, I believe, Hawksmoor again and again “tries to reconstruct the timing of the crimes, but this is from the start impossible” (Ahearn, 2000). This is a rather familiar feeling to Sherlock Holmes fans.

At the end of the book, Dyer and Hawksmoor come together in the church, take hands across time, or perhaps out of time. They become aware of one another. Their perspectives dissolve and seem to merge into one person, into a new style of narration not like either of them: “when he put out his hand and touched him he shuddered. But do not say that he touched him, say that they touched him. And when they looked at the space between them, they wept” (Ackroyd, 1985).

Historiographic metafiction

Hawksmoor is a postmodern detective story. It has been classified by critics as a work of ‘historiographic metafiction’. As a detective story, it lacks the most familiar feature – a detective who is able to sort and order the events and facts, before finally drawing together all the threads to present a coherent, satisfying and plot-hole-free conclusion. In other words, a solution to the mystery.

So what is ‘metafiction’? Waugh defines it as “a term given to fictional writing which self-consciously and systematically draws attention to its status as an artefact in order to pose questions about the relationship between fiction and reality” (1984).

In Hawksmoor, Ackroyd uses a popular literary form (the detective story) to unsettle our understanding of fiction, reality and history. An Agatha Christie detective novel (for example) relies on an accepted, understood structure, where the reader has definite expectations of what the outcome will be; as such, Christie’s novels “provide collective pleasure and release of tension through the comforting total affirmation of accepted stereotypes” (Waugh, 1984). In metafiction, however, there is often no traditionally predictable, neat, satisfying ending: accepted stereotypes are disturbed rather than affirmed. The application of rationality and logic to the clues gets the detective no closer to solving the crime. Readerly expectation (“the triumph of justice and the restoration of order” [Waugh, 1984]) is thwarted.

Hutcheon coined the term ‘historiographic metafiction’, fiction where “narrative representation – fictive and historical – comes under […] subversive scrutiny […] by having its historical and socio-political grounding sit uneasily alongside its self-reflexivity” (Hutcheon, 2002). It is a kind of fiction that explicitly points out the text-dependent nature of what we know as ‘history’: “How do we know the past today? Through its discourses, through its texts – that is, through the traces of its historical events: the archival materials, the documents, the narratives of witnesses…and historians” (Hutcheon, 2002).

Whereas a ‘historical novel’ will present an account of the past which purports to be true, a ‘historiographic metafiction’ has a combination of:

deliberate, self-reflexive foregrounding of the difficulty of telling ‘the whole story’ or ‘the whole truth’ especially due to the limitations of the narrative voice;

internal metadiscourse about language revealing the fictional nature of the text;

an attempt to explain the present by way of the past, simultaneously giving a (partial) account of both;

disturbed chronology in the narrative structure, representing the determining presence of the past in the present;

‘connection’ of the historical period structurally to the novel’s present;

a self-consciously incomplete and provisional account of ‘what really happened’ e.g. via ‘holes’ in the [hi]story which cannot be resolved by either narrator or reader (Widdowson, 2006, DOI: 10.1080/09502360600828984).

The above points are certainly true of Hawksmoor. The reader of Sherlock Holmes will find some of them very familiar – for example, Watson’s self-conscious in-world changing of dates, names and places; and the impossible-to-resolve timeline. The audience of BBC Sherlock will also find these features very recognisable, especially from Series 4 of the programme.

I’d like to examine BBC Sherlock itself as a ‘historiographic metafiction’: a ‘text’ which self-consciously holds the past and present fictional events of Sherlock Holmes’ life in tension, not merely as another adaptation of the source text, but as a way of destabilising the accepted ‘[hi]story’ and mythos of Sherlock Holmes.

The Great Game

The Sherlockian fandom is well-known for its practice of ‘The Great Game’:

“Holmesian Speculation (also known as The Sherlockian game, the Holmesian game, the Great Game or simply the Game) is the practice of expanding upon the original Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle by imagining a backstory, history, family or other information for Holmes and Watson, often attempting to resolve anomalies and clarify implied details about Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. It treats Holmes and Watson as real people and uses aspects of the canonical stories combined with the history of the era of the tales' composition to construct fanciful biographies of the pair.” [x]

There are a number of interesting features about the Great Game. It:

pretends that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were real people;

ignores or explains away the real author Arthur Conan Doyle’s existence;

attempts to use ‘real’ historical facts (texts…) to resolve gaps in a fictional text;

in turn, produces additional (meta)fictional texts, often presented as ‘fact’ in journals set up for the purpose;

in so doing, adds constantly to the (meta)fictional destabilisation of chronology and holes in the story, as different, competing ‘versions’ are added by a multitude of authors.

The Sherlock Holmes fandom, as it attempts to elucidate ‘what really happened’, only destabilises the original (hi)story further – drawing attention, over and over again, to the gaps and inconsistencies in the original canon tales.

I would argue that the Sherlock fandom has been engaged, for over a century, in an act of collective historiographic metafiction.

The writers of BBC Sherlock are aware of themselves as fans, and of the wider Sherlockian fandom. They paid tribute to Holmesian Speculation in the episode title of Series 1 Episode 3. The title – ‘The Great Game’ – is a signal, an early marker of postmodernity in BBC Sherlock, a sign that the Sherlockian fandom will not be absent from this metafiction.

Implicating the reader/audience

There is an interesting moment in Hawksmoor where Detective Chief Superintendent Nicholas Hawksmoor goes to investigate the murder of a young boy near the church of St-George’s-in-the-East. The body is beside “a partly ruined building which had the words M SE M OF still visible above its entrance” (Ackroyd, 1985).

As Lee says, the “missing letter is "U," ("you") the reader” (1990).

Elsewhere in the book, Hawksmoor receives a note instructing him “DON’T FORGET … THE UNIVERSAL ARCHITECT” alongside a “sketch of a man kneeling with a white disc placed against his right eye” (Ackroyd, 1985).

Lee suggests that this drawing refers to “detective fiction’s transcendental signifier” Sherlock Holmes, and that the “Universal Architect, here, can only be the reader, since it is he or she who is in possession of all the histories: the historically verifiable past, the eighteenth-century text and the text accumulated through reading”. Thus, the reader is “doubly implicated not only as a repository of the past, but also as a co-creator of artifact and artifice” (Lee, 1990). In the Sherlock Holmes fandom, this is more true than in almost any other; co-creators indeed.

The missing ‘U’ in Hawksmoor can be clearly linked to the daubed ‘YOU’ in ‘The Abominable Bride’, a sign that, from that point on, BBC Sherlock will be clearly and mercilessly implicating its audience; putting the Sherlockian fandom back in the story, where it has always belonged. This includes the writers and creators of BBC Sherlock.

I also think there is reason to link the ‘YOU’ daubed on the wall to another piece of graffiti in BBC Sherlock – the yellow smiley face in 221b. An all-seeing, ever-present audience within Sherlock and John’s very home.

It is often repeated that Arthur Conan Doyle only continued to write Sherlock Holmes stories out of financial necessity and due to public demand; that he was bored and exasperated by his creation. The Sherlock Holmes fandom is (possibly apocryphally) known as having worn black armbands in the street in mourning for the fictional detective when Conan Doyle attempted to kill him off in The Final Problem.

The Sherlock Holmes fandom has long been considered importunate and unruly. As Stephen Fry puts it in his foreword to The Case Book of Sherlock Holmes: “Holmes has been bent and twisted into every genre imaginable and unimaginable: graphic novels, manga, science fiction, time travel, erotica, literary novels, animation, horror stories, comic books, gaming and more. Junior Sherlocks, animal Sherlocks, spoofs called Sheer Luck and Schlock; you think it up, and you’ll find it’s been done before. There is no indignity that has not been heaped upon the sage and super-sleuth of Baker Street” (2017).

And yet, with every new adaptation, there is a tendency to regard it as a blank slate, in direct conversation with the canon of Arthur Conan Doyle. There is a tendency to forget the changes that fandom itself has wrought on the figure of Sherlock Holmes – a weight of stereotype and expectation which warps the character to a pre-fit mould in every incarnation. As Fry says, Holmes:

“rises up, higher and higher with each passing decade, untarnished and unequalled. Because, I suppose, we need him, more and more, a figure of authority that is benign, rational, soothing, omniscient, capable and insightful. In a world, and in daily lives, so patently devoid of almost all those marvellous qualities, how welcome that is, and how grateful we are, for its presence in our lives. So grateful, that we won’t really accept that Sherlock Holmes could ever be classed as ‘make believe’. Between fact and fiction is a space where legend dwells. It is where Holmes and Watson will always live” (2017).

This is the traditional understanding of Sherlock Holmes and its fandom, and is highly reminiscent of the voiceover by Mary Morstan in Series 4 Episode 3, ‘The Final Problem’: “I know who you really are. A junkie who solves crimes to get high, and the doctor who never came home from the war. Well, you listen to me: who you really are, it doesn’t matter. It’s all about the legend, the stories, the adventures. There is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court of appeal for everyone. When life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. When all else fails, there are two men sitting arguing in a scruffy flat like they’ve always been there, and they always will. The best and wisest men I have ever known – Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.” [transcript by Ariane Devere]

The conception of Sherlock Holmes as “a figure of authority that is benign, rational, soothing, omniscient, capable and insightful” shows what we, the reader, want: a traditional detective story, with an all-knowing detective, who uses rationality and logic to assess the clues and brings us smoothly, at last, to a solution which reasserts the order of things; where justice is done and society is made safe once again.

BBC Sherlock, however, resists these comforting fictions. The detective unravels, becoming more emotional, more human as the story progresses. Mysteries go unsolved. The narrator gets more unreliable with every episode. Characters inhabit strange states, seemingly alive or dead as the story demands. The ‘rules’ of traditional detective fiction are flouted left, right and centre.

Viewed as a historiographic metafiction, BBC Sherlock aims to hold up the historical text (ACD canon) against the modern one (BBC Sherlock) in such a way as to slough away a century of extra-canonical fan speculation and addition, and give a new reading to canon.

‘Writing back’: re-visionary fiction

I would now like to look at Peter Widdowson’s journal article, ‘Writing back’: Contemporary re-visionary fiction’ (DOI: 10.1080/09502360600828984). He argues that there is a “radically subversive sub-set of contemporary ‘historiographic metafiction’” which, while being “acutely self-conscious about their metafictional intertextuality and dialectical connection with the past”, ‘write back’ to “formative narratives that have been central to the textual construction of dominant historical worldviews”.

Widdowson explains that his term ‘re-visionary’: “deploys a tactical slippage between the verb to revise (from the Latin ‘revisere’: ‘to look at again’) – ‘to examine and correct; to make a new, improved version of; to study anew’; and the verb to re-vision – to see in another light; to re-envision or perceive differently; and thus potentially to recast and re-evaluate (‘the original’)” (2006). He points out that this is closest to Rich’s approach to feminist criticism: “We need to know the writing of the past, and know it differently than we have ever known it; not to pass on a tradition but to break its hold over us” (Rich, 1975).

This act of ‘knowing it differently’ can also be achieved by “the creative act of ‘re-writing’ past fictional texts in order to defamiliarize them and the ways in which they have been conventionally read within the cultural structures of patriarchal and imperial/colonial dominance” (Widdowson, 2006).

Widdowson lays out what he regards as the defining characteristics of re-visionary fiction, first negatively by what it is not:

Re-visionary fiction does not simply take an earlier work as its source for writing;

It is not simply modern adaptation – instead it challenges the source text;

It is not parody – whereas parody takes a pre-existing work and reveals its particular stylistic traits and ideological premises by exaggerating them in order to render it absurd or to satirise the ‘follies of its time’, a re-visionary work seeks to bring into view “those discourses in [the source text] suppressed or obscured by historically naturalising readings. The contemporary version attempts, as it were, to replace the pre-text with itself, at once to negate the pre-text’s cultural power and to ‘correct’ the way we read it in the present” (Widdowson, 2006).

As to what re-visionary fiction is:

First, it challenges the accepted authority of the original. “[S]uch novels invariably ‘write back’ to canonic texts of the English tradition – those classics that retain a high profile of admiration and popularity in our literary heritage – and re-write them ‘against the grain’ (that is, in defamiliarising, and hence unsettling, ways)”. This means that “a hitherto one-way form of written exchange, where the reader could only passively receive the message handed down by a classic text, has now become a two-way correspondence in which the recipient answers or replies to – even answers back to – the version of things as originally delineated. In other words, it represents a challenge to any writing that purports to be ‘telling things as they really are’, and which has been believed and admired over time for doing exactly that.”

Second, it keeps a constant tension between the source and the new text. A re-visionary fiction will “keep the pre-text in clear view, so that the original is not just the invisible ‘source’ of a new modern version but is a constantly invoked intertext for it and is constantly in dialogue with it: the reader, in other words, is forced at all points to recall how the pre-text had it and how the re-vision reinflects this.”

Third, it enables us to read the source text with new eyes, free of established preconceptions. Re-visionary fictions “not only produce a different, autonomous new work by rewriting the original, but also denaturalise that original by exposing the discourses in it which we no longer see because we have perhaps learnt to read it in restricted and conventional ways. That is, they recast the pre-text as itself a ‘new’ text to be read newly – enabling us to ‘see’ a different one to the one we thought we knew as [Sherlock Holmes] – thus arguably releasing them from one type of reading and repossessing them in another.” The new text ‘speaks’ “the unspeakable of the pre-text by very exactly invoking the original and hinting at its silences or fabrications.”

Fourth, it forces the reader to consider the two texts together at all times: “our very consciousness of reading a contemporary version of a past work ensures that such an oscillation takes place, with the reader, as it were, holding the two texts simultaneously in mind. This may cause us to see parallels and contrasts, continuities and discontinuities, between the period of the original text’s production and that of the modern work.”

Fifth, they “alert the reader to the ways past fiction writes its view of things into history, and how unstable such apparently truthful accounts from the past may be”, making clear that the original text, though canon, was also just a text and should not necessarily govern our perceptions and understanding forever.

Sixth, “re-visionary novels almost invariably have a clear cultural-political thrust. That is why the majority of them align themselves with feminist and/or postcolonialist criticism in demanding that past texts’ complicity in oppression – either as subliminally inscribed within them or as an effect of their place and function as canonic icons in cultural politics – be revised and re-visioned as part of the process of restoring a voice, a history and an identity to those hitherto exploited, marginalized and silenced by dominant interests and ideologies.”

That last point, I think, should also apply to queer re-visionings of source texts (and indeed, Widdowson uses the example of Will Self’s Dorian: An Imitation re-visioning Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray in his article).

We can view BBC Sherlock as a re-visionary fiction which aims to ‘speak’ “the unspeakable of the pre-text by […] hinting at its silences or fabrications.”

BBC Sherlock as re-visionary fiction

Not only does BBC Sherlock have to hold itself up against the original canon of Arthur Conan Doyle; there is also a century of accumulated speculation and creation by an extremely active and resourceful fandom to contend with.

I think that BBC Sherlock asks us to re-vision ACD canon, but has a few sly jabs at the Sherlock Holmes fandom (including the writers themselves) along the way. Let’s look at some concrete examples:

John Watson’s wife:

In BBC Sherlock, the woman we know as Mary Morstan has no fixed identity. Her name is taken from a dead baby; she is not originally British; she is an ex-mercenary and killer; she is variously motherly, friendly and threatening; she shoots Sherlock in the heart – or does she save his life? In Series 4, her characterisation is more unstable than ever. She is a romantic heroine, a ruthless killer, a selfless mother, a consummate actress, a wronged woman, a martyr, an ever-present ghost, and the embodiment of John’s conscience. She is also the manifestation of the Sherlock Holmes fandom’s speculation about John Watson’s wife: did he have one wife, or six? Was she an orphan, or was she at her mother’s? When did she die? How did she die?

Ultimately, however, if you hold BBC Sherlock up against ACD canon, it highlights the fact that so many Sherlockians have tried to compensate for: in order to reconcile the irregularities in Mrs Watson’s story as narrated by Watson, she would need to be a secret agent actively hiding her identity. Examining BBC Sherlock against ACD canon makes us apply Occam’s Razor – the idea that the simplest explanation will always be best. John Watson’s wife was only written into the story because homophobia was so pervasive at the time that ACD was writing that his characters – and by extension he himself – would have been suspected of ‘deviance’ if there had not been a layer of plausible deniability in the shape of a wife.

And there you have it: the central problem of Mary Morstan/Watson, in both ACD canon and BBC Sherlock – she shoots Sherlock in the heart – or does she save his life? Look at ACD canon again. Does Mary Morstan’s engagement to John Watson hurt Sherlock Holmes, to the point that he replies, at the end of SIGN, “For me, …there still remains the cocaine-bottle”? Or does Mary Watson save his life? In the nineteenth century, suspicion of a romance between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson could have meant imprisonment or even hanging; many men suspected or accused of same-sex relationships chose suicide rather than total disgrace. Mary Watson’s presence provides Holmes and Watson with a lifesaving alibi.

Let’s have a look at this against the criteria for a ‘re-visionary fiction’:

Challenges the idea that Watson ‘told things as they really were’ – instead, it introduces the idea that Watson deliberately obscured the facts of his and Holmes’ partnership

Keeps the pre-text Mary Morstan constantly in view – a startling contrast, which rather effectively comments on the position of both women and queer people in the nineteenth and twenty-first centuries

Enables us to abandon our “restricted and conventional ways” of reading the original – if it makes no sense for Mrs Watson to have existed in ACD canon, then the reader must radically reconsider Holmes and Watson’s relationship; no longer ‘just’ a friendship, but a lifetime’s commitment, as close and loving as a marriage. BBC Sherlock encourages this re-visioning by setting Mary up as a rival to Sherlock; by having her attempt to get rid of him; by highlighting that she both kills and saves him. It re-casts Sherlock Holmes as the dominant romance of John Watson’s life, in every version.

It causes us to see parallels and contrasts between the two time periods: the societal homophobia that made Mrs Watson a necessity in ACD canon has largely gone in modern Britain. But BBC Sherlock hints at a profoundly closeted bisexual John Watson who strives after a ‘normal’ wife who “wasn’t meant to be like that”. The continued presence of a Mrs Watson very effectively shows us that societal attitudes are not as profoundly different as we may think.

BBC Sherlock shows us how the existence of a Mrs Watson has been written not only into the [hi]story of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, but into the fabric of society: Sherlock Holmes is a great man, but God forbid he should also be a happy, human man, in a loving relationship with another man. The cultural script has been written: the great figures are either straight, or they are nothing. There is always a wife.

As discussed above, the presence of Mrs Watson is also important politically and culturally. It draws attention to the total lack of agency for nineteenth-century women, and to the restrictive narratives imposed on female characters in today’s culture. It makes terribly clear the extent and dangerousness of the homophobia in nineteenth-century Britain. It highlights the fact that there are still countries today where people are forced to hide their sexualities for fear of being imprisoned or killed.

The Watson baby:

In BBC Sherlock, the woman we know as Mary Morstan is revealed to be pregnant on the Watsons’ wedding day. In ACD canon, Watson never mentions a child from his marriage. In Holmesian speculation, plenty of children have been suggested for Watson, especially since it is often posited that he must have had more than one marriage (that Watson might be infertile is not something the proponents of the ‘Three Continents Watson’ school of thought often like to suggest).

As a re-visionary fiction, then, BBC Sherlock forces us to examine the source text: in a time when reliable contraceptive methods were virtually non-existent, why did John Watson and his wife never have a child?

The options, broadly, are:

Mrs Watson was infertile (if Watson only had one wife)

Watson was infertile (if he had more than one wife)

They didn’t have sex, either due to ignorance (but Watson was a doctor…) or reluctance

Mrs Watson only ‘existed’ because societal homophobia made her a necessity (see above).

John Watson:

In Series 4 of BBC Sherlock, John behaves in an unrecognisable manner: he beats Sherlock bloody, so that his eye is still bloodshot some little time later. This is said to be due to the pain of losing his wife, and the fact that her death is Sherlock’s ‘fault’.

Viewed as re-visionary fiction, as metafiction, BBC Sherlock here satirises the idea of the ‘deutero-Watson’ which has existed since Ronald Knox wrote his Studies in the Literature of Sherlock Holmes. It also, however, critically examines the fact that, in ACD canon, there are (at least) ‘two Watsons’: one, the narrator, seemingly the most reliable and loyal of fellows, straight (in all senses) and true, good in a fight; and a second, the ‘true’ John Watson behind the narration, the man we discern when we look beyond the surface of the tales. A man who is devoted, above all, to Holmes; prepared to adopt Holmes’ habit of ‘compounding a felony’ to follow the idea of justice as opposed to law; prepared, in fact, to break the law if Holmes thinks it right; prepared to abandon his wife at a moment’s notice, when Holmes calls; prepared to alter all kinds of details in his stories to protect their participants. (Also, presumably, a bit of a joke about the accidental ‘dual personality’ that ACD gave his Watson by naming him James and John on different occasions.)

Looking at ACD canon through the lens of BBC Sherlock, the entirely unreliable nature of Watson as a narrator comes to light, but the enduring feature of his stories – his love for, and loyalty to Holmes – provides the obvious answer to why he should be so unreliable. Watson may be ‘two people’, but he lies, he breaks the law, he abandons his wife and his patients for only one person: Holmes.

Ultimately, the reader understands that they have been lied to, because the truth would have been impossible to tell at the time ACD was writing. Famously, the final story in the Sherlock Holmes canon, The Adventure of the Retired Colourman, ends with the words, “some day the true story may be told.”

If BBC Sherlock is seen as re-visionary fiction, Series 4 of the programme becomes a representation of the artificiality of the construct that we think of as BBC Sherlock and – viewed through its lens – ACD canon becomes visible as an equally artificial construct, filtered through the writings of an unreliable narrator and governed by the societal and cultural imperatives and prejudices of its time.

Every trick has been employed in Series 4 to highlight its artificiality: lack of coherent structure, temporal uncertainty, incoherent character arcs, introduction of a deus ex machina character, fluctuations of genre, and members of the crew actually appearing on screen. Just as in Hawksmoor, the ‘case’ of Series 4 defies solution. BBC Sherlock and Hawksmoor are both postmodern detective fictions. We have been told that this is ‘a show about a detective, not a detective show’. The form of the show, like the form of the traditional detective novel, leads us to expect a neat, tidy ending, explained carefully by an all-knowing figure of authority. The makers of BBC Sherlock, however, have done everything they can to pantomime a lack of care for, or understanding of, their own show. They have simultaneously inserted themselves into the story (Mark/Mycroft; giving varying accounts of when/how Series 4 was written; lying and saying that they lie) and withdrawn the ‘grand narrative’, the fiction of the omniscient narrator.

Why?

For over a century, ACD canon has been read in the same way: as the most archetypally logical detective story available to us. The fact that the canon is a huge mess of inconsistencies, requiring the collective effort of thousands of people to pick away at, is typically explained by the idea of an omniscient but uncaring storyteller: Arthur Conan Doyle.

This is particularly ironic for a fandom which supposedly wishes to disavow the existence of an author at all.

And yet, the problem is, if you don’t slip into extra-universe speculations on ACD’s attitude to Sherlock Holmes, you have to face head-on the conclusion that Watson is a very, very unreliable narrator indeed.

And you have to face why.

@devoursjohnlock @garkgatiss @221bloodnun @tjlcisthenewsexy @may-shepard

#sherlock meta #hawksmoor #bbc sherlock #acd canon #historiographic metafiction #postmodern detective fiction #hawksmoor17

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ucflibrary · 6 years

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Hispanic Heritage Month, established in 1988, runs from September 15 through October 15. It recognizes and celebrates the contributions of Hispanic and Latino Americans have made to the United States. Florida in particular has a strong Hispanic legacy including the oldest inhabited city in the U.S., St. Augustine, which was founded in 1565 by the Spanish. Later this fall, UCF will celebrate our new status as a Hispanic-serving institution which means more than 25% of our enrolled students identify as Hispanic.

Join the UCF Libraries as we celebrate our favorite Hispanic authors and books. Click on the Keep Reading link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links for the featured Back-so-School titles suggested by UCF Library employees. These 14 books plus many more are also on display on the 2nd (main) floor of the John C. Hitt Library next to the bank of two elevators.

By Night in Chile by Roberto Bolaño As through a crack in the wall, By Night in Chile's single night-long rant provides a terrifying, clandestine view of the strange bedfellows of Church and State in Chile. This wild, eerily compact novel—Roberto Bolano's first work available in English—recounts the tale of a poor boy who wanted to be a poet, but ends up a half-hearted Jesuit priest and a conservative literary critic, a sort of lap dog to the rich and powerful cultural elite, in whose villas he encounters Pablo Neruda and Ernst Junger. Father Urrutia is offered a tour of Europe by agents of Opus Dei (to study "the disintegration of the churches," a journey into realms of the surreal); and ensnared by this plum, he is next assigned—after the destruction of Allende—the secret, never-to-be-disclosed job of teaching Pinochet, at night, all about Marxism, so the junta generals can know their enemy. Soon, searingly, his memories go from bad to worse. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Elizabeth Catlett: An American artist in Mexico by Melanie Anne Herzog In tracing Catlett’s long and continuing career as a graphic artist and sculptor in Mexico, Herzog explores an important period in Catlett’s life between the 1950s and the 1970s about which almost nothing is known in the United States. She examines the “Mexicanness” in Catlett’s work in its fluent relationship to the underlying and constant sense of African American identity she brought with her to Mexico. Herzog’s solidly grounded interpretation offers a new way to understand Catlett’s work and reveals this artist as a fascinating and pivotal intercultural figure whose powerful art manifests her firm belief that the visual arts can play a role in the construction of a meaningful identity, both transnational and ethnically grounded. Suggested by Peggy Nuhn, UCF Connect

Esperanza Rising by Pam Muoz Ryan Esperanza thought she'd always live with her family on their ranch in Mexico--she'd always have fancy dresses, a beautiful home, and servants. But a sudden tragedy forces Esperanza and Mama to flee to California during the Great Depression, and to settle in a camp for Mexican farm workers. Esperanza isn't ready for the hard labor, financial struggles, or lack of acceptance she now faces. When their new life is threatened, Esperanza must find a way to rise above her difficult circumstances--Mama's life, and her own, depend on it. Suggested by Peggy Nuhn, UCF Connect

Fruit of the Drunken Tree by Ingrid Contrearas Inspired by the author's own life, and told through the alternating perspectives of the willful Chula and the achingly hopeful Petrona, Fruit of the Drunken Tree contrasts two very different, but inextricably linked coming-of-age stories. In lush prose, Rojas Contreras has written a powerful testament to the impossible choices women are often forced to make in the face of violence and the unexpected connections that can blossom out of desperation. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Hot soles in Harlem by Emilio Díaz Valcarcel Gerardo Sanchez is not the average Puerto Rican immigrant to New York City: he is ironically blessed with blond hair and blue eyes, fair skin, and the good fortune to have met Aleluya, an intrepid guide to the "New Yorkian" world, on his first day in the city. Gerardo's contact with this mysterious intellectual - whose comings and goings are always surrounded by explosions - takes him into the slums of Harlem, the penthouses of Fifth Avenue, and the intellectual circles of New York. Guided by Aleluya, Gerardo meets characters from all walks of life - an unscrupulous restaurant inspector, an Alabaman bartender named Dutch, and Moira, a bewitching Greek model. His experiences unfold in a curious mixture of Spanish and English, punctuated by the sounds of immigrant voices creating dynamic new forms of expression. Published for the first time in English translation, Hot Soles in Harlem is a tribute to the creative power of New York City and the rich and diverse life it sustains. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter by Erika L. Sanchez When the sister who delighted their parents by her faithful embrace of Mexican culture dies in a tragic accident, Julia, who longs to go to college and move into a home of her own, discovers from mutual friends that her sister may not have been as perfect as believed. Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

I am not a tractor!: how Florida farmworkers took on the fast food giants and won by Susan L. Marquis I Am Not a Tractor! celebrates the courage, vision, and creativity of the farmworkers and community leaders who have transformed one of the worst agricultural situations in the United States into one of the best. Susan L. Marquis highlights past abuses workers suffered in Florida’s tomato fields: toxic pesticide exposure, beatings, sexual assault, rampant wage theft, and even, astonishingly, modern-day slavery. Marquis unveils how, even without new legislation, regulation, or government participation, these farmworkers have dramatically improved their work conditions. Marquis credits this success to the immigrants from Mexico, Haiti, and Guatemala who formed the Coalition of Immokalee Workers, a neuroscience major who takes great pride in the watermelon crew he runs, a leading farmer/grower who was once homeless, and a retired New York State judge who volunteered to stuff envelopes and ended up building a groundbreaking institution. Through the Fair Food Program that they have developed, fought for, and implemented, these people have changed the lives of more than thirty thousand field workers.Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Cordova The only way to get her family back is to travel to a land in between, as dark as Limbo and as strange as Wonderland. Alex is a bruja, the most powerful witch in a generation...and she hates magic. At her Deathday celebration, Alex performs a spell to rid herself of her power. But it backfires. Her whole family vanishes into thin air, leaving her alone with Nova, a brujo boy she's not sure she can trust, but who may be Alex's only chance at saving her family. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Latina/o Stars in U.S. Eyes: the makings and meanings of film and TV stardom by Mary C. Beltrán This book explores the role film and television stardom has played in establishing, reinforcing, and challenging popular ethnic notions of Latina/os in the United States since the silent film era of the 1920s. In addition to documenting the importance of Latina and Latino stars to American film and television history, Mary C. Beltrán focuses on key moments in the construction of "Hollywood Latinidad" by analyzing the public images of these stars as promoted by Hollywood film studios, television networks, producers, and the performers themselves. Critically surveying the careers of such film and television stars as Dolores Del Rio, Desi Arnaz, Rita Moreno, Freddie Prinze, Edward James Olmos, Jessica Alba, and Jennifer Lopez, Latina/o Stars in U.S. Eyes also addresses the impact of the rise in Latina and Latino media producers and the current status of Latina/o stardom. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

Latino Images in Film: stereotypes, subversion, resistance by Charles Ramirez Berg The bandido, the harlot, the male buffoon, the female clown, the Latin lover, and the dark lady—these have been the defining, and demeaning, images of Latinos in U.S. cinema for more than a century. In this book, Charles Ramírez Berg develops an innovative theory of stereotyping that accounts for the persistence of such images in U.S. popular culture. He also explores how Latino actors and filmmakers have actively subverted and resisted such stereotyping. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

Shadowshaper by Daniel José Older Sierra Santiago planned an easy summer of making art and hanging out with her friends. But then a corpse crashes their first party. Her stroke-ridden grandfather starts apologizing over and over. And when the murals in her neighborhood begin to weep tears... Well, something more sinister than the usual Brooklyn ruckus is going on. With the help of a fellow artist named Robbie, Sierra discovers shadowshaping, a magic that infuses ancestral spirits into paintings, music, and stories. But someone is killing the shadowshapers one by one. Now Sierra must unravel her family's past, take down the killer in the present, and save the future of shadowshaping for generations to come. Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

Super Extra Grande by Yoss In a distant future in which Latin Americans have pioneered faster-than-light space travel, Dr. Jan Amos Sangan Dongo has a job with large and unusual responsibilities: he’s a veterinarian who specializes in treating enormous alien animals. Mountain-sized amoebas, multisex species with bizarre reproductive processes, razor-nailed, carnivorous humanoid hunters: Dr. Sangan has seen it all. When a colonial conflict threatens the fragile peace between the galaxy’s seven intelligent species, he must embark on a daring mission through the insides of a gigantic creature and find two swallowed ambassadors—who also happen to be his competing love interests. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

The Assimilated Cuban’s Guide to Quantum Santeria by Carlos Hernandez Assimilation is founded on surrender and being broken. This collection of short stories features people who have assimilated, but are actively trying to reclaim their lives. There is a concert pianist who defies death by uploading his soul into his piano. There is the person who draws his mother's ghost out of the bullet hole in the wall near where she was executed. Another character has a horn growing out of the center of his forehead--punishment for an affair. But he is too weak to end it, too much in love to be moral. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

The Regional Office is Under Attack! by Manuel Gonzales When a prophecy suggests that an insider might bring about the downfall of a powerful underground organization known as the Regional Office, devoted recruit Sarah and young assassin Rose find their respective lives clashing in a dispute that threatens everything they know. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

The Weight of Feathers by Anna-Marie McLemore For twenty years, the Palomas and the Corbeaus have been rivals and enemies, locked in an escalating feud for over a generation. Both families make their living as traveling performers in competing shows-the Palomas swimming in mermaid exhibitions, the Corbeaus, former tightrope walkers, performing in the tallest trees they can find. Lace Paloma may be new to her family's show, but she knows as well as anyone that the Corbeaus are pure magia negra, black magic from the devil himself. Simply touching one could mean death, and she's been taught from birth to keep away. But when disaster strikes the small town where both families are performing, it's a Corbeau boy, Cluck, who saves Lace's life. And his touch immerses her in the world of the Corbeaus, where falling for him could turn his own family against him, and one misstep can be just as dangerous on the ground as it is in the trees. Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

When I was Puerto Rican by Esmeralda Santiago In a childhood full of tropical beauty and domestic strife, poverty and tenderness, Esmeralda Santiago learned the proper way to eat a guava, the sound of tree frogs, the taste of morcilla, and the formula for ushering a dead baby's soul to heaven. But when her mother, Mami, a force of nature, takes off to New York with her seven, soon to be eleven children, Esmeralda, the oldest, must learn new rules, a new language, and eventually a new identity. In the first of her three acclaimed memoirs, Esmeralda brilliantly recreates her tremendous journey from the idyllic landscape and tumultuous family life of her earliest years, to translating for her mother at the welfare office, and to high honors at Harvard. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

#hispanic heritage month #booklr #book suggestions #ucf libraries bookshelf #featured bookshelf #ucf library

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dfroza · 3 years

Text

Paul illuminates the significance of writing to convey thoughts

in Today’s reading of the Scriptures with the 3rd chapter of the Letter of Philippians:

“This is true righteousness, supplied by God, acquired by faith. I want to know Him inside and out.”

[Philippians 3]

It is time that I wrap up these thoughts to you, my brothers and sisters. Rejoice in the Lord! (I don’t mind writing these things over and over to you, as I know it keeps you safe.)

Watch out for the dogs—wicked workers who run in packs looking for someone to maul with their false circumcision.

We are the true circumcision—those who worship God in Spirit and make our boast in Jesus the Anointed, the Liberating King—so we do not rely on what we have accomplished in the flesh.

If any try to throw around their pedigrees to you, remember my résumé—which is more impressive than theirs. I was circumcised on the eighth day—as the law prescribes—born of the nation of Israel, descended from the tribe of Benjamin. I am a Hebrew born of Hebrews; I have observed the law according to the strict piety of the Pharisees, separate from those embracing a less rigorous kind of Judaism. Zealous? Yes. I ruthlessly pursued and persecuted the church. And when it comes to the righteousness required by the law, my record is spotless.

But whatever I used to count as my greatest accomplishments, I’ve written them off as a loss because of the Anointed One. And more so, I now realize that all I gained and thought was important was nothing but yesterday’s garbage compared to knowing the Anointed Jesus my Lord. For Him I have thrown everything aside—it’s nothing but a pile of waste—so that I may gain Him. When it counts, I want to be found belonging to Him, not clinging to my own righteousness based on law, but actively relying on the faithfulness of the Anointed One. This is true righteousness, supplied by God, acquired by faith. I want to know Him inside and out. I want to experience the power of His resurrection and join in His suffering, shaped by His death, so that I may arrive safely at the resurrection from the dead.

I’m not there yet, nor have I become perfect; but I am charging on to gain anything and everything the Anointed One, Jesus, has in store for me—and nothing will stand in my way because He has grabbed me and won’t let me go. Brothers and sisters, as I said, I know I have not arrived; but there’s one thing I am doing: I’m leaving my old life behind, putting everything on the line for this mission. I am sprinting toward the only goal that counts: to cross the line, to win the prize, and to hear God’s call to resurrection life found exclusively in Jesus the Anointed. All of us who are mature ought to think the same way about these matters. If you have a different attitude, then God will reveal this to you as well. For now, let’s hold on to what we have been shown and keep in step with these teachings.

Imitate me, brothers and sisters, and look around to those already following the example we have set. I have warned you before (and now say again through my tears) that we have many enemies—people who reject the cross of the Anointed. They are ruled by their bellies, their glory comes by shame, and their minds are fixed on the things of this world. They are doomed. But we are citizens of heaven, exiles on earth waiting eagerly for a Liberator, our Lord Jesus the Anointed, to come and transform these humble, earthly bodies into the form of His glorious body by the same power that brings all things under His control.

The Letter of Philippians, Chapter 3 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 13th chapter of the book of Jeremiah that continues with Judgment for idolatry and lies:

The Eternal directed me.

Eternal One: Go and buy a linen undergarment; put it around your waist next to your body beneath your clothes, but do not wash it.

So I bought the undergarment, just as the Eternal had told me, and put it around my waist. Then the Eternal spoke to me a second time.

Eternal One: Now take off this undergarment you’ve purchased and have been wearing around your waist, and go to the Euphrates. I want you to hide it in a crevice in the rocks there.

So I took the undergarment to the Euphrates and hid it in the rocks, just as the Eternal told me. After many days had passed, the Eternal spoke to me a third time.

Eternal One: Now go back to the Euphrates, and get the linen undergarment I told you to hide there.

When I went back and dug up this garment from the place where I’d hidden it, I found it had begun to rot. This garment that was once new and clean was now completely worthless. The word of the Eternal came to me to drive home His point.

Eternal One: Mark My words, for the same thing will happen to the pride of Judah and the great pride of Jerusalem. I will ruin these haughty and wicked people who ignore My words, who follow their own stubborn hearts, who run after other gods, who bow down to lifeless idols. They will end up like this rotten undergarment in your hands—completely worthless! Just as the undergarment clings to a person’s waist, so did I, the Eternal One, make Israel and Judah to cling tightly to Me. They were to be My people, known by all, bringing honor and glory to My name. That was My plan for them, but they did not listen.

Eternal One: Speak this word to the people as well: “Listen to what the Eternal, the God of Israel, has to say: ‘Every jug will be filled with wine.’ When they respond, ‘Tell us something we don’t already know, prophet! Don’t you think we know that every jug will be filled with wine?’ Go on telling them, ‘This is what the Eternal says: “I am going to fill all who live in this land with drunkenness—the kings who sit on David’s throne, the priests, the false prophets, and all the citizens of Jerusalem. And then I will smash them together in confusion and panic—smashing fathers against sons in the chaos of the enemy invasion. I will have no pity on them. My sorrow or compassion will not keep Me from ruining them.”’”

Listen carefully to me!

Stop being so smug, because the Eternal has spoken.

It is time to honor the Eternal your God before He makes the darkness fall

and you stumble on the darkening mountains.

You will long for the light,

but He will make the darkness deepen as the gloom settles in.

If you still won’t listen, I will weep for you in secret.

From the depths of my soul, I will cry bitter tears,

Because the Eternal’s own flock will be taken captive.

Tell the king and the queen mother:

“Come down from your thrones, and take a seat in a humble place,

for your glorious crowns will be taken from you.”

The cities in the Negev have already shut their gates.

There will be no one to open them.

The people of Judah will be taken captive,

all of them carried away into exile.

(to Jerusalem) Now look to the north and see who is marching toward you.

Where is the beautiful flock that was entrusted to you?

What will you say when He appoints your so-called allies,

the very ones you trained, to rule over you?

Will not the pain stab at you

as it does a woman in childbirth?

When you begin to ask yourself, “Why is all this happening to me?”

know this: it is because of the weight of your sins.

This is why your enemies will tear off your skirts and violate your bodies.

And still, you will not change.

Can the Ethiopian change his skin?

Can a leopard change its spots?

It seems just as unlikely that you will change your ways and do good,

when you are so used to doing evil—it has become such a part of you.

Eternal One (to His people): This is why I will scatter you

like chaff driven by the desert wind.

This is now your fate—retribution measured out for you from the Eternal—

for you have forgotten Me and trusted in the lies of another.

For all this, I will be the One who lifts your skirts over your face,

exposing you and letting others see your disgrace.

As for your faithlessness, your adulteries and your lustful ways,

as for the degrading way you prostitute yourself to other gods out in the open, I see it all.

For all this, your fate is sealed. O Jerusalem—how bad it will be for you!

How long before you are clean again?

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 13 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, August 26 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the sacred promise of being in Love:

“I go to prepare a place for you... on the other side of this veil; the place of my secret chamber. Look into my eyes before I go; see my heart's passion: I am aflame for you, and yet I must go; I must... There is no other way but through, through the waste places, into the darkest pitch, across that chasm... But don't let your heart be troubled, for this demonstrates my love and seals my word to you forever. And though we must be apart for a season, I swear I will come again for you, to take you through this veil to be with me forever. Do not lose heart, my beloved. I am coming soon; my hand is upon the door...”

Do you have trouble receiving these words as your own? Henri Nouwen keenly wrote: “There are two realities to which you must cling. First, God has promised that you will receive the love you have been searching for, and second, God is faithful to that promise.” You must believe the “yes” that comes back when you ask, “Do you love me?” You must choose this “yes” even when you do not experience it” (Voice of Love). You have to trust the place that is solid, despite the gnawing sense of inner emptiness and the inevitable changes of life... [Hebrew for Christians]

8.25.21 • Facebook

and another about being in Light:

In the Gospel of John it is recorded that Yeshua said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life" (i.e., ᾽Εγώ εἰμι ἡ ὁδὸς καὶ ἡ ἀλήθεια καὶ ἡ ζωή), no one can come to the Father apart from my hand" (John 14:6). The Greek word translated "truth" in this verse is aletheia (ἀλήθεια), a compound word formed from an alpha prefix (α-) meaning "not," and lethei (λήθη), meaning "forgetfulness." Truth is therefore a kind of "remembering" something forgotten, or a recollecting of what is essentially real. Etymologically, the word aletheia suggests that truth is also "unforgettable" (i.e., not lethei), that is, it has its own inherent and irresistible "witness" to reality. People may pretend or even lie to themselves, but ultimately the truth has the final word... "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:5).

"For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light (Psalm 36:9). When you enter a dark room with a lamp, the darkness flees and is overcome by the light. So also with teshuvah: When we turn to the Lord spiritual darkness is overcome by the Divine Radiance. In Yeshua is life, the light of the world; those who receive Him behold ohr ha’chayim (אוֹר הַחַיִּים) - the “light of life.”

During this Season of Teshuvah -- and always -- may the LORD God of Israel help us walk in the unforgettable and irrepressible radiance of His glory. May God help us shine with good works that glorify God's Name (Matt. 5:16). "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness' (יְהִי אוֹר וַיְהִי־אוֹר), has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the Glory of God in the face of Yeshua the Messiah" (2 Cor. 4:6). [Hebrew for Christians]

8.26.21 • Facebook

from an email by Glenn Jackson that reflects upon (A secret elopement):

August 26th

* According to My divine Justice, Truth must be revealed, in His Absoluteness, to the masses in this final hour. And, as the Spirit of Truth is poured out upon all mankind [through a Glorious Church] it will SURELY turn the world "upside down" - and only those who have made the steadfast choice to harden their heart against me shall remain under the "deceptive practices" of the Evil One.

For in these days, the knowledge of My Glory [manifested Presence] shall begin to "flood" the earth as never before and the Enemy and his schemes shall be put to flight at every turn. This will usher in a "torrent" of My divine Prosperity and Goodness [divine Favor] in the midst of My people that will lead vast multitudes into an "exact" [revelative] knowledge of My true Nature and Character - and, then, in a short while, I shall "catch up" all those who have truly aligned their hearts with Me and there will be a glorious Feast in Heaven for seven years.

THEN, after that time, we shall mount our final attack on the Evil One and his forces - and, in defeat, he shall be chained in the "bottomless pit" - and, so, shall My Dear Son establish the fullness of His divine Government in the earth for a thousand years.

...."For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words".... 1 Thessalonians 4:15-18 NASB

...."And a voice came from the throne, saying, "Give praise to our God, all you His bond-servants, you who fear Him, the small and the great." Then I heard something like the voice of a great multitude and like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, saying, "Hallelujah! For the Lord our God, the Almighty, reigns. "Let us rejoice and be glad and give the glory to Him, for the marriage of the Lamb has come and His bride has made herself ready." It was given to her to clothe herself in fine linen, bright and clean; for the fine linen is the righteous acts of the saints. Then he *said to me, "Write, 'Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.'" And he *said to me, "These are true words of God."... Revelation 19:5-9 NASB

"These will wage war against the Lamb, and the Lamb will overcome them, because He is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those who are with Him are the called and chosen and faithful".... Revelation 17:14 NASB

...."And I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse, and He who sat on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and wages war. His eyes are a flame of fire, and on His head are many diadems; and He has a name written on Him which no one knows except Himself. He is clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God. And the armies which are in heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, were following Him on white horses. From His mouth comes a sharp sword, so that with it He may strike down the nations, and He will rule them with a rod of iron; and He treads the wine press of the fierce wrath of God, the Almighty. And on His robe and on His thigh He has a name written, "KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS".... Revelation 19:11-16 NASB

...."And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, and cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be loosed a little season".... Revelation 20:1-3 NASB

...."And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away." And He who sits on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." And He *said, "Write, for these words are faithful and true".... Revelation 21:3-5 NASB

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

August 26, 2021

Our Rock: The Creator

“Of the Rock that begat thee thou art unmindful, and hast forgotten God that formed thee.” (Deuteronomy 32:18)

Just before his death, Moses predicted the coming apostasy of Israel in a prophetic “history” of Israel. Not only did his prophecy come true for the nation of Israel, but the same could be said for much of Western Christianity today.

Moses recounted the fact that Israel had been blessed greatly of the Lord, but instead of drawing closer to Him, they grew “fat, and...Forsook God which made [them], and lightly esteemed the Rock of [their] salvation” (Deuteronomy 32:15). The use of the term “rock” refers to the rock that Moses struck, yielding water to sustain them in the parched desert region. The rock followed the people on their journeys and provided an ever-present reminder of God’s marvelous provision. (If one should further doubt as to the identity of the Rock, “that Rock was Christ,” 1 Corinthians 10:4.) They totally forgot, however, the God of their creation and salvation, and sacrificed to demons, old gods, and to any new gods around (Deuteronomy 32:17).

God has given us life, and without His daily sustenance all life would cease. How foolish it is to attempt to live life without the One “that begat” us—who gave us life and even now maintains it. All too often the Creator God is excluded from our churches, our government, and our schools. Even many Christians live their lives as practical atheists, making decisions and living their lives just as if no God exists. Let us recommit ourselves to giving the rightful place in our lives and in our sphere of influence to “the Rock that begat” us.

“I will publish the name of the LORD: ascribe ye greatness unto our God. He is the Rock, his work is perfect; for all his ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity, just and right is he” (Deuteronomy 32:3-4). JDM

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dailyaudiobible · 6 years

Text

11/28/2018 DAB Transcript

Daniel 5:1-31, 2 Peter 2:1-22, Psalms 119:113-128, Proverbs 28:19-20

Today is the 28th day of November. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. 28th day of November, friends. That only gives us a couple of days to finish this month strong and move into the 12th month of the year. And, so, that's what we’ve come here to do. We’re reading from the Contemporary English Version this week. We have begun the book of Daniel, which we will continue to read and then we began second Peter yesterday and we will continue with that letter we get to the New Testament, but first Daniel 5:1-31.

Commentary:

Alright. So, in our reading from 2 Peter today, we experience a bit of a tirade from the apostle Peter against false teachers. And these were people who had come to faith and even to prominence, right? So, like even to standing, maybe even teachers, but they were falling away from the core essentials of the gospel and then were leading other people to do the same. And it wasn't just matters of doctrine. These people were using their gifting to exploit the week. So, quoting Peter, “They have done evil and they will be rewarded with evil. They think it's fun to have wild parties during the day. They are immoral and the meals they eat with you are spoiled by the shameful and selfish way they carry on. All they think about is having sex with someone else's husband or wife. There is no end to their wicked deeds. They trick people who are easily fooled, and their minds are filled with greedy thoughts, but they are headed for trouble.” So, I mean, we can see why Peter is less than fond of these people. And if that wasn't clear enough, all we have to do is hear what he has to say. “These people are no better than senseless animals that live by their feelings and are born to be caught and killed. They speak evil of things they don't know anything about but their own corrupt deeds will destroy them.” So, he's being blunt. He’s being like James I mean, we’re not…were not confused about what he's trying to say; however, it should be noted that the kind of false teacher Peter described, this is not…this is not the same as this modern custom that we see of mislabeling as a false teacher anybody who asks important and difficult questions of our faith. That is not the same thin. Wrestling with our faith in pursuit of revelation and understanding and insight, this has always been a part of the Christian tradition. But when dogma turns into cement then we’ve got a problem. And, you know, if you’re a little more on the legalistic persuasion you could even think that what I'm saying is wishy-washy, but the reality is just in the Bible. The church was struggling from the very, very beginning and it's all throughout the letters. And what were some of their earliest struggles? Some of the earliest struggles were whether or not Gentile people could even be Christians. That was a big struggle and they had to wrestle, and they disagreed, and it was a mess in the early church. And so much of the writings from the apostle Paul and like even what we’re reading in second Peter, so much of the persecution that had broken out was because of this decision. So, wresting and asking questions, pursuing understanding is a part of our tradition. Peter's distinction was that false teachers were intentionally, right, like, they weren’t pursuing understanding or seeking God, they were intentionally and maliciously deceiving God's people for their own personal gain. He describes them like this, “These people are like dried-up waterholes and clouds blown by a windstorm. The darkest part of hell is waiting for them. They brag out loud about their stupid nonsense and by being vulgar and crude they trap people who have barely escaped from living the wrong kind of life. They promise freedom to everyone, but they are merely slaves of filthy living because people are slaves of whatever controls them.” So that last thing Peter had to say should catch us for second. If there’s is one thing that we could recite before we engage in any conversation or before we make any decision today, anything that we could put in front of ourselves that could change the course of the day for good it would be, “I am a slave to whatever controls me.” So, let's put that into practice today. Every conversation, right, every decision - I am a slave to whatever controls me - and see what that does for the day. But Peter wasn't discussing mantras, like things we can say to help us get through the day. He was discussing the characteristics of false teachers and we finally found out why he was so upset as we came to the conclusion of our reading today. So, Peter says, “When they learned about our Lord Jesus, when they learned about the Savior, they escaped from the filthy things of this world, but they are again caught up and controlled by these filthy things and Now they are in worse shape than they were at first. They would've been better off if they had never known about the right way. Even after they knew what was right, they turned their backs on the holy commandments that they were given. What happened to them is just like the true saying, a dog will come back to lick up its own vomit.” Alight. So, even though Peter is speaking pretty directly and forcefully against false teachers who were leading people into sin, it was the people who fell into sin that Peter was concerned about. And, so, in that context we’re left with some pretty poignant imagery - a dog returning to its vomit. So, we’ve probably all seen it right? Like, Rover is out in the yard or in the kitchen and barfs. And if they’re left alone they’ll walk in a circle a couple times, right, and then come back with their nose - nice full nostril inhale. And maybe a couple more circles and then they’ll come back and eat it. That's disgusting, right? So, here's the kicker. When we return to our sinful past. It's like puking in a bowl and eating it like soup. It should sound disgusting, because according to Peter it is disgusting. So, let's consider the starkness of what is known to be the final writings of the apostle Peter's life and let's apply that starkness to the context of our own lives. Exactly what sewage are we continually returning to because we have been deceived into believing that it's somehow desirous. What influences do we have over those around us that we might invite them to do the same thing? Because this is what Peter was talking about in our reading today. These are tough but they’re important questions. Why would we choose eating out of a toilet over the banquet God has prepared for us? Let’s invite the Holy Spirit into these questions because we are a slave to whatever controls us.

Prayer:

Father, we invite You into that. There's just a lot there. There’s just a ton there. We do find ourselves making big circles and little circles in our lives and we end up where we started on some things and it's like returning to our vomit when we are…when we are returning to things of old or like resurrecting something that's dead and trying to carry it around like it's alive, and it weighs us down, it beats us up, and then we blame You. And there’s just a lot here. And, so, we invite You into it. We don't want to live this way. We don't have to live this way. We can walk one step forward every day toward sanctification and holiness, it's our prerogative. You offered the path. You’ve paved the way. And most the time we’re just not choosing to walk it. So, thank You for the starkness today of seeing what we’re doing as returning to our own sewage and eating it. Help us to remember that imagery Lord as we continue to walk forward with You so that we can see things as they are, not as we have been deceived to believe they are. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In Jesus’ name we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudibible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what's going on around here.

And for the last week we’ve been talking about the Daily Audio Bible family Christmas Box for 2018. And yes, that is available. And yes, you can find it at dailyaudiobible.com in the shop in the Christmas section.

However, we have another announcement to make today and there's no one better to make this announcement then the most beautiful redhead in all of the world, my wife, Jill

Jill: Thanks babe, flattery…flattery gets you everywhere. So, it’s true. We have a very special announcement. Every year when I get ready to announce More gathering, I say that I'm more excited this year than any other year and I say that because it's true you. You would think it gets old but the anticipation, the excitement, the palpable energy, it's true. I get more excited every year about what God is gonna do. With that being said, this year, More Gathering 2019, I have the bittersweet pleasure of announcing that this is our final year at Sharp Top camp in Jasper Georgia. This has been what Brian and I have been sensing the last couple of years and we just…we waited…we waited to make sure that our sense was right, that it was from the Lord, that it wasn't just us feeling tired or, you know, just emotional, or just feeling the distance of travel. It was something that we were sensing and did not even no it until we came together and had a conversation. And both of our senses were the same. And, so, after much prayer, much consideration, this will be the last year that more gathering will be in Jasper George. Now, with that being said, I cannot at this time announce what More Gathering 2020 will look like, because I don't know at this point. I am not worried. I am not anxious. I am not concerned with where were going. I believe God knows. I fully believe and trust that when I'm supposed to know, He’ll make that inevitably clear and I’m actually quite excited, quite tickled about that because that's the journey with God. We walk blindly by faith. We trust Him to provide. We trust Him that He knows, that He's already taken care of it. And, so, we're just gonna walk, and we’re gonna obey, and we are going to celebrate this last year together at Sharp Top in Jasper George 2019. Now, if you've been on the fence and said, I need this mountaintop experience, which you hear other women talk about, this is the year for you to come. This is it. This is the last chance. And I can tell you that if you're wondering about any of it - the lodging everything - it is the most spectacular food experience. Sit down hot meals. The grounds are phenomenal. It’s just…the whole thing…I cannot say enough how impeccable the camp has served us, the staff, the team at Sharp top. I am eternally grateful for all that they have done. They have exceeded every single expectation in the weekends that they have provided for us. That part I will absolutely miss, the excellence that we are served with, the excellence that a just operate every day in. Like, well done. Well done young life and Sharp Top. So, here's the deal. We usually offer some sort of discount up to a certain time. If you take part in that, you'll save money. We have done away with that this year. We have we are offering the absolute lowest price possible to make it affordable for you to come. So, if you're waiting for, you know, a promotion our discount, that's not happening this year. This is the rock-bottom flat rate price that we can offer to you. Now if this is your first time and you have never been and you need a private room, I’m gonna tell you right now, those private rooms are gonna be to first to go. They will go fast and we never have enough to sell because everyone wants a private room. Don't let that stop you. There’s something beautiful happens in the rooms. The friendships that are forged, they last a lifetime. I mean, it's truly amazing and spectacular to see those friendships and how they blossoming and the reunions that women continue to have year after year because they went through something deep and beautiful together and together is how it's supposed to be done. So, this is it. This is your last chance to come to the end of an era and we’re gonna celebrate together. That's what we’re gonna do, celebrate the end of an era together and we are going to celebrate going forward. Sign up dailyaudiobible.com or moregathering.com. Now, the last thing that I want to say ism we always, always have women that cannot afford to go that want to be able to be there. And maybe you know that you absolutely cannot go but you can afford to send somebody. I wish I could tell you the gift that it is that you would be giving to a woman in need. I wish I could tell you the transformation that I see on women's physical faces and the posture that takes place over the course of the weekend of women who just walk in bearing the burdens of life and literally carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders and leave free because they know who they are because God has met them there and spoken specifically to the spirit of who He calls them to be, who he says they. And seeing freedom take place…well…I can tell you…there's no greater gift. It takes all of us. It takes all of us doing our part and doing what we can. If that’s you and you know that you can help give and you would like to be a part of that and that way you can email me at [email protected]. And for those of you that can. I just want to say thank you in advance. Thank you for the gift of freedom that you have already given to some women. A lot of times assistance comes in at the end and there's not enough time for women to get all of the pieces in order that they need to come because where women. You know, we’ve gotta take care of the food and the kids and all of the things that we take care of. So, we’re mentioning it now while there’s time for women to get all of the things done. So, that’s it. This is the big announcement. It’s the last year at Sharp Top. We hope that you will join us for the end of an era, the final the final frontier in Georgia, in Jasper Georgette. We are gonna finish well and strong and then we are going to wait with anticipation to see what God does next.

Brian: Amen to that. And yes, to everything you’ve said, everything that Jill has said is right. So registration for the More Gathering 2019 that will take place in the mountains of Georgia for the final time is open now at dailyaudiobible.com in the Initiatives section. And if this has been something that you’ve desired to come to for years then this is the time. And we always…you know…like…we could weight to the beginning of the new year to start talking about the More Gathering, but it is such a unique and fantastic Christmas gift that we talk about it now because it's like…give the gift of freedom…the gift of more in life. We think that is that is the gift we are all looking for. So check it out. You can you can register for More Gathering 2019 now.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible in the common mission that we share to bring the spoken word of God to anyone who will listen anywhere on this planet any time of day or night and to keep building community through things like the More Gathering around this rhythm so that we know that we know that we’re not coping through this alone, we have brothers and sisters all over the world. If that has brought light and good news into your world, then thank you for your partnership. There's a link on the homepage dailyaudiobible.com. If you're using the Daily Audio Bible press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello Daily Audio Bible family, this is Sheila from Massachusetts. It’s been a very long time since I’ve called in, but I am listening to you all daily, and praying for you all regularly. I’m calling today specifically to pray for Linda. Linda, I heard your call yesterday of the day before. Your family is divided, and you are going through some hard times. You talked about having relationship problems and noticing patterns in the past, that you just need to make some changes. I just praise God that we can sit back sometimes and look at ourselves, take stock, and recognize where we need to change. With the help of Jesus Christ, Linda, you have the ability to make those changes and experience the most wonderful relationship in your life. You said that almost daily you think about suicide. You said that you wouldn’t do it. I want you to make a promise to all of us as your Daily Audio Bible family. I want to look in the mirror, look yourself in the eyes and say I am a child of God, I am loved by God, I am so precious, I am so beautiful, I am so wonderful, He is things in store for me that I don’t even know and I could never ever, ever interfere with that plan by taking my own life. Sister, please, look in the mirror, make that declaration. We love you, your Daily Audio Bible family loves you, I love you as a sister in Christ, and I am praying for you. Family, I hope everyone has the love of Jesus in their hearts through the holidays and we’re saying hallelujah no matter what if. Talk to you all later…

Hi Daily Audio Bible family, my name is Paula and I’m calling from England and have got a praise report. I thought in the grace of Thanksgiving I would share my praise report. I’ve been being a listener for over 10 years now and I haven’t called as often as I should. I probably have called…I don’t know…on average probably once a year, but many, many years ago I called regarding my work situation and things weren’t going really well. I wanted to leave my job and at that point it was like if God didn’t give me a new job that was it. Anger for unanswered prayers, right? Anyway, I called back to give a praise report that I didn’t get all the jobs I applied for, but God had change the situation, the work situation. I went to a different department, I left the lab, I went to project management and I really, really thrive there. And things changed and I absolutely loved it. And I called back to give a praise report that God __ had a __ opportunity, so I was able to do a fully sponsored PhD by my company alongside my full-time job. Well, obviously it was stressful, so I called back again asking for prayers and, long story short, I did my PhD in just over four years and earlier this year everything was…I submitted my thesis and I did my __ and it went really well and I have my PhD. whoop whoop! And I really just want to say thank you for all you guys. And Brian and Jill, guess what? You guys made it into my thesis. My dedication and acknowledgement and yeah, I mentioned you guys there. My friends Cat and Olga you guys made it to. And the entire DAB family. I mentioned you guys as well. I mean __ was the longest of acknowledgements and dedications I’ve ever seen. I had Bible verses - I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. So yeah, just for all you, that praise report has been really awesome, and God has done so many other things but I think that all the time. __ so, thank you. I love you so much. Take care.

Hi, my name is Deisha. I’m from New York. Today’s November 24th. I’ve been listening to the Daily Audio Bible since December 31, 2016. That day I just didn’t know how I could make it. I was praying for God for breakthrough and he led me to start listening to the podcast and I listened to the Daily Audio and I love you guys, I love you guys from the bottom of my heart. You guys remind me on a daily basis that Jesus is present, and He is real He is with us. Just how you treat each other and Brian what you’ve done is incredible. I can’t thank you enough. I can’t promote you enough. And, you know, if I had more I would give more but I implore everyone to donate to the Daily Audio where you can, 5, 10, 20, 25 or whatever because this family this is so wonderful. I continue to pray for you all and all of your needs. So, I finally got out of my shell and decided that I would call. So, I’m calling because I need to, the message was so on point in obedience, in the way we treat each other, the way husbands and wives are to each other. I pray that my husband and I fall in line with those teachings. I know that my husband loves the Lord and I pray for him and I pray that our marriage just meshes the way that it should. I also pray so much my family. In 2016 my grandfather died, and my family seems to have taken a decline but recently things are just falling apart, and I’m so hurt, and my mom is so hurt. And I just ask that you guys pray for my marriage and my family...

Hi Daily Audio Bible family this is Asia from Chicago. It’s been a while, I haven’t called in a while but I’m really thankful for you guys in a been praying for all of you all and, yeah, it’s…it’s just crazy how much has changed even since I called last. I was really struggling when I called last and I’m doing so much better now. So, praises, all praise to the Lord. He’s so good and I couldn’t have done it without His bride, which is you guys and Brian and Jill. Love you guys. I’m calling specifically today for Asia. Asia is calling Asia. Asia from Chicago calling Asia in Germany. Asia, ever since I heard your prayer a little while ago I just…I’ve wept for you, I’ve prayed for you almost every day, specifically you. So, I just want you to know that I’m really sorry for everything you’re going through and you are…you are thought of, you are loved. All right, in the name of Jesus. Amen. Bye guys.

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dogtraining-blog · 4 years

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General History Of Dogs

In nearly all parts of the world traces of an indigenous dog family are found, the only exceptions being the West Indian Islands, Madagascar, the eastern islands of the Malayan Archipelago, New Zealand, and the Polynesian Islands, where there is no sign that any dog, wolf, or fox has existed as a true aboriginal animal. In the ancient Oriental lands, and generally among the early Mongolians, the dog remained savage and neglected for centuries, prowling in packs, gaunt and wolf-like, as it prowls today through the streets and under the walls of every Eastern city. No attempt was made to allure it into human companionship or to improve it into docility. It is not until we come to examine the records of the higher civilisations of Assyria and Egypt that we discover any distinct varieties of canine form.

==>> Click here to learn Dog’s Brain Training The dog was not greatly appreciated in Palestine, and in both the Old and New Testaments it is commonly spoken of with scorn and contempt as an “unclean beast.” Even the familiar reference to the Sheepdog in the Book of Job “But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock” is not without a suggestion of contempt, and it is significant that the only biblical allusion to the dog as a recognised companion of man occurs in the apocryphal Book of Tobit (v. 16), “So they went forth both, and the young man’s dog with them.”

The great multitude of different breeds of the dog and the vast differences in their size, points, and general appearance are facts which make it difficult to believe that they could have had a common ancestry. One thinks of the difference between the Mastiff and the Japanese Spaniel, the Deerhound and the fashionable Pomeranian, the St. Bernard and the Miniature Black and Tan Terrier, and is perplexed in contemplating the possibility of their having descended from a common progenitor. Yet the disparity is no greater than that between the Shire horse and the Shetland pony, the Shorthorn and the Kerry cattle, or the Patagonian and the Pygmy; and all dog breeders know how easy it is to produce a variety in type and size by studied selection.

==>> Click here to learn Dog’s Brain Training

In order properly to understand this question it is necessary first to consider the identity of structure in the wolf and the dog. This identity of structure may best be studied in a comparison of the osseous system, or skeletons, of the two animals, which so closely resemble each other that their transposition would not easily be detected. The spine of the dog consists of seven vertebrae in the neck, thirteen in the back, seven in the loins, three sacral vertebrae, and twenty to twenty-two in the tail. In both the dog and the wolf there are thirteen pairs of ribs, nine true and four false. Each has forty-two teeth. They both have five front and four hind toes, while outwardly the common wolf has so much the appearance of a large, bare-boned dog, that a popular description of the one would serve for the other. Nor are their habits different. The wolf’s natural voice is a loud howl, but when confined with dogs he will learn to bark. Although he is carnivorous, he will also eat vegetables, and when sickly he will nibble grass. In the chase, a pack of wolves will divide into parties, one following the trail of the quarry, the other endeavouring to intercept its retreat, exercising a considerable amount of strategy, a trait which is exhibited by many of our sporting dogs and terriers when hunting in teams. A further important point of resemblance between the Canis lupus and the Canis familiaris lies in the fact that the period of gestation in both species is sixty-three days. There are from three to nine cubs in a wolf’s litter, and these are blind for twenty-one days. They are suckled for two months, but at the end of that time they are able to eat half-digested flesh disgorged for them by their dam or even their sire.

==>> Click here to learn Dog’s Brain Training

The native dogs of all regions approximate closely in size, coloration, form, and habit to the native wolf of those regions. Of this most important circumstance there are far too many instances to allow of its being looked upon as a mere coincidence. Sir John Richardson, writing in 1829, observed that “the resemblance between the North American wolves and the domestic dog of the Indians is so great that the size and strength of the wolf seems to be the only difference. It has been suggested that the one incontrovertible argument against the lupine relationship of the dog is the fact that all domestic dogs bark, while all wild Canidae express their feelings only by howls. But the difficulty here is not so great as it seems, since we know that jackals, wild dogs, and wolf pups reared by bitches readily acquire the habit. On the other hand, domestic dogs allowed to run wild forget how to bark, while there are some which have not yet learned so to express themselves. The presence or absence of the habit of barking cannot, then, be regarded as an argument in deciding the question concerning the origin of the dog. This stumbling block consequently disappears, leaving us in the position of agreeing with Darwin, whose final hypothesis was that “it is highly probable that the domestic dogs of the world have descended from two good species of wolf (C. lupus and C. latrans), and from two or three other doubtful species of wolves namely, the European, Indian, and North African forms; from at least one or two South American canine species; from several races or species of jackal; and perhaps from one or more extinct species”; and that the blood of these, in some cases mingled together, flows in the veins of our domestic breeds.

==>> Click here to learn Dog’s Brain Training

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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How The Animaniacs Reboot Will Be Both Fresh and Timeless

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Ever since getting the role of Snow Job in the ’80s GI Joe animated series, Rob Paulsen realized that his future was not in a local rock band or appearing in commercials, but in the realm of voice acting. Through the decades, Paulsen has taken on many iconic roles, such as Raphael from the ’80s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Donatello from the 2012 reboot, Carl Wheezer from Jimmy Neutron, Mighty Max, Major Glory from Dexter’s Lab, PJ from Goof Troop, Steelbeak from Darkwing Duck, Buck Tuddrussel from Time Squad, and hundreds more.

He’s also a survivor of throat cancer and recently wrote a book about it called Voice Lessons.

Of course, two of his biggest roles that come to mind are Yakko Warner, Pinky, and Dr. Scratchansniff characters from the beloved animated series Animaniacs. Wouldn’t you know it, that series will be coming back this November!

We got an opportunity to talk with Rob about the show’s big return, his book, and what it’s like to be the voice of so many childhoods.

Den of Geek: My first question is about the Animaniacs reboot. So it’s on its way back, which I think we all collectively need right now.

Rob Paulsen: Amen, my friend.

The characters are, by design, timeless. But it’s been a couple decades, so it’s a new show. What is new to the table? What’s being brought in that’s kind of like, “This is the new show.”

Well, it’s… Here’s a little inside baseball. I saw the opening title scene yesterday for the first time. The “It’s time for Animaniacs…” the little song, right?

Never heard of it.

Right. And it’s so cool because it starts out with what everybody knows. You will watch it. As soon as you hear the first downbeat, you’ll go, “Oh my God. I’m 11. I’m 15,” whatever you were. And then it morphs into this appropriate acknowledgement of the zeitgeist, that is to say, the lyrics already tell you right off the bat that we’re in a different time. The lyrics… and it will take people a few times to listen to because we blow through them pretty quick. I’m not going to give it away because I want you to be surprised, but the lyrics in the opening title scene, they let you know that they’re self-aware. They get that the time we’re in is now, and the Animaniacs understand that.

So right away, it, in my view, dispels any fears of them not being hip or getting it. Right away. It’s just, “Okay. Here’s where we are. We know this was a while ago, but here’s… this is the time it is now, and off we go.” And so you already know, and the episodes do not deviate from that. They are appropriately lampooning with currently sacred cows. And it’s a freaking hoot. I was telling folks yesterday that I’m a little bit concerned when things go so well. It’s crazy how humans react. We’re always… And I understand why, because of the nature of what we’re going through. But that show, when we did it, from a clean sheet of paper, turned out to be what you and I are talking about 25 years later and there are, I don’t even know, tens of millions of fans of Animaniacs and Pinky and the Brain. I know how important this is to Spielberg, which alone makes it a big deal.

I’m used to things where whatever you’re working on was a big deal, was a lot of money, lot of music. Well, we got some things back, and they got to tweak them, and they might push the release back. You’re used to that. Doesn’t mean the shows going to be a piece of junk.

We got the first stuff back, and everybody’s flipping out.

“What did Steven say?”

“Oh, he couldn’t stop laughing.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No. Look at the video.”

I mean, it’s just… It’s going SO WELL. Everybody, from Steven on down… And trust me, these guys are spending a lot of money, pal. And so if they want to have their input, and they’re going “Oh, no, no, no, no. I don’t really like the way Yakko’s head looks.” Trust me. They’ll stop you. Because it’s a shit ton of money! Not mine, but you’re talking about spending 60 million or whatever. It’s a lot of money, and so they’re not going to just say-

“Good enough.”

Right? None of that is happening. Everybody gets it. I think it’s because the people who are making it are your age, within a few years, and they know how high the bar is. And they were inspired to do this gig because of Animaniacs and Pinky and the Brain. So now in the studio, I’ve got to tell you, I’ve seen more than once, men and women writers on the show who will come in and be there when we’re recording, and they sort of get tearful because they think, “Oh my God. I wrote those words, and I hear them coming out of Pinky and the Brain.” That blows my mind, and it’s really cool to watch because it just doesn’t get a representation of how seminal this show was to so many people who are now in creative arts. It’s a wonderful thing to be a part of.

We haven’t seen any of the real footage of the show’s return, so in the meantime, can you give us any completely fake spoilers? Stuff that’s absolutely not going to happen on the show?

Yes. It is absolutely not going to happen that Dolly Parton will sing in the opening title.

Crap.

That will not happen. Dolly Parton, as much as a lovely woman she seems to be, has nothing to do with the opening theme song of Animaniacs. I can guarantee you that. Let’s see. I can tell you this, that so far, there don’t appear to be as many of the secondary characters as there were in the original show. The original show is a variety/magazine type show, which is where Pinky and the Brain obviously got their foothold and turned out to be their own franchise. So right now, we don’t have Rita and Runt, Mindy and Buttons, Katie Ka-Boom, all those other secondary characters. But there are new ones and other ones.

The ethos that Mr. Spielberg and Tom Ruegger created 25 years ago remains, and that is that Yakko, Wakko, and Dot are the ringleaders. Pinky and the Brain, one could argue, could have their own show without Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. They’re a big deal on their own. And so it wouldn’t have made sense to exclude Pinky and the Brain and Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. In other words, they couldn’t redo the whole thing and say, “We’re going to have Gakko, Kakko, and Smakko,” or whatever. It had to be Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. And frankly, it had to be all three voice actors according to Steven because this is Hollywood, and often in animated shows, you’ll see now that they’ll bring in celebrity talent for their celebrity.

And I mean, I’m an old dog in Hollywood. I know how celebrity works. I accept it. All of that. But it is yet another testament to the experience and the heart of a guy like Steven Spielberg who literally can call any actor in the world and say, “We’re redoing Animaniacs.”

“Oh God, I love that show.”

“Yeah. Me too. We just thought that Liam Neeson should be—”

Hahahaha! Oh God. Can you in the Yakko voice say the line, “I have certain skills…”

(Yakko voice) “Oh, yeah. I have certain skills. Yeah, that’s right. I have… ‘certain’ ‘skills’.”

But you see my point. You’re laughing about it, and it’s true. We laugh about it all the time. Check this out. Maurice’s take on it, because he’s been having dreams at night, because there had been rumors for a reboot for a couple years before it happened. And it’s Hollywood. Shit happens and does happen all the time. And so Maurice said, “My worst fear is that they’re going to hire Peter Dinklage as the Brain and Russell Brand as Pinky.”

*cracks up*

Yeah. And I did what you’re doing. I couldn’t stop laughing. I just thought, (Pinky voice) “Egad! You really are a short fellow!”

I’m just imagining the two of them doing live-action cosplay.

Oh, yeah. Right?! No kidding! It’d be fantastic! But again– Isn’t it great that all we’re talking about is making us laugh? That the bottom line is that the unchallenged King of Hollywood chose, and he said it was never a question, never a question of, “How can we make this here work? Should we hire…” I don’t know, give me a famous young female popstar, “to be the voice of Dot. Cross-promote. She’s already got eight million Twitter followers.” All that stuff. That never entered into the equation. It was all about the reason these characters are beloved is for many reasons, and not the least of which are the actors who all can still do it at the same level, and they want to. And so, okay, that’s taken care of. That’s a big deal. Do you know what I mean?

That in and of itself tells you a lot about how important Steven views this property because it was not about who can sell the most merchandise, who’s got the most Twitter followers. It was about this show is a show that’s successful for its own sake. You’re talking to 50% of the Ninja Turtles, pal. I know all about action figures. And I’m very proud of that show still. It will go on and inspire artists for decades to come. But Animaniacs is not about that. And when you have a piece of art for the sake of the art, and Mr. Spielberg utterly gets that, it’s being done for the right reasons. Obviously, there’ll be merchandise. Great. But it’s not about who’s famous enough to bring 10 million extra followers to the show. It’s not about that. And I’m so proud of the whole experience, man. It’s really something.

So “Yakko’s World” is a “Stairway to Heaven” of Animaniacs songs.

Right. And I’ve used that line my own self. You’ve got excellent taste. That’s exactly what I say. When we do Animaniacs Live with orchestras and stuff around the country, it’s just incredible. Really fun.

Around where I live, there’s a rock station that always does the best classic rock songs, but the joke is, “We all know what number one is.”

Right. It’s got to be “Stairway.” It’s got to be. Yeah. And so I tell people all the time, it’s like, “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you very much. It’s been a wonderful evening, and before we finish tonight, we just want to let you know that to the extent that you spent this money and waited an hour and a half for this song, here’s our ‘Stairway to Heaven.’” Everybody flips out, and it’s fantastic. And that song… And again, I’m good at my job, but in Hollywood, you could throw a dart and hit a good singer. They may not like getting hit with a dart, but you see my point. I’m really good at my job, but Jesus Christ, I ought to be. I’ve been doing it for 40 years. But what you cannot do in Hollywood or New York or Nashville is hit someone who could write that type of music over and over and over again. And Randy Rogel is a uniquely gifted individual and profoundly overachieving. I mean, the guy is… He’s a West Point grad. He’s a graduate of Boston University. He was a huge success in corporate American. Then he thought, “No. I’m really about music and comedy,” and got a gig on Batman: The Animated Series and won an Emmy. And then he heard about this fun cartoon music show called Animaniacs. He banged on that door. And check this out:

Animaniacs Reboot Hulu Release Date Set for November, Season 2 Confirmed for 2021

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His audition piece to get the gig on Animaniacs, which ultimately won him three more Emmy’s because he’d already won one on Batman… But the song that he wrote and he had in his back pocket to get him the gig was “Yakko’s World.” Now, that’s pretty freaking remarkable, that you’re going like, “Wait a minute. This is where we’re STARTING? This is what you got to say what do you think?” That’s just outrageous. And he has not disappointed. He’s written a bunch of new songs for the new show. But I have to tell you that every single time we do “Yakko’s World,” it gets a standing ovation. And people have heard it. I mean I can do it backwards and forwards and all that. But I’ve don’t it a zillion times. And it’s not… Randy and I are the ones getting the accolades. It’s very wonderful, but it’s not about us. And we know that. It’s that fucking song. It’s so wonderful and so unique and it’s just a privilege to be able to perform it. It’s wonderful.

But what’s the second place? What’s you’re second favorite of all of all time?

Favorite of Randy’s? Oh God. That’s a tough call. But we do, in the show, the live show, we do probably 20 songs, 25 songs including songs that didn’t make it and a bunch of songs from a follow-up show with that crew called Histeria!. There was some brilliant songs in that. But my second favorite I think has to be… Well, there are two that really come to mind. One is called “I’m Mad” in which Yakko, Wakko, and Dot go on a day trip with Dr. Scratchansniff, who I also played that character as well. And the kids get into a fight in the car, and it’s a really wonderful song and an excellent cartoon pattern, back and forth. It’s just great. I love “I’m Mad.”

And also, Randy wrote a song. He was charged with responsibility of trying to teach young folks the concept of time, and he wrote a song called “When You’re Traveling from Nantucket.” And I love that song. Just a little bit of it goes,

“When you’re traveling from Nantucket through Chicago to St. Paul, And you’re standing at an airport and you look upon the wall, There’s a clock for every city and a different time for all, From Asia through Malaysia to Peru. Did you ever wonder why that when it’s six o’clock in Maine, At precisely the same moment it is eight AM in Spain? When it’s breakfast time in Rome, they’re having lunch in the Ukraine, And it’s supper up in upper Kathmandu. If the Earth is spinning faster while the sun is moving past her, then a day might only be an hour long. And school, when they begin it, would only last a minute, and everybody’d have to run along. If the Earth were the planet that was closest to the sun, A year would be much shorter, and you’d have a lot of fun. Because the time you’re in first grade, you’d be over 21, And you’d live to be 903 or 4.”

I mean, that’s genius!

I think I just went cross-eyed right there…

Right? And what he’s saying is true. But it’s presented in such a way that it’s whimsical, it’s entertaining, it’s a little mind-blowing. It makes you go, “Whoa, whoa, wait, what?” And it’s all true because it’s all physics. It’s all science. We know that all of that stuff is true. We just look at a clock. But he explains in two minutes and change about the concept of why that works.

He says,

“The international date line is an imaginary cleft. Today is on the right side, tomorrow on the left. So when you cross it, do you then arrive the day before you left? That’s how it’d work. It’s quite berserk, you see? So if you were born in China, while I’m born in Carolina, Then you’re ahead of me, you see? But the way I’ve got it reckoned, if we’re born in the same second, Then why should you be a day older than me?”

And it’s exactly the sort of thing that you go how does he… What the… Wow. Wait a minute. I’m going to Australia, and it’s tomorrow? What? So that’s my second favorite song for precisely the same rambling reason I gave you. I know I have a tendency to talk too much, but hell, I’m Yakko, so that’s what I do.

About a year ago, you released your autobiography Voice Lessons where you discuss some of your biggest roles, your bout with throat cancer, Bob Seger being awesome, Mel Brooks being less than awesome, and so on. What was the impetus that made you want to write the book?

Thank you for asking and mentioning the book. It was a big deal for me.

I had had many very well meaning fans, very kind, generous fans say to me, “Dude, you should write a book,” kind of in the same thing of what you were so kind to say at the beginning of our chat, my prodigious IMDB page, whatever. Well, look at Frank Welker’s, look at Maurice’s, look at Tress MacNeille. Jesus. All of them. Danny Castellaneta, Hank Azaria, all of us, because of animation can knock out two or three episodes in a day, and after 20, 30 years, it looks a lot more impressive than it is. Nonetheless, I had a lot of characters in my wheelhouse that had a profound effect on millions of people. And I started to meet these fans, and they were very kindly suggesting, “Oh my God, Mr. Paulsen. You really should write a book.” And I accepted the compliment and the spirit in which it was delivered, and I’m very grateful. But I honest to God…

Look, I’ve grown up in Hollywood. I was 22 when I moved here. And I understand celebrity, and I understand the relative nature of celebrity and it’s power. But again, like I said, I didn’t really understand the power of the characters because I’m not recognized walking down the street. Now, I get it. But in those days, this is probably 8, 10 years ago, I said, “Man, that’s really sweet, but the last thing the world needs is another celebrity memoir from a non-celebrity.” And it’s not false modesty. I am not Brad Pitt. I am not George Clooney. I am not George Hamilton. I’m Rob Paulsen. I’m good at my job, but the characters are famous. I don’t draw them. I don’t write them. And I could never do that. It is a deeply collaborative effort that makes me come across like a freaking rockstar. So there was no reason for me to write a self-aggrandizing book. My ego doesn’t work that way.

BUT, a big giant but, then I got throat cancer. And while I never freaked out, I never said, “Oh my God! I have throat cancer! I’m a voice actor! Why couldn’t it be hair cancer?!” I didn’t do that because what I had learned in the interim between when nice people said I should write a book and my cancer was, as I had mentioned, the extent to which these characters have. Their words sometimes saved their lives. Their words. Over and over again. That’s at the… the most powerful end. At the very least, it’s, “You have no idea how much joy this brought to me and my father,” or, “I didn’t get along with my dad on anything. In fact, we hated each other. Then he introduced me to Pinky and the Brain, and we bonded. My dad passed away a year ago. I’m fine with it. But you have got to know…” Okay. So all that stuff, and it was countless times that it happened.

And when I got diagnosed with throat cancer and people found out after the fact, because my wife and I didn’t put it out there. We didn’t want sympathy, we didn’t need… I was 59 years old when I was diagnosed. Even if the doctors had said, “Dude, you’re on your way out. You better go home and get your shit in order,” I had nothing, nothing about which to be sad. Nothing. But what happened was, I made it. The treatment was absolutely brutal for obvious reasons. Mouth, throat, can’t eat, can’t swallow. It’s rough. It is for everybody. But you know what? It’s not as rough as your eight year old boy not making it through leukemia or your six year old girl who talked to Pinky and then six days later, parents call and say, “Tiffany passed away, but thank God she got to talk to Pinky.” And that stuff happens all the time. All the time. I have boxes of letters that are personally just unbelievable compelling.

That is the story, that my experience with throat cancer taught me through these characters and hundreds of children that Yakko, Raphael, Donatello, Carl, you name it have spoken to. And we all do it, not just me. But in my case, I had a very unique cancer because of what I do. And that story was powerful because not only did I make it through, but I learned the real power of those characters. They helped me get through THE most difficult year of my life. I mean, it was rough. But the people out there whose children passed away years before I got my cancer, they got ahold of me and said, “Hey, here’s the last picture of you talking to Jordan before he died of lung disease. Remember this? We heard about your struggle, Mr. Paulsen. Please know how much those characters meant to our son who’s been gone now for 10 years. But we have this picture on our wall, and it’s you talking to him. And you probably don’t remember.” And often I didn’t.

But they sought me out to tell me how powerful these characters were. Then I thought, now the book is worth it. I’m not going to sell a million copies of that book. Doesn’t matter. It was an appropriate thing to do, and it’s a clear example and a compendium of how powerful joy is, how powerful laughter is, and that courage, empathy, kindness, joy, laughter, like love, often come from the most unexpected places. And in my case, it was from a bunch of freaking cartoon characters that people say saved their lives in some respects or made their children’s deaths more tolerable. And if they say that to me, it’s got to be the same for Kevin Conroy. It’s got to be the same for Mark Hamill. It’s got to be the same for Maurice, Tom Kenny. So that’s what this was about. It’s just, I’ve learned so much about all of them from these parents and their children. And that’s why the book is important to me.

Well, for the last question, going back to the book, I want to take something from it and just kind of flip it around back at you. You got to work with Russell Johnson, the Professor from Gilligan’s Island. And the question you asked him is the question I’m going to ask you right now:

What’s it like to be part of television history?

Oh, bless your heart. It is a bigger privilege than I could have ever imagined. Thank you very much, firstly, for suggesting that I am. And I’m not going to be so coy and so silly as to suggest that I am not because I am. And it doesn’t have to be… It’s one of those things. I am. When you’ve done this much work, you are, like it or not. I love it because it means that I’ve fulfilled my dream. I’ve made it. I’ve been rich, and I’ve been poor. Rich is better. I am not independently wealthy. I am still going to try to make as much money as I can. But if I die at this moment, apart from the fact that it would be inconvenient for you and probably leave my car stranded in the middle of the street, I’ve made it. I’ve done what I set out to do. And I don’t have a star on the Walk of Fame. I don’t have an Oscar. I have an Emmy and a couple of Peabody’s and a bunch of other things, and I’m very proud of those. But I really do know, especially because I’m not a celebrity, that that is not what it’s about. The Emmy and five bucks will get you a Frappuccino. I’m not going to give it back, but it’s not about that. It’s about the relationships. It’s about the characters, their timelessness.

Russell Johnson, I don’t know if it’s in the book because I frankly don’t remember, but what Mr. Johnson told me when I… I asked him that question. You’re right. And he could not have been more gracious, though he’d probably been asked a zillion times. I mean, Jesus Christ. He’s the freaking Professor! And you don’t even have to qualify him. You go, “The Professor? Oh, yeah. Gilligan’s Island. Okay.” Pop culture icon. And he said essentially the same thing I’m saying, “You know. Didn’t make a lot of money on the show. I made 1500 bucks a week at the top of the show.” Now, 1500 bucks a week in the 60s was a good living, but not even close to… Okay.

But he said, “You know what, Rob? My wife and I had a six weeks tour of Europe, and even when we were staying at monasteries with brothers who were almost sworn to silence, celibacy and silence, every single person knew who I was. And every single time, they wanted to hug me, embrace me, show me that they once dressed up like the Professor for Halloween.” And he said, “I don’t even… When I’m dead, that will still be going on.” And he’s right. Gilligan’s Island is playing all over the world.

And when I’m dead and gone, hopefully a little later because I’m definitely closer to the end than the beginning, but because of my incredible good fortune, working with the best of the best… All of them, by the way, are lovely people. That’s what this is about. The joy of the people to create joy that translates to hundreds of millions of others is what it’s all about. We were paid well, and that’s all true. But you spend the money, and ultimately, as they say, you can’t take it with you. And what I’m leaving behind, and what all these… Seriously. I’m dead freaking serious. I would have to work really hard to come up with one person who you would know and their work, who is anything but not only professional but just delightful, including celebrities with whom I know with work and know very well. Really nice, nice, nice people. That’s what it’s about. Nice people, talented people with the best of the best.

And I got to work with Steven… Now, this my sixth time. And as a result of all of that, my legacy is nothing but joy. Period. How much better can one’s life be? I don’t know. Maybe things will change, but I’m not going to be able to write a check for eight million bucks to open a hospital wing. But I don’t need to. I got paid to do what used to get me in trouble in high school, and after 40 years of it, and maybe another 10 or 12 to go, I will have fulfilled my dream way, way, way more than I ever could have imagined. And when I’m dust, you will be talking to maybe you’re grandkids, “I talked to, oh what was his name? Ron? Ron Paulmen? Yeah. He seemed like a pretty decent guy. He didn’t shut up for a whole freaking hour, but he seemed like a decent guy. Oh, yeah. Oh my God. This is the second version of Pinky and the Brain. Yeah this is from 2021. Yeah check this out.” And that’s what it’ll be. Bugs is 80 years old, and people still love Bugs. So anyway. That’s my story, and I sadly am not able to be more concise. But I hope you understand how much I appreciate my circumstances, moreover, nice people like you giving me so much time to talk about it.

It’s been nothing but a pleasure.

Thank you, buddy.

And that was a hell of an answer.

Thank you. It’s the freaking truth. It happens every day. Every day. Now it’s because I’m wearing a mask that a fan might have made for me of Ninja Turtles or Raphael or whatever. I’ve got a bunch of them, and they’re really sending them to me. So I’ll wear a mask. I had an Animaniacs one on the other day at Trader Joe’s. And a person said, “Oh my God. I love your mask. Where did you buy that?” And I explained what I did, who I was. The blood drained out of the guy’s face. He said, “Are you kidding me?” He said, “Wait a minute. Are you Rob?”

And I said, (Yakko voice) “Yes I am. Here’s my driver’s license.” And the guy started shaking. I mean, it was… You would have thought he met one of the Beatles. But it was just happy. It was just joy.

And I know he’s going to call his buddies, and it’s going to be, “Oh my God. This old guy walked into and he’s got gray hair, but as soon as he said, (Pinky voice) ‘Egad! Poit! Narf!’ it didn’t matter!”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

And that’s what this is about.

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