Sunday, May 04, 2008
Eigen waffle
The result of literary geekery preceeds. I was quite suprised what a clear picture I got - by sorting the chapters into chronological order (the chapter headings being mostly helpful in this regard) and then asking Excel to plot chapter number. So what we get is four story lines heavily interleaved more or less throughout the book. The first is Antony up to young manhood - prep-school, university and a bit after (Mrs Amberley (Helen's mother) and the death of Brian) - the second is Helen before Antony, the third is Helen with Antony with a bit of Antony aftermath (after the dea dog) in Mexico tacked on at the end and the last is Antony's musings. The whole book spanning maybe 33 years. Having got all this this written down makes re-reading rather more intelligible than first reading. The question is, did Mr H write (first time around spelling 'right') the structure down first and write the book afterwards? Did he get such a regular pattern in his graph by accident or design? Did he write the book in chronological order? In the order printed? Did he intend for us to build a crib or are we supposed to intuit the structure? If the last, I failed. I did not notice, for example, that several chapter groups are about successive periods in the same day.
One could of course go further and do things like measure the number of pages (better still words) per unit time. Then into the number of words per charectar per unit time. An MPhil at the very least. A reasonable prize for having the tenacity to bother with such stuff.
Closer to home, we have a very spectacular cactus in flower in a large brass pot - the pot coming down to us from BH's maternal grandmother. The cactus itself is a bit nondescript with with a dome of long thin leaves, maybe eighteen inches long. There must be a proper botanical word for dome - the house cactus version of canopy for a tree - but I cannot bring it to mind. The flowers, scarlet, come on fleshy stalks springing out of the leaf, maybe 4 centimetres long. Maybe ten flowers in all at various stages of display, when fully open maybe six centimetres across and five deep, being made up of several concentric rings of half a dozen or more long thin, overlapping scarlet petals. A bunch of droopy pale stamens in the middle enclosing the pistil - assuming, that it, that I have remembered my names of parts of flowers correctly.
Yerterday to Banstead woods to see the bluebells. Some pretty white flowers which might have been wild garlic. Some very large beech trees. Also some very large and not very well hornbeams - having suddenly become sensitised to such things by having come across some much smaller but equally unhealthy specimens in Hyde Park recently. Don't recall being aware of them before. The book says widespread in Europe, but maybe that really means continental Europe. The things only having been re-introduced to the British Isles in the last century or so, having been exterminated in the last ice age. And the woodland management people don't seemed to have made it to these woods yet. Pleasantly unmessed around with - or at least not in a way that one would notice - which is a pleasant change from the eco-volunteer infested Epsom common.
Where we were today. Despite said infestation, nice to see the woods in the first flush of leaf. Going on the Star route, went past lots of the old pollarded oaks - which came in all sorts of shapes and conditions. There were some very sculptural groups and some of the dead ones were very sculptural by themselves - these last would have been worthy subject for a wood cutter or one of those arty black and white photographers who take close up pictures of interesting odds and ends on the beach. Saw some of these in the US once - very good but can't remember the name of the chap. Westin comes to mind but Google does not confirm. The hotel people dominating the results. Did come across an Ansell Adams - the right sort of arty photographer of the right sort of vintage but no sea side still lifes. Maybe it will all come back to me one day.
One could of course go further and do things like measure the number of pages (better still words) per unit time. Then into the number of words per charectar per unit time. An MPhil at the very least. A reasonable prize for having the tenacity to bother with such stuff.
Closer to home, we have a very spectacular cactus in flower in a large brass pot - the pot coming down to us from BH's maternal grandmother. The cactus itself is a bit nondescript with with a dome of long thin leaves, maybe eighteen inches long. There must be a proper botanical word for dome - the house cactus version of canopy for a tree - but I cannot bring it to mind. The flowers, scarlet, come on fleshy stalks springing out of the leaf, maybe 4 centimetres long. Maybe ten flowers in all at various stages of display, when fully open maybe six centimetres across and five deep, being made up of several concentric rings of half a dozen or more long thin, overlapping scarlet petals. A bunch of droopy pale stamens in the middle enclosing the pistil - assuming, that it, that I have remembered my names of parts of flowers correctly.
Yerterday to Banstead woods to see the bluebells. Some pretty white flowers which might have been wild garlic. Some very large beech trees. Also some very large and not very well hornbeams - having suddenly become sensitised to such things by having come across some much smaller but equally unhealthy specimens in Hyde Park recently. Don't recall being aware of them before. The book says widespread in Europe, but maybe that really means continental Europe. The things only having been re-introduced to the British Isles in the last century or so, having been exterminated in the last ice age. And the woodland management people don't seemed to have made it to these woods yet. Pleasantly unmessed around with - or at least not in a way that one would notice - which is a pleasant change from the eco-volunteer infested Epsom common.
Where we were today. Despite said infestation, nice to see the woods in the first flush of leaf. Going on the Star route, went past lots of the old pollarded oaks - which came in all sorts of shapes and conditions. There were some very sculptural groups and some of the dead ones were very sculptural by themselves - these last would have been worthy subject for a wood cutter or one of those arty black and white photographers who take close up pictures of interesting odds and ends on the beach. Saw some of these in the US once - very good but can't remember the name of the chap. Westin comes to mind but Google does not confirm. The hotel people dominating the results. Did come across an Ansell Adams - the right sort of arty photographer of the right sort of vintage but no sea side still lifes. Maybe it will all come back to me one day.
# posted by Jim @ 9:31 AM 
