Saturday, June 30, 2012
Nature notes
This afternoon was enlivened by a swarm of bees sailing past the study window, a loose spheroidic cloud maybe 15 feet across and twenty feet up, moving quite fast, say more than a walking speed, in a southerly direction. It was the noise of them that attracted my attention. Don't remember ever seeing such a thing before. However, BH came up with the observation that 'a swarm in May is worth a load of hay; a swarm in June is worth a silver spoon; but a swarm in July is not worth a fly' - a rhyme which is well known to Mr. Google but not at all known to me. 'A swarm in May' also appears to be the title of sundry books and films. In the meantime we get the silver spoon by a matter of a few hours, it being the last day of June. Also, as it happens the date of reference for the annual estimates of population prepared by Her Majesty's Corps of Statisticians.
Now finished the book by U. Eco on Queen Loana to which I was pointed by O. Sacks in his book on Musicophilia (see May 18th). I followed up the reference as it was said to portray a person who had kept his semantic memory (elephants have trunks) but had lost his autobiographical memory (I saw an elephant yesterday at the seaside). Unlike the disease of experimental fiction (June 27th), this one really exists and the novel is interesting, if not, to my mind anyway, making it to the level of Simenon on strokes in 'Les Anneaux de Bicêtre' (see November 16th last year). I am now a bit clearer about what having this particular complaint might involve. For one, wondering about whether one had bedded one's secretary: bit naff to have to ask her.
Also an interesting example of a novel with illustrations put there by the author which are integral to the novel. Not stick ons by some illustrator after the event; can't think of another book quite like it in that respect. Nicely produced by Secker & Warburg, yet another once illustrious name swallowed up by Random House.
Much interesting stuff, presumably autobiographical, about growing up in northern Italy through the time of Mussolini. A change from my usual diet of France at about the same time.
An interesting prayer for the dying, enumerating the stages through which one is to go before finally expiring (although we are only given 7 of the 14 stages, starting with one's toes getting cold). Presumably intended to prepare one for dying, to warm one up for it as it were, perhaps to be used when dying. Certainly intended for the subject rather than his or her loved ones. Not altogether clear whether it is a real prayer although it seemed quite a plausible part of a Catholic repertoire. Must try and find out more.
There was also a traumatising episode when two, relatively innocent German soldiers were killed one dark night, after having been taken prisoner, in the course of some captured Russians getting through to the partisans. Which pointed up for me how much things have moved on since Antony wanted to let slip the dogs of war (see Thursday) or since the people of the Nibelungenlied gloried in slaughtering each other, no holds barred provided one was brave and did the business with style. Which last was, I think, progress from the savagery of the Romans. And according to Walter Scott things were much the same in this country at the time of King John (see Ivanhoe). And according to Powicke were still much the same by the time that King Henry III came along. And now, I suppose, much of that sort of energy has been canalised into the watching of football. Which is definitely progress, even if one is not much interested in either the feet or the balls.
Now finished the book by U. Eco on Queen Loana to which I was pointed by O. Sacks in his book on Musicophilia (see May 18th). I followed up the reference as it was said to portray a person who had kept his semantic memory (elephants have trunks) but had lost his autobiographical memory (I saw an elephant yesterday at the seaside). Unlike the disease of experimental fiction (June 27th), this one really exists and the novel is interesting, if not, to my mind anyway, making it to the level of Simenon on strokes in 'Les Anneaux de Bicêtre' (see November 16th last year). I am now a bit clearer about what having this particular complaint might involve. For one, wondering about whether one had bedded one's secretary: bit naff to have to ask her.
Also an interesting example of a novel with illustrations put there by the author which are integral to the novel. Not stick ons by some illustrator after the event; can't think of another book quite like it in that respect. Nicely produced by Secker & Warburg, yet another once illustrious name swallowed up by Random House.
Much interesting stuff, presumably autobiographical, about growing up in northern Italy through the time of Mussolini. A change from my usual diet of France at about the same time.
An interesting prayer for the dying, enumerating the stages through which one is to go before finally expiring (although we are only given 7 of the 14 stages, starting with one's toes getting cold). Presumably intended to prepare one for dying, to warm one up for it as it were, perhaps to be used when dying. Certainly intended for the subject rather than his or her loved ones. Not altogether clear whether it is a real prayer although it seemed quite a plausible part of a Catholic repertoire. Must try and find out more.
There was also a traumatising episode when two, relatively innocent German soldiers were killed one dark night, after having been taken prisoner, in the course of some captured Russians getting through to the partisans. Which pointed up for me how much things have moved on since Antony wanted to let slip the dogs of war (see Thursday) or since the people of the Nibelungenlied gloried in slaughtering each other, no holds barred provided one was brave and did the business with style. Which last was, I think, progress from the savagery of the Romans. And according to Walter Scott things were much the same in this country at the time of King John (see Ivanhoe). And according to Powicke were still much the same by the time that King Henry III came along. And now, I suppose, much of that sort of energy has been canalised into the watching of football. Which is definitely progress, even if one is not much interested in either the feet or the balls.
# posted by Jim @ 9:58 AM 
