Boozy Plays: Julius Caesar

Hey, guys! Sorry this is a bit late, but… well, I guess with our new schedule, it doesn’t really matter as long as I get it done. And I will!

Is there anyone–and I mean anyone–who doesn’t know the story of Julius Caesar? If Akira Kurosawa can direct a version of Macbeth, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t collect more than a handful of people who don’t know the story of the dictator who pulled an Icarus and was stabbed twenty-three times for his trouble.

In a brief synopsis: Julius Caesar has come home from defeating Pompey, and sets himself up as a dictator (which was a somewhat defunct office from earlier in Rome’s history in which a citizen is, for a brief period, given complete control over Rome, replacing the usual consul and tribune system), though he trice refuses a crown during a parade on the Lupercal (albeit reluctantly). He also ignores a warning to ‘beware the Ides of March’, which turns out to be a bad idea. Meanwhile, Cassius is trying to convince Brutus to help them assassinate Caesar before he becomes a tyrant. This is because Brutus is the direct descendant of the founder of the Republic (kinda like Rome’s Washington, in that he lead the rebellion), and is sort of… Mr. Rome, for lack of a better phrase. Eventually, Brutus relents and they assassinate Caesar on the Ides of March (should have heeded the warning) in the Senate (not historically accurate, but this is Shakespeare, of course).

The conspirators make it clear that they have done this for the good of Rome, but Mark Antony (*heart eyes*) turns the crowd against them and drives the assassins from the city. Brutus and Cassius, the chief conspirators, prepare for war against the Second Triumvirate (Antony, Octavian, Lepidus). Caesar’s ghost appears and tells Brutus he’s gonna die at Philippi (that rhymes!), but Brutus actually wins the first battle (historically against Octavian) after Cassius kills himself. Then Antony wins the second day and Brutus kills himself. Antony pays tribute to Brutus as the noblest Roman, and he and Octavian have a bit of a spat.

So… Caesar dies, Antony is glorious, war happens, Brutus dies. There’s a ghost, a soothsayer, and (ugh) Octavian. Also the play has some damn fine lines, especially a speech that made me love Shakespeare and history all at once! I can pretend that the Antony of the play is accurate and not… slightly complimentary (well, Antony was pretty skillful in the immediate aftermath of the assassination, but it wasn’t a long-lasting bout of political acumen). Octavian isn’t in it that much. It’s great. I love it.

Now to recommend a drink! Since I went with a Shiraz last time, I want to go with a historically Roman wine for this one. The Romans had a habit of mixing their wine with water (actually, it’s more accurate to say they added wine to their water and not the other way around), so it’s actually not that intoxicating. For this particular play, I’m recommending mulsum, which is a spiced honey wine. You mix three parts water to one part red wine (something heavy), add cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg (1 stick, 1 whole nutmeg, 1 tsp cloves for every 1 cup of wine), throw in some honey (4 tbsp for every cup of wine) and let sit for about a day in the fridge. Then remove the spices et voila! Mulsum! You can also warm it up if you’d like. Throw an orange slice into your cup for an added dose of delicious.

I’ll recommend versions of Julius Caesar this weekend! Obviously, Marlon Brando will feature.

–C

Boozy Plays: Coriolanus

Hey, guys! Welcome back to the ramp-up to this year’s Stratford trip! Since Monday, we’ve decided that, yes, I would handle the first two weeks and A would take care of the second two since she’s on vacation. I’m still not sure which plays she wants to do, but I’d put serious odds on The Tempest being one of them. Your other possibilities are An Ideal Husband, The Music Man, and To Kill a Mockingbird. If we get lucky and no one takes those last two available seats for the Comedy of Errors show on the Wednesday we’re there, maybe you’ll get a write-up on that, but it’s unlikely in the extreme we’ll write about it ahead of time.

Anyway, here’s the post on the history behind Coriolanus I wrote on Monday. I put it up at a slightly odd time, so I wanted to make sure everyone got a chance to experience one of my history rambles. I enjoy my history rambles. They make me happy.

But for now, let’s talk about pairing the play, which involves, as usual, talking about the plot.

Coriolanus is one of Shakespeare’s Roman Plays (the others being, of course, Julius Caesar, Antony and Cleopatra, and Titus Andronicus) and is largely based on Plutarch and, possibly, some Livy. Shakespeare, unsurprisingly for him, took a few historical liberties with the story of Caius Marcius (most especially with the order of events), who was given the cog/agnomen of Coriolanus for his role in the battle of Corioli. Traditionally, cognomen were the third name, but even by this point early in the Republic’s history (super early, actually, as we’re within a few years of the expulsion of the last Roman king), cognomen had sometimes become family designations rather than simply valor names. So agnomen, the fourth name, was sometimes used to distinguish people if they already had a family name.

*cough* Move away from the history, C. Damn.

OK. So, basically, the play is about Caius Marcius and it’s a tragedy, so… take a guess how the play ends. In essence… Caius Marcius is a self-important man who is openly contemptuous of the people of Rome because they have not served in the military. (This is especially assholey as the average Roman wasn’t even ALLOWED to serve in the army at this point in its history. It was only later that the poorest citizens could enlist.) The people are angry because they don’t have food to eat, so… they’ve got a point, you know? Can’t be all pissy at people for not serving in the military when they can’t and spit at them for being angry that they don’t have food, which you were part of withholding because they didn’t serve in the military. (There was a grain shortage. Just for the record.)

Anyway. Caius Marcius goes off to fight a war because that’s what he does. Cominius is the consul and Caius Marcius is his deputy in battle against the Volscians. Their leader, Tullus Aufidius, considers Caius Marcius a blood enemy, having fought him many times before. During the war, C.M. lays siege to the Volscian city of Corioli and takes it, earning the name Coriolanus for his efforts. He even faces Aufidius in single combat (my GOD did the Romans love winning in single combat), though the later does survive and the Volscians are not completely defeated.

Later in Rome, Coriolanus’ mother convinces him to run for consul and he does so (reluctantly, of course), winning a great deal of support from the Senate and even from among the plebs (which just goes to show how much the Romans loved them a military hero). Two tribunes, however–Sicinius Velutus and Junius Brutus (why yes, he is related to the Brutus who later kills Caesar… why do you ask? This one is also a fucking traitor. He is later part of the conspiracy to put Tarquin back on the throne and his own father has him executed. SUPER ROMAN, GUYS. SUPER ROMAN. This is a good moment to remind you that reading my post from Monday will give you some idea of the nature of Roman history of this time period)–lead a conspiracy against him, causing a riot against him which drives Coriolanus to denounce the whole concept of popular rule. He’s… As much as we shouldn’t really support Sicinius and Brutus because they’re scheming politicians, they might have had a point regarding Coriolanus’… suitability to rule. Anyway, they brand him a traitor and banish him from Rome.

Guys. Coriolanus shouts that he banishes Rome from him on the way out. SUCH A PETULANT LITTLE FUCK, am I right? Ugh. There are no heroes in this damn play. Seriously. Remember, Brutus ends up conspiring to put Tarquin back on the throne. The King. But he doesn’t want Coriolanus to rule. Even with the total lack of historical, uh… surety here, that is a special sort of hypocrisy. Ugh.

I do not like the Junii Bruti, guys. I just don’t like them. I mean, the one dude was willing to execute his sons, but that’s not exactly likable. But I am way more into dudes with Scipio in their name. Africanus, Aemilianus, whatever. And dudes name Marcus Antonius. I love me some Mark Antony, I admit it. I am well aware of his more problematic issues, trust me. I also love Alexander Hamilton and he was mostly problems wrapped up in man form.

But back to the play. Coriolanus is being a drama general (no kings in Rome, remember?) and goes to Tullus Aufidius, telling him to kill him to spite Rome. (DRAMATIC LITTLE SHIT.) Aufidius is like… “dude. Have you considered fighting with us against Rome? You’re a good general, and we both TOTALLY HATE ROME.” And Coriolanus is like, “OMG, did we just become best friends?” And Aufidius is like, “YUP. you know as long as you actually fight for us and don’t betray us or anything ok right bye.” So they shake on it and Coriolanus prepares to lead a new assault on Rome.

Rome, justifiably, is a bit panicked. They gave the man a nickname, dammit! Only the ones who know what they’re doing get those! Cominius and Menenius Agrippa (OK, note on the name here. His name is actually Agrippa Menenius Lanatus. Agrippa isn’t a known cognomen for the gens Menenia. Which is why, of course, I made *my* Agrippa a Menenius since this is a fantasy world I’m writing in. But I, once again, digress. Sorry. I really love Rome.) both try to convince Coriolanus to stop this and give them back the basketball stop trying to attack Rome, but it doesn’t work, so they bring in the big guns:

MOM. (And wife and random chaste woman because, of course, chastity is a Roman virtue in their women and it’s symbolic and shit.)

And Mom, wife, and random symbol of Roman womanhood do manage to convince Coriolanus to stop being a little baby and trying to destroy Rome. He relents (“but Mom“) and instead conducts a peace treaty between Rome and the Volscians and YAY ROME IS THE WINNER. OR AT LEAST NOT DESTROYED BY THEIR OWN GENERAL. YAY.

YAY, indeed, except for Coriolanus… who is assassinated by Aufidius, who is (kinda justifiably) upset at the betrayal.

Fin.

OK. So… that’s a heavy play. Despite my attempt at humor, it really isn’t a funny play. It’s dark and heavy and tense because the story of Coriolanus (itself a reconstruction–again, read the blog from Monday) is a reflection of the turmoil Rome itself went through in these years. It wasn’t stable yet. It was barely a Republic. People forget that, because Rome went on to become ROME, it was an incredibly tense and difficult time for them and no one knew if it would survive. Enemies surrounded them (the Volscians were also Italian, mind. Hell, their capitol of Antium was no more than 40 miles away from Rome itself) and were within the walls (looking at you, Brutus Junius, and your older brother, Titus Brutus Junius, too). Coriolanus, like Rome, is unstable and at war with himself, but ultimately he is strengthened by family (and chastity, Roman virtue™) and he, like Rome, is restored. Of course, this is a tragedy so he has to die. Can’t just let him ride off into the sunset. But still… ROME.

Anyway. Gotta pair this thing now. I have selected a Syrah, preferably one from a colder region to bring out the spicier aromas and flavors. It’s an often heavy red, great with barbecue and spicy foods, and I think that feels very Roman. No Roman play should be paired with a white wine, anyway. Rome is red. Red like their cloaks and the brooms on their helmets and the blood they really liked to spill. But this play, in particular, is dark and heavy, and Coriolanus is spicy as fuck. Like, guys… he banishes Rome from himself.

So spicy.

If you purchase a Syrah made in the Australian-style, it’ll be called a Shiraz.

Well, that’s it for me. I’ve written a novel, anyway. I’ll be back either tomorrow or Sunday to talk to you about Tom Hiddleston, aka versions of this play you should try to track down if you can.

See y’all later! Valete!

–C

Boozy Books: Actually… a Podcast!

Heyo, and welcome to the first edition of Boozy Books after the hiatus! I promised we’d have one for you on a monthly basis, but given that was two weeks ago, we’re not quite ready to move forward with the in-depth, well-thought-out pairings that we promised with the monthly version. A has a great book ready for you next month (she told me so, and I believe her), but since I didn’t want to be a liar literally two weeks after promising something…

I’m pairing a podcast.

It’s an old podcast. In fact, it’s been done and dusted for years now. And it’s one I’ve listened to a number of times, both because I find the subject endlessly fascinating and because the host’s voice is really damn soothing. I recently returned to listen to it again because I’m worldbuilding a second-world Roman Empire corollary (well, no… I have the world built; I’m listening to it again for clues in how to write the newly-created second half of the story since my stupid brain decided to give the Devil his due. And that is, in story, a very literal description. Like… literal literal. Not figurative literal. Which, frankly, is… *cough* Stay on point, C) and I just really really like the Battle of Cannae. Like enough that, when I watched the GoT episode “Battle of the Bastards”, I almost injured my boyfriend by being so excited. (For the record, I’d called that it was going to be a sort-of reverse Battle of Bosworth Field, with Jon fighting a la Richard III but being rescued in the end a la Henry VII. I’m still proud of myself for that, even if it was obvious. I take my joy where I can get it these days.)

Anyway. It’s the History of Rome podcast, which ran from 2007-2012. It’s ridiculously comprehensive, covers all the highs and lows of Rome, and runs hundreds of episodes. You can listen to it all on the site or through whatever mechanism you have for such things. I assume we all listen to podcasts because, well, free education. And they’re great for writing research because you can listen to them while you’re cooking, cleaning, driving, taking a shower… whatever, which is difficult to do while reading or searching the interwebz.

I’d recommend some Roman wine, but they had a habit of making it in lead-y pots, so don’t do that. But if you want to use modern wine to create a Roman-style drink, that’s what I’d do! The easiest to do is something called mulsum, which can be approximated by adding 1/2 light honey (warmed up) to a bottle of dry-ish white wine (like medium dry). Make sure the honey is all mixed in and then chill the wine before serving. Or you could just buy mead, I guess, but that’s honey wine not honeyed wine, so it’s not the same thing. If you’re feeling really adventurous, you could make Roman cheesecakes or sausages, recipes for which are all over the net. If you’re into bayberry and pine nuts, Roman cuisine is FOR YOU. And don’t be scared off by garum; you don’t actually have to ferment old fish bits (you’d layer aromatic herbs with oily fish like anchovies and salt then let it sit for three weeks, or so). Just buy fish sauce from the Asian section of your local grocery store. It’s pretty much the same thing.

We’ll be back next week with a PROPER Boozy Books. You know, with an actual book. But I wanted to make sure y’all knew you could count on us in this brave new world of less-regular posting.

–C

Boozy Books: The Philosopher’s Flight

Happy Friday, dear readers! It’s time to put away the work-related reading and pick up your weekend escape.

This week: The Philosopher’s Flight.

Technically, I haven’t finished this one yet, but I’m close enough to the end that I feel confident putting together a pairing.

Here’s what you need to know!

If you grew up with Harry Potter, this will very likely appeal to you.

If you enjoy thinly veiled social commentary and seeing a diversified roster of characters, this is a great book to pick up.

If you like science and love fantasy, pick this up.

The basic premise is this:

Set during WWII, (in an alternate version of the past, obvs) this novel shows off a world in which women (and a few men) have philosophical powers. Essentially, magic.

Women are far and away the masters of sigilry and are portrayed as super strong and awesome. (Yay!) The narrator is a male philosopher who grew up in a family of strong females who taught him everything he knows. (He’s pretty good for a boy.) So, he goes to school to study Philosophy (at an all-girl’s school) and tries to work his way into the noble rank of Corpswoman in the role of Rescue and Evac.

The concept is very well-developed and the story is a lot of fun. I even broke the “don’t recommend shit to C” rule, because the style is so reminiscent of grown up Harry Potter.

Enjoy a glass of champagne with this one. If you read it, you’ll note several scenes in which champagne appears to be the drink of choice.

Cheers!

-A

Boozy Books: Mission Update!

Heyo! Sorry I was gone Monday. I’ve been a little under the weather and wasn’t really in any place to write anything. Managed to finish out a chapter I was working on, but that took it out of me entirely. I’ve been chipping away at Mercutio slowly but surely, but I have to make sure to stop once in a while or the sentences stop making sense. They literally just fall apart into phonemes and morphemes, and I’ve got nothing.

But I have definitely been working on my re-read of high school books. Faves or otherwise. Right now, I’ve only got a couple, both of which I’ve already paired, so I’m going to post those here and go about my merry, if sneezy, way. Yes, I know… another round-up. Apologies. Eventually, I’ll get to something new.

The Three Musketeers

Huckleberry Finn

Emma

I do, for the record, have a few different non-fiction books I’m reading, including biographies of both Eleanor Roosevelt and Hatshepsut. When I finish them, I’ll definitely pair them, though booze and non-fiction do not good companions make.

–C

Boozy Books: A Curious Beginning

OK. Sorry. I know this is late.

Apologies.

So, I know I said I was going to focus on the classics and re-reading what I what in school, but I don’t actually have one of those done yet, so I can’t pair it. And, of course, I went and decided to reread Emma instead of the actual school books (I read Pride and Prejudice, but I don’t need to reread that for the 9000th time, and I haven’t actually read Emma in years), which I’ve already paired, so that wasn’t happening.

But I did do a good thing. I don’t know if y’all have realized this, but I’m not actually the most open-minded of readers. I’m notoriously picky (ask A, who will no longer recommend or lend books to me after the Station Eleven fiasco), and don’t take to new authors or different genres very easily. Actually, to be more correct, I should say that I only read genre fiction. There’s something about modern literary fiction that just doesn’t really appeal, whether it’s yet another look into small-town family secrets or the connecting lives of a modern bookseller and a 14th century gondolier. I’m just not one for contemporary (except for urban fantasy and the like) anything, really.

Basically, I’m a hard sell on new authors, romance-forward anything, and non Adult books. But sometimes I find a book that has enough elements of what I like that I know I’m going to like it, even if it’s not what I usually read.

A Curious Beginning is one of those books. It took a minute to get over the fact that it was yet another bossy, opinionated woman with a love for some science or another and the grouchy but lovable man that is her partner. They’re all practical and no-nonsense, not great with emotional outbursts, and have very decided views on what things should be. And, surprise surprise, they’re Victorian. (I’m up to at least three of these now, the other two being Alexia Tarrabotti/Maccon and Amelia Peabody.) They even solve, to varying degrees, mysteries, but their books aren’t hard-boiled whodunits (not a huge fan of those). So… I guess I can’t really say I ventured forth into something new so much as came across another of the kind of thing I like (there’s a quality to the linguistic choices that reminds me of the Parasol Protectorate books, which is one of my favorite things about them). But it’s a new author and there’s no fantasy, and I have a soft spot for the gruff but lovable male sidekick (even more than for the brassy, no-nonsense leading women).

Anyway. This is the first book in the Victoria Speedwell books. Yes, it’s a gardening pun for a name. Yes, that’s one of the reasons I liked it. Victoria is a lepidopterist (someone who captures/studies butterflies and moths, though Victoria prefers the former) and world explorer who doesn’t much give a damn that women aren’t supposed to do that sort of thing alone. She’s remarkably modern, basically. The book begins with her Aunt’s funeral and someone trying to rob/kidnap her. She’s convinced there’s no reason anyone would want to do that, but when the man who rescued her turns up dead, she gets thrown into the mystery of why he was killed and what that has to do with her. It’s mystery-lite, focusing on the forging of the relationship at the heart of the series and introducing a lot of the characters we’ll be following in the continuing adventures. And it’s quite good fun. Not a deep book by any means, and certainly nothing new, but enjoyable. It’s especially good for sitting at a cafe and spending a lazy afternoon.

If you really want to go for it with the drink, Victoria prefers aguardiente (though which type is not exactly specified). I’m reasonably sure it’s Colombian, since the anise flavor is mentioned, but you do you. Whiskey makes an appearance more than once, as well, and since this is England, tea is as ubiquitous as corsets. A few tea sandwiches and you’re golden.

–C

Boozy Books: Vinegar Girl

Heyo! Welcome to Boozy Books! Let’s get into this.

I haven’t had the opportunity to read many of the Hogarth Shakespeare books that came out in the last couple of years. Not because they’re not available, of course, but because most of them really aren’t my cup of tea. I’m not a literary fiction kinda gal, really; I much prefer genre, particularly speculative, stuff. But my love of Shakespeare is such–and my respect for many of the authors involved in the imprint, of course–that, when I had the chance to pick one up, I did it.

Everyone here knows how we at Nerd Cactus feel about Taming of the Shrew. We have a Boozy Plays: Taming of the Shrew and an entire Monday Muse dedicated to the play, as well. There’s probably more. We liked talking about it because it’s one of Shakespeare’s most problematic plays, but also one of his more interesting ones. It’s open to interpretation in so many ways. Is Petruchio a misogynist or just trying to help Kate navigate her way in a world that doesn’t want–or plan–to accept her? Which one of them is actually the shrew (yeah, we’ve seen that interpretation live). Does he enjoy visiting his tortures on Kate or are they a burden he has to force upon himself?

It’s a complex play, and because of that, it’s one of my favorites.

Which is probably why I didn’t like the book as much as I was hoping to. I feel like it took the Kate of the play and made her… not the Kate I love. And it took the Petruchio I loved and made him… a huge dick. I feel like there was an attempt to humanize Pyotr by making him a foreigner and giving him a language barrier, but that attempt comes so late in the book, it feels tacked on. The one character I really liked was Bunny, who had more agency in her few lines than Kate did in the whole damn book, which just felt wrong. Bianca isn’t the delicate flower most people think she is, but she shouldn’t be more active a character than Katherina.

Basically, the book is the play re-written with Kate’s scientist father asking her to marry his research assistant before his Visa expires. She eventually says yes because her life sucks and, hey, at least this is an opportunity to do something new and it can’t be worse than the stagnation of living in her parents’ house, right? And even though Pyotr never does anything to earn even a sliver of Kate’s respect, the book ends pretty much exactly like the play, right down to “Kiss me, Kate”. See, there are some pivotal scenes in the play that, if performed correctly, really show Kate and Petruchio coming to understand one another as equals, and I don’t think they’re there in this book.

It’s well-written. The familial relationships are amazing. There is a lot of humor, too, which I appreciate since the play is actually really damn funny. But the book takes the play at face value, and without the irony and wordplay of Shakespeare, the joy of Taming of the Shrew is lost. The play can be performed straight because doing so highlights the irony of Kate having the longest speech in the play while simultaneously saying women should shut the hell up. This book? It misses that irony in favor of the way families interact with one another. Which, in a book that wasn’t based on one of my favorite plays, would be a lot better.

Unfortunately for me (in this case), Vinegar Girl is based on Shrew, and I can’t agree with its interpretation of the play. Someone else might not have a problem with it.

Now, I suggest mead for this because it’s honey wine, and the title of the book comes from the idiom ‘you catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar’. Actually, it’s one of my favorite parts of the book because vinegar girl describes Kate really well. I just wish it described the Kate of the book more.

–C

Boozy Books: To Be Or Not To Be

Before we get too far into the proceedings today, I am eking by on prehistoric amounts of internet because a storm knocked out the node. So this isn’t going to be a very entertaining edition.

Bare bones, is what I’m saying.

Fortunately for everyone here, the book I’ve chosen is entertaining enough to not only make up for this lack of effort pizzazz, it might actually give me a surplus to use the next time I’m not ready for this. Or I’m sick. Or, you know, I forget what day of the week it is again and doing do the Muse until Wednesday.

*cough*

So. You guys know we love William Shakespeare here at Nerd Cactus, right? I mean, we might have been understated about it over the last few years (we’re just about at three now!), but we really love the Bard. So when I can offer up something that involves Shakespeare, you know I’m all up on that. Plus, this is a Choose Your Own Adventure book! Yeah, like in your childhood! AMAZING, right?

Ryan North’s To Be Or Not To Be combines all the things I love in the world: humor, Shakespeare, and the ability to avenge by father’s most unnatural murder. You can play as Hamlet, Ophelia (the best option), and even the ghost (also entertaining). I’ve mostly gotten happy endings, too, which is always fun when we’re dealing with Elsinorian matters. (I’m an amazing scientist! My kids go on to go on an epic journey to rescue his family and become the kind of malcontent that makes a mama proud!) It’s clever, oftentimes absurd, sometimes farcical, and always really amazing fun.

Also, there’s a Romeo and Juliet version called Romeo And Or Juliet which I got for A a couple years ago, and she is fond of it. As with To Be Or Not To Be, it’s better to be the girl. Team Juphelia! Or is that Opheliet? I’m not sure.

What to drink with something so awesomely fun? I’m recommending a bubbly drink, light and effervescent. Something like a Bellini, sweet and fun. But this is a choose your own adventure, so you really could go any way you wanted. Maybe you want my go-to drink (the Whiskey Sour) or a Gin and Tonic. Beer is always a solid choice, too. I had a great Apfelwine in NYC that was sweet and bubbly, so…

I think you’ve got my point.

At least I got this on time this week! YAY!

Go and enjoy flipping all the pages and choosing all the adventures! Who knows, maybe you’ll end up taking over the world!

–C

Boozy Books: The Vegetarian

Hi everyone, and welcome to this week’s Boozy Books. I didn’t really want to pair this one, but I haven’t finished anything else lately so this will have to do.

Han Kang’s The Vegetarian is… How shall I put this? Weird. Very abstract, full of symbolism and surrealism, and just plain bananas. I can’t say I disliked it because the back-of-book blurb made it pretty clear what I was about to get into. It’s a “Darkly allegorical, Kafka-esque tale of power, obsession, and one woman’s struggle to break free from the violence both without and within her.” See?

I mean, it was a fascinating read that made me go “hmm,” but I probably wouldn’t reread it. Ever. But if darkly allegorical psychological romps through Korean forests of flaming trees is your thing, then by all means, read this book.

I think this book calls for something almost hallucinatory. So, like, absinthe? I don’t even know, man. I’m still working on processing what I just read…

So, yeeeah. That’s the book I finished two nights ago.

–A

Boozy Books: Daniel Deronda

Yeah, I’m late. Sorry. I had to go back through what I’ve read recently and see what I haven’t paired yet. I’m still not nearly done with Oathbringer since it’s more weapon than book, but I did get Daniel Deronda done.

Unfortunately, it’s a complicated book that isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world to describe.

Daniel Deronda is George Eliot’s final book. In all honesty, I don’t like it as much as Middlemarch, but that’s because I really don’t love any book as much as I love Middlemarch. I do, however, adore George Eliot. She remains my favorite writer, whose prose can take my breath away even if I’ve read her a hundred times (which I have). Seriously. How anyone can read her and not be awed by the power of her writing, I don’t know.

Basically, Daniel Deronda is a tale of social satire and soul searching (particularly spiritual and moral) made up of two main plots united by the titular character. On one hand, you have haughty beauty Gwendolen Harleth, who is forced by economic circumstances (and her own pride) to marry a horrible man she doesn’t love. She believes she can change him (silly girl), but is ultimately broken by his cruelty. Through her relationship with Daniel, though it doesn’t evolve the way she wants it to, she is able to turn her life around and find meaning in being a better person.

Daniel’s story follows a search for his own identity and, in particular, resolving the wishes of his heart with that identity. He rescues a Jewish girl from drowning herself and, from there, finds himself on a path of religious exploration and a search for his own family identity. During this, he becomes friends with the beautiful Gwendolen and, through his emotional support and general goodness, helps her become strong enough to set off on her own life. Oh, and he also falls in love and wants to fight for a Jewish homeland but, for some reason, only feels he can do so when he finds out he was born Jewish? Like, if it’s not his birth identity, it can’t be his identity? It’s a weird thing, but that doesn’t affect the enjoyability of the novel.

What makes Daniel Deronda really special is its sympathetic portrayal of Judaism and Kabbalah. Most British people at the time had a very negative, prejudicial view of Jews, as seen in other literature (including that of Dickens). Eliot is remarkably positive in her treatment of Judaism. This is a good thing.

Like I said, I don’t like it as much as Middlemarch. No one will ever beat Dorothea Brooke and Will Ladislaw in my affection, particularly the latter. But the prose here is… gorgeous. It is worth reading for that alone, though I am particularly fond of the Gwendolen story arc. I like her more than Daniel.

What to drink? This seems simple to me. I’m recommending Kosher wine. Your choice of grape, process, whatever the terms for wine are… just make sure it’s Kosher.

–C