Into the Archive: Library Bookstore Gleanings

Robert Louis Stevenson: His Best Pacific Writings Paperback – January 1, 2003

by Roger Robinson (Author), Robert Louis Stevenson (Author)

Robert Louis Stevenson, author of "Treasure Island" and "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde", traveled and lived in the Pacific from 1888 until his death in Samoa in 1894. He wrote fiction, history, travel journals, poetry and prayers about these Pacific experiences. All were popular when first published, but some of these writings are now little known. This attractive edition of the best of these writings coincides perfectly with the upsurge of interest in the Pacific and writings sympathetic to indigenous cultures. - Amazon.

The Dark Is Rising Sequence (5V.in 1V Paperback) – January 1, 1984

by Susan Cooper (Author)

This spellbinding volume brings together the five novels from Susan Cooper's classic fantasy sequence: "Over Sea", "Under Stone"; "The Dark is Rising"; "Greenwitch"; "The Grey King"; and "Silver on the Tree". Here Barney, Jane and Simon discover an ancient map in Cornwall; the mysterious Merriman reveals his secret purpose; and Will Stanton realizes that he is not just an ordinary boy but has a far greater role in fulfilling his destiny. Creating a magical world where the everyday mingles with the supernatural, "The Dark is Rising Sequence" weaves a story of secret codes, strange prophecies, the legend of King Arthur and a centuries-old conflict between the power of good and the forces of evil. - Amazon

It would be hard to calculate just how much this series was influential on me from when I was 11 years-old to the end of middle school. I discovered it only a little after I read The Hobbit, and it seemed to fit right in with stuff like Bedknobs and Broomsticks, but more contemporary (at the time) and more ... well, cosmic. This nostalgia might help explain why I bought this well-bound Puffin edition, even though I already have a creaky hard cover edition. That, and it was only 50 cents.

 

The Optimism of Ugliness: CPB

The faith of Stevenson, like that of a great number of very sane men, was founded on what is called a paradox—the paradox that existence was splendid because it was, to all outward appearance, desperate. Paradox, so far from being a modern and fanciful matter, is inherent in all the great hypotheses of humanity. The Athanasian Creed, for example, the supreme testimony of Catholic Christianity, sparkles with paradox like a modern society comedy. Thus, in the same manner, scientific philosophy tells us that finite space is unthinkable and infinite space is unthinkable. Thus the most influential modern metaphysician, Hegel, declares without hesitation, when the last rag of theology is abandoned, and the last point of philosophy passed, that existence is the same as non-existence.

Thus the brilliant author of "Lady Windermere's Fan," in the electric glare of modernity, finds that life is much too important to be taken seriously. Thus Tertullian, in the first ages of faith, said "Credo quia impossibile."

We must not, therefore, be immediately repelled by this paradoxical character of Stevenson's optimism, or imagine for a moment that it was merely a part of that artistic foppery or "fuddling hedonism" with which he has been ridiculously credited. His optimism was one which, so far from dwelling upon those flowers and sunbeams which form the stock-in-trade of conventional optimism, took a peculiar pleasure in the contemplation of skulls, and cudgels, and gallows.

It is one thing to be the kind of optimist who can divert his mind from personal suffering by dreaming of the face of an angel, and quite another thing to be the kind of optimist who can divert it by dreaming of the foul fat face of Long John Silver. And this faith of his had a very definite and a very original philosophical purport. Other men have justified existence because it was a harmony.

He justified it because it was a battle, because it was an inspiring and melodious discord. He appealed to a certain set of facts which lie far deeper than any logic—the great paradoxes of the soul. For the singular fact is that the spirit of man is in reality depressed by all the things which, logically speaking, should encourage it, and encouraged by all the things which, logically speaking, should depress it.

Nothing, for example, can be conceived more really dispiriting than that rationalistic explanation of pain which conceives it as a thing laid by Providence upon the worst people. Nothing, on the other hand, can be conceived as more exalting and reassuring than that great mystical doctrine which teaches that pain is a thing laid by Providence upon the best. We can accept the agony of heroes, while we revolt against the agony of culprits. We can all endure to regard pain when it is mysterious; our deepest nature protests against it the moment that it is rational.

This doctrine that the best man suffers most is, of course, the supreme doctrine of Christianity; millions have found not merely an elevating but a soothing story in the undeserved sufferings of Christ; had the sufferings been deserved we should all have been pessimists.

Stevenson's great ethical and philosophical value lies in the fact that he realised this great paradox that life becomes more fascinating the darker it grows, that life is worth living only so far as it is difficult to live. The more steadfastly and gloomily men clung to their sinister visions of duty, the more, in his eyes, they swelled the chorus of the praise of things. He was an optimist because to him everything was heroic, and nothing more heroic than the pessimist.

To Stevenson, the optimist, belong the most frightful epigrams of pessimism. It was he who said that this planet on which we live was more drenched with blood, animal and vegetable, than a pirate ship. It was he who said that man was a disease of the agglutinated dust. And his supreme position and his supreme difference from all common optimists is merely this, that all common optimists say that life is glorious in spite of these things, but he said that all life was glorious because of them. He discovered that a battle is more comforting than a truce. - GK Chesterton

From the Commonplace Book: G. K. Chesterton on Robert Louis Stevenson

 

The faith of Stevenson, like that of a great number of very sane men, was founded on what is called a paradox—the paradox that existence was splendid because it was, to all outward appearance, desperate. Paradox, so far from being a modern and fanciful matter, is inherent in all the great hypotheses of humanity. The Athanasian Creed, for example, the supreme testimony of Catholic Christianity, sparkles with paradox like a modern society comedy. Thus, in the same manner, scientific philosophy tells us that finite space is unthinkable and infinite space is unthinkable. Thus the most influential modern metaphysician, Hegel, declares without hesitation, when the last rag of theology is abandoned, and the last point of philosophy passed, that existence is the same as non-existence.

Thus the brilliant author of "Lady Windermere's Fan," in the electric glare of modernity, finds that life is much too important to be taken seriously. Thus Tertullian, in the first ages of faith, said "Credo quia impossibile."

We must not, therefore, be immediately repelled by this paradoxical character of Stevenson's optimism, or imagine for a moment that it was merely a part of that artistic foppery or "fuddling hedonism" with which he has been ridiculously credited. His optimism was one which, so far from dwelling upon those flowers and sunbeams which form the stock-in-trade of conventional optimism, took a peculiar pleasure in the contemplation of skulls, and cudgels, and gallows.

It is one thing to be the kind of optimist who can divert his mind from personal suffering by dreaming of the face of an angel, and quite another thing to be the kind of optimist who can divert it by dreaming of the foul fat face of Long John Silver. And this faith of his had a very definite and a very original philosophical purport. Other men have justified existence because it was a harmony.

He justified it because it was a battle, because it was an inspiring and melodious discord. He appealed to a certain set of facts which lie far deeper than any logic—the great paradoxes of the soul. For the singular fact is that the spirit of man is in reality depressed by all the things which, logically speaking, should encourage it, and encouraged by all the things which, logically speaking, should depress it.

Nothing, for example, can be conceived more really dispiriting than that rationalistic explanation of pain which conceives it as a thing laid by Providence upon the worst people. Nothing, on the other hand, can be conceived as more exalting and reassuring than that great mystical doctrine which teaches that pain is a thing laid by Providence upon the best. We can accept the agony of heroes, while we revolt against the agony of culprits. We can all endure to regard pain when it is mysterious; our deepest nature protests against it the moment that it is rational.

This doctrine that the best man suffers most is, of course, the supreme doctrine of Christianity; millions have found not merely an elevating but a soothing story in the undeserved sufferings of Christ; had the sufferings been deserved we should all have been pessimists.

Stevenson's great ethical and philosophical value lies in the fact that he realised this great paradox that life becomes more fascinating the darker it grows, that life is worth living only so far as it is difficult to live. The more steadfastly and gloomily men clung to their sinister visions of duty, the more, in his eyes, they swelled the chorus of the praise of things. He was an optimist because to him everything was heroic, and nothing more heroic than the pessimist.

To Stevenson, the optimist, belong the most frightful epigrams of pessimism. It was he who said that this planet on which we live was more drenched with blood, animal and vegetable, than a pirate ship. It was he who said that man was a disease of the agglutinated dust. And his supreme position and his supreme difference from all common optimists is merely this, that all common optimists say that life is glorious in spite of these things, but he said that all life was glorious because of them. He discovered that a battle is more comforting than a truce. 

All Over Creation

Charlotte’s Web, by E. B. White. Illustrations by Garth Williams. Of course, I don’t have to say much about the book; everybody has heard of it. The Hanna/Barbera movie version came out in 1973, when I was in grade school. A Sherman Brothers song. Voices from half the TV shows we’d watched and sound effects from the cartoons. The book is poetic and moving, and a gentle slice of progressive Americana. Ranking: Essential. File Code: Children’s Book. Classic. Paperback.

Stuart Little, by E. B. White. Illustrations by Garth Williams. I was more engaged with this book than I was with “Charlotte’s Web”, mainly because I always liked the fantasy of being a mouse or a tiny person myself, living with toys, driving in little vehicles, hiding from the big people … my shy, whimsical impulses were at odds with my gawky body. I wanted to avoid attention, I suppose. No wonder Hobbits appealed to me so much later. Anyway, I got this copy in grade school (Fourth Grade, I imagine), and its condition certainly shows its age. Ranking: Essential. File Code: Children’s Book. Classic. Paperback.

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, by Robert C. O’Brien. Illustrated by Zena Bernstein. Mrs. Bratton read this to us in Fourth Grade, then I read it myself in middle school. Adventures among the rodents again, with their secret life, here enhanced by scientific experiment, so it’s not just whimsy, it’s SCIENCE! Again, the fantasy of building a covert world away from the powers that be, escaping their death hassles, man, and making a Utopia where we can all live in peace. Ranking: Keeper. File Code: Children’s Classic. Paperback.

Barabbas; and The Sybil, by Par Lagerkvist. The author was a Nobel Prize Winner for Literature. I got these books long ago (junior year?) because they seemed to be on the fringes of my interests, historical, philosophical, religious. Haven’t brought myself to read them through yet; perhaps the time has come. Barabbas follows the man released instead of Jesus, of course (it was made into a movie with Anthony Quinn), and The Sybil is about the Wandering Jew, searching for answers. Ranking: After all this time? Probably Dispensable. File Code: Novels. Paperback.

Creation, by Gore Vidal. “A sweeping novel of politics, war, philosophy, and adventure–in a restored edition, featuring never-before-published material from Gore Vidal’s original manuscript–Creation offers a captivating grand tour of the ancient world. Cyrus Spitama, grandson of the prophet Zoroaster and lifelong friend of Xerxes, spent most of his life as Persian ambassador for the great king Darius. He traveled to India, where he discussed nirvana with Buddha, and to the warring states of Cathay, where he learned of Tao from Master Li and fished on the riverbank with Confucius. Now blind and aged in Athens–the Athens of Pericles, Sophocles, Thucydides, Herodotus, and Socrates–Cyrus recounts his days as he strives to resolve the fundamental questions that have guided his life’s journeys: how the universe was created, and why evil was created with good. In revisiting the fifth century B.C.–one of the most spectacular periods in history–Gore Vidal illuminates the ideas that have shaped civilizations for millennia.” – Amazon. This used copy has a badly cracked spine. In his novels of the ancient world, I always think Vidal is trying to be Robert Graves, with the whole “lost autobiographical manuscript” thing. Still, a good read, and nicely dramatized. Ranking: Keeper. File Code: Novel. Historical. Paperback.

Traditional British Ballads: A Selection, Edited by Bartlett Jere Whiting. Could this paperback actually be from 1955, the only date inside? Amazing. It is what it says on the label. Some marking inside; probably a college book. Ranking: Keeper. File Code: Poetry. Folk. Paperback.

The Portable Charles Lamb: Letters and Essays, Edited by James Mason Brown. A Viking Portable Library Book. I’ve liked the whimsical Lamb since reading his essay about roast pigs in high school. He seems the gentlest and the most humorous of the writers of the Romantic era, the most decent and the least stormy – I want to be his friend. His sentimentality is loving and never smarmy, his letters are a delight, and he himself seems wise, sad, and witty. His “took up arms against a sea of troubles” and gallantly opposed them. I’ve carried this book as a vade mecum several times on trips to the doctor. Some interior marks. Ranking: Essential. File Code: Letters. Essays. English Literature.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Other Stories, by Robert Louis Stevenson. A Penguin book. Bought it at Goodwill to have a copy of the tale in its own book, as it were, and a’cause of my Penguin mania. Dead cheap, too. Ranking: Keeper. File Code: Classic. Paperback. Horror? Mystery?

Extraterrestrial Visitations from Prehistoric Times to the Present, by Jacques Bergier. A purchase from the early 70’s, instigated by Mike but passed around by all us boys and much discussed. Bergier was a practiced purveyor of crackpot theories and jumped on the bandwagon of “Chariots of the Gods” and the UFO craze of the times. Our young minds feasted on the wonder and fear of it all and wove it into our lore and storytelling. I remember being afraid to go outside at night for dread of being taken by aliens, while at the same time marveling at ‘ancient mysteries’ and ‘secret histories’. My copy shows the wear and tear of 47 years and being passed around and nearly being read to rags. Ranking: Keeper. Artifact. File Code: Extraterrestrials. Crackpot Science. Paperback.

Monsters You Never Heard Of, by Daniel Cohen. Illustrated. Cryptozoology for kids. Along with Thomas G. Aylesworth and … there was a third guy, I think, but I can’t think of the name [am I thinking of Peter Haining?] … anyway, they were all purveyors of monsters and mayhem for kids and for those who were kids in critical thinking alike in the 1970’s. Anyway, it was all fun, and our way of distracting ourselves from the real horrors of life. Ranking: Keeper. File Code: Cryptozoology. Legend. Paperback.

Hostage to the Devil, by Malachi Martin. “A true, awesome account of the possession and exorcism of five living Americans – documented by a former Jesuit.” Dated from 1977, during the “Exorcist” craze. One of the most disturbing books I’ve ever read, perhaps because I’m inclined -not absolutely convinced, but sneakily inclined – to believe it’s true. I hesitate to re-read; it was so unsettling. Even if I simply scared myself because of my psychology, I don’t care to run the chance of doing it to myself again. “There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.” – C. S. Lewis. Cover somewhat scruffy. Ranking: Cursed object and forbidden item. File Code: Possession. Exorcism. Paperback.

Catechism of the Catholic Church, Complete and Updated. I have read this aloud, all 700 or so pages, a little bit a day, for over a year. Lays out in great detail and scholarship what Catholics believe. (2 copies) Ranking: Essential File Code: Religion. Catholicism. Paperback.