Law and Conversation

July 6, 2011

3 Europa Editions books to try

Earlier this week I posted about becoming one of  the participants on The Europa Challenge Blog, a fan blog dedicated to encouraging reading and reviewing the contemporary books by mostly European writers published by Europa Editions. I’ve set my sights on achieving the challenge’s Europa Ami level by reading four Europa books by the end of the year, but, since I’ve already read several more from the publisher, I’m planning on posting about those, too.

As I noted in my introductory post over on the challenge blog, I tend to forget the details of books once I’ve read them, so posting about those I read in the last couple of years will require some rereading. That’s OK: one of the many reasons I started this blog was to keep better track of and better remember what I’ve read.

Here are three suggestions for Europa reading:

1) The Elegance of the Hedgehog, by Muriel Barbery. If there’s one book that hooked me and others on Europa Editions and put the publisher on the map, it’s this one. It was a bestseller in Europe and a bestseller in the US, translated from the original French into English and other languages. The cover is charming, and so is the story.

2) A Day in the Life of Ancient Rome, by Alberto Angela. A paleontologist who also hosts popular science television shows in Italy, Angela takes the reader on a fictional walk through the Eternal City on a day during the reign of the Emperor Trajan, almost two thousand years ago.

3) The Woman with the Bouquet, by Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt. These tightly crafted short stories mix dreams with reality.

Have you read any books published by Europa Editions? Did you like them? Have you ever participated on a fan blog?

May 18, 2011

Three doctors in fiction

Earlier this week I posted about an awful case of medical malpractice that Gustave Flaubert depicts in his classic, “Madame Bovary.” Flaubert doesn’t have much sympathy for his fictional physician, Charles Bovary; he paints him as boring and not very smart. Certainly, that’s how Bovary’s wife, Emma, sees him, though her more memorable character is far less attractive.

The medical profession has long been a source of fascination for many storytellers and their audiences. I still remember watching episodes of two long-running soaps, “The Doctors” with a young Kathleen Turner and “Days of Our Lives,” where a significant portion of the action took place in the hospital coffee shop (the characters would find one another there and one would inquire whether the other Wanted To Talk About It), in the early 1980s with my mother (who would guiltily leap up to turn the television off when she saw my father, a doctor who disdained soap operas as a waste of time–not that he’d ever watched any–arriving home).

Here are three novels with wonderful doctor characters, all of which deserve to be much more widely read:

1) “Doctor Thorne,” by Anthony Trollope. I love Trollope and have recently noted that I’m now reading what’s generally considered Trollope’s masterpiece, “The Way We Live Now.” Like “Madame Bovary,” “Doctor Thorne” is a 19th century novel about marriage.  Unlike Charles Bovary, Doctor Thorne is intelligent and perceptive as well as kind and generous. In a story that probate law buffs should enjoy, Thorne serves as guardian of his niece and executor of a wealthy man’s will. Though Trollope excels at depicting mankind’s mercenary motives–the family of one of the heroes of the story, Frank Gresham, emphasizes throughout that “Frank must marry money”–you can count on him to get everything to come right at the end.

2) “A Country Doctor,” by Sarah Orne Jewett. Like Trollope, Jewett displays a keen understanding of human nature. Unlike Trollope, she had some trouble with structuring her stories–ending them, in particular–and many are not so much stories but peaceful landscapes of life in Maine, where she lived. Her model for “A Country Doctor” was her father, Dr. Theodore H. Jewett, to whom she was very close and who would take her, as a young girl, on his rounds of visiting patients.

3) “The Citadel,” by A.J. Cronin, who himself was a physician. Full disclosure: I haven’t read Cronin’s book. I saw the UK production on PBS’s “Masterpiece Theatre” years ago and loved the story and the production. Ben Cross, who may be more familiar to some of us as the star of “Chariots of Fire,” was perfect in his role as Dr. Andrew Manson.

A fun result of my posts on Trollope was that The Trollope Society and I chatted across the pond and started following each other on Twitter. Another interesting person I recently came across on Twitter is Caroline Rance, whose website, “The Quack Doctor,” has lots of fascinating info for anyone interested in medical history.

Ramona Koval moderated a delightful conversation with several Australian doctors about their vocational reading on the Australian Broadcasting Company’s “The Book Show” a year ago, on May 28, 2010.

What stories of doctors and/or medical issues in fiction have made an impression on you?

May 13, 2011

Fairness in fiction: Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom

In my last post, I originally wrote that Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom, the fictional protagonist of John Updike’s classic and beautifully written “Rabbit” tetralogy, and his family are absolutely dreadful, without any qualification.

Then I worried that I sounded overly judgmental.

It’s not that I’m worried about hurting Angstrom’s fictional feelings ;-) .  But as a lawyer and former administrative law judge, and now as a professional writer, I’ve striven to look at matters involving real people from all different points of view. (Even more than that, trying to see where another person’s coming from is the right thing for anyone to do in most situations, I think.)

Most legal disputes involve not black and white, but shades of gray. People are only human and, accordingly, behave imperfectly, and everyone involved in a matter, whether litigant, lawyer, witness, juror, or judge, has at least a slightly different point of view. That’s one reason that there’s always uncertainty when a case goes to trial, and one reason why lawyers and mediators usually urge their clients to settle their differences outside of court.

So I fretted that maybe I wasn’t being fair to these fictional beings. I decided to amend my post by saying that from Updike’s description of their circumstances, the reader could understand, if not excuse, why the characters are as dreadful as they are.

Since then, I’ve been thinking about Updike’s creations some more, especially in the second volume, “Rabbit Redux,” in which, as I wrote some time ago, Rabbit and others reach new depths of dreadfulness. You know, I really don’t think Rabbit’s background explains the degree of his deplorable choices and shameful behavior in that book. I’m not sure there is an explanation, or whether there needs to be one. Maybe Rabbit just is what he is, to use a contemporary cliche.

Would any other “Rabbit” readers like to weigh in on the matter?  ”Redux” was a hard read for me.

Via Nathan Bransford comes this link to photos of The Book Surgeon’s intriguing artworks carved from books. Eugene has some other pretty amazing photos on My Modern Metropolis, too.

May 11, 2011

Miserable marriages in literature

To my disappointment, I couldn’t find any fictional stories containing prenuptial agreements to accompany my recent post on the royal wedding and prenups.  But fiction abounds in unhappy marriages, as the Guardian recently observed.

In addition to the Guardian’s recommendations of Edward Albee‘s “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?,” Gustave Flaubert’s “Madame Bovary,” and Henry James‘s “Portrait of a Lady,” I’d recommend George Eliot‘s “Middlemarch,” and Edith Wharton’s “Ethan Frome” and “The Custom of the Country.” And for a stunningly well-crafted saga of an absolutely dreadful marriage between two absolutely dreadful people from two absolutely dreadful families, John Updike’s “Rabbit” tetralogy is hard to beat. (To be fair, those dreadful people are three-dimensional, and from the circumstances that Updike presents, the reader can understand, if not excuse, why they’re as dreadful as they are.)

All of these books are classics, meriting reading and rereading.  But they’re only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to fictional depictions of miserable marriages.

Do you think prenuptial agreements would have mitigated the fallout of any of the marriages depicted in these works? And am I being too hard on Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom and his family?

May 9, 2011

Read this: more Jane Gardam, on marriage

A few months ago I recommended reading Jane Gardam’s “Old Filth,” a novel told from the point of view of Edward Feathers, an elderly British barrister who is looking back over his long life and distinguished career. By itself, the book is a gem. To fully appreciate the story, though, you need to read its companion novel, “The Man in the Wooden Hat.”

In “Old Filth,” we learn something about Feathers’s long and seemingly staid marriage to Elisabeth (Betty). In “The Man in the Wooden Hat,” Gardam tells the story of Feathers’s marriage from Betty’s point of view. The resulting portrait is surprisingly complex and anything but dull.

I thought of Gardam’s fictional stories of the Feathers’s marriage in connection with the recent wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Last week I wrote that I fully expect theirs to be a long and happy union, though, of course, nothing in this life is ever certain.

All marriages have many facets, though, and unhappy ones are more often the stuff of novels than happy ones. Please check back on Wednesday when I’ll have some recommendations for more reading on marriage in fiction.

There’ve been some snarky assessments on the ‘net of Prince William’s genetic odds of marital longevity. Granted, the marriages of several of his parents’ generation haven’t held up so well, but that of his paternal grandparents is now going on 65 years. His paternal great-grandparents appear to have been models of devotion, as the movie “The King’s Speech” depicts. And his father, whose marriage to Princess Diana was a disaster, has to all appearances remained in love with his current wife (and she with him) for decades.

The new Duchess of Cambridge, Kate Middleton, was voted the third most beautiful royal beauty in a poll on a dating site shortly before her wedding, the Telegraph reported. I wouldn’t argue about Kate or any of the other placeholders, but I wonder why we never see the reigning Queen Elizabeth, who as a young woman was as stunning as any classic or modern beauty and who now has the look of a lovely grandmother, on such lists?

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