Collected Miscellany

If you are interested in reading a heart-gripping tale of the sacrifices made by men in combat, pick up Michael M. Phillips’s The Gift of Valor. The book is a no holds barred story of Lance Corporal Jason Dunham – a squad leader who made the ultimate sacrifice in protecting his men.

The first half of the book covers Dunham’s upbringing in Scio, New York and his subsequent career in the Marines. This part of the book includes a detailed account of the combat that occurred on April 14, 2004 in Husaybah, Iraq – the day that Dunham was severely wounded by covering a grenade with his helmet and body to protect his infantry squad. The second half of the book details Dunham’s journey through the various levels of medical care that he received in Iraq and beyond.

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Regular readers will remember that I have been reviewing each new book in the Cannongate Myth series as I have had a chance to read them (see here for an example). It is an interesting series that asks well known writers, with their unique style and talents, to bring a fresh perspective to a myth of their own choosing. No two books are quite the same and yet they all attempt to re-imagine and re-tell established stories.

I recently finished another book in the series, Alexander McCall Smith’s Dream Angus: The Celtic God of Dreams. Like so many of these authors, I hadn’t read any of McCall Smith’s previous works (It would be interesting to have a stronger background in the author’s work before reading their contribution to this series, but alas there is only so much time in a day), but if Dream Angus is any indication Smith is a deft writer with a light and witty touch.

In Celtic myth Angus (or Aengus or Angus Mac Og) is a cupid like god of youth, love and romance but instead of arrows he uses dreams. Smith’s reworking of this myth weaves together the most common stories surrounding Angus: his conception and birth, his relationship with his foster father, tricking his real father out of his house and land, and his enchantment and elopement with the the women who haunted his dreams. This part of the book is really just a straightforward narrative. That is not to say that it isn’t skillful and well done, because it is both of those things and thus enjoyable and interesting on its own.

But as the series is set up to do, Smith also weaves in a modern day element to the myth. He does this with alternating chapters whose stories hint at the work of Angus rather than explicitly tell his story. The key word is hint. These little vignettes on the surface don’t seem connected to Angus at all. But they are suggestive of the role dreams and desires play in our lives.

John Burnside, in a review for the Guardian, notes the style that links the myth and the modern stories:

These modern stories are told in the same direct manner and language used to relate the old myth, so much so, in fact, that they become just as magical, cruel and erotically charged as their Celtic model.

Burnside also notes what he calls Smith’s “sly and deceptive simplicity.” And I think this is what makes Dream Angus an enjoyable read. Smith doesn’t knock you over the head with symbolism nor does he insert himself into the narrative. Instead, he offers stories that subtly evoke feelings and hint at deeper issues by illustrating the underlying mystery of so much of human existence. Some would explain these actions and thoughts by pointing to psychology or biology – to Freud or Darwin or both – but by connecting these stories with the ancient Celtic myth Smith seems to be saying: how do we know Angus isn’t still whispering in our ear and influencing our dreams? After all, isn’t a myth a story that helps explain how the world works?

Dream Angus is another example of the value of the myth series. Anyone who enjoys the art of storytelling would enjoy this volume. I think it would be particularly appealing to those who enjoy the short story form, as book’s modern stories are deft examples of that art. In the age of heavy tomes and wordy fiction, McCall Smith’s brevity and simplicity is a breath of fresh air.

The Few by Alex Kershaw is an engrossing history of the first American pilots who volunteered to fight for the Royal Air Force during the Battle of Britain. Kershaw highlights seven Americans, scattered in ones and twos in different squadrons, who choose to fight for freedom against Nazi Germany in the Battle.

Kershaw brings his normal narrative style to tell the stories of the handful of Americans who fought against Nazi Germany for the British even as their own government turned its back on the beleaguered country. These Americans chose to join the British even though the U.S. government threatened them with imprisonment, large fines, and loss of citizenship for breaking neutrality laws.

Kershaw does a superb job highlighting a piece of American history that very few Americans know much about. The first American to be killed in World War II was not at Pearl Harbor, but in the skies over England – his name was Billy Fiske. Kershaw intertwines the stories of the Americans, like Fiske, with the story of the brave RAF flyers who defended Britain against the German Luftwaffe.

I also like how Kershaw discusses the exploits of the leading German aces who fought in the Battle of Britain. Similar to many British and American flyers who fought in the Battle of Britain, two of the three leading aces did not live to see the end of World War II. The sad fact is that at one point, new pilots were not expected to live more than two weeks because of the intense fighting between the RAF and the Luftwaffe.

Anyone interested in the air war during World War II would find The Few very entertaining and enlightening.

The other day I was having a hard time feeling inspired about anything I was reading or anything on the TBR shelf. Seeking inspiration I went to the public library and then rummaged around in the Friends of the Library Bookstore. I often peruse used bookstores, or discount shelves in chain stores, looking for random books that I might want to read based on nothing more than the cover and book flap description.

And once again this tactic worked. On this particular trip I picked up The Two Pound Tram by William Newton for one dollar! As always I was intrigued by the short book with the interesting cover.

It turned out to be a great choice. This first novel by William Newton turned out to be a charming and simple tale of two brother’s adventures in 1930’s England. It has a sense of innocence and whimsy that matches the time and setting so well that you suspect the book is an autobiography rather than fiction. The writing is simple enough for children and yet provides humor and even poignancy for adults.

Here is the book’s description that convinced me to pick it up:

The year was 1937, and Hitler had just walked into Austria. It was also a marvelous year for clouded yellow butterflies.

Wilfred and Duncan live in a big old house in Sussex, England. They spend their days catching butterflies and dreaming of escape, and only ever see their parents on Wednesdays for lunch. When their mother elopes and their already distant father takes up with other ladies, they decide that enough is enough. And they have a plan: they will leave home, go to London, and buy a tram, decommissioned by the bus and tram company, that they have seen advertised in the paper for two pounds sterling. Soon the brothers find that their adventures have begun in earnest-as they become proprietors of an old-fashioned horse-drawn tram service, then local celebrities whose tram advertises for a seaside merchant, and finally such heroes of the war effort that they receive a visit from royalty.

Two things struck me as I was reading. The first, is the innocence and whimsy that infuses the book. The story is simple yet touches on difficult subjects like war, broken families, and childhood illness. It is light hearted, however, and never gets maudlin or “serious” even when at the end the now older narrator returns to scenes of his youth. There is a sense of loss and a touch of nostalgia, but a light one. It is a slice of history from a time that seems quite distant today. The humor comes from the simple interaction of the boys with the people around them. The adventure is never quite knowing what the next day will bring. This reflects that unique feeling that only seems possible when you are young. Some may find the book unsatisfying because of its simplicity but I found it mischievous and mysterious enough to be rewarding.

That mischief and mystery comes from the second aspect that stood out, the ability to tell the story so that it seems true to life. Wilfred narrates the book in a voice that seems real; that somehow captures what one would think a boy in his situation at that time might sound. The book is a wink at the truism that often “truth is stranger than fiction.” Newton so infuses the narrator with the ring of truth and innocence that we begin to wonder if this “story” really happened.

Online reviewer Ann Skea captures my reaction very well:

All of this sounds fantastic, but the charm of this story is that it could all, just possibly, be true. William Newton tells it so simply and so plausibly that you end up wanting to search for corroborative evidence. And if you do so, I’m sure you will find some, although the details may not be sufficient for you to verify Wilfred’s version of events.

Whether the story is truth or fantasy, however, is not important. It is a wonderful story, told by a story-teller who, if nothing else, can embroider facts so imaginatively that you suspend disbelief. It reads like a memoir, and it captures with deceptive simplicity and humor the adventure, optimism, delights and disappointments of the vanished world of youth. It is a pleasure to read.

All in all, I must say that The Two Pound Tram was a pleasant surprise and short but sweet treat. If you come across this little book in a bookstore or remainder bin, I would recommend giving it a read. I agree with Skea, you will be glad you did.

The other day I was having a hard time feeling inspired about anything I was reading or anything on the TBR shelf. Seeking inspiration I went to the public library and then rummaged around in the Friends of the Library Bookstore. I often peruse used bookstores, or discount shelves in chain stores, looking for random books that I might want to read based on nothing more than the cover and book flap description.

And once again this tactic worked. On this particular trip I picked up The Two Pound Tram by William Newton for one dollar! As always I was intrigued by the short book with the interesting cover.

It turned out to be a great choice. This first novel by William Newton turned out to be a charming and simple tale of two brother’s adventures in 1930’s England. It has a sense of innocence and whimsy that matches the time and setting so well that you suspect the book is an autobiography rather than fiction. The writing is simple enough for children and yet provides humor and even poignancy for adults.

Here is the book’s description that convinced me to pick it up:

The year was 1937, and Hitler had just walked into Austria. It was also a marvelous year for clouded yellow butterflies.

Wilfred and Duncan live in a big old house in Sussex, England. They spend their days catching butterflies and dreaming of escape, and only ever see their parents on Wednesdays for lunch. When their mother elopes and their already distant father takes up with other ladies, they decide that enough is enough. And they have a plan: they will leave home, go to London, and buy a tram, decommissioned by the bus and tram company, that they have seen advertised in the paper for two pounds sterling. Soon the brothers find that their adventures have begun in earnest-as they become proprietors of an old-fashioned horse-drawn tram service, then local celebrities whose tram advertises for a seaside merchant, and finally such heroes of the war effort that they receive a visit from royalty.

Two things struck me as I was reading. The first, is the innocence and whimsy that infuses the book. The story is simple yet touches on difficult subjects like war, broken families, and childhood illness. It is light hearted, however, and never gets maudlin or “serious” even when at the end the now older narrator returns to scenes of his youth. There is a sense of loss and a touch of nostalgia, but a light one. It is a slice of history from a time that seems quite distant today. The humor comes from the simple interaction of the boys with the people around them. The adventure is never quite knowing what the next day will bring. This reflects that unique feeling that only seems possible when you are young. Some may find the book unsatisfying because of its simplicity but I found it mischievous and mysterious enough to be rewarding.

That mischief and mystery comes from the second aspect that stood out, the ability to tell the story so that it seems true to life. Wilfred narrates the book in a voice that seems real; that somehow captures what one would think a boy in his situation at that time might sound. The book is a wink at the truism that often “truth is stranger than fiction.” Newton so infuses the narrator with the ring of truth and innocence that we begin to wonder if this “story” really happened.

Online reviewer Ann Skea captures my reaction very well:

All of this sounds fantastic, but the charm of this story is that it could all, just possibly, be true. William Newton tells it so simply and so plausibly that you end up wanting to search for corroborative evidence. And if you do so, I’m sure you will find some, although the details may not be sufficient for you to verify Wilfred’s version of events.

Whether the story is truth or fantasy, however, is not important. It is a wonderful story, told by a story-teller who, if nothing else, can embroider facts so imaginatively that you suspend disbelief. It reads like a memoir, and it captures with deceptive simplicity and humor the adventure, optimism, delights and disappointments of the vanished world of youth. It is a pleasure to read.

All in all, I must say that The Two Pound Tram was a pleasant surprise and short but sweet treat. If you come across this little book in a bookstore or remainder bin, I would recommend giving it a read. I agree with Skea, you will be glad you did.

I had originally intended to offer this book review as a part of a week-long discussion of “The Game of the Century” between Ohio State and Michigan. But it turned out I was so nervous and tense that I couldn’t concentrate. After Bo Schembechler’s untimely death, and the devastating and soul crushing game itself, I was even less prepared to discuss this historic rivalry. And so the review has slipped further back in the queue as the weeks have passed. At this point I am mostly numb to the events of the last few weeks, so I figured I ought to just suck it up and post the darn review. Click below for the result.

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