A Kinrowan Estate story: Elven Contradance Band

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It was one of the oddest contradance bands I had the privilege to call for, as it was comprised solely of musicians from across the Border. Now the Elves tell us next to nothing about their culture, so what we do know of the True Bloods is centuries old. We do have True Bloods music preserved in shards of glass that play within our heads when we hold them but the idea that True Bloods had a taste for contradance music was particularly surprising given that they have a disdain for anything of our culture past that of Elizabethian Era, when True Bloods such as Peasblossom and Moth got name-checked by Shakespeare.

Contradance music being less than a century old in any meaningful sense, I figured that they hadn’t noticed it yet. But it turned out Gutmansdottir, the botanist studying our Wild Wood, had been playing contradance tunes on her fiddle while out there and two younger elves, still only in their second century, had listened to her with keen interest. A trio of them has been part of our dances for some three years now — they were amazingly superb dancers.k

So when I was approached to call for them, I was surprised. Truly surprised. Their band name was Spritely Tunes (more or less) in English. One player had what looked like a violin but was pitched oddly, another had a double-headed harp, and the third player had what was obviously their version of Border pipes.

It perhaps was Elizabethian court music filtered through their own not-human sensibilities. It was haunting though upbeat music fit for the Winter night they played. Their versions of reels, waltzes and even jigs were quickly learned by me and I gave instructions to the dancers. Three hours later, dancers and musicians (not to mention me) were ecstatic but bloody tired.

We all bowed to them as one and they left our dance for (presumably) The Border but that was only a guess. All I know is they’ve shown up three times since, each time in deep Winter, after a messenger tells me they’re coming in a week. Being True Bloods, they assume that we would of course be there to dance if they so requested.

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A Kinrowan Estate story: A Punjabi Meal

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Chandra came to the Estate several springs back with the intent of being here for a single growing season. I hired her because she had a deft hand with transplanting seedlings, something harder than it looks to do properly, and relished the long hours we work for weeks on end. Her musical abilities were an unlooked-for bonus, one we discovered after she began her tenure as an under gardener. She was the only staff member living in her particular yurt, which meant Chandra was free to play ragas on sitar, a long-necked fretted string instrument with a gourd resonator. And we often heard pop music from her Punjabi homeland that she’d brought with her, something that brought a smile to many a passerby.

I had decided within a few months to offer her a permanent position if she wanted it. She accepted with delight and noted that she was looking forward to learning to ski, not a common practice in her country.

Which leads me back to that oh-so-tasty meal. We favour Raj-inspired cuisine here, in part because we have so many vegetarians. This meal, curated by Chandra, was far beyond most in its wonderfulness. Ingrid, the Estate Buyer, tracked down rice, spices and even the clarified butter called ghee from the Punjab during a tea-buying trip and had it shipped here. (I’m sure Customs must have looked the other way on some of the items.) Bjorn even brewed a Punjabi-style Black Ale for the occasion, a feat which was well received by all.

Some of us even knew how to eat in culturally appropriate fashion using naan to scoop up tasty morsels of our meal. Ingrid and her husband, Reynard, had spent enough time in the Punjab on tea-buying trips to really appreciate the meal. It was nothing like the British interpretation of Indian food which is hot and even hotter. Here were dishes spiced with a deft hand, so that the spices complemented the other ingredients instead of overwhelming them.

We finished this repast with cardamom flavored ice cream. All in all a most excellent Eventide meal!

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A Kinrowan Estate story: Oberon’s Wood

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For the longest time this year, summer fluttered her wings against the panes of spring. Now, sunlight lingers long and hot. Afternoons stretch like thrice-pulled saltwater taffy, and the days here at the Kinrowan Estate have become the drowsy, heat-sleepy days of our warmest season. There is no doubt, when the air is heavy and breath comes languid from the lungs — warmth exhaled into warmth, drawn in as warmth again — that those fluttering wings have long since spread, unfurled across the land and become the too-heavy blanket of unfettered summer.

What does one do when the mind and body fall prey to the slow, hot haze of summer days? One waits, of course. One waits for the sun to sink, and for the stars to creep into his vacant seat. One watches the moon rise to hang low and globular in the nighttime sky like overripe fruit, illuminating all of Oberon’s wood. And when the hands of the clock in the KInrowan Hall main entry way meet in the middle of Time — at midnight — one goes to the party.

You may not have realized you were invited: you may not have paid close enough attention to your dreams of late. That’s how such invitations are customarily delivered; in dreams. In fact, you’re invited every year, though also never, as Time shows far less consideration for human convention inside dreams and the realm of the Consort to the Faerie Queen.

But perhaps you have attended our parties, after all. It may simply be that later, waking, you dismissed your recollections as mere fancy, or the common (if dreams are ever common) workings of a mind at sleep. Perhaps you recall dancing with a particularly fine gentleman of a bear? The one in the lavender waistcoat? His great, huge paws rested gentle as thistledown upon your shoulders, and he led you in a most divine waltz beneath the trees. (Though he’s not quite so light upon his feet as the sylph; who would be?)

No? If it wasn’t the bear with whom you danced, might it have been the undine? Not you? Well, if you’re sure. They have beautiful voices, those water nymphs, and there really is nothing quite so lovely as a midnight water-waltz on the banks of the old millpond in Oberon’s wood. Enough Dragon’s Breath Stout and a few turns about the pond, and a man could forget more or less everything he nearly thought he’d hardly ever remembered, almost…

This year we’re keeping the festivities simple. Our twelve bands have been booked, both human and fey (and three who refuse to be classified as either). The instruments await: the pennywhistle, the concertina, the dulcimer, the zither. The autoharp, the theremin, the ocarina and the drum. This year there are mad rumors of an invisible gargantuan harpsichord, to be played by a thousand invisible fingers.

But rumors are just that. Such an appearance (so to speak) remains highly unlikely, in the main.

If good food is what you seek, our twelve over-burdened wicker hampers have been packed. (The things are massive! Someone — we won’t say who — wanted to hire a dozen elephants to bear the load! Elephants, in Oberon’s Wood! Perish the thought. The Ents were more than happy to volunteer for the task, once the need was made clear.) When entering the fey-touched realms, one usually feels more comfortable taking food with, though there are plenty here at the Estate who scoff at the dangers. In fact, more than one on the staff here has been seen to consume quite copious amounts of fey-wrought food, and even more copious amounts of intoxicating beverages of questionable origin. We’ve not lost anyone yet for more than a fortnight, to our knowledge. Faerie prerogative? Perhaps. You’re more than welcome to come find out for yourself; to each his –or her — own. As has already been explained, you’re always invited, and never. It’s up to you.

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What’s New for the 1st of September: June Tabor does grim ballads, a Latina rocker named Cecilia Villar Eljuri, Lucky Peach’s guide to cider, a Breton peasant’s memoir, music by Guy Clark, a film from Guillermo del Toro, a noir comic, and other matters…

Only thin, weak thinkers despise fairy stories. Each one has a true, strange fact hidden in it, you know, which you can find if you look. — Diana Wynne Jones in Fire and Hemlock

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Now it is by some storytellers said that the very first Jack here got lonely for the sound of music that could be made  with other musicians. So he invited in a few fellow fiddlers and a smallpiper to play for the Kinrowan Estate residents in exchange for s place to bed down, a bit of grub and some ale. Keep in mind that it was a typically cold and damp Scottish winter evening when he did this, so the musicians weren’t terribly inclined to leave.

One of ’em got the somewhat bright idea that if they didn’t stop playing, they wouldn’t be asked to leave, so they didn’t. And they weren’t asked to leave, as it was convenient to have musicians here. So a deal was struck — food, drink and a place to bed down for all musicians who were playing, so long as the music never, ever stopped. So it hasn’t. Ever. Down through the centuries, human and fey alike have made sure the music has gone on without ever stopping. A player might drop into the session here for a few hours, or stay playing for longer than you and I would believe possible. But there’s always at least several players keeping it going.

Now let’s see what we’ve got this edition…

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We definitely don’t like everything we review as you’ll see in this review of The Owl Mage Series by Mercedes Lackey and Larry Dixon. Now, Christine likes other books by Lackey, so she was anticipating good things from these three books (Owlflight, Owlsight and Owlknight).  But… ‘The Owl Mage books weren’t entirely bad, but neither were they very good.’ Christine’s review is fair, highlighting the things she thinks Lackey and Dixon do well, but in the end she gives the series a thumbs down.

Gary  takes a look at an alternate history adventure by Ian McDonald. ‘Although it deals in djinni and green men (!) and miraculous-seeming nano-tech, The Dervish House is more grounded in a reality Westerners will recognize than were McDonald’s two India books… Surely, though, one can wish for more books of this caliber from Ian McDonald.’

J.R. Campbell and Charles Prepolec are the editors of Gaslight Grimoire: Fantastic Tales of Sherlock Holmes of which Kage says, ‘All in all, Gaslight Grimoire is well worth picking up if you enjoy lighting the fire, curling up in your armchair with a glass of sherry at your elbow in the gloom of a winter afternoon, and having a good Victorian-era read.’

Kelly has a review of the audiobook version of a novel jointly written by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. She says, ‘If you’ve never heard Good Omens, you should. Whether or not you give a damn about theology or metaphysics, I prophesy you’ll find yourself chuckling often — or, like me, barking — as Martin Jarvis and these two well loved masters poke fun at everything most people hold dear and bring you to the brink of Armageddon.’

Robert brings us a look at a memoir that’s more than a little out of the ordinary, Jean-Marie Déguignet’s Memoirs of a Breton Peasant: ‘It is not often that one gets to read the memoirs of a peasant, because it’s not often that a peasant writes a memoir. This particular peasant was Breton, which is, for those fascinated by a part of the world that is unique and mysterious, a plus. As editor Bernez Rouz points out in “The Story Behind This Story,” Jean-Marie Déguignet was not a particularly nice man, and much of his story has been left out of this volume, particularly the paranoid ravings of his later life.’

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Robert has a dark fantasy film for you to consider: ‘The films of Guillermo del Toro have often dealt with innocence in a corrupt world; sometimes the innocence is found in surprising places, as in Hellboy, in which a demon becomes a savior. He also plays with the idea of redemption through transformation in such a way that the concept becomes almost Wagnerian in scope. And in Pan’s Labyrinth, he hinges these ultimately profound themes on a child’s belief in fairy tales.’

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If you enjoyed the first Hellboy film, Cat has a look at a Hellboy graphic novel set in the years after WW II: ‘I must profusely thank the publicity department at Dark Horse for sending literary treats such as B.P.R.D. 1946 for us to review, as they make for a wonderful reading experience!’

Robert has some thoughts on one of Marvel Comics’ forays into noir fiction, Daredevil Noir: ‘One has come to expect tight, absorbing writing from Alexander Irvine, and one is not disappointed in the Daredevil installment of the Marvel Noir series. Daredevil is not one of those superheroes who’s been very much on my radar, so I had the added attraction of a new character without, in my mind, any history to muck things up.’

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Kelly takes a look this week at Sara Perry’s The Tea Deck. She says, ‘As the now almost mythical door-to-door encyclopedia salesman knew, the opportunity to sell your product goes up exponentially once you’ve gotten it into the hands of a customer.’ How does this relate to a Tea Deck… and just what the hell is one?

Robert ran across a book that tells almost more than we wanted to know about Lobster: ‘Richard J. King’s Lobster is part of a series on “Animals” from Reaktion Books, and, in spite of what we might expect when dealing with a creature mainly interesting for its gustatory qualities, the culinary history is a minor part of the story.’

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Barb has a story to tell us in her review of Trio: ‘Väsen is Olov Johansson on 3-row chromatic nyckelharpa and kontrabasharpa, Mikael Marin on viola, 5-string viola, and pomposa, and Roger Tallroth on 12-string guitar and bosoki. Having had the opportunity over the last few years to immerse myself in many of Väsen’s recordings, see them perform live, and interview Olov Johansson, these musicians (unbeknownst to them) have become old friends.’

Pat really likes Brendan Begley’s It Could Be a Good Night Yet: ‘This is Breandán’s second solo effort, following on his 2000 release We Won’t Go Home ’til Morning — and mighty fine it is too.’

The New York-based guitarist, singer and songwriter Cecilia Villar Eljuri, who performs under the name Eljuri, has released a new record that fuses various Latino genres and reggae and rock. She’s a somewhat rare breed of Latina rocker and electric guitarist, as Gary points out in his review of Eljuri’s La Lucha.

Vonnie has good things to say about this recording: ‘An Echo of Hooves has June Tabor returning to what, in my mind, she does best, delivering ballads or songs that tell a tale. For this she has chosen eleven Medieval ballads. Some of them are very well-known, like “The Cruel Mother,” “Hughie Graeme,” “Sir Patrick Spens” and “Bonnie James Campbell”. Others are new to me.’

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Our What Not this time is our oft asked question about what a favored libation is. Kathleen Bartholomew, sister of the late sf writer Kage Baker and a fine writer as well,  waxes nostalgic:  ‘Nova Albion of blessed memory – a bright copper, richly hopped ale with an aftertaste of roses. But in the world of beers I can actually get my hands on … maybe Sierra Nevada Southern Hemisphere Harvest Ale, full of fresh new Zealand hops. Or Lagunitas Censored Ale. Or even the venerable Bass Ale — served room temperature, of course. With straw floating on the top. I like hops…’

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Although Guy Clark has been gone nearly five months now, we’re still missing that Texas troubador mightily. He’s especially been on our minds now that our tomato harvest is coming to a glorious end. Here’s what is perhaps Guy’s second-best-known song, ‘Homegrown Tomatoes’ recorded at Douglas Corner Cafe in Nashville, Tennessee, in 1996, as released on Keepers by Sugar Hill in 1997.

 

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What’s New for the 1st of September: A Firefly novel, our most criticised review, a pair of dark mangas, recreating Medieval English Ales, Balkan music history, ‘Excitable Boy’ in Bluegrass style, Emma Bull’s favourite tune, on blackberries and less tart matters…

“Stories,” he’d said, his voice low and almost husky, “we are made up of stories. And even the one’s that seem the most like lies can be our deepest hidden truths.” — Jane Yolen’s Briar Rose

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We raise a lot of berries here from those who expect this on a Scottish Estate, such as cranberries, raspberries and blackberries, to the unusual such as Border strawberries that start out blood red and turn as white as bleached bone as they ripen. Right now, we’re harvesting plump, full-of-tart-goodness blackberries that will be used in making both wine and preserves.

My wee gram used to make them both, as her ancestors did as well, and as a bairn I could never understand why they liked either, but now I find both quite appealing. Mind you though, I still think the best use of blackberries is in fresh churned ice cream. Or maybe in American style muffins. Or with porridge and cream. Or just eaten warm straight off the brambles as I did as a child.

H’h. I just had a Library visitor ask me where the phrase ‘the long conversation’ came from. I know what it means but I have no idea where it started, so let’s turn to this edition while I’ll research the question for that patron…

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Gary found a superb book on Balkan music: May It Fill Your Soul is a history and commentary on the massive changes in Bulgarian “folk” music that took place during the communist era, based on the experiences of Kostadin and Todora. The book is fairly well known among students of Balkan music and provides a different and much more detailed view than can be read in short articles, for example in The Rough Guide To World Music.’

Speaking of World Music, Kim looks at Richard O. Nidel’s World Music: The Basics: ‘Part of Routledge’s “The Basics” series, this book purports to give a survey of world music in an accessible, readable fashion. It largely succeeds, but may prove frustrating for those with more than a passing knowledge of any of the traditions it covers. Nidel’s text is readable, in that it is direct and simple. With very limited coverage of so many traditions, it needs to be.’

And now, dear readers, Mia gives you the review that brought us more hate mail than the next dozen or so reviews that drew complaints did combined: ‘When I read Fire Bringer  I had hopes for Mr. Clement-Davies future works.  The Sight was a huge disappointment. This book is a mess.’ Needless to say the lovers of this book were not  pleased what-so-ever, and they made sure we knew it.

William looks at a fantasy he really likes: ‘With a dark charm and grace no less endearing and seductive than the prince of darkness himself, To Reign in Hell, by Steven Brust, is a deliciously decadent voice leading you off the same tired, beaten path and into the wilderness of primal miracle and possibility. With a premise and daring vision that would have undoubtedly landed him on the Inquisitor’s table in an older time, the author of this descent into epic struggle manages with a deft and authoritative hand to slap an ancient myth in the face and force it on its head.’

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This novel is what happens when a series, no matter how short-lived, becomes beloved by legions of viewers. Firefly was a one-season space opera created by Joss Whedon that was brilliant. Unfortunately the network didn’t think the ratings were good enough, so they killed it after a single season, though they wrapped it up in a movie called Serenity. Stephen Brust, a writer many of you will know, wrote My Own Kind of Freedom and Cat says it’s quite true to the series.

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Mucking about the net one quiet afternoon, I chanced upon an interesting sounding article, Tofi Kerthjalfadsson’s Recreating Medieval English Ales, (a recreation of late 13th – 14th c. unhopped English ales). The author says that ‘These recipes are a modest attempt to recreate ales that are not only “period”, i.e. pre-17th century, but is actually medieval. These ales are based on newly available evidence from the late 13th and early 14th centuries.’ It’s an entertaining look at just what it takes to replicate these  ales.

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Robert brings us some manga from the dark side. Let’s start with Kazuya Minekura’s Wild Adapter: ‘Kazuya Minekura is a well-known manga artist responsible for, among other things, Saiyuki and Araiso Private High School Student Council Executive Committee, which I have only seen in anime and which, believe it or not, is directly relevant to Wild Adapter, her newest manga series.’

It gets darker. See what Robert has to say about Aya Kanno’s Blank Slate: ‘Aya Kanno’s Blank Slate is the sort of thing that turns up in manga from time to time — a grim story peopled by some frightening characters, all wrapped in gorgeous drawing. I will say, however, that I didn’t expect to find something like this from Shojo Beat, an imprint focusing on teenage girls.’

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April has a choice recording for us: ‘As an integral part of the band Frifot (with Ale Moller and Per Gudmundson) and the Nordan project (with Ale Moller and others), as well as numerous other side projects, Lena Willemark has been a fixture on the Swedish folk scene since the late 1970s. Windogur, a set of ten original compositions commissioned by the city of Stockholm (in its role of Cultural Capital of Europe ’98), was first performed live as part of a series of concerts entitled “Ladies Next,” and only later translated to CD.’

Gary found a lot to like in Angel Olson’s sophomore release Half Way Home from a few years back. ‘In a world full of cutesy and waif-like vocals from female singers in all genres, Olson’s decidedly non-angelic style immediately telegraphs her seriousness. Her husky warble is unadorned, the perfect instrument for delivering her nakedly honest and emotional lyrics.’

Gary reviewed Mosaïk by the Francophone Canadian group Vishtèn, which he says ‘could maybe be described as progressive Acadian, in much the way that I think of Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys as progressive Cajun.’ How progressive? To their tradition-based music they’ve added modern trappings including electric guitar and even an old-school Moog synthesizer!

We were talking about world music earlier. Well, Robert brought Mahmoud Fadl’s Drummers of the Nile in Town: Cairosonic to our attention: ‘Mahmoud Fadl is a well known percussionist and advocate of the music of Nubia, that region in southern Egypt largely forgotten in the contemporary world. Raised in Assuan and Cairo, he is today based in Berlin, not coincidentally a traditional center of study on Nubian culture and history.’

And just in case you can’t get enough of music from other traditions, Robert brings us the beginning of a major series on the Gamelan of Central Java: ‘A few pointers on listening to Javanese music. As I’ve noted, by Western standards the tones in Javanese music are not precisely predictable. Javanese music, along with that of many other non-Western cultures, develops horizontally, so that significance is a matter of sequence rather than chord. And the development is circular rather than linear, so that to a Western ear, it may seem formless.’ Got that? Enjoy.

Tim rounds our our music review with a look at the Rocky River Bush Band’s Sea Boots And Swags: ‘The title gives a good sense of what can be heard on this disc. The selections mostly have to with the sea (including four traditional shanties), with a couple of Australian bush songs thrown in, and rounded off with a few jigs and polkas.’

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Our What Not this time comes courtesy of a note by Emma Bull in The Sleeping Hedgehog from some twenty years or so ago about what was her favourite tune and decided it was worth sharing again, so here it is: ‘Right now that would be ‘Twa Bonnie Maidens.’ It’s so lovely and hopeful and soaring, exulting over Flora MacDonald helping Prince Charlie escape to the Isle of Skye. Yet it’s got a wistful strain, too, at the end, as if the singer knows Charlie won’t be coming back from France, whatever the song says: There’s a wind in the tree, and a ship on the sea / To me hi, bonnie maidens, me twa bonnie maids / By the sea mullet’s nest I will watch o’er the main / And you’re dearly welcome to Skye again.’

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Gary here. You and I would probably never think of playing Warren Zevon’s “Excitable Boy” as a bluegrass song. That’s why someone like John McEuen, who did think of it, has had a 50-year career as a groundbreaking roots musician, and you and I are just fans and listeners. McEuen is about to release a new album on which he is joined by some of the top names in American roots music. Not that he’s ever done anything else, but this is a special group, mostly featuring folks he’s known for a long time but not recorded with. Folks like Jay Ungar, David Bromberg (both of whom are on the “Excitable Boy” single along with Matt Cartsonis, who was a mainstay of Zevon’s touring band and who has also made his name scoring TV shows), John Cowan, Steve Martin, John Carter Cash … you get the idea. They’re all on the upcoming Made in Brooklyn.

I’ll be reviewing the album shortly. But in the meantime, see what you think of this ballad of a teenaged psychopath, performed in laconic bluegrass style by John McEuen and friends. I know this section generally features a live performance, but this one (and the whole album) was recorded live in studio using some special microphones, in just one take. Here’s “Excitable Boy.”

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A Kinrowan Estate story: An Estate Ramble

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It’s early one morning, barely past dawn, when I head down to the Kitchen for an early breakfast of tea and a buttermilk biscuit (as the Americans called them) with cheddar cheese and ham in it. After that, I pack a lunch of tea (yes I like tea quite a bit), an apple, crusty rolls, smoked sausage and a quite sharp cheddar cheese. And then I was off for a walk to the Standing Stones and back.

Oh, I dressed right for a ramble — sturdy boots, long pants and a long-sleeved shirt as it’s always cool in the woods where I’ll mostly be walking. Let’s see … I do carry a phone as anyone can have an accident though I’ll be damned if I know why we get reception away from the area around Kinrowan Hall. And I carry collection bags for mushrooms, herbs and such from the forest and meadows I cross. There’s also a notebook for jotting down observations if need be.

The first thing I found on my walk was some lovely morels a scant dozen yards into the woods. I think they’ll go well in eggs with a mild cheese to complement them. A nice bag of St. Georges soon followed as did a number of wild herbs and even small onions made it into to my pack.

I was eventually joined by a small fox, probably a young female, with a white splash on her face. She ran ahead of me as I got deeper into woods. Several ravens harassed her for a while but they went off in search I suspect of something to eat.

When I stopped for lunch, my fox companion came very close to me as she noticed I was eating good stuff from her viewpoint. I anticipated this might happen, so I carried extra provisions, particularly the sausage and cheese. And she got her fair share and maybe a bit more.

And we’ve time enough left to head back up the path, and pull a few weeds before afternoon tea.

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A Kinrowan Estate Story: Wandering Through Time

 

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Oh, hullo. Yes, it’s me, Robert. No, no, the other Robert. I was just — what’s that? Well, I don’t doubt at all that I look a bit confused — I am confused. I’ve lost my reading room, you see. I was sure it was right down here somewhere, but I think I may have given myself the same directions twice, and you know that never works. I really don’t know how I could have managed that — I was being especially careful.

Do you happen to know what year it is? Really? Oh.

Mmm — what calendar do you use? There are so many of them, I can never quite keep them straight in my head, and they all have different years that start at different times and have different numbers of days for everything — it’s quite confusing, even without keeping track of Great Years and Years of Years and all that. And that’s on this side of the Border. It’s even worse over there — time isn’t all the same length there, you know.

Hmm — I wonder if I messed up. . . . You do understand, don’t you, that the instructions must include at least four of the eleven directions, and I think I included yesterday in this set again, when it probably should have been tomorrow. Bother! I knew I shouldn’t have done it while I was in the Wood. I bet I was across the Border, and that throws everything off. The problem is, it keeps moving — the Border, I mean — so you can never really be sure.

Well, at least it’s only June, so I have time. What? Oh, dear — when did that happen? I’ve missed the entire summer? What’s that? You saw me here at Mabon? Here? In the Pub? But . . . oh, my. I thought that was next year.

I suppose I could just go to the Library, but my books are all in my reading room right where I put them, and finding the duplicates is always such a fuss. Iain gets quite put out with me — he says I should just pick a time and stay in it, and it’s not that I mean to wander around like that, but I get distracted, you see, and it’s so easy to get lost. And then we have to go through all the books that someone is thinking about writing, and all the ones that are going to be written, and the ones that might be written, and maybe the ones that no one wants to write, and sometimes even the ones that most definitely should not have been written, to find the advance copies of the ones that actually have been written so I can get copies of the ones I need.

And it’s so quiet in there I really can’t concentrate.

I suppose I’ll just have to find a Cat to follow. That’s the only thing I can think of, because I don’t have a minute to come up with some new directions. I really need to get caught up on my reading and find some time to do some writing.

Well, I’ll see you later. Whenever that is.

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What’s New for the 4th of August: Cape Verdean music, an Ian McDonald story, Wild Things, infantcide and Scottish ballads, live music by Karine Polwart and other matters

Coffee is a drink for grownups. No kid ever likes coffee. It’s psychoactive. Coffee is the drug of memory. ― Ian McDonald in ‘The Fifth Dragon’ story which you can read here.

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The beginning of August can mean either nicely warm weather at this Scottish Estate, though if we’re less than fortunate, quite chilly evenings if it’s rainy and windy. This year’s the latter with the result that I’m writing this up with the fireplace crackling in our third floor quarters in Kinrowan Hall as it’s much too early for the central heating here to be turned on. Our cats, Kail and Fianna, are curled up before it, both purring loudly with Malicorne doing ‘Pierre De Grenoble’ on the sound system…

Gallowglass, a fellow Librarian, has been telling me in an email that the Library he manages for a travelling theatre company has acquired a series of broadsides advertising performances of plays in the post-Commonwealth era. Charles the Second was certainly good for the theatre trade! We’ve covered more than a bit of theatre here including looks at a Punch and Judy show, John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera and even a production of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere.

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David leads us off with an appreciative look at Taj Mahal: Autobiography of a Bluesman: ‘Taj Mahal is a national treasure. His record labels have all celebrated his legacy in recent months, offering a variety of anthologies and reissues. He continues to release new and varied music. This year he won a Grammy for his live album Shoutin’ In Key; he put out the second of his Hawaiian-influenced recordings on a small European label, and finally issued this book, Autobiography of a Bluesman. It isn’t perfect but it’s a darn good read, and a tribute to a major talent.’

Gary is charmed by Kevin McDermott’s Elephant House or, the Home of Edward Gorey: ‘One feels like a voyeur, peering at these photographs of the artist’s home, but emerges with, if not an understanding of his mind, at least an idea of what a wide-ranging and quirky soul he had. Complete with a Foreword by John Updike, Elephant House is a loving final chapter in the life of a popular yet enigmatic artist.’

An Ian Macdonald novel garners this comment from Grey: ‘Today, I picked up King of Morning, Queen of Day again just to refresh my memory before writing this review. After all, it doesn’t do to refer to a book’s main character as Jennifer if her name is actually Jessica. But my quick brush-up turned into a day-long marathon of fully-engaged, all-out reading. I’ve been on the edge of my seat, I’ve been moved to tears, I’ve laughed, I’ve marked passages that I want to quote.’

Michael tackles a book with a very difficult subject: ‘This has not been an easy book to review, for several reasons. First of all, we must consider the full title, and the subject matter: Weep Not For Me: Women, Ballads, and Infanticide in Early Modern Scotland. That’s right, Deborah Symonds, an Assistant Professor of History at Drake University, wrote a book detailing the intricate, often morbid relationships between the social situations of seventeenth through nineteenth-century Scotland, the way women were affected, how that led — all too often — to infanticide, and how such things were ultimately immortalized in ballads.’

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The live action Jonah Hex  was, to put it charitably, quite awful. Cat has a much better choice for in the animated Jonah Hex released by DC Showcase. A mere handful of minutes, the Joe Lansdale, a master of horror, it is, Cat says, everything one wants in a story about this scarred bounty hunter.

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Reynard has travelled a lot, so trust him on this book: ‘Overall The World’s Best Street Food is an excellent full of yummy food, great recipes ( I’m not a cook by a long stretch so I cannot say how good they are, but I’ll report back later as the Estate Kitchen now has it and I’m sure they’ll test out many of these recipes.) The writing style is consistent over the many sections, a neat trick with multiple writers which I’ll attribute to superb editing, and the photos are most mouth watering. Highly recommended.’

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We’re going to do something a little different with our Graphic Lit reviews today: we’re going to examine a classic illustrated children’s book that has made its way across media. We’ll start with Robert’s comments on the original, Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are: ‘It happens every so often that I find myself asked to write a “review” of something that is so deeply imbedded in our culture and such an integral part of our collective experience that my first impulse is to run off and find a place to hide. In the case of Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are (another of those children’s classics that I somehow escaped reading when I was a child), it was daunting, at least a little, but it was also a lot of fun.’

It seems inevitable that any book with that degree of popularity will wind up as a movie. Richard takes a look at how that panned out: ‘First things first. The movie version of Where The Wild Things Are, directed by Spike Jonze from a script by Jonze and “staggering genius” Dave Eggers and soundtracked by hipster goddess Karen O, is not an exact, faithful translation of the beloved children’s book to the screen.’

And, as often as not, if there’s a film script, someone will come up with a novelization. Robert has some thoughts on Dave Eggers’ version: ‘The Wild Things is Dave Eggers’ foray into the universe of Maurice Sendak, a novelization based on Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are and Eggers’ own collaboration with Spike Jonze on the screenplay for the film of the same title. It’s a mixed bag.’

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Brendan looks at The Blue Lamp: ‘Jonny Hardie and Gavin Marwick are best known as the fiddlers for Old Blind Dogs and Iron Horse, respectively. On this CD, the follow-up to another KRL release, Up in the Air, they join forces with a handful of guest musicians to showcase an excellent array of Celtic and Celtic-influenced music, not to mention a few stray pieces here and there.’

An album brings back fond memories for Gary: ‘It’s hard to believe that, as I write this, it’s been just over 10 years since I experienced the music of Nova Scotia’s Cape Breton Island in its own environment, at the International Celtic Colours Festival in 2002. I wasn’t then and I’m not now any kind of authority on Celtic music, but I know what moves my soul and my feet. This gorgeous album Seinn by Mary Jane Lamond & Wendy MacIsaac transported me back to the community halls and concert venues, the vibrant autumn landscape, the tart maritime air and the hospitality of Cape Breton.’

Cesaria Évora was the most beloved singer from Cape Verde when she died in 2011 at the age of 70. Mae Carinhosa came out in 2013. Gary says, ‘This posthumous release gathers a baker’s dozen tracks she recorded over her career but which never ended up on any of her 11 studio albums. It serves as a perfect summation of that career and her seemingly effortless ability to illuminate these soft and bittersweet songs in Portuguese.’

Gary also liked Sam Amidon’s Bright Sunny South, a collection of traditional and contemporary folk and folk-rock songs. ‘It’s simply a top-notch recording in all respects: highly original but respectful of tradition, creative and personal without being pretentious or precious.’

The album Court the Storm by the intriguingly named Portland, Oregon, band Y La Bamba, is ‘rhythmically, melodically and lyrically rich,’ Gary says. ‘Its songs, whether in English or Spanish, are immediately entertaining in all of those ways, and also offer intriguing depth that rewards the patient and demanding listener.’

Robert continues his exploration of the Gamelan of Central Java with a look at some of the classical traditions in Indonesian music: ‘This part of the series surveying Central Javanese gamelan released by Felmay focuses on court music, the karawitan produced by the resident ensembles of the royal courts, the kraton.’

And, what may seem to be a very different kind of music, Robert brings us a look at a recording of Morton Feldman’s Rothko Chapel and Why Patterns?: ‘The spiritual as an impulse for art is an idea that is at once obvious and, in these times, often so tenuous as to be misssed completely, although even in our materialistic, expansionist, “growth-oriented” contemporary culture, our greatest efforts seem rooted in communion with something we can’t quite describe.’

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What Not this time is about Jane Austen, who was an devoted dancer, and extended scenes set in the ballroom are intrinsic aspects of all of her novels. Alison Thompson, noted musician, dancer and writer, wrote an article called ‘The Felicities of Rapid Motion; Jane Austen in the Ballroom’ which was printed in Persuasions , Winter 2000. Persuasions is the online journal of the Jane Austen Society of North America.

We’ve got these reviews of works by her, Dancing Through Time: Western Social Dance in Literature, 1400-1918, Lighting the Fire: Elsie J. Oxenham, The Abbey  Girls, and the English Folk Dance Revival and The Blind Harper Dances: Modern English Country Dances set to airs by Turlough O’Carolan.

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Our music this week is from Karine Polwart, a musician from Edinburgh who’s comfortable in a number of genres ranging from Scots trad to pop. ‘Where the Smoke Blows’ and ‘Resolution Road’ are from her concert in Bremen, Germany on the 16th of July 2006.

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A Kinrowan Estate story: The Hunting Party

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This was related to me a couple of days ago by one of our visitors:

I heard it only faintly, the jingle of harness in the courtyard. The men I’d been watching heard it, too. The pale man I’d never met was the first, I think — he suddenly cocked his head, intent. Then the rest, Kit and Robin, and the two men whose names I didn’t know, although I’d seen them from time to time, all rose from their table and headed toward the door, wrapping cloaks around themselves, the pale man’s hand resting on the bronze hunting horn at his belt. I followed, although I wasn’t sure I should. I’m inquisitive to the verge of foolhardiness, sometimes.

The moon was just full — the Slaughter Moon, they call it, or the Blood Moon — but the light seemed to be swallowed by the group of mounted men in the middle. Well, not all men — both the Lord and Lady of the Wood were there, she conversing easily with the one who seemed to be the leader, a fierce-looking old man with one eye and a pair of equally fierce hounds at his feet — great red-eyed, wolfish things they were — and I noticed another woman sitting tall, a long spear held casually in one hand, and next to her, another with a business-like bow. A broad-shouldered man with antlers fixed on his helmet nodded to my group as they approached — and then I realized he wasn’t wearing a helmet. I began to wonder if I had been wise to tag along, as I began to notice the others in the party. I had heard of them, some of them, but never thought they were real — I recognized them from the stories. But, I snuck a little closer — they were speaking together, quietly, and — well, I was curious.

I heard Robin call the horned man “Great One,” and the Lady of the Wood greeted Kit as “Maker” and said something I didn’t catch about riding on the same side. Kit just grunted — he was different tonight, not his usual joking self. The two strangers hung back a little, although I heard the dark one address the huntsman as “Brother.” They had seemed to know each other quite well. The golden man made some joke about “the other horn,” and was glad it was left behind tonight. They all laughed at that, and the huntsman said “Not yet, not yet.”

They mounted, and I began to be sure I didn’t belong. The golden man and his companion suddenly unfurled great wings, sunlight and shadow. Robin was somehow different, green eyes glowing in the darkness, his face harder, colder than ever I had seen it (I heard a soft roll of thunder that seemed to come from nearby), while Kit seemed bowed by some great sorrow.

The pale man leaned down from his horse and looked right at me. “I’d advise you to stay in tonight. And tell your friends the same.”

It seemed the wise thing to do. I heard the peal of the horn, as though in the distance, as I scurried back into the Hall.

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What’s New for the 6th of August: Ray Bradbury mysteries, June Tabor’s jazz-folk trio, Béla Bartók, live music by Midnight Oil, Finnish jazz, libraries and Richard Thompson goes acoustic (again)

I decided to return to the library and see what I  could learn there. Besides, I like libraries. It  makes me feel comfortable and secure to have walls of words, beautiful and wise, all around  me. I always feel better when I can see that  there is something to hold back the shadows. — Corwin in Roger Zelazny’s Nine Princes in Amber

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Someone was possessed of a great and uncommon kindness back in the late Victorian Age anonymously gave us a very large sum to finance a new Library. That’s how the present one came to be an open cube, four stories up and three down into the earth with bookshelves and other things such as the musical Ganeshes that got moved here from the Pub rising up around triple glazed windows.

The old Library was kept, just repurposed for other uses such as the Turlough O’Carolan Irish Trad Music collection and  the Agatha Christie Reading Room which houses our extensive mystery fiction collection.

If you’re here during one of our blizzards, and we get a number of them every Winter,  make sure you come here sometime during the evening to watch it as the storm is amazing as the lights inside make it look magical. I’ve been known to get a dram of single malt, peated preferred and definitely no water, and just watch the storm for several hours. Now I must take my leave of you as I need to finish this edition…

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Craig has a look at three mystery novels by the venerable Ray Bradbury, as collected in an omnibus. See for yourself why Craig says, ‘Where Everything Ends is a trio of fine detective novels (together with the short story that provided the starting point) from Bradbury in his inimitable style. He plays with the conventions, but since he so obviously loves the genre, this is easily forgiven — embraced, even — because the end results are, simply put, fine additions to the canon. This series is also dear to fans because it is likely the closest thing to an autobiography we will receive from this man who has brought so much joy to so many people for so many years.’

If you’ve ever wondered about John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera and how it came to be perhaps the best known English language opera, Jack has the book for you, a work by Charles Pearce: ‘Given such a rich and rather racy plot, it’s no surprise that Polly Peachum and The Beggar’s Opera, which details how The Beggar’s Opera has fared from its inception ’til the late Victorian period, is a lively read.’

A mythology infused series featuring Detective Inspector Chen is next up. The first one finds favour with Liz. She opens thusly — ‘Snake Agent, like any good detective novel, all starts with a dame …’ But does it lay ‘a solid framework for future novels in the series’?

Robert takes a look at one of Glen Cook’s early series, Starfishers, beginning with Shadowline: ‘Glen Cook dedicated Shadowline, the first volume of his Starfishers trilogy, to Richard Wagner. Yes, that Richard Wagner. Think Götterdämmerung.’ Click through to start the survey.

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Muzsikás’ The Bartók Album gets an appreciative look by Brendan, who also reviewed Bartók’s  Yugoslav Folk Songs which you’ll see connects intrinsically to this recording: ‘During a recent festival in celebration of the works of Béla Bartók — one of this century’s most important musical composers — at Bard College, the Hungarian tradition revivalist band Muzsikás discovered that many people were quite familiar with Bartók’s classical compositions while being quite ignorant of the Hungarian folk musical traditions that inspired much of those compositions’

Gary reviews a new release from Richard Thompson, the home-studio recorded Acoustic Classics Vol. II. ‘It’s a handpicked selection of some of his currently most popular songs from his solo acoustic performances, hitting all the major periods of his 50-year career in folk-rock and what is now called Americana music.’

Next up from Gary is some jazz from Finland. ‘Finnish trumpeter Martti Vesala attempted to capture the sounds and flavors of his home base Helsinki with a classic jazz quintet,” he says. ‘The aural picture that emerges on Helsinki Soundpost is a delightful tour.’

Gary also reviews Nightfall, the aptly titled somber second release from June Tabor’s jazz-folk trio Quercus. This time out along with traditional British folk songs, the group tackles some contemporary fare from Dylan to Sondheim.

Rounding out his reviews this week, Gary looks at On That Other Green Shore from John Reischman and the Jaybirds. ‘Bluegrass, oldtime, gospel, multi-part harmonies, danceable instrumentals, even a Beatles cover – as usual, The Jaybirds do it all just right.’

Robert came up with a look at what amounts to a survey of Béla Bartók’s career in a recording featuring a number of his works: ‘It’s no secret that I am very fond of the music of Bartók, and I’m particularly pleased to have a chance to revisit these recordings, which include some of his most revealing works. The arrangement on the disc is somewhat odd — sort of a trip backward through Bartók’s musical thought, but then, thanks to the marvels of modern technology, you can listen in any order you like.’

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The What Not this time is on the matter of breaking long standing traditions. The email I got from Adweek was Crayola Is Vowing to Retire One Crayon From Its Iconic Box of 24 This Week.

Meanwhile Parker Brother had started out the week by removing the thimble and boot both of which had been in Monopoly since its start in 1935 and the wheelbarrow was introduced a generation later  in the 1950s. tradionalistd were appalled and vented their disgust loudly.

Now it’s Crayola tinkering with longstanding tradiation.  On March 31st of this year, the company announced that Dandelion will be retiring. Crayola has also announced that there will be a new color that is supposed to be a kind of blue that will replace Dandelion. Sigh — Has no one a sense of history?

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So the music this week is from Midnight Oil, an Aussie rock group fronted by Peter Garret, whose politics infused the band over the decades it exisited. Tip O’Neil, an Irish- American politician from Boston, once said that all politics is local, a sentiment that is mirrored in this band as all of their music has a political angle, usually in an unsubtle fashion.

Indeed Garret ran for a seat in Parliament and won. He represented a district in New South Wales for the Australian Labor Party. That in turn led to the Prime Minister choosing him to be the Minister for the Environment, Heritage and the Arts.

I’ll stop prattling on about the political bent of the group and pick something by them from the Inifinite Jukebox, our digital media server. So let’s listen to ‘Blue Sky Mine’ which was performed as an acoustic set sans drum kit at Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club in London on the 23rd of June, 24 years ago.

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