I've read four books this term. What's been unusual is that three of them have had a very strong effect on me, which is a good ratio. Here they are:

The Penguin Atlas of Ancient History - Colin McEvedy
Star-Begotten - H. G. Wells
Knots - R. D. Laing
Has Man a Future? - Bertrand Russell

The Penguin Atlas of Ancient History - Colin McEvedy
Well, I suppose the word "read" is used loosely here in that half of the book was taken up with maps. This book has changed my perception of the world mainly because I now actually know a little about the history of the human race in the West and Near East. At school, we were taught about Greeks, followed by Romans, followed by the Dark ages. We're not really taught about the context of Greece and Rome, or what came before. For me, it's important to know these things for a sense of continuity and understanding where we come from; Western society is obviously largely based on Greece and Rome, but they themselves were the descendants of other societies. I now understand the entire process of the spread of civilisation from Ancient Mesopotamia to Modern Britain, which is great (although eventually I should also learn about Chinese, Indian, African and American civilisation).

It's also kind of crazy to think of man before he discovered farming and thus set the foundation for civilisation. Our brains now may be no different from what they were 12,000 years ago, but the fact of civilisation has changed us so much in that brief time.


Star-Begotten - H. G. Wells
The one book which didn't affect me much. One of Wells' less known and, frankly, less good books; nothing much happens except the advocation of eugenics really. Still, I am a great Wells fan, so I wasn't hugely disappointed - but probably not for people without a specific interest in Wells.


Knots - R. D. Laing
I'm not quite how to describe this book. It's a short, incredibly beautiful volume of poetry, essentially describing knots, paradoxes and lack of logic in human thoughts. The result is simultaneously hilarious and depressing, and I strongly recommend it. Perhaps a couple of quotes will do it justice:

They are not having fun.

I can’t have fun if they don’t.

If I get them to have fun, then I can have fun with them.

Getting them to have fun, is not fun. It is hard work.

I might get fun out of finding out why they’re not.

I’m not supposed to get fun out of working out why

they’re not.

But there is even some fun in pretending to them I’m not

having fun finding out why they ’re not.

 

A little girl comes along and says: let’s have fun.

But having fun is a waste of time, because it doesn’t

help to figure out why they’re not having fun.

 

How dare you have fun when Christ died on the Cross

for you! Was He having fun?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JILL I’m upset you are upset

JACK I’m not upset

JILL I’m upset that you’re not upset that I’m

upset you’re upset

JACK I’m upset that you’re upset that I’m not

upset that you’re upset that I’m upset,

when I’m not.

JILL You put me in the wrong

JACK I am not putting you in the wrong

JILL You put me in the wrong for thinking you

put me in the wrong.
 

JACK Forgive me

JILL No

JACK I’ll never forgive you for not forgiving me

Has Man a Future? - Bertrand Russell
I'd never read anything by Russell before; I'd only heard of his teapot, which pleased me of course. Then I read the first line of this book and instantly feel in love with the man:
"Man, or homo sapiens, as he somewhat arrogantly calls himself, is the most interesting, and also the most irritating, of animal species on the planet Earth". Incredibly true, and incredibly succinctly expressed. Reading the rest of the book, I feel my worldview coincides greatly with Russell's, and feel ready to call him one of my favourite philosophers already.

Two more quotes:
The division of mankind into competing and often hostile nations has had a disastrously distorting effect upon national estimates as to who deserves honour. We in Britain have devoted our most conspicuous public monuments to Nelson and Wellington, whom we honour for their skill in killing foreigners.

Patriots always talk of dying for their countries, and never talk of killing for their countries.

The book, written in 1961, deals largely with the nuclear aspect of the Cold War, calling for disarmament on both sides. It raised some very interesting points. We all know of Stanislav Petrov, who prevented nuclear war by correctly identifying what appeared to be an incoming US missile as a false alarm and refusing to retaliate. However, the same thing actually happened on the opposite side as well. Several times, flocks of geese, and at least once, the moon (!) were mistaken for a Russian attacks and bombers set off on "retaliatory" raids, only later being called back. It's also full of various other interesting facts from the Cold War Era, and definitely worth a read.

Vague thoughts here. I am slightly ill (phenomenal amounts of phlegm have emigrated from my nose) so I blame that for the disjointedness of this. And also for the fact that I'm not revising.

Firstly, is there any way to delete memories on LJ? I have a random post by Sarah as a memory because it showed me how to cut, but I no longer need it.

 In other news, I really wish I was more musical. I'm surrounded by such talented musicians in RL - people with their own bands, writing their own songs, which are actually very good; people in jazz bands who sound amazing when put together; people who play several instruments - and on LJ - Sarah's amazing on the piano, Fea is one of those multiple-instument people and I'm not even going to mention Encai.

As Nogrod recently posted, music has this amazing ability to touch people. I don't think poetry has quite the same effect and is, in any case, not the most popular medium. I suppose I'd be content with getting some rhythm into my poetry à la Baudelaire, and I think I'm getting there, but there's a long way to go, especially considering how infrequently I write.

Speaking of poetic French people, here's a bit more Camus for the Camus-hungry:

Il est bon que l'homme se juge quelquefois. Il est seul à pouvoir le faire.
It's good for man to judge himself sometimes. He is alone in being able to do so.

"Tout est permis" s'écrie Ivan Karamazov. Cela aussi sent son absurde. Mais à condition de ne pas l'entendre vulgairement. Je ne sais si on l'a bien remarqué: il ne s'agit pas d'un cri de délivrance et de joie, mais d'une consatation amère. La certitude d'un dieu qui donnerait son sens à la vie surpasse de beaucoup en attrait le pouvoir impuni de mal faire.Le choix ne serait pas difficile. Mais il n'y a pas de choix et l'amertume commence alors. L'absurde ne délivre pas, il lie. Il n'autorise pas tous les actes. Tout est permis ne signifie pas que rien n'est défendu.
"Everything is permitted," writes Ivan Karamazov. He also feels the absurd, but only on the condition that one does not interpret him vulgarly. I don't know if you remarked: this is not a cry of deliverance or joy, but a bitter statement. The certainty of a God who would give His meaning  to life far surpasses in attraction the ability to do evil unpunished. The choice would not be difficult to make. But there is no choice, and so the bitterness commences. The absurd does not deliver, it binds. It does not authorise all acts. "Everything is permitted" dos not mean that nothing is defended.

Pour your blood upon the stone,
Knife will make your torso weep.
Cut yourself unto the bone,
That they may rise, the ones who sleep.

By your blood they shall return
Havok upon this world to wreak.
Faithless fools will lesson learn;
For this world men are too meek.

No living brain infects their mind,
No flesh entraps their bones of steel;
Fate is theirs, as it unwinds,
Their wrath this world of men will feel.

Bite yourself with sharpened knife,
Spare no thought for vanity,
Life is blood and blood is life,
Unleash the final sanity.

Well, I had a night of vivid dreaming, followed by a poem popping into my head almost entirely by itself. Dreaming and creativity do seem to be linked. Unfortunately I couldn't write it down straight away because I had to wait til I was on the train, forgetting part of it... I pity painters. The space of time between inspiration and conclusion must be so great.

This is my first bilingual poem... I've had lots of fun analysing it after writing it.

L'anglais / The Frenchmen

Votre orgueil sera votre mort.
Laissez la voie de la tort;
Venez avec nous, apprenez à vivre,
On étouffe ici parmi vos livres.

What can I say? I am an Englishman.
And indeed, what can I do?
My home is here, I cannot leave;
I will not go with you.

Votre orgueil sera votre mort.
Let me show you to the door.

Votre orgueil sera votre mort.
Goodbye. Farewell for evermore.

Son orgueil anglais sera son mort.