Month: April 2013

Death and All His Friends- Part Three: Famine

And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.

– Saint John the Evangelist Book of the Revelation Chapter 6 Verses 5-6

Author’s Note: This is the third installment of a four-part series. The first installment is Death, and the second installment is War.

In my second installment of this series, I complained about how difficult it was to find an anthropomorphic personification of War. I had similar difficulties with this third installment, so once again I must consult with my old friends the Greeks and Romans (Hesiod, Ovid, and Virgil, respectively). I’ll also take a look at the character of Want in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and re-examine the inspiration for this series, Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. And so, without further ado, I present the third installment of Death and All His Friends: Famine.

The only Greek source for a personification of Famine that I could find is a small section of Hesiod’s Works and Days. In it, Hesiod says to “Work on, so that Limos (Famine) will avoid you and august and garlanded Demeter will be you friend, and fill your barn with substance of living; Limos (Famine) is the unworking man’s most constant companion.” In other words, work hard now so that you will be blessed by bountiful crops and full barns and not starve to death come winter. Not much personification there from the Greeks, so on to the Romans.

Once again I can find solace in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. In Book 8, Ovid recounts the tale of Erysichthon and his daughter Mestra. For those of you unwilling to read through Ovid (and shame on you if you don’t), I offer a brief summary: Erysichthon desecrated a tree sacred to Ceres (goddess of the harvest). In revenge, Ceres made a deal with Famine to make Erysichthon eternally insatiable. He ate everything in his storehouses, and even sold all his possessions to get more food. He eventually had nothing left to sell, and resorted to selling Mestra in exchange for food. Mestra prayed to Neptune, who turned her into a shapeshifter. Erysichthon used this ability to swindle men out of money to buy even more food. However, Erysichthon was still unsatisfied, and he ultimately ate himself.

Here is Ovid’s description of Famine:

She…clutch[ed] at scant herbs with nails and teeth. Beneath her shaggy hair her hollow eyes glared in her ghastly face, her lips were filthy and her throat was rough and blotched, and all her entrails could be seen, enclosed in nothing but her shriveled skin; her crooked loins were dry uncovered bones, and where her belly should be was a void; her flabby breast was flat against her spine; her lean, emaciated body made her joints appear so large, her knobbled knees seemed large knots, and her swollen ankle-bones protruded.

Ovid here describes the classic symptoms of starvation: a willingness to eat anything available, even weeds; a hollowing of the face so that the eyes appear to have sunk into the skull; the blotchy, stretched skin drawn tightly around the chest, and, perversely, a swelling of the joints – perhaps reminiscent of the protruding bellies endured by the victims of starvation. Obviously, Ovid’s Famine looks like one would expect: little more than skin and bones held together by nothing but a strong will. This Famine does not just cause famine, she is famine in all its gory detail.

However, Ovid is not the only Roman writer to describe Famine, Virgil also gives us a glimpse of this ghoul in his epic work, The Aeneid. In Book 6, Aeneas makes a journey through Dis (the Underworld) in order to hear a prophecy from his deceased father. On the way, Aeneas views a variety of Roman deities, among them Fames [Famine], called  a “temptress to sin.” Virgil’s Famine serves as a reminder of the lengths a man will go to in order to survive (remember our friend Erysichthon?). Dear Reader, you may wonder why I mention Virgil at all, given his scant description of our subject. I must admit a personal bias: I greatly admire the works of Dante Alighieri, and since Virgil was a prime influence on Dante, I couldn’t leave Virgil out of this discussion.

And now, on to more modern literature, in this case Charles Dickens’ classic tale A Christmas Carol. When Ebenezer draws to the close of his visit with the Second Spirit (Ghost of Christmas Present), the Spirit warns him to beware of Ignorance and Want. I believe that Want is, in this case a form of Famine. Just look at Dickens’ description of the girl:

Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in [her] humility. Where graceful youth should have filled [her] features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

Does this description sound familiar? It should; it is remarkably similar to Ovid’s description of the sallow, sunken hag of the underworld. Unlike the Greeks and Romans, however, Dickens’ does not see Famine as a goddess to be placated. According to the Second Spirit, Want [Famine] belongs to man; she is a creation of man and man’s problem to solve.

Finally, we return to my source of inspiration: Terry Pratchett and the Discworld. Famine makes a minor appearance in The Colour of Magic, but is also briefly featured in Sourcery. In Sourcery, Famine and two other Horsemen of the Apocralypse have their horses stolen while stopping for a bite at a tavern. However, since Famine was there, the quartet end up eating the innkeeper out of everything he has (except, perhaps, for a small jar of gherkins). Unlike the other authors on this list, Pratchett makes the unique choice of featuring Famine as a male figure rather than a female figure.

And there we have it: a brief survey of the anthropomorphic personification of Famine in five works of literature readily accessible to English readers. I hope you have enjoyed this journey as much as I have, and I look forward to presenting the fourth and final installment: Death and All His Friends – Part 4: Pestilence and Conquest. Two posts for the price of one!

As Lucifer Fell: An Essay on Inspector Javert

Les Miserables
Universal Studios
2013

This post began as a response to one of WordPress’ suggestions to blog about an “earworm” and why exactly the song was stuck in my head. At the time, I had the song from Les Miserables entitled “Stars”, sung by Inspector Javert. As I meditated on the song, this post evolved from a post about a song into a post about a character. I’ve come to the opinion that, in a work whose English title is translated “The Miserable Ones”, Inspector Javert is the most miserable character of all.

First, take into account the background of each of the major characters.

Jean Valjean is a thief. He spends 19 years in jail for stealing a loaf of bread and subsequently trying to escape, a charge he never denies. Upon his release, he wanders the French countryside and is turned away at every opportunity for work, shelter, and food. Valjean then robs the first man to take pity on him, and a priest at that. When the priest, one Bishop Myriel by name, has mercy on Valjean, he vows to become an honest man. However, this “honesty” involves breaking his parole, assuming a false name, and living in constant fear of discovery.

In the film, we are not given Fantine’s complete back story, yet the songs “At the End of the Day” and “I Dreamed a Dream” gives us some clues as to what her life was once like. At some point in her life she had a lover, evidenced by the existence of her child, Cosette. In those young and carefree days she dreamed of a “life worth living…that love would never die…[and] that God would be forgiving.” When we meet her in the film, Fantine has been abandoned by her man and is fired from her job in Valjean’s factory due to gossip from her coworkers.

The Thénardiers are scoundrels and cheats, what they have in life they have stolen from someone else. They have no qualms in extorting money from a single mother. They take pleasure in cheating the guests at their inn and outright robbing the drunks at their bar. They are the dregs of society, yet they are aware of the fact and revel in it.

Enjorlas and the the ABC Students are relatively poor and lack influence of any kind. Nevertheless, they see themselves as the voices of reason and democracy in a society that has forgotten them. They plan and plot revolution – not for their own gain – but for the benefit of a downtrodden Paris. As the film largely glosses over the political aspects of the students, many readers will not be familiar with the events surrounding the rise of the ABC Students. In brief: France had a bloody Revolution from 1789-1799. In 1799, Napoleon Bonaparte began to take complete control of France and waged war with most of Europe until finally being deposed and exiled in 1815. The events of Les Miserables take place between 1815 and 1832, with 1832 being the year the ABC Students mount their failed revolution. At the time, the monarch of France was Louise Philippe, a relatively weak king who angered the Bonapartists (those who supported Napoleon), the Legitimists (those who supported a return to the Bourbon dynasty), the Republicans (those who supported more democractic reforms), and the anti-monarchaists (those who wanted to end the monarchy altogether). The ABC Students of Hugo’s novel were mainly Republicans, although he made it clear that many political views were represented in the group. Marius is a perfect example of this disparity; being born into wealth, he has willingly cast aside his right to riches and has cast his lot in with the poor of Paris.

Truly these characters are les miserables, but, as the saying goes, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” Brought to their lowest estate in life, these characters can sink no more.

In contrast stands Inspector Javert. By his own admission, Javert was born inside a jail with the scum and sweepings of the street. He has risen from the gutter to the housetop. Nearly every time we see Javert in the modern film, he is physically higher than the rest of the cast: he stands watch above the prisoners in the shipyard, he stands in the mayor’s office above the factory workers, he rides on horseback while searching for Valjean, he walks on rooftops high over Paris while contemplating his duty to the law, he looms over Valjean and Marius in the sewers, and he walks the railing on the bridge over the River Seine while in a state of mental crisis. Having risen to the top, Javert has the most to lose.

Second, take into account how each of the characters view life.

Valjean’s purpose in life is to make up for his previous mistakes. He takes Bishop Myriel’s words to heart and works hard to become an honest man. He opens a lace factory, providing work in hopes that his workers will be kept from starvation and his own crime of theft. He turns himself in when an innocent man is arrested in his place for the crime of breaking parole. After she was unjustly fired from his factory, Valjean tries to help Fantine.  As Fantine lies dying, Valjean promises to provide security for Cosette. When the June Revolution begins, he tries to keep Gavroche away from the barricades and is willing to sacrifice his own life to save Marius.

Fantine’s driving force is her daughter, Cosette. She works herself nearly to death in Valjean’s factory, enduring the advances of his lecherous foreman in order to pay the Thénardiers for keeping Cosette. When she is unjustly dismissed, Fantine resorts to selling – quite literally – her body in order to continue paying for Cosette’s keep. Fantine’s dying thoughts are of Cosette; in a delirium she sees Cosette approaching her bed, and when the vision disappears, she wants assurance that she will be reunited with Cosette “when I wake.” In her dying moments, Fantine is convinced that she will be reunited with Cosette in the Resurrection.

Enjorlas is utterly devoted to the cause of democracy. Although the film disregards the extremely political nature of Les Miserables, enough has been left in place to see how Enjorlas sees himself in the grand scheme of things. This is best seen in the lyrics to “Red and Black”:

It is time for us all
To decide who we are…
Do we fight for the right
To a night at the opera now?
Have you asked of yourselves
What’s the price you might pay?
Is it simply a game
For rich young boys to play?
The color of the world
Is changing
Day by day…
Red – the blood of angry men!
Black – the dark of ages past!
Red – a world about to dawn!
Black – the night that ends at last!
. . .

[N]ow there is a higher call
…
We strive toward a larger goal
Our little lives don’t count at all!

Enjorlas is a pawn in the grand scheme of life, but he knows it and is content. He is willing to sacrifice his own life if it means that others can be free.

Eponine is motivated by unrequited love. In love with Marius, her advances are either unseen or purposefully ignored due to Marius’ infatuation with Cosette. Nevertheless, she is willing to do what makes Marius’ happy: she tracks down Cosette’s home and warns Cosette and Valjean of Monsieur Thénardier’s ill intentions; she joins Marius at the barricade and ultimately gives her life for him. In return for these acts of love, all Eponine asks is that Marius stay with her while she dies (“A Little Fall of Rain”).

While all these characters are devoted to someone else, to another living person, Javert is obsessed with an idea: the law. While others live their lives out of a sense of duty, Javert lives to uphold the law. Take, for instance, his words when threatening Fantine with arrest:

 I have heard such protestations
Every day for twenty years
Let’s have no more explanations
Save your breath and save your tears
`Honest work, just reward,
That’s the way to please the Lord.’

Javert is a man unmoved by pity and unwilling to act on mercy. Consider the first words we hear about Javert, coincidentally the first in the film: “Look down/Look down/Don’t look him in the eye”. As the epitome of the unyielding law, criminals and convicts live under the stern gaze of Javert.

Nevertheless, Javert is just as serious in his devotion as any other character. When Javert accuses Valjean of breaking parole, and is subsequently told that Valjean is in custory, Javert declares that he has disgraces his uniform, and asks Valjean to press charges and show no forgiveness. Javert’s reasoning is simple: he has been just as hard “on any rouge [he has] known”. In Javert’s world, there are two paths: the path of the Lord and the path of unrighteousness. As a follower of the law, Javert’s path is the way of the Lord. Any who deviate from this path must face “the flame, the sword”.

Finally, consider how each character ends the film.

Two notable sets of characters survive the film: Marius and Cosette and the Thénardiers. Marius and Cosette receive the happier ending; they are married and are able to enjoy the wealth of Marius’ family. On the other hand are the Thénardiers.  No longer are they “Masters of the House”, but rather “Beggars at the Feast”. Nevertheless, they are still conniving, still strategizing – and still surviving.

Many major characters do not survive the film: Fantine dies at the beginning of the film (of consumption, shock, betrayal – take your pick); Eponine, Gavroche, Enjorlas, and the ABC students are killed at the barricade; and Valjean apparently dies of old age at the end of the film. However, we see these characters again in the film’s “Epilogue”, a heavenly barricade where all those who struggled finally have the lives they dreamed of.

Inspector Javert is notably absent from this scene, and I believe there are two reasons he is not there. First, Javert was a suicide; at the time of Hugo’s novel, France was still under a heavily Catholic influence (despite the Revolution and Napoleon), and Catholic doctrine states that suicides are destined for hell. The second reason is that the characters seemed to receive what they expected to receive in the afterlife, and – alone of all the major characters – Javert expected damnation. Look back at the lyrics to “Stars”:

And those who follow the path of the righteous
Shall have their reward
And if they fall
As Lucifer fell
The flame
The sword!

Having failed in his duty to uphold the law, Javert sees himself as having fallen from the path of the righteous. The only afterlife Javert expects to receive is one of punishment. Therefore, Javert is the most miserable of Les Miserables. He rose the highest, yet fell the farthest. He alone of all the characters in the film failed utterly – even the  Thénardiers fare better in that they survive. He alone of the deceased is absent from the heavenly barricade.

And yet, there is something about Javert that resonates with me. I’ve heard many critiques about Javert’s character (and Russell Crowe’s singing) in this most recent version of Les Miserables. However, I think that Javert’s detractors are trying to find fault with him for one obvious reason: most of us are like Javert. We emulate Valjean, sympathize with Fantine, cheer for Marius and Cosette, and sorrow over the loss of Eponine, Gavroche, and the ABC Students. But, at the end of the day, we are Javert. We hold others to our own lofty ideals and are often unforgiving when they fall short. We are quick to point out others’ shortcomings, but when confronted with our own, we refuse to deal with them. We hate Javert because Javert reminds us, as Walt Kelly once said, that we have met the enemy, and he is us.

Camptown Races 187.5 Miles Long

ToyotaCare 250 April 26, 2012
Richmond International Raceway
ToyotaCare 250
April 26, 2012

Last night I had the opportunity to attend my first car race: the NASACR Nationwide Series ToyotaCare 250 at the Richmond International Raceway in Richmond, VA. Up to this point in my life, I’ve never been particularly interested in NASCAR-style auto racing; I’ve always preferred European-style Grand Prix racing, and even then it’s more about the scenery and the track than it is about the cars and drivers. Nevertheless, when my father-in-law asked if I’d like to go to this particular race, I said yes for three equally compelling reasons: I didn’t have to pay for the tickets, I’d get a day off from work, and my wife (who is an avid NASCAR fan) would finally – after about 8 years – get to attend another race.

We drove the four-plus hours to Richmond with little excitement. When we arrived, the parking lot was much like the minor-league baseball games I’ve attended: a large empty field with workers in reflective vests directing drivers where to park. A piece of advice for those that haven’t been to an event like this before: remember to look at the lot numbers when you park, it’ll save you some trouble later on.

After making the short trek to the entrance, I began to smell the smell of racing. Every sport that I’ve come in contact with has a particular smell: running events generally smell of perspiration and – for some reason unknown to me – plastic; basketball smells of leather, soccer does as well, and if it’s been raining, wet dog, too; baseball games smell of popcorn, peanuts, and cheap beer. This race smelled of something I’ve never encountered at a sporting event, and it was wonderful. To me, the smell of racing is a mix of hot rubber, metal as it’s under a welding torch, sweat, and that wonderful mix of food smells that you normally find on the midway of a state fair. (It also smelled a bit like the period of time when I worked with a chain-smoker making cutting edges for snowplows, but that’s okay).

Then there were the people. For the last two weeks I’d been told that racing fans were some of the nicest – if somewhat inebriated – people I’d ever meet. I admit I had a hard time believing this. In my experience, sports spectators don’t get along, and alcohol only makes this situation worse. The only sport I’ve personally attended where all opponents actually get along is at the marathons that I’ve run. However, I must admit that I was wrong in my assumptions. Even while three sheets to the wind, the fans around us were nice and willing to engage in a good bit of rivalry that didn’t extend beyond the last lap of the race. The same could not be said of the drivers and their pit crews, two of which began fighting each other immediately after the race due to a somewhat minor altercation in the last 15 laps of the race.

There’s actually very little to say about the race itself. It consists of several hours of a couple dozen cars traveling at 115+ mph in an oval pattern. It’s incredibly loud, but in a pleasing way. Our seats were situated so that we could see every inch of the track, and therefore every accident as well. There were only a few spectacular wrecks during the race: one car blew a gasket and spread oil over the whole track, causing a delay and eventual stoppage of the race; several cars blew tires and sent the race into caution while they made it to the pit and the chunks of rubber cleared off the road; the most unfortunate wreck was when the crowd favorite was hit from behind and sent into the wall in the last 25 laps of the race, effectively ending his decent chance at victory; and the stupidest driver was the driver of car 01, which smoked for two laps (with no caution) before pitting, then continuing to smoke for another two laps (under caution) after pitting, and then refusing to pull out of the race for two more laps after being told by the officials that he must do so. Everyone cheered when this last guy finally got the hint and left the race.

I was told that the only real rule of watching a car race was to pick a driver and cheer for him loudly. Since I had no clue about who any of the drivers were, I picked the guy who was driving the car with my favorite number, number 32 (I later found out his name is Kyle Larson). He ended finishing the race in 8th place.

Overall, I had a great time and would probably go again, provided I don’t have to pay for tickets.

Death and All His Friends – Part Two: War

Ares Courtesy Theoi E-Texts Library
Ares
Courtesy Theoi E-Texts Library

Author’s Note: This is the second installment of a four-part series. The first in the series can be found here.

“And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.”

– St. John the Evangelist Book of the Revelation Chapter 6, Verse 4

War personified. When I first thought of this series, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to think of examples of war as an actual character in a book or poem. There are plenty of examples of what war is like, but not many instances of War himself. There are the obvious works: Homer’s epics Iliad and Odyssey and Ovid’s Metamorphoses. There is the somewhat lesser-known “Space Trilogy” by C.S. Lewis, in which Mars (called Malacandra in the books) makes appearances in Out of the Silent Planet and That Hideous Strength. So, much like the first post I wrote in this series, I’m going to stick to what I know and remember. Obviously, I’ll go back in later and put in quotes and links, but the point of this series – and the blog itself – is to put into writing my thoughts while running.

In Western cultures, the character of War is best known as from ancient mythology; to the Greeks he was known as Ares, while to the Romans he was called Mars. Since Roman culture is Hellenistic, let’s start at the source with Greece.

Homer: The Odyssey

The Greeks saw War (Ares) as the physical aspect of war, while intelligence and strategy were assigned to the goddess Athena. As such, he himself was unpredictable and insatiable. He was the man who, once he has started a fight, will finish it no matter the cost and then take on the onlookers simply for being there. According to Homer, when Ares went to war, he brought Terror and Fear with him; some Greek scholars now say these were the names of the horses pulling his chariot. Nevertheless, with the exception of the Spartans, most Greeks held Ares in contempt. Ares went against the Greek ideal of balanced reason; therefore, he is almost always humiliated in Greek mythology. Zeus, chief of the gods and father to Ares, despises him; Ares chose the losing side in the Trojan Wars by favoring Troy while his sister, Athena, favored Agamemnon and his followers; and Hephaestus, god of blacksmiths, is able to trap him in a net during his affair with Aphrodite.

Ovid: The Metamorphoses

On the other hand we have the Romans, who valued physical strength above mental acuity. Unlike the contempt of the Greeks, the Roman held War (Mars) in high regard. In Roman religion, Mars was usually considered second only to Jupiter. Mars was also a symbol of peace and unity. During the Pax Romana under Caesar Augustus, Rome “guaranteed” the peace of her conquered territories through force of Roman law. Unlike the division caused among the Greek pantheon by Ares’ affair with Aphrodite, Mars’ affair with Venus solidified Mars’ power over the people of Rome. Mars was considered the father of Romulus and Remus, legendary founders of the city of Rome. His affair now made him the lover of Venus, the patron goddess of Aeneas (survivor of Troy and supposed ancestor of the Latin people), and, therefore, worthy of veneration. Today, that veneration can be seen in multiple linguistic forms of the word Tuesday; in most world cultures, this day is named after a god of War.

Shakespeare: Henry V

Of all the poems and plays I could have chosen for the personification of War, I chose Shakespeare’s Henry V. There is something that resonates in the first lines:

Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, / assume the port of Mars, and at his heels / (leash’d in, like hounds) should famine, sword, and fire / crouch for employment.

Shakespeare Henry V P.5-8

Notice the qualities applied to Henry Plantagenet and, since Harry is standing in his place, Mars. Like the Greeks, Shakespeare has Mars bringing several cohorts with him, notably famine, sword, and fire. Like the Romans, Shakespeare considers this a notable quality. Remember that this play celebrates the more significant English victories of the Hundred Years’ War, especially the battle of Agincourt. And, who could forget Henry’s famous speech to rally his outnumbered men in which he refers to those who fight for the English cause as a “band of brothers”?

According to the Folger-Shakespeare Library,

“Henry V is Shakespeare’s most famous “war play”; it includes the storied English victory over the French at Agincourt. Some of it glorifies war, especially the choruses and Henry’s speeches urging his troops into battle. But we also hear bishops conniving for war to postpone a bill that would tax the church, and soldiers expecting to reap profits from the conflict. Even in the speeches of Henry and his nobles, there are many chilling references to the human cost of war.”

C.S. Lewis: Out of the Silent Planet and That Hideous Strength

In C.S. Lewis’ “Space Trilogy” – or “Cosmic Trilogy, as it is sometimes called – Mars’ “true name” is Malacandra. Malacandra is both the name of the planet Mars and the angelic being that rules it. In Out of the Silent Planet, Malacandra as a planet is old, and bears evidence of long, hard wars: the entire surface is cold and uninhabitable by the native creatures. Nevertheless, as a being Malacandra is still strong, descending to earth to help protect Earth from evil, supernatural forces in That Hideous Strength. For those desiring the complete story, please read the novels; they are quite enjoyable.

Conclusion

What do I think of the literary interpretations of Mars? I find myself favoring Shakespeare. The idea of a man both noble in character yet strong in both body and spirit is appealing to me. Shakespeare provides the balance the Greeks and Romans lack, yet makes it achievable by showing those qualities in a living man and not a divine being. The Gods of War change along with man’s opinions of himself.

Death and All His Friends  – Part 3: Famine

Death and All His Friends – Part One: Death

Grimm The Grimm Adventures of Billy and Mandy
Grimm
The Grimm Adventures
of Billy and Mandy

“And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death.”

– St. John the Evangelist, Book of the Revelation Chapter 6, Verse 8

For whatever reason, I’ve been contemplating Death recently. Not the action, but the character. So, I decided to examine Death in the following pieces of literature: John Donne’s “Death Be Not Proud”, Samuel Coleridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, Edgar Allen Poe’s Masque of the Red Death, and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. I chose these works for the simple reason that I could remember enough about them while running to work through some semblance of order.  The thoughts here are my own, and as such, mistakes in translation, interpretation, or application are also my own and should not reflect poorly on the authors of these magnificent works of English literature.

John Donne: “Death Be Not Proud”

Donne sees Death as a foe to be defeated; this is indicated by the very title of his poem. To me, Donne’s initial view of Death is similar to that of a hired thug. In the opening lines, Donne says that Death is considered by some to be “mighty and dreadful”. I imagine this Death to be a hulking bulk of a man lurking in dark shadows waiting for his naïve victim to stroll by. Nevertheless, Death himself has no power. Like an assassin or mercenary, Donne’s Death is a slave. “Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men” determine Death’s contracts and there are always others willing to do the job: poison, war, sickness, poppies (narcotics), and charms (witchcraft) are always available. In addition, Donne’s belief in both a spiritual and bodily Resurrection means that Death has no real power; Death is simply a sleep from which one will soon wake. In the end, Donne’s Death is the schoolyard bully who will soon receive his comeuppance.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge: “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”

Death does not make an appearance here until Part 3 of “Rime,” and his appearance his quite brief. Having killed an albatross, a symbol of good luck, the mariner has doomed his crewmates to misfortune. Eventually, their ship is caught on a windless ocean and the men become delirious with thirst. It is in these throes of despair and despondency that Death makes his appearance. He comes for his prey on a ship befitting Death: it is able to sail and steer without wind, its masts appear to bar the sun, and the rigging has the appearance of cobwebs. Death himself is naked, perhaps intended as a reminder of the verse from the Book of Job; “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart” (Job 1:21). Death is seen gambling for the souls of the sailors with a woman Coleridge names “Life-in-Death”. Life-in-Death, portrayed as a naked woman, is – to the mariner – both macabre and beautiful, possessing golden hair, red lips, and skin “white as leprosy.” Of all the crew, only the mariner is won by Life-in Death; however, the mariner considers those who died to be the fortunate ones. Coleridge then gives us the idea that there are some things worse than death. For the mariner, his fate is immortality; driven on by a supernatural desire to tell others his tale, he becomes a prisoner in his own body – a body that yearns for the release of death, a release that may never come.

Edgar Allen Poe: Masque of the Red Death 

Poe’s Death seems to take the worst aspects of Donne and Coleridge and combine them. Poe’s Death is accompanied by the Red Death, a form of pestilence (which will be examined in Death and All His Friends – Part 4: Pestilence) that kills within half an hour of initial infection. Against the threat of Death and contagion, Prince Prospero stocks his abbey with food and then locks himself and a thousand friends inside. As Poe says, “Security [was] within. Without was the “Red Death.” Six months later, Prospero hosts a wildly grotesque masquerade ball. Now in addition to his attempt at locking Death out, Prospero also chooses to mock fate in his décor: every room of the ball is decorated in bright colors except for the last, heavily adorned with black accoutrements, blood-red windows and containing a clock whose timing is designed to purposefully unnerve all who enter. To me, Prospero is mocking death by designing a room whose décor mirrors the color of death in the outside world. Almost theatrically, Death manifests himself at midnight. He comes dressed as the Red Death, wearing funeral robes stained with blood and the mask of a corpse. Ignoring the other revelers, Death moves inexorably towards Prospero, who calls for this uninvited guest to be seized and hanged. Lacking courage, none of Prospero’s friends move to help him; seizing a dagger, Prospero forces Death into the ghastly final room. However, upon reaching the disconcerting chamber, Death disappears and Prospero falls dead. It is then that the partygoers realize that figure of the Red Death was not a guest, but Death himself, and one by one they drop dead. When the last nobleman dies, “Darkness and Decay and the Red Death [hold] illimitable dominion over all.” Unlike Donne, there is no defeat of Death; he is the unavoidable equalizer, bringing both small and great to the same end with no hope or assurance of salvation.

A brief overview of Death from the Discworld novels and the world he inhabits.

Pratchett’s Death is difficult to explain to those who haven’t read his novels, but I’ll do my best to explain: imagine Death as you would want him to be. The Death of the Discworld is personable; it is only in the first book of the series, The Colour of Magic, that he is downright malicious. However, as the series has progressed, so has Death. His job is not to kill, as Death does in Donne, Coleridge, and Poe, but to collect souls after physical death has occurred. It is Death’s job to show the departed the way to their respective afterlives, whether it be some version of Valhalla, Paradise, or Reincarnation. He is sympathetic to the plight of humanity, at times endeavoring to understand emotions such as love, forgetfulness, and boredom. Death is seen as the protector of humanity and the provider of a necessary service. He is not someone to be feared, but rather a guide in unknown territory. I find now that I cannot do justice to Pratchett’s Death, you’ll just have to read the books for yourself. Suffice it to say that I find the character of Death in the Discworld series to be one of the most comforting characters in modern English literature.

Author’s Note: Death plays a minor role in many of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels. For those desiring to read more about Death, he plays a major role in the following books: Mort , Reaper Man , Soul Music , Hogfather , and Thief of Time.

Death and All His Friends – Part Two: War

Fahrenheit 1984

“How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?”

Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“The choice for mankind lies between freedom and happiness and for the great bulk of mankind, happiness is better.”

George Orwell, 1984

Like many Americans, I was greatly affected by the events in Massachusetts over the last several days. As an avid runner, I was appalled that America’s greatest marathon was subjected to such atrocities. My heart continues to ache for those who lost loved ones, those who were injured, and those who may never run again. I was angry that American soil had once again been attacked, this time by terrorists too cowardly to die with their own bombs. However, I was equally troubled with what happened after the bombs went off. First, the media was all over this from the start. Now, there are those who argue that the intense media coverage isolated the attackers and shortened the manhunt. However, I contend that the media played a negative roll in the events of the last few days. Consider the false reports issued by major news outliet in the first few hours after the initial attacks: the New York Post reported that 12 people were initially killed in the blast and that a Saudi national had been arrested; the AP reported that cellular coverage in the Boston area had been disrupted to prevent further remote detonations; several sources – including the Times – reported multiple undetonated devices at “undisclosed” locations and the JFK Library; and, in what is in my opinion the most egregious error of the whole mess, BuzzFeed incorrectly identified one of the bombers as Sunil Tripathi (I can only imagine the grief experienced by his family). In short, most media outlets are guilty of fearmongering and adding to the public distress; they have done nothing short of shouting “FIRE!” in a crowded theatre.

In addition, several media outlets known for their left-leaning ideology incorrectly surmised that the bomber would belong to a right-wing extremist group. MNBC’s Chris Matthews said point-blank that “domestic terrorists…tend to be on the far right,” and the same station’s Lawrence O’Donnell claimed that the National Rifle Association was aiding the as-yet unknown terrorist in his escape. On salon.com, David Sirota hoped that “the Boston Marathon bomber is a white American.” Left-wing extremist Michael Moore claimed that the Tea Party was behind the attacks, while countless other celebrities said that events in Boston meant that the Second Amendment “must go” (as if guns had something to do with placing shrapnel in a pressure cooker and turning into a homemade bomb; I don’t see anyone clamoring to outlaw backpacks, pressure cookers, or cell phones). At least CNN tired to couch their allegations in the form of a question: “Right Wing Extremists To Blame For Explosions?” So far, I am unaware of any of these networks or individuals apologizing for their vile and hate-fueled remarks.

Second, I was disturbed by the actions and reactions of both the government officials in charge of the investigation and the Bostonians affected by those actions. In particular, my distress comes from the decision to declare martial law. Not even in New York City in the wake of 9/11 was martial law declared. Imagine: an unknown killer is on the loose and the response of the authorities is to confine people in their homes, thereby making them sitting targets, and to limit their abilities to defend themselves. I wonder, did anyone in the area affected by the lockdown feel safer knowing the average civilian was limited to a ten-round magazine? If it were me, I’d want to be sure I could blow this terrorist to kingdom come.

However, I was even more shocked by the response of the Bostonians living under lockdown: they accepted it. These Americans willingly sacrificed freedom and personal liberty for peace and security. I would remind my readers of the words of Benjamin Franklin: “Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.” Not only did the Bostonians accept it, but the media put a positive spin on it: they successfully convinced the American population that this was a necessary action to achieve a desired end and the willful surrender of constitutional rights was the patriotic and noble thing to do.

Some readers will think me a right-wing lunatic or a conspiracy theorist while in reality I am neither. (My political opinions and voting record will show that I am simply a right-leaning independent who has voted for candidates of varying parties and platforms.) However, I find something in the whole affair that smacks of George Orwell and Ray Bradbury. We saw the news outlets acting as Big Brother monitoring the isolated areas of Boston and broadcasting their general ignorance to the “parlor walls” of the American populace. Americans waited with anticipation next to their televisions, radios, and computers as the search zone was narrowed, reports were issued, and then – finally – Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was captured.

How soon before we experience the final pages of Fahrenheit 451? How soon before someone commits an act of terrorism, the government issues a lockdown, and – with a desire to keep the peace and quickly calm the fears of America – finds a scapegoat to blame the attacks on (it goes without saying that said scapegoat would be killed “evading authorities”). Remember, this exactly what the government does in Bradbury’s dystopia when it is unable to apprehend Guy Montag.

I applaud the law enforcement personnel for their service. My heartfelt condolences go out to those whose loved ones were killed or injured. Nevertheless, I must remind Americans that Orwell and Bradbury were right: Big Brother is always watching, and the Hound never sleeps.

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