Cecil Vortex

Another wonderful section this week.

A few thoughts:

• Much like Seth, the Raven could use more/better PR. On the other hand, the animals that creep are getting tons of screen time.
• Holding the child responsible for the sins of the parents. A simple idea with a sad legacy.
• The Flood may have been 40 days and nights, but it took months for the waters to recede. Repair can take longer than destruction. On my mind at this particular moment in US history.
• There’s something lovely about the idea that the rainbow isn’t there just as a covenant but also to remind God. God the Mighty. God the Just. God the Sometimes Forgetful but Also Self-Aware.

If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Noaḥ aka Gen 6.9 – 11.32…
Next up: Lekh Lekha aka Gen 12.1 – 17.27
-Cecil

Oh my goodness we are close to the finish line!

Meanwhile, I’ve been busy writing my thesis on pickles and Midnight’s Children, aptly titled, Midnight’s Pickles. Pickle-shaped noses aside, this section was a particularly rich source of literary dill.

Twenty-six pickle-jars stand gravely on a shelf; twenty-six special blends, each with its identifying label, neatly inscribed with familiar phrases: “Movements Performed by Pepperpots,” for instance, or “Alpha and Omega,” or “Commander Sabarmati’s Baton.” Twenty-six rattle eloquently when local trains go yellow and browning past; on my desk, five empty jars tinkle urgently, reminding me of my uncompleted task. But now I cannot linger over empty pickle-jars; the night is for words, and green chutney must wait its turn.

We’ve all been eating a lot of pickles, these last several weeks, it’s true. And you know, three jars of pickles is one thing. But twenty-six jars is something else entirely. With five to go.

Only… there are thirty chapters in this book, not thirty-one. I counted three times.

Another mystery to be solved?

And then there’s this:

Of my last miserable contact with the brutal intimacies of family life, only fragments remain; however since it all must be set down and subsequently pickled, I shall attempt to piece together an account.

I loved that. Writing as pickling. Experience plus vinegar, salt, sugar, dill, garlic, onion, and time.

Now maybe it’s just the waft of all this pickle-broth that’s clouded my thinking, but it feels like this could be a good time to catch our breath before we wrap, and perhaps give a few folks a little time to catch up as well.

All to say: Let’s meet at the end of the section entitled “The Wedding” (aka page 484 in the Random House paperback), where someone “really had it in for” someone. (A mere 20 pages hence, as we prepare for the grand finale!)

And this? This is the place for comments on section 3.5.

And also: “castellated” is defined by Merriam-Webster as “having battlements like a castle.” Which seems a little lazy as word-creation goes. But, ok.

As well as: “fissiparous(ness)”; Merriam-Webster: “tending to break or split up into parts” (ness).

In the Jewish tradition, there’s this idea of Torah portions — parashot plural and parashah singular — that you read each week for about a year. And it starts this week. This very one! Right now!

With a couple other family members, I’m embarking on this wee adventure, to get from front cover to back, as part of a larger series I call: “Finally reading books I was supposed to read in college and didn’t finish.”

Getting ready to dive in, I realized that this is sort of the world’s largest Meander. The Original Meander. A big text, broken into smallish weekly pieces, read by a multitude. For it turns out there is, in fact, nothing new under the sun…

Anyways, in that Meander-ish spirit, I thought I’d try to capture a few notes here each week.

If you’d like to join with your own observations for any part of the way — a parashah, or two, or twenty — all are welcome…!

This week: Bereshit (Genesis 1.1 – 6.8)

What a beautiful section. We meet the creeping animals. And the flying ones. Lots and lots of creeping animals. That seems to be important. The sky and the sea. The stars that guide us. God the decisive, God the judging, and God the just. Swift but not cruel. “Here’s some clothes.” (paraphrasing)

And we meet flawed humans a plenty.

A few thoughts that stuck:

• “They heard the sound of the Lord God moving about in the Garden at the breezy time of day…” just a wonderful sense-image that’s lasted through the years.
• All credit to him for being the first Man and everything, but Adam is also kind of the first jerk. I’m pretty sure he threw both Eve and God under that bus in one move.
• Pro tip: do not get attached to Abel.
• Seth on the other hand needs a much better PR agent. It might as well have been Cain, Abel, and Steve. Or Chauncey. Have you heard of so-called Seth? I hadn’t. Turns out he’s a big deal.

Overall, my head was spinning after the first few pages, in the best way. Sweeping text. Copious plot. The serpent shows up like 2 minutes in! Drama!

Eden turns out to be Iraq, which was news to me. They basically drew a map for us with a big X on it. There’s gold there! And bdellium! (bdellium: “a fragrant resin produced by a number of trees related to myrrh, used in perfume.”) Road trip?

Also, the Nephilim were a complete curveball. Which just goes to show that I’ve fallen asleep during a few crucial episodes of Supernatural.

Speaking of curveballs, what’s up with this: “the divine beings saw how beautiful the daughters of men were and took wives from among those that pleased them”? (6.2) I mean, I can’t even.

Head: spinning. Happy to be reading. Onward!

If you’d like to join in… This is the place for comments and commentary on Bereshit (Gen 1 – 6.8).
Next up: (a man called) Noaḥ (Gen 6.9 – 11.32)
-Cecil

-Cecil

Well, I cheated. Held off posting for an extra day to buy myself more time. But I finally caught up with you mighty Meanderers! And props to folks who are still reading and just a little bit behind. I am not in a judging mood, my friends. None of us perfectly pure. Faulty towels one and all, over-fed a tad on the piaya of prophecies, perhaps.

There was lots of truth in the thread this week, as ever — we marvel at the language. Many of us are glad to be reading this book. Many of us feel like “meander” is starting to sound a bit sarcastic.

Computillo hit it on the head when she said:

Despite the fact that many of us often feel lost in the detail of this novel, I see now that every detail has been critical. Every detail is “organized into one damn thing.”

I continue to swoon a bit over the way everything comes back again, usually 7 or 8 times.

Like Jeff, I was in a little bit of awe at the end of Book Two. Despite the carnage, I felt relief at a gazillion prophecies finally made real, resolved. Tidy.

But then of course, we met the man-dog. The hound-guy? You know who I mean. The children called him big nose. And so here we are back in the vortex with a new slew of onions to peel. Or as the pooch-person calls ’em: coming-soon featurettes…

Either way, we’re getting wildly close to the close, Meander-mates (tone: sarcasm-free!). We can do this. You can do this. I’m starting to think even I can do this!

But before we do that: Let’s meet at the end of the section entitled “The Shadow of the Mosque” (aka page 464 in the Random House paperback), where “God knows what to do with that poor girl.”

And here? Here be the post for comments on sections 3.2 through 3.4.

And also: “enuresis” is defined by Merriam-Webster as… No. No, I don’t think I’m going to define that one.

Friends, I have no one to blame but myself! I set us an ambitious goal and like a few fellow Meanderers, this is the week that tripped me up.

Perhaps both the book and real life had just a little more plot than my brain was ready to handle. 🙂

With your indulgence, I’ll go perhaps a little easy on us (aka me) with this week’s page target, and aim to rejoin you all at the next roadstop. Speaking of which….

The next roadstop: Let’s gather our ponies and/or kick up our sandals at the end of the section entitled “The Buddha” (aka page 413 in the Random House paperback), where something “swallows them up.”

And this? This is the post for comments on sections 2.15 through 3.1.

And also: Wikipedia tells us that “Shakespeare’s phrase, ‘hoist with his own petard,’ is an idiom that means ‘to be harmed by one’s own plan to harm someone else’ or ‘to fall into one’s own trap,’ implying that one could be lifted (blown) upward by one’s own bomb, or in other words, be foiled by one’s own plan.”

Past the midpoint are we — midpoint’s children mayhaps? More than that — we’re the ones headed for the finish line!

Like the excellent folks in the comments I’m find it tricky going here and there, but worth the effort.

A few highlights as I dash to make the Sunday night deadline:

• “When you have things, then there is time to dream; when you don’t, you fight.”
• “Most of what matters in your life takes place in your absence.”
• Rushdie (it seems) making a guest appearance at the Social as a young smoothie….

I also dug the section at the start of the The Kolynos Kid, when Rushdie spells out the many ways he’s weaving Saleem into the actual and metaphorical development of India’s childhood…

Speaking of which, Noodle sent along this excellent helpful graphic to assist in sorting things out:

Next stop: We’ve only got four weeks to go my friends and fellow travelers. Let’s dig in and meet up at the end of the section entitled “Jamila Singer” (aka page 373 in the Random House paperback), where someone “proved to be more believable than what she knew to be so.” (That sounds like a good thing…)

And this? This is the post for comments on sections 2.11 through 2.14.

And also: Merriam-Webster tells us that tergiversatory is an “evasion of straightforward action or clear-cut statement : equivocation.” Hat tip to So-Called Bill for calling that one out in the thread. Oh, and speaking of SCB, he’s just started what promises to be an excellent exploration of Van “the man” Morrison over on The Philter — well worth checking out if you enjoy words and/or music.

Thanks and have a good week all….!
-Cecil

Another great section, and the book is officially exactly nothing like I was expecting when we started.

And that’s a joyous distraction, this week of all weeks.

I’m going to keep the post a little short, but I did want to share a quote that’s been buzzing around my head while I’ve read the last chapter or two.

It’s my favorite line from TV’s Johnny Carson. Legend has it that during Steve Martin’s first appearance on The Tonight Show, Johnny leaned over during a commercial break and told him “You’ll use everything you’ve ever learned.” (See: balloon tricks, banjo playing, et al)

That’s how I feel reading MC. The time I’ve spent looking up tetrapods and reccine has been paid back 50 fold. So when I pause to look up “feronia,” I do so with the peace that comes from knowing my effort will be rewarded, if not in this book than perhaps in the bookafter.

Next stop: Let’s meet at the end of the section entitled “Commander Sabarmati’s Baton” (aka page 307 in the Random House paperback), where awaits “the possibility of love.”

And this? This is the post for comments on sections 2.8 through 2.10.

And lastly: wikipedia insists that “feronia” was “a goddess associated with wildlife, fertility, health, and abundance.”

Welcome to Week Five, in which we careen in a meandery way toward something approaching the halfway mark!

Like Amanda in the comments, I was struck by how Saleem’s newfound Umbrella Academy-ish (hat tip Guzmán) abilities nicely match the experience of reading. And really, what better super power for a narrator?

We continue to be caught in a vortex of prophecies. Enough that I’ve started noting them in the margins, not to track them, but more to acknowledge them and let them go.

And thank goodness because this section ended by rolling up what felt like a wheelbarrow of prophecies: “But Evelyn Lilith Burns is coming; the Pioneer Café is getting painfully close; and–more visually–midnight’s other children … are pressing extremely hard. Soon the cracks will be wide enough for them to escape…”

And even with all that, super enjoying the journey and equally curious what genre it will turn out we were reading when we get to the end — magically realistic historical fiction? a religious tract that could use some reordering? sci fi….?

(And here I thought The Blind Assassin was a mashup.)

Next stop: Let’s meet at the end of the section entitled (look at that!) “At the Pioneer Café” (aka page 254 in the Random House paperback), where “large things [may] be close behind”…

And this? This is the post for comments on sections 2.5 through 2.7.

And lastly: “Pehlwan” is defined by Collins as hindi for “a wrestler” or “a strongman.”

Well, that was unexpected! 🙂

I think I’ll follow the thread-lead (good instincts, Ute!) and not spoil, except to say that it was fun to find that the title doesn’t mean exactly/only what I always thought it meant.

I’m still taken by the way he uses and talks about time. Then there’s all those references to the color blue. And there’s the Venn diagram of these two topics, where you’ll find a paper I almost want to write about time, the color blue, and the many parallels between Midnight’s Children and Alan Moore’s immortal Watchmen.

But instead of focusing thence, I think I’ll just strongly agree with Jeff’s thread-comment that this is a book I wouldn’t make it through solo, and (imho) just the stuff Meanders are made for. Thank you to you all for charging forth! (And sympathy for those who’ve fallen a tad behind — not to worry — there’s plenty of time to rejoin the pack.)

I’ll also note that despite it’s (what the hell, I mean really) meandering trajectory, this book is also somehow weirdly/wonderfully efficient. It feels like every word I look up ends up getting used five times. (I’m talking to you, “tetrapod.”) It all contributes to the feeling that this is an exceptionally orderly chaos we’re making our way through…

Speaking of making our way through, where to next? Let’s meet at the end of “All-India Radio” (page 205 in the Random House paperback), where somebody (yikes!) “also met his death.”

And this? This is the post for comments on Book 2.2 through 2.4.

And lastly: “tetrapod” is “a vertebrate (such as an amphibian, a bird, or a mammal) with two pairs of limbs” (merriam webster).

MW adds: “The earliest tetrapods, or ‘four-footed animals,’ were mammal-like reptiles that evolved before the rise of the dinosaurs and ranged from mouse-sized to cow-sized. Today the tetrapods include the reptiles, the amphibians, the birds, and the mammals — including humans. Though the fish aren’t classified as tetrapods, it’s quite possible that our own limbs began as paired fins hundreds of millions of years ago.”

The more you know, about tetrapods!

Wonderful section, wonderful thread…!

I agreed with just about all the comments this week.

Like Furiosa, I’m hoping to use “funtoosh” in a sentence soon. Like just about everyone, I’m still swirling from the cinematic mashup of the monkeys, the money, and the man who prophesied too much.

Like Computillo I was thinking of Vonnegut — not so much Mother Night (love it tho I do), but more Billy Pilgrim, as I often felt a little bit unstuck in time.

And like many, I kept finding myself reaching for my phone to look up “reccine” and dive down a wiki-rabbit hole populated by Pakistan’s parade of power brokers.

But cinema, spittoons, and sometimes sideways citations aside, more than anything I just loved the music of it all. The repetition of phrases — themes and variations. The mythic overtones.

Sure it can be a bit of work (per So-Called Bill), but a little bit work is at least part of what these Meanders are all about (per Jim C). Otherwise, why even funtoosh?

So where to next? Let’s meet up at the end of “The Fisherman’s Pointing Finger” (pg. 154 in the Random House paperback) where something floats “belly-side-up, like scaly fingers in to shore.” So that’s exciting.

And this? This is the post for comments on Book 1.7 through 2.1.

And lastly: “assiduity” (yes, yes, I’m embarrassed; honest, but embarrassed) is “the quality or state of being assiduous” or, more helpfully, “persistent personal attention.” (Merriam-Webster).

Noses forward, on we go!