The Iron Heel

As perhaps the first 20th century dystopian novel, Jack London's The Iron Heel is a fascinating read for how its predictions of the 20th century successively and unsuccessfully predicted the course of the era. An avowed socialist by the time the novel was published in 1907, London's Ernest and Avis Everhard thoroughly believe in Marxian social evolution and stages of production, but the particular nature of the trusts in the US combining even further and seizing governmental authority openly to institute an Oligarchy (the titular Iron Heel), prevents for centuries the "Brotherhood of Man" (socialist revolution). Like the authoritarian regimes of future dystopias, the Oligarchy openly controls all media, institutions, decimates the small business-class and middle-class, and relies on a "labor aristocracy" and Mercenaries to keep the regime afloat while constructing 'wonder-cities' like Asgard and Ardis. 

Needless to say, the miserable proletariat, already weak before the Oligarchy seizes power in the 1910s, has become a mass of slaves forced to give their labor to any projects organized by the Oligarchy. The rest of the world has also fallen under their own forms of the oligarchy or developed socialist commonwealths, but the US Oligarchy is the world power after a near-war with Germany. Indeed, North America and the Caribbean fall under the control of the Iron Heel, while Japan dominates East Asia, the British Empire crumbles, and India eventually frees itself. As for social relations under the Iron Heel, a favored cast of skilled labor and the Mercenaries receive special privileges in the regime, even given separate housing in superior cities, just as a way to divide the working-class and create an unstoppable military class. Through strict segregation of these social classes and passports, the Oligarchy has created a mass of working and unemployed wretches, described as almost bestial in the account of Everhard.

Like historical authoritarian regimes of the 20th century or future dystopian novels, the Oligarchy also relies on a vast number of agents, provocateurs, and spies to monitor the resistance and control their subjects. Beliving fully in the moral righteousness of their rule, as the capitalists in complete control of profit and labor who have saved civilization, the underlying ideology of the regime is power for the sake of power. In order to make use of the surplus-value of US production, they have conquered as much of the world market as possible, thus investing the rest in futurist wonder-cities where the socialists of the distant future reside after the fall of the Oligarchy. Since the reader already knows, from the notes of the future reader centuries in the future, that Ernest and Avis failed to unseat the Iron Heel, most of the novel focuses on the early rise and socialist resistance to the Oligarchy. Much of the final chapters comprise the "Chicago Commune," a reference to the Iron heel's brutal crackdown on the "people of the abyss" and socialists planning a revolution, taking the reader along the way into a journey of urban hell. Bombings, mobs, machine guns used to mow down the slum dwellers from Chicago's South Side, and inter-building combat bring to mind future urban revolts of the 20th century totalitarian regimes, such as the Warsaw Uprising. Undoubtedly, urban warfare and massacres of WWII were already predicted by London in 1907. 

However, London's fictional Oligarchy lacks any interest in "race." Unlike Nazi ideology other totalitarian regimes, there is no palingenesis or overt white supremacy undergirding the Iron Heel. Even though London himself was racist and a proponent of eugenics, there is a sympathetic "mulatto" character on the side of the Cause, who makes a brief appearance in the story. The other black staff on the Pullman train to Chicago are not stigmatized by race, either.  And, perhaps through references to social evolution and Darwinism, unfavorable comparisons to Native Americans are made by Ernest Everhard, suggesting the atavistic qualities of "savage" peoples and their parallels with the petit-bourgeois who cannot see their future futility in social evolution. Yet, outside of these scattered allusions to non-whites, the working-class of London's novel is almost entirely made up of white Americans and European immigrants. Arguably, Ernest Everhard himself and Avis's description of him as a natural aristocrat (unlike most of the masses under the Oligarchy), may hint at some eugenic or pro-Anglo-Saxon politics, but the Oligarchy itself never utilizes racial ideology. I would not be surprised if this is a reflection of London and the Socialist Party's own racial biases and belief in eugenics, focused as they were on whites and the perfectibility of humanity that socialist would usher.

The House on the Lagoon

Although I could not finish The House on the Lagoon a year ago when I attempted to read it, this time it was a breezy and entertaining read. Telling the story of 20th century Puerto Rico through the wealthy San Juan-based Mendizabal family, the novel is ostensibly the manuscript of Isabel, describing the origins of the her and her husband's families from the Spanish-American War to the turbulent 1970s of independentist radicalism. As the daughter of a Puerto Rican governor and with somewhat of a similar background as Isabel, one assumes Rosario Ferre based some of the characters on people in her own life, while fictionalizing historical events in Puerto Rican history (such as the Ponce Massacre). There is a strong feminist undertone to the novel, which illustrates across class and racial boundaries the role of sexism in limiting the fate of women in Puerto Rican society, although the class and racial politics of Isabel, a "liberal," usually leave more to be desired.

The most interesting aspect of the novel are the Afro-Puerto Rican servants, living in the cellar of the titular house on the lagoon. Led by Petra, the daughter of African slaves from Guayama, who is a devotee of Eleggua and healer, the black characters, who link the elite Mendizabal family with the slums of Las Minas, are often in the shadows but reveal the racial domination built into Puerto Rican society. Petra, who lives in the house for over 50 years, has a special influence on Buenaventura Mendizabal, the "alleged" descendant of Francisco Pizarro, and her presence is the stone upon which the house on the lagoon endures and, eventually, falls. 

Her devotion to Eleggua and observation of African-derived rites and beliefs ultimately has a major influence on Isabel, and Eleggua, the intermediary communicator and guardian of the crossroads, seems to appeal to her. She cannot decide which political path to take (independence, statehood, commonwealth) or personal (remain with Quintin, continue her novel, or leave), and Eleggua, via Petra, becomes the bedrock of support and eventual decision-making. There is no elaborate description of Santeria or Afro-Puerto Rican spirituality here (and Isabel conflates Angolan and West African traditions somewhat lazily in her manuscript), but there is an undeniable presence of the orisha and Black Puerto Rico throughout the narrative. Indeed, even the lagoon or swamp and the nearby Lucumi Beach or Las Minas slum hint at the ever-present black past. 

While reading this, I could not help but recall Du Bois's Quest of the Silver Fleece, which also uses a swamp and hints of non-Christian African-American religion through the character of Zora. Or, without the swamp but similar attention to water and the sea, the works of Jorge Amado. Yet Ferre creates far more appealing and complex women characters while bringing Puerto Rican history to life. One should read this novel alongside Puerto Rico in the American Century.

Doctor Jazz

A classic piece of Morton's from 1926. Somehow, I have forgotten about this rousing number which shows Morton's excellent use of breaks Nothing like that old-time jazz to soothe the soul.

On Green Dolphin Street

An early Albert Ayler's rendition of "On Green Dolphin Street" is astonishing. It's not atonal or immersed in the later free jazz stylings Ayler is best known for, but his unique honking and shrieking is already an established part of his playing. Beautiful. 

The Greek Alexander Romance

Although it has questionable historical value, The Greek Alexander Romance, of which the earliest translation from the Greek dates to the fourth century, is an entertaining fictionalized version of Alexander the Great's conquests. Since it appears to have been written in Egypt and draws from a variety of sources across its many translations and adaptations, Alexander the Great's father is now Nectanebo and his conquests take him to the edge of the world. He encounters wild beasts and men, engages with exotic rulers in India, Asia, and Meroe, and appears to be Christian or a monotheist in some of the recensions of the text. The translator, Richard Stoneman, includes variants from different versions of the tale so one can get an idea of the full breadth and diversity of Alexander's adventures. Thus, like The Story of Apollonius, King of Tyre, some convergence of Christian and pagan themes appear in the text, although much of the Jewish and Christian themes were added by later translations of Christian authors. For instance, the Queen of Meroe's letter to Alexander mirrors Christian symbolism of dark skin and white (pure) souls, and in another episode from a later version, Alexander pledges submission to the one God of the Jews.

Overall, the story is very loosely based on the historical conquests of Alexander across Egypt, Persia, the Levant, and India, and it relies on some of the same conventions of the earlier Greek romances (ruses, deception, oracles, deux ex machina, fantastic creatures or wildlife, exotic lands beyond the eastern Mediterranean, Greek versus barbarian dichotomies). In some respects, this romance brings to mind Callirhoe and Heliodorus's famous work in that it revolves around fictionalized tales of historical figures fighting against the Persians. Unfortunately, without two protagonists who fall in love at first sight, there is not much drama or reason to invest in Alexander as a character. There is not much dramatic tension in the tale since the reader is to know immediately of Alexander's intelligence, noble character, and military prowess. Even when he defeats Darius of Persia, the battles described do not match those of the Greek romances. Nonetheless, as an account of unbelievable adventures of the known and unknown world, it suffices as entertainment. It also provides an interesting account of the origins of Alexandria and its future as a cosmopolitan metropolis. 

Satyricon

Since this blog has developed an interest in covering a variety of early prose fiction and "novels" across time and space, the Satyricon of Petronius was destined to receive a post. Unlike The Golden Ass or The Story of Apollonius King of Tyre, what remains of the Satyricon is incomplete, mutilated, and disjointed. Believed to have been possibly 5 times as long as the remaining fragments, the original text must have been a lengthy and episodic series of adventures for Encolpius, Ascyltus, and Giton across the Italian peninsula and the Mediterranean region. From what remains of the text, and J.P. Sullivan's lively translation of its prose and poems, it is a mostly first-person narrative told from the perspective of Encolpius, a former gladiator. His series of adventures include brothels, orgies, a fantastic dinner at the home of a wealthy freedman (which supposedly satirizes Nero, the nouveau riche, and many other aspects of Roman society), shipwreck, and sexual encounters with men and women. Like the later work of Apuleius, this tale features many outcasts, disreputable characters, amorous escapades, allusions to magic, and stories within a story (including a memorable account of a werewolf encounter). Unfortunately, due to the fragmentary nature of it, one cannot help but feel somewhat disappointed with the Satyricon. But due to its endless humor and satirical elements that bring to life Roman civilization of the early empire, it is an unforgettable romp of a civilization already imperiled. 

Les Simulacres

Fernand Hibbert's final novel, Les Simulacres, is a short text satirizing the author's own social class in the context of the US Occupation (1915-1934). Published in 1923, when the author could not have foreseen exactly how the Occupation would conclude, it is often ambivalent about the American presence. This is not an anti-Occupation work like the novels of the 1930s, but more akin to Hibbert's earlier works satirizing the Haitian bourgeoisie for their vanity, corruption, venality, and mismanagement of Haitian political, social, and economic life. As a far shorter text than, say, Les Thazar, and a smaller cast at that, it does not quite succeed in satirizing every social type among the Haitian upper-class, though it does reintroduce past characters such as Brion and Gérard Delhi. Brion, as one would expect from events in Les Thazar, has not married, is perhaps bitter, and seems to be amused by the various foibles of his social class.

By reviving past characters, Hibbert's former mouthpieces from the ancien regime can return as the this tale mocks the foolish and arrogant Hellénus Caton. Caton, a former politician who became wealthy through graft and corruption before the Occupation, is now ardently opposed to the Americans (but only due to their refusal to consider him for the post of president). Being a Simulacre means one who uses "mensonges derrière lesquels les hommes masquent la vérité, ou leur intérêts et leurs appétits." He falls prey to a Cuban swindler who proceeds to conjure a story of occult knowledge and miracles so that he has an excuse to get close to Cephise, Caton's beautiful wife. Needless to say, Pablo Alcantara makes a fool of Caton, having him wait outside in the middle of the night, nude, looking at the moon, while he proceeds to make love to his wife for seven consecutive nights. In short, this is the basic plot of the text, a Cuban foreigner swindling a Haitian bourgeois male of wealth and women. Brion, as perhaps the only redeeming bourgeois, intervenes to ensure a (somewhat) happy ending in which Cephise stays with her husband, but Caton never recovers.

Like Brion in Les Thazar, Caton cannot compete with the foreign male, although in this case Pablo Alcantara is not a successful German but another faker, from a country also under the tutelage of the US. Since Hibbert was the Haitian consul in Cuba, one can presume his use of a Cuban Simulacre is itself part of the text's anti-imperialist critique, as Pablo Alcantara knows very well how Cuba, like Haiti, is a pawn in the US Empire. Hibbert, stationed in Santiago de Cuba, would have known very well the degree to which US influence was paramount in the neighboring Caribbean nation, and may have possessed solidarity for Cubans based on past alliances against imperialism before Cuban independence. Perhaps Hibbert was trying to suggest, much like Naipaul several decades later, how the people of the Caribbean have become mimic men, lacking in proper comportment as befits independent people of independent nations. Pablo Alcantara, much like Caton, is another such case, exploiting the ignorance and credulity of others in much the same way Caton and his ilk have done similar actions in Haiti before the US Occupation. Thus, Pablo Alcantara is an interesting type of foreigner in the works of Hibbert, possibly a callback to the various Caribbean peoples represented on the ship en route to France in Séna. He likewise represents a change in the Haitian elite perception of Cubans as positive immigrants in Haiti, since he does not produce, teach, apprentice, or employ anyone.

As is the case with Les Thazar, most of the plot advances through the dialogue of these aforementioned characters (plus their domestics and a few additional acquaintances). So it is often through their exchanges that much of the novel's humor derives. These conversations entail Cato the Younger, ancient Rome's rise and fall, Creole and French in Haitian literature, the Cuban passion for love and duels, education and literacy campaigns, the motivations of the Occupation (to build a naval base?), the lack of unity among Haitians, and the lack of rain in Port-au-Prince. The novel's final chapter addresses the reader, specifically the Haitian mother, to raise their children to obey and never lie, to produce a better generation of citizens and ensure the survival of the nation. Using Rome, imperial Germany, tsarist Russia, and the "Orient" as examples of what happens when the lack of liberty takes hold and injustice prevails, leading to social decay or ruin, the novel adopts a direct moralizing tone. While this detracts from the bitterly satirical tone of the rest of the text, it makes it clear how the US Occupation, in the eyes of Hibbert, has not uprooted the Simulacres and fakers, and a return to ancien regime ways will lead down a path toward destruction.

Needless to say, Hibbert's account does not include the caco resistance or nascent unrest from the peasantry or lower classes. The Haitian workers in Cuba, with whom Hibbert was fully aware, do not enter into the picture despite Cuban emigration being a key aspect of the US Occupation's influence. A communist revolution or "Grand Soir" of Delhi are only mentioned humorously, suggestive of the venal and ignorant nature of Caton and the fear of popular revolt. So one presumes that Haiti's salvation will be found among the non-Simulacre of the elite. They alone will be able to direct the nation progressively during and after the occupation and ensure a return to full liberty of the press and other rights. They, and only they, can ensure expanded primary education and adult literacy, with the recent example of Lunarchsky in the Soviet Union cited positively. Unsurprisingly, Hibbert's Simulacres is thus a continuation of the same class and gender politics of his early novels, but accompanied by a heightened sense of alarm at the prospects of national survival if the Simulacres are not held at bay after the Americans leave. Unfortunately, the Simulacres never left after 1934...

Ochikubo Monogatari

The Heian period monogatari Ochikubo Monogatari is fascinating to read when one considers the more famous Tale of Genji was likely composed only a few decades later. While both share some stylistic features, such as the common insertion of poetry into the text, and a setting among Heian-period aristocrats and their retainers, Ochikubo Monogatari is rooted in an archetypal Cinderella story. The Tale of Lady Ochikubo is also far shorter than its more famous successor, and character development is rather weak, making it somewhat more akin to Taketori Monogatari. Indeed, Ochikubo suffers nobly the abuses of her step-mother, her loyal servant intercedes and ensures her relationship with a lord develops, and she becomes a wealthy and important woman through her husband, a favorite of the Emperor. There are no psychologically complex characters, unless one counts Ochikubo's husband or her servant, Akogi. Oddly, the only translation of this tale is the dated Wilfrid Whitehouse one, but it manages to capture the time and feel of a Japan from over 1000 years ago. 

Despite its flaws, Ochikubo Monogatari is an important work in the development of the novel and prose fiction for Japanese literature. In a sense, it prepares one for the more extensive and complex Genji Monogatari with its numerous characters (mostly named based on their title) and its realism, as there is no magic or supernatural phenomena here. Unfortunately, once our Ochikubo marries someone of higher rank in the imperial court, much of the text is spent on her husband's various acts of revenge and humiliation to the step-mother and her children. The noble-hearted Ochikubo rejects this, and eventually her husband makes amends with her family (even helping them rise to higher positions in the court). While some of the anecdotes of vengeance are rather amusing and entertaining (particularly, and disturbingly, the use of a horse-faced man as a substitute husband for the half-sister of Ochikubo), the plot does not really go anywhere until the inevitable peace. 

Like most Cinderella narratives, the inevitable happy ending occurs and the horrid step-mother seems to have learned a valuable lesson. As it is likely rooted oral or folk traditions, the main moral imparted by the conclusion of the novel seems to be a call for step-mothers to cherish their step-daughters. Ochikubo herself, through her devotion to her abusive step-mother and neglectful father, is pure, devoted to filial piety, and will ensure good karma through her actions. Indeed, even before her inevitable escape from the clutches of her parents, she was a stoic and devoted worker, sewing fine robes and dresses for her step-mother. The overall tone of the tale is a conservative one, even if its critiques the treatment of step-daughters. It also seems to favor monogamy over polygamy or the various forms of infidelity practiced by so many Heian males. For these reasons, one wonders if the anonymous author of this monogatari was a woman upset by the various intrigues and affairs of men who cheat on their wives while allowing them to mistreat innocent children. 

Les Thazar

Fernand Hibbert's Les Thazar is an endlessly entertaining social satire of the Port-au-prince upper classes. Written over a century ago, it depicts the long-lost Haiti Thomas of our forebears, focusing on the corrupt and venal upper-classes in the capital. The Thazar family, once rich, have lost their fortune. Madame Thazar pushes for the marriage of her daughter, Cecile, to a wealthy German so the family can maintain their status and rank in Port-au-Prince society. In order to accomplish this, the materialistic wife  is willing to sacrifice anything and everything to keep up appearances and ensure her two children will not descend the social ladder. Needless to say, the Thazar home in Turgeau also attracts a number of suitors for the hand of Cecile (as well as family friends, mostly from the Haitians of their social rank), providing the narrator an excuse to satirize various types of the Haitian bourgeoisie and corrupt politicians. This is very much a dialogue-driven narrative, with a tragic conclusion to its satirical content. One cannot help but wonder if Haitian elites a century ago had such dim hopes for Haiti then, what are they thinking today?

Foreigners, particularly Germans and French, also provide cannon fodder for the satire as their outsider view of Haiti provides great comedic relief. Ravet, for instance, has the most difficult experience trying to get his landlord, Madame Thazar, to fix his leaky roof. During his long discourse with Madame Thazar, we learn about his disobedient domestic, who is also a part-time tailor, and the various ways in which life in Haiti is upside down. Or, for that matter, the constant questions from Cresson, who is following Ravet around Port-au-Prince on the streetcar one day. In the end, Ravet agrees to pay for the repairs to the roof, but it is another instance of Haiti as a an aberrant place to the foreign mind. The question of race is often part of this, with Haitians speaking of news of lynchings in the US, Booker T. Washington (perhaps a message of vocational schools and practicality for the Haitian educational system, instead of effete and useless bourgeois like those in the novel?), the Anglo-Boer war in South Africa and British imperialism's positive impact on the "natives") and a naturalized Haitian who renounces citizenship, Alphonse Laubepin. Alphonse Laubepin, who is presumably of mixed racial origins from the French Antilles, refuses to see himself as one of the black race, and is constantly reminded of his racial origins by Cresson. This amusing episode is likely an allusion to the pattern of some mixed-race immigrants of the French Antilles refusing to take Haitian citizenship and using their status as French subjects for additional privileges in Haiti.  Of course, the iniquitous color question also rears its ugly head among Haitians themselves, a "political" issue which shapes how the bourgeois characters relate to each other and their non-elite compatriots in matters of love, class, language, and culture. 

Impressively, Hibbert transports the reader to the Port-au-Prince of the early 20th century. The German commercial and financial dominance of Haiti was palpable, and foreigners were protected from the excesses and corruption of the Haitian government better than Haitian citizens. Unsurprisingly, Madame Thazar prefers to marry her daughter to the German Schlieden than any Haitian suitor, reasoning that they will be unable to look after her material interests with the utmost security. Lamertume, a darker-hued Haitian "nephew" of Monsieur Thazar, is ambitious but utterly lacking in honor, wealth, and merit, so he is quickly rejected. Lionel Brion, who descends from a great family and was educated in France, also wishes to marry her, but is similarly rejected for not being wealthy. The "bourgeois" of Haiti are, in short, vain, corrupt, materialistic, and concerned only for themselves or their primal instincts. And, while Madame Thazar, Titus Baudouin, Cresson, Madame Apice, and a plethora of the characters in the novel exemplify all the aforementioned flaws, counter-examples such as Lionel Brion and Dr. Remo prove the exception to the rule. Unfortunately, in Haiti mediocrity and corruption reign supreme, so exceptional men of the upper-classes, who would and could transform and place Haiti on the path to progress, are unable to achieve their goals or find happiness. Lionel Brion never recovers from his love and loss of Cecile, Delhi has isolated himself at Mariani with a lower-class woman he abuses as his lover and servant. 

Perhaps like the case of Romulus, another novel by Hibbert but set in Miragoane during the "disturbances" of 1883, Hibbert was driven by exploring the theme of the frustrated bourgeois reformers, whose hopes are dashed by Haitian reality. Trevier or the proponents of Bazelais, in that novel, and Brion, in Les Thazar, are both ruined by their experiences, seemingly common to anyone who endeavors to go against the grain of materialism and mediocrity. Hibbert appears to infuse both novels with a pervasive pessimism as the Haitian bourgeois male has proven himself unable to save Haiti or those who should be theirs (their families, and wives). Another contemporary writer of Hibbert's, Justin Lherisson, also explored this theme even more humorously in La Famille Des Pitite Caille, where the rise and fall of a bourgeois family demonstrates the vacuity, corruption and  avarice of the bourgeois paterfamilias. It would take another generation before Haitian writers would look to the masses, with Jacques Roumain being part of that transition through the peasant novel. Perhaps not coincidentally, Roumain married the daughter of Hibbert, and it took Roumain's generation to begin the shift from the elite-focus of Hibbert. 

Tale of the Bamboo Cutter

After reading a translation of Tale of the Bamboo Cutter by Donald Keene, one is surprised by claims that this is an early work of science fiction. Sure, the supernatural being of beauty is from the Moon who returns to her celestial home through a flying chariot, but there are very few elements of science fiction in the text. If anything, it is more akin to fantastic fairy tale with elements of humor. Indeed, it was hard not to think of Lucian here, whose satirical work also included fantastic accounts of a war between the people of the Sun and the Moon. Lucian, on the other hand, made war in space a key part of the plot. Here, in the case of this Japanese narrative, the reader receives descriptions of people of the Moon as ageless, living in bliss, and to have a Palace, connoting a kingdom or empire. We never learn the nature of Kaguya's sin which led to her being sent to our planet, so the reason for this mysterious being's presence is left a mystery.

Much of the text's appeal can be found in its humor. Indeed, the impossible tasks Kaguyahime assigns to her suitors and the attempts by the men to achieve said tasks are very amusing as they involve various acts of subterfuge, wonder,  adventure at sea (and a dragon) and exoticism (invocations of India and China). Indeed, how can one not laugh at the plight of the man who grabbed bird feces, thinking it was the charm of the swallow? Or the man whose jeweled branch was the work of artisans he did not pay? Another sense of wonder in the tale lies is due to Kaguya's rejection of social conventions by refusing to marry, leading to her even rejecting the Emperor. Beauty as unattainable seems to be a key theme of the stale. Since specific individuals of the Heian court are named, perhaps it was also intended to be a satire of sorts. Nonetheless, it lacks the over the top satirical feel of Lucian's "science fiction" story and is more rooted in the fairy tale.

Hysmine and Hysminias

A medieval writer hailing from an elite Constantinople family wrote an erotically charged romance directly inspired by ancient Greek romances preceding him by several centuries. Perhaps most closely based on Achilles Tatius's Leucippe and Clitophon, Eumathios Makrembolites manages to write with perhaps even more ekphrasis than his influences and far more sexually-charged prose. For, Hysmine and Hysminias, despite hailing from the pen of a Christian writer of the Eastern Roman Empire, is far more erotic and, in some passages, pornographic, than anything from Achilles Tatius or the other extant romances. Nonetheless, it makes up for this NSFW quality by featuring far less of the action-packed adventures and exotic travails than Leucippe and Clitophon, with the action of the story taking place mostly in Eurykomis, Aulikomis, Artykomis and Daphnepolis, four unspecified cities linked to various gods (Zeus, Artemis, Apollo) and some hazardous journeys at sea (including the appearance of "Ethiopian" pirates who are presumably the Byzantine equivalent to the dark-skinned Egyptian Nile Delta bandits of Achilles Tatius) . 

Indeed, nearly half of the text is occupied by the initial flirtations and devoted love of Hysmine and Hysminias, with the latter a herald to Hysmine's town for a Zeus festival. Initially unaffected by the arrows of Eros, he falls head over heels for Hysmine after a very lengthy time studied a garden wall painting of the god of love. Eros, or Cupid, is depicted as an emperor to whom all beings fall in tribute, and the use of ekphrasis by Makrembolites serves the plot very effectively and visually. The paintings on the garden wall, their symbolism, and the erotic dreams of Hysminias are all visually rich passages showing the powers of dreams. By the time the two lovers finally elope and plan to sail to Syria, one is glad the action of the story has finally progressed. Separated at sea by Poseidon, the two are separated as Hysmine is sacrificed for the god's appeasement. Left on shore due to his lamentations and grief, Hysminias is kidnapped by black pirates (again, likely inspired by the ancient Egyptian bandits or, perhaps, black pirates who had served with Arab armies in attacks on the Byzantine Empire?) who present an example of the dichotomy of barbarians and Greeks. It is not due to their skin color that they are savage, but their brute nature and non-Greek customs. For what it is worth, these black pirates don't rape their virgin captives, but end up becoming slaves themselves in a raid by the army of Daphnepolis.

Meanwhile, Hysmine is miraculously saved by a dolphin and Eros himself, who carries her to shore. Somehow, Hysmine was taken by the same ship of pirates herself but did not see Hyminias on their trireme. Both eventually end up as slaves who use the subterfuge of appearing to be siblings to resume some of their physical affection. Then, miraculously during the sacrifice at the altar of Apollo, the two are reunited with their parents, demand their freedom from slavery, and marry happily. Like the Greek romances, there is a lot of unexplained and random good fortune to match their misery, but not nearly enough exotic adventures. Moreover, Kratisthenes, the loyal cousin who counseled Hysminias and helped prepare for the doomed elopement to Syria, is not reunited with the family. One cannot help but feel the ancient Greek romances would have included loyal relatives in the triumphal marriage and faily reunion. Further, besides Syria and the dark-skinned pirates, there are no series of travails across the Mediterranean world or Middle East (which may reflect the decreased size of the empire by the time of Makrembolites). The black pirates represent the non-Greek world, but none are given a voice in the narrative besides their debauchery and looting. 

Despite its flaws and shortcomings when compared to the romances which predate it by 800 years, Hysmine and Hysminias remains a fascinating work of a Christian imagination set in the pagan Greek world. It's far more sexual and descriptive of the physical embraces of the hero and heroine, but still puts the ultimate value on virginity before marriage. As a story of the heroine rejecting the approved suitor of her parents for her true love, it stands as a romance urging free love, to a degree. In some respects it also brings to mind Daphnis and Chloe in the initially awkward and clumsy flirtations of the characters learning love for the first time. Yet is in in its dream sequences and examples of ekphrasis where its combination of realistic sexual relationships and pre-Christian gods that show the genius of Makrembolites in building the narrative's world as it is and how it should be. One must read the other contemporary Byzantine romances to further contextualize how Hysmine and Hysminias imagines the pre-Christian past, but one cannot help but feel this is unique in the annals of the genre. 

Tales of the Ten Princes

Reading so much prose fiction from the ancient Greek world and the Roman Empire has pushed me to the east, to enjoy fiction from India and other parts of Asia. While it is not a novel, Dandin's Tales of the Ten Princes uses the frame story of Rajahavana reuniting with his fellow allies as they plan to defeat the king who unseated Rajahamsa, his father. As each prince (descendants of other kings or royal ministers to Rajavahana's father) reunites with Rajavahana, they regale him (and the reader) with their various exploits, ruses, adventures, battles, and supernatural encounters across the Indian subcontinent. 

Not surprisingly, like the various inset tales in Apuleius's The Golden Ass other works of fiction from the Greco-Roman world, many of Dandin's tales here revolve around magic, banditry, trickery, love at first sight, forest tribes, court intrigue, courtesans, proper conduct (or lackthereof), and merchants (there are allusions to Chinese silk, and even Greek sailors and merchants) with access to great wealth and exotic goods. Moreover, Kama, the Indian Eros or Cupid, is constantly invoked and present in the text, much as in the Greek romances. Indeed, various references to Hindu sacred texts, Jains, Buddhists, ascetics, and the pantheon of gods makes it clear that a proper understanding of this text requires a deep immersion into Indian history, epics, and religion. Similarly, one requires such a background to understand many of the allusions in the Greek romances, but the Western reader will already possess some of the requisite background knowledge.

Since most of the princes engage in various forms of immoral conduct or trickery, including sleeping with a married woman in one case, to gain their kingdom, the narrative seems to gain much of its humor and traction from the contradiction between proper ethics and the reality of lived experience. These characters are far less noble than the lovers of Greek romances, but one cannot help but admire and enjoy their misdeeds and adventures. Unfortunately, some of the tales repeat the same types of ruses and the convoluted stories within stories within another story structure can lead to confusion. Perhaps fewer princes and more attention on Rajavahana would have created a more compelling central thread, as in the case of Lucius in The Golden Ass. Nontheless, it is an engaging work that takes the reader on a journey across the various social classes, castes, kingdoms, and beliefs of India in the 7th century, and perhaps an Eastern variant of the picaresque tales of Western fiction. 

A Princess of Mars

One can enjoy A Princess of Mars as a very clever and entertaining science fiction novel from over a century ago. John Carter of Virginia descends from the Southern planter aristocracy and, through an unexplained phenomena in a cave in the Arizona desert after the Civil War, finds himself transported to Mars. While he was able to escape Apaches after his skin in Arizona, he finds spectacular obstacles on Mars among a variety of creatures and races. Intelligent life on Mars is now reduced to the "red" composite race of advanced beings living under monarchs in vast cities and domains on the decaying red planet. 

The green men, more alien and warlike, bring to mind the Apaches and other Native Americans John Carter encountered on Earth, although one would think the "red-skinned" humans on mars would be more reminiscent of them. For an adventure story based on the to-be-expected conventions of its genre and time, John Carter falls in love with a Martian princess of Helium, Dejah Thoris. They must survive a number of obstacles, ordeals, battles, and separations before all ends well as two inevitably marry. Through an eventual alliance with one of the more noble leaders of the "savage" Tharks, John Carter succeeds. Needless to say, the novel ends on a cliffhanger which, presumably, hooked more readers to engage the sequel.

In spite of its predictable storyline, A Princess of Mars introduces some very interesting lore and themes of ancient civilizations of Mars. The advanced forebears of the present humans were able to construct vast cities with plazas, amphitheaters, and their descendants retain some of this advanced technology. Powered through different rays of sunlight, they create a livable atmosphere on Mars while developing aerial navies and other gadgets, weapons, and amenities. While the "red" Martians are aware of humans on Earth, they lack spaceships to contact the human-like beings on the various planets in the solar system. Moreover, perhaps due to the racial theories of the era in which the novel appeared, Edgar Rice Burroughs attributes the advanced ancient civilization on Mars to a white-skinned race, who have disappeared after several generations of race-mixing among the yellow, black, and white Martians. Burroughs has woven into the narrative some popular notions of miscegenation and decline, which the white Southern gentleman of Virginia will presumably "correct" by his time and relationship with Dejah Thoris. 

Yet, despite the possibility of Social Darwinism and the nearly feudal politics in which Carter, who descends from Virginia pioneers and planter stock himself, promotes, cross-racial relationships and possibilities for alliance lead to a promising future. Through an alliance with Tars Tarkas of the green men, the "savage" and most war-like of the Martian races, Carter is able to subdue the Zodanga. And Carter himself is hopelessly in love with a red-skinned woman of Mars, and finds nobility in her people and their culture. Without reading the sequel novels, one can say there is an ambiguous embrace of the new that may differ from the subsequent books. 

Farscape

Farscape, another science fiction show canceled before its time, has been my guilty pleasure for the last two months. There's something so alluring and Australian about this show which, after the the initial bewilderment, continues to attract viewers. I attempted to watch Farscape a year ago, but could not get past the jarring beginning in the premiere. However, if you stick with it, you'll find yourself hopelessly attached to John Crichton and the crew of Moya. Instead of taking place in a distant future, the story is set during our era and features an American astronaut who, like the viewers, is thrust into a strange galaxy with a variety of alien life-forms and conflicts. Along the way, a series of adventures (often episode of the week, but later on more epic story arcs) will entertain and challenge viewers.

The show's lore, characters, humor, creativity, depth, and sense of wonder never fails to deliver, even during the mediocre episodes or the substandard miniseries (which, one must admit, had to wrap up a story that was meant to have a full final season). I cannot recall the last time I watched a science fiction show which could be so action-packed, morally ambiguous, and adventurous all at once. The show endeavors to explore the possibility and ethics of war and power, xenophobia and contact between Earth and the aliens Crichton encounters, and how a group of escaped prisoners befriend and love one another. It is fantastic, swashbuckling, wondrous, and, in some cases, anthropological as Crichton and company explore the Uncharted Territories. Who wouldn't love a show with tight leather costumes,  puppets, living spaceships, corrupt Sebacean Peacekeepers, neural clones, wormholes, bounty hunters, heists (the Shadow Depository episodes being among my personal favorites), and a show irreverent enough to poke fun at its own lore ("Zhaan did a unity thing")?

Of course, Farscape has its shortcomings. The aforementioned miniseries felt rushed, was inconsistent with some of the previous character relationships, and, due to its nature, could not tell the full story envisioned by the writers. Details of the Scarrans, Rygel's return to Hyneria, Chiana's brother and the resistance to the forces of conformity to the Nebari, or the possible Earth-origins of Sebaceans (oops, spoilers) are unexplored, and replacements for Zhaan never felt like full-fledged characters. And don't get me started on Stark, one of the zaniest characters to ever appear in science fiction television. Jool and Sikozu, compared to him, or even Noranti, were lovable additions to Moya's crew. But in spite of, or perhaps because of its flaws, its Australian cast and crew, and its sense of wonder made for an excellent science fiction program. There will never be anything quite like it, but one hopes for a continuation of it or its wacky universe