The Charterhouse of Parma - Stendhal

The Charterhouse of Parma (Stendhal, 1838)

On the surface, this is an entirely different novel than The Red and the Black. It has enough plot to clog an artery - war, betrayal, banishment, tyrants, duels, prison, escape, revenge, revolt... It has all the elements of an historical romance a la Walter Scott or Dumas. However, this is still Stendhal writing, and the version of pragmatic realism he brings to these events makes them seem less sensational and more like lively history.

Based on a story Stendhal heard in Italy (though definitely not true history), The Charterhouse of Parma tells the tale of the beautiful Gina Pietranera and her nephew Fabrizio del Dongo, whom she loves and seeks to protect. Fabrizio is much more likable than Julien Sorel from The Red and the Black, but he is prey to many of the same faults of youth - overconfidence, disregard for consequences, lack of understanding. His primary difference from Julien is that he is born noble, so he doesn't have the inferiority complex to deal with - though he still worships Napoleon. (I'm sensing a theme... Stendhal did actually fight in Napoleon's army, so I guess he earned the right to project his feelings.) Though not unintelligent, Fabrizio comes off more like the strong, handsome, simple young man who would enjoy love and society if ever he found a true passion or direction, where Julien is the angry intellectual railing against his social invisibility.

Gina, on the other hand, is canny, passionate, witty, and independent. She holds true to those she loves, and she routs her adversaries in the Court of Parma, including the head of that court, absolute monarch Price Ranuccio-Ernesto IV. Only about ten years older than Fabrizio, she loves him with both parental tenderness and actual romantic attraction, and this strange mix provides much of the tension in the story, as well as the driving force of the action, once Ernesto IV realizes he can wound Gina by harming Fabrizio. But when Fabrizio goes to prison, he truly starts to live.

Stendhal's examination of love and politics in Italy of the early 1800s provides several excellent insights and episodes in his typical staccato prose style. It might have one of the most unique courtships in literature, one that is charming in its simplicity yet fascinating in its circumstances. My only complaint is that the story goes on a bit longer than would feel natural, but again, Stendhal doesn't seem to concern himself with plot as much as other writers - he wants to tell the whole story on his terms.

Arbitrary rating: 4 out of 5 strong, handsome, simple young men

The Red and the Black - Stendhal

The Red and the Black (Stendhal, 1830)

An early example of the psychological novel, Stendhal's book is notable for how very little plot it has.  Almost the entire story is simply the thought life of the main character, the conflicting desires, self-delusions, and ambitious projects of Julien Sorel, educated and intelligent, of the peasant class, seeking to do important things yet feeling constricted by society, continually undercutting plans with impulse.

We start with Julien when he is seventeen and follow him through his
early twenties, and the turmoil of youth is captured fairly well here.  Childish ignorance is on full display - Julien misinterprets almost everything that happens to him, he plunges blindly forward in all his affairs, he shows open disdain to the high-class people around him, and he worships Napoleon like he is LeBron James.  Yet this ignorance mixes freely with the growing competencies of a young man becoming an adult. His intelligence and skill help him excel as a family tutor, as a priest in training, and as a personal secretary to a marquis. He wins the hearts of two women who are far out of his league, and he seemingly attains all he ever desires - until a vengeful action reverses it all.

Julien is certainly a difficult character to quantify. He is essentially amoral, yet he maintains a fairly rigorous and proud code of humanistic ethics. His overly analytical mind is not so cold and rational that he isn't susceptible to kind impulses and truly selfless actions. He isn't likable, but he isn't repulsive, either, and it is worth reading the book to try and understand him. Stendhal claims his book is a mirror, and I think he does a good enough job portraying his subject to justify that claim.

Arbitrary rating: 4 out of 5 hero-worshipping youths

The Silent Corner and the Empty Stage - Peter Hammill

The Silent Corner and the Empty Stage (Peter Hammill, 1974)

1. Modern - 7:28
2. Wilhelmina - 5:17
3. The Lie (Bernini's Saint Theresa) - 5:40
4. Forsaken Gardens - 6:15
5. Red Shift - 8:11
6. Rubicon - 4:11
7. A Louse Is Not A Home - 12:13

Of all Peter Hammill's early solo albums, this one is my favorite, and it might be the best too.  Citing financial difficulties, Van Der Graaf Generator broke up after Pawn Hearts, but they still showed up every now and then on Hammill's albums.  Hammill's third album after the breakup, The Silent Corner probably has the most full-band numbers to offer the VDGG fan, while not neglecting the introspection of Hammill's best solo work.

Let's start with the solo pieces. "Modern" is a striking composition, lyrically dwelling on the idea of civilization and modernity by examining several cities - Jericho (security), Babylon (ambition), Atlantis (idealism). Musically, it ebbs between jagged, frail acoustic guitar and intense blasts of distorted electric guitar and bass. "Wilhelmina", a song written for a newborn, has a classical melody supported by vocal, piano, and harpsichord, with a brief spot for Mellotron strings.  Similar instrumental restraint is shown on "Rubicon", a tender love song with only acoustic guitar and bass backing the vocal sentiments.  "The Lie" is a haunting, visceral solo performance piece. Vocals and piano swell in bursts of fury, then drain back down to bitter contemplations as Hammill sifts through his inner religious conflicts. Hugh Banton's tasteful, unintrusive support on pipe organ is a perfect complement to the song, torn between desire for God and disillusion with religion.

After the intensity of "The Lie," "Forsaken Gardens" starts with another bare vocal, shortly joined by stately piano accompaniment, and we think we have another solo piece.  But the piano is very much in Hugh Banton's style... and then David Jackson's flute and sax join in, and when Guy Evans' drums crash to life during the first chorus, we've got a full band performance on our hands!  Lyrically, this song is brilliant - never have I heard such a fine (musical) refutation of Voltaire's stoic "tend your garden" version of humanistic morality:

Now I see the garden that I've grown is just the same as those outside,
The fences that erected to protect, simply divide.
There's ruination everywhere, the weather has played havoc with the grass.
Does anyone believe their garden's really going to last?

The band stays on board for "Red Shift", a rocking philosophical rumination on a principle of physics with some snaky solos from Spirit guitarist Randy California. It's another up-tempo piece with sprightly saxophone and an almost Egyptian feel. But the true highlight is the final opus, "A Louse Is Not A Home". Originally intended for the Van Der Graaf Generator album that would have followed Pawn Hearts, it is a richly dense examination of place and identity. The pauses and spaces created within the song are almost as intense as the outbursts of anguish and hope.  Banton adds to his typical piano/organ/synth excellence an enviable performance on bass guitar, and the band as a whole navigate the song's many parts, moods, and time signature shifts with adroitness and skill.  And Hammill's poetry of desperation is in full flower:

Sometimes I get the feeling that there's someone else there...
The faceless watcher, he makes me uneasy,
I can feel him through the floorboards and his presence is creepy,
He informs me that I shall be expelled.
What is that but "out of" and "into"?
Don't know the nature of the door that I go through.
Don't know the nature of the nature that I am inside.
...
What is this place you call home?
Is it a sermon or a confession?
Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a rule-book or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of your protector?
Does the idol have feet of clay?
Home is what you make it, my friends all say.
But I rarely see their homes in these dark days.
...
How are you to find the dawning of the day?
Day is just a word I use to keep the dark at bay.
...
Maybe I should de-louse this place;
Maybe I should de-place this louse;
Maybe I'll maybe my life away,
In the confines of this silent house.

Arbitrary rating: 5 out of 5 rocking philosophical ruminations