Sight Lines

 

Winter lays bare the structure of the world:

How that folds into this, and where the joint

Between the upland and the lowland lies;

The run of rivers, the true shapes of hills,

And what the early men saw from the heights 

When first they breasted that commanding place

And saw the world laid out in diagram,

An etching of itself, a living map,

Upon which clouds in shadow slowly moved –

Above-below them, tiny birds in flight.

 

It’s like the curtain of the world draws back,

Revealing, for a moment, strange machines

Whose ropes and pulleys make the whole thing run;

And then, in spring, the show begins again,

And lushness hides what deprivation showed:

That scarecrow earth on which we live our lives –

Warm things in peril in a colder place.

Poem for Myself

 

This is only an experience.

Make it full and fascinating when you can,

But also, don’t sweat it.

Some days will slide into oblivion; that’s fine.

It’s your experience to have, yours only,

And maybe don’t compare yourself to Shakespeare,

Or Jesus, or Joan of Arc.

Those people once existed, and no longer do,

And since you still exist, you’re winning

(If only for the moment,

And a few moments more).

 

Besides, even Shakespeare must have had dull days,

And even Joan of Arc, in her short life,

Must have stopped, once, and stared out of a window,

Reminding herself that she was only living,

Before she sighed, put on a helmet,

And marched off to crush the English and die.

Best Books Read 2020

 

I read 25 books last year, and only five are worthy of inclusion on this list.  Still, these five are pretty phenomenal, so I don’t suppose I can complain.

 

Without further ado, here they are.  I tried to put them in order, but of course you all know how arbitrary that is.

 

 

1.     The Privateer (Gordon Daviot, a.k.a. Josephine Tey)

 

If not the best book I read in 2020, then certainly the most perfect.  The Privateer is a splendid novel, swashbuckling and witty, with fine lyrical flourishes and enough pathos to give it depth. Henry Morgan emerges as a dashing and fascinating figure, vain and flawed and heroic to his core.

 

2.     Cryptonomicon (Neal Stephenson)

 

A sprawling, imperfect, brilliant book. Stephenson's at his best telling dark WWII fairytales, full of twisted humor and surreal beauty. The present-day segments aren't as gripping or convincing, but when you start to see the full weave of the tapestry, you'll forgive Stephenson anything. I don't know how he manages to be so sardonic and so humanistic and so polymathically well-informed all at once, but he does, and it's a hell of a performance. Bravo.

 

3.     Sandman (the complete series, by Neil Gaiman)

 

Sometimes tedious, sometimes precious, sometimes favoring words over images in a way that seems like a disservice to the comics medium – but touched with moments of real beauty, pathos, and brilliance, and slowly building to an ending that’s eerie, resonant, humane, and genuinely moving. How do you evaluate a work like that? Sandman is a work of genius – a flawed, rambling work of genius, with tragically uneven artwork, that somehow manages to tie together most of its multitudinous plot strands in its strange and masterful conclusion. It’s worth the time – worth the frustration. It’s like a treasure trove of humanity’s stories, and even if some of the jewels are pasteboard, enough are real to make for a rich and satisfying reward.

 

4.     The Mirror and the Light (Hilary Mantel)

 

I did start to experience a bit of Trilogy Exhaustion during this final installment, but Mantel's vision and artistry remain breathtaking, and there's real pathos in reaching the end of the tale.

 

5.     The League of Frightened Men (Rex Stout)

 

I read a lot of Nero Wolfe mysteries this year, and this was the pick of the litter.  Perplexing and full of menace, with an unexpected ending and – best of all – some wonderful Wolfe/Goodwin interplay. You can see why John Dickson Carr placed this book in his mystery top ten.

A Toast (to 2020)

Here’s to you, you bastard,

Who thought to beat us down.

You tried your best,

And now you rest

In winter’s frozen ground.

 

Here’s to you, you coward,

Who thought to cow us, too.

Your day is done;

In ’21

We’ll flourish without you.