Today, I finished reading Les Miserables. I had been reading it off-and-on since about September. I must say that I was a bit overwhelmed when I finished reading the last words. Any book of more than 1,200 pages becomes a friend, and I was saddened that my journey with this particular friend has drawn to a close (for now -- books are forgiving friends, and they don't mind years of ignorance).
To say Les Miserables was a good read is to somewhat miss the point. It is a good read, but, I think that the plot (though certainly interesting and polished) is more of a device of the central thesis. I had this feeling when I read Brideshead Revisited some time ago. In this regard, they may be seen as cousins. Brideshead muses on the workings of grace in depraved humanity, while Les Mis concerns itself with the application of mercy and love to those who are undeserving (or so we might think). We see the actors on a stage of divine proportions. The Bishop's first merciful act toward Jean Valjean sets in motion the rest of the novel, wherein Valjean's goodness and mercy towards others (as well as his interior struggles to form his conscience uprightly) influence the other characters profoundly. There exist not a few foils to this central motion of the plot. There are the Thenardiers - the very personifications of selfishness. Javert, clearly, is at the other end of the spectrum, in that he forgets himself (and his humanity) for the sake of the sterile letter of the law. Marius is torn between his love for Cosette and his desire for the restoration of the Republic. Cosette is the personification of innocent love itself - standing in the world as if an icon.
My first exposure to the story was through the film version released two Christmases ago. I did not even know the general storyline before then. When I saw the film, I was really quite moved. The story felt so fresh and real - in a way that many stories of that age do not. In a way, it was very rewarding to move from the general outline sketched in the film to the very deep well of information conveyed in the book. Entire subplots bubbled to the surface and formed streams that swirled throughout the story, tying this and that together. To continue the metaphor, the streams which are the subplots truly influence the outcome of the river, which is the main arc of the plot. To fit such complexity into a film, things are necessarily flattened quite a bit, and much of the richness of the layers beneath the surface was lost.
But, in the end, it is not about these plots and subplots, it is about a group of characters struggling in their circumstances to do what is right and to make decisions for the betterment of what they love (whether it be the Revolution, the girl through the gate, the prostitute, the law, or money). Seeing into the minds of the characters as they struggle with their decisions is what makes Les Miserables such an engaging and fascinating read.
Showing posts with label Book Review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Review. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
The eleven nations of North America
I've written before on various regional differences I've encountered by living in different places at different stages of my life. I've always puzzled over the pre-packaged "regional maps" that the Census Bureaus and other such agencies use to conveniently compartmentalize states. For instance, how do you define the Midwest? On the surface, I'd say you might first include all of the Great Lakes states, but then what? If you throw in Iowa, I'd say Nebraska, the Dakotas, and Kansas have to be included too. And if you add those four, do you include Missouri and Oklahoma because they are mostly agrarian states as well? Stopping there seems appropriate, but the result is a region so large as to be almost meaningless. Can we really compare the culture of metro Detroit with that of Wichita?
In the final analysis, our state borders usually do not encapsulate regional differences very well. In the Great Lakes region alone, I can think of a few microregions. Stretching from Buffalo through Cleveland, Toledo, South Bend, and Chicago, up to Milwaukee is a largely urbanized region commonly called the Rust Belt. A spur of this region reaches up through southeast Michigan to encompass Detroit, Flint, Saginaw, and Jackson. The midsections of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio are rather Great Plains like in their history and settlement. The southern reaches of those same states are very much oriented toward the Ohio River and the cultural patterns found in Kentucky and West Virginia. Wisconsin, Minnesota, and northern Michigan form a Scandinavian bloc, in terms of ethnic makeup, culture, and even weather.
Enter Colin Woodard and his very enlightening book, American Nations. Woodard names and describes eleven distinct nations that each have distinct histories and cultures - all within the current borders of the United States. We must recall that nation and country are not synonyms, though they are often used interchangeable. A nation is a group of people who identify with one another and share a common history and culture. Sometimes nations have their own countries (the French have France), and sometimes nations find themselves without a country (think of the Kurds, the Palestinians, or the Basques). Woodard posits that there is no American nation like there is a French nation, but, instead, our country is made up of eleven, somewhat hidden, nations, whose particular values and worldviews continue to shape our politics.
When I opened the book and first saw this map, it was as though the scales fell from my eyes. No, not all of what I described above vis a vis the Midwest shows up perfectly, but it is a clarifying diagram regardless. I'd like to consider just a few interesting spots on the map.
Firstly, there is my current situation in Washington, DC. I'd say the District itself is rather a-regional, but it is situated at the nexus of three regions. To the north, encompassing the Maryland suburbs is the Midland nation, which has its origins in the pragmatic, pacifistic efforts of the Quakers and Germans in Pennsylvania. To the east and south is the aristocratic Tidewater nation, which was founded by the younger sons of English nobles as a manorial, class-based society built on the tobacco trade. And, finally, to the west, starting just past Arlington, is the Greater Appalachian nation. Originally a lawless and individualistic land, Appalachia was settled in the 17th Century by Scotch-Irish who had left behind their war-torn lands of Northern Ireland and the Scottish border.
In local terms, this means that there's quite a difference between Maryland and Virginia (beyond the fact that Marylanders are terrible drivers). Even closer to Washington itself, "national" differences can be felt. Alexandria and Georgetown, the oldest settlements in the area, were settled from the south, from the Tidewater culture. This can still be felt in the strong attention to social class still attached to these areas. Kennedy once called Washington the "city of Northern charm and Southern efficiency." I think this statement is essentially founded on the swirling of national cultures that exists in the Potomac lowlands.
The second interesting spot is Indiana. Indianapolis, Fort Wayne, and South Bend are all in different nations. I have always sort of suspected as much. South Bend is a Yankee city, aligned with the industrial, pro-government, pro-union sensibilities of the rest of Yankeedom - from Maine to Minnesota. Fort Wayne, though an industrial city, is definitely in the Midlands. There is a mind-your-own-business attitude throughout central Indiana, where government is often seen as more of a problem than a solution. This attitude has its roots in the Quakers and the German Protestants who founded the Midlands around Philadelphia as a refuge from repressive governments in Europe. Finally, southern Indiana (including, I think, most of Indianapolis) is definitely a part of Greater Appalachia, where there is a more intense reliance on family connections alongside a very intense suspicion of authority.
As for where the borders are, exactly, within Indiana, is a question unto itself. I'd say Indianapolis and south are Greater Appalachia. Muncie is a Midland city, as is Lafayette. The Region (the northwest three counties of Indiana) are definitely Yankee.
In any event, Woodard's analysis, though very interesting, leaves out a few considerations. While the historic narrative is well done, the author avoids the current urban/rural sociological differences. Additionally, Native Americans and African Americans are generally not a part of the conversation. While it's true that both groups have never had "nation" prominence in this country, they do influence the culture and society of the United States. In any event, it's a fascinating book.
In the final analysis, our state borders usually do not encapsulate regional differences very well. In the Great Lakes region alone, I can think of a few microregions. Stretching from Buffalo through Cleveland, Toledo, South Bend, and Chicago, up to Milwaukee is a largely urbanized region commonly called the Rust Belt. A spur of this region reaches up through southeast Michigan to encompass Detroit, Flint, Saginaw, and Jackson. The midsections of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio are rather Great Plains like in their history and settlement. The southern reaches of those same states are very much oriented toward the Ohio River and the cultural patterns found in Kentucky and West Virginia. Wisconsin, Minnesota, and northern Michigan form a Scandinavian bloc, in terms of ethnic makeup, culture, and even weather.
Enter Colin Woodard and his very enlightening book, American Nations. Woodard names and describes eleven distinct nations that each have distinct histories and cultures - all within the current borders of the United States. We must recall that nation and country are not synonyms, though they are often used interchangeable. A nation is a group of people who identify with one another and share a common history and culture. Sometimes nations have their own countries (the French have France), and sometimes nations find themselves without a country (think of the Kurds, the Palestinians, or the Basques). Woodard posits that there is no American nation like there is a French nation, but, instead, our country is made up of eleven, somewhat hidden, nations, whose particular values and worldviews continue to shape our politics.
When I opened the book and first saw this map, it was as though the scales fell from my eyes. No, not all of what I described above vis a vis the Midwest shows up perfectly, but it is a clarifying diagram regardless. I'd like to consider just a few interesting spots on the map.
Firstly, there is my current situation in Washington, DC. I'd say the District itself is rather a-regional, but it is situated at the nexus of three regions. To the north, encompassing the Maryland suburbs is the Midland nation, which has its origins in the pragmatic, pacifistic efforts of the Quakers and Germans in Pennsylvania. To the east and south is the aristocratic Tidewater nation, which was founded by the younger sons of English nobles as a manorial, class-based society built on the tobacco trade. And, finally, to the west, starting just past Arlington, is the Greater Appalachian nation. Originally a lawless and individualistic land, Appalachia was settled in the 17th Century by Scotch-Irish who had left behind their war-torn lands of Northern Ireland and the Scottish border.
In local terms, this means that there's quite a difference between Maryland and Virginia (beyond the fact that Marylanders are terrible drivers). Even closer to Washington itself, "national" differences can be felt. Alexandria and Georgetown, the oldest settlements in the area, were settled from the south, from the Tidewater culture. This can still be felt in the strong attention to social class still attached to these areas. Kennedy once called Washington the "city of Northern charm and Southern efficiency." I think this statement is essentially founded on the swirling of national cultures that exists in the Potomac lowlands.
The second interesting spot is Indiana. Indianapolis, Fort Wayne, and South Bend are all in different nations. I have always sort of suspected as much. South Bend is a Yankee city, aligned with the industrial, pro-government, pro-union sensibilities of the rest of Yankeedom - from Maine to Minnesota. Fort Wayne, though an industrial city, is definitely in the Midlands. There is a mind-your-own-business attitude throughout central Indiana, where government is often seen as more of a problem than a solution. This attitude has its roots in the Quakers and the German Protestants who founded the Midlands around Philadelphia as a refuge from repressive governments in Europe. Finally, southern Indiana (including, I think, most of Indianapolis) is definitely a part of Greater Appalachia, where there is a more intense reliance on family connections alongside a very intense suspicion of authority.
As for where the borders are, exactly, within Indiana, is a question unto itself. I'd say Indianapolis and south are Greater Appalachia. Muncie is a Midland city, as is Lafayette. The Region (the northwest three counties of Indiana) are definitely Yankee.
In any event, Woodard's analysis, though very interesting, leaves out a few considerations. While the historic narrative is well done, the author avoids the current urban/rural sociological differences. Additionally, Native Americans and African Americans are generally not a part of the conversation. While it's true that both groups have never had "nation" prominence in this country, they do influence the culture and society of the United States. In any event, it's a fascinating book.
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