Seven Lines for Book the Seventh

Tu quoque litoribus nostris, Aeneia nutrix

aeternam moriens famam, Caieta, dedisti;

et nunc servat honos sedem tuus ossaque nomen

Hesperia in magna, siqua est ea gloria, signat.

At pius exsequiis Aeneas rite solutis,

aggere composito tumuli, postquam alta quierunt

aequora, tendit iter velis portumque relinquit.

- Aen. 7.1-7

 Book Seven is the more Iliadic latter half of the Aeneid, the portion just past the sections required for grades; in this way it is much like Doctor Seuss' On Beyond Zebra. The first four lines form an epigram. Aeneid Book Seven is a beginning, just not the beginning. As a beginnig, it must observe the conventions of that position, at least in part.

The first line of Book Seven violates the standard pattern of the ending of the dactylic hexameter line by ending in two spondees rather than a dactyl and spondee. The end of a line is an important location for identifying the meter of a poem; without establishing and reconfirming the predetermined meter, poetry devolves into elevated prose. Such a break in the standard pattern here, therefore, in such a prominent position, must have a purpose. Virgil establishes this intentionality in line five, which not only carries the right pattern of dactyl and spondee, but even contains the phrase rite solutis "after they had been done properly." Thus the Watsonian sense of proper funeral rites and the Doylist of continuing the narrative are resolved.

The first four lines of Book Seven form two couplets, since the couplet is the appopriate number of lines for the epigrammatic tradition. The first of these couplets in composed of the first two lines, These lines are an invocatio, an invocation of Aeneas' nurse Caieta, hitherto unmentioned and probably eponymous with a local coast feature. The Roman and the Greeks loved words, but to say that they understood linguistics would be lie. The first line begins with tu quoque "thou also," suggesting that addressee as someone known to the original audience. The spondaic conclusion of the line, Aeneia nutrix "nurse of Aeneas," further supports a known identity. Yet this nurse, Caieta, has not received a single mention in the preceding six books! The nurse of Aeneas appears posthumously like that of Dido, but at least she recieves a name, like that of Anna! Caieta's death provides eternal fame. This contrast is mortality is fitting in the transition between Book Six, in which Aeneas spent most of his time in the Underworld with the Sibyl, and the rest of Book Seven, in which he has returned to the upper world. The mention of a mortal rather than an immortal indicates that this is not true invocatio, which would require a goddess, Muse, or august patron close to the divine. On a more grammatical angle, the phrase litoribus nostris is probably either locational with an elided preposition or else a direct object of dedisti. Also note the alliterative alternation of a and n in nostris Aeneia nutrix/aeternam.

The preferred alliteration in the second couplet switches out a for s. The second couplet also switches from second person to third and from perfect tense to present. The bones of Caieta now receive honor in Italy. It is notably, however, that the word for Italy is the poetic synonym Hesperia and the form of honor is archaic honos. Both could be the result of internal and line-initial alliteration and assonance, but honor and Italia would fit the meter equally well. The final portion of the funerary epigram contains an element of memento mori in siqua est ea gloria "if this is any kind of glory." This sentiment is appropriate for a funerary epigram, but it also indicate the vacillation of the hero Aeneas, who continually turns over matters in his mind, whether or not the other Trojans know.

Caieta's brief appearance is also an indicator, a prefiguration of the many characters who will appear in this half of the Aeneid only to die at the hands of a mightier or more plot-relevant warrior. The manner in which Caieta brought fame to Italy remains unknown.

The next three lines of Book Seven are a series of three clauses related to past actions followed by a generic statement, Their unity can be measured by the alliteration of a in the first words of each line - at, aggere, and aequora - as well as the structure of the three clauses. The first two clauses are ablative absolutes, while the third is a temporal clause with postquam. Aeneas, here given his epithet of pius Aeneas, is the grammatical subject of the main verb relinquit, but the ablative absolutes exclude him and the calming of the sea was not his doing. The final past tense subordinate clause is bound to the main clause in the similarity of postquam alta quierunt and portumque relinquit. Not only do they posess an identical metrical pattern, a similarity insufficient by itself for argument, but they also contain an identical consonant inventory. The only consonant present in the sixth line and absent in the sevent in the s of postquam. Both portions start with p and contain t as the third consonant. The phrases alta quierunt and relinquit are almost anagrams. The -am of postquam is elided according to the rules of Latin poetry, but both lines contain a nasal consonant - n in the former and m in the latter.

The actions in the latter three lines are not just third person, but third person narration in the past leading to the present. Both quierunt and relinquit reinforce the temporal change. Aeneas has performed the rites correctly; he has built the burial mound; the sea has become calm.

The combination of the funeral rites, calm sea, and the sailing forth is a reminder of the opening of the Trojan War, of which the Iliad related a part. Aeneas is a better man than Agamemnon, however, whom his former analogue Odysseus witnesses in his own catabasis. The member of the family for whom Aeneas mourns is his beloved nurse rather than his daughter cruelly deceived. The resulting departure, however, leads to wars for both men.

The first seven lines of Book Seven of the Aeneid are a complex work. The first four lines are a funerary epigram combined with a false invocatio and covert refrences to prior nunrses and mental states, The next tree lines are a tightly composed triplet to move the story to the next point. The use of alliteration and assonance helps to define each section. When both sections come together, the seven lines from a reference to the beginning of the Trojan War, an apposite reference for the Iliadic half of the Aeneid.

Searchers of the Flower Moon

 A piece of trivia easily passed over in the grim Killers of the Flower Moon is the reference to a Scout troop aiding in the search for the missing woman. This is not a Boy Scouts of America troop, because the incident occurred in 1909, far away from New York City. Instead, the group must have used Baden-Powell's Scouting for Boys. The Osage reservation was not near any major cities, but the book had been around for five years, so there is no difficulty in believing that someone had brought the book to Oklahoma. Furthermore, youth organizations such the Sons of Daniel Boone and the Woodcraft Indians already existed. The former organization's very name suggests that it would not have found purchase on the reservation; the latter organization would be more likely, as both it and the YMCA's Indian Guides appropriated - with the aid of the white founders' indigenous friends - local cultures. 

Yet the sociopolitical situation of the Osage indicates why Scouting for Boys rather than The Birch Bark Roll would be the book adopted. The Osage, through the carelessness of the Oklahomans and a touch of serendipity, had come int money and had begun to adopt the white man's sedentary ways. Such a change always risks the loss of traditional skills and knowledge, an abandonment of historical manliness. The potential loss of manly virtue was a driving force in the growth of youth organizations among the white and increasingly urban population of the United States. Although the racist element of this concern could have been absent among the Osage, the use of a book about Scouting and woodcraft written by white man would have been a socially acceptable way of preserving indigenous tradition. The history of Scouting may have an official reason to pass over this Osage troop, but its existence should be included in the greater history of the movement within the United States. Perhaps other indigenous nations or overlooked minorities have more tales to tell of Scouts in action!

Genoa: One Hell of An American Town

 Genoa, Nevada (pronounced je-NO-a) might be the most American town ever, right down to its assocation with the most American religion ever. Genoa was founded as Mormon Station by Latter Day Saints, but it was more than just a town. It was a strategic outpost in the church's claim to the great and powerful state of Deseret stretching from Salt Lake to the Pacific Ocean. The Saint, like many despised religious minorities, utilized trade as a way to become indispensable to their enemies. The settlers who reached the base of the Sierra Nevada would be less discriminate about heretics and blasphemers in order to replenish their supplies. The mixture of religion and empire could not have been more American. 

The road to wealth shifted north after the discovery of the Comstock lode, a mass of silver named after a man whose cultural relevance would flatter his ego. The Saints were recalled to fight - and lose - the Utah War against the United States government, The pragmatism born of this experience correlates well with the future of this town, renamed Genoa in the wake of antebellum hostility to the Saints of God - the name Mormon Station seemed less friendly after the growing consciousness by Gentiles of Mormon elite polygamy. The local Washo no doubt did not appreciate the racial theology of the Church, but the white settlers, even the Gentiles, would not have cared.

The town of Genoa suffered the fate of nearly all strategic settlements and many genre books - passed over for the new exciting places such as Virginia City, the Disneyland of ghost towns. Genoa was still, however, on a critical trade route. Its most ephemeral instance might be its most famous - the Pony Express. The Pony Express lasted less than a year, eclipsed by the railroad, but its media portrayal in the Young Riders lasted thrice as long - much like the eleven-year Korean War in the universe of MASH. Distorting the past to reflect on the present is not unique to America. It is, however, quite popular.

Genoa also had the honor of experiencing another of America's small town pasttimes - budget woes. When the town installed the first streetlight, the annual budget was already settled - it did not include the nineteenth century equivalent of high speed rail. The splendidly name Mrs.Virgin, therefore, recruited her friends to have a bake sale to fund the light. This instance of necessity became an annual tradition and quickly turned into a party. You can still attend.

Genoa had another brush with fame when a local boy made good at the Chicago World's Fair, the birthplace of American industrial miracles, Mr. Ferris had observed the water wheel in Genoa and thought "what if I made it bigger and more fun?" The American obsession with size is not just a contemporary phenomenon. There were many challenges to the construction of the first Ferris Wheel in the wastelands of Chicago - metal fatigue and frozen mud being foremost. Yet he succeeded in creating one of the most iconic fairground rides of early twentieth century America.

Genoa also experienced the youth-oriented aspect of America the Great - inadequate education, The lack of schooling perturbed some of the ladies of the great town of Genoa, so a brief academy was established before a true school system could exist. The old courthouse eventually became the schoolhouse, a circumstance about which the students therein no doubt made many tasteless jokes.

Just as the fortunes of Genoa shifted with the times, so too, early on, did the boundary. The initial placement of the boundary marker between California and Nevada in Genoa was deemed inaccurate. The original surveyor, therefore, moved it, but not very far and not up the mountain slope. Perhaps we should not be too harsh on him, since there were many errors, accidental and intentional, in establishing boundaries of territory and state.

Genoa reflects the quirks, both good and bad, of the American experience, from the Latter Day Saints to boom and bust economies to shortfalls in education and utilities to the local boy who gave his name to something famous. If any of these aspects intrigues you, I urge you to visit Genoa yourself. If you enjoyed this or have any comments or questions, feel free to contact me. There is much I have omitted and I would love to talk more about this corner of the world.

Catalectic Converter: An Ode to Dactylic Hexameter

 If you want to read, recite, and interpret dactylic hexameter, the meter of Latin epic poetry, if not the native form, you must first understand how it works. The traditional account is as follows: the name dactylic hexameter tells us about important details for its construction. 'Dactylic' indicates that it is composed of dactyls, a metrical unit of one long followed by two shorts. 'Hexameter' indicates that this pattern repeats six times to create a single line of dactylic hexameter. Yet this sextuple repetition is not reflected in the canonical line of dactylic hexameter, which ends in a spondee, a pair of longs. Most of the feet of the hexameter can change from dactyl to spondee, except the fifth and penultimate. This foot must remain dactylic to reinforce the nature of the meter. Very rarely is this consistency breached and even more rarely at the beginning of a section. If the nature of the meter requires reinforcement, why does the last foot of the hexameter not fulfill this role? The final foot of one line and the initial of the next are often bound by grammatical enjambment. Even the use of an extrametrical syllable to tie them together is not sufficient, since the vowel always undergoes elision. The neophyte Latinist learns that the sixth and last foot is a spondee. The last vowel of the final syllable which is pronounced would be short or long in prose; but it is always treated as long in scansion. Most of the time this default intervention does no harm. Sometimes, however, the natural length of the vowel is significant. 

There is a better way to analyze dactylic hexameter, a way in which a journeyy through complexity creates a more thorough understanding. Dactylic hexameter is not merely dactylic hexameter; it is dactylic hexameter catalectic. What does 'catalectic' mean? Catalexis, and its adjective catalectic, is metrical circumcision, the omission of the last syllable. The identity of the meter as dactylic is confirmed by the spondee rather than a single long syllable, while the placement of the syllable at the end of the line is established by the final long syllable, irrespective of any condition which migh force an otherwise short syllable to be treated as long.

This possibility of long or short, sometimes called 'anceps', at the end of a line of dactylic hexameter is one of the mechanisms to vary a potentially soporific metrical pattern. It is also a reminder that the terms first presented to learners are simplified version of the whole rather than the only way in which one can view such a phenomenon.

King and Consuls

         The passage in Book 6 of the Aeneid where Anchises presents the souls of future Roman kings and consuls (6.809-19) is a reprise and expansion of the initial lines of the Aeneid (1.1-12), thereby connecting Aeneas' foundation with the latter one. The character of Aeneas is distributed among his descendants.

        The base level of comparison is repetition of words used in the opening of the poem, although differing in case and number. Romulus, the first king of Rome (pace Titus Tatius), is excluded from this list because he is mentioned at the end of the Alban line, rather than at the beginning of the Roman. This omission also releases a spot for Brutus, the first consul. The first king, therefore, who is mentioned, is Numa Pompilius. Anchises introduces Numa as the Roman king "primam qui legibus urbem / fundabit," "he who will provide the early city with laws" or "he who will first provide the city with laws." The first two words occur after the caesura, similar to the "qui primus" of the first line of the poem (1.1), but in inverse order. The clause in Book 1 refers to Numa, an immigrant like Aeneas, establishing the rites of the new city. Numa, similar to Aeneas, exists in the dawn of urban history and therefore is "missus in imperium magnum" "sent toward great empire" (6.813) rather than as a witness to that imperial glory. Numa's successor, Tullus Hostilius, provides the martial valor which the aged ("incana menta",grey beard hairs", 6.809) Numa lacks. This absence is reflected in the word "in arma viros" "men to arms" (6.814), which remind the audience of the first words of the poem "arma virumque" "arms and a man" (1.1).  The next king mentioned, Ancus Martius, is "jactantior" "boastful," a comparative - and active - form related to the passive "jactatus" "tossed" of the opening (1.3). This also serves as the moral descent of the kings, since Ancus takes too great a pleasure in "popularibus auris" (?.?), "the ears of the people>" 

        The Tarquins pere et fils are connected to the initial verses by "vis ... superbam" (6.817), which echoes "vi superum" (1.4) in the fourth line. Both words are not directly connected but "vis" is from "volo," the verb of wishing and wanting, while "superbam" is from an adjective meaning "proud" or "arrogant" depending on context. "Vi" is from the word for "force," while "superum" is a word for the gods above. Tarquinius Superbus, were he real, no doubt used the positive meaning of his epithet; he certainly believed his word was law. What one wants and what is just are the same thing! Tarquinius Superbus' downfall came when he violated the laws of the gods by assaulting his cousin's wife as a form of force, and by "vi superum," "the force of the divine," he lost his kingdom. The "animam superbam," "proud spirit" (6.817) belongs to Brutus rather than Superbus, but the audience does not know this until the enjambment, and the negative interpretation suits Superbus. The "animam superbam" of Brutus is that of positive aspect, but Brutus adopts the authority and the emblems thereof of the deposed kings and therefore warrants inclusion on the list of leaders. Brutus, as the first consul, receives his own "primus" (6.819) to echos the first line; his passage also includes a description of the fasces as "saevas securis" "savage axes" (6.819), which serves to connect him with the "saevam iram" of Juno rather than Aeneas, perhaps an odd choice for one who overthrew the previous ruler for daring to trespass the boundary of divine law. The rebellion ("nova bella," 6.820) of Brutus' sons reminds the attentive of "bello passus," "suffering in war" (1.5), but Brutus displays loyalty to gods and country by executing his own blood. The summary of this list of kings and consuls states that "vincet amor patriae laudumque immensa cupido," "love of fatherland and the great desire for praise will conquer" (6.823). Although neither "amor" nor "cupido" are words in the opening lines, they are both names for Venus' godly son, in a context where Venus is not mentioned because only Romulus, here excluded, is of her line.

        It may be going too far to suggest the Aeneas' personality is a conglomeration of the equally mythical kings of Rome, but there are striking parallels. Aeneas, like Numa, brings the gods who bring prosperity to a city which lacks them. Aeneas, like Tullus, will lead his weary travelers into battle. Aeneas, like Ancus, must beware the sway of popular opinion despite his constant doubt and deliberation. Aeneas, like the Tarquins, must resist the temptation to think himself above the gods. Aeneas, like Brutus, must place state above family and familiar affection.

        The passage of Book 6 in which the Roman leaders are presented is a callback to the very first lines of the epic in exact words, related words, and in theme. The first lines of an epic are its thesis statement; the use of same or similar words in reference to other individuals universalizes the principles, The use of same or similar themes shows that these principles are displayed under diverse circumstances, no matter which mythical era, is inspirational to the real Romans and the real ruler of the Imperium.

Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda (TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: Everything Re: Racial Genocide)

Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda, by Jean-Philippe Stassen, is a graphic novel that deals with the genocide of my youth. Not one which I personally experienced, but one which I read about the newspapers and discussed in the library/sitting room of my private high school. I do not, however, believe that my security relieves of a duty to understand it. Sadly, there are so many wars and rumors of war that even the most conscientious cannot attend to them all; and if one could, there would be others who would find fault in attention here rather than there, where their passions were consumed.

Deogratias is set, as its subtitle indicates, in Rwanda in the nineties. The principal character, Deogratias, is a Hutu orphan in the care of French missionaries. His life experience, as well as his schooling, is warping him into a creature of hate, visually rendered as  a quasi-bestial form, a street dog. He is mistreated by the Tutsi for being a Hutu and by the Hutu for livng among the Tutsi. This establishes Deogratias as a tragic character, a view confirmed by the scenes after the genocide and return of his former protector. Already in his adolescence, he is a drunk. 

Deogratias loves, or believes he is in love with, Apollinaria, the daughter of a Tutsi sex worker Venetia and Brother Philip, one of the missionaries; Apollinaria's other sister, Benina, does not know her father due to her mother's line of work. Deogratias' impulse control has been weakened by alcoholism and abuse, so his understanding of consent is minimal. None of the three youths, whose options as an urchin, a mulatto, and a whore's daughter were already limited, have a chance; the poison of racial rhetoric has already sparked one war in Venetia's generation. The path to exile is blocked by the indifference and self-preservation of the alleged protector.

Before the genocide begins, Deogratias' unreciprocated lust for Apollinaria is sated, at least partly, by Benina's curiosity. Deogratias' interest in Apollinaria is attributed, admittedly by an unreliable character, to have a racial component, since this character calls mixed race women "the refined stuff" (p. 71), Apollinaria, as half-white and virginal, has a purity to which Deogratias cannot attain.

All the suffering and addiction of Deogratias make him an easy target for military recruitment. The war shatters what little is left of Deogratias' psyche, leaving him nothing but an agent of destruction and pain. Death is what he does, both in the war and after.

Deogratias is a grim read. If you are going to read it, I suggest you plan to journal or discuss or both. Sitting in silent contemplation may be useful, but eventually one must express the results thereof.

Andre Norton: The Gate of the Cat

Andre Norton's The Gate of the Cat is subtitled "Return to Witch World." It also serves as an entry point for new readers, such as yours truly, who picked it up off a hotel lobby shelf alongside a cruelly deceptive The Mote in God's Eye which lacked the first 162 pages (not even a chapter break!). The pace is fast, and the initial impression is that of an apocalyptic landscape akin to Return to Oz and many other iterations and adaptations of the Oz franchise. As a new reader, it is clear that the world is worse off than before, but also unknown how apocalyptic the world was prior to the witches reshaping the world. Our heroine, Kelsie MacBlair, a hunter with principles, arrives in Witch World via the standard standing stones method. Although some might find the brief inability to communicate fast tracked by telepathy cliched, the acknowledgement that the inhabitants of the world of adventure are not speaking English is welcome, It may be too much to ask for more than one language. The narrative has a quick pace and too many species to introduce, so sometimes it feels more like an "World of Witch World" encyclopedia in narrative form. Even there, a bit more exposition of the names of species and places would have helped. The conceit of Witch World is "lost knowledge of the Old Ones," so perhaps some of these lack their true names, but the books established to exist in this world must call them something! The prose is plain and economical, urging the reader on rather than encouraging lingering. The Gate of Cat is clearly the beginning of a new cycle of adventure, since it introduces a new outside protagonist while also providing a fully resolved plot in case it is the only book of the cycle, but it would be better, if this were one's first exposure to Witch World and if one liked it, to start at the beginning.

Is It Your First Time Dualing This? I'll Be Gentle

(Apologies for the lack of macrons) 

There are many reasons to dislike the Green Owl, God of All of Languages, into which I was tricked in a contract (although it is merely a year, not seven or a billion), but some of his methodology is legitimate. Many linguistics concepts are challenging for learners, especially American monoglots or nigh-monoglots, and the American education system is designed to eliminate love of learning despite the best efforts of teachers. Most people do not think grammar is fun.

One of the concepts that Hawaiian ('Olelo Hawai'i) possesses and English lacks is that of the dual. The dual, as its name suggests, indicates exactly two. Anglo-Saxon, also known as Old English, had a dual which was lost between the Norman Conquest and the reemergence of the English language as a form of written communication, so the difficulty of the concept arises from unfamiliarity alone. The etymology of the dual in Hawaiian is transparently the number two (ua < lua), thereby demonstrating the dual can develop as well as disappear.

Another concept that Hawaiian possesses and English lack is that of clusivity. Old English does not use this, nor do Greek or Latin. Clusivity is a concept limited to the first person pronoun, I or me or my, There are two forms: inclusive and exclusive. The inclusive form includes the person addressed, thee or thou or you; the exclusive excludes the person addressed, but includes somebody else. The nature of clusitivy mandates the exclusion of the singular. This leaves the plural, and the dual in languages which have it - which Hawaiian does.

Both duality and clusivity are challenging concepts, and the beginning of any course bears a strong possibilty that the learner may drop out faced with too much terminology. The Green Owl, however, has found a solution. The introduction of two dual and two plural forms for "we" would be too confusing for English speakers. The initial forms presented in the language games are both inclusive, although this term is never used and only the dual emphasizes the inclusion of you (but only one of you) and me. The contrast, therefore, is between kakou, meaning "all of us," and kaua, meaning "you and me," an elegant streamlining of two non-intuitive concepts in a foreign tongue.

Absolutes and Absolutions

            In the sixth book of Virgil's Aeneid, Aeneas the initiate finally reaches his father in the Underworld and is ready to learn the secrets of the cosmos. Aeneas needed no expiation, only the original Hell House exhibition, because he is, as the poet firmly insists, 'pius', The soul of Anchises, Aeneas' father, is contemplating the souls of the purified in a pleasant valley by the River of Forgetfulness. In this holy place, Here Anchises explains the cycle of expiation and rebirth, governed by the One Above All, the Unmoved Mover. This single governing force might seem at odds with the bickering pantheon of the Aeneid, but the trip through the Underworld has already demonstrated this rigidity is not part of the cosmology of the Aeneid. The world is vast and contains many perspectives, from the fading ghosts of the Stygian shores to the eternal torment of the Titans and irredeemable mortals, to the cleansing and reincarnation of reclaimable souls. Neither the Sibyl nor Anchises can claim absolute knowledge; the former received her knowledge from Hecate, of which only a part is revealed to Aeneas, and Anchises, as a virtuous soul, never suffered the torments of expiation.

            There is a possibility that a modern audience might see a monotheist element in Anchises' cosmology. Although this perspective is not entirely wrong, especially from a diachronic, or historical trend, view, the modern sensibility is far more based in dualism than that of the Imperial Roman period. The distance between polytheism and monotheism is not a bright line in the sand, but a continuum. Islam and Judaism are indisputably monotheistic; is Christianity? If it is, which sorts of Christianity does one include? The theological perspective in this portion of the Aeneid is somewhere between henotheism, in which there are many gods, of equal or near equal power ("thou shalt have no other gods beside me") and monotheism ("thou shalt have no other gods besides me"), in which there is one. But then, a cult into which one must be initiated in order to achieve rebirth is unlikely to focus on a plethora of gods; the most likely number is one, and it is unlikely to have more than three. The universalist perspective of Anchises' cosmology is a unifying one, designed to soothe Aeneas' constant anxiety from the continuous conflict in his life and an aspirational one for the future generations of Romans, including those who comprise Virgil's contemporary audience. Jupiter and Juno are currently at odds, but they will reconcile and share patronage of the Roman race; Venus will see her descendent Caesar conquer both lands, lads, and lasses; Neptune will allow his domain to become Nostrum Mare, "Our Sea," to the Romans. Yet  none of this is intended to deny the potency of the Roman pantheon in the preservation of republican and imperial power. The worship of the gods is essential for political stability, but spiritual comfort will be sought more and more in the belief in a unitary power, whether that be Augustus Divus or Sol Invictus.

Trojan, Trojan, Trojan-cats Ho!: Potential Classical References in Cheetara #1

 Cheetara #1 is the initial issue in a prequel series to the main and heretofore only series in the reimagined Thundercats universe, one of many childhood franchises adapted, updated, and streamlined for a modern audience. The writer is Soo Lee; the artist Domenico Carbone; the letterer is Jeff Eckleberry.

Thundercats was not a childhood franchise with which I was obsessed, although of course I was aware of it, so this reimagining does not break my almost non-existent sense of canon, nor do I cry how any change has ruined my childhood. Let us ignore the Johnny Quest promotional stinger interpolated herein!

This prequel takes place on the alien planet Thundera before its destruction. The most obvious comparison would be Superman's home planet of Krypton, especially if you choose not to believe that Lion-O's original name Lionel was in reference to a train rather than the Big Blue Boy Scout. The presentation of Thundera does remind me a Silver Age Krypton or a more aggressively furry Space Wakanda. This is a bright and wonderful world, full of promise, at least from the perspective of our protagonist Cheetara. 

Since Krypton has not been portrayed in this manner since the icy planet of the Christopher Reeve movie (the best Superman movie) usurped the utopian vision of the World of Krypton backups with their primary colors and many headbands, a more apt comparison is Troy before its fall. Thundera is prosperous and powerful due to its control of the endemic mineral power source Thundrainium. Troy is prosperous and powerful due to its control of access to the trade routes into the Black Sea; the beginning of the Iliad involves Agamemnon, king of men, who is besieging Troy, offending the priest of Apollo, "Goldman," father of "Goldie," from "Goldtown." The different Great Thunderans, Thundera's aristocrats (or Aristocats?) are based on different feline species. The original motivation for this was visual distinctiveness, a key quality in animation but also in epic, since all important Trojans and Greeks receive epithets which may not be applicable in the immediate circumstances, but nonetheless provide personal characteristics with which to imagine them. Cheetara, as one of these nobles, is an biased observer; in the Iliad, Odyssey, and Aeneid, the perspectives of the Greeks and the Trojans differ markedly. 

Both Thundera and Troy are treated not just as places, but as characters, and as characters, both are positioned as tragic heroes. According to Aristotle, a tragic hero must be at the height of their power, yet the conditions for the fall have already been set. This necessity is best illustrated in Oedipus Tyrannus, where the same qualities that made Oedipus a great king guaranteed his downfall. The causes of Thundera's future reckoning are not presented in Cheetara #1, but there is only one issue and Cheetara has a enormous privilege as a noble. Troy, on the other hand, despite being blessed by the gods, had broken its agreement with the divine builders of its current walls, as well as the laws of hospitality. Troy was the head of a Bronze Age empire, with subordinate princes such as Aeneas, Briseis' father Briseus, and Cassandra's suitor Coroebus. The Thunderan ruler is blind from the last war (details as yet unrevealed) and therefore unfit to rule, so he has selected an elite squadron of Great Thunderans to raise his only son as ruler of Thundera. Priam, king of Troy, has no such externally inflicted infirmity, but he is very old and he was the only surviving son of the last Trojan War. Perhaps one could connect king Claudius of Thundera's disability with Anchises, father of Aeneas, rather than Priam, due to the savior complex surrounding the child prince Lion-O. Priam has a squad of sons, royal cousins, and client kings on which he can rely. 

Cheetara is framed as a warrior, a priestess, and a mother figure. The gender equity of the franchise and perhaps felines in general allow Cheetara to fight alongside the male Thunderans, a true Andromache. She accompanies the Regent Jaga to the temple of the ancestors. While it is true that the temple has an aesthetic between that of the Jedi and that of Black Panther, the facelessness of the ancestors provides a point of comparison. Many of the oldest idols in the Classical and pre-Classical times were not statues as we conceive them, with carefully defined faces, but rather sacred stones to which divinity and sometimes facial features were attributed. One can still visit the Aphrodite of Paphos, a stone where the characteristics of the goddess would suggest greater detail. The Thunderan Sword of Omens, which guarantees the safety of Thundera as long as it remains in the temple, is not just a Chekhov's gun, but also an easy analogue to the Palladium, a lumpy sacred statue which Odysseus had to remove from the Temple of Athena in the citadel of Troy before Troy could fall.

Cheetara's preference is holy orders, but martial duty takes precedence. Cheetara's physical gift of suitably themed speed, "swift-footed Cheetara," overshadows her psychic gift of precognition. This precognition, which in the service of the story involves the ineluctable doom, aligns her more with Cassandra than Achilles. Cassandra was cursed to speak the truth which none would believe. This conflict is a way to build tension when the outcome is already known - as in a tragedy. Cheetara is also the replacement mother for the young prince Lion-O, whose own mother is no longer around, although once again there are no details. Since Priam's wife Hecuba and Hector's wife Andromache are prominent in the Iliad, a more apt comparison is Anchises, who begot his son Aeneas on Aphrodite, a conspicuously absent mother. Lion-O may be special, but it remains to be seen if his bloodline is what passes for divine in the Thunderan cosmos. If Cheetara's maternal role aligns her with Andromache, then Lion-O is Astyanax, the doomed son of Hector, presumptive heir of Troy. Andromache's name means "she who fights like a man," while Astyanax means "lord of the city," both of which are applicable to the Thunderans.

Cheetara's story also involves romance. Tygra, a male Thundercat not to be confused with Marvel's Avenger, the engineer and builder of the core characters, is smitten with her. His obsession with ships is not only a narrative necessity, but also provides a link with Troy and the infamous thousand ships. The reality of noble families, however, demands arranged marriages, and Tygra and Cheetara is not one such. In this aspect also, there is a comparison between Cheetara and Cassandra. Cheetara is reluctant to accept her arranged match, else there would be no story. Cassandra also had a suitor, Coroebus, a prince of the outlying territories. His tale appears in the second book of Aeneid, when Aeneas is reluctantly recounting the fall of Troy to an insistent Dido at the Carthaginian court. Coroebus visited the city and was enchanted by Cassandra. Her brothers discouraged Coroebus, but Priam, king of Troy, could not pass up an opportunity for extra military assistance and allowed it. On the final night of Troy, Coroebus joined Aeneas' suicide squad and perished as Cassandra was carried off to be Agamemnon's booty. Tygra and Cheetara survive the fall of Thundera, so the parallel is not exact, but the number of similarity between Cheetara and Cassandra, as well as other women of Troy, is suggestive, Cheetara, as the girl Thundercat, must encompass far more roles than the more abundant male characters.

Although it is not possible to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Troy has provided an inspiration for the first look at prelapsarian Thundera, the multiple parallels condensed into a smaller cast and narrative structure suggest that it is worthwhile to use such an approach. The land, the king, the heir, and the royal retinue show points of similarity, but they also reveal potential differences. The interest in both lies in the path to the inevitable.

Girl Power on Apokolips: Ngozi Ukazu's "Barda"

 The YA graphic novel Barda by Ngozi Ukazu is a solid introduction to Jack Kirby's New Gods mythos via female-centered first romance, albeit one suitably distorted for a protagonist raised on a planet suitably named Apokalips. The graphic novel, first locally promoted on Free Comic Book Day, aroused some skepticism on how such heavy matters could be adapted for a younger audience in a world of sensitivity readers. One would hope that the name of the planet, Apokolips, would be a sufficient clue to the unpleasantness to come!

The first line of the graphic novel honors the epic tradition of immediately establishing the topic of the tale; at the end, both the first and the last sentence are true, Each Female Fury, the elite force of Apokolips under Granny Goodness, herself under her lord and master Darkseid, illustrates a different aspect of the continual abuse Apokalips offers. Mad Harriet's experience in the X-Pit has broken her mind entirely; she laughs loudly and inappropriately. Stompa, the "big guy" of the group, is driven by anger and sorrow fed into anger from the loss of a sibling who did not survive the X-pit. Bernadeth, the sister of Darkseid's lieutenant Desaad, has channeled her love of learning into the service of her tyrant; she can learn new things, but only inside a narrow field. Even here, much of her love of learning must have been extinguished, since Stompa is functionally illiterate and the rest of the Furies do not read the mission papers. Lashina is not from an Apokalips, but rather from a world conquered by Darkseid; this is colonialist trauma, reflected in Lashina's non-white skin, which contrasts with Kirby's original model. Auralie, the acrobat, indulges her kinetic freedom by secretly dancing.

Barda, although the most emotionally stable of thegroup, is not free from trauma. Her upbringing on Apokalips in the orphanage of Granny Goodness, whose own traumas are not the focus of this work, has warped her understanding of the world.

This graphic novel is a tale of trauma and war, and therefore at least one of the band must die; in a world called Apokalips, it will not be a pleasant death. The doomed member perishes here in a more effective way than in her original post-mortem appearance.

Barda, the protagonist - almost entirely avoiding the epithet "Big," although there are plenty of panels contrasting her size with the diminutive Granny Goodness - undergoes substantial emotional growth as the plot continues. Since the ending point was preestablished, the starting point is different from the Kirby run; or maybe not, since Barda's point of view was not centered there and she first appeared on Earth in her beau's book. Barda is the New Gods graphic novel equivalent of the feminist updates of Classical Mythology such as Circe or Stoned, a well0written companion to the male-focused original presentation.

Hypermetricals False and True: Aeneid Book 6.560-1, 602-3

 The use of hypermetrical verses in Vergil's Aeneid is rare; but when it occurs, one should consider its effect. The Aeneid is written in dactylic hexameter, which consists of dactyls (long-short-short) and spondees (long-long). The last two feet of the hexameter, with rare exceptions, consist of a dactyl and a spondee. In any poetic meter with predetermined line length, it is important that the final feet return to the default pattern. If this were not the case, then it would be challenging to recognize the particular meter. The other component one must consider in a discussion of hypermetrical verse is elision. In Latin poetry, the final vowel or final vowel plus m elides, or disappears, if the next word begins with a vowel or h. The quantity (short or long) of the final vowel is irrelevant. This is the default situation; if it does not occur where one would expect to occur, this is called hiatus. Elision, however, does not occur between the sixth foot of one line and the first foot of the next line. The sentence or thought often connects the sixth and first foot through enjambment, the delay of a critical word until the beginning of the following line; but this is a literary device rather than a sound-based one. A hypermetrical verse is one in which the last vowel of the last syllable in one line elides due to the first word in the next line beginning with a vowel. It cannot be stressed too much that this is not the default situation! The existence of a hypermetrical verse is dependent on the final vowel of the preceding verse rather than the initial vowel of the following verse.

Aeneas' journey through the Underworld in Book 6 features examples of both false and true hypermetrical verse; in each case, its presence or appearance thereof reflects its context. The first case, the false one, occurs at line 560, while Aeneas and the Sibyl are experiencing the terrifying cacophony of Tisiphone, one of the Furies whose job it is to guard the door to Tartarus, where the truly evil people go. This passage (6.557-561) is filled with words for noise (exaudiri, gemitus, sonare, stridor, strepitum, effare, plangor) and instruments of noise, especially in reference to punishment (scelerum, poenis) and torment (saeva, sonare, verbera, ferri, tractaeque catenae, exterritus). The few words not subsumed in these categories are mostly proper names and function words. Two of these words are verbs of hesitation (constitit, hausit) applied to Aeneas. The overall impression is one of abundant and discordant noise to such a degree that it is disruptive. Aeneas stops to address the Sibyl because he is affected even though is not a prisoner in Tartarus.

"Quae scelerum facies, O virgo, effare quibusve

urguentur poenis? Quis tantus plangor ad auras?"

"Tell me, o maiden, what manner of crimes, and by what punishments are they confined? What is this so great clamor which reaches to the skies?"

Aen. 6.560-1

At first glance, these verses seem well balanced against the chaos of the passage. The vocative "O virgo" is in the middle of the line after the caesura. The three qu- clauses form a triad but they all are ultimately one question. The discordant element in this couplet is the enclitic -ve. The enclitic is necessary, but its presence disrupts the flow of the clause. Without the -ve the phrase would be "quibus urguentur poenis," in which the verb is centered between the adjective and noun, and in which the the verb and the noun participate in enjambment, while the less critical adjective does not. Such a phrase, however, does not meet the requirements of the meter. The addition of the enclitic -ve satisfies the grammatical structure of Latin and the metrical structure of the poetry at the expense of the smaller harmony. The constraints are in irresolvable tension to match the mood of the passage.

The second case, the true extrametrical verse, occurs in the Sibyl's description of Ixion and Pirithous' punishment (6.601-606). The two mortals never enter Tartarus, but the Sibyl's patron goddess, Hecate, taught her the secrets of the realm. Their punishment is to have a rock suspended over their head forever and to have a feast they can see but never reach. Both Ixion and Pirithous had desired congress with goddesses married to other gods.

"Quid memorem Lapithas, Ixiona Pirithoumque?

Quos super atra silex iam iam lapsura cadentique

imminet adsimilis."

"What shall I recall about the Lapiths, Ixion and Pirithous? Over whom a black rock, about to fall any minute now and is alike in threatening the falling person."

(6.601-3)

These verses contain only two qu- words, commensurate with the two sinners. The future participle "lapsura" combined with the reduplicated "iam" creates a prospective effect of future never accomplished. The key phrase, "cadentique imminet adsimilis," once again displays the verb in enjambment, although its companion here is adjectival rather than nominal. Here the hypermetrical verse connects "candentique" and "imminet," and therefore the entire phrase "lapsura cadentique imminet adsimilis." This connection is unifying through its use of transgression inherent to hypermetric verse, yet the same hypermetric verse prevents resolution and reflects its lack within the action of the text.

Wonder Woman Historia

 In anticipation of the upcoming Amazon series, I read the three volumes of Wonder Woman Historia, written by Kelly Sue DeConnick and drawn by Nicola Scott - a suitably all-woman team for Wonder Woman. The art is one notch below that of an Orthodox church. An Orthodox church is designed to blind you with splendor while you listen to the mass, whereas it is critical that one be able to read a comic. The art carries the story as much as possible, especially in the cosmic sections. This is a reversal of the epic tradition, in which evocative words, whether spoken or written, provide a text for the listener's interior visuals. The majesty and inhumanity of the gods is manifest. Scott strikes a nice balance between the complete anthropomorphism of many depictions of the Olympians and the deliberately inhuman depictions of the New 52 Olympians. 

There are a plethora of characters in Wonder Woman Historia; not just the goddesses, but also their queens among the Amazons and several followers of those queens. Even when dealing with Olympians, who some readers wiil already be familiar with, each story emphasizes particular characteristics of those gods. Both the goddesses and the queens are portrayed as slates in a vertical structure. The six queens are more akin to gods in their mortality and their creation. It is not until the introduction of Hippolyta that we get a truly mortal queen. This echoes the ages of Man in standard Greek theogony. Once all the players are available, DeConnick deftly balances a need in a prequel for Amazons to be both amazingly fierce and ultimately defeated.

There are more than enough characters for an adaptation. Most of them have distinct enough personalities that new dialogue not present in the graphic novel can be easily scripted. The splendor of the page, however, may not wholly transfer to a different medium. It is certainly worth a try.

Child Star

 The graphic novel Child Star by Brian "Box" Brown is a synthesis of traumatic tragedy of the life of a child star, especially from the '80s onwards. The art is in black and white and red only, a simplified palette to reflect the simplified view of a real human being. The focus character is a white version of Gary Coleman (or male version of Punky Brewster) called Owen Eugene. Every trauma experienced by a child star or former child star occurs, much like a media-focused version of The Handmaid's Tale. The story is largely told through posthumous interviews with his parents, his coworkers, and other barely disguised celebrities. It is a sobering work indeed, yet one worth reading.

Flamer

 This is my review of Flamer, a graphic novel by Eagle Scout Mike Curato about being a closeted gay Scout at summer camp in the '90s. What qualifies me to assess this book? I was there as a little nerdy kid. The non-spoiler part of the review - it is an accurate portrayal of one kid's experience. I recommend this book to modern middle schoolers and lowly high school freshmen.

Now for the spoiler review. Our protagonist is Aiden, a pudgy rising freshman at Scout camp whose hormones are awakening. He loves the X-Men, but especially Jean Grey, the sole girl of the original lineup who evolves from the Girl to the cosmically powerful and iconically flaming Phoenix.  Aiden's patrol is the Flaming Arrows. This is, or at least was, a fairly common name for a Scout patrol. The name matches the flame theme and the reference to the slur of the title, but that nobody in Aiden's patrol chose the name - they are, in fact, quite unhappy about it - is a telling detail. Some Troops have ever-changing patrol names; but some long-established Troops have a stock of patrol names which are recycled. The patrol name Flaming Arrows would have lacked the potentially provocative connotation of Aiden's generation's slang and serves as a callback to the heavier influence of Native American customs in the Scouting tradition.

An important detail to note is that Aiden is enjoying Scout camp. Many accounts of summer camp for graphic novels and  YA books present camp as a universally awful experience except for the supportive best friend. Aiden participates in all the expected activities of that era, both the Scouting ones and the ones which are more questionable but unsurprising among boys of that age. Aidan is good at some of them and not at others, and he enjoys the camaraderie.

This positive background, however, is just that, and the conflict of the story cannot lack challenges. Just as if this were set at CYO camp, there would be a heterosexual crush, here, in the all-male environment, there is a homosexual one. Teenage hormones are indeed merciless! Aiden develops a crush on his fellow patrol member, who handles it as poorly as one would expect in that time and place - but he does not take the opportunity to get Aiden expelled from Scouts. None of the Flaming Arrows do - and they ultimately back their fellow patrol member in his verse of Boom-Chick-A-Boom. The same cannot be said of Aiden's mentor and archery instructor, who suffers the fate of so many gay counselors closeted at camp - he is expelled after someone read his letters home.

Here is why I use the phrase "closeted at camp." At the time when this book is set, the Mormon church (their preferred name at the time) and other conservative organizations held an outsized influence on the BSA. There was also more lingering military influence than at present. The military of that time had a policy known as "don't ask, don't tell." This meant that  the authorities would only remove a member from service if they outed themselves, intentionally or accidentally. Thus there were counselors at Scout camp whom many knew were gay but said nothing. Why betray the best connselor you have? I don't know what the policy at the author's camp was, but reading somebody else's mail seems like a violation of privacy.

Flamer is one man's portrayal of this time and place but I would urge any readers to take away two lessons from this graphic novel. The first is that the change in attitude towards gay Scouts has been exponential. The second is that the program, despite its glaring flaws, had positive aspects - the author, after all, remained in the program long enough to become an Eagle Scout!

Tom Strong, Part One

There seems to be a resurgence of interest in Tom Strong, one of Alan Moore's lesser known franchises. So I thought I would take a spin at analyzing the literary elements. Although none of the YouTube videos I have watched on this topic have been wrong, I think many of them are missing the connection to Alan Quartermain and his creator H. Rider Haggard. The most obvious reference is the use of the addictive root that grants extraordinary power. Strong, unlike The League of Extraordinary Gentleman's Quartermain, appears to suffers no detrimental effects from consumption of his magic power root. But the key to unlocking the rest lies in Solomon, the enhanced gorilla companion of Tom Strong, whose full name is King Solomon. This is a reference to Haggard's book King Solomon's Mines. A gorilla companion of our very white hero recalls Quartermain's black companion Umbopa. As with much of Strong's story, implicit and explicit race is present in the narrative, not to be ignored, but rather interrogated. Quartermain's companion Umbopa is a warrior for whom he had great respect and whom he defends against the stronger racist comments within his own adventures. H. Rider Haggard's relationship with everyone's favorite colonial  baron, Cecil Rhodes, will have to wait for another day. 

To continue: Tom Strong has one parent, Susan Strong, who actually loves him and one, Sinclair, who sees him as a grand experiment. He loses both in an earthquake, which serves as the destruction of his old home and the initial call to adventure. Although his father Sinclair has a conversation with his mother, Susan, as they are crushed and dying, it is Susan who reaches out with love. This is similar to the ending of King Solomon's Mines, where Foulata, the Kukuana princess whose skin forbids a sustained romance with the subtly named Captain Good is stabbed to death before the evil witch Gagool is crushed. In this case it is not merely her blackness, but her origin in the magical hidden kingdom. From Sinclair's point of view, the normal compassion of Susan is the witchcraft that must be eliminated to produce the desired ending. Susan's whiteness is an inversion of the Kukuana's women's blackness, but necessary for the journey that her son Tom must undertake. The collapse of the cave in Tom Strong's tale occurs as he is about to enter the hidden magical kingdom rather than as Quartermain leaves it.

and, in particular, of Sinclair who views people as things. In the case of 

The Birth of the Cessative (An Encomium)

 It is long-established in the development of color that the first third way to emerge from the binary of black and white, light and dark, is red. From this point, all other colors flow. In the same way aspect begins as a binary: perfective and imperfective. The first views an event as that which is completed, while the second views an event as that which is ongoing. Aspect is decoupled from absolute time, but within this binary there is relative time: the imperfective is not yet perfective. Yet the only ground from which a new aspect can arise to form a trinity is the imperfective. The boundary, the borderlands where the imperfective and perfective touch, is not at the beginning, but the end of imperfective spectrum: it is meet, therefore, that a language with three core aspects would add the cessative rather than the inchoative. The cessative indicates 'to stop doing', an imperfective range on the marches of the perfective, which binds the binary aspects to a more temporal mode. Once the imperfective has borne the cessative, more aspects may come; but it is ironic that the aspect that begins a multiplicity of others should be the one associated with ceasing!

On the Nose ...

 Creole languages are often stereotyped as simpler than the languages from which they are derived (not simpler than the pidgin from which they evolved not the language which the audience happens to speak), but this does not rule out the retention or development of individual complexities. In the case of Haitian Creole, this complexity was attention to the nasality or orality of consonants or entire words. The Creole word janmen 'never' is transparently the French word jamais in which neither vowel is nasal but there is a nasal consonant. I am still not certain from what origin the verb renmen 'to like' possesses. This contrast of orality and nasality is particularly conspicuous in the definite article, whose nasality or orality depends on the commensurate nature of the syllables in the noun. There are five possible articles - a, la, an, lan, and the apparently rare nan, postposed rather than preposed. Examples are mesye a 'the gentleman', liv la 'the book', tifi a 'the girl', tigason an 'the boy', nant lan 'the watch', and dam nan 'the lady'. I do not yet fully understand the parameters of the fourfold (and occassionally fivefold) distinction, but there is no denying that it is more complex than the binary distinction of Continental French.

U Are Not Alone ...

 Haitian Creole is French as she is (was) spoke, which is a great relief to those who had to suffer through French conjugations. Even if one kept the distinction between singular and plural, the subtractive morphology, in which the plural contains a consonant absent in the singular, is unpredictable and complicated from the default direction of pluralization. The simplification of spelling is welcome, but it has one unanticipated side effect: the elimination of u as a singular vowel. In Creole, the solitary vowel u becomes i, as is the fate of most high rounded vowels. A learner who failed to distinguish between orthography and speech might miss this feature altogether.

Amethyst (Amy Reeder, Wonder Comics)

        Amethyst, written and drawn by Amy Reeder under the Wonder Comics imprint, is elaboration and evolution of the reliable but basic plot of the original Amethyst Princess of Gemworld miniseries. This seems to be a good way to handle characters who cannot sustain ongoing series: the non-ubiquity of the character permits the possibility of growth, both personal and political - and politics is critical to the Gemworld saga! For such an example, one can look at the evolution of the Shazam series; unlike the Shazam series, however, the Wonder Comics series avoided the edginess of the New 52. The original Amethyst Princess of Gemworld series was a gem-themed lost princess tale, suitable for a thirteen-year-old protagonist - although Amy Winston ages up in Gemworld much like Shazam or, more contemporary, She-Ra. The protagonist of Reeder's Amethyst is sixteen, a three-year difference which marks great change in a teenager's life while still limiting the aging of comic characters.

          The inciting incident of Reeder's Amethyst is another basic idea which many fantasy sequels use: the land is in chaos or distress when the protagonist returns. Every television or movie sequel to MGM's The Wizard of Oz is an example. Another example is Stephen Donaldson's The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant. Amethyst discovers her subjects missing and her alleged allies shockingly hostile. The threat is well-balanced: the subjects are not dead, but could die easily. Then Amethyst finds out that she is not as orphaned as she previously believed. This revelation and following ones connect to the title of the original maxiseries, Amethyst Princess of Gemworld: they confirm why she is a princess rather than a queen as seen in the other realms, and that the appellation "of Gemworld"  might be presumptuous in-world as ppposed to an Earthly perspective. Amethyst's journey exposes a more complex and ambiguous history of Gemworld than the Twelve Kingdoms and fantasy Travelers, along with the Good/Evil and Order/Chaos axes, might suggest. None of it, however, is presented in a gritty or "mature" manner, and the climax allows further development of Gemworld without undermining the foundational principles of this fantasy realm.

         This is a good introduction to the history and politics of Gemworld, past and present. A great aid to this introduction is the map, which provides a reference for the itinerary while still keeping some things secret. Any adults with young daughters who grew up in the eighties with She-Ra, The Never-Ending Story, and Return to Oz should consider buying this book.

In Your Eyes I See ...

 In Haitian Creole, aka Kre`yol, the official language of the Republic of Haiti, the words for 'man' and 'woman' are not derived from l'homme and la femme, as one might expect from something so deeply French. Instead, the words are gason and fi, an indication of the legacy of oppression. But if 'boy' and 'girl' have become 'man' and 'woman', what does one use for actual boys and girls? An application of the word ti from French petit produces tigason and tifi. This use of diminutives and pejoration does have one happy result: the Creole word for child is timoun, in which the moun comes from French monde '(entire) world'. If a child is one's entire world, perhaps that sentiment allays some bitterness of that country's history.

Ghost Machine

 Ghost Machine is a preview anthology of multiple related series. The first character to appear is a preexisting one, Geiger, whose name evokes the post-apocalyptic setting. The Unnamed timeline, however, is expanding the Geiger universe with other immortals and rivals, most notably Redcoat. The immortals include Benedict Arnold, Albert Einstein (shown as a child), Davy Crockett, The Northerner (a Union soldier), Annie Oakley, and Simon Pure, Redcoat himself. War connects these figures and others who are committed to the Unknown War. There is a timeline which includes characters not already mentioned in Ghost Machine, such as American Widow X and the First Ghost. The immortality of the characters in the Unnamed War seems to be less than absolute, since Benedict Arnold is described as the only immortal, other than Redcoat, to survive the Revolutionary War. What litte is said about the encounter between the Northerner and Redcoat suggests that Simon Pure was a Confederate or at least a sympathizer. First Ghost is an intriguing concept: a female veteran goes to space and then becomes president of the United States. Her experience inspires her to become the First Ghost. Given the timeline, she is the last of next-to-last President before the start of the Unknown War.

Rook: Exodus is an extrasolar corporate dystopia; specifically, the dystopia after the corporation's terraforming engine has failed and the corporation has abandoned the Wardens, its own employees. The Wardens are animal-themed and have helmets which control their associated animals - a reversal of the usual functions of a totemic mask. The Wardens disagree on how to handle the dwindling resources and each Warden has oversized animals at their command, so it's clear that a War of the Wardens would be ugly. What is not so clear is why the corporation chose oversized animals to colonize a partially terraformed planet.

The Family Universe is less clear as a shared universe, although Peter J Tomasi is credited on both books. That does inspire confidence. The first title, The Rocketfellers, is about a family from the Twenty-Fifth Century in a temporal witness program in the present day: the future is not secure. It seems a family-friendly series, although  it's not clear whether the movie of Junkyard Joe in the final panel is an easter egg or a connection to the timeline of the Unknown War. The other Family Universe series, Hornsby & Halo, seems to be based on the child swap of the New Gods, only set on Earth, involving Heaven & Hell rather than their cosmic analogs, and centered on Little League baseball, Both series are written by Peter J Tomasi, so that is promising on the family front. His depiction of Clark and Jon Kent's relationship was terrific.

The last shared universe, that of Hyde Street and Devour, seems more fluid and ambiguous. The third year definitely-not-Boy-Scout is well designed but almost certainly not his true form. The image on the neckerchief slide is appropriately creepy. Devour seems to be a series about eating disorders, while Hyde Street takes advantage of the repetitiveness of American street names to allow a freedom of location for terror tales.

Thursday Night Adventures

    On a recent Thursday, I ventured to Mission Bay for a high school alumni function. I had believed that this event was, in fact, indoors. When my Lyft driver dropped me off, I noted with dismay that this was an area of the city where my phone did not work well. The pouring rain did not help. After a substantial wandering on both sides of a block, one well-maintained, the other shattered and uneven, and through a passageway, I established that the meeting spot was SF Social, a food park across from the shattered sidewalk. I crossed to it, but still failed to find my alleged party. I rechecked the invitation and belatedly noted that it was "casual." There was no note of cancellation, so I could only conclude that the event was stillborn due to the weather. I had already braved the weather and was in the midst of a food court, so I decided to reap some benefit from my journey. After I had eaten, I went to the stop for the 22, but I just missed it. I explored the longer block across from the food park, which turned out to be a minigolf course. The 22 home was less crowded and less questionable than I was accustomed to. The event may have been a bust, but I did learn about recreational places easily accessed.

Scout Sunday 2024

 On the first Sunday of February, a large contingent of the Troop attended Scout Sunday at our sponsor, a church. Unit Commissioner D. H. played the prelude, a work of his own creation dedicated to a late friend in Scouting. The hymn after the Call to Worship, Hymn 351, "All Who Love and Serve This City," was labeled in the genre of 'urban hymn', a genre hitherto unknown to yours truly. Some of the verses, however, though no doubt well-intentioned, could be misinterpreted in a less than Christian spirit. The scripture was Mark 1:35-45, the tale of Jesus and the leper who did not follow protocol and could not keep his mouth shut. The sermon, "Change of Plans," was well delivered with an ending that provoked further thought. Growing up, I thought that when in this passage Jesus could no longer work openly in these towns, it was due to his fame, rather than his infamy. This is not the case! The leper's failure to go to the priestly authorities was bad enough, since Jesus' healing would be widely known soon, but his indiscretion spread it faster. Jesus could no longer operate within the system. The leper's failure established Jesus as a challenger rather than an ally to the authorities on a time table he did not choose.

The service extended longer than usual because the church was ordaining its new elders and deacons. All church terms are subject to change in meaning, both subtle and gross, depending on denomination, and this was no different. In the language of the writer's home church, ordination is permanent status, but in the sponsoring church ordination, while confirming a sacred duty, is temporary. Nor are their elders young men on mission! The Scouts served the congregation coffee and pastries in the main hall and overall charmed those who had little to no interaction with Scouts or Scouting.