The First Three Circles of Hell

The First Three Circles of Hell by Dante Alighieri

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I have a slew of these abridged Penguin 60s Classics and decided to get over my aversion to abridged books and read them whenever I wanted a quick read. Dante's "Inferno", the first part of the Divine Comedy, is one of those poems one has read excerpts from, knows the key historical and philosophical (and controversial) issues concerned, but never reads the epic in its entirety. So reading the first three circles means I must go on and finish the whole thing. Despite its brevity, I must admit to learning much about philosophy and religion. I was unaware of The Apocalypse of Paul, or that there was also a Coptic Apocalypse of Paul. Dante seems to have plagiarised the ideas from 1,000 years beforehand. Nevertheless, and what I find interesting, is that Dante was a layman, and more or less an autodidact. He was well-versed in the Roman classics (he uses Virgil for his guide), but, surprisingly, also Aristotle. Why was this a surprise? Well, I wasn't sure that, at the time, the works of Aristotle were available in Latin (Plato was not translated until a couple of centuries later). Known as the "Recovery of Aristotle", Islamic scholars had kept the classics alive by translating the Ancient Greek into Arabic, which was subsequently translated into Latin, which meant that Dante had read Aristotle. My historical chronological sense was tripped up. I have spent years trying to memorise key historical events to put various elements of time (history) and space (geography) in context. After a little investigation, it turns out that Dante completed the work in 1320, and Aristotle's work was available in Florence from at least the early thirteenth century, and Thomas Aquinas had enabled Aristotle to be read without necessarily requiring the reader to be burned at the stake (that would come later as humanity supposedly advanced - a bit like what is happening now). Dante was well-read. To top it off, Dante wrote in the Italian vernacular (with the Tuscan dialect), rather than Latin. This created Italian as the dominant literary language in Western Europe for centuries (I wonder if this added to the prevalence of Italian in opera, too?). And all this without even mentioning the plot! I was a little surprised by the rationale for placing certain historical figures in the first three circles. But such an elaborate scheme to eternally torment people for misbehaving wouldn't stand a chance with neoliberalism, so it probably isn't too much to worry about these days. At least in the after-life. Hell on earth is another matter entirely.

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The Big Sleep

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It's difficult not to like Raymond Chandler's work. This is only the second of his novels I have read, but this time, because I doubted Hollywood would replicate the pornography ring in detail, and it was a wet and windy Saturday night, I watched the 1946 film version of The Big Sleep starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. It was sufficiently different to the book not to affect my enjoyment of the story, and, I must say, it was good to watch a crisp black and white movie on my television. I watched it on Youtube, but the rented, rather than the pirated, version of the film. I am now off in search of African Queen and other Bogart classics and will follow these up with the novels, too. But The Big Sleep was an excellent read. I am struck by the complexity of Philip Marlowe's character that eludes the Bogart version. Because there is no real love story, as in the Hollywood version, there is much more to explore, and no need to find excuses for Lauren Bacall to appear so frequently. Marlowe reminds me of the Protestant ethic. It is OK to be a booze-hound and to smoke yourself to death, as long as you don't do reefers and you are admirable in your smuttiness towards the upper classes. Chandler's prose is brilliant, and it would appear, for now at least, that this novel is considered his best because it is his best. Not so many wise-cracks and heavy similes as Farewell, My Lovely, but, all the same, a cracker of a story, a likeable character, and a paddock full of fertilizer for the imagination in a mere 250 pages, and a one-page conclusion that brings multiple stories to a neat and satisfying finish.

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Murder on the Orient Express

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is my first Agatha Christie novel. Strange, I know, but as a teenager, I really didn't care whodunit. However, I have been a fan of David Suchet in Agatha Christie's Poirot in recent years, and I have seen the movie Murder on the Orient Express several times. So as I was reading the original novel, I noted the absence of the film's dark, religious undertones, and Poirot's struggle with the ideas of justice and the rule of law, and all that distinguishes humans from animals and how this was all exuded by Poirot's noble character. The novel, of course, exhibits none of these themes, and ends abruptly with Poirot more like Philip Marlowe in his pragmatic application of the finer elements of his vocation, albeit in a dandified manner rather than Bogart-esque grungy suaveness. How I would react to the novel had I not seen the film, one can never know, but I cannot help feel a little disappointed, while at the same time pleased with the obvious improvements introduced by the film. Christie is clearly an excellent story-teller, and I will now have to read one of her stories that is not familiar to know for sure. But there is something about the prose that captures and holds the reader. I call this being a "storyteller", and I immediately think of Somerset Maugham in the same vein. Nevertheless, the comparison ends there, as Christie is not in the same class as Maugham, and had it not been for the film, I would find it hard to think of this novel as little more than a story well told; a Commando comic type of novel, a short, quick spot of entertainment while taking a train (well, maybe not a train!) or a bus to work, but one that cannot be taken seriously. It does, however, raise for me the issue of how a good screenwriter can do wonders with a story. I immediately think of James Clavell, who was also an excellent storyteller, but who had the ability to write for the screen (such as The Great Escape and 633 Squadron. By the way, Clavell's main character was Peter Marlowe, echoing Raymond Chandler, and Clavell was Australian born). This little exploration led me to look at the works of the screenwriter for Orient Express, Stewart Harcourt. I could not find a novel written by him. This also led me to look at that other brilliant screenwriter, Woody Allen. I did not know but Allen has written many books and I must read some! So, what have I learnt from Agatha Christie? Well, and without being so conceited as to put down her work, I feel I didn't miss much by seeing the screen versions rather than reading her stories. Still, it is strange that it has taken me nearly half a century to get to her novels. To put the story in the context of her times, one must acknowledge Christie's talent. One must acknowledge, too, that, apparently, Christie now leads William Shakespeare on the best selling author's of all time list, and, I understand, second only to God and His Holy Bible. That's not a bad innings as an author.

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