In The Beginning

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Anglicans, Bible, Book review, books, English History, English language, Non-Fiction, publishing, Puritans, Reformation, Religion, Religious History, The King James Bible, Theology, Translations

Alister McGrath’s study of the King’s James Bible, is a story of publishing, politics, culture, and language. We tend to forget that the Bible as we know it are translations: the Old Testament from Hebrew and Aramaic and the New Testament from Greek. Whether understood as literal gospel or not, most have only read a secondary source. How the King James Bible evolved to be one of the most pervasive of those sources and its impact on the English language is the tale of this fascinating book.

Like the internet, the printing press changed the Western world. This book’s examination of the development of the Gutenberg Bible from a publishing business perspective parallels business concerns today. These practicalities are often ignored in historical surveys. Mr. McGrath intertwines business with politics. The Dutch were cheaper and better printers than the British Crown monopolies. The Geneva Bible, the preferred Bible of Lutherans and Puritans, was the popular product marketed through European printers. Its anti-monarchist notes were a threat to the Anglicans and was illegal in, or import restricted to, England. The King James Bible was to be a political compromise. A substitution for the Geneva Bible that Anglican Bishops could accept, and a translation revision in form, for the Puritans. While it bore the imprimatur of the Crown, it was privately financed, due to the King’s existing debts.

The King James Bible was the political culmination of other English translations: Wycliffite Bible; Tyndale’s partial translation of the New Testament and the Pentateuch; Coverdale Bible; Matthew’s Bible; Great Bible; Geneva Bible; Bishop’s Bible; and the Douai New Testament. It reflected the growth in power of England and the acceptance of the English language as a consequence. The Reformation began the “populist” revolt, undermining Rome, Latin, and Catholicism (and the Vulgate translation of the Bible). Publishing allowed the reduction of the size of the published Bible from folio, which was meant to be read by the clergy to the congregation, to duodecimo and sextodecimo, which individuals could readily carry with them and could be smuggled. King James was a disappointment to the Puritans, as being Scotch they thought him an ally. He had to govern however, was apparently openly homosexual, and his successor, Charles I, was ultimately more to their liking.

Mr. McGrath examines the organization and process of translation of the King James Bible. It is the product of each. Unlike earlier Bibles which translated each word (with often incomprehensible result), the translators tried to remain true to original language, yet capture the concept. It followed some Anglican tradition by including the Apocrypha and used Middle English, although such verbiage was less used in the popular vernacular. The recognition that translations are not static as language evolves, is demonstrated by common current misunderstandings of Middle English used in the King James Bible. The Bible’s influence on modern English is also demonstrated through phrases that have their origin in the King James Bible translations from Hebrew. To name a few:

“to fall flat on his face” (Numbers 22:31)
” a man after his own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14)
“sour grapes” (Ezekiel 18:2)

There is also a comparison of the English translations of Psalm 23 from the Wycliffite Bible (c. 1384) through to the Revised Standard Version of 1952. The consistencies and differences are interesting.

In fact, there are so many interesting facets of this book, that I cannot do it justice in this review. History is a product of accidents. If Catherine of Aragon had a son, instead of a daughter (Mary Tudor), would the Geneva Bible have ever been printed? For every action there is a reaction. I recommend that you read this book if you like history, politics, business and language. If you also have an interest in theology, so much the better.

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The Bridge of Beyond

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Book review, books, Caribbean literature, Fiction, French literature, Guadeloupe, Literature, Novels, Simone Schwartz-Bart, Slavery, The Bridge of Beyond, Women's Literature

It begins.

“A man’s country may be cramped or vast according to the size of his heart. I’ve never found my country to small, though that isn’t to say my heart is great. And if I could choose it’s here in Guadeloupe that I’d be born again, suffer and die. Yet not long back my ancestors were slaves on this volcanic, hurricane-swept, mosquito-ridden, nasty-minded island. But I didn’t come into the world to weigh the world’s woe. I prefer to dream, on and on, standing in my garden, just like any other old woman of my age, till death comes and takes me as I dream, me and all my joy.”

Simone Schwartz-Bart’s novel “The Bridge of Beyond” is part of the metaphysical tradition of story-telling. It captures the oral tradition of spirits, superstitions, beliefs, proverbs, and lore of survival of a generational line of women on the Antillean island of Guadeloupe.

“Life at Fond-Zombi was lived with doors and windows open: night had eyes, and the wind long ears, and no one could ever have enough of other people. As soon as I arrived in the village I knew who was the aggressor and who was victim, who still held his soul high and who was on the road to ruin, who poached in waters belonging to his friend or brother, who was suffering, who was dying. But the more I learned the more it seemed that the main thing escaped me, slipped through my fingers like an eel.”

The writing is lyrical; a Creole Bible of suffering, love, morality, and redemption. Men, black men, are a burden to be borne. The black woman’s burden. It is a paradox that the black women that are the central characters of the novel have a need for the troubled company, seemingly a product of ingrained insecurity, rather than for love or sex. At best the black man, are the mules for physical labor in a division of responsibilities. The women are in search of a post-slavery model of a Negress, in a rural economic culture of white controlled sugar cane subsistence. The thorns of slavery everywhere abound in a fatalistic culture wanting no more than a little plot of land and some peace.The model of white prejudice has been caned into their souls, as the progeny of transplanted natives burn the fields of their small dreams.

This novel is disturbing because while at the conclusion the bridge to the rest of the world is beginning to be built, it is beyond the then present. The novel is an interesting account of this island culture and of still existing gender issues. At times the prose rises above theme.

The Village

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book reviews, Booker Prize, books, British fiction, Costa First Novel Prize, Fiction, Indian fiction, Literature, Nikita Lawlani, Novels, The Village

“No one uses the pavement to walk on here… The footpath is a dwelling place; people make their homes there.”

Nikita Lalwani’s “Gifted” was longlisted for the 2007 Man Booker Prize and shortlisted for the 2007 Costa First Novel Award. Gifted is how I would describe Ms. Lalwani’s writing. “The Village”, her second novel, will not dazzle you with the quality of the prose. It is well written, but the strength of the book lies in its plot and character development. The story line is refreshingly different. A young woman of Indian descent goes to India with female and male British BBC colleagues to produce a documentary about an open prison system, where murderers on good behavior work and live with their families. The project was her idea. It is her first directorial effort and she envision a humanist approach. Her female companion is more seasoned. Realism or cynicism might characterize her. The male companion is an ex-con without delusions about prisoners, save for himself. He is brought along to relate to the prisoners and to uncover the truth about this open “prison” community. There is a quiet tension throughout the novel: cultural; sexual; class; and age. Convicted murderers are cast against the predatory nature of journalism in a morality play. Idealism confronts reality.

Ms. Lalwani has a great eye for scene. She is an observer of human frailties while informatively describing the rural Indian locale and culture.

Unlike most novels, you have no idea about how the novel will end: Not the last chapter, but the last page. She takes the reader along paths less taken along the way. These are never distractions, but add to the color of the novel.

I think Ms. Lalwani is a writer to watch. I will certainly read “Gifted”. You should read “The Village.”

Brooklyn

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American Literature, Book review, Brooklyn, Colm Tóibín, Emigre literature, Fiction, Irish literature, Literature, Novels

On a hill overlooking the Japanese Garden of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden is Celebrity Path. Those of some renown who were born or lived in Brooklyn have a stone with their name on it. There was a time when the world seemed to pass through Brooklyn.

Post-World War II is the time setting of Colm Tóibín’s novel “Brooklyn”. It is an Irish emigrant story; although the tale is universal. A young Irish woman, Eilis, is the younger of two girls, whose brothers have left their widow mother for work. Her elder sister Rose is Eilis’ role model. Rose sacrifices her future and arranges with the Church to have Eilis go to Brooklyn to live. Eilis through the auspices of Father Flood works in an Italian retail clothes shop owned by Italians. She lives with other Irish émigré girls in a walk-up owned by an Irish woman who husband left her. Eilis is a smart girl and Father Flood arranges for her to take bookkeeping classes at Brooklyn College. She ultimately meets a boy at a dance.

This is a very enjoyable read. Much like today, this is Brooklyn in its heyday. The prejudices of emigrants and immigrants, and by class, are intertwined in the relationships at work and in the boarding house. Although not unique to the Irish, the characters leave the impression that this is a petty nationality. Eilis stays above the fray, but even for her, she finds comfort in her own.

Age and parenthood is explored in the story. Eilis’ Mom does not want to be left alone, and tries to manipulate Eilis into returning to stay in her Irish hometown. There are some modern themes. Eilis wants a career, not just marriage and kids. Her female supervisor seems to take a physical interest in her. The latter is only by intimation. Although it existed during the period, modern fiction in my view, seems to overcompensate for the absence of such themes from most novels of an earlier time. It could have been omitted from this novel, as it added nothing.

This book is not as thought provoking as “The Testament of Mary”, which I previously reviewed and which was Short-Listed for the Mann Booker Prize this year. “Brooklyn” is pure pleasure reading, and is a page turning success.