Phil Baker – The Devil is a Gentleman: The Life and Times of Dennis Wheatley (Dedalus, October 31st, 2009)

Cover design: Jonathan Barker

Blurb
One of the giants of popular fiction, with total sales of around fifty million books, Dennis Wheatley held twentieth-century Britain spellbound. His Black Magic novels like The Devil Rides Out created an oddly seductive and luxurious vision of Satanism, but in reality he was as interested in politics as occultism. Wheatley was closely involved with the secret intelligence community, and this powerfully researched study shows just how directly this drove his work, from his unlikely warnings about the menace of Satanic Trade Unionism to his role in a British scheme to engineer a revival of Islam.

Drawing on a wealth of unpublished material, Phil Baker examines Wheatley’s key friendship with a fraudster named Eric Gordon Tombe, and uncovers the full story of his sensational 1922 murder. Baker also explores Wheatley’s relationships with occult figures such as Rollo Ahmed, Aleister Crowley, and the Reverend Montague Summers, the shady priest and demonologist who inspired the memorably evil character of Canon Copely-Syle, in To The Devil – A Daughter.

Like Sax Rohmer and John Buchan, Wheatley has now moved from being perceived as dated to positively vintage, and this groundbreaking biography offers a major reassessment of his significance and status.

for more info click on the cute little Dedalus logo;

Phil Baker – The Devil is a Gentleman: The Life and Times of Dennis Wheatley (Dedalus, October 31st, 2009)

Cover design: Jonathan Barker

Blurb
One of the giants of popular fiction, with total sales of around fifty million books, Dennis Wheatley held twentieth-century Britain spellbound. His Black Magic novels like The Devil Rides Out created an oddly seductive and luxurious vision of Satanism, but in reality he was as interested in politics as occultism. Wheatley was closely involved with the secret intelligence community, and this powerfully researched study shows just how directly this drove his work, from his unlikely warnings about the menace of Satanic Trade Unionism to his role in a British scheme to engineer a revival of Islam.

Drawing on a wealth of unpublished material, Phil Baker examines Wheatley’s key friendship with a fraudster named Eric Gordon Tombe, and uncovers the full story of his sensational 1922 murder. Baker also explores Wheatley’s relationships with occult figures such as Rollo Ahmed, Aleister Crowley, and the Reverend Montague Summers, the shady priest and demonologist who inspired the memorably evil character of Canon Copely-Syle, in To The Devil – A Daughter.

Like Sax Rohmer and John Buchan, Wheatley has now moved from being perceived as dated to positively vintage, and this groundbreaking biography offers a major reassessment of his significance and status.

Click on the cute Dedalus logo for more info …..

….. and then buy it for me for Christmas!

Después de ver el nuevo video de Muse (undisclosed desires), Dëdalus me contó que en una época andaba con ganas de comprarse una luz de tubo (como las que se ven en el video) para hacer fotos. Yo le comenté que tenía uno en el trabajo, y él me preguntó por qué nunca lo había usado… y la verdad es que no sabía por qué nunca se me ocurrió hacer una foto usándolo, asi que aca va… la foto con el tubo a pedido de Dd…

Si tienen sugerencias de fotos manden un SMS al 2020 con la palabra FOTOLOCACONCHITUMA.

Hoy llegó a Buenos Aires Adri, mi amiga mexicana, y junto a ella llegó el regalo de cumpleaños que me hizo Wanda. Es un lensbaby, un lente para la cámara que hace efectos de desenfoque, cosas raras con la luz, un look medio raro pero bastante divertido para experimentar y probar cosas distintas.

Aparte de mis lente, Adri trajo cosas para varios amigos y a la noche pasó por casa Diego (Dd) para buscar algunas cosas que pidió él (ya que no se había podido encontrar con Adri por la tarde)… y ya que estaba, mientras probaba el lensbaby… le saqué una foto… que ahora es mi foto del día.

La classifica di ottobre 2009 di Pordenonelegge Dedalus (che cos’è?) vede Sono l’ultimo a scendere al primo posto: qui. Ma la bella notizia vera, per me, è che al sesto posto è apparso Gli ultimi occhi di mia madre di Patrizia Patelli. gm

Brian M. Stableford (ed.) – Moral Ruins: The Dedalus Book of Decadence (Dedalus, 1993:  originally, 1990)

Gustave Moreau

Introduction – Brian M. Stableford

Charles Pierre Baudelaire – To the Reader (verse)
Jean Lorrain – The Glass of Blood
Paul Verlaine – Languor (verse)
Rachilde – The Grape-Gatherers of Sodom
Arthur Rimbaud – After the Deluge (verse)
Remy de Gourmont – Danaette
Charles Pierre Baudelaire – Litany to Satan (verse)
Catulle Mendès – The Black Nightgown
Charles Pierre Baudelaire – The Double Room (verse)
Jean Lorrain – The Possessed
Paul Verlaine – Spleen (verse)
Remy de Gourmont – The Faun
Arthur Rimbaud – The Drunken Boat (verse)
Rachilde – The Panther
Charles Pierre Baudelaire – Spleen (verse)
Catulle Mendès – Old Furniture
Charles Pierre Baudelaire – Don Juan in Hell (verse)
Remy de Gourmont – Don Juan’s Secret
Oscar Wilde – Theoretikos (verse)
Aubrey Beardsley – The Court of Venus
Algernon Charles Swinburne – Satia Te Sanguine (verse)
Ernest Dowson – The Dying of Francis Donne
Eugene Lee-Hamilton – Baudelaire – (verse)
Robert Murray Gilchrist – The Basilisk
Lionel Johnson – Magic (verse)
Count Stanislaus Eric Stenbock – The Other Side
Ernest Dowson – Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae (verse)
John Davidson – A Somewhat Surprising Chapter
James Elroy Flecker – The Translator and the Children (verse)
Vernon Lee – Pope Jacynth
John Davidson – Insomnia (verse)
Oscar Wilde – The Nightingale and the Rose
Lionel Johnson – Vinum Daemonum (verse)
Ernest Dowson – Absinthia Taetra
Eugene Lee-Hamilton – The Ring of Faustus (verse)
James Elroy Flecker – The Last Generation

Blurb:

Every aspect of the first edition of the Dedalus Book of Decadence (Moral Ruins) received praise, from the cover (Times Higher Education Supplement), the introduction (The Independent), the choice of stories (City Limits), to the whole book (Time Out).
It was a critical and commercial success, which featured in the Alternative Bestsellers List.
A few comments about the first edition:
“The Dedalus Book of Decadence looks south to sample the essence of fine French decadent writing. It succeeds in delivering a range of writers either searching vigorously for the thrill of a healthy crime or lamenting their impuissance from a sickly stupor”.
Andrew St. George in the Independent.
“an invaluable sampler of spleen, everything from Baudelaire and Rimbaud to Dowson and Flecker. Let’s hear it for luxe, calme et volupte”
Anne Billson in Time Out
Also available from Brian Stableford: The Second Dedalus Book of Decadence: the Black Feast and The Dedalus Book of British Fantasy: the 19th Century.

The idea of Fatherhood and of original creation comes into play in chapters 4-8 more as a way for Joyce to develop other themes, allude to creative works, and to build his own creative work, wordplay and thematic tracing. In Calypso, Molly’s shrewd businessman Major Tweedy father has expensive furniture, rose in the ranks of the military. Bloom might feel pressured by this overhanging idea of fatherhood, what makes a good man. Don’t women look for their father when they look for a husband? Molly and Milly are confounded in Bloom’s mind He acts as a father to Molly, his wife, (makes breakfast, like Mulligan for Dedalus) and acts as… something else to his daughter Milly. An absent father, a man, worried about a woman’s sex life, not like a father there.

In Lotus Eaters, Bloom thinks about the suicide of his father and his father’s theater tastes, giving Joyce an excuse to bring up Leah, and the wordplay with Bloom’s last name (Virag to Bloom to Flower). Bloom also thinks about the advertisement he puts in the paper, describing himself as a “gentleman” doing “literary work” and that is how he begins his unsubstantial affair with Martha. His part with Martha is definitely an unproductive, not only does the relationship not become “real,” but he creates nothing out of it. We don’t see any of his writing to her (though we hear about it) and their relationship is not consummated. How can he father anything on this path? At the very end of The Lotus Eaters, Bloom is again shown as a useless father, his “limp father of thousands, a languid floating flower” could be the father of thousands if he could get it up, but he’s been cuckolded by his wife, his son has died, he can’t create in an original way, he can’t consummate a relationship with a mistress, he has no creative juices flowing through him, only calculating economical juices, not enough to really produce!

In Hades, Bloom thinks on his Father’s suicide and the note he wrote, leaving Bloom his faithful dog, Athos. Bloom thinking about his father here allows Joyce to work with dogs as a motif, and also as a way to bring more genres of writing into the story. The 6-word-will and suicide note. Also in Hades, the story of Reuben J Dodd figures into the father-son relationship because his son almost drowns (purely because he is sending him away from his lady-love) and the Dodd pays the man who saves him 2 shillings and the joke is that it is one and eight pence too much. There is also the scene of the dead bastard child. All-around there is a feeling of fathers not being around and also being inefficient as fathers. Dignam’s boy is now without a father, he is only just food for rats and can’t be there for his son. Bloom feels that he is an unrealized father too, since Rudy has been dead 11 years and Bloom never got a chance to really be his father.

In Aeolus, Bloom recalls his father reading the hagadah book on passover, backwards… Blooms father gives Joyce a medium to create more codes, more traces of ideas… a reason to mention opera, a way to talk about reading backwards. A way for Joyce to draw his own creative conclusions, produce his own progeny of word-play. Stephen wonders whether he could write propaganda, write for his father country… Submit to Ireland, the way Ireland is submitting to England. He feels that writing propaganda wouldn’t be fostering his productive capacity.

In Lestrygonians, Bloom sees Simon Dedalus as being a poor father when he sees Dilly Dedalus, undernourished, and thinks that with so many children and the mother gone, how can Simon provide for all of those mouths and clothe all those bodies? Bloom briefly contemplates how vegetarianism begets poetic creativity. Saying that one “couldn’t squeeze a line of poetry “ out of “policemen sweating Irish stew,” but that “only weggebobbles and fruit” “was that kind of food you see produces the like waves of the brain the poetical.” Bloom takes the “blind stripling” as being somewhat of a child when he leads the youth across the street, but this thought isn’t thoroughly followed through. According to the Bloomsday book, Stephen is the son that Bloom is searching for, and the blind man provides a momentary substitution. I didn’t get much of a chance to obsess over my obsession while reading chapters 7 and 8.

Generally, we’ve seen perverse father-figures in the book: Buck is superficially jocose. Laughs at death etc. while Bloom is sexually perverse, why? He’s amoral and he sees through various lenses. Obsessed with word “parallax” because he sees parallaxically. When it comes to creative fatherhood, Bloom is a maker: he poops, he makes food, he collects Molly’s words on his “cuffs.” His originality is in borrowing? Isn’t all originality? Stephen, however, never creates because he is constantly in a negative feedback loop with other’s words. He allows the words to drag him down instead of build his ideas up, like Bloom does.

If I were to rewrite this post, I  would start with the title: “Ideas of Fatherhood as Medium for Joyce’s own Creative Expression”

Pages: 233-245

Completed requisite 12.5 pages: Yes

Sooo many people with similar names—first names and last names, nicknames and metonymous references, and what with all the flitting back and forth between different people and different perspectives, it gets pretty darn hard to keep track.  Still, I am enjoying this change of pace.  It breaks up the reading nicely, and although my mind is becoming cluttered with many different subplots and minor characters and murky half-revealed storylines, Joyce bounces around quickly enough that sometimes I still remember what a certain character was doing once I return to him after some time reading about other people.  Or at least I only have to turn back like five pages instead of 50.

Here’s what I (think I) gleaned from this last section:  some sort of corrupt betting on horse-races is going on, and I think one reverend (sooo many characters are clergymen and nuns!), named Cowley, is in it pretty deep; Bloom is trying to pick out a book for his wife, and chooses a racy romance novel; Stephen also goes to a book-cart, and picks up some book on how to pick up chicks, and is embarrassed when his sister comes and surprises him; Stephen thinks some pretty heavy thoughts about his sister, implying that she is going to drown (metaphorically), and pull him down with her; Simon Dedalus, Stephen’s dad, is at an auction house auctioning off their possessions, I think, and it’s clear he has no money and may or may not be an alcoholic (but who isn’t, right?).

On a concluding note, when do you think the comic standby of the slippery banana peel came into usage?  Because its initial introduction to the public at large may be on p. 233 of this book.

Vídeo tutorial de busca no Dedalus, em específico na base da Faculdade de Medicina da USP:

Sono ritornata finalmente a riscrivere sul mio blog! Ho avuto un po’ da fare, studio, depressione a causa dell’ultimo esame bocciato 3 volte, incazzature, feste, nuovi amori e internet non funzionante…

ora sono dottoressa in lingue e culture straniere e ho partecipato allo spettacolo Dedalus scritto da Carlo Pasquini e diretto da Laura Fatini e Gabriele Valentini…ho veramente fatto molto poco in realtà, daltronde quando non ci sono i soldi occorre prendere quello che ti passa il convento e devo dire che questo non ha passato chissà che grandi cose…oggi è l’ultimo giorno di questo spettacolo e io sono a Terni in attesa che ritorni il mio lui da lavoro…per poi ripartire in vacanza…

eh si, questa estate niente spettacoli, solo vacanza, un po’ per il fatto che mi sono alquanto scocciata di lavorare tanto senza essere pagata un centesimo e per far fare bella figura a tutti quelli del comune. Quindi ho deciso che quest’anno mi prendo una bella e meritata vacanza prima di ricominciare con altri 2 anni di studio e poi chissà, si vedrà…

Mi piacerebbe continuare per questa strada “artistica”, anche se, non credo di poterla mai vivere come una vera e propria professione, magari un hobby come è sembre stato, una passione. Il lavoro artistico ti dà tanto, ma purtroppo è molto difficile riuscirci a sopravivvere.

Mi domando se nel caso in cui fossi qualificata, con un diploma o una laurea sarebbe più facile per me trovare lavoro, pagata, in questo campo, oppure se la situazione rimarebbe uguale come è adesso e moltro probabilmente come rimarrà tra 3/4 anni…

Bè vedremo…per ora VACANZA!

By JERRY GRIT

I only managed 4 pages tonight. I forgot how, although short, “Proteus” was one of the more difficult episodes in Ulysses and how it’s usually at this point most Ulysses readers become Ulysses readers no more. 

If you take anything from this post, let it be simply this: don’t give up.

Here’s the twreading I managed for these pages, and it’s hopelessly incomplete:

• P37. SD walking on strand, attempts 2 reach essence of reality beyond protean sight&sound. A lonely egghead. Sees nurse who delivered him.
• P38. SD thinks: umbilical as phone line 2 Eve; the inconsequence of his parents. Remembers: Deasy’s letter; 12:30 meet @bar; visit w/aunt.
• P39: SD imagines dad mocking aunt’s family. Recalls past visit. Uncle Rich a bedridden opera-loving drunk, son Walt studders. SD’s ashamed.
• P40. SD still lost in thought, mocks own rebelliousness, earnestness & ambition. Recalls own perverted prayers 2 see naked ladies.

We are at the last chapter in Ulysses’ Telemachiad, the 3 chapters focused on Stephen Dedalus. And in this culminating chapter of the first part, we get a very up-close experience of Stephen and his machinations of his mind. 

Instead explaining the protean hodgepodge of esoterica that constitutes Stephen’s thoughts (everything from Aristotle, heretics in the early Catholic Church, Italian mystical views of history)–which I don’t think I could do competently, anyways–I find it far more worthwhile to think about this chapter more in terms of  how it develops Stephen’s character. 

His thoughts on Aristotle, Church history, all his studies in Paris, all add up to convey his sense of disconnectedness and isolation. He can’t get past sight and sound to penetrate the eternal essence, to connect. 

He can’t even find connection to his own family. He thinks of his father as  (in Blamires’ words) “a meaningless physical coincidence.” And he’s ashamed of his mother’s sister (Aunt Sara) and her sad family. 

He realizes he can find no inspiration or beauty in what’s he’s studied or his own family, and devolves into a torrent of self-mockery. 

And because he’s an egghead, his thoughts, his mockery are all constituted by arcane references. He’s trying really hard to be clever, and we shouldn’t be intimidated or turned off by this cleverness. We should instead understand how he makes it difficult for anyone to like him.

The takeaway for us should be: he’s a lonely, smart, sensitive dude who is unfulfilled by his studies, alienated and ashamed of his family.

You can try to throw your life away and try to figure out all the references, but it may drive you nuts. I would advise to give it a good effort and turn the page. There is so much more ahead which won’t require you caring about a heretic who died of bowel trouble in 336 AD.

Hoy anduvimos por una exposición de gatos aca en el barrio de Belgrano, no solo porque a Wanda le encantan los gatos (y ya está averiguando sobre cuál va a ser la raza del próximo) sino también para conocer en persona al pequeño Molko (hijo de Dedalito y Peque).

Resulta que ellos compraron el gato hace pocos días y la dueña del criadero al que se lo compraron les pidió el favor de que lleven al gato a la exposición para representar al criadero, y el pequeño Molko no se quedó atrás, se llevó un premio a la excelencia y el premio al “Best in Show” entre gatos de 3 a 6 meses (logro más que importante).

El gato es realmente precioso, tranquilo y super bueno. Pero como todavía no fue presentado en sociedad, les dejo esa tarea a Dd y Peque. Asi que los que los conocen y los siguen en flickr, esperen unos días que seguramente habrá muchas fotos del felino.

26 aprile, 2009. Gli alieni modernisti.

Per protestare contro gli stalker, da oggi il sito è in sciopero bianco. Pubblicherò racconti sugli alieni, il genere che voi detestate, finché a) gli stalker si arrenderanno, b) i rimanenti indesiderati ritorneranno almeno ad essere gentili ed educati con me.

CHHH.

“Qui Uppsala. Campo Artico 4, rispondete.”

CHHH.

(è un racconto ambientato nel Campo Artico accanto a quello de “La Cosa”)

“Ripeto, qui Uppsala. Professor Bloom, risponda!” CHHH. L’operatore radio di Uppsala smise di chiamare, si sono stancati, Bloom pensò, raccogliendo il rognone del dr. Mulligan e gettandolo nel disintegratore da Campo Artico che teneva in laboratorio. Tah Dih Dah.

(ve l’ho detto, e andremo sempre peggio… racconti sugli alieni, in più modernisti, l’avete voluto voi)

Si stancano presto, pensò Bloom, che non era abituato a pensare in terza persona. D’altronde, come posso mettermi a pensare in prima persona, adesso, qui, mentre siamo assediati dagli alieni e già la situazione è precipitata al punto che restiamo vivi e umani solo io e il dr. Dedalus? Anche Mulligan, così paffuto, l’irlandese dei film, come si chiama l’attore, era in realtà un feroce alieno velenoso: senti il rognone come sfrigola e schizza nel disintegratore. Ma combattere, non è stato male, provare la forza dei muscoli, chiudere la porta stagna e bloccare Mulligan all’esterno, sono ancora forte, un uomo come dire… medio, sì, medio, ora che tutto sta per finire torneranno a chiamarmi

“Bloom: un uomo medio.”

Oppure peggio:

“Bloom: un sensuale.”

CHHH.

“Qui Uppsala! Vi ordiniamo di rispondere!”

(guardate, non scherzo, continuo finché non ritornate gentili)

CHHH.

“Professor Bloom, qui Uppsala. Anche se non rispondete, vi avvertiamo che stiamo per procedere alla distruzione della base. Il Campo Artico, volevo dire. Allontanatevi subito dagli edifici, avete ventiquattro minuti.”

CHHH.

Bloom osservò attentamente la radio, che aveva manopole e rondelle come un faccino alieno perplesso, con la bocca a forma di o.

“Credi davvero che distruggeranno la base? Credi davvero che lo faranno tra ventiquattro minuti? Perché darci tutto questo tempo? Perché avvertirci? Per quale motivo dovrebbero volerci fuori di qui, se in ogni caso intendono distruggere la razza umana?” scosse la testa, e si voltò verso Dedalus.

Invasori.

Dedalus raccolse il cappello di pelle di renna che Mulligan aveva lasciato cadere prima di trasformarsi in un alieno, e se lo infilò in testa senza curarsi dei germi galattici. Perché le persone ti coinvolgono nel male che vogliono farti? Il male che intendono farti, per essere perfetto, deve comprendere anche te, integralmente, non soltanto per l’aspetto diciamo così esteriore del male, il soffrire, ma anche per quello interiore, il provocarlo. Vogliono che sia tu stesso a gettarti sulle spade davanti ai loro occhi…

(continua fino a quando gli stalker non la smettono)

Läst i mars 2009.

Boken är ett kraftfullt manifest till Joyces sätt att leva. Under den ungdomstid vi får följa hans alter ego, Stephen Dedalus, står det klart att han inte passar in för ett ordinärt liv. Hans fäders önskemål och hans katolska skola kväver honom. Den iriska nationalismen som står stark hos hans kamrater berör honom inte; han går med högt huvud och tycker att han är förmer – han är ju konstnär! Han tänker ut ord och fraser; ibland gillar han dem för dess innehåll, ibland för dess poetiska välklang. Enligt Dedalus är litteraturen den ”mest avancerade och förandligade av konstarterna.” Så här förklarar han för sin kamrat:

-         Konst, sa Stephen, det är människans sätt att i estetiskt syfte upprätta en ordning av sina förnimmelser och tankar.

På den här idén vilar också boken. Mitt i ett stycke kommer en tanke från ingenstans. Något har fått den unge Dedalus att minnas hur han en gång blev slagen av sina kamrater. Sen är vi tillbaka i stycket igen. Det finns ingen fingervisning om det avbrott som skett varken före eller efter – det är bara en flyktig tanke, precis som om den vore uppkommen i verkliga livet. Det här fungerar väl, boken är trots allt inte särskilt svårläst utan dess prosa är mjuk och len som poesi och jag läser med milt sinne.

Det är lätt att fatta sympati för den unge Dedalus, inte för att han porträtteras som en ängel – alls inte, tvärtom! -  utan just för att jag gärna tror att han är sann. Jag tänker: ”Joyce beskriver sig själv som han var och är.” Ur hans fåfänga och längtan till att bli något stort föds en beslutsamhet att göra sitt liv till ett konstverk – ja, han beskriver det faktiskt så: inte bara ska han skapa konst, han ska vara det också! För att lyckas måste han slå sig fri från nationalitet, språk, religion och alla andra fundament som inte är hans egna. Här är Irland en black om foten och han ser inte någon annan utväg än att lämna landet.

Romanen är skriven med så mycket passion och inlevelse att det är omöjligt att inte dras med. Joyces kraftfulla prosa vill inget mindre än övertyga om att livet kan vara just allt det du drömt om, att det som verkat omöjligt i själva verket är möjligt. Herregud så jag är med på noterna!

-         Så flyg Dedalus, bortåt horisonten och uppåt himlen. Om solen smälter dina vingar – det var ändå värt det!

I’m Swagato. I’m an international student from India and I’m an English major at Coe College, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, USA. If you’re expecting extraordinary credentials, you won’t find them from me. I’ve had a good undergraduate career, and I have very reasonable expectations of attending graduate school in the coming fall. I’m just your typical English geek. T.S. Eliot, Thomas Pynchon, Starcraft, Ladytron, Depeche Mode, black coffee, and guitar pretty much defines my life.

I’m not rich. Nowhere near it, in fact. I’ve always known this. And acted accordingly. I’ve worked 22+ hours a week while taking 7 courses or thereabouts. Repeatedly. I’m not boasting, just stating facts. 

Today, at the end of four years, I’m close to graduation. Very close. Everything is taken care of.

Except $2500. 

That sum represents the amount I owe in residence or other fees that I have been unable to pay till date. Think I’ve slacked off? Untrue. I’ve financed most of my education here by virtue of an educational loan from India. Unlike such loans in the USA, I do not get to defer payment until post-graduation. Instead, my family and I have had to deal with rising monthly interest (due to ever-present inflation back home) as well as an unprecedented economic situation in the States. 

To make a long story short, it became increasingly difficult to manage both payments. One’s for tuition, one’s a loan with my home as collateral against it. You tell me which one gains priority.

I’m aware of the conditions. I’m asking you to help me out. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. Probably never will. But I refuse to accept that simple kindness is impossible, even in the messed up world we live in. I’m not trying to pull on your heartstrings. I’m just asking you to help a fellow human being. 

If you’ve read this far and have not closed this page or made a sound of disgust, you’ll find a convenient Paypal button somewhere nearby. Any contribution is dearly welcome.

And…thank you.