abracadabra …

appears eight times in The First Verse, the first four times associated uniformly with Chris Mooney, Niall's sometime boyfriend: Abracadabra, me granny comes from Cabra. The fifth also is Chris but Niall at first thinks it might be Pablo (nothing too significant in that—Niall is perpetually perceiving Pablo). The sixth is brought on by Niall thinking of his grandmother. The seventh, more worryingly, is what Niall thinks just before he turns on the light to return to Pour Mieux Vivre by delving into Patrick's books (preceded by a flickering sixth appearance of a congratulatory Pablo Virgomare). And then finally the eighth on the last page of the book when the old woman (someone's granny) answers Niall's question "When is the next 46A due?" with

"Abracadabra," she said, pointing to its green shape coming out of town towards us.

"Abracadabra" is commonly used nowadays just as a "poof—there it is!" and so I think it is here. Alternatively, we're supposed to think that the sleek Virgomare is disporting himself now in granny drag!?

It is odd, I'll admit, that the novel ends so emphatically on the word "south"—when just a page before our PMVs were so determined to "Follow the allroads [a startling word itself] away southbound to the next level." but perhaps the irony here is that Niall's next level will be one free of Pour Mieux Vivre (as opposed to the 46A transporting Niall across the Bay of Biscay to the Escorial, some thousand miles west of Rome).

Lastly on the difficulties of the last page(s), Niall begins "to discern the first strain of something old and sad, the last strains of something new." The former must be the Miserere of the PMV. We don't know what the new strains are but it is worrisome that they are the last of them. Or rather it would be worrisome, this last temptation of Niall Lenihan in the Anal Hell Inn, were the bus not to ensconce and remove him to Mum & Da in Sandycove.

Glossary for The First Verse

Here are definitions of some of the terms in Barry McCrea’s The First Verse.

anorak: a hooded jacket like those worn by those in polar regions.

bodhrán: an Irish frame drum.

braying: yelling, shrieking.

cess: bad cess to, may evil befall.

coeval: of the same age.

conkers: a game played orig. with snail-shells, now with horse chestnuts on strings, in which each player tries to break with his or her own that held by the opponent.

craic: fun, entertainment, and enjoyable conversation (Irish). See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craic.

Dolmio sauce: a brand of tomato sauces marketed to kids in the UK.

Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti: incerta et occulta sapientiae tuae manifestasti mihi.
Asperges me, hyssopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
Auditui meo dabis gaudium et laetitiam: et exsultabunt ossa humiliata.
Averte faciem tuam a peccatis meis: et omnes iniquitates meas dele.
Cor mundum crea in me, Deus: et spiritum rectum innova in visceribus meis.:

(From Psalm 51)

But lo, Thou requirest truth in the inward parts: and shalt make me to understand wisdom secretly.
Thou shalt purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: Thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Thou shalt make me hear of joy and gladness: that the bones which Thou hast broken may rejoice.
Turn Thy face from my sins: and put out all my misdeeds.
Make me a clean heart, O God: and renew a right spirit within me.

eejit: idiot.

flan: an open pastry or sponge case containing a filling.

foolscap: a former size of paper for printing, 13½ x 17 inches. Also, a former size of writing paper, 13 x 8 inches.

frogmarch: the practice of forcibly transporting suspects or prisoners through a public place, up to and including carrying them such that their limbs splay in a frog-like manner.

gom: a fool; a stupid lout.

knacker: Irish term of affection for low-life scum.

limpet: any of various mollusks that sticks tightly to rocks.

locked: drunk (Irish).

louche: not straightforward. Now usu., dubious, shifty, disreputable.

“oranges and lemons:” see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oranges_and_Lemons.

piss-up: a session of heavy drinking.

“plurality of bottles:” from Flann O'Brien’s At Swim-Two-Birds: “Notwithstanding this eulogy, I soon found that the mass of plain porter bears an unsatisfactory relation to its toxic content and I became subsequently addicted to brown stout in bottle, a drink which still remains the one that I prefer the most despite the painful and blinding fits of vomiting which a plurality of bottles has often induced in me.”

snog: engage in kissing and cuddling with.

stór: darling (Irish).

swot: a person who studies hard.

uilleann pipes: Irish bagpipes.

yonks: a long time; ages.

Fish

I got a copy of "Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in a Man's Prison" through Giovanni's Room in Philadelphia. The cost was $14.95 plus $5.00 shipping. I usually wait till I am ordering more than one book because the shipping cost remains the same. Delivery is usually in a day or two. I like the idea of supporting independent gay book stores and my experience w/ Giovanni's Room has always been very positive. They are pleasant and knowledgeable.

Their website is www.giovannisroom.com

Robert

A Shurin Glossary

Mighty Bookmen,

Here is a glossary I compiled (for people like me with limited vocabulary) for Aaron Shurin's King of Shadows. It's in alphabetical order. Cheers, Ross

109   abattoir   a slaughterhouse

152   cathexis   the concentration or accumulation of libidinal energy on a particular object

135   contraindications   a contrary indication; esp. a symptom, circumstance, etc., which tends to make a particular course of (remedial) action inadvisable

135   dais   a raised table at which distinguished persons sit

135   la diritta via   the straight road

127   divagations   straying from one place or subject to another

132, 155   e lucevan le stella   "and the stars were shining," from the third act of Puccini's "Tosca"

79   ganglia   cystic swellings of unknown cause arising from the sheaths of tendons.

119   incarnadine   flesh-colored

134   ineluctably   unavoidably

148   inviolable   to be kept sacred or free from attack; not to be infringed or dishonored

119   munificent   splendidly generous

43   puer Aeternus   eternal child, used in mythology to designate a child-god who is forever young; psychologically it refers to an older man whose emotional life has remained at an adolescent level

73   samovar   a Russian tea urn, with an internal heating device to keep the water at boiling point

62   sentience   consciousness, susceptibility to sensation

115   sybarite   a person who is self-indulgent or devoted to sensuous luxury or pleasure; a sensualist

74   threnody   a song of lamentation, esp. for the dead; a dirge

133   topos   a traditional theme in a literary composition

136   vestigial   remaining or surviving as a trace or remnant

Of Mice and Bookmen

Greetings, Colleagues--

Nine Bookmen (including two first-timers) attended the Aug. 5 discussion of Armistead Maupin's novel, "Michael Tolliver Lives." Here are some observations about the novel that I believe reflect our consensus, though not necessarily unanimity.

Nearly all those present have read at least some of the six-volume "Tales of the City" series. Some had also heard Maupin read them on audiobooks and/or seen the three TV adaptations (the first ran on PBS, the second and third on Showtime).

With that in mind, the group agreed that one of the pleasures of reading this latest book was finding out what had happened to the main characters from Barbary Lane and environs. However, we did not get into the question of whether MTL is functionally a seventh volume in the series or stands on its own (which I take as meaning most of us assumed it is the former).

We agreed that the novel is significantly less political than its predecessors, with little social commentary. In fact, one member commented that the references to Bush, Iraq, etc., seemed "dropped in" rather than organic to the story (such as it was). Overall, however, I didn't sense that change was a problem for most of the group.

The switch from the "Tales" series' third-person omniscient narrator to first-person removes any lingering doubt that Maupin is Michael Tolliver, but did not jar most of the group (though I must say it did bother me, at least to some extent).

I also expressed my disappointment (speaking as a Louisiana boy) that the chapters where Michael goes home to see his mother verged so close on Southern Gothic. However, that was distinctly a minority view.

Overall, the group enjoyed reading (or rereading in some cases) "Michael Tolliver Lives." As one member said (I'm paraphrasing here): "Great literature it ain't, but it is a good summer read." Cheers, Steve

Michael Tolliver Lives in a Fairy Tale

Some writers create fictional worlds that are seemingly “better” than the “real” ones. The motivations for doing so may vary. Some may wish to replace unpleasant memories of real events with happier memories of fictional events. Others may wish to emphasize harmonious elements to divert attention from the discordant. Regardless of Armistead Maupin’s motives, he has created a likable enough tale of a 55-year-old gay man’s life in 2006 San Francisco. There is place for breezy stories where the conflicts presented may only remotely resemble the conflicts of our real lives. These stories take us away from our daily troubles and throw us in fairy tale land where love is found, held on to, and flawless.

Maupin applies several techniques to draw us into this world. By assembling details common to many middle-aged gay city-dwelling men, such readers can say, “yes, I’ve had that experience.” The author is “one of us” and we open our ears to him. The references to gay culture create the necessary foundation upon which stand idealized versions of lovers and friends, either steadfast or returning. The camaraderie of logical family members taking care of one another adds comfort. A revealed secret about a father’s last sordid act is intended to add drama. A young woman’s sex blog is intended to add spice. Michael Tolliver’s choice to be with the sage Anna Madrigal rather than his mother at their times of need adds humor with the revelation “there is no fifth destination,” and poignancy with his mother holding the photo of Michael and his husband.

The entire package was not a completely satisfying reading experience for me. I would have preferred a grittier plot or more artful writing. The book is redeemed by its humor and its depiction of a small supportive community in a city with people like us.

--Heath

No Fifth Destination

You can't go home again! Writing in the first person, Maupin misses the opportunity to create a distinctive voice while losing the consistent discipline of a third-person viewpoint. When not writing about himself and "Ben", the tales are an okay follow-up to the earlier series; otherwise, the writing becomes so treacly that one despairs of escape (Ben, the perfect husband, in the perfect marriage, only ever so slightly marred by the narrator's chubby anxiety about not being worthy of so much wonderfulness and gratitude that it's his).