Book review, This Is What It Smells Like

I have written this review for Cathy Adams' new novel. I hope people read her book.

This Is What It Smells Like

by Cathy Adams

A Review

               This recently published first novel by Cathy Adams is a delightful read, filled with the best traditions of Southern Gothic fiction. The novel’s quirky, interesting characters lead lives which run the gamut from wacky to profound.

               The protagonist Valentine must come to terms with her past and with her family when her estranged father Ray and his step son Luis return to North Carolina so that Ray can die there. Val’s mother Tess, a delightful free spirit, must deal with her ex-husband and their own past. Tess is the catalyst for some of the novel’s most interesting misadventures. Valentine must deal with a dying father, her father’s step son, and her wacky mother as she learns the secrets of her own past. As the title implies, Val is gifted with an unusual sense of smell which gives her unique insights into the personalities and emotions of those around her. Adams conveys this olfactory sense effectively, especially since our language has comparatively few words that relate to smells.

               The Southern Gothic elements of the book seem to reflect influences from William Faulkner, Flannery O’Connor, and Erskine Caldwell. the multiple first-person perspectives are reminiscent of Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying, though this novel is more accessible. The religious elements of the novel, especially those revolving around the Catholic Church, recall some of O’Connor’s fiction. And finally the delightfully macabre sense of humor may reflect the influence Caldwell’s novels such as Tobacco Road and God’s Little Acre.

               Overall, This Is What It Smells Like is an entertaining and sometimes profound book. It will leave the reader with a thoughtful smile, wishing for more.

My New Novel's Prologue

This is an early draft of the prologue of my novel, Memoirs of a Capital Eye. The novel will be a fictionalized version of my life and philosophical journey.

Memoirs of a Capital Eye, a Novel

Robert C. Covel

PROLOGUE

            Our lives and our perspectives on the universe are controlled by a capital I.  The first-person singular personal pronoun is the only one granted the status of being a capital letter. That peculiar fact demonstrates our world view, as we place ourselves at the center of our cosmos. Psychologically, we are still living in a Ptolemaic universe, which may not be geocentric, but which is certainly egocentric.  Someone observed that each of us is the protagonist of our own story. We see ourselves as the epic hero engaging in the quest for self-determination and meaning. Writers in particular are exceptionally egotistical. As a group, we believe that not only are our perceptions of the world, our thoughts, feelings, and actions, worthy of being recorded in some form; but we also believe that other people wish to share in our lives, and that somehow we believe that our art will help others to make sense of their own lives.

            I think of the number of modern writers who use the personal perspective. Emerson’s emphasis on self-reliance, Thoreau’s account of his own sojourn at Walden, Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” Melville’s Ishmael narrator—the Romantics began the self-absorption that continues into the modern period.

            I at least am aware of the limitations of my point of view. I know that the very attempt to measure or perceive reality distorts what it purports to measure, like trying to measure a spider web with a ruler. There is no objective reality: there is only subjective interpretation of the fragile tissue of truth.

            I’m not sure when I first became aware of the uncertainty of life. Obviously that awareness preceded my learning about Heisenberg or chaos theory, and long before I had studied philosophy. I have viewed my childhood (like that of most children, at least those with some stability in their lives) was through the golden Edenic lens of innocence. My earliest memories (beginning from age four) are dominated by fragmented images of events, all of which seemed serene. I remember the small house (I could still remember the floor plan), and I can remember events that any child would regard as significant: Christmas trees and gifts, birthday parties, and television programs on the small black and white screen.

            My childish memories of my parents are snippets of sensory images: the smell of my mother’s perfume and the feel of her rabbit fur coat against my cheek; the taste of Beeman’s gum that my father brought home on payday and the feel of my father’s rough hands and the smell of his beery breath when he picked me up from the floor to toss me in the air.

            Perhaps my first intimation of insecurity of life is the memory of the day of our move from Pittsburgh to Marienville. I have some small image of eating cereal from a bowl with the picture of the Sugar Crisp bear on the side. The memory includes stacks of cardboard boxes filling the kitchen around me. Perhaps I was aware, on some juvenile level, of the transience of human life. Or that may be just the projection of the adult memory.  

While I cannot not recall the actual emigration to the new house in Marienville, I do recall standing in the new empty house, aware of the darkness and cold as we entered the living room. Perhaps the darkness and cold were omens of my new life, though at that moment I was probably only aware of the physical discomfort and the immediate anxiety attached to the new environment. Such juvenile memories from so long ago are completely unreliable, clouded as they are when filtered through the events that occur afterwards. The eye of memory does not see clearly or objectively, after all.

Zombie-pocalypse

   It is the season of haunting, the season of terrors. All across the country, people adopt disguises in attempt to make themselves unrecognizable. They show up on our doorsteps with their hands out. They make dire threats and terrifying noises, alternated with begging in order to fill their pockets with goodies. We are held hostage in our own homes by these dark creatures that besiege us with their shrieks, threats, and demands.
   Yes, it is that most dreaded, terrifying season. It is the season of elections. Politicians span across the land like hordes of zombies. Their emotional threats and promises and their irrational arguments will steal our brains, if we allow them. Each candidate wears a mask of patriotic, benign, compassionate generosity, as each adopts a tone of sincere rationality. And each candidate depicts his opponent as a rabid, voracious creature intent on the destruction of everything we hold dear: our lifestyle, our economy, and our form of government, not to mention the desecration  of every dearly held value from the sanctity of life and family to the method of determining the NCAA football standings. According to each candidate, his opponent threatens the very bread and circuses on which we depend. If we are to avoid the Zombie-pocalypse, we must give them candy, in the form of votes and tax money. We must give one candidate treats in order to avoid the tricks of the demonic opponent (or so each would have us believe).
   So, on the morning after the election, when the politicians have retreated to Washington like spirits returning to graves when the cock crows, we are left with empty candy bowls and perhaps empty skulls (to go along with the empty promises).
   The winners chortle and celebrate, while the losers retreat to glower and lick their wounds as they plot revenge. The sun rises over the land. Those of us who have not surrendered our brains to the political zombies shake our heads in consternation as the cycle begins anew.
   And in graveyards across the country, we can hear the faint sound of whirling and perhaps a low moaning from the graves of the forefathers who started our experiment in democracy.

The Aging Satyr

I haven't posted anything here in some time. I am posting my latest poem. I would appreciate any response, suggestions, etc. I'll be interested in what people say.

The Aging Satyr

The image in the mirror contemplates

the kindly eyes, serene benignant smile.

The physiognomy reflects a mind

controlled by thoughtful structured intellect.

Behind the careful civilized façade

an alter ego lurks with leering eyes.

The satyr’s nostrils flare, inhale,

entranced by  wafts

of flowers’ fertile musk.

The pendulous flesh of fruit

that droops from languid vines

delights the lolling tongue.

The slurps of heady wine,

 juice of rounded ruby grapes,

               intoxicate and slake his burning thirst.

Nymphs frolic, innocent,

                              curved limbs of porcelain

flow to the flute’s enchanting call

               like Krishna’s milkmaids dancing.

The satyr leers and smiles

               at plies and pirouettes,

the flash of nubile flesh.

Their impromptu choreography

arouses memories

of lust

more ember heat than flame.

The dancing done, the graceful nymphs depart

like fading notes of music on the breeze.

The wistful wanton satyr sighs and turns

to the restraints of intellect that bind.

Perhaps constraints of thought that form the walls

of his confinement, shelter more than jail,

the consolation of philosophy.

As aging soothes the itch along the nerves

and appetites become a memory,

contentment’s mellow solace may replace

the rage of lust, voracity of flesh.

The satyr gazes out from smiling eyes:

the longing smolders, bittersweet, within.

Robert C. Covel

15 October 2012

The Grass Can Wait

I decided that, instead of a blog, I would publish my most recent poem here. I hope to get some reactions.

The Grass Can Wait

Sitting in my Lazy Boy

cold drink beading the glass,

notebook in hand,

a poem in my head.

Outside, the Georgia summer blaze,

hazy, hot, and humid,

the Zoysia sod, a verdant carpet

luxuriates, and thrives, beneath the sun.

With empty tank and bag,

the hungry mower waits to graze the grass.

Meanwhile, my images take root

and grow toward the light of consciousness.

Words and lines sprout

beneath the gleaning pen,

planted in rows across the page.

The choice to mow or write,

dilemma to resolve,

to harvest grass or poems:

the grass can wait.

Another good gray poet

contemplating spears of grass,

retired and loafing at my ease,

I watch the seasons ebb and flow

through changing states, the rise and fall of grass

that falls and springs

beneath my boot soles.

As inspirations spring,

turn into poems across the years,

vegetation sprouts, life from life.

I contemplate the empty page

and my own passing days.

I know that, outside, the grass grows.  

Meanwhile, the grass can wait.

Robert C. Covel

3 September 2012

Law, Logic, and Human Nature

  I recently sat in on Superior Court proceedings in Carroll County. In the three hours that I observed, I was overwhelmed with the sadness and desperation of the defendants. It struck me once more how much of human suffering is the result of ego, emotion, and appetites. I observed cases involving back child support, property foreclosure, and violence over a girl between a current and an ex boy friend. While the cases themselves were very different, at least on the surface, they were similar in their root causes. All of the defendants (and in some cases the plaintiffs as well) were in their situations because of a lack of self control.
  The defendant in the child support case was behind in payments over fifty thousand dollars. He had tried to hide assets by deeding over his house to his current spouse. The judge was not impressed, and the gentleman was sent to jail on the spot for being in contempt of court. Needless to say, he had a very different lunch that day than he had expected. The case of violence involving relationships was caused by the three people involved challenging one another through (anti?) social media and through direct physical conflicts that resulted in some minor injuries and temporary incarceration of one of the three people involved. While the plaintiff and the defendant both had lawyers, the plaintiff really had no case. Her text messages, Facebook taunts, and direct witness testimony showed her lack of a legal case. Ironically, she had one leg in a cast, so she really didn't have much of a leg to stand on! And finally, the foreclosure case involved a man representing himself. He also had no case, because he did not know who actually owned the mortgage on his property. His request was rejected, and he was given a short time to remove himself and his belongings from the property.
  All three cases showed how much people cause their own "quiet desperation," to use Thoreau's term. If any of the people involved had had enough rationality to control their emotions and appetites, they would not have even been in court that day and would doubtless have had happier lives overall.
  I guess the bottom line is, if your life is a train wreck, you can blame the engineer of the train. And you can see the person by looking in the mirror.
  If I were a judge, I am afraid I would have a drinking problem. I cannot imagine having to listen to such tales of desolation and desperation day after day, and having to pronounce  sentence on such unfortunate people. Self control is the essence of serenity in human life.

Law, Logic, and Human Nature

The blind men and the elephant

The Blind men and the elephant is an ancient story, probably from early Hinduism. I thought this story might make a point with all of the continuing controversy on CFA. First of all, let me say that I am a Zen Buddhist, and as such I don't oppose any religious group for their beliefs. I do oppose treating anyone with anything less than compassion and understanding. I also do not think that I have a lock on the truth on any topic. (By the way, a shout-out to Leigh O'Farrell, my very talented former student who made the elephant depicted above!)
  The story goes like this: There were five blind men who were blind from birth. They kept hearing the word "elephant" and did not know what it meant. They got someone to bring an elephant so they could touch it and understand the word. They agreed that each one would touch a different part and then get together to discuss the experience. The first one touched the trunk; the second touched the ear; the third touched the leg; the fourth touched the side; and the last one touched the tail.
 The first man said, "The Elephant is like a great snake with a mouth on one end."  The second man said, "No, the elephant is like a great fan moving in the air." The third said, "No, the elephant is like a tree trunk." The fourth said, "The elephant is like a tree trunk." And the last blind man said, "No. The elephant is like a rope with a tassel on one end (and it doesn't smell very good!)."
 Of course, all of them were all correct (at least in part). The picture above has a quote that I used to say in class after telling this story. "I am only one blind man, and the world is a very large elephant." We all perceive the world around us in very different ways. Our perceptions are controlled by our cultures, our religious beliefs, our educations, etc. And each of us tends to believe our own view is the correct view. But the universe (and our world) is a very large, complicated place. Many of the world's controversies are the result of our inability to accept other people's right to their ideas, attitudes, beliefs, and, yes, gender orientations. We are all right, and we are all wrong. And based on our human limitations in this suffering world, we are all doing the best we can with what we have. So enjoy your view of the elephant, but know that it is not the only view.

Truth, Justice, and a Chicken Sandwich

Truth, Justice, and a Chicken Sandwich

               I have been following the controversy about the comments made by Truett Cathey with interest.

He, of course, is the founder of ChikFilA, and as such he is a prominent figure in this country. He is known for his strong Christian values, and as a result he does not open his stores on Sunday.  He supports the communities in which his stores are located by employing many young people and by giving money to their schools. He also gives many scholarships to deserving high school students who otherwise may not have the opportunity to attend college. All of this is merely background information here, and probably not necessary for most readers.

               Mr. Cathey recently spoke out about his personal moral beliefs about the institution of marriage, saying that he supports the traditional Christian belief that marriage is between one man and woman, and therefore he is against gay marriage. This stand has caused a huge controversy that has aroused the ire of both sides of the issue.

               My comments here will not be to support or to attack either side of the issue. My concern is  over the manner in which both sides have expressed their opinions as those expressions represent a far deeper issue.

               As I observed in an earlier blog, many of the world’s problems are the result of our clinging to our sense of ego, emotion, and appetites. In this particular issue, the overwhelming expression of emotion on both sides leaves very little room for a rational discourse on the issues at hand.

               I just watched the 1968 film 2001: Space Odyssey, Stanley Kubrick’s film treatment of Arthur C. Clarke’s novel. The novel and the film depict the development of the human race (or evolution to use the hot-button term). The opening of the film depicts two groups of hominids competing for food and water. In one scene they face off against one another over a puddle of water which both groups want. The members of both groups scream at one another, gesturing wildly, rolling in the dirt, and attempting to intimidate the members of the other group. Eventually, one group (as the result of an extraterrestrial object that stimulates their brains through a monolith) develops the ability to use large bones as weapons. That group then attacks members of the other group. What follows is apparently the first example of genocide as the one group is eliminated as inferior.

               That scene reminds me of the two groups who are either side of the chicken-sandwich controversy. The possibility of rational discourse in supplanted by the irrational rants. People  rely on emotion rather than intellect to express the feelings of each group. Neither side is willing to listen to the opinions of the other side or to give any credence to their stance. Mr. Cathey, of course, has a constitutional right to express his ideas. That fact has been indicated repeatedly. The other side of the issue has the same right. I am reminded of an oft-quoted statement by Voltaire: “I could not disagree more with your opinion, but I would die for your right to express it.”

               The issue represents a far more profound problem in the world overall. Whether the issue is one of politics, religion, economics, or social concerns, too often people resort to emotion rather to intellect to express their feelings. Those emotional expressions become increasingly heated, and in some cases lead to violence. Most of the wars (include the present conflicts) are the result of overheated emotions. Both sides are unwilling to listen to the other. Each side believes “In order for me to be right, the other side has to be wrong.” Such absolutes make any resolution of issues impossible. Each group demonizes the other. We see that attitude in the Middle Eastern conflicts. Western attitudes tend to depict Muslims as radical extremists incapable of rationality (“The only way to stop them is to kill them.”). And apparently, some of the Muslim groups have similar feelings. With both sides screaming and gesticulating at one another like hominids over a water hole, no rational conclusion is possible.

               The human race is capable of rational, calm discussions of issues. People do have a right to their beliefs, opinions, and feelings. But those rights extend to both sides of any issue. Until we can come to that acceptance, people will continue to feel anger, disrespect, and hatred for others.  In our world the weapons may be IED’s or thermonuclear devices instead of sticks or bones. (I saw a bumper sticker that said, “War does not prove who’s right, only who’s left.”) Killing one group may lead to the annihilation of the race.

               I want to close with another film reference (Anyone who knows me knows that I refer to movies frequently because they tend to reflect our culture’s opinions and attitudes). In The Empire Strikes Back, when Luke asks Yoda how he will recognize the Dark Side, Yoda tells him, “You will know when your mind is calm, at peace, passive.” He also warns Luke against hatred and anger because they lead to the Dark Side. It seems to me that those are wise words that all of us could take to heart. The Bible says, “A soft voice turneth away wrath.” Perhaps we should speak more quietly to one another, listen to one another, and respect one another. And then we can have a chicken sandwich for lunch without turning it into a moral issue.

Possessions: Possessor or Possessed?

A friend just sent me a message on Facebook about what is important in life. As she said, “It’s not what you have but who you have in your life.” I started to respond but decided that a longer response would be appropriate.

  We become obsessed with our material possessions and with the pursuit of physical pleasure. William Wordsworth observes in one of his sonnets, “The world is too much with us, late and soon./Getting and spending we lay waste our powers.” We look to possessions to make our lives meaningful. We think that a bigger car or fancier house will make us happy. Unfortunately, after we acquire those objects, we are still not happy. And too often the objects possess us instead. Emerson says, “Things are in the saddle and ride mankind.” A person who gets a new car worries about getting the first scratch on the paint. We obsess over the possessions until we are truly possessed, as though the object were a demon controlling us.

               We all want happiness. Thomas Jefferson, in the Declaration of Independence, changes John Locke’s “Life, liberty, and property” to “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” The Dalai Lama has a book entitled The Art of Happiness, and he says that happiness should be our natural state.  Obviously, happiness is one of the primary goals for most people in their lives. The problem is in locating it. Too often, our material goods, instead of insuring our contentment with our lives, just become a drawback to real happiness.

               The Bible says “the kingdom of God is within you” (Luke 17:21), and happiness also is within. When we are obsessed with our possessions and physical pleasures, we are looking in all the wrong places for happiness. When one possession does not make us happy, we look for another one that will. The solution is as simple as stopping, sitting down, and looking within. The objects that fill our lives, and that we use for transportation, shelter, or for any of the other requirements of physical life then become just objects again. They no longer possess us. They no longer ride us, as Emerson says. We regain control over our own inherently joyful nature by the simple act of paying attention to our immediate lives and our internal awareness of serenity. Then joy, like a butterfly, lands in our hands when we stop pursuing it.

Pain vs Suffering

  "Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional." I have this quote on my refrigerator. I watch the world around me, and I am amazed at what we do to ourselves and to others. The First Noble Truth of Buddhism is "Life is suffering." We inflict pain on ourselves and on others without having any idea what we are doing and why. One comment I make frequently, especially while watching the news, is that 99% of our problems in the world are caused by ego, emotions, and appetites. If we could control those three elements, the world would be transformed. Unfortunately, we cling to the very aspects of ourselves that cause our own suffering. Our relationships suffer because we can't get outside of our own greedy little selves to consider that other person sitting in front of us. We stuff our faces with food because we somehow feel that if we eat more, we will feel better. And of course, the opposite happens. It's like the Thanksgiving meal everyday--we eat until we are miserable. We drink alcohol, take drugs, or engage in other mindless, destructive behaviors that don't remove the suffering--they add to it.
  So how do we break the cycle, how do we escape the wheel of suffering? I used to tell my students "The best things in life are free. The only thing you have to pay is attention." Being mindful of the moment, of enjoying the "now" will change how we view the world. If we live aware, fully in the moment, we can control the triple-headed demon of ego, appetite and emotion. Instead of clinging to our shackles of suffering, we can remove them and live free and happy. We can be fully aware of ourselves and others. Our world won't change: we will just be aware of it as it is. And that will change us.
  So much for my first blog entry.