From marcpiel at interdesign.fr Mon Apr 13 03:06:13 2009 From: marcpiel at interdesign.fr (Marc Piel) Date: Mon, 13 Apr 2009 12:06:13 +0200 Subject: [ilds] A Telegraph reader thought you would be interested in this article Message-ID: <49E30E95.9080806@interdesign.fr> A friend sent me this link, so passing it on. BR Marc http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/environment/conservation/5130889/Gerald-Durrells-Jersey-wildlife-conservation-trust-celebrates-50th-anniversary.html From rwhedges at hotmail.co.uk Tue Apr 14 13:54:33 2009 From: rwhedges at hotmail.co.uk (RW HEDGES) Date: Tue, 14 Apr 2009 20:54:33 +0000 Subject: [ilds] (no subject) Message-ID: The Gerald Durrell article was good, thanks for that Marc. I am still to tackle the rest of Balthazar and have not read Prosperos Cell yet which I had intended on doing whilst in Greece recently but managed 'The Collosus Of Maroussi" by Miller and "Burmese Days" by Orwell. Lawrence Durrell makes a few appearances in the Collosus and cuts a fine dashing poet in the throws of Octopus and Retzina. I was going to do the Corfu trip but I gathered I might try that place for a longer stint. Instead I ended up in Milos where the moon -like landscape and spring scented paths gave a lending hand to the volcanic sleep and the wonderful slow pace. Before leaving I checked what Lawrence had to say about it; "...a damnably dull hole of a place" Which is bullshit. He clearly never saw the place. It would have been empty of much life by way of taverna and banks back then but the landscape and the nature and the geology of the island is astounding. To go in spring was a Godly gift and seeing five and a half tourists in the nine days was also a wonderful relief. I much prefered the site of the Venus de milo's discovery than the piece of armless crap in France and I wondered how men can be so stupid to clamber about galleries when one can just stand above Klima in Milos and feel centuries where the sheperd is the artist and the goats make the music with the wind. I never found her arms but I managed a good break. Hope all Durrellians manage a similar break this year, all the best, RW Hedges _________________________________________________________________ Beyond Hotmail ? see what else you can do with Windows Live. http://clk.atdmt.com/UKM/go/134665375/direct/01/ -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://lists.uvic.ca/pipermail/ilds/attachments/20090414/1828ad78/attachment.html From dtart at bigpond.net.au Tue Apr 14 21:24:43 2009 From: dtart at bigpond.net.au (Denise Tart & David Green) Date: Wed, 15 Apr 2009 14:24:43 +1000 Subject: [ilds] (no subject) References: Message-ID: <76AB66A7682649609D022532DE13055C@MumandDad> RW HEDGES WROTE: Before leaving I checked what Lawrence had to say about it; "...a damnably dull hole of a place" Which is bullshit. He clearly never saw the place. It would have been empty of much life by way of taverna and banks back then but the landscape and the nature and the geology of the island is astounding. To go in spring was a Godly gift and seeing five and a half tourists in the nine days was also a wonderful relief. I much prefered the site of the Venus de milo's discovery than the piece of armless crap in France and I wondered how men can be so stupid to clamber about galleries when one can just stand above Klima in Milos and feel centuries where the sheperd is the artist and the goats make the music with the wind. Roy, those last few lines are poetry and remind me very much of Paros, to which I went in 1985 (another age and time, that's for sure). There were peasants on donkeys going to market with wicker saddle baskets filled with agrarian produce and a easter ceremony in the silent night of the darkened streets with the voices hushed and strange and the candle flames standing straight up and the procession led by bearded priests and incense that was not so much old ordodix but pagan; animals being later roasted and eaten, the lamb of god, the goats of older times. My feeling is that Larry was not as enamoured of the stony, white, stark, blue and spring flower scented Aegean islands where peasants, stones and old olive trees can not easily be told from one another in the fading light when the fishermen beat octpodis gainst the sea wall by the pier. He prefered the fecund islands of Corfu, Rhodes and Cyprus, larger and with damper climates on their western aspects wher his English firnds, admirers and lovers like to go; no wonder he settled finally in southern France. I loved the sparness of those stony islands, like a good poem, well honed, where less is more and the stanzas of life a told, windswept and swirling like the Cyclades themselves coming out of the blue like awareness itself. David 16 William Street Marrickville NSW 2204 +61 2 9564 6165 0412 707 625 dtart at bigpond.net.au -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://lists.uvic.ca/pipermail/ilds/attachments/20090415/a79171d0/attachment.html From dtart at bigpond.net.au Thu Apr 16 14:35:53 2009 From: dtart at bigpond.net.au (Denise Tart & David Green) Date: Fri, 17 Apr 2009 07:35:53 +1000 Subject: [ilds] Standing on Milos Message-ID: <7D7F6B9C52654969B48718390468D76E@MumandDad> Standing on Milos I could have gone to Corfu to the fecund green of Western Greece. Instead, I ended up on Milos where the moon like landscape and spring scented flowers gave a lending hand to the volcanic sleep and wonderful, slow pace. wine and wench inspired vagrant, that Lawrence Durrell, writing his blue and sun-washed praise, preferred greener lands: the nymph groves of the Corcyra, voluptuous folds of the Marine Venus, sea sucked, rising from the foam of Rhodes and the Gothic hills of Bellapaix, to this sparse land, empty of taverns and noble friends - "a damnable hole of a place!" But, to go to Greece in Spring was a Godly gift, running up every hill and diving into the sky or down into the wine cold sea, retsina coloured in the sandy shallows below the hazy blue where islands circle like sun warmed ghosts from the ancient world; Delos the grass grown city remembered. A land where donkeys amble to market, peasants astride with wicker saddle baskets hanging with onions, to an Easter ceremony in the silent night of narrow streets with the voices hushed and strange, and the candle flames straight up in the breathless air, and the procession led by eastern beards with incense swinging, slow orbs of smoke. Not so much orthodox but pagan; roasted animals eaten later, the Lamb of God, The goat of older times. The Greeks eat real food and drink wine freely without pretentious talk of grapes. They smoke where they like and never stop yet never start - unlike the English and their stop, start bullshit television and media nightmare recipe shows. Give me the stony, white, stark, hard blue and spring flower scented Aegean islands, the gorse and yellow broom, where the peasant, stones and gnarled olives trees cannot easily be told from each other in the fading light as the salty fishermen beat the octopus on the sea wall by the pier. These rocky islands, like a good poem, well honed, where less is more and the stanzas of life are told, windswept and swirling like the Cyclades themselves coming out of the blue like awareness itself. How can men be so stupid as to clamber about galleries when one can just stand above Klima in Milos and feel the centuries where the shepherd is the artist and the goats paint the music with the wind? Words by David Green and Roy Hedges, compiled by David Green Denise Tart Civil Celebrant - A8807 16 William Street Marrickville NSW 2204 +61 2 9564 6165 0412 707 625 dtart at bigpond.net.au -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://lists.uvic.ca/pipermail/ilds/attachments/20090417/0d9aeba3/attachment.html From Fraser.Wilson at eht.nhs.uk Fri Apr 17 04:37:40 2009 From: Fraser.Wilson at eht.nhs.uk (Wilson, Fraser) Date: Fri, 17 Apr 2009 12:37:40 +0100 Subject: [ilds] Standing on Milos References: <7D7F6B9C52654969B48718390468D76E@MumandDad> Message-ID: <00E9F536678A4D40AF93C5F161F00DA102467529@eht-mail01p.xeht.nhs.uk> Splendid !! Perhaps it would be fruitful and timely to share some of the poetry which has moved us most - or indeed that we have written ? ( worry not, I have none to inflict upon you ) What I have been doing, while not writing poems, is reading South Wind and enjoying it thoroughly. I know that the Durrell - Douglas issue has been touched upon lately, but does anybody know of evidence that Durrell had contact with any of Douglas's material prior to Prospero's Cell ? If so, I can only imagine that it would have informed the kind of book he was trying to write. I am aware that Douglas's style was conversational whereas Durrell was more descriptive. The characters in South Wind seem utterly irrelevant beyond the realisation that the book must contain a few in order for dialogue to take place. Douglas's voice speaks through all. Towards plot it is rightly said that there is little more than a gesture, but it is the consistency in quality of the writing - and the humour - that is outstanding. Patrick Leigh Fermor could function at this level, but in Larry's case - I feel - the gems, although exquisite are scattered more widely. The dialogue returns time and again to the 'moral' expectations of society - that had recently derailed Douglas's own life in spectacular fashion - but it does not seem to grapple with them in any way. It is as if the cerebral pathology that inflicts shame or regret were mercifully absent and the writer was at peace with himself for better or worse. If I tasked myself to extract the quotable material from South Wind, I feel that I would end up with a manuscript almost as long as the original. I haven't thought that about a book since reading Francis Bacon's Essays. Best wishes, Fraser ________________________________ From: ilds-bounces at lists.uvic.ca [mailto:ilds-bounces at lists.uvic.ca] On Behalf Of Denise Tart & David Green Sent: 16 April 2009 22:36 To: Durrel Subject: [ilds] Standing on Milos Standing on Milos I could have gone to Corfu to the fecund green of Western Greece. Instead, I ended up on Milos where the moon like landscape and spring scented flowers gave a lending hand to the volcanic sleep and wonderful, slow pace. wine and wench inspired vagrant, that Lawrence Durrell, writing his blue and sun-washed praise, preferred greener lands: the nymph groves of the Corcyra, voluptuous folds of the Marine Venus, sea sucked, rising from the foam of Rhodes and the Gothic hills of Bellapaix, to this sparse land, empty of taverns and noble friends - "a damnable hole of a place!" But, to go to Greece in Spring was a Godly gift, running up every hill and diving into the sky or down into the wine cold sea, retsina coloured in the sandy shallows below the hazy blue where islands circle like sun warmed ghosts from the ancient world; Delos the grass grown city remembered. A land where donkeys amble to market, peasants astride with wicker saddle baskets hanging with onions, to an Easter ceremony in the silent night of narrow streets with the voices hushed and strange, and the candle flames straight up in the breathless air, and the procession led by eastern beards with incense swinging, slow orbs of smoke. Not so much orthodox but pagan; roasted animals eaten later, the Lamb of God, The goat of older times. The Greeks eat real food and drink wine freely without pretentious talk of grapes. They smoke where they like and never stop yet never start - unlike the English and their stop, start bullshit television and media nightmare recipe shows. Give me the stony, white, stark, hard blue and spring flower scented Aegean islands, the gorse and yellow broom, where the peasant, stones and gnarled olives trees cannot easily be told from each other in the fading light as the salty fishermen beat the octopus on the sea wall by the pier. These rocky islands, like a good poem, well honed, where less is more and the stanzas of life are told, windswept and swirling like the Cyclades themselves coming out of the blue like awareness itself. How can men be so stupid as to clamber about galleries when one can just stand above Klima in Milos and feel the centuries where the shepherd is the artist and the goats paint the music with the wind? Words by David Green and Roy Hedges, compiled by David Green Denise Tart Civil Celebrant - A8807 16 William Street Marrickville NSW 2204 +61 2 9564 6165 0412 707 625 dtart at bigpond.net.au -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://lists.uvic.ca/pipermail/ilds/attachments/20090417/4a1a2246/attachment.html From Charles-Sligh at utc.edu Fri Apr 17 08:20:10 2009 From: Charles-Sligh at utc.edu (Charles Sligh) Date: Fri, 17 Apr 2009 11:20:10 -0400 Subject: [ilds] Standing on Milos In-Reply-To: <00E9F536678A4D40AF93C5F161F00DA102467529@eht-mail01p.xeht.nhs.uk> References: <7D7F6B9C52654969B48718390468D76E@MumandDad> <00E9F536678A4D40AF93C5F161F00DA102467529@eht-mail01p.xeht.nhs.uk> Message-ID: <49E89E2A.2000408@utc.edu> Wilson, Fraser wrote: > > Splendid !! > > The dialogue returns time and again to the ?moral? expectations of > society - that had recently derailed Douglas?s own life in spectacular > fashion - but it does not seem to grapple with them in any way. > > It is as if the cerebral pathology that inflicts shame or regret were > mercifully absent and the writer was at peace with himself for better > or worse. > Thanks for these reflections on Douglas's /South Wind/. You write about how the English sense of guilt and "pathologies" are decidedly absent from /South Wind/, yes--I think that you are accurate here. Douglas is a Pagan and an epicurean, an alien to those more Puritan sensibilities. He also is a "cosmopolitan" in the eighteenth-century meaning of the world. More reports are always welcomed. C&c. -- ******************************************** Charles L. Sligh Assistant Professor Department of English University of Tennessee at Chattanooga charles-sligh at utc.edu ******************************************** From dtart at bigpond.net.au Fri Apr 17 14:05:51 2009 From: dtart at bigpond.net.au (Denise Tart & David Green) Date: Sat, 18 Apr 2009 07:05:51 +1000 Subject: [ilds] South Wind Message-ID: <427F80B3057D4958864323705AD6F83D@MumandDad> I am aware that Douglas's style was conversational whereas Durrell was more descriptive. The characters in South Wind seem utterly irrelevant beyond the realisation that the book must contain a few in order for dialogue to take place. Douglas's voice speaks through all. Towards plot it is rightly said that there is little more than a gesture, Frazer, I too am reading through Soth Wind at a leisurely pace and while enjoying the often humorous dialogue, eccentric characters and general journey into a lost world, it would be a world weary reader indeed who did ask why the author had not invested a little more in the way of plot, character development and even the odd moment of epiphany - unless you count the Norwegian professor's discovery that Trinidad was like a tangle of parallelograms. It is essentially a vehicle to Douglas to describe a world he loves, invest it with unconvential characters and use their dialoque to take a swipe at post victorian puritanism while maintaining british silliness abroad - both worthy things. I would, however enjoy it more if it was driven along by a little more than just the south wind. As to whether LD knew of Douglas' work before writing Prospero's Cell I think it likely. Both Old Calabria and South Wind were published well before Durrell's time on Corfu and in Alexandria where that book was completed. LD acknowledged Douglas as an influence but claimed not to have met him, although he did know Elizabeth David, who was a close friend of Norman's. David 16 William Street Marrickville NSW 2204 +61 2 9564 6165 0412 707 625 dtart at bigpond.net.au -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://lists.uvic.ca/pipermail/ilds/attachments/20090418/ff9e6df9/attachment.html