Monthly Archives: January 2008

Chasing the Rising Sun, by Ted Anthony

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Subtitled The Journey of an American Song, this book relates the author’s quest to find the origins and destiny of the song “The House of the Rising Sun”. It’s a more involved tale than you might think.

Fair disclosure: I received this book as a review copy.

The most famous version is, of course, the one by Eric Burdon and the Animals; everyone has heard it at some time or other. Some are aware of Bob Dylan’s version, and many assume that Dylan wrote it. But the Weavers also performed it, and, as it turned out, many others. The origins have long been shrouded in mystery, and Anthony, being a thorough-going nut, decided to trace it back as far as he could.

Alan Lomax collected it from a young woman named Georgia Turner in the Appalachians, while out collecting folk songs for the Smithsonian; the versions mentioned above all trace back ultimately to Turner’s recording. Lomax himself thought it had come to Appalachia from Louisiana, and that it had its origins in the songs of southern negroes. Some sources point at an older recording, performed by a black artist, whose name includes “Rising Sun” but which on inspection Anthony found to have no relation in either tune or lyrics. In fact, the song appears to be native to Appalachia.

The song is full of anecdotes about the early days of the folk music revival, and of the various performers who have performed the song, and their colleagues; and of the folks who have preserved those recordings, and of all of the people Anthony met while pursuing the song.

If you’re interested in folk songs, or in folklore in general, and how the “folk process” works, you might find this a fascinating book. I found it to be interesting primarily as a “book of convenience”—that is, I left it in the kitchen, and picked it up when I had a few minutes to read and no other book to hand. And at that, I got about halfway through the main text, put it down, and never got back to it. So clearly, your mileage may vary.

I don’t usually review books I don’t finish, but given all of the research Ted Anthony did, all of the travelling to strange places and the asking of strange questions, I feel like giving his book some official notice is the least I can do.

George Macdonald Fraser, RIP

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George Macdonald Fraser, he of Harry Flashman, The Steel Bonnets, Quartered Safe Out Here, and The General Danced at Dawn, died this week at the age of 82. I found this out via Lars Walker at Brandywine Books, who also links (via Blue Crab Boulevard) to a posthumous essay in which Fraser blasts “political correctness” and all that goes along with it. I couldn’t agree more.

Rest in peace, Mr. Fraser. You’ll be missed.

Screwtape on Dryness

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Julie of Happy Catholic posts today about a recent time of prayer which seemed shorn of all joy…at least at first. It reminded me of this passage from Letter 8 of The Screwtape Letters. Sometimes God grants that His presence is felt; at others:

He leaves the creature to stand on its own two legs—to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish. It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that he is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered to Him in the state of dryness are those which please him best….Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.

Of course, the whole letter is worth reading.

Anyway, Julie…you showed up.

Brother Odd, by Dean Koontz

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I picked up a copy of this before Christmas (only to have it taken out of my hands and wrapped by my beloved wife) on the strength of positive remarks from a number of angles. I read it today, mostly while sitting in the Jury Assembly Room (yup, I’m on jury duty), and I liked it.

Odd Thomas is an odd fellow, but that’s not why he’s called “Odd”; it’s the name on his birth certificate. It was supposed to be “Todd”, his mother has told him, but they screwed up. On the other hand, his mom never called him “Todd”, so who knows? He’s a darn good fry cook—at least, from this book I know he makes darn good pancakes—and, also, he can sometimes see dead people. Ghosts, that is. Ghosts get hung up in this world for a variety of reasons, and Odd Thomas helps them get over whatever it is, and move along. Often, ghosts get hung up in this world because they are seeking justice, and that means that Odd sometimes needs to do some investigating.

As the book opens, Odd has spent the past seven months as a guest at a Benedictine monastery in the Sierra Nevada mountains of California, when peculiar things begin to happen that lead him to believe some horrible catastrophe is imminent. What will it be? Who will be responsible? And can Odd prevent the bloodshed?

And then, of course, the snow comes down, isolating the monastery.

I won’t give away any more, except that I really liked Koontz’ handling of the Catholic faith. It’s a pleasure to read a book where the discussion of religion isn’t laughable. Koontz is, I gather, a practicing Catholic, and it shows. The faith is treated with respect, and the major characters clear understand what Catholicism is about; and yet they aren’t preachy either.

Beyond that, there’s not much to say. It’s fun; it’s lightweight; it’s a tad predictable (it was clear who the bad guy had to be long before the conclusion); I found the evil horror that stalks the monastery to be, in the end, not particularly believable. But it was fun anyway, and I plan to look for the first two books in the series.