Tag Archives: Tolkien

Desert Island Books

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The BBC Radio has a longstanding program called “Desert Island Discs.” Each week, the program invites a notable to be cast away on a hypothetical desert island with recordings of eight songs of his choice, plus the Bible, the Complete Works of Shakespeare, and one book pick. The guest also gets one luxury item. The format is an interview with the person about his life and why the songs mean something to him. The program, which is available as a podcast, is quite enjoyable.

Go big or go home

So if I could choose only eight books (single-volume titles only) to accompany me in an exile, what would they be? If we are talking about a banishment of a weekend, then a selection from the current pile of books by my chair would suffice. For a month or two? Well, a slightly different list of criteria might come into play. And what if my time as a castaway was indeterminate, possibly years without contact? Selecting those few books to accompany, to suffice, to hold my attention, becomes a formidable feat indeed. In any given year, I’m likely to pull a hundred books off my shelves, if only to read a page or a chapter. But limit that number to eight in what could extend to a lifetime, my choices would be required to soothe, entertain, or educate, again and again.

Of course, the BBC program makes no reference to the type of island, the “Desert” of the title seems more a stand-in for “deserted” than for an arid wasteland. Most guests interviewed make the assumption that it is a tropical island. For myself, I’m going to take the liberty of claiming a remote rocky isle in the north or south Atlantic, one not far enough in either direction to be barren. A place where in exile I could still raise a garden of greens and root vegetables in the shelter of a stone wall. Maybe tend a small flock of wild sheep, a scraggly bunch of chickens, work outside before retiring at night into a 300-year-old stone cottage. (This is my island, get your own.)

When preparing to pack my eight titles, it became clear that most fiction wouldn’t work: A simple murder mystery, much as I love a well-written one, would not make the cut. Once it was read it would be tossed aside, at least for a few years. The books for the solitary exile must contain worlds within worlds that sustain his interest, making him want to pull them off the shelf, day after day, month after month, year after year. Truly, this is an impossible task. And whatever I select today might change tomorrow. But once rowed onto that rocky shore, shoved off the dinghy and left behind … it’d be too late to make a trade-in.

So here’s my list. I tried to put it together on mere instinct. A few of the books are solid choices; the others shifted about as I typed. Many different anthologies sprang to mind only to be discarded on a whim. In the end, some made the list for the simple reason that I ran out of time: The gendarme is knocking at the door. No time to pack. My exile for unnamed crimes commences today.

Eight Books for Exile

Book 1: Icelandic Sagas. The Folio edition edited by Magnus Magnusson. An evening reading of Hrut and his unsatisfied wife, Unn, or the endless tales of bloody vengeance, battles with Skraelings, and other assorted adventures from another island should be the tonic to take my mind off my own isolation. And, if Unn floats over on a raft to say hello, well….

Book 2: Complete Works of Shakespeare. Even if I am not reading each play from start to finish, just dipping a toe in the inspiring waters of the St. Crispin’s Day speech has got to be worth an evening, or two, or perhaps one thousand, seven hundred and twenty-four.

Book 3: Lord of the Rings. By J.R.R. Tolkien, the big single-volume edition. First off, I should state that this is not my favorite book or author and that out of his works I prefer The Hobbit. But I’m in exile, dammit, for God only knows how long. And it is an entertaining story that I have already enjoyed reading once, and it has the added blessing of being pretty darned long. Plus, with my meager memory, I could get to the end and start to wonder how it all began … and start over, there and back again (or, was that the other one?).

Book 4: Webster’s New International Dictionary. My 1910 copy runs close to 3,000 pages. There is enough in this volume alone to fascinate, educate, and pass a lifetime of lonely evenings.

Book 5: Meditations. By Marcus Aurelius, the Hicks translation titled The Emperor’s Handbook. I read a little of Aurelius most mornings. It has helped me make sense of the world for many years. So, while sitting on a promontory pondering my misdeeds, a few paragraphs might serve to calm the spirit.

Book 6: Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural. The Modern Library edition. So this slot was reserved for the Library of America volume of Wendell Berry’s fiction. But those stories, of family and community, might just cause me to leap over the cliff some late night in a fit of isolated despair. Instead, this classic collection of things that go bump in the night should be the tonic, with the cold wind outside rattling the cottage, to scare myself silly while sipping on my Scotch or bourbon (more on this later), reading by the peat fire.

Book 7: The Iliad. By Homer, Robert Fagles’s translation. I reread this from start to finish this past year. Now, in these succeeding months, I find myself thinking of those doomed men and women, both the victorious and the vanquished. Sitting alone on a scarp, watching and hoping for the boat to arrive someday and release me, I could while away the days rereading those ancient pages. Particularly of Hector, the family man, the man of honor, brother to the self-centered weakling Paris.

Book 8: The Nordic Cookbook. By Magnus Nilsson. At close to 800 pages, this encyclopedic insight into the cooking traditions of the Nordic world should be just the thing to reference when I need to roast a puffin, cure and smoke a leg of mutton over sheep dung, pickle a seal’s head, or figure out yet one more way of making porridge out of the same four ingredients taste good. That Nilsson is a good writer and this book an amazing read are an added bonus.

I am also allotted one luxury item. Mine is that my island, miraculously, is located near an ocean current that drifts in a case of fine-tasting Scotch or bourbon to my rocky shores at least once a year. It could happen. The SS Politician was no myth.

So, what eight books are you taking when they come for you?

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Reading this morning: lamb cookbooks

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A Fall Update

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That first real hint of the winter to come rolled in yesterday. We were in the middle of conducting a workshop for fifteen participants on how to raise a homestead hog when we all felt the temperature drop. Felt more keenly since all were dressed for a sunny sixty plus degree day. What we received instead was an overcast windy day with temps dropping into the mid-fifties.

Odd how our bodies adapt, soon a day with the temperature rising to 55 will remind us of the warmth to come in spring and summer. For now the change has us reaching for cups of hot tea and thinking of warm hearty foods.

Lambs: The lamb, injured by a dog, is recovering nicely. Her appetite is strong and she is very active with no trace of a limp. She is still confined in the hospital ward, aka the dog pen, and receives a shot of penicillin twice daily. No recurrence of maggots, thankfully. The old injured flesh has fallen away leaving large circle, perhaps 12 inches in diameter of new pink flesh. A smaller area of about four inches is still scabbed over. But consider where she started and you will agree she has come a long way.

The other lambs are healthy and close to 100 pounds each. A date with the processor has been set and they will make the fateful truck journey the week of Thanksgiving; A cruel irony for the lambs and for the customers plenty to be thankful. The injured lamb will remain and join the other ewe lambs as breeding stock.

Gardening: I love fall and winter gardening. The bugs are at a minimum, the weeds are sluggish and whatever you plant seems to thrive. A bonus is the absolute thrill and joy to walk out on a cool morning and harvest beautiful ten pound Hubbard squashes.

Hubbards

The squash patch has another fifty to harvest in the next four weeks as long as we can avoid a heavy frost. Perfect for stews, we love our winter squash!

The turnips and the collards are all up and thriving. The mustard greens were the first to reach a harvestable size this past week. Sweet potatoes are still holding out and will not be harvested until the leaves begin to die back.

Bees and horses: If the weather warms enough today we will complete our fall harvest of honey. We hope to be able to get forty pounds of rich dark honey, more than enough to see us through to next fall. Having your own honey in the cupboard is real food security. Like Tolkien’s character Beorn in The Hobbit, we feel capable of shape shifting and accomplishing mighty deeds with our honey surplus.

Last night after a nourishing stew of roast pork, greens and potatoes we had delivery of a new draft horse to the farm. A Haflinger named “Candy”, an eight year old mare, Amish trained for farm work. An absolute beauty in appearance and temperament, she offloaded easily and we secured her in the corral before turning into bed.

Well, the animals are signaling by bleats, whinnies, meows, crows, cackles, snorts and honks that our presence is requested outside. Everyone have a great week.