Walter Scott

  

Sir Walter Scott, (1771-1832), was a Scottish novelist, poet, historian and critic. He was for many years one of the most widely read authors in Europe and America. His stirring tales of adventure brought to life for millions of readers the history of Scotland and England from the 12th through the 18th century. “The Lady of the Lake” (1810), a story of the Scottish Highlands in the 16th century, was the most popular of Scott’s narrative poems, and has been the most often reprinted. Critics consider “The Heart of Midlothian (1818), a novel set in 18th century Scotland and England, the best of all Scott’s works.

Scott’s popularity rested largely upon his descriptions of scenes and manners unfamiliar to his readers, and upon lively action and romantic episodes. He did not plot carefully, and wrote hastily and without revising. As a result, his novels and narrative poems lack unity and forcefulness. Most of his heroes and heroines are unrealistic, and their speech is stilted and trite. Except for some of the short lyrics incorporated in his narrative poems, his verse is second rate.

Scott’s importance is based on several valuable contributions to literary development. He created the historical novel and gave prestige to the novel in general. Among writers he influenced were Robert Louis Stevenson, Charles Dickens, William Thackeray, Dumas the Elder, Leo Tolstoy, Alexander Pushkin, and James Fenimore Cooper. Scott was the first novelist to present people of the lower classes as real human beings rather than as comic or sentimentally idealized figures. He was also the first novelist to use regional dialects in a serious instead of a mocking manner.

Experimental drawing

 

Experimental Drawing

 

F. Scott Fitzgerald

 

F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1940), was an American short-story writer and novelist. "This Side of Paradise" made Fitzgerald famous at the age of 24 and he married Zelda Sayre. "The Beautiful and the Damned" (1922), describes a young man and his beautiful wife, who gradually degenerate into middle age while they wait to inherit a large fortune. Ironically, they finally get it, when there is nothing of them left worth preserving. Perhaps to avoid this the Fitzgerald's together with their daughter led an extravagant disorderly life. Fitzgerald began to drink too much and Zelda suddenly, inexplicably began practicing ballet dancing night and day. In 1930 she had a mental breakdown and in 1932 another, from which she never really recovered.

Through the 1930's they fought to save their life together, but the battle was lost and Zelda was admitted to a sanatorium. His next novel "Tender is the Night" is the story of a psychiatrist who marries one of his patients, who as she slowly recovers exhausts his vitality until he is "a man used up." Unfortunately for Fitzgerald, the book was commercially unsuccessful. With this failure and the despair over Zelda, Fitzgerald was close to becoming an incurable alcoholic. However, by 1937 he recovered enough to become a scriptwriter in Hollywood. In 1939 he began the novel "The Last Tycoon." It was Fitzgerald's last attempt to capture a dream he had for a long time. In its intensity of imagination and brilliance of its expression, it is equal to anything Fitzgerald ever wrote. And it is typical of his luck that he died of a heart attack with the novel only half-finished at the age of 44.

Perhaps an insight could be gained by analyzing Fitzgerald's life through his most famous novel "The Great Gatsby". One of Fitzgerald’s most important concerns is the idea of the American Dream. Jay Gatsby rises from poverty and acquires enormous wealth, believing that success will allow him to win back Daisy Buchanan (Who is now married to Tom Buchanan). Tom comes from an extremely wealthy "old money" family. Unlike Gatsby, who earned his fortune (new money), Tom was born into wealth and social status. He is arrogant, dominating, prejudiced and unfaithful. He believes his position in society gives him authority over others. However, Gatsby’s dream ultimately ends in tragedy because it is based on an idealized past. Through Gatsby, Fitzgerald suggests that the American Dream has become corrupted by materialism and social inequality. This division reflects Fitzgerald’s observation that wealth alone cannot overcome entrenched social barriers. Gatsby becomes rich, but he is never fully accepted by the old-money elite.

The Importance of Composition - Art

 

Many years ago I tried my hand at painting. I wasn’t a natural draughtsman, and colour was a total mystery to me, but what worried me most was the flat look that all my paintings had. The reason this happened was wrong composition.

Composition is the way different elements are arranged in a picture. Many artists place composition above both drawing and colour, because even if the drawing is impeccable and the colour of the highest quality, if the composition is at fault it will fail to satisfy the eye. But many impulsive beginners are so anxious to get on with the painting that they ignore composition.

There are some rules in composition that should not be forgotten. The painter must lead the eye of the beholder into the picture and not across it. Into the picture does not mean the center of the picture, but towards the center, to some focal point where the eye can rest and be content to remain. Also the painting should be balanced, a dark cloud at the top of the picture must be balanced by some other object in a different part of the picture. However it must not be completely balanced, this creates a kind of "tension" that makes the picture more interesting. In the picture I drew given below these principles are followed. The smoke stacks in particular are not balanced and create a tension. However, the most prominent feature of this drawing is a careless even crude use of line and color that energizes the drawing I hope.

Serendip - Poem

 
Far far from the shore
In a place I don’t want to go
Lies a sunken ship
The ship they called greed

We once sailed to an Isle
Far beyond the Nile
In a ship that made 
Thoughts that were vile

In this Isle
We stopped for a while
They sailed on
For I had seen the dawn

In greed they went
They were my friends
Their mighty needs
They could never reach

Their stars faded
The seas abated
They lost their way 
For their souls I pray

I found me
In the Island of peace
This is all I need
They call it Serendip

A Lonelier World

  

When I was a kid this village was filled with fireflies. Now there were hardly any. Actually, there seem to be far fewer insects now than there were a few decades ago. In just half a lifetime a lot seems to have changed. Maybe it was my imagination, so in one of my foolish ventures, I decided to find out more about insects.

Insects seem to be as different from human beings as it is possible to be. To begin with, they don’t have a heart, lungs, blood as we know it, a skeleton, or much of anything else. They are clearly built very differently. They have a tough exoskeleton and six legs and these seem to be their most prominent external feature. They were the first creatures to fly. You don’t have to be an expert to realize that they took a very different evolutionary path very early on. What they are however is essential to all life on earth. They are the food for birds and fish, every terrestrial and freshwater ecosystem relies on them. Oddly out of the millions of different varieties of insects, only about a few hundred have taken to the sea. (The sea is dominated by other kinds of arthropods like crustaceans.) Even plants rely on insects for pollination. It seems that they are declining at an unprecedented rate that some scientists call the global Insect Apocalypse. But there are so many varieties of them that scientists don’t know exactly by how much. Some scientists estimate that they are disappearing at the rate of 2% per year. That is a lot in 20 years.

To begin with, bees are in peril, and so are another order of insects, butterflies and moths (order Lepidoptera), and beetles (Coleoptera), and freshwater insects like dragonflies and damselflies. Loss of habitat, insecticides, climate change, and pollution are thought to be the reasons. It is believed that if insects go so will their predators like many kinds of birds and fish and other animals further up the food chain. Many years ago a writer named George Orwell wrote, "By retaining one's childhood love of such things as trees, fishes, butterflies, and toads, one makes a peaceful and decent future a little more probable." A world without fireflies, dragonflies, butterflies, beetles and many birds, fish and toads would be a sad world indeed.

China - Short Story

 

Many people believe that the Korean conflict or the Vietnam War was the biggest war in Asia in the 20^th century, but it was the 2^nd Sino Japanese war (1937-1945) which merged with the Second World War, that was the most destructive. In a way it was the inevitable result of the 1^st Sino Japanese war (1894-1895) which resulted in China becoming a fragmented land ruled by different warlords, and although it was finally united under one leader, it meant that imperialist Japan would invade China and in collaboration with the warlords tighten its grip over the Chinese people. In the end after millions of bombs which killed tens of millions of people, just two bombs dropped in Hiroshima and Nagasaki ended the imperial ambitions of the Empire of the Sun. It is difficult to say what was achieved by this tragedy of human arrogance, pride, foolishness, greed or whatever good things you would want to call it, but the horror of those days still mingle with the unpleasant dreams of the many still in Shandong.

In August 1940 Shandong was surrounded and there followed an aerial bombardment like the world had never seen before. During a midnight bombing raid a bomb fell right in front of our house and flattened it, but incredibly we were unhurt. My father went temporarily mad but finding we were unhurt said in an excited voice, “Chang, there are too many bad people here, if we are unlucky before the sun sets on the land of the rising sun, we will all be dead, but if we are lucky we too will turn into bad men, there is an island in the west which they call “the land of the rising moon”, when I was your age I lived in that island, in it there was a mountain which they called “the Holy mountain”, with great difficulty I climbed this mountain once and it is said if a man climbs it his family will be protected three times, and I believe this mountain protected us today, there is no time to lose, we collect whatever we can and leave here within ten minutes. There was no doubt in my mind where my father wanted to go, for he used to mumble about it even in his sleep,  he wanted to go to an island in the middle of the Indian ocean which was then called Ceylon. So my parents my younger brother and little sister and I started walking in the pitch dark of the night, a night that had more stars than I had ever seen, with fires burning everywhere and people shouting and stumbling for the bombing had temporally stopped, and we went in the direction my father always wanted to go - west. Strangely it was very exciting. Confucius said “he who treads softly goes far” but my father didn't seem to know, for he hurried on in such a clumsy, crude way that the four of us who followed him felt embarrassed.

Atoms - Poem

 

I may be wrong but from what I understand no matter how hard we try to differentiate among ourselves (and look down on people who are different from us), we are all made up of the same basic kinds of atoms......and they really get recycled in every sense of the word......they are virtually indestructible and it is thought that the atoms we are made up of passed through several stars, not to mention countless people, animals and plants before miraculously combining to make each of us. We all have atoms that once belonged to kings, beggars, historical figures, holy men, ancestors of our enemies, dinosaurs and god knows what else. I wrote this poem with this in mind.

Years came and years went

We were born again

But though many eons passed away

We couldn't comprehend

Until one day the Sun burnt out

And we became stardust

When the dust collided

Another world was born

This world formed an ocean

And the ocean formed a soup

From this primordial soup of life

Came a terrible coup

We kept on quarreling every day

Till there was little left

It never dawned on us

We were all just atoms at best

Shadow shadow darkest shadow - Poem

 

When bad times come remember even your shadow might disappear, but then the Sun will shine and........(Poem by me)

Shadow Shadow darkest shadow 
Will you too leave me
When the meaningless reeds on the other river bank move with the wind
Will you still believe me

Shadow Shadow my own shadow
Will they even sway you
If in anger they bend the truth
Will you then lie too

Shadow Shadow my best friend
If the wind blows slow
And wicked men use oars to reach me
Will you join them too

Shadow Shadow darkest shadow
If darkness helps your goals
And the Sun disappears for me
Will you help them end my Soul

Shadow Shadow my very own Shadow
If you ever lose your Soul
In the darkest hour that comes before dawn
Remember the Sun will still unite us.

Every Day - Poem

 

On the dark days of September

And other days in November

I still thought of better days soon

That will come to me in June

But when old December came

I thought I’ll go insane

For dark dreary days

Had come for me to stay

But then January first was here

I lost all fear

For I just decided to be happy

Every day of every month