Booknotes 5.8

The Greville Memoirs: A Journal of the Reigns of King George IV and King William IV volume 1, by Charles Greville (edited by Henry Reeve), published 1874, diary, 619 pages. Hot dang, I loved this. Even though I know very little about nineteenth-century politics in Britain (so far, anyway), these memoirs are what I never knew I wanted. Here are some sample passages, starting with Greville’s grumblings about George IV (who reminds me of a certain orange menace):

There never was such a man, or behaviour so atrocious as his—a mixture of narrow-mindedness, selfishness, truckling, blustering, and duplicity, with no object but self, his own ease, and the gratification of his own fancies and prejudices, without regard to the advice and opinion of the wisest and best informed men or to the interests and tranquillity of the country.

Also:

Objects which I used to contemplate at an immeasurable distance, and to attain which I thought would be the summit of felicity, I have found worth very little in comparison to the value my imagination used to set upon them.

And:

Three days ago Lord Liverpool was seized with an apoplectic or paralytic attack. The moment it was known every sort of speculation was afloat as to the probable changes this event would make in the Ministry. It was remarked how little anybody appeared to care about the man; whether this indifference reflects most upon the world or upon him, I do not pretend to say.

Very much looking forward to reading the remaining volumes.

The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath, published 1963, fiction, 259 pages. Oof. I picked this up because I liked Plath’s poetry and maybe also as a small attempt to try to better understand my father’s suicide. The writing was indeed great, but whew, the second half was kind of brutal for me.

Galileo’s Daughter: A Historical Memoir of Science, Faith, and Love, by Dava Sobel, published 1999, biography, 405 pages. I quite liked this, which is no huge surprise given how much I love reading about the history of science. It’s a biography of Galileo’s adult life, with lots of letters from his oldest daughter (a nun at a nearby convent) interleaved with the narrative, which covers Galileo’s research in astronomy and physics and of course the infamous trial. Reading this book made me realize I don’t spend nearly enough time actively thinking, or at least I don’t feel I do, which likely means instead that I’m not thinking about the things I wish I were. This passage is good:

“I believe that the intention of Holy Writ was to persuade men of the truths necessary for salvation,” Galileo continued his letter to Castelli, “such as neither science nor any other means could render credible, but only the voice of the Holy Spirit. But I do not think it necessary to believe that the same God who gave us our senses, our speech, our intellect, would have put aside the use of these, to teach us instead such things as with their help we could find out for ourselves, particularly in the case of these sciences of which there is not the smallest mention in the Scriptures; and, above all, in astronomy, of which so little notice is taken that the names of none of the planets are mentioned. Surely if the intention of the sacred scribes had been to teach the people astronomy, they would not have passed over the subject so completely.”

Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Austen, published 1811, fiction, 456 pages. Delightful and witty. Loved it. I’d seen some of the film adaptations before but had never read the book till now, and that was entirely my loss. Of Austen’s novels, I have left only Emma and Mansfield Park, and I look forward to completing the set in the not too distant future.