You said the future happened
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newredshoes: Madeline Ashby, "Problems Plus Time: What Creates a Dystopia, Real or Imagined." I enjoyed this essay on G. K. Chesterton's The Napoleon of Notting Hill (1904) and I disagree slightly with it; I like its use of the novel to examine the definition of a dystopia, but its interpretation of Auberon Quin as the prototype of a twenty-first-century troll-tyrant elides the thing that actually makes him dangerous, which is not that he's so self-centered, but that he has no center at all. When he's still an unimportant and preposterously frivolous government clerk, he is accurately gauged as "a man who cares for nothing but a joke," which is to say "a dangerous man." Unknowing moments away from his accession by lottery to the throne of England, he makes a rare serious statement, which foretells all the trouble to come and which no one heeds: "Be careful how you ask me to do anything outré, to imitate the man in the pantomime, and to sit on my hat. Because I am a man whose soul has been emptied of all pleasures but folly. And for twopence I'd do it . . . Be careful how you suggest things to me." Hence the meta-joke-which-isn't at the center of the novel which makes him inseparable from the start of his lethally absurd reign from the man who will take his folly seriously enough to turn it to tragedy and eucatastrophe, namely that Quin's total inspiration for reintroducing the pageantry and factionalism of feudalism to London is not some long-nurtured Miniver Cheevy-ish nostalgia for an England that never was, but a chance thwack in the ribs with a wooden sword which he receives from a child playing King of the Castle in the streets of Notting Hill, an encounter which he never imagines, any more than the foreseeable outcome of encouraging the farce of a childish war game at adult scale suggests itself to him until it's fighting and dying in his streets, will exercise an equal and opposite influence on the child who grows up to be Adam Wayne, the incorruptible Provost of Notting Hill driven to resist the injustices of urban renewal by force of arms, inspired by his childhood encounter with the King by whom he was gravely told always to fight for "your old inviolate Notting Hill." Their symbiosis creates civil war and empire, the Badon Hill-like finale, the ambiguous epilogue where the masks of the metaphysics come off and what matters is not how things began, but how they are believed in. Of my non-comprehensive experience of Chesterton's fiction, this novel is my favorite; I read it for the first time as a sophomore in college, having tracked it down from the epigraph of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere (1996). I really think they were separated by at least a semester, but it occupies an adjacent space in my memory to Hope Mirrlees' Lud-in-the-Mist (1926), which is fair because both novels feel as though they form part of the substrate of Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (2004). I like Auberon Quin, of course, which does not mean he isn't for much of the novel a frighteningly hollow kind of person, his jokes an expression far more of nihilism than humor. "I have walked along a street with the best cigar in the cosmos in my mouth, and more Burgundy inside me than you ever saw in your life, and longed that the lamp-post would turn into an elephant to save me from the hell of blank existence."
newredshoes: Madeline Ashby, "Problems Plus Time: What Creates a Dystopia, Real or Imagined." I enjoyed this essay on G. K. Chesterton's The Napoleon of Notting Hill (1904) and I disagree slightly with it; I like its use of the novel to examine the definition of a dystopia, but its interpretation of Auberon Quin as the prototype of a twenty-first-century troll-tyrant elides the thing that actually makes him dangerous, which is not that he's so self-centered, but that he has no center at all. When he's still an unimportant and preposterously frivolous government clerk, he is accurately gauged as "a man who cares for nothing but a joke," which is to say "a dangerous man." Unknowing moments away from his accession by lottery to the throne of England, he makes a rare serious statement, which foretells all the trouble to come and which no one heeds: "Be careful how you ask me to do anything outré, to imitate the man in the pantomime, and to sit on my hat. Because I am a man whose soul has been emptied of all pleasures but folly. And for twopence I'd do it . . . Be careful how you suggest things to me." Hence the meta-joke-which-isn't at the center of the novel which makes him inseparable from the start of his lethally absurd reign from the man who will take his folly seriously enough to turn it to tragedy and eucatastrophe, namely that Quin's total inspiration for reintroducing the pageantry and factionalism of feudalism to London is not some long-nurtured Miniver Cheevy-ish nostalgia for an England that never was, but a chance thwack in the ribs with a wooden sword which he receives from a child playing King of the Castle in the streets of Notting Hill, an encounter which he never imagines, any more than the foreseeable outcome of encouraging the farce of a childish war game at adult scale suggests itself to him until it's fighting and dying in his streets, will exercise an equal and opposite influence on the child who grows up to be Adam Wayne, the incorruptible Provost of Notting Hill driven to resist the injustices of urban renewal by force of arms, inspired by his childhood encounter with the King by whom he was gravely told always to fight for "your old inviolate Notting Hill." Their symbiosis creates civil war and empire, the Badon Hill-like finale, the ambiguous epilogue where the masks of the metaphysics come off and what matters is not how things began, but how they are believed in. Of my non-comprehensive experience of Chesterton's fiction, this novel is my favorite; I read it for the first time as a sophomore in college, having tracked it down from the epigraph of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere (1996). I really think they were separated by at least a semester, but it occupies an adjacent space in my memory to Hope Mirrlees' Lud-in-the-Mist (1926), which is fair because both novels feel as though they form part of the substrate of Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (2004). I like Auberon Quin, of course, which does not mean he isn't for much of the novel a frighteningly hollow kind of person, his jokes an expression far more of nihilism than humor. "I have walked along a street with the best cigar in the cosmos in my mouth, and more Burgundy inside me than you ever saw in your life, and longed that the lamp-post would turn into an elephant to save me from the hell of blank existence."
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The Napoleon of Notting Hill is my favourite of Chesterton's fictions- apart, that is, from the Father Brown stories- which are in a class of their own.
I believe Auberon Quin (king of the fairies meets Harlequin) was modelled (loosely, of course) on Max Beerbohm.
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the thing that actually makes [Auberon Quin] dangerous, which is not that he's so self-centered, but that he has no center at all --If the emphasis here is that the lack of center is what makes Quin (as opposed to other people) dangerous is the lack of a center, then that's something I can get behind, conceptually. A person without a center can be dangerous. But I do think a self-centered person can also be dangerous.
the ambiguous epilogue where the masks of the metaphysics come off and what matters is not how things began, but how they are believed in. --Definitely agree with this. We need look no further than religions. They can have what seems from the outside to be pretty charlatan-like beginnings, and yet the faith of the people who adhere to them can transform them. You can end up with a durable new religion--or a death cult. Definitely what matters is not how things begin but how they are believed in.
Anyway, clearly another good book that I missed. I'll have to rectify that (... eventually).
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But I have finally acquired a working copy of The Winslow Boy (1999). I was so scared it wouldn't work that I do need to watch it again instead of rushing through it in snatches hoping nothing would jinx this one yet. (It does show an alarming tendency to slightly stick if I navigate rather than play through it, so maybe there is something about the edition that is a little off... I hope it doesn't give out too soon if that's the case !)
Anyway, it was very good and based on all of about 2 minutes googling and 40 minutes in the tumblr tag for "the winslow boy", I can tell you that it and the 1948 seem to be doing sufficiently different things in different ways that probably neither one need ever spoil the other; that you have to go back to 2014-13 to get gifs on tumblr that are of Jeremy Northam instead of Robert Donat; somebody loves a BBC 1977 version featuring Alan Badel and Michele Dotrice; and there was also, inevitably, as you have taught me, a screenshot of a presumably long lost 1958 BBC version featuring Peter Cushing (no knobs visible). XD
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I've read a great deal of Chesterton but I was myself devoutly Catholic for almost all of it so I'm not sure if any of my opinions still hold. Orthodoxy is very cram-packed though. It's such a thin book and so full of Chestertoning.
(Have you ever read The Ball and the Cross? It's very aggressively Christian even for Chesterton, but one of its protagonists is a... refraction of Adam Wayne in ways that I would be very interested to hear your thoughts on, even if they might boil down to something like "it doesn't work when the thing he's fanatical about is explicitly Catholicism". I have not tried to reread it since I stopped being exactly that level and type of fanatical about Catholicism myself; I'm not sure I would be able.)
For some reason, most of the recent references I've seen to Chesterton elsenet have been dismissing him as Problematic and therefore not worth reading. It's nice to see someone talking about his work on its merits and not merely because they agree or disagree with his politics.
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