Camp NaNoWriMo: Song of Spring

For this month’s Camp NaNoWriMo, the first of two annual camps (also in July), I continue and hope to reinvigorate the process of writing my 2016 NaNo novel based on Lewis Carroll’s Alice books.

Currently, I have a detailed plot outline, my main characters are taking shape, and I’m zeroing in on the kind of story I want to tell. I’ve drafted almost the first half of the story, but many of those scenes and especially several pieces of exposition probably will require significant rewriting to match the second half’s focus and character arcs.

My Camp NaNo goal is to finish the first draft of the whole story by April 30–however disjointed, incoherent, or mediocre it might be. Forward momentum! The summary and excerpt below represent my latest clues to what the final draft may become.

To see hints of the slow, unsteady development of the project since last summer, see this seed, a snapshot on the cusp of its germination, and the small bud of a key scene‘s rough draft.


Happy writing and reading this month, which is also National Poetry Month. For ideas on how to celebrate poetry, visit my list of suggestions from last year. Poem in Your Pocket Day is April 27th this year. Whatever you’ve got going, I wish you the best. Enjoy!

Plus, nature lovers, don’t forget to watch The Zoo tonight at 10pm EDT on Animal Planet, and Wild Scotland starting tomorrow at 8pm EDT on NatGeoWild. My post from earlier this week about TV nature programs and Scotland nature tourism can be found here.


I’ll soon share some other projects seeking fertile soil.

Summary: Novel synopsis-in-progress (drafted 3/28/17, revised 4/1/17)

A fantasy tale based on Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll, Hunted Song of Looking-Glass Land re-imagines the second of his two Alice books. Glimpses of original chapters and the use of characters provide a frame of reference for new adventures and insights about the true nature of heroics and villainy in Looking-Glass Land. The teenage girl Song Warber, a Jabberwock, or Wock, wields her singular music-making powers in the struggle of freedom and justice for all Looking-Glass Landers.

A little girl named Alice mysteriously arrives in Looking-Glass Land and stirs up trouble for Song’s family even as both her presence and Song’s threaten the monarchy. Yet, it is only by allying with this alien little girl that Song can fulfill a destiny she only begins to fathom when her family falls into the hands of those determined to tear them apart—the Royals, or chess pieces, of Looking-Glass Land. Alice’s destiny is also at stake as she awakens to the gritty realities of this ailing country. Her triumph will depend on new alliances, betrayals, comings of age, secret support, a bit of magic, open battle, overcoming tragedies, facing fears, and confronting the White King, the Red Queen, and a vengeful Humpty Dumpty.

Can two young girls of vastly different species, upbringings, and worlds ever hope to right the wrongs of the place they inhabit, however briefly, together? The good of parallel worlds may depend on it. And what will become of Song and Alice in the process? It’s a reversal across the chessboard of team loyalties and the realm’s purpose as a land of vivid dreams, uncommon reality, and infinite possibility. Will Looking-Glass Land survive the turmoil?

Hunted Song novel excerpt (3/28/17, rev 4/1/17):

A story was told. Another was told after that. A minimum of three short stories or two longer ones would always be spoken in any given sitting where storytellers and story hearers gathered together.

Every story told was a try on the part of a contestant. It was a storytelling contest. Each contestant was a member of the Looking-Glass Land community, a long-standing member of the fellowship of the realm. No one was new. No one was young. No one was particularly old. The Royals were an exception. The White Royals looked wizened. The Red Royals, middle aged.

Storytelling had once been merely a pastime as popular as baking and walking in Looking-Glass Land. As popular as tea time. In fact, stories were often told over hearths and tea tables and tea sets. Tea things were the natural scenery for a storytelling session. Like other pastimes, preoccupations, and cultural rituals, the tradition of storytelling in Looking-Glass Land came with many rules. There were particular steps to be taken in the telling of a story. Specific qualities each story must have. A certain size an audience must have in number, to represent a story telling properly. Like tea time in England, storytelling in Looking-Glass Land had a certain order of operations to it.

As times grew harder, the wizened, middle-aged and neither youthful nor old inhabitants of the land grew more serious, less playful, less tolerant of creativity, invention, new ideas, new characters, or, eventually, any new stories. The only stories permitted were stories that had been told many times before. Known stories. Stories people had heard over and over again. Stories that became in their telling like the reciting of a pledge each morning in school or the swearing of an oath for public office. Familiar, unoriginal, the same–always the same. Even the wording had become regimented so that each well-known story could only be told in exactly one way with exactly the same words from start to finish, every time.

The contest continued, however. It became a competition in style of delivery. The stories never changed, so contestants needed only to memorize the content, and the rest could take on a variety of bellowing, shrill screeching, whispering, and outrageous inflections, dramatic pauses, vibrations and other sound effects, as well as musical accompaniment of every kind. Even a technique such as ventriloquism had been a trend at one time, but eventually, the crowds began to crave more elaborate movements on the part of the storytellers and from any actors they chose to act out the events of the tale.

You may think, So what? Stories are popular because they are told over and over again. When a story is repeatedly shared, it means it is popular. This can be true. However, the people of Looking-Glass Land took repetition to a whole other level. There were never to be any new stories of any kind for any purpose. Even recounting the events of one’s day to one’s family came to carry with it very strict rules and restrictions. Such recollections could only be so long and would not be permitted to be repeated outside the family circle within hearing range of other families or anywhere in public.

This was at first very difficult for people to comply with, as you might imagine. But over time, with practice, and a few minor adjustments to the rules, as with many things grown easier with habit, recitative storytelling in Looking-Glass Land came into its own. Upon visiting the land at such a time, you would note that it was as if no one had ever heard an original story, so much so that it mattered little who had originated the stories in the general repertoire. The creators had been forgotten, and no one mourned the loss of their memory. Memory instead became less and less important, and forgetfulness became au courant and du jour, as the French might say of more benign customs.

As a result, even short-term memory became devalued and less tenable among the people. This had reached a level of such ridiculousness that an outsider would find it absolutely comical how poorly the people held facts, events, even names in their memory, how few things they remembered while traveling from point A to point B, even just down the road from their houses. A side effect of this was that the Looking-Glass Landers were constantly getting lost in their own neighborhoods and villages, and needed help from a kindly neighbor they’d sought help from a thousand times before but whom at the moment they could not recognize. They could only hold so much information in those dry, unused brain muscles, you see.

The lack of need for invention, creativity, new ideas, or any kind of refreshing of activity had an even more devastating impact. It created scores of demented community members, folks with early onset Alzheimer’s, as it were, though they wouldn’t be able to spell that word let alone hold their own attention long enough to grasp its meaning. To try to remember the term? Forget it! And so they would.

This chronic, permanent forgetfulness applied to all things. There were occasional anomalies among the villagers in the thoughts they managed to commit to memory in their own clandestine ways, even while original storytelling became illegal, in both spoken and written form. Mainly, though, among most of the population, to forget was to comply, and to recite was patriotic. It was a way to pay homage to the stories the kingdom had declared the best, most worthy tales to be passed down from generation to generation in Looking-Glass Land. It could therefore hardly be noticed when the variation in delivery of these rote storytelling activities gradually lessened as well.

Like the flappers on the floating island world discovered by Gulliver, the people of Looking-Glass Land devised a means of support for their forgetfulness, to steer them aright and keep them from wandering forever aimlessly amidst their brooks, woods, and meadows. One of these devices was a system of concrete roads on which were painted in permanent pigments instructions to every destination known in the land to every other destination, as well as labels several points in advance of reaching a destination to remind the traveller that the arrival was imminent.

This worked even in cases where the person was in fact closer to their point of origin than they were to their designated destination. With abysmal short-term memory, the misguided could be guided best only by counter-factual signs and directions exaggerating the distance, the nearness, the direction, and the size of the places people sought to reach.

In fact, in our land, with our far superior short-term remembering skills (trust me, even you with poor short-term memory have nothing on these characters), we would interpret these overdone instructions as patently false, utter lies, and deep absurdities.

And who made such systems, you ask? Why, the government of course! They were naturally exempt from the restrictions they decreed. They became the parents, nurses, and shepherds of their people, and they could do very much as they liked, always, without challenge or correction or fear.

Such was the state of Looking-Glass Land in the years around the time Alice made her historic visit.

Actually, that would have been her second visit, if memory serves. Alice had been to Looking-Glass Land before, and the results of the first visit differed greatly from what that old fart Charles Dodgson professed them to be in his famous novel Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There. It’s really quite funny. For a man who treasured his memories of childhood and later friendships with children so dearly, he proved to have significant memory problems of his own when it came to the fictional worlds he himself had created.

As an outsider myself, from the next country of Wonderland, I saw what went on in Looking-Glass Land with my own eyes. I possess certain . . . powers that made these observations easier. Because of my unique circumstances and close investigation, I can tell you how it really happened, and I will very shortly. I only hope your memory is not so short. I hope that you will be able to learn and benefit from this history–for everyone’s sake. Perhaps having this written form to re-read and refer to will aid you in that endeavor. I bid you good luck and urge you to make an effort, if you can.

Book Review: Molière’s Tartuffe

Le Tartuffe, ou l’Imposteur (Tartuffe, or the Hypocrite)

by Jean-Baptiste Poquelin Molière

Note: In this detailed review, I discuss most significant plot turns, character developments and interactions, and issues of authorship and publication. I also compare English and French versions. These aspects may or may not spoil the book for you.

Another classic for my book club, this 17th-century comic play I read during November in both French* and English**, brushing up on some French vocabulary, switching to English when the going became too cumbersome. My first reading was in college French class. A manageable English read, the piece is relatively light in mood and not of excessive length, with a straightforward plot to match.

In French, Molière demonstrates impressive poetic skill, rhyming the entire work in couplets of roughly 6-foot meter (one more foot than in pentameter, for those learning prosody) and of varying rhythm (i.e., not all iambic). These elements augment the original language’s inherent music.

Certain translations of Tartuffe into English, our group discovered, take liberties with the bawdiness level (raising it) and modulate the degree of rhyming compared to the French version, among differences beyond the universal dilemma regarding works in translation: Some are simply truer to the original than others.

Tartuffe is a play with a societal message—a critique of the false zealot wherever he may rear his head, but particularly within the French religious establishment. It was so effective in touching a nerve in the day that the Church succeeded in convincing King Louis XIV to ban the play, which led to Molière’s significant revisions and redactions. It would be fascinating to be able to read the uncensored version for a clearer picture of Molière’s creative vision and political viewpoint, but alas, it has been lost to history.

Among admirable characters, Dorine shines as the ultimate bold and witty servant; lady of the house Elmire provides subtler moments of comic relief; and her brother Cléante is a great voice of reason advising the rest of the family. A kind of echo of Orgon, the young Damis lacks his father’s severe blindness to the impostor’s potential villainy.

Master of the house, Orgon, like his mother Madame Pernelle, is quite simply a blustering idiot and, I would argue, Molière’s primary satirical target as the French society archetype of the unthinking hothead. So easily and completely duped by vice in the guise of virtue, Orgon extends his obstinacy to the point of dismissing all his family’s concerns and doubting all their testimonies. He must, and does, see for himself.

At last, and late in the play, we come to the title character. Tartuffe represents the hypocritical icon pretending to be a holy pauper whom Orgon has taken in, but it is really Orgon who is taken in by Tartuffe. Using the veneer of Heaven, the impostor insinuates himself to gain power, financial reward, and the sexual conquest of the ladies of the house—the mother through lust and the daughter through marriage—and all right under Orgon’s nose. But like the young couple in love, Mariane (Orgon’s daughter) and Valère, Tartuffe serves merely as the fulcrum on which the household’s foolish zeal and reason rise and fall.

Overall, the action keeps a steady pace, and the dramatic developments are interesting and often amusing, but, primarily a play of ideas, Tartuffe studies the nature of morality and its pretensions in the hands of people. With the rather abrupt surviving ending, the Prince of France is exalted as a practically omniscient god swooping in to solve all conflicts swiftly and at once, dispensing justice against the impostor Tartuffe and supporting his loyal subject Orgon. The ass-kissing on Molière’s part is obvious, if understandable.

Despite this positive turn, with Orgon unchanged and a household saved from itself, it is zeal and emotionality—not reason—that emerge victorious.

Through the main characters’ portrayal, Molière manages to declare mixed results. After all, to adapt Obi-Wan Kenobi’s line from the film Star Wars: Episode IV: A New Hope, “Who’s the more foolish—the fool or the fool who follows him?” Who is the more dangerous figure? The cowardly, deceitful impostor or the extremist who violently shifts from blind zeal to blind rage in response to him? As layered in vice as Tartuffe is, Molière seems to condemn the latter more than the former. At least Tartuffe has a purpose, a method to his menace, whereas Orgon is aimlessly volatile.

Importantly, rationality, the one true weapon against the cowardly, hidden vice posing as and extolling virtue–that phenomenon the French call l’hypocrisie–arises from neither Orgon nor his Sovereign, but from his policing brother-in-law. As the curtains close, this measured man Cléante, and perhaps to a lesser extent the ill-respected and snarky Dorine, seems forever fated to keep his sister’s husband out of the trouble into which he so easily falls and drags the rest of his family.

If Molière has inserted himself into his most famous work, surely it is in the form of Cléante, but the extent to which post-publication surgery disfigured this apparent face of reason can never be known. Tangible life lessons and social critiques come through nonetheless, as Molière’s Tartuffe trains the discerning reader to think about, if not quite see through, even his own comedy’s “Tartuffery.”

My ratings: 4 out of 5 stars for the French edition*, 3 stars for the English translation**


* Goodreads.com metadata on the French edition I used:

I created this edition on Goodreads.
Le Tartuffe
0.00  ·  rating details  ·  0 ratings  ·  1 review
Paperback, Classiques Larousse – Texte Integral, 200 pages
Published 1990 by Larousse (first published February 5th 1669)
original title Le Tartuffe ou l’Imposteur
ISBN 2038713151

** Goodreads.com metadata on the English translation I used:

TARTUFFE OR THE HYPOCRITE
by Jean-Baptiste Poquelin Moliere, Curtis Hidden Page (Translator), Dagny and John Vickers (Producers)
Average: 3.65 of 5 stars  ·  rating details  ·  19,983 ratings  ·  427 reviews
Released January 2000.
ebook, EBook #2027, 126 pages.
Published October 26th 2008 by Project Gutenberg
http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2027 (first published 1664)