Obtain The Soldiers Art (A Dance To The Music Of Time, #8) Developed By Anthony Powell Displayed In Mobi
fantastic book in this series, perhaps one of my favourites so far, The intensity is sure turning up, which perhaps explains my fascination with this volume, Also, I can't help wondering if Powell is trying to bring off all possible pairings between his characters or what, This is the eighth volume in the series and my favorite by far, With Widmerpool having a starring role instead of the cameos he has had in past volumes, Bithel's difficultiesalthough sad it was definitely comical and the reappearance of Stringham and Sunny Farebrother, there was lots to keep the reader involved.
Never having been in the military it was a bit difficult to keep track of all the acronyms however, War comes to Jenkins' circle in this volumesoldiers come and go out of civilian households and relationships, and bombs fall on some wellknown characters.
This was not my favorite of the series but still quite good and feels like a necessary step betweenand, All the boys of the first novel make an appearance in the narrative at some point, with Widmerpool figuring quite large, and all the more odious for it.
It should come as no surprise for the readers who follow the movements of the Dance that Anthony Powell likes to start each episode with an allegorical scene, a trigger for the memories of the past and a sort of preview of events to come.
For the number eight novel, the simple act of Nick Jenkins buying a greatcoat at the start ofis loaded with hidden messages and premonitions of danger.
The first scene is a London tailor shop that specializes in costumes for the theatre,
One of these effigies wore Harlequin's diagonally spangled tights the other, scarlet fulldress uniform of some infantry regiment, allegorical figures, so it seemed, symbolising dualism of the antithetical stockintrade surrounding them.
. . Civil and Military Work and Play Detachment and Involvment Tragedy and Comedy War and Peace Life and Death
Such careful coreography of the story makes the reviewer's job easier, but conveys little of the emotional turmoil brought by the war into the lives of the Dancers.
And, at least for me, "The Soldier's Art" proved to be the most heartwrenching and disturbing episode so far in the chronicles of Nicholas Jenkins and friends.
I have remarked before on the elegance of style and sharp critical eye that first attracted me
to Powell's work, I have also remarked often on the apparent disconnect between the narrator, a passive observer, and the tumultous live surging around him, Well, this time around the blitz is striking painfully close to the heart, taking away some of the most loved characters in the series, bringing down the fortunes of some, raising the stock of others.
Suddenly, everything is up in the air, and the thread of life can be cut down in an instant, I am not giving names here, who survives, who doesn't, The yearshould be enough indication of the random and merciless nature of the Hand of Fate that comes down from the sky in a rain of fire, on the pure of heart and on the cheaters alike.
The musical arhitecture that defined earlier novels is reflected once again in a three part split of the story : a lengthy opening movement, detailing regimental life a middle sequence of a brief respite during a leave in London a dramatic finale that brings out into the open long held secrets and rivalries, then scatters the players to the four winds.
To continue with the musical concerto analogy, the major theme is sung at first by a raid on the division's headquarters in Ireland, a night spectacle of searchlights crisscrossing the sky, looking for Luftwafe planes, punctuated by the heavy bass of explosions nearby.
Nick is in a sour mood, completely disillusioned with the army lifestyle since his first honorable instinct to volunteer,
Since then I had served a million years at these Headquarters, come to possess no life but the army, no master but Widmerpool, no table companions but Biggs and Soper.
His uncouth companions are even making fun of his education and bookworm inclinations:
I no longer attempted to conceal the habit, with all its undesirable implications.
At least admitting to it put one in a recognisably odd category of persons from whom less need be expected than the normal men.
In the course of performing his sublieutenant duties, Jenkins has to deal with bullies, with drunkards, with laziness, malice, arrogance a full panoply of human weakness exacerbated by the confined quarters and by the lack of any entertainment or feminine presence.
By far the most aggravating presence turns out to be our old acquaintance Widmerpool, a perennial guest star in each of the previous novels, infamous for his unexpected and often hilarious appearances in the least likely locations.
His character until now has been kept ambiguous, as if Nick Jenkins was undecided between laughter, pity and grudging admiration for Widmerpool all encompassing ambitions.
Daily interactions now, from a subordinate position, have finally lifted the veil of ambivalence from my eyes and put me firmly in the camp of Widmerpool detractors.
I simply loathe the patronizing tone he takes with Nick Don't worry, my boy, I'll keep you in the picture, , the machinations he resorts to in order to climb the military ladder, the malicious digging in the mud in order to discover ways to bring down his adversaries, even the fake industrious image he projects of working too hard by inventing useless, unnecessary tasks.
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Despite my criticisms, Widmerpool remains one of the most intriguing characters in the series, an illustration of what every author probably knows : that readers are often attracted not by heroes but by scoundrels.
There was something impressive in his total lack of interest in the fate of all persons except himself, Perhaps it was not the lack of interest in itself common enough to many people but the fact that he was at no pains to conceal this within some more or less hypocritical integument.
The army seems to attract these types of personalities who seek power, social status and then abuse their authority in any way imaginable.
Even Nick admits that Widmerpool is not an isolated case Colonel HogbourneJohnson, Sunny Farebrother and Odo Stevens are cast from the same mold, I have come across the type myself repeatedly, both in my nine months stint in the armed forces felt like nine years and later in the companies I worked for, so I can certify that Powell's aphorism is still valid:
If you want your own way in the army, or elsewhere, it is no good following the rules too meticulously, a canon all great military careers and civil ones abundantly illustrate.
As a side note, one way to identify these personalities is by their lack of a sense of humour, of selfawareness of their ridiculous posing : Widmerpool didn't like being teased
To conclude my notes on this first movement in the novel, Jenkins still has his sense of humour, although it is sorely tested by the regimental routines.
A very few passages of almost burlescue comedy remind me of the effervescent lifestyle of prewar London, as chronicled in earlier novels:
Port, Eric
Yes, Derrick!
Twelve dozen, Eric
That's it, isn't it, Derrick
YOU'VE NEVER FOUND TROLLOPE EASY TO READ
The last shout comes from the lips of the absolute ruler of the tiny kingdom of Nick's division, General Liddament, who I thought a caricature of the professional soldier when I first met him in the previous volume his shout then was "YOu DON'T LIKE PORRIDGE, SOLDIER".
This time around, Jenkins hints at hidden depths in the General, found relaxing in the night with a thick book a capable and resourceful leader who can judge his inferior officers accurately and who likes to keep them on their toes by behaving erratically.
A dark horse, if you will, Liddament might become Nick Jenkins' ticket out of a bad military posting, one where his true talents are wasted:
We live such a short time in the world, it seems a pity not to do the jobs we're suited for.
With Widmerpool already present on the scene, and with life in the regiment firmly closed off against the outside world, I was beginning to wonder how will the magician Powell pull the rabbit out of the hat this time What character will suddenly appear in the least likely circumstance, what Dancer will rejoin the quadrille now Let me say only this: I didn't have any inkling about this, and I was left with my mouth hanging open for a couple of seconds.
Hats off, Mr. Powell! I bow in front of the Master! Time for a breather after a shock like that, so let's head to London for a week of well deserved leave:
I felt more than ever glad a week's leave lay ahead of me, one of those curious escapes that in wartime punctuate army life, far more than a 'holiday', comparable rather with brief and magical entries into another incarnation.
London actually is a whirlwind of activity and social interactions, compared with the boring routines of regimental life, Nick can hardly draw breath, as in the first day of leave he applies for a new job as liaison to the Free French, is invited to dinner by old friends Chips Lowell and Hugh Moreland, and there meets with a couple more rabbits pulled out of the hat by Powell.
In a classical concert the middle movement is a tranquil one, a moment of reflection and contemplation between two more allert themes.
In Powell's script for the eight volume, the order is reversed, and the London visit becomes the most dramatic moment of the whole series so far.
The dance of swords and guns becomes again the game of musical chairs, as some couples get separated, others start living together in sin or with a priest's blessing.
Nick gets some updates on the careers of his friends, most of them also serving in the armed forces, and he maintains his usual discretion about his wife Isobel and his newborn child.
I'm not even sure right now if it is a boy or a girl, I would like to comment more on these romantic entanglements, and on the dark outcome of this sole fateful evening in London, but I don't like spoilers myself and I try to avoid them in my reviews.
If the previous movement made me open my mouth in theatrical surprise, the blitz in London left me speechless with grief, A moment of silence for the often forgotten victims of the air war, on both sides of the conflict, I believe is the only appropriate comment.
gtgtltltgtgtltltgtgtltltgtgtltlt
The next quote is not technically from the beginning of the third movement, but illustrates for me the dualism of restlessness and dread at the prolonged preparations for England to actually join the war theatre:
Sullen reverberations of one kind or another blitz in England, withdrawal in Greece had been providing the most recent noisesoff in rehearsals that never seem to end, breeding a wish that the billed performance would at last ring up its curtain, whatever form that took.
Soon after Jenkins returns from leave the tedious routine of regimental life is shattered by a series of revelations about nefarious activites on the part of officers and petty officers, by a series of new appointments for the main actors, by fresh personal tragedy , and in the last pages of the novel by the sound of thunder as all the instruments in the orchestra strike a powerful chord : Germany invades Russia! The wait is over! The endgame has begun!
I have once again tried to be vague and not spoil the denouement or the new destination for the Dancers.
The promise of the opening allegory is fulfilled as the drama walks side by side with ridiculous, arrogant fools are brough down and minor players show unexpected resilience and fortitude.
The world is definitely changing, social barriers are coming down, life becomes more precious when death hangs up above everybody's head, and the only solution is to look inside yourself and find there the strength to endure.
I have kept for my closing lines a famous Robert Browning poem that gives the title for the current of the dance, a quote that is offered appropriately by one of the unexpected part time actors in the drama,
I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart.
As a man calls for wine before he fights,
I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.
Think first, fight afterwards the soldier's art
One taste of the old time sets all to rights,
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