Inspiration and creativity in Conan Doyle's Magic Door

This is yet another article in the series inspired by Through the Magic Door, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's little volume of essays about books, reading and associated topics.

This post highlights two propositions that Conan Doyle makes about inspiration and creative people: he suggests that inspiration comes from outside and that creative people are often frail and die young.  

It also mentions a few other writers in connection with these topics. 

Inspiration comes from outside
Conan Doyle says this about the source of inspiration:

“...the feeling which every writer of imaginative work must have, that his supreme work comes to him in some strange way from without, and that he is only the medium for placing it upon the paper...Is it possible that we are indeed but conduit pipes from the infinite reservoir of the unknown? Certainly it is always our best work which leaves the least sense of personal effort.”

That last sentence is often very true. Rudyard Kipling said something similar when he gave his Daemon credit for assisting and inspiring him in his work: he said that the writing he did under this influence was 'frictionless'. 

Conan Doyle's mention of a conduit pipe reminds me of another of Rudyard Kipling's Daemon-related images: he likens the end of a good run of genuine, friction-free creativity to “the water-hammer click of a tap turned off.”

Many other writers have speculated about where their inspiration might come from. 

Robert Louis Stevenson for example said that it came from vivid dreams caused by the Brownies!

Frances Hodgson Burnett thought of herself as just the custodian rather than the originator of her gift. So where did this gift come from then?

Maybe some fiction writers really do channel or download their works and ideas from somewhere.

Another scene of interest from a Dion Fortune occult novel

As mentioned in the article inspired by The Demon Lover, there are scenes in Dion Fortune's occult novels that have particular relevance to some of the topics on here. 

This post features another of these scenes, this time from Moon Magic (1956). It presents the idea that people with certain metaphysical powers and the right training and intention can use occult methods to draw others to them for mutual benefit.

Lilith Le Fay calls out for a colleague
Moon Magic contains much occult-related material that people who live entirely in the three-dimensional universe would dismiss as ridiculous rubbish, purple prose, or, as Richard Hannay describes a speech he makes in John Buchan's Greenmantle, confounded nonsense!

I skip through many of the occult scenes myself, but find this novel worth reading for the commentary-inspiring material that it contains.  

Lilith Le Fay is one of the main characters. She is a priestess of Isis and a practitioner of ceremonial magic. 

She needs to find someone to work with her when she performs the rituals. She advertises the job vacancy in a very unusual way:

“There was nothing for me to do but watch and wait. I could not go and find the people I wanted; I had to wait for them to find me. This I knew they would do because I was sounding the call of Isis, vibrating it on the Inner Planes as a wireless operator sounds his key-call. Those who were on my wave-length would soon be picking it up, and then curious combinations of circumstances would do the rest. They would come from the ends of the earth like homing pigeons, picking up the call subconsciously and not knowing what it was that drew them.“

The procedure may seem preposterous and the practitioner delusional, but it works! Lilith Le Fay attracts the right man for the job by broadcasting on the right wavelength: she puts out the call, and a man who has the qualities that she requires eventually appears in her life.

The shadow side of the Moon Magic scene
Most people will immediately dismiss the suggestion that some people can communicate via other dimensions as very unlikely indeed - or even crazy. However, when people who are interested in unseen influences and have had certain unusual experiences are first introduced to this idea, they find that it makes sense and could explain a lot. 

Further consideration by such people may cause them to realise that, assuming it is correct, this proposition has some alarming implications; they may rightly suspect that the forces involved do not always work for the benefit of the people using or affected by them. 

In particular, there is a negative or shadow side to the calling phenomenon. 

A few more quotations from L. M. Montgomery's Green Gables Letters

Many elements in the life, letters and works of L. M. (Lucy Maud) Montgomery are of great relevance to this blog; several topics and publications associated with her have been featured or referenced on here in various articles in the past. 

This article contains some further extracts of interest from The Green Gables Letters, which were written by Lucy Maud to her pen friend Ephraim Weber between 1905 and 1909. 

Each of these extracts reminds me of something that I have read in the works of another writer.

More wise words about writing
Everything that L. M. Montgomery has to say about the art of writing, the compulsion to write for example, is of great interest and worth highlighting. 

This is her advice to Ephraim Weber:

“...don’t give up writing; it’s the best method of soul cultivation there is; even if you never published another thing the writing of it would bring you a beatitude.”

This reminds me of what Steve Hassan has to say about how cult leavers benefit from writing their story down.

The battle between the Orange and the Green
The connection between Irish Catholics and the colour green  has been mentioned earlier. Their long-term enemies the Irish Protestants favour the colour orange. 

The battle continued when Irish people emigrated to the New World. 

This amusing anecdote describes an incident outside the building of L. M. Montgomery's American publisher L. C. Page & Company:

“In July a big party of Orangemen were going on a picnic. At the Boston North St. station, they saw a copy of Anne of Green Gables bound in green on a newsstand. They took, or pretended to take—they were likely half drunk—the title as a personal insult, marched across to the Page building, the band playing horrible dirges, and nearly mobbed the place. One of the editors came out and told them that although the title might be offensive “the heroine, Anne, had hair of a distinct orange hue.” Thereupon they “adopted” Anne as their mascot, gave her three cheers and went on their way rejoicing.”

So the Orangemen accepted Anne's orange connection and overlooked the green. 

This story has made me think of the rejection by both the Red and the White sides in the Wars of the Roses of a member of Anthony Armstrong's Prune family because he wore a pink rose!  By coincidence, L. M. Montgomery says in one of her letters that she much prefers pink roses to red ones.

Oscar Wilde's interesting words about the colour green

The many occurrences of the colour green in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's essay collection Through the Magic Door  inspired an investigation into green references and connections in Conan Doyle's life and works.

I came across an interesting statement about the colour green by the poet and playwright Oscar Wilde along the way. His words have inspired yet another article about this colour. 

Oscar Wilde on the colour green 
As mentioned in the article about Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes and the colour green, Oscar Wilde, who incidentally often wore a green carnation, wrote an essay called Pen, Pencil, And Poison - A Study In Green about an art critic who was a secret poisoner. 

The artist, author and suspected serial killer in question was Thomas Griffiths Wainewright, who was mentioned by Conan Doyle in a Sherlock Holmes story and was a friend of Charles Lamb.

Wilde's descriptions of the man, his life and his crimes are mostly irrelevant here, but as a matter of interest Wainewright spent his boyhood at Turnham Green, he was educated at the Greenwich Academy, and he later had a pomona-green chair in his library.

Wilde's essay contains these thought-provoking words about Wainewright and the colour green:

“He had that curious love of green, which in individuals is always the sign of a subtle artistic temperament, and in nations is said to denote a laxity, if not a decadence of morals.“

Green has always been my favourite colour. Why is this curious? I like the idea of the artistic temperament though! 

Two green-loving peoples
When it comes to the love of green in nations, Wilde is probably referring to various Islamic countries and what is now the Irish Republic. Both Muslims and Irish Catholics favour the colour green, and Conan Doyle, who like Wilde was an Irishman, was well aware of this.

In Conan Doyle's Green Flag, Arab tribesmen capture the Irish regimental flag. One of their sheikhs says that by its colour it might well belong to the people of the true faith - i.e. Islam.

More about John Buchan and the colour green

Looking for reasonably significant references to the colour green in John Buchan's books involves eliminating a very large number of descriptions of natural features such as uplands and downs, mountains and moors, water and trees, not to mention discarding a large quantity of protective outdoor clothing such as felt hats, capes and tweed coats. The much smaller number of occurrences of specific shades such as apple green and olive green are not of much interest either. 

After the routine references to the colour green have been removed, some examples of interest remain; it has taken two articles to cover what might be described as “the best of the rest”. 

The first article about John Buchan and the colour green  contains green references taken from his writings; this article contains more such references, and it also lists some green people and places of interest in his life.

Some miscellaneous green references
This section of the article has been inspired by some amusing material in Buchan's Prince of the Captivity that I quoted in the article about his Island of Sheep: 

“There were too many houses at Bournemouth, and too many people at Broadstairs, and a horrible band in green jackets at Eastbourne, and a man who made ugly faces at Littlehampton...”

Using that as a model, I have listed some miscellaneous, mostly minor, green references from various novels.

There is an archaeologist called Wintergreen, some green lizards, some wallpaper with pink and green parrots, an envelope heavily sealed with green wax and a strange girl dressed in an unusual shade of green who wears one green glove in The Dancing Floor; there is a Liberal candidate called Orlando Greenstone, a knitted tea-cosy in purple and green and an ancient hostelry called the Green Tree in Castle Gay.

There is a man called Green, a little green lamp, more green lizards, a Border dining club whose members wear faded green coats, green face paint and a translucent green tablet in The Island of Sheep; there is veined green marble, green alabaster, green imperial jade, two green doors and an emerald necklace in Huntingtower.

There is a man called Greenlees and a green drawing room in A Gap in the Curtain; there are green crabs, a green awning, green wooden seats and many references to Greenland in A Prince of the Captivity; in addition to the material already quoted, there are green sun-shutters, green sickness, a pink and green hearthrug and a green dressing gown in Greenmantle.

Something about John Buchan and the colour green

After listing some connections and references to the colour green in the life and works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and covering some similar occurrences of this colour in the life and works of Rudyard Kipling, the next step was to look for green connections in the life and works of John Buchan. 

Buchan's works certainly contain a very large number of references to the colour green, but they are mostly casual and incidental. Many come from his frequent and routine descriptions of landscapes and the sea for example, and some just describe clothes of a colour suitable for wearing in the countryside and other wide open spaces. His books would greatly shrink if all these adjectives of colour were removed, but this would make little difference to most of the stories!

Even so, I have found some green references that can't be discounted quite so easily.

Buchan's exciting adventure story Greenmantle is an obvious candidate for inclusion, but its green aspects have mostly been covered already. 

The colour green in The Three Hostages
The Three Hostages has also been the subject of a previous article, but the green elements were not mentioned as they were not of particular interest at the time. 

A major character is called Doctor Greenslade.

One of the cryptic clues to the location of the hostages is “the green fields of Eden”.

One of the hostages, who is hidden in plain sight in a low-class dance hall, is frequently referred to as “the girl in green”.

A small green bottle plays a large part in defeating the villain Dominick Medina.

When Richard Hannay is sent for treatment to the practitioner Madame Breda, he finds that her front door has been newly painted a vivid green.

Richard Hannay tells his young friend Archie Roylance to look out for a green light. Archie is a great birdwatching enthusiast; nesting greenshanks and green sandpipers are mentioned in this connection.

Minor references include a set of green Chinese jars and a green herb fire.

Two temptation scenes in Jonathan Stroud’s Lockwood books

This article has something to say about what might be called the temptation of Lucy Carlyle, a major character in Jonathan Stroud's Lockwood & Co. books, by a whited sepulchre of a woman who goes by the name of Penelope Fittes.

The two featured temptation scenes are of particular interest because there are similar scenes in other books that I like, many of which have previously been featured or mentioned on here.

Penelope Fittes is head of the Fittes Agency, the oldest and biggest psychical detection agency; she is one of the most powerful and influential people in the country.

She is a very glamorous and elegant businesswoman. At first she appears to be a good person and well disposed towards Anthony Lockwood and his colleagues, but she is not what she seems. She is gradually revealed to be a ruthless exploiter and destroyer of people, living and dead. She has many dark secrets; she has much blood on her hands.

The first temptation of Lucy Carlyle
In The Whispering Skull, the second book in the series, a member of the Fittes Agency flatters Lucy Carlyle and tries to lure her away from Lockwood & Co.: 

“Ms. Carlyle, you’re clearly the most intelligent of your team. And you’ve some Talent, too, if everything I’ve heard is true. Surely you don’t want to hang around with these losers any longer. You’ve got a career to think of. I know you had an interview with Fittes a while ago; I know they failed you, but in my opinion”— he smiled again— “they made a bad mistake. Now, I have a little influence within the organization. I can pull strings, get you a position within the company, just think: instead of eking out a living here, you could be at Fittes House, with all its power at your disposal.”

This makes Lucy very angry. She likes her life as an employee of the Lockwood Agency and she likes her colleagues Anthony Lockwood and George Cubbins, who are in any case very far from being losers. She tells her tempter that she is quite happy where she is.

This offer may seem relatively harmless if rather patronising: the Fittes man recognises talent when he sees it and just wants to recruit a good person for his team. However, it is Penelope Fittes who is behind this and further attempts to recruit Lucy: she wants to make use of her gifts, and whatever she wants she is determined to get.

Cults and the inversion of values

This article contains two examples of people who neglected or abandoned personal responsibilities in favour of working for the cause. Both cases involve the same, Catholicism-based, cult. 

The material is based on posts on the old Conservative Conspiracy Forum; it consists of extracts that I found online and comments that I made at the time together with a few afterthoughts.

Abandoning the sick and dying
“...I slowly realized that behavior opposite to my natural self was the most rewarded....When I as a devoted physician would leave my duties for a weekend, to cook for 80 people on a weekend meeting, that seemed to be the ultimate proof of my trust in the voice of Jesus in our midst. 

When I left a dear person who was dying and I had promised to assist, to help out practically in the movement and that person died when I was absent, that was the proof of my love for the forsaken Jesus.”

This is very horrific indeed, all the more as Christians are enjoined to heal the sick and comfort the dying.  Where are the Christian values of love and compassion here? 

The worst aspect is that not only are members encouraged or ordered to perform such actions, they are commended for it. They are told that it shows how superior and committed they are; it really shows how far under the evil influences they are. 

Neglecting children 
“We missed our son's confirmation, left a teenager for 3 weeks alone while we went to school in Rome because we were told it was the will of God. We missed so many family events and were told that 'we had to leave the family in order to follow God. We would find them again in Heaven.'”

This is typical of many cults. It confirms what I have seen and experienced for myself: “We must make sacrifices.”

More about Walter de la Mare's Return

The first article about Walter de la Mare's horror novel The Return ended at the point where Arthur Lawford, whose appearance has changed because he is possessed by the ghost of a dead Frenchman, has convinced both his wife Sheila and the vicar Mr Bethany that he is not an imposter.

They now have to decide how to deal with 'this awful business'.

They call in a doctor; he is not much use, which is not surprising as Lawford gives him only a modified version of what happened in the cemetery. 

They want to avoid comment or scandal so invent some cover stories for their friends and the servants: they tell people that Arthur Lawford is staying in his room and not seeing anyone because he is very tired and ill, and that the 'stranger' who has been seen in the house is a new doctor. 

From this point on, the story itself did not hold much of my attention. I couldn't find much to inspire commentary as I skimmed quickly through the details of the web of deception and Arthur Lawford's impersonation of the new doctor, the descriptions of Arthur's inner state, his disagreements with his wife and his excursions, not to mention the long philosophical discussions about life. I did however find a few more connections and a little incidental material of interest.

Another reminder of Jonathan Stroud's Lockwood 
Arthur Lawford makes a new friend, someone with the strange name of Herbert Herbert. This man believes Arthur's story about being possessed by the Frenchman when he fell asleep in the churchyard, and theorises that Nicholas Sabathier's restless ghost had been lingering on by his grave waiting for someone to ambush because he still has some living to do. 

Then, Herbert says, a godsend in the form of Arthur Lawford comes along. Arthur has been suffering from a dispiriting illness, he is half asleep, tired out and depressed; his weak inner state makes him a suitable vehicle for possession. This is spot on, and similar to what George Cubbins says to Lucy and Lockwood about ghosts homing in on vulnerable people in the previously mentioned article about Jonathan Stroud's Empty Grave.

Some writers with Celtic connections

The starting point for this article was a line in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novella The Parasite, which has been the subject of many articles.

Austin Gilroy thinks that the witch Helen Penclosa got her hooks deep into him because of his Celtic origin and that his colleague Charles Sadler got off lightly because of his phlegmatic Saxon temperament.

This made me wonder if people of Celtic origin really are more open to unseen influences than those of other ancestries. I have Irish connections on one side and Scottish on the other, so this topic is of great interest to me.

I remembered that some of the writers featured or mentioned in this blog had Cornish, Irish, Scottish or Welsh connections; I decided to do a quick investigation and list any more people on here who are known or appear to be of Celtic descent on one or both sides.

People of interest with Celtic connections
Conan Doyle may have been born in Edinburgh, but he had Irish Catholic parents.

Joan Aiken’s Canadian-born mother was a MacDonald, which suggests Scottish ancestors.

J. M. Barrie was a Scotsman.

Enid Blyton had an Irish grandmother on her father’s side.

Angela Brazil had a Scottish grandfather on her mother’s side.

The Brontës had an Irish father and a Cornish mother.

John Buchan was a Scotsman.

Taylor Caldwell was of Scottish origin on both sides. She was descended from the MacGregor clan on her mother’s side.

James Cameron has remote Scottish connections.

Andrew Carnegie, whose public libraries have inspired many writers, was a Scotsman.

The family of Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) had some Irish connections.

Eoin Colfer is Irish.

Marie Corelli’s real father was almost certainly the Scottish poet Charles Mackay.

John Buchan, L. M. Montgomery and some snakes

I neither love and revere snakes nor hate and fear them. I once horrified a friend by trying to stroke a big snake in a small zoo. I couldn’t understand why she reacted the way she did! 

Snakes certainly bring out strong emotions in people, and in fiction they represent evil more often than good.

The discovery that both Stella Benson and Antonia White were lovers of snakes made me wonder whether any more writers of interest shared their views. Did anyone other than Stella Benson believe that they had the soul of a snake?

I looked for obvious personal opinions as opposed to standard Biblical references where they are classic symbols of evil.

I couldn’t find any more positive references to snakes by the people featured on here apart from Gerald Durrell, who doesn’t really count because he was a conservationist and zookeeper who loved all wildlife.

I found that neither John Buchan nor L. M. Montgomery had a good word to say about snakes. Buchan used them to describe some of his villains and L. M. Montgomery obviously loathed and feared them.

A few snake references from John Buchan
This is from The Thirty-Nine Steps:

“...the real boss... with an eye like a rattlesnake.”

“Then he looked steadily at me, and that was the hardest ordeal of all. There was something weird and devilish in those eyes, cold, malignant, unearthly, and most hellishly clever. They fascinated me like the bright eyes of a snake. “

This is from The Power House:

“It was with profound relief that I found myself in Piccadilly in the wholesome company of my kind. I had carried myself boldly enough in the last hour, but I would not have gone through it again for a king's ransom. Do you know what it is to deal with a pure intelligence, a brain stripped of every shred of humanity? It is like being in the company of a snake.”

This is from Mr Standfast:

“Blenkiron got out of his chair and stood above me. 'I tell you, Dick, that man makes my spine cold. He hasn’t a drop of good red blood in him. The dirtiest apache is a Christian gentleman compared to Moxon Ivery. He’s as cruel as a snake and as deep as hell.'”

84 years of John Buchan’s Island of Sheep

The Island of Sheep, published as The Man from the Norlands in the US, is the fifth and final book in the series of John Buchan’s Richard Hannay adventures; it follows The Three Hostages.

The Island of Sheep was first published in July 1936, so its 84th anniversary is this month. 

I said in the article about Mr Standfast that The Island of Sheep was lower in my estimation than The Thirty-Nine Steps, Greenmantle and The Three Hostages. The latter was published in 1924; the 12-year gap between The Island of Sheep and its immediate predecessor suggests to me that John Buchan had finished with Richard Hannay but finally gave in to pressure from publishers and demands from dedicated Hannay fans for more exciting adventure stories.

The new thriller that he produced does not in my opinion have the appeal of some of the earlier books. Something is missing. Rudyard Kipling would have said that Buchan’s creative spirit or daemon was not involved in the construction process. 

Much of the material is familiar from the previous books; there are many descriptions of fishing, wildlife, sheep and Buchan’s beloved Scottish landscape and its people for example. 

There isn’t much that inspires commentary apart from a few miscellaneous passages and Richard Hannay’s ambivalent feelings and ideas about his comfortable life.

Richard Hannay’s inner conflicts
At the start of The Three Hostages, Richard Hannay was living a quiet life as a country gentleman. He had paid his dues and earned it. Having to leave it all to go on a mission seemed like a fate worse than death to him. 

At the start of The Island of Sheep, Richard Hannay has been living the quiet life for many years. His attitude towards it has changed: it is much more complicated and ambivalent this time around. 

96 years of John Buchan’s Three Hostages

The Three Hostages is the fourth in the series of John Buchan’s Richard Hannay adventures. 

It was first published in two instalments in the (London) Graphic Magazine in April and May 1924 then as a book in June 1924, so this month is the 96th anniversary of its first appearance.

The Three Hostages has already been the subject of one article, and there are references to the evil Dominick Medina and his powers of hypnotism in a few others.

So what more is there to say about this story?

There are two minor scenes that inspire commentary; one is rather painful to read and one is amusing.  The first is where Richard Hannay is very reluctantly recalled to action and the other is where he reveals to the enemy that he has been playing a part all along.

A point of particular interest is that Dominick Medina behaves like a cult leader.

Back to the battlefield
People who have had similar experiences will understand how Richard Hannay feels when he is asked to leave his beloved home, family and farm to take part in an investigation.

He receives a letter that destroys his peace of mind. It is as if his Eden has been invaded by a snake:

“I…felt very angry. Why couldn't the fools let me alone? As I went upstairs I vowed that not all the cajolery in the world would make me budge an inch from the path I had set myself. I had done enough for the public service and other people's interests, and it was jolly well time that I should be allowed to attend to my own.”

Diana Wynne Jones and the shortage of reading material

Diana Wynne Jones is yet another writer who was a voracious reader as a child. Unfortunately, she never had nearly enough books to satisfy her appetite for reading material. As she put it, she suffered from a perpetual book famine.

Her book Reflections: On the Magic of Writing contains some interesting - although very painful to read - autobiographical material; it was the source of an amusing anecdote, and it also provides some information about the vital part that books and reading played in her early life.

A few extracts will show what she was up against when trying to obtain more books to read. 

A starvation diet of books
Diana Wynne Jones’s father was stingy and tight-fisted in the extreme: 

“...birthdays were the one occasion when my father could be persuaded to buy books. By begging very hard, I got Puck of Pook’s Hill when I was ten and Greenmantle when I was twelve. But my father was inordinately mean about money. He solved the Christmas book-giving by buying an entire set of Arthur Ransome books, which he kept locked in a high cupboard and dispensed one between the three of us each year.”

So she too liked Rudyard Kipling and John Buchan! 

I would have felt very short-changed indeed if all I was given for Christmas was one Arthur Ransome book - and he is not one of my favourite authors anyway!

Violet Needham, Pandora, and Mr Papadopoulis

Violet Needham wrote some high-quality books for children. They were published between the years 1939 and 1957. 

Apart from a brief mention in the article about Anthony Hope, whose fictional country Ruritania may well have inspired her fictional Empire and surrounding countries, Violet Needham has not previously been featured on here.

Some of her books, the Stormy Petrel stories in particular, are full of exciting and romantic adventures in glamorous settings and some even have supernatural elements, but most of them are not relevant to this blog. 

While working on articles about John Buchan's books, I was reminded of some characters and scenes from one of Violet Needham’s books. I decided to take another look at Pandora of Parrham Royal (1951), which I last read many years ago. 

I bought a copy online and renewed my acquaintance with the material that I vaguely remembered. In the light of what I have since learned about unseen influences, parts of the book seem much more significant now than they did when I first read it. 

Pandora of Parrham Royal may not be one of Violet Needham’s best books when it comes to the characters and storyline - I much prefer the Stormy Petrel series - but it has inspired an article because it has some elements in common with John Buchan's books and it provides yet another example of someone who uses occult powers to get what they want.

Much of the plot and most of the characters in Pandora of Parrham Royal are not relevant to this article. 

The main character of interest is called Themistocles Papadopoulis. 

He has attributes in common with some really horrible black magicians who have been featured on here, although, unlike Stella Gibbons’s occultist Esmé Scarron and Robin Jarvis’s appalling warlock Nathaniel Crozier, he is not really evil nor is he involved with black magic as such.

About Mr Papadopoulis
Mr Papadopoulis has a touch of the typical Luciferian hero/villain about him. He is a man of mystery. He has dark hair and melancholy black eyes that sometimes smoulder with passion; he sometimes gives an impression of great power and arrogance; he is magnetic and charming; he smiles ironically and has a compelling gaze; he also hypnotises people. He makes people like him whether they want to or not.

100 years of John Buchan’s Mr Standfast

This day, August 26th, is John Buchan’s birthday. This article marks the 144th anniversary of his birth.

This year, 2019, is the 100th anniversary of the first publication of John Buchan’s spy thriller Mr Standfast.  

Mr Standfast is the third book in the series of five Richard Hannay adventures; it follows Greenmantle and precedes The Three Hostages.

I think of Greenmantle and The Three Hostages as being the best of the Richard Hannay books; I find Mr Standfast and The Island of Sheep the least enjoyable to read; I put The Thirty-Nine Steps in the middle of the two groups.

The main problem with Mr Standfast is the effect that it doesn’t have. I find it less enthralling than other books in the series. To me, Mr Standfast is more of the same; it is The Thirty-Nine Steps with World War I scenes added.

Although most of the small amount of inspirational material that Mr Standfast contains has already appeared in two previous articles, there is still a little more to say about the book. I want to highlight a few quotations and scenes that I particularly like.

John Buchan and the hate-filled ‘humanitarians’

This article is a companion to the one featuring Rafael Sabatini’s wise words on the subject of equality as a by-product of envy. 

There are some related ideas in Mr Standfast, one of John Buchan’s Richard Hannay spy thrillers. Buchan suggests that humanitarianism and pacifism are a by-product of hatred:

“'Hazlitt was the academic Radical of his day,' he said. 'He is always lashing himself into a state of theoretical fury over abuses he has never encountered in person.

Men who are up against the real thing save their breath for action.'“

These words were written over 100 years ago, but they are still very relevant. They probably always were and always will be. 

I have seen for myself that some people ignore the suffering around them that they could or should be doing something about in favour of getting all worked up and ranting on about some injustice far away. 

Getting things the wrong way round is a characteristic of evil. 

And yes, letting off steam is often a substitute for action; the real activists just get on with it. The more noise some people make, the less they actually achieve. As Shakespeare put it in Macbeth:

“It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.”

More words about writing from L. M. Montgomery

This article contains a few more hard-hitting quotations on the subject of writers and writing from L. M. Montgomery.

She seems ambivalent about the whole business of being a writer, seeing it as both a gift and a curse:

“You'll never write anything that really satisfies you though it may satisfy other people.”

From Emily Climbs

This may be true in some cases - artists often feel that their works fall far short of their visions - but the converse also applies: some writers may be proud of their productions while their readers may not think much of them.

Disapproval, criticism and discouragement

People who read a lot are often criticised for it, and people who try to write are often discouraged. L. M. Montgomery obviously experienced much disapproval herself:

“’I think this story-writing business is the foolishest yet,’ scoffed Marilla. ‘You’ll get a pack of nonsense into your heads and waste time that should be put on your lessons. 

Reading stories is bad enough but writing them is worse.’”

From Anne of Green Gables

Although this disapproving attitude does a lot of damage, that last line seems quite funny to me.

103 years of John Buchan’s Greenmantle

Last year was the 103rd anniversary of the publication of John Buchan’s Thirty-Nine Steps; 2019 is the 103rd anniversary of the first appearance of the sequel, the classic spy thriller Greenmantle.

This book was written partly as propaganda and in the hope that it would help to bring America into the First World War.

The first instalment of this exciting adventure story with a wonderful title and a ‘man with a mission on the run in enemy territory’ scenario appeared in the magazine Land and Water in July 1916, and the entire story was published in book form later that year.

Greenmantle was a great success. It is still very popular, all the more because of current events in the Middle East. However, a radio dramatisation was dropped from the BBC’s schedule in 2005 for containing ‘unsuitable and sensitive material’.

Greenmantle is my favourite John Buchan book. It is an old friend. I have already mentioned it briefly in an article about Robert. A. Heinlein’s Citizen of the Galaxy, and I covered the spying aspect in articles about energy vampires and John Buchan's fellow author of exciting adventure stories, Rafael Sabatini.

The best of Greenmantle

It is difficult to think of anything more or something new and original to say about this enthralling story with its excitement, adventure, danger and double dealing.

Greenmantle has much to offer its readers. It has educational background information; it has moving scenes and amusing scenes, and there is some material that has a wider application.

Two small synchronicities earlier this week

There are several articles on here that describe some of the small synchronicities and coincidences I have experienced over the years.

In many cases, something that I had been thinking about or wishing I could see manifested itself in my outer life.

I now have two more of these small coincidences to report.

A few days ago, I created a post for the Alternaticity Project Forum in which I mentioned the white and blue lozenge-checked flag of Bavaria. I then started drafting an article about John Buchan’s Greenmantle, to be published on the 103rd anniversary in July. I like to give myself plenty of time for and do a little work each day on such articles, as it takes a while to find something new to say about a classic book.

Later that day while I was out on various errands, I looked out of the bus window and saw something bizarre even by London standards: a man wearing a light blue and white lozenge-checked suit and a blue bowler hat. He was standing outside a hospital; perhaps he was a children’s entertainer who had come out for a cigarette.

A short time later, a van pulled up beside my bus as it waited at some traffic lights. The van had ‘Greenmantle’ on its side. It stayed beside my bus for a while after we moved off.

In this case, Greenmantle was the name of a landscaping and garden maintenance company. I had never seen one of their vans before; I didn’t even know that they existed.

This reminds me of some of the synchronicities I experienced in 2013, when I saw some very significant names on the trucks and vans around my bus.

I wonder what is behind all this and what the next synchronous events will be.