Book Notes: Norman Maclean, Jane Austen

Quotes from two recent reads.

“Young Men and Fire”, by Norman Maclean

University of Chicago Press, Publication date: ‎ January 1, 1993

When Jansson knew Gisborne was dead, he stretched him out straight on the game trail, built the rocks around him higher, closed his eyes, and then put his glasses back on him so, just in case he woke up, he could see where he was.

page 138

Albini was once telling me about one of his projects, which had primarily to do with predicting the speed of missiles, both those missiles made by others which he had only seen and those he was recommending be built. His comment at the end was that “it’s a lot easier to predict the speed of a missile than that of a wildfire.” Generally, he said, “it’s easier to predict the behavior of objects made by man than natural objects.” Haying lived long enough to absorb a considerable number of lumps and bumps from whatever hovers around outside under the name of “nature,” I said to him, “That shouldn’t have surprised you.”

“No,” he said, “it didn’t. Long ago a science teacher told me, ‘The universe, she is a bitch.’” Several times since, I have thought about this sentence. It’s probably right.

page 258

I, an old man, have written this fire report. Among other things, it was important to me, as an exercise for old age, to enlarge my knowledge and spirit so I could accompany young men whose lives I might have lived on their way to death. I have climbed where they climbed, and in my time I have fought fire and inquired into its nature. In addition, I have lived to get a better understanding of myself and those close to me, many of them now dead. Perhaps it is not odd, at the end of this tragedy where nothing much was left of the elite who came from the sky but courage struggling for oxygen, that I have often found myself thinking of my wife on her brave and lonely way to death.

pages 300, 301

“Mansfield Park” by Jane Austen, 1814

I really like the 1999 film adaptation with Frances O’Connor. Some of my favorite passages were not actually written by Jane Austen:

I suspect you are almost entirely composed of ready opinions not yet shared.

Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.

Apparently we owe them to Patricia Rozema, though this other use of “busy nothings” is in the book:

Dinner was soon followed by tea and coffee, a ten miles’ drive home allowed no waste of hours; and from the time of their sitting down to table, it was a quick succession of busy nothings till the carriage came to the door,

Another great film based on a Jane Austen book is the 1995 “Sense and Sensibility”. My favorite passage in it was again not written by Austen, but by Emma Thompson:

Can the soul really be satisfied with such polite affections?

Plenty of good passages in the book, though it is the Austen book I’ve least liked. The film improves on it significantly.

Back to “Mansfield Park”. The film departs from the book and gives Fanny Price a more active personality. The book has a mixed reputation, but I’ve liked it a lot.

Anyway.

Without studying the business, however, or knowing what he was about, Edmund was beginning at the end of a week of such intercourse, to be a good deal in love; and to the credit of the lady it may be added, that without his being a man of the world or an elder brother, without any of the arts of flattery or the gaieties of small talk, he began to be agreeable to her. She felt it to be so, though she had not foreseen and could hardly understand it; for he was not pleasant by any common rule, he talked no non-sense, he paid no compliments, his opinions were unbending, his attentions tranquil and simple.

Volume I, Chapter VII

The evening had afforded Edmund little pleasure. Miss Crawford had been in gay spirits when they first danced together, but it was not her gaiety that could do him good; it rather sank than raised his comfort, and afterwards — for he found himself still impelled to seek her again, she had absolutely pained him by her manner of speaking of the profession to which be was now on the point of belonging. They had talked — and they had been silent — he had reasoned — she had ridiculed — and they had parted at last with mutual vexation. Fanny, not able to refrain entirely from observing them, had seen enough to be tolerably satisfied. It was barbarous to be happy when Edmund was suffering. Yet some happiness must and would arise, from the very conviction, that he did suffer.

Volume II, Chapter X

Sir Thomas was obliged or obliged himself to wait till the morrow for a knowledge of what had passed between the young people. He then saw Mr. Crawford, and received his account. — The first feeling was disappointment; he had hoped better things; he had thought that an hour’s intreaty from a young man like Crawford could not have worked so little change on a gentle tempered girl like Fanny; but there was speedy comfort in the determined views and sanguine perseverance of the lover; and when seeing such confidence of success in the principal, Sir Thomas was soon able to depend on it himself.

Volume III, Chapter II

“The surprise of your refusal, Fanny, seems to have been unbounded. That you could refuse such a man as Henry Crawford, seems more than they can understand. I said what I could for you; but in good truth, as they stated the case — you must prove yourself to be in your senses as soon as you can, by a different conduct; nothing else will satisfy them. But this is teazing you. I have done. Do not turn away from me.”

“I should have thought,” said Fanny, after a pause of recollection and exertion, “that every woman must have felt the possibility of a man’s not being approved, not being loved by some one of her sex, at least, let him be ever so generally agreeable. Let him have all the perfections in the world, I think it ought not to be set down as certain, that a man must be acceptable to every woman he may happen to like himself.”

Volume III, Chapter IV

In their very last conversation, Miss Crawford, in spite of some amiable sensations, and much personal kindness, had still been Miss Crawford, still shewn a mind led astray and bewildered, and without any suspicion of being so; darkened, yet fancying itself light.

Volume III, Chapter VI