Quo Vadis

Book.  This was written in Polish by Henryk Sienkiewicz back in 1896.  I was alerted to this by the introduction to the Sears catalog of 1897 which mentioned that this book was popular back then.  Having digested Ben-Hur at length (the original novel by Lew Wallace, the 1959 technicolor masterpiece with Charlton Heston, and the 1925 silent version), I figured this was also worthy of attention.  And fortunately, much unlike The Golden Bough or Dante’s Divine Tragedy, I found it very much compelling reading and watching.

            Plot:  a brash, arrogant young tribune, Marcus Vinicius, returns from campaigns in Turkey or Persia and falls in love at first sight with a stunning German woman, Lygia.  It turns out she is not a slave, but a hostage: her father was a German king with whom Rome had a treaty, and as was custom those days, the sovereign gave up his potential heirs as collateral to ensure the treaty was upheld.  It’s a bit confusing: Lygia is both her name and the name of her “country”, really just a Germanic tribe from an area we’d now know as either eastern Germany or western Poland.  If she was from Germania they could have called her Germania, if from Switzerland, Helvetia, etc. 

            Lygia turns out to be a Christian, which was at that time a radical new sect in Rome.  This was AD 64, under the reign of Nero, long before Emperor Constantine converted the entire Empire to Christianity in the early 300s.  Nero is infamous as yet another of these decadent, corrupt, pompous tyrants we love to hate.

            Vinicius is counseled by his uncle, an elder statesman, the eloquent but cynical Petronius.  Petronius contrives to have Lygia transferred from her caretakers Aulus Plautius (Roman general and a pagan) and Pomponia (his wife, a Christian), with whom she has been living – they are childless themselves and have unofficially adopted her as their own daughter, and certainly treat her as such - to Caesar’s palace.  Somewhat confusingly, Nero is often referred to as “Caesar”; although the name is actually the rank of emperor, generally we associate that in Roman context with one particular Roman ruler, Julius Caesar…who never actually held that rank (the empire began with his adopted son Octavian, aka Caesar Augustus). 

            Nero has an official “mistress”, “Empress” Poppea (bottom left, above, from the 1951 film), but theoretically any woman within the palace is fair game for his affections should he choose to take her.  Lygia briefly experiences life in the imperial palace – witnessing, though not participating in, its extravagances (theme: “It’s good to be the King!”) – before escaping to a more run-down part of Rome.  She is “protected” by a huge German Christian named Ursus.  Poppea herself is particularly attractive but also extremely jaded and unfaithful; she apparently has free reign to fool around as she pleases.  She sets her eyes on Vinicius and is thus especially jealous and antagonistic towards Lygia. 

            Vinicius hires a particularly despicable scumbag, a Greek “soothsayer” (more like scam artist) named Chilon, who manages to track down Lygia and alert Vinicius to a huge gathering of Christians outside town.  Vinicius shows up and hears a sermon given by none other than St. Peter himself.  He is struck by the sincerity and honesty of the Christians and the words of St. Peter, and gradually finds himself becoming a Christian himself.  He later discusses this with Petronius, who is sympathetic to the Christians but rather too old, jaded, and cynical to adopt their religion himself.

            Meanwhile, Nero gives orders to Tigellinus, the commander of the Praetorian Guard (the Emperor’s elite bodyguard detachment) to set fire to Rome.  Much of Rome goes up in flames.  Nero’s motivation herein was (A) “performance art!”, (B) something “big and spectactular” for the Romans to remember him by, and (C) possibly razing the ground so he can rebuild Rome…but mostly (A).  Many Romans died and lost their homes and possessions in the fire.  And most dangerously, the widely spread and believed rumor – quite true, it turns out – that Nero himself was responsible for the blaze, raises the strong likelihood of a popular revolt.  It appears that the city’s population won’t come close to being cynical, or aesthetically discerning, enough to appreciate Nero’s “performance art”.  Seeking to deflect blame from himself, Nero is persuaded to blame the Christians.

            Now a huge orgy of violence and terror captures the Christians.  They are arrested en masse and plunged into dungeons and jails, to serve as sport for the audiences of the gladiatorial games.  A series of decadent and elaborate punishments are devised for the poor martyrs:

            1.         Hungry lions devour the Christians

            2.         Other carnivorous animals devour Christians who have been themselves disguised as wild animals by the Romans

            3.         Another series of Christians are crucified on crosses (nailed up, not burned)

            4.         A night-time spectacle of Christians burned alive on pillars

            5.         Finally, Lygia herself is chained to a bull, which Ursus manages to defeat through sheer strength.  The crowd loves the Lygia & Vinicius romance element, and is stunned and impressed by Ursus’ defeat of the animal, and insists on sparing their lives despite Nero’s strong inclination that they be executed anyway.  In fact, the Christians’ extreme patience and acceptance of death persuades the otherwise bloodthirsty Roman audiences that these people could not possibly have started the fires and most likely were innocent, which Chilon himself proclaims to the crowd, much to Nero’s embarrassment. 

            Meanwhile, Petronius falls out of favor with Nero and decides to kill himself – his slave, Eunice joins him in this – while dictating a particularly insulting final statement to be delivered posthumously to Nero.  He invites his closest friends and relatives to a “farewell banquet” where he addresses them; his doctor has slit his wrist and he and his “wife” slowly but peacefully expire among their friends and loved ones, depriving Nero of the opportunity to have him murdered on his own terms.  For his part Nero himself is eventually deposed and forced to stab himself to death.

 Quo Vadis vs. Ben Hur.  Those of us more familiar with Ben Hur might be tempted to consider Quo Vadis a poor relation, rip-off, or copycat.  I have to admit, BH gets a slight edge, emphasis on slight.  But here is why QV is not so bad.  First off, QV takes place about 30 years after BH, so historically it’s a sequel.  Peter, who was clearly alive when Jesus was crucified, is now an old man; Paul is his successor.  BH has its major elements: the sea battle with the pirates and the dramatic chariot race; plus the “redemption” of his mother and sister cured of leprosy by their faith in Jesus.  QV has the Fire of Rome, the persecution of the Christians in the arena, and both Chilon’s redemption and Vinicius’ conversion.  What QV has that BH most clearly lacks, though, is a central love story.  As touching as the Ben Hur & Esther story was, it was not front-center; in the book, Ben Hur gets sidetracked to Iras the Egyptian, a character completely absent in the 1959 movie.  The love story between Vinicius and Lygia is at the center of QV and really sets it apart from BH.  This is why it deserves attention on its own merits.

 1951 Film.  This came out several years before the 1959 version of Ben Hur and has since been almost entirely eclipsed thereby.  The movie was fairly faithful to the book.  The major differences: Vinicius is considerably more resistant to Christianity and converts much later than in the book; much of the subplots and characters, some incidental scenes, and a few of the nastier Christian persecutions are edited out, and Chilon’s role is considerably reduced.  Even pared down here and streamlined, the movie still clocks in at just under 3 hours.  Aside from Deborah Kerr (from “The King and I”) as Lygia and Peter Ustinov as Nero, I didn’t recognize anyone else in the movie.

 2001 Film.  In honor of the author, Sienkiewicz, who was Polish and originally published the book in Polish, Polish TV made a made-for-TV miniseries with fairly high production values.  Unfortunately it’s in Polish (with English subtitles) and all the actors and actresses are Polish; they appear competent, attractive, and appropriately cast, just unknown to anyone not familiar with Polish TV or cinema.  It’s longer than the 1951 film – about 4.5 hours - and is considerably more faithful to the story and dialogue of the original book.  I was initially tempted to consider the earlier film as more of the “definitive” movie adaptation of the story, until I watched the complete miniseries.  Despite its greater length, I can honestly recommend the Polish version to anyone interested in film adaptations, but simply be warned as to its duration.

            Having said that, there are a few elements of the Polish version I’d like to address.

1.         Chilon’s role is greatly reduced in the 1951 movie but just where it should be in the Polish version.  This is important because he has a major change of heart when he sees the Christians crucified.  As the nastiest and most cynical character, the change is dramatic.

2.         The Polish actor who portrayed Vinicius (Pawel Delag) is much younger than the Petronius actor (Boguslaw Linda) and in fact, quite handsome.  He was far more convincing than Robert Taylor, from the 1951 film, who bears no resemblance to Leo Genn (Petronius) and appears the same age as him.

3.         The Polish actor who portrays Nero (Michal Bajor) bears an unfortunate resemblance to Rainn Wilson, best known as “Dwight” from “The Office”.   While he does a decent enough job, I couldn’t help but thinking of him as a Roman version of Dwight.

4.         My guess is that modern Polish TV is more tolerant of nudity than US theaters were in 1951, because the miniseries shows much more skin than the movie.  Chalk that up to times, though; a contemporary American remake would probably be just as naughty, provided it was on cable and not network TV.  

Randy Rhoads

Warning: I come not to praise Randy, but to bury him.

 Shortly after Classic Rock magazine featured an article about Randy Rhoads, now Guitar World is doing so as well.  I’ve reached my quota of RR articles for my lifetime.

 Background.  After Ozzy Osbourne left Black Sabbath in 1979, he had to begin a solo career by default.  His now-wife Sharon Osbourne took it upon herself to assemble a band around him:  Randy Rhoads (guitar), Bob Daisley (bass), and Lee Kerslake (drums).  They recorded Blizzard of Ozz, an excellent debut album, followed it up with Diary of Madman (Rudy Sarzo took over on bass, Tommy Aldridge on drums), and on tour for the second album, Randy was killed in a freak accident.  The tour bus driver took him up in his private plane (against Randy’s objections) and crashed the plane into the tour bus.  Night Ranger guitarist Brad Gillis took over for the remainder of the tour, eventually replaced by Jake E. Lee for two albums, then Zakk Wylde.

 I’ve mentioned before my introduction to Ozzy through Speak of the Devil, though shortly afterwards I did tape Blizzard, Diary, and Bark at the Moon, which by that time (1984) had been the most recent Ozzy album.  Listening to these albums always brings me back to memories of high school in France, listening to them on tape (remember the Walkman?) riding the school bus.

 Quiet Riot.  Before Ozzy, Randy was in this band, which only became famous AFTER Randy joined Ozzy’s band.  Their top album is Metal Health.   I never liked Quiet Riot, and I was never a big enough Randy fan to get the original QR albums (Japanese imports) with Randy on them.  From what I understand, the biggest impediment to QR’s fame and fortune was Kevin Dubrow’s unlikeable personality, off the chart even by the lofty standards of prima donna rock singers.   Randy was apparently considering leaving Ozzy after the Diary tour, but whether he would have retreated into obscurity to pursue classical music, or rejoined QR, no one seems to know.  This is part of why I consider him so overrated:  we have no idea what he would have done had he not had his talent “cut short” by his freak airplane death.   

 Blizzard of Ozz.  “Crazy Train”, “Mr. Crowley”, and “Suicide Solution” survive from this album into Ozzy’s live set, but I prefer “Revelation: Mother Earth”.  But from “I Don’t Know” through “Steal Away (The Night)” there isn’t a bad track on the album. 

 Diary of a Madman.  A good follow-up, but I really only like the title track.  “Flying High Again” is the track which survives in the set.  The rest is decent, but seems more like filler than strong songs: the consistent quality of the last album isn’t here.

 Ozzy-Randy Tribute.  Three Sabbath tunes reluctantly played with no great enthusiasm, and the rest is solo material.  This was released in 1987, five years after Randy died.  I’ve listened to it once or twice but it didn’t impress me.

 Impression.  Randy can play guitar.  Better than Jimi Hendrix, Eddie Van Halen, Ritchie Blackmore, Angus Young, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, David Gilmour, Frank Zappa, Robert Fripp, the Iron Maiden & Judas Priest twins, or least of all, Tony Iommi?  Not in a million years.  Randy added in a super-pretentious “acoustic/classical guitar” ingredient (which has been done by…umpteen other guitarists before him, and since), which we add to “died in freak airplane accident” results in “guitar god without equal”.  No, I don’t think so.  What I find especially damning about him was his attitude towards Black Sabbath and Tony Iommi:  “I’m MUCH better than that.”  Who did he think he was? 

 Wylde v. Randy.  This is why I prefer Zakk Wylde.  He doesn’t believe that acknowledging Tony’s genius takes away from his own talent, such as it is.  I don’t think of Wylde as being so much as 5% less than Randy, but since Wylde is still alive, we can’t criticize Randy, so Wylde ends up relatively underrated between the two.  For that matter, Jake E. Lee isn’t any worse than Randy.  Undeniably, Rhoads was certainly the most likeable of Ozzy’s solo guitarists.  He was shy, good-natured, and rarely indulged in the decadent rock excesses of his peers – a polar opposite from someone like Michael Schenker.  For his part, Wylde strikes me as fundamentally down-to-earth and unpretentious, even if he does pile on the Yankneck (CSA from New Jersey) and biker images a bit thick.  Black Label Society is essentially a Motorhead tribute band.  If you’re not going to do anything truly original on your own, why not just stay with Ozzy?  Like I said, however, I’m not convinced Rhoads would have blazed a unique, revolutionary new guitar trail had he survived the Diary tour.    

 Bottom line:  Randy’s role in Ozzy’s career can be safely appreciated without ignoring Tony, Jake or Zakk.  Let’s keep him in perspective and enjoy his albums, but not elevate him to a (guitar) god or saint he never was.

The Golden Bough

Like the Divine Comedy (last week’s episode) and (much earlier) O Alquimista and Mein Kampf, this was one of these books which took a long time to read and which I did so mainly out of pure determination to “finish what I started”.  It was extremely dull and repetitive.

 Background.  We read lots of H.P. Lovecraft and played Call of Cthulhu, a roleplaying game based on Lovecraft’s stories.  A large volume of fictional books, most notoriously the Necronomicon, are mentioned, but of those, one truly existed, Frazer’s The Golden Bough.  So naturally I felt compelled to delve into it.  Maybe not such a good idea. 

 In “The Call of Cthulhu”, probably the best-known Lovecraft story (if not necessarily the favorite of his readers) several remote tribes are discovered who ALL worship the same octopoid deity, better known as Cthulhu.  Since these tribes are all very primitive and all hidden away in deep, dark areas with no possibility of communication with each other, the logical inference is that this Cthulhu being must actually exist.  Well, that’s the idea.

 Enter The Golden Bough.  Frazer relates, at length and in nauseously repetitive detail, literally every primitive custom and superstition on the entire planet, whether from Roman times, deep, dark Africa, Gaulish France, the Druids, Indians (from India), medieval Europe, etc.  You name it, it’s in here.  And these customs and superstitions are remarkably consistent even between ethnic groups separated by vast continents and bodies of water – long before the Internet or flash mobs.  If he’s got a theme, he can’t just give you three examples.  He has to give you 30.  The same superstition or custom, repeated 30 times.  Multiply that by the number of customs and superstitions he’s out to demonstrate, and that fills up a 827 page book.  These are 827 single spaced pages in 9 point type, and no pictures.

 There are a few “naughty customs”, like sacred prostitutes.  But these are few and far between.  Mostly it’s stuff like Yule logs and Maypole dancing, fertility rites, rain dances, Winter Soltice festivals, Summer Solstice festivals, May Day festivals, Hallow’s Eve festivals, Lamma’s Eve (April 28?  Walpurgis Night, you know), even some Saturnalia in there for good measure, all of which was simply to ensure a good hunt, plentiful crops, avoid witchcraft, etc.  Nothing even close to H.P. Lovecraft.  If you didn’t know Lovecraft, you wouldn’t learn anything from this.  And the basic premise from one particular section of “The Call of Cthulhu” is the practically only parallel between the two. 

 Again, Frazer doesn’t argue that because all these different primitive peoples worshipped the grain spirits, that the grain spirits actually existed.  He simply states that this was a logical inference for primitive man who didn’t know any better.  And for his part, Lovecraft doesn’t explicitly argue that Cthulhu existed, although his intent was to take Frazer’s ideas and thrust them a few light years further.  Lovecraft loved to hint and imply and suggest, and considered himself too deft a storyteller to bludgeon the reader with anything direct – except at the very end for the “punch line”.  

 Anyhow.  As an anthropology study, it’s fantastic.  If you’re into anthropology, this is like Atlas Shrugged.  But that’s not my cup of tea.  If you’re a Lovecraft fan like me with zero interest in anthropology, be warned.  You will be bored.  Very bored.

Dante's Divine Comedy

“Comedy” is stretching it a bit, as there is no humor whatsoever in this whole trilogy:  Inferno (Hell), Purgatorio (Purgatory), and Paradiso (Heaven).  Dante was a medieval writer from Florence, Italy, who wrote this from 1300-1321, at which point he died.  It wasn’t published until long after his death.  The English translation, which I read (I don’t read Italian, medieval or otherwise) was stuffy.  It’s in verse, which each chapter separated into 33 “cantos”, or chapters.  Even in English, it’s very tough reading.  I had purchased the book as a “bargain sale” from Barnes & Noble; this edition was large, hardbound, and had the impressive woodcut illustrations of Gustave Dore, who was – so it seems – the top illustrator of the nineteenth century; “Paradise Lost” was his major job.

 First Dante descends into Hell, and his guide is the Roman poet, Virgil.  After witnessing the clever and ironic punishments in store for the sinners, he escapes.  Here’s a sad part: along with obvious sinners, the “virtuous pagans” have a separate section here which recognizes that (A) they weren’t “EVIL” (make ironic “quote” marks with your fingers here like Dr. Evil) but (B) didn’t “know Jesus” so couldn’t qualify for anything better than their own room in Hell set aside from all the others.  They were probably more virtuous than many “Christians” who earned the trip to Purgatory.  What’s up with that?  Well, at least Virgil was allowed into Purgatory. 

            Dante here is simply a tourist, just passing through, although the damned can see him and sometimes do talk to him.  However, he doesn’t appear to be in any danger of being kept down here.  Hell is arranged in 9 convenient circles, according to the particular crimes the damned were sent here for.

 The Circles of Hell are:

1.         Limbo.  As mentioned above, the Land of Virtuous Pagans.

2.         Lust.  Horndogs are subject to constant storm

3.         Gluttony.  The pigs lie in slush

4.         Greed.  The damned push heavy weights against each other with their chests

5.         Anger.  The damned fight each other in the River Styx

6.         Heresy.  Entering Dis, a city in Hell, for this portion.  The heretics are trapped in blazing tombs.

7.         Violence.   The damned who were violent against people (outer ring) are immersed in a river of blood and fire; those violent against themselves (suicides) (middle ring) who become thorny bushes, eaten by harpies; and those violent against God (blasphemy)(inner ring), are condemned to fiery desert and rain

8.         Fraud, which is divided into 10 different areas depending on the sub-type of fraud committed: 1) panderers/seducers, 2) flatterers, 3) simony (selling church favors), 4) soothsayers, 5) corrupt politicians, 6) hypocrites, 7) thieves, 8) fraudulent counselors, 9) sowers of discord, 10) falsifiers.  Naturally each of these has its particularly ironic and appropriate form of punishment.

9.         Treachery.  Likewise divided into 4 groups, the 4^th including Judas: 1) against relatives (e.g. Cain), 2) political traitors, 3) traitors to guests, 4) traitors to masters or lords.  Being frozen in a lake of ice (!!!) is the primary form of pain infliction here.

At the center is Satan himself, with three heads and six wings, and chews on Judas.

 Second, Dante is guided by Virgil through Purgatory.  This is where those who are not quite evil, but still have some work to do before qualifying for salvation in Heaven, serve their terms and have their relatively minor sins “purged” before the velvet rope is opened and they wind up, upstairs.

            The ante-chamber is for the excommunicated and the late-repentent (again, no virtuous pagans here).  There are levels corresponding to the seven deadly sins to be purged:

1.         Pride, purged to humility by heavy stones on their backs;

2.         Envy, purged to generosity by wearing cloaks and having their eyes sewn shut (???)

3.         Wrath, blinded by smoke, just as anger blinded them in life

4.         Sloth, ceaselessly engaged, to make up for being lazy

5.         Greed, forced to lie face down,

6.         Gluttony, starved, cannot eat barely reachable fruit (a Sisyphus type fate),

7.         Lust, these people must pass through a wall of fire.   

             As with Hell, here Dante can interact with the souls, though still guided by Virgil, who helps him along and keeps him going.  Dante himself has some purging to do:  seven “P”s are burned on his forehead as he enters, and as he passes through each phase, learns and understands the nature of the sin and the means of atoning therefore (though without actually DOING any of the penance which the others are forced to endure), the P for that sin is erased.
            Finally, at the end, he meets a procession of symbolic creatures in the Garden of Eden: 24 elders, four animals, a chariot, a griffin, three women, four other women, two elders, four humble ones, and an old man (Revelations).  Beatrice shows up and takes over from Virgil.  Dante drinks from the River Lethe, which causes him to forget his sins and the River Eunoe, which restores his good memories.

 Third, is Heaven.  As a pagan, Virgil is ineligible for access to Heaven, so Beatrice (“Peaches”?) is his guide.  Unlike the prior two, which are fairly concrete, as they delve deeper and deeper into Heaven, it turns more and more vague and abstract, which is made considerably more difficult to penetrate thanks to the hideously dense writing style which was barely understandable even in Hell.  Dante manages to make it look…boring.   As we recall from medieval astronomy class, the heavens are set up as a series of concentric circles or spheres.

1.  Moon – those who weren’t consistently good.

2.  Mercury – the ambitious who did good to help their careers, or for fame

3.  Venus – the lovers

4.  The Sun – Wise

5.  Mars – crusaders who died for the faith (??? 72 virgins?  No mention)

6.   Jupiter – good rulers

7.  Saturn – monks

8.   Stars – saints (Uranus not yet discovered)

9.  Inner sphere – Angels

10.  Center – GOD himself, just a huge bright, blinding light of pure but abstract good.

 Famous people.  Unfortunately, much of the “examples” given by Dante are contemporary figures in Italian and European society, e.g. popes and important persons in Florence.  These were celebrities in medieval Italy who are probably only known today mostly because of this book.   More “classical” examples (e.g. Greek or Roman mythology) I could catch.

 Here are the ones I recognized:

Hell (Lust): Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Achilles, Paris

Hell (Violence): Alexander the Great

Hell (Fraud): Jason, Caiaphas, Muhammad (Islamic prophet – Muslims should be intrigued (!!!) that Dante puts their guy in Hell, of all places!),

Hell (Treachery): Cain & Judas

Purgatory – practically no one

Heaven 2: Emperor Justinian

Heaven 3: Charles Martel

Heaven 4: Thomas Aquinas, King Solomon

Heaven 5: Charlemagne

Heaven 6: David, Trajan, and Constantine

 Actually, Dore’s woodprint illustrations do a remarkable job of describing much of what the impenetrable medieval language does a poor job of explaining.  Unfortunately, I’m not aware of any MODERN translation which takes it a step further than merely going from Italian to English.  In the case of Shakespeare, you can argue that the language itself is too important to mess with, and while the stories are essentially timeless, updating out the classic lines such as “to be or not to be” or “wherefore art thou Romeo” will irreparably damage the plays, especially for ones like “Much Ado About Nothing” where witty wordplay is part of battle between Benedick and Beatrice.  Fine.  Leave Shakespeare alone, just give us some “Modern English” subtitles (For the Renaissance-Impaired) so we can figure out what’s going on.  But Dante deserves to be redone in a more user-friendly fashion, and updated with contemporary (twentieth and twenty-first century) examples to bring those of us who don’t know or care who Guelphs (whether black or white) are, into the picture.  

Berlin

No, nothing to do with Lou Reed.  Berlin, the capital of Germany, definitely ranks #1 in my bucket list of places to visit.  So far, I haven’t been able to manage it.  I did, however, read two books on the city.

 Intro.  Berlin is the capital of Germany, and was the capital of Prussia from 1307 (its birth) until 1871 when Germany was unified.  After WWII the city was split into East and West Berlin, with the infamous wall installed in 1961 and torn down by Roger Waters in 1990.  The city was large and cosmopolitan, always somewhat more liberal and tolerant than the rest of Germany; its nightlife sometimes disparaged as decadent and irreverent.  Jews prospered more in Berlin than in the rest of Germany, and its Jewish community, if not enjoying complete acceptance as equals, at least suffered less contempt and resentment from their German peers than they did elsewhere in the country.  Naturally Berlin suffered heavy bombing during WWII, but has recovered nicely.  The city is constantly changing, an urban microcosm of the most progressive elements of German society.  To quote Rush, “He knows changes aren't permanent, but change is.”

 The Garden of Beasts, Erik Larson.  Like Devil & The White City, this is non-fiction dressed up in a novelesque fashion; Larson has a rare ability to tell true stories in a way that sounds like fiction.  This particular “story” is about US Ambassador Dodd, who took over in Nazi Germany in summer 1933 and continued until early 1938.  Dodd wasn’t FDR’s first choice; he only got the job because all the prior candidates passed on it.  His wife seems to be nonexistent and his grown son was off cavorting elsewhere, so the primary focus is upon the ambassador himself and his daughter Martha, whose intimacies were somewhat…widely distributed.  Among her lovers were Rudolf Diels, the original head of the Gestapo; Boris, an NKVD agent at the Soviet embassy; and some other somewhat interesting but far less important people.  At one point she was even introduced to Adolf Hitler himself as a potential match (before he hooked up with Eva Braun), but that plan fell through.  She was married but separated at the time.  Back in Washington, the State Dept. was none too thrilled with Martha’s social life.  Dodd himself was unpopular at State – he was a North Carolina bumpkin, a U. Chicago scholar on the South, and very much a fish out of water among wealthy, extravagant diplomats who threw lavish parties with zero discretion as to cost, this amidst the Great Depression when millions were out of work and starving.  He was unsuccessful at persuading the Nazis to honor the debt obligations of their predecessors (back in Washington they called him “Ambassador Dud”), and equally unsuccessful at persuading them to leave the Jews alone.  They even blew him off when he complained about mistreatment of Jews who were actually U.S. citizens.  While many in the US were anti-Semitic and initially thrilled and impressed with Hitler, The Night of the Long Knives (June 1934) pretty much turned most of the right-thinking Westerners off the Nazis and convinced them, “Ok, we’re basically dealing with thugs and murderers here.”   

 Berlin At War, Roger Moorhouse.  I read this to complement the Garden book, and it did so fairly well. There is no overlap:  Garden effectively ends in early 1938 when Dodd returned home to the US, whereas this book starts on April 20, 1939, Hitler’s fiftieth birthday.  This is “WWII through the eyes of Berliners”.  The author warns that while the book is loosely chronologically organized, he does often deal with themes which straddle multiple years, so there is some back-and-forth.  Here are the phases:

            Early war:  Germany is kicking ass.  Soldiers come home occasionally on leave.  Rationing begins rather early and food gets harder to come by.  The English start bombing but this is really no big deal, far more of an occasional nuisance and inconvenience than a threat: “Is that all you got?”  The blackout rules caused far more damage and inconvenience than the bombing itself.  There’s a big discussion on “ersatz” substitutes for food and other items (never even close to being acceptable and always unpopular) and the black market.

            Middle war:  The news from the front is not quite as pleasant, and more men are not coming home at all.  The British begin a new wave of nighttime bombing which is considerably heavier and deadlier than the initial raids.  This is when Berliners learn about bomb shelters and such.

            Later war:  The Americans begin daylight bombing.  This, more than anything else, convinced the Germans that Goering was full of shit.  The nastiness bumped up considerably.  And when reports came back about Hamburg, the Berliners were even more terrified.  The fact that Berlin started catching it worse rather than better, and consistently bad news from the front, meant that Berliners really had nothing to look forward to anymore.

            1945: the Russians come.  The city was surrounded, so whoever didn’t make it out had to contend with Russian soldiers intent on looting and raping.  A last-ditch home defense militia, the Volkssturm was called up – but due to Germany’s already efficient system of conscription, they could only scrape up the oldest and youngest to fight.  There was no question of winning the war – it was now simply a matter of survival.  Rather than simply enduring unpleasant food substitutes, death by starvation became a real danger.