I’ve been meaning to read this for ages now and was pretty thrilled to be able to do so recently. It was an interesting look at the beliefs and personal philosophies of CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien and Charles Williams. I was interested in the characters of Warnie Lewis, Charles Williams and Hugo Dyson in particular, since I don’t know enough about all three of them. One of the nicest things about this book is that it shows the philosophical and social underpinnings of these men and how they influenced or challenged each other – pretty much the “bread and butter” behind the mythopoeic vision, so to speak. My favourite chapter was “Thursday Evenings”, a fictional recap of one of those evenings, complete with arguments and such.

One of the most interesting things about reading this along with the other six fiction titles for the challenge is comparing the older definitions of “mythopoeic” to how more contemporary fantasists have re-woven these ideals. I found that I did not have as much in common with C.S. Lewis as I thought, and far more in common with J.R.R. T. than I had assumed. I was also very fascinated by the character of Charles Williams.

Note: Reviewed as part of the Mythopoeic Award Challenge. (My list of projected reads is here)

Obiechina’s book is a fascinating cultural and literary study on the popular pamphlets sold in the Onitsha Market. Through an exploration of these pamphlets, he looks at Nigerian popular culture. It is a fascinating study of pamphlets which echo popular and cultural mores which are influenced both by Igbo lifestyle and customs as well as western customs, particularly the idea of “romance” and how it evolved between pre-colonial to postcolonial times. As Obiechina states:

“The question is not whether love of sexual attraction as normal human traits exist within Western and African societies, but how they are woven into the fabric of life, how strongly they feature in the belief system, the attitudes and outlooks and the actions of individuals within the Western and African cultures.” (34)

As such, Obiechina explores the element of hybridity which is evident within Nigerian popular literature.

The contents of the Onitsha Market pamphlets are diverse; they range from guides to letter-writing for both ladies and their suitors, plays, novellas/novelletes to public opinion pieces on society, marriage and romance. The three sample pamphlets found in the Appendix give a good idea of the general tenor of the pamphlets, with titles such as Our Modern Ladies Characters Towards Boys (by Highbred Maxwell) to Elizabeth, My Lover (a drama) by Okenwa Olisah. Obiechina explores these pamphlets at length, looking at the ethos of the writers, their projected audience and the role these pamphlets play in Nigerian culture.

This is not really an easy book to find, I first came across it in my uni library but had to buy a copy when my book-bag full of library books went missing. They resurfaced and so this book is now mine and I am glad it is. It really is an invaluable resource for people intrigued by both Nigerian and African popular culture; more so for scholars.

Note: Reviewed as part of the Africa Reading Challenge. My list of books to be read for this challenge is here.

The issue of African philosophy is an interesting one, fraught with myriad considerations. As someone caught between continental philosophy and a study of traditional African ontology, I found this slim volume edited by Tsenay Serequeberhan to be quite edifying and thought-provoking, although it does raise more questions than it answers. This is rather inevitable, considering the problematical issues surrounding this particular school or subdivision of philosophy. Up till today there are still people who are clueless that there even exists an “African Philosophy” and who are still caught in the same mind-trap as Hegel.

African Philosophy: The Essential Readings contains eleven papers by African philosophers, dealing with myriad considerations, ranging from the attitude of western philosophy towards Africa (particularly Hegel), the position/relevance of ethnophilosophy, as well as a look at the different hermeneutic and ontological structures of traditional and contemporary African philosophy.

Most of the papers are edifying but accessible enough even for non-philosophy majors. Of the eleven articles, I found Kwasi Wiredu’s essay “On Defining African Philosophy” and “African Philosophy: The Point in Question” by Tsenay Serequeberhan” to be of particular relevance and consideration. However, one of the problems with the collection is the same that seems to afflict other collections of this nature – many papers devoted towards “defining an African Philosophy” and a lack of discussions outlining an actual, rigorous approach. Bodunrin touches on this issue in his “The Question of African Philosophy”, but I personally feel that moving on from these questions towards actually working on and developing this area of philosophy is important. This is fine, though. When it comes to certain theories, anthology and collections serve as primers and should not be taken as completely representing said theory.

African Philosophy: The Essential Readings is a useful introduction into African philosophy, exposing the reader to some of the main names and themes/issues in African philosophy. However, it was published in 1991 and philosophy, regardless of one’s school or affiliation (continental, African, analytical) has never been known for remaining static, particularly if one takes into account the fluctuations experienced globally in the past two decades or so. As such, more recent works should also be consulted.

Note: Reviewed as part of the Africa Reading Challenge. My list of books to be read for this challenge is here.

This is Mary Renault’s non-fiction biography of Alexander the Great, earlier immortalized in her excellent The Alexander Trilogy. Renault’s love and reverence for Alexander as a man is very evident throughout the pages of The Nature of Alexander. She pores through the facts documented by contemporaries of Alexander as well as classical scholars, depicting his journeys, his battles, triumphs and the disasters that dogged him towards the end of that grand dream of travelling to the farthest reaches of the fabled Asia of Orientalist dreams.

Since stories of his journey have been immortalized in local legends and lore throughout Asia (Notably India, and he also shows up in the Malay Sejarah Melayu as being a distant ancestor of the royal Malacca bloodline – one of the various “episodes” in that book designed to show how grand said bloodline was), it’s intriguing to read what really went on behind the scenes.

This is a fascinating biography not only because of Alexander’s remarkable and short-lived existence, but also for the glimpses into Mary Renault’s mind. You can actually watch Ms. Renault’s thought processes working as she takes us through the different, ground-breaking episodes in his lifetime – that’s exciting for me since she’s one of my favourite writers of historical fiction. She doesn’t flinch from his shortcomings, but does try to reason out why he acted the way he did in key events which have marred history’s view of him, inclusive of the respective bias of eye-witnesses/chroniclers.

Intuitive and sleuth-like, she works through the layers of different accounts to put together a composite of the man that Alexander was, his contemporaries’ view of him and also the bickering and scheming that went on around him. I also found most of her justifications of why Alexander acted the way he did pretty acceptable – but of course, I’m no historian.

I still feel that a lot of her surmises of his personality are presented in more vibrant form in The Alexander Trilogy. If made to choose I would prefer her fictional treatment of Alexander since it was richer and fleshier, probably because she didn’t feel as constrained as she did in this biography. My personal, initial reaction to this work was “The woman is trying too hard” but that was the first couple of chapters. I warmed to it after that, though. Mostly because of the reasons which I have detailed above.

I generally found this to be a pretty good read and quite illuminating too. I’m not sure whether one should read this first or the three works of fiction on Alexander first. Because the trilogy made such a deep impression on me, I came to The Nature of Alexander with predetermined impressions and expectations. I might have enjoyed it better if I had read it blind. But then again, it is an excellent companion to the trilogy and so should perhaps be read together (concurrently) with it. As far as my impressions and response to this book went, it was akin to how I felt reading Marco Polo’s The Travels of Marco Polo – like I had slipped into a glimpse of a fabled, romanticized Asia of antiquity, albeit more historically accurate (ah,such irony!). Great fodder for the imagination.

Yet another example of screaming publicity blurbs: “This is the best biography of Jung”, is printed on the cover of this paperback. I’m not saying it isn’t good, but such statements cause horrible people like me to laugh and look askance at the work concerned. However, the back cover asserted that it was going to look at more facets of Jung’s life than most Jungians would like, so I went ahead and bought it with scandalous anticipation.

Working with fairy tale motifs, it is inevitable that people like Jung would have considerable influence over certain things I look into. However, I’ve had several niggling doubts and reservations of Jung over the years, even though much of what he said was relevant and resonated with me. He was one of the first in the modern age to assert that there was a link between science and the numinous, the mind and the nebulous metaphysics of “What’s out there”. I’ve always wondered about the man himself though, and some of the stuff he writes about anonymous patient-doctor relationships made me quite suspicious. Reading this book confirmed most of my suspicions and also helped me piece together some of the fundamental reservations I’ve been struggling w/ with regards to anima/animus etc.

Hayman seems to have done considerable research on his subject matter, referring not only to Jung and Aniela Jaffe’s biography Memories, Dreams, Reflections but also letters, accounts of people who knew Jung, and some other documents. Substantial (translated) portions of Memories, Dreams, Reflections bolster Hayman’s account, but he also goes behind the writing of this biography and shows how Jaffe and Jung’s family’s wishes had colored that biography of Jung.

Hayman does try to be fair to Jung and indeed he shows both sides of Jung’s personality, but at times he is rather annoying in his treatment of certain events in Jung’s life, especially in his accounts of Jung’s childhood. I felt he was a little too keen on attributing this or that mental disorder to Jung, and trying too hard to place a foregone conclusion before we reached the relevant part of the biography which corresponded to what he was saying. It has to be admitted that considering the sensitive subject matter, any biographer would have problems trying to balance things out- I think Hayman did overreach himself in certain aspects, but was generally even-handed. Even when writing about the most reprehensible aspects of Jung’s life story, he did try to explain it from Jung’s perspective, which wasn’t terribly unique considering the prevailing bias of the times he lived in. Jung was a complex being, extremely conservative in some ways and yet radical in others. I think he struggled to find the balance his whole life long, and because of that I still respect the man’s mind, but with the inevitable reservations. Not even the best of us can be totally free of our upbringings or respective conditionings, imo.

Overall, it was a very riveting read. Insightful in some ways, and blinkered/biased in others. It was a real page turner for me (couldn’t stop reading it!) and allowed me get to know Jung better, though perhaps a little better than I would have wanted. For that, it was worth the price I paid for it. Take Hayman’s opinions with a pinch of salt, though.