December 28, 2010

On the way to…

I love architecture, history, and travel. Maybe no other building personifies such, than that of religious structures—in Western culture represented by churches.

Glory by the Wayside: The Old Churches of Hawai’i”, by William and Susan Ecenbarger was my inspiration to this ‘off the beaten tracks’ exploration.

(The usual suspects are here: Kawaiha’o Church in Honolulu, St. Benedict’s “The Painted Church” in Honaunau on the Big Island, St. Philomena in Kalaupapa; in addition to thirty-four other old churches spread out among six of the islands. One thing I liked about the selection is that most of the choices came from islands outside of O’ahu. This provides incentive for both tourists and the majority of the population in Hawai’i (located on O’ahu if you were not sure) to explore something different when they go to Maui, Moloka’i, or the Big Island. The book features offbeat sights, and explains the history in brief informing chapters.)

Sustained by faith, they came from east and west, some from halfway around the planet. When they arrived, Hawai’i's immigrant cultures built houses of faith-churches and temples.  These island structures are not tourist attractions, but they tell Hawai’i’s collective story more eloquently than any guidebook. 

I started out renting a Jeep to drive the inland road to Hana.  Cheeky woman!  For me, this is more interesting and diverse than the windward road and definitely less travelled.  

The road goes through the Ulupalakua Ranch. 

The rental contract warns that you will drive at your own risk, no roadside assistance provided, etc. etc. etc.  I met a fellow traveler at the rental place with the same plan and we decided to spend some time together.  She was from Germany and beside a whole bunch of diverse topics; it was interesting to converse in German. 

point taken

 bunches of rainbows, always

Hui Aloha Church, in Kaupo, must be the loveliest site for a church anywhere.  Built in 1859 as an outpost for traveling clergymen the church has been carefully restored and is a favorite site for weddings.

Also in Kaupo stands an old Catholic church called St. Joseph, on a sea-thrusting point, the two-tiered stone structure from 1862 is remarkable for the isolation of its location, like an ark that sank to land. 


St. Joseph used to serve a large Hawaiian population.  The walls of the old church stand near the new building. 

The lawn is a great place to view the Kaupo Gap.  The lava from Haleakala flowed through the church grounds.

One of the saddest sites-

This abandoned church is on Hawaiian Commercial and Sugar Company land in central Maui between Kahului and Kihei.

It was Maui’s first Japanese Christian church, the Pu‘unene Congregational Church played an important part in the lives of many plantation workers who lived and worked near the Pu‘unene Sugar Mill.  

Waiola Church

… is Maui’s first Christian church, established by Keopuolani herself—the sacred wife of Kamehameha I and mother of his heirs. She was considered a living goddess whose spiritual authority resulted from generations of brother-sister matings that had concentrated the sanctimony of her lineage. Months after her warrior-husband died, Keopuolani instigated the overthrow of the kapu system that had governed Hawaiian culture for more than a millennium, essentially nullifying her own high status. When the first missionaries arrived at Kailua Bay (Hawai‘i Island) several months later, she and her subjects were waiting for their instruction. In 1823 the queen brought two of these early missionaries—William Richards and Charles Stewart—to Lahaina, to this spot, and said, in effect, “Build here!”

Originally called Waine‘e, the church stood on the shore of a small lake in which dwelt a mo‘o, a water spirit, the deified form of the queen’s own ancestress. Thus, this piece of land was the queen’s pre-Christian power spot, and the decision to plant a church there must have been fraught with implications.

Keopuolani died about nine months later. In the end she entrusted her two small children, boy and girl, to the care of the missionaries, and she became the first ali‘i (royalty) to receive baptism and a Christian burial. Stewart returned to America, but Richards stayed his whole life, helped write the kingdom’s first constitution, and served as ambassador to the United States. He is buried in Waiola Cemetery along with many other important figures from these turbulent years.

The little boy and girl grew up caught in a vise of tragedy. Deep tradition would have them wed; newfangled Christianity forbade it. In time the girl, Nahi‘ena‘ena, perished after giving birth to her brother’s child, which also died. Her grief-stricken brother, Kauikeauoli (or Kamehameha III) built a mausoleum on an island in that lake, adorned it with his sister’s personal effects, and placed the coffins of his mother, sister, and child there on a four-poster bed. From this place he ruled the kingdom for many years.

As sugar production robbed Lahaina of its natural water flow, the lake silted up (it is now a waste area and ballfield) and the mo‘o withdrew. Mighty winds destroyed the church four times. The last time the congregation rebuilt, they changed the name of the church from Waine‘e (moving water) to Waiola (water of life).

So far so good.

At one time, both Keopuolani and Nahi‘ena‘ena were interred next to the church, along with the sacred queen’s last husband, Ka‘umuali‘i, a great chief from Kaua‘i. A monument identifies their presence, although the actual remains were likely relocated during the reign of David Kalakaua. Recent efforts have been made to restore the lake and to tell the story of this, one of the most significant sites in all of Hawai‘i.

Onward Christian soldiers…

Up-country Kona is a charming amalgamation of True Old Hawaii and whimsical counter culture weirdness–all with stunning views of the ocean.

On the Road to nowhere…

Lanakila Church/Kaona Uprising

Lanakila Church was the beginning and focal point for one of the strangest and more interesting episodes in Mauka Kona history during the latter half of the 19th Century.

This, the last church built by the ubiquitous Reverend John D. Paris, was finished in 1867.

Lanakila Church is still today a vibrantly strong, active parish of Congregationalists.

The quiet country setting of this church gives little indication that it was in the center of a violent, deadly uprising in the late 1860s. Called the Kaona Uprising, the events of 1867 and 1868 comprised a perhaps natural reaction of the native Hawai’ians to having been so recently, and completely, dispossessed of their way of life, their naturist religion and their ancient traditions.

The uprising started peaceably enough; in 1867 a man named Kaona introduced himself to the Reverend Paris, saying he had a great quantity of Hawai’ian Bibles he wished to distribute and asked permission to store them in the as-yet-unfinished Lanakila Church building. The Church elders assented and the Bibles were stored. However, Kaona and his followers tried to usurp the church building and its land for living space and at the pleas of Reverend Paris the Governor, Princess Ke’elikolani, eventually evicted them. Kaona moved his growing group of malcontents onto a neighbor’s property until rain and cold forced them to seek warmer lands downslope by the ocean.

Growing more powerful with each new cult member, Kaona resisted the efforts of the local law enforcement, in the person of Sheriff Neville, to evict them, reportedly spitting on and destroying the first eviction order.

Preaching Hellfire and Brimstone, and aided considerably by a rash of large earthquakes early in 1868, Kaona convinced his followers that he was the only true Prophet of God and that the earthquakes would destroy all but his most loyal followers. Sensing a mood of violence, Sheriff Neville determined to use force if necessary to evict Kaona and his band from their squatter’s camp.

In the ensuing melee, Neville and one native policeman were killed. Kaona then whipped his band into a religious frenzy of blood lust, exhorting them to go forth, slay the white people and set fire to their farms and homes. Such was the violence and threat that the South Kona Magistrate organized a volunteer militia for the protection of citizens, but the uprising wasn’t put down until the Steamer Kilauea brought troops from Honolulu to round up the violent mob several days later. Kaona was sentenced to 20 years imprisonment but was later pardoned and freed by King Kalakaua. He died a free man in Kona in 1883.

‘Blowing Kona’

The smell of plumeria, Hulopoe Beach, the pool at Manele Bay, aqaintances, and of course churches were all welcome sites upon my return.

During the late 19th century, a community of some 2,000 residents lived in the company town of the Maunalei Sugar Company. In 1901, the company failed, killed off by drought. A strange twist of fate, the first non-Hawaiian town on the island had to shut down because well water used to irrigate its fields turned brackish. Keomuku’s modest and stately homes turned to ruins, including the oldest church on the island, Ka Malamalama Church (1903). Built by the inhabitants of surrounding villages after the collapse of the island's sugar industry. All that remains of Keomuku is the church, a graveyard, and crumbling stonewalls.

On this island so full of mysteries, one can only speculate about the perverse fate of the Maunalei Company.  Drive about a mile from the ghost town and you'll see a walking trail on the right that leads inland to Kahe'a Heiau. Once the ancient Hawaiian site of human sacrifices, this sacred Hawaiian site was dismantled by the Maunalei Company to build a railroad to move sugar to Ka'halepalaoa Landing south of the heiau.  Did this violation of the sacred temple have anything to do with the company’s demise?

Kai Okahi Oka Malamalama Church

Situated in front of the Four Seasons Lodge at Koele, feeling slightly out of place, this church has been a part of the Lanai community for nearly 80 years. Services are both in the Hawai’ian and English language. Visitors to the church are welcome.

The island, once almost entirely devoted to pineapple production, has become a destination for visitors eager to find Hawaii's natural side.

The first successful commercial milling of sugar in all of Hawai‘i began in 1835 in Kōloa Town on the South Shore.  It was to change the face of Kaua‘i forever, launching an entire economy, lifestyle and practice of monocropping that lasted for over a century.
By 1882 the workforce of Lihu'e plantation was up to 245.  It consisted of 76 Chinese, 60 South Sea Islanders, 55 Hawaiians, 43 Germans and 11 Norwegians.  Around 1885 pineapple plantations were started in Hawaii. In 1898 the sugar planters were able to convince the United States to annex Hawaii as a possession in spite of some native opposition. They knew that they would then receive a special payment for shipping sugar to the mainland. The islands eventually became a territory of the United State on June 14, 1900.
The German families here formed a strong community. They built their own church and established their own school on the Lihu'e Plantation with an imported German teacher. Fredrich Richter, a theology student who came on the first boatload, was not only the teacher but also the minister for the Lutheran congregation. The German language was spoken and taught for many years in both the school and the church.
The Lutheran Church in Lihu'e, Kaua'i, 1885
(photo courtesy of Ursula Timann)

The school was operating until 1918 when the United States went to war and the Isenburgs were urged to close the school. At that time there were still thirty-five students. Through these institutions the culture and traditions of Germany were undoubtedly kept intact on Kaua'i. Records were kept of all the births of the early immigrants and are now in the Hawaii state archives. Very few of these immigrant families remain in Kuau'i today except through intermarriage with the native Hawaiians, Portuguese, Norwegian or other nationalities. Many of the families immigrated to the mainland to Washington, Oregon and California by the early 1900's.

I love this ‘primm’ little church on top of the hill. 
Lihue Lutheran Church rebuilt twice, once in 1982 after hurricane Iwa and again in 1992 after hurricane Iniki.  The re-building of the church was accomplished with contributions from all over the world its mission statement is, Ka Hale pule ‘o na lahui apau…Hele pu makou me Jesu Krista-(“The Church of All Peoples…Walking together with Christ”).

"Joyful water" seems an appropriate name for a church on Kauai's North Shore, but it just so happens that the Wai'oli Hui'ia Church in Hanalei is named for the stream that begins in the green mountains and ends in Hanalei Bay.

Waioli Mission House, built in 1841, is one of Hawaii's best-preserved mission houses and therefore well worth visiting. While most mission houses are built in the New England style (including the interiors), the exterior of this house shows a definite influence of the Southern States. This can be attributed to the fact that the missionary William P. Alexander came to Kauai from Kentucky. Five years later, the Wilcox family, who were also missionaries, moved in. The rooms have been kept as far as possible in their original state and show the Hawaiian style of home decoration of the malihin (non-natives). A large part of the missionary Abner Wilcox's library can still be seen in his study including some of the earlier schoolbooks printed in Honolulu.

Christ Memorial Episcopal Church is one of the most picturesque Episcopal churches in the Hawaiian Islands.

In 1939 the Kilauea Sugar Company deeded the churchyard to Christ Memorial Church and gave the native stone used in the erection of the present building. The chief benefactor, however, was Mrs. Robert Shapard, of Griffin, Georgia, in memory of her husband, and on the Second Sunday after Epiphany on January 19, 1941 The Right Rev. Harrington Littell consecrated the church.

The graveyard surrounding the church dates back to the earliest days of the original Hawaiian Congregational Church, with many graves dating back over 100 years. Unfortunately, many graves are unmarked and the number of people buried here will probably remain a secret known only to God.

“Aloha is an overused, misused, and abused word that to ousiders merely means hello or goodbye. To Hawaiians, however, aloha is a state of mind that summons a spirit of generosity, tolerance, sponteneity, compassion and creativity that is infectious… …Aloha is an instinctive love that loops back through the generations. Aloha is the essence of the old churches of Hawai’i.”
-so ends the introduction to “Glory by the Wayside.”

I could not think of better words to end this post. Aloha.

December 19, 2010

Veni Veni Emmanuel ♬

During the next two weeks, I will travel for vacation, celebrate, and do all of the activities that I enjoy:  throw off the bowlines, catch the trade winds, explore, dream, discover.

To you, and all whom you hold dear, a Merry Christmas and joyful holidays.


December 17, 2010

Bach (tout de) Suites.

Considering that the Cello Suites live in the marrow of most cellists, it seems hard to believe that these six masterpieces went almost completely unperformed until 1900. They were not lost. They were regarded as études.

In 1879, a thirteen-year-old Pablo Casals went browsing through scores in an old music shop, but read his own story…

portrait Yousuf Karsh Pablo Casals.
...“Suddenly I came upon a sheaf of pages, crumbled and discolored with age. They were unaccompanied suites by Johann Sebastian Bach, for the cello only! I looked at them with wonder: Six Suites for Violoncello Solo. What magic and mystery, I thought, were hidden in those words? I had never heard of the existence of the suites; nobody, not even my teachers, had ever mentioned them to me. I forgot the reason for being at the shop, all I could do was stare at the pages and caress them. That sensation has never grown dim. Even today, when I look at the cover of that music, I am back again in the old musty shop with its faint smell of the sea. I hurried home, clutching the suites as if they were the crown jewels, and once in my room I pored over them. I read and reread them. I was thirteen at the time, but for the following eighty years, the wonder of my discovery has continued to grow on me. Those suites opened up a new world. I began playing them with indescribable excitement. They became my most cherished music. I studied and worked at them every day for the next twelve years. Yes, twelve years would elapse and I would be twenty-five before I had the courage to play one of the suites in public at a concert. Up until then, no violinist or cellist had ever played any Bach suite in its entirety. They would play just a single section, a Saraband, a Gavotte or a Minuet. I played them as a whole, from the prelude through the five dance movements, with all the repeats that give the wonderful entity and pacing and structure of every movement, the full architecture, and artistry. They had been considered academic works, mechanical, without warmth. Imagine that! How could anyone think of them as being cold, when a whole radiance of space and poetry pours forth from them! They are the very essence of Bach, and Bach is the essence of music.”

For the cellist, the Cello Suites are far more than music.  They are a challenge to the cellist's deepest conclusions about life. Mstislav Rostropovich put it bluntly: “The hardest thing in interpreting Bach is the necessary equilibrium between human feelings, the heart that undoubtedly Bach possessed, and the severe and profound aspect of interpretation. You cannot automatically disengage your heart from the music. This was the greatest problem I had to resolve in my interpretation”...

I do not write this from a critical position. It is not a matter of discrimination and taste. I write this as an advocate. Listen to any of the YouTube samples. Throw a dart. There is no wrong choice. There is this, life is infinitely poorer without the Cello Suites. For inspiration, consolation, or mediation, they are, as Casals said, “the essence of music.”

Reading Eric Siblin’s eloquent book has made me think about how I came to conceive my passion for the music of J. S. Bach. For me, no other composer comes near to writing music of such beauty, depth, and transcendence. Unfortunately, the common view of his music is that it is cold, clever, and difficult – ‘mathematical’ is the choice mantra. Bach will seek you out and take you by surprise. For me, as for Eric Siblin, it was Bach’s six Cello Suites.

Eric Siblin was the pop music critic of the Montreal Gazette until the late 1990s, but he was falling out of love with it – a passage quoted from a deeply weary review of a U2 gig bears that out only too well. In 2000, staying in a Toronto hotel, and at loose ends, he goes to a recital “to hear a cellist I’d never heard of play music I knew nothing about.” It was Laurence Lesser, playing the six suites as part of the 250th anniversary of Bach’s ‘departure’. The effect was overwhelming (I well believe it), and the program notes tell a story of transmission and rediscovery of this music that is fraught with chance and risk. This recital set Siblin on a quest to find out as much as he could about this uniquely profound and moving music, and the mysteries surrounding it.

There are three interwoven strands to his book: Bach’s life and work, and the transmission of (probably a fraction) of his musical legacy; the life of Pablo Casals; and Eric Siblin’s own story of discovery. Each chapter titled after one of the movements. It makes for an interesting simultaneously listening and reading experience.

December 14, 2010

Don’t forget to call… ♬


Are you a phone person, or are you an emailing, texting, facebook, or twitter type of person? I started thinking about this when a friend said to me on parting yesterday, "Don't forget to call." I immediately said, "What do you mean, of course I will call." She then said, "Don't be silly, you never call. You are the worst caller on the planet." Mortified, I looked at her with shock and horror, "Is that true. Do you really mean that?" Her knowing look said it all....

I am a bad telephone person. I stand guilty before you as charged. It is true, I know it and I hang my head in female shame. I am certainly not an 'out of sight, out of mind' person but my inclinations run towards the tapping. I will spend hours, days, even weeks writing emails, replying to texts or madly bloging away. On the other hand, when it comes to picking up the telephone something always seems to get in my way.

I think my busy little tapping fingers have taken over my social skills. I have let my fingers do the chatting. Without knowing, tapping has become second nature to me, and my preferred choice of communication...quelle horreur. In the mean time I will be practising my newly found, charming telephone manner - no call will be too long and no detail too minor for discussion. I will chat until my ear or both my ears are burning; a call of this duration will require much changing of the handset between both ears. I will chat until I no longer have one tiny word or catchy little anecdote left inside to spin. I promise...

Another hyper-connected dude.

December 12, 2010

I feel it in my fingers…

It’s getting to be the time of year when family and friends ask what I would like for Christmas. When I respond love, peace, health, and happiness, I am told that’s not the right answer—not an answer at all.

My other answer tends to be “nothing.” My philosophy is that gifts should not be given (or exchanged) on a specific day. Unless a child’s bubble will burst because he or she would definitely know there is no Santa, presents should be given when you see something that someone would love or really needs.

Taking into consideration that many of my friends are Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist or whatever, December has become the ho-ho-ho month of giving—and Christmas, which has become generic rather than religious, is simply our largest commercial festival. Therefore, as I listen to Christmas music, here is a list of what I would like to receive, thank you very much.

A lifelong pass on Open Skies. That way, I could hop on a flight whenever I felt the urge. Along with a MedjetAssist policy so I be able to return to the States in the event of being in medical extremis.

Standing reservations in hotels in many places throughout the world. I always wanted to live in hotels where I could call room service.

I do love chocolate and having tasted and tested more than my fair share, those from zChocolat have a special place in my heart. One of the company’s slogans is “A single bite is an instant of pure seduction and sensory bliss one has never experienced before.” You know, the French really do have a hard time getting to the point—or writing advertising copy, but their stuff does make me weak in the knees.

This is some of what I want—and you may want as well. Feel free to ship them to me, even if they arrive late. Remember, the “twelve days of Christmas” tradition gives everybody until January 6th.

What do I really want this year? Nothing, really.

And what would you like? Let me know because you never can tell what good things may happen if you just ask.

(music embedded in title of post)

December 10, 2010

Let’s meet in Timbuktu.

You may have noticed that I have been a bit peevish lately. Enough, you know.

So, the other night I said, "Self, you have to be content! What would make you happy?" And after consulting a checklist of happy things, which included being effortlessly thin, I came to a rapid conclusion.

Yes to making a decision  Yes to action   Yes to solo travel  Yes to exploration
Yes to adventure   Yes to music in unusual places

From then, to now, to somewhere, sometime …(click for music ツ)

…later. ツ

December 04, 2010

Out of Africa...

They are as desperate as they are formulaic, and with the growth of the Internet, the so-called “Nigerian letters” have grown from being an occasional curiosity to a relentless, disgusting plaque.

Under the subject line “Urgent and Confidential,” these scams usually open with, “ I am in search of a reputable person to assist me with an urgent business matter.” And they go on to explain that some important government official has died and that there is a need to remove a large amount of money from the country before other officials seize it. “Any help you will provide in this effort,” it goes on, “will be repaid with a large percentage of the money.”

While the ubiquity of these fraud e-mails should undermine their effectiveness, somehow they persist. So, when a dear old gullible friend fell for the swindle, and when I found out about it, I decided it was time to turn the tables. After a few hours of Internet research, isn’t it great, I found this inspiring and entertaining site called “Sweet Chillie Sauce” (the Nigerians, #18 inspired me).

At the next urgent ‘request for funds’ I replied. I told them that I was a good friend and wanted to find out more about the transaction. I got a half-baked explanation about the origin of the money. I decided to add some implausible features to my own story. With each fake tax form and lawyer’s bill that was sent to justify the need for ‘small’ amounts of money, I replied with my own fake agenda. Isn’t PhotoShop marvelous? I responded as Donna Quixote mirroring their florid prose. “I do not now if I can help you but I do take pride in supporting worthy quests,” I wrote. “I am a country gentlewoman, no longer young.”

I always sprinkled direct passages from Cervantes’ classic work and the communications quickly culminated in a request that Ms. Quixote come to visit in X, to finalize the deal.

Ms. Q. agreed to the request. First, Ms. Q. explained that she would need to travel with others, her faithful servant Sancho Panza, and Lady Dulcinea.

All are welcome was the response.

Next Ms. Q. wrote that there was a problem with the flight the airline was unwilling to board the horse.

”If your airline does not want to carry your horse, don’t worry,” was the reply, “we are going to hire one for you”.

Many e-mails and much planning later, we finally spoke on the phone. It was noted that I sounded young for my age. I could not pass up the opportunity to press the limits of credulity; I replied that, in fact, I looked even younger than I sounded because I had received plastic surgery. “I owe my looks to Dr. Polly Urethane, a plastic surgeon in, where else, Beverly Hills, California,” said I .

Finally, after sending our official travel itinerary, Ms. Q. and her entourage set out on their journey. Unfortunately, Ms. Q. ran into problems after she lost her temper in Paris. “French See Red over Attack on Moulin Rouge” ran the headline in the PhotoShop Daily, which Ms. Q’s lawyer sent to explain what happened. The article said that three American tourist had stolen horses from Parisian police officers and charged the famous establishment with baguettes. After being arrested, the three were later released. Eventually, the lawyer wrote, Ms. Q. and her group got back on their way. They flew to Cairo, where they were to proceed overland to their destination.

That’s when the real tragedy struck.

“It is with a heavy heart that I must convey to you the melancholy news, that Ms. Q. has been found dead in the north Sahara,” read the next e-mail from Ms. Q.’s lawyer. Attached was a newspaper article that explained that Ms. Q. had been attacked by a pack of about forty men led by a man named Ali Baba and that Homeland Security and Interpol have been summoned to investigate the matter to its FULLEST extend.

The rest has been silence.

If you wish to perpetrate a “little revenge” here is the website for more inspiration, enjoy.

P.s. to protect the still living crooks, I have omitted our e-mail correspondence. If you are curious, they are almost identical to the correspondence on “Sweet Chilli Sauce”. Be inspired.

December 02, 2010

Ghosts- the lost, the past, the dead.

At age ten, my brother declared he was going to be a geneticist. "Why?" asked I. "So we will never have to die," he replied. Alas, he is long since gone.

In January 1895 Henry James anticipates the opening of his first play, "Guy Domville," in London. The production fails, and he returns, chastened and humiliated, to his writing desk. The result is a string of masterpieces, but they are produced at a high personal cost.

In "The Master " Colm Toibin captures the exquisite anguish of a man who circulated in the grand parlors and palazzos of Europe, who was astonishingly vibrant and alive in his art, and yet whose attempts at intimacy inevitably failed him and those he tried to love. It is a powerful account of the hazards of putting the life of the mind before affairs of the heart.

Soon after she died he wrote a story, 'Travelling Companions', in which William, travelling in Italy from Germany, met her by chance in Milan Cathedral, having first seen her in front of Leonardo's The Last Supper. He loved describing her white umbrella with a violet lining and the sense of intelligent pleasure in her movements, her glance and her voice. He could control her destiny now that she was dead, offer her the experiences she would have wanted, and provide drama for a life which had been so cruelly shortened. He wondered if this had happened to other writers who came before him, if Hawthorne or George Eliot had written to make the dead come back to life, had worked all day and all night, like a magician or an alchemist, defying fate and time and all the implacable elements to re-create a sacred life...

(Pavlova with her pet swan)

-The Master, Colm Tóibín

It’s an easy mistake to make, this casual assumption that a person’s resolute avoidance of commitment and their remorseless dedication to work mirrors a non-existing inner life.

Robert S. gifted me the book. It was the first time he had ever recommended I read anything. I dived into it; and as they say, the spell worked.

We both were saddned by failed relationships. We convinced each other that we had enough of love. From now on, we were going to model ourselfs on Henry James: get on with work, and wipe out all thought of further attachments. Contra mundum.

In the preface to The Turn of the Screw, Henry James wrote: "Make him (the reader) think the evil, make him think it for himself, and you are released from weak specifications." For evil, read regrets and longings, and for both of them, read this compelling, restrained book by a still young master.