Meeting R S Thomas at 4.00 am

It was that awful 4.00 am feeling.  Restless and unable to sleep, with a mind churning and chewing over every single thing, I got up and made a cup of tea (what else?!)  Often during sleepless nights I read or try to pray.  But most times prayer doesn't seem to 'work', or bring the longed for peace when there are enough words tripping through my mind already.  Reading doesn't always seem right either.  The wordiness of the novel, unputdownable by day, is too much and non-fiction prose too taxing during the dark hours.  So last night I reached instead for this book which had arrived a few days earlier.

Flicking through, I came across a poem by R S Thomas.  I had heard his name before but could not say any more than that about this poet. I liked the title though - The Moor.  And reading it proved to be one of those moments when you are just so glad that someone else has felt what you feel and has been able to express it for you.

'The Moor

... was like a church to me....

What God was there made himself felt,

Not listened to ...

There were no prayers said.  But stillness

Of the heart's passions - that was praise

Enough; and the mind's cession 

Of its kingdom'

Having come from a church background where everything about God was conveyed through words, and there have been times in recent years when I have felt overloaded by words and have found no words for certain experiences, what a relief to find this poet who feels rather than hears God.  And what a joy that this  happens not in a church building, but out on a moor.  No words are necessary.  Prayer simply arises and the heart and the mind find peace.

And so I have met R S Thomas at last.  Sometimes when you discover an author properly for the first time, you wonder how on earth you had not found them before. I am now intrigued by the brief biographical details of this Welsh nationalist Anglican priest who spent his life ministering in rural Wales and who wrote a poem that so speaks to my own experiences, even if I have to get up in the middle of the night to meet him.

***

for lovers of god everywhere; poems of the Christian Mystics - Roger Housden, www.rogerhousden.com

www.poetry-chaikhana.com for spiritual poetry from all traditions

Bitter Greens

Bitter Greens by Kate Forsyth has on the front cover the words.. So you think you know the story of Rapunzel...

This is the version of Rapunzel that I grew up with.  It is the Grimm's version where Rapunzel, locked in the tower, gives herself away to the witch by asking her why the  prince is heavier when climbing up the golden rope of her hair.  In the earlier versions, the first by Giambattista Basile, published in 1634, and the re-telling 64 year later by Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de la Force, the witch realises that Rapunzel is pregnant and so discovers her secret.  The innocent and naive Rapunzel (called Petrosinella and Persinette in these versions) simply assumes that she has put on weight due to the food which the prince supplies to supplement the meagre rations left by the witch.

Bitter Greens takes the story to a different level and indeed works on many levels through the interweaving of the stories of three women; Charlotte-Rose de la Force, Margherita and Selena Leonelli.  By weaving together the women's stories Kate Forsyth introduces us to their worlds.  Charlotte-Rose was raised in a Hugenot family and then introduced to the court of Louis XIV where the greater part of her story takes place.  As well as the roles and restrictions placed on women at the time we are given a glimpse in to the religious views of the day and the tensions between the Catholic and Protestant strands of Christianity.  It is ultimately a world where the King is the absolute ruler and no one escapes the law of his word.

Selena Leonelli and Margherita's stories are told against the backdrop of Renaissance Venice but both theirs and Charlotte-Rose's lives are full of contrasts; poverty and great wealth, the court and the convent and the freedom and opportunities afforded to men as opposed to the constricted and diminished lives of the women.

In a telling passage when Louis visits the de la Force family home, the young Charlotte-Rose overhears the conversation at the evening banquet,

Maman continued eagerly, 'And though I miss my husband greatly, I hold my estates and titles in my own right, and it was always my responsibility to run them wisely.  My husband had his own affairs to manage.  The Chateau de Cazeneuve is mine, and it shall be my daughter's after me.'
Anne-Marie-Louise was gazing at her with bright curious eyes.  'So madame, you think it possible for a woman to have her own little corner of the world and be mistress of it?'
'Of course,' my mother answered her.  'Women have been saints and soldiers and mothers.  They are more than capable of managing their own affairs.'  They shared a warm complicit smile.
'Do you not know that women are defective and misbegotten, a male gone awry?' Cardinal Mazarin said with scathing contempt.  'St Clement spoke truly when he said that all women should be overwhelmed with shame at the very thought that she is a woman.'
The women all looked down at their plates.  The Duc D'Orleans smirked at his friend. I was angry.  Why didn't Maman speak up?  Why didn't she say to him, as she said to her daughters, 'Why did God give us a brain if he didn't want us to use it?'  I looked at her doubtfully.  Her back was straight, her face was flushed and there was a deep line between her brows.  She was angry, but she did not speak.

I loved many things about this book - the magic, the mystery, the historical detail and the religious tensions.  I loved the fairy tale aspects, the witchcraft and the presence throughout the story of the motif of the garden.  But most of all I loved the question of whether it is possible for a woman to have her own little corner of the world and be mistress of it, particularly when her world is within the confines of the court or the convent or when her days are ruled by poverty.  The answer comes in part through the telling of stories.  Not only do we come to understand the characters through the telling of their stories, one of the most moving being the story of how Selena Leonelli came to be a witch, but in having a voice and being able to tell their own stories, the characters are able to find their own corner of the world and with it a measure of redemption,

Bells began to ring out.  Soeur Seraphina smiled.  'Come, my dear.  It's time for matins.  There's plenty of time for me to tell you my story.  I'll tell you while we work in the garden.'
I nodded and felt a sudden sunburst of joy at the idea.

There is so much to reflect upon in these women's stories and I know when a book has touched me deeply for I have to 'sit' with it for a few days afterwards and not rush to pick up the next one.  This is one such book which now has a place among my favourites, but the final words go to Charlotte-Rose..

It was by telling stories that I would save myself

(Note: for a very good and more comprehensive discussion of the plot of Bitter Greens see Iris' review at www.irisonbooks.com and for background information on the Rapunzel story see Terri Windling's article 'Rapunzel' at www.windling.typepad.com/blog.  Kate Forsyth credits this article as part of the inspiration for Bitter Greens)