Scottish Rap

Rap music originated in the medieval taverns of Scotland rather than the mean streets of the Bronx and Brooklyn, an American academic has claimed.

Professor Ferenc Szasz argued that so-called rap battles, where two or more performers trade elaborate insults, derive from the ancient Caledonian art of “flyting”.

According to the theory, Scottish slave owners took the tradition with them to the United States, where it was adopted and developed by slaves, emerging many years later as rap.

“The Scots have a lengthy tradition of flyting – intense verbal jousting, often laced with vulgarity, that is similar to the dozens that one finds among contemporary inner-city African-American youth.

“Both cultures accord high marks to satire. The skilled use of satire takes this verbal jousting to its ultimate level – one step short of a fist fight.”

Flyting is a contest of insults, often conducted in verse. The word has been adopted by social historians from Scots usage of the fifteenth and sixteenth century in which bards would engage in public verbal contests of high-flying, extravagant abuse structured in the form of a poetic joust; the classic written example is The Flyting of Dumbar and Kennedie, which records a gloriously scurrilous contest between the poets Walter Kennedy and William Dunbar.

Echoes of the genre continue into modern poetry. Hugh MacDiarmid’s poem A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle, for example, has many passages of flyting in which the poet’s opponent is, in effect, the rest of humanity.

The academic, who specializes in American and Scottish culture at the University of New Mexico, made the link in a new study examining the historical context of Robert Burn’s work.

Comparing flyting and rap battles, he said: “Two people engage in ritual verbal duelling and the winner has the last word in the argument, with the loser falling conspicuously silent.”

Source: The Telegraph.

Image: From the book cover for No’ Rabbie Burns, by Stuart Macfarlane under the pen name, Stuart McLean.

Hachiko and the Sawtelle Dogs

Earlier, we wrote about Hachiko, the loyal akita inu revered by the Japanese for his dedication to his master.

Hachiko features in David Wroblewski’s stunning first book, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, and in this reader’s opinion, contributes to the brilliant sensitivity of the unusual Sawtelle dogs.

In the backwoods of Wisconsin, the Sawtelle family—Gar, Trudy and their young son, Edgar—carry on the family business of breeding and training dogs. These are no ordinary working dogs.

Edgar, born mute, has developed a special relationship and a unique means of communicating with Almondine, one of the Sawtelle dogs, a fictional breed distinguished by personality, temperament and the dogs’ ability to intuit commands and to make decisions.

Raising them is an arduous life, but a satisfying one for the family until Gar’s brother, Claude, a mystifying mixture of charm and menace, arrives. When Gar unexpectedly dies, mute Edgar cannot summon help via the telephone.

His guilt and grief give way to the realization that his father was murdered; the resemblance to Hamlet resonates. After another tragedy, Edgar goes on the run, accompanied by three loyal dogs.

At the heart of the book is a pup from an extremely rare breed, thanks to a family interest in Mendelian genetics; so rare is Almondine, indeed, that she finds ways to communicate with Edgar that no other dog and human have yet worked out. Edgar’s grandfather had a term for dogs like this: canis posterus – “next dogs”.

Edgar may be voiceless, but he is capable of expressing sorrow and rage when his father suddenly dies, and he realizes that his father’s brother, who has been spending a great deal of time with Edgar’s mother, is responsible for the crime.

In one eerie episode during a spring downpour, Edgar is awakened by the barking of the kennel dogs. Going out to investigate, he sees his father’s ghost. Gar’s ghost convinces Edgar that he really does exist by interacting with one of the pups. The pup can clearly sense Edgar’s father and, eventually, so can Edgar.

Edgar’s father makes an enigmatic sign to him: “Find H-A-A”.

Edgar is conflicted: “You’re not real. You can’t be real.”

But when Edgar finds a letter to his grandfather from the US Ambassador to Japan, he reads that, while following Hachiko from the train station, the Ambassador felt “…a third presence accompanied us, someone whom only Hachiko could see.”

This had happened before.

Wroblewski comments on the Hachiko link:

I first learned about Hachiko back in the mid-1990s when I was doing early research for The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. The more I read, the more amazed I became, if only because I’d never heard of Hachiko before. I decided to find a way to include him, somehow, in the story. And so the basic facts of Hachiko’s life (that he accompanied his owner, Professor Ueno, to the Shibuya train station in Tokyo each day, and met him there again each afternoon; that Professor Ueno died suddenly at the university; that Hachiko continued to come to the train station to greet his master for years afterward; that a statue in the dog’s honor was erected at the station even while he was still alive) are suggested in some of the letters Edgar finds, though I embroidered upon those events to tie them to Edgar’s immediate predicament.

I didn’t mention that Hachiko was an Akita only because it didn’t seem important for the story—John Sawtelle drew on many breeds to create the Sawtelle dogs, and what was significant was Hachiko’s astonishing devotion, not his breed credentials. That, and the fact that John Sawtelle was sly and inventive enough to somehow wrangle a puppy from Hachiko’s bloodline after reading about his situation in a newspaper.

By the way, 2008 has been a great year for Hachiko devotees. Besides his appearance in The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, Hachiko is mentioned in Martha Sherrill’s superb book Dog Man, a biography of the man credited with rescuing the Akita breed from extinction after World War II. Hachiko is also the subject of a forthcoming motion picture, Hachiko: A Dog’s Story, directed by Lasse Halström and starring Richard Gere and Joan Allen.

An interesting twist to the Sawtelle story is that Edgar shares the traits of the marvellous dogs. He cannot speak, he sees ghosts, and he communicates by signs. He is loyal, but he chooses to run away and make it on his own by foraging and stealing, it is as alpha of his own pack.

Note to David Wroblewski: Those of us who share our lives with the Japanese spitz already know about canis posterus. Shhh. It’s our little secret…

Hachikō Waits

Hachikō Waits is a children’s book, written by Lesléa Newman and illustrated by Machiyo Kodaira. It uses the true story of Hachikō the Akita dog from Japan and adds Yasuo, a young boy, to the story. It won the ASPCA Children’s Book Honor in 2004

Hachikō (November 10, 1923–March 8, 1935), known in Japanese as chūken Hachikō (“faithful dog Hachikō”), was born in the city of Odate, Akita Prefecture, and remembered for his loyalty to his master.

In 1924, Hachikō was brought to Tokyo by his owner, Hidesaburō Ueno, a professor in the agriculture department at the University of Tokyo. During his owner’s life Hachikō saw him off from the front door and greeted him at the end of the day at the nearby Shibuya Station.

What a good dog you are. What a fine dog you are. Hachi, you are the best dog in all of Japan.

Professor Ueno speaks these words to his faithful dog before boarding the train every morning. And every afternoon, Hachiko returns to the train station to greet his master.

The pair continued their daily routine until May 1925, when Professor Ueno didn’t return on the usual train one evening. The professor had suffered a stroke at the university that day. He died and never returned to the train station where his friend was waiting.

Hachikō was given away after his master’s death, but he routinely escaped, showing up again and again at his old home. After time, Hachikō apparently realized that Professor Ueno no longer lived at the house. So he went to look for his master at the train station where he had accompanied him so many times before. Each day, Hachikō waited for Professor Ueno to return. And each day he didn’t see his friend among the commuters at the station.

Hachikō was a permanent fixture at the train station, and he attracted the attention of other commuters. Many of the people who frequented the Shibuya train station had seen Hachikō and Professor Ueno together each day. Realizing that Hachikō waited in vigil for his dead master, their hearts were touched. They brought Hachikō treats and food to nourish him during his wait.

This continued for 10 years, with Hachikō appearing only in the evening time, precisely when the train was due at the station.

That same year, another of Ueno’s former students (who had become something of an expert on the Akita breed) saw the dog at the station and followed him to the Kobayashi home where he learned the history of Hachikō’s life. Shortly after this meeting, the former student published a documented census of Akitas in Japan. His research found only 30 purebred Akitas remaining, including Hachikō from Shibuya Station.

Professor Ueno’s former student returned frequently to visit the dog and over the years published several articles about Hachikō’s remarkable loyalty. In 1932 one of these articles, published in Tokyo’s largest newspaper, threw the dog into the national spotlight.

Hachikō became a national sensation. His faithfulness to his master’s memory impressed the people of Japan as a spirit of family loyalty all should strive to achieve. Teachers and parents used Hachikō’s vigil as an example for children to follow. A well-known Japanese artist rendered a sculpture of the dog, and throughout the country a new awareness of the Akita breed grew.

Hachikō Waits official website

The Secret of the Nutcracker

Visions of sugar plum fairies will dance in your head as The Secret of the Nutcracker, a new spin on the classic tale, comes to life.

The film is loosely base on E.T.A. Hoffman’s Nussknacker und Mausekönig which inspired Tchaikovsky’s ballet The Nutcracker.

It features the talented Brian Cox as Drosselmeyer, and introduces Janelle Jorde as Clara. This delightful Christmas tale tells the story of 12 year-old Clara’s mystical journey on Christmas Eve to find her father in a World War II German Prisoner of War camp. She receives unexpected help from the mysterious Drosselmeyer who befriends Clara and encourages her to believe that she can create magic.

The Secret of The Nutcracker is directed by Eric Till and features the music of Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and John Estacio, performed by the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra. Four exquisite dance spectacles by the renowned Alberta Ballet are woven throughout to create Clara’s fantasy dream world.

There is a spectacular ballroom sequence with dancers in Venetian bird masks and costumes in all colours of the rainbow. Drosselmeyer doubles as a wise owl with glowing golden eyes, and he travels with an amusing flock of Swiss Guard crows.

Clara lives with her mother and two younger brothers in rural Alberta in 1943 while her father is a POW in Germany. This classic tale is seamlessly interwoven throughout with references to the Second World War and the Nazi internment camps.

The Secret of the Nutcracker begins a scene of the boys in the wood, sent to bring home a tree on Christmas Eve. They are startled by strange rustling noises, and they run home as quickly as they can.

The woods and the deserted road are ominous, and the shadowy figures that flash through the trees are reminiscent of the Nazi threat. We see Clara reflected in the golden eye of an owl, and there is a pervasive sense of being watched. In one of Clara’s frightening dreams, the Nazi menace appears as large black rat/bear creatures that imprison her mother and brothers in the trees.

In another, brighter dream, Clara visits her father with the help of Drosselmeyer, and gives him the gift of hope.

And yes, here’s the spoiler: Clara’s dad comes home at the end of the war, and there’s a quintessential Canadian scene of him running up the road through the snow to Clara, her brothers and their mother.

Video excerpts at Joe Media

You can get your very own copy of this award-winning film at CBC Shop

Did Lady Murasaki Invent the Novel?

Did Murasaki Shikibu (Lady Murasaki) invent the novel in 1000 AD? The Tale of Genji is read in Japanese schools as Shakespeare is read in English and North American schools today.

The 1,000-year-old Japanese novel is a testament to the continuity of human nature and to the unceasing variety of customs and social arrangements that civilizations engender. Reading it is in some ways a challenge, and yet it goes down easily, in a dreamlike way, not quite understandable yet consistently alluring.

The first part of the book is a biographical novel about “The Shining Genji,” a son of the emperor of Japan and one of his low-status concubines.

He is intelligent, graceful and wonderfully good-looking, and sets himself the task, early in his adult life, of knowing and loving as many women as he can. His task is complicated by the fact that most of the women he might come to know are sequestered and unavailable, but his charm and intelligence more or less overcome this difficulty.

He lives to the age of 48 or 50; he marries polygamously several times; he finds true love; he has several children; he finds wisdom.

It is this last that gives The Tale of Genji its enduring appeal.

Heian Japan (794 to 1185 AD) saw the popularization of Buddhism.
By the 10th century, there were well-established philosophical and poetic traditions that Lady Murasaki easily drew upon to infuse Genji’s career, but also his inner life, with meaning as well as lyrical power.

At one point about halfway into the novel, for example, when Genji is, to all appearances, at the height of fame and power, he and one of his wives discuss whether spring or autumn is to be preferred.

After Genji leaves, the wife reflects: “He brings everything altogether in himself, like a willow that is all of a sudden blooming like a cherry. It sets a person to shivering.”

Genji himself is only made more thoughtful and humble by his great career, and in the end dies lamenting his failures and flaws rather than celebrating his successes.

It is this, the author implies, not his looks or his intelligence or his achievements or his high connections, that raises him above all others.

The latter portion of the novel concerns the rivalry and intrigue between the two young men over a pair of sisters, daughters of a nobleman who lives at some distance from the imperial court.
Murasaki explores the contrasting psychologies of the four main characters and the consequences of their various choices as they attempt to wrestle with their desires and their conflicting loyalties.

As in the earlier section, formalities of birth and inheritance only temporarily veil realities — characters discover that they are not who they thought they were, and that desire often overcomes taboos.

There is an integrity to it all that is made up of Lady Murasaki’s overriding interest in what love is and what it feels like, in the progress of seasons and years, in the relationship between the inner life and external circumstances.

Somehow, The Tale of Genji defies the passage of a millennium and invites us to ponder that the more things change, the more they stay the same, while the more they stay the same, the more they change.

Jane Smiley’s complete review at the Globe and Mail.

A photographic appreciation of the Tale of Genji.

Moon and Star

Moon and Star: A Christmas Story is a beautiful and heart-warming picture book for the season by writer and illustrator, Robin Muller.

Moon is a toyshop dog. He is named Moon because he has a moon-shaped mark around his right eye.

“Moon loves all the toys, but secretly he loved one above all the others: a delicate little porcelain cat with a shining star painted on its face. Moon calls the cat Star.”

The shopkeeper tells Moon that all the toys go to the child who will love them the most, so Moon is sure that Star will be his on Christmas day. Moon loves Star so much that, every night, he takes Star to his mat and curls up beside her as he sleeps.

On Christmas Eve, a rich woman buys Star, and Moon is heartbroken.

Moon follows the woman home, and finds that she has given Star to her ungrateful grandson. The spoiled child throws Star against the wall and shatters her into pieces.

A housemaid sweeps Star’s pieces into a little box and tosses the box onto a rubbish heap outside. Moon collects the box with a heavy heart.

But this season is a time of miracles. That night, an angel visits Moon and he discovers that magical and wondrous things are possible.