Musings from Brian J. Noggle

On September 10, I watched about thirty seconds of the presidential debate, when the moderators attacked Trump about his tariffs, and that was all I could take. You know, a long time ago, I would liveblog such things, and in 2008, I went to a rally when Palin debated Biden in St. Louis and shook my head in disbelief whenever Biden lied, and I could not believe that people did not know better. Nearly two decades later, it is I who have been educated, and they do believe it.

So instead of trying to jump into Walden, I picked up this book, a fairly recent addition to the stacks along with a book of poems inspired by the television series The Golden Girls (you’ll be hearing about it) to calm my mind.

Ah! Kittens! Puppies! Forty-some full color pictures beside a quatrain of cutesy doggerel or catterel. It’s definitely a gift book, complete with To and From lines before the title page. Nothing more, nothing less.

As you might know, gentle reader, I have started a cutesy pet picture business at NicoSez.com. I only have fifteen photos/designs up, but, you know what? When I get a litter further along, perhaps I will make a book of it and sell it at ABC Books. Maybe have a signing with Nico.

So I did count this as a book I read. After all, it had as many poems as photos. Well, less if you count the cover, front and end pieces, and title pages. But still. Poems, everybody! Poems!

I picked this book up from the free book cart at church. I might have mentioned before that I pick up a book sometimes on Sunday mornings, especially ones where my beautiful wife has to be there thirty or forty-five minutes before service begins. I’ve also been known to drop off books when I find a duplicate in the Nogglestead stacks, but only if the book is fairly wholesome–the Battlefield park little free library gets the saucy stuff. For a while, other people were also leaving books, non-church books–westerns and whatnot–but then on Sunday all that was cleared off as though someone decided that was not what the cart was for. The cart, I imagine someone saying, was for inspirational Christian books. And, brother, this book is not a Christian book.

Instead, it is a collection of quotes from Klemp, who apparently is the leader of Eckankar, which scans like Hinduism blended with just enough Christian iconography to perhaps attract wandering members. The book talks about God, and it talks about the Holy Spirit, but it also talks about the soul as being part of divinity, different worlds/planes of existence to which the soul can rise, and reincarnation. Stuff that your pastor probably would prefer you not like too much.

The book, again, is a set of quotes from other works (Klemp had over 60 books by 2006, and probably many more in the intervening decades). So it doesn’t go into too much the ontology of the recently developed school of religious thought, but one wonders how much deep ontology one would find in the more seminal works–whether they would tend to the academic and scholastic or just be happy guides to letting your soul glow.

C’mon, man, you can’t read that phrase and not sing it.

At any rate, one of the passages reads:

Each Soul is an individual and unique being. We have two parts to our lower nature: the positive and the negative. When we get to the Soul Plane, we find that threse two parts become one.

I can’t see “Soul Plane” and not think of the film. And I can’t help but say it my head like this:

Sorry, I didn’t take this book very seriously. It’s got just enough of the ontology, the talk of different planes of existence and whatnot, to not be completely useful as a simple mindfulness self-helper. And I’m not really a spiritual kind of guy looking for a new framework to help me understand my place in the universe. So, ultimately, I cannot actually assess the book nor its religion properly. But it’s definitely different from the lightweight Buddhism I sometimes read.

After reading Tough Guys and Gals of the Movies, I came across this book and figured that I might as well keep on the theme.

In this case, the book covers mostly monster movies as the “horror” films–slasher films would only be coming into prominence about the time this book was coming out (the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre was 1974). We do get some Hitchcock-style thrillers, and I laughed out loud when a still from the opening of Zardoz was on page 18.

So the book is probably designed for people who are fans of the genre to page through as kind of a checklist or a reminder of things they’ve seen or items to add to their list of things to catch on the Creature Feature on Saturday mornings on a UHF station. I have seen a number of films in it, including a couple quite recently (Dracula and Barbarella if you, as I do, count 2022 as recently). I’ve also seen Night of the Living Dead, Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, The Birds, King Kong, Metropolis, Soylent Green, The Pit and the Pendulum with Vincent Price (recently, but not recently enough to have blogged it), and maybe all or parts of some others. I have to say I’m less inclined to go hunt down the old horror films than the old noir films in Tough Guys and Gals of the Movies, but I’m not likely to find many of either in the wild.

It’s a product of its time also in that one in the 21st Century knows to call some films the original. Films the book discusses, such asInvasion of the Body Snatchers, Psycho, The Fly, and King Kong would be remade not long after this book came out. Some of the actors became more widely known for other things–Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, for example, starred in a number of monster films in the 1960s and early 1970s, but they’re most known for Star Wars and/or The Lord of the Rings.

I did spot one error in the book; it says The Omega Man was set in New York, but I knew it was in California (I’d thought San Francisco, but Wikipedia says Los Angeles).

As with the previous book, I found it to be a pretty quick read; it is chock full of photos, mostly black and white but some color, but the ratio of text-to-image was too high for browsing during football games. Now that that old life is behind me, I shall endeavor to go through more of these sorts of book. Heaven knows I have a couple more like it.

This was the only book I bought at the Friends of the Christian County Library book sale last month, and after finishing Glory Road (and whilst still working, slowly, on Walden), I wanted something a little different.

Do not confuse this book with Tough Guys and Dangerous Dames, which I reported on in 2004. Not that you would; that one is a collection of pulp fiction, whereas this one is a litany focusing on actors (and some actresses) who played hardboiled or sub-versions of such characters in the movies, whether detectives, villains, or…. monsters? Yes, Bela Lugosi and Vincent Price are mentioned. Of course Cagney, Bogart, and Robinson are mentioned. So are later arrivals like Kirk Douglas and Burt Lancaster (I’m pretty sure I’ve only seen these actors together in a film called, oddly enough, Tough Guys which was on Showtime back in the day). At the very tail end of the period covered, we get actors like Robert Redford, Gene Hackman, and some others who were getting into 70s tough guy actors who were really not that tough at all.

It’s an interesting role call (ahut) that includes some older actors who are mostly forgotten today (Dan Duryea, Charles Pickford, and so on) as they did not reach the heights of some others.

This was a longtime high school library book in Ash Grove, but not necessarily a popular one. It was checked out 7 times in 1982, 4 times in 1983, 2 times in 1984, 3 times in 1985, 2 times in 1987, what looks to be once in 1992, and once in 1983. I have to wonder how relevant this book would have been to high school students in the early 1980s, as the majority of the films covered in the book were released in the 1930s through the 1950s. Probably more relevant than a similar time elapsed period today as old films were still in rotation on UHF stations and on Saturday afternoons and late night shows, and the cable viewing diaspora had not occurred yet. I guess some of the actors were still working in the 1980s–Vincent Price provided voice over for “Thriller”, Clint Eastwood was still playing Dirty Harry and had perhaps his best Western yet to come, Raymond Burr was still making Perry Mason movies, and, of course, the aforementioned Tough Guys.

I enjoyed the book and read it quickly, and it made me really want to find some of these classics on home video. Which might inspire me to spend even more at the upcoming Friends of the Springfield-Greene County Library book sale than I would. Although restraint has not really been one of my strong suits.

When I bought this book in 2021, I said, “…a browser that would be right up Lileks’ alley.” And so it was, although with less depth than you get out of Lileks’ The American Motel site which Lileks has built over years from postcards.

This book, though, is a quick, inexpensive collection of photos featuring mostly motel signs but also some actual motel photos, including a few interiors and a couple of the fronts of motels or the grounds. A few are black and white for real retromania, but others are relatively contemporary. Ha! I mean contemporary to people of a certain age. Judging by the cars outside the motels, the photos only go up to the 1980s.

You know, I was kind of expecting to have visited a motel depicted within the book. Not because I’ve visited a lot of non-chain motels in my day–I think I’ve stayed at maybe three or four in my lifetime, and Budgetels, Hampton Inns, and whatnot. But given that the cover of the book has Route 66 right on it, I fully expected to see St. Louis’s Coral Courts in it somewhere because they had a distinct art deco look to them–and as I mentioned, I “urban explored” them before they made way for a subdivision. But no.

I suppose it counts to my good that my scores on checklists of churches exceeds the score of quizzes based on one-night cheap motels I’ve visited.

I ordered this book from ABC Books during the Covid lockdowns in 2020; apparently, that day I was browsing the animal listings as I bought a number of cat books (and probably sent some to my friend Glenn who never acknowledged it).

It’s basically a listicle of things you can do to be friendly to a cat with one item per page aside a picture of a cat doing something cute (not that I would try to monetize something like that). Basically, it’s a little book designed to be a gift for someone you know who likes cats. Which makes it all the more not-needed-to-be said: That person you know who likes cats probably already does most of these things already because they’re pretty obvious. Also, the age of the target audience becomes obvious when you run into an Ethel Merman reference. C’mon, man, she was old when she was in Airplane!, and that was forty-five years ago. Very few people under the age of 60 will know who she was.

Still, it counts as a full book for the annual total. And, to be honest, I’m a little surprised that it took me this long to get to it. Perhaps I’ve been reading magazines and poetry for end-of-the-evening browsers, and I haven’t really been watching football enough to run through books like this. Still, good to have moved it along in the to-read stacks > read books > estate sale pipeline. Not really looking forward to that last step, admittedly.

I’ve had this book atop the bookshelves in the hall facing out for a while. Well, I guess we did just move/reorganize the shelves out there last autumn when we had some work done at Nogglestead, so it might not have been looking down on me every time I passed through the hall since I bought it ten years ago. But for some reason, I’ve passed over it time and time again. Except this is the year of Sword and Sorcery at Nogglestead (or a year of Sword and Sorcery as the stacks have enough of the genre to support many such years), and the book has a man with a sword talking to an ogre on the cover, so now was the time.

The edition I have is from 1982, so I was going to expound upon the rise of the “normal people from earth go to a fantasy world” subgenre which I would have posited was a mainstay of fantasy in the 1980s, drawing upon my familiarity of Rosenberg’s The Guardians of the Flame series and Chalker’s Dancing Gods series, but further reflection indicates that the subgenre goes way back to the Chronic (what?) cles of Narnia and the Gor books whose reviews pepper the last 20 years of this blog, so instead of a thesis easily disproven, you get this paragraph. Also, this book was originally published in 1964, but thematically it seems later as we will see.

It starts out in that fantasy genre: An early Vietnam vet musters out and bums around, eventually answering an ad in a European magazine. He finds himself transported to a magical universe with a beautiful woman and a short sidekick. Apparently, he’s the hero that the woman needs to complete a quest which takes them across vast distances and through strange environs so that he can help her recover an artifact she needs as queen of the multiverse.

However, after a couple of set action pieces befitting a fantasy novel, we veer into Heilein polyamory philosophy. And then the quest is completed two-thirds of the way through the book, and after that, it explores a bit of what it’s like to be the queen of the multiverse and to be her consort. So it gets a little blowsy in the last third as not much actually happens besides a little politics, musings on male/female relationships, and a visit home by the hero who has changed on his journey.

So: A quick read, well-written but not necessarily action-packed. Not remembered as one of Heinlein’s best, and probably a transitional work between the rocket jockey stuff and the adult stuff with the alternative lifestyles. But perhaps that transition preceded Stranger in a Strange Land more than I commonly think.

After finishing Houses of Worship, I wanted another book to serve its purpose: Something a little light to read or browse not during football games (probably not going to watch many again this year) but in the fifteen or so minutes between finishing a chapter in a longer work and actually going to bed. I didn’t find a similar coffeetable book immediately, but I did pick up this book which I bought in April 2022, and, as it happens, I read the whole thing in one sitting.

Not because it was compelling nor particularly good poetry.

Instead, it’s a litany of poems written about specific lovers and wives whom he cheated on with named and poetized lovers (and the wives, apparently, cheated on him as well). But it’s written as a bit of a retrospective, a lyin’ in the winter of his years, trying to recapture a bit of his youth and/or maybe brag.

Although published in 1984, this book is a bit of a throwback; the author’s first (of only a handful) collection appeared in 1957, and he went into teaching in the 1960s. So he was in academia in the free love era, when poets were sexy, and he took advantage of it. Yet I can’t but characterize him as Rod McKuen without the depth.

How did this signed copy come to Missouri from back east where the author taught? Apparently, he was a Springfield native (although he did not live here for most of his life). So it’s not like finding Bernard O’Donoghue’s copy of Five Themes of Today here.

I bought this book at the end of June, and I selected it as my end-of-night, I-don’t-want-to-start-another-chapter-of-a-longer-book book. What are those longer books I deferred whilst paging through this book? In order of time spent on my chairside table without my planning to throw them back into the stacks, they are The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, The Life of Greece (the Story of Civilization Volume 2), The Rape of the Lock by Pope (not a long book, but eighteenth century verse is harder and slower to read than nineteenth), and whatever bit of fiction I’ve got. I have other books on the side table, but I’m going to one day soon clear them from that table and throw them back. It’s been long enough that I’ll want to start from the beginning again. Well, maybe not The Innocents Abroad.

At any rate: This is a hardback publication by Ideals Publishing, the firm behind Ideals magazine (at least in those days). It has 36 different entries on old churches and cathedrals not just Christian or Catholic but also including a synagogue, a temple of the Bahai faith, the Church of Latter Day Saints, and Christian Scientists. I guess, depending how ecumenical your faith is, the latter two are Christian faiths of a sort as well. But anyway.

They’re broken into chapters grouping them as old churches of New England (and a little west), missions, modern churches, and whatnot. Each entry has one to three pictures about it as well as a couple paragraphs of the location’s importance or origin. Many of the locations were by then (1977) abandoned by worshippers and picked up, sometimes after some time, by foundations or historical societies for restoration as museums.

But as with my score visiting the best book shops in the world, I found that I have been to three of these locations as well:

• The Joan of Arc Chapel on the Marquette campus. Although I spent many hours reclining on the wall between the chapel and the Memorial Library, I only visited the chapel while showing the campus to someone else, either my mother at graduation or a girlfriend after. But I’ve been in it.
• The Church of Annunciation, also in Milwaukee, which was the location of an annual Greek festival. Maybe I’ve only been on the grounds, but I have a sense that I took a tour at some point.
• The new cathedral in St. Louis, where I attended the funeral of the father of one of my beautiful wife’s co-workers.

Which is a surprising number, actually, as I don’t tend to seek out old churches when travelling (active Missouri Synod Lutheran churches when staying over on a Sunday, but not old churches). And I have not been to the southwest (home of Spanish missions) or much to New England.

So an interesting little browse, especially for the purpose I use it: To pad out fifteen minutes before bed and to pad out my annual reading count.

I mentioned when I bought the book that it had an inscription. Here it is:

In it, Mrs. Gamble apologizes to the Barner family for “crashing their party” and hopes that they enjoy their retirement.

Internet stalking says the Gambles founded a gift shop in the 1960s that sold Waterford Crystal and that they later sold the store in 1984 to a local poet/children’s book author and his wife. The shop closed in 2018. Mr. Gamble died in 1990; Mrs. Gamble died in 2021 at 101. Mr. Barner was a local banker who died in 2021 at 100. Given that the inscription is dated 1986, he had a nice long retirement. Mrs. Barner died in 2009.

I really have become an Internet stalker of people whose books I later own, and this seems really weird because unlike Mary Ovenshine, these people could have been neighbors. Well, probably not, but some of them lived in Springfield when I did.