A little shabby as might be expected of a book which is 85 years or so old, but nicely produced by Longmans. Very close to if not actually A5 in size with the text set in nicely judged margins & gutters. 16 woodcut illustrations in the 160 or so pages, with the woodcuts being pasted onto otherwise blank leaves, a technique which frames the woodcuts in a satisfying way. Better than if they had been included in page, printed directly onto the page, in the way of a modern book. Illustrations which catch my eye as we had our own woodcutter in the family and which remind me of another woodcutter once saying that one needs to play to one's medium, something picked up in the novel where it talks of the way poetry (of Pedro Calderón de la Barca, of whom I had not previously heard, thought by some to be up there with our own bard) needs to work with the metre to produce the goods. And something, as it happens, that I have my own opinions about. Most of the art which I like is the product of the interaction of some creative urge with some constraint, constraint of both medium and convention. A lot of modern art which I dislike seems to start with chucking this constraint away, leaving, for me, nothing much at all. All that said, while Claire Leighton is not my favourite woodcutter, her illustrations work well enough here, illustrating rather than trying to steal the scene.
Otherwise, a rather odd book (although very successful in its day), which served me mainly to introduce me to early 18th century Lima. But Wikipedia suggests darker purposes; a meditation on good, evil and the chances of life. Where does God fit in? Also that the book is a pre-cursor of the modern disaster film in which a disaster is used as an excuse or frame for short stories about the mainly separate lives of a group of people caught up in the one disaster. In this case there is another linking theme in the form of a famous actress, based on a real actress in a story by Prosper Mérimée (see 12th April and 28th February for another connection), something other than the disaster linking the three sub-stories together. Which also gives Wilder an opportunity to tell us something about the plays and poetry of the aforementioned Pedro Calderón de la Barca, a sufficient eminence to make one wish one could speak Spanish. But too late now, never going to find the time or the drive. Also various asides about the works of Tomás Luis da Vittoria, to the works of whom we have been introduced over the last couple of years or so by the Ripieno Choir (see 25th June and http://ripienochoir.org.uk/). I wonder now whether Wilder actually had any particular liking for the work of these people or whether he was just providing a bit of cultural colour, culled from some encylopedia.
There is another link between the three sub-stories in the form of an abbess, Madre María del Pilar, who looks after both orphans and the dying, so perhaps the darker purposes are fair enough.
I like Wilder's occasional flashes of rather dry humour. Like the 'it turned out not to be necessary', to rest, that is, after crossing the bridge, at the end of Part Four. One got them in 'The Ides of March' too.
Irritatingly, I remember the parental copy of this book being blue and fat, the fat bit of which is clearly wrong, this being a short book. Clearly yet another senior moment.
PS 1: illustration courtesy of http://bobsbeenreading.wordpress.com/ and found by Google.
PS 2: wikipedia provided admirable support for this post. As did my ancient Chamber's encyclopedia - this last still on paper if you please.
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