Being a freethinker, I allow that God created the cosmos and everything in it. If He (She, It) didn't do it, who did? On planet Earth, nature. Alas, people in cities equate the weather with nature. A few trees. A zoo if they are lucky to have one. Movies and books tell of it in distant places.
Nature is more meaningful to rural folk. Mountains, vallies, streams, animals other than dogs and cats. A desire to see what's over the next hill, not the next traffic-light. Indeed, to go to the next hill and the hill after that to see for themselves. We have feet to wander with as well as imaginations to wonder with.
Before the days of trains, cars and planes our feet took us everywhere on land. Armies marched across continents. Explorers traversed deserts, jungles and climbed mountains. The Guinness Book Of World Records induced us to compete as to who could go further, faster, higher. Winners were written up and wrote about it themselves.
Needless to say, feats undertaken had to be completed. Climbing Mount Everest halfway, swimming the English Channel halfway didn't cut it. Legs cramp from running half a marathon? Oh well, you tried. Maybe next year. Author Bill Bryson moved to the UK. Then back to the US, he decided to join the footsloggers.
Though from Iowa, he decided to settle in New Hampshire. What he found near his new home was a path, which led to the Appalachian Trail (AT) which extends along the Eastern Seaboard. Interested, he bought books and interviewed people who had experiences on it.
Running through 14 states, Maine to Georgia, 3,540km long, Bryson thought: Why not? A Walk In The Woods is the book he wrote about it. A screen adaptation is in the making. He is played by Robert Redford. The hiking companion picked up along the way, Stephen Katz, is Nick Nolte.
They never saw a bear, bobcat or poisonous snake but they did endure heat and blizzard. Less than half the total was covered: 1,400km. The book isn't a guide so much as an ecological study of how nature is running down. Trees are dying and all manner of species becoming extinct.
This reviewer's favourite Bryson book is The Mother Tongue, a treatise on the English language. A Walk In The Woods is second. It's a captivating and insightful read.
I wonder if he will ever try again to complete his hike.
The Art Forger by B.A. Shapiro 500pp Algonquin Available at Asia Books and leading bookshops 425 baht
Why not posters?
Before getting into a historical novel, or ordinary novel for that matter, this reviewer reads the back cover for the synopsis, the blurb for a thumbnail sketch of the writer, the author's note if any for what part is historical and what is fictional. With that done, I proceed to peruse the contents.
Immediately, my mind goes into the mode of making connections. The plot strikes me as a variation on a theme, different yet vaguely familiar. The finish is telegraphed. The story interest-holding, but not compelling, I keep turning the pages. Which is more than can be said for several literary works.
Yank miss B.A. Shapiro taught creative writing and sociology at university. Not art, curiously, because her The Art Forger is about art. She noted that for this work of fiction, not historical fiction, she did a lot of research. For the record, I've visited a lot of museums yet I can't draw a straight line.
In her historical titbits, Shapiro informs the reader of some actual art robberies including the Mona Lisa. A number were sold back to the museums. A few turned up in rubbish bins. Alas, all too many have not been recovered. Her theory is that artists have and are copying them more than once and selling the forgeries for high prices to private collectors.
She details the components of the oils used and how they changed through the centuries. To fool today's experts, collectors and art fraud detectives, the original compounds have to be perfectly re-created, the stroke of the respective masters (no two alike) copied precisely.
Nineteenth century expressionists (e.g. Degas) are the best sellers, 20th century artists also popular. Arguably, there ought to be a separate chapter given over to the art stolen by Herman Goering, much of it still hidden. Be that as it may, art forgers are finding the odds increasingly stacked up against them.
Often as not, the collectors are at least as proficient, the digital detection equipment used by the insurance companies and the authorities (e.g. FBI) are state-of-the-art. Nevertheless, there are such profits to be made that the forgers can't resist. They've even been able to fool the auction houses.
My own way of outwitting the art forgers, apart from lacking the money involved, is shopping for art posters. If I wanted to hang a Renoir in my bedroom, I can afford it. On the wall opposite my Modigliani poster, say.
