I Got A Kiss o' the King's Hand....

Today is the feast day of Christ the King. It is a fairly new feast within the liturgical calender, having been instituted in 1925, but Jesus Christ has been honoured as King by all Christians since the very earliest days of the Church. It is, I think, a particularly beautiful and appropriate feast for our times, when temporal rulers fall so short of the standard. It is good to remember that we serve a King, Who genuinely loves and cares for His people. Here is an old picture I came up with a few years back to mark the day:

The title of the post comes from an old piobaireachd, A Kiss of the King's Hand. I had originally intended to post something particular to the day, but most of the hymns I came across featured organs and enthusiastic congregational singing. Now, mind you, when you hear the organ live, and you are part of the enthusiastic congregation, that is a grand sound indeed. However, youtube videos of the same tend to lack a certain something, so I am posting the piobaireachd instead.

The story behind the tune, is that a piper in the army or Charles II played for the king, who was so pleased with the music, that he commended the piper, and allowed him to kiss his hand. The piper wrote this tune to commemorate the event. Here are the words that go to it - and this is what always pops into my head each Sunday after Holy Communion:

Thuair mi Pòg s’ Pòg s’ Pòg  ga’n d’thuair mi Pòg o’ Laimh an Righ…  cha’d chur seid a n Croicion Caorach a thuair an turram a thuair mi.

I have had a kiss, a kiss, a kiss, I have had a kiss of the king’s hand:--  No one who blew in a sheep’s skin,  Has received such honour as I have

As a side note: I am not sure how widely spread the belief was, but there was a period, at least, in Scotland, when it was believed that the hands of the King were blessed, since they ruled with authority coming from God. Amongst other things, it was believed that the hands of the King were the hands of a healer. Readers of The Lord of the Rings will appreciate the historical connection.

Let's Have A Merry Little Round of Tag, Shall We?

A while back, I mentioned that I had gotten behind on tags. Like.... really, really behind on tags. And I feel bad about it, because it is nice to be tagged. I appreciate being tagged. I especially appreciate being tagged by new followers, which means that I feel particularly bad about waiting so long to get to Miss Melody Muffin's Getting To Know You tag. (Engages in a sheepish shuffling of the feet, whilst considering how to go on from here....)  So... a very belated thank you to Miss Muffin, and without further ado:

1.)  Coffee or tea?

There was a time the answer to this would have been a straight-forward "coffee!" Nowadays, however, I drink both of them in great quantities. (See the profile on my sidebar :-)

2.) You win $1000! What would be something fun you that you would do with it?

Um... Change out all the stainless steel ferrules on my bagpipes for brass instead? Go on a trip to see some of my long-distance friends whom I have not seen in a while? BOTH? That is probably enough for both!

3.) You're given the opportunity for the lead part in a play. Would you take it?

Probably... not. I actually think I could be a decent actress, and would enjoy the the acting part of it. It is the being watched part of it that gars me run for my life at the very idea of being in a play.

4.) Would you rather sing, play an instrument or listen?

Heh heh. I choose all of the above. I love music, and enjoy listening to other people make it as much as I enjoy being musical myself. However, when I sing, it is mostly to myself, or in a crowd. Public soloing means involves showing more of myself than I am comfortable with, and it scares the living daylights out of me.

5.) Are you more of a chit-chat person?  Or sporty?

Frankly, I am the very amused observer lurking in the corner, with a book close to hand. I think, if I had to pick one, I'd have to go with chit-chat, because I cannot really call myself sporty. I did fencing for a bit, and I'd like to learn to box, but running about and all that? Nah.

6.) Did you ever have an unrealistic dream as a child?

Not that I can remember.

7.) Have you fulfilled any of the dreams you had as a child?

No. (Sheesh, that just sounds sad, doesn't it? I have fulfilled dreams from after I was a child. Does that count?)

8.) What's the one place in the world that you've always wanted to visit?

I've actually been able to go to most the places I most wanted to see - Italy, Ireland, Scotland. (See, dreams :-) The one place I still haven't been to yet is Venice, so I'll go with that.

9.) What book character do you always find yourself imitating?

When I was much younger, pretty much every character I liked. Now, it is more likely to be historical characters, or characters out of my own stories.

10.) What's your favorite season?  Why?

Autumn. Because it is beautiful and exciting, and makes me feel like I can take on the world. The leaves of the aspens and birches burst into flame, the air gets brisk (I hate hot weather) and smells so good. There is wind, and clouds, and geese that go crying across the sky in v-formation. Perhaps it is because I read The Lord of the Rings when I was quite young, but Autumn has always been the season for adventure to me.

11.) What are some of your favorite blogs to read?

Confession time: I am a terrible blog follower. I am more of a blog dropper-by. And I drop by a quite a lot of blogs - food blogs; art blogs; writing blogs; history blogs; Tolkien blogs; Catholic blogs; serious blogs; fun blogs... It really depends on my mood. 

12.) How long have you been blogging?

That's a good question. (Looks at profile.) Well, look at that. Since 2010. 

Amanda and Bella both have tagged me with the Liebster Blog Award, so I am just going to combine them. I've done this one a few times before, so, to spice things up a bit, I am not going to list 11 facts about myself this time. Instead, I am going to post picture of 11 unusual things that I generally have in my purse. 

1.) WWI - WWII Standard Issue Pull Chain Soldiers' Rosary. (Click on the link. There is more information about the things than I have been able to find anywhere else.) I believe I have mentioned this item before on this blog. It is one of my favourite things. A Proper Mathom. 

2.) Pocket-sized, edition of The Hobbit - leather-bound, as you can see, and gilt-edged. I believe that one should always carry a good book in case of emergencies.

3.) This extremely cool, collapsible tin cup, with leather case. It is tremendously handy, and yes, I have used it.

4.) These odd prayer books: One has Catholic Prayers in Irish and Scots Gaelic, and the other has Catholic Prayers in Italian. I intend, you see, to use them for the rosary, or something, and work on acquiring new languages. So far it hasn't happened, but I am ready, should the moment strike me. 

5.) A pair of squished, souvenir pennies - one for Edinburgh Castle and one for the Nevada State Museum. Also, an old Irish 2p coin - a currency rendered obsolete withe the introduction of the Euro.

6.) A digital voice recorder. Because my techie uncle was getting rid of it, and it seemed a good thing to have. You never know when you will need to record an incriminating conversation! 

7.) This incredibly ugly pen, because it also has an LED light in it, and can be used as a flashlight.

8.) This attractive fountain pen to make up for the other one. I do use fountain pens. This one is a modern one, with an ink cartridge in it. I prefer the older ones, which require ink bottles, but the Shaeffer Tuckaway, which is my favourite pen to use, needs to have its ink sac replaced, and is temporarily out of commission. (When it isn't. There is generally a bottle of ink in my purse as well.)

9.) Emergency Rations: In this case, bullion cubes, instant oatmeal, tea and chocolate. I've read too many WWII and escaping POWs books, and as a result, I almost always have some food hidden in the inner pocket, which will be used only in the gravest of emergencies.

10.) This antique Cartolina Postale (that is Italian for post card), written to someone's Cara Sorella. (dear sister in Italian :-)

11.) This odd scrap of paper, containing doodles, the titles of a couple books I am interested in perusing, and an odd quote by Winston Churchill. 

And now, for Bella's questions:

Do you wear penny-loafers?

Not anymore. I used to - a very cute brown pair, with pennies in them. Nowadays, I just stick to a pair of saddle shoes.

Do you draw?

I try to. It is more doodling. My sisters - bless them - say that the doodles have lots of feeling to them. 

Do you own a sword?

Several. Have you not read my blog, girlie?

What are your thoughts on Oz? (The land not the wizard)

Follow the Yellow Brick Road.
Follow the Yellow Brink Road.

Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the Yellow Brick Road.....

Nick Fury: Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.

Steve Rogers: I understood that reference! (looks inordinately proud of himself.)

I actually don't think about The Wizard of Oz at all, can you tell?

Do you play any sports?

Ehm.... Not really. I like watching hockey, though. And soccer. And live baseball.

For you what is most important in a story? (a) a good Plot (b) the right feel (c) good characters?

This was a hard one for me to answer, because each of those elements are very important to me. However, I will forgive a story a good deal, if it can make me care for the characters. On the other hand, I do read Patricia McKillip's books for the feel of them, so it is not a hard and fast rule.

Matt Smith or Benedict Cumberbatch?

Billy Boyd :-)

Was your dollhouse ever haunted?

!?!?!?!?!?! Why would you even ask such a horrible thing?

Romping adventures or a quiet night with a cup of tea?

I want to say both. I feel like I want adventures, but I think, if it came right down to it, my initial reaction to adventure would be much like Bilbo's: "Nasty, uncomfortable things, makes one late for dinner." Either way, I seldom refuse the invitation to partake in a cuppa.

Have you ever written a twisted fairy tale?

I don't know. I have scribbled out some sketches of stories based on fairy tales. Is that what you mean?

What does a crack in the wall mean to you?

It depends on the crack. A wee harmless crack will cause me no alarm. Zig-zaggy lines remind me of Dr. Who and large cracks gar me wonder if there is something living in my wall that will come out at night and scare me. Fortunately, there are hardly any cracks in my pinewood walls, so I cracks and I are on good terms with each other. 

And there you are. I am caught up again! I know I have been a very indifferent blogger of late - I have no excuse. Life has decided to behave more pleasantly than it has in a while (Thanks be to God!) but the Muse is is being coy and vexing, and largely silent. And I have been too tired and lazy to pursue her properly. I shall endevour to do better in the future, but just how faithful I am to this remains to be seen.

It Must Be Such A Nice, Quiet Place To Work....

Well.... Aye.... It is a library, so it can be.....

There is this general, preconceived idea about libraries, which is really quite charming. Most folk really do seem them as nice quiet places - civilised places, you know. Seats of knowledge, and repositories of history and story. And I have a confession to make: even though I have worked at a modern, public library long enough that it can safely be said I have made a career out of it, and can tell you from experience, that it is not really so pleasant as all that... Well, golly, I have managed to retain my own idealised version of what I library really is. Say the word "library" to me, and, despite years of experience, the mental image that comes up, is something rather like this:

Los Angeles Public Library Children's Reading Room
From aprettybook.com

Or this:

From beautiful-libraries.com

Or this:

Also from beautiful-libraries.com

Notice how truly warm and welcoming these places are. Lots of books. Lots of corners to pursue books in. Civilised bookish people, doing bookish things in the book place. By contrast, most libraries actually look rather like this:

www.tuckerlibraryinteriors.com

Not bad, mind you, but lacking a certain something. And library patrons are as likely to do this:

as they are to take advantage of the tables, chairs and desks provided for their comfort. Furthermore, libraries, despite their reputations as veritable bastions of decorum and culture, tend to attract... interesting clientele. The sort of clientele that insists the FBI will be raiding us at any moment; or that there is a terrorist attack going on right here, right now, because their email won't open; or who inform you gravely that they keep their garbage in the refrigerator until garbage day, so that the bears won't get into it; or who scatter booklets about, containing the enlightening information that all world leaders are really lizard aliens, complete with pictures to prove it. In short, there are a lot of lunatics wandering about - harmless, and all that, but quite insane. One becomes accustomed to it. One learns to take peculiar behaviour in one's stride - just another day at the library. 

Every now and again, however, things become particularly interesting. Take this morning, just before we opened for the day. There were a few of us, taking a quick break in the back room, as is our custom. There is a large window in the break room, framed by a pair of lovely poplars, which looks over the employee parking, and beyond that, to a city campground, which, at this time of the year, is but sparsely populated with RVs. As we sat about, drinking our coffee, lo and behold, a venerable old grey Subaru, completely lacking in license plates, came cruising around the corner, to park itself outside our window. A rather older fellow hopped out of the car, and after a moment or two of indecision, lit out for the campground, leaped the fence and disappeared. That was both odd and a little unexpected. Several minutes later, the man came hirpling back, carrying with him a very large, red gasoline canister, with a nozzle. He proceeded to fill up his gas tank with the contents. He took his time about it, and when he was finished, he flitted off for the campground again, apparently returning the canister to its rightful owner, before driving away again. That was definitely a first. Folk have mistaken our parking lot for campground parking before, but never has anyone taken if for a refuelling station. I do hope that he had a friend in the campground, and was getting the loan of a tankful of fuel, and that he was not - heaven help up us - stealing it right from under the noses of unsuspecting strangers. 

Whilst that little episode was in progress, one of the building maintenance men dropped in to inform us that we've had a homeless person sleeping outside the library every night t his past week. Ordinarily, this would be something we would turn a blind eye to, at least, for a little while, especially since he clears out so early that no one but the groundsmen see him. This particular person, however, objects to the outside light that we have on that side of the building, and, rather than doing the intelligent thing, and unscrewing the bulb, simply smashes it to bits before retiring for the night. Sleeping is one thing, vandalism, something else all together, so now the Law is supposed to keep an eye on things. We shall see how that goes.

And before we had quite finished discussing that little matter, a great big, hairy individual, with wild hair and wild beard, appeared out of nowhere and came charging up to the back door like a Viking storming the stronghold. There came a battering upon the door, and I, serving at the moment in the capacity of Senior Staff Member, found myself responsible for shooing him away. 

"The Library is open!" He panted.

"Not yet." I replied. "We'll be open at 10. You can go around to the front, and we will let you in then."

He came a bit closer. "You have wireless, right?" he put both hands up in the air, and made fiddling-on-a-keyboard motions with them. 

"Yes, we do" I replied, holding firm to the door, in case he decided to rush in anyway, and I would find myself obliged to slam it in his face. "You can use it at 10."

I closed the door on him rather firmly, before he could decide, in his agitation, to come in anyway.  

He did leave, which was good, but he did not go very far. My boss, returning from a morning meeting, encountered him a few moments later. Apparently, it was not the wireless he was after, but the washroom, and having failed in his attempts to infiltrate the building by legitimate means, was using the meager shelter of the air intake unit for the heating and cooling system, as his own personal lavatory.... ho hum. Another day at the library. 

And this... this all occurred before we had even opened our doors. I do believe I am ready for my weekend!

Happy Hobbit Day!

Today is the birthday of that most estimable hobbit, Mr. Bilbo Baggins, and of his equally redoubtable nephew, Master Frodo:

It is also Hobbit Day, and - this year at any rate - the first day of Tolkien Week. The actually dates of Tolkien Week vary from year to year, but it is always the week that encompasses the twenty-second. Of course, a great Tolkien fan, such as yours truly, cannot let so auspicious a celebration go by without marking it, so I present to all of you, this recording of J.R.R Tolkien reading aloud Riddles in the Dark from The Hobbit. 

The story behind the recording is rather interesting. In 1952, Tolkien recorded a series of excerpts from The Hobbit and The Lord of the Ring. This was before The Lord of the Rings had even been published, and the poor man was getting quite discouraged about his book. His good friend, George Sayer, came up with the idea, and the amateur recordings were made in George's own study. Tolkien notes in on of his Letters, that he was favourably impress by them, and it went a long way to restoring his confidence in the stories. (All struggling writers should take The Good Professor as an inspiration. He re-wrote The Lord of the Rings at least twice, struggled with his plot, got side-tracked by research on such matters as moon phases, and how to roast rabbit, was confronted with characters he liked, but wanted to go away, as they were holding up the narrative. It took him 10 years to finish the thing, but what a tremendous finish it was!)

Disney and the War

Amy over at Old Fashioned Girl, is doing a neat Disney Tag, and she tagged me. Unfortunately, I have three tags already, which are spinning their wheels, waiting for me to get a fire lit under me and do them, and I am already feeling a trifle guilty about them, so I am not actually going to do the Disney Tag, as she set it up. However, it seems rather rotten to let it go by completely unnoticed, so I am going to share a bit of trivia instead.

During WWII, Walt Disney and Company designed military insignia for Allied Troops. They designed over 1200 different insignia, which would end up featuring nearly every one of their cartoon characters. The designs were immensely popular,and were often adapted for 'nose art' on planes and military vehicles. Two of their best known designs were for the Flying Tigers - the American Volunteer Group who fought with the Chinese against Japan: 

picture from usoonpatrol.org

Eagle Squadron - a group of American pilots who flew with the RAF:

picture from usmilitaryforum.com

The designs were quite diverse and humourous. They could be quite clever and sometimes rather whimsical:

Picture from Air Force Historical Research Agency

Picture from NOAA

Picture from Pin Pics

Donald Duck was a particular favourite with the troops:

Picture from USNI News

Picture from The Comic Journal

Picture from @ issue

There is apparently a whole book on the subject, Disney Dons Dogtags, which is, unfortunately, out of print, and rather dear to own. There are a couple websites which tell a bit more about it here and here; and this blog has lots of pictures, so you should look at it too. 

So, this weekend just past, was the weekend World Pipe Band Championships in Glasgow. This is an annual event, in which hundreds of pipe bands from all over, get together and compete, including a large percentage of the very best bands in the world. Generally, this is a one day event - Saturday - but this year, it went over two days, which was rather splendid for those of us who get in to that sort of thing.

For a number of years now, the Grade 1 competitions have been streamed live, and for a number of years, I have made a point of catching at least a part of the competitions. The problem with watching a competition in Scotland in real time in California, is the 8 hour time difference, which means pulling one's self out of bed at around 3 a.m. to be there at the start. Since my regular work schedule includes Saturday, it also means that I usually have to leave before the end. This year, however, I decided that I was going to be completely indulgent. I took a day off from work, kicked my room-mate sister out of the house, and spent two days absolutely wallowing in some of the finest piping I have ever heard - and to make it particularly celebratory, I got into the second tin of haggis in my pantry (yes... there are a plurality of haggis tins in my domicile. You never know when you are going to want a Scottish party.) and took it with the customary neeps, of which I have become particularly fond, and the last wee bit of the Glenfiddich which I had been saving for just such an occasion.

It was an excellent competition. The weather on both days was terrible for this sort of thing, ranging from furious downpours, to wild wind, to bright sunshine. The pipes, with the multiple reeds, react to just about ever change in atmosphere, so that tuning can be rather tricky in those sorts of conditions. For all that, the bands held themselves together with admirable steadiness. The sound was consistently fine, the level of performance so good as to make the listener (in person of myself) quite heady with delight. I quite rapidly stopped trying to rate the bands as they played, and just gave myself over to complete enjoyment of the music. There was one medley, however, that stuck out in particular for me, the one that Inverary and District Pipe Band played on Day 2 of competitions. They had impressed me a bit over the whole weekend, because they are a younger pipe band (both in the sense that there are a lot of young pipers in it, and that the band itself hasn't been around all that long.) but they held their own during the entire competition. And they are a particularly musical band. Medleys are fun to listen too, because they are sort of show-case arrangements; varying time signatures, lots of different tunes, and always, a slow air. It is the slow air part of IDPB's arrangement that got me in particular. They absolutely nailed it, and it was stunning. The whole weekend was worth the bother of getting up so unspeakably early. (The Worlds are one of a tiny handful of things that will actually induce me out of my bed before the accustomed hour.)  And if there is a faint, lingering feeling of sleepiness, it is of no consequence whatsoever... But if I had to choose a highlight It was IDPB. (And seeing one of the instructors from a Piping School I attended, judging the competitions.)

And here, for your enjoyment,  is a video of that medley from a competition earlier in the year:

Ender's Game

Ender's Game is one of those books that I always intended to read, but have never quite managed to actually bring myself to do so. I knew that it was supposed to be quite good. One of my author sisters speaks well of it. I knew that it is considered a classic in the Science Fiction genre. I have actually tried a number of times before now, to read it, but have always given up after the first few chapters. However, Ender's Game is being made into a movie - a movie which is being boycotted because it's author is a staunch proponent of traditional marriage, so this seemed like a good time to give the book another chance, and I managed to get all the way through with it this time, though it was a struggle at first, and the first few chapters are every bit as dreary as I remember them being.

To be fair, I am a pretty hard-sell when it comes to Science Fiction. It is not a genre I feel naturally at home with. It seems a bit sterile to me - the Stars stripped of their magic and mystery, Earth too tame, its creatures too ordinary, so that we have to have alien worlds and alien creatures to replace all the natural mythos that the power and glory of our own home planet once inspired. For all of that, I have read some Science Fiction and enjoyed it. I have a rather soft spot for the original Star Trek. So there was more to my trouble with Ender's Game than a mere dislike of the genre. It was the fact that, for those first few chapters, I cannot connect with the characters or the setting. Indeed, I heartily detested everything about story. I hated the vision of Earth, in the midst one of those oppressive times of peace that seem to show up uncommonly often in futuristic fiction, with population control firmly in place, and the Powers That Be able to implant the population with feeds that allow for remote observation of behaviour. I can't help feeling that if this is the price we have to pay for peace on earth, we'd all be better off with war. And... I actually hated all the characters too, including Ender himself, which seems a terrible thing to say, as he is just a six year old child at the story's commencement, and an unfortunate one too, with a scary older brother tormenting him at home, and a group of bullies hounding him at school, until he is forced to defend himself from them. But Ender is introduced so dispassionately. He is too intelligent for his own good. He doesn't act like a child. He barely acts human. There is something just a bit too cold and calculating about wee Ender Wiggins.

There is something just a bit too calculating about the whole Wiggins family, actually. Mr. and Mrs. Wiggins have turned their backs on their religious backgrounds, conforming outwardly with the secular requirements of their society, but they play both sides, by baptising their children, and giving them saint's names. Peter, the oldest child, a bully and psychopath, knows just how far to push his younger sister and brother, and always stops his games before they are driven to tell on him, or the adults catch on to his behaviour. Even Valentine, Ender's sister and protector in those early days, knows just how to manipulate Peter's cruelty and egoism, to keep him in check. And then, there are the enigmatic characters who have been keeping an eye on Ender - Graff and Anderson, who exist, at first, as mere conversation on the peripheral of the narrative, vague and faceless. Between the bleak vision of the future, and the loveless family life of the Wiggins, and the disconcerting presence of those two voices, I nearly gave up on Ender's Game this time around, as I have always done  before - and at just about the same place as usual. But I had made my mind up to read the thing, so I stuck to it, and got through those early dismal bits and into the heart of the story. Gradually, I lost my impatience and dislike. Once I accepted the story on its own terms, it sucked me in completely, and I devoured it. The ending came when I was not expecting it too, a powerful ending, that nearly made me cry. I closed the book, surprised by how much I had liked it after all.

The plot of Ender's Game is quite simple. Some years before the story begins, the Earth was attacked by an army of aliens. After a horrific battle, the aliens were defeated, but the Earth is still recovering from the attack, and is in immanent danger of another invasion. In order to train top-notch fighters, the Battle School is set up, and promising young children are recruited for rigourous training as elite soldiers. Ender is the most promising of these students, and from the start, he is singled out for the closest observation, the harshest and most extreme training. He rises to each challenge, and grows believably into a great tactician and leader. Summed up like that, Ender's Game sounds boringly predictable: poor but talented boy, lifted from obscurity, to become the hero upon whom the survival of the planet depends. And yet, the way the story is told, seriously, thoughtfully, and with a moral back-bone, raises it above banality.

The pacing of the book is very deliberate, and the action is largely restricted to the final chapters. However, the  descriptions of tactics and strategy are fascinating, the war games which are used for training, are exciting. There is a high level of tension running through the whole narrative, which manages to keep the reader on the edge of the seat, even when there is not much of anything actually happening. Character development is masterful. A cold and calculating Ender Wiggins in Battle School, is somehow more human and sympathetic than the same character was at home. If he he grows believably into a superior soldier, he does so with a solidly moral center, which prevents him from ever becoming heartless. He retains a sort of simplicity and a desire to love, even as he does what he has to do as a soldier and a commander of soldiers, with the result that he grows more sympathetic as the story progresses. The enigmatic Graff emerges as a complex character, an old soldier who has spent his life fighting in defense of his home; the one who recruited Ender, who pushed him to the very edge of his strength, so that he could be the hero the world needed when the time came; who was stern and implacable to the boy's face, but who loved him and deplored the bitter necessity that had driven them to such measures. He understands Ender. No doubt, he was very like Ender was when he was young himself. He knows how far to push the boy, and when to stop, and he hates doing what he is doing to him. He is conflicted, but he is, at heart, a good man, who really just wants to be able to go home in peace. Both Ender and Graff grew on me, so that I was fond of both of them by the end of the book, but I think, if I had to choose a favourite, I'd have to go with Graff. I have a soft spot for old soldiers.

The ending took me entirely by surprise. Perhaps it shouldn't have. Once I finished reading, it seemed so obvious and logical, that it simply couldn't have ended any other way. But the flow of the story is so carefully paced, the object of all that battle training so desperately focused, that when everything falls into place, it comes as something of a shock. It is a very good ending, though not exactly a happy one. Would I recommend this book? Yes, definitely. It is extremely well written and well worth the effort. It gives thoughtful treatment to the themes of sacrifice and honour, duty and moral courage. If the tone is somber, there is also hope to it, and it is satisfying. Perhaps I just happened to pick the right time to read it, but it was rather good for me to read it, and I am glad that I did.