Moralism and Names

Today was a pleasant, restful day. I woke up rather late, but got up speedily, because rain was coming in the windows -- though only for a short time before the sun came out again -- and I had to close them.

Then I spent a good while online (re-)reading A Face Illumined, by Edward P. Roe. It is, I suppose, kitschy, but -- as with all of the author's books -- while I wouldn't recommend it because most people would probably see its flaws more than its virtues, I enjoy it. Seldom have I read more sympathetic and unbigoted nineteenth-century moralization. The clergyman author is anti-slavery, pro-reconciliation of the American North and South (he lived through the American Civil War, but bears no grudges), willing to admit that people may be good who are not Christian (though, by the end, they are always "converted"), and nuanced in his portrayal of good characters as well as bad characters. The characters are mostly of a sort that one would never meet in reality, but I sense that he is aware of it, and has done this deliberatively to avoid resemblance to real individuals, and out of a certain love of idealizing them, while he still tries to make the psychology realistic. His are (usually) the sort of sound, healthy and open-minded moral books that I most like to read.

Good moral books are a rare phenomenon, but when I come across them they do make me happier than anything else, because they keep my ideals alive, and even create new ones, and encourage me to become better, as few real-life outside influences do. I think it is nearly as good as being surrounded with noble and intelligent people. On the other hand, this course of reading probably contributes to a large disconnect between the world as I read about it and the world as I know it. Of the everyday sort of morality I think there is plenty nowadays, just because people are in comfortable circumstances, and conscientiousness about the environment is high; but I think that fewer people discuss morality, or think of it on higher levels, than in previous times. And I think that learning and culture, while they're held in higher conscious regard in some places than others, are altogether not as cherished as they were when they were believed to be intrinsic characteristics of high society. At the same time I'm sure that there were many in the upper class who "wangled" the learning; no doubt, for example, many a nineteenth-century gentleman went through college and obtained a "liberal education" but, the moment he graduated, promptly forgot all of his Latin and Greek and philosophy besides a few show-off phrases. I suspect that the larger part of society was content with that.

Anyway, I also shopped for and prepared dinner: a cheese soufflé that turned out excellently (to my surprise), a salad of lettuce with avocado and tomato, a cucumber salad; and strawberries and nectarines, with (organic) vanilla and chocolate ice cream, for dessert. Shortly thereafter I took my notebook and a pen to the door of our pseudo-balcony and prepared to write a story. The story will be a renewed attempt at my French-student/Friedrich-von-Tautzick tale. Scenes that could take place in the story have been running through my head for a day or two now, but yesterday I was stuck on the appearance of the hero, and today I was stuck on the name of the hero. So far I have postponed deciding about the hero's appearance. It must, however, fit the personality of someone who is very good-hearted and easy-going, rather quiet and absorbed in his own life, and approximately nineteen to twenty-five years of age. The name will be "Friedrich," shortened to "Fritz," but I want to substitute "Tautzick" with a less humorous-sounding name, and I'm wondering whether to keep the "von." So I tried going through names of German writers, and thought that "Keller" came closest to what I wanted. I don't really have an ear for what sounds good in German. I wanted a noble-sounding -- not aristocratic, but dignified-sounding -- name, but couldn't think of any. Anyway, I am looking forward to writing about a character whom I already respect and like very much. I also suspect that this story could become my Great Novel.

But I've been thinking that for now I should, first of all, write as much as I can, as well as I can, and, secondly, concentrate on getting short stories published in magazines. There I am certain of reaching an audience, which is not the case with a book. Then, once I have a certain number of stories published and my writing has matured, I can try writing a book, and it will be likelier that people will read the book because they know the name and know what to expect. This doesn't sound much like I want to write for pure motives, but I think it would be depressing if I published a book only to have no one read it, while hundreds of copies cumber the Earth until they finally make their way to the recycling bin. Besides, I want to write my books the way I think is best, and I think that I would be allowed this autonomy if I have an established reputation.

I am also crossing the authorship bridge before I come to it by pondering on possible noms de plume. I wouldn't mind writing under my own name (it is, I think, fairly sonorous in its full extent), but I do like a certain privacy. Every time I think about this I start out with "Dorothea" (my middle name) and then try to find some last name that is either very common or unique, and related to my real one. I explore the permutations of "Berg," or climb up and down the family tree in search of last names that are not linked to famous people (like the von Arnims and Mendelssohns) and therefore would not be a pretentious acquisition. I do think that "Dorothea Mendelssohn" has a ring to it, though I don't particularly like the story of the daughter of Moses Mendelssohn who bore that name (kind of; I just read that she was really baptized "Brendel") and abandoned her nice husband for someone else. But I'd like to try to bring honour to my real family name; it has nearly died out, though (according to Google) there are still Austrian scientists and soccer players and a cookbook author carrying it on in other branches. I think I'll leave the "von" in, though it really only represents the fact that one of our forebears got into the Emperor's good graces by being a fiery reactionary who even exiled his own liberally inclined son to Venezuela (well, that's how the story has been passed down to posterity).

After my attempted writing, I played the piano, which went well. Though Schubert's B flat major sonata has gone badly lately -- I only realized recently that I have, after all, been playing it almost daily for a year -- it went decently today. So did bits of the D558 and D559 sonatas. Bach went well, especially the theme of the Goldenberg Variations, though I fear that the tempo and intonation and everything were pale reproductions of Glenn Gould's 1980s recording, which I often listened to at university. Chopin also went well, even Nocturne No. 6 (which had also grown "stale" in a much shorter time than the Schubert sonata), and a waltz where I also find it very hard to play slowly enough throughout the piece. Lately I think about other things when I play, and, because I am so absorbed, the music goes much better than when I consciously try to figure out how to play it (life isn't fair). Also, because of the warm weather, my fingers are stronger and nimbler than usual. Yesterday the Beethoven sonatas, Chopin mazurkas, and pieces from Schumann's Album für die Jugend and Albumblätter and Phantasiestücke, went unusually well.

Anyway, I should go to sleep soon. There is a moderately impressive thunderstorm going on outside, with driving rain that has now stopped, a stiff breeze, bright and close lightning, and thunder that either rumbles slowly or actually "claps." One or two times I was startled. Now it is beginning to be light anyway, and I've been writing for some three or four hours.