Under Occupation by Alan Furst

 

Under Occupation by Alan Furst

 

I don’t usually offer two book reviews so close together.  My three faithful readers may disapprove….until they see this is another Alan Furst World War II spy novel!  Then, they’ll pour a generous snifter of Cognac, settle into a comfortable chair, and, be swept back to the cold, rainy, maelstrom in unsafe, cobbled streets of occupied Paris, 1942.

 

The main character, Paul Ricard , is not a spy, he’s a spy novelist, at least  until one dark and stormy night, on his way to the café Saint-Germain, one of his countrymen streaks past him, a shot rings out, then another.  Ricard rushes to help the fallen stranger, and before the man dies, he manages to thrust a folded piece of paper into Ricard’s coat pocket.

 

Two things about Alan Furst. He doesn’t leave your conscience alone, with the twists and turns of uncertainty.  His sense of time and place become a web that captures your imagination.  Ricard is only one of the sharply drawn characters that suffer under the pressing heel of the Nazi  jackboots  Listen closely.  Do you hear the crack of their pistol shots, the shrill blast of the sirens, shiver when they are arrested, thrown in the back of a black Citroen, and taken to the basement of Paris’ infamous Gestapo Headquarters?

 

At war with a heartless enemy, intent on silencing decent, and killing all opposition. Parisians lived in a bitter world of mistrust, gathering the mental strength to fight back in a desperate city, where a neighbor’s or a colleague’s smile and handshake could be the poisonous fangs that send you to a slow and torturous death, exposing your friends , colleagues, and even your family, just to put an end to your gut wrenching pain.

 

And yet, writers, shop keepers, normal men and women still stood proudly in opposition to the overpowering enemy, meeting at night in quiet, smoke filled bars and cold apartments, gaining and passing secrets, organizing routes of safe passage, and continuing to bring the fight to the Nazi war machine that terrorized one of the most beautiful and civilized of cities.

 

Furst leads the reader on a remarkable journey of dark alleys, and nights of thinking any moment could bring a knock on the door that spells doom.  He brings home high voltage fear, raw courage, and the bravery it takes to persevere despite the cost.

 

Alan Frust will take you to 1942’s Paris, if you can stand the journey.

The Old Gods Are Still With Us!

A sky full of gods.

Zeus,the ruler of all the gods on Mount Olympus, and also the Greek God of thunder and lightening.

 JJ’avais beau me poser des questions,

je n’avais aucune idée d’à quoipouvait ressembler le Diable. Puis, je l’ai vu! Comment aurais-je pu me douterque le Diable puisse ressembler à ça! Il se baladaitdroit devant nous... immense, la peau rouge, des cornes gigantesques et arrondies, des yeux rouges et des sabots à la place

The Old Gods Are Still With Us! 

 

Let’s take a look.

 

The word sun comes from the Latin, sol, carried over and changed by old German, old Dutch and old English, with sol finally becoming sun.  The ancients worshiped the sun, especially the Egyptians, but also the Greeks and Romans.  Hey, look at the beaches in our own age! 

 

Today, the world sol still appears in modern English, as in solar.  And, although we’ve tossed the ancient gods aside, we still use phrases such as “I pray for sun,” and refer to people as “sun worshipers.”  And, of course, we keep Sunday as a holy day.  

 

The planets are also the realm of the old gods.

 

Mercury – Roman messenger god

 

Venus – Roman god of love

 

Earth – the only planet Not named after a Greek, Roman, or Norse god

 

Mars – Roman god of war

 

Jupiter – The Roman god of gods

 

Saturn – the Roman god of seeds and agriculture

 

Uranus – Greek god of the skies

 

Neptune – Roman god of the sea

 

Pluto – the Greek god of death, also called Hades.  No longer a planet?  It is to me!

 

 

Days of the week.

 

Sunday – Sun’s Day, and the sun has been an object of worship and a god since the days of ancient Egypt. No doubt in pre-history, humans also worshiped the fiery orb in the sky.

 

Monday – Moon’s Day – long worshiped in ancient times and among many ancient religions.

 

Tuesday – from Tiw or Tiu, the Norse god of war

 

Wednesday – Woden, the chief Anglo Saxon god, also Odin, the Norse god

 

Thursday – Thor, the Norse, spear chucking god of thunder and lightening

 

Friday – Feyda, the Norse god of love

 

Saturday. – Saturnus, the Roman god of sowing, or seeds.

 

Random English words derived from the old gods:

 

Atlas – according to legend, Atlas was condemned by the gods to carry the heavens on his shoulders.

 

Cloth – from Clotho, the youngest of the three fates who spun the thread of life

 

Chaos – from the Greek myth of Khaos, the void from which all life sprang

 

Charity- from Charis, one of the graces, the goddesses of beauty, kindness, life, creativity, and nature

 

Erotic – from Eros, the Greek god of love and sexual desire.  Check out the statue to Eros in the middle of London’s Piccadilly Circus.  Circus comes from the Latin word circus for roundness or round, and is spelled the same as our English word.

 

Echo – from the Greek nymph, Echo.  Zeus, the king of the Greek gods, fell in love with Echo, which angered Zeus’ wife, Hera, who cursed Echo to speak only the last words that were spoken to her.  Why can’t Zeus fall in love with my wife?

 

Europe – Europa was a beautiful princess and Zeus fell in love with her, too.  Busy boy was Zeus.  Europa was lucky Hera didn’t find out.

 

Fury – from the Greek Furies, the well named female goddesses of vengeance

 

Hypnosis – from Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep

 

Morphine – from Morpheus, one of the sons of Hypnos

 

Music – from the Greek Muses, goddesses of the arts and science

 

Nectar – the favorite drink of the Greek gods

 

I could go on and on:  nemesis, ocean, panic, phobia, psychology, tantalize, typhoon, and so many others came from the gods of old.

 

And how about our modern celebrations?  Are they really modern?

 

People have celebrated the winter solstice for thousands of years.  The Scandinavians celebrated Yule on 21 December and made a fire from Yule logs that celebrated the return of the sun, with each spark of the fire representing new birth of piglets and calves in the New Year.

 

Germans used the mid-winter holiday to worship Oden, the chief Norse god.

 

In the Roman times, Romans celebrated Saturnus, the god of agriculture.

 

The Bible doesn’t say when Jesus was born.  Many believe Christianity chose the winter solstice to draw celebrants from those who honored the old gods.

 

How about Easter?  Easter falls on the Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox, once again a blend of Christianity and Paganism.  Eostre was a pre-Christian English goddess celebrated at the beginning of spring.  And let’s not forget, Jesus was a Jew, not a Christian, and celebrated Passover, which occurs in March or April.  The symbol of new birth at the Passover Seder is a roasted egg.  Hence Easter Eggs? 

 

The word Easter may come from the German/Norse Eostra or Ostara, the goddess of spring, who by the way, changed her pet bird into a rabbit to amuse the children. 

 

I frequently utter:  Everyone wants a change, but nobody wants to change.

 

The old gods are good examples.  They’re all around us, in our language, our science, in commerce (Hermes messenger service).  In fact, it’s hard to get away from the old gods.  But, you may say, we don’t worship them.  I beg to differ.  I’ve been told by a Greek man, but have not been able to confirm, that in a Greek court of law, they still swear on Zeus to tell the truth.   

 

And the truth is, we still honor the old gods in so many ways, even when we don’t realize the connections.

 

 

Morpheus, a Greek God of Sleep

 

 

 ’avais beau me poser des questions,

je n’avais aucune idée d’à quoipouvait ressembler le Diable. Puis, je l’ai vu! Comment aurais-je pu me douterque le Diable puisse ressembler à ça! Il se baladaitdroit devant nous... immense, la peau rouge, des cornes gigantesques et arrondies, des yeux rouges et des sabots à la placedes pieds

The Spies of Warsaw - A book review

 

Read any Alan Furst?  I just read The Spies of Warsaw and found it intriguing, and so well written.  I cheerfully admit to being a spy addict,  especially of the World  War II variety.

 

One aspect frequently ignored is the cloud of events leading up to the war.  And, if you add to that, the points of view of other participants in the coming conflict, you have a really intriguing plot.

 

Europe has always been a web of intrigue, with friends spying on both friends and enemies. 

 

Alan Furst takes us back to Poland, 1937, with a French Colonel Mercier, a spy master, assigned to the French embassy in Warsaw, poking his nose into the affairs of Poland and Germany and Russia, trying to collect enough pieces of the puzzle to surmise what is coming next and the best ways for France to react.  And not only are other spies in the picture, but the undeniable intrigue within the bowels of the bureaucratic French high command. 

 

Furst takes us to embassy cocktail parties and dark streets that are scattered with bits and pieces of people’s lives. Some want to defect and others have black hearts, still others just want to survive.

 

There are diplomatic rules to observe and ignore, things that ‘just aren’t done,’ but are done to suit the national purpose. And in the background are love affairs and attempts to flee the coming conflagration.  Hearts are broken, and lives are lost in the unreadable tangle of political espionage.  Today’s friend may often be tomorrow’s enemy and vice versa.

 

Nothing is certain in this incredible story that leads the reader through the labyrinth of unlikely paths.  Instead of a page-turner, I would call The Spies of Warsaw, a thought provoking wonderland of then and now.  After all, does the political climate, in the broad sense of the term, ever really change?  National interests coincide then and now, friends change sides, both in the personal and national sense.   In fact, The Spies of Warsaw could also be an allegory of our personal lives.

 

But, if you don’t want to get into the depths of analysis, The Spies of Warsaw is also just a damn good, well written spy novel, full of all the twists and turns that shock and confuse to the very end, just the way you want it!

 

Time for me to grab another spy novel by Alan Furst!  Fortunately, there are many.

Butternut Squash Super Soup

 

Like all thinking people, I have my prejudices.  They’re special.  I treasure them.  That’s particularly true with food.  I regard health food as a waste of good manners and a grand reason to embrace fasting, with starvation as a viable alternative.  

 

So when the bell of hunger tolled loudly at the famishing hour of 3 p.m. my first, second, or third thought was not the local heath food store.  I pictured dried tofu dressed up as impoverished chicken fingers, a gluten-free waste of the baker’s art, and plates of salt free kale braised with raw cabbage juice, with Saint Nibbler, the patron saint of emaciation, chuckling with glee.

 

However, my great hunger, and addled brain ravaged by a lack of sustenance, and a further lack of all alternatives, drove me to swing into the parking lot of a health food store.

 

Yes, the menu echoed my every prejudice and then I spotted butternut squash soup.  I like butternut squash, and prayed it hadn’t been sautéed with milk of goat-weed, or the bark of the monkey pod tree.

 

As you may or may not know, butternut squash is also known as butternut pumpkin in Australia and New Zealand.  After all, it is the same family as what we call pumpkin.  Another name for butternut is crook necked squash.  

 

This squash’s natural home is in the heartland of Argentina, near the Andes.  Well, I thought, what’s good enough for the indigenous people of the  Andes….

 

I must admit, the butternut soup was not a good choice.  It was a superb choice! Silky smooth and with flavor galore, I forgot all about my hip flask of Spanish brandy and concentrated on my agile dexterity with a spoon.

 

After lunch, I strolled up to the chef, who was working away on eye of newt and muskrat melon, and asked if I could have the recipe.  He eyed me cautiously.  “Yes, but first you must fill out a comment card and include words like Stupendous, Handsome, the flower of manhood, would rather eat his food than chase willing women.” 

 

Hey, no problem.  I can lie with the best of them! But, it’s been a while.  What exactly is a willing woman?

 

On to the matter of delicious, tongue-tantalizing soup.

 

Ingredients:  (Butternut squash comes in a variety of sizes, so you may have to adjust the ingredients.)

 

1 mid-sized butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1 inch cubes

1 sweet onion, chopped

2 stalks of celery, thinly sliced

1 large carrot, or a handful of baby carrots, chopped

4 cups of either vegetable or chicken stock (I used chicken)

Salt, pepper

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1 cup (or more) heavy cream

1 cup of shelled and salted pumpkin seeds

¼ cup olive oil

 

Spices according to taste, but start with these, then add more if it suits you:

1 teaspoon each: cinnamon, ground cloves, nutmeg, 

 

Puttin’ it together:

Put the vegetables in a large stew pot with a lid, and pour in the chicken or vegetable broth.  Place the pot over medium heat, cover and bring to a boil.  Turn it down to a simmer and cook until the vegetables are soft.

 

Add the salt and pepper and spices.  Mix thoroughly.

 

Use an immersible blender, or standing blender to blend to a creamy consistency.  Now add the heavy cream and stir.

The final touch:  fry the pumpkin seeds in the olive oil.  When you serve the soup to your ravenous guests, add a spoonful of oil and pumpkin seeds on top.  I warn you, when you serve this soup, you may get proposals of marriage.  Offer glasses of white wine instead.  It’s less expensive.

 

Greens, Ham, and Cream Soup

 

Greens, Ham, and Cream Soup

 

I’ve heard it said, less is more, more or less.  And this soup has a lot of less.  I’ve also heard that simple is good.  This soup is simpler and gooder.  If it got any gooder, I simply wouldn’t eat anything else.

 

Other soups have asked me, what has this soup got that I don’t got?  My answer really steamed ‘em.  Honey, you just ain’t got the goodness.

 

Shall I go on?  I’m starting to hear boos from people in the back row.  Ok, I’ll stop before I get dismembered.  Don’t remember the last time I was dismembered….  Yes, I do; got dismembered from my Golf Club.  Fortunately, I found it.

 

But, enough of the serious chat, let’s get back to a good simple soup that you’re going to love.

 

Greens, Ham, and Cream Soup

 

Go ahead and call this chowder if you wish.  It’s thick enough to live up to the name.

 

Ingredients

 

1 bag frozen chopped spinach

1 bag frozen chopped collard greens

A big handful of fresh spinach

1 lb slice country ham, cut into thumb sized bits

1  sweet onion, peeled and chopped

1 tablespoon coarse sea salt

1 ½ teaspoons turmeric

2 medium russet potatoes, peeled and chopped

2 tablespoons butter

1 cup heavy cream

a good toss of cracked black pepper to taste

thinly sliced green onions for garnish

 

Putin’ It Together

 

Use a large stock pot over medium heat and add 10 cups water.  Add the salt,  and greens and cook for about 50 minutes.

 

Drain the greens, reserving the potlikker.

 

Rinse the pot and put it back on medium heat.  Add the ham and cook until it the fat is rendered.  Add the chopped onions and butter in with the ham and cook until the onions are soft.  Add the turmeric, 3-5 cups of the reserved potlikker, and the potatoes.  When the potatoes are soft, add the greens, heavy cream and black pepper.  Bring to a simmer and serve.  Garnish with the thinly sliced green onion.

I served it with corn bread.

I’d offer a wine pairing, but nobody is going to put their soup spoon down long enough to take a sip.