Lady Jane Felsham's House

Lovejoy wasn't like Agatha Christie's Poirot or Sherlock Holmes, even if the A&E channel in America played all three TV series in the early 1990s. Lovejoy primarily investigated antiques: where they came from, who had made them, and why people wanted to buy or sell them. His love for these authentic artistic creations of the past often clashed with his ability to operate a profitable business. Unlike Poirot or Holmes, Lovejoy was a slippery character, a lovable rogue. Hard to define but easy to like. Impossible to trust, yet with a heart of gold. 

His friend, Lady Jane Felsham, was someone you could always relate to. She might have married into an aristocratic family, and live in a mansion, yet she was an ordinary woman, and ran a successful interior design firm. Lovejoy's antics infuriated her at times, both for personal and professional reasons. Her husband Lord Felsham never approved of their friendship. Still, her loyalty to Lovejoy was unshakable.

When her husband abandoned her to live in another country with another woman, Lady Jane remained in Felsham Hall. Her marriage might be over in spirit, if not in actuality. Still, was a principled woman who believed in doing the best with what she had been given. So she continued to reside there, and lent her time, money, and title to civic and charitable causes. 

Lovejoy helped her carry on with running the affairs of the old and important house, as well as aiding her business and charitable efforts. Their friendship matured, and might have become something more. But then her husband returned, and told her that he had lost all his money and his ancestral home. Left without a choice, and little more money than she had brought to the marriage, Lady Jane departed Felsham Hall to pursue a new life elsewhere. 

Nevertheless, the house, and Lord Felsham's ancestral grounds, remained a part of the series, even after his uncaring, irresponsible actions forced Lady Jane to pursue a new life elsewhere. Lovejoy's old rival Charles Gimbert returned to make Felsham Hall his home. Gimbert was a nefarious character, who loved antiques for the money and power they could give him. Lovejoy never really liked Charles, but he remained nearby, somehow unable to leave the manor house--and his link to Lady Jane--behind. 

In the final season, Charles Gimbert inexplicably vanished. After awhile, Lovejoy realized that, like Lady Jane's husband, Gimbert had also lost the manor through financial mismanagement. So once again, the antiques dealer again lingered, continuing to look after Felsham Hall.

At the beginning of the series, Felsham Hall was just another old house, and Lady Jane merely another beautiful woman. By the series' end, Felsham Hall had become a beloved place, the center of Lovejoy's existence. Just as it tore at Lovejoy's heart to leave the house and grounds, it hurt us too. For Lady Jane and Lovejoy's spirits had seeped into the bricks and mortar, the rooms and passageways, the gravel drive, and the manicured grounds.

The locals may know the mansion as Belchamp Hall, but for fans of the series, it will always be Lady Felsham's house. We met one such local walking her dogs, cute little Norfolk terriers, the morning we visited Felsham Hall. She said the hall, located in her little village of Belchamp Walter, sees few visitors these days. Still, over twenty years after the series ended, Lovejoy fans still come. Many, like us, from overseas.

It was just a moment in time, a brief visit. A walk along the familiar drive, an attempt to capture via photographs the house and the grounds. A moment to inhale the spirits of Lovejoy and Lady Jane. 

And then, all too soon, it was time to leave. Time to turn my back on the manor, and depart through those gates. Lady Jane rode through those gates in a taxi when her husband's actions finally forced her to leave.  Lovejoy packed up his business and drove through them in his little pickup truck at the end of the final episode. So I wasn't doing anything my friends hadn't done. Still, having just arrived, and knowing I would never return--it was hard to Felsham Hall.

Like so many people, I lack an ancestral home. But for a brief moment, I was able to return to a beloved house where I had been a frequent and welcome visitor. I finally saw with my own eyes, not just through the TV screen, a place inhabited by friends I had cared for, and people I loved. People who had made the place special, even if they, and their traditions, had been entirely fictional.

Farewell, Felsham Hall. Thanks so much for allowing me to visit.

Dragon Dave

An American in St Edmundsbury Cathedral

In 2017, we visited the city of Bury St. Edmunds, where we met an American living in Britain. I have no idea of her official legal status, but she has lived there for decades, as her husband's business originally took them there. Perhaps she and her husband had dual citizenship. Perhaps they live with a visa. In any case, she and her husband were retired now, and she graciously donated some of the time she could have spent with him to be a docent in her local cathedral.

Because of their historic status, many churches and cathedrals in England can only be updated within strict guidelines. St. Edmundsbury Cathedral seemed to have escaped these restrictions, and sported all types of modern upkeep and improvements. The management strived to present the cathedral as it would have looked when it was new. Thus, there were lots of little improvements, like the colorful shields that hung in the altar area. These, as I recall, were reminders of the important landowners and aristocrats who would have originally founded and supported the cathedral.

While we marveled at the beauty of their sanctuary, the American woman and her fellow volunteers helped string banners up along one wall. These banners, she explained, had been made by local school children. Through their artwork, they celebrated the importance of the cathedral, as well as the community's spiritual life. When I told her that many American's perceived the British as largely disinterested in their churches, she was shocked. For her, the spiritual life in Britain wasn't just alive, but thriving!

At noon, we took our packed lunches outside, and toured the ruins and their beautiful gardens. Benches were situated all over the grounds, and provided beautiful, scenic views. But the sun was obscured by clouds, and a cold breeze promised to make sitting outside a shivery affair. So we headed back into the cathedral's dining hall, where we purchased a pot of tea, and a slice of cake to accompany our sandwiches.

When the table next to us came free, who should sit down there but our new American friend. She proved graciously amenable to continuing our dialogue. She shared with us everything that appealed to her about Britain, and why she and her husband continued to live there, instead of spending their retirement years in the United States. We learned that much of what appealed to us about her adoptive country appealed to us as well.

In the British TV series Lovejoy, Ian McShane played the title character, who traveled around the country buying and selling antiques. St. Edmundsbury Cathedral may never have been used as a location, but the production used several other places in Bury St. Edmunds, such as public houses and parks. Lovejoy celebrated a reverence for the old, and the need to preserve it. At the same time, the itinerant antiques dealer wasn't wholly against the modern. He simply didn't want people to confuse the two. The differences--what separated the old from the new--were important, and should be recognized, as well as celebrated. That is what I'll remember of my visit to Bury St Edmunds, as another American celebrating past and present in their magnificent cathedral.

Dragon Dave

A Day in Brighton

Despite the hassles of getting to England, once we arrived in Brighton, we had a good time.  We had driven down from London, and everywhere we stopped, people complimented us on our tasteful choice in rental cars.  

There's always a little jet lag to be endured with such a long trip, so the storm that blew in off the Altantic Ocean made things easy on us. While we endured a few spats of rain, for the most part the cool wind gusted along, keeping us awake, and propelling us effortlessly along the seafront.

Our impulsive choice of rental cars had cost us more than we had budgeted, so we opted for an inexpensive yet exotic lunch: Tandoori Chicken sandwiches on flatbread at Subway.

We found several locations that E. F. Benson mentions in his novel The Blotting Book, including this former church, which is now used as a homeless center.

In the evening, we explored more of the beach, taking photographs and enjoying the atmosphere.  We stopped to chat with three men eating their fish and chips along the seafront.  They introduced themselves as Lovejoy, Tinker, and Eric, three antique dealers who had taken a holiday together.  But then the youngest man, Eric, spotted a juggler with an old plate, and Lovejoy cried, "That looks like a dainty dish!" and the three leapt off the metal railing and tossed their food in the trash can.  

It's amazing how fast three grown men can run, when they have sufficient motivation.  

A few minutes later into our walk, a red sports car--nice, but not as pretty as ours--pulled up along the sea front.  This surprised us, as we didn't think people were allowed to park there. An old man and woman got out, and introduced themselves to us as Tom and Diana.  Tom offered to buy us all cotton candy, so we walked over to a vendor's stall together.  We enjoyed chatting with them for awhile, but then their conversation took a more serious turn, dealing with their experiences during World War II.  So we took our leave of them, and wandered on.  

A little later, we saw a motorcycle cop leading Tom and Diana slowly down the road, his lights blinking and his siren wailing.  I guess they take a dim view of parking illegally in Brighton.

In E. F. Benson's day, the West Pier was the happening place.  Brighton has a new pier now, and we watched its shops, casino, and fun faire games and rides light up the night.

We wanted to sample its pleasures, but after our walk, and meeting such interesting people, we decided to save it for another day.

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links
Lovejoy: The Dainty Dish
Waiting for God: A Trip to Brighton
The Blotting Book

Jack, Lovejoy, and Magical Beans

How might a few beans transform your life?

Two weekends ago, we realized it had been awhile since we made black bean nachos.  So my wife rinsed off a pound of black beans, put them in a pot of water, and let them soak.  The following day, she rinsed them off again, then poured them into a crockpot with more water, and left them to cook while we went off to see “Jack the Giant Slayer.”

We arrived late (for us), with the previews only a few minutes away.  Strangely, we had the cinema mostly to ourselves.  When the previews started, only a handful of the seats were filled.  By the time the movie began, perhaps a dozen or more people had joined us.  But no more than that. 

Initially, we had not planned on seeing the movie.  But something about the images in the preview called to me, and suggested it would be fun.  Perhaps it was the fact that Ewan McGregor was in it.  We’ve enjoyed his roles in dramas such as “Mrs. Potter,” in which he played Beatrix Potter’s publisher, as a fishing expert in “Salmon Fishing in the Yemen,” and of course, his portrayal of Obi-Wan Kenobi in the “Star Wars” prequels.  In “Jack the Giant Slayer,” he again plays a knight, only this time he swaps his white clothing for black leather armor.  We don’t usually attend movies just because of an actor, but having enjoyed so many movies with him playing a lead role, his presence tipped the balance for us.

What came as an unexpected surprise was to see Ian McShane playing King Brahmwell, in whose land the action takes place.  Many people know him for the HBO series “Deadwood,” or his role of Blackbeard in “Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides,” but I’ll always think of him as the bohemian art dealer who played the title role in the British TV series “Lovejoy.”  Here he plays a king who views himself as largely a figurehead, but who desperately wants to protect his kingdom and retain the relevance of his position.  The inadequacy he feels is continually hinted at, most poignantly perhaps by the armor he wears.  At once, he seems glorious, strong, and yet, more like a court jester than a king.  The role suited McShane well, and in many ways, his was the performance that anchored the movie.

Bill Nighy, who constantly exhibits a wider range of abilities on the big screen, in movies from “Love Actually,” the second and third “Pirates of the Caribbean” movies, “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” and “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel,” again subsumed himself in his role as Fallon, the two headed leader of the giants (he played the larger head), utterly unrecognizable with his CGI makeover, and yet always the center of attention.

His depiction of Fallon reminded me of Zaphquod Beeblebrox, the two-headed man from Betelgeuse in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, written by Douglas Adams, and based upon the popular radio series.  This would have been even more interesting had Bill Nighy played Beeblebrox in the movie adaptation of Adam’s novel.  (I would again be reminded of Douglas Adams the following day, when Google celebrated what would have been his sixty-first birthday with an animated Doodle on their main search page).

After the movie, we came home, warmed up some leftovers, and ate lunch (some rather fine chimichangas from a nearby Mexican restaurant) while the tantalizing aroma of baking beans filled the house.   Then, shortly before dinner, my wife took the beans out of the crockpot, drained them, and mashed them in a saucepan.  As she cooked them over the stove, she added back in some of the water from the crockpot until she got the right consistency.  Then she served them up with tortilla chips, cheese, shredded lettuce, salsa, and sour cream, for her famous black bean nachos.

In “Jack the Giant Slayer,” few of the major characters--not even his uncle--would have believed in magical beans, or Jack's ability to utterly transform himself.  Yet, because he dared to believe a young priest's assertion that the beans were magical, he later climbed a beanstalk, rescued Elmont (McEwan), the leader of King’s Brahmwell’s elite guard, defeated the giants, won the princess he loves, and captured an important crown.  My wife’s black bean nachos may not help me secure my destiny, but they tasted delicious, and I enjoyed them almost as much as the movie.  It's a shame more people didn't watch it with us.  But then, the magical properties of beans are sadly underrated.

Pocket Dalek:
You will respect the beans!
You will respect the beans!

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

An Evening at Ritz Cinema: Part 4, in which we watch "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen," in James Herriot's Cinema in England.

Dining Outside is for the Bird (and the People), in which I eat outside in London, just like Lovejoy would.  (I know, exciting stuff, right?)

Mystifying English Sports

After arriving in England back in May, my wife and I rode in a shuttle-van from Manchester Airport to our hotel.  I listened to the radio as commentators discussed the big name stars playing for teams of such large cities as Liverpool and Manchester.  As our driver unloaded our luggage, I asked what sport he was so interested in.  “Football,” he replied.

I blinked, making the mental adjustment.  “Ah.  Soccer.”

“No,” he replied.  “You’re in England now, mate.  “It’s Football.”

In the hotel lobby, as we lined up to check in, I asked how big a sport football was in England.  He went on for about five minutes, telling me about the various leagues and divisions, the latest results, attendance in stadiums, and how English fervor compared to that of other countries.  I smiled and nodded, bathed in the backsplash from his enthusiasm for football.  Sure, I had played soccer in my youth.  But in the United States, it was little more than a game children played at school.  Several times, San Diego had a professional team, but each championship-winning team went bankrupt from a lack of interest.

I find Rugby equally mystifying.  I had watched highlights on TV before we left, just to pick up an impression of this English game, and soon learned that there were several variations on the game.  The main reason I did this was because of a book.  In the late Reginald Hill’s “Dalziel and Pascoe” series, Superintendent Andy Dalziel is a hardcore Rugby fan.  In his first novel, A Clubbable Woman, he and Sergeant Peter Pascoe investigate the death of a small-town femme fatale.  For the most part, the two draw their suspects from a local rugby club. 

In the novel, Rugby was the club members' religion, and the club defined their lives, both business-wise and socially.  There was no greater sin, it seemed, than for a member to miss a scheduled game, or fail to complete any of his commitments to the club.  The members’ passion and commitment made the club the beating heart of community life.  One’s status rose and fell with regard to what happened on the field or in the clubhouse.  I had thought that I might find myself in a position to watch a local match at some point during our journey through Yorkshire.  It would have been interesting to gain some first-hand knowledge of the game, and see how reality compares with the depiction in Reginald Hill’s novel.  Sadly, that opportunity never materialized.

Finally, another English sport I find mystifying is Cricket.  It seemed as though we could never find any TV programs that interested us while staying in Holmfirth, so we watched Cricket while we ate dinner each evening.  Usually, I can pick up the rhythm (and reason behind) a game from watching it, but not this time.  Even after a few evenings, I still had no better grasp of it than I did of Whackbat, the game played by the characters in the Wes Anderson film “The Fantastic Mr. Fox.”  I was reminded of Eric’s description of the game in an episode of “Lovejoy,” when he’s impersonating a member of the aristocracy.  It went something along the lines of “So people go in, and then this happens, and your people go in, and then….”  Well, you get the idea.  Still, at least I got to watch several matches held at Lords Cricket Ground.  That's the one thing that will make Richard Devere take a break from running his vast grocery empire to watch in the sitcom “To the Manor Born.”

I had hoped that my trip to England might enlighten me in regard to these three mystifying English sports.  Still, I suppose that gives me more to discover on my next visit.  Right, mate?

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links

A short video explaining Whackbat

Fish at home and abroad

Dining on cod in Rye

One of the iconic culinary experiences of England must surely be Fish and Chips.  In several episodes of the “Lovejoy” TV series, the title character buys fish in newspaper and walks outside the shop to eat it.  In the latest novel by Jonathan Gash, Faces in the Pool, Lovejoy again extolls the virtues of fish in newspaper, this time taking it to his friend’s house in Manchester, where the two share it with mugs of hot tea.  Before we traveled there, I was curious as to how England fish compared to what we ate in the United States.  So far, on both our travels there, we’ve been able to sample it several times. 

Last year, we walked up to the counter of a restaurant and looked at the menu posted on the wall.  They offered several types of fish.  I tried asking the staff what the different varieties tasted like, but their attempts at answering me only led to deeper confusion.  A large gentleman leaned over the counter.  “Are you from America?” he asked with a gruff voice.  “Yes,” I answered.  He asked what kind of fish we were used to.  As neither of us are big fish eaters, all I could tell him was that we purchased it in the frozen section, or ate it at Long John Silvers.  

When I told him we planned to eat in the restaurant, he waved us inside.  “Just sit down wherever you like," he said in his deep voice, "and tell the waiter that I’m bringing you two nice pieces of cod.”  This, of course, wasn’t enough information for the waiter, and led to more confusion.  Nevertheless, the waiter eventually brought us two small portions of cod far larger than we usually received at home.    We found the flavor mild and pleasant, and bought cod and chips once more during that vacation.

Dining on haddock in Wales

This year, we shared an order of cod and chips one evening in Holmfirth, but it wasn’t worth writing home about.  Literally.  It wasn’t until we reached Wales, toward the end of our vacation, that we had another great fish experience.  With a greater experience of fish (Ha!), I asked how the different varieties they served compared with cod.  Again, their attempts at answers only led to greater confusion.  So Linda opted for cod, while I decided to try the haddock.  I found that I enjoyed the flavor of haddock more than cod, which, believe it or not, reminded me of white-meat chicken.  We enjoyed our dinner outside, on one of the benches lining the restaurant, and under the careful scrutiny of the sea gulls.

Perhaps it’s my imagination, but since we’ve returned from England this year, we’ve traveled to Long John Silvers more than usual.  While some may claim it’s not the greatest fried fish ever, we enjoy the way they serve (what I’ve since learned is) Alaskan Pollock.  It’s as if traveling to England, and eating those different kinds of fish, have given us a greater appreciation of what we have locally.  Visiting Long John Silvers is no easy task: the nearest restaurant, a combination Long John Silvers & Kentucky Fried Chicken, involves a forty-five minute drive each way.  Yet, it’s something we love, and whether others share our preferences or not, we’re willing to sacrifice the time and expense to travel there.  Each meal thus becomes an event, a reminder of those experiences in England with cod and haddock, as well as a celebration of the Alaskan pollock we apparently love best. 

Dining on pollock back home.

By the way, did I mention the fried clams, which, while not unique to Long John Silvers in the United States, we’ve yet to find served in England?

Mmm-mmm,

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

Dining Out is for the Bird (and the People)

The Kipper and the Corpse

The Problem with Finishing a Good Book

In “Addicted to a Good Book,” I talked about how I’m a compulsive reader.  Sometimes, I just get the urge to start another book.  I can’t stop to remind myself of all the other books I’m currently reading.  I don’t draw up a list of all the books I’ve had the longest.  I don’t weigh the pros and cons of which books it’s more important, for whatever reason, for me to read first.  I literally cannot help myself: the urge, like the unexpected craving for a favorite food, overwhelms me.  So I open the book…and then I have yet one more book in-process, dividing my scarce reading time even further.

One of my intentions for this blog was to write extensively about all the great books I’ve read.  But sitting down with a novel, going through it rationally, taking stock of those aspects that resonated most with me the strongest when I was reading it, and then dividing such salient points into blog entries is hard.  Not only because it takes time, but also because it involves saying good-bye, one more time, to a good book.

One of the series I wanted to talk about, when I started this blog, was the Vlad Taltos series by Steven Brust.  When it was cold outside and the central heating seemingly couldn’t get me warm, when clouds and fog hid the sun for days or weeks at a time, when my life and career seemed to be going nowhere, I could sink into one of his Vlad novels and find warmth, belonging, and hope.  I’ve read through the entire series, barring the latest installment, and now I’ve read the first three novels a second time.  Yet I have written nothing about Jhereg and Yendi, two books that are fun and noteworthy.  Nor have I returned to Teckla, and begun to flick through its pages, so that I can communicate the story’s greatness to you.  

But the Vlad novels are not the only ones I'd like to examine in greater detail.  I’ve recently finished the Lovejoy novel Faces in the Pool, the Dune prequel The Butlerian Jihad, and Greg Bear’s novella “Hardfought,” part of a Tor Double along with “Cascade Point” by Timothy Zahn.  Instead of writing about any of those stories, I’ve blogged about movies, actors, the writing life, TV shows, and even movie trailers.  Yes, I’ve talked about the Robert Silverberg story “Born with the Dead,” but I found facing and analyzing that story a little easier.  For it was the third time that I had read it, and I’ve lived with the story for a decade now since Phases of the Moon: Six Decades of Masterpieces by a SFWA Grand Master came out.  Why haven’t I done more of what seemed most important to me: what I primarily set out to do?

When I wrote “The Blogging Wars: My Hope,” it was my intention not to blog about me, but about great stories.  What I’ve found is that it’s impossible to divorce the one from the other.  For Fiction doesn’t exist outside the human vessel.  Fiction only lives when it finds a home inside you.  When I started, books seemed to me the most obvious example of how Fiction fuses with our very beings.  (After all, my house is stuffed full of them).  Now I recognize more fully how much of the Fiction we take in, from so many other sources, influences us as well.  

Another reason I’ve held back from covering more novels is because I love them so much.  Finishing each one is a joy, but that joy is mingled with pain, because a meaningful journey has reached its end.  Re-opening that book right away, and contemplating the aspects that struck me most forcefully, reinforces this fact.  Yet we all move on.  Since I wrote “Addicted to a Good Book,” I’ve reached journey’s end with several great stories, and started reading a few new ones.  I’ve flipped over the Tor Double to read “Cascade Point” by Timothy Zahn.  My wife and I have started the next Robert Silverberg story in Phases of the Moon: “Schwartz between the Galaxies.”  (“My Schwartz is bigger than your Schwartz!” my wife exclaimed when she saw the title, quoting a great line from the movie “Spaceballs”).  And I’m a hundred pages into Steven Brust’s novel To Reign in Hell, his re-envisioning of the classic story about the revolt in Heaven. 

Actually, I haven’t started that many books, have I?  Perhaps I could start just one more.

What novels were the hardest for you to finish?  What novels, while providing a perfectly satisfactory ending, left you heart-broken because you had reached the end of a particularly great story?

Related Dragon Cache entries

The Blogging Wars: My Hope

Our Need for Interdependence

Addicted to a Good Book

Related Internet Links

Greg Bear’s website

Timothy Zahn’s Facebook page

A List of all 35 Tor Doubles (five of which include Robert Silverberg stories)

Protecting Our Dinosaurs

One of the worst criticisms a reviewer can level against a Science Fiction novel is to state that the characters and setting fail to undergo significant and lasting change.  This is because they see Science Fiction as the type of literature that most celebrates diversity and change.  Whether the characters fight off alien invaders, or work to prevent a mad scientist from profoundly changing the world, they argue that if the characters and setting revert to their former status at story's end, the book does not deserve to be labeled Science Fiction.  Instead, it belongs to a subset of mainstream literature with watered-down SF elements, and is referred to as a thriller, or described as merely SFnal.  While I understand such arguments, I cannot accept such a narrow definition of the fiction I love.

In the 1960s, the Doctor Who production team underwent a series of changes.  Producers and Script Supervisors came and went, in some cases after a single story.  At one point, those in charge decided that the first Doctor, William Hartnell, must leave the program, and drafted in Patrick Troughton as his replacement.  Those in charge of production during this later era largely abandoned the historical stories, and the stories tended to focus upon the Doctor defeating fearsome aliens and scary monsters.  Such a narrow focus took its toll.  By the end of the second Doctor’s reign, the BBC considered canceling the show.  Thankfully, they opted to continue, and injected new life into the program by grounding the Doctor on Earth.  Surrounded by Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart and the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce (UNIT), the third Doctor occasionally traveled to other planets, but mostly fought to unravel the plots of mad scientists, or to prevent aliens from invading Earth.  More than in any other incarnation, either previous or successive, the third Doctor (played by Jon Pertwee) worked to prevent significant change.  This was the role he played in the story “Invasion of the Dinosaurs,” when he seeks to prevent the conspirators from activating their Timescoop a final time.  As much as he admires their vision of a more eco-friendly civilization, he cannot agree with their methods.  For while their device would protect everyone and everything within the immediate area as it transports the group and their supplies back to the time of the dinosaurs, not only would it eradicate those unprotected by the Timescoop, but also erase every person who has ever lived.

The colonists in “Terra Nova” face a similar challenge.  They cannot exert significant change upon their surroundings.  They must prevent any citizen, or breakaway group such as the Sixers, from decimating a particular species of animal or plant, over-utilizing any of the world’s resources, or polluting their environment.  To fail in this, or to prevent any industrialists from time-traveling back and wiping out such Paleozoic resources could bring catastrophic results.  In addition to destroying the colony’s long-term sustainability, such profound change could wreak havoc upon the timeline, wiping out or significantly altering all of human history.  Should this occur, their link to the future would be forever severed.  They would find themselves without access to modern technology, medicine, and other goods that allow them to share this world with the dinosaurs that rule the planet.  No more pilgrimages would join them.  They would be forever alone.

Lovejoy understands such concepts better than most.  His love for mankind’s unique creations is unparalleled.  In the TV series, and in the novels by Jonathan Gash, this dealer works to protect antiques from undergoing any change whatsoever.  He would be outraged if asked to modernize a centuries-old desk fashioned by a master craftsman.  He would be aghast if a client cleaned an antique without proper guidance.  He knows that the wrong chemicals, applied in an incorrect manner, can weaken or eradicate the unique patina bestowed upon wood, canvas, or other materials by time, leaving the artwork little different from today’s copies or reproductions.  This, like the third Doctor and Commander Taylor in Terra Nova, makes Lovejoy someone whose existence revolves around the prevention of change.  

We grow angry when our plans for change are dismissed.  Yet sometimes we should sit back and reflect upon the possible wisdom of those who work to prevent such changes from occurring.  For as grand as our visions might be, any change impacts others and affects our environment.  And all of us can be brittle, many times in ways we’re not aware of.  To alter or eradicate the dinosaurs upon which we depend might hurt us in significant ways, or even destroy us.  Sometimes, those who work to prevent any change from occurring are the most visionary of all.  

Related Dragon Cache entries

Walking Whitehall

The Sausage That Brings Isolation Part 2

Welcomed into the Palace of Westminster

Renewing our Dinosaurs

Have you ever wondered why a particular show never caught on with the viewing public?  With its dinosaurs that looked like puppets, the “Doctor Who” story “Invasion of the Dinosaurs” earned the fan’s disdain.  The same criticism cannot be made of the digital creations in last year’s series “Terra Nova,” which surely belong alongside the most convincing ever brought to our television screens.  Yet the future of the show seems in doubt, as ratings were not high enough for executives to readily agree to the production costs of a second season.  Given humanity’s eternal fascination with dinosaurs, I’ve wondered why more people aren’t tuning in.  Perhaps part of the reason lies in the series’ underlying premise: that man’s increasing demands upon the environment have ruined the Earth beyond hope of renewal.  

Perhaps the human brain is programmed to reject the idea that our world is capable of being destroyed.  We know that an asteroid or comet could strike the Earth tomorrow. Movies such as “Armageddon,” and novels such as Shiva Descending by Gregory Benford and William Rotsler, portray the catastrophic effects such an event would bring mankind.  Yet the United States doesn’t even have a craft capable of manned spaceflight at the moment, let alone the means of deflecting such an object.  We know that Carbon Dioxide levels are rising dangerously high.  Movies such as “The Day After Tomorrow,” and novels such as Forty Signs of Rain by Kim Stanley Robinson, remind us that Global Warming could wipe out many of the plants and animals we depend upon, and make the climate inhospitable for us.  Yet instead of taking bold steps and sweeping action to combat these threats, we argue over the necessity of taking any action whatsoever. 

As much as we sometimes yearn to wipe the slate clean and begin again, we often prefer minor alterations to existing routines.  Rather than destroying and building something completely different, we embrace revision and renewal.  In the TV series, and the novels by Jonathan Gash, Lovejoy not only locates antiques for clients, but also restores them to their former glory.  Where others see ruin, he perceives a return to glory.  Our TVs and shelves are swamped with shows and books that enable us to restore old furniture, or alter it to suit current demands.  For every building we demolish to build another, many more are added-onto, rebuilt, or remodeled.  Mechanics rebuild or modernize old cars, even if the result costs more in money and time than purchasing the current model.  Instead of penning a new story, writers often revisit unfinished manuscripts in the hopes of finally capturing their initial conceptions.  Rather than opting for divorce and starting with another, spouses persist in their attempts to reinvigorate an ailing marriage, regardless of how broken their relationship might seem to others.  We restore, rebuild, remodel, rewrite, and refuse to believe that anything we love is ever completely beyond our ability to save.

I hope we eventually tackle the really big issues, such as the colonization of space (both to increase our knowledge and to ensure our species’ survival) and the reduction of Carbon Dioxide in our environment.  But I take heart in what I can do today, even if my individual concerns seem wholly unrelated to such global issues.  Even if what I accomplish is no more than a gentle reform, or a minor adaptation to a previous effort.  For who knows what all our individual changes, improvements, and upgrades might eventually accomplish?  Perhaps if all of us concentrate upon giving our best efforts in all that we do, and each day attempt to fulfill our ultimate potential, our individual efforts might add up to a new reality in which we perceive achievable solutions to such global threats. 

We often argue over causes and methods, or lay the blame for a particular problem at another’s door, and then conclude that a particular problem is unsolvable.  Is it any wonder that we  occasionally do battle with despair?  Yet, just as we reject the conspirators’ viewpoint in “Invasion of the Dinosaurs,” we reject the future as depicted in “Terra Nova.”  I find this tremendously encouraging.  For as special and unique as I may (or may not) be, or how strong and capable I may (or may not) be, I know that I don’t want to live on a ruined Earth.  And as cool as I think dinosaurs are, I don’t really want Mr. T. Rex as my next-door neighbor.  

Related Dragon Cache entries

When All Hope Seems Lost

Dining Out if for the Bird (and the People)

JABOL: A Space Odyssey