READING: On finishing Jane Gardam's God on the Rocks a short while ago, I read Kate Atkinson's 5th Jackson Brodie novel, Big Sky, and I am now in the middle of Ngaio Marsh's tenth Alleyn novel, A Surfeit of Lampreys. Meanwhile, on the audiobook front, I am listening to Becky Chamber's third Wayfarer book, Record of a Spaceborn Few. And yesterday I went on a bit about Nancy Mitford. I bring all this up because I can distinctly recall a time in my life—fifth grade—when I strongly believed that those of the male persuasion like myself should stick to writers of that same male persuasion. That was the way of manly reading! Women writers wrote for girls, obviously. I firmly held this belief until reading Wuthering Heights around that time, and that was the end of that.
And now one has to wonder where to branch to next. More on Gardam, Atkinson, Marsh or Chambers? Something on series detectives? Idiotic beliefs of children? Other books read in 5th/6th grade? Required reading in schools? Majoring in English? Jane Austin?
Well, all of these have their interest, perhaps, and I no doubt will get to them eventually, but what caught me up before thinking about any of this was the unlikelihood that one person in a hundred nowadays would get the reference in the post title. I have had a number of conversations lately where I have made some reference or used some idiom that I thought was as common as dropping the name of Mickey Mouse, only to be met with blank stares. That's not terribly unpredictable given that I'm older than God and my references draw from as far back as the Truman Administration. But in this case I have a deeper concern. When was the last time anyone listened to that infernal nonsense Pinafore? How often does one go off into a wild jig while singing "Ring the merry bells aboard ship / Rend the air with warbling wild"? And that singular anomaly, the lady novelist? No, G&S, she is missed. Very much so.
I know. There is a small but sturdy band of Savoyards who show up for the rare Mikados and Penzances that pop up hither and yon, but there are probably more folks sitting through the twentieth hour of "Parsifal" than singing along with "Poor Wand'ring One." The idea of operetta is an idea that has mostly run its course. I mean, when was the last Nelson Eddy / Jeanette MacDonald revival at the local art house? (Thank God for that.) You can probably get the odd Strauss or Lehar at a regular opera house, but that's about it. This music once was a reliable pillar of popular culture. Now it's for the rarified amongst us. Well Lah. Di. Dah. I'm agin' it. I rotate G&S* in my show tune listening as regularly as Sondheim.
I'm not suggesting you trade in your "Hamilton" album for "Iolanthe," but at least give a streaming listen to "The Mikado," the best of them all**. If you want a livelier up ramp, dig out the 1983 "Pirates of Penzance" movie. I promise you there will be many more G&S quotes in this blog going forward. At least this way you'll have some idea what I'm talking about.
* Today's mnemonic device: Sullivan wrote the music, and there's a U in Sullivan and a U in music.
** All right, you want to piss and moan about cultural appropriation. It was written in 1885, you muttonhead.
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