Archive for November, 2009

I confess, I read only books that I find in thrift stores.  There are two reasons for this, one of which I might admit to another day! and one of which I will say now: it feels a little bit like a treasure hunt.  My recent find was two novels by Jack Finney, the first of which is Time and Again.  It is the story of Si Morley, advertising artist in the early 70′s (late 60′s?), who is offered the chance of a lifetime to join a secret project of the United States government, without knowing what the project is.  He signs on and I think it won’t be a spoiler, since it’s right there on the dust jacket (not to mention the title of my article), to say the project involves time travel.

I am currently about half-way through, and finding it an absolutely fascinating story, with very realistic reactions to meeting people of another era, and vivid descriptions.  I would say Jack Finney’s strongest point of his many strong points, is his attention for detail, which really brings each scene alive.

What interested me, however, is comparing the methods of time travel in the many stories available that feature it.  H.G. Wells’ Time Machine is probably the best known.  Like H.G. Wells, Michael Crichton uses technology to transport his characters in his book Timeline. 

A second method that seems to come up routinely is witchcraft or magic.  A sorcerer is the– forgive the pun– source of the switch in time in the movie Just Visiting.  An evil witch does the same thing to her unsuspecting victim in a lesser known book, a romance, called The Gray Ghost.  My favorite childhood novel, In the Keep of Time, by Margaret J. Anderson, fits in the magic category: an ancient ruin of a Scottish keep, whose key at times glows mysteriously– and that is when the switches happen.  I think Diana Gabaldon’s beloved and popular Outlander series would also fall into this category, as the characters travel through standing stones.

Somewhere in Time, the Christopher Reeve movie set on Michigan’s Mackinac Island, relies on the concept that a man can surround himself with the elements of the past and believe himself right back into a different era.  This is the idea Jack Finney uses, although with the twist of an elaborate secret government project, based on Einstein’s theories, in which Si Morley and others like him are trained in self-hypnosis, given extensive training in the era to which they will travel, and left at sites which either are virtually as they were, or can be made, briefly, to be much as they were, in the time era to which the researchers intend to travel.

The recent and very popular Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, has presented the most unique explanation to date: a genetic anomaly.

My own novel, Blue Bells of Scotland, ends with no real explanation as to how the switch might have occurred.  In Book 2, they explore that question, and so far, I have not seen a book that uses the same explanation they find. 

I continue to look for books on time travel, and am interested to find out what other methods have been conjured by authors.   Feel free to comment on time travel novels you’ve read or look into lots of great  Time Travel Fiction at Amazon!  Have fun!

For some background information on this article, it is important to know that Bruce lived from 1274 until 1329,  200 years before Martin Luther’s 95 Theses and before Henry VIII made his split from the Catholic Church.  In other words, in his day to be Christian was to be Catholic.

And Bruce himself seems to have been a rather devout Catholic.  He counted among his close friends and associates Bishops Lamberton and Wishart, and Bernard de Linton, Abbot of Arbroath.  He carried the relics of both St. Columba and St. Fillan to the Battle of Bannockburn in June of 1314.   And on the morning of the main battle, Bruce started the day with Mass, his army of thousands on its knees before Maurice, the blind and barefoot abbot of Inchaffray, not only saying Mass, but receiving absolution.  The Declaration of Arbroath, sent to the Pope in 1320, compares Bruce to the Biblical figures of Joshua and Judas Maccabeus, who led their people against oppressors.  One of his unfulfilled dreams was to go on a Crusade.  Such was his wish that, though he was unable to fulfill it himself, he exhorted a promise from his closest friend, James Douglas, that, after Bruce’s death, James would take his, Bruce’s, heart on Crusade.  This James Douglas did, carrying Bruce’s heart in a silver casket. 

As to excommunication, it is a formal declaration of exclusion from the community, and within the Catholic Church typically means one is no longer allowed to partake of communion. 

For a devout Catholic, Robert Bruce had a bad knack for getting ex-communicated.  It started with the murder of John Comyn, the Red Comyn, Lord of Badenoch (yes, these were all the same man– just to be clear which of several John Comyns we’re talking about) before the altar of Greyfriars Church in 1306.  In Blue Bells of Scotland, Shawn expresses disbelief that a man should be excommunicated for killing, as it seems, to him, to be the national pastime of medieval Scotland.  And it is true that the real issue was not so much the killing, as the killing of a man on holy ground.

The thing to remember about excommunication is that it’s like drenched.  You can’t get more drenched, and you can’t get more excommunicated.  Unlike drenchings, though, excommunication does not ‘dry out.’  You remain so until it is formally lifted.  And this is why it’s an almost amusing story, that in 1317, with the former excommunication never having been lifted, and no more severe penalties to inflict, Pope John XXII once again excommunicated Bruce.  This time, however, he applied the punishment to all of Bruce’s associates, the whole of Scotland, really, and furthermore, declared that the prelates of York and London were to repeat the excommunication ceremony every single Sunday and every holy day for a whole year.  As if a drenched man might become even more drenched.

Interestingly, many sources credit the Pope’s ridiculous order as the inspiration for the Scottish nobles writing the Declaration of Arbroath, Scotland’s most famous document on a par with, and many say largely the basis for, our own Declaration of Independence. 

I wonder how Bruce or his comrades felt about all of this.  I suspect that they were strong enough in their faith in the rightness of their cause, declaring the independence that had always been theirs before Edward Longshanks invaded,  that it was little more than a source of amusement to them, although I would think it might also have saddened them, to be on the wrong side of a faith and church that they obviously valued.