1. Had bad insomnia this week, which seems to have messed with my immune system and my cold is back just as the last symptoms were fading away. At least it seems to be pretty mild in its new bid for mastery, so I’m hoping it won’t get in the way of anything, but it’s annoying nonetheless. Large reason why this is going up today instead of yesterday.

2. Liberalism, it seems to me, is mostly a matter of deciding which facts we’re going to ignore.

3. I’m nearing the end of The Virginian, which is an excellent book. It really belongs on any list of American classics. Like a lot of classics, it’s deceptively simple on the surface, but with currents that run deep in terms of plotting and characterization and emotional catharsis: the slow-burn friendship between the narrator and the title character, the ‘poker’ motif of the Virginian strategically working people to his own advantage, the rich, earthy humor, the entirely credible tragedy of Shorty, and so on.

My biggest objection so far is that the heroine is pretty underwhelming; she has good moments, but overall is too far below the hero in terms of character to seem worthy of him. One gets the impression that he falls for her more out of a small pool of candidates than any particular draw on her part.

4. I’m not one of those who think romantic partners should be equals, not least since I don’t think ‘equality’ is an appropriate thing to worry about when it comes to human relationships. But there ought to be something to clearly draw each to the person, a sense of mutual worth.

Take Emma for instance. If you really wanted to boil things down to a comparison, Mr. Knightly is her superior in character. But for all her faults, Emma has a lot of first-rate qualities, as well as a rich and vibrant personality that makes her seem not at all unworthy of him. They’re well matched, even if he is the more mature and sensible of the two, because they’re both very strongly marked figures.

In The Virginian, however, the World’s Youngest Spinster just seems kind of wishy-washy and out of place. We root for the relationship more because it’s what he wants than because we see it’s a good match (so, he’s the Robert Martin to her Harriet Smith, to keep with the Emma comparison), and slightly shake our heads over it.

5. Come to think of it, were there any male writers of the 19th and early 20th century who wrote a really good romance? I’m not thinking of very many off the top of my head. I suppose there’s Pip and Estella from Great Expectations, though there’s a lot of… complications there. I would also cite Tolkien, with his remarkably deft short-hand of Eowyn and Faramir, as well as some of The Silmarillian (the mythical setting helps there). The romances between Aragorn and Arwen and Sam and Rosie aren’t really shown ‘on screen’. Oh, and Edgar Rice Burroughs, of course.

Part of me wants to call ERB the best male writer of female characters before World War II, but I’m not going to go that far, just because I’m sure I’m forgetting someone.

6. Time and place dictate that I should clarify nothing political is meant by the above; just an observation that came to me of a sudden.

7. Speaking of Prof. Tolkien, looking at images of Mt. Fuji I have to wonder whether that helped to inspire the Lonely Mountain; this towering, majestic peak standing seemingly alone on an otherwise mostly flat landscape