Brian Trent dot com

So it’s official – The Copperfield Review has just published two of my works. You can study a magazine, peruse what they like to publish, and deliberate over this field intelligence, but in the end you can never be certain what will strike an editor’s fancy as she sits down to work, sips her morning coffee, and begins making decisions. I had sent both a fiction and a nonfiction work – and was delighted to see both published.

The nonfiction piece is a how-to on writing historical fiction, entitled “Humanity and the Historical.” It encapsulates both my writing philosophy and initial inspirations. You can read it here if you like.

The fiction piece takes place in the pre-samurai period of Japan, and is entitled “Motherhood.” It’s actually an abbreviated episode from my novel about ancient China; I just distilled one particular section and transformed it into a short story. The main character is a quasi-historical character from Japan’s legendary past. It’s here for your viewing.

I’m making progress with both my new screenplays, too. One I’m writing with one of my best friends, Damian Dydyn; once a week, over pizza and ice-tea, we get together for some marathon screenwriting hours. The rest of the week, I’m working on my newest novel. Banish any thought that writing is a gentle, peaceful process. As I bang on the keys or pace my room like a caged tiger, I feel like a gladiator.

And my chest is a cage for a dragon/

And my heart is a wrath born of fear/

And my fear is the fear of the living/

Who knows that all things disappear.

*

Last night I decided to re-watch The Seven Samurai, directed by the incomparable Akira Kurosawa. The film is black-and-white, made in 1954, but possesses that unique quality of true cinematic masterpieces: It hasn’t aged. Kurosawa’s direction here is cool and confident, and the story of a poor village hiring seven dubious down-on-their-luck protectors against a horde of ruthless bandits is simple and engaging.

All around, the acting is perfectly credible, with the standout being Takashi Shimura. He’s just a powerhouse actor. The film’s pacing and wit mesmerized the viewer, and there are scenes which burn themselves onto the mind – no spoilers here, but watch for the scene with the wife, and of course the stirring realism of the battle sequences. Amazing. Rent it or own it. You won’t be disappointed.

*

Today is already a muggy day, and the air-conditioner in this room is broken. The humidity is so strong that I expect rain-clouds to materialize in front of my eyes any second, swirl like a slow cyclone against the ceiling, and unleash a downpour. But a quick word on the month of August before I swim for the cooler rooms of the house:

Next Tuesday is the when William Blake died (“Tyger! Tyger! Burning Bright!”) And Wednesday saw the passing of the incredible H. G. Wells, who with just four books introduced four completely original concepts which have since spawned countless imitators: alien invasion, invisible men, genetic experimentation, and time travel.

But August is also the month when Cyrus the Great died, and there are some great stories associated with him.

King Croesus was the filthy rich ruler of Ionia. The Donald Trump of his day, only more arrogant. In fact, even now the expression “rich as Croesus” is used to refer to fabulous wealth.

Croesus hit upon the idea of attacking his Persian neighbors, which at that time were ruled by Cyrus the Great. Cyrus was an extremely noble leader, who had begun life as a cup-bearer to the previous king, but who rose to kingship and came as close to being an enlightened philosopher-king as those years could expect. (And in some ways, way closer than our years.)

Before launching his invasion, Croesus decided to consult the fabled Oracle of Delphi. “Should I attack Persia?” he asked. The oracle responded with her famous ambiguity: “If you invade Persia, you will destroy a great empire.”

Pleased with his own interpretation of this omen, Croesus proceeds with a unilateral invasion. The empire he ended up destroying was his own.

Now, years before this miscalculation, Croesus had been throwing a party at which celebrity statesman Solon was in attendance. Resplendent in his fine robes, Croesus had taken Solon on a tour of the kingdom treasury and declared, “I am the happiest man in the world!” Solon, hearing this, politely countered that life was fickle and that fortune could be turned to misery in an instant.

Croesus was furious by this damper on his good mood, and Solon wisely excused himself and headed for the exit. On the way there, he ran into Aesop (the brilliant fable-teller himself) and the two had a terrific exchange. It seems that Aesop had been eavesdropping on Solon’s conversation with the king, and so he said, “Solon, either we must not come to mighty men at all, or we must try to please them.” But Solon disagreed, remarking that, “Either we must not come to mighty men at all, or we must tell them the truth.” It must have been the only time that Aesop was ever out-duelled!

To be a fly on the wall in that instant! Aesop and Solon, two of the most brilliant wisemen of all time, having a banter!

Fast-forward to Croesus’ ill-fated invasion of Persia. His armies are defeated, and Croesus soon finds himself being led up to an execution pyre. As the flames begin to creep towards the bound king, Croesus lets out a piteous cry. “Solon!” he says, acknowledging the Greek’s sage advice.

Cyrus, who has been watching the execution’s proceedings, hears this. He has no idea who Solon is, but he is intrigued enough to order the flames doused and Croesus brought before him. “What is this word that you shout at the moment of death?” Cyrus asks. And Croesus relates the party episode. Listening carefully, Cyrus perceives the wisdom in Solon’s words, and seeing that his vanquished foe is really no different than himself, he spares him.

This is the kind of stuff that history classes don’t talk about. A powerful humanistic tale featuring a cast of all-stars.

Gotta have breakfast now. Cold pizza awaits.

Random Fact:
There are more than 100 billion neurons and 100 trillion synapses in the average human brain. It is the most advanced device in the known universe. And it’s a device that can be shaped by what we do and what we learn.

Quote of the Day:
“It is certain that he was a lover of knowledge, for when he was old he would say that each day he grew older and learned something new.”
- Plutarch, writing about Solon.