Taking a Break in NC

We're here with Susan, Ron and the whole menagerie -- Kipper is, of course, hiding under the bed. It's a great respite from our long journey and we get to visit Colette, who is still in her spot in the backyard from the trip down. We're going to relax today and then get back on the road to Arlington, our next stop.

Random pictures from the trip so far: Gene finally saw his first armadillo -- somewhere in Alabama, by the side of the road, mostly intact, but no -- not breathing. Pat's martinis provided an enjoyable coda to two long days -- thanks! Tuesday is Shoes Day on one Mobile radio station (we did not win any shoes, though). Kipper does not like traveling, and when he's crying really really loudly, it means he couldn't hold it anymore. Red Roof Inn is a palace next to Motel 6 -- it's best to stay with friends. The Lousiana Welcome Rest Stop sets your expectations low -- dark, dingy, crummy. The piece de resistance: the mostly dead cricket still kicking one leg into the air. But it was across the line and out of Texas, so our first marker of progress. Since then, Lousiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina and now North.

I had been thinking how much better it would have been to just jump on a plane and be there already, but as the miles have slipped by, I started to think that there was a usefulness in having this period of transition between the new and the old. We have time to appreciate the big change in our life. I can say that now that the horror of packing is over -- ugh, the very worst day. Unpacking, while still difficult and stressful, is no comparison. It will be a challenge to sort things out in the little house, but change is good.

Kipper, kanteles & Kuan yin

Hello from Mobile where Kipper is crying but calming down. 4 states today! Tired but happy. More when I'm not typing on the Treo...

One Day to Go!

We slept a long time last night after take out from Thai Spice (mmmmm). Kipper is doing fine in the cattery (AKA Stephanie and Zoe's back room) although he hasn't made friends with Nick yet (Raphael, Sidney and Cookie have made no comment yet). He seems to have adjusted okay now, sitting in the window, eating and drinking a little. How the longer car ride will go, it's hard to say.

We had a lovely brunch at the Daily Grind with Stephanie, Zoe, Lauren, Jim, Ange and Nelson. So busy we had to sit outside -- as if we needed another reminder why we never quite took to the Houston climate! But at least it was shady.

We're trying to finish cleaning now. Thanks to Zoe and Stephanie for helping, although we couldn't get them to take very much of the food in the fridge (darn!), but they did take the big agave out front that's almost too big for its pot. Looks like we might have someone for the washer dryer, but we'll have to see. Then it's off to recycling for the second time and then back to Z&S's for a little Kipper time before we head over to Pat and Peter's for the night. We run a few errands Monday morning, then it's on the road again for us. So -- how much email access we'll have is uncertain (so keep those megafiles until later!)

Truck Gone

Kate and Gene, tired, but relieved. We're staying with Zoe & Stephanie tonight -- and may well fall asleep at dinner!

Deadline

7 am, Saturday. Oh no...so many boxes.

Fare thee well, Honda!

Well, after sixteen years, I said good-bye to the best little car I have ever owned: my 1990 red hatchback Honda.



Over 200,00 miles and still running great, but she was a little worse for wear after all that time, and then there was the whole lack of air conditioning (a definite drawback down here in Houston). But a guy wanted it for his daughter -- one of the number of people who left notes on the car since we got down here asking to buy it. Made the selling fairly easy.

Lots of memories with that car! One year with Robert, and the rest with me, from Boston and Cambridge to Connecticut to Houston, with a few long drives to Michigan in between. I took some pictures to show things like my old Harvard Med parking sticker, the Whitby Dracula Experience sticker, and of course, Badtz Maru. And how about the old Carpe Noctem bumper sticker. And join me in singing the alma mater for Miskatonic U one last time. Gene even made a little film of them driving away (I was on campus trying to get packed, helped infinitely by the kindly Ann Diebel: thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!).

Change is inevitable -- there just seems to be a lot of it right now.

Kipper agrees. He's been hiding in little niches he has found, wondering what we're doing to his home. Here he is in calmer times. They'll be back soon -- just in another state.

Progress with a Hint of Panic

Packing packing packing -- and flooding today. Plans for first thing this morning had to change because so many things were shut down due to the excessive rain (including campus, our source of free boxes). Recording laserdiscs (The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao at the moment).

Have to remember what Gene says: it will get done.

It's not as bad as when we moved down here: packing at three in the morning, so tired that we'd forget to tape the bottom of the boxes before filling them.

The schedule: 24th = truck, 25th = cleaning, 26th = hit the road, stay in MS, 27th = Atlanta, 28th & 29th = Durham, 30th = Alexandria VA, 1st = NY. Assuming all goes well, and no disasters...(knock wood)

Thanks (while taking a break with the Beatles)

We're busily multi-tasking, recording laserdiscs onto dvds (right now, The Compleat Beatles) while packing and sorting, and slowly going mad. Well, I am. Gene is doing much better. I had to lay down on the bed with Kipper for half an hour or so just to feel capable of packing more. Argh. Somehow it will all get done.

Thanks, big time, are due: Last night we had a sort of farewell dinner, hosted by Pat and Peter, with co-sponsors Zoe and Stephanie. They made the Indian dishes while Pat made Mexican. It was all yummy and we all had a good time, talking until late and eating far too much. And of course Pat wouldn't let anyone leave without a stack of leftovers, so the fridge is full today. I had the little Hello Kitty I-Zone camera which proved fun for everyone, even though some the film seemed to be past date and a little off. But the pictures were a lot of fun -- something about Hello Kitty smiling at your makes you smile back. Even little three year old Aaron took some pictures.

All right, long enough break -- time to get back to work. And the laserdisc is almost finished recording!

Moving

So...the most popular time of the summer to move is apparently the time we chose to move. Fourth of July falls on a long weekend, so everything is overpriced and overbooked. So the firm date we thought we had just got moved up two days.

June 24th.

Eeek! Time to get packing...

Sticker Shock

After picking ourselves up off the floor, we're contemplating our moving costs. Sure, we picked the busiest time of year, are moving across the country, and yeah, we do have all those books. But we weren't expecting nearly twice what we paid last move four years ago. Fuel prices do play a role.

Argh.

Grendel Review

Whoo hoo! Julie Taymor's production of Grendel opened after numerous delays. Here's a review by someone who actually knows the story. Yes, I plan to try to get tickets when both it and we are finally in New York! And here's some behind-the-scenes rehearsal footage from the L.A. opening.

A New Home!

Hurrah -- thanks to our network of friends, we finally signed a lease for a place in North Albany. You can see pictures of it here, thanks to Dan and Kaitlin, who actually checked out the house for us. It's small, but it is a house and not an apartment, which we were loathe to return to occupying. The landlords seem nice, the area quiet. There are just all kinds of auspicious signs.

We owe a huge debt of gratitude to Dan and to Robert, both of whom did yeoman work on our behalf.

Now there's just the whole packing, movers and traveling part...

Confessions of a Pack-Rat & Canterbury Closure

Okay, I knew it was bad when I cleaned out the files for shredding and there were still (paid!) bills from a couple years ago; then I started finding stuff from when I lived on Notre Dame -- in Cambridge! Have to clean out the files more often.

All right -- to belatedly finish up the account of Canterbury:

Morning proved to be just lovely. After feeling so ill, it was great to feel so much better. We made a walking tour of Canterbury (in part because several of the students complained about their lack of funds). We started out with the city walls, around since the Roman times, but most recently rebuilt for the Hundred Years' War (fourteenth century). We had a lot of fun too at the Norman castle (ruins from the twelfth century) and a couple of students had presentations to give. Then we walked along to St. Mildred's, the oldest church within the city walls; part of the Anglo-Saxon structure is still visible. It's got a lovely cemetery attached to it as well. We were lucky enough to have one of the staff members give us an impromptu tour while the organist practiced, pointing out historical bits and letting us into the chapel where the gentry would have sat, warming themselves by their private fire while the rest of the parishoners shivered.

Next we walked up to Grey Friars, the last remaining portion of a monastery founded by followers of St. Francis during his lifetime. Unfortunately, it's only open a couple of hours every day -- and not the hour we were there, although we could see much outside the fence of the bulding that stretches over the river Stour. I don't think the students were too upset -- they had much more fun watching the city workers pull debris out of the river and then help feed the ducks by hand. By then it was lunch time. I recommended some of the free museums and some of the not so free ones, and everyone headed off to lunch. Well, a few of us headed to the Chaucer Bookshop. By that point Sandi wasn't feeling well and went off to the hotel, while I went to the Roman Museum, where I ran into a bunch of our folks. The museum is a little cheesy, but some interesting artifacts from the Roman era.

After that, I ventured outside the city walls to see the ruins of St. Augustine's Abbey and the beautiful St. Martin's, the oldest parish church in England, where Queen bertha lies. Wonderful cemetery -- even had a dead bird (which I duly photographed -- don't forget, you can see all the pictures here). Afterward I did a litte shopping too, picking up a raspberry Kangol beret for a mere $5 at the Oxfam shop -- but no books. Then it was dinner at the Falstaff Hotel -- very good! if not Falstaffian -- and then the piece de resistance, The Canterbury Tales performed by the RSC. The students were very excited to attend the performance -- they even got lucky later because our coach was late, we go to chat with the actress playing the Wife of Bath as she waited for her cab. The performance was superbly presented, if a little odd at times. The hybridity of the opening, retaining a lot of the Middle English but giving it a modern pronunciation, probably helped the audience understand the historical aspects of the language, but was quite jarring to my ears. Who knew the Reeve's Tale would come off more funny than the Miller's Tale when dramatized (which just goes to show how literary it is despite the "misdirected kiss")?

One surprise: the inclusion of the Prioress' Tale. This anti-Semitic tale is in keeping with medieval propaganda against Jews, who had been expelled from England in 1290. However, performing it before a modern audience unaware of this tradition seems bizarre if not downright offensive, particularly when you put the actors playing the Jews in dark cowls and long beaked masks as they are led to murder by a bombastic Satan. One can argue that the Prioress, already lampooned in her portrait in the General Prologue, merely tells a tale that adds to that unflattering portrait, but the production doesn't bear out that argument. There was the slightest comment from the Chaucer character that her story was nonsense -- it was not enough to erase the vivid images that preceded it. If they wanted to do one of the religious tales, why not the Second Nun's? Sigh.

Back to the hotel, where my roomies insisted I take the private room for the night, then early morning coach ride to Gatwick, with less traffic than we feared, onto the plane and the seemingly endless flight back. Argh -- then back where I began this odyssey...and have finally found closure for the tale. Unlike Chaucer -- he didn't have time to complete the Canterbury Tales before his death in 1400. But he left an amazing legacy nonetheless, which will continue to draw pilgrims to the city for many years to come (as will Marlowe and Riddley Walker!).

Good-bye, Maggie

12 March 1990 - 5 June 2006

This is not a Post

All right -- I wrote up a long post and it disappeared, so nothing today. Too annoyed.

Gene is better, Maggie is not.

Peeps at London [4]

[Yesterday proved eventful, what with Gene on the radio in NY, Maggie requiring an emergency trip to the vet -- on medication, but still hanging in there -- then a belated birthday dinner for Pat at Houston landmark, Spanish Village.]

Sunday before Canterbury proved to be an exceedingly damp day. I ran around town picking up things I had promised to people and somehow not got around to buying, so I went everywhere from Gosh to the Tate Britain and got thoroughly soaked doing it (that will become important later). But I got my errrands done, read The Lieutenant of Inishmore and dried off enough to help lead a bunch of students to dinner at the Porterhouse in Covent Garden. Great beers! Terrific service -- even the latecomers (who had run off to places like Glastonbury (thanks for the water David!), Stonehenge and (my fave) Avebury) got their dinnera. The food was excellent and spirits were high. And yes, dared by the students I did do a tequila shot, which they made sure to immortalize in photos. We ended the evening late despite our early departure in the morning, singing and reciting poetry like a bunch of English professors or something.

Our Canterbury trip had a delayed start, as our drivers needed to take a mandated break before driving us. Oh well. We had a few students delivering presentations to entertain us and of course, the beautiful countryside to delight the eyes. We got to a blustery Canterbury and dropped our bags at the very American Holiday Inn Express and headed out to the city. People fanned out for lunch, and the first thing I ran across after lunch was the clock tower once part of the church where Marlowe was baptized. Ah! living history -- I can touch the very bricks that the greatest Elizabethan playwright touched, too. Then we met folks at the cathedral -- one of the main aims of our trip. What a cold wind was blowing! I was really feeling its chill for some reason (should have been dawning on me at that point, but it wasn't). Student gave presentations both inside and outside the cathedral. Many were quite in awe of the structure which offers an imposing figure over the city. We saw the site of Becket's martyrdom and, most important to me, the fifteenth century wall painting of the life of St. Eustace which plays a crucial role in Riddley Walker. But after walking aroudn the cathedral a while, I was starting to feel dizzy and sat down for a while. Sandi and I went to Debenham's cafe for a pot of tea and pain au chocolate, which made me feel a bit better. If I could just get warm...but by dinner time, I was feeling less than wonderful. Which was a pity -- we had our last full group dinner and the students produced a mock proclamation for Jim as, among other things. "The Earl of the Headcount" thanking him for organizing such a wonderful trip. Then Sandi gave a nice speecha bout how much she was going to miss me and the students joined in and a number stood and applauded. I think it was just a conspiracy to make me cry.

Fortunately by that point I was so dazed with fever it all seemed unreal. I rode back to the hotel in a taxi with a few other students who were caling ti an early night and skipping the "ghost tour" (which as it turned out, was a wise decision -- no Benny Hill for me!). I took a hot shower (alas, no bath in the American hotel) and went to bed, finally realizing I ached all over because I was shivering so much. My roommies came in later and were somewhat alarmed at my shivering. Thankfully, they got blankets from housekeeping and piled them on me. About 4am my fever broke and by the next morning, I was almost myself again.

But that will take another post to finish --

Peeps at London [3]

[Continuing the saga -- Gene having a bit of relapse, sleeping; meeting with studentes tonight at the Red Lion, an approximation of pub life in the midst of Houston, while English weather continues...]

While a number of the students went to the Globe to see Coriolanus, others went off to their half price theatre adventures (we heard there was quite an enthusiastic response to Chicago which the cast much appreciated). Sandi, Jim and I stopped off for an Indian feast before Embers at the Duke of York. While chatting over dinner, I couldn't help noticing the pub across the street, The Greenman and French Horn. I finally located the titular character up above the doorway. That was no Greenman! That was Peter Pan with a hunting horn. Well, of course, as we find out later in the program, the Duke of York was where Pan premiered all those years ago. That's London for you -- a moment in history that still lives on. In that very theatre, on that very stage, all those years ago.

And yes, Jeremy Irons was wonderful in the play -- as was Patrick Malahide, who had by far the harder part, actively listening to Irons as he harangued him over wrongs done years before. Incredible lighting -- the gentle tones of late day, early morning an night were imagintively rendered, and the actors projected without microphones, the bane of Broadway. It's that incredible magic of words, gestures and movement that makes theatre the liveliest art. Afterward we went up to the Greenman and French Horn for a drink (shortly followed by most of the ushers from the theatre). We squeezed into a window seat and invented stories for the passers by, and enjoyed the luxury of London theatre-going.

It's a terrible addiction! It had Sandi and I running desperately to the Barbican the next day (after finding the Circle line out of service--d'oh!) to see the Cheek by Jowl production of Middleton and Rowley's The Changeling. A transformed Barbican greeted us in a stunning and inventive performance of the Jacobean play using the whole of the auditorium, with wild moments of giddy humor supplanted by violent acts of murder and sex. It was great! Worth the run to the theatre -- and the one afterward! We hadn't realized the play ran so long, so we had a bit of a jog to get to the Anchor that night for the first of our group dinners prior to seeing Titus Andronicus at the Globe. Where Peyps watched London burn during the Great Fire, the Anchor has lost a bit of its charm -- perhaps it didn't help to have a rather large group of people, many of whom were late, and all due to get to the Globe on time for curtain.

Well, dinner was redeemed the next night -- but more of that later...

Peeps at London [2]

[Yes, Gene is doing much better! And I have reduced our vinyl collection by more than half]

You can find an unsorted collection of pictures here. I'll make an effort to sort things out later (really), but they start with pictures from the cruise.

After the cruise, a group of us headed toward the British Library. We met at the pub across the street to have lunch. There the students experienced pub service -- which is to say they were not happy and the service was not snappy. I was sipping a cream ale and it was raining outside, so I didn't feel in a hurry. Eventually we made it over to the Library to show the students some of the treasure, including of course the one and only (and slightly singed) Beowulf manuscript (everyone waited while I brushed a tear away), the First Folio (without which we wouldn't have most of Shakespeare's works--everyone waited while Merrilee brushed a tear away) and various other beauties the room holds from illuminated books to Beatles lyrics. We dropped the students off back at the hotel, and I set off to play hookey and have dinner with Brad and Liz and Sophie (stopping of course at the Book and Comics Exchange in Notting Hill Gate, where I bought ONE book, only one!).

The next morning it was off to the half price booth to see what was available: I got tickets for Smaller with Dawn French and Alison Moyet (directed by Kathy Burke). Since most of the students were off to Greenwich, Sandi and I went to Regent's Park which was simply gorgeous -- especially the secret garden. Lots of little ducklings around! I went out for sushi and then went to the theatre -- I swear that was Jo Brand in front of me at the counter! People had described the play as "about big women." Interesting -- while it starred big women, it was not about the subject at all. A rather dismissive assessment: what it was about was caretaking of the elderly and the strains it produces on both sides -- or rather on all sides, including those who choose not to do it. It was funny and moving.

The next day we decided to run the students by the half price booth on our way to the Museum of London, so they could see how easy it was. A number of the students decided to go to plays too and got really excited. Sandi and I got tickets to see Jeremy Irons in Embers. Several students gave presentations at the Museum; then it was off to the British Museum, where we had waaaay too much to see and do in one afternoon.

More to come...

Peeps at London [1]

We set out from the ever bleak confines of Intercontinental (after our ritual spit at Halliburton), the students rarin' to go (only a few apprehensive) and excited about the trip. I took the initiative to maintain order in the bar, just to be sure the students were getting adequate sustenance (thanks for the martini, Pat!). I managed to switch to an aisle seat and even better, managed to sleep most of the way to London. Didn't miss much as we were flying on Continental (feh). We arrived in Gatwick with a minimum of fuss and got our folks together for the two coaches. Then we began the interminable trip up to the city. No, it wasn't the traffic (although, yes, London rush hour is horrendous). No, the problem was our "guide" (we needed a guide?) who spent most of the trip speculating on real estate prices, complaining about her mortgage, berating the driver for not being able to afford a house (giving Sandi's students in Social Classes good fodder for discussion), and offering misinformation ("this is where Sherlock Holmes lived"). By the time we were driving south through Holland Park (an admittedly creative route to Bloomsbury) we were ready to club her.

We arrived at the spartan accomodations of the Royal National to discover that, with one exception, our rooms were ready, which was a nice surprise. We dropped off our luggage and went in search of lunch. Already suffering from a cold, I led a group to Thai Spice, figuring some green curry would help clear my sinuses (a few students frightened by the idea of the same, went to a pub). After that, it was time for the hop-on hop-off bus tour (our ploy to keep the students moving until late enough to get them over jet lag). Our job was to help students get a feel for the city and oriented to their surroundings, but after a nine hour flight, two and half hour bus ride, the last thing I wanted was to be sitting on another bus. I made it one circuit, then offered to lead a group through the National Gallery. A few others were eager to get off the bus (others continued half dozing in the back of the tour bus) and we ran through the rain into the NG. Curiously enough, a couple other faculty members independently decided to do the same thing. After some enjoyable wandering through the galleries, a few went back to the hotel, while a small group of us set forth to find dinner. We ended up at a nice pub in the Leicester Square area, where a number of us got our first taste of real fish and chips. We found that later another group had gone to the crypts in St. Martin's, another highly recommended experience.

Most students seemed over their jet lag by the next morning. We had a nother touristy event ahead for the morning, one which I admit, I had not looked forward to doing: the Thames River cruise. To my surprise, it was a terrific experience. Even given our grey day, it was just wonderful sailing down to Greenwich and back. Since the students were going to Greenwich later in the week, we all stayed on the boat and sailed back on our own private cruise. I actually took pictures! (to be uploaded soon).

Back

...and I find Gene very ill! This is wrong.

London journal to follow soon...

London List

Sorry --- rental internet, so here's a list:

Long flight, slept a lot!, coach ride from hell, spartan hotel, tired students on the hop-on/hop-off, National Gallery, better day two, British Library, pub lunch, cool weather, a bit of rain, Museum of London, British Museum, dinner with Brad and Liz, phone call with Roger (no time for lunch!), Dawn French and Alison Moyet on stage Wednesday, Jeremy Irons last night, Merrilee's Southern Comfort and too much late night talking, students aclimating, the Changeling (Barbican) and Titus Andronicus (Globe) today -- off to Canterbury Monday...

More later, of COURSE.

Off to London

...with a cold in my chest. Ugh. Thanks a bunch to whoever passed it along. I think it's on its way out, but you never know. All the coughing is giving me a headache. At least sleeping upright on the plane will not be as likely to wake me at four in the morning as the coughing has done the last couple days.

Well, I never did get the Kalamazoo recap up. I don't know how much access I'll have to computers this trip, so I don't know whether I'll be posting regularly (keep that in mind before you decide to forward that 6M video file!). But I did actually remember to pack the camera (or rather, Gene did). The fun of being back in London will no doubt perk me back up. I'm looking forward to seeing folks and museums and the good ol' British Library.

In the meantime, puzzle over the story of the city in the sky.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Barrie!

It is J. M. Barrie's birthday, the father of Peter Pan. Just for today, at least, say you do believe in fairies.

(Yes, clearly I have not had enough time to write up Kalamazoo -- let's see if I get to it before taking off for Britain on Monday...)

Who knew?

Independent scholar Terry Jones (yes, THAT Terry Jones) was at the Congress signing his Chaucer book. Argh!!! I missed it!

Publication: Review of Stark's Meet the Beatles

In the latest issue of the Journal of Popular Culture you will find my (mostly favorable) review of Steven D. Stark's Meet the Beatles: A Cultural History of the Band that Shook Youth, Gender and the World. As always, the journal is full of fun and interesting scholarship on everything from food to films.

How many adults fit in a Hyundai Sonata?

Well, at least six! We piled all the folks from our Thursday night panel into my rental car after the wine hour, went off to the Roadhouse and then returned for our panel. Despite our worries, we were still able to fit in the car after dinner. The panel went well -- more later (on a short break at the moment and responding to panicked students' emails), as did the trip back to the home town on Friday.

Details to follow --

New Publication: Sandman Papers

Gene alerted me that the new collection of essays on Sandman had come out (and more importantly, that my freebie copies had arrived). We saw editor Joe Sanders at ICFA in March, so we knew it would be out soon. I haven't seen it yet, but it looks terrific in the pictures. No doubt Fantagraphics will sell a bunch of copies. The essay I have in the collection started as a PCA paper several years back. It looks at the artwork in the story arc The Kindly Ones, now collected in a single trade paperback.

At the 'Zoo

I'm writing this from fabulous Kalamazoo MI, about an hour from my home town. The big medieval congress is underway -- in fact, I've already given my paper on the medieval films Anchoress and Sorceress. I drove over yesterday from Detroit with my friend Faye Ringel from the Coast Guard Academy. We had a lovely dinner and then I dropped her at the hotel, assuming I would go over to the conference, check in and just relax. Of course, I ran into some UConn folks before I even got to check in and was persuaded to join them at Waldo's for some beer. I had a chance to catch up with people (inculding Chris Fee, whom I haven't seen for years). Everybody, of course, demanded to know why Gene wasn't with me -- maybe next year?

Funny thing -- this morning as Faye and I walked over the bridge on the pond, we not only saw the usual swans, carp and ducks, but a little turtle swam up to the surface. Before it had a chance to impart any revelations however, one of the swans tried to take a bite out of it and it quickly disappeared. Ah well!

Panels this afternoon, meeting up with folks from the evening panel at the wine hour. We'll head off for dinner then come back to discuss using medieval literature in fiction writing, which should be fun. I even brought a couple of copies of Pelzmanteljust in case.

More to come!

Kalamazoo

I'm off to the International Medieval Congress today -- more news as I have time.

Hauskaa Vappua!

In Finland they are swimming the harbor and throwing student caps. Here I am enjoying the last day of the semester and getting last minute things done before Kalamazoo.

I'm also practicing on my kantele because I will be playing with the medieval group Collegium Mysterium (directed by my friend and colleague Yvonne Kendall). Here's how Kipper helps me practice:

New Publication: Puppetry International

Just arrived in the mail! I have an essay in the latest issue of Puppetry International on medievalism in Russell Hoban's Riddley Walker. I look at the ritual of the Punch and Judy show in the novel's post-apocalyptic setting, and how Hoban uses the relics of Canterbury Cathedral and the legend of St. Eustace as rendered in a medieval wall painting in the cathedral.

The magazine itself is a fascinating collection of articles on puppetry (naturally), a medium that proves amazingly varied. It really expands the idea of what can be done with puppets. There is a two page spread of the grants awarded by the Jim Henson Foundation that is simply stunning in the variety of works, although I was particularly intrigued by the Hotel Obligato Physical Theater's production of Punch's Progress.



Insert your swazzle and repeat after me: "That's the way to do it!"

Complete Fiasco

Well, more or less -- my play Fiasco, that is. While not perhaps as newsworthy to the world as a lost Beckett play, I hope that I can drum up some interest in this black comedy about recent events on the third coast. The last part (that took so long to finish for some reason) is the "New School for Scandal" section that ends the revue. Ironically, I'm teaching Sheridan's play in my early British literature survey this week. Funny how the idea of manipulating public opinion with lies and innuendo never goes out of style.

As always, I am interested in feedback, so download a copy today and enjoy!

Kinky Boots

All right -- when you get a song stuck in your head, the best way to get it out is to pass it along to others, right? So, here I go. We've finally got around to watching Catterick (more goofy fun from Vic and Bob) and not only does the song "Kinky Boots" appear in the series, but it provides the theme for the main menu of the DVD so everytime we put it in, we'd hear the song again. It's real brain taffy! Just try to dislodge it.

According to Avengers Forever, the song came about like this:

The Cathy Gale-era of the show spawned a novelty record called "Kinky Boots," performed by Patrick Macnee and Honor Blackman. Patrick was so petrified about singing (or, in particular, being unable to sing) that after several failed takes, he was escorted to a local pub, lubricated with brandy, and returned to the recording studio. Even after that, a sound engineer had to stand next to him and tap him on the shoulder whenever he was supposed to sing. When the single was re-issued in 1990, it hit the charts, selling over 40,000 copies!

And did you know:

The name of the famous rock band "The Kinks" actually comes from the song "Kinky Boots." In a 1995 interview with Kinks lead singer Ray Davies, he related how the band acquired its name... "Dave and Pete wore these capes and boots... Kinky Boots I think was a single that a program called The Avengers had out -- a TV show. And this drunk guy at the bar looked over and said, 'You blokes should call yourselves the Kinks because you look like one.' And Larry page, who became one of our managers, said, 'He's got a point there!'"

Amazing what you can learn from a pop song!

Why Do They Vex Me?

I had a discussion with a student about a paper returned to him with comments and a grade (sophomore lit, for those keeping score). He took issue with my coments, oddly enough. The assignment was to compare the themes in an historical document to those in a play (Elizabethan, early colonialism -- you know, that whole "let's put literature in an historical context" idea). In his paper, he discussed one text, then talked about the other. About midpoint, there was a sort of thesis which was not (to my eyes) actually carried out in the discussion.

The student informed me that he "didn't think it necessary" to discuss the two texts together, which I suggested made comparison rather difficult. He also instructed me that in all his classes in high school and two years of college, he had never heard of the idea that a thesis ought to be near the beginning of a paper. Clearly I was being unreasonable. It certainly did not help our discussion that the entire time his eyes were on my chest.

Ewww.

I don't know if that was a deliberate attempt to make me feel uncomfortable or an unconscious one. Well, it did make me feel uncomfortable; it is rude and disgusting. But it was not enough to make me change my mind. I polled the following class, not all of whom are stellar students by any means. Nonetheless, they unanimously declared (without prompting) that the proper place for a thesis was the beginning of the paper -- in fact, some were even more specific, suggesting it ought to be the last sentence of the first paragraph. Good; even though not all their papers followed that rule, it must be said.

It's par for the course, unfortunately. The complaining student is in the "soul sucker" class of this semester, the kind of group that sucks the energy right out of you when you enter the room. There are a couple of terrific students in the class, but by this point they too have been sucked of all energy. I find it hard to maintain my usual level of enthusiasm -- sometimes I even (gasp!) sit down while leading that class. Group dynamics -- it's a tricky thing.

I'm grateful that they're not the class with whom I end the day. After them I go to a class which has a more equitably energy flow. Yesterday I thanked them for it. They're not necessarily better students on the whole, gradewise. But I'd much sooner spend my time with them, as human beings as well as students.

Medieval Weblogs & Wombats in the News

I didn't realize I was linked on this list of medieval weblogs. There's a meeting at Kalamazoo this year on medieval bloggers; naturally, I am chairing a panel at the same time. But pal Scott Nokes will be there, so I'm sure he'll pass along the news. There's also a meet-up for anonymous medieval bloggers put together by the author of Ancrene Wiseass. Although I am not anonymous, I am thinking of attending (dependent always on other various social engagements).

And without transition, I almost forgot to mention the full page ad in the NYT Sunday from a large international coffee seller that listed among the wonderful things on the earth (you guessed it) wombats! Of course, we agree. While cute and cuddly, one should also remember that "these animals are not to be taken lightly and should be treated with a great deal of respect."

Back from PopCulture

Somehow blogging seems more attractive than the mass of grading I have to do at present, so I'm taking a break after getting the immediate emergencies done. PCA was wonderful as always -- our papers went well and we had fun seeing all our friends like "Sailor" Wendy Goldberg (and her family -- we had a terrific passover seder with all the clan); Mark "Captain Hook" Rogers (he's not this Mark or this one) and new wife (well, new to us) Jessica ("The Counselor"); Amy "Hold the Presses" Kiste Nyberg; John "All Asian Media" Lent and wife Ying (and a big box of IJOCA) -- not to mention our fun colleagues from UHD, Stephanie and Antonio. What could be better than kicking off our visit to Atlanta by dining with Phil and Anya -- the voices of Atlanta culture! My medieval popular culture section, while still small, went very well with some excellent papers and good discussion.

Back in Houston where the weather as usual is "scorchio" and enthusiasm, as the end of the semester approaches, less so.

Goin' to Atlanta

[Yes, it does sound a lot like the Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black] We're off to PCA as usual about this time of year. We always look forward to PCA, a big conference with lot of friends. And while Atlanta is no New Orleans, neither is NO these days...

Profiled!

For the near future anyway, I am profiled at the UHD College of Humanities and Social Sciences new webpage (below the student profile). A little free publicity!

Sisu! Sisu!

Gene just called: a letter arrived at home telling me I have won a Finlandia Foundation grant! Whoo hoo! This means I'M GOING TO FINLAND!



I applied for the grant as part of my ongoing work on Unikirja which I hope to complete this summer. I didn't really feel I could finish, however, without seeing, touching and even smelling! ancient Finland. The best place for that, it seemed to me, would be to visit the rock paintings by hiking through Finland's countryside. I am so excited to know I'll really be there and not have to just imagine it.

Paljon kiitos, Finlandia Foundation! Now I really have to work on my Finnish!

(Not so) New Publication

I finally got my copy of the three volume encyclopedia co-edited by S.T. Joshi and Stefan Dziemianowicz for which I wrote entries on Clive Barker (80-84) and on his Books of Blood (138-139). It's quite an honor to be among so many stellar writers and scholars. Primarily designed as a reference books for public libraries, high schools and universities, I'm certainly not expecting folks to pick up individual copies for themselves! However, couldn't YOUR local library use a copy?





And yes, as always, I am sure high school students are plagiarizing entries as we speak!

Easter Witches

My good pal Diane Saarinen has a piece in the Living in Season Newsletter about the wonderful Easter Witch tradition in Finland and Sweden. It includes some lovely vintage Easter Witch postcards, so be sure to check it out. Diane writes for numerous newsletters and magazines -- we have often appeared together in the pages of both The Beltane Papers and New World Finn.

Inspiration

And who doesn't need some? Particularly for folks near enough the end of the semester to feel the fatigue, but not quite near enough to begin to feel the surge of adrenaline that fuels that last sprint to the deadline.

It's an essay by Paul Graham called "How To Do What You Love" -- something we all aim to do, but few of us find our way there. Here's a snippet:

That's what leads people to try to write novels, for example. They like reading novels. They notice that people who write them win Nobel prizes. What could be more wonderful, they think, than to be a novelist? But liking the idea of being a novelist is not enough; you have to like the actual work of novel-writing if you're going to be good at it; you have to like making up elaborate lies.

Oh yeah! And here's a bit that drew my attention:

Prestige is especially dangerous to the ambitious. If you want to make ambitious people waste their time on errands, the way to do it is to bait the hook with prestige. That's the recipe for getting people to give talks, write forewords, serve on committees, be department heads, and so on. It might be a good rule simply to avoid any prestigious task. If it didn't suck, they wouldn't have had to make it prestigious.

Sound familiar? He does however tip his hand as a science geek who can see no use in the liberal arts:

Math would happen without math departments, but it is the existence of English majors, and therefore jobs teaching them, that calls into being all those thousands of dreary papers about gender and identity in the novels of Conrad. No one does that kind of thing for fun.

He doesn't understand that the same drive to understand fuels literary analysis, too, "dreary" papers or no (says the literary geek). But personal prejudices aside, the general points are still valid.

A Grading Gem

While reading a student essay I encountered the following phonetic rendering of a common aphorism: "despite times call for despite measures." I suspect it has to do with the local accent making desperate sound somewhat similar. Not quite as bad as the innumerable comments in the past few years about the "doggy dog world" in which we live...

Tempest in the Classroom

The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,
The gunner and his mate
Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate;
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch:
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!

I'm teaching The Tempest as I usually do about this time. Students always complain about how hard it is to read plays, although they like Shakespeare a lot better than Marlowe. I'm not sure why -- yes, I do realize the stature Shakespeare holds in the world, but I so love Marlowe's audacity and sheer exuberance. But my students find him more challenging -- or as they would say, "too hard."

Tis magic, magic that hath ravished me...

Marlowe has all the beauty of Shakespeare; what he lacked, perhaps, was the thought of the audience -- or not awareness so much as concern for their reaction. Shakespeare can be equally devastating, but he seemed to always have been aware of the paying audience. Perhaps it is the difference of being an actor as well as a writer. I expect that would make it impossible to forget the eyes upon you, not to desire their approval, just as Prospero (like Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream) exhorts the audience to applaud at the end of the play. The Tempest does contain my all time favorite Shakespearean line:

I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster.

Why? I don't know. Humor is a difficult thing to analyze. Not that it stops us from trying. I am still immersed in my British comedy at present, reading Harry Thompson's biography of Peter Cook which was recommended by folks at the Establishment. Although I didn't get much reading done this weekend as I was trying to finish up my draft of an essay on The Sorcerer for S.T. Joshi's icons of horror and fantasy anthology. I tried not to get carried away talking about Faustus and Prospero, but I couldn't resist a bit of a digression on them. That's magic for you --

Where the bee sucks. there suck I:
In a cowslip's bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

April Fool!

For a good chuckle, run on over to the American Blogress for a group of cartoons sponsored by BTPBHTP (Back the President Because He Is The President). Organized by Connecticut cartoonist Elena Steier, the display begs for your support of the poor, beleaguered President.

Cracklin' Rose

It's finally time to let slip the news: I will have a new position this fall at The College of St. Rose in Albany, NY -- Go, Golden Knights! It's a small liberal arts college in an urban setting. The English department seems welcoming and flexible. I'll have many more opportunities to teach courses in medieval literature and culture than I do at present (and to smaller classes!) We're very excited about the opportunity to be back in the Northeast (and near family and friends), but it's hard not to be a little sad to leave the many friends we have made in Houston (not to mention the plethora of restaurants!). I will miss my UHD students, but not the weather or the 4/4 load. We'll probably be heading back across country in June or July at the latest, so be prepared for that knock on the door!

"Go, You Blues!"

Congratulations to pal Susan Emfinger, development officer and erstwhile actor [yes, she was one of the stars of Un Amor Peligroso or The Wombat's World, my student film that gave its name to my old zine and this blog]. Susan, who currently serves as Major Gifts Officer for the College of Science and Liberal Arts at Wayne State University will be moving to the University of Huddersfield in Yorkshire!

Check out the welcome message from their Chancellor! What a lovely location -- yes, I am biased because she's already offered an invitation for us to visit. We haven't been to Yorkshire since that lovely trip to Whitby. And it's not like we need much of an excuse to visit Britain!

Best of luck with the move across the pond -- and congratulations again!

ICFA

Well, like the man who was turned into a newt, it got better. There was, of course, ample opportunity to ogle the art of Charles Vess, including the slide show that offered many of the artists he admires as well as the drawing of the fountain (!) that will be in a local green space -- oh my! It is impossible to describe, although if you know his work you can imagine: Titania, Puck, a tortoise and hare...just beautiful!

There was a terrific panel on Theorizing of Alterity and Performativity which provided a lively discussion. Tom Inge's lunchtime talk on Mad and the roots of post-war satire in the US was also entertaining. The panel I was on proved to be much fun: Sarah E. Thompson from the Museum of Fine Arts showed us an amazing range of 19th century Japanese prints with fantastic images, while Irma Hirsjärvi from Jyväskylä University (the official gradnmother of Finnish SF fandom, we found out) talked about "SF and Fantasy in the Discourses of Canon and Fandom" in Finland. She even talked about Johanna Sinisalo, the author I was also speaking on. I felt nervous talking about a Finnish author with a Finn there to critique my analysis, but Irma was very positive and interested. Oh, and at the book launch for Polder, the tribute to John and Judith Clute, they took a picture for Locus, so look for me behind Ellen Datlow and in front of Peter Straub.

The comics panels were a bit disappointing on the whole (no knowledge of previous scholarship!) and there were a surprising number of no-shows at panels. We finally broke down and bought tickets to the Saturday night banquet and were glad we did in the end. Especially since everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to Tom and Charles gave him the original panels of Snow White that Tom had been trying to buy from him all week (they were in the art show). He was really surprised and touched. What a wonderful gesture!

So, I'm of two minds about the conference. We did end up having fun, but it's also an inconvenient loction and an expensive conference. Hmmm -- maybe if we fly to Miami and take a shuttle it wouldn't be as expensive. We'll see...

Oh! And coming soon (with an essay by me!) I found out by running into editor Joe Sanders:

Wyndham Ft. Lauderdale: Bad Hotel or the WORST Hotel

Put together rudeness, incompetence and crumbling infrastructure and you've got a fine advertisement for the Sheraton across the highway. We arrived late Tuesday night and used the courtesy phone to call for the shuttle. The hotel is only about a mile from the airport, so how long could it take?

HA HA!

Well, after fifteen minutes we called again and were assured that the driver had just taken off and would be there soon. Another fifteen or twenty minutes later we called and asked whether it was really coming or shoudl we just call a cab. Well, the shuttle finally came --- and drove right past us. The hotel hadn't told us that the shuttle couldn't stop at the terminal. So the dozen or so of us who had been waiting for the past hour had to high-tail it down the steamy asphalt to the place where it could stop. We finally got to the hotel where we were checked in by the curt night staff. We got to our room -- and surprise! It wasn't the right room -- two small beds instead of one big one. Another call to the surly staff and they assured us someone would arrive with keys to take us to the right room.

They came surprsingly soon. They brought us to a kind of room I recognized -- the two peepholes, one about halfway down the door should have been the tip off. It's the room kept in reserve for handicapped visitors. More's the pity. It's set up to have an accessible shower -- the result is that the shower water streams into a drain in the middle of the bathroom making the whole floor very slippery. Then there's the towel rack in an inconvenient place that obviously has come down many times either from knocking people on the head or being desperately grabbed by someone falling. The wall is drilled with numerous holes from re-attachment efforts and the rack hangs precariously. I won't even bother to mention the strategic position behind the ice machine or the toilet that never stops running...

But the most obvious issue is the surly staff. They must really be badly paid. Our waiter actually sighed aloud when we weren't ready to give the orders he obviously wanted to take. Everything seems to be a trial. And there's nothing nearby (except for the equally expensive Sheraton's restaurant) so we have limited choices for eating. We ate in the bar tonight and despite being incredibly busy, the bartender was very cheerful, so we may go back there.

On the plus side: talking with Tom Inge, who is always a lot of fun, and catching up briefly with Faye Ringel (hopefully we can do dinner tomorrow, too). Best panel by far: outsider art (everyone from Dadd to Darger) with folks like Charles Vess, Elizabeth Hand and Peter Straub. Best story (from another panel with GOH Vess): Vess told about going to the Bodleian Library with the Rackham Society and seeing a wonderful nineteenth-century book of Cinderella which had sort of paper dolls and a pop-up coach. You put a dress on Cin when she goes to the ball, and pop off her head to put her in the window of the carriage. Now, I can see kids coming up with alternative narratives with that removable head! Apparently the books were colored by child labour to speed the process of mass production. Vess's art show is wonderful (of course!) -- amazing work.

Gene's paper was on the first panel and went well despite some technical glitches at the beginning. Lots of folks were eager to comment on it. I don't give my presentation until the last sessions on Saturday, so I'm still waiting. We're taking it easy tonight -- a rare treat!

Off to ICFA

We head out to Ft. Lauderdale tonight. Sure, it sounds like a spring break getaway, but we're really not going to the beach. Even our hotel is right at the airport, so we probably won't see much of the town at all. I'm giving a talk on Johanna Sinisalo's Troll: A Love Story and Gene is giving a presentation on Dr. Strange. We'll see Tom Inge there, who'll be celebrating a birthday, so that will be fun. See the whole guest list at the link below ("Where I Plan to Be"). At least I won't be grading any papers!

Hello from Sedona

Hey folks -- get me! I'm actually relaxing. We'll see how long it takes me to get used to the idea. Haven't been here in thirty years (what I chiefly remember from that childhood trip is Sliding Rock). The beautiful red rocks are visible just out my window:

[Yes, I know they're not in focus, but they were too bright at mid-day and better at twilight, if a little shaky.] Oh, and at night? A galaxy of stars -- beautiful!

Farewell, Octavia Butler

I was terribly saddened to hear that the writer Octavia Butler died unexpectedly this weekend. There were so many books I was looking forward to read, so many stories she had yet to spin. I've used her book Kindred for my composition courses many times; I used her Parable of the Sower for my speculative fiction course last spring.

The latter book rings particularly loudly in my mind at this minute: the young narrator, Lauren, creates her own religion based on the horrors of the world unfolding around her. She sums up the epiphanies in short verses that become her manifesto, "Earthseed." The first of these is perhaps the most direct:

All that you touch
You Change.

All that you Change
Changes you.

The only lasting truth
is Change.

God
Is Change.

Revisions

I just opened a box with the new edition of Volume 1 of the Longman Anthology of British Literature. Flipping through it to look for changes, I came across a photo from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It actually has a passage from the film script, too (Arthur and the Peasants).

And people actually ask me why I don't use a Norton Anthology! No comparison.

New Publication

I'm happy to report that I will have a publication forthcoming in an unusual outlet: Puppetry International Magazine. It brings together a variety of skills and readings which is always fun. The essay is "Future Medieval Space: Performing 'Punch' in Riddley Walker." I have been really fascinated with Punch of late, and this is one of the payoffs. I know I've mentioned Riddley Walker before (and recently reviewed the latest book by Russell Hoban), but the part that Punch plays in the novel continues to fascinate me, as does Hoban's use of the legend of St. Eustace (and the wall painting based on it in Canterbury Cathedral. Perhaps the fractured language that Hoban uses to evoke the stunted world after nuclear holocaust intrigues me most of all. Naturally, I have made sure to include this favorite book in my course about Canterbury that I'm teaching as part of the London trip this spring.

Finn-zapoppin'!

Well, you may recall my recent post about Finn friend Ulla Suokko, musician, storyteller and now, actor appearing on Conan O'Brien's show as part of his growing fascination with Tarja Halonen (thanks to Diane for that link).

Now another Finn friend has got into the act. Conan is going to Finland to meet with Halonen (who did successfully win re-election) and he's taking with him a kantele made by friend and extraordinary kantele-maker Gerry Henkel. Specially made for the television host, the "Konantele" has an image of Conan right on it:



You can read the whole story here!

Beowulf, Again

From Ain't it Cool:

"According to Avary, he and Neil Gaiman went to the original epic poem and did as literal a translation as possible, with the only liberties filling in holes in the story, either gaps in time or something left unexplained...In this instance, they realized that Grendel was the son of the demon and The King, which would be the reason he's tormenting his father, as well as dragging living men off to his mother."

Uh, sure. And the gold bikini on Angelina Jolie (AKA Grendel's mom) -- what's the Old English for that? Se gylden brydbosm?

Trimulierate

Three women of incredible stature passed from this earth recently:

Betty Friedan, whose monumental Feminine Mystique changed a generation and gave a name to a problem that many women experienced but could not articulate. The 1950s was the first time women were expected to be happy doing nothing but childcare and housekeeping. It was the first time there was that luxury. But it is not enough to keep the mind engaged. Shiny floors do not fulfill any human being -- children need parents who are full participants in the world -- not half-beings who derive all their fulfillment through other people.

Coretta Scott King, who was a devoted peace worker and concert singer before she joined hands with her more celebrated husband. She was never less than a partner, although the media commentators of the 1960s (and, regretfully, beyond) saw her only as a helpmate to her spouse. Her determination never flagged and she has shaped a legacy that makes this country a better place than it could have been without her.

Wendy Wasserstein, who explored the changes these two women helped foment. Some breakthroughs are so profound they are barely recognized later; the mainstream success of a play with all female characters in 1977 surprised playgoers and critics. Wasserstein's low key humorous approach to the problems that plagued a generation adjusting to the freedom and responsibilities of second wave feminism demonstrated the struggle without evoking the usual hostility aimed at anything "feminist." Perhaps her most lasting legacy comes upon the wave of memories of her not just as the successful playwright, but as the friend and mentor who was always willing to go the extra mile for those she could help. To be acclaimed for your work is wonderful: to be acclaimed universally as a person who brought much good to the world, well -- can there be much better?

Who will step into their shoes to lead a new generation?

Review: Linger Awhile

In a rare opportunity (provided by a trans-Atlantic flight), I actually read a brand new book -- Russell Hoban's Linger Awhile. I love Hoban's novel Riddley Walker, which I found an excuse to teach again this semester, so I was looking forward to reading this new one. It has a fun premise, smashing together Frankenstein, Dracula, DNA, cloning and classic Westerns. It's a bit slight, but entertaining -- if a little too flavored by an old man's sexual nostalgia (Hoban's 82 now). There's a lot sly word play, and you'll never look at frogs the same way again. While it's not up to his best, it is definitely fun and kept me entertained, sometimes laughing out loud.

Review: Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World

We were looking forward to seeing this; Brooks' usually reliable self-deprecating humor seemed to be a good risk for our movie dollars to take a break during the first hectic week of classes. It didn't help that just before the film started the otherwise empty theatre suddenly livened up with, as it turned out, a guy who laughed uproariously at everything Brooks said for the first part of the film and a couple who left behind a huge pile of detritus from their loud snacking during the film, clearly banking on the fact that someone else would clean up after them. Pigs.

The film starts out with a funny scene, Brooks meeting with a clearly unimpressed Penny Marshall to audition for the Stewart role in a remake of Harvey. A discouraged Brooks returns home to find his eBay-addicted wife greeting him with a letter from the State Department -- after some initial fears about what it might be, of course it turns out to be an invitation to spearhead a foray into India and Pakistan to, well, you can guess from the title. Brooks' nebbish (ironically named Albert Brooks, too) initially dreads the very idea -- particularly the 500 page report -- but gets persuaded by the thoughts of a Freedom medal ("the good one").

Of course, the aim of this is to show the self-involved ego-centrism of Americans with regard to the Muslim world. There is a lot of humor in Brooks' misadventures as he finds the cushy life to which he is accustomed harder to obtain and himself at sea among the plethora of languages and cultures of India. Unfortunately, he and the film never get beyond that. When one of his State Dept adjuncts reminds him of Lenny Bruce's edict, "Know your audience," you hope -- as Gene noted -- that the film will finally turn around, but it doesn't.

The film makes all the same errors that Brooks' clueless comedian does: using the beauty of India as a kind of colorful backdrop, but showing no interest beyond the superficial decoration. Just as Brooks' character missed the Taj Mahal because he's too busy obsessing about his own impending failure (the running joke about progress on the 500 pages report provides a slim but chuckle-worthy touchstone), the film fails to engage with the South Asian world in any significant way. The voice of India is reduced to the local assistant, Maya, who seems to have been chosen in large part because of her European looks and Keane eyes. The tantalising implications of her name (and her relationship with her Iranian boyfriend) never develop. Similarly, the end credits don't even cite the performers of the Indian music, only the two or three Western songs. Just as Brooks' character returns home no wiser (although perhaps leaving an international incident in his wake), the film too seems to shrug its metaphorical shoulders and leave the question unknowable and the people, presumably, inscrutable. In the end, I'm not sure what Brooks thought the film would do -- but I do know it didn't do it, unless he really did intend to leave the audience with a vague sense of disappointment and dissatisfaction. It is possible...

First Week of Classes

Overheard outside my office as I sipped my soup: "That was my Brit Lit professor from last semester. She was crazy good." I think it was a compliment...

Wandering Around London

All right, one more post to cover the England trip -- I should be working on things for the first day of classes tomorrow. But of course it's more fun to write:

Tuesdey ended up being book shopping day. I figured I needed to check out the other branch of Quinto (half price sale!) but when I got to Leicester Square I found they were closed until 2pm. However, I always have a back-up plan, so I went to Watkins and found a good book on English mythological roots. It's funny too that in two of the books I ended up buying by the end of the day, characters retraced a lot of the same footsteps I made, including one in Russell Hoban's new book who looks in the windows of Watkins.

Wandering idly, I decided on a whim (and with the need for a bathroom break) to go to the Portrait Gallery and enjoyed looking around. I didn't realize Clive Barker had work hanging in such a venerable institute until I ran across his portrait of Peter Blake. There's a new photo of Kate Bush, too, and recent Nobel prize winner Harold Pinter has an interesting portrait, right next to Jonathan Miller's.

When I left the gallery, Quinto was open -- and crowded! You pretty much had to crawl across bodies to get to the back, but that ended up being fortunate, because squashed up against the shelves as a couple tried to work their way forward, I saw a copy of Stenton's Anglo Saxon England for 5 pounds (then half off, yay!). After extricating myself from the press, I hit a couple more stores on my way back up Charing Cross Road. Once I hit Tottenham Court Road, I took the tube back out to Nottinghill Gate to the always wonderful Book & Comic Exchange, then it was back to Brad & Liz's to enjoy all my purchases.

My last day was spent enjoyably lunching with Roger Sabin in Clapham Common (thanks!) and then joining UConn pal John Sexton at Blackfriars Pub for a few Guinesses. Good thing Ealing Broadway has a restroom -- it's a long ride back to the westside after a couple pints!

What a wonderful dinner Liz made for my last evening in London -- mmmmm! And how unbelievably kind to get up so early and drive me to Gatwick in the cold morning frost and fog (which was lovely, even if it did delay the flight a little). But there isn't much that makes a ten hour flight enjoyable -- and then there was the whole lost luggage... So it was even better to see Gene's smiling face when at last I got out of the endless lines for customs and luggage. And nice to be asleep that night in my own bed with Gene beside me and Kipper curled up by my feet (refusing to move). I think Maggie even came in once during the night, but I may have only dreamed it.

Sequential Adventures

I was lucky enough to stay in London with our friends Brad & Liz and their daughter Sophie. So much nicer to be in a home rather than a sterile, generic hotel room. Besides, it offers me a chance to indoctrinate Sophie into the ways of Sanrio and share a lot of laughs with her parents. I got a good night's sleep and took my time going out in the morning after rush hour was over (love that Oyster card!). My only real work was to renew my British Library card. That done, I considered doing some work in the library, but then remembered I was supposed to be on vacation.

So, I said hello to the Beowulf manuscript and took a peek at the Nobel exhibit which featured artifacts and films. I saw some interesting things like a film on Rabindranath Tagore and Selma Lagerlöf's shoes. Afterward I wandered with the vague idea of checking out the hotel we'll be using for the UHD London program in May -- it's very conveniently located between Tavistock Square and Russell Square.

Once I was in Russell Square, how could I pass up a visit to Quinto Books? Particularly once I saw the HALF PRICE banners in the windows. Pity I could only find one book to buy. Made a quick stop in Atlantis, but only bought one book there, too. Then I wandered down to the National Gallery to see the medieval paintings (and see whether "their eyes followed me around the room"). But I also checked out a new exhibit by Tom Hunter called "Living in Hell" which featured his photos mixing Hackney, tabloid headlines and old Masters' works. Very compelling. Then it was back on the train to the west side for dinner and more relaxing.

I should really be finishing that last syllabus, so more later...

And did those feet in recent time...

Back from Britain with a cough, a limp, and -- as of a few minutes ago -- my luggage at last. Things were much better going than returning, which is always the case I suppose. It is much more fun to be going on a trip than coming back to work (and the semester starts Tuesday). The trip didn't seem propitious at first; step one was having the buckle come off my only pair of shoes as I went through security. Good thing for that travel sewing kit. I'm not much with a needle, but it was enough to keep it on for the rest of the journey. After my tailoring in the departure lounge, I decided I needed a drink (in hopes it would make me sleepy, too) so I had a martini before going to the gate. When I got to the gate, they said "you've had a seat change" which annoyed me because I had an aisle seat and didn't want to change. One of the staff took me aside in the jetway and said in a low voice "oh, we've been trying to find you" and suddenly I thought of what horrible news they might have for me, but it was only to tell me that I was being moved up to business first and that they'd appreciate my not mentioning it to my seat mates, "some of who paid three or four thousand dollars for their seats." Well -- I can say I did really enjoy my free champagne, duck dinner, and wide seat that opened up nearly flat for sleeping. Least jet lag ever!

Into Gatwick in the morning, onto a Thameslink to King's Cross and then the train to Cambridge. The countryside was still green and as we left London, a light snow began to fall and it was quite lovely. Once in town, there was just a short bus ride to the center of town and Emmanuel College at Cambridge University. I checked in at the porter's cottage and made my way across the quad to my room near the library (in the US such a dorm room would have at least four students). I tried to nap for an hour or so but was too jangly to sleep. Then I went off to explore and had some dinner at Nando's. I slept well the first night, which turned out to be an anomaly.

The conference started in the morning with a full English breakfast (yum) and jumped right into sessions. As a small conference, it was possible to see everything (no overlapping panels). I didn't give my paper until the second day; it seemed to go over well and I got some nice compliments and a request for a copy. It was nice to wander around the university in between meetings although I hardly remembered to take pictures (most of the time). The best, though, was Sunday morning when we got a special tour of King's College Chapel. It has quite an impressive setting. We got detailed information about the glass and architecture and a chance to go behind the velvet ropes and sit in the fellows' seats. Then we were told one of the the fellows, William Burgwinkle, (who was also a plenary speaker at the conference) would take those of us who were willing up on the roof. He emphasized that it was entirely our own choice (and risk).

As many of you know, I am terrified of heights, but when would an opportunity like this come my way again?

So I joined the group which hung around for a few minutes while they tried to locate the guy who had the key to the little door at the back of the chapel (he had gone to lunch). He came back and handed over the most wonderful big skeleton key and an assortment of torches (flashlights) as there were no lights on the stairs. It was an old stone stairwell, steps worn to curves with a rope to hang onto as we went round and round, up and up. When we finally got up to the top of the ceiling and took a little break to walk along the stones which form the gothic arches of the top of the chapel. There were a couple of holes to peek through and see the floor of the building a looooong way down. I took a picture from the narrow walkway around the ceiling level.

Then it was up to the roof -- quite a view! It was cloudy and overcast, and yet the view was magnificent. I can only imagine what it would have been like on a clear summer day. You can see what care was taken with the building -- there is a green man on the back of the spire which is really only visible from the roof. I wasn't brave enough to climb all the way to the apex but I did go up the ladder and take this picture.

Then it was time to pack up and leave (a few hours later than I planned). It was an exhausting weekend (for some reason I couldn't sleep very well, waking up at three or four each morning) and I was eager to get to London and collapse at Brad & Liz's house. More on that (and more adventures) tomorrow.

Cambridge

Yes, barely back a few days -- just long enough to shake off this cold -- and I am on my way again. This time I'm off to Cambridge and London (always a favorite destination). This will be my first visit to Cambridge, so I am excited.

I'll be attending the Gender & Medieval Studies Conference to give a paper on the Anglo-Saxon poem Juliana. I'll be staying in college too, which ought to be interesting. You'll find some lovely pictures of Emmanuel College here [look for the "Gallery" link]. And certainly there are plenty of things to see if they are open during the break. While I was disappointed to find that the Footlights Club does not have a physical location at Cambridge anymore, there's still a venerable history to soak up in the environs.

Well, back to work --

MLA

I am off to the Modern Language Association Conference tomorrow. At present, my paper on Njal's sagais still a page too long, but my PowerPoint presentation is just about ready.

While in DC, I'll be staying at the pop art Hotel Helix which, Mike Rhode tells me, is quite new, part of the dressing up of downtown. It's probably good to be a little way away from the main conference hotels--there is no anxiety quite like the job hunt anxieties at MLA. Think of it: thousands of people competing for hundreds of jobs, all trying to shine as brightly as they can for days on end. Having been on both sides of the table, I know it's an exhausting process for everyone.

Say, isn't there a good used bookstore in DuPont Circle...?

Yuletide

Today is the shortest day of the year. Is it any wonder that in these darkest days cultures around the world celebrate festivals of light? We all need reassurance that the light will return and with it hope. My best hopes for you all this season; may the coming year bring much joy and many useful challenges.

Medieval Traditions

We had our largest ever graduation at UHD. It's funny to see everyone in these costumes that haven't changed all that much from the twelfth century or so. Many other things have changed, however, when the medieval universities were explicitly Christian and almost exclusively male. I had to read out the names of the graduates of the College of Humanities and Social Sciences, so I had an anxious time preparing to read monikers which come from all over the globe and show the wonderful diversity of our campus life. I'm just glad I didn't know I was going to end up on TV, too! Yikes -- our departmental administrative assistant, Ruby Brown-Hogan, told me she saw me on the news. Am I destined only to be photographed in funny hats?

Thanks!

Thanks to all my pals for remembering my natal day. I suppose I wasn't surprised to see a big Sanrio bag on the table this morning :-) and I've already been out for breakfast. Tonight is the medieval music concert with Collegium Mysterium and then dinner at Collina's. Here's a faboo card from my pal, the fabulously talented Elena Steier:

Can You Read This?

If so you may be in a minority!

A new study published by the Department of Education reports (and reported in the New York Times and other newspapers) that literacy has fallen significantly for recent college graduates, as well as alarmingly amongst Latinos. Working at an open admissions university, I have seen this trend first hand. It is one of the challenges of working here to balance a classroom with a wide array of student preparedness.

What the study highlights is not this problem, one educators know well, but the overall impact of the failure of education in this country. The study reports that only 13% of the population achieves the level designated "Proficient." This is the top level of measurement, mere proficiency, which they define as:

• reading lengthy, complex, abstract prose texts as well as synthesizing information and making complex inferences

• integrating, synthesizing, and analyzing multiple pieces of information located in complex documents

• locating more abstract quantitative information and using it to solve multistep problems when the arithmetic operations are not easily inferred and the problems are more complex

Only 13% of the population? What percentage of the population graduates from some college? Surely more than 13%! Yet so many are apparently incapable of the skills required to pass my Freshman Composition course. Clearly, we are falling down on the job. It's easy to see why: education has no value, but it has prestige. As John Gardner wrote,

We must learn to honor excellence in every socially accepted human activity, however humble the activity, and to scorn shoddiness, however exalted the activity. An excellent plumber is infinitely more admirable than an incompetent philosopher. The society that scorns excellence in plumbing because plumbing is a humble activity and tolerates shoddiness in philosophy because it is an exalted activity will have neither good plumbing nor good philosophy. Neither its pipes nor its theories will hold water.

Here's to honoring excellence!

Kong is King

We went by the theater early and saw no line, so we went off to dinner. When we got back the line had formed. A guy went up and down the line as it lengthened warning folks to get rid of any cell phones with cameras as they would not be allowed in. Gene was without his Treo and felt naked, but we complied. They frisked purses and gave us all a going over with the wand (ahhh, should I rephrase that?), plus had staff with night goggles checking out the audience for surreptitious filming. Very serious.

From the very first frames, Jackson cues us that this is loving tribute to the original, from the art deco credits to the loving evocation of 1930s New York (as reconstructed in New Zealand). Yet he gives the film an edge of modern sensibilities in reconfiguring the characters and the arc of the story. Over all that may be the biggest problem, the uncomfortable mismatch between 1930s sensibilities and those of the 21st century, especially when it comes to problematic things like racial portrayals and what you might call moments of "movie magic," i.e. things that happen because they need to do so. However, that's really a quibble for post-viewing discussion over drinks with friends (and in large part due to Jackson's faithfulness to the original story). And occasionally he lingers just a little too long on the faces of Watts and Kong; the film could be cut without major sacrifice, but --

In short, it was a fantastic ride and I loved it.

Naomi Watts is luminously filmed and made up so she glows like a vintage Hollywood star. She brings a surprising new sensibility to the role (including her comic work) that makes her more appealing to modern temperaments without discarding the traditional feel of the part. Jack Black is reined in somewhat from his bombast, although he is supposed to be a bit of a hustler and manages to make the director who will get his film done at any cost both sympathetic and eventually, suspect (one can't help seeing a little self-criticism from Jackson). While the on-board fate of the writer played by Brody may be a little too on the nose, he does admirable work in making us believe his role, as does the more comic turn by the "hero" Kyle Chandler. Terrific supporting cast including Andy Serkis, Thomas Kreschmann as the captain and Evan Parke as Hayes. A good number of in-jokes (most horror related) sprinkle the opening half hour, at which Gene and I were about the only ones laughing.

Oh, wait -- you want to know about the ape, right? Well, I've never been big on monkeys and apes (apart from Hanuman and Gene, the monkey man whom I love for reasons unexplained), but I may have been won over. Looks good. Which is to say, believable, moving, real -- scarred, emotive, authentic. An animal, not a human in monkey skin -- one of the most affecting things is that his non-human (but intelligent) nature comes through. The island and all its amazing creatures look good -- and terrifying in most cases. Jackson does a terrific job of giving the audience stunning moments of awe, then jerking you painfully into terror (one of the most beautiful and sweet versions of this comes near the end).

If you want to know nothing at all before you see the film, stop here. If you don't mind knowing the arc of the story (which is much the same as the original) without any important spoilers, continue:






You know Kong fights a dinosaur. You have NO idea. Absolutely amazing.

You know there are big bugs. You have NO idea. I was squirming in my seat.

Joey: the bats! You will love them.

You know we end up on the Empire State Building. I have a terrible fear of heights and vertigo. I was near collapse by the end and sweat was pouring off my hands as my knees went weak. One of the interesting choices was all the long shots of Kong atop the building, making him look so tiny in the big city, so lost.

In resisting the desire to completely anthropomorphize Kong, the ending seems even more bitterly cruel. Watts is our conduit to Kong throughout and the face of our grief, our empathy, and she does an incredible job of conveying thoughts and emotions without any words -- as does the face of Kong, both familiar and alien. Like us, but not us.

In the end, it's a movie about a giant ape. Some might find that silly. It is silly. But it works -- it is spectacle. And Jackson's humor and thoughtfulness make it work. Unexpected turns keep the action lively (and yeah, sometimes quite funny), and the familiar story takes on new resonance. It may be a touch of nostalgia, but it delivers. I laughed, I cried -- I was totally absorbed. It was really cathartic.

Twenty Five Years

That night I was driving back from my late night shift at Toys R Us, pleased to hear cuts from Double Fantasy on the radio, until I heard the announcement that cut so sharply.

I don't like to dwell on death days: I'd rather remember the beginnings, the creations, the wonder. I turn away from television programs that glorify the fifteen minutes of fame awarded a mentally-deranged gun nut because he killed someone famous. And as always, I turn to funny things to make me laugh.

Of late, there's the appearance of John Lennon on "Not Only...But Also..." which recently came my way. It's got John playing a men's room attendant and also performing in one of the In His Own Write pieces. The great book of the Beatles' connection to British humor has yet to be written. Think of it: George with the Pythons and Rutles (and pre-Python Rutland Weekend Television, singing the Pirate song and playing "Pirate Bob") or all the Beatles on Morecambe and Wise (which at least we have audio now on the Anthology). What made them a success from the start? Their charm -- a large part of which was due to their shared sense of humor and the absurd. It was always there -- sometimes hidden away in the fan club Christmas messages, sometimes more directly in the songs and in the films.

Today, let us always remember that "It's a laugh a line with Lennon!"

Ritual and Response

I attended a meeting today for graduation. I will be a marshal (yet, I get no badge -- how is that fair?), so there are additional duties I needed to know about. Graduation is already a step back in time to the medieval universities and their rituals and robes. Now I have additional complex steps within the ritual. Some marshals are banner-bearers, some student-herders; I will be a name-caller. The unpleasant scrutiny that "fame" brings (in this case, a faculty award is all the fame it needed), also carries extra duties and responsibilities. I will be visible in a public ritual, something I have usually sought to avoid. Middle child syndrome: always hungering for the spotlight, but inevitably uncomfortable in it.

I was struck by the gravity of the ritual, and yet the reluctant recognition that it could not be controlled. "Try to get the students to stay" was the theme, whether it was to get them in line for the procession or in their seats after the walk across the platform. And then there's the arena itself--keep off the grass! Minute Maid Park has to be maintained in game shape. What to do when rituals collide? No victory laps for the graduates; decorum must be maintained!

Plethora

I have been immersing myself since this summer in British comedy, mostly vintage, but not exclusively. Some of it has come via trips to England, some via Ebay, some via friends (thanks Brad! and James). It's odd how much of this is resurrected from my teens. Why is that someone raised in Mid-Michigan was exposed to so much British comedy? Curious, eh?

I can't recall for sure the exact order of things. I know that around the same time our local PBS channel at MSU was showing Monty Python, their sister NPR station was playing not only the Goon Show but also I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again. Just about the time I had got hooked on the shows, they also began to broadcast The Goodies. Then there was finding A Poke in the Eye with a Sharp Stick (probably in Wazoo Records or FBC in East Lansing), the first of many Amnesty International comedy benefits. This introduced me at last to the genius that is Peter Cook.

Well, I think that was the chain. It all seemed to happen at once. Maybe I actually found the Beyond the Fringe LPs before that. I can't really tell anymore. As Gene has noted recently, when I get obsessed with something (or re-obsessed in this case), I go all out. Between the long awaited release of many of these shows on DVD and the wonders of the internet in making available recordings no longer available (thank to things like the BBC wiping tapes -- ayiiii!), I am reveling once more in this terrific comedy. Things I never thought I'd see, like At Last the 1948 Show and Do Not Adjust Your Set have actually been released here (and yes, I have them).

Best of all? The humor stands the test of time. While the occasional timely joke falls flat, most of the humor remains fairly timeless. Unfortunately, there will always be pompous idiots, craven politicians, misguided wars and hypocrites. And perhaps, too, there will always be some kind of C. P. Snow, ravens who must be taught to swim and, somewhere warm, four Yorkshiremen who reflect on life as it used to be.