World Fantasy

THURSDAY

We started the night with geeky wonder at the two-pronged badge holders we received at registration. Swanky -- they even have a pocket for business cards. The program has a wonderful Moebius illustration on the front and selection of images on color plates inside. We ran into a few people we knew right off. The first panel of the night featured artists Donato Giancola, Shaun Tan and Bob Eggleton (although Bob was running late -- he and Marianne arrived straight from dinner). They drew. It was wonderful. It’s fascinating to see a picture take shape with three completely different styles. Donato was drawing from a photo of a woman, but turning it into a fantasy image with her in an elaborate dress with white birds flying by. Shaun started with some lines from the photo, but turned them into a large-eyed creature clutching its large eyed child. It was equal parts creepy and cute. Bob drew an elaborate dragon, red and scaly. They also answered questions about technique, habits, training and working with editors on book covers. Interesting that both Bob and Donato talked about comics as their first influence, including artists like Steve Bissette.

After that came the one and only comics panel. Fortunately the panelists dispensed with the lame topic (can comics be as “serious” as novels?) efficiently (or in the words of Doselle Young, “Fuck yeah!”) and got onto interesting questions about collaboration and the particular strengths of the word/image combinations. Featured were Mike Dringenberg (who seriously needs a mute button, or at least a reminder that there were other people on the panel who might also have something to say), the fabulous Charles Vess (who didn’t talk nearly enough), chair Andrew Wheeler, editor/writer Alisa Kwitney Sheckley, Doselle and Matthew Smith. Yes, they should have had Gene on the panel—he would have clarified a lot of the issues quickly. The panel was great fun. Alisa and Doselle had the audience in stitches a good bit of the time. With luck Gene will blog about the panel in greater depth.

It was a long day, so we headed to the domus Crispinu and shared a bottle of wine and some chat with the magister himself. We tried to refrain from abusing his hospitality too much, but it can be a struggle (easy target and one who reads this blog, so he should expect to get teased mercilessly). This morning as I write this first entry, his long-suffering uxor, Krista, is laboring over breakfast; to be fair, Dan did boil water for my tea, so that’s something (for the whitest man in the world). He’s now trying to figure out the password for their wireless network so I can log on. Otherwise, I’ll just save this post for later [which is what happened, as you can see].

FRIDAY

Another busy day: after our delicious breakfast of home fries, bacon and eggs (thanks, Krista!) we headed in and I caught most of the Terrible Women panel while Gene checked out the Art room and the Dealer’s room. I hadn’t known about Persephone (persephonewriters.org) so I was glad to hear about the group even if I was already familiar with the writers they were trying to bring back to attention, terrific writers like E. Nesbit, Vernon Lee, Carson McCullers, Charlotte Perkins Gillman, Octavia Butler and Shirley Jackson.

GOH Kim (no waistcoat?!) Newman talked about his early publishing career, including sessions brainstorming with Neil Gaiman and Stefan Jaworzyn about ideas for low-budget films after a young reporter named Phil Nutman alerted them to a producer planning to make B-movies. While the films never materialized, one of the film ideas became Newman’s “B-novel” Orgy of the Blood Parasites. We learned about all kinds of obscure works in the prolific Newman’s past. There was also a porn film script he had written: “How sad a person are you if you fast forward through the sex scenes to get to the characterization?” We also heard about the musical, written as a parody of Rock, Rock, Rock and called Rock, Rock, Rock, Rock, (+ 27 or so repetitions of the word) which sounded like a hoot. He’s recently sold a radio play to the BBC and working with Christopher Wicker(?) on film scripts, so there are exciting things ahead. It’s a pity the interviewer a) didn’t speak audibly b) wasn’t very lively, and c) paid no attention to the time, so the panel not only ran over the time allotted, but did not give the audience any opportunity for questions.

M.R. James panel: Within minutes of panelists recalling their first time reading James, Ramsey Campbell mentions the Four Yorkshiremen, adding, “I was only six years old when I first read…” Christopher Roden countered with “Well, I wasn’t even born when I first read James.” The James gang -- a great way to refer to the folks inspired by James. He became a sort of guiding spirit for the con, mentioned in one way or another at most of the panels I attended. Makes me wonder if anyone has looked into the effect of medieval texts on James’ stories… hmmm. Not that I need another project.

Moebius: At the end of the panel, someone behind us said, “Wow, he talks just like he draws.” So true! It was terrific to see a lot of his art projected large. I got to ask him what it was like to work with Jodorowsky. He said, “Do you know Castaneda? He was my Don Juan.” Even though they are both so busy that they only talk via phone of late, he said the influence was and is huge. A teacher, a gentle man, a friend—and “dangerous,” he said with a smile. He used Jodorowsky’s analogy of the artist as alchemist, too, finding a great deal of resonance in that image. He even said that shamanism is the original religion of everybody (naturally, I agree).

Art Room: argh. It is to weep, as they say. We ran into Marianne who had a bunch of her Daub du Jour paintings up as well as a greenman that I immediately lusted for (if only my pocketbook matched my tastes). So many wonderful images I could not afford: Vess’s of course -- even sketches are out of my price range, and let’s not even begin to discuss the Moebius works. If I thought they looked wonderful projected large, they were amazing up close where the painstaking details were vivid. Then there was the work of Catherine Crowe, Imago Corvi. I could feel the money trying to leap out of my wallet as I gazed on her enamel work, much of it inspired by medieval designs. Not surprisingly, the raven and the crow drew my eye right away, but I was completely captivated by the owl pendant which, apart from being an amazing piece of work, also connects to one of my current projects perfectly. She had a number of larger framed images as well including an image from the Sutton Hoo burial.

We joined the Crispinus clan—including Kaitlin this time—for dinner at the Stadium Café which was far better than the banks of televisions filling it seemed to predict. I had a Black Forest sandwich and a Stoli Vanil martini that really hit the spot. Afterward we wandered down to Borders, where I read the first few pages of the new Hunter S. Thompson book put together by Rolling Stone, with an introduction from “Colonel Depp.” Add it to the list of must-gets.

Signing session: you really get a picture of the hugeness of World Fantasy when you see writers who are swamped with fans at smaller cons (e.g., a bunch of the Necon folks were sitting together) actually waiting for people to come by with books to sign. Gene was first in line for Moebius and I snapped a picture of the two of them together. He drew a nice sketch in one of the books, too. I had a chance to stop by and introduce myself to S. T. Joshi, for whom I have written a couple of essays but had never had a chance to actually speak with face to face. Little did I know that ealier in the con the International Horror Guild had given the Non-Fiction award to Joshi for Icons of Horror and the Supernatural, the most recent collection for which I wrote (the essay on “The Sorcerer”). Then I geeked all over Charles Vess, who had just barely sat down, gushing about his illustrations for Peter Pan as he signed it and lamenting as he signed (and drew a cat!) A Circle of Cats that the other Charles and his wife Maryann weren’t there to sing. I wish I’d known Ramsey Campbell was going to be here, too; I would have brought a couple of books for him to sign, but oh well. I will see him read tomorrow. We finished the night with more wine and more torturing of Crispinus (naturally).

SATURDAY

Another great breakfast to kick the day off: mmmm, pancakes and sausage! We had a leisurely start and still got there in time for the Charles L. Grant tribute panel filled with memories of his generosity, his skillful and astute (and merciless) editing and of course the heartfelt grief at his absence. A fixture at both World Fantasy and Necon, his presence continues to be much missed.

Afterward we ended up chatting with pal John Douglas for a good bit (hadn’t seen him since Necon) then I headed off to the Ramsey Campbell reading. Always fun -- he read two stories, the first a sort of very modern ghost story called “Respects” which uses the impromptu roadside memorial sites as a starting point, and “Digging Deep” which likewise updates the premature burial theme with the added complication of a cell phone. Creepy and hilarious by turns -- I loved how the first story had a family whose kids were clearly named after celebrities (Keanu, Brad and Angelina) just like Cletus’s brood on The Simpsons.

I went to the pre-Christian ghost panel after that, which was less interesting than I’d hoped, but I did run into Michael Kabongo whom I had met at Pi-Con, so that was good. The Survey of the Field panel followed with some very strong opinions, such as Stephen Jones’ comments that there were far too many “best of” anthologies, that there were too many Anita Blake-style female investigators, that the rebranding of Weird Tales was the worst thing ever to happen to the magazine and that the Shocklines discussion board was the Al-Qaeda of horror. Paula Guran of Juno books disagreed that their sister publication Weird Tales was anything but wonderful and commented that it was good to see the fantasy and horror lines expanding, bringing in new readers with things like paranormal romance. Ellen Datlow mentioned that a lot of the year’s best horror was once again coming from magazines which had not been the case in recent years. Among the recommendations: Liz Hand’s Generation Loss and Will Elliott’s The Pilo Family Circus.

We headed back for Kaitlin’s special chili and a relaxed dinner, then returned to the hotel for evening programming. We tried to get into the dramatic presentation of M.R James’ stories, but were told the artiste was not allowing anyone to enter after the start. Well, sucks to him. Instead we headed over to see Native American storyteller Joseph Bruchac and it was the right choice. Bruchac had the audience in the palm of his hand and kept them there the whole night (despite making a lot of them jump!). In fact, when he ended, many immediately followed him out into the hallway to buy books and learn more about his work (nice flute playing, too). We were going to stick around for the New Weird panel but a) Ginjer Buchanan wasn’t there and b) there was the Art Show Reception calling (mmmm, white chocolate cookies). We ran into Catie Murphy whom I’d also met at Pi-Con and who seemed to be having a great time although suffering from a sore throat. In the art show awards had been given out and we were not at all surprised to see Bob Eggleton’s painting of Teddy Roosevelt with a Martian had won a purple ribbon. I finally got to meet the woman whose enamels I had so admired and had finally made up my mind to splurge on one, when I turned back to see someone else pointing to it and taking it out of the case to try on. Argh! Well, I left my card for the next time she casts a similar piece. Exhausted, we headed back to chez Crispinus for a relatively early night.

SUNDAY

What better way to start the day than potato scones? Mmm! Off to the convention center again, I caught the Taboos in Fantasy panel with John Grant, Tom Doherty, Lucienne Diver, Steven Erikson and the always entertaining Sharyn November of Firebird Books. The long and short of it: taboos change and taboos get broken, but new ones always seem to form. Among the stories Sharyn told was coming across a line of Christian YA novels with pretty good covers, so she was tempted to buy the first one and read it, although, she commented, “I’m still Jewish.”

Right after that was the ghost story panel with Ramsey Campbell, Jane Yolen, Toni Kellner, James Maxey and Julianne Lee. It was a fun discussion and I can’t really reconstruct the free-floating conversation which led to Ramsey saying to Jane, “You can jump me any time,” and Jane retorting that it was the best offer she had had in a long time. Okay, so they had been talking about the differences between telling a story and reading one, and the unlikelihood of hiring someone to jump out at a reader (although the possibilities of GPS technology were discussed), but it’s funnier without that explanation. One misheard title gave me an idea for a story, so we’ll see if that develops.

I headed over to hear Esther Friesner’s short story “The Really Big Sleep,” an hilarious pastiche of Lovecraft, film noir and Vassar-bashing full of her trademark humor which had the audience chuckling right up to the final pun (d’oh!). I stopped by the dealer room to buy a copy of Scream for Jeeves, the Lovecraft/Wodehouse mash-up, but the seller ran away just as I walked up (I don’t think I looked that scary) so no go on that. One more trip to domus Crispinus, a leftover chili lunch (mmmm!), and a quick game of Boggle ("yearnette?!"), then we were on our way home once more – where I discovered that I had left the papers I needed to grade on campus. I’m sure it wasn’t a subconscious desire to avoid work, surely not. Looks like an early morning tomorrow – and a long day: there’s a meeting of the Hudson Valley Writers Guild tomorrow night.

Whirling toward World Fantasy

Non-stop craziness! Yesterday was a day of printing up multiple copies of three different plays for various submissions before running off to our lovely anniversary dinner. I just hope I got the right version in the right envelopes. There's one full-length play and two ten-minute ones; the latter are an easier way to get a foot in the door. The full-length play is Fiasco, which you can download and read (link at the right). The two short plays were written last June in London. They're both somewhat influenced by Beckett and Cook, so who knows what anyone else will think of them. They're the first two parts of a trilogy, so who knows what the third will look like? I'm reading a bio of Spike Milligan at present, so perhaps the answer lies there.

Off to World Fantasy in Saratoga tonight after teaching. The difficult thing will be to figure out how to choose between the embarrassment of riches. With luck we'll be catching up with a bunch of friends and seeing writers and artists we greatly admire. Best of all, we'll be staying with the Crispinus clan.

I'll probably bring my computer because I'm starting chapter 7 (of a projected 13) of the new novel and I can't be away from it for too long. As John Irving wrote, "You have to get obsessed and stay obsessed." True enough.

Thanks to all who wished us kindly thoughts for our anniversary! Much appreciated.

Ten Years!

Cue the wedding march (in our case, Shonen Knife's "Top of the World")!

Halloween Hi-jinks

Saturday morning dawned dark and dreary but we didn't care because we were headed for fun. Well, we cared a little as it was a bit miserable across the Berkshires, but the savings of $.25 per gallon of gas helped ease the pain. We arrived at Miss Wendy's to enjoy a sweet white chocolate martini (mmmm) and some chili (mmm) as we chatted, brainstormed her costume and watched horror films.

Once our costumes were assembled, we headed over to the Boojumhaus to start the evening rolling. the costumes, of course, were amazing. Everyone knows the Boojums' party is all about the friendly competition. It is friendly, but oh so competitive! The standards are high. I have to admit I wasn't really feeling up to it -- too much busyness. My elaborate idea will have to wait until next year. I went with comfortable and easy, although I think it was nonetheless creative: Baron Samedi, the voudoun loa. I had his vévé drawn on my back (see picture above) and it gave me an excuse to die my hair purple. Gene, however, finally went with an idea he had had for a long time and it paid off: he came home with the top trophy! His costume:

Raggedy Andy Warhol

Miss Wendy was the last survivor of the Donner Party. The three of us walked away with most of the prizes, too. Wendy won the bats in the belfry toss and pin the bone on the skeleton, while I triumphed in the modified apple bobbing (it's all about the bite radius). The Boojums themselves were in fine style, Rod and Elena hilarious, and the Queen and Bernie -- well, you just have to cruise through the pictures and see the rest of the folks because I'm tired of making links. It was great. Nobody Halloweens like the Boojums!

Sunday when we got up we headed over to Nita's for a fine breakfast, then it was on the road to Robert's where we had a fine feast with little nibblies and some faboo roast beast. We got home and watched one of the films we borrowed from Robert and then it was sleepy time.

Monday was a long day -- grading that had been neglected over the weekend, meetings and paperwork, but in the evening, we had the Devil's Night reading hosted by the Saint Rose chapter of Sigma Tau Delta honor society. Great fun in part because Gene was the emcee and I got to quiz the students on famous lines from horror films, then read Joe R. Lansdale's "Dog, Cat and Baby" to howls of horror and delight. Then it was run home, prepare for class and get up early again today to teach all day and try to finish catching up.

Now I have to go see what everybody else blogged!

Boojum (and Miss Wendy) Bound

We're heading off on our journey to Connecticut and the annual Boojum Blast. Can't wait to see all the costumes tonight. Ours are more or less ready (some assembly required). I went for comfort this year, so I'm already wearing most of mine. Pictures will be forthcoming, of course -- with luck, from better photographers than me. We're staying over with Miss Wendy and stopping by to see Robert on the swing back. Ah, the circuit! With beautiful foliage along the way, it will be lovely (despite the rain).

Prose at the Rose: Ringler

My interview with Robyn Ringler is on-line now at Saint Rose Radio. Robyn has been an attorney, a nurse and a lobbyist for gun control as well as a freelance writer. She had a number of stories to tell, including being a key nurse on duty at GWU Hospital on March 30, 1981.

Rock-n-Roll

Whoo hoo! Got tickets to Tom Stoppard's Rock-n-Roll which is opening on Broadway at the Jacobs with the original West End cast: Brian Cox, Sinead Cusack and Rufus Sewell. I can't wait -- we never did get around to catching one of the marathon sessions of Coast of Utopia, so I'm glad to be able to catch this (assuming those e-tickets come to me soon! Gaah -- $2.50 service charge to print them out myself. Someone's getting rich...). We haven't been down to the city for a while, so it's a good excuse to go. Do I hear the Strand beckoning...? Or is it just that special shop in Times Square?

NaNoWriMo

You've thought about it: now do it! Sign up now for National Novel Writing Month and do it with thousands of people all over the world. Haven't you wondered whether you have a novel in you? Give it a try!

The Consolation of Philosophy

It's funny how many parallels you can find if you look for them. Among the things I was teaching today (which is to say, the things I blathered on about and hoped the students were taking in) was the Knight's Tale from Chaucer. In it he makes reference to the mutability of Fortune, personified as a woman in the Middle Ages whose favors are given then withdrawn, something Boethius used as a starting point in his "Consolation of Philosophy." A work that Chaucer found quite influential, the Consolation counsels keeping an even keel against the vagaries of fortune by cleaving to Christian philosophy. Fortunately, his essential ideas work with other beliefs as well.

I was thinking of that as I came away from an unpleasant interview with a student who was quite hostile and full of anger. I knew it had nothing to do with me really (this is common for the student who seems to have wide swings in emotion daily), but it affected me anyway. I knew that it had, so I pursued my usual techniques of shaking off the bad day (moaning to friends, thinking of words of wisdom, and visiting Cute Overload, taking a moment of quiet meditation).

And in the end, what caused the strife in the first place was what offered me a salve: another class, more students. How glad I am that the Medieval Texts on Film class ends my day. The students are mostly motivated, not captive. They have some tolerance for my eccentricities (i.e. getting off topic, talking about obscure films and comics) and are genuinely looking forward to the Beowulf film if only to have a go at it.

So I got to talk about Chaucer -- who's always amusing (what a great dinner guest he would have been) -- and the Knight's tale and a little Boethius. Using the term "hoisted by his own petard" and finding them unfamiliar with the phrase, we went off on a tangent to explain that and running off on another tangent, explaining both schadenfreude and, consequently, Jeffrey Archer's prison term. I love talking about words, so I was in my element. Besides, our film for the day (the BBC version of the Knight's Tale) gave me a chance at the end to say that I particularly enjoyed it because I had so many times used the line, "You're only saying that because you're covered in petrol."

A lie, of course -- but that's what humor's about. Stories (little lies, big lies) that make you laugh. That's writing in a nutshell: telling convincing lies. Do I tell my students that? Sometimes, sometimes; on a good day -- like today ended up being -- I just might.

Beowulf Rated: PG-13

The teevee spots have started. My students were suitably scornful of the look of it (and the sound of it -- right, Mildred?). But flog it, I do! Hee hee -- it will be fun.

A Blast from the Past

Last night we joined our friends Maryann and Dee for a jaunt to The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Palace theater (and first stopped by the Pump Station -- yum!). I don't know how many years it has been since I last saw it -- hate to count 'em. It may have been back at the NuArt in L.A. (which would make it a very long time indeed -- watching it on video in CT doesn't count [I still love that John Waters "No Smoking"reel!]).

It's still a hoot. They played a contemporary trailer, a trailer for the Star Trek arcade game (wow), another for 2001 (an upcoming film in the Certified Angus Beef movie series) and even a Warner Bros. cartoon! And I only saw one of my students (who said, "Hello, Dr. Laity" as she ducked away).

It all comes back -- the lines to shout, the things to throw (though we hadn't armed ourselves), and admittedly the timing was a bit off once in a while. Gene knew more fill-in lines than I did and I heard a lot of people guffawing as he shouted them out.

Not everyone enjoyed the film: about fifteen minutes in, a group of half a dozen rather elderly folks got up and left. At first we thought it was going to be a performance, but no. They were just leaving. What did they think it was? Just a scary film?

It's really quite an amazing phenomenon. I still remember the elation I felt after Emfinger took me to my first viewing. When I went to England on my first visit after freshman year, I made sure that one of the plays I saw was The Rocky Horror Picture Show, even though it was not quite the same thing on stage. Last night all I could think of was a little Eddie Izzard watching the film and saying, "yes, I can."

Don't dream it, be it.

Wombat Day!

Per Wombania: 'In the Autumn of 2005, the Grand Wombat Council, under the wise leadership of President Wombat, realized that the world needed a special day to commemorate the wonderful wombat. October 22nd was chosen, and the very first Wombat Day was observed on October 22, 2005. Wombat Day is alternatively known as "Hug a Wombie Day" and "Wombats of the World Unite Day."'

A Fine Day Out

I went on a retreat yesterday with a bunch of friends to nearby sanctuary called Universal Pathways, run by a fabulous woman named Mary Browne. Mary and her husband had lived on a sheep farm for over forty years; but in recent years they have sold the sheep and converted the land (and a few surrounding parcels, too) into a restful place to wander the meadows and forests, walk the labyrinth or peace garden, or settle down by the river and listen to the water's laughter.

The house that serves as the center for the retreat space (or, as Mary calls it "my office") is filled with books, statues and art from every possible spiritual tradition (even Yoda!). Each room is a new place to explore and we made the most of it as we waited for everyone to arrive. One of the upstairs rooms has been turned into a beautiful temple with trompe l'oeil stone walls and marvelous decorations. I sat on one of the meditation cushions and looked out the window at the colorful leaves -- autumn is truly here at last! -- and watched a hawk spiral in the sky. It was lovely to have a quiet moment before the rest of the gang got there.

Once we got a tour of the grounds and set a time to meet for lunch, off we went. I went off through the woods then climbed toward the highest point I could find. All around the valley was a riot of color. I found a spot between the meadows where the trees separated them and a pile of rocks and sat down to play my drum for a while (the Remo doumbek as it had looked like rain might be possible). I was hoping I was far enough away that I wouldn't disturb the peace of others and later folks told me that they had enjoyed the drumming. There was a squirrel who seemed not to share that opinion, chattering at me for a while. I wandered around the fields looking at plants (I don't think I've seen milkweed for years; I forgot how silky it feels) and enjoying what turned out to be a beautiful day.

We all squeezed around the dining room table for a big potluck lunch and shared the things we had seen or done. As always the varieties of food and conversation left us with a great feeling of satisfaction and plenty. The day was proving a rare gift in our over-booked, stressful lives, and everyone was making the most of it.

No one had found the cave, but I had made sure to ask directions from Mary, as she appeared from their house with steaming mugs of freshly made grape juice (oh, was that good!). I followed the river as she had advised and soon found myself before the imposing rocks from which issued forth the stream. After exploring a little (I didn't actually go inside the cave as the opening would require crawling and I would have needed waterproof shoes) I sat down to check out the acoustics, drumming softly. A few people came by, drawn by the rhythms and joined the gurgle of the river with some friendly conversation.

I remember walking in the woods in Connecticut and always being worried about hunters -- for a time it seemed like someone was accidentally shot every other week. While we could hear the guns from the rifle range down the valley from time to time, on Mary's land we had no fear of that happening. Perhaps the strangest thing was hearing the loud call of the donkey over on the next farm. There's a voice that carries! Mary had mentioned there being ravens nearby, but I was not lucky enough to catch sight of them.

The rain held off until we were chatting with Mary at the end of the day, telling her about our favorite places and our eagerness to return. The sudden shower had stopped before we went out to our cars, vowing that we would take some of the peace and tranquility of the day back to our busy lives. I can't wait to go back!

Corvid Sightings

Last night at my pal Barb's new house, we were greeted by her new door mat with a raven and a line from Poe's immortal poem, images of crows and ravens everywhere, and better yet by some Legendary Magpie Mead! Quite tasty -- and local, too. We're going to have to get some for ourselves.

I had an email from friend and former UHD colleague (now in Colorado) Jim, who among his many talented forays was recently photographed for a new project by the Corvo Brothers. "You'll like their work," he said -- and he was right. Can't wait to see what they do with his photo. His wife Angela Beloian is an amazing artist as well, and their son Nelson has apparently become an adept musical composer already (as well as model: follow the Corvo Bros link above to Oddities, then Orphans. He's l'enfant terrible).

Time to get back to work on the Halloween cards -- and then revising my essay on Terry Gilliam's Tideland. Although looking at the department newsletter yesterday, where my list of publications filled most of a half-page column, perhaps I should slack off a little (as I imagine hearing muttered comments of "over-achiever" from my colleagues).

Tangible Accomplishments

After I finished grading the medieval lit exams (exam grading goes soooo much faster than paper grading), I took some time to begin the Halloween cards. I'm taking a slightly different approach this year, and more work is involved, but I found the "assembly line" process kind of soothing (I guess that's my heritage after all). It's pleasant to see tangible results pile up on a table; so often what I do remains ephemeral, or the tangible part is long delayed (i.e. most publications). I also spent some time yesterday updating the website for Femspec, a journal -- as the name suggests -- for feminist approaches to speculative fiction. I offered to do some work on website maintenance because it hadn't been updated in a while.

I also recorded the first episode of Prose at the Rose for the fall with Robyn Ringler, a woman who has been an RN and a lawyer as well as a freelance writer (and a member of the Hudson Valley Writers Guild like me). She has had some really interesting experiences and we had a great time talking. I'll let you know when it's on-line.

A Yurt of One's Own

I said to Gene the other day that we should just buy some land and get a yurt and live the simple life. Yes, of course, we'd have to rent office space for our books, but it would still be cheaper than our current rent. There's an appeal to this idea that goes back to Thoreau's injunction, "Our life is frittered away by detail... Simplify, simplify, simplify!" Although it is good to remember that he had someone else do his laundry, which I suppose means even he took simplifying only so far. It's an outgrowth of stress, surely, but the virtual tour at Pacific Yurts makes the yurt life look so warm and friendly.When I think of buying a house -- which we hope to do in the spring -- I always think of being in Albany, near campus and near all the city amenities. Perched on the border between two small towns right now, we have the closeness of other people without the convenience of city streets. We can at least walk to the corner store, but it's a good number of corners away. The thought of quiet country acres and a peaceful oasis sounds great. Of course, I imagine a yurt like this golden one above and not the one to the right. There's something to be said for bricks (as the little pigs knew).

Flogging Beowulf Again

I have been remiss in my duties as webmaster, so it behooves me to link to my friend Scott's medieval blog where he points us to close-ups of the Beowulf action figures. Well -- hmmmm.

They are indeed interesting in the fullest possible sense of the word. We looked at them in the Medieval Texts on Film class and discussed how they provided context for the film makers' decisions about the text. They have made quite a few decisions: centurion Beo, zombie Grendel, snaky/dragon Mom. It looks to be a very free translation. November will be magic.

(Yes, I have finished the first part of my grading.)

Ars est celare artem

I meant to get around to talking about Eric Idle's Road to Mars before now, but I haven't had the time or idleness, I suppose. I still don't. But he uses Ovid's famous observation that the true art is to conceal art (or, I suppose, Crispinus might want me to be more direct and say "it is art to conceal art" [though shouldn't "est" be at the end? aren't the verbs always at the end? I reveal my artlessness when it comes to Latin]).

This seems the task of the writer (of course), but also of the junior faculty member, who must do many things to look impressive and make them all seem possible, even effortless. By midterm, however, the juggling becomes a strain as I wonder for the millionth time how it will all get done. One step at a time, as always -- and not lapsing into too much idleness (literally in this case).

More forthcoming on the White Face and the Red Nose... once I've finished grading.

The Golden Compass

It's hard not to get excited about the movie version of Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass, especially with its glorious new trailer. As Gene says, let's hope that all the attention didn't go into the special effects, but rather on capturing Pullman's beautifully realized world inspired by Blake and Milton. So I went to the website and "found" my daemon. You be the judge: is it me?

Science Fiction Nobel Prize Winner!

Speculative fiction writer Doris Lessing has won the Nobel Prize -- hurrah! I first read her on my first visit to England, where we read In Pursuit of the English, about her arrival in England from South Africa (where she had lived with her family although she was born in Persia which is now Iran) and the difficulties of understanding Englishness. This the course where I also read Absolute Beginners and Lucky Jim (Amis's best, perhaps only enjoyable book).

Of course the rhetoric of the news stories is "English author" of "literature" -- we'll just pretend that she's uncomplicatedly of one nation, and definitely not a genre writer, oh no.

What does the woman herself say? "Space or science fiction has become a dialect for our time."

Review: Albany Pump Station

I forgot to mention in my write up of the concert that we first ate at the Albany Pump Station. We had been thinking of stopping by every time we got off 787 near downtown and saw it beside the ramp, but never got around to it until last night. The difficulty was finding it. While the directions seem straight forward, walking there proved confusing. We had found a parking place on the street (perfectly situated to let us drive almost immediately onto the highway) and took in the slim pickings on Pearl Street, when we decided to try the Pump Station.

Once we figured out it was behind the Albany Visitor's Center and the French bistro, we were all right. We started out with some of their micro brew and an appetizer. I got the porter and Gene got the Hefeweizen. They were both excellent. Our spinach and asparagus dip arrived in a little boulle with two bread sticks stuck into it like flags so it looked like a Tiki drink rather than an appetizer. The dip spilled over the sides in abundance and there were both crackers and crudités to scoop up the dip. It was quite good although a bit too light on spinach for us (we love spinach).

Our burgers came and were they yummy! Considering that a couple of places we've been to recently refused to cook burgers anything but well done (blech) it was a pleasant surprise to have them actually cooked to order (medium and medium rare). Gooey cheese and thick bacon went well with the chipotle barbecue sauce. The rolls were not too mushy or bland, in fact, I think they were onion flavored. The fries were the coated-with-extra-starch kind that Gene really likes. I'm less fond of that -- just let me taste the potato! -- but dipped in some mayonnaise they were fine.

We'll definitely be back to sample more beers and some more of the entrees, although I bet I won't be overhearing ladies room conversations about "How many times have you seen her?" [meaning Tori of course] Not too expensive, either -- a good experience!

Tori Tori Tori

Here's a cellphone photo of Tori live from her website. Apparently she encourages it -- there's a place for fans to upload their photos. When the crowd rushed down to the stage for the first of the encores, you could see the little lights of cellphones everywhere. "It's like Close Encounters," Gene said. She seemed genuinely happy to be at the Palace Theater, mentioning that she hadn't been in the area for some time, but that a chance to perform in this lovely theater was a plus. It was our first time inside, too, and it's a beautiful location. I don't know if she's been playing Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat" all along the tour, but it got a big cheer from the audience with the lines:

New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.

The Palace, of course, is located on Clinton Street. It's a song I love and her cover is a terrific version. The whole show was wonderful and a significant production, unlike some of the earlier, simpler "girl with a piano" tours. She's making use of the American Doll Posse personas -- changing wardrobes, for example. She came out in a slinky red outfit with monster heels and a long platinum wig, then later changed to a Vegasy sparkle jumpsuit and a long red wig. It was a lot of fun, and like the album, rocked big time. Old favorites appeared in the always evolving guises ("Tear in Your Hand," "Caught a Lite Sneeze," "Sugar" and "Cornflake Girl"), finishing up the second encore with a meditative version of "Hey Jupiter" that left the crowd happy but peaceful as they exited. I was kind of expecting her to end with "Teenage Hustling" as it adorned a few of the merchandise items, but I suppose that would have left the audience jumped up and volatile, so it was likely better to cool them down after all the excitement.

Tori fans are notoriously rabid in their fandom, so it was great to see them so welcoming to opening artist Yoaz who played a fascinating percussive guitar and received enthusiastic applause at the end of each song. Of course it didn't compare to the thundering ovation Tori and her steady band received, but hey -- it's a start. She started with her anti-Bush song "Yo George" (just like the album does) and numbers like "Big Wheel" and "Devils and Gods" (the latter with a sort of "Tubular Bells" riff introduction) worked fantastically well live. No surprise there: Tori is one of the most consistently strong performers I've ever seen onstage (and yes, I've lost count of how many times I've seen her, but I've loved it every time).

The good news is they're planning to release official "bootlegs" of the performances on the American leg, so I hope this is one of them. No stories, but in recent years, that's been more and more the case. Too busy pounding that piano with the band, I guess -- always great to see her playing two pianos at once and vamping in between.

If you want a less impressionistic review, see the Times-Union review.

Imagine Peace

Happy Birthday, Dad!

I don't have a handy photo here on campus, so here's a picture of your favorite car! Hope you have a great day (and that your gift gets there on time!).

More Bragging

My most prized memento from the Conference on Medievalism: Terry Jones' signature on my copy of Erik the Viking: the Director's Son's Cut. Mr. Jones was so very nice and amusing (calling Machiavelli "a very naughty boy indeed" or pointing out that Richard II is so unpopular that he discovered that searching for hits on Google gets the immediate result, "Did you mean Richard III?") and generous with his time (medievalists, after all being the second geekiest bunch there is) when we all buzzed endlessly about him, begging for autographs. Of course the other find of the conference at a local used book store made me happy, too. Nothing like finding obscure (well, in the States) British comedy duo books from the seventies. Even in Britain this is not a real easy book to stumble across. It's full of exactly the kind of silliness you'd expect from Eric and Ern. If you don't know them, you might want to start with their version of "Singin' in the Rain."

Publication: Folklore/Cinema

Hurrah! First off, there's no department meeting today as it counts as a holiday (silly as that may be). Better yet, I just ran across the street to check my mailbox. Rather than the student papers I was expecting (hmmm, wonder where they are?) I found my latest publication, "The Virgin Victim: Reimagining a Medieval Folk Ballad in The Virgin Spring and The Last House on the Left" in the collection Folklore/Cinema: Popular Film as Vernacular Culture (yes, colons are required by law in all academic publications to give the impression that there's just too much information to pack in). In the introduction, editors Mikel Koven and Sharon Sherman write, "Laity's chapter exemplifies what we hope to establish within this book: a well-considered analysis of a film with specific reference to its use of folklore and an eye on the cultural contexts of production and consumption which inform and are changed by human transmission and expression."

Nice!

I can't wait to find time to read the rest of the collection -- looks like some interesting essays. Hey, shouldn't you be ordering a copy (or reviewing it somewhere)?

Medievalism Round-up

My paper went okay -- it got a few laughs, I got to say rude words because they're in the text and it was fun. The conference was very enjoyable and brought together a wide variety of folks, mostly (but not all) medievalists. Topics touched on books, films, video games and of course, opera (my paper was on Julie Taymor's Grendel opera). I've got a few things to look for and had time to do a little writing.

The parks here are full of black squirrels. It took me a while to get used to that. Growing up with yellow squirrels, it was odd to see grey ones in New England, but black ones! They look somehow a lot more exotic.

There was a rainbow in the sky as we entered the main building on campus this morning, even though it had not rained.

Hotel rooms are restful. No work lies in wait, no reminders of things to do -- it always feels like you're a little outside time, rather like airports. As soon as you enter an airport, you're in no-time (as opposed to Noh time ;-) and time passes at a different rate. Mostly it's slower because there's nothing to do but wait. In a hotel room, you have a little hideaway where no one's looking for you and once the conference is over, time is your own.

Yet I was restless last night and kept waking up. The strangeness of sleeping alone -- no Gene, no Kipper -- and all the strange noises. I have learned the trick of turning the radio to static to provide white noise and drown out noisy neighbors. It will be good to get home and sleep, even if the responsibilities return, too.

How Nice!

Okay, I should be starting with how cool it was to meet Terry Jones, but really, I have to start with how cool the city bus driver was.

No kidding!

When he picked us all up at the campus after the plenary and reception tonight (along with a whole lot of students), he hadn't seen the free passes we were given for the city buses, but he shrugged and waved us onboard. We kept nervously looking around for landmarks and asked how close the bus came to the hotel (since it was the 2C and not the usual 2), so he said not to worry, he'd drop us off. Three blocks further than he was supposed to go. Clearly, he was heading off duty, too.

That's Canada, all right.

But oh yeah, Terry Jones was cool, too. Taller than I thought -- I guess standing next to John Cleese all the time makes you look shorter. Dressed in black (like any sensible person) he was very affable, friendly, signed things for everybody when he could have been drinking wine (well, people felt bad and got him wine). He was so busy setting up his computer for the talk at first, like any academic (the computer? a Powerbook G4 of course -- 15" screen), and hooray! knows how to use Powerpoint effectively [I was almost driven mad by the security presentation in the Arts & Humanity meeting because they never went into the slideshow -- argh!]. As expected he was entertaining and amusing as well as informative on reconsidering Richard II.

So yes, I got him to sign my new copy of Erik the Viking (the director's son's cut) so I can show it to my students next week. I also gave him my Sharpie, so hey -- he has something of mine. It was an exchange ;-) Well, he was busy signing many things and what works better than a Sharpie? I was happy to contribute.

The conference ends up being full of people I know at least slightly. The medieval world is large, but the medievalism world is a bit smaller -- and I met someone in the Albany area, so that's cool, too!

Hello from the Great White North

Although it's looking rather green at present; does London even qualify as "the Great White North"? It's rather southern as Canada goes. You can tell you're in another country because everyone's so nice. And the money's pretty! I am always bemused by American money's ugliness. I think it's an outgrowth of the Puritan/capitalist clash -- we're supposed to despise money-grubbing but everything in our culture screams spend spend spend. There's free internet which helps to make up for the phone roaming (argh).

At this point, I'm just glad I have some money. I left with $7 in my wallet, thinking "I'll just get some money at the airport." To my surprise, the ATM refused to give me money. I took a limousine to the hotel (which actually cost the same as a taxi -- ah, regulation to prevent gouging) because they took charge cards. The ATM at the hotel likewise turned its mechanical nose up at me, but a real bank cashpoint quickly distributed funds without the extra fee, too.

Although I slept through most of the first flight, I started reading the book I chose for the trip, Eric Idle's Road to Mars in which he cogitates on the nature of comedy, touching on the Red Nose, White Face dichotomy among other topics. Fun so far; it's always nice to have an excuse to read for more than five minutes at a time.

The BIG NEWS: Gene quoted again! (Why hasn't he blogged it?)

Oh, Canada!

I'm off on a very early flight for Detroit and then another for London (Ontario) to go to the 22nd annual Conference on Medievalism. My paper is written (whew!) and my flight ought to be set (checking on that now -- yay, boarding pass printed). One of the keynote speakers tomorrow: Terry Jones! I shall blog if I can -- my room's supposed to have free internet.

I had an email from a former creative writing student in Houston, telling me he was writing seriously now. Always good to hear things like that. You never know -- sometimes a little nudge is all people need, even if it takes while to sink in. Like the man said, pass it on whenever you can.

Publication: Tove Jansson

It was a nice surprise to come home after a long day of teaching (in which my students did not like Egil Skallagrimsson, grumble grumble) to find my latest publication on the kitchen table.
This is the collection that grew from the conference in Oxford last March. My essay is "Roses, Beads and Bones: Gender, Borders and Slippage in Tove Jansson's Moomin Comics." Of course it is on the gorgeous comics now being issued by Drawn & Quarterly. I can't wait to read the rest of the essays -- but I will have to wait, as I'm still writing my conference paper which I'll be giving Friday morning in Canada!

Ulla

Here's a video from the first Mythic Journeys conference of the lovely Ulla Suokko, whom I am proud to call a friend. Her music is incredible, plus she's a wonderful healer and storyteller as well. I cannot recommend her highly enough. It's just the thing for a gloomy Monday. Enjoy!

What's a-matter, short story?

Stephen King has a column in the NYTimes book review today about the state of the short story (you might also want to check out Tom Friedman's scathing column, an excellent read). While King can always make me cringe with his crudeness, he's put his finger on a serious problem: bad writing. Much of it, although he doesn't identify the culprit, is the crap writing created by the plethora of MFA programs that churn out graduates. I am breathing a sigh of relief because our department has decided not to pursue developing an MFA program despite the administration's encouragement. However, there are those whose attitudes provoke this kind of cookie-cutter spineless writing: writing instructors. In particular I mean the kind who think "good writing" only fits into a tiny category (i.e. the realistic setting, the tiny epiphany, the morose tone) and ridicule students who chose not to follow that model.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote a wonderful piece on writing and writers' workshops (but then, he was often full of good advice) that you can find in Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons. It is called "Teaching the Unteachable" and in it he says:

You can't teach people to write well. Writing well is something God lets you do or declines to let you do. Most bright people know that, but writers' conferences continue to multiply in the good old American summertime. Sixty-eight of them are listed in last April's issue of The Writer [in 1967!]. Next year there will be more. They are harmless. They are shmoos.

He's right, but don't tell my creative writing students that. They're still under the illusion that I am teaching them to write. I am only helping them to write better if they choose to pursue it. Most of them won't. They'll get their feet wet here and then decide it's just too much work. They're right: it's too much work, but some of us can't help ourselves.

They'll miss too the words of Brenda Ueland (which I will give them at the end of the semester, along with Octavia Butler's "Furor Scribendi" which ends with the most important word of all: "persist"). Ueland says: "Everybody is talented, original and has something to say." I'll say it, but most of the them won't hear it.

Another one falls prey...

Hey!

Miss Wendy now has a blog -- hurrah! Why am I so happy? Is it just because I'm avoiding work (oh no, not that) or is it because I have another way to learn about one of my friends? Well, as we say, a little from column A, a little from column B. The last part of the paper is always the worst and it's making me a bit crazy at the moment (but at least it's within hailing distance of the end). But I'm glad Wendy has a blog because it's another way to keep up with her. Phoning is good (although I'm not particularly good at doing it -- where is my phone? at the moment, it's anyone's guess) but writing is different. It lingers, it's visible. The ether absorbs much verbal conversation; and what chances to linger in the mind gets affected by that passage. But words on the screen have the illusion of permanence (an illusion easily adjusted) that lends them greater weight. So it's good to know some of Miss Wendy's words will be lingering in the ether a bit longer.

In her honor, here's Sailor Pluto!

Busy

Apologies for the low content levels of late: my time has been taken up with a lot of writing that, with luck, will be back to normal levels by next week. Deadlines to meet always make for extra stress. At least these are pieces that have a home already; things have been more than a tad frustrating on the fiction front with rejections aplenty. Of course, there are always news stories that add insult to injury, too. Ah well, the life of the writer: if you can do anything else, you should.

Moore: RAW

Alan Moore's tribute to Robert Anton Wilson, March 2007 in London (thanks to the Alan Moore Live Journal community and to Maybe Logic).

Publication: Up on the Roof

I was pleased to find my latest publication in my mailbox after the end of a very long day today. I have most of the latest Societas Magica newsletter to myself for my essay "Up on the Roof: Understanding an Anglo-Saxon Healing Practice." This is part of the longer project on women as witches in Anglo-Saxon England, which I hope to be done with very soon -- which, of course, means that I am sick of working on it. This is mostly because I have been working on it piecemeal for so long. It was the project I developed while I was on the job market so I was not able to move quickly on it (teaching 4/4 and job hunting already taking up most of my time). So many other projects crowd together at the gate (still looking shiny and interesting) that she seems too familiar and less exciting. But she deserves a proper send off and with luck, very soon she will be in someone else's hands rather than mine.

Calling All Quite Interesting People!

Those of you not willing to avail yourselves to (cough, cough) illegal downloads or low-res YouTube videos can sign a petition here to get QI here in the States. Sign up!

Welcome, Autumn!

Autumn is here and so are the in-laws! It's great to see Jane and Gene Sr. and they are spoiling us with eating out every night. We're full and the fridge is full of leftovers. We have a new favorite restaurant, too: Karavalli in Latham. Great food -- and such a variety! Superb service, too, which is always welcome, but best when it accompanies great food. We started with the veggie sampler and had a few things we'd never run across before. For my entree I got the Lamb Torkari which had the most exquisite sauce. We all tried it and loved it. Everybody was pleased with their choices, although Pops requested even more heat for his Vegetable Tandoori and got a little chili sauce that made it just right ("hot enough for ya?"). Such large portions! We have the leftovers in our freezer. Saturday we met Robert down at Bard to look at the campus and the Fisher Center, then lunched at Cappuccino by Coppola's restaurant. How was it? Quite good -- and again with the big portions. I'm still eating the leftovers from my "personal" pizza. Then we stopped by Larry & Bernie's house to admire the garden. Once again we missed the lotus blooming, but as it was a hot day, the frogs were out of the pond -- one on the table, one sitting on a bench, a couple others more picturesquely on lily pads. We went home laden with peppers, tomatoes and more. Thanks! Last night it was Emperor's Chinese -- and you guessed it, more leftovers. All good dishes, but I think I liked Gene's curry a little more than my pork and green beans (although that was good, too). Where tonight? Well, I guess I better figure that out!

N.B. This post features no videos or large picture or sound files, in honor of those with dial-up modems ;-)

British Humor

How did a gal from the midwest develop such a love of British comedy? I blame our local NPR and PBS channel. The radio played not only the Goon Show, but also I'm Sorry I'll Read that Again. On tv they introduced us to Monty Python, the Goodies and Doctor in the House. It all came at a vulnerable age when I was also besotted with the Beatles and somehow it all fit together, all around that sense of the absurd (if you don't know anything about how funny the Beatles could be -- especially John and George [AKA Pirate "Bob"] -- well, you'll have to wait for my book [currently about fifth in line among my projects]). We've been watching episodes from the Comedy Connections series which makes clear just how inbred the world of British comedy is.

Another recent acquisition as the 40th Anniversary Reunion of the Bonzo Dog Band. They're also wrapped up in that same ambience with ties to the Beatles, the Who and the Pythons. Because frontman and genius extraordinaire Vivian Stanshall died in 1995, his place was taken by comedians Paul Merton, Phill Jupitus, Stephen Fry and -- perhaps most enthusiastically -- Ade Edmondson. Yes, it takes four people to play Vivian because he was always larger than life. Below find a video from Do Not Adjust Your Set where the Bonzos were part of the cast.

Double Blurbed!

I just opened my review copy of the next beautiful volume of Tove Jansson's Moomin Comics from Drawn & Quarterly. I really don't think they're capable of making an unattractive book. The cover of the second volume looks more mysterious than the first and has such rich blue and green and pink hues. Just getting it was a nice thing, of course -- even better was to see that I was blurbed twice in the promotion materials. There's a band slipped around the back cover with pull quotes from Neil Gaiman and Jeff Smith, then me -- although identified as Finlandia Weekly, since I'm not a big name like those two. Inside there's a press release that also features a quote pulled from New World Finn -- that's me, too. Cool -- with luck, my copy of Tove Jansson Rediscovered will arrive soon, too. Then I'll be rolling in Moomins! If only I had more time to read right now, but deadlines loom. Somehow it will all get done... [lather-rinse-repeat]

International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Arrrr! Yea, it be nigh once more -- so make like Black Ethel and show yer yar! Stir ye'self to gabble like a pirate today, if you know what's good fer ye! Why not read piratical adventures like The Mangrove Legacy?

UPDATE: A fetching photo of this year's version of Black Ethel! Stop by and tell her how you admire it. I'm so envious -- I swear Cheryl cannot take a bad picture.

Publication: Jodorowsky Box

The much delayed issue of Up Against the Wall 8 is up with my review of the Jodorowsky box set. Read fearless Phil's editorial for more on the good and the bad news that pushed the issue off track. Read Jason Quinn's review of the new bio on Iggy (she says, seething with envy because she didn't pick up the book when she saw it in London because it was too expensive -- probably due to all the glossy photos).

Beowulf Bait-n-Switch?

In my continuing duties as web-flogging-master for the forthcoming Beowulf film, I have obtained new information. This did not come from the official website, but by way of Previews, the monthly bible of forthcoming comics and, increasingly, all the other things that get flogged with comics. A two page spread introduced us to the action figures (mach 1) from the film. Huh -- they offer a very different picture than the trailer.


As you can see, rather than a gold bikini-clad Angelina Jolie, we have Grendel's mother looking like the Creature from the Black Lagoon as a unidexter. Grendel, too, looks far less Gollum-esque than in the preview (rather more like Frank in Hellraiser). Ray Winstone's titular character looks much the same, and there is a dragon, so that's streets ahead of most adaptations of the poem (identified in the ad copy as "written by an unknown author in the seventh or eighth century" -- take that Colin Chase!) which end with the first monster fight about a third of the way through the poem.

Curioser and curiosier!

Hit & Run Holiday

(Apologies, of course, to My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult; that album has provided the soundtrack for many a road trip.) We took off on Thursday after my last class -- I even let them go a few minutes early, to their shock. We were hoping we could make it to the first gas station on the Masspike (gas can be as much as twenty cents cheaper in MA), but the needle was getting a little too close to the red, so we stopped at the last station in NY. We made good time after that and got to Wendy's just after 7.

She showered us with yummy food right away: brisket, salmon, matzoh ball soup, kugel -- and of course, while waiting for the main courses to heat, plenty of pâté! Mmmmm. The hard part is not completely filling up on that. While we wolfed down the food, Miss Wendy told us more about her adventures in Los Angeles this summer with the short course for advanced students (ages 13-15) where she taught them about popular culture, including a healthy helping of comics. We stayed up nattering on about this and that and watching Zodiac, but I nodded off before the end of the movie, so it was time for bed.

Wendy went off to temple for the day, so we slowly got ourselves up and packed, then headed over for quick visits to Cheryl and Marko (both conveniently located at Eastern at least on Friday mornings). Fingers crossed for the potential good news that we are certain will be forthcoming!

Back on the road once more -- this time filling up on cheap MA gas -- we got home in the late afternoon, ready (if not too willing) to get back to work again. Lots to do before next weekend, when Gene's folks will be making a visit. That will be great -- hopefully the weather will be good. While the leaves are just beginning to get touches of gold here, in the Berkshires and in Connecticut more have turned. There are already bright shadings of red and gold along the highways, particularly at the highest point of the pike. The most beautiful time of the year -- and Halloween's just around the corner!

Remembering Molly Ivins

A lovely story at the New York Observer.

Happy Birthday, Susan!

In other words, I failed to get a card in the mail on time, so here's Susan with Spike and Chelsea. For those of you who don't know her, she's our host every year at Trinoc*coN in North Carolina where we always have so much fun (and who hosted Gene a little longer than expected this year -- thanks again!). Hope you have a great day.

We're off this afternoon to Miss Wendy's house for a belated Rosh Hashanah dinner -- whoo hoo! on the road again.

At least we're not driving in Houston!

Publication Updates

Happy Rosh Hashanah, Miss Wendy! Wish we could be there tonight, but we'll be there tomorrow to devour the leftovers. Mmm -- kugel! Mmmm -- pâté! Or as we like to pronounce it, "pate"!


I'm happy to announce that my Blake-inspired short story "Eating the Dream" will be appearing in an upcoming issue of Femspec, but I'm not sure when the issue will be out. I'm not having luck with the 10k zombie western because it's too long for almost every magazine that I know might be interested. Perhaps I can hunt down an anthology -- or give up and let it (eventually) become the novel it would really like to be. But it's behind several other projects (as always). If I didn't waste time at the speed of light, I would get more of these things done. But I squander.

Blogging, I suppose, is one of the ways I do waste too much time. Back to grading now.

Publication: Corrections to the Rules of Fimble Fowl

After some delays, the new issue of Wild Violet is online with my latest publication, a short humor piece called "Corrections to the Rules of Fimble Fowl (for 3 players or 4)" (with a quite suitable illustration). Stop by to see a wider variety of pieces than you find in most literary magazines. As you might guess, my piece is inspired by the sort of thing Carroll and Lear do (or to be strictly temporal, did). In my modest way, I trail along in their footsteps. I'm trying to do a little more of this lately -- humor writing that is, not trailing along in other's footsteps (although that is perhaps unavoidable). So far there's this and a kindly rejection from McSweeney's that, nonetheless, asks for more. I shall endeavor to comply.

Madeleine L'Engle

People the world over mourn the loss of L'Engle. I can still remember the awesome impact of reading A Wrinkle in Time and beginning to think about philosophy and cosmology in my childish way. Oddly enough, one of the most strangely touching paeans to the writer comes from the usually churlish and snarky Gawker. Get under someone's skin at a vulnerable age and you are forever in their heart.

Flogging Beowulf

Using my new powers as a Beowulf webmaster, I inflicted the trailer on my students in both the freshman course and the (junior-level) film class. It's odd enough to be teaching the text to two different classes with two different translations (let me gripe once more about the Crossley-Holland version being replaced in the Longman Anthology with a far inferior one). But upon being presented with the trailer, they all responded with "That's Grendel's mother?!" Referring of course to the golden bikini-clad Angelina Jolie with the prehensile hair, which you can see for yourself by going to the official website and clicking on the "Video" link (you don't have to watch the video, she's the image on that page, but if you click on that link I get webmaster points!).

The clip goes by really fast with a lot of quick cuts, so you might miss Grendel's mother telling Beowulf she could give him a son -- say what?! Are they suggesting that Grendel is Beowulf's son? Or that she's going to give Grendel a brother?

I would say the trailer was met with stunned silence, but that so quickly turned to laughter it's hard to make an argument for that. In the film class, I tagged the images as we saw them ("um...frozen ship, uh...bridge of fire...") which only made us laugh more. One student argued in favor of the success of computer enhancement using 300 as an example, but it's not the creepy motion-capture that Beowulf is. Perhaps we should rely on superior special effects of a true master:



I'll have to carve out a few minutes to listen to the podcasts available only to us webmasters (I think?) and see what the story is on the, er, story.

Publication: Review

My review of Laura Stark's The Magical Self:Body Society and the Supernatural in Early Modern Rural Finland is available on-line at the Journal of Folklore Research (so, yes -- it's a peer-reviewed journal which helps the CV). Now I need to find a minute to update the CV and bibliography (in my abundant free time).

Missing Octavia Butler

While looking for another quote by Butler, I ran across this quote as well:

Writers use everything. If it doesn't kill you, you probably wind up using it in your writing.

So true. It's a habit that becomes part of your radar. Even in the midst of something horrible, there's that thought -- hmmm, how can I use this?

[Photo by Beth Gwinn]

Who: Are You?

Over at the Guardian blog there's wild speculation about the next Doctor Who. In their usual style, there's a breezy, written-on-the-tube-on-the-way-to-the-office starter and then the barrage of comments varying from the rabid fan to the surreal humorist. Well worth a read if only for the catty in-fighting.

Promoting Beowulf

I've signed up to help promote the Beowulf film via my website. This is the Roger Avery/Neil Gaiman version with Angelina Jolie in a golden bikini as Grendel's mother.

Yes.

Click on this link to learn more about the film. It's come along at a convenient time while I am teaching the medieval texts on film class. Maybe it can be a class outing! The film opens November 16th. Be there and get medieval! In the meantime, I'll be passing along interesting insider tidbits as I get them.

Dressed in a Bohemian Fashion

Alerted by the folks at my favorite quiz show, QI, I find that Big Brother was indeed watching Mr. Orwell:

It has been revealed that MI5 spied on "Animal Farm" and "1984" author George Orwell for over 10 years, as they suspected him of being a communist. Papers released by Special Branch have shown that they monitored Orwell (real name Eric Arthur Blair) since January 1929, when he began working as Paris correspondent for the "Worker's Life" (later the "Daily Worker"). It goes as far as January 1942, whilst he was trying to recruit Indians to work for the BBC's India Service. One Sergeant Ewing wrote that, "The man has advanced communist views ... He dresses in a bohemian fashion both at his office and in his leisure hours."

Well, there you go. [Full story at the Guardian.] By that measure, I must assume I'm already under observation.

Gene alerted me to the QI page and their home at Oxford, where they have a vodka bar -- swank! I'll be dropping by QI headquarters next time I'm in Oxford.

Good Eats

Thursday night we celebrated the end of the first week of teaching with a few friendly colleagues. First stop: adding to our passports at Mahar's. The wide variety always makes choices difficult, but I went for the Hacker-Pschorr Oktoberfest (just to be seasonal). It was great. I'm working toward that personal mug (only 123 beers away). I'll get there, albeit slowly. We hemmed and hawed about eating and finally decided to go next door to eat. Mahar's: great for beer, not so much for food and we were a bit hungry by then.

I had thought that most of the restaurants very near campus were all student-oriented low budget affairs. Not Café Madison: apparently it used to be, as the only reviews I could find on-line were for its previous incarnations (our more experienced colleagues mentioned it having burned down twice before). Perhaps, like Swamp Castle, the third time is the charm.

The prices were a little higher than we were expecting, but the service was amazing and the food wonderful. I had a flank steak that was cooked to perfection and like buttah. When I got up to use the ladies room mid-meal, the waiter came over and covered my plate with a warming dish. Swank, eh? Everyone seemed quite delighted with their meals and, naturally, great conversation ensued.

Yesterday we packed up the car and headed down to Robert's for a picnic. It's always such an extraordinary experience to be surrounded by the profusion of flowers and plants that fill the yard at Larry and Bernie's house. Dahlias as big as your head! Purple basil and huge stalks of rosemary. We had just missed the blooming of the lotus in the koi pond, but the gigantic koi were swimming restlessly around in hopes of food. Someday I need to have a garden like that.

We headed over to Anna's and decided to just stay there for our picnic. The Celtic Festival was on that day and Kingston was packed with people, so it seemed quieter to chill by the pool, play with Buddy and eat our way through cheese and satay and ripe red tomatoes and cheesecake and everything else. A very relaxing day -- good for Robert as he has to work today because Bard does not recognize Labor Day (indeed).

Back to writing!

Getting Lowe

Yes, it's true -- Nick Lowe will be on a Prairie Home Companion September 29th.



Or if you'd rather wander down amnesia lane:





"Goin' to see the Rollers, going to see the Bay City Rollers..."