tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66484094833302360992024-03-17T00:57:53.642-07:00The Adventures of Notorious Ph.D., Girl Scholar"We've got important work here... a lot of filing, and giving things names."Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.comBlogger947125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-30830191870634495782020-03-31T19:18:00.000-07:002020-03-31T19:18:10.569-07:00How We Say "I See You" in this Brave New World: Two Examples<i>Example 1</i>: Today I focused rather heavily on "get some human contact, dummy." I checked up in on an elderly acquaintance who is lonely. I Zoom'd with two nephews and one sibling and one friend from work. I had a shouted conversation with another work friend across the street. And an e-mail back-and-forth with another. And my day got parceled up into 45-minute bites in which it was impossible to get anything done. It is 7:15 pm. and today has turned into time soup. My expectations for today have vanished. I feel ashamed and vaguely greazy. I need better balance between the elements of my chore chart on any given day.<br /><br /><i>Example 2</i>: My one accomplishment was to do a load of laundry... sort of.<span dir="ltr"><span class="_3l3x"><span> I threw a load of sheets
into the washer in the (community) laundry room... then promptly forgot
about them for two hours. When I scrambled down, someone had put them
in the dryer for me and started the cycle. I scribbled an apologetic
note to them, which they in turn scribbled a "no worries" on, which was nice, beyond the original nice of actually starting my load drying rather than just piling it on the table wet. So when I
went down to collect the actual dry sheets, I left this person a gift bag with a
thank-you note on the outside... and a roll of toilet paper inside. </span></span></span>Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-28538345974816924222020-03-25T16:31:00.001-07:002020-03-25T16:31:30.516-07:00Notorious Has Come Unstuck in TimeHere at Grit Beach U, we whipsawed in the course of a week from "Good morning! Today's class is the last class for a week and then we're all online for the next five weeks!" to "oops, okay, now that you spend five days doing that, we're switching it up to <i>next</i> week for a start, and also it's till the end of the semester." Understandable: our university, like all, has been struggling to respond, and it's had to change with events. So: so have we.<br />
<br />
But one thing that has happened to me -- and to others, if anecdotal evidence can be believed -- is that we have, like Vonnegut's Billy Pilgrim, come unstuck in time. What day is it? How did it get to be 11:30 at night when I never managed to put on pants? Should I be doing something right now? Is there a class? Does time have any meaning at all anymore?<br />
<br />
And I realized that, with all the talk about how parents at home are needing to provide structure for their children's days while coping with the way this has upended their own lives (and mad props, as the kids used to say, to both professor-parents <i>and</i> suddenly-unemployed parents, both of whom are coping with a completely upside-down world), we were forgetting that we, like children, used to go to school, and that provided our structure: weekdays & weekends; spring break and summer; finals week and commencement. And we, like children, need that structure.<br />
<br />
Longtime readers will know what this means.<br />
<br />
The Chore Chart is back:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ccyHXIz55MfmLK4CDYrncEy7l1Ym1F3ZYm2Snb8M43ydBcqlC7BeAcGXfVLFqHdIA6Zr6uOxLZA42af6w_y13qOpueMJthhizAW8c2eL3C1z1q-N6ROMjGoAFwU6-ZMmrW6-153nCRE/s1600/IMG_5052.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ccyHXIz55MfmLK4CDYrncEy7l1Ym1F3ZYm2Snb8M43ydBcqlC7BeAcGXfVLFqHdIA6Zr6uOxLZA42af6w_y13qOpueMJthhizAW8c2eL3C1z1q-N6ROMjGoAFwU6-ZMmrW6-153nCRE/s400/IMG_5052.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The categories are:<br />
<ol>
<li>Writing/Research</li>
<li>Teaching/Class Prep</li>
<li>Exercise</li>
<li>Household chores</li>
<li>Something I've been putting off</li>
<li>Get some human contact</li>
</ol>
The goal: check off five out of six each day. A bit of a bumpy start, as you can see. But even done bumpily, it's already been helping. <br /><br />Now, I just need to find a box of gold stars...Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-66564642563136896222020-03-20T09:02:00.000-07:002020-03-20T10:06:53.606-07:00On Sheltering and Shelf Space<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, we have gone on what is variously being called a
“lockdown” or “shutdown” or a “shelter in place order.” These terms have been
flying around for a bit now, and there is no clear agreement what they mean. In
general terms, all “non-essential” businesses need to shut down. So grocery
stores, pharmacies, and laundromats: still open. Bars and exercise places:
closed. Restaurants: takeout only. This prompts questions about coffee shops
& roasters: do they get to keep running if you take your coffee to go? </div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Pathetic.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Sorry: got sidetracked there. Anyway, one thing that seems
clear is that we individual humans are not supposed to go anywhere we don’t
absolutely need to (again, open to interpretation — my thought is that if
you’re out and there isn’t a dog on a leash in front of you, you should be
prepared to say why you’re out, and make a case that it’s essential). So last
night, when this was announced, I hopped on my bike — in the rain — and tore up
for campus. Filled the saddlebag with the remaining books I thought I’d need,
and headed home.</div>
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<br /></div>
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My old blogfriend Squadratomagico remarked, when she visited
me in my newish abode, that I had hardly any bookshelves. “My books live at my
office” I said. Well, Squadrato, I should have taken your comment as an omen and
invested in more shelves.</div>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style>Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com49tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-45004819360637628252020-03-16T17:16:00.001-07:002020-03-16T17:16:11.320-07:00What does it mean to be a suddenly-online proffie?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LABc9yukl0Q/XnAWOYrAgDI/AAAAAAAABuc/ZYXfRvzOBiIEDBtW0urifk4lM5POhakpACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_5037.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LABc9yukl0Q/XnAWOYrAgDI/AAAAAAAABuc/ZYXfRvzOBiIEDBtW0urifk4lM5POhakpACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_5037.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Recording a greeting, with cue cards.<br />(BVM optional)</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Well, it means learning new things. REALLY fast.<br />
<br />
You are probably putting too much work into it all.<br />
<br />
If you are very, very lucky, you will find a friend to do this with, and you will laugh together at your small triumphs. ("omigod! the meeting invitation! we figured it out! yes! I DO see you! Hi!!!")<br />
<br />
You will realize exactly what your tics are -- me, I move my head while talking, more than the average bobblehead doll.<br />
<br />
And hopefully, you will learn exactly how little is in your control, and you will be okay.<br />
<br />
Really and truly, <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-66954509325325917892020-03-14T13:20:00.001-07:002020-03-14T13:20:17.221-07:00Plague daysStill haven't gotten around to the migration. But some shit's been going down lately, as you may have heard...<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SOoxocWs6yo/Xm08RoKbXrI/AAAAAAAABuI/7c3goG4xT_ADfEX7IVX0CjES4_oW-z1EQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-03-14%2Bat%2B1.19.05%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="373" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SOoxocWs6yo/Xm08RoKbXrI/AAAAAAAABuI/7c3goG4xT_ADfEX7IVX0CjES4_oW-z1EQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-03-14%2Bat%2B1.19.05%2BPM.png" width="201" /></a></div>
And in honor of this, and of being asked to teach from home for the next month, I went ahead and re-connected my home internet. So I'll be blogging again. Here, until I'm elsewhere. So there.<br />
<br />
<br />Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-83014645367073499002019-11-09T16:57:00.002-08:002019-11-09T16:57:36.968-08:00Medievalism, and migration Today, at Forest Lawn Cemetery, a roundtable on medievalism.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LJtTMZNJgDg/XcdfwCMNNHI/AAAAAAAABtc/qiSXXCAycRwHyKlJG3-OZTTY3kdNBONAwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/5A642B38-AAAC-43BC-B113-EB5143D6DE7C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LJtTMZNJgDg/XcdfwCMNNHI/AAAAAAAABtc/qiSXXCAycRwHyKlJG3-OZTTY3kdNBONAwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/5A642B38-AAAC-43BC-B113-EB5143D6DE7C.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Also: I will be migrating to Wordpress and taking this up again, as part of my whole attempt to get control of my digital life” thing. Stay tuned...</div>
Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-55392154340564317122019-01-23T14:32:00.001-08:002019-01-23T14:32:36.242-08:00Learning new stuffIn yet another effort to totally overload myself, I'm sitting in on a colleague's digital history class. And he just mentioned that he wanted everyone to develop a digital persona distinct from the social media ones that we may already have. <br /><br />And I remembered: <i>I have a blog</i>.<br />
<br />
Huh.<br /><br />So: maybe I'll chronicle this little experience.Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-56588526656509145852018-07-21T17:07:00.001-07:002018-07-22T15:34:40.268-07:00Trying Not to Go A.S.U. (a post with many strained metaphors)A.S.U. It stands for "All Spun Up," and in my hands, it can be just as deadly. It's also a weakness of mine. Here is a fictional-but-might-as-well-be-real conversation:<br />
<br />
COLLEAGUE: Hey! How's your summer going?<br />
<br />
ME: Oh my god. So busy. There are all the things and I've only gotten half of them accomplished which I suppose is typical but this fall I've got This Many classes plus The Same Many independent studies plus Big Committee X and Y plus organizing the events and this is supposed to be my research semester and o my god ALL THE THINGS...<br />
<br />
COLLEAGUE: [flees in terror, resolving never to speak to me again]<br />
<br />
This is me. This is what I do. I say yes when I've resolved to say no, I panic, and then I talk myself into a greater panic.<br />
<br />
So, I'm gonna take this like a twelve-stepper: one day at a time. One task at a time. Or maybe a marathon runner, who focuses on the next mile, rather than the whole 26. <br />
<br />
This will be for my sanity. But it will also be for the sanity of the people I work with. I want to be a positive force in my work life. But I need to secure my own oxygen mask first.<br />
<br />
And remember: the correct answer to "How is your summer going?" is "Not bad! [omit details that will send me into ASU territory and shift the topic] But I want to hear about <i>you</i>!" Cheezy, but it keeps me out of the bad place, right? Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-64108790875153299152018-06-10T17:25:00.002-07:002018-06-10T17:26:30.114-07:00Getting Stuff Done, Summer Edition: A Couple of Tips<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMB59U5TzblROPFUeJ1vhXYkpEpAHjDfERysas1_L1q8avjylkFZuWFzOthuen4ZxAiQsDNqs0jm155uOmBoeKSeI-4B_upO_rSZLNV7BXXIrG6bE3aQakPjp_rxE7OWnfusvipPtkTM4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-06-10+at+5.07.18+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="701" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMB59U5TzblROPFUeJ1vhXYkpEpAHjDfERysas1_L1q8avjylkFZuWFzOthuen4ZxAiQsDNqs0jm155uOmBoeKSeI-4B_upO_rSZLNV7BXXIrG6bE3aQakPjp_rxE7OWnfusvipPtkTM4/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-06-10+at+5.07.18+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>(source: http://phdcomics.com/comics.php?f=2013)</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A belated welcome to summer to everyone out there. And to all the academics, there's this:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes, most of us probably begin the summer with an overly ambitious list of Stuff I Will Accomplish (otherwise known as Write All the Things). Some of us were also dumb enough to take on some teaching-related projects, which provide equal doses of fulfillment (<i>yay! students who want to learn stuff!</i>) and recrimination (<i>boo! i should be writing!</i>). I'm going to try to chronicle these for myself a bit this summer, but that'll be later. Right now is the unsolicited advice portion, which I hope will be helpful to others (and even to myself, if I can manage to take my own advice), whether your degree of self-overload is insane or merely unreasonable.<br />
<br />
1. <i>Don't beat yourself up.</i> I've learned the hard way, over and over, that I always think I can do more than I can actually do. I still set overly ambitious goals for myself, though those have moderated with time. But I also learned to count 70% as a win. Hey, a C is a passing grade, right?<br />
<br />
2. <i>Remind yourself to do a little every day. </i>For me, this means that <a href="http://girlscholar.blogspot.com/2018/04/getting-stuff-done-and-its-exact.html">The Chore Chart is Back</a>. Over spring break, I had tons of categories in there because the need was urgent. This time, I've stripped them down to the following: write something, read or transcribe something, do something student- or teaching-related,<span style="font-size: x-small;">[1]</span> do a chore, try to do three physically healthy things. The daily goal is to be able to check off four of the five categories. As I said in the previous post: I'll do just about anything for a gold star.<br />
<br />
3. <i>Don't forget that you're not just a collection of deadlines.</i> The "do three healthy things" goal is part of this for me, but yours may be "do something with family or friends" or "go to religious services" or "go outside." I don't personally care for the phrase "self-care", for reasons I won't get into, but I guess that's more or less what I'm talking about here. A fat lot of good an impressive CV will do you if you turn into a troll-beast. You're a person. It's easy to forget that during the semester. Use the summer to hit the reset button on that idea, and see how far into the fall it can carry you.<br />
<br />
That's it. For the moment. In a couple of days I'll check back in with something really cool that I did with my students recently, one of those things where I didn't regret saying "yes" one bit. <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">[1] Yes, I actually somehow said yes when I was supposed to say no, and now I've got weekly meetings with students all summer, and syllabi to revise, and and and.... It'll all be to the good, but only if I tackle it one thing at a time.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-11226305169406659952018-05-07T09:01:00.001-07:002018-05-07T09:01:56.195-07:00SurfacingAnother Very Short Post, because it's time to get going for work. I now stand at the precipice of Summer Break: one week of courses, one week of finals, one week of frantic grading and commencement exercises.<br />
<br />
But this is also the time that things start to surface. All those promised writing projects that I put in cement overshoes and let sink to the bottom are floating to the top, bobbing up like unquiet corpses, staring accusingly with sightless eyes: "<i>You promissssseed....</i>"<br />
<br />
Yep. Summer of the walking dead, coming to a theater near you.Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-73500144271891710742018-05-02T08:38:00.003-07:002018-05-02T08:39:00.210-07:00End-of-Semester Questions... and things are much as normal; i.e. No Time To Post. But here are the eternal end-of-semester questions:<br />
<br />
1. Why do faculty (myself included) assign all their major papers to be due in the final two weeks of the semester when we KNOW from experience that this will cause us pain and distress?<br />
<br />
2. Why does the time crunch seem to leave some faculty time for writing long, crazy missives (and even longer responses to said crazy missives) to faculty online discussion lists? How are they doing this? Are elves doing their grading?<br />
<br />
3. Where can I get some grading elves? <br />
<br />
4. Do students not know where my office is until the last three weeks of the semester? Does it disappear like Brigadoon for the rest of the semester?<br />
<br />
5. Why do I assign so much written work? <br />
<br />
6. How is it that I have already booked my summer solid with work obligations?<br />
<br />
7. Seriously: Where does one pick up those elves? And do they have relatives that do things like shop for groceries and do laundry?<br />
<br />
<br />
Please feel free to add your own questions to the list...<br />
<br />Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-38267691818570174862018-04-11T17:39:00.000-07:002018-04-11T17:39:04.398-07:00Here beginneth the week of tea and murder.Three times now, in the last two weeks, I have laid down to bed at night, only to experience (for the first time ever) heartburn so painful that it drove me out of bed, dressed again, and to the store at midnight to get OTC medicine.<br />
<br />
This morning, after ingesting my usual double-strength french press of coffee before work (and god it was delicious; I make a truly excellent pot of coffee), I realized that this might be the problem.<br />
<br />
So, for one week, beginning tomorrow, I am giving up coffee. As an experiment. As a substitute, I plan to drink green or herbal tea. And probably kill people.<br />
<br />
Consider this your warning.Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-68254280981137108542018-04-07T17:26:00.002-07:002018-04-07T17:41:51.415-07:00Getting Stuff Done (and its exact opposite)Spring Break, I got stuff done.<br />
<br />
I should explain: I am gold-star motivated. That is to say, you give me
an opportunity to earn some completely meaningless recognition, to check
of the maximum number of things, and I'll do it. I am much more
competitive against myself than I would ever dream of being against
another human being. To give an example: in the sixth grade, the math
teacher gave us the textbook and told us that our grade for the year
would be based on how many of the pages we completed (with a
satisfactory grade). I can't recall now how she combined this with
actual <i>teaching</i>, but I can recall that about two thirds of the
way through the year I had handed her back the book and said, "I'm done.
What do I do now?"<br />
<br />
So then it will be no surprise to anyone
that, when I decided that I wanted to not piss away my spring break, I
decided to make a chore chart: <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jg83zu-zWe4/WslgTgqg7bI/AAAAAAAABo8/M4wYVuK56OYIyEJMRnz34LN1FTT2RFeMACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jg83zu-zWe4/WslgTgqg7bI/AAAAAAAABo8/M4wYVuK56OYIyEJMRnz34LN1FTT2RFeMACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_3482.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Seriously: I posted this on my refrigerator. Like I was effing ten years old.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
And it will be no surprise to anyone who knows me that this worked. By the end of spring break, I had filled in 49 of the 54 boxes. BOW DOWN BEFORE MY PRODUCTIVITY. AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, I WILL <u>NEVER</u> BE UNMOTIVATED AGAIN!<br />
<br />
And then, the following week happened. I have missed all three of my exercise classes (though one of those was on accident). I have gorged on sugar and caffeine. I have written a total of 1000 words, read no new books or articles, and watched the grading pile up. I think I washed my hair once. I have spent a lot of hours that I have no idea where they went. I feel psychologically greasy.<span style="font-size: x-small;">[1]</span> <br />
<br />
Do I need a new chore chart? Is there no way, even at almost fifty years old, that I will ever overcome my need for a gold star in order to do anything more demanding than putting on my pants in the morning? <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">[1] Though not literally greasy: my hair is of a type that only normally gets washed every three days, so while only washing my hair once is definitely a sign of my general apathy, the visible result is not as bad as it sounds. I may have problems elsewhere in my life, but anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I have Objectively Very Good Hair.</span>Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-57977944619246996922018-04-04T19:46:00.003-07:002018-04-04T19:46:32.946-07:00Naming Your Own TermsThis is just a short post that begins with two anecdotes from this semester:<br />
<br />
1. Person asks me to review a book that I'm actually interesting in reading. They say "we need it in six weeks." I say, "Sounds interesting but I have a number of projects that I've already committed to over the next several months. I could do it, but only if you can wait until August." They respond, "Perfect! Where shall we send it?"<br /><br />2. Person contacts me asking me to blurb a book. I respond about commitments, say "Not available till July." Response: July will be great; do you want it in hard copy or pdf?<br />
<br />
Something that both of these have in common: they both respond to my offer to get back to them about four times longer than they want... within 15 minutes.<br />
<br />
Lesson from midcareer: When you are doing work for free, you have a lot of power to set the conditions. You can say no, but if you want to say yes, you can say yes on your own terms. Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-48765037493481370352018-04-02T11:27:00.001-07:002018-04-02T11:27:11.984-07:00Setting the Table (Middlemarch, book 5)<i>I will confess, that I found book 5 a bit difficult to plow through, even with the extra time of spring break. I think that in many ways, this is what they call in TV series a “table-setting episode” — there have been a number of big transitions, including a couple of high-profile deaths, and now our friends (and enemies) in Middlemarch readjust. The adjustments at this point are minute, but one expects that they will be the foundation for bigger changes to come.</i><br /><br />Dorothea visits the Lydgate home only to find Lydgate gone and Ladislaw visiting with Rosamund. She is disconcerted to find him there, and he is disconcerted that she has seen him in some situation where his attention was devoted to something other than her. Dorothea departs to visit Lydgate at the hospital, which she is interested in as a charitable enterprise. Rosy begins to suspect that Ladislaw adores Dorothea, and he confirms her suspicions by speaking of Dorothea in worshipful tones. Lydgate returns home that evening and tells Rosy that he thinks Dorothea will donate to his new hospital. Dorothea — no surprise — is taken with the idea of using her money for reform, and even Casaubon does not object. He does, however, continue to be suspicious of her, and in the midst of some feverish late-night work tries to extract a promise from Dorothea that she will obey his (unspecified) wishes unquestioningly once he has died. She suspects he is talking about his book, and fears being entombed in a worthless work project that will occupy the rest of her life, but decides overnight to consent rather than risk taking away the one thing Casaubon seems to be living for. But when she finds him in the garden to give her consent, she finds that he has died.<br /><br />Lydgate is having troubles of his own: His hospital has been having funding problems for two reasons: the Middlemarchers loathe his chief backer, Mr. Bulstrode, and they mistrust this young newcomer has thought to come in and overturn standard medical practice thereby giving offense to the doctors of Middlemarch — and causing suspicion among some of their patients, who think him a quack for refusing to dispense medicines as the standard treatment. Rosamund expresses her own doubts about the suitability of the medical profession in general, but Lydgate insists that to love him is to love his profession, and she agrees not to quarrel with him on this subject. but we also learn that Rosy is pregnant, and Lydgate’s bill-collectors are, unbeknownst to her, beginning to call for payment.<br /><br />Ladislaw continues to adore Dorothea, and she begins to suspect that she may have feelings for him as well — a bit of self-knowledge that, ironically enough, bubbles to the surface when she finds out that her late husband had added a codicil to his will to prevent her specifically from marrying Ladislaw after his death. Mr. Brooke and Sir James find it monstrous, as it casts a poor light on Dorothea, possibly raising suspicions in the community that this was what she had been planning. The both wish they could keep it from her as long as possible, but they disagree on Ladislaw himself: Sir James wants him sent away; Mr. Brooke is finding him too useful in his political campaign to let him go. But when Mr. Brooke turns in a disastrous performance at the political speeches — pro tip: only ONE glass of sherry before you give your job talk! — he sees an opportunity: Brooke resolves to give up both the candidacy and the paper, leaving Ladislaw unemployed and at loose ends. Brooke hopes that this set of circumstances, though unplanned, will prompt Ladislaw to go abroad, and away from Dorothea. Ladislaw is ambitious, but his adoration of Dorothea wins out, and he determines to stay.<br /><br />The one thing that Dorothea does as the new mistress of Lowick is to decide to give her husband’s old clerical post to Farebrother, on Lydgate’s recommendation. And as Farebrother is preparing to take up his new post, his female relations urge him to take a wife. No sooner has he begun to contemplate the notion of Mary Garth than Fred Vincy shows up on his doorstep, begging him to intercede with Mary for him. Mary makes no commitment either way, but figuring out that Farebrother himself might be interested, knows that she must be definitive here and not give him hope; she replies that she has long felt affection for Fred, and could not throw it over so easily just because someone else came along in the interim. Farebrother takes the hint, and rides off, promising to convey her feelings to Fred, and to work to find him worthy employment.<br /><br />All in all, a pretty slow book, this book five, until OMG THE LAST CHAPTER WHAT IS BULSTRODE’S SECRET PAST HOW WILL THAT SCOUNDREL RAFFLES USE IT TO BLACKMAIL HIM HOW IS L. INVOLVED WHAT SORT OF NASTINESS IS ABOUT TO OOZE TO THE SURFACE IN MIDDLEMARCH?!? <br /><br />We’re entering gothic novel territory here, folks. But before we head into what I assume will be darkness, let’s enjoy the themes from book five: <br /><br />
<ul>
<li><b>Sincerity and pragmatism</b> come up in two situations: first, in the argument that Lydgate and Ladislaw have over politics. Brooke, has no real political convictions; he tells Ladislaw that what he wants from his young assistant in advance of the speeches is “not ideas, you know, but a way of putting them.” Ladislaw is dismayed, but also willing to make use of the tools at hand to achieve a good end, while Lydgate argues that real reform demands real reformers. Ladislaw is also, in a bit of a familiar touch, utterly cynical about the role of the press, noting that people read only what confirms their opinions: “Do you suppose the public reads with a view to its own conversion? We should have a witches’ brewing with a vengeance then — ‘Mingle, mingle, mingle, mingle. You that mingle may’ — and nobody would know which side he was going to take.” Ladislaw, I think, would be right at home in the current political climate, although perhaps not happily so. </li>
<li><b>On a true calling:</b> The second time we see an allusion to sincerity and pragmatism comes in chapter 52, when Mary rejects the idea of marrying Fred if he goes into the church. What she wants is for him to find a true calling: “Fred has sense and knowledge enough to make him respectable, if he likes, in some good worldly business, but I can never imagine him preaching ad exhorting an pronouncing blessings, and praying by the sick, without feeling as if I were looking at a caricature.” Fred, separately, seems to agree, though he doesn’t have any idea of what that calling might be. But, as the narrator noted in chapter 46, “Our sense of duty must often wait for some work which shall take the place of dilettantism and make us feel that the quality of our action is not a matter of indifference.” She was referring there to Ladislaw, who had really taken to Reform with all the sincerity that his patron Mr. Brooke lacked, and found that working for a political cause truly appealed to his romantic idealism.</li>
<li><b>On self-fashioning: </b>in the final chapter, moments before Bulstrode’s happy daydreams of future gentility are burst by the arrival of Raffles, the narrator remarks that “The memory has as many moods as the temper, and shifts its scenery like a diorama.” Mr. Bulstrode has decided to reimagine his past in a better light in order to slip more comfortably into a self-fashioned future. One might say something very similar of Rosamund, who, as the narrator notes, is “not without satisfaction that Mrs. Casaubon should have an opportunity of studying her. What is the use of being exquisite if you are not seen by the best judges?” And Fred Vincy is trying to fashion himself to please others, but whether it will be his father or Mary Garth that he pleases is anyone’s guess. It certainly won’t be himself, because he has absolutely no idea what he wants to do with his life, other than enjoy it from day to day.</li>
</ul>
<br /><i>Have at it!</i>Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-38953378534458851962018-03-28T18:02:00.001-07:002018-03-28T18:02:40.876-07:00Here's Why You Hate the Word "Webinar"Awful.<br />
<br />
Awful, awful, awful.<br /><br />But have you ever wondered <i>why</i> it's so awful? <br />
<br />
I think I've figured it out. Here's my pet theory as to why "webinar" sucks as a portmanteau<span class=" UFICommentActorAndBody"><span><span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><span>: Because it's <i>not</i> a real portmanteau at all. The "web-" replaces
"sem-", but "sem-" is not a prefix with a defined meaning that "web" is
substituting for. The substitution is based on assonance. Which is fine
if you are writing Old English epic poetry or a Tom Waits song, but not
so much if you're trying to impart meaning.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class=" UFICommentActorAndBody"><span><span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><span>Same goes for "webucator," which I have only seen one time, but which burned its way into my brain like sulphuric acid.<br /><br /> </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class=" UFICommentActorAndBody"><span><span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><span>So: what other hideous edu-jargon do you hate and why? <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class=" UFICommentActorAndBody"><span><span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="_36rj"></span>
<span class=" UFICommentActorAndBody"><span><span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><span><i>(PS: my dad asked for more non-Middlemarch content. He made no specifications as to quality. Enjoy, Dad!)</i></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="_36rj"></span>Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-5321164040517431622018-03-26T10:46:00.000-07:002018-03-26T10:46:15.107-07:00Something New to Make Me NutsI've lived in Grit City Beach for 15 years. And I may -- MAY, mind you -- now have the financial resources to purchase a small home.<br />
<br />
The question remains as to whether I have the emotional resources. I'll be doing this on my own, and that's both good and bad, in terms of organizing the whole process. Not to mention paying for it. But I thought that it might perhaps be amusing to view from the outside: "Book-smart person confronts the housing-industrial complex! Hilarity ensues!"<br /><br />Here is my observation for the day: Why do so many condo-stagers paint the interior walls gray? Nothing says, "I want my condo to present all the warmth and charm of a high-priced chain hotel" quite like gray walls.Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-79733893467215651252018-03-20T09:19:00.002-07:002018-03-20T09:19:32.609-07:00Submission and Rebellion (Middlemarch, Book Four)<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A day late, but let’s get to it. Although this book is titled “three love problems,” I think that what really ties these chapters together is submission and rebellion.<br /><br />The first of these comes from Featherstone. In life, his greatest — or maybe only — joy was making others bend to his will. Mary Garth was probably the only one who successfully resisted. Now, even after his death, Featherstone is making folks miserable, by making his relations attend his funeral. The first will is read, and most of it goes to Fred Vincy. But then the second will is read, and Fred gets nothing; it all goes to the executor, an apparent stranger, Joshua Rigg. The family goes off in a huff, and we only learn in book four’s final chapters who this Rigg is and why Featherstone has left him his entire estate. All of this apparently causes Mary Garth to feel some guilt (or does she? I have my doubts) about depriving Fred of his inheritance, though she tells Fred he’s better without it. Fred, deprived of independent means, reluctantly goes back to finish his education, possibly headed for the career in the church to which he is entirely unsuited. <br /><br />We’ve also got the idea of wifely submission and rebellion, in two places. First, is the Lydgate/Rosamund marriage, which has happened all in a rush, with the Middlemarchers clucking in disapproval all the while. Lydgate seems to have thrown caution to the winds, as he spends himself into debt to set up the marital household. But he also is having some thoughts about how marriage works that are foreshadowing some possible disillusionment on the horizon: he has expectations of a docile adoring wife, with little thought as to what he needs to provide, other than someone to be adored. Is Lydgate on the verge of turning into Casaubon? That marriage isn’t working out so well, either. He becomes ever colder towards Dorothea under the growing suspicion that Dorothea disdains him as much as he secretly disdains himself. She teeters on the verge of hating him, but at the last moment collapses back into wifely solicitude.</span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lydgate, looking forward to married life with Rosy: “Lydgate thought that after all his wild mistakes […] he had found perfect womanhood — felt as if already breathed upon by exquisite wedded affection such as would be bestowed by an accomplished creature who venerated his high musings and momentous labours and would never interfere with them; who would create order in the home and accounts with still magic, get keep her fingers ready to touch the lute and transform life into romance at any moment; who was instructed to the true womanly limit and not a hair’s-breadth beyond — docile, therefore, and ready to carry out behests which came from beyond that limit.”</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dorothea wonders of Casaubon, “And what exactly was he? She was able enough to estimate him — she who waited on his glances with trembling, and shut her best soul in prison, paying it only hidden visits, that she might be petty enough to please him, In such a crisis as this, some women begin to hate.”</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And speaking of Casaubon in relation to submission and rebellion, is he on the verge of turning into the late Featherstone? Along with his growing knowledge of his own failings and his wife’s knowledge of those failings is the fact that he can’t seem to make Ladislaw — who has taken employment with Mr. Brooke, who has purchased one of the local papers — leave just because he orders him to. This all combines into a suspicion that Ladislaw is setting himself up to swoop in and marry Dorothea and claim Casaubon’s lands, once Casaubon has died of his heart condition. He begins thinking of how he can change his dispositions to thwart this imagined plan, telling himself that this is for Dorothea’s own protection. On obligation and its limits: </span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The narrator speculates on Casaubon’s opposition to Ladislaw’s new employment with Mr. Brooke: “He had disliked Will while he helped him, but he had begun to dislike him still more now that Will had declined his help.” </span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ladislaw refuses to accept Casaubon’s directive for him to leave off his employment with Mr. Brooke and to leave Middlemarch entirely: “Obligation may be stretched till it is no better than a brand of slavery stamped on us when we were too young to know its meaning.”</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />And there’s a more political submission and rebellion going on at Tipton Grange: Mr. Brooke’s paper seems to be a platform to launch him into politics as a reformer. This causes the Middlemarchers to cluck with disapproval yet again. But in this case, they may be right to do so, pointing out that Brooke doesn’t put any of these reform principles to practice on his own estate — something that is brought home to him in an encounter with one of his own tenants who defies his authority and promises that the reformers will come to sort out landlords like Brooke himself. </span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The narrator, describing two views of the tenant lands on Mr. Brooke’s estates: “An observer, under that softening influence of the fine arts which makes other people’s hardships picturesque, might have been delighted with this homestead called Freeman’s End: the old house had dormer-windows in the dark-red roof, two of the chimneys were choked with ivy, the large porch was blocked up with bundles of sticks, and half the windows were close with grey worm-eaten shutters. […] the mossy thatch of the cowshed, the broken grey barn-doors, the pauper labourers in ragged breeches who had nearly finished unloading a wagon of corn in to the barn, the scanty dairy of cows being tethered for milking […] all these objects under the quiet light of a sky marbled with high clouds would have made a sort of picture which we have all paused over as a “charming bit,” touching other sensibilities than those which are stirred by the depression of the agricultural interest, with the sad lack of farming capital, as seen constantly in the newspapers of that time.”<span style="font-size: x-small;">[1]</span></span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />And finally, a bit of good, old-fashioned Mrs. Cadwaller snark, just because: “Oh my dear, when you have a clergyman in your family you must accommodate your tastes: I did that very early. When I married Humphrey I made up my mind to like sermons, and I set out by liking the end very much. That soon spread to the middle and the beginning, because I couldn’t have the end without them.” </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think that's what I've got here. What will happen next? Will Lydgate turn into Casaubon? Will Casaubon turn into Featherstone? Will Dodo and Mary Garth form a feminist collective? And what of that paper with Bulstrode's signature that Mr. Rigg's stepfather unintentionally spirited away from their curt meeting? Tune in two weeks from now to find out when we return to discuss book five...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">[1] </span>And since this quote is also a good critique of the limits of Romanticism, let's have another, equally pointed one: Dorothea,
to Ladislaw, who is on the verge of slapping a label on her ideas about
what constitutes the good: “Please not to call it by any name. You will
say it is Persian, or something else geographical. It is my life.” You tell him, Dodo.</span></span></span></span></span>Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-29176212062498116592018-03-06T08:46:00.003-08:002018-03-06T09:05:28.496-08:00Rethinking Things (Middlemarch book 3, chs. 28-33)
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hello all! After a
long absence, some of you may be wondering whether the title refers to me
rethinking my decision to take on this book. No! I'm finally getting to
appreciate much about it, despite my issues with the pacing. I'm loving the sly
asides and observational wit (mostly from the narrator). I'm even loving, in a
melancholy way, how we are seeing what remarked to a friend this weekend was
"watching the death of idealistic aspirations in real time." It's sad.
But it's also so beautifully drawn that I can't help loving it.<br />
<br />
I will rethink one thing, though: I've been very bad about getting to posts
weekly, and I don't expect that the back half of the semester will make that
any easier. So I've rethought how often we'll meet to discuss what. From now
on: <u>Every other Monday, and we discuss a whole book</u>. These are usually
10-12 chapters, so a chapter a day is still the right pace. But putting
together the posts really takes some time and thought, and the books are meant
to cohere as a whole, so taking the analysis book by book makes sense.<br />
<br />
But this week, we're still talking about the back half of book three
"Waiting for Death." Cheery title, no? I like it, because it refers
directly to the Featherstone chapters, but indirectly to the experience of
death-in-life that seems to hang over several of our characters, who are doing
a lot of rethinking on their own. The quick synopsis, then the themes. Dorothea
is back home with Casaubon, and seems to be reconsidering her choice of life
and husband: everything at Lowick manor seems dull to her, and the portrait of
Causaubon's disgraced sister (or was that his aunt?) -- the one who made the
supposedly "bad" marriage -- is the only thing with life in the
place. Likewise, Casaubon himself is sort of wondering why marriage isn't
solving all his problems and making him automatically happy. The mutual
dissatisfaction comes to a head during a minor passive-aggressive non-argument
between the two over whether Ladislaw can come for a visit (C has said no
before consulting D), and Casaubon has a heart attack. Lydgate is called in to
treat him and prescribes restful diversions, for which Causaubon has nothing
but contempt. Dortothea shows real concern about Casaubon, though in the context
of what we've seen so far, I have to admit I'm not sure why. Also rethinking
things is Lydgate, who, after being cautioned that Rosy is actually attached to
him, decides that he is attached to her as well, and the two get engaged. (Oh!
I forgot to mention that Celia and Sir James are engaged, too, and seem to be
the only genuinely happy people in this whole mess at the moment). Finally,
Featherstone is rethinking things on his deathbed. Turns out that he has made
two wills, and as he lies dying, he orders Mary Garth to unlock the box and
bring him one to burn... and she <i>refuses</i>. Good for you, Mary!<br />
<br />
Okay, on to the themes:<br />
<br />
<b>Transcendence and its Opposite: </b>This is a so-far-minor theme in Rosamund
Vincy's goals with Lydgate: he's not just handsome; he represents something
that it Not-Middlemarch. But the search for transcendence looms largest in the
whole Dorothea/Casaubon pairing (and maybe with Ladislaw as well, once he comes
back in). Dorothea, for all her intellect, is starved for something to take her
beyond a too-average present. She thought she had that with Casaubon, but he's
taking her in precisely the opposite direction. In fact, there's a passage from
chapter 29 that I think is one of the saddest in the whole book: "For my
part, I am very sorry for him. It is an uneasy lot at best to be what we call
highly taught and yet not to enjoy, to be present at this great spectacle of
life and never to be liberated from a small hungry shivering self -- never to
be fully possessed by the glory we behold, never to have our consciousness
rapturously transformed into the vividness of a thought, the ardour of a
passion, the energy of an action but always to be scholarly and uninspired,
ambitious and timid, scrupulous and dim-sighted."<br />
<br />
<b>Control: </b>This is all over the place in these chapters. Casaubon asserts
his control over "his" household by peremptorily refusing to invite
Ladislaw; Dorothea accedes but does not submit by telling her husband that he
was wrong to assume that she'd argue -- that is, to presume to know her mind.
Featherstone tries to control everyone around him, even as he lies dying. His
relations try to control the outcome of his testament by hovering around,
making skeptical noises about the "outsiders" who might be taking
everything away.<br />
<br />
<b>Rethinking the conventions of the romantic novel: </b>This is probably my
favorite thing about these chapters. When I started out, I wondered if this
would be a slightly more intellectual Jane Austen novel: who-marries-whom with
a dollop of cultural critique. But these chapters have put the final nail in
that coffin, in several ways:</span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marriage is not the climax and happy
fulfillment; rather, it is something we place too many romantic hopes in:
"Marriage, which was to bring guidance into worthy and imperative
occupation, had not yet freed her from the gentlewoman's oppressive liberty;<span style="font-size: x-small;">[1]</span>
it had not even filled her leisure with the ruminant joy of unchecked
tenderness. Her blooming full-pulsed youth stood there in a moral
imprisonment which made itself one with the chill, colorless, narrowed
landscape,<span style="font-size: x-small;">[2]</span> with the shrunken furniture, the never-read books, and ghostly
stag in a pale fantastic world that seemed to be vanishing from the
daylight." [ch. 28] </span></li>
<li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mary Garth! In a typical romantic novel, she would be
the long-suffering model of virtue who sits quietly and patiently until some
pleasant-but-secondary character recognizes and falls in love with all these
things. Instead, she resists Fred Vincy's advances, and even is the one person
to stand up to bullying Featherstone. Best of all, the narrator makes it clear
that even her inner heart is her own: "She had always seen the most
disagreeable side of Mr. Featherstone: he was not proud of her, and she
was only useful to him. To be anxious about a soul that is always
snapping at you must be left to the saints of the earth, and Mary was not one
of them." [ch. 33] I heart Mary <i>sooo</i> much. </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That's what I've got, so feel free to
comment on any of these, or jump in with your own ideas, quotes, complaints...
And two weeks from now (that's Monday the 19th) we meet to discuss Book 4:
"Three Love Problems." When I saw this title, I was sure that this
would mark a return to the dreaded "who will the girls marry?"
plotlines. But with these past chapters behind me, I am certain that Eliot has
something else in store for us. And if nothing else, we'll get to see what's in
Featherstone's will! Will Fred Vincy get a big settlement that gets him out of debt
and saves Mary Garth's family from the debt he imposed upon them? Will it all
go to the grasping relations? Stay tuned..<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">[1] Note to self: make this a theme later. I kind of love it.<br />
<br />
[2] OMG, this, too.</span></span></div>
Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-46447908073442709732018-02-20T08:58:00.001-08:002018-02-20T08:58:19.658-08:00In Lieu of Middlemarch, a Tale from My BrainFirst of all, Middlemarch post is delayed a week for international travel. For those of you asking "Where should I be caught up to?", the post next Monday will cover the final chapters (28-33) of book three, "Waiting for Death."<br />
<br />
But, since I don't have anything on that story today, I'll tell you another one, this one from my own brain. Which is a strange, strange place sometimes.<br />
<br />
This week begins a crazy time of conferencing. This weekend, I have a weekend symposium in Frankfurt. Next weekend, it's the Medieval Academy in Atlanta. I, meanwhile, reside in a place in the Pacific time zone. So this week has required a lot of mental preparation. Over and over again, I've been repeating the litany: "Teach on Monday; Laundry/pack on Tuesday; Leave for Germany on Wednesday; Arrive on Thursday; Return home on Sunday; teach Monday-Weds; leave for Atlanta on Thursday; present on Friday; Return home on Sunday; teach on Monday..."<br />
<br />
It's a long litany, and not an interesting one, but it's been helping me by cementing in my mind that there's a precise order to everything, and if I stick to it, I'll be more or less fine. Tired, but fine. The papers are done, anyway.<br />
<br />
So, today (Tuesday) I had set aside as my calm-before-the-storm day off, a day to charge the batteries before two weeks of chaos. I was going to meet a friend for morning coffee, then go to yoga, do laundry, pack, etcetera. And this morning, I woke up at 4:30, because I was a little cold. As I found another blanket and resettled in, I reminded myself that I needed to remember to take my passport info to the coffee shop, because yesterday when I had tried to check in for my flight, I didn't have what I needed with me.<br /><br />And then it occurred to me to wonder: Why would the airline send me a check-in notification <i>two</i> days before the flight, rather than the usual one day?<br /><br />And then it hit me.<br />
<br />
Oh, <i>shit</i>.<br />
<br />
And at 4:30, I was suddenly wide awake, checking my e-mail. Yes indeed: I had miscalculated my departure. I'm not leaving tomorrow.<br />
<br />
I'm leaving <i>today</i>.<br />
<br />
Happy travels!Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-84073405573561305132018-02-12T20:43:00.001-08:002018-02-12T20:43:25.351-08:00Thinking of Money (Middlemarch chs. 23-27)
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Think no ill of her, pray: she had no wicked plots, nothing
sordid or mercenary; in fact, she never thought of money except as something
necessary which other people would always provide.” (chapter 27)</i></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This week’s chapters find us back with the wide and varied
middle of Middlemarch: those striving to move from the middle class to the
gentry, those hanging on to their middle-class livings by their fingernails,
and still coming up short, and those for whom money (or other people’s lack of
money) is a way to exert power. But it’s also about a self-absorption that
afflicts most of the characters.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A quick synopsis: We learn of how Fred Vincy has gotten into
financial trouble, and has thought to get out of it by “investing” in a horse
that almost immediately kicks a groom and then lames itself. Worse, his most
recent debt extension has Mary’s father, Mr. Garth, as a cosigner. He confesses
to Mr. & Mrs. Garth, who will now have to use their savings for their son’s
education, plus whatever Mary has saved up. And we meet Mr. and Mrs. Garth,
in-laws to spiteful Featherstone, but about as far from him in temperament as
one might imagine. Anyway, Fred confesses to Mary, who is angry at him: first
for lowing the money; second for caring more about his reputation with her than
the real harm he has done. But she does soften to him a little, and when her
father comes, who turns over her savings, and assures him that she won’t become
engaged to Fred. Meanwhile, Fred takes to his bed with what turns out to be
misdiagnosed typhus. This occasions a conflict between Lydgate, who is now
treating him, and Dr. Wrench, who provided the original mistaken diagnosis. The
petty feud is grist of the rumor mill in Middlemarch, but the illness and
Lydgate’s attendance on the Vincy household throws him into closer contact with
Rosamond. Here, too, are signs that Middlemarch may swallow Lydgate up, in yet
another way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Money, and how it might be used and abused:</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif;">[Mr.
Garth] was one of those precious men within his own district whom everybody
would choose to work for them, because he did his work well, charged very
little, and often declined to charge at all. It is no wonder, then, that the Garths
were poor, and ‘lived in a small way.’ However, they did not mind it.” [ch. 24]</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif;">Mr.
Featherstone’s opinion of Caleb Garth: “…felt himself ill at ease with a
brother-in-law whom he could not annoy, who did not mind about being considered
poor, had nothing to ask of him, and understood all kinds of farming and mining
business better than he did.” [ch. 26]</span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Self-Absorption:</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif;">“[Mrs.
Garth] had made Fred feel for the first time something like the tooth of
remorse. Curiously enough, his pain in the affair beforehand had consisted
almost entirely in the sense that he must seem dishonourable, and sink in the
opinion of the Garths; he had not occupied himself with the inconvenience and
possible injury that his breach might occasion them, for this exercise of the
imagination on other people’s needs is not common with hopeful young gentlemen.
Indeed we are most of us brought up in the notion that the highest motive for
not doing a wrong is something irrespective of the beings who would suffer the
wrong.” [ch. 24]</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif;">“Your
pier-glass or extensive surface of polished steel made to be rubbed by a
housemaid, will be minutely and multitudinously scratched in all directions;
but place now against it a lighted candle as a centre of illumination, and lo! The
scratches will seem to arrange themselves in a fine series of concentric
circles round that little sun. It is demonstrable that the scratches are going
everywhere e impartially, and it is only your candle which produces the
flattering illusion of a concentric arrangement, its light falling with an
exclusive optical selection, These things are a parable. The scratches are
events, and the candle is the egoism of any person…” [ch. 27]</span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And now, with apologies for the bullet points nature of this week’s
post, I'm going to sign off. I’m at the office almost four hours after my last class ended, I’ve eaten
an egg, a piece of cheese, and an orange all day, and I really need to post
this and go home. But please do jump in!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-86769733942444410192018-02-09T12:33:00.000-08:002018-02-09T12:45:10.898-08:00The Bestest Week EverConsidering that I came down with the flu on Sunday and am still suffering symptoms, you'd not think that this was the Best Week Ever (lately). But it was. My old blogfriend Squadratomagico does Friday Facebook posts asking what was the best thing that happened all week, and for once, I had trouble picking one. And so right now, with a stuffed-up brain, here are some of the truly excellent things, all of which happened between Monday and Thursday:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Little Brother and Youngest Nephew arrived in town for a visit to the Beehive and points south. There was beach time and delicious food and general silliness.</li>
<li>My last M.A. student (for the forseeable future -- we've had to temporarily shutter my field in the grad program) just got notified that s/he's been accepted into one of the best Ph.D. programs in the country for hir field.</li>
<li>The students in my Mediterranean seminar absolutely <i>killed it</i> last night, in a week where they -- undergrads <i>and</i> grads -- had to read 450 pages of Pirenne, Braudel, Goitein, Horden & Purcell, and Abulafia, and process it all. They totally got into it. One undergrad even professed his love for Braudel by calling him "the Beyoncé of the Mediterranean."</li>
<li>I got reimbursed for my major travel expenses for one of two upcoming conferences. <br />I'm mostly caught up on grading and lectures and stuff, and even ahead in some places.</li>
<li>I knocked out a near-final draft to the second of two upcoming conference papers, and can now return to writing on the "Sometimes an Adequate Notion" chapter of my book.</li>
</ul>
<br />
Okay, so I'm still going through about a box of kleenex a week, and don't feel like I can ride my bike or do yoga without exhausting myself and/or making others ill. And my body is drained of all moisture. But even with all that, life is excellent this week.<br />
<br />
How about you guys? <br />
<br />
<br />Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-81260752361357124842018-02-05T19:15:00.005-08:002018-02-05T19:15:47.330-08:00The Least Partial Good (Middlemarch, chapters 18-22)
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A quick recap: Most of these chapters are set in Rome,
following Dorothea, Casaubon, and Ladislaw (remember him?), but the first one
is set in Middlemarch, finishing off the election of chaplain, in which Lydgate
surprises none of us by going along with the general consensus and voting for
Bulstrode’s candidate Tyke, rather than for Farebrother, whom he obviously
prefers. Meanwhile, in Rome, Dorothea is beginning to realize that she’s made a
terrible mistake when she runs into her nephew-by-marriage Ladislaw, still on
his aimless European tour to find himself and his purpose. He’s fallen in with
a German painter named Naumann, and has caught the Romanticism bug, which
appeals to his spirit (he being sort of an off-brand would-be Byron, minus the
talent and the true commitment to self-destruction). Ladislaw begins to develop
feelings for his aunt by marriage, seeing in her a kindred ardent spirit, and realizing
at once what Dorothea has slowly been coming to: that she’s not going to be
happy with a dried-up old stick like Casaubon. Dorothea may be feeling
something for Ladislaw as well, but she is still committed to her course,
trying to smooth over the bumps in her marriage even as she is becoming
increasingly dissatisfied with it, and seeing the flaws in both her new husband
and her own decision-making abilities. Casaubon, for his part, is coming to a
disturbing realization of his own: that Dorothea may be capable of not
worshipping him unconditionally. </div>
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Oh: And Casaubon doesn’t know German! For you non-historians
out there, the Germans were at the cutting edge of historical scholarship in
the mid-19<sup>th</sup> century — though probably more in Eliot’s own time than
in the period that the novel is set in. Basically, this fact about Casaubon is
meant to communicate that what seems like erudition is really antiquarianism,
and that even if he ever finishes his book, it will never amount to much.</div>
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<b>On Middlemarch as academic novel: </b>As I read chapter 18,
which is the very last Lydgate chapter before moving to Rome, I couldn’t help
seeing the committee of medical men (by the way, does anyone know why medical
men are the committee to elect a chaplain?) as an academic department — and the
kind of ugly, dysfunctional portrait one gets in academic novels. I was
particularly struck by this quote: “[They] concealed with much etiquette their
contempt for each other’s skill. Regarding themselves as Middlemarch
institutions, they were ready to combine against all innovators, and against
non-professionals given to interference.” And, of course, in the end, Lydgate,
like most academics, goes along to get along, laboriously convincing himself
that he’s doing the right thing, while all the while that little voice in his
head tells him that this is wrong. Anyone want to take bets on how long until
he’s assimilated into department culture?</div>
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<b>On sensuality and rationality:</b> Eliot has several times
hinted at a deep vein of sensuality — a capital-R Romantic spirit — in Dorothea,
and how scrupulously Dorothea has suppressed that in herself. But apparently
she can only do this for so long. Her time in Rome — and her realization that
her new husband will never see what she sees — has become the trigger: “What
was fresh to her mind was worn out to his, and such capacity of thought and
feeling as had ever been stimulated in him by the general life of mankind had
long shrunk to a sort of dried preparation, a lifeless embalmment of
knowledge.” Perhaps the painter Naumann sees her most clearly: “a sort of
Christian Antigone — sensuous force controlled by spiritual passion.”</div>
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<b>On doing the least partial good:</b> in chapter 22, Dorothea,
speaking with Ladislaw ostensibly about art, veers into a discussion of life
and its little turning points: “I see it must be difficult to do anything good.
I have often felt since I have been in Rome that most of our lives would look
much uglier and more bungling than the pictures, if they could be put on the
wall.” In both Dorothea and Lydgate, we see people whose great purpose is
slowly eroded by their own small compromises (Lydgate) or idealistic but
ill-informed decisions (Dorothea). This is where the title for this post comes
from: a quote in chapter 20 in which the narrator tells us that “in Dorothea’s
mind there was a current into which all thought and feeling were apt sooner or
later to flow: the reaching forward of the whole consciousness towards the
fullest truth, the least partial good. There was clearly something better than
anger and despondency.” All things told, this is probably the best she can do.
But the phrase “the least partial good” I read as Eliot’s wry inversion of the
core of Utilitarian philosophy (the “felicific calculus” of “The greatest good
for the greatest number” — see my interlude of a couple weeks ago). Dorothea is
neither a Romantic like Ladislaw nor a Utilitarian; she is starting to see that
it will take most of her effort to cause as little <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">un</i>happiness as possible.</div>
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Gah. That’s a grim note to end on. So let me finish on the
one laugh-out-loud quote in this week’s reading. From chapter 18, in which the
learned gentlemen of Middlemarch are debating the Tyke-versus-Farebrother
question: “Nobody had anything to say against Mr. Tyke, except that they could
not bear him…”</div>
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That’s it. Next Monday we begin a new book (“Waiting for
Death” — sounds fun!), and we’ll take the first five chapters (23-27) in which
we return to likeable, hapless Fred Vincy. </div>
Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-81730976468468383462018-02-02T15:22:00.001-08:002018-02-02T15:22:57.648-08:00Getting Romantic: A Middlemarch Interlude
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Welcome
to your latest installment of “The Victorian Era by and for Nonspecialists.” If
you find me wrong in any particulars – especially if you are a specialist! –
please leave corrections in the comments section.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As
we turn to the second half of book 2 next Monday, we are going to return to
Dorothea and Casaubon in Rome on their honeymoon. I don’t think it’s going to
be too much of a spoiler to tell you that they’re going to bump into Will
Ladislaw again. Remember Will? He’s the young man of artistic temperament with
no particular goals. But understanding him – and maybe his and Dorothea’s
interaction – requires understanding another cultural movement around this
time: Romanticism.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Romanticism
was, to put it very roughly, the artistic equivalent to Methodist emotionalism,
but in literature, painting, even architecture. The movement in general is a conscious
rejection of artifice in favor of nature, of cold rationalism (like the Utilitarians)
in favor of mystery and the exotic; a belief that the imagination can create
something truer than reality, a glimpse behind the veil of sense perception
into the world of the transcendent/sublime. The movement had different variants
in different parts of Europe. In Germany, for example, it was linked with mythology
(think Wagner) as much as it was with nature. English romanticism was less
nationalist-mythologizing. Rather, literature, poetry, and painting manifested
the movement primarily in three themes: pastoralism (as a rejection of
industrial modernity), exoticism/orientalism, and a fascination with the
glories of past civilizations -- and, through their ruins, a fixation on the
evanescent nature of even the greatest of human achievements. These themes also
were reflected in architecture, where the fascinations were with both the
gothic and the eastern, as symbols of mystery.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
movement also gave birth to a new type of artist: the "Romantic hero"
(perhaps best personified by Percy Shelley, Lord Byron, and their circle) is a
genius who rejects worldly concerns and defies moral convention for their class
in order to pursue higher truths. Like a certain young man we have met… </span></div>
Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6648409483330236099.post-12112989343654003952018-01-31T20:39:00.001-08:002018-01-31T20:39:05.954-08:00Did I really just do that?I may be off by a few days. I may have a few more proofreads and some footnotes to format. But...<br />
<br />
BUT...<br />
<br />
I think I just wrote an 8,000-word article, start to finish,<span style="font-size: x-small;">[1]</span> in the month of January.<br />
<br />
Holy moly.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
I wonder if I could do that again? <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">[1] To be fair, I'd done 90% of the research already. And the idea had been kicking around in my head for over a year. But the writing. I wrote the thing. All of it. In a month.</span> Notorious Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08700875559325201086noreply@blogger.com3