In Western Lands Beneath the Sun

To share or not to share...

2011-05-10T21:45:00.001-07:00

I have defended fanfiction before at this blog, and ultimately, my defense is 1. All fiction is fanfiction in some way shape or form, 2. Fanfiction can be used as creative criticism, 3. Some people just aren't creative enough to come up with new characters, but they like expanding on old ones.

The question is... is this a good enough defense to share my fanfic with my mom?

Like this... I am genuinely proud of this story: Operating System
I'm proud of the organization, and the ideas and the writing I don't think it's perfect, but I'm satisfied with it. But if I showed it to my mom and she thought it was stupid, it would be... too sad, I think. But it feels weird to have something I just can't bring myself to share, not because I think it's wrong, but because I want my mom to like it.

Hmm...

Why doesn't it sound as clever when I say it?

2011-03-09T00:57:00.000-08:00

A quotation of Cabin Pressure:

Martin: It seems the cargo hold heating may not have been turned on.
Douglas: Masterly use of the passive voice.

Now, when the passive voice comes up in class, first I have to explain what the passive voice is (as grammar isn't taught anymore, apparently), next I explain why it is often not a good idea to use it, and finally (not being an 18th century prescriptivist) I explain that there are sometimes very good reasons to use the passive voice.

By the time I try to explain these good reasons, my class is asleep.

Perhaps I could just play them the radio episode?

"But writing-powers-that-be, playing this show for them is TOTALLY justified. Not only did they learn about the passive voice, they heard references to Moby Dick...and learned how airplanes fly right side up!"

A (somewhat incoherent) politically incorrect rant

2010-12-18T15:21:00.000-08:00

So, I am going to be politically incorrect. Don't like, don't read. :-)

I strongly object to Disney's Pocahontas as nonsensical historical revisionism. (It's also boring--and I love Disney in general--but that is a different matter altogether.) I mean, there is not much to say on that score. It's just pretty way off historically.

Now that, you may say, is not a rant. Just wait!

I was listening to my Disney's greatest hits CD (You are allowed to like opera and Disney, thank you very much) and something about "Just around the riverbend" struck me for the first time. The first line is "What I like most about rivers is you can't step in the same river twice."

POP QUIZ

Question: Who said "you cannot step into the same river twice"?

Answer: Heraclitus of Ephesus, 500ish BC

Now, this annoys me very much. It mildly annoyed me when I first noticed, because the film is anti-Western and all about how the stupid British came in and killed the pristine native American culture with their greedy ways, and the philosophy beginning the song was imported from Western philosophy. And then I started to think about it more.

I don't have a problem with criticizing the early settlers. Not at all. I do think there were atrocities committed. Note that they were committed on both sides, and I get mad when I read things justifying King Philip's war, and laying all the blame there on the side of the colonists. (and I did read that once...can't remember where...but it made us VERY displeased, precious.) I would also criticize the West because we knew better (and I'm sure that makes me paternalistic, but I'll deal). But this is the thing: we criticize ourselves NOW because in some ways practice has caught up to the philosophy/religion in the west, and we have decided that we should not have killed people for our lands, and that we should not have enslaved people. That is, it is Western philosphy that creates the guilt for what we did. (It's also Western culture that gives us "the noble savage" which is the central trope of Disney's Pocahontas, btw)

So what is this rambling rant against--it's against using our Western heritage to create a ridiculously unhistorical propagandistic children's film that completely pans the west.

And really, why would we do that? I tend to think that we made mistakes--big mistakes--and now we see them. But history has happened. We need to learn from history, not ditch an over-idealized view of our past only to set up an over-idealized view of those we wronged in the past. That isn't useful at all.

Anyway, I guess I didn't really go anywhere special. But I was thinking about it, and figured it could raise interesting discussion.

Hey, at least I didn't go off on my The Night at the Museum is evil rant. You should be glad.

And to end this on a cheerful note, the next song on my Disney CD is "The Circle of Life," which reminds me of THIS:

*snrk*

Sherlock

2010-10-13T21:36:00.000-07:00

John: So why do you put up with him?
Lestrade: Because I'm desperate, that's why. And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man, and I think one day, if we're very lucky, he might even be a good one.
--Sherlock, Episode One, "A Study in Pink."

If you know me and have had any sort of conversation with me in the past few weeks, you have probably heard me mention the BBC television show, Sherlock, a modern day adaptation of Sherlock Holmes. It was in the works, as far as I am aware, for quite a while. I certainly knew that it was being made and that Martin Freeman would play Watson before I left for grad school in August 2009--possibly even a year before that.

Let me just get this out of the way, before I actually review. Yes, Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes is GORGEOUS. (Can't believe I didn't notice him so much in Amazing Grace...but then, 18th C. wigs aren't particularly flattering, and Ioan Gruffud (sp? I can say it, but can't spell it) outshone him.) Yes, Martin Freeman as John Watson is ADORABLE, and very Sam Gamgee-ish. (So many Sam Gamgee moments!) I admit it. But let us move on.

What I'm interested in is what I see as one of the most important of the themes that run through the show, and which I think is encapsulated in the quotation at the head of this post. But to discuss what is interesting about it, we need to go back to Arthur Conan Doyle's work.

The Sherlock Holmes stories are (almost) all narrated by Dr. John Watson, an army doctor who was invalided out during the Anglo-Afgan war. Watson admires Holmes to no end. He is occasionally put off by/makes reference to Holmes's exasperating vanity and incredible pride, but in general he sees Holmes, as Holmes seems to see himself--a super-humanly intelligent and all-around awesome dude. His interest in Holmes and Holmes's work originally seems to stem from boredom, but quickly turns into single-minded hero worship. (Now, I am overstating the case a bit. I am making Watson seem more like the Nigel Bruce bumbler than he actually is. But at times he almost portrays himself as such, and we have to read between the lines to see that he isn't.)

I think that Holmes and Watson have a great friendship, and that's what draws me to the books (rather than the mysteries themselves) but it is Watson's devotion to Holmes, rather than Holmes's to Watson that makes it memorable. There is one very special moment in "The Adventure of the Three Garridebs" in which we do get a glimpse of Holmes's affection for Watson. It makes every fangirl's heart go pitter patter. Here it is in full.

The scene: Holmes and Watson are waiting for an American gunslinger [must write about America as "the other" in Victorian fic some time. A very amusing topic, in my opinion] named "Killer Evans." Evans walks into the room where they are hiding:

Clearly our moment had come. Holmes touched my wrist as a signal, and together we stole across to the open trap-door. Gently as we moved, however, the old floor must have creaked under our feet, for the head of our American, peering anxiously round, emerged suddenly from the open space. His face turned upon us with a glare of baffled rage, which gradually softened into a rather shamefaced grin as he realized that two pistols were pointed at his head.

"Well, well!" said he coolly as he scrambled to the surface. "I guess you have been one too many for me, Mr. Holmes. Saw through my game, I suppose, and played me for a sucker from the first. Well, sir, I hand it to you; you have me beat and..."

In an instant he had whisked out a revolver from his breast and had fired two shots.

I felt a sudden hot sear as if a red-hot iron had been pressed to my thigh. There was a crash as Holmes's pistol came down on the man's head. I had a vision of him sprawling upon the floor with blood running down his face while Holmes rummaged him for weapons. Then my friend's wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair.

"You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!"

It was worth a wound--it was worth many wounds--to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

"It's nothing, Holmes. It's a mere scratch."

He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife.

"You are right," he cried with an immense sigh of relief. "It is quite superficial." His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. "By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?"

I have found this moment to be fascinating ever since I entered the world of Holmes and Watson. It is of course an "awwwwwww! Holmes cares!" moment. But it is more than that. One of my pet topics is the cost of friendship, which goes back to the *cough* Rankin/Bass Return of the King. *cough*...

In that masterpiece of 80s cinema, which I may or may not have written a whole post on a year or so ago, there is a song that says "If you never say hello, you won't have to say goodbye." And that line, in connection with the sadness of Frodo leaving has meant a lot to me. I suppose by now I could be more sophisticated and quote "Shadowlands" (not C.S. Lewis--a misattribution as far as I can tell): "The pain then, is part of the happiness now. That's the deal."
But however you want to put it, love makes you vulnerable because you will experience loss eventually. In fact, one real Lewis quotation, from The Four Loves, because it is such a great one (and then I don't have to feel too bad about the Rankin/Bass quotation):

Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

This may be fangirl heresy, but I will dare to say that Conan Doyle's Holmes really did wrap his heart around with hobbies and little luxuries. He did his best to lock it up safe in the casket of his selfishness. He did not completely succeed, but if Holmes's life is not characterized by selfishness, I don't know what is. I'm glad he had hidden some love for Watson deep down inside--Watson earned it. But I am afraid that as readers we have to at least ask ourselves if Holmes's facade of indifference does not go more than skin deep. (See also his behavior in "The Empty House" and "The Dying Detective.")

I find it very sad and pathetic that all of Watson's relationship with Holmes leads up to that one moment where for an instant he sees that Holmes actually cares. But Watson doesn't seem to feel that way. He just accepts Holmes as a great man, and while he is made incredibly happy by this tiny moment of humanity, he doesn't really quesition Holmes's goodness. Greatness is enough.

Now, I said this was a review of the BBC show, Sherlock, and it is. And I've finally gotten back around to it. :-)

John, as portrayed by Martin Freeman, is very much the Watson we know and love. He is awestruck by Sherlock. Every time Sherlock makes some kind of deduction he says "That's incredible" or "that's amazing"--something to that effect. In fact, here is a really cute exchange where Sherlock is rattling off facts about a dead woman. John has peppered the conversation with little exclamations (Freeman is so good at making what could sound very silly or forced sound perfectly genuine):

John: That's fantastic!
Sherlock: Do you know you do that out loud?
John: Sorry, I'll shut up.
Sherlock: No, its...fine...

And as in the original books, Sherlock partly wants John around because he is so appreciative. At one point he says (speaking of a serial murderer) "That's the frailty of genius, John, it needs an audience." I don't think he's self-aware enough to know he's describing himself, but he is.

Unlike the books, however, the TV show brings the issue of Sherlock as a human being, not just a calculating machine, into the open. From the beginning, Sherlock's insensitivity due to his brilliance is highlighted. It's often funny--when the girl who has a crush on him asks him "would you like to have coffee?" He says "Yes please. Black. Two Sugars. I'll be in the lab."--but it keeps coming back, and even as the first episode progresses becomes more serious. The victim had scratched the name "Rachel" onto the floor while she was dying. The detectives found out that "Rachel" was her daugher, who had been still born fourteen years earlier. Sherlock has been thinking out loud, and John suggests that the murderer (who somehow forced the victim to self-administer poison) used her daughter against her somehow. Sherlock says, "But that was ages ago! Why would she still be upset?" and the whole room goes quiet. Sherlock realizes he messed up from their reactions. And as an audience member, I don't think you despise him for it. John sets him straight, but you (along with John at that moment) feel more pity for the Sherlock who cannnot feel, than you feel disgust at the Sherlock who does not feel.

At the end of that episode, Sherlock risks not stopping the serial killer in his desire to prove himself right, and it is John who saves him.

As the second episode progresses and the third begins, it is becoming evident that Sherlock may be more capable of emotion than he lets on. Or rather, that John expects him to show emotion and to feel, regardless of his professed inability to do so. John becomes more vocal about pointing out to Sherlock when he is being mean or insensitive, and he continually asks him to think about the victims in the case as if they were people.

Moriarty is holding people hostage for set periods of time, while Sherlock has to figure out the mysteries Moriarty sends to him before the time runs out or the hostages (who are strapped to bomb) are exploded, usually in a densely populated area. While John is still amazed by Sherlock's powers of deduction, he is clearly personally offended, as well as offended on principle, by Sherlock's careless attitude towards human life in favor of his obsession with facts and proving himself more intelligent than Moriarty. John reaches a breaking point after an old woman (along with many people in her apartment complex) is killed, and Sherlock is only fascinated by Moriarty's evil genius:

John: So why is he doing this, then? Playing this game with you? Do you think he wants to be caught?
Sherlock: I think he wants to be distracted
John: I hope you'll be very happy together
Sherlock: Sorry. What?
John: There are LIVES at stake, Sherlock, actual human lives! Just so I know, do you care about that at all?
Sherlock: Will caring about them help save them?
John: Nope.
Sherlock: Then I'll continue not to make that mistake.
John: And you find that easy, do you?
Sherlock: Yes. Very...Is that news to you?
John: No...no
Sherlock: I've disappointed you.
John: Good! That's a good deduction. Yeah.
Sherlock: Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them.

But Sherlock's nonchalance about human life is challenged, when suddenly the man strapped to the bomb is John. (Another brilliant acting job. Cumberbatch somehow manages to portray Sherlock's sudden fear and vulnerability, while preserving the mask of self-confidence towards Moriarty. That's not a good description...you have to see it...but then you should probably watch it before reading this anyway...) His only friend is in mortal peril, and he is confronted with his brilliantly evil enemy, and he starts to see things John's way:

Jim Moriarty: I have loved this--this little game of ours...Playing Jim from IT...Playing gay...Did you like the little touch with the underwear?
Sherlock: People have died.
Jim Moriarty: That's what people DO!
Sherlock: I will stop you.

This was Sherlock at the beginning of the episode:

John: Try and remember there's a woman who might die.
Sherlock: What for? This hospital's full of people dying, doctor. Why don't you go cry by their bedsides. See what good it does them.

Can you spot the difference?

I end this rambly review-ish thing with another observation.

At the end of "A Study in Pink," Sherlock is about to take the pill. He is compelled to eat it, because he needs the rush to stave off the boredom of living as a genius among lesser mortals. He has been goaded into it by the serial killer cabbie who taunts him with the possibility that he has been outwitted. He is facing possible death. And his hand shakes.

At the end of "The Great Game," Sherlock has his gun trained on the explosives near Moriarty. He is ready to blow up himself and John because it seems they are doomed, and he needs to take Moriarty out as well. He has looked to John, and received a short nod of approval for the action he is about to take. He is facing almost certain death. And his hand is perfectly still.

Now I can only wait for the next season (Fall 2011!?!?!? WHAT?!?!!?!) to see what happens. Will they be saved in a Mycroft ex Machina? Or will we have a Reichenberg Falls-esque opening, with John in the hospital and Sherlock assumed dead? However the screenwriters write everyone out that sticky situation, my main interest is Sherlock's character. Was this just a crack in the facade, as in "The Three Garridebs"? or has Sherlock changed from just a great man, to a good one?

Henry V

2010-10-13T20:43:00.000-07:00

"O for a muse of fire!"

I begin my book reviewing project with Shakespeare's Henry V. As this review will show, I will be giving more stream-of-consciousness rambles than anything else, but whatever...

Henry V, I must start out by saying, is an incredible collection of speeches. We all know and love the St. Crispian's day speech which includes "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers." Any of us who are Sherlock Holmes fans know the "Once more unto the breach" speech that concludes, "The game's afoot! / Follow your spirits, and upon this charge / Cry God for England, Harry, and St George!" Henry can inspire soldiers like no other. But then, he can make you want to cry. His speech to Lord Scroop, an ex-best friend, who is involved in an aassasination plot against him is so tragic: "I will weep for thee, / For this revolt of thine, methinks, / is like a second fall of man." *sniff* He can get spitting mad: "Tell the pleasant Dauphin..." He can even put on the charming, bumbling lover if it suits his purpose. (See his speech to Catherine--his only significant non-verse speech in the play.

My mother has always taught Henry V by convincing the students that Henry is a lying politician, and I always promised myself that I would not teach it that way...for no very good reason. Mostly to be different from my mother, I guess. But when I read it to teach, I was really struck by how much acting there is in the play. It emphasizes its play-ness in a way that very few, if any, of Shakespeare's works do.

Take, for example, the Chorus. There is no other Shakespeare play with a chorus. This in itself emphasizes that it is a play. While I grant that in Shakespeare's day, everyone's favorite Romantic opium addict had not coined the phrase "willing suspension of disbelief," you have to ask yourself what the Chorus is talking about if not willing suspension of disbelief. He begs the audience to imagine that the stage really is the field of Agincourt, and the handful of men on the stage really are thousands of soldiers. This, as one student pointed out in discussion, is a good way to pull the audience into the story. But at the same time, it highlights the artificiality of the whole thing. If you had finally immersed yourself in the story to such an extent that you were able to imagine you really saw Agincourt, the Chorus getting up and saying, "I'm so sorry this is so lame, please try to forget it" will make you remember that it is pretty lame.

I have to share a related point that one of my students came out with, and that I thought was utterly brilliant! We were close reading one of Henry's inspirational speeches in class, where Henry tells his men that in peace, modesty is best, but now you need to act tough. He uses a lot of words like "disguise" and "act." He tells them to "put on" the tiger. Not only does he put on different personas himself, he asks his soldiers to do as much. My student said, "I think that Shakspeare is showing how life is like a play." It was brilliant. It doesn't sound so brilliant the way I just put it, but it is such an interesting way to look at Henry V. Shakespeare clearly finds that an interesting idea. See Jacques in As you like it. "All the world's a stage, and the men and women are merely the players . All have their exits and their entrances." And Shakespeare definitely makes snarky allusions to play/reality issues. E.g. Hamlet: "Seems, Mother? Nay I know not seems. It is not alone my inky cloak, mother, or windy suspiration of the breath, or tear in the eye. These are but things a man might play. But I have that within that passes show. These trappings but an outward sign of woe." (I totally butchered that...oh well.) But Henry V is a very interesting case study of how life is like a play.

Which rambles me back to my mom's point about Henry being a consummate politician, and maybe not such a hero to be idolized. Frankly, I don't know whether she'd agree with this or not, but I am inclined to think that Henry is portrayed as an actor, acting out many roles, but that's not a bad thing. It's what we all have to do in this world. As I said to my students, when I'm in front of them, I'm a teacher. When I'm in class, I'm a student. I have to act like a different person in each case. And in neither case should certain personal things come into play. As I learned over the past few weeks, in a class situation you do have to "smile when your heart is breaking" if you're the one in charge. Because what's going on in your life behind the scenes has no bearing on the class. At all. The end. It made me much more sympathetic to Henry, who in front of his men was was all "RA RA! We'll WIN YAY! FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!" but when alone was on his knees, begging God not to punish him for his father's sins, and not to allow his Soldiers to be frightened in war. He actually asks God to blind them to the truth of the situation--that they are outnumbered and likely to die--so that they can fight like men. Henry, in my estimation, is being perfectly sincere and honest in his prayer, and he doesn't mind asking God to help his men play a role. I dunno, maybe it's just me, but I think Henry is a great actor, and that is part of what makes him a great man. Do I think he's perfect, and do I like him unqualifiedly? No. But I think he is overall a good man who does what he has to in order to be a good king.

There is much more tha could be said on both sides. but I will stop there.

One final thought: Ken Branagh's Henry V is brilliant, in my estimation, because it captures the inconsistency, the foibles, and the actorliness of Henry, while also making him a good man. Olivier's version (which is well worth watching) makes Henry into a larger than life hero. The end. I prefer the more nuanced Henry.

The New "In Western Lands"

2010-09-20T16:22:00.000-07:00

My blog has a new purpose. I will (being the original being that I am) use it to ramble on about the books I read. I may post other rambles as well, but I have decided that I like rambling about what I read, and I like blogging for some random reason. So, why not?

A Sonnet

2010-09-13T03:25:00.000-07:00

"What pain it was to drown"

Beneath the winds and waves of stormy night
Lies water cold but peaceful, in which I,
Recoiling from the thought of any fight
Might lose my soul to deadly fantasy.

Both corpse and open coffer lie below
And sapphires shine where once were living eyes
But, poetry-beguiled, I do not know
That metaphors incarnate are vile lies.

My mind and senses numb, I reach to touch
A coronet of gold on weed-wreathed hair
I pry a scepter from a corpse’s clutch
And will not recognize my need for air.

So that I’ll seek the true, immortal crown,
Lord, let me feel what pain it is to drown.

The Philosophy of Fan Fiction

2010-05-09T22:38:00.001-07:00

Once again, I use this blog to chronicle random thoughts that someone might find interesting.

I have put a lot of time and energy and thought into fan fiction. This has been both a good thing and a bad thing. On the negative side, it has been one of the many things that I've used to procrastinate. But if things were qualified as inherently good or bad based on their role in my time-wasting endeavours, then housecleaning would be a gross evil...so that doesn't make fan fiction bad.

The idea of fanfiction is really fascinating. Some author out there created a world, whether through literature, or television, or movies, that was so real to the readers that they write more in that world. As with everything in this digitalized age, it means that lots of poor quality stuff gets written and "published" on the world wide web, but I think at the same time that it may be a way for us to do something that has not been popular since the days of Romanticism (stupid romanticism!) when we decided that originality (an originality that goes inward to the writer, as opposed to outward to a well known origin of the story) was the key to literature. Under this "lit-view" rewriting a story that some other author came up with in a different voice, or from a different perspective, or even borrowing the world and characters that an author created is the ultimate crime. I get the feeling that copyrights are not so much about making sure that authors receive compensation as that their characters are not messed with. To paraphrase one of my favorite singer-songwriters, "I may be wrong for all I know, but I may be right."

All this to say that before Romanticism, it was all about retelling old stories in an entertaining way. I'm not saying this never happens now. What are movie adaptations? or famous works like "Grendel"? or stupid things like "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies." It's just that no one says to budding writers, "Go and write another retelling of the Trojan war." They are encouraged to write something utterly unique and personal. Why should this be? Why shouldn't writers attempt to use old material to do something stylistically interesting? I just finished a class on Chaucer, and he ripped things wholesale from other authors. Am I saying that most people writing fanfiction (if any!) are the Chaucer's of our age? No. But I am suggesting that fanfiction is a potential outlet for that kind of thing.

All that I have said up to this point is my vision of what fanfiction could be. Unfortunately, while there are some (my more recent self included) who try to use it this way--some (my more recent self not included) who succeed in using it this way--it is mainly, in my experience, and from what I understand of its history, used very differently.

It becomes a realm for girls between adolescence and...say...30? to write out their emotions and their fantasies, of varying degrees of appropriateness and disturbingness. If you don't believe me, just browse fanfiction.net. And when I say emotions and fantasies, I mean everything from silly teenage angst to creepy sexual fantasies and morbid imaginings. (No, I have not personally read any examples of the second category...but I've read synopses and the like.)

I was introducing a friend to this aspect of fanfiction, and she said, "well, I imagine a lot of girls just write it out, and get through their teen years that way." I hadn't really thought of that, and I think it's true. In fact, I think I can see it in my case. There was something about writing down my silliness that made me realize just how silly it was...and cured me of some of my more puerile emotions. (At least, that is my hope.) But then, there are definitely girls who just stew in it, and never grow up. Women over fourty writing this teeny-bopper angsty fiction still. It's sad, really.

And then there is slash, which is basically a foundation of fanfiction, and which is just gross. If you want a disquisition on slash, just contact me personally and I'll be happy to share a letter I once wrote about it. I mean, I have no question in my mind that it is morally abhorrent, but it has an insidious effect on non-slash fanfiction.

As usual I am rambling, rambling, rambling away, and not getting anywhere.

I think my primary point is not a fanfiction related one at all. As I said at the beginning, I have wasted lots of time on fanfiction--reading it, mostly--I am not ready to call my written ventures into it wasted. But I had to read a lot of it before I started to see some of the good and bad aspects of it, particularly on an emotional growth/maturity level. Yet, I think it was the process of learning and discovering those things that helped me to grow in maturity. So...when I have kids and they are teeny-bopper types, should I let them read fanfiction? Should I let them read the other puerile outpourings of other angsty teenager-types? It worked out for me...but did I waste too much time to figure it out? Working through lot of the the issues related to slash's effect on fanfiction as a whole helped me to understand things about true love, about marriage vs. friendship, and about useful vs. self-feeding emotion. Should someone have just told me? would that have been as effective for me? In a way, I could say, "All things work together for good to those who love God." But that is not the same thing as saying "whatever happens to you should happen again to other people.

It's a sticky issue, I guess. I suppose it's a good thing I don't have kids, yet, since I obviously have no answers. :-D

The Moon

2009-12-01T17:13:00.000-08:00

I love the moon. It once inspired me to write this weird and depressing poem:

The Face of Winter

I look into the icy opacity
To see the heartless light.
My soul is muffled under the warm blanket of sorrow.
It is vulnerable.
I do not want it to freeze in the sharp beams.
I remember the man with his garish smile--
Smiling at tragedy below.
I used to smile back.
But how I fear this day to meet his gaze!
A hesitant tilt of the eyes
Upward.
My gaze is fixed.
Perhaps his heart is not frozen,
For I see a wondrous sight.
The skeletal grin is forgotten--
In its place:
A face--
Lost in weeping.
A kindly visage--
Wrinkled in sorrow.
An eye--
Sparkling with ready tears.
Perhaps he is not blind.
He sees us here.
He sees the pain.
He hears the sobs.
And he feels.
He feels.
Perhaps Cyrano was right.
Maybe they are up there--
Socrates
Galileo
The great Gascon himself.
Maybe they told him--
It was not what it seemed.
The maidens in their beds
Had nightmares--
Phantom terrors of sleep.
The children were cold and huddled in their beds.
The fields of flowing silver were a front.
They painted death
On frosty blades of grass.
Maybe the exiles told him.
Maybe he discovered it himself.
But he is not smiling.
Maybe it is me.

Ah, teenage angst.

Anyway, I still feel that way about the moon sometimes, but not today.

It is winter, but tonight's moon is not cold, though I can't say that it is a warm moon. I was going to say that it was impersonal, but upon consideration, I would say rather that it is angelic. That is why it is neither warm nor cold. It is too perfectly untouched by humanity to be warm, but too wonderfully good to be cold. It is a full moon, but I could not imagine any werewolf transforming under its influence. When I first saw it, the sky was still a deep light blue--right before it becomes dark night blue. Today was a day of clouds and sky, and the clouds were a beautiful grey color. When the clouds moved across the moon it was beautiful, not creepy the way it sometimes is. I wish I could write a poem about the way the moon looked to me this evening.

I am thinking about writing about the moon for one of my final papers. I've been thinking about it, because it comes up in literature so much, and I have vague ideas about it, but I want to know more.

Before it was "In Western Lands"

2009-02-28T21:36:00.000-08:00

I was reading some of the History of The Lord of the Rings volumes. I was hoping they would help me with my paper, but unfortunately Christopher Tolkien is only really interested in the big picture changes that his father made to the books. Oh well.

Well, as I was reading the book, I came across the original version of "In Western Lands Beneath the Sun." Before I type it out, I will share the published version. I think it may be one of Tolkien's most beautiful poems:

In western lands beneath the Sun
the flowers may rise in Spring,
the trees may bud, the waters run,
the merry finches sing.
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night
and swaying beeches bear
the Elven-stars as jewels white
amid their branching hair.

Though here at journey's end I lie
in darkness buried deep,
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars forever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
nor bid the Stars farewell.

Beautiful, no?

Well, check out the original version:

I sit upon the stones alone;
the fire is burning red,
the tower is tall, the mountains dark;
all living things are dead.
In western lands the sun may shine,
the flower and tree in spring
is opening, is blossoming;
and there the finches sing.

But here I sit alone and think
of days when grass was green,
and earth was brown, and I was young:
they might have never been.
For they are gone, for ever lost,
and buried here I lie
and deep beneath the shadows sing
where hope and daylight die.

But still I sit and think of you;
I see you far away
Walking down the homely roads
on a bright and windy day.
It was merry then when I could run
to answer to your call,
could hear your voice or take your hand;
but now the night must fall.
And now beyond the world I sit,
and know not where you lie!
O Master, will you hear my voice
and answer ere we die?

For one thing, this reminds me of another beautiful Tolkien poem (this is a Tolkien poem extravaganza!...I think he writes beautifully wistful poetry), Bilbo's poem:

I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
that I have never seen:
in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.

I am very curious now as to which poem came first.

But all this was not what I was getting at. At first I got a kick out of the last line of the original "In western lands." (FYI: We're moving back to the second poem I typed). I thought it was very cutesy. In fact, I thought that the whole final stanza was very fan-fiction-y. (Fanfiction writers are free to take that as a complement or an insult. :-) ) But it suddenly struck me that it was reminiscent of the song in "The Black Bull of Norroway."

If you are a Tolkien fan "The Black Bull of Norroway" will ring a bell. I was actually a fan of that story before I read The Lord of the Rings. It's a fairy tale. But Tolkien ends his essay "On Fairie Stories" with the ending of the fairy tale because it provides a great example of Eucatastrophe. Here's the ending of the essay:

Far more powerful and poignant is the effect in a serious tale of Faerie. In such stories when the sudden "turn" comes we get a piercing glimpse of joy, and heart's desire, that for a moment passes outside the frame, rends indeed the very web of story, and lets a gleam come through.

"Seven long years I served for thee,
The glassy hill I clamb for thee,
The bluidy shirt I wrang for thee,
And wilt thou not wauken and turn to me?"

He heard and turned to her.

Anyway, (I love writing the absurdly long posts in which I say exactly one not-so-important thing!) I wonder if the original poem (again, second poem I typed) was in any way inspired by or affected by the Black Bull of Norroway? Of course, Sam's eucatastrophe didn't happen so instantaneously, but still it is similar:

"He ran to the figure huddled on the floor. It was Frodo."

Come on, it doesn't get much more eucatastrophic than that!

Well, that was a pointless post. To make it even more pointless, I shall add an unrelated picture. Goodnight.

Random Blatherings: If you read this, then you are the reeds to my Midas's barber.

2009-02-28T12:51:00.000-08:00

1. Adam Lambert was born to play the Rum Tum Tugger. Truly.

2. My dad is extremely handsome. If you don't believe me look here: http://www.reval.com/Pages/default.aspx

3. Labradoodles are not that dumb. Arthur Clennam Bonsell can identify every member of the family except my mom. I have no idea why he can't ID my mom, though.

4. C.S. Lewis cried when he read "The Choices of Master Samwise." I knew that he had good taste.

5. Yes, the title of this post is dumb and corny!

6. The Hunchback of Notre Dame may be one of Disney's most interesting movies. It is not, however, appropriate for children. What were they thinking?

7. Everything I ever argued about The Lord of the Rings was already said by...

...drumroll please...

...J.R.R. Tolkien in his letters. I'm not sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, that could mean that I am a very discerning and astute reader. On the other hand, WHAT A WASTE OF ENERGY!

8. My sister and I screamed while watching an American Idol performance. Yes...we did...more than once. We figure that every girl should do that once in her teeny-bopper-hood. Maybe we're both out of teeny-bopper-hood, but we saw the opportunity to fill in the gap in our respective life-experiences, and we took it.

Valedictory Address, May 2005

2008-11-17T21:38:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm coming to the end of my Undergraduate education--a scary thought. I decided to look back at my Valedictory address from high school. I thought it might inspire me as I write my personal statement for a Ph.D. program. It hasn't, but I enjoyed reading it anyway. I'm inspired for life, even though I haven't gotten any good writing ideas. Now I'm posting it on the-blog-that-no-one-reads. Yay!

When I began to thinking about writing a speech, I immediately panicked. What if I never thought of anything! But I remembered a question that I’ve been hearing a lot recently. “Are you excited about graduating?” That's a difficult question to answer. Every time someone asks, I begin to think. What does he mean? Am I relieved that I have managed to get through the first 13 years of my education? If I say yes, will the questioner think that I can't wait for it to end? On the other hand, maybe he’s asking if I am looking forward to the change. My classmates and I are coming to a milestone in our lives. We are taking a giant step away from childhood and toward adulthood. Am I eagerly anticipating it? When things like that are racing through my head, I don’t usually give a good answer. So I think the standard answer has been “yeah, sortof, I mean I want to go to college, but I don’t want to leave” or something to that effect. Well, now to all who were really interested, I have a fuller answer. I have thought long about both sides of this question, and you get to hear it all. The two directions of the question point to the two things I want to talk about. We, the class of 2005, are at a crossroads and it would be well for us to look behind and ahead.

Looking behind is not very hard. It seems like only a few days since Mrs. Olsen sat all of us in our seats in alphabetical order--although that rationale certainly did not occur to my kindergarten mind. I’ve been in school with you guys for the better part of 12 years, and they have been great years. I’ve gotten to know some of you quite well, and I hope we’ll all continue to be friends for many years to come. We have memories of squabbles in plenty, but also have memories of the joys of forgiving. It is only in a class like this that you can have an "inside joke" that doesn't exclude anyone (except probably the teacher). We laugh at the same things because of our shared experience. I can’t say that I’m looking forward to classes without “pun recognition” from Jussley or jokes about Josh’s hair and pointy ears. I don’t want to never hear Shawn say “ANNA SURBATOVICH” again. In fact, I might even miss your obscure facts, Sam! I know we’ll all miss each other to one degree or another, because we’ve become a lot like family.

But of course school is not only about making friends. When I look back at school I want to remember learning too. It seems that we often assume that learning is not cool. Many times when people ask if I am excited about finishing school I think that they are wondering if or even assuming that I want it to end. This attitude is ubiquitous. I have always been annoyed by the motto of “Brain Quest” “It’s okay to be smart.” Why should we need to be TOLD that it’s okay to be smart? Why do teachers make it into books and tv shows as sadistic villains (who have no greater pleasure than that of giving out detentions…)? I think this attitude is the result of peer pressure more than anything else. Most of the little children that I have met were very excited about school. Then in a few months they decided that they didn’t like it, and recess was their favorite subject, and lunch is their second favorite subject. But really, I don’t think many children would think that way on their own.

Not only is this dislike of schoolwork in many cases the result of peer pressure, it’s also not very sensible. Face it—if you’re not a senior (hehe) you’re stuck until the end. So you might as well enjoy it. We seem to have the “countdown mindset” starting from the beginning of the school year. Only 179 days to freedom! We’re almost there! I would encourage every TCS student to rethink this attitude. I can attest from experience that there is nothing that makes a class seem more interminable than peeking at the clock every thirty seconds. I remember once staying in for five minutes at recess in kindergarten. Andy Martin told me that he was going to count to sixty 5 times, and that would make it go faster. (We weren’t supposed to be talking…so go figure) But he was wrong. That was one of the longest five minutes in my life! Enjoy what you are given. It will only be worse if you refuse to like it.

But more importantly than the pragmatic reason for changing attitudes about learning are the biblical reasons. We don’t like school because of the work that it entails. We see it as a punishment, but it isn’t a bad thing. Adam worked in the Garden of Eden before he sinned. It is in God’s plan for us that we work. Many people in the world have recognized that. In Huxley’s futuristic Brave New World everyone had an eight hour workday. Everyone in that pleasure-centered society worked, even though it was unnecessary because they needed it to enjoy life contentedly. Man was created to do work, so he must work. Schoolwork, like other work is very good.

All the work in school is also a responsibility. It’s easy to think of the bad aspects of responsibility—the labour, the emotional stress. But responsibility is positive. Remember the parable of the talents. The master rewarded his righteous servants with more responsibility. Think of added duties in the light of what they mean as a step toward adulthood. I can be excited to think that when I get more homework, I'm given a trust, a vote of confidence. My teacher thinks that I am capable of a workload closer to that of my parents and other adults than to that of my first-grade brother! My little brother hardly does any homework, but he can't go any farther from home unaccompanied than the next-door neighbor’s yard. I, on the other hand, have plenty of homework, but in my free time I can drive myself to the County Library, or the mall (to practice saying “Like” repeatedly and meaninglessly.) Growing up is a trade-off. We have to lose our carefree childishness. But who would stay carefree, if he would never have the privileges of adulthood?

Schoolwork is not only a "vote of confidence." We are receiving the tools to help us appreciate many aspects of God’s glory as revealed in his creation. We are seeing the creativity he gave to man.

We get onerous reading assignments in our Western Thought and Great Books classes(esp WT). We groan and complain (a lot!). But imagine if there were no books for us to read? Imagine if we never experienced the thrill of knowing that we are hearing the thoughts of someone who died thousands of years ago. And sure, Shakespeare is difficult sometimes, but imagine if everything was expressed in the language of a textbook! I know that not everyone loves literature. But noone has to hate it.

We learn foreign languages. Maybe it's annoying to do all the homework, but that will help us to master the language and then we may have a whole new culture open to us. We can communicate with more people around us, and we can read more literature.

Studying philosophy isn't necessarily an esoteric useless exercise. For thousands of years men have been working to gain a deeper understanding of our world. Many people wonder who they are, and what they were put here to do. I used to wonder if all my life I was just dreaming and I might wake up some time and discover that I was someone else. I was very relieved when I learned that other people think about that too! As Christians we can be thankful for how much God has revealed in the Scriptures about our chief end. And as we think about love and justice and life and death we are not the first. So many people have thought about them and we are benefitted by learning from it.

Donald Whitney in 10 Spiritual Disciplines said "discipline without direction is drudgery." While he was speaking of the spiritual realm it is true in the realm of school. Schoolwork is not pointless. Our primary goal in life is to glorify God and to enjoy him forever. At school we learn more about God's creation and have our eyes opened to more of his infinite glory.

So there are many reasons why you can and should enjoy learning at school. We all think is "cool" to hate school, but I am sure that if we just think about it differently, we see what a privilege it is and enjoy it.

And for all of you looking forward to high school, and feeling a little bit nervous about it, I will now give my sage advice stemming from 17 long years of experience. I know that people have been telling you that it only gets tougher. I'm not going to deny this, but remember, you're getting more mature. Of course 9th graders get more homework than 8th graders. But 9th graders also have one year more of experience under their belts.

(I suppose you could say that what I have said so far is my "not really" answer to the question of whether I am excited about graduating. I am going to miss my experiences both of learning and spending time with you my class and all my teachers and all my other friends at school(lunch buddies and stuff).

That was our look back at this crossroads of life. Now, to my fellow graduates looking ahead. Am I excited about college? I truly am sad to think of leaving my school. You're like family to me. But I'm also very exited about growing up. I think we all are. We looked at our teachers in kindergarten with adoration. Somewhere in elementary school we began to think that maybe they were of the same species as us. We began to respect them as men and women. Now we see them not only as men and women to be respected, but also people we should emulate. We as students are suddenly faced with the reality that now our lives are changing and our choices will decide what type of men and women we become. I'll tell you you, I'm scared, and I doubt that I'm alone in this (the thought of our going into the real world probably fill our teachers with dread! Hehe) but I know that this is something I've always wanted. You might not know this (yeah, right) but I really like Sam Gamgee. I think it’s partly because he was a normal person who always imagined being heroic--someone who dreamed of doing great things. All my life (even before LotR) I loved to read books like Kidnapped, and Ivanhoe--stories about boys who went to sea and war and did heroic deeds. I dreamed, like Sam did, of being like them. I wanted people a hundred years from now to remember me, to read books that I had written and to laugh and cry over them. I still do. But I know that is an unlikely scenario. I know that in a valedictory address I'm supposed to say that you can be what you want to be, you can do it, just work hard… But we all know that not everyone fulfills his dreams of glory. In fact very few people do. If we all were heroes, then heroes would no longer be heroic. Besides, a common life is grand, too. A few days ago when we were all in Yosemite nat'l park I saw real mountains for the first time ever. They were inspiring in their grandeur--their shapes were unpredictable and exciting. I also saw the sea again last week. I’ve seen it many times, and in my opinion it is one of the most beautiful things in God’s creation. It beats against the shore endlessly. It has a regular tidal pattern. Its very regularity and predictability is what makes it so inspiring. The waves do not move very far, but they shape land. The sea could reshape the mountains if it had enough time. Our lives are more likely to be like the sea than like mountains. We will not tower above others, but in the routine of life we can mold and change others. Pursue your dreams, but be content with little ones. If at the end of your life the only people who think you are a hero are your children, you have still done well.

And so I come to the end. We've come to a crossroads. We're ending childhood and beginning adulthood. It is frightening but it's also exhilarating. I don't know what God has in store for me or any of us, but I know that all things will work for His glory, and the good of all of us who love Him. I don't want to say goodbye to any of you, so let us say as the French say "au revoir" (I always wanted to say that!) But in all seriousness, I am praying that this goodbye will be temporary. I am praying that we'll be able to one day have a final class reunion--and all of you will be there--and we'll never have to leave again.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

2008-06-29T21:24:00.000-07:00

So, I should be sleeping. I've had about three hours of sleep in the past 48 hours. But I'm still psyched from going to the ISI Honors Colloquium.

Psyched may be the wrong word. My adrenaline is still pumping, but I'm actually sad. I enjoyed my time so much, and I am not particularly looking forward to cleaning my room and doing normal stuff again. I told myself that all good things must come to an end, and then I started thinking about the truth or untruth of that pessimistic phrase.

First, Heaven will not end. The statement is obviously not unqualifiedly true. But on earth does it hold? I guess so.

I just decided that I am too tired to continue this "conversation." Suffice it to say that I think good things end while good continues. (Think Sam Gamgee and the star.)

Goodnight.

Professors

2008-05-27T21:19:00.000-07:00

Are there really professors out there who look like Dr. Henry Jones, Jr.? I wonder...

Mendelssohn's Elijah

2008-05-26T00:22:00.000-07:00

I really hate Romanticism as defined by C.S. Lewis in two senses. First: "'Romanticism' can...mean the indulgence in abnormal, and finally in anti-natural, moods. The macabre is 'romantic,' and so is an interest in torture and a love of death" (Lewis uses Tristan und Isolde as an example of this...stupid liebestod!) and Second: "Egoism and subjectivism are 'romantic.' In this sense the typically 'romantic' books are Werther and Rousseau's Confessions, and the works of Byron and Proust. (Lewis hates them too! I always knew he had good taste!)

However, I am always thinking about Romanticism. It has so defined our culture. Egoism and subjectivism are probably the most ubiquitous philosophies of our day (think self esteem, or those literature classes where everyone said "well, I feel that what really matters in this poem is..." and then ended with their favorite random pet topic...) It's defined what we think of as good poetry, or really as poetry at all.

Maybe I'm always thinking about it because I'm always thinking about Milton. The three longest papers that I've written since starting school were about Milton.

Anyway, this all has nothing (or very little) to do with Mendelssohn's Elijah, except that the oratorio was written in the Romantic era, musically speaking.

Almost all the words in Elijah are taken directly from the Bible. I noticed recently that Elijah says such things as "As God the Lord of Israel liveth, before whom I stand, there shall not be dew nor rain these years but according to my word." Sort of interesting, because it seems to put the responsibility on Elijah--God obviously is the ultimate source of the power, but Elijah is the one choosing whether or not to use it. Later, when he prays to God to send fire from heaven, he says "This day let it be known that thou art the Lord and that I am thy servant...that I have done these things according to thy word." At another time when he asks God to let him die, he says "I have been very jealous for the Lord [but] the children of Israel have broken thy covenant..." Anyway, it just seems to me that there is a lot about Elijah himself. Elijah wants God to vindicate not only Himself, but also Elijah. Maybe I just don't know the prophets well enough, but I don't believe that the focus on self-vindication is so prominent in others.

And here we come to the point: Elijah is an IDEAL character for a Romantic work of art. If you had to write an oratorio, I could not think of a better man!

That's all.

Reason to go to College?

2008-05-25T23:59:00.000-07:00

I recently was on the website for the University of Central Missouri. What did I find on said website? A picture of David Cook!

So, what they want all prospective students going onto the website to think is this:

GO TO UNIVERSITY OF CENTRAL MISSOURI AND YOU COULD BE THE NEXT AMERICAN IDOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Right...

David Cook got his degree in Graphic Arts Technology Management (whatever that is) not music, so I'm afraid his Alma Mater cannot take any responsibility.

http://www.ucmo.edu/

And, I'm sure you are all wondering, "How does this post fulfil the stated purpose of this blog, to showcase random and sporadic literature, philosophy, and opera musings?" I'll tell you.

In Logic (which is required for many philosophy degrees, and which furthermore was developed by many famous philosophers including Ockham and Duns Scotus and Bertrand Russel and many many more) we learned about the Appeal to Authority as an inductive argument. One of the questions we had to as was "Is the person really an authority on the subject?" Hence, my exposition of the university's bad appeal to authority is in fact an application of Logic!

And you thought I had lost my mind!

Sublimity

2008-05-12T21:06:00.001-07:00

Over the past week I read over three hundred pages of eighteenth century writing on the sublime. It was actually quite fascinating...I was writing a paper explaining how Percy Shelley managed to say that Satan was a hero in Paradise Lost, and it had everything to do with the sublime. It also make me want to read more of Edmund Burke. He seems like a very interesting character.

The reason I am blogging about this, however, is to share two very interesting quotes.

1: "Nature hath rendered passions, wheresoever strongly marked, catching"
2: "To be remarkable for nothing is not to be at all; and less eligible than to be remarkably a blockhead"

Maybe I'm too tired, but I thought these were both very funny.

The Symphony

2008-02-17T19:27:00.000-08:00

I just read Moby Dick. Herman Melville is, in my opinion, one of the most poetic prose writers in English language literature. He is like a cross between John Milton and Charles Dickens. He also reminds me a lot of one of my other favorite authors--John Steinbeck. There are so many absolutely gorgeous passages in Moby Dick, but I just had to post this one. It is my favorite chapter. [Disclaimer: Starbuck is my favorite character, which is part of the reason it is my favorite chapter...but then who else could be my favorite?] So, without further ado, "Symphony":

CHAPTER 132

The Symphony

It was a clear steel-blue day. The firmaments of air and sea were hardly separable in that all-pervading azure; only, the pensive air was transparently pure and soft, with a woman's look, and the robust and man-like sea heaved with long, strong, lingering swells, as Samson's chest in his sleep.

Hither, and thither, on high, glided the snow-white wings of small, unspeckled birds; these were the gentle thoughts of the feminine air; but to and fro in the deeps, far down in the bottomless blue, rushed mighty leviathans, sword-fish, and sharks; and these were the strong, troubled, murderous thinkings of the masculine sea.

But though thus contrasting within, the contrast was only in shades and shadows without; those two seemed one; it was only the sex, as it were, that distinguished them.

Aloft, like a royal czar and king, the sun seemed giving this gentle air to this bold and rolling sea; even as bride to groom. And at the girdling line of the horizon, a soft and tremulous motion- most seen here at the Equator- denoted the fond, throbbing trust, the loving alarms, with which the poor bride gave her bosom away.

Tied up and twisted; gnarled and knotted with wrinkles; haggardly firm and unyielding; his eyes glowing like coals, that still glow in the ashes of ruin; untottering Ahab stood forth in the clearness of the morn; lifting his splintered helmet of a brow to the fair girl's forehead of heaven.

Oh, immortal infancy, and innocency of the azure! Invisible winged creatures that frolic all round us! Sweet childhood of air and sky! how oblivious were ye of old Ahab's close-coiled woe! But so have I seen little Miriam and Martha, laughing-eyed elves, heedlessly gambol around their old sire; sporting with the circle of singed locks which grew on the marge of that burnt-out crater of his brain.

Slowly crossing the deck from the scuttle, Ahab leaned over the side and watched how his shadow in the water sank and sank to his gaze, the more and the more that he strove to pierce the profundity. But the lovely aromas in that enchanted air did at last seem to dispel, for a moment, the cankerous thing in his soul. That glad, happy air, that winsome sky, did at last stroke and caress him; the step-mother world, so long cruel- forbidding- now threw affectionate arms round his stubborn neck, and did seem to joyously sob over him, as if over one, that however wilful and erring, she could yet find it in her heart to save and to bless. From beneath his slouched hat Ahab dropped a tear into the sea; nor did all the Pacific contain such wealth as that one wee drop.

Starbuck saw the old man; saw him, how he heavily leaned over the side; and he seemed to hear in his own true heart the measureless sobbing that stole out of the centre of the serenity around. Careful not to touch him, or be noticed by him, he yet drew near to him, and stood there.

Ahab turned.

"Starbuck!"

"Sir."

"Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such a day- very much such a sweetness as this- I struck my first whale- a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty- forty- forty years ago!- ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain's exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without- oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!- when I think of all this; only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before- and how for forty years I have fed upon dry salted fare- fit emblem of the dry nourishment of my soul!- when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily hand, and broken the world's fresh bread to my mouldy crusts- away, whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage pillow- wife? wife?- rather a widow with her husband alive? Aye, I widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly chased his prey- more a demon than a man!- aye, aye! what a forty years' fool- fool- old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase? why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance? how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God!- crack my heart!- stave my brain!- mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearthstone! this is the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no; stay on board, on board!- lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with the far away home I see in that eye!"

"Oh, my Captain! my Captain! noble soul! grand old heart, after all! why should any one give chase to that hated fish! Away with me! let us fly these deadly waters! let us home! Wife and child, too, are Starbuck's- wife and child of his brotherly, sisterly, play-fellow youth; even as thine, sir, are the wife and child of thy loving, longing, paternal old age! Away! let us away!- this instant let me alter the course! How cheerily, how hilariously, O my Captain, would we bowl on our way to see old Nantucket again! I think, sir, they have some such mild blue days, even as this, in Nantucket."

"They have, they have. I have seen them- some summer days in the morning. About this time- yes, it is his noon nap now- the boy vivaciously wakes; sits up in bed; and his mother tells him of me, of cannibal old me; how I am abroad upon the deep, but will yet come back to dance him again."

"'Tis my Mary, my Mary herself! She promised that my boy, every morning, should be carried to the hill to catch the first glimpse of his father's sail! Yes, yes! no more! it is done! we head for Nantucket! Come, my Captain, study out the course, and let us away! See, see! the boy's face from the window! the boy's hand on the hill!"

But Ahab's glance was averted; like a blighted fruit tree he shook, and cast his last, cindered apple to the soil.

"What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. And all the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea! Look! see yon Albicore! who put it into him to chase and fang that flying-fish? Where do murderers go, man! Who's to doom, when the judge himself is dragged to the bar? But it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky; and the airs smells now, as if it blew from a far-away meadow; they have been making hay somewhere under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and the mowers are sleeping among the new-mown hay. Sleeping? Aye, toil we how we may, we all sleep at last on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amid greenness; as last year's scythes flung down, and left in the half-cut swarths- Starbuck!"

But blanched to a corpse's hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away.

Ahab crossed the deck to gaze over on the other side; but started at two reflected, fixed eyes in the water there, Fedallah was motionlessly leaning over the same rail.

Animated Lord of the Rings

2007-06-24T23:42:00.000-07:00

I've recently been reading a bunch of hysterical critiques of Bakshi's Lord of the Rings and the Rankin/Bass Return of the King. I loved the reviews because they pointed out all the idiosyncratic and idiotic elements of the movies, that my sister and I have been laughing at for the past ten years. I do have a soft spot in my heart for them, however. Farmor showed them to us when I was 8, and I was so enthralled that I tracked down the trilogy (hiding in Daddy's garage) and read it in a week (and then read it again). So, I had to think of something good about them, and here it is:

The Rankin/Bass Return of the King is filled with sappy songs that can be quite annoying. One that comes up more than once is "It's so easy not to try / let the world go drifting by. / If you never say hello, / you won't have to say goodbye." Silly. Sappy. Sorry.

HOWEVER

I think that this song alone gets closer to the heart of Tolkien's trilogy than anything Jackson made. Peter Jackson got so excited about the special effects and action, that he lost the beautiful wistfulness of the books. Tolkien is always talking about beauty passing away and being lost. Elf women give up their immortality, and Frodo Baggins give up the Shire that he suffered to protect. Yet Tolkien shows that it is better to have these beautiful things and lose them, than it is to just protect yourself.

This reminds me of a quote by C.S. Lewis: "Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

Lewis states eloquently what Tolkien showed in his book: To love is to be vulnerable, but obviously worth it. Rankin/Bass's song may not have been very eloquent. The movie may have missed plot details and hopelessly confused what it added. But it made the same point, through the song, and the bits of the Sam/Frodo story that they portrayed (admittedly, they did not preserve the point in the other half of the story as well, but then Sam and Frodo get the most screen time in this movie).

Doesn't that make the movie seem so much nicer!

Die Walkure

2007-06-16T22:04:00.000-07:00

I learned last year that I liked Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg. I borrowed a DVD of it purely because Sir Thomas Allen was singing Beckmesser, and I love his voice. Well, I didn't just suffer through to hear him sing, instead I discovered a wonderful, dramatic, and even humorous opera. When I had to listen to Tristan und Isolde in Opera class, I decided that Meistersinger was a fluke. But I got the whole Ring trilogy out from the library, and I love it! Firstly, the music is beautiful. I don't think I'll be singing along to it, but it is very emotional and dramatic. Secondly, the story is interesting. No, it isn't LotR, and never for a minute with I believe that Tolkien copied from Wagner. But the story is interesting. I really REALLY need to get to reading more Norse mythology (and find out what Wagner did to it). And finally, it's just amazing to watch men and women singing Wagner!

In Die Walkure, Wotan's farewell to Brunnhilde is so very beautiful and moving!

But I have to read more about these operas. I think I may become a fan of BOTH ring cycles!

Inaugural Post

2007-06-14T23:48:00.000-07:00

So, I decided to randomly start a blog. I think I'll just put the stuff I'm thinking about on it.

Right now I'm reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time in several years. The thing that I'm noticing the most this time through is its wistful quality and its bittersweetness. So much of the book revolves around the idea that there must always be suffering to gain something worthwhile. Much is made of preserving innocence. For example, Aragorn says (speaking of the hobbits), "If simple folk are free from care and fear, simple they will be, and we must be secret to keep them so." Aragorn fights for them to stay simple, but I think that Tolkien leads the reader to the conclusion that it is better to have care and fear if that is the only way one can see the beauties of the world. More on this later, though, because I think the development of the four hobbits, and especially of Sam, is important here. I want to reread the whole book before I begin blathering.

This theme is also found in Paradise Lost. There is bittersweetness at the end of Paradies Lost, for even if Adam and Eve are leaving the Eden, they are walking hand in hand into the greatest story of all: the story of Redemption. (Tolkien would call it the ultimate, and most beautiful myth--the true myth.) Anyway, Milton says he wants to justify the ways of God to man. How does he do this? My most recent thought on the matter is that Milton's justification is Paradise Lost itself--he can write this poem only because of the fall.

When I was a little girl, I worried about Heaven. Did I really want to go there if there could be no books? I love books and reading, but there is always sin in them, for without evil there can be no real conflict or satisfying resolution. I worried about this for so long. But the answer was always right there if I could only have seen it. A song we used to sing in Sunday School was "I love to tell the story," the refrain of which runs, "I love to tell the story, 'twill be my theme in glory: to tell the old, old story of Jesus and his love." Of course there will be stories in Heaven, for we all will have our personal stories of Jesus' love and then the "old, old story" of his death on the cross. And of course there will be sin in them, for it is the sin itself that makes the story possible.

And that is how Milton uses his poem as a justification: without the fall, there would be no Paradise Lost, and no redemption.

It seems as if this is the most simple answer to the question of evil. Evil is obviously a tool for God's glory, for it is an opportunity for God to manifest his love and mercy. Yet it is such a simplistic answer, that I must be missing something.

Did I just go from LotR to the problem of evil? I wonder if Tolkien had that in mind? I see it there, though...among many other things. The other things will have to wait because I want to read more!