Dear Husband is here! He, Youngest Brother, Buttermilk and Father-in-Law all got here on Saturday, to my great joy with all of our things, and our house is beginning to look like a home. With DH here, it's beginning to feel like a home, too. And I cannot even begin to express what a help our family was (and I cannot leave out Eldest Brother, either, who drove Youngest Brother and Buttermilk down to Tennessee and helped load the truck or Mother-in-Law, who helped DH finish packing the house).
So now, to quote Maureen O'Hara in The Quiet Man, my things are about me, DH is sitting back on the couch reading at the moment, taking a well deserved break, and I'm updating my blog. And even Bergie is starting to emerge. I think once furniture came in and DH arrived, he realized that we might be staying here a while and he wasn't going to have to go back in the car again. That has not stopped midnight yowling (I think he's getting lost in the house again).
And today, we are getting things taken care of here at the house. The dryer hookup is now working, smoke detectors have been installed, the window that needed replaced is being fixed right now, and we are going to go get a clothes rod for the closet later, as well as some new pegs for the bookshelves and clamps for the dryer vent. In the meantime, we've been unloading books on to bookshelves that have pegs, and we may go out to the beach this afternoon now that the weather has cleared up.
But life is good! Classes are going well. I'm especially enjoying my American Literature class right now, and our day exploring Anne Bradstreet's poetry went very well this week. My students really enjoyed Bradstreet's poem on Queen Elizabeth. I've taught my poetry explication lesson three times in the last few weeks, though not with "Bohemian Rhapsody" the way I normally would in a typical literature survey, but it's seemed to have gone over well. My 1301 students are finishing up their resume and cover letter assignments this week and rolling right into their review assignments; they'll even be reading some of the book reviews I've posted to this blog in the past. I fully expect some of them to poke around the blog as a whole a bit, particularly since we're going to be talking about blogging as a genre of writing this week too. (Hi, students!)
My 1302 classes are going to be writing about identity for their first paper, which I'm also introducing this week, and I'm excited to be working on poetry with them next week too. We'll be reading Whitman, Gwendolen Brooks, T.S. Eliot, Adrienne Rich, and a poem that's one of my new favorites, Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Woman." I'd actually never read the poem until a friend linked it after Angelou died a few months ago, but it's such a wonderful poem, and when I first conceived of this assignment, I knew I had to use it, so I'm supplementing the book with the poem.
Our department has added two new committees this semester, so I've signed up for one to begin my institutional service to the college. The Departmental Development Committee is designed to put together department colloquia, professional development, oversee travel funds, as well as put together social events, etc. It's an opportunity I'm really interested in. One thing I really learned to appreciate at MTSU was the wide variety of professional development seminars that the department offered. It was always a good way to glean new ideas for classes and a way to help keep up with new research, particularly in teaching composition, which is really important if your area of expertise is more literature-based than composition and rhetoric-based. It's not the only committee I'm a part of--people who teach 1301 and 1302 are automatically on the 1301/1302 committee, and the same goes for the sophomore lit committee (which is almost everyone in the department for both, I think), but the development committee is one that I've signed up to take a really active role in. I've offered my services to take an active role in the 1301/1302 committee too, though, particularly as we approach the 1302 assessment, as I'm familiar with the 1020 assessment process that MTSU goes through every year.
I'm already going to be signing up for classes next week! I meet with our asst. dept. chair on Wednesday to sign up for spring 2015 classes. I do know that next fall, I'll be teaching Mexican-American literature, as I've been put on rotation for that, which I'm very excited about. I think it will be a really awesome learning experience. SV is teaching it this spring, and I'm going to ask her if I might sit in on her class once in a while this spring, just to get an idea of how she teaches it.
I am making some friends among my colleagues. KR invited me and DH to church with her family, and we will likely be taking her up on that offer, as she is also Episcopalian. I've continued to find the atmosphere in my department very collegial, and I can't tell you how very patient everyone has been helping me adjust. I can't tell you how many times a week I pop my head into the office next door to ask a question, and after our department meeting yesterday morning, KR had to explain some Texas state laws that mean I have to have my vita online for students to check out. And I still need to ask the developmental education coordinator, to explain to me how dev ed works in Texas!
So there's lots left that I need to learn, and that's making things challenging here and there, but I feel like things are starting to pull together. Having Labor Day off put me a bit behind, but I've caught up, and having DH here makes everything better. Full-time academia is an adjustment, for sure, but I feel like I'm getting into the swing of things.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Friday, August 29, 2014
The Exhausted Academic: Week 2
I feel whiny, and I shouldn't, because as tired as I am, I know that Dear Husband and dear in-laws are much, much more tired than I am as they finish up the house and get on the road to Corpus Christi today. But as I told DH today, when they get here tomorrow, we will put the beds and the couch in the house. Everything else can go in the garage and get dealt with later. I am going to take Youngest Brother and Buttermilk (his wife) to the beach, either tomorrow afternoon or Sunday, depending on when they get here. And unpacking can go as it needs to. YB and Buttermilk leave Monday morning and Father-in-Law leaves Tuesday morning. I'm off Monday, and we can take things at a leisurely pace.
At the moment, I'm sitting in my office. We don't really have classes on Friday, and I think I might be the only one holding office hours on Friday morning, to be honest, but it's a good time to come in and work. I've done a little bit of grading this morning and gotten my paper gradebook set up, as I keep both a paper and digital copy. (Backup. Always have a backup.) It's been raining this morning for the first time since I got here, rain that's badly needed.
Part of being tired, I think, has been the sudden adjustment to teaching five classes. Part of that, I'm sure, has been because I've had the last year as a dissertation fellow, and I've not been teaching, but before that, the most I'd ever had in one semester was three classes, so I begin to understand why during the interview process, there was always concern in the voices of the committee when they asked how many classes I'd ever taught at one time. I'd been confused before, but I'm starting to understand why it's a legitimate concern, and I'm definitely starting to appreciate all of the full-time temporary faculty at MTSU who also teach 5/5 course loads a little more. I only have 3 course preps, but it is going to be a lot of grading. (I've managed to space it out so the only time all five classes will have something due at the same time is going to be at midterms and finals. I have no idea how I've managed that. Pure dumb luck, I think.)
A friend of mine posted an article on working 40 hours a week in academia, and I'm trying to keep that in mind. As much grading and planning as I can do in my office, I will. I want my home time to be home time and to separate work and home as much as possible. I know that's not always going to be possible, particularly around midterms and finals, but I think it's a delineation that needs to be made and it's important. (And for those who like to snip at academics and say "Well, you only work nine months out of the year." One, that's not entirely true, and two, I only get paid for working those nine months. If I teach during the summer, I get paid for working in the summer.) At the same time, I tell my students that I will try to have all of their assignments back within a week of receiving them. This is my first semester teaching five classes. We'll find out if that's feasible, but Del Mar uses a program called Canvas for online learning, rather than Blackboard or Desire2Learn (and oh my gosh, guys, this program is amazing. All the capabilities we wished Blackboard or D2L had? Canvas has.). Canvas has a feature called SpeedGrader, so I've been able to upload my rubric online to the assignment sheets. I haven't tried it out yet, but I will in a couple of weeks when my 1301 class (Composition I) turns in their resumes and cover letters. Canvas even keeps track of your attendance, lets you calculate how much of an absence a tardy is worth, etc.!
I think another part of being tired has been that I'm homesick. Not for Tennessee, but for Kentucky. I was never really homesick when I moved to Tennessee, but I think that's because it wasn't far to get home, and I was always able to just pop home for the weekend. That's really no longer an option, and Christmas will be the next time we get home. Mom got some reasonably disturbing news from the doctor this week, and I can't go home and look at her face, as my Gran would say. But I think when DH gets here, that will get better too.
And I am enjoying Corpus Christi quite a bit. There are always little discoveries to be made, I think, when you move someplace. I live near the Naval Air Station, so on my way to work in the morning, I've been seeing fighter jets flying back and forth, low over the city. It's no wonder people used to think that they were UFOs. There's something oddly eerie about the way they fly in such a perfectly straight line across the sky. I also saw a plane with a radar on it that I think may have come from the National Weather Service station, since it was very low over the city and seemed to come from the direction of the airport, rather than the naval station. On my way home, I've been seeing people kite-sailing in the laguna, which is an entirely new concept to me, and really neat to watch. I went out to the beach this weekend and watched ghost crabs dig their holes in the sand, which entertained me most of the morning.
By this time next week, DH should be here. I will have my things about me. The semester should be in full swing, and ML, the member of the janitorial staff assigned to our building, will hopefully not have to greet me every morning with "Today is ------, Miss Emily," because I've forgotten what day it is again! And Bergie, I really hope, will actually stop hiding most of the time. And by then, I'm sure I'll have some more new insights on being a full-time faculty member for the first time. Until then.
At the moment, I'm sitting in my office. We don't really have classes on Friday, and I think I might be the only one holding office hours on Friday morning, to be honest, but it's a good time to come in and work. I've done a little bit of grading this morning and gotten my paper gradebook set up, as I keep both a paper and digital copy. (Backup. Always have a backup.) It's been raining this morning for the first time since I got here, rain that's badly needed.
Part of being tired, I think, has been the sudden adjustment to teaching five classes. Part of that, I'm sure, has been because I've had the last year as a dissertation fellow, and I've not been teaching, but before that, the most I'd ever had in one semester was three classes, so I begin to understand why during the interview process, there was always concern in the voices of the committee when they asked how many classes I'd ever taught at one time. I'd been confused before, but I'm starting to understand why it's a legitimate concern, and I'm definitely starting to appreciate all of the full-time temporary faculty at MTSU who also teach 5/5 course loads a little more. I only have 3 course preps, but it is going to be a lot of grading. (I've managed to space it out so the only time all five classes will have something due at the same time is going to be at midterms and finals. I have no idea how I've managed that. Pure dumb luck, I think.)
A friend of mine posted an article on working 40 hours a week in academia, and I'm trying to keep that in mind. As much grading and planning as I can do in my office, I will. I want my home time to be home time and to separate work and home as much as possible. I know that's not always going to be possible, particularly around midterms and finals, but I think it's a delineation that needs to be made and it's important. (And for those who like to snip at academics and say "Well, you only work nine months out of the year." One, that's not entirely true, and two, I only get paid for working those nine months. If I teach during the summer, I get paid for working in the summer.) At the same time, I tell my students that I will try to have all of their assignments back within a week of receiving them. This is my first semester teaching five classes. We'll find out if that's feasible, but Del Mar uses a program called Canvas for online learning, rather than Blackboard or Desire2Learn (and oh my gosh, guys, this program is amazing. All the capabilities we wished Blackboard or D2L had? Canvas has.). Canvas has a feature called SpeedGrader, so I've been able to upload my rubric online to the assignment sheets. I haven't tried it out yet, but I will in a couple of weeks when my 1301 class (Composition I) turns in their resumes and cover letters. Canvas even keeps track of your attendance, lets you calculate how much of an absence a tardy is worth, etc.!
I think another part of being tired has been that I'm homesick. Not for Tennessee, but for Kentucky. I was never really homesick when I moved to Tennessee, but I think that's because it wasn't far to get home, and I was always able to just pop home for the weekend. That's really no longer an option, and Christmas will be the next time we get home. Mom got some reasonably disturbing news from the doctor this week, and I can't go home and look at her face, as my Gran would say. But I think when DH gets here, that will get better too.
And I am enjoying Corpus Christi quite a bit. There are always little discoveries to be made, I think, when you move someplace. I live near the Naval Air Station, so on my way to work in the morning, I've been seeing fighter jets flying back and forth, low over the city. It's no wonder people used to think that they were UFOs. There's something oddly eerie about the way they fly in such a perfectly straight line across the sky. I also saw a plane with a radar on it that I think may have come from the National Weather Service station, since it was very low over the city and seemed to come from the direction of the airport, rather than the naval station. On my way home, I've been seeing people kite-sailing in the laguna, which is an entirely new concept to me, and really neat to watch. I went out to the beach this weekend and watched ghost crabs dig their holes in the sand, which entertained me most of the morning.
By this time next week, DH should be here. I will have my things about me. The semester should be in full swing, and ML, the member of the janitorial staff assigned to our building, will hopefully not have to greet me every morning with "Today is ------, Miss Emily," because I've forgotten what day it is again! And Bergie, I really hope, will actually stop hiding most of the time. And by then, I'm sure I'll have some more new insights on being a full-time faculty member for the first time. Until then.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Paging Dr. Stewart, Paging Dr. Stewart: Week 1
I'm at the end of my first week in Corpus Christi and at the end of my first week as an assistant professor of English. This first week has primarily been orientation, professional development, and meetings--in-service type things, but it's given me an opportunity to get to know campus and my colleagues.
I love it.
I told Dear Husband several months ago that I felt like God had given us work to do in Murfreesboro, but that it was drawing to an end. When I visited Del Mar, I came home and told him that I felt like God had work for us to do here. The more I discover about the community here, the more I feel like that's true. Corpus Christi has a population of approximately 300,000 people and a poverty rate of around 50%. While I'd been offered a position at a 4-year college, with every day I spend here, I become more convinced that this was the right decision, and while there have been a few small bumps, the smoothness with which this has all come together has only served to underscore this feeling.
We have a delightful provost who is excited about the community and encouraging about new ideas. He's trying out a new idea with those of us who were just hired--a first-year faculty experience, much like what freshmen would have, but for us to come together and bring new ideas to the table as fresh eyes who are looking at Del Mar for the first time. There may not be a lot of money, but he's ready to try new ideas and figure out how to make them work. That's so encouraging as a faculty member to hear. The president of the college attended Del Mar himself, was raised a mile down the road, and his father's shop is still only a few miles from the college. There are deep ties to the community in the administration of the college. And there doesn't seem to be the burgeoning administrative bureaucracy that I've seen at so many other places. Del Mar is a college with deep roots in the community, and as such is very respected by the community.
More than that, I think this place in general is going to be good for us. We have a beautiful house that we're renting that's just been remodeled--we have a Texas red grapefruit tree in the backyard! We're two minutes from the intracoastal waterway, so you can smell saltwater from our house, and about fifteen miles from Padre Island National Seashore, which is where I went this morning. There's something soothing and healing about the ocean, I think.
Note: I will not, under any circumstances become an Astros or Rangers fan.
------------------------------------------------
I truly am going to try to keep this blog updated more often. I'll be quite honest, I'd been put off keeping it updated last year after some rather unhappy people read my post on The Care and Feeding of Your Depressive and said some very nasty things, including saying that DH should leave me, that I should pick my own self up and go because modern psychiatry does nothing, I shouldn't depend on depression medication, that I was fat and therefore ugly, I had no discipline, I would never finish my dissertation, etc.
So I am happy to say that I finished my dissertation, graduated with my Ph.D., secured a tenure-track job as an assistant professor, have been diagnosed correctly with the help of my nurse practitioner and am on new medication which has effectively returned me to normal, I've lost thirty pounds, and my marriage is stronger than ever.
Therefore, American Recordings and Johnny Cash would like to acknowledge the Nashville music establishment and country music radio for your support.
See you guys next week.
I love it.
I told Dear Husband several months ago that I felt like God had given us work to do in Murfreesboro, but that it was drawing to an end. When I visited Del Mar, I came home and told him that I felt like God had work for us to do here. The more I discover about the community here, the more I feel like that's true. Corpus Christi has a population of approximately 300,000 people and a poverty rate of around 50%. While I'd been offered a position at a 4-year college, with every day I spend here, I become more convinced that this was the right decision, and while there have been a few small bumps, the smoothness with which this has all come together has only served to underscore this feeling.
We have a delightful provost who is excited about the community and encouraging about new ideas. He's trying out a new idea with those of us who were just hired--a first-year faculty experience, much like what freshmen would have, but for us to come together and bring new ideas to the table as fresh eyes who are looking at Del Mar for the first time. There may not be a lot of money, but he's ready to try new ideas and figure out how to make them work. That's so encouraging as a faculty member to hear. The president of the college attended Del Mar himself, was raised a mile down the road, and his father's shop is still only a few miles from the college. There are deep ties to the community in the administration of the college. And there doesn't seem to be the burgeoning administrative bureaucracy that I've seen at so many other places. Del Mar is a college with deep roots in the community, and as such is very respected by the community.
More than that, I think this place in general is going to be good for us. We have a beautiful house that we're renting that's just been remodeled--we have a Texas red grapefruit tree in the backyard! We're two minutes from the intracoastal waterway, so you can smell saltwater from our house, and about fifteen miles from Padre Island National Seashore, which is where I went this morning. There's something soothing and healing about the ocean, I think.
Note: I will not, under any circumstances become an Astros or Rangers fan.
------------------------------------------------
I truly am going to try to keep this blog updated more often. I'll be quite honest, I'd been put off keeping it updated last year after some rather unhappy people read my post on The Care and Feeding of Your Depressive and said some very nasty things, including saying that DH should leave me, that I should pick my own self up and go because modern psychiatry does nothing, I shouldn't depend on depression medication, that I was fat and therefore ugly, I had no discipline, I would never finish my dissertation, etc.
So I am happy to say that I finished my dissertation, graduated with my Ph.D., secured a tenure-track job as an assistant professor, have been diagnosed correctly with the help of my nurse practitioner and am on new medication which has effectively returned me to normal, I've lost thirty pounds, and my marriage is stronger than ever.
Therefore, American Recordings and Johnny Cash would like to acknowledge the Nashville music establishment and country music radio for your support.
See you guys next week.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Twelve days to graduation and counting...
The dissertation is defended and turned in. I have taken the entire month of April off to do basically...nothing, other than search for jobs. I'd laughed about taking the time to read whatever I wanted once I finished my dissertation, but to be honest, I've read astonishingly little and watched a whole lot of Netflix. I finally watched the seasons of Eureka that I missed, all of Leverage, and now I'm watching Fringe.
It's storming today. I was planning on having a lie-in this morning, since come May 1st, I intend to get back on a semblance of a regular schedule and back to some kind of actual academic work, but the thunder rumbled loudly enough that it scared Bergie into crawling under the covers, which he never does. That scared me awake, because there was something under the covers touching my feet and it was moving, which then frightened Bergie, and after that, I was awake. But I got up and checked the weather, and there wasn't even so much as a severe thunderstorm watch, and I shook it off and figured I'd take a nap later.
But I was amused with myself this morning as I poured my coffee, because when did I get so blase about storms? At this point, there has to be at least a tornado watch before I even start getting worked up about things, whereas I used to start panicking at the very thought of possible tornadoes. Now I just get pissed off because it usually means I've had a migraine until the barometric pressure dropped.
And it finally occurred to me. This is what living in Tennessee has done to me (for as anathema as it is for a Kentuckian to move to Tennessee. The only thing that might have been worse would have been moving to....Indiana.) It's been almost five years, and I'm graduating with a doctorate in English literature. I remember having a conversation with Dear Husband at one point--would I ever feel any different, or any smarter--when would things change? When would I feel like a different person? And it's only when I compare myself to five years ago when I came here that I'm starting to realize that I am. Maybe not new, but hopefully improved?
There are parts of this process that have completely, utterly sucked. Graduate school has seen me at the emotionally lowest parts of my life. It's seen me depressed, angry, bitter, self-loathing, hating myself and everyone around me, convinced that I could not do this thing I had set out to do and ready to give up in more ways than one. And yet--through late night phone calls, hugs, promises, neck rubs, talking it out, helping reprioritize, taking me to the doctor, quitting a job far away and coming home because I needed him to, holding on and not letting go, checking noises downstairs in the dark, cooking and ironing and cleaning the litter boxes, I've been able to do it, because of this--this great tree of a man, who stands tall and solid and straight, with roots so deep he'll never be shaken and with branches that reach out and shelter and protect. My husband is a great oak tree, full of life and vitality, steady and strong, and if there is one thing I have learned in the last five years, I hope that it has been to appreciate him the way he deserves.
It's storming today. I was planning on having a lie-in this morning, since come May 1st, I intend to get back on a semblance of a regular schedule and back to some kind of actual academic work, but the thunder rumbled loudly enough that it scared Bergie into crawling under the covers, which he never does. That scared me awake, because there was something under the covers touching my feet and it was moving, which then frightened Bergie, and after that, I was awake. But I got up and checked the weather, and there wasn't even so much as a severe thunderstorm watch, and I shook it off and figured I'd take a nap later.
But I was amused with myself this morning as I poured my coffee, because when did I get so blase about storms? At this point, there has to be at least a tornado watch before I even start getting worked up about things, whereas I used to start panicking at the very thought of possible tornadoes. Now I just get pissed off because it usually means I've had a migraine until the barometric pressure dropped.
And it finally occurred to me. This is what living in Tennessee has done to me (for as anathema as it is for a Kentuckian to move to Tennessee. The only thing that might have been worse would have been moving to....Indiana.) It's been almost five years, and I'm graduating with a doctorate in English literature. I remember having a conversation with Dear Husband at one point--would I ever feel any different, or any smarter--when would things change? When would I feel like a different person? And it's only when I compare myself to five years ago when I came here that I'm starting to realize that I am. Maybe not new, but hopefully improved?
- I don't flip out at storms quite so badly anymore. I still watch the radar, but that's because it's fun, and I like weather. (I think I'd have been a meteorologist in another life.) After living through the floods and spending a night in the bathtub my first year here? I'm generally okay unless the wind gets really bad.
- I really hope I don't have quite the chip on my shoulder that I had when I got here.
- I'm excited about teaching again.
- I've learned to be candid and open about having a mental illness, rather than hiding it, because I've learned that by being candid and open about it, I've been able to better help others who need it.
- I have learned that there are some things that I stand for and that I absolutely will not back down on.
- I have learned that I miss little churches. We never have found a church that really fits us here, not like Our Savior did. That said, you can always hear God in the music at St. Paul's.
- I hope that I have become more patient. I feel like I don't sweat the small stuff so much. I think I've learned to control my temper more.
- Sometimes the people who come running in late and sit down next to you in orientation end up being your best friends.
- The dept. secretary will totally confuse you and your bestie, and that's kinda awesome.
There are parts of this process that have completely, utterly sucked. Graduate school has seen me at the emotionally lowest parts of my life. It's seen me depressed, angry, bitter, self-loathing, hating myself and everyone around me, convinced that I could not do this thing I had set out to do and ready to give up in more ways than one. And yet--through late night phone calls, hugs, promises, neck rubs, talking it out, helping reprioritize, taking me to the doctor, quitting a job far away and coming home because I needed him to, holding on and not letting go, checking noises downstairs in the dark, cooking and ironing and cleaning the litter boxes, I've been able to do it, because of this--this great tree of a man, who stands tall and solid and straight, with roots so deep he'll never be shaken and with branches that reach out and shelter and protect. My husband is a great oak tree, full of life and vitality, steady and strong, and if there is one thing I have learned in the last five years, I hope that it has been to appreciate him the way he deserves.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Book Review: The Ocean at the End of the Lane
It's been a long time since I posted an entry here. 2013 was not a particularly easy year, and I won't go into details. I haven't read as much as I would have liked either, partly because my focus has been on my dissertation. (I should graduate in May, and oh, how I am looking forward to reading whatever I want!)
Today, though, before work and school and responsibilities come back crashing down tomorrow, I decided I was going to use my Amazon gift certificate and read today.
I've written before about how certain books take up residence in your soul and never quite leave you. They may not be your favorite books, but they are most definitely the books that you remember--the books that remind you of just how powerfully evocative storytelling can be. Neil Gaiman's The Ocean at the End of the Lane is one of those books.
I've never been much of a Gaiman fan, to be honest. American Gods gave me nightmares. My fannish nature for Gaiman has been for him more as a person than as a writer, but my friends assured me that The Ocean at the End of the Lane was different from his previous books, more of a fairy tale. It seems to me that The Ocean at the End of the Lane is to American Gods as M. Night Shyamalan's Lady in the Water is to Signs.
I read somewhere that Gaiman wrote this book first, as a short story that grew out of control, and then second, as a book to explain himself to his wife, Amanda. It's the second part that I think is so notable and that makes this book so stunning. In the midst of a fairy tale, in a skirmish against things of darkness, it is intensely personal. Everything is deeply real, filled with memory, either real or imagined. This is not the story of Wendy remembering NeverNever Land, or Peter and Susan remembering Narnia. This is the story of a man who experiences enforced amnesia, except at certain points when he revisits the ocean at the end of the lane and everything comes flooding back in a rush of overwhelming sensations and memories, only for it to disappear when he leaves, so much like the painful memories we all experience and suppress that still get dragged out periodically into daylight.
To read The Ocean at the End of the Lane is, I think, to understand Neil Gaiman, the person, on some small fundamental level. What it tells the reader about themselves is going to be more personal. But I think, like all of these books that I've read that have stayed with me so deeply throughout the years, each time I reread it, I'm going to learn a little bit more.
Overall grade: A
Today, though, before work and school and responsibilities come back crashing down tomorrow, I decided I was going to use my Amazon gift certificate and read today.
I've written before about how certain books take up residence in your soul and never quite leave you. They may not be your favorite books, but they are most definitely the books that you remember--the books that remind you of just how powerfully evocative storytelling can be. Neil Gaiman's The Ocean at the End of the Lane is one of those books.
I've never been much of a Gaiman fan, to be honest. American Gods gave me nightmares. My fannish nature for Gaiman has been for him more as a person than as a writer, but my friends assured me that The Ocean at the End of the Lane was different from his previous books, more of a fairy tale. It seems to me that The Ocean at the End of the Lane is to American Gods as M. Night Shyamalan's Lady in the Water is to Signs.
I read somewhere that Gaiman wrote this book first, as a short story that grew out of control, and then second, as a book to explain himself to his wife, Amanda. It's the second part that I think is so notable and that makes this book so stunning. In the midst of a fairy tale, in a skirmish against things of darkness, it is intensely personal. Everything is deeply real, filled with memory, either real or imagined. This is not the story of Wendy remembering NeverNever Land, or Peter and Susan remembering Narnia. This is the story of a man who experiences enforced amnesia, except at certain points when he revisits the ocean at the end of the lane and everything comes flooding back in a rush of overwhelming sensations and memories, only for it to disappear when he leaves, so much like the painful memories we all experience and suppress that still get dragged out periodically into daylight.
To read The Ocean at the End of the Lane is, I think, to understand Neil Gaiman, the person, on some small fundamental level. What it tells the reader about themselves is going to be more personal. But I think, like all of these books that I've read that have stayed with me so deeply throughout the years, each time I reread it, I'm going to learn a little bit more.
Overall grade: A
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Confession Time
Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a confession to make.
I love Harlequin romances.
And I am not ashamed to admit it.
*I say this, of course, with the addendum that I am not a fan of Harlequin's business practices; authors are not compensated nearly as well as they should be, particularly for electronic copies of their works, and I hope that's something that Harlequin works to change in the future.
I've read nine Harlequins on my Kindle in the last week. I've got a few more that I'm dying to get into, but which I'm making myself wait on, because the beach is in my very near future, and my idea of a perfect vacation is sun, sand, surf, and a romance novel.
And I've been pondering the idea why. This is coming from someone who spends a great deal of her time buried in dry academic texts (right now, I have a volume of Tennyson, William Paley's Natural Theology, Robert Chambers' Vestiges of the Natural Creation and Arthur Lovejoy's The Great Chain of Being on the desk next to me). Harlequins often feature implausible plots with characters, who, in the real world, would be candidates for institutionaliztion.
And I love every minute of it.
It's easy. It's fun. The good guys always win. The girl always gets Mr. Right. For 50,000 words, everything goes perfectly.
And yet some people make fun of other people who read these. Book snobs will look down on them and say that there's no value in this kind of cultural commodity.
Well, screw it. You know what? If I can escape into a world where everything goes right for a couple of hours, why not? Isn't that something of value right there? It makes me happy. One can get into the philosophical utilitarian arguments, but popular culture studies tell us that this kind of cultural consumption means we're looking for something as a society. So what is it that these romance novels, whether Harlequin or longer works, give us that makes them stay in the best-selling lists?
I love Harlequin romances.
And I am not ashamed to admit it.
*I say this, of course, with the addendum that I am not a fan of Harlequin's business practices; authors are not compensated nearly as well as they should be, particularly for electronic copies of their works, and I hope that's something that Harlequin works to change in the future.
I've read nine Harlequins on my Kindle in the last week. I've got a few more that I'm dying to get into, but which I'm making myself wait on, because the beach is in my very near future, and my idea of a perfect vacation is sun, sand, surf, and a romance novel.
And I've been pondering the idea why. This is coming from someone who spends a great deal of her time buried in dry academic texts (right now, I have a volume of Tennyson, William Paley's Natural Theology, Robert Chambers' Vestiges of the Natural Creation and Arthur Lovejoy's The Great Chain of Being on the desk next to me). Harlequins often feature implausible plots with characters, who, in the real world, would be candidates for institutionaliztion.
And I love every minute of it.
It's easy. It's fun. The good guys always win. The girl always gets Mr. Right. For 50,000 words, everything goes perfectly.
And yet some people make fun of other people who read these. Book snobs will look down on them and say that there's no value in this kind of cultural commodity.
Well, screw it. You know what? If I can escape into a world where everything goes right for a couple of hours, why not? Isn't that something of value right there? It makes me happy. One can get into the philosophical utilitarian arguments, but popular culture studies tell us that this kind of cultural consumption means we're looking for something as a society. So what is it that these romance novels, whether Harlequin or longer works, give us that makes them stay in the best-selling lists?
Friday, April 12, 2013
Review: Crochet One-Skein Wonders
I...am a busy lazy blogger who has been otherwise occupied. I have a lot of things I want to blog about right now: The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Brad Paisley's new album, and Gail Simone's Batgirl #19. This is, of course, in addition to the regular blogging that I normally do--I've just read Julie Garwood's Sweet Talk, and Janet Evanovich's Notorious Nineteen, some of my best friends are writing like maniacs, and in the meantime, I sent off a dissertation chapter two weeks ago to my director (which is awesome!).
But first things first. I may get to these other subjects; I may not. What I do have is a book review for you.
Durant, Judith and Edie Eckman. Crochet One-Skein Wonders: 101 Projects from Crocheters Around the World. Storey Publishing: 2013. Paperback. +288 pages.
Full Disclosure: I received a digital advanced reader's copy of this book for reviewing purposes.
I have but one complaint about this book: where are the difficulty guides?
This book is full of great projects, and as it says, they truly are projects from around the world--particularly, it features several amigurumi projects and several projects that feature Tunisian crochet. Variety is certainly not lacking here--there are plenty of hat and scarf patterns, as part of the typical crochet fare (especially as you would expect for a book that focuses on one-skein projects)--but there are also pillows, jewelry, stuffed animals, baby clothes, and some neat projects like a water bottle holder, yoga mat bag, and e-reader holder. And the authors have kindly added visual patterns as well as the usual scripted patterns for those who have difficulty following along with crochet patterns--they've thought of almost everything.
I tried my hand at a few projects, which is part of the reason this review has taken so long to come to light. One of the first I tried was one of the fingerless gloves. My hands are always freezing when I'm typing, so these were great. I wasn't entirely sure that it was going to work when I was crocheting them, but they turned out.
I decided that I would try a few other projects out of the book as well. The book is divided up into yarn weights, and I have a supply of worsted-weight yarn that makes my husband groan every time he sees it, so I thought I would try working with some of those projects, which was where I came straight into my complaint about this book.
I am not a novice crocheter. I have made afghans and pillows, come up with my own amigurumi patterns, and to be honest, if Fox hadn't started sending cease and desist letters to Etsy shop owners who were selling versions of the Firefly 'Jayne' hat, I could churn those out without a problem.
Yet there are some real problems here with the fact that there aren't any clues on how difficult patterns are for crocheters. Most of these patterns are for intermediate to expert crocheters, and even then, some might have problems, and I've wondered if there aren't any difficulty ratings because too many patterns would have a four or five out of five difficulty on them.
Still, for someone who's crocheted a long time and is looking for some variety, this book is a great resource. A.
But first things first. I may get to these other subjects; I may not. What I do have is a book review for you.
Full Disclosure: I received a digital advanced reader's copy of this book for reviewing purposes.
I have but one complaint about this book: where are the difficulty guides?
This book is full of great projects, and as it says, they truly are projects from around the world--particularly, it features several amigurumi projects and several projects that feature Tunisian crochet. Variety is certainly not lacking here--there are plenty of hat and scarf patterns, as part of the typical crochet fare (especially as you would expect for a book that focuses on one-skein projects)--but there are also pillows, jewelry, stuffed animals, baby clothes, and some neat projects like a water bottle holder, yoga mat bag, and e-reader holder. And the authors have kindly added visual patterns as well as the usual scripted patterns for those who have difficulty following along with crochet patterns--they've thought of almost everything.
I tried my hand at a few projects, which is part of the reason this review has taken so long to come to light. One of the first I tried was one of the fingerless gloves. My hands are always freezing when I'm typing, so these were great. I wasn't entirely sure that it was going to work when I was crocheting them, but they turned out.I decided that I would try a few other projects out of the book as well. The book is divided up into yarn weights, and I have a supply of worsted-weight yarn that makes my husband groan every time he sees it, so I thought I would try working with some of those projects, which was where I came straight into my complaint about this book.
I am not a novice crocheter. I have made afghans and pillows, come up with my own amigurumi patterns, and to be honest, if Fox hadn't started sending cease and desist letters to Etsy shop owners who were selling versions of the Firefly 'Jayne' hat, I could churn those out without a problem.
Yet there are some real problems here with the fact that there aren't any clues on how difficult patterns are for crocheters. Most of these patterns are for intermediate to expert crocheters, and even then, some might have problems, and I've wondered if there aren't any difficulty ratings because too many patterns would have a four or five out of five difficulty on them.
Still, for someone who's crocheted a long time and is looking for some variety, this book is a great resource. A.
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