The baby wants pineapple again.
This is problematic only because I have to pace myself. I love pineapple, but if I eat too much of it, I'll give myself mouth sores. But I'll let you guess what I just had as an afternoon snack.
(Also, sausage balls may be the perfect food. Protein, dairy, and carbs, all wrapped up into one. And so delicious.)
Anyway, in what has actually happened this week, versus a post that is me complaining about my neighbor. I finished conferences with my 1301 students last week, so conferencing is finally done this semester (yay!) I have no idea what I'm going to do about conferences for next semester, except perhaps have them when I get back to catch up with my students.
My Brit Lit students have done Milton the last few class sessions, which has been great fun and in which I've been able to show off a bit. We're getting into the realm of literature that is my expertise. This class runs through the long 18th century, which is one of my areas, so from here on out, I should be able to do a lot with the material. Certainly, I won't have to prep so much. (Though we're doing Dryden tomorrow, and that I will have to bone up on a little.)
Mogo did her jumping about thing in church again Sunday, though more so, and I suspect it had something to do with the brass quintet we had for Easter. I think the organ, and the brass (and her daddy's voice) resonate at a frequency that she can hear, and she gets very excited. Of course, that meant I was once again trying not to laugh through the homily. But Easter service was very nice--the church was packed, and I hope our priests took a well-deserved post-Holy Week day off yesterday.
Of other interest has been a continuing argument that's been going on on the Victoria listserv, centering around a manifesto put forth by something known as the V21 Collective. If any members of the V21 Collective are on the listserv, they've been curiously quiet as their manifesto has been--well, not torn to shreds...Victorians seem to absorb some of the manners of the era...but certainly debated strenuously. With the exception of a email at the beginning of the argument (which I really didn't say much in), I've stayed out of it and just watched as scholars far more important than myself have been debating this for the last two weeks. It's been quite an eye-opener, and it is very interesting that not many are jumping to defend this manifesto.
I've also sent a paper abstract out to a journal with an eye for their special issue. Wish me luck.
I've mentioned that I'm on the program review committee for the department, and that has continued to be an enlightening experience. My section is fairly easy, as it deals with curriculum mobility and integration--basically, how do our classes fit in to other programs at the college and across the state and can people transfer to a 4-year university easily and with minimal loss of credit (the answer is yes, as Texas has a state-mandated core curriculum, and all but one of our classes have been approved as core courses.) My other colleagues have been dealing with trickier issues, like cost-effectiveness and personnel management. It's been interesting to hear their reports about how our program is running--which it's running just fine--but it really gives you an inside look at how the nuts and bolts of this stuff really work. Most faculty, I don't think, ever give much consideration to the actual dispersal of funds and where they go (other than to perhaps complain about funds going places we think they ought not go). So learning how the finances of not just the department but the college itself has been very enlightening. I'm not sure I ever want to be an administrator, but it's good to know these things. The more knowledge the better, and certainly, the more the faculty knows about these sort of things, the better we can support our faculty administrators (like department chairs).
(I just realized how very academic-sounding that last sentence was.)
I have an appointment with maternal fetal medicine on Monday to do the anatomy scan for the baby, so say a prayer that everything continues as it has gone--just fine. I have been feeling dizzy and weak here and there--standing for too long can really make the room swim--so it's something I want to discuss, but my reading says that it's not uncommon for that to happen in the second trimester, particularly for women who have low blood pressure (which I always have), because your blood pressure actually lowers in pregnancy (because you have to make more and sometimes it doesn't keep up, etc.). Anyway, I'm now trying to keep a snack and some water with me at all times, so if it's a blood sugar thing, I can spike it back up, and if it's a dehydration thing, I'm combating that constantly--and that's all I can do. But I should have new pictures of Mogo on Monday.
There was also no joy in Mudville this week--or I should say, couches were set on fire in Lexington when my Wildcats lost, and we were quite upset here. (Duke winning the championship only added insult to injury, though Dear Husband said that if we had to lose, better to Wisconsin than Duke, and I think he's right.) In any case, it's now baseball season, and my Reds won their first game yesterday, and I get MLB at Bat free through T-Mobile, so I can listen to all the games--and listen to them from WLW, so I'm getting Marty and Jeff (and listening to the same commentary that my daddy is). And baseball is so calming after the excitement of basketball season. (Some would say boring, but they don't know what they're talking about.)
So now you see why yesterday's post was cut in two. It hasn't seemed eventful, but looking back, a lot seems to have happened. But since it's Tuesday when I'm writing this, maybe next week's will be shorter? (I doubt it.)
Showing posts with label victorian lit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label victorian lit. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Prelims
So, it's occurred to me that not everyone completely understands this crazy thing called "preliminary exams" that has taken over my life. That's my bad. I forget sometimes that I'm living in what feels like a rather isolated little academic bubble of reading and writing and teaching and grading, and that not everyone understands the crazy that is part of being a graduate student.
To get a Ph.D. in English in my program you have to 1) complete 48 hours of coursework, 2) take the Ph.D. qualifying examinations (which I passed my first year here), 3) complete a foreign language requirement, 4) pass the preliminary examinations, and 5) complete and defend the dissertation.
(Reading the handbook, I think I've got to go take out the phrase "Ph.D. candidate" from my email...I don't think that's true until I've passed prelims. )
At this moment, I have over 50 hours of coursework, passed quals, took French for Reading Knowledge (ugh), and am currently awaiting prelims this weekend. So what do these prelims actually mean?
It means that I have to demonstrate my expertise in two subject areas in a test. My subject areas, as most people already know, are Victorian literature (my primary concentration) and Restoration and 18th Century literature (my secondary concentration). What will happen is that Friday afternoon, I will go in and be tested on the long 18th century. I'll take the Victorian exam Saturday morning.
Most likely, the written portion of each exam will have a number of questions, perhaps six, and I'll be required to answer three of them in the four hours I have to take the exam. In the exam, I have to demonstrate my writing ability (which I'm not worried about), and demonstrate that my knowledge in the area is accurate, appropriately broad (I know a lot about a lot of things), and appropriately deep (that I can really delve into things with my answer). I also have to be able to demonstrate critical positions--that is, I have to be able to identify and apply appropriate literary criticism to the works I'm discussing.
Yeah, I know. That doesn't sound all that bad. What makes it particularly nerve-wracking is the fact that you get two shots at the exams. If you fail twice, you are out of the program. Period. Goodbye to the last ten years of work and the future you'd planned on.
But we won't dwell on that. Once a student passes the written portion of the exam, they then go on to orals, which generally takes place a week or two after the written exams. From what I understand--and there isn't much about orals in the handbook, though I wish there was--it's a conversation between you and the examiners, sometimes about what's in the written portion. They may ask questions or ask you to expound on things you wrote about, or ask you to cover other things.
So, that's where I am right now. The Victorian exam is not bothering me. The 18th century exam does, and that's partly because it is the exam which horror stories are told about. I've still been reading, but I think that at this point, I may simply not be able to cram any more information into my brain. All I can do is try to get some rest (yeah, right).
This is my first attempt. It's not like my future hangs in the balance. (Yet.) But if you are so inclined, send good thoughts my way this weekend. I'm going to need them.
To get a Ph.D. in English in my program you have to 1) complete 48 hours of coursework, 2) take the Ph.D. qualifying examinations (which I passed my first year here), 3) complete a foreign language requirement, 4) pass the preliminary examinations, and 5) complete and defend the dissertation.
(Reading the handbook, I think I've got to go take out the phrase "Ph.D. candidate" from my email...I don't think that's true until I've passed prelims. )
At this moment, I have over 50 hours of coursework, passed quals, took French for Reading Knowledge (ugh), and am currently awaiting prelims this weekend. So what do these prelims actually mean?
It means that I have to demonstrate my expertise in two subject areas in a test. My subject areas, as most people already know, are Victorian literature (my primary concentration) and Restoration and 18th Century literature (my secondary concentration). What will happen is that Friday afternoon, I will go in and be tested on the long 18th century. I'll take the Victorian exam Saturday morning.
Most likely, the written portion of each exam will have a number of questions, perhaps six, and I'll be required to answer three of them in the four hours I have to take the exam. In the exam, I have to demonstrate my writing ability (which I'm not worried about), and demonstrate that my knowledge in the area is accurate, appropriately broad (I know a lot about a lot of things), and appropriately deep (that I can really delve into things with my answer). I also have to be able to demonstrate critical positions--that is, I have to be able to identify and apply appropriate literary criticism to the works I'm discussing.
Yeah, I know. That doesn't sound all that bad. What makes it particularly nerve-wracking is the fact that you get two shots at the exams. If you fail twice, you are out of the program. Period. Goodbye to the last ten years of work and the future you'd planned on.
But we won't dwell on that. Once a student passes the written portion of the exam, they then go on to orals, which generally takes place a week or two after the written exams. From what I understand--and there isn't much about orals in the handbook, though I wish there was--it's a conversation between you and the examiners, sometimes about what's in the written portion. They may ask questions or ask you to expound on things you wrote about, or ask you to cover other things.
So, that's where I am right now. The Victorian exam is not bothering me. The 18th century exam does, and that's partly because it is the exam which horror stories are told about. I've still been reading, but I think that at this point, I may simply not be able to cram any more information into my brain. All I can do is try to get some rest (yeah, right).
This is my first attempt. It's not like my future hangs in the balance. (Yet.) But if you are so inclined, send good thoughts my way this weekend. I'm going to need them.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Enough already.
It's been a hard couple weeks. And the next week and a half are going to be worse.
I'm taking the Ph.D. preliminary exams in Victorian literature and in Restoration and 18th Century literature next week. I've been taking practice exams. I've been studying. And I've been doing a lot of other things that will distract me from the massive anxiety attack waiting to happen.
I called my mama this morning just to hear her voice and for her to tell me that everything was going to be okay. I don't do that a lot anymore--call my mama, I mean. It's too hard sometimes. Today was good; today, she was herself. Today, she was my mom.
Everyone else has been telling me that things are going to be fine too. Everyone comes up to me and says, "You're going to do great! You're so smart, you'll ace these." I want to shout at them that they have no idea, that I'm such a fraud. I'm afraid of failing one or both exams and disappointing everyone who assured me that I would do so well. It's Academic Insecurity Syndrome, we used to joke. Professors say that it never goes away. Maybe so, but it's never felt quite as real as it does right now. Dr. K tells me not to worry either, that I'm doing fine. As much as I love her, I still don't know if I believe her.
I've got a lot riding on this. The last ten years worth of work, my academic future, both immediate and not-so-much. I can taste anxiety in my mouth--it's bitter and nasty, and it won't go away, no matter how much medication I take. I'm not the only one; there are at least eight or nine of us taking exams next week, and I know that the office will not be pleasant next week.
There are other things. Other worries. Friends of a friend who were terribly beaten last week, who have been on my mind, the grandmother of another friend who took a terrible fall. A friend who suddenly finds herself in a position she never thought she'd be in, a position that makes me hurt for her and jealous all at the same time. And then the normal everyday worries of an everyday family.
There are good things. My husband has been taking such good care of me. For example, I haven't done the dishes in weeks--he takes care of all of that so I have time to concentrate and study, and then to rest afterwards. He holds me when I start to panic, makes sure that I'm going to be okay. Reminds me of what I always say to him: "God has taken care of us so far. No reason to think He's going to stop now."
Today, especially, I am homesick, though that may not be the right word. I miss my undergraduate years. There was studying and tests, but none of them were this important. I had lunch with my friends and the professors almost every day. In the springtime, Eastern smells like old books and mold, even just walking through the campus, and while that may sound disgusting, it's comforting. Sitting out by the fountain, chatting with friends, reading in the Ravine, hiding in the fourth-floor stacks of the library, reveling in the smell of old books. I loved that school. Still do.
I have to go teach here directly, a discussion of rhetoric and how students can reach an audience. I wish I could put what I teach into practice, teach myself how to argue myself out of wanting to crawl under the desk or pull the covers over my head and hide. But if there's any audience hard to reach, it's the audience of one.
I'm taking the Ph.D. preliminary exams in Victorian literature and in Restoration and 18th Century literature next week. I've been taking practice exams. I've been studying. And I've been doing a lot of other things that will distract me from the massive anxiety attack waiting to happen.
I called my mama this morning just to hear her voice and for her to tell me that everything was going to be okay. I don't do that a lot anymore--call my mama, I mean. It's too hard sometimes. Today was good; today, she was herself. Today, she was my mom.
Everyone else has been telling me that things are going to be fine too. Everyone comes up to me and says, "You're going to do great! You're so smart, you'll ace these." I want to shout at them that they have no idea, that I'm such a fraud. I'm afraid of failing one or both exams and disappointing everyone who assured me that I would do so well. It's Academic Insecurity Syndrome, we used to joke. Professors say that it never goes away. Maybe so, but it's never felt quite as real as it does right now. Dr. K tells me not to worry either, that I'm doing fine. As much as I love her, I still don't know if I believe her.
I've got a lot riding on this. The last ten years worth of work, my academic future, both immediate and not-so-much. I can taste anxiety in my mouth--it's bitter and nasty, and it won't go away, no matter how much medication I take. I'm not the only one; there are at least eight or nine of us taking exams next week, and I know that the office will not be pleasant next week.
There are other things. Other worries. Friends of a friend who were terribly beaten last week, who have been on my mind, the grandmother of another friend who took a terrible fall. A friend who suddenly finds herself in a position she never thought she'd be in, a position that makes me hurt for her and jealous all at the same time. And then the normal everyday worries of an everyday family.
There are good things. My husband has been taking such good care of me. For example, I haven't done the dishes in weeks--he takes care of all of that so I have time to concentrate and study, and then to rest afterwards. He holds me when I start to panic, makes sure that I'm going to be okay. Reminds me of what I always say to him: "God has taken care of us so far. No reason to think He's going to stop now."
Today, especially, I am homesick, though that may not be the right word. I miss my undergraduate years. There was studying and tests, but none of them were this important. I had lunch with my friends and the professors almost every day. In the springtime, Eastern smells like old books and mold, even just walking through the campus, and while that may sound disgusting, it's comforting. Sitting out by the fountain, chatting with friends, reading in the Ravine, hiding in the fourth-floor stacks of the library, reveling in the smell of old books. I loved that school. Still do.
I have to go teach here directly, a discussion of rhetoric and how students can reach an audience. I wish I could put what I teach into practice, teach myself how to argue myself out of wanting to crawl under the desk or pull the covers over my head and hide. But if there's any audience hard to reach, it's the audience of one.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Huh?
What is this? Where am I? Why can't I breathe through my nose?
In all seriousness, I have done almost nothing but read and fret in the last week. What have I been through? The Origin of Species (amazing), Darwin's Plots (academically interesting), a couple of books on 18th century history (in order to help calm my nerves about the exams at the end of March), a book on Victorian ideas, Lisa Kleypas' Because You're Mine and Eloisa James' This Duchess of Mine. Plus some Matthew Arnold for my dissertation. This upcoming week has more 18th century study, plus Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest and a study of Victorian and modern poetics.
I had a very productive trip to Half Price Books this weekend. My husband and I had headed home for a family wedding (which was incredibly beautiful) and took three giant boxes of books to sell back while we were there (for which we got a grand total of $20. At least that paid for some of the books we bought and got the boxes out of the house. Half Price is a wonderful place, but it does not pay well). But I came away with three Eloisa James novels and a cross stitch book for fun, and several books that I think will come in handy for dissertation and exam studying--a book on general Victorian culture - What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew - the Norton 18th century anthology, a book about Herschel's discoveries, and a book called Apes, Angels and Victorians about Victorian perceptions of evolution, which is not a bad haul.
In the meantime, I'm also waiting for books to come from Amazon that I've ordered for my dissertation as well. I've ordered copies of some of the major Victorian scientific works of the era - Paley's Natural Theology, Chambers' Vestiges of the Natural Creation, and Lyell's Principles of Geology. At the same time, I've also ordered The Kristeva Reader and Lyotard's The Postmodern Condition to help me develop the theoretical underpinnings of my argument.
And yes, I am perfectly aware of how boring all that sounds and what an English nerd I am. In any case, I have a preliminary outline of how I want my first chapter of my dissertation to go, which is surprising in and of itself. Also, I really need to be working more on my prospectus instead, but my first focus really needs to be exams. Naturally, I'm hiding in romance novels. The Kleypas and James novels were pretty good, though I much preferred the Eloisa James novel--for one, it had much more of a seemingly conceivable plot.
No, what I really wanted to talk about today was Darwin. Most people who have talked to me in the last few weeks have heard this spiel already, but The Origin of Species is one of the most beautifully written books I've ever read.
Having been brought up in a semi-evangelical household, I'm not sure what I was expecting when I began Darwin. My parents never pushed creationism on us--certainly not literal creationism, but when you're homeschooled, you get some of it by osmosis through some of your textbooks and I certainly had friends who did take a very literal interpretation of it. In some aspects, I think I expected to open up The Origin of Species and find the devil waiting to pounce. I also think that I expected a very dry, dusty scientific tome that I was going to have to slog through to get anything out of.
I could not have been more wrong on both counts. Darwin was very respectful of the religious aspect. He never denies God, and he's very careful in The Origin of Species not to make any conclusions involving man (that's another book). Darwin was, by no means, an atheist out to eliminate God from the world. He was actually a devoted churchman who was buried in Westminster Abbey. And yes, he realized that there were going to be repercussions from the theory--he discusses them somewhat in the book. But he never dismisses the idea of a Creator. He is moving away from a literal interpretation of Genesis in order to make the geological and cosmological record fit with Christianity.
I've been having a discussion about this with Dr. K, and she says that this is no different than what John Henry Newman was doing. An Anglican turned Catholic who was looking for what he felt was the best, closest way to doing things the way Christ wanted, Newman felt that something had to change in the way that we conceived of the Old Testament. It couldn't be God, because God was perfect from the beginning. So what he came up with was instead the idea that it was not God who had changed, but humanity. Genesis makes sense for a less educated people who could not comprehend the intricacies of the universe. Like Christ does in the New Testament, the Old Testament teaches through stories, metaphor and analogy. Humanity is changing and becoming more advanced and increasing in their understanding. The only difference is that Darwin was coming at it from the scientific view and Newman from a religious view.
And in doing so, Darwin establishes a natural world in some of the most beautiful language. It's almost poetic in spots--how else could it be when you're describing something completely new and wondrous to the world?
Yes, I still realize that I'm an English nerd.
In any case, I feel like we should do with The Origin of Species what I've always felt we should do about other books, like Harry Potter and Twilight -- read it before making a decision about the merit of it. And I think we should do one more thing--take Darwin as he wanted to be taken, not as the a) evil of all mankind or b) the savior of the agnostics/atheists/evolutionists. Darwin falls somewhere in the middle of the creationism/evolution debate, and it's always in the middle where I look for truth.
In all seriousness, I have done almost nothing but read and fret in the last week. What have I been through? The Origin of Species (amazing), Darwin's Plots (academically interesting), a couple of books on 18th century history (in order to help calm my nerves about the exams at the end of March), a book on Victorian ideas, Lisa Kleypas' Because You're Mine and Eloisa James' This Duchess of Mine. Plus some Matthew Arnold for my dissertation. This upcoming week has more 18th century study, plus Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest and a study of Victorian and modern poetics.
I had a very productive trip to Half Price Books this weekend. My husband and I had headed home for a family wedding (which was incredibly beautiful) and took three giant boxes of books to sell back while we were there (for which we got a grand total of $20. At least that paid for some of the books we bought and got the boxes out of the house. Half Price is a wonderful place, but it does not pay well). But I came away with three Eloisa James novels and a cross stitch book for fun, and several books that I think will come in handy for dissertation and exam studying--a book on general Victorian culture - What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew - the Norton 18th century anthology, a book about Herschel's discoveries, and a book called Apes, Angels and Victorians about Victorian perceptions of evolution, which is not a bad haul.
In the meantime, I'm also waiting for books to come from Amazon that I've ordered for my dissertation as well. I've ordered copies of some of the major Victorian scientific works of the era - Paley's Natural Theology, Chambers' Vestiges of the Natural Creation, and Lyell's Principles of Geology. At the same time, I've also ordered The Kristeva Reader and Lyotard's The Postmodern Condition to help me develop the theoretical underpinnings of my argument.
And yes, I am perfectly aware of how boring all that sounds and what an English nerd I am. In any case, I have a preliminary outline of how I want my first chapter of my dissertation to go, which is surprising in and of itself. Also, I really need to be working more on my prospectus instead, but my first focus really needs to be exams. Naturally, I'm hiding in romance novels. The Kleypas and James novels were pretty good, though I much preferred the Eloisa James novel--for one, it had much more of a seemingly conceivable plot.
No, what I really wanted to talk about today was Darwin. Most people who have talked to me in the last few weeks have heard this spiel already, but The Origin of Species is one of the most beautifully written books I've ever read.
Having been brought up in a semi-evangelical household, I'm not sure what I was expecting when I began Darwin. My parents never pushed creationism on us--certainly not literal creationism, but when you're homeschooled, you get some of it by osmosis through some of your textbooks and I certainly had friends who did take a very literal interpretation of it. In some aspects, I think I expected to open up The Origin of Species and find the devil waiting to pounce. I also think that I expected a very dry, dusty scientific tome that I was going to have to slog through to get anything out of.
I could not have been more wrong on both counts. Darwin was very respectful of the religious aspect. He never denies God, and he's very careful in The Origin of Species not to make any conclusions involving man (that's another book). Darwin was, by no means, an atheist out to eliminate God from the world. He was actually a devoted churchman who was buried in Westminster Abbey. And yes, he realized that there were going to be repercussions from the theory--he discusses them somewhat in the book. But he never dismisses the idea of a Creator. He is moving away from a literal interpretation of Genesis in order to make the geological and cosmological record fit with Christianity.
I've been having a discussion about this with Dr. K, and she says that this is no different than what John Henry Newman was doing. An Anglican turned Catholic who was looking for what he felt was the best, closest way to doing things the way Christ wanted, Newman felt that something had to change in the way that we conceived of the Old Testament. It couldn't be God, because God was perfect from the beginning. So what he came up with was instead the idea that it was not God who had changed, but humanity. Genesis makes sense for a less educated people who could not comprehend the intricacies of the universe. Like Christ does in the New Testament, the Old Testament teaches through stories, metaphor and analogy. Humanity is changing and becoming more advanced and increasing in their understanding. The only difference is that Darwin was coming at it from the scientific view and Newman from a religious view.
And in doing so, Darwin establishes a natural world in some of the most beautiful language. It's almost poetic in spots--how else could it be when you're describing something completely new and wondrous to the world?
Yes, I still realize that I'm an English nerd.
In any case, I feel like we should do with The Origin of Species what I've always felt we should do about other books, like Harry Potter and Twilight -- read it before making a decision about the merit of it. And I think we should do one more thing--take Darwin as he wanted to be taken, not as the a) evil of all mankind or b) the savior of the agnostics/atheists/evolutionists. Darwin falls somewhere in the middle of the creationism/evolution debate, and it's always in the middle where I look for truth.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Best laid plans....
I meant to be productive today, I really did. It truly is not my fault that circumstances conspired against me.
See, today was the first self-proclaimed official dissertation study day. I dutifully went to the library, picked up some books, sat down and engaged in some serious cogitation and reading.
And then the electricity went out. Over half of campus. And there was a tornado warning for the county.
It is January, people.
So my husband and I ran some errands--I went to the bookstore in search of Darwin, ugh--then went back to the library and checked out the books I had meant to check out, and I will work a bit more on them tonight, I think. In the meantime, I have the very first homemade pie I have ever made in the oven. We'll see how this goes.
In any case, despite the rather abortive attempt at studying (and yes, I know, I shouldn't give up entirely, but after sitting for an hour in the dark in the University Writing Center--because, hey, if you're going to die in a tornado, you might as well do it with friends--I decided to postpone some studying until this evening), I do feel like I got quite a bit accomplished. I've checked out a book called Destination Dissertation.
It's much better than a book I just read called Writing the Doctoral Dissertation--my copy was very out of date and much more directed toward quantitative dissertations.
While Destination Dissertation is still skewed toward the sciences and social sciences, I really do feel that its ideas for working on your dissertation are much more adaptable to a dissertation in the humanities. Part of this starts with coding the literature.
I've already put quite a bit of effort into thinking about my dissertation--this was necessary as I was working on my Fulbright application. Today, I managed to get some things narrowed down. What exactly am I looking for in the poems I'm reading? How does this relate to a larger Victorian era? Just being able to look for places that can be categorized later is going to be really helpful later, especially when I'm trying to find something that I read on this subject in this book. Part of what this book recommends is that you read in front of a computer, and any time you come across something (at least in secondary literature), you type the passage out with a brief, easy citation--just the title and page number, for example. Then later, you print all of this out, and you can cut the passages up and rearrange them into relevant piles to help you organize your thoughts.
It's a lot like the way I suggest to my students that they work on organizing their papers--splitting up paragraphs into points and using the scissors to work them around, but I'd never considered putting it toward the research process before, and I think that this might also be a really valuable way to teach my students about what they need to do to research as well. So this book has helped as both a student and a teacher! Check it out, guys. (There's a copy in the UWC--I have the library's copy right now.)
See, today was the first self-proclaimed official dissertation study day. I dutifully went to the library, picked up some books, sat down and engaged in some serious cogitation and reading.
And then the electricity went out. Over half of campus. And there was a tornado warning for the county.
It is January, people.
So my husband and I ran some errands--I went to the bookstore in search of Darwin, ugh--then went back to the library and checked out the books I had meant to check out, and I will work a bit more on them tonight, I think. In the meantime, I have the very first homemade pie I have ever made in the oven. We'll see how this goes.
In any case, despite the rather abortive attempt at studying (and yes, I know, I shouldn't give up entirely, but after sitting for an hour in the dark in the University Writing Center--because, hey, if you're going to die in a tornado, you might as well do it with friends--I decided to postpone some studying until this evening), I do feel like I got quite a bit accomplished. I've checked out a book called Destination Dissertation.
It's much better than a book I just read called Writing the Doctoral Dissertation--my copy was very out of date and much more directed toward quantitative dissertations.While Destination Dissertation is still skewed toward the sciences and social sciences, I really do feel that its ideas for working on your dissertation are much more adaptable to a dissertation in the humanities. Part of this starts with coding the literature.
I've already put quite a bit of effort into thinking about my dissertation--this was necessary as I was working on my Fulbright application. Today, I managed to get some things narrowed down. What exactly am I looking for in the poems I'm reading? How does this relate to a larger Victorian era? Just being able to look for places that can be categorized later is going to be really helpful later, especially when I'm trying to find something that I read on this subject in this book. Part of what this book recommends is that you read in front of a computer, and any time you come across something (at least in secondary literature), you type the passage out with a brief, easy citation--just the title and page number, for example. Then later, you print all of this out, and you can cut the passages up and rearrange them into relevant piles to help you organize your thoughts.
It's a lot like the way I suggest to my students that they work on organizing their papers--splitting up paragraphs into points and using the scissors to work them around, but I'd never considered putting it toward the research process before, and I think that this might also be a really valuable way to teach my students about what they need to do to research as well. So this book has helped as both a student and a teacher! Check it out, guys. (There's a copy in the UWC--I have the library's copy right now.)
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Huzzah!
I should definitely have more faith in my colleagues.
Now that things are official, I can talk about it. After my email to the Victoria list, I got quite a bit of email from fellow Victorian scholars, and as of this morning, I had two official letters of affiliation: one from the University of Warwick in Coventry, and one from Birkbeck College at the University of London (whose English department is based out of one of Virginia Woolf's former homes). I also had some interest from the University of Buckingham, which was having problems figuring out visa logistics, though not an official letter. I'd also had suggestions from the rest of the list on how to find other affiliations. All because of the generous nature of my colleagues, both in the US and the UK.
I have been getting the following, though. "That's great! What does it mean?"
Basically, when you apply for a Fulbright scholarship, you need a letter of affiliation, which is a letter from a university or library in your host country that states they will support you academically. They'll give you help, access to libraries, etc. In some cases, people enroll in a foreign university and take classes.
You can put an application in without these affiliations, but if you want a really strong application, you need one (or two, which I just happen to have now!). It increases your chances of actually getting the grant.
So tomorrow and Thursday, I need to revise my documents a little bit to make sure that everything reflects my letters of affiliation now, and then it will get sent off to the State Department. It will be January before I hear whether or not I've made it on to the next step. Since the UK is so incredibly competitive, if I am to make it, I will need to go through a phone interview with the Fulbright Commission there before they would make a decision.
In the meantime, I continue on normally and put my focus on my preliminary exams in the spring. Ever onward I go.
Now that things are official, I can talk about it. After my email to the Victoria list, I got quite a bit of email from fellow Victorian scholars, and as of this morning, I had two official letters of affiliation: one from the University of Warwick in Coventry, and one from Birkbeck College at the University of London (whose English department is based out of one of Virginia Woolf's former homes). I also had some interest from the University of Buckingham, which was having problems figuring out visa logistics, though not an official letter. I'd also had suggestions from the rest of the list on how to find other affiliations. All because of the generous nature of my colleagues, both in the US and the UK.
I have been getting the following, though. "That's great! What does it mean?"
Basically, when you apply for a Fulbright scholarship, you need a letter of affiliation, which is a letter from a university or library in your host country that states they will support you academically. They'll give you help, access to libraries, etc. In some cases, people enroll in a foreign university and take classes.
You can put an application in without these affiliations, but if you want a really strong application, you need one (or two, which I just happen to have now!). It increases your chances of actually getting the grant.
So tomorrow and Thursday, I need to revise my documents a little bit to make sure that everything reflects my letters of affiliation now, and then it will get sent off to the State Department. It will be January before I hear whether or not I've made it on to the next step. Since the UK is so incredibly competitive, if I am to make it, I will need to go through a phone interview with the Fulbright Commission there before they would make a decision.
In the meantime, I continue on normally and put my focus on my preliminary exams in the spring. Ever onward I go.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
I'm stalling.
Imagine that. Me, procrastinating.
I was procrastinating before. Now I'm procrastinating and I'm in a bad mood, which means I'm procrastinating even more.
The aforementioned bad mood is partly caused by the fact that I gave myself a concussion this morning when I beaned myself in the head opening the car door. Corner of the door made direct contact with my forehead. Cue concussion symptoms - headache, drowsiness, and nausea. Cue me leaving anyway because I have an appointment to tutor my landlord's son.
The tutoring went fantastically--I would love to have a student like him in my classes (he is, of course, applying for universities much further up the academic ladder than mine). I came home, head still pounding, and managed to pour half my lunch down the sink. *grumble*
Anyway, I got an email this morning that said that I needed to upload my revised Fulbright materials ASAP so they can be proofed, and....I don't wanna. Partly, this is because I have not yet revised them, as I was desperately hoping I would have a letter of affiliation by now and could then tailor my materials to that.
That said, I reached out to my last hope for such a letter and emailed the VICTORIA listserv run from the University of Indiana, basically begging them for any help they could offer by Thursday, since all other contacts have basically come up with less than nothing so far. So, no, no word from the Cambridge library or the Tennyson Research Centre as yet. This in itself was nerve-wracking this morning, because this week, I was reading messages that had come across from names I recognized. For instance, Anna Henchman. She wrote an article on stellar parallax in Tennyson's In Memoriam. That I used for my Tennyson paper for Dr. K's Pre-Raphaelite's class. That helped direct me on toward my dissertation.
So that put me in a mode of absolute and complete terror this morning. The big names in Victorian studies are on this listserv, and I, a lowly graduate student, had the temerity to ask them for help.
Then there is this nagging feeling that simply says "Don't apply at all."
My favorite Snarky Writer and I were discussing the possibilities of trips to London, and I had been assuring her that two weeks in London would be fine--she would go and have a great time. (This, unfortunately, has fallen through. Dear economy, you suck. No love, Me) After all, I was applying for a year away.
And I kind of don't want to.
I mean, I'm married. And I would have to leave The Boy behind. For a year. And I don't want to! I realize that this would be a fantastic professional opportunity. But there's this bit of me saying "If you don't apply, then you definitely won't get it, and then you don't have to be in the position of having to decide whether or not you leave your husband behind in the US for a year."
He, of course, wants me to apply and go because he knows what an opportunity it is, and I cannot help but thank God that I have such an amazing, supportive husband. How could I bear to leave him?
I've already gotten through some stages. And I should just apply and trust that if I am meant to go, I will go, and if I am not meant to go, then the blistering amount of competition will unceremoniously weed me out.
I'm still stalling.
----
In other news, I have about four romance novels to review that I have yet to get to, my mom gave me a copy of That Perfect Someone by Joanna Lindsey, and the new Terry Pratchett book, Snuff, comes out this week. On top of this, I need to read Joseph Andrews for my directed reading and Ava's New Testament Narratives for medieval women's lit. I really want to go play Knights of the Old Republic instead.
In final other news, if you're a gamer of any kind or otherwise interested in nerd culture, The Boy has started his own blog at Parallax View. Check it out.
---
Edited to add: I just got an email from the Victoria listserv from someone who is going to speak with the registrar at their university tomorrow. I should have more faith in my colleagues, perhaps?
---
Edited to add again: I just got another email suggesting an alternate way to get the Fulbright and expressing general support. I should definitely have more faith in my colleagues.
I was procrastinating before. Now I'm procrastinating and I'm in a bad mood, which means I'm procrastinating even more.
The aforementioned bad mood is partly caused by the fact that I gave myself a concussion this morning when I beaned myself in the head opening the car door. Corner of the door made direct contact with my forehead. Cue concussion symptoms - headache, drowsiness, and nausea. Cue me leaving anyway because I have an appointment to tutor my landlord's son.
The tutoring went fantastically--I would love to have a student like him in my classes (he is, of course, applying for universities much further up the academic ladder than mine). I came home, head still pounding, and managed to pour half my lunch down the sink. *grumble*
Anyway, I got an email this morning that said that I needed to upload my revised Fulbright materials ASAP so they can be proofed, and....I don't wanna. Partly, this is because I have not yet revised them, as I was desperately hoping I would have a letter of affiliation by now and could then tailor my materials to that.
That said, I reached out to my last hope for such a letter and emailed the VICTORIA listserv run from the University of Indiana, basically begging them for any help they could offer by Thursday, since all other contacts have basically come up with less than nothing so far. So, no, no word from the Cambridge library or the Tennyson Research Centre as yet. This in itself was nerve-wracking this morning, because this week, I was reading messages that had come across from names I recognized. For instance, Anna Henchman. She wrote an article on stellar parallax in Tennyson's In Memoriam. That I used for my Tennyson paper for Dr. K's Pre-Raphaelite's class. That helped direct me on toward my dissertation.
So that put me in a mode of absolute and complete terror this morning. The big names in Victorian studies are on this listserv, and I, a lowly graduate student, had the temerity to ask them for help.
Then there is this nagging feeling that simply says "Don't apply at all."
My favorite Snarky Writer and I were discussing the possibilities of trips to London, and I had been assuring her that two weeks in London would be fine--she would go and have a great time. (This, unfortunately, has fallen through. Dear economy, you suck. No love, Me) After all, I was applying for a year away.
And I kind of don't want to.
I mean, I'm married. And I would have to leave The Boy behind. For a year. And I don't want to! I realize that this would be a fantastic professional opportunity. But there's this bit of me saying "If you don't apply, then you definitely won't get it, and then you don't have to be in the position of having to decide whether or not you leave your husband behind in the US for a year."
He, of course, wants me to apply and go because he knows what an opportunity it is, and I cannot help but thank God that I have such an amazing, supportive husband. How could I bear to leave him?
I've already gotten through some stages. And I should just apply and trust that if I am meant to go, I will go, and if I am not meant to go, then the blistering amount of competition will unceremoniously weed me out.
I'm still stalling.
----
In other news, I have about four romance novels to review that I have yet to get to, my mom gave me a copy of That Perfect Someone by Joanna Lindsey, and the new Terry Pratchett book, Snuff, comes out this week. On top of this, I need to read Joseph Andrews for my directed reading and Ava's New Testament Narratives for medieval women's lit. I really want to go play Knights of the Old Republic instead.
In final other news, if you're a gamer of any kind or otherwise interested in nerd culture, The Boy has started his own blog at Parallax View. Check it out.
---
Edited to add: I just got an email from the Victoria listserv from someone who is going to speak with the registrar at their university tomorrow. I should have more faith in my colleagues, perhaps?
---
Edited to add again: I just got another email suggesting an alternate way to get the Fulbright and expressing general support. I should definitely have more faith in my colleagues.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
One of those huge updates
First of all, I have good news.
I actually have outstanding news, and it occurred to me (via my husband) that it ought to go in this blog, and the more I thought about, the more it seems, he's right. After all, this blog is about the trials, tribulations and triumphs of being a graduate student in English. Lately, it's been mostly about the romance novels I read to escape all of that. Part of the reason is also that I don't want to complain. First of all, I really don't have much to complain about, and second, it's never a good idea to complain in a public forum.
But when I have awesome news, I have to share. I went to meet with Dr. K yesterday to see if she would be willing to, well, basically, do me several favors in a row, starting with being the director for my dissertation. I posited the idea to her that we might begin with a directed reading next semester that would have two goals--the first to help me prepare for the preliminary exam in Victorian literature, and the second being to help me do quite a bit of preliminary research for my dissertation. My idea was to focus the first part of the semester on what I needed for the exam, the second my half more on dissertation, and do several short exploratory papers throughout the semester to help me focus my ideas for my dissertation, with the end goal of the semester being to have a dissertation proposal completed.
She thought this was a great idea. Then I mentioned how I was working on applying for the Fulbright scholarship, and she was also ecstatic about the prospect. As I noted I was still having difficulty coming up with an affiliation, she suggested the Tennyson Research Centre in Lincolnshire. I hadn't considered that (it was a fantastic idea), and she sent off an email to them right then.
I ended up sending a text to Snarky Writer with the message "My dissertation director is cooler than yours."
The day only got better, as we discovered that my husband had been hired for a temporary position at a local party store to get them through Halloween! This is great, and it gives him retail experience to put on his resume as well. So he's been off to work today (!), and I'm waiting for him to get home right now. I'm planning a ham steak, green beans, mac and cheese and biscuits for dinner. I'd thought about chicken and dumplings, but trying to get the recipe out of my mom was a little difficult, and she doesn't put chicken in hers anyway. As I didn't want to give my husband salmonella poisoning his first week of work (or, you know, ever), I figured I'd stick to something I couldn't screw up!
--
Book review! I just finished Julia Quinn's Just Like Heaven, the first in her Smythe-Smith quartet, and anyone who has ever read her Bridgerton series knows exactly just how disastrous the Smythe-Smith musicales are. The poor four girls who take part in the musicale are the heroines of this quartet. Our heroine, Honoria, desperately does not want to take part, to the point where she digs a hole in the garden, hoping that she can get out of rehearsal by "tripping" in a mole-hole. What she doesn't plan on is Marcus, our hero, accidentally tripping in it instead, badly turning his ankle.
Quinn uses a quirk of Regency fashion as the hinge for her plot. Men's boots at the time required assistance to take on and off without a sprained and swollen ankle, and Marcus' boot actually has to be cut off his foot. He comes down with pneumonia from sitting out in the rain for a while (since Honoria can't carry him home), but what no one realizes is that his leg was cut when the boot came off and is now infected.
The dedication to the book is, as always, dedicated to Quinn's husband, who apparently told her under no circumstances that there was no way Marcus could survive such an injury. But miracles do happen, and Honoria and her mother nurse him back to health, just in time for him to hear their genuinely disastrous musicale. Those who've read Quinn before might remember in one of the Bridgerton novels, Lady Danbury knocks a Smythe-Smith violin off a piano, shattering it and insists on buying a new one (that might take up to a year to come in). Honoria, it seems, is the owner of that violin, which ties this story nicely into the greater universe Quinn has created.
Is it a great novel? No, probably not. Quinn is certainly not the queen of Regency romance--I maintain that crown very firmly belongs to Stephanie Laurens (and I'm sure others would argue Georgette Heyer, but I've not read any of hers). If I'm judging against Laurens, Quinn simply can't compare. She's good enough that I'll continue reading her books, but not so good that her books are a must have the day they come out.
Just Like Heaven - C+
---
Hastings had another sale on, and in celebration of employment, my husband and I went out last night. Speaking of Stephanie Laurens and books that I desperately want the day they're released, I now have obtained a copy of In Pursuit of Miss Eliza Cynster. (I do want to know what is up with her titles these days, though. Viscount Breckenridge to the Rescue? This? Are the Harlequin editors--those responsible for, I kid you not, Pregnesia--titling her novels?) In any case, I am very much looking forward for that.
I also bought, since it was again 2 paperbacks for $10, Lisa Kleypas' When Strangers Marry. It was originally her first novel ever published with Avon Romance, as Only In Your Arms, and she has since revised and retitled it. I figure this way I'm getting it the way she wants it. It's the first Kleypas book I've ever had, so I'm looking forward to reading it.
But first, I have some 18th century drama to get through, and I have to start Maria Edgeworth's Belinda. I think I'd rather read romance.
---
On one final note: Amazon has just begun taking preorders for the Kindle Fire. Why is this important? Well, first, here are some of the details from Mashable regarding the Fire.
Then there's the part where Barnes and Noble's stock fell 9% on the announcement of the Fire, the fact that the original Kindle just dropped dramatically in price, and the fact that Amazon is also taking orders for the new Kindle Touch, to be released not quite two weeks after the Fire.
What bothers me about this is that Amazon, essentially, is copying Barnes and Noble. Barnes and Noble gives us the Nook Color--Amazon comes along and makes the Kindle Fire, which is meant less to compete with the Nook and more with the iPad. Barnes and Noble gives us the new version of the Nook, completely e-ink and touch based. Amazon ends up with the Kindle Touch. And yet, it's the company that's innovating--Barnes and Noble--that's suffering.
Here's an idea--and the companies can keep it. Give me a tablet computer that can switch between a backlit display for computer work and an e-ink display (for reading books). Do that, and you'll have me hooked.
I actually have outstanding news, and it occurred to me (via my husband) that it ought to go in this blog, and the more I thought about, the more it seems, he's right. After all, this blog is about the trials, tribulations and triumphs of being a graduate student in English. Lately, it's been mostly about the romance novels I read to escape all of that. Part of the reason is also that I don't want to complain. First of all, I really don't have much to complain about, and second, it's never a good idea to complain in a public forum.
But when I have awesome news, I have to share. I went to meet with Dr. K yesterday to see if she would be willing to, well, basically, do me several favors in a row, starting with being the director for my dissertation. I posited the idea to her that we might begin with a directed reading next semester that would have two goals--the first to help me prepare for the preliminary exam in Victorian literature, and the second being to help me do quite a bit of preliminary research for my dissertation. My idea was to focus the first part of the semester on what I needed for the exam, the second my half more on dissertation, and do several short exploratory papers throughout the semester to help me focus my ideas for my dissertation, with the end goal of the semester being to have a dissertation proposal completed.
She thought this was a great idea. Then I mentioned how I was working on applying for the Fulbright scholarship, and she was also ecstatic about the prospect. As I noted I was still having difficulty coming up with an affiliation, she suggested the Tennyson Research Centre in Lincolnshire. I hadn't considered that (it was a fantastic idea), and she sent off an email to them right then.
I ended up sending a text to Snarky Writer with the message "My dissertation director is cooler than yours."
The day only got better, as we discovered that my husband had been hired for a temporary position at a local party store to get them through Halloween! This is great, and it gives him retail experience to put on his resume as well. So he's been off to work today (!), and I'm waiting for him to get home right now. I'm planning a ham steak, green beans, mac and cheese and biscuits for dinner. I'd thought about chicken and dumplings, but trying to get the recipe out of my mom was a little difficult, and she doesn't put chicken in hers anyway. As I didn't want to give my husband salmonella poisoning his first week of work (or, you know, ever), I figured I'd stick to something I couldn't screw up!
--
Book review! I just finished Julia Quinn's Just Like Heaven, the first in her Smythe-Smith quartet, and anyone who has ever read her Bridgerton series knows exactly just how disastrous the Smythe-Smith musicales are. The poor four girls who take part in the musicale are the heroines of this quartet. Our heroine, Honoria, desperately does not want to take part, to the point where she digs a hole in the garden, hoping that she can get out of rehearsal by "tripping" in a mole-hole. What she doesn't plan on is Marcus, our hero, accidentally tripping in it instead, badly turning his ankle.
Quinn uses a quirk of Regency fashion as the hinge for her plot. Men's boots at the time required assistance to take on and off without a sprained and swollen ankle, and Marcus' boot actually has to be cut off his foot. He comes down with pneumonia from sitting out in the rain for a while (since Honoria can't carry him home), but what no one realizes is that his leg was cut when the boot came off and is now infected.
The dedication to the book is, as always, dedicated to Quinn's husband, who apparently told her under no circumstances that there was no way Marcus could survive such an injury. But miracles do happen, and Honoria and her mother nurse him back to health, just in time for him to hear their genuinely disastrous musicale. Those who've read Quinn before might remember in one of the Bridgerton novels, Lady Danbury knocks a Smythe-Smith violin off a piano, shattering it and insists on buying a new one (that might take up to a year to come in). Honoria, it seems, is the owner of that violin, which ties this story nicely into the greater universe Quinn has created.
Is it a great novel? No, probably not. Quinn is certainly not the queen of Regency romance--I maintain that crown very firmly belongs to Stephanie Laurens (and I'm sure others would argue Georgette Heyer, but I've not read any of hers). If I'm judging against Laurens, Quinn simply can't compare. She's good enough that I'll continue reading her books, but not so good that her books are a must have the day they come out.
Just Like Heaven - C+
---
Hastings had another sale on, and in celebration of employment, my husband and I went out last night. Speaking of Stephanie Laurens and books that I desperately want the day they're released, I now have obtained a copy of In Pursuit of Miss Eliza Cynster. (I do want to know what is up with her titles these days, though. Viscount Breckenridge to the Rescue? This? Are the Harlequin editors--those responsible for, I kid you not, Pregnesia--titling her novels?) In any case, I am very much looking forward for that.
I also bought, since it was again 2 paperbacks for $10, Lisa Kleypas' When Strangers Marry. It was originally her first novel ever published with Avon Romance, as Only In Your Arms, and she has since revised and retitled it. I figure this way I'm getting it the way she wants it. It's the first Kleypas book I've ever had, so I'm looking forward to reading it.
But first, I have some 18th century drama to get through, and I have to start Maria Edgeworth's Belinda. I think I'd rather read romance.
---
On one final note: Amazon has just begun taking preorders for the Kindle Fire. Why is this important? Well, first, here are some of the details from Mashable regarding the Fire.
Then there's the part where Barnes and Noble's stock fell 9% on the announcement of the Fire, the fact that the original Kindle just dropped dramatically in price, and the fact that Amazon is also taking orders for the new Kindle Touch, to be released not quite two weeks after the Fire.
What bothers me about this is that Amazon, essentially, is copying Barnes and Noble. Barnes and Noble gives us the Nook Color--Amazon comes along and makes the Kindle Fire, which is meant less to compete with the Nook and more with the iPad. Barnes and Noble gives us the new version of the Nook, completely e-ink and touch based. Amazon ends up with the Kindle Touch. And yet, it's the company that's innovating--Barnes and Noble--that's suffering.
Here's an idea--and the companies can keep it. Give me a tablet computer that can switch between a backlit display for computer work and an e-ink display (for reading books). Do that, and you'll have me hooked.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Hm.
I swore that I would not abandon this blog.
She says a month and a half from the previous entry.
To be fair, things have been nuts. Teaching, taking classes, wedding planning, dealing with my mom being sick, etc. Absolutely insane. There hasn't been a whole lot of time for reading for pleasure; to be honest, there hasn't been much time for reading for school either. Articles here, articles there, library books scattered everywhere with Post-it notes in the margins.
And in the meantime, Bergie is howling. I think he's lost in the house somewhere. But why should that be any different than normal?
Anyway. First, a couple of updates on the Kindle - I figured out how to turn off the highlighting feature, so it doesn't show other people's notes. However, I can't make the highlighting feature work consistently for my own highlights. More meddling to come. Also, the battery lasts way longer than the previously discussed three weeks. Which is awesome. I will say that, since I am using many of the free books, it paid for itself within 24 hours of me having it.
Still, some of the pricing on new books is ridiculous. I'd been looking forward to The Reckless Bride for sometime. I checked on Amazon to see how much it was for the Kindle--the same price as it was for the regular book - $7.99. (btw, what is up with book prices these days? Honestly, it's ridiculous!)
So, I bought the book at Walmart for $5.84. Much more reasonable, and I have a solid, actual book that I can loan out, read in the bathtub without much risk, and resell to Half Price Books at a later date and actually get money out of. (This is why the Kindle won't kill the book market completely.)
Speaking of, The Reckless Bride was a decent close to Stephanie Lauren's Black Cobra Quartet. It wasn't spectacular, by any means; the ending was sort of contrived. There was a nice twist to the end that I never saw coming. Also, unlike The Brazen Bride, I didn't stop and go, "Wow, there's a ridiculous amount of sex in this." More than her other novels, certainly, but not eight scenes in the first 150 pages.
Also recently read, Side Jobs by Jim Butcher.
Excuse me while I squee a little bit.
First of all, there were a ton of stories that I'd never read. Mostly because I'm too cheap to go buy an anthology of short stories when I really only want one--namely, Dresden. Second, because there was an all new novella that took place forty-five minutes after the end of Changes.
Have I mentioned that Murphy kicks copious amounts of ass?
Also, there was a little bit of Harry/Murphy romance, and that made me happy. Buy it. Read it. Now.
The only other book that I've read completely (for the first time) was Jack Stillinger's Reading The Eve of St. Agnes. It's a scholarly work on Keats' poem and was decently interesting. The man is a scholarly genius and basically did all the work for my Keats presentation for me (no joke, it has everything you could possibly want to know. I wanted to take the book to class, say "read this" and have that be my presentation). Of course, I also have to find a new way to go about writing my paper, because Stillinger has done a lot of the work already, and if there's one thing hammered into your head in English programs is to be original and to contribute to the conversation. (I'm giving you my strained grin right now. It's hard to be original and to contribute to a conversation when your head is ready to explode with all the stuff you have to do.)
(By the way, College of Graduate Studies? You suck.)
I did also finally finish Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell and was immensely disappointed when I got to the end...and it was the end. The woman didn't have the decency to finish the book before she died! The main character pissed me off, because she was a doormat. She could have had everything she ever wanted if she just grew a pair and stood up for herself. No, in all seriousness, I looked it up on Wikipedia, and apparently, Gaskell had a happy ending planned, so at least it didn't end on a completely depressing note. Still, all she was teaching her gentle readers was to be a doormat and everything will come to you.
It's a miracle we ever got the vote.
Anyway, that's a quick run down of the last month and a half of reading. Time for me to go to bed.
She says a month and a half from the previous entry.
To be fair, things have been nuts. Teaching, taking classes, wedding planning, dealing with my mom being sick, etc. Absolutely insane. There hasn't been a whole lot of time for reading for pleasure; to be honest, there hasn't been much time for reading for school either. Articles here, articles there, library books scattered everywhere with Post-it notes in the margins.
And in the meantime, Bergie is howling. I think he's lost in the house somewhere. But why should that be any different than normal?
Anyway. First, a couple of updates on the Kindle - I figured out how to turn off the highlighting feature, so it doesn't show other people's notes. However, I can't make the highlighting feature work consistently for my own highlights. More meddling to come. Also, the battery lasts way longer than the previously discussed three weeks. Which is awesome. I will say that, since I am using many of the free books, it paid for itself within 24 hours of me having it.
Still, some of the pricing on new books is ridiculous. I'd been looking forward to The Reckless Bride for sometime. I checked on Amazon to see how much it was for the Kindle--the same price as it was for the regular book - $7.99. (btw, what is up with book prices these days? Honestly, it's ridiculous!)
So, I bought the book at Walmart for $5.84. Much more reasonable, and I have a solid, actual book that I can loan out, read in the bathtub without much risk, and resell to Half Price Books at a later date and actually get money out of. (This is why the Kindle won't kill the book market completely.)
Speaking of, The Reckless Bride was a decent close to Stephanie Lauren's Black Cobra Quartet. It wasn't spectacular, by any means; the ending was sort of contrived. There was a nice twist to the end that I never saw coming. Also, unlike The Brazen Bride, I didn't stop and go, "Wow, there's a ridiculous amount of sex in this." More than her other novels, certainly, but not eight scenes in the first 150 pages.
Also recently read, Side Jobs by Jim Butcher.
Excuse me while I squee a little bit.
First of all, there were a ton of stories that I'd never read. Mostly because I'm too cheap to go buy an anthology of short stories when I really only want one--namely, Dresden. Second, because there was an all new novella that took place forty-five minutes after the end of Changes.
Have I mentioned that Murphy kicks copious amounts of ass?
Also, there was a little bit of Harry/Murphy romance, and that made me happy. Buy it. Read it. Now.
The only other book that I've read completely (for the first time) was Jack Stillinger's Reading The Eve of St. Agnes. It's a scholarly work on Keats' poem and was decently interesting. The man is a scholarly genius and basically did all the work for my Keats presentation for me (no joke, it has everything you could possibly want to know. I wanted to take the book to class, say "read this" and have that be my presentation). Of course, I also have to find a new way to go about writing my paper, because Stillinger has done a lot of the work already, and if there's one thing hammered into your head in English programs is to be original and to contribute to the conversation. (I'm giving you my strained grin right now. It's hard to be original and to contribute to a conversation when your head is ready to explode with all the stuff you have to do.)
(By the way, College of Graduate Studies? You suck.)
I did also finally finish Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell and was immensely disappointed when I got to the end...and it was the end. The woman didn't have the decency to finish the book before she died! The main character pissed me off, because she was a doormat. She could have had everything she ever wanted if she just grew a pair and stood up for herself. No, in all seriousness, I looked it up on Wikipedia, and apparently, Gaskell had a happy ending planned, so at least it didn't end on a completely depressing note. Still, all she was teaching her gentle readers was to be a doormat and everything will come to you.
It's a miracle we ever got the vote.
Anyway, that's a quick run down of the last month and a half of reading. Time for me to go to bed.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Well, this has been fun.
On the whole, last week sucked ass.
Start with TA orientation. Orientations, like meetings, while important, are not typically fun, but things were going okay. This was until they decided to test the fire alarms in the building on Tuesday. After ten minutes of strobe lights, I had a migraine that lasted three days and kept setting off low-level panic attacks.
My mother went to her emergency neurologist appointment Wednesday. The neurological degradation continues to worsen, and he scheduled her for an MRI the next day and another appointment immediately afterward. The MRI did not show anything in particular that would explain things, so he's scheduled her to have an EEG and a spinal tap on Tuesday.
After a couple go arounds with the new rental company, I finally have an apartment and began to move some of my stuff over. A good bit is over--everything that I can fit in my tiny car--and SW loaned her truck to the cause and helped, as did Fitz's Person. Moving is always stressful, and this was compounded by the fact that I knew that I was going to be here in KY until probably Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. My dad had originally been going to go to Houston for work, but given the spinal tap, he's not going. I'm sticking around anyway until after the procedure at least.
In moving things Friday morning, however, I stepped wrong off the sidewalk. It didn't hurt too much until later that afternoon. But there was no swelling, so whatever, right? I got back to KY in time for family dinner for Mom's birthday, put some ice on it. Stayed off it Saturday for most of the day until the Boy came and took me out on a date. By the time the night was over, it was time for more ice. Fast forward to today, and thirty minutes after getting out of the bed, and my limp was pronounced. Still no swelling, though. Had to go find one of the crutches to get around today as Starving4Scotch and CatieStorm and I went to pick out their bridesmaid's dresses for my wedding!
That's not to say that there were not high points to my week. The aforementioned date the Boy took me out on--a trip to Old Chicago Pizza, Half Price Books and Comedy off Broadway to see Kevin Pollak. The trip to David's Bridal and the mall today (incidentally, should one find one's self with a busted up ankle and require one of the provided wheelchairs in order to get around the mall without a ridiculous amount of pain, one should not let S4S drive. No matter how much she asks). Packing Friday morning with SW and FP was also enjoyable, because things that suck can always be made better by the presence of awesome friends.
Am kind of worried about my ankle at the moment, as it seems to be getting worse rather than better. If it's not better by the time I get back down to Tennessee, I'll be making a trip over to Student Health.
---
Oh, hey, books! The trip to Half Price netted me 24 dollars, and I managed to buy copies of Jude the Obscure, and Oroonoko for my preliminary exam list and S.M. Stirling's Island in the Sea of Time, which had been recommended to me over at Rebel Tales (and still came away with 9 dollars). I did read Jude the Obscure this afternoon, and was pleasantly surprised. I understand why it garnered so many objections at the time, because I imagine it was quite shocking--tales of unhappy marriages, divorce, adultery, lost faith, child death, suicide, remarriage. In my world, though, we call that dealing with very real adult issues. And who in graduate school hasn't felt some of Jude's frustrations when it comes to trying to get the education you want?
I really liked it. I've liked Hardy ever since I read Tess of the D'urbervilles. Bad things happen, and Hardy was one of the first to deal with some of the hard decisions that result from these things. And the character development was so spot on with Jude and Sue. Jude became depressed and bitter; Sue lost it after the death of her children and repressed herself and everything she was afterward because she blamed everything that happened on her actions.
---
I also bought a book that surveys the history of astronomical discoveries, including some translations and excerpts of primary documents, especially in the early years. I left it in the other room, so I don't have the title off hand, and I'm not getting up to get it. I'm comfy, my foot is elevated. May start on that one tomorrow.
Start with TA orientation. Orientations, like meetings, while important, are not typically fun, but things were going okay. This was until they decided to test the fire alarms in the building on Tuesday. After ten minutes of strobe lights, I had a migraine that lasted three days and kept setting off low-level panic attacks.
My mother went to her emergency neurologist appointment Wednesday. The neurological degradation continues to worsen, and he scheduled her for an MRI the next day and another appointment immediately afterward. The MRI did not show anything in particular that would explain things, so he's scheduled her to have an EEG and a spinal tap on Tuesday.
After a couple go arounds with the new rental company, I finally have an apartment and began to move some of my stuff over. A good bit is over--everything that I can fit in my tiny car--and SW loaned her truck to the cause and helped, as did Fitz's Person. Moving is always stressful, and this was compounded by the fact that I knew that I was going to be here in KY until probably Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. My dad had originally been going to go to Houston for work, but given the spinal tap, he's not going. I'm sticking around anyway until after the procedure at least.
In moving things Friday morning, however, I stepped wrong off the sidewalk. It didn't hurt too much until later that afternoon. But there was no swelling, so whatever, right? I got back to KY in time for family dinner for Mom's birthday, put some ice on it. Stayed off it Saturday for most of the day until the Boy came and took me out on a date. By the time the night was over, it was time for more ice. Fast forward to today, and thirty minutes after getting out of the bed, and my limp was pronounced. Still no swelling, though. Had to go find one of the crutches to get around today as Starving4Scotch and CatieStorm and I went to pick out their bridesmaid's dresses for my wedding!
That's not to say that there were not high points to my week. The aforementioned date the Boy took me out on--a trip to Old Chicago Pizza, Half Price Books and Comedy off Broadway to see Kevin Pollak. The trip to David's Bridal and the mall today (incidentally, should one find one's self with a busted up ankle and require one of the provided wheelchairs in order to get around the mall without a ridiculous amount of pain, one should not let S4S drive. No matter how much she asks). Packing Friday morning with SW and FP was also enjoyable, because things that suck can always be made better by the presence of awesome friends.
Am kind of worried about my ankle at the moment, as it seems to be getting worse rather than better. If it's not better by the time I get back down to Tennessee, I'll be making a trip over to Student Health.
---
Oh, hey, books! The trip to Half Price netted me 24 dollars, and I managed to buy copies of Jude the Obscure, and Oroonoko for my preliminary exam list and S.M. Stirling's Island in the Sea of Time, which had been recommended to me over at Rebel Tales (and still came away with 9 dollars). I did read Jude the Obscure this afternoon, and was pleasantly surprised. I understand why it garnered so many objections at the time, because I imagine it was quite shocking--tales of unhappy marriages, divorce, adultery, lost faith, child death, suicide, remarriage. In my world, though, we call that dealing with very real adult issues. And who in graduate school hasn't felt some of Jude's frustrations when it comes to trying to get the education you want?
I really liked it. I've liked Hardy ever since I read Tess of the D'urbervilles. Bad things happen, and Hardy was one of the first to deal with some of the hard decisions that result from these things. And the character development was so spot on with Jude and Sue. Jude became depressed and bitter; Sue lost it after the death of her children and repressed herself and everything she was afterward because she blamed everything that happened on her actions.
---
I also bought a book that surveys the history of astronomical discoveries, including some translations and excerpts of primary documents, especially in the early years. I left it in the other room, so I don't have the title off hand, and I'm not getting up to get it. I'm comfy, my foot is elevated. May start on that one tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
The Road to Hell...
Suffice it to say my good intentions this weekend went awry. Of all the things I planned to do out of the list of things I wrote in my last entry, I baked a cake, boxed up some books, and played WoW (but my game time has run out so I'm back to actually, you know, doing productive things).
I did, however, read Through the Looking Glass, and continued to be boggled by it. Several of my friends love Lewis Carroll, but I've never been that big a fan. It's part of the reason that I don't often some postmodern works as well--I don't do well with nonsensical. That said, there are some definite gems: "The Walrus and the Carpenter," and Alice's conversation about words with Humpty Dumpty are two.
I also read a chapter or two of Bleak House. I'm about two-thirds of the way through it (which means I still have probably 300 pages to go) and have been since May. The Boy always maintains that Dickens was a hack, and I usually argue that while yes, Dickens was a hack, so am I, and besides Dickens was at least a good hack. I don't particularly enjoy Great Expectations or Hard Times, but I love A Christmas Carol (who doesn't?) and A Tale of Two Cities has some of the most brilliant lines in English literature.
Bleak House? Well, okay, dear. I admit it. Dickens is a hack, and not always a good one.
I also started rereading Jim Butcher's Storm Front this weekend, partly because The Boy has read them all more recently than I have and keeps bringing up stuff that I forget. Very much struck by the difference between the writing of Storm Front, the first Dresden book, and Changes, the twelfth and most recent. Since the Dresden Files are written in first person, the changes are all in Harry's voice--and over twelve books, he's gotten a lot wiser, a little bit darker, little wearier, and a whole lot more determined to do what it takes to protect the people he loves.
Plans for today include:
I did, however, read Through the Looking Glass, and continued to be boggled by it. Several of my friends love Lewis Carroll, but I've never been that big a fan. It's part of the reason that I don't often some postmodern works as well--I don't do well with nonsensical. That said, there are some definite gems: "The Walrus and the Carpenter," and Alice's conversation about words with Humpty Dumpty are two.
I also read a chapter or two of Bleak House. I'm about two-thirds of the way through it (which means I still have probably 300 pages to go) and have been since May. The Boy always maintains that Dickens was a hack, and I usually argue that while yes, Dickens was a hack, so am I, and besides Dickens was at least a good hack. I don't particularly enjoy Great Expectations or Hard Times, but I love A Christmas Carol (who doesn't?) and A Tale of Two Cities has some of the most brilliant lines in English literature.
Bleak House? Well, okay, dear. I admit it. Dickens is a hack, and not always a good one.
I also started rereading Jim Butcher's Storm Front this weekend, partly because The Boy has read them all more recently than I have and keeps bringing up stuff that I forget. Very much struck by the difference between the writing of Storm Front, the first Dresden book, and Changes, the twelfth and most recent. Since the Dresden Files are written in first person, the changes are all in Harry's voice--and over twelve books, he's gotten a lot wiser, a little bit darker, little wearier, and a whole lot more determined to do what it takes to protect the people he loves.
Plans for today include:
- Finish Comp/Rhet paper. This is non-negotiable, as it's due tomorrow at noon.
- Write paragraph for the college of graduate studies outlining my summer research. Also non-negotiable, as it's due...today? $*@&#
- Go to library and return carrel key. Also non-negotiable, as they will blister my ass if I don't get it back.
- Office Depot. Need printer cartridge, necessary for finishing paper, as I need to print it out to proof it.
- Publix. I need food. Also non-negotiable, because I am sick and tired of eating pasta.
Monday, July 5, 2010
A Long Weekend
Since my Yeats paper was turned in last week, and this weekend was a long weekend as well as my birthday weekend, I trekked back up to Kentucky for the first time in almost two months. Needless to say, I've had a good weekend, which began Thursday night when I was welcomed home by my parents, my dog and a cold diet Ale-8. My parents immediately gave me my birthday gift--a little stool in the shape of a cat! I went searching online for a picture of it, but I couldn't find one, so it will have to wait until I can borrow a camera.
On Friday, The Boy came in. He brought me a lovely new robe that is so very comfortable (I had been completely jealous of his) and a wonderful card from his mom and dad (it had bulldog puppies on the front!). My dad made dinner for all of us kids. It was nice to have almost all of our crew in our house--Oldest Brother came in, Middle Brother came in, but had to leave his fiance at home, as she was sick, and Youngest Brother also invited his girlfriend. We had a houseful, and it was wonderful. So much laughter. Afterwards, The Boy and I went out and met up with his brother and sister-in-law and some friends.
I slept late Saturday morning, then the Boy and I went to the quilt store to look for some fabric for his mama, then over to Gran and Bud's for lunch. Then the Boy went to visit his brother, and Youngest Brother and I went bowling (he's a freak of nature, by the way), watched fireworks in the backyard and played video games.
Oldest Brother came back over Sunday morning for breakfast, and Dad made French toast and sausage balls, which were both very, very tasty. Then the Boy and I ran to Lexington, stopped by to see CatieStorm, and made our way to Half-Price Books. I came away with the next two Kim Harrison books--A Few Demons More and The Outlaw Demon Wails--the latter being in hardcover and on clearance for two dollars. Also bought Richard Ellmann's Yeats: The Man and the Masks, because despite being as sick of Yeats as I am, I could see doing work on it later, and it's a definitive biography.
Then the Boy and I went and met with the cake decorator--we are going to have the most beautiful wedding cake ever. Then Dad made dinner (there was red velvet cake involved), we watched the John Wayne marathon on AMC and sat out on the porch and watched fireworks and enjoyed each other's company.
This morning, we both had to skedaddle, after Dad fixed another massive and delicious breakfast (I have eaten a ridiculous amount this weekend). I stopped by Walmart and stocked up on diet Ale-8 with the gift card my brothers had bought me. I also went ahead and snagged The Brazen Bride with it while I was there, with the proviso that I will not let myself read it until Thursday afternoon after Yeats is over for the semester.
I should be doing homework right now, but I stopped midway through my reading in order to eat dinner. I'm a little down right now--the end of my birthday, and I'm sitting in my apartment doing homework and missing the Boy terribly. I'm twenty-five now--officially, it's after 9:01 EDT--and this is the last (good) age milestone, since my car insurance has gone down! The next one is thirty. I don't know that I'm exactly where I thought I'd be at twenty-five, if I ever gave it that much thought. But I can't be unhappy with it. A little lonely, perhaps, but that won't last. This time next year, the Boy and I will be married, and I will have a hug just waiting for me. In the meantime, I will satisfy myself with my bad cats and my homework, which I better get back to. Yeats waits for no woman.
On Friday, The Boy came in. He brought me a lovely new robe that is so very comfortable (I had been completely jealous of his) and a wonderful card from his mom and dad (it had bulldog puppies on the front!). My dad made dinner for all of us kids. It was nice to have almost all of our crew in our house--Oldest Brother came in, Middle Brother came in, but had to leave his fiance at home, as she was sick, and Youngest Brother also invited his girlfriend. We had a houseful, and it was wonderful. So much laughter. Afterwards, The Boy and I went out and met up with his brother and sister-in-law and some friends.
I slept late Saturday morning, then the Boy and I went to the quilt store to look for some fabric for his mama, then over to Gran and Bud's for lunch. Then the Boy went to visit his brother, and Youngest Brother and I went bowling (he's a freak of nature, by the way), watched fireworks in the backyard and played video games.
Oldest Brother came back over Sunday morning for breakfast, and Dad made French toast and sausage balls, which were both very, very tasty. Then the Boy and I ran to Lexington, stopped by to see CatieStorm, and made our way to Half-Price Books. I came away with the next two Kim Harrison books--A Few Demons More and The Outlaw Demon Wails--the latter being in hardcover and on clearance for two dollars. Also bought Richard Ellmann's Yeats: The Man and the Masks, because despite being as sick of Yeats as I am, I could see doing work on it later, and it's a definitive biography.
Then the Boy and I went and met with the cake decorator--we are going to have the most beautiful wedding cake ever. Then Dad made dinner (there was red velvet cake involved), we watched the John Wayne marathon on AMC and sat out on the porch and watched fireworks and enjoyed each other's company.
This morning, we both had to skedaddle, after Dad fixed another massive and delicious breakfast (I have eaten a ridiculous amount this weekend). I stopped by Walmart and stocked up on diet Ale-8 with the gift card my brothers had bought me. I also went ahead and snagged The Brazen Bride with it while I was there, with the proviso that I will not let myself read it until Thursday afternoon after Yeats is over for the semester.
I should be doing homework right now, but I stopped midway through my reading in order to eat dinner. I'm a little down right now--the end of my birthday, and I'm sitting in my apartment doing homework and missing the Boy terribly. I'm twenty-five now--officially, it's after 9:01 EDT--and this is the last (good) age milestone, since my car insurance has gone down! The next one is thirty. I don't know that I'm exactly where I thought I'd be at twenty-five, if I ever gave it that much thought. But I can't be unhappy with it. A little lonely, perhaps, but that won't last. This time next year, the Boy and I will be married, and I will have a hug just waiting for me. In the meantime, I will satisfy myself with my bad cats and my homework, which I better get back to. Yeats waits for no woman.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
This week's books
So, despite the fact that I've been snowed under by work for my Yeats class, I've spent a fair amount of time reading for myself and a little time reading for my preliminary exams, all of which has been productive. Incidentally, I've also written a twenty-page paper for Yeats, and while I should be doing homework right now, I'm choosing to write this instead. Perhaps I will work on Yeats later this evening. I do need to get some work on it done, as I've a quiz due tomorrow and the final paper is due Thursday, but I only have some minor revisions that need completed for the paper. Still, I want to be able to spend time with the Snarky Writer and Fitz's Person tomorrow for FP's birthday tomorrow.
But anyway, back to my procrasti-blogging. SW, as previously mentioned, has started me on Kim Harrison's Rachel Morgan books, and in the last week, I've devoured The Good, the Bad, and the Undead and this evening I've raced right through Every Which Way but Dead. Both were amazing--the protagonist has a singular ability to get herself into trouble that I've perhaps only seen happen to characters like Stephanie Plum and Harry Dresden. Also, hello, Kisten? I've got an image of him being David Boreanaz--hey, if I'm going for good-looking vampires, why not?
I also indulged myself in a nice long soak in the tub this week with Julie Garwood's latest, Sizzle, which was so-so. The plot wasn't quite there, but the first line of the second chapter made up for it: "Grandmother was stealing holy water again." For those unfamiliar with Julie Garwood, this has nothing to do with Gramma trying to ward off vampires, as a grandma in Kim Harrison's books might, and everything with thinking that blessed waters would help her flowers grow. There was also a strange bit with the hero being a dual citizen of the U.S. and Scotland. I'm sorry, but I would imagine that having an FBI agent with a Scottish brogue might result in some operational security issues, in that he would be really, really noticeable.
Last night, I also finished Charlotte Bronte's Villette, which I've been working on a bit at a time over the last several weeks, and was fairly unsatisfied with the ending, as I had thought I might be. Still, I have to agree with the critical interpretation--it's a much better book than Jane Eyre. Part of that is Bronte's characterization of women--she's less concerned with creating the Gothic imagery that's so evident in Jane Eyre and focusing more on the character itself. And it is a powerful lesson in what can happen when you're too scared to make opportunities for yourself. I couldn't help but feel bad for poor Lucy Snowe--she got so close to happiness, first with Dr. John, and then with M. Paul, but neither really panned out. She still leads a productive life, though, and seems to be happy with that, so I suppose there's a lesson in there about lives well lived or something.
In other news, I just realized that Catherine Coulter has a new FBI thriller out, Whiplash, which I would be very excited about it Knock Out hadn't been sitting on my bookshelf in hardcover since it came out. I've also got A.S. Byatt's The Children's Book on the shelf, Christine Golden's Star Wars: Allies is now out, and of course, how can one forget that Stephanie Plum is returning in Sizzlin' Sixteen? Lula and Grandma Mazur are entering a barbeque contest. This does not bode well for anyone involved.
So, I'm going to add a sidebar to this blog with the books I want to read, because there tend to be so many at one time that I will forget I want to read them.
I also need to add to the reading list another book from my prelim list. I'm inclined to put Fanny Hill on the list, just for the hell of it (hey, it's on the reading list, I kid you not) but I don't have a copy of it at the moment. Still, I'm going home this weekend, and I saw it the last time I was at the half-price bookstore. No, I need to focus on a book that I already actually own. At the moment, this means I can finish reading Bleak House (I'm about three-quarters of the way through it, which means I've got about three hundred pages yet to go), can read Gulliver's Travels, or I can attempt to find my copies of Persuasion and Mansfield Park, which, to be honest, are probably what I'm going to end up going with, since Austen tends to be somewhat easier to read and I rather despise Jonathan Swift.
In any case, that is the update from the bookshelf. When you hear it groan, you'll know I've started in more on the 18th century list.
But anyway, back to my procrasti-blogging. SW, as previously mentioned, has started me on Kim Harrison's Rachel Morgan books, and in the last week, I've devoured The Good, the Bad, and the Undead and this evening I've raced right through Every Which Way but Dead. Both were amazing--the protagonist has a singular ability to get herself into trouble that I've perhaps only seen happen to characters like Stephanie Plum and Harry Dresden. Also, hello, Kisten? I've got an image of him being David Boreanaz--hey, if I'm going for good-looking vampires, why not?
I also indulged myself in a nice long soak in the tub this week with Julie Garwood's latest, Sizzle, which was so-so. The plot wasn't quite there, but the first line of the second chapter made up for it: "Grandmother was stealing holy water again." For those unfamiliar with Julie Garwood, this has nothing to do with Gramma trying to ward off vampires, as a grandma in Kim Harrison's books might, and everything with thinking that blessed waters would help her flowers grow. There was also a strange bit with the hero being a dual citizen of the U.S. and Scotland. I'm sorry, but I would imagine that having an FBI agent with a Scottish brogue might result in some operational security issues, in that he would be really, really noticeable.
Last night, I also finished Charlotte Bronte's Villette, which I've been working on a bit at a time over the last several weeks, and was fairly unsatisfied with the ending, as I had thought I might be. Still, I have to agree with the critical interpretation--it's a much better book than Jane Eyre. Part of that is Bronte's characterization of women--she's less concerned with creating the Gothic imagery that's so evident in Jane Eyre and focusing more on the character itself. And it is a powerful lesson in what can happen when you're too scared to make opportunities for yourself. I couldn't help but feel bad for poor Lucy Snowe--she got so close to happiness, first with Dr. John, and then with M. Paul, but neither really panned out. She still leads a productive life, though, and seems to be happy with that, so I suppose there's a lesson in there about lives well lived or something.
In other news, I just realized that Catherine Coulter has a new FBI thriller out, Whiplash, which I would be very excited about it Knock Out hadn't been sitting on my bookshelf in hardcover since it came out. I've also got A.S. Byatt's The Children's Book on the shelf, Christine Golden's Star Wars: Allies is now out, and of course, how can one forget that Stephanie Plum is returning in Sizzlin' Sixteen? Lula and Grandma Mazur are entering a barbeque contest. This does not bode well for anyone involved.
So, I'm going to add a sidebar to this blog with the books I want to read, because there tend to be so many at one time that I will forget I want to read them.
I also need to add to the reading list another book from my prelim list. I'm inclined to put Fanny Hill on the list, just for the hell of it (hey, it's on the reading list, I kid you not) but I don't have a copy of it at the moment. Still, I'm going home this weekend, and I saw it the last time I was at the half-price bookstore. No, I need to focus on a book that I already actually own. At the moment, this means I can finish reading Bleak House (I'm about three-quarters of the way through it, which means I've got about three hundred pages yet to go), can read Gulliver's Travels, or I can attempt to find my copies of Persuasion and Mansfield Park, which, to be honest, are probably what I'm going to end up going with, since Austen tends to be somewhat easier to read and I rather despise Jonathan Swift.
In any case, that is the update from the bookshelf. When you hear it groan, you'll know I've started in more on the 18th century list.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A two-part update
I moved to Murfreesboro not quite a year ago, and thought it was a pretty welcoming community. That was until the Islamic Center of Murfreesboro wanted to expand and all of a sudden, hatemongers started coming out of the woodwork. (In case you watch Diane Sawyer, this was the center covered by ABC World News last week.) I had a lot of thoughts about this, starting with a puzzlement over some of the protesters and their misunderstanding of Islam, Christianity, the First Amendment and zoning processes. I even had a full argument laid out about just how wrong they were.
But the more I got to thinking about it, I had to wonder if it would do any good. Those that agree with me agree with me, and those that don't aren't going to change their minds because of my well-thought-out and incredibly snarky rebuttal. So I won't offer my opinions on the issue. Instead, I'll offer the following:
This whole situation brought up something that we've been talking about in composition class. In the past, composition teachers were kind of the unnamed moral police of the university, teaching our students the way they should go. Part of our duty as composition teachers is not to simply teach composition, but to also teach critical thinking skills.
This brings me back to the whole idea of students having a right to their own language (as established by CCCC in 1974). If they have a right to their own language, then they also have rights to their own beliefs, as backwards and intolerant as I think they may be. I also know that it's impossible for me to keep my own political and religious biases out of the classroom, though I try as much as I am able. And I have dealt with hate speech in the classroom before (not particularly well that first time) and I've taught selections from the Qu'ran, as well as from Genesis, Matthew, the Dalai Lama and the Bhagavad gita.
I've seen students with certain viewpoints about Islam or Mormons or Catholics or Buddhists or Christians and done my best to help them apply their critical thinking skills to the situation. Some of them followed what I was trying to say and started thinking about it. To be honest, I don't know that there was a student I was more proud of than one who did apply critical thinking skills to it and then presented me with a well-thought-out argument for why he believed what he did. I didn't agree, but I could respect his conclusions.
But my question is not if I have a duty to introduce my students to these different viewpoints, because I firmly believe I do. It is whether or not I have a right to push them towards changing their own views. Or am I? If I can respect the student above, am I pushing them? I don't know.
The adventures of teaching in a multi-cultural society.
***
Back to what this blog is really supposed to be about: books! I've read a lot of Yeats research over the last week, and finally finished my annotated bibliography (I think). I read a very interesting book by Virginia Moore called The Unicorn which gave an overview of Yeats' occult beliefs and how they intersected with the Christianity of the day.
Also, my favorite Snarky Writer loaned me Kim Harrison's Dead Witch Walking, which was a very entertaining read. I had to laugh that the Hollows (the supernatural portion of Cincinnati in the novel) was across the river in Kentucky. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Covington, the Midwest's supernatural crossroads. I got far too much joy out of that. I also got a lot of joy out of the protagonist transmuting herself into a mink. That squeaked at her pixy friend. Definitely looking forward to the next one, but it may have to wait as my Yeats paper is due next week. Time to put in some quality Word time.
I'm also halfway through Charlotte Bronte's Villette, which is much more enjoyable than I thought it was going to be. Despite the fact that I know, I know, that there's not going to be a happy ending (have you ever met a Victorian lit novel that did?), I keep hoping that Lucy Snowe is going to stop fearing heartbreak and let herself be swept away by her handsome doctor. Not going to happen, but a girl can dream. If it wasn't on my prelim reading list, I'd stop there and let myself pretend she lived happily ever after.
***
Okay, so this is a three-part update, despite the post title. Leave me alone.
My dad is awesome. Seriously, he rocks. He works awfully hard to keep our family above water, and I don't mean just financially. I mean that he works on keeping us together--on keeping us a family, rather than a group of people who sometimes share the same space. He's taken care of a lot more than any man should ever have to, and he's done it with grace and courage.
I know he doesn't read this, but I'll say it anyway.
Happy Father's Day to the best dad in the world. I love you.
But the more I got to thinking about it, I had to wonder if it would do any good. Those that agree with me agree with me, and those that don't aren't going to change their minds because of my well-thought-out and incredibly snarky rebuttal. So I won't offer my opinions on the issue. Instead, I'll offer the following:
This whole situation brought up something that we've been talking about in composition class. In the past, composition teachers were kind of the unnamed moral police of the university, teaching our students the way they should go. Part of our duty as composition teachers is not to simply teach composition, but to also teach critical thinking skills.
This brings me back to the whole idea of students having a right to their own language (as established by CCCC in 1974). If they have a right to their own language, then they also have rights to their own beliefs, as backwards and intolerant as I think they may be. I also know that it's impossible for me to keep my own political and religious biases out of the classroom, though I try as much as I am able. And I have dealt with hate speech in the classroom before (not particularly well that first time) and I've taught selections from the Qu'ran, as well as from Genesis, Matthew, the Dalai Lama and the Bhagavad gita.
I've seen students with certain viewpoints about Islam or Mormons or Catholics or Buddhists or Christians and done my best to help them apply their critical thinking skills to the situation. Some of them followed what I was trying to say and started thinking about it. To be honest, I don't know that there was a student I was more proud of than one who did apply critical thinking skills to it and then presented me with a well-thought-out argument for why he believed what he did. I didn't agree, but I could respect his conclusions.
But my question is not if I have a duty to introduce my students to these different viewpoints, because I firmly believe I do. It is whether or not I have a right to push them towards changing their own views. Or am I? If I can respect the student above, am I pushing them? I don't know.
The adventures of teaching in a multi-cultural society.
***
Back to what this blog is really supposed to be about: books! I've read a lot of Yeats research over the last week, and finally finished my annotated bibliography (I think). I read a very interesting book by Virginia Moore called The Unicorn which gave an overview of Yeats' occult beliefs and how they intersected with the Christianity of the day.
Also, my favorite Snarky Writer loaned me Kim Harrison's Dead Witch Walking, which was a very entertaining read. I had to laugh that the Hollows (the supernatural portion of Cincinnati in the novel) was across the river in Kentucky. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Covington, the Midwest's supernatural crossroads. I got far too much joy out of that. I also got a lot of joy out of the protagonist transmuting herself into a mink. That squeaked at her pixy friend. Definitely looking forward to the next one, but it may have to wait as my Yeats paper is due next week. Time to put in some quality Word time.
I'm also halfway through Charlotte Bronte's Villette, which is much more enjoyable than I thought it was going to be. Despite the fact that I know, I know, that there's not going to be a happy ending (have you ever met a Victorian lit novel that did?), I keep hoping that Lucy Snowe is going to stop fearing heartbreak and let herself be swept away by her handsome doctor. Not going to happen, but a girl can dream. If it wasn't on my prelim reading list, I'd stop there and let myself pretend she lived happily ever after.
***
Okay, so this is a three-part update, despite the post title. Leave me alone.
My dad is awesome. Seriously, he rocks. He works awfully hard to keep our family above water, and I don't mean just financially. I mean that he works on keeping us together--on keeping us a family, rather than a group of people who sometimes share the same space. He's taken care of a lot more than any man should ever have to, and he's done it with grace and courage.
I know he doesn't read this, but I'll say it anyway.
Happy Father's Day to the best dad in the world. I love you.
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