Academics

When the stars threw down their spears

You know, I can’t help but feel as though this (aca­demic) year will be an import­ant one.

Finally, I’ve worked through all the admin­is­trat­ive prob­lems of being in English Honours for one-​half of my Dual Degree and I’m in! I couldn’t be happier…or more frightened. I’ve been spend­ing a lot of time this sum­mer pre­par­ing for English Honours (read­ing books, papers, etc.) but I haven’t a clue how I’ll do in com­par­ison with my class­mates. Here goes nothing.

Summer really went by too quickly and although I hardly did any­thing worth men­tion­ing, I did renew an interest in visual art! Visits to assor­ted art gal­ler­ies in the States really fostered that love. Here are some I thought were worth sharing:

When the stars threw down their spears   300 267x300After the deluge by Yoshitomo Nara (2006)

When the stars threw down their spears   Paradise0013 239x300Illustration for Milton’s Paradist Lost by Gustave Doré (1866)

When the stars threw down their spears   ME0000101897 3 292x300La musique by Charles-​André van Loo (1753)

Neat, hm?

Sunday, August 29th, 2010 Academics, Art, Meditations 2 Comments

All children, except one, grow up

Suffice it to say, today was a great deal more invig­or­at­ing than I had expec­ted. After a late start to the day (break­fast — or brunch, more appro­pri­ately), I headed off to the theatre to watch Despicable Me with L and A. Having bought our tick­ets (and then vacil­lat­ing whether or not we wanted to sit in a dark, empty theatre so as to save the best seats), we headed in and claimed our Real 3D glasses.

I’m hav­ing a bad, bad day
If you take it per­sonal, that’s okay
Watch, this is so fun to see
Huh, despic­able me.
– Pharrell, “Despicable Me”

The movie, by all means, was great. The story was fun, the humour well-​timed and (gosh darn it!) the orphan girls were so sweet! This makes me think that every­one ought to be forced to care for the young. Perhaps we’d have less vil­lains that way? Behind our seats, a whole row was reserved for (what we assumed) was a birth­day party. Hearing the chil­dren giggle with glee behind us wasn’t as annoy­ing as I might have ima­gined — it was quite fun to have them behind us! (Too bad L was thwapped on the head by an overzeal­ous child…)

After a rather long jour­ney to pro­cure a screen pro­tector for A’s (new!) BlackBerry Bold 9700, we wandered over to Chapters where we dis­covered, much to our mutual pleas­ure, that we could have din­ner together. We ate at The Boss (where I learned that I don’t actu­ally know how to order beef in Cantonese…how do you indic­ate how well-​cooked you want the meat?!).

Once full, we left the res­taur­ant to a rap­idly clos­ing mall. We wandered over to a water foun­tain out­side to won­der what we could do. I sug­ges­ted we take a stroll in Central Park (des­pite my great fears of creep­ers run­ning amok in the wooded areas). Off we went.

After dodging incom­ing golf balls from the pitch-​and-​putt and trekking through the verd­ant trees, we sat on a bench and noticed two people appar­ently shout­ing at one another. Perplexed, we gazed on to notice a man in a blue cape yelling to some people fur­ther away. Nosily, we inched closer and closer until…we noticed that it was a pro­duc­tion! Outside! In the park! For free!

All children, except one, grow up   35878 1283880990539 1635540069 645313 746012 n 300x225

Enthralled, we found ourselves sit­ting on the grass (and swat­ting away the copi­ous amounts of vam­piric mos­qui­toes) and try­ing to unravel the storyline. As it turns out, it was a pro­duc­tion of Neverland: Beginnings by Rainforest Theatre, a small local com­pany. We watched with glee as Peter Pan was nearly wed­ded to the daugh­ter of the pir­ate king and as we learned how Captain Hook gained (lost?) his eponym­ous append­age. With subtle amuse­ment, we gazed on as one over­ex­cited child-​spectator inched closer and closer to the act­ors until he was actu­ally sit­ting within the action, gaz­ing upward and ask­ing, “Can I see that?!”

I found it so magical that serendip­ity (and, admit­tedly, a reluct­ance to return home to do read­ings for ENGL 468) led us to a the­at­rical pro­duc­tion in the ancient pulse of germ and birth. I thought I had encountered some­thing out of Midsummer Night’s Dream! (But of course not. My appoint­ment to see Henry V is this Friday.)

It is some indic­a­tion of my great love for the theatre but I adored the way the act­ors inter­ac­ted with the audi­ence and with their sur­round­ings. With little more than some light cos­tum­ing, they cre­ated a world into which their children-​spectators could be drawn by sheer cha­risma. And what is a more nat­ural set­ting for a the­at­rical pro­duc­tion than the forest?

The play fin­ished and every­one dis­persed. We headed over to P’s house to play poker briefly before I was summoned home with great dis­pleas­ure at my waywardness.

And I could wish my days to be bound each to each with such won­der, joy and serendipity.

Even when there’s no one sitting there

I typ­ic­ally try to avoid double-​posting but after read­ing through the first chapter of Anne of Green Gables, I had to com­ment. My dis­claimer, of course, is that I have hardly made it through the book in any demon­strable way but I had to com­ment on this with a wry smirk. I risk the ire of fans around the world (I am led to believe that there must be some fol­low­ing as the back of the book describes the book as hav­ing never been out of print since its ini­tial pub­lic­a­tion in 1908) but I had to get this off my chest.

Let me be frank. Anne of Green Gables begins simply with a nosy, old woman, star­ing out of her win­dow with her hawk­ish eyes. And but of course, she spies one neighbour’s hus­band plod­ding along for some inex­plic­able reason. She makes the labor­i­ous (not really) trip to her neighbour’s home to prod her nose into the affairs of the adja­cent house­hold. Having learned of the reason for the excur­sion, she gives her unso­li­cited and frank advice. When mildly rebuffed, she leaves with every inten­tion of set­ting the neigh­bour­hood tongues wag­ging by shar­ing her newly-​gained insight.

Not alto­gether a prom­ising start to what many Canadians would con­sider a national classic.

Saturday, July 10th, 2010 ENGL 468 No Comments

Before high piled books, in charactry

I am begin­ning to find that, more and more, I’m fas­cin­ated by the nature and study of know­ledge, of epi­stem­o­logy. It strikes me as odd that only after years of study­ing everything else have I sud­denly real­ized that I’ve never really examined the ways in which know­ledge is acquired, syn­thes­ized and made use­ful. Or what con­sti­tutes know­ledge, for that matter.

I mean, I’ve skir­ted around the topic before. In ENGL 112, I wrote a paper on meta­phoric rep­res­ent­a­tions of genes and genet­ics, cit­ing issues of epi­stem­o­logy. But I never really appre­ci­ated the sub­ject until now.

More recently, I dis­cussed the ways in which con­tem­por­ary the­or­ies of know­ledge (empir­i­cism, ration­al­ism and German Idealism) con­tem­por­an­eous to the Victorian Period were explored in Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone. Could this be a legit­im­ate mode of lit­er­ary schol­arly inquiry? My golden ticket into the world of lit­er­ary academia?

I think I will focus atten­tion this year on learn­ing more about epi­stem­o­logy. Being an arm­chair epi­stem­o­lo­gist. Falling down the rabbit-​hole, so to speak.

Hm. Curiouser and curiouser.

Saturday, July 10th, 2010 Academics, Meditations No Comments

Nay, fie, let us not be smutty

So the Department of English has pos­ted a pro­vi­sional list of course offer­ings with some syl­labi. While I am def­in­itely more com­fort­able with the early area courses, I often won­der why the courses aren’t edgier.

Here’s some­thing I wouldn’t mind tak­ing if offered:

Making the Sexual, Textual: Pornographic Texts of the Modernist Period

Sexual inter­course began
In nine­teen sixty-​three
(which was rather late for me) -
Between the end of the “Chatterley” ban
And the Beatles’ first LP.
– Philip Larkin, “Annus Mirabilis”

Numerous lit­er­ary works have inspired con­tro­versy and, indeed, pub­lic out­rage over per­ceived obscene or por­no­graphic con­tent. This course seeks to crit­ic­ally eval­u­ate these texts using mod­ern the­or­et­ical frame­works as well as to under­stand the cul­tural milieu in which these works were pub­lished. While a primary focus will be placed upon the texts them­selves, some atten­tion will be devoted to obscen­ity tri­als and con­tem­por­ary dis­cus­sions of the nature of lit­er­at­ure and society.

Students are fore­warned that course mater­ial may con­tain con­tent offens­ive to some read­ers. Enrollment indic­ates a will­ing­ness to read through all texts.

Primary Readings:

  • Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (1857)
  • Selections from Les Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire (1857)
  • Selections from Ulysses by James Joyce (1922)
  • Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H. Lawrence (1928)
  • The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall (1928)
  • Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller (1934)
  • Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (1955)

Secondary Readings:

  • The History of Sexuality: An Introduction by Michel Foucault (1984)
  • Dirt for Art’s Sake: Books on Trial from Madame Bovary to Lolita by Elisabeth Ladenson (2006)
  • Other related mater­ial includ­ing schol­arly art­icles, court records, news­pa­per clip­pings, etc.
Thursday, April 22nd, 2010 Academics No Comments