Well, there's another project well under way. And by "well under way," I mean "only needs to knock off a few pages and make sure it makes sense." So, Richard II conference paper draft, done.
I'm kind of sad that I'm not writing on Richard II for the dissertation now, though I wouldn't want to replace anything already in there (except The Maid's Tragedy, but I've already written that part). I think it would be really interesting to write a chapter on Richard through Richard II and Woodstock, if only because there's very little out there on Woodstock and it dovetails so nicely with Richard II (since they're about the same King... shocking). It might also be interesting to drag in Edward III, but I've only read that once and not very carefully.
It was suggested that perhaps I keep this for the *next* book (good god), and I think I might have to do an Edward-Richard thing if that were to be the case. Edward II, Edward III, Woodstock, Richard II... Might be an interesting way to look at histories, since everybody else writes on the Henriad (yak). Sure, Richard II leads into the Henriad, but the Edwards and Woodstock (yes, yes, I *know* they aren't Shakespeare, but, believe it or not, Shakespeare wasn't the only guy with a pen in the 1590s) lead right into Richard II in such yummy ways...
*sigh*
I really am a dork, now, aren't I?
"Words fly up, my thoughts remain below."
black and white, Angels and demons.
We aren't two sides of the same coin.
We're the gold into which those sides are imprinted."
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Introduction, begun
So in a concerted effort to avoid writing my most recent conference paper, I started the introductory chapter to my dissertation today. (This is the second chapter I've worked on thus far, the other one being the last actual chapter.) I think I've finally figured out how to present these ideas in something resembling a clear manner, but there's just SO MUCH to cover. For instance, my quotation notes for this bugger are 32 pages long. And that's just the quotations. There will be a lot that gets left out, methinks.
I have also started that conference paper (on Richard II, which, unfortunately, isn't going into the dissertation), and I've still got time to finish it before May 10, when I leave for the Medieval Congress. Hopefully I'll make some sense by then.
Either way, I'm going to be doing a lot of talking about performance, tyranny, and monarchical violation over the next month or so.
And maybe I'll stop procrastinating by posting about writing in my blog and actually get to the writing.
Ha.
I have also started that conference paper (on Richard II, which, unfortunately, isn't going into the dissertation), and I've still got time to finish it before May 10, when I leave for the Medieval Congress. Hopefully I'll make some sense by then.
Either way, I'm going to be doing a lot of talking about performance, tyranny, and monarchical violation over the next month or so.
And maybe I'll stop procrastinating by posting about writing in my blog and actually get to the writing.
Ha.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Cooper's Physics, courtesy Mark Twain
Specifically, an amusing read for anybody who wants to do some hating on James Fenimore Cooper. I'm always up for some good Cooper-bashing. In this case, it's Mark Twain doing the bashing.
K sent this to me a while ago while he was reading all the Leatherstocking tales (that's two more than I ever managed to force myself to read) and I've been a bad girlfriend and not read it until now. But it's pretty bloody hilarious.
Here's a taste for those who want a short version.
The ark is arriving at the stream's exit now, whose width has been reduced to less than twenty feet to accommodate the Indians--say to eighteen. There is a foot to spare on each side of the boat. Did the Indians notice that there was going to be a tight squeeze there? Did they notice that they could make money by climbing down out of that arched sapling and just stepping aboard when the ark scraped by? No, other Indians would have noticed these things, but Cooper's Indians never notice anything. Cooper thinks they are marvelous creatures for noticing, but he was almost always in error about his Indians. There was seldom a sane one among them.
The ark is one hundred and forty feet long; the dwelling is ninety feet long. The idea of the Indians is to drop softly and secretly from the arched sapling to the dwelling as the ark creeps along under it at the rate of a mile an hour, and butcher the family. It will take the ark a
minute and a half to pass under. It will take the ninety foot dwelling a minute to pass under. Now, then, what did the six Indians do? It would take you thirty years to guess, and even then you would have to give it up, I believe. Therefore, I will tell you what the Indians did. Their chief, a person of quite extraordinary intellect for a Cooper Indian, warily watched the canal-boat as it squeezed along under him, and when he had got his calculations fined down to exactly the right shade, as he judged, he let go and dropped. And missed the house! That is actually what he did. He missed the house, and landed in the stern of the scow. It was not much of a fall, yet it knocked him silly. He lay there unconscious. If the house had been ninety-seven feet long he would have made the trip. The fault was Cooper's, not his. The error lay in the construction of the house. Cooper was no architect.
There still remained in the roost five Indians.
The boat has passed under and is now out of their reach. Let me explain what the five did--you would not be able to reason it out for yourself. No. 1 jumped for the boat, but fell in the water astern of it. Then No. 2 jumped for the boat, but fell in the water still farther astern of it. Then No. 3 jumped for the boat, and fell a good way astern of it. Then No, 4. jumped for the boat, and fell in the water away astern. Then even No. 5 made a jump for the boat--for he was a Cooper Indian. In the matter of intellect, the difference between a Cooper Indian and the Indian that stands in front of the cigarshop is not spacious.
I really wish I'd known about this when Scott made us read it.
K sent this to me a while ago while he was reading all the Leatherstocking tales (that's two more than I ever managed to force myself to read) and I've been a bad girlfriend and not read it until now. But it's pretty bloody hilarious.
Here's a taste for those who want a short version.
The ark is arriving at the stream's exit now, whose width has been reduced to less than twenty feet to accommodate the Indians--say to eighteen. There is a foot to spare on each side of the boat. Did the Indians notice that there was going to be a tight squeeze there? Did they notice that they could make money by climbing down out of that arched sapling and just stepping aboard when the ark scraped by? No, other Indians would have noticed these things, but Cooper's Indians never notice anything. Cooper thinks they are marvelous creatures for noticing, but he was almost always in error about his Indians. There was seldom a sane one among them.
The ark is one hundred and forty feet long; the dwelling is ninety feet long. The idea of the Indians is to drop softly and secretly from the arched sapling to the dwelling as the ark creeps along under it at the rate of a mile an hour, and butcher the family. It will take the ark a
minute and a half to pass under. It will take the ninety foot dwelling a minute to pass under. Now, then, what did the six Indians do? It would take you thirty years to guess, and even then you would have to give it up, I believe. Therefore, I will tell you what the Indians did. Their chief, a person of quite extraordinary intellect for a Cooper Indian, warily watched the canal-boat as it squeezed along under him, and when he had got his calculations fined down to exactly the right shade, as he judged, he let go and dropped. And missed the house! That is actually what he did. He missed the house, and landed in the stern of the scow. It was not much of a fall, yet it knocked him silly. He lay there unconscious. If the house had been ninety-seven feet long he would have made the trip. The fault was Cooper's, not his. The error lay in the construction of the house. Cooper was no architect.
There still remained in the roost five Indians.
The boat has passed under and is now out of their reach. Let me explain what the five did--you would not be able to reason it out for yourself. No. 1 jumped for the boat, but fell in the water astern of it. Then No. 2 jumped for the boat, but fell in the water still farther astern of it. Then No. 3 jumped for the boat, and fell a good way astern of it. Then No, 4. jumped for the boat, and fell in the water away astern. Then even No. 5 made a jump for the boat--for he was a Cooper Indian. In the matter of intellect, the difference between a Cooper Indian and the Indian that stands in front of the cigarshop is not spacious.
I really wish I'd known about this when Scott made us read it.
There's a reason nobody listened to these guys...
Stephen Gosson and Phillip Stubbes are not only incredibly boring, they're also wrong.
Funny, at times, but wrong.
Then again, I'm a horrible heretic and participator in that great evil, the theater, so what do I know?
According to Stubbes, at least, that must mean I'm a sodomite, or worse:
Lucky me.
Funny, at times, but wrong.
Then again, I'm a horrible heretic and participator in that great evil, the theater, so what do I know?
According to Stubbes, at least, that must mean I'm a sodomite, or worse:
marke the flocking and rūning to Theaters & curtens, daylie and hourely, night and daye, tyme and tyde to see Playes and Enterludes, where such wanton gestures, such bawdie speaches: such laughing and sleering: such kissing and bussing: such clipping and culling: Suche winckinge and glancinge of wanton eyes, / and the like is vsed, as is wonderfull to behold. Than these goodly pageants being done, euery mate sorts to his mate, euery one bringes another homeward of their way verye freendly, and in their secret conclaues (couertly) they play ye Sodomits, or worse. (Anatomie of Abuses)
Lucky me.
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