I'm Falling Behind. . .

I'm here to make a confession; I have not been blogging as faithfully as I'd hoped.

My plan, as some of you know, was to blog about everything I've been reading, but it's all gotten away from me somehow. But I'm going to try to get up to date with just a few blurbs about this and that. These are in no particular order. But I want to preface it all by saying that I have the most amazing job in that I get to read and then discuss really fun, exciting, interesting works every week. And now that Sophocles is behind me, it can only get better.

So here's my fun reading: I started a silly, fun, inspiring rather creative non-fiction piece called Julie and Julia. DISCLAIMER: This book is probably offensive to some of my readers. But it's a real hoot. This woman, Julie, is dissatisfied with her life. So she decided that in one year she'll cook everything in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Some of her meals are successes, some are not. And she fights with her husband along the way, watches friends make really bad (and some good) decisions, but in this project, Julie's life takes on a new sense of completion. As corny as it sounds, she seems to find herself. I've read about 2/3 of it. But it's a good, quick, fluffy sort of read. And in spite of the offensive bits, I can find something there that I relate to.

Last week I skimmed The Hobbit for my fantasy class. I'm rather disappointed that I only had time to skim it, as I love it so. But my notes were sufficient, and I know it so well that teaching it was a breeze. Oh how I love Tolkien. There's something so completely, solidly English about Tolkien, and I find that superbly comforting. I have an acquaintance who wrote her doctoral dissertation on something about the "comforts" of childrens literature. And I suppose that that sense of comfort that I associate with Tolkien is why I do what I do. The Hobbit is homely in the best sense of the word.

Then, as part of the same course, I reread The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. If you read my previous posts, you know that I freaked out about textual variants. But I cannot tell you how unsettling it was. I mean, here's this text that I'd somehow come to rely on--when things get tough, I read Lewis. And it was different! I've calmed down about the whole thing now, but it's still unsettling. But there's so much that I wan to say about Lewis's novel. I think the fundamental thing that so many people seem not to get is the concern, obsession possibly, that Lewis seems to have with English cultural identity. It's so important that the work is set during WWII. And typical English concerns are prominent in the book. Very few people talk about this, yet it seems so vital to understanding Lewis's project. And it's not just Lewis. I'm obsessed with English concerns about cultural identity during the first half of the twentieth century. Lewis is just one of many examples. I won't bore you with all the details, but I'm fascinated.

Finally, this morning, I read the first third or so of Beowulf, one of my favorites. I really should have been a medievalist--that was my true calling, I sometimes think. But (and I guess this makes me not a purist or something) I really love Heaney's translation. This morning, I had two sections in which we talked about Beowulf, and I have to say that there are few things in life that make me happier. Life is good.

So there's my quick update. I'd like to say more, be more analytical. But right now, simply celebrating what I'm doing and what I'm reading seems enough.

My goal is to read more feminist this and that soon. I'm hoping for some Camille Paglia, the "anti-feminist feminist."