Susan Cooper's The Dark Is Rising, II

Ok, after the bath I mentioned in my last post, I finished the last two chapters of The Dark is Rising, by Susan Cooper. I've read this book several times, and I am impressed by several things here. First, this seems to diverge from much fantasy in that a number of domestic scenes are interspersed throughout. And there's something cozily comforting, reassuring really, about the reversion to domestic life. Second, I think that what makes this novel truly masterful, among other things, is Cooper's drawing on pre-Christian, folk religion of the British Isles. This is true, I would say, of the entire series. But she draws on folk religion in a really interesting way, a way that is very different from what we see in Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. As my students observed, Christianity is treated very differently in Cooper's novel than how C.S. Lewis particularly treats Christianity. While never denying the validity of Christianity, Cooper suggests that there's some larger force at work, something that both transcends Christianity and other "religions" yet enfolds them at the same time. While I personally do not necessarily agree with Cooper's religious perspective here, I do find it interesting, specifically in that it is a departure from the writing of Tolkien and Lewis, who have so much defined this fascinating sub-genre of fantasy for YAs (that is, young adults) with which Cooper works. Finally, I find this particular work interesting because it really is about Will Stanton's coming of age; as one student K. pointed out, it's really your typical bildungsroman novel. (Bildungsroman is simply the fancy, literary term for a coming-of-age story, but I was quite impressed that K. remembered the term from a previous class. (SIDE NOTE: One thing I love about my job is that I tend to get many of the same students taking a variety of classes from me. I enjoy working with the same students for longer than just a semester, and we often develop rewarding, interesting relationships. I suppose this is one reason to stay at CSC.) Anyhow, Will's coming of age quest so closely matches what mythologist Joseph Campbell calls the "monomyth" or the "heroic quest." If you are really interested, Wikipedia has useful information on Campbell and the monomyth. T.S. has pointed out to me that the Walker here is an interesting character, and he is. He seems to illustrate this important difference between the forces of good and of evil, here called the Light and the Dark. Specifically, the Light "uses" the Walker, yet cares for him, even allows him redemption when he's betrayed the Light. The Dark, however, simply discards the Walker once he has served their purposes. T.S. also brings to my attention that the Old Ones, the servants of the Light, form a community in a way that the servants of the Dark do not. The Old Ones are never Mavericks, working on their own; rather, they must rely on one another. I have to say that I'm indebted to T. for these useful observations. (T. I don't know if you'll read this or not, but if you do, know that you've helped me think about this book in a new way!) I don't know--I guess that I've just thoroughly enjoyed this novel and wanted to say more about it. I am looking forward to further discussing it in class with my students tomorrow morning.

All I Want Is To Relax

I know it's really kind of silly, but all I want right now is to relax, and I think a bubble bath is certainly in order. I've been feeling really "stressed out" (silly term) lately, so today, I did my Yoga practice for quite a while. And it helped. But now, I'm tired and feeling kinda icky. So I just made a cup of tea, and I think I'll run myself a bath. Reading in the bath is really a big deal in my world. So, in spite of all the work I think I should be doing, I think I'll take a bath and do some of my reading for tomorrow's classes.

I guess it is silly to bother with posting this. But I don't know. It feels like I can be more OK with taking the down time if I tell someone.

Beowulf

Hwat!

I use the above, because it's how Beowulf opens. Excpet it's a different letter, the ash, rather than our "a." It means, roughly, "pay attention," or "behold," but "behold" sounds sillily mangnanmous.

What I wanted to say is that I was in a foul mood about two hours ago. But when I started my glass of wine (this after deciding that life is too short to drink marginally bad wine any longer) and started reading a portion of Beowulf for my class tomorrow, I suddenly felt like a much happier, more likable version of myself. I guess that Beowulf and red wine seem to have that effect on me. The truth is, I find Beowulf endlessly fascinating. There's something satisfying about reading it. I don't know--I guess that I feel like I discover more and more each time I read it; maybe I find it speaking to what my needs happen to be each time I come to it. And I think that is a mark of good literature. I guess that Beowulf just makes me happy in this weird, almost primal way, but it appeals to me intellectually as well.

If anyone's interested, I think Seamus Heaney's translation is ab fab. I know that maybe really serious medievalists would prefer a more literal translation, but I think Heaney is just great. It's readable yet retains something of the structure of the Old English poetry.

I'm Sooooooooo Tired

Ok, I'm so very tired. I was at work for a good 10 hours today, which is fine, but I still have a lot that I feel like I should do. But I just don' know what I have the energy for. And I'm posting only because I told myself I'd post at least something for today. But I have not much to say other than I'm worn out. My classes went well enough today--they almost always do. But I'm just tired and feel increasingly isolated, distant from those I care about most.

Mom, Dad, Cara, Jake, John, Cheri, Emma, Lauren, and everyone else: if you read this, I love you and I miss you all.

Susan Cooper's The Dark Is Rising

I have spent much of this afternoon reading Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising for my class tomorrow morning. And I'm having a hard time collecting my thoughts about it somehow. I'm not sure exactly what I want to say about it beyond the obvious. I am interested in how religion and Christianity are dealt with in the novel, but I can't really synthesize it in a way that makes sense to me. I suppose that my sense is that in the novel good and evil (here the Light and the Dark) are clearly distinguished, but defy equation to religion generally. I guess that want I'm saying is that in the world Cooper writes, the Light seems to transcend Christianity. What I find strange is that Cooper still deals with Christianity. For example, one central scene takes place in what is clearly an Anglican church on Christmas day (see, the whole English thing is important again). I'm just trying to write my way through my ideas. This is one novel that I had origninally intended to write on in my dissertation, but as my dissertation grew, it was pruned away. My diss was plenty long without having to look at Cooper. Still, I'm interested in her work, The Dark is Rising sequence in particular, and my thought is that I want to start working on an article dealing with Cooper.

Moleskine

Oh, one more thing. I now understand why people are so big on the whole Moleskine thing. Some of you know what I'm talking about. Those of you who don't can ignore this post.

On Blogging (is this part 2? 3?)

So after a month of pretty regular blogging, I want to make some oberservations. Blogging is like screaming into a vacuum, only better. Screaming into a vacuum means that one can say whatever she wants, and there's no need to fear the reactions of others. I mean, vacuum implies that there's no one there to be offended or hurt or scandalized. There's no one there to criticize, so one can say whatever she wants or needs to say that day. And screaming into a vacuum means that it's the act of articulating the thing that is important, because it matters not whether anyone hears and understands. In fact, no one will. So I find this blog deal very liberating. I feel free to just say, "Ok, so here's what I'm thinking and feeling today." Sometimes it's good; sometimes it's crappy. But the very act of saying it and saying it without reservation is therapeutic, is helpful, but most importantly for me, it's a way of knowing. It's a way of discovering and then affirming, "Yeah, this really is what I think, at least right now."

But it's even better than the whole vacuum metaphor because people do actually care. Well, some people do. I know that C. reads what I write. And I assume that sometimes she and others are annoyed by my sanctimonious tone or my whining or my clear self-absorption. But she cares. I can feel this different kind of connection to her, to the world.

So the thing is I'm feeling so liberated to be myself and say what I need to say about the world. But I also feel supported and wanted and loved. Isn't this what most of us want in life? For me, it's certainly a big step towards a healthier emotional state.

Which reminds me, some day soon, I should write about my healthy emotional state. I'm so proud, quite honestly, of the progress I've made. I haven't had a full-blown panic attack in months and months, in spite of extreme stress.

Powell's Julie and Julia

OK, so this book isn't literary particularly, nor is it the story a paragon of virtue. I mean, the four-letter words abound. But there's something to it, to Julie's project.

As I wrote in some other post, this is the story of Julie Powell's year long project of cooking through all of Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, in just a year.

But what I've been thinking is that maybe I need a project (as though the last three years of dissertation weren't project enough). But more importantly, it's never too late to learn more about myself and more about contentment.

Apparently Child did not marry until her mid or late 30s, in an age when it must have been difficult for women to find spouses once they'd reached 30. (Have I mentioned that I'll be 31 in March). But also, at 37, and only then, did Child learn to cook and find her vocation. This makes me hopeful. As much as I love teaching and many, many aspects of my life, I still want to believe that I have other options. And I want to believe in the possibility that maybe I'll find a spouse. I don't know. But Powell, by the end of her project, realizes that she has options too. She doesn't have to stay at the crappy job she hates. There are other ways she can choose to live. Maybe the endings of things (of relationships, projects, jobs) are what help us to realize this (see previous post.)

I guess I just need to believe that I'm not stuck.

Endings and Beginnings

Here I am on a Saturday morning, "high" if I can use that word on various meds for my sinuses. Sinus discomfort seems to be a theme of my existance the last week or so. I'm pretending that it's the weather that's bringing this all on. But really, I have to confess that deep down I know it's aggriavted by stress. So please, on account of the meds, ignore any random, digressive ramblings, as well as icky syntax and poor spelling. It's not like I'm the best speller under any circumstances.

I've been thinking about beginnings and endings of things in this important, what-does-it-all mean, kind of way. And as I finished reading Julie Powell's Julie and Julia, a real hoot that does get inspiring in a sick, neurotic way, I was impressed by this observation that Powell makes: "The thing I keep learning about endings is that they aren't a long time coming, and they don't sneak up on you either, because endings just don't happen" (301--don't want to be sued for plariarism). And I kept thinking and thinking about what that means, and I'm reminded of the Semisonic song with the line "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." And I've realized that all the endings--break-ups, leaving old jobs, discarding old clothes, finishing a book that one wished never had to end, all the endings, big and small--they are really just opportunities. They open the possibilities that the beginnings, the projects, the relationships had made non-possibilities for a while. What I mean is this, when one is dating someone, let's say, that dating has the very real effect of making dating someone else a non-possibility. But then the break up returns all those possiblities. An acquaintance, a friend of a friend, just finished writing a novel, apparently. And I respect that. It must have taken a lot of dedication. But it seems to me that committing to writing that one novel meant that she didn't have the time or energy for the thousand other novels in her head or for whatever else. But finishing it, sending it off, is and ending and must, I assume, involve a sense of loss, a kind of mourning really. But now all those other possibilities are open to her again.

So I know that using pop-culture references to make my point maybe isn't so convincing. I mean, hey, is Semisonic really an autiority on the business of living? Maybe, probably not. (I guess this speaks to my abiding fascinating with pop culture.) But it's true, right?

The endings, the losses, they hurt, but don't they allow for a rebirth of some sort? Isn't that the lesson of the Phoenix?

People and Things I "Love"

Instead of complaining about this and that, I think it will be more fun to list some of the people and things that I currently am besotted with, have loved at some time in the past, or have high hopes for true love with in the future. One should note that this list is not exhaustive, nor are these in any particular order. So here we go:

1. The Beatles, especially Sir Paul

2. My car (drive a 1998 Ford Explorer)

3. NetFlix

4. New iPod Shuffle

5. NPR

6. The New Testament, especially the book of John

7. C.S. Lewis

8. Really, really good tea

9. The film adaptation of Forster's A Room With a View

10. Men who understand John Donne

11. Camille Paglia

12. Craig and Andrew, who should always be spoken of as though they were one entity

13. Really, really good tea

14. Ravenwood's Zinfandel

15. This great pasta I make with Grogonzola cream sauce and pine nuts

16. Saturday mornings, especially when reading books and baking muffins is in the offing

17. The Sweet Valley High series of novels

18. Masterpiece Theatre

19. Rachel Ray (her recipes make me think I've reached Nirvana, although her personality is rather over the top)

20. Staying in motels that have good cable TV

21. Wikipedia, not the most reliable source of information, but boy is it fun

22. Reading and / or watching TV in bed

23. A really good hair cut

24. Hello Kitty

25. Returning to the church I grew up in

Valentine's Day

Some may think this crude, but I'm going to just come out and say it.

I called yesterday to make an appointment for my annual thing with the gynocologist, and they scheduled me for Valentine's Day. And it's not like I was all looking forward to Valentine's Day or anything. Oh well, at least now I guess I have something "special" to do for the "holiday." But I mean, the indignity of a pap and pelvic exam is bad enough. And Valentine's Day tends to irritate me anyway. Why do all the crappy things have to happen at once? It's like a really bad Woody Allen movie or something.

I will stop now before I lapse into obscene jokes.

Today

Today is crappy and beautiful all at once, you know? It's rained and rained all day, and the wind bites through one's clothes. And I am feeling increasingly something, only I don't know how to name what the something is.

I didn't prep for my morning class, which was A-OK because we ended up having this really fascinating conversation about how C.S. Lewis seems to write sin. And I had a moment in which I felt truly brilliant, not because I was saying brilliant things, but because I kept ask questions until my students were able to say the brilliant things themselves. That's the kind of teacher I really want to be. So that was the high point of my day. And I love my students, every single one of them. I especially love the ones who sign up for multiple classes with me and get all excited about the things I do. I mean, there's just something satisfying realizing that someone else thinks that, I don't know, C.S. Lewis is uber-cool and, more importantly, has something to say to all of us.

Then, this evening, I'm having dinner with some friends A and R. And they are great. R is like the ideal-goddess-Zen mom or something. They have a 2 1/2 year old, then 11 month old twins. And every time I'm there, I'm amazed at how calm--tranquil, really--everything is. R is all into Iyengar yoga, so maybe that's the foundation for her peacefulness. I don't know. I don't have any super maternal urges or anything. But should I ever be a mother, I would be pleased to be even half what she is, you know? And she lets me come by any time, pours me a glass of wine, and we dish about the babies and books and all kinds of fun stuff. Friendship is a really wonderful thing.

And there's so much more I want to say--about feminism, about writing, about teaching, about books, about movies, about the killer chili I made last week, about embodiment (Dolce Carina has been writing about it, but it had been on my mind recently too), but there's never the time to say all that I want to. So I guess that I simply do the best that I can.

News Flash: I think that David Duchovny has finally been supplanted in my affections by my iPod. What a lovely thing life is!

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."

iPod Shuffle

Ok, so I'm enjoying my new iPod Shuffle, which is the little, tiny, baby iPod. And I'm in love already! I'm so excited--the thought of being able to take John, Paul, George, and Ring everywhere with me! Really, what could be finer.

Oh, and I can get all my favorite NPR stuff. This is sooooo great!

Nothing to Say

I told myself I'd post something every day, so here I am. But really, I have nothing to say. I'm home sick from work with a migraine. I feel like I could sleep for the next six weeks. But I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow.

I Think I'm Going Crazy, For Reals This Time

Ok, so I've spent the afternoon and evening obsessing over The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It totally feels like I'm living a Twilight Zone epidsode. Anyway, I just got off the phone with Dolce Carina, who I love more than anyone else in the world right now, and I ate Stoffer's French Bread Pizza for dinner. The thing about it is this: I've been eating a lot of frozen foods lately, and that's just not like me. I mean, normally, I enjoy cooking, and I consider myself a pretty good cook, but lately I just have like zero appetite, so all I can really work myself up to is a meager salad and / or whatever I can throw in the oven at 350 for 25 minutes. And I'm trying to make myself eat. But really, is french bread pizza and bad Merlot really better than no dinner at all? But I went grocery shopping over the weekend, you know, to stock up on frozen foods so that I'd actually eat something this week. And there I was in the check-out line, and I felt like saying to the guy behind me, the bag girl, whoever, "No, you don't understand. This isn't me. I normally don't eat like this--frozen stuff and Romaine." But I didn't say anything. I felt pretty sheepish though.

But I talked to Carina about it, and she, who is chef extrodinare, made me feel much better about what I was eating. So maybe it's OK after all. I don't know. More than anything, it makes me thankful for friends. I know that I can call her, and that whatever I'm doing, she'll make me feel like I, as a person, am OK. Does that make sense.

So Carina, if you read this, just know that I love you and that you've saved me from insanity, at least for now.

More on Narnia

So I'm really obsessing now. And I can't find anything online (not that "online" is such a good research tool) about textual variants of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe beyond the issue of which order we ought to read the series in.

Does anyone out there happen to know anything about textual variants of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe? This is really bugging me.

As a side note, I found this weird "Narnian Creed" based on the Apostle's Creed, only Narnian terms seem to be inserted. I think it's weird / heresy (and I don't normally throw that word around):

http://www.pford.stjohnsem.edu/ford/cslewis/documents/narnia/Credal%20Elements.pdf

I mean, I get that it's not so much an actual creed but a commentary both on Narnia and the form of the creed. But I still think it's a bit much.

There are lots of crazy Lewis fans (posing as scholars) out there. I don't know. I'm frustrated with the lack of information I've been able to come up with. But if anyone knows anything about this, please let me know!

I'm Having Fits. . . About Narnia

I'm blogging because I'm about to have a fit, and I figured I could vent about it, get my feelings out, and (I hope) go on. I'm reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, which I have read many, many times. And I have my old (like 20 years old) copy which I've read and reread and marked up many times when I've taught the book, when I was working on my diss, whatever.

Anyhow, I have a new copy that I was working through, the edition that I'd ordered for my students. And I figured I should "bite the bullet" and go ahead and annotate my new copy (I hate having to work with a new edition) so that my pagination would match what my students have, and thus, class tomorrow morning would go much more smoothly.

Anyway, as I was reading, I started noticing little things that had been changed. Wording was different; one character (Fenris Ulf / Maugrim) even has a different name. This was news to me. In my research and my work on Lewis, I'd never read anything about differing editions of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. And I'm about to have a fit. I said above that little things are different. But they aren't little. I mean what seem to me to be clear references to Norse myth (the character Fenris Ulf, a reference to the "World Ash tree") have been replaced with something else. This to me seems thematically important.

But what really bothers me is why I've been unaware of this until now. Why haven't I read anything about these different versions of Lewis's famous novel? Hasn't anyone done a textual study? Why don't I know about it? I can't be the first person to be aware of this with all the Lewis loonies in this world. So why am I just now noticing this. Goodness, I feel like Oedipa Maas. And I'm about to have a fit. This seems like a big deal to me. Does no one care?

I don't really have time to write, because I have class in 10 minutes. But I'm frustrated. How is it that I work and work and work, yet never seem to accomplish much of anything? Is this just part of the human condition? Or is it just that I'm a perfectionist (which I am; I don't deny it, although I try to somehow moderate this unhealthy tendency.) Can someone tell me why and how it is that I never seem to get enough done?

I've Made my Peace with Joyce Carol Oates

Ok, in spite of my threats to the contrary, I just finished reading We Were the Mulvaneys, and I guess I'm not sorry that I stuck with it (I really love the above picture of Joyce Carol Oates, although it's really, really and old one. There's something beautiful about her.) Anyway, I just wouldn't, couldn't admit that this novel, this one novel, had somehow defeated me, so I finished. And there's something satisfying about that. Maybe it's just me being neurotic, compulsive, but I somehow felt like I had to finish, like I just couldn't let this one long novel get the better of me. Was it a life-changing book? No, of course not. Much of it made me angry. It's really the story of a family, and maybe the central part of the plot is that the teen-age daughter is raped, and her father just can't cope. So what do we do? We treat the daughter as though it's her fault, send her away to live with an old, spinster relative, and never mention her again. And the mother goes along with all of this, for years hinting to the daughter that maybe dad will come around, and maybe you can come home again soon. Of course, that never happens, and the daughter internalizes it all, believes that the rape is her fault, and cannot relate to men in a healthy way. It really kinda annoyed me. I know, I'm the English Professor, and I should be able to make some sort of profound statement about this literary work, but there's nothing profound that I want to say. I just want to say that it made me mad, made me feel sorry for Marianne, the daughter, made me want to throw the book across the room. And I don't think that Oates wants us to be OK with everything that's done to this poor young woman. But I finished it. And I'm somehow glad that I did. I feel as though I've made my peace and can go on to whatever the next book is on my list.

Which reminds me. . .I need to work on that list!