E is for Entertainment

At first I thought I would have maybe two authors for "E" but a scan of the bookshelves supplied me with more!

Umberto Eco: I have read The Name of the Rose (yes, I probably read it about the same time as everyone else) and thought it very fine. In fact, there's a passage in the novel that I reference in my thesis:

Now I realized that not infrequently books speak of books: it is as if they spoke among themselves . . the library seemed all the more disturbing to me. It was then the place of a long, centuries-old murmuring, an imperceptible dialog between one parchment and another, a living thing, a receptacle of powers not to be ruled by a human mind, a treasure of secrets emanated by many minds, surviving the death of those who had produced them or had been their conveyors.

Unfortunately, I've never been able to get into any of Eco's other books although I did read half of Foucault's Pendulum and tried one or two of his others. In all fairness, I don't typically read the kind of stuff Eco writes.

Rufus Sewell

Walter D. Edmond: I read Drums Along the Mohawk years ago. I remember almost nothing about it except (1) I enjoyed the references to upstate New York (where I grew up); (2) I thought it was impressively non-soapy. I think I expected a kind of "Then the brave soldiers pursued the Red Coats across the wide vistas" type of thing (the book was written in 1936), but it actually isn't like that.

George Eliot: I read Middlemarch in college and was impressed to the nth degree. I still consider it one of the best novels in the English language. The thing I remember liking then and that I still admire now is how much of the book is about relationships and the small, everyday moments in life. Up till that point, it seemed like every English class I took began and ended with  depressing books about DEATH, DEATH, DEATH, accidents, DEATH. Here, for the first time, I was being assigned a book that talked about the human condition, not just about human tragedy.

The BBC series doesn't really measure up--despite the appearance of Rufus Sewell.

David Eddings
1931-2009

Aaron Elkins: Elkins is the author that I read for the first A-Z list. I'm happy to report that it totally paid off! I've now read a majority of Elkins' books. The first are better than the most recent (a not atypical issue for writers who are expected to produce on a constant basis), but they are all enjoyable. I recommend them!

David Eddings: I usually avoid world fantasy/science-fiction. There's a few exceptions: Tolkien (naturally) and C.J. Cherryh's Foreigner series, which is as much character-oriented as world-oriented, but hey, that's C.J. Cherryh for you!

However, I have read--and own--David Eddings' Belgariad series. In some ways, it is exactly what you would expect: every single fantasy motif that has been tested by Tolkien, Walt Disney, and generations of Medieval and 19th century English writers packed into a single group of novels.

However, the writing is easy, crisp, exciting, and tells an interesting story with decent characters. Frankly, many world-fantasy writers have done much, much worse.

Richard Paul Evans: I have to mention Richard Paul Evans, not because I enjoy his books but because I read one for my thesis. My brother Eugene's hilarious review of the same book pretty much says it all.

I Love the World or Why Education Through Shock is Stupid (continued)

There are many reasons why people try to make others think All is Doomed from true belief to simple excitement (like Adam Savage's immense enjoyment in blowing things up). I believe one reason has to do with excessive youthfulness.

In his book Your Movie Sucks, Roger Ebert relates an exchange of public letters between him and the creators of a movie that Ebert awarded 0 (as in nada, zero, zilch) stars due to its nihilistic violence. The producer and director printed a reply, arguing (in essence), "But evil exists in the world. It is our awesome responsibility to point it out!!"

To which Ebert responded that pointing out evil just to point out evil is rather a waste of time. What, he asked the movie-makers, was your view on evil? (You see, my students, even movie-makers need a thesis!) He then provides one of the best statements ever made about writing:

Predestination may be useful in theology, but as a narrative strategy, it is self-defeating. 

Or, to quote David Foster Wallace:

Look man, we’d probably most of us agree that these are dark times, and stupid ones, but do we need fiction that does nothing but dramatize how dark and stupid everything is?

(Thanks to my sister Ann for the latter quote!)

In his letter to the anxiously insightful movie-makers, Ebert states, "Your real purpose in making the movie, I suspect, was not to educate, but to create a scandal that would draw an audience."

Now here I have to disagree with Ebert and give the movie-makers the benefit of the doubt. I think at a fundamental level the movie-makers did think they were pointing out something that nobody else had noticed. I don't know if the movie-makers were/are young, but this hypersensitivity to the oddness/unfairness/haphazardness of the world is a characteristic of youth; they've just discovered evil, and they can't BELIEVE how the rest of the world just keeps going to work and shopping at the mall. Why isn't everyone curled into fetal balls sobbing?! We must shock them into knowing what we know! We must kick-start the angst!!

It reminds me of why I seldom read commentary on Internet news items. So much of it is filled with people informing other people that they just don't get "it" to which the other people reply that the first set of  people just don't get "it" more.

I recently came across such a, ah, parallel conversation (I hesitate to call it dialog) over a Mythbusters episode in which the commentators fluctuated between angry commentary ("I can't believe people think the show's conclusion regarding this particular myth was correct! All you people who liked the episode are hiding your heads in the sand!") to sanctimonious tut-tutting ("Don't you know that all television is pacifying entertainment? How could you believe anything you saw on this show? You are so stupid to take it seriously.")

Congrats to Arishicat for a great image!

Neither extreme is necessary. I'll state upfront that I've learned a great deal from Mythbusters, mostly about water pressure. It's the sort of thing that comes up in a lot of their experiments but is rarely remarked on directly (although the "Underwater Car Myth" episode was especially enlightening). I learned about water pressure in high school, but the visuals sure help!

I will also admit that I tend to ignore/dismiss the more sociological/psychological experiments on the show, like the ones  involving polygraphs and hypnosis. The reason is simple. When Jamie, Adam, and the build team blow up rockets, they can build 100, then blow them up one by one to get a pretty decent sample size. But the sociological/psychological experiments rely on two, maybe three, maybe five subjects, which is just not a big enough sample.

In neither scenario, however, do I need to be WARNED to save myself from the evil show/military-industrial-entertainment complex.* I actually don't believe anything that I see on television (or read on the Internet) or anything that people tell me any more than I (should) automatically dismiss it. Cynicism is no better than gullibility when it comes to making reliable judgments. And information can be shelved. It can wait. Since I'm no longer a student, I don't have to decide today that something is true or false although I will eventually. (And if someone tries to get me decide today, that person likely wants to sell me something.)

I've met far too many so-called educated people who ostentatiously dumped a set of ideas, information, or principles, only to promptly adopt another set of ideas, information, or principles without question. Their approach seemed to be motivated more by a desire to belong to the edgiest of edgy cliques than a need for real understanding.

Consequently, I am very wary of professors who use SHOCK to "help" me (or my students) develop critical thinking skills. "I'm going to make people think by showing them how awful things can get!" goes the cry. Setting aside this approach's bullying nature, from what I've seen, it doesn't work--at least not with the most perceptive students who keep their own counsel. After all, real thought is rarely accompanied by a complete reduction of the will. 

Which is all to say that to a relative degree, I can endure true belief in doomsdaying (something that someone believes on his or her own account) far easier that I can endure education through so-called shock.

*I actually don't even need to be warned by Jamie and Adam not to try their experiments at home, though I gather their warnings are mostly aimed at teens; remembering my brothers in their teens, the warnings are necessary--although how many teens actually listen is debatable. I can just see a mother somewhere staring down at a pile of exploded paint cans; "But Jamie and Adam told you not to do it!" she cries. (Of course, my own mother just told my brothers to go wash themselves off.)

I Love the World Too or I'm So Tired of Doomsdaying

Lately, I've gotten fed up with people trying to tell me how bad things are/the future is doomed!!! Yeah, life is tough. Shoot, I don't know if I'll be able to pay my bills this summer. Sure, life=trials & tribulations (and I don't need pundits or well-meaning champions of the cause-de-jure to tell me so).

Yep, human history involves war, disease, and economic collapse. But being gloomy and doom-filled isn't going to stop those things from happening. Angst is a pretty poor weapon to wield whether one is trying to save a country, a company, or a casserole . . . unless the point is to depress people so much they decide there isn't any point.

THIS is a much better way to face the present and the future:

And so is this:


Granted, angst and doomsdaying klatches often operate as temporary stress-relief--like grouching about one's day, although I think far too many pundits and champions and zealots actually get pleasure from making others feel hopeless.

Stupidly so since as a philosophy/approach to life, angsty doomsdaying is pretty useless. We fight for what matters. And what matters matters when we allow ourselves to accept it with joy, gratitude, and good old excitement!

I don't usually preach my religion on Votaries; it isn't the point of the blog, and I'm a big fan of doing what is appropriate to the situation, but 2 Nephi 2:25 really does say it best (with a slight pronoun tweak):

Adam fell that we may be
And we are that we might have joy.

Isn't it just awesome!

Do Mrs. Clay and Mr. Elliot Marry? Chapter 18 of Persuadable

The end of Austen's Persuasion states that Mrs. Clay and Mr. Elliot have run off to London together; it is heavily implied that despite the risk, Mrs. Clay will be able to bring Mr. Elliot "up

St. John's Wood Church was built
in 1814. Persuasion and
Persuadable take place
in 1814 and 1815. This means
it is possible for Will
and Penelope to marry
here--but only just.

to scratch":

Mrs Clay's affections had overpowered her interest, and she had sacrificed, for the young man's sake, the possibility of scheming longer for Sir Walter. She has abilities, however, as well as affections; and it is now a doubtful point whether his cunning, or hers, may finally carry the day; whether, after preventing her from being the wife of Sir Walter, he may not be wheedled and caressed at last into making her the wife of Sir William.

As indicated in Persuadable's Chapter 16, my Will Elliot is not adverse to marriage. I basically shortened the realization--hey, this woman can manage my life better than I can--by several years (in the original version of Persuadable, I had them marry three years after moving to London). However, Will--a cunning man--realizes that Penelope Clay will never believe such an abrupt change of heart ("I want you to be my mistress" to "I want you to be my wife"). He plans to marry her once they reach London but doesn't use that particular tactic to lure her. In other words, he plans to surprise her.

A surprise wedding led me to (more) research on marriage customs. I have discussed these customs elsewhere, especially in my commentary for Mr. B Speaks! where I discuss marriage as well as mistresses.

This time, my research led me to the Temple. The Temple is an area in London where many law offices can be found (think Rumpole of the Bailey). The Inns of Court can also be found there (think American Bar Association). The Doctors' Commons that Will refers to was specifically for lawyers who practiced civil law in ecclesiastical courts. They might, for example, deal with matrimonial issues. Many of the ecclesiastical courts in England have since been disbanded, the duties handed over to purely civilian or common law courts. (The Doctors' Commons would become less and less relevant an institution throughout the nineteenth century.)

In the following passage, Will discusses how a marriage, helped by the Doctors' Commons, would go forward.

"I’m returning to London,” Will told Jeremy.

“What about Mrs. Clay?”

“She doesn’t know what she wants.”

Jeremy sighed. “Do you want me to send Sir Walter an anonymous letter warning him against his daughter’s dear friend? That might force her hand.”

“No,” Will said. He thrust a hand through his hair, making the strands stand upright.

He wanted Penelope to come to him because she’d weighed the sacrifices of marrying Sir Walter against the benefits and decided Will was the better option.

He didn’t tell Jeremy that he intended to marry her. Jeremy was willing to defend Will’s interests, but he wouldn’t understand why Will needed more than a mistress, why he wanted a wife, someone who could accompany him to public events, meet his friends, and deal with his properties.

“You know, even if you seduce Mrs. Clay, Sir Walter could still marry. The only person he wouldn’t remarry for is Elizabeth.”

“I won’t marry Elizabeth,” Will said absently.

He couldn’t tell even Jeremy the rest: that he wasn’t sure the baronetcy mattered. What would it gain him but more people who would expect him to live up to an unrealistic set of expectations? Sally’s friends had been bad enough. Being respectable would be worse.

“Good luck,” Jeremy said.

Will circled Bath to walk up Milsom Street to his hotel on George. He was stopped in front of numerous shops and questioned about the “latest engagement!” The gossips weren’t surprised by the match—no one but Sir Walter and Elizabeth questioned the suitability of a navy captain marrying the second daughter of a baronet—but by its suddenness. Wasn’t Anne supposed to marry her cousin? Was Mr. Elliot terribly devastated?

No one asked directly but avid pity underlay everyone’s questions: How are you feeling Mr. Elliot? How is your cousin?

Will claimed long-standing knowledge of Anne’s true feelings and said he hoped she would be happy—many, many times on the way to his hotel, where he ordered an early supper and told his far-from-overworked valet that he was staying in for the night.

If Penelope came, he would take her to London. He would set her up in a villa in St. John’s Wood—not the townhouse in Mayfair where he and Sally had lived. St. John’s Wood was not as posh a neighborhood but Will liked its potential. He would obtain a license from the Doctors’ Commons; Will knew members from his days at the Temple. Within fifteen days, they could marry. Perhaps, he would suggest that Penelope meet him near St. John’s Wood Church—for a stroll, perhaps. And then he would surprise her with the license.

If she came . . .