I am deathly, irrationally afraid of zombies.
Oh, I know they are not real, etc. But I saw the Dawn of the Dead remake when it came out in 2004 and I still have nightmares.
But alas for me, I am friends with (and have dated) people who just adore zombies. So I've read the synopsis of every zombie movie I could find on Wikipedia and as such feel I'm pretty hip with the zombie culture. To further enhance my zombie street cred, I have a zombie shirt my sister gave me -- and I do in fact wear it.
So, while reading the chapter on the Plague in Tuchman's Distant Mirror, I was struck but just how much it sounded like a zombie movie. I learned about the Plague a long time ago, but Tuchman's writing is especially -- emotive? Provocative? Evocative? It was the first time I could really imagine the horror, the terror of living through that first outbreak.
It reminded me of Dawn of the Dead, and how I felt while watching it and immediately afterward. That movie, this chapter. . .both grip my imagination, both are so real. Both haunts me, it all haunts me.
So, what is going on? What are the connections?
Do zombies serve as a modern dans macabre? I mean, it's tempting to say zombies are a response to AIDS or something, but the first zombie movies date to the 1930s. But of course, those movies followed a time of intense warfare, and the flu epidemic of 1917.
Maybe zombies are part of some sort of "race memory" (Tuchman uses that term, I don't know if people use it anymore) -- the same thing that compels cultures all around the world to tell stories about dragons. Etc.
I wish I was less scared of zombies so I could write a paper about this
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Stating the Obvious
From Worlds of History: A Comparative Reader. Volume One: To 1550. Kevin Reilly. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2000:
ix: “World history is nothing less than everything ever done or imagined, so we are not going to cover it all.”
No kidding.
ix: “World history is nothing less than everything ever done or imagined, so we are not going to cover it all.”
No kidding.
Gag me With a Spoon
From World History: The Human Experience. The Early Ages. Teacher Wraparound Edition. Mounir A. Farah and Andrea Berens Karls. New York: Glencoe McGraw-Hill, 2003.
322: “The Crusades accelerated the transformation of western Europe from a society that was crude, backward, and violent – showing littler cultural and technological advancement – to a civilization that exhibited some early features of modern Western civilization. Towns grew, trade expanded, and learning and the arts thrived.”
The Victorians are responsible for this viewpoint. God I hate the Victorians. More to the point, I can't believe this is in a textbook from 2003. Though I shouldn't be surprised.
eta:
325: “Troubadours appear in scenes of romance, a novel idea in medieval times.”
What? And Daphnis and Chloe is what, chopped liver?
322: “The Crusades accelerated the transformation of western Europe from a society that was crude, backward, and violent – showing littler cultural and technological advancement – to a civilization that exhibited some early features of modern Western civilization. Towns grew, trade expanded, and learning and the arts thrived.”
The Victorians are responsible for this viewpoint. God I hate the Victorians. More to the point, I can't believe this is in a textbook from 2003. Though I shouldn't be surprised.
eta:
325: “Troubadours appear in scenes of romance, a novel idea in medieval times.”
What? And Daphnis and Chloe is what, chopped liver?
Friday, September 28, 2007
Borders Bookshelf
I went to Borders the other night, just to look around and kill some time. I decided to see what kinds of Chaucer books they have on the shelf; I plan to visit the other bookstores in town, too, just to get an idea of what's readily available.
There wasn't much. Tons of Dante, yes, but not much Chaucer.
There were six different books total:
CT, Oxford World Classics. 1985, 1998.
This was a modern translation. It was okay.
CT, Everyman's Library. 1908, 1958, 1992.
It was in Middle English and severly annotated. It looked pretty good, but seriously? 1908?
CT, Penguin. 1951, 2003.
This one is pretty standard, actually -- one of the most common copies of Chaucer you'll find.
CT (selected), Barron's. 1948, 1970.
This is an interlinear translation. Useful, I suppose, but pretty brutal to read.
CT (selected), Bantam Classic. 1964, 1981.
Another pretty standard edition.
CT, Enriched Classic. 1948, 1987, 2001.
This one is in prose. I have mixed feelings about this. Translating Chaucer's rhymes is rather difficult -- not least of all (as others have pointed out) because some lines "fit" into modern English while others don't. But it's just really weird to pick up Chaucer and see big paragraphs.
That's it, that's all the Chaucer.
What is striking to me is just how old most of these are. 1908? 1948? Holy cow, no wonder people don't want to read old stuff -- it's too old. When the "modern" translations are antiquated, why bother slogging through it? (Which, I suppose, is an argument against translation.)
It seems to me quite obvious: we need a shiny new version of Chaucer, with an original publication date of 2007 or 2008 or 2009. Considering that Beowulf and Gilgamesh have just gotten new translations (and lovely ones), I think there is a market for a new Chaucer edition, translation or otherwise. I mean, does anyone know what Seamus Heaney is up to these days?
There wasn't much. Tons of Dante, yes, but not much Chaucer.
There were six different books total:
CT, Oxford World Classics. 1985, 1998.
This was a modern translation. It was okay.
CT, Everyman's Library. 1908, 1958, 1992.
It was in Middle English and severly annotated. It looked pretty good, but seriously? 1908?
CT, Penguin. 1951, 2003.
This one is pretty standard, actually -- one of the most common copies of Chaucer you'll find.
CT (selected), Barron's. 1948, 1970.
This is an interlinear translation. Useful, I suppose, but pretty brutal to read.
CT (selected), Bantam Classic. 1964, 1981.
Another pretty standard edition.
CT, Enriched Classic. 1948, 1987, 2001.
This one is in prose. I have mixed feelings about this. Translating Chaucer's rhymes is rather difficult -- not least of all (as others have pointed out) because some lines "fit" into modern English while others don't. But it's just really weird to pick up Chaucer and see big paragraphs.
That's it, that's all the Chaucer.
What is striking to me is just how old most of these are. 1908? 1948? Holy cow, no wonder people don't want to read old stuff -- it's too old. When the "modern" translations are antiquated, why bother slogging through it? (Which, I suppose, is an argument against translation.)
It seems to me quite obvious: we need a shiny new version of Chaucer, with an original publication date of 2007 or 2008 or 2009. Considering that Beowulf and Gilgamesh have just gotten new translations (and lovely ones), I think there is a market for a new Chaucer edition, translation or otherwise. I mean, does anyone know what Seamus Heaney is up to these days?
Violence
I took a pedagogy course last year. It was a valuable course, yes; and we discussed not only theory but -- critical themes. Such as Holocaust Literature, or Graphic Novels. One of my friends did a project on Violence -- she read books with titles like Teaching in a Violent Age. She is very passionate about this line of theory -- acknowledging that we are a community, and that we are in a community in violent times.
This year, I plan on taking a class on Post-9/11 Literature. I'm very excited.
But I do find this sort of odd. When was the non-violent age? My parents grew up learning to duck-and-cover. Wars dominated the first part of the twentieth century. The 1800s saw our Civil War, but also a lot of turmoil in Europe -- wars for nationalism and independence. Same with the 1700s. The 1600 and 1500s, too, with religious wars thrown in.
I picked up Barbara Tuchman's Distant Mirror today. It's about the fourteenth century ("calamitous" she calls it). The preface mentions that the 1300s suffered from war and plague. Tuchman points out she wanted to write the book because of the similarities to that time and the present.
. . . .
For all of our talk of a Violent Age and Post-9/11 world -- Chaucer was writing in a violent age. He would understand the Iraq War and other conflicts, he would understand AIDS. Art Spiegelman wrote In The Shadow of No Towers; Chaucer wrote The Canterbury Tales. Which isn't Chaucer not more relevant? Why isn't he presented as -- why is his time, why is he so distant from us? He is not, he is not.
I don't know that Chaucer is universal. I don't know that any person from any time from any place would or could find him relevant. (Or good. Good for who, good for what?)
But we, modern Americans, are some of the inheritors of Chaucer's culture. He is, in fact, speaking to us.
Why don't we listen? What is preventing us?
This year, I plan on taking a class on Post-9/11 Literature. I'm very excited.
But I do find this sort of odd. When was the non-violent age? My parents grew up learning to duck-and-cover. Wars dominated the first part of the twentieth century. The 1800s saw our Civil War, but also a lot of turmoil in Europe -- wars for nationalism and independence. Same with the 1700s. The 1600 and 1500s, too, with religious wars thrown in.
I picked up Barbara Tuchman's Distant Mirror today. It's about the fourteenth century ("calamitous" she calls it). The preface mentions that the 1300s suffered from war and plague. Tuchman points out she wanted to write the book because of the similarities to that time and the present.
. . . .
For all of our talk of a Violent Age and Post-9/11 world -- Chaucer was writing in a violent age. He would understand the Iraq War and other conflicts, he would understand AIDS. Art Spiegelman wrote In The Shadow of No Towers; Chaucer wrote The Canterbury Tales. Which isn't Chaucer not more relevant? Why isn't he presented as -- why is his time, why is he so distant from us? He is not, he is not.
I don't know that Chaucer is universal. I don't know that any person from any time from any place would or could find him relevant. (Or good. Good for who, good for what?)
But we, modern Americans, are some of the inheritors of Chaucer's culture. He is, in fact, speaking to us.
Why don't we listen? What is preventing us?
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Adventures in Nebraska
I bought a pile of magazines for my trip to Nebraska, including the Utne Reader, which I’ve been reading on and off for nearly ten years. The current issue looks at history (as an academic subject).
An article by Keith Goetzman, “History lessons: What we’re taught and what’s ignored” points out that, “While many of us are reflexively bored when we hear the word history and downright repulsed by the idea of a history book, we flock to period movies and biopics about historical figures, watch the History channel, and consume shelf loads of historical fiction and biography” (50). He goes on to suggest that we (modern Americans? Modern people?) are interested in the people behind history, not just Great Events or Great Ideas. (Well, duh). This seems very self-evident, and it’s been my experience with my students. But I hadn’t thought about the pop culture aspect – historical movies are sometimes flop (I liked Marie Antoinette), but they are sometimes very popular (300). Why the disconnect? Shakespeare movies are fairly well-received, but we also still study him (and feel we should study him), see theater performances, etc. But anyway, Goetzmann, I think, crystallized a bit what it is I want to study, want to accomplish.
Another essay, “In the Trenches” by Patrick Hicks, discusses teaching WWI poetry to students – and why Americans ignore WWI. Drawing parallels to Iraq engages the students – yet a student with a boyfriend in Iraq asks the professor, “ ‘I’m already afraid for home. What good does this do me?’ ” (61). Hicks doesn’t know how to respond.
This made me think of one of my Women’s Lit professor’s favorite sayings (paraphrased): this is a good book. Good for who? Good for what?
What is Chaucer good for? What is literature good for? What does it mean to make a connection? How do we want to engage our students – engage anyone? Which I suppose is something else my thesis seeks to address.
Why is Chaucer good for me? . . . I don’t know. I can tell you about finding solace in Hamlet, but. . . . I like it, I like it. Is that enough? Is pure enthusiasm enough? But then, otherwise I fear I would descend into nihilism. Why do or study anything? It’s all meaningless ultimately.
Anyway.
So these are the questions, these are the thoughts rolling around my head as I begin real research. Maybe they will provide some answers, or at least some conclusions. Otherwise, I fear I will not be able to teach at all when school starts again.
*********
Sarah McLachlan's song "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" comes from the Wilfred Owen poem mentioned in the Utne reader article. Hmmm.
Dulce Et Decorum Est
Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep.
Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod.
All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.
GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!--
An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
Sarah McLachlan
All the fear has left me now
I'm not frightened anymore
It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh
it's my mouth that pushes out this breath
and if I shed a tear I won't cage it
I won't fear love
and if I feel a rage I won't deny it
I won't fear love
Companion to our demonsthey will dance, and we will play
With chairs, candles, and cloth
making darkness in the day
It will be easy to look in or out
upstream or down without a thought
and if I shed a tear I won't cage it
I won't fear love
and if I feel a rage I won't deny it
I won't fear love
Peace in the struggle
to find peace
comfort on the way
to comfort
and if I shed a tear I won't cage it
I won't fear love
and if I feel a rage I won't deny it
I won't fear love
I won't fear love
I won't fear love...
An article by Keith Goetzman, “History lessons: What we’re taught and what’s ignored” points out that, “While many of us are reflexively bored when we hear the word history and downright repulsed by the idea of a history book, we flock to period movies and biopics about historical figures, watch the History channel, and consume shelf loads of historical fiction and biography” (50). He goes on to suggest that we (modern Americans? Modern people?) are interested in the people behind history, not just Great Events or Great Ideas. (Well, duh). This seems very self-evident, and it’s been my experience with my students. But I hadn’t thought about the pop culture aspect – historical movies are sometimes flop (I liked Marie Antoinette), but they are sometimes very popular (300). Why the disconnect? Shakespeare movies are fairly well-received, but we also still study him (and feel we should study him), see theater performances, etc. But anyway, Goetzmann, I think, crystallized a bit what it is I want to study, want to accomplish.
Another essay, “In the Trenches” by Patrick Hicks, discusses teaching WWI poetry to students – and why Americans ignore WWI. Drawing parallels to Iraq engages the students – yet a student with a boyfriend in Iraq asks the professor, “ ‘I’m already afraid for home. What good does this do me?’ ” (61). Hicks doesn’t know how to respond.
This made me think of one of my Women’s Lit professor’s favorite sayings (paraphrased): this is a good book. Good for who? Good for what?
What is Chaucer good for? What is literature good for? What does it mean to make a connection? How do we want to engage our students – engage anyone? Which I suppose is something else my thesis seeks to address.
Why is Chaucer good for me? . . . I don’t know. I can tell you about finding solace in Hamlet, but. . . . I like it, I like it. Is that enough? Is pure enthusiasm enough? But then, otherwise I fear I would descend into nihilism. Why do or study anything? It’s all meaningless ultimately.
Anyway.
So these are the questions, these are the thoughts rolling around my head as I begin real research. Maybe they will provide some answers, or at least some conclusions. Otherwise, I fear I will not be able to teach at all when school starts again.
*********
Sarah McLachlan's song "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" comes from the Wilfred Owen poem mentioned in the Utne reader article. Hmmm.
Dulce Et Decorum Est
Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep.
Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod.
All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.
GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!--
An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
Sarah McLachlan
All the fear has left me now
I'm not frightened anymore
It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh
it's my mouth that pushes out this breath
and if I shed a tear I won't cage it
I won't fear love
and if I feel a rage I won't deny it
I won't fear love
Companion to our demonsthey will dance, and we will play
With chairs, candles, and cloth
making darkness in the day
It will be easy to look in or out
upstream or down without a thought
and if I shed a tear I won't cage it
I won't fear love
and if I feel a rage I won't deny it
I won't fear love
Peace in the struggle
to find peace
comfort on the way
to comfort
and if I shed a tear I won't cage it
I won't fear love
and if I feel a rage I won't deny it
I won't fear love
I won't fear love
I won't fear love...
Corruption Continues
I discovered some more useful children’s books in the 800s (Dewey Decimal). There were many kid versions of Shakespeare, but I did fid A Selection from the Canterbury Tales by Selina Hastings.
Hastings’ book includes part of the prologue, The Knight’s Tale, The Miller’s Tale, the Reeve’s Tale, The Nun’s Priest’s Tale, The Pardoner’s Tale, The Wife of Bath’s Tale, and the Franklin’s Tale. I read through a few before bringing them into camp. The stories were illustrated, but there were many pages that were text only. In opinion, what illustrations there were were not very good/interesting. The stories retained their original flavor, but were slightly toned down. In The Wife of Bath’s Tale, for example, the Knight does not explicitly rape the woman, but he does attack her.
I brought the book I to my lunch group. I suspected the book might have been a little too old for them (my lunch group was K-2; I think the book was aimed at 3-5). I always presented a variety of books to my campers; in this case, The Canterbury Tales was continually passed over for the others. One day, I offered them CT, Lugalbanda by Kathy Henderson, based on a Sumerian tale, and an Egyptian story. The campers liked the other two books, so it didn’t seem to be an issue of historical stories – I think it came down to the illustrations. The illustrations for the other two books were lovely – the Egyptian book had a rather modern look, but Lugalbanda had gorgeous pictures reminiscent of Sumerian art.
Finally, the campers decided on CT. They argued over whether to read The Knight’s Tale or The Wife of Bath. We went with KT first. It was too complicated for them. Without a lot of pictures, they were easily distracted and continually asked me who the characters were. I can’t help but think a version with a lot of pictures, making clear who the different characters are, would be more successful. My campers love knights and such, and I think there is a way to make this store more accessible to younger kids.
The Wife of Bath’s tale was not very successful either; one camper was actually mad that the story was so similar to Sir Gawain and the Loathly Lady. She said she didn’t like this one very much. This story was much easier to follow than KT; I think more illustrations would have helped – and if we hadn’t read the other book before hand.
I decided to give the book one more shot. That session of camp, I group led I the afternoon; that is, I helped get the kids from class to class, and helped the instructors. One of the classes was Storybooks, taught by a good friend. I liked this person a lot to begin with, but my admiration for her grew when, on the first day of class, she read a story book by bell hooks. I asked her if we could read a story or two from my book and she said yes.
Originally, I was going to read The Miller’s Tale, since it eve includes an illustration of Nicholas getting branded; my campers love anything to do with the buttock or bodily functions. But again, there were very few illustrations overall, so I decided to go with the Nun’s Priest’s Tale.
I told the campers they would have to use their imaginations. But they really weren’t into the story. We only got part-way through, and then class ended. Later that day, we had some extra time, so I pulled out Lugalbanda and read part of that to the campers.
The next time in Storybooks, I pulled out CT. The campers objected and wanted me to finish Lugalbanda instead. So I did.
Again, I am intrigued that the age of the story doesn’t seem to matter – I think it was the illustrations. Well, and Lugalbanda is about a young boy involved in a war – perhaps a little easier for the campers to relate to. I do wish I could have repeated this experiment with older kids, since I think the CT is aimed at a slightly older age group than the ones with which I worked. For the last two weeks of camp, I actually have a lunch group of 3-5. However, they are not interested in books (they scoffed at the Roald Dahl I brought!); they prefer to talk and play card games.
But these experiments bring up a lot of questions, especially related to childhood. My thoughts are sort of swirling; I am trying to pull them apart. On the one hand – most books did have illustrations. That modern children – and modern people in general – like to mix their text with images does not seem that strange. But many books were meant to be read aloud – more to the point, there weren’t children’s books, such a thing didn’t exist. So children had to just listen (as did most adults). Did children/people have longer attention spans in the past? Many would argue yes. Maybe this is a matter of past and present being a little too far apart to accurately compare things. Kids books have really existed for about two hundred years, after all.
I also found one other storybook version of Chaucer – a book based on a Disney cartoon of The Nun’s Priest’s Tale. It was awful; I did not bring it in to my campers. In the first place, I thought the drawings were hideous; I’m now curious what my campers would have thought, since the drawings were in the obvious Disney style. But – the story was completely different. Like most English majors, I get very angry about major changes – if they wanted to tell a story, great, but why name the characters Chanticleer, etc? Why not give them new names? I have a lot of issues with how Disney treats fairy tales, too. I think the theory that Disney is simply creating new fairy tales, or changing fairy tales, as has been happening for hundred of years is interesting – but I think with Disney it is more insidious then simply presenting re-workings of fairy tales (and there are certainly a lot of high quality re-workings and re-imaginings).
Hastings’ book includes part of the prologue, The Knight’s Tale, The Miller’s Tale, the Reeve’s Tale, The Nun’s Priest’s Tale, The Pardoner’s Tale, The Wife of Bath’s Tale, and the Franklin’s Tale. I read through a few before bringing them into camp. The stories were illustrated, but there were many pages that were text only. In opinion, what illustrations there were were not very good/interesting. The stories retained their original flavor, but were slightly toned down. In The Wife of Bath’s Tale, for example, the Knight does not explicitly rape the woman, but he does attack her.
I brought the book I to my lunch group. I suspected the book might have been a little too old for them (my lunch group was K-2; I think the book was aimed at 3-5). I always presented a variety of books to my campers; in this case, The Canterbury Tales was continually passed over for the others. One day, I offered them CT, Lugalbanda by Kathy Henderson, based on a Sumerian tale, and an Egyptian story. The campers liked the other two books, so it didn’t seem to be an issue of historical stories – I think it came down to the illustrations. The illustrations for the other two books were lovely – the Egyptian book had a rather modern look, but Lugalbanda had gorgeous pictures reminiscent of Sumerian art.
Finally, the campers decided on CT. They argued over whether to read The Knight’s Tale or The Wife of Bath. We went with KT first. It was too complicated for them. Without a lot of pictures, they were easily distracted and continually asked me who the characters were. I can’t help but think a version with a lot of pictures, making clear who the different characters are, would be more successful. My campers love knights and such, and I think there is a way to make this store more accessible to younger kids.
The Wife of Bath’s tale was not very successful either; one camper was actually mad that the story was so similar to Sir Gawain and the Loathly Lady. She said she didn’t like this one very much. This story was much easier to follow than KT; I think more illustrations would have helped – and if we hadn’t read the other book before hand.
I decided to give the book one more shot. That session of camp, I group led I the afternoon; that is, I helped get the kids from class to class, and helped the instructors. One of the classes was Storybooks, taught by a good friend. I liked this person a lot to begin with, but my admiration for her grew when, on the first day of class, she read a story book by bell hooks. I asked her if we could read a story or two from my book and she said yes.
Originally, I was going to read The Miller’s Tale, since it eve includes an illustration of Nicholas getting branded; my campers love anything to do with the buttock or bodily functions. But again, there were very few illustrations overall, so I decided to go with the Nun’s Priest’s Tale.
I told the campers they would have to use their imaginations. But they really weren’t into the story. We only got part-way through, and then class ended. Later that day, we had some extra time, so I pulled out Lugalbanda and read part of that to the campers.
The next time in Storybooks, I pulled out CT. The campers objected and wanted me to finish Lugalbanda instead. So I did.
Again, I am intrigued that the age of the story doesn’t seem to matter – I think it was the illustrations. Well, and Lugalbanda is about a young boy involved in a war – perhaps a little easier for the campers to relate to. I do wish I could have repeated this experiment with older kids, since I think the CT is aimed at a slightly older age group than the ones with which I worked. For the last two weeks of camp, I actually have a lunch group of 3-5. However, they are not interested in books (they scoffed at the Roald Dahl I brought!); they prefer to talk and play card games.
But these experiments bring up a lot of questions, especially related to childhood. My thoughts are sort of swirling; I am trying to pull them apart. On the one hand – most books did have illustrations. That modern children – and modern people in general – like to mix their text with images does not seem that strange. But many books were meant to be read aloud – more to the point, there weren’t children’s books, such a thing didn’t exist. So children had to just listen (as did most adults). Did children/people have longer attention spans in the past? Many would argue yes. Maybe this is a matter of past and present being a little too far apart to accurately compare things. Kids books have really existed for about two hundred years, after all.
I also found one other storybook version of Chaucer – a book based on a Disney cartoon of The Nun’s Priest’s Tale. It was awful; I did not bring it in to my campers. In the first place, I thought the drawings were hideous; I’m now curious what my campers would have thought, since the drawings were in the obvious Disney style. But – the story was completely different. Like most English majors, I get very angry about major changes – if they wanted to tell a story, great, but why name the characters Chanticleer, etc? Why not give them new names? I have a lot of issues with how Disney treats fairy tales, too. I think the theory that Disney is simply creating new fairy tales, or changing fairy tales, as has been happening for hundred of years is interesting – but I think with Disney it is more insidious then simply presenting re-workings of fairy tales (and there are certainly a lot of high quality re-workings and re-imaginings).
Writing about Kids’ Books, Dancing About Architecture
This summer, I have worked at a day camp for children in grades kindergarten through sixth. Despite saying several times that I prefer older kids, I have mainly worked with the youngest group, K-2. Throughout much of the summer, I have had a lunch group – it is my job to make sure they eat their lunch, don’t share food, and don’t kill each other. It can be difficult to think of activities that keep them contained (I can only supervise so many games of tag before I start to lose it), so I bring story books to read during lunch.
Which is nice, honestly, because I can use them to further my own feminist, multi-cultural agenda. I try to select books that take place in other countries and/or feature a strong heroine. I have also read European fairy tales – which are generally the most popular. But I have also kept an eye out for “older” stories – Greco-Roman myths or medieval tales. I was delighted when I found a lovely version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by Mark Shannon, illustrated by David Shannon, at the Corvallis Public Library. The campers were rather excited about it – I think the “knight” aspect excited them. Both girls and boys enjoyed this story (at this age, generally the girls prefer listening to the books; the boys play with cards or with sticks). It was exciting for me to have the chance to expose them to a story that I’m pretty sure I didn’t even hear of until I was in college.
Earlier this week, I was back at the public library to get more books. Most of the myths and fairy tales are kept in the 398’s (Dewey Decimal). I scoured the section, hoping to find more stories like Sir Gawain. There was an illustrated edition of Beowulf I kept picking up and putting down – it was very wordy and the pictures small. I found several lovely books based on Sumerian and Egyptian stories that I happily added to my pile. I found a book entitled Medieval Tales that I knew would be too wordy for campers – I grabbed it for myself. But finely I hit the jackpot: a beautiful volume called Sir Gawain and the Loathly Lady retold by Selina Hastings, with illustrations by Juan Wijngaard.
Friday, August tenth, I set out my pile of books. The little girls in my lunch group immediately asked me to read The Loathly Lady. The illustrations are quite lovely, which is what I think sparked their interest. They also asked if this was the next chapter in the Sir Gawain story; I said it sort of was. I had not read the book prior to reading it to my campers, and I was quite surprised by how different the tale was from Chaucer’s.
Now, I should add that nowhere in the book does it say that is story is a retelling of Chaucer’s tale. However, reviews on amazon.com do suggest that it is – and the story itself is clearly a version of the Wife of Bath’s tale. Even if Hastings did not set out to retell Chaucer’s story specifically, she clearly drew inspiration from Chaucer.
The story begins with King Arthur meeting a Black Knight who asks Arthur to answer the question, “What do women most desire?” Arthur has three days to answer the question. If he does not or cannot, he must forfeit his kingdom and his life. While searching for the answer, Arthur comes across an ugly crone who says she will give him the answer. She says she will give him the answer if he grants her one wish; Arthur agrees to this.
At this point in the book, my campers – mainly female, with a few males – were entranced by the illustration of the Loathly Lady. They commented on how ugly she was and didn’t want to look at the picture.
Once Arthur gets his answer, he asks the Loathly Lady for her wish. “My request is this: you must give me one of your knights to be my husband” (14) she says. At first Arthur balks, but then agrees. He then meets up with the Black Knight and is able to save his kingdom and his life. That night, Arthur confides in Guinevere that he’s not sure what to do. Gawain overhears and says he will defends the king’s honor. So Arthur and his knights set out to find the Loathly Lady and bring her back to court. The other knights make fun of her, but Gawain is kind to her. The wedding takes place, but no one is very happy.
Again, my campers were very intrigues with the illustration at this point. The wedding scene covers two pages, with the Loathly Lady and Gawain in the center. They again commented on how ugly she was. They were also quite taken with a small monkey in the corner of the drawing. They are always surprising me in noticing small details like that.
After the wedding, Gawain and the Loathly Lady went off to their chamber. While the author never made explicit what was going on, the sexual subtext was quite apparent to me, and I felt very odd reading this story to children. I don’t think they picked up on it. Still, as I was reading, I began to wonder if this is really a “kid’s story” or who the original audience might have been in the 1300s. Of course, a lot of Beauty and the Beast stories have this kind of subtext – in some versions, the beast does not turn into a human until he and Beauty have spent the night together. But then, many of those fairy tales were not intended for children per se. Finally, on the other hand, as one of my teachers put it – with everyone sharing such a small space, children had a fairly good idea of what sex was. Reading “older” stories to modern youngsters often troubles me for these reasons. Childhood is both the same and very different from earlier eras.
The juxtaposition of illustrations at this point is also a little confusing, at least to one who “knows” the story. On page 24, Guinevere kisses the Loathly Lady; on page 25, we see Gawain looking despondent in a chair, with a lovely long lady behind him. Is the lady Guinevere? Has her kiss transformed the Loathly Lady in some way? On page 25, the Loathly Lady explains that Gawain has half-released her from a spell. She then asks him the question: beautiful by night or day? Gawain answers her and she gets angry; he changes his answer, and she is still angry. Finally he says, “You must choose which you prefer” (27). She says this is correct answer and says the spell is broken. The next day there is a wonderful celebration at court.
The campers liked it.
The ending bothered me for several reasons. The Loathly Lady becomes beautiful before Gawain makes his choice. He does not actually give her the correct answer – he gives the “wrong” answer first. Gawain has not learned the true lesson of the tale and must be bullied into the correct answer. This seems to remove the agency of both characters – Gawain gets what he wants by default; the Loathly Lady has not really gained mastery over him. The ending sort of undermines the entire point(s) of the story.
I do not mind the changes in the beginning, however. If one is presenting this as a solidly children’s book, it would not do to start it off with rape. Introducing the Black Knight works rather well, though his question does seem rather odd. (If he’s a Black Knight, why not just fight Arthur for the kingdom?) Some kind of evil enchantress might have worked better. But that might be straying a bit too much from the Arthur mythology; at least there are Black Knights all over the place in Arthur stories.
I am left ruminating about the themes in this book – what is universal, what is modern, what is medieval. The campers’ reactions struck me – as universal. The point of stories like this was a way for people to deal with the prospect of marrying someone they had never seen – the fear that one might get stuck with a Beast or Loathly Lady – and the hope that whatever the outer appearance, the inner person would be a good one. I think my modern audience’s gut reaction to was not far off from the medieval one. But I find the changing of the ultimate “moral” very strange. The message that women desire to have sovereignty comes across as a fairly modern idea.
Which is nice, honestly, because I can use them to further my own feminist, multi-cultural agenda. I try to select books that take place in other countries and/or feature a strong heroine. I have also read European fairy tales – which are generally the most popular. But I have also kept an eye out for “older” stories – Greco-Roman myths or medieval tales. I was delighted when I found a lovely version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by Mark Shannon, illustrated by David Shannon, at the Corvallis Public Library. The campers were rather excited about it – I think the “knight” aspect excited them. Both girls and boys enjoyed this story (at this age, generally the girls prefer listening to the books; the boys play with cards or with sticks). It was exciting for me to have the chance to expose them to a story that I’m pretty sure I didn’t even hear of until I was in college.
Earlier this week, I was back at the public library to get more books. Most of the myths and fairy tales are kept in the 398’s (Dewey Decimal). I scoured the section, hoping to find more stories like Sir Gawain. There was an illustrated edition of Beowulf I kept picking up and putting down – it was very wordy and the pictures small. I found several lovely books based on Sumerian and Egyptian stories that I happily added to my pile. I found a book entitled Medieval Tales that I knew would be too wordy for campers – I grabbed it for myself. But finely I hit the jackpot: a beautiful volume called Sir Gawain and the Loathly Lady retold by Selina Hastings, with illustrations by Juan Wijngaard.
Friday, August tenth, I set out my pile of books. The little girls in my lunch group immediately asked me to read The Loathly Lady. The illustrations are quite lovely, which is what I think sparked their interest. They also asked if this was the next chapter in the Sir Gawain story; I said it sort of was. I had not read the book prior to reading it to my campers, and I was quite surprised by how different the tale was from Chaucer’s.
Now, I should add that nowhere in the book does it say that is story is a retelling of Chaucer’s tale. However, reviews on amazon.com do suggest that it is – and the story itself is clearly a version of the Wife of Bath’s tale. Even if Hastings did not set out to retell Chaucer’s story specifically, she clearly drew inspiration from Chaucer.
The story begins with King Arthur meeting a Black Knight who asks Arthur to answer the question, “What do women most desire?” Arthur has three days to answer the question. If he does not or cannot, he must forfeit his kingdom and his life. While searching for the answer, Arthur comes across an ugly crone who says she will give him the answer. She says she will give him the answer if he grants her one wish; Arthur agrees to this.
At this point in the book, my campers – mainly female, with a few males – were entranced by the illustration of the Loathly Lady. They commented on how ugly she was and didn’t want to look at the picture.
Once Arthur gets his answer, he asks the Loathly Lady for her wish. “My request is this: you must give me one of your knights to be my husband” (14) she says. At first Arthur balks, but then agrees. He then meets up with the Black Knight and is able to save his kingdom and his life. That night, Arthur confides in Guinevere that he’s not sure what to do. Gawain overhears and says he will defends the king’s honor. So Arthur and his knights set out to find the Loathly Lady and bring her back to court. The other knights make fun of her, but Gawain is kind to her. The wedding takes place, but no one is very happy.
Again, my campers were very intrigues with the illustration at this point. The wedding scene covers two pages, with the Loathly Lady and Gawain in the center. They again commented on how ugly she was. They were also quite taken with a small monkey in the corner of the drawing. They are always surprising me in noticing small details like that.
After the wedding, Gawain and the Loathly Lady went off to their chamber. While the author never made explicit what was going on, the sexual subtext was quite apparent to me, and I felt very odd reading this story to children. I don’t think they picked up on it. Still, as I was reading, I began to wonder if this is really a “kid’s story” or who the original audience might have been in the 1300s. Of course, a lot of Beauty and the Beast stories have this kind of subtext – in some versions, the beast does not turn into a human until he and Beauty have spent the night together. But then, many of those fairy tales were not intended for children per se. Finally, on the other hand, as one of my teachers put it – with everyone sharing such a small space, children had a fairly good idea of what sex was. Reading “older” stories to modern youngsters often troubles me for these reasons. Childhood is both the same and very different from earlier eras.
The juxtaposition of illustrations at this point is also a little confusing, at least to one who “knows” the story. On page 24, Guinevere kisses the Loathly Lady; on page 25, we see Gawain looking despondent in a chair, with a lovely long lady behind him. Is the lady Guinevere? Has her kiss transformed the Loathly Lady in some way? On page 25, the Loathly Lady explains that Gawain has half-released her from a spell. She then asks him the question: beautiful by night or day? Gawain answers her and she gets angry; he changes his answer, and she is still angry. Finally he says, “You must choose which you prefer” (27). She says this is correct answer and says the spell is broken. The next day there is a wonderful celebration at court.
The campers liked it.
The ending bothered me for several reasons. The Loathly Lady becomes beautiful before Gawain makes his choice. He does not actually give her the correct answer – he gives the “wrong” answer first. Gawain has not learned the true lesson of the tale and must be bullied into the correct answer. This seems to remove the agency of both characters – Gawain gets what he wants by default; the Loathly Lady has not really gained mastery over him. The ending sort of undermines the entire point(s) of the story.
I do not mind the changes in the beginning, however. If one is presenting this as a solidly children’s book, it would not do to start it off with rape. Introducing the Black Knight works rather well, though his question does seem rather odd. (If he’s a Black Knight, why not just fight Arthur for the kingdom?) Some kind of evil enchantress might have worked better. But that might be straying a bit too much from the Arthur mythology; at least there are Black Knights all over the place in Arthur stories.
I am left ruminating about the themes in this book – what is universal, what is modern, what is medieval. The campers’ reactions struck me – as universal. The point of stories like this was a way for people to deal with the prospect of marrying someone they had never seen – the fear that one might get stuck with a Beast or Loathly Lady – and the hope that whatever the outer appearance, the inner person would be a good one. I think my modern audience’s gut reaction to was not far off from the medieval one. But I find the changing of the ultimate “moral” very strange. The message that women desire to have sovereignty comes across as a fairly modern idea.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Beginnings
I am a Master's student. I am working on my Master's Thesis.
Are you with me so far?
This blog serves as a record of my research. Not my notes per se, but my impressions as I begin my work. A rather severly annotated bibliography, if you will.
My work has to do with Chaucer, Chaucer in this modern world.
But before I begin, I better get permission from my advisor!
Are you with me so far?
This blog serves as a record of my research. Not my notes per se, but my impressions as I begin my work. A rather severly annotated bibliography, if you will.
My work has to do with Chaucer, Chaucer in this modern world.
But before I begin, I better get permission from my advisor!
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