Re-readings

While I haven't been reading much of Clarissa (see post below), I have been dipping in and out of a book of collected essays about re-reading edited by Anne Fadiman, titled, simply enough, Rereadings.

I find it highly appropriate that while I'm struggling to reread Clarissa, I'm also reading essays in which authors detail their experiences rereading books they loved as kids or teenagers. Fadiman's introduction, I think, speaks to my current experience with Richardson: "The former [reading] had more velocity; the latter [rereading] had more depth. The former shut out the world in order to focus on the story; the latter dragged in the world in order to assess the story."

When I had the pleasure of interviewing Carol Shields for the Gauntlet, she mentioned that she never re-read books, which took me aback. I've always enjoyed re-reading my favourite books, and I find that I'm never comfortable writing an essay on a novel until I've at least skimmed it a second time and made copious notes. Ironically, I believe that Shields' books reveal themselves more fully upon rereading. I like Fadiman's simile for the pleasures of rereading: "...the reader who plucks a book from her shelf only once is as deprived as the listener who, after attending a single performance of a Beethoven symphony, never hears it again."

Incidentally, Fadiman also notes that Edward Fitzgerald (who?) read Clarissa five times. Dear lord.

Clarissa, post the third

Blame the holidays, blame the lethargy, but I'm only up to page 332 even though it's after Christmas. There must be much catching up in the next few days, and then I'll reward myself with dim sum and a New Year's Eve party (all in the same day... can you stand it?).

Clarissa is still living as a virtual prisoner at home because she refuses to marry the "odious" man her family wants her to. I wouldn't either—Solmes is portrayed as mean-spirited, uneducated, physically repulsive and ungenerous. The family believes that Clarissa secretly prefers the immoral rake Lovelace, who they hate. Clarissa has been secretly corresponding with both Lovelace and her best friend Anna Howe, detailing the constraints her family puts on her, including their search of her room and closet for any letters and their confiscation of her pens, ink, and paper.

And finally, the dread I noted in my previous Clarissa post is still present, but at least the plot (such as it is) has developed enough to carry me along over the waves of trepidation. I know that it gets much worse for the eponymous heroine before it gets marginally better (in the last 350 pages), so I'm trying to steel myself. Perhaps the holidays wasn't the best time to re-read a long, emotionally taxing, tragic novel about abduction and rape.

Scarf #2!

A couple of nights ago I finished Anna's Christmas scarf, which she is modelling.













The pattern was found online (here) and, thanks to the big needles and thicker yarn, it didn't take as long to knit as my first scarf.

I think it's bee-yoo-ti-ful.

Poor Charlotte Bronte

Browsing in the bookstore today when I saw this, which is part of Penguin's new campaign to repackage the best novels of all time as bestsellers:



















And it looks like Emily Bronte got the same treatment:



















It even makes the pastel-coloured Jane Austen chick-lit covers look half decent.

Clarissa: p. 1-136

Or, for Nat, 9 mm.

Briefly, the novel, published 1747-48, is about a young woman who is tricked into running away from her overbearing family, is raped, and then dies. Clarissa is an epistolary novel, that is, a novel composed entirely of letters written between characters, a common literary genre in the 18th century.

The first section describes the deterioration of Clarissa's relationship with her family, who are trying to force her to marry a rich man whom she finds repulsive, physically and morally. The novel begins in media res, though there is some useful summary of antecedent action. Structurally, I'm struck by Mrs. Harlowe's three visits to Clarissa's set of rooms (taking place in increasingly intimate spaces—her library and then her closet) where she tries to persuade her to marry the odious Mr. Solmes. There's a stage-y confrontation in a parlour which Clarissa directs and then escapes (as if into the wings), and a gradual curtailing of her personal space—the places in the house where she can go.

I've also noticed the gradual introduction of Lovelace's voice into the text. At first, Clarissa only paraphrases one of his letters in a letter to her best friend, Anna Howe, and in a later letter she quotes a few sentences from another letter. Also, Clarissa occasionally quotes a snippet or two of Lovelace's conversation which she remembers. This seems to be foreshadowing Lovelace's appearance as a letter writer in the novel. He will eventually dominate the letter writing, not only writing the longest letters and the most frequently, but also by intercepting Clarissa's letters and forging letters from both Clarissa and Anna.

There also seems to be something at work regarding the theme of freedom and independence. Clarissa frequently declares that her heart is free (her family suspects she secretly loves Lovelace). I think there's a connection between her free heart and her economic independence, which stems from a small estate left to her by her grandfather. I just can't figure out if it is indeed a simple correlation (Clarissa's independence of heart = indpendence of fortune) or a misunderstanding of how a woman's public worth is measured not in dollars but in reputation and virtue. Clarissa's heart may be free, but if it is not seen to be so (and it's not), then she will never fully escape the plots and snares of her family.

And finally, I cannot shake the sense of dread I have when re-reading this novel. Knowing all the bad things that are going to happen makes me less eager to get into the book.

The Clarissa Project: The Beginning

(Yes, that's a post-it note, for comparison)

The first chapter of my dissertation concerns Samuel Richardson's doorstop of a novel, Clarissa, which is 1499 pages long and, if Wikipedia is to be trusted, likely the longest novel ever written in English.


I did not have to reread Clarissa for my exams because I know it well enough to speak about it generally (and parts of it quite specifically). However, now that I'm (supposed to be) writing my first chapter, I need to read it again. The last (and first) time I read it was during my Master's degree five years ago. I did flag it when I first read it but alas, I took the flags out, thinking that I would never read Richardson again. Little did I know that the seminar paper that I wrote for my Rise of the Eighteenth-Century Novel class would eventually be the basis for my PhD dissertation. That'll teach me to look for closure in anything academic.

And so, for the second time in five years, I will be reading Clarissa over Christmas break. I will keep all and sundry appraised of my progress, including any plot developments and frustrations. Alas, at 6x9x2.5 inches, it's a little too big to be flung across the room in a fit of anger.

Anyone out there want to join me?

My first scarf!

Yesterday, while watching the Liberal leadership convention on TV, I finished my first scarf. Appropriately, it's red:
























Though mom tried teaching me how to knit a couple of times when I was a kid, I never took to it until this October, with the support of the Stitch and Bitch my friends are in. I bought some pretty yarn, found this pattern in a book, and finished it two months later. The basketweave pattern, though time-consuming and requiring attention, is not difficult—it's just a series of knit and purl stitches. I'm especially pleased with the fringe, which makes the scarf look more complete.


















And if you're wondering about the scarf's ultimate destination (Christmas is coming...), rest assured that it's not going to someone who reads this blog. I'm also working on a fluffy purple scarf for myself, and a really cool-looking one for Anna, which she knows is coming (she picked out the yarn and the pattern). Will post photos of those when I'm finished.

And why did I start knitting in the first place? It's theraputic. I enjoy the social aspect of the twice-a-month Stitch and Bitches. There's a great sense of accomplishment when I finish a project (even though I've only finished one). There's also something appealingly mathematical about the patterns, the way that different permutations of two basic stitches (knits and purls) and some techniques (increasing, decreasing) can yield a vast variety of results. Also, I like the challenge. There's still a lot to learn, including knitting on the round and with circular needles (the needles that are attached to each other), and I'm going to have to branch out from knitting only scarves eventually. Sweaters are my holy grail, but I'll have to learn hats, mitten, and socks, too.

So, yes. New hobby, new procrastinating tool. But at least I'll be warm.

Easter Island, Mars

While searching for the British TV series "Life on Mars" on Amazon tonight, I accidentally came across this fantastic example of Photoshop gone awry:



Clearly, the cover art is intended to combine the covers of the two programs included in this special edition, Life on Mars and Peru's Mystery in Stone. The setting is clearly Mars, as signified by its barrenness and the red sky (red planet= red sky. Get it? Get it?). But why—WHY—would the cosmonaunts on Mars be kneeling on the ground collecting samples of Mars dust when they could be marvelling at the gigantic Easter Island head just inches away from them?! (Incidentally, imagine how much Mars dust the head could snort by just inhaling. Just saying.)

But perhaps the cosmonaunts landed on Mars and were greeted by its hostile inhabitants, the giant stone heads, who then subjected them to a life of slavery cleaning the surface of Mars with some kind of cosmic vacuum cleaner and the big giant stone head is the overseer while the flank of six guards in the background ensures that no one makes a break for it. And perhaps that weird Aztec-ish pyramid in the background is the prison where they hold the cosmonauts captive until they have fulfilled their uses and then are executed. And perhaps this could be turned into some made-for-TV movie staring two vaguely attractive but non-threatening actors who went to Hollywood, failed in the movies, and decided go back to their sci-fi roots to placate an ever-dissatisfied fanbase. With the voice of James Earl Jones as the overseer.

Nice going, UFO TV. But next time, check your Wikipedia. The Easter Islands are a part of Chile, not Peru.

Cover this book!

An antidote, perhaps, to the chick-lit covers?

Penguin Books UK has begun selling six of its classic books with blank, art paper covers so readers can draw their own. They're calling it My Penguin, and Jane Austen is present in the form of Emma (though none are evident in the gallery on the website).

I'm not sure what this will do for sales, but I'm glad that Penguin is acknowledging that people do indeed judge a book by its cover. One of my literary/academic pet peeves are all the books about the Chinese-Canadian or Chinese-American experience that use stereotypical images of China or "Chinese-ness" in the cover art. (Yes, Amy Tan's books are repeat offenders.) Another are the covers of the otherwise-excellent Broadview Press editions of Austen's novels, which use photographs that are anachronistically at least 50 years later than the Regency period. When you're teaching these books to first-year students, you hope for as much historical accuracy as possible, and a cover like that is not going to help.

An Open Letter to Sales Clerks

Dear Customer Service Representatives of the world:

Please check credit card signatures.

A few weeks ago I was the victim of credit card fraud. Someone somehow got my credit card information (even though I didn't lose my card) and spent over $1,000 on gas and shoes in Ontario before the card was cancelled (oddly, roughly $100 USD was also spent at what M/C Customer Service tells me was a Hungarian airline).

As a result of this violation, I have been watching sales clerks ever since, noting whether or not you (CSRs of the world) ever compare the signature on a card with the signature on the slip. Guess what?

Not many do.

Credit card companies spend millions on advanced security measures, on holograms and extra security codes—only to be undermined by the human factor, by the salesperson who does not take two seconds to compare signatures. The breakdown in the system happens at the frontline, at the point of transaction. I count on you to make sure no one is taking advantage of me, and you let me down. This makes me angry and frustrated.

And retail companies shouldn't be let off the hook either. They are the ones who ultimately pay for fraudulent transactions; they lose money by not being vigilant, but don't seem to enforce the practice of checking.

If you hate your job and want to undermine the company you work for, fine. Just don't do it at the expense of my time, my stress levels, and my money.

Please, this holiday season, just check the signature.

Sincerely,

Mary

New-look blog...

... same great taste.

Switched to a new-look blog not because I wanted a change, but because trying to adjust the font size in the previous template in Blogger Beta resulted in weird proportions. It just didn't work.

New blog is pretty (Blogger Beta lets you customize colours) but I'm still having trouble with some of the widget functions which, frankly, don't function, specifically moving around the post-components.

Times like these I wish that either a) I knew enough html to build my own blog or b) Adobe made blogging software.

The Durian Post

Blame Anna for this stinky-fruit-themed post, as she's been uploading some old videos to YouTube, including this one of Tait and Daorcey trying durian, a notoriously stinky south-east Asian fruit. Hers is not the only durian-tagged video on YouTube either—it looks like there are just over 100 others, including this really cute one. Go figure.

Durian is a heavy, spiky fruit that smells like high heaven when opened (I've heard it compared to aspirin (by Anna) and to cat pee. Apparently, every year it is also responsible for deaths in Asia due to over-consumption and, um, gravity (according to my friend James F). While he lived in Thailand, poor James' apartment was located next to a durian stand.

And how does durian taste? The only thing I remember from my own, sole taste test was that the fruit was too cold. Apparently, it's quite tasty (it would have to be, to compensate for the smell). Anyone interested in tasting but not trying to open the fruit can buy durian ice cream from Phil's Forbidden Flavours on 17th Ave in Calgary, as well as from T&T Chinese Superstore (Phil supplies them).

Durian, incidentally, is a significant part of Larissa Lai's novel Salt Fish Girl (she's the one who compares the smell to cat pee). The novel also makes great use of the pungent smell of salt fish, which, frankly, I love (the fish, not the smell).

And yes, I am well aware of the irony of a blogger who can't smell writing a scent-centric (scentric?) post.

End of an era?

Back in Calgary for Reading Week and Christine and I go out looking for a 24-hour Tim Horton's at 11:30 p.m. on Sunday. The first one we pass is dark, so we move on. The next one, in Westhills, is lit up, but the door is locked. Then I notice the sign on the door informing customers of a new policy where 24-hour Tim's are now open 24-hours in Drive-Thru terms only. The "dining rooms" (their term) are closed from 11 p.m. to 5 a.m.

Is this a new, country-wide policy (non-AB readers, hollaback!)? Is this a result of not being able to hire enough people? Did all that money that paid for the snazzy in-store TVs leave too little for salaries and paycheques? Where will we now go for late night-sustenance and chatting in a well-lit, clean place where we won't get kicked out?

Hopefully this is only temporary (the sign did not say one way or the other). If not, it's the end of an era. I have fond memories of late-night hanging out in Tim Horton's in Calgary and Hamilton just chatting and destressing. This could be a change worse than switching to frozen-shipped goods and brewed tea.

Grand Theft Mario

This one's for all you Grand Theft Auto fans out there (I remember one autumn where I didn't see much of Nat, or Daorcey, or Jeff...) and to those of us who watched you play and endured your endless jokes about running over prostitutes (Nat). Good times.

Ever wonder what would happen if Super Mario took the wrong turn and ended up in Vice City? Wonder no more.

Technological benefits

Realized tonight that we live in a golden age of information when I tried to get a key snippet of dialogue from a VHS tape of Citizen Kane for my lesson plan (the DVDs were all rented out). Dialogue in the movie is fast, clippy, and often overlaps, meaning that I had to pause and rewind the tape about six times to get the full exchange, which was only about a minute long. With a DVD, however, I could have paused and played more precisely (there's some lag with tape), or (even better) put on the subtitles. Sure, sometimes the subtitles aren't 100% accurate—but they definitely would have helped.

Of course, this is the same technology that won't let me tape two key snippets from episodes of the Simpsons that visually reference Kane ("Rosebud" [aka the Bobo episode] and "Marge Gets a Job" for those who care), which I have already ranted about.

My travels re: Tucson

While a more grammatically-correct title would be "My travels in Tucson", I can't say that I really went anywhere inside the friendly, low-key city that hosted this year's Jane Austen Society of North America conference. However, getting there and back was interesting, as were some of my adventures at the lovely resort hotel. Herewith are the highlights:

Day 1: Getting there
Thurs., Oct. 26
Oversleeping yet again (yet again having set my alarm for p.m. instead of a.m.), I skipped breakfast and called a cab to the airport, where I ended up waiting an hour in line to check in. I flew, for the first time, United Express, which I'm guessing is United Airlines' economy line. Checking in last also meant being seated at the first row of coach/economy, which also meant that I had a front row seat for the gong show that was "first class" (if an economy flight could be said to have first class—they couldn't even afford a curtain to separate the two sections). One of the first-class passengers was on his way to Denver with a couple of friends for a sports weekend. He proceeded to get drunker and drunker as the two-hour flight progressed. While it started innocently enough with a couple of passengers ordering screwdrivers, I knew we were in trouble once they ran out of vodka and the flight attendants broke out the gin. Mr. Drunkard
started flirting with the two flight attendants (who, seriously, should have cut him off), repeatedly inviting them to dinner that night. At one point he also insisted that first class give a cheer for the economy passengers ("you guys are the best"). It was like being at a bar and watching some guy get louder and drunker, only I couldn't leave. The flight was even long enough for him to reach the "I love you guys" phase. I felt especially bad for the man sitting across the aisle from me, who was, I kid you not, a Catholic priest.
Despite a bad snowstorm in Denver (my first view of snow of the season), my connecting flight to Tucson was only marginally late, and I arrived at my very swanky hotel by 8 p.m. I met my roommate, Kathy, a lovely woman who likes to chat and gossip. JASNA conferences, incidentally, are attended by a mixture of academics and non-academics, though demographically delegates are predominantly female, white, and over the age of 40.

Day 2: Registration, Books, Talks, Stars
Fri., Oct. 27
The first official day of the conference began with my purchasing books and a replacement for the Jane Austen keychain I had broken and then lost. Had breakfast with my roommate, where we were joined by a Scottish woman who had relocated to the US post WWII (she was a warbride). As Kathy had warned me the night before, the older one gets, the more pills one takes. Kathy and Ruth both had to take a series of pills at breakfast; at one point Ruth looked over to Kathy and asked, "What pills do you have?"
When I registered in the morning, the man at the table saw my nametag and noticed that I was a speaker. He offered to check how many people had signed up to attend my talk (though we're not held to those choices) and the grand total was... eight. In a conference with at least 400 delegates (if not more). I had had eight people attend my talk at my last JASNA conference, in L.A. I had hoped for a slight improvement, and sullenly tried to resign myself to my unpopularity amongst the JASNA set.
It turns out that one of the members of the Tucson chapter of JASNA is a doctoral candidate in astronomy at Arizona State University. There's a key star-gazing scene in Mansfield Park, so as part of the conference activities, he presented a talk on Friday night about astronomy in the Regency era, showing us incredible photos of nebulas, space-related phenomena, and even the surface of Mars. From there, we repaired to a hotel parking lot, where two telescopes were set up. I got to see Uranus, the Andromeda galaxy, and the Orion nebula. It was very cool, and something I wouldn't normally get the chance to do.

Day 3: Academic heroes, conference highs
Sat., Oct. 28
The day started with a keynote address from my academic hero, Claudia L. Johnson. It was a fascinating talk that covered the objects displayed in the Chawton House Museum (Austen lived there for eight years) and then segued into a discussion of the objects found in the protagonist's room in Mansfield Park, the novel that was the conference theme. I had a chance to quickly say hello afterwards (after four others), where I noticed that Prof. Johnson is a little shorter than me. Who knew?
Meeting scholars you admire is a little odd, putting the face to a name that has taken on such great significance. It was also a little odd to notice that another prominent scholar in the field is a really terrible dresser, even by academic standards (and yes, that's saying a lot). Let's just say that powder-blue strappy heels were in play, and leave it at that. (Though, while I'm on this sartorial strain, I should add that I also saw a tall, thin, striking brunette wearing a tomato-red pantsuit, and pulling it off by virtue of her Southern accent. However, I then noticed that she was wearing brown socks with black loafers, and gave myself over to despair.)
I was scheduled to give my paper in the afternoon, the last set of talks of the conference. About twelve people showed up, which was a pleasant surprise. The talk itself concerned informal education and moral development in the novel, particularly how the themes of improvement (renovations), illness, and habits worked through questions of change and fundamental moral character. I knew it was going well when the audience would murmur after I read particularly telling quotations, and I had one collective chuckle when I claimed that Fanny Price, the heroine, was a science experiment of sorts. Afterwards, the talk elicited a lively Q&A session, with three people staying behind to chat further.
That night we had a reception before the banquet (and the dancing!). At the reception, I was called over by one of the organizers of the 2008 JASNA conference in Chicago. She had attended my talk and liked it so much that she insisted I submit a proposal for their conference. Fortunately for me, the 2008 conference theme is "Jane Austen's Legacy", which encompasses the film adaptations, collateral publications, sequels, biographies, etc. that I've been dying to work on. In short, I'm going to Chicago in two years and I'm going with a talk that will definitely get me an audience larger than eight people. Being head-hunted feels great.
The highlight of the banquet is, for me, always the dancing, which is done just like in the movies (English country dance workshops are held for those interested). Not everyone dances, but there are always enough couples for a good-sized ball, and though gentlemen are scarce, women just end up dancing with each other (echoes of gym class). Oh, yeah, and some people dress up in Regency-era costumes for the banquet, which was also a masquerade this year.

Miscellany:
• The hotel was a beautiful resort that delivered a free copy of the New York Times every morning. In addition to the TV in the main room, there was also a little, wall-mounted TV in the bathroom, beside the sink. As my roommate put it, "Americans really like their TV."
• What do Arizona and Saskatchewan have in common? Neither follows Daylight Savings Time.

Photos of the lovely Arizona scenery and party-goers are here.

At first I thought they meant Naomi...

If I were to tell you that Mount Royal College was about to establish the Klein Chair in Media Studies, which Klein would you think I was referring to?

From cbc.ca:

Calgary's Mount Royal College has received $2.5 million in anonymous donations to create a position in the name of the outgoing premier.

Next fall, the Centre for Communications Studies will have a Ralph Klein Chair in Media Studies, which will bring in experts in the field to teach and research.

And the first occupant of said position? Let's let the Acting Dean of the Centre for Communication Studies explain for himself:

"Who better to offer our students special insights, based on years of front-line experience in broadcasting, broadcast journalism, media relations and communications, than Ralph Klein himself," said Chikinda.

So let me get this straight: the premier who slashed funding to post-secondary education, who did nothing to restore it once Alberta was financially sound, and whose cuts are still affecting morale and the bottom line at PSE institutions will soon take up a position at a post-secondary institution. Not only that, but it will be in a field that he has not worked in for over a quarter of a century, and in a field that he was incredibly skilled at manipulating since he stopped working in it. Not only THAT, but the position was endowed by who knows which individuals in what smacks of an attempt to establish a legacy. Not only that, but in addition to having the position named after him, he gets to occupy it (and get paid for it!) as well, which is not the usual case with endowed chairs.

Endowed chairs are a highly desirable addition to any post-secondary institution because funding is completely external and therefore does not cut into the institution's bottom line. The irony is that the most-Honourable Mr. Klein's budget cuts created a situation where universities and colleges had to scramble for creative ways to work around low core funding, including competing for more endowed chairs. But how desperate are institutions that they would accept a position that sounds more like a joke than an actual line on a CV?

This makes me angry on so many levels I cannot even articulate it.

Edmonton Cold; Tucson Hot!

Stressed out trying to finish writing my conference paper and prepare for my trip to Tucson this weekend. Also dealing with having to be in Calgary for my grandfather's funeral on Monday. Thank god Westjet has great deals on their seasonal service to (and from) Phoenix. It's going to be interesting to pack for both Tucson and Calgary. Here's the forecast for Tucson for the weekend:


A weekend at a resort hotel in the desert sounds pretty good right about now.

Funniest movie ever?

Oh, dear God... how much do I want to see this movie?

Reverse snobbery reading

Tonight I attended a book reading with my friend Karine. It was for Mark Billingham, a British mystery author who has worked in television and as a stand-up comic. The reading was entertaining (though I wish he had actually read more instead of chatting with us), as was the question period. However, one of the women in the audience got rather defensive about people who read capital-B Books vs. those who read for enjoyment; she didn't see the point of struggling to get through a difficult book that critics have raved over. This attitude really frustrates me because I read (and often enjoy) those 'difficult' books. Moreover, just because I like reading 'difficult' books doesn't mean that I can't enjoy reading mystery novels, which I do. In fact, many academics are avid mystery readers.

I agree that intellectual elitism is a form of snobbery and that no one should be made to feel that what they like is inferior (and that they implicitly are also inferior). Conversely, though, I also believe that people who like thick tomes or obscure authors shouldn't be criticized for having different tastes. And finally, just because someone decides to not finish a novel because they don't immediately enjoy it, they shouldn't feel superior to people who do want to struggle through.

That said, I'll still likely never read The Da Vinci Code.

Embarrassment avoided?

One of the first negative things I noticed about my current apartment was that I could hear my neighbours having sex, which often woke me up in the morning (the ratio of morning to non-morning sex is about 1 to 1). For months I've thought it was my neighbours across the hall, with whom I share a wall. I had debated about whether to slip a note under the door (which I've done before, in another place) or to leave it alone. It got more awkward when said neighbours become the building managers in September and I had to deal with them regarding other issues in my unit. It is, after all, one thing to hear your neighbours having sex, and another thing to meet both neighbours and then be able to picture them having sex when you hear them. Ew.

This weekend, however, the manager neighbours went away for Thanksgiving and weren't due to return until today. Monday morning, I hear my neighbours again, only I know that the managers are supposed to be out of town. This is further supported by the four days' worth of Edmonton Journals piled up in front of their door. That's when I realize that the neighbours I've been hearing must live in the unit beneath mine and that I'm hearing them through the heating vents.

The good news: I'm relieved that it's not the neighbours I know; I only hope that I never meet my downstairs neighbours. I'm also glad I never slipped that note under the door. I mean, what if they were going through a dry spell, only to have a neighbour complain that their sex was too loud and ask them to quiet their coitus?

And having met them, well... they don't look the way that the sex sounds.

One for us.

After years of having friends quote studies that find that women with more education are less likely to marry, reading articles about how the percentage of female professors working in the Academy is still markedly less than the percentage of female grad students, and going through the debacle over that stupid Forbes.com article about marry a career woman, finally — FINALLY — some good news for women with PhDs, courtesy CTV.ca:

Apparently, educated women have more orgasms:

The survey, which interviewed more than 9,000 women, claims that higher levels of education and income are associated with a greater prevalence for orgasm among women.

Hee!

Book Quiz: Which book are you?

From my friend Karine, a link to a book quiz.

My result:

You're Prufrock and Other Observations!

by T.S. Eliot

Though you are very short and often overshadowed, your voice is poetic
and lyrical. Dark and brooding, you see the world as a hopeless effort of people trying
to impress other people. Though you make reference to almost everything, you've really
heard enough about Michelangelo. You measure out your life with coffee spoons.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Business cards!

Sure they'll only be good for two years (hopefully only two years), but I now have spiffy new business cards identifying me as a PhD Candidate. Yay! Just in time for conferences and networking. Yay!!














And, like my Gauntlet News Editor cards, once I'm a full-fledged PhD and no longer in need of business cards that say "PhD Candidate", I'll have about 75 handy bookmarks.

Because we all know the camera adds ten pounds

Select Hewlett Packard digital cameras now come with a Slimming Feature, an artistic effect that makes a subject look thinner. No, really.

My reaction to this news oscillates between incredulity and furious giggling.

On the one hand:
1. As if people don't have enough issues with body image, even our cameras are now telling us that we could be thinner.
2. The two examples in the HP flash ad are average-sized women (not men) who definitely do not need to be slimmed down further (and seriously, if you're going to tuck a man's shirt into your jeans, of course you're going to look larger). Sure, there's a photo of a man in the more detailed explanation further down the page, but that's just his face.
3. This effect does acknowledge the fact that no one really likes how they photograph. But is that the camera's problem? Or is it a problem of self-perception? Or the angle from which we are photographed?
4. This leads me to my ultimate point, which is that no matter what we do to our photos in this age of PhotoShop, all images remain mediated. In the beginning, it was about the type of chemical used on the film, now it's the conditions with which one shoots, as well as the settings of the camera itself. Everything is mediated already; taking a picture on the "Auto" setting is never going to convey the full effect of actually being there and seeing the subject in person.

On the other hand:
1. According to what I can see in the demo, the Slimming Effect can be adjusted to not only make someone look thinner, but also to make them look fatter by moving the little indicator down the bar!
2. The other Artistic Effects include Retro (huh?), Soft Glow (like, soft focus? Or pleasant sunset?), Vintage (sepia tone!!), and Sky Colour (beats me). What I'd love to do is apply ALL these features to one photo and see what we get. Mediated reality indeed.
3. Imagine applying the Slimming Effect to objects, not people. Would skyscrapers be thinner? Trees and flowers (I always suspected sunflowers were morbidly obese)? What about applying the anti-Slimming Feature to books to make them seem more impressive? If you can't see the forest for the trees, would it help to make the trees thinner? Would that be considered deforestation?

Okay, enough silliness for one night. I'm disappointed that this post was in list-form (as opposed to paragraphs). I read my inability to write argumentatively in complete paragraphs as a sign that I'm still recovering from the cumulative exams process.

Bear kills fish

Teddy bear kills thousands of fish

Has anyone told Stephen Colbert?

O Humanities, Where Art Thou?

Received the Fall 2006 U of C alumni magazine today and against my better judgement I read it, including a feature about "40 Students to Watch" whose only redeeming quality was that it was shot by former Gauntlet photog extraordinaire, Aaron Whitfield. The students were a mix of undergrads, grad students, and professional students. As I flipped through, I noticed that the Faculties of Law and Medicine were well represented, as were the faculties of Science, Education, Nursing, Social Work, Communications and Culture, and ... holy missing faculty, Batman! Where's Humanities?

Indeed, it looks like U (the magazine) has lost its faculties—I mean, a faculty. When even Fine Arts gets three (three!) students, it really stings when the only Humanities representation lies in an undergrad student doing a joint degree in English and Computer Science (you know, that last bastion of humanist values). Was the Dean of Humanities out of town the day they asked him for the names of some students to watch? The feature proports to "showcase the amazing breadth of today's student population." How can it do that when it barely includes a student from a significant faculty?

This really bugs me. Humanities doesn't get much respect on the best of days, but you'd think an alumni magazine would be more sensitive to showcasing all aspects of a university's offerings. Unless, of course, they think that Humanities grads aren't paid enough to make significant financial contributions to the university. In which case, this feature isn't going to help.

Party till we get kicked out

I held a welcome-back party for the department's grad students (yes, I sent the invitation out on the listserv) last Friday. It was my first big party, and was in fact so big that the manager received "several noise complaints" by 11:30 (p.m.! on a Friday night!) and everyone had to leave. So we took the party to a nearby dive-y bar (ah, the Garneau, how I won't miss you).

Among the highlights was Christopher dancing on two folding chairs (I guess the coffee table wasn't good enough) and people laughing at/admiring my Jane Austen action figure. One bonus of getting shut down: all the leftover beer in my fridge. I'll take the 1516 and the Steamwhistle, but I'm giving back the Budweiser and the Black Cherry Smirnoff Ice.

Pictures here. Yes, it was as much fun as it looked. Thanks to Anna, who was visiting, for taking most of the photos.

Oedipus Veg!

Oedipus Rex with vegetables! Violence! Sex! Prophecies of doom! And Oedipus is a potato, which gets really funny when you remember what he does to himself at the end.

This post rated Aarrrgh!

For Immediate Release:

Tues., Sept. 19 is International Talk Like A Pirate Day. More info here. If you need to brush up on your pirate-vocabulary, go to A Word a Day, which is featuring a list of pirate-themed words this week.

If you need some inspiration, check out this bit from earlier this summer:

Book Meme, Austen and Non-Austen editions

Busy and tired this week, as I try to finish and send off a couple of conference paper proposals for one conference and then write the 20-page conference paper for another (if I submit it by Sept. 25, it will be considered for publication). As I am lazy but still want to keep my blog fresh and interesting (for you! dear reader!), I am importing a book meme from a post in the wittily named book blog The Valve: A Literary Organ.

1. One book you have read more than once
Austen answer: I have read all the novels more than once. The novel I've likely read the most is Pride and Prejudice because I've taught it twice. What I've read only once are Austen's letters (though they are worth revisiting) and some of her juvenilia. Also, I must heathenly admit that I've read her prays only once.
Non-Austen answer: Anne Fadiman's Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader.

2. One book you would want on a desert island
Austen answer: It always alternates between Emma and Pride and Prejudice. The pragmatist in me would go with Emma, which is about 50% longer, but the part of me that would need cheering up because I was on a desert island would go with the sparkling Pride and Prejudice.
Non-Austen answer: Cervantes' Don Quixote, because it's long and because I haven't read it yet.

3. One book that made you laugh
Austen answer: It's not a book, but the funniest work of Austen's I've ever read is a short piece written once Austen had started publishing. In "Plan of a Novel, according to hints from various quarters", Austen combines all the suggestions of well-meaning family and friends into a hiliariously unrealistic story with a heroine so faultless that "Wherever she goes, somebody falls in love with her & she receives repeated offers of marriage". She is also "now and then starved to death" even though "Throughout the whole work, Heroine to be in the most elegant Society & living in high style".
Non-Austen answer: John Cleland's 18th century soft-core porn novel Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure for its absurd situations and the number and variety of euphemisms used to describe genitalia.

4. One book that made you cry
Austen answer: None have ever made me cry, but I do find Capt. Wentworth's letter to Anne Elliot in Persuasion very touching. You pierce my soul, indeed.
Non-Austen answer: During the last three decades of the 18th century in England, sentimental novels (tearjerkers) were very popular. I read some of them as part of my exams, and I have to admit that Elizabeth Inchbald's A Simple Story did indeed elicit some tears—while I was in a coffee house, no less.

5. One book you wish you had written
Austen answer: All of them. D'uh. But if I had to pick one, I'd go with Emma. If I had to go with a critical work on Austen, then I'd pick Claudia L. Johnson's Jane Austen: Women, Politics and the Novel, an excellent feminist new-historicist work that's well written and still relevant today even though it was published in 1988.
Non-Austen: Zadie Smith's White Teeth. Tour de force storytelling, rewards readers who keep slogging. Also, she wrote it before she turned 25, increasing the envy factor.

6. One book you wish had never been written
Austen answer: Some of the Austen biographies are rather lacking, whether it be in research/sources (Valerie Grosvener Myer's Obstinate Heart) or in biographical objectivity (John Halperin's vitriolic biography). Also, Marilyn Butler's very important 1975 study Jane Austen and the War of Ideas is still the only academic book that I've ever thrown across a room, for a blatant misreading of a passage in Emma.
Non-Austen answer: There are many books that I didn't care for, but none that I can think of that I ever wished out of existence.

7. One book you are currently reading
Austen answer: Mansfield Park, on which I am currently writing a conference paper.
Non-Austen answer: Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake. On deck: Jonathan Lethem's Fortress of Solitude and, well, Samuel Richardson's Clarissa (all 1500 pages), for chapter 1 of the dissertation.

8. One book you have been meaning to read
Austen: D.A. Miller's Jane Austen and the Secret of Style
Non-Austen: Of the long, long list (no one has to-read lists quite like English scholars), I would have to say Cervantes' Don Quixote. Unfortunately, it's not a book to be polished off over the weekend.

9. One book that changed your life
Austen: Pride and Prejudice, the first one I read, the one that got me hooked.
Non-Austen: I find it highly problematic now for its perpetuation of stereotypes, but Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club was a great discovery for the eighth-grade me. It blew my mind to read a grown-up novel about being Chinese in a white world and was an important moment of self-validation.

10. Now tag five people: Nope. But feel free to add your comments or import this meme into your own blogs.

Candidacy: Passed!

Today was not the day to have set my alarm for p.m. instead of a.m. My candidacy exam was at 2 p.m., but I had planned to attend the Film Studies lecture at noon. Unfortunately, I woke up at 12:53 in the afternoon, giving me just over an hour to shower, eat and get to school. I did manage to grab a coffee as well, and got to the oral exam just in time.

The oral itself was "very good", the phrase that my committee members kept using. It was two rounds of questions. I was nervous for the first 30 minutes, but then I settled down and got stronger as the exam progressed. Most of the questions were reasonable and thought-provoking, though sometimes a little rambling (trying to extract the question from the rambling was a bit of a challenge). I'm not entirely satisfied with all my answers (struggled with concept of historicity, a question that was asked about four times by four people), but they were definitely good enough to pass. I finished in 1 hour 45 minutes, and then after a few minutes of debate and consultation when I was out of the room, I was welcomed back with a "congratulations!"

Went for beer afterwards with my committee at Sugarbowl, where I ran into Laura and Theo. After the committee members left I joined them and we called some others and had more beer. Not sure what I'm going to do tonight at home. It is a little evil to watch Team America: World Police on the fifth-year anniversary of Sept. 11?

Paper Mills: Not all they're cracked up to be

Very interesting article in the New York Times this weekend about the quality of papers you get when buying an "original" essay from a paper mill. While the websites of these companies claim that buying an essay is not plagiarism because the essays are all original, universities also define plagiarism as passing off someone else's work as your own, not merely copying and pasting from a bunch of articles and websites. It's disingenuous to claim that it's not plagiarism, especially when it's very clearly cheating.

The essays themselves are a hoot, and demonstrate the lack of quality control at paper mills. The essay topics requested are also pretty banal and (in my opinion) would produce weak essays even if a student honestly worked on it just because they don't give students (especially first years) enough direction or a place to start.

In the past, I've wondered who actually works at paper mills, how much they're paid, how they're recruited/hired and why they do it. Suffice it to say that most people who would consider writing papers for other people don't have much respect for English literature, and would probably not excel at it. However, there are also more unusual cases, such as the former sessional instructor who wrote English papers to order for U of A students. Last year, a local TV station caught him selling a paper to a student in a sting operation at his usual table in the Students' Union Building. He seemed to have a steady stream of customers (some of whom were getting legitimate tutoring help) and even though campus security escorted him off the premises, he had set up shop at the public library downtown the following Monday. After all, what he was doing wasn't illegal, although it sure as hell was unethical.

The story of "Peter the Paper Peddlar" made me very angry, but it also made me wonder how someone could become so bitter that he would undermine his former employer like that. I hope that I never never never feel so bitter that I would resort to helping students cheat. I'm always hurt whenever I catch a student plagiarising. I take it personally, and the discovery always taints the rest of the papers I mark and makes me unfairly paranoid about other students' work. I think students need to realize that when they plagiarise, it hurts more than just themselves.

Candidacy Dream

My candidacy exam (essentially an oral exam on my project) takes place Monday afternoon. I've been purposely occupying myself with other work this week to take my mind off it, but last night my subconscious got its revenge. I had the oddest dream about the candidacy, in which my supervisor informed me that in order to fulfill all the requirements of becoming a full-fledged PhD candidate, I had to take two classes that I was missing: Gym and undergraduate chemistry. I distinctly remember having to go pick up my gym shoes (ugly white runners) from Carolyn, the woman in the English office who deals with supplies. The shoes were already paid for--it was merely a matter of trying them on for size.

At least it's not as bad as fellow student and Film 200 TA Orion (yes, his real name), whose sublimated stress about his exams next week has resulted in his dreaming about his love life. Rest assured that I did not ask follow-up questions when he told me that today.

Exam 3: Done

Today's exam went fine. Nothing to panic about, but nothing to be too excited about, either. Overall, I'd say that I could have been better prepared, but was definitely prepared enough. Afterwards my head was spinning as I processed the thought that my written exams were over. To be honest, I don't think I've fully processed it yet.

This weekend, I intend to do NO WORK AT ALL. There will be shopping. There will be movies. There will be walks outside to enjoy the nice weather, and reading magazines on my balcony. There will be iced lattes and gelato and sleeping. Lots of sleeping. Tonight there will be sushi with friends.

Thanks to everyone for all their support. Oral exam on Sept. 11.

Exam 2: Tired

Today's exam didn't go as well as Monday's, but I wasn't expecting that because Monday went well. I spent a little too much time figuring out which questions I wanted to answer — nothing initially jumped out at me and there were too many that I could have answered okay but not fantastic. As it was, I still wrote 10 pages, but the first response was a little unfocused (too much information struggling to get out) and the second response a little thin. Nonetheless, I can address these issues in the oral exam later.

Just very tired afterwards. Had trouble sleeping last night and was awoken two hours early this morning by the dripping of my window (no, it's not fixed yet). Did go back to sleep but it wasn't the same.

Have a plan for tomorrow, a list of things I want to do to prepare for exam 3. If I finish early enough, I'm going to reward myself and go shopping on Whyte Ave. Gravity Pope awaits.

Don't marry a troll who writes for Forbes.com

Some friends and I have been exchanging e-mails today about last week's infamous Forbes.com story entitled "Don't Marry A Career Woman." I didn't particularly want to give it any more attention (I originally stopped reading by paragraph 2), but I need to get this out of my head before I can start reviewing for exam 2 tomorrow.

The gist of the story, which appeared last week and sparked a firestorm (firestorm, I tells ya) of controversy in the blogiverse is that marrying a career woman (defined as someone with college education who works more than 35 hours a week and makes more than 30K USD a year) is more likely to lead to cheating, divorce, less children (though not everyone would see this as a bad thing) and (insult of insults) an untidy home.

I haven't bothered to Google this story to see all the responses online, but of particular note is this response in Slate and a response incorporting Jane Austen in 3 Quarks Daily (and yes, the Mary of Comment #6 is me). The 3QD response contains several errors regarding Austen's marriage prospects (the Cambridge reverend is pure speculation, and no one knows exactly the extent of Austen's relationship with Tom Lefroy), I'm willing to overlook them for the general quality of the argument.

As for the original article, I congratulate the Forbes.com writer on his excellent use of rhetoric to provoke a reaction. He puts the most inflammatory statements first and then "supports" them with vague references to studies even though no specific statistics are provided (it's always "more likely" or "less likely") or scientists quoted. I agree with Shafer that the Forbes author deliberately misinterprets many of the studies as pertaining to career women when they are actually about career parents of both sexes.

The story itself, I believe, is a ploy to get more people to check out the site (it worked) and therefore increase web traffic and ad revenues. Peter Edmunston's article from the New York Times places this latest article in the context of a series of provocatively headlined articles that would never have been published in the print version of Forbes. This makes the article no better than the postings by "trolls" in forums and message boards, postings that deliberately express a strongly contrary opinion merely to stir up trouble (thus the web term "don't feed the troll").

If indeed this was a ploy to generate controversy and web traffic, it lamentably did so by exploiting centuries-old anxieties about powerful women, implying that societies will suffer and men will be punished if we let women have educations, careers, and control over their reproductive capabilities. Everyone (men and women) suffer when such a purposely inflammatory article gains credence. The fact that the reiteration of gender stereotypes seems to have been used to increase profit is just shameful.

And now, everyone, let's make like that Simpsons Treehouse of Horror episode where all the giant advertising icons came to life and Paul Anka has to write a jingle to stop the destruction: Just Don't Look.

Exam 1: Rocked

Just coming down off the high you get when you know--just KNOW--that you did something well. Exam one was 11 full pages, typed, double-spaced and I had five minutes left over (wasn't rushed at all). It's amazing how focused you can become; all I noticed in the room was my exam paper and the computer--I barely even looked down at the keyboard. I made arguments, I backed up my claims with examples from novels, and I had time to proofread. I feel very good about the first set.

The plan for tonight is to decompress, rest, have dinner, watch Project Runway (which I downloaded last night) and go to bed at a decent hour. Tomorrow I will review for exam two.

Today's good exam was not foreshadowed by last night's mini-adventure. Last night I had the most difficult time sleeping because I was coughing so much (still a little sick). Drinking water seemed to make things worse, and I had no cough syrup at home. By the time it was 2 a.m., I knew that if I didn't do something, I wouldn't be able to sleep at all. So I checked online and learned that the Shoppers Drug Mart three blocks away was opened 24 hours (how come I never noticed that before?). So picture Mary getting dressed and going out at 2 a.m. to buy cough medication the night before her first exam. I didn't hestitate about the medication, either--I bought the extra-strength stuff. It worked and I got enough sleep, thankfully. Oddly, there was still a pharmacist working the overnight shift at Shoppers. Guy seemed a little bitter about his job; he wasn't very helpful.

The Night Before Exam 1

I have a little less than 18 hours until I write my first of three exams. Am I panicking? Um... no. I'm starting to think that I've gotten so good at repressing my panic that I'll never be able to feel agitated again. Also, I suspect that if I were to start panicking, I wouldn't be able to stop and everything would go to shit.

I feel ready. I feel calm. I've packed my bag for tomorrow (water, chocolate, hoodie, scrap paper, pens, wet naps, plus some tissues and Halls in light of my cold). I've reviewed so much that the last thing I want to do right now is read my notes over.

My plan tonight is to go for a walk (because I cannot stay in this apartment any longer) as soon as my laundry is done (waiting for dryer), and then come home, hang out, and go to sleep.

Tomorrow, we write!

Jane Austen: Action Figure

Had dinner with Nat and Doarcey last night, who were in town to see Arone's play at the Fringe Fest. As a good-luck-on-exams present, they gave me this:

The Jane Austen Action Figure is smaller than you'd expect (she stands at a little less than 5.5 inches) and does indeed come with a detachable copy of Pride and Prejudice, a quill pen, and a little writing desk. You can move her arms at the shoulders and elbows, and turn her around at the waist.

I'm debating whether or not to bring her with me to the exam, and also where to keep her once exams are done. Home? Office?

At any rate, many thanks to DarNat, who found her in Victoria on their recent trip.

Squee!

Becoming Jane Rage

From austenblog, a link to the Flash-based Hanway Films, which seems to the British PR company for Becoming Jane, the rather dreadfully-anticipated biopic of Jane Austen coming out next year. Alas, the firm's materials on the movie only increase the dread.

To get to the Becoming Jane synopsis, click on "Our Films" and then "Current Films". The synopsis is enough to give one a coronary, not only for messing up Austen's age the year the story is set, but also for erroneously stating that Austen's sister is married (she never did), for combining elements of Pride and Prejudice (Mr. Collins, anyone?) and Northanger Abbey into what is ostensibly a life story, and for using not one but TWO clichés consecutively: "A cat and mouse game ensues, sparks fly, and over the summer they fall in love." God, who writes this dreck?

To add insult to injury, check out the press release about how Miramax has picked up the North American distribution rights. Click on "Hanway Press" and then the second article from the top, titled "Miramax Awed by Austin [sic]". Seriously? You're promoting the film and you can't get the titular character's name right in a press release?

I've clicked around the site some more, but I can't find an ad for a fact-checker or proofreader anywhere.

Mmm... phlegmy

Five days to go before my exams, and I'm a little sick. Sore throat, phlegmy, tired. A sign to take better care of myself. I'm liquifying and taking Advil. Also typing in short, staccato sentences. What happened to all my conjunctions and clauses?

And now, for something completely different.

Panic... ish?

Today I wrote another practice exam which my supervisor left me before she went away on vacation. It was on list two (my dreaded history of the novel/theory list), and I had to answer one question from Part A, and one question from Part B.

Part B, the theory section, was no problem. I've been freaking about theory and therefore actually studying.

Part A, the novel section, was another story. I completely blanked on both questions, though I did manage to squeak out an answer on #2.

This does not bode well. I guess it means that I'll be reading up more on the novel this week.

One more practice exam (on list three) to go. Don't know what to expect there, but I feel better prepared than I did today.

Whiskers on kittens

This is going to sound sick, but one of my favourite things to do is to peel the layer of lint off a dryer's lint trap. It's particularly satisfying if the lint has formed a thick enough layer to come off in one piece. Mmmm... linty goodness.

(Yes, I did laundry tonight.)

Overheard: Fringe Brunch

Sunday morning(ish), Jeff and I went for brunch at the Highlevel Diner, reputedly one of the best brunch places in Edmonton. I, as always, needed coffee; Jeff had a mimosa:


We sat on the patio, where the sun had melted the little basket of peanut butter and jams on the table, to the point where the peanut butter got very liquid-y:


(I should add here that we didn't discover the pouring peanut butter accidentally. Jeff noticed and then hoped that he would get toast with his breakfast so that he could pour the peanut butter on it. Whatever makes you happy.)

As we ate, I overheard the woman behind me talking to her dining companion. She was clearly a Fringe performer, discussing how she'd felt off during the previous night's show even though it had sold out. She noted regretfully that reviewers were likely in the audience for the poor performance, and then confessed that frankly, she'd never been as unexcited about the show as she was now.

I thought about asking her which show she was involved with, but Jeff said it would be bad form. And while I agree that it would have been rude and embarrassing, I still can't help wondering.

Fringe Fest

This weekend Jeff came up to go to the Edmonton Fringe Festival, second largest alternative theatre festival in the world, next to the monster that is Edinburgh. Despite (supposedly) studying, I did manage to catch a handful of shows with (and one without) Jeff. If any Edmontonians are reading this, do go see The Rez Sisters, a moving, well-written, well-directed play.

Some general things about the Fringe:
• Literally everyone and their dog comes out. We saw so many cute dogs on the Fringe grounds today. Didn't top last year though, when I saw a little puppy being pushed in a baby stroller.
• The number of cute puppies was rivalled only by the number of cute kiddies. This, I believe, is a phenomenon that happens at many festivals.
• I keep running into people that I know, including other grad students, my dept. chair, a professor, and a couple of people who used to live in my building. Oddly, I also ran into an old acquaintance from high school, but we didn't have a chance to talk since the performance was about to start.
• Living four blocks from the Fringe site rocks because you can go home during long-ish breaks between shows and use a non-porta-potty toilet.
• I took Jeff to a hat shop on Whyte Ave., but alas, it seems that Jeff does not look good in hats. Join the club. (The shop, called Head Case, carried a Sherlock Holmes deerstalker cap. Seriously? Who would wear that?)

My plan is to try to sqeeze in a few more shows between/after the studying (or is that squeeze in some studying between the shows?) before the week is out. The exams are only a week away, and yet I am as calm as... as... What finishes this simile?

The Room

Today I got to take a look around the room that I'll be writing my exams in. The word "around" is a bit misleading, though, because the room is tiny, with three walls consisting of filing cabinets and one wall of large, floor to ceiling windows that looking into the Humanities building. There are random computer parts scattered around, interspersed within boxes of files. It's about 6 feet by 6 feet, cold (note to self: bring hoodie) and not very well lit. At least the chairs (two) are cushy, though old.

The room contains two computers, a PC and Mac. However, I would be writing on the PC (and the stupid PC keyboard). Grrr. I also get to bring food and drink with me, so the plan is to pack granola bars, water, napkins, wetnaps, chocolate and buy tea at school in my travel mug.

Now that I've seen the room, I think one thing I'm going to try to do this school year is lobby for a better room for future stressed-out sleep-deprived grad students to write their exams in. My dissertation, after all, is about space and how space affects its subjects. And I can't imagine a better test case than the thoroughly unpleasant room where we have to write our exams.

Garamond!!

For all the typeface geeks who read my blog (and oddly, I know that you're in the majority): There is a Canadian publishing company named after our favourite font.

Garamond Press is now an imprint of Broadview Press, another Canadian publisher that specializes in academic books.

Squee!

P.S. This post is not formatted in Garamond because it wasn't an option in the drop-down menu. Boo Blogger.

NY Times: Benefits of Coffee?

New York Times article about potential health benefits of drinking coffee:

Researchers have found strong evidence that coffee reduces the risk of several serious ailments, including diabetes, heart diesease and cirrhosis of the liver.

It's not that I feel vindicated, exactly. Just... less guilty.

Kind of oddly, the benefits leveled when study subjects drank more than six cups of coffee a day. Six cups?? When would the potential health benefits be outweighed by the inability to fall asleep?

And what, exactly, constitutes a cup? And was this regular drip coffee? Was it espresso? Does one receive the same benefits from one latte that one would from 3 cups of coffee? Inquiring minds want to know.

Alive and dreaming

Yes, yes, still alive despite what must be a record amount of time between posts for me. Exams stress is beginning to build. Last Friday night I had a weird dream/nightmare in which I wrote my second exam (on theory--ugh), but instead of being on the theory on my lists, it was about something incidental (and not theory) that my supervisor had mentioned in the dream. So I had no idea what I wrote, but remember dream-thinking that it sucked and that I had failed. All of a sudden another professor (who isn't even on my committee) was there for no apparent reason, and then I was home after being away for a few days only to find that I'd left a batch of blueberry muffins that I'd baked in the pantry when I'd meant to freeze them, and instead I'd have to throw them out because they'd gone bad.

This is normal, though. My friend Dave also had crazy dreams before his exams, including one where his theory exam consisted solely of questions on Terry Gilliam films and math (e.g., Twelve Monkeys and linear algebra).

Karine has a theory that female grad students dream about babies when they have project/dissertation anxiety. I had one of those in January as I was about to start work on a new project with a new supervisor. In that one I'd actually had a baby and I took my newborn to campus with me to some sort of all-day symposium. It (she?) was the best-behaved baby in the world, sleeping through everything. I could practically feel the weight of her in my arms (oddly, I carried it/her like that for the whole dream; why didn't I have one of those baby carriers, or at least a snuggly?). It wasn't until I was walking to school the next morning that I realized that my baby was white.

Thank god I'm not a psychoanalyst.

It's about fucking time

A pause from my regular blogging (and irregular reading) to thank Warner Home Video and then rant about the MPAA (that's the Motion Picture Association of America, for those of you not in the know).

First of all, good news that I've been waiting for for over a year. The out-of-print-on-VHS 1940 film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice is finally—FINALLY—going to be available on DVD Oct. 10. Currently, I only own a copy that I copied from my professor's VHS tape. This is SO going on my wishlist.

However. The Motion Picture Association of America (like its music industry counterpart) is notoriously paranoid about copyright infringement and illegal copying. As a result, many newer DVDs come with built-in copy protection that prevents me, as an academic, from copying relevant 2-minute clips from DVDs to a VHS tape that I can play in class. While DVDs provide superior picture quality and widescreen options (I loves me my wide screen), they are also impossible to cue up to exactly the right section before going into the classroom. When I gave a talk to a fourth-year Austen film adaptation class earlier this year, I had a hellish time coordinating the technonlogy, especially because I was showing five clips from four movies. When juggling that number of clips for a lecture, it's best (and this is something I learned from the film prof I TA'd for last year) to put them all, in order, on one tape that you can simply pause and play as necessary. However, the new DVD technology prevents that.

One way I could conceivably get DVD-quality clips onto VHS is to illegally download the movie and get an S-cable to connect my computer to my VCR. Ironically then, in its bid to prevent illegal downloading, the MPAA has provided another reason to go bitTorrent.

Now, I'm not advocating illegal copying and distribution of movies here. I am, however, expressing my frustration over not being able to copy a short clip under the auspices of fair use for academic purposes. I can't legally photocopy an entire novel and distribute it to my students, but I can certainly put a passage from onto an overhead transparency for a class exercise. Of course, it's easier to reproduce words than it is to reproduce a scene in a movie. Perhaps I'll take those Pride and Prejudice paper dolls that Nicole gave me and act the scene out myself after all: "She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me." "I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with him." "In vain have I struggled; you must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and adore you." "Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"

And... scene.

World On Fire

When the world is falling apart...


















bake cookies and drink beer.

Only Stella, mind you. I'm a grad student; I have an image to maintain.

Oh, and Arcade Fire with David Bowie doesn't hurt, either.

Ceasing Fire

I echo Kris' and Nicole's pleas to donate to the Lebanese Red Cross (or in my case, the Canadian Red Cross because I couldn't get the Lebanese Red Cross website to work for me).

Also, if you are so inclined, think about signing this petition for a ceasefire.

I counter all the talk about principled stands (Mr. Harper) and sustainable, long-term solutions (Mr. Bush) with two points:
1. Calling your own "measured response" response principled implies that anyone who holds a different view takes a stand that is not principled. It's a rhetorical device used by those whose opinions are in the minority and want to shore up their own position. Demanding an immediate ceasefire is also a principled stand; it's just one based on different principles.
2. An immediate ceasefire and a long-term sustainable solution need not be mutually exclusive.

I know the above comments are a little out of date, but they've been in my head for a while and I wanted them out there.

My Filing System

My apartment is littered with bookmarks that have little sticky-note flags (that I cut myself) on them.



As I read (particularly novels, where I don't want to stop to take notes every three pages), I flag important parts, and then go through the book again afterwards and note the relevant passages. As you can see, this can lead to some strange-looking volumes:



I don't intend to take the flags out of the books that are mine, and can't bear the thought of having to remove them from the ones I took out of the library. I'll probably have to consult these books at some point during my dissertation writing process, and while I have the notes in a Word document, I'd also like to have the flags. They're reassuring, a reification of the mental work that I've done and also proof that I've read the book.

I do not use this system for theory books for two reasons. First of all, stopping to flag while reading these involved, difficult books would interrupt the flow of ideas. Trying to pick up the train of thought in theory is more difficult than picking up the plot in a novel. Secondly, I don't always finish a book of theory if I find that it's not useful to me after all, or I will only read selective parts of it. This would result in partial flagging, which would irritate the strongly completist side of me that wants to read everything. I do make marginal notes with my pencil to remind myself of the important parts when I review and take notes, so it's not like I don't have a system at all.

No system at all? That would just be inviting anarchy.

Crazy family-filled weekend

Spent the last three days with my extended family on both my mother's and father's sides who were here to attend an annual school reunion (school was in Vietnam). At one point there were 13 people staying at my parents' house in Calgary, but now that I'm back in Edmonton and two other relatives are staying in Edmonton, it's down to a much more manageable 10. Ha.

Most of us drove up to Edmonton today to attend the reunion at the Shaw Conference Centre downtown (beautiful views of the river valley). Chris came along to take photos with Anna. Everyone stopped at my apartment beforehand to change and freshen up. I must say I've never had 13 people in my apartment at the same time trying to change, do their make-up, and go to the washroom (there's just one). I also realized today that I know very limited parts of Edmonton, and limited routes from Point A to Point B. Having never driven in the city (for a variety of reasons), I felt a little disoriented at times while trying to give directions. Also, I usually had to provide the directions in Cantonese.

No photos since I didn't bring my camera with me. I'll link to Anna's if she ever finds the time to post them.

Some random bits from the trip and reunion:

• Even though I (and my sister, cousins, and family) can tell my mom and her twin sister apart, many people can't. One evening, my dad and aunt went to a function at a restaurant while my mom had to go the airport. Everyone at the function thought my aunt (because she showed up with my dad) was my mom and one woman was a little insulted because she kept calling my aunt by my mom's name and thought she was being ignored. She didn't realize her error until mom walked into the restaurant.
• Chris had so much fun taking photos and generally being a (welcomed) paparazzo, giggling after each set of shots. Seriously. Giggling.
• The faucets, soap dispensers, and paper towel dispensers at the Shaw Conference Centre are all automatic. Oddly though, you have to press a button to flush the toilet.
• While the labour shortage in Alberta means you can get a job anywhere (if you're not picky), it also means that anyone can get a job. This was made quite evident today when we stopped at the most poorly-staffed McDonald's in the world, in Red Deer, where we waited over 20 minutes to order and where the staff clearly just weren't communicating. A frustrated woman dragged her two kids out of there because "there are two dummies up front". Moreover, the wait staff at the Conference Centre all looked to be under 20. One girl was even wearing braces (with those elastic thingies). I did see an older gentleman (about 60? 70?) who had white hair and who was clearly struggling with a large tray of plates. Poor man.
• Dad sang at the banquet tonight as part of the evening's festivities. It was lots of fun, especially when all his Calgary friends went up to the stage and started dancing and waving their napkins at him. We have lots of photos of that.
• You have to ask for it, but Air Canada does give a small (50USD in this case) clothing allowance to let you buy clothes to replace what you need when they lose your luggage. When I told my aunt this, her response in Chinese was, "That's nothing. That's not even enough to buy underwear." Clearly, she was still mad at the airline.

This was my last break before hunkering down to read and review for my exams. Glad to be home, but the silence is kind of eerie.

Mock exam

Today I wrote a mock/practice exam, sitting at my desk for three hours and writing two essays. I didn't manage my time very well and wrote a long essay for part B without a conclusion and a short essay (though I think a better one--more analytic) for part A but without an introduction. Overall, though, I'm pleased with the result because it tells me that I'm prepared for at least the first of my three exams in terms of knowledge. I felt confident in the answers I was giving, and didn't feel like I was drawing too many blanks. In fact, I flipped over the question sheet, skimmed the questions and thought, "that's it?"

So while this would ostensibly make me more confident, I still feel that I'm need to shore up my work on my other two lists (I've been particularly remiss in reading poetry). I still need to leave two weeks at the end for review. In fact, I have just under four weeks until I have to write my first exam.

Why aren't I panicking?

Start bailing

My apartment is leaking:



















It's been raining since about noon, and got home at 4:30 today to a damp couch and damp floor. It's not clear how the water is getting into my building, but it's coming out through my window frame:



















I called my managers and they gave me a bucket and some rags, and one of them set up a tin-foil eaves-system to catch the water and redirect it to a bucket. It's mostly the left window frame, but my center one has just started leaking as well.



















My couch and my desk used to be up against that wall, but I've moved my couch back and my desk to another wall, just in case. There have been issues with the roof all summer; the manager told me today that three roofing companies have come in to check it out, but can't find where the water is coming in. I'm starting to consider moving, except that my exams are coming up.

In the meantime, it's supposed to rain the rest of today, plus probably Monday and Wednesday. This is not good.