The Question: Are college freshmen today dumber than college freshman of the past?
I try not to get too bent out of shape about my students and what I perceive as their lack of academic intelligence (notice that I wrote academic intelligence, not intelligence in general). I try to remember what a dumbass I was at 18 (and boy, I was a dumbass), my lax work ethic, my know-it-all attitude, etc. And, of course, I remember that I am getting my PhD, I've devoted my life to education & academia, and very few of my students, at 18, will have anywhere near the same passion for the material that I have. So, I can, should, and do cut them some slack. But still... sometimes I wonder, "What's wrong with these kids today, and why won't they get off my lawn?"
Just for fun, I decided to take a look at papers that I wrote my first semester of college (I'm a narcissistic pack-rat, so I keep everything). My idea: Did I, 18 yrs old and the product of a private school education, have the same failings as my students today? Or was I already demonstrating the brilliance that would make me such a super star today? (note the sarcasm, please) Just how smart was I?
A little context: I went to the University of Texas at Austin. The first year gen-ed English sequence was English 306k (Writing & Rhetoric) and English 316k (Intro to Literature). Since I had scored 5's both AP English tests (Language and Literature, I believe they were called) I was allowed to place out of both classes. So, my first semester I took English 314L, an honors section of an "Intro to Lit" type course. The equivalent at the University of Arizona would be something like a cross between English 109h (Honors Writing) and English 280 (Sophomore level, gen-ed intro to lit)-- that is, a focus on reading and writing. I don't have the syllabus, but I remember that we read Stephen King's The Dead Zone, Morrison's Beloved (which I hated at the time, and then 2 years later when I read it again I realized how dumb the 18 yr old me had been), Hamlet, and a number of short stories and poems.
I found 3 papers that I wrote for this class. Let's take a look at them.
OK, paper #1: "Literary Allusion in The Dead Zone." Not a catchy title, but accurate.
First line: "In The Dead Zone, Stephen King frequently refers to other works of literature." Wow, that's bad. I mean, again, accurate, but DULL (which the instructor, an English grad student by the name of S. Prosser, noted; she writes, "This intro gets the point across, but try to really grab your audience's attention. Add some transition.")
Skipping down to the final sentence of paragraph 1, I see that I do have a workable, if mundane, thesis statement: "The end result is that John Smith's alienation from the world is heavily emphasized by the allusions to the similarly alienated and freakish characters in the three stories previously mentioned." She notes that the last clause is awkward, which it is. (The 3 works, by the way, were "Rip Van Winkle," Frankenstein, and Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.) Ugly use of passive voice; somewhat dull, but at least there's a sense that I'm going to talk about something substantial.
Second paragraph: Follows the PIE format pretty well. First line: "One aspect of John Smith's isolation that King emphasizes is his placement in time." OK. Some pronoun confusion, awkward phrasing at the end, and lame to organize the paper like a list. One thing I notice, though, is that I didn't organize it along the lines of the 3 works. Instead, I organized the paper along thematic lines, with each paragraph discussing some aspect of the protagonist's alienation. That's not bad, and stronger, I think, than organizing it by allusions to each work. In fact, now that I think about it, I remember getting feedback from an older grad student at my apt. complex, and he suggested this organization.
I followed that with some summary & a quotation from the novel, then explanation of the relevance of the quotation to the point I'm trying to make. Mistake on the parenthetical citation: put the period in the quotes, before the parentheses, instead of after both.
Ugly line in this paragraph: "What is interesting is the preoccupation of the two characters [Rip Van Winkle, John Smith] with political events that they have missed." Not a bad observation, but badly written, and just what is so interesting about it? I never say. Paragraph ends with "The existing power structure had been overthrown and those who ran the country before his accident were now disgraced." True, I guess, but so what? How does that relate to the notion of alienation introduced in the thesis?
2nd Paragraph topic sentence: "There is another phenomenon of being out of time that John undergoes." Ugh. Weak transition. But, at least a topic sentence of a sort. The rest of the paragraph describes the second childhood Dead Zone's protagonist undergoes upon waking from his coma, comparing him to Frankenstein's monster. Last line: "This feeling of being out of sync with time is one manifestation of John's uniqueness and separation from society." Eh.
3rd paragraph: "Another important apsect of John's alienation..." God, that is lame. So, as many of my students do today, I structured my paper as a list. But, unlike a lot of my students, I at least had a specific point to make in each paragraph, which I supported with evidence from the text. Sure, the explanations and the overall argument are pretty bland, but there's something there.
This paragraph talks about 'returning from the dead.' Middle of the paragraph: "Other comparisons are made with Frankenstein." They are? Who makes them? Why? My instructor's marginal comments: "What are the moral implications of bringing something back from the dead ... ? Is Johnny guilty of overstepping his human [unreadable], like Dr. Frankenstein?" I assume she wrote something like "morals" or "limits" there, but I can't tell.
4th paragraph: "It is rather ironic" -- LAME -- "that 'Frankenstein' has gone from an affectionate nickname to a term used to describe physical repulsiveness." Meh. Next line: "The ironic reversal of meaning traces Johnny's alienation from society." OK, that's not bad. The paragraph goes on to attempt to answer the questions my instructor posed in her marginal comments, but only on a superficial level.
Next paragraph: "The final aspect of John's alienation that is emphasized..." Stupid. Why did I keep using the word "emphasize"? That's a pretty mundane verb. Do writers "emphasize" things in their fiction? I notice that this paragraph is rather long and contains a number of different examples of the protagonist's "dual nature." My analysis here is fairly simple, as I appear to have been simply listing all the examples in order to make the point that the John is "alienated" and "different" and that the allusions to other works help to convey this. What it all means, though, is missing from my reading.
The conclusion, 2 paragraphs later, begins, "King attempts to portray John Smith's isolation from the rest of humanity." That's pretty weak, but serviceable, I guess. The rest of the conclusion summarizes the major points made in the paper. Final sentence: "The allusions that King makes allow him to provide the reader with an image with which to compare Johnny, and King successfully uses them to expand the meaning and depth of John's ability and isolation." OK, but nowhere in the paper did I actually make a claim about what the "meaning and depth" of John's alienation is. This should have been something I considered as part of the thesis.
Instructor's comments: "This paper is well-organized and your writing is nice & clear. You locate several fine literary allusions in the novel & relate them to Johnny capably. ... My main suggestion ... would be to answer or at least acknowledge the difficult question: is John Smith a monster? ... This is strong work. Next time really push yourself to address tough, underlying issues beneath your observations." Sing it, Sister. I agree with her assessment -- the paper was a series of observations (although pretty decent observations) without much consideration of their significance. Final grade: B.
For an honors course, I think a B is about right. For English 101, maybe an A. This could definitely fit in with the work I get from most of my students, in terms of intellectual content. Where it succeeds where many (50-70%?) of my 101 students' don't: it has an identifiable, if boring, thesis; it has an explicit and thought out structure; few (if any) spelling or grammatical errors; some complex sentences (but, admittedly, mostly pedestrian writing); and it demonstrates some familiarity with literary conventions & terms.
Briefly, some instructor comments from my 2nd paper, "Indivividualism vs. Collectivism in 'The Lottery' and 'The Man Who Was Almost a Man.'"
--"This is very well organized, & your style & presentation are fulid, precise, & attractive. This is a good paper with some fine insights, but I'd like you to dig a little deeper into these stories & heighten the complexity of your own arguments. ... There's a lot going on in these stories, & it's tempting to boil them down to black & white themes, but if you examine their contradictions -- shades of gray -- you & your readers will get more out of them."
Again, I think that's a pretty accurate assessment. Grade: B.
Final paper: "Struggles and Acceptance in 'In Memory of W.B. Yeats.'"
I guess my model for paper titles was "[Themes] in [Names of Works]"
I'll quote the entire intro:
"Auden's 'In Memory of W.B. Yeats' was written, on the most literal level, as a tribute to the English poet Yeats. The poem, however, exists on many more levels."
HA! duh.
"It exists not only as a tribute to Yeats, but a commentary on his life, a description of his death and its effect on the world, the nature of the relationship between art, specifically poetry, and everyday life, and finally, as Auden's own struggle with these issues. It is this last level that unifies all of the themes within the poem, and it is at this level that the reader gains a comprehensive understanding of the poem."
S. Prosser's comment: "Nice intro." I guess. I mean, it does demonstrate that I had a somewhat complex understanding of the poem and that I planned to examine it from a few different angles. I would be willing to bet that many of my 101 students (and even some of my students from upper-division courses) would have a lot of difficulty with this poem and wouldn't have some of the insights I had. But, my thesis here is still fairly weak.
The first body paragraph discusses the poem as both a tribute to Yeats and a commentary on his life. Reading it now, I see that I was able to explain some of poem's metaphors fairly well and that I did have a complex understanding of the poem. However, there are lame lines like, "Another interesting point is the use of the word 'parish.'" Ultimately, this paragraph is mostly explication, and it is not grounded in any particular argument.
From the next paragraph: "The word 'disappeared' in line 1 implies a sudden, [un]expected death, which only serves to sharpen the loss." Hey, I was kinda close reading! I'm a bit proud of my young self, because I've had seniors who can't explain the significance of words/phrases in poetry on that level.
A little ways down: "The tone here implies some disdain on the part of Auden for the interpretations of others, as he portrays the readers not as interpreting Yeats' work, but as controlling Yeats' existence." Hmm. OK, I see what I was trying to do, but this is not very elegantly phrased/explained.
Further down: "[Auden] sees to be struggling with the idea that poetry is useless, and he is superimposing his struggle on Yeats." Hey, so I sort of recognized the psychological complexity of the text and the multiple voices within. OK, not too terrible!
2nd to last paragraph: metrical analysis! Wow, now that's not bad, and I think probably a majority of the BAs we graduate in my current department would have trouble identifying iambic hexameter or trochaic hexameter, much less offer up some explanation of its significance. To be fair, though, I recall spending about 6 hours just taking notes about this poem, not even counting the time I spent writing the paper.
From the conclusion: "The struggle between freedom and human limitations and the struggle between art and life are superimposed over Yeats' life, and thus they are resolved by using his life and works as examples and building blocks." Poorly written, yes, but not a totally dumb idea.
Instructor's comments: "This is an excellent analysis." Yay! "My only suggestion would be to focus a little more in the future & edit for length. ... [Y]ou need to select the main ideas & highlight them for a paper this length. I'd also like to see you incorporate your observations about form with your careful analysis of content." Grade: A. Final grade for the course: B :(
So, after that rather painful trip down memory lane...
I'd say that intellectually, I wasn't too different then from the way my freshmen students are today. The main difference, I think, is in the preparation I had. I went to a private school that focused on a traditional liberal arts, college prep education: so, I had some understanding of literature and the terminology used to discuss it; my high school writing had been focused on investigative essays rather than timed writing (meaning, no 5 paragraph theme BS, no teaching to the test); and I had a greater facility with the written word than do many of my students today -- which is not to say that I was a great stylist, but I could express myself.
Now as the clock ticks on into the wee hours of the morning, I am somewhat at a loss as to what my original intentions in all of this were, but here's what I think I can take away from my experiment:
1) I was an honors student 15 years ago, and I think I was probably about as smart then as is the average honors student today.
2) I was a better ENGLISH student than most kids I teach now in 101 (who are usually not English majors), but not necessarily a better student than other English majors today, and not necessarily a better student in general than this year's incoming class.
3) I had better preparation in high school to write analytical papers than many of my students have had.
4) The fact that I actually enjoyed reading and was willing to read long works played a huge role in my ability to do even the B-level work that I was doing then. Without my personal investment in reading, my work would have suffered greatly.
5) I don't think standards for this level of work -- short, analytical essays by academically solid freshmen -- have changed radically, as I now think the grades I received were justified. (I'm sure that in 1994 I thought these papers deserved A's.)
Perhaps some other night I'll take some of my upper-division work and give it the same treatment.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
My Collaboration with Ezra Pound
I'll bet you didn't know it, but Ezra Pound and I recently collaborated on a new poem. Surprising, yes, especially considering Pound died in 1972, 4 years before I was born, but it is true.
This collaboration was facilitated by Translation Party. Whenever you translate something from one language to another you lose (or gain) something, and no translation is ever exact; so this website takes your English input, translates it to Japanese, then back to English, then back again, and so on and so forth, until it finally comes upon a "literal" translation -- some variation of the terms that will produce the same text over and over again -- no change in meaning. Equilibrium.
So, I entered in Pound's famous "In A Station Of The Metro" to the Translation Party Engine, and was surprised at the results I got. Often, one's input becomes absurdly hilarious once run through the ringer; other times, it is rather dull. But Pound's words retained something of their poetry. It isn't exactly publication worthy, but it has a certain something about it. Perhaps this is a testament to Pound's genius, perhaps to his ability to capture something of Eastern spirituality in his poetry, or perhaps it is just a happy coincidence. Whatever the case may be, I like the product, so I thought I'd share it.
So, here it is, my collaborative poem with Ezra Pound:
"In A Station of the Metro '09"
The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough.
These ghost face in the crowd; wet, petals of black branches.
These ghostly face in the crowd; Wet, black branches petals.
These look like a ghost in the crowd; Wet, black branches petals.
Among the crowd, these look like a ghost; Wet, black branches petals.
In the crowd, like a ghost, look for these; Wet, black branches petals.
Like a flock of ghosts for those, look, wet black branches petals.
A flock of these ghosts, and, like the petals of the wet black branches.
And the flock of ghosts, like the petals of the wet black branches.
The herd of ghost-like petals wet black branches.
Petals wet black branches, like a flock of ghosts.
Wet black branches of a herd of ghost-like petals.
Wet, black branches, like a flock of ghosts of the petals.
Wet, black branches, like a flock of ghosts petals.
Wet, black branches, like a flock of ghosts petals.
-- EP & RP
This collaboration was facilitated by Translation Party. Whenever you translate something from one language to another you lose (or gain) something, and no translation is ever exact; so this website takes your English input, translates it to Japanese, then back to English, then back again, and so on and so forth, until it finally comes upon a "literal" translation -- some variation of the terms that will produce the same text over and over again -- no change in meaning. Equilibrium.
So, I entered in Pound's famous "In A Station Of The Metro" to the Translation Party Engine, and was surprised at the results I got. Often, one's input becomes absurdly hilarious once run through the ringer; other times, it is rather dull. But Pound's words retained something of their poetry. It isn't exactly publication worthy, but it has a certain something about it. Perhaps this is a testament to Pound's genius, perhaps to his ability to capture something of Eastern spirituality in his poetry, or perhaps it is just a happy coincidence. Whatever the case may be, I like the product, so I thought I'd share it.
So, here it is, my collaborative poem with Ezra Pound:
"In A Station of the Metro '09"
The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough.
These ghost face in the crowd; wet, petals of black branches.
These ghostly face in the crowd; Wet, black branches petals.
These look like a ghost in the crowd; Wet, black branches petals.
Among the crowd, these look like a ghost; Wet, black branches petals.
In the crowd, like a ghost, look for these; Wet, black branches petals.
Like a flock of ghosts for those, look, wet black branches petals.
A flock of these ghosts, and, like the petals of the wet black branches.
And the flock of ghosts, like the petals of the wet black branches.
The herd of ghost-like petals wet black branches.
Petals wet black branches, like a flock of ghosts.
Wet black branches of a herd of ghost-like petals.
Wet, black branches, like a flock of ghosts of the petals.
Wet, black branches, like a flock of ghosts petals.
Wet, black branches, like a flock of ghosts petals.
-- EP & RP
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Captain's Log
I thought I'd give my rambling, incoherent thoughts on the most recent Star Trek film, just for the heck of it. If you haven't seen the movie, SPOILER ALERT!
First off, my bonafides. Now, I'm not a Trek authority, by any means. I've seen many, if not most, of the Original Series episodes, but that was a long time ago, and I don't really remember them all that well. I've seen almost all, if not all, of the episodes of Next Generation. I watched about the first 5 - 10 episodes or so of Deep Space 9; I've seen 1 or 2 episodes of Voyager; I've never seen an episode of Enterprise. I have seen all the movies. I've never read a Star Trek novel, and I've never been to a Star Trek convention -- although when I was young I did go to comic conventions, gaming conventions, Dr. Who conventions, and even a Blake's 7 convention or two.
So, with that in mind, I think you could call me a fan, but not a hardcore fan. I certainly know the basics of the universe, but not all the details of canon. I did know enough about this film to know that it was changing the storyline, but I wasn't sure how (and some of the details of how things were changed I didn't know until they were made clear in the movie). Anyway...
I enjoyed the movie, overall. I thought the action was exciting and fast-paced. I thought the visual design was sleek and cool. I thought the actors all did a good job playing to the expectations of the characters while not aping their predecessors. I would like to see them again, as I think they would be even better in a second movie without the need to "Assemble the Team" -- the story and the characters could breathe a bit.
Now on to some details, which will involve revealing plot details. At some point in the future -- I think about 20-30 years after the end of TNG/DS9/Voyager -- Ambassador Spock (who has been living among Romulans, working on a reconciliation between them and their 'cousins' the Vulcans) is tapped to save the Romulan planet. Something about a supernova, he injects some "Red Matter" into the star, blah blah, it will not blow up and destroy the galaxy. However, he's a little slow on the draw or something, so the planets Romulus (and Remus, I assume) get destroyed. Still, the star doesn't destroy the rest of the galaxy, and it turns into a black hole. Nero, the captain of a mining ship, sees his planet destroyed (with his lovely wife too) and wants to kill Spock for what he sees as a betrayal of his people, but both are sucked into the black hole and back through time. In doing so, they radically change the timeline and the lives of everyone in the new Star Trek universe.
Problem 1: Nero's change from simple mining captain to seriously evil dude is quite rapid. This was something that I was a bit unclear on: was he just in the area when Romulus got destroyed and then got immediately sucked in to the black hole? I assume that had to have been the case -- had he been far away and just decided to fly over to kill Spock, he would have missed his ship going into the black hole. But that means that within seconds he goes from regular guy to vengeance driven madman and convinces his whole crew to go along with him to boot.
This speaks to the larger problem of Nero's character. It seems like they didn't quite know how to portray him. Was he just a normal person, driven mad by grief? Was he an evil man, leading a crew of evil people? When he gets sucked back in time, he emerges in front of the USS Kelvin and immediately attacks. He seems rather sinister in his confrontation with the bad-ass and buff Indian Captain (go Indian Starfleet!). And speaking of Nero attacking... why the hell does a mining ship have all these weapons?
Anyway, when, later, he meets up with the USS Enterprise on its maiden voyage, he's not quite as eeeeeeeeeeevyyylllllll. Captain Pike introduces himself as Captain Christopher Pike. Nero responds with, "Hello Christopher, I'm Nero." It was a funny touch, but also quite clever: Nero isn't an officer or a military man, he has no sense of protocol. He just calls the guy by his first name. It also serves to make him more than a bit creepy. So, 25 years after his first sinister attack on Starfleet, he seems a bit more mellow.
And here's another oddity: Starfleet is attacked by what they recognize to be a Romulan vessel. The Romulan vessel destroys the Kelvin. Does this have any sort of repercussions for Starfleet-Romulan relations? Are they in a war? What exactly is their reaction? Do they go out in search of this guy that just killed a bunch of their people? And why does Nero leave the spot where he emerges? Spock emerges from what is apparently the same place 25 years later, but Nero has been off flying around somewhere -- or at least, that is what the movie suggests, as his 2nd in command says something to the effect of, "We're coming to the spot you indicated, sir." Where the hell have they been for 25 years? And how does he happen to know that Spock will reappear there at that exact time?
But anyway, my point is that Nero was a villain with potential that wasn't really explored. And Eric Bana is a solid actor, so certainly they could have given him a bit more to work with.
So, that's the first main problem I have with the film. Now on to problem 2: Capt. Pike gets captured by Nero, Vulcan gets destroyed and Spock is sad, Spock & Kirk get into an argument, Spock maroons Kirk on Delta Vega where Kirk runs into Old Spock (who had been marooned there by Nero to watch while Vulcan was destroyed) and Montgomery "Scotty" Scott. That's quite a coincidence, eh? I mean, we've already populated the Enterprise with all the other main characters (who all just HAPPEN to get quick promotions to their expected crew positions despite being cadets), now Kirk, Scotty, and time-traveling Spock all end up on the same planet? Spock makes some sense -- apparently the planet is close enough to see the destruction of Vulcan, and also habitable (if inhospitable) -- it makes sense for Nero to dump Spock there. Kirk as well -- he gets kicked off the ship by Spock right after Vulcan's destruction, so they are in the Delta Vega area anyway. But Scotty too?
Spock Prime (that is, old time-traveling Spock) speaks of Kirk's need to fulfill his "destiny" and take command of the Enterprise, as that's the only way to defeat Nero. Let's put aside the question of how the hell Spock Prime, from a completely different timeline, would know that only Kirk's plan to defeat Nero would work and not young Spock's plan, which also seems like it has its merits. But the notion of "destiny" is an interesting one, as its a psuedo-religious concept that usually you don't see in a sci-fi show like Star Trek. If, however, we take it seriously as a force operating in the Star Trek universe, it would seem to explain how Sulu & Chekov happen to be assigned to the Enterprise in this new dimension; how Bones meets up with a young Kirk and becomes his close friend; how Bones becomes quickly promoted to chief medical officer and how Uhura becomes quickly promoted from nobody to chief communications officer; and how Kirk meets up with Scott on some random backwoods planet. But what is the nature of this "destiny"? Is it the will of some sort of deity? Yes, in a way. The only way that "destiny" really makes any sense is if you consider "destiny" to be the will and expectations of the fans. I mean, think about it: this is a radically changed timeline. When Nero & Spock came back in time, they supposedly altered everyone's lives, most especially Kirk's, whose father was killed by Nero. Wouldn't it make sense that some OTHER person in this new timeline would become the greatest engineer/language expert/Starfleet captain/doctor/whatever, instead of one of the characters from the original series? The only way it really makes sense, the only way that these characters still become who they become is because we, the fans, expect them to be that. We will tolerate a slightly different Kirk or Spock or whomever, but not a Kirk who isn't a bad-ass mack-daddy Starfleet Captain, or a Bones who is a happy-go-lucky Vulcan lover. So, in fact, it is the fans who make the world of the new Star Trek coherent, ensuring that all the characters come together in some recognizable form, taking the places that they are "destined" to hold.
So, now some minor nitpicking: the way Scott & Kirk get off Delta Vega and on to the Enterprise. We are told it is through transwarp teleportation. Now, let's assume a couple of things: Kirk has been on this planet for AT LEAST 4-5 hours -- long enough to wander around, meet Spock, wander around some more, and convince Scotty to travel with him to the Enterprise. All this time, the Enterprise has been traveling AWAY from the planet at warp speed. How far has it gotten? Not sure, but pretty damn far. It's got to be out of the solar system. We're talking millions of miles away. Now, Wikipedia tells me that transporters in TOS were 40000 kilometers. Even in TNG there is only an "experimental" transporter than can traverse interstellar distances. Now Scott -- with the help of Future Spock -- can suddenly transport people from solar system to solar system? What the hell is the point of space ships anymore if you can just teleport bazillions of miles?! I know they had to get them on the Enterprise somehow, but that was a bit lazy.
Other nitpicky problems: the confrontation between Kirk & Spock when Kirk gets back on board is very rushed. Uhura has a bigger role in the movie but still doesn't really DO anything except convey information for Kirk & Spock to use. And finally, when Kirk cheats at the Kobayashi Maru test, he is way too cute about it. I would expect Kirk to be a bit less obvious about his cheating.
OK, enough babbling. Goodnight.
First off, my bonafides. Now, I'm not a Trek authority, by any means. I've seen many, if not most, of the Original Series episodes, but that was a long time ago, and I don't really remember them all that well. I've seen almost all, if not all, of the episodes of Next Generation. I watched about the first 5 - 10 episodes or so of Deep Space 9; I've seen 1 or 2 episodes of Voyager; I've never seen an episode of Enterprise. I have seen all the movies. I've never read a Star Trek novel, and I've never been to a Star Trek convention -- although when I was young I did go to comic conventions, gaming conventions, Dr. Who conventions, and even a Blake's 7 convention or two.
So, with that in mind, I think you could call me a fan, but not a hardcore fan. I certainly know the basics of the universe, but not all the details of canon. I did know enough about this film to know that it was changing the storyline, but I wasn't sure how (and some of the details of how things were changed I didn't know until they were made clear in the movie). Anyway...
I enjoyed the movie, overall. I thought the action was exciting and fast-paced. I thought the visual design was sleek and cool. I thought the actors all did a good job playing to the expectations of the characters while not aping their predecessors. I would like to see them again, as I think they would be even better in a second movie without the need to "Assemble the Team" -- the story and the characters could breathe a bit.
Now on to some details, which will involve revealing plot details. At some point in the future -- I think about 20-30 years after the end of TNG/DS9/Voyager -- Ambassador Spock (who has been living among Romulans, working on a reconciliation between them and their 'cousins' the Vulcans) is tapped to save the Romulan planet. Something about a supernova, he injects some "Red Matter" into the star, blah blah, it will not blow up and destroy the galaxy. However, he's a little slow on the draw or something, so the planets Romulus (and Remus, I assume) get destroyed. Still, the star doesn't destroy the rest of the galaxy, and it turns into a black hole. Nero, the captain of a mining ship, sees his planet destroyed (with his lovely wife too) and wants to kill Spock for what he sees as a betrayal of his people, but both are sucked into the black hole and back through time. In doing so, they radically change the timeline and the lives of everyone in the new Star Trek universe.
Problem 1: Nero's change from simple mining captain to seriously evil dude is quite rapid. This was something that I was a bit unclear on: was he just in the area when Romulus got destroyed and then got immediately sucked in to the black hole? I assume that had to have been the case -- had he been far away and just decided to fly over to kill Spock, he would have missed his ship going into the black hole. But that means that within seconds he goes from regular guy to vengeance driven madman and convinces his whole crew to go along with him to boot.
This speaks to the larger problem of Nero's character. It seems like they didn't quite know how to portray him. Was he just a normal person, driven mad by grief? Was he an evil man, leading a crew of evil people? When he gets sucked back in time, he emerges in front of the USS Kelvin and immediately attacks. He seems rather sinister in his confrontation with the bad-ass and buff Indian Captain (go Indian Starfleet!). And speaking of Nero attacking... why the hell does a mining ship have all these weapons?
Anyway, when, later, he meets up with the USS Enterprise on its maiden voyage, he's not quite as eeeeeeeeeeevyyylllllll. Captain Pike introduces himself as Captain Christopher Pike. Nero responds with, "Hello Christopher, I'm Nero." It was a funny touch, but also quite clever: Nero isn't an officer or a military man, he has no sense of protocol. He just calls the guy by his first name. It also serves to make him more than a bit creepy. So, 25 years after his first sinister attack on Starfleet, he seems a bit more mellow.
And here's another oddity: Starfleet is attacked by what they recognize to be a Romulan vessel. The Romulan vessel destroys the Kelvin. Does this have any sort of repercussions for Starfleet-Romulan relations? Are they in a war? What exactly is their reaction? Do they go out in search of this guy that just killed a bunch of their people? And why does Nero leave the spot where he emerges? Spock emerges from what is apparently the same place 25 years later, but Nero has been off flying around somewhere -- or at least, that is what the movie suggests, as his 2nd in command says something to the effect of, "We're coming to the spot you indicated, sir." Where the hell have they been for 25 years? And how does he happen to know that Spock will reappear there at that exact time?
But anyway, my point is that Nero was a villain with potential that wasn't really explored. And Eric Bana is a solid actor, so certainly they could have given him a bit more to work with.
So, that's the first main problem I have with the film. Now on to problem 2: Capt. Pike gets captured by Nero, Vulcan gets destroyed and Spock is sad, Spock & Kirk get into an argument, Spock maroons Kirk on Delta Vega where Kirk runs into Old Spock (who had been marooned there by Nero to watch while Vulcan was destroyed) and Montgomery "Scotty" Scott. That's quite a coincidence, eh? I mean, we've already populated the Enterprise with all the other main characters (who all just HAPPEN to get quick promotions to their expected crew positions despite being cadets), now Kirk, Scotty, and time-traveling Spock all end up on the same planet? Spock makes some sense -- apparently the planet is close enough to see the destruction of Vulcan, and also habitable (if inhospitable) -- it makes sense for Nero to dump Spock there. Kirk as well -- he gets kicked off the ship by Spock right after Vulcan's destruction, so they are in the Delta Vega area anyway. But Scotty too?
Spock Prime (that is, old time-traveling Spock) speaks of Kirk's need to fulfill his "destiny" and take command of the Enterprise, as that's the only way to defeat Nero. Let's put aside the question of how the hell Spock Prime, from a completely different timeline, would know that only Kirk's plan to defeat Nero would work and not young Spock's plan, which also seems like it has its merits. But the notion of "destiny" is an interesting one, as its a psuedo-religious concept that usually you don't see in a sci-fi show like Star Trek. If, however, we take it seriously as a force operating in the Star Trek universe, it would seem to explain how Sulu & Chekov happen to be assigned to the Enterprise in this new dimension; how Bones meets up with a young Kirk and becomes his close friend; how Bones becomes quickly promoted to chief medical officer and how Uhura becomes quickly promoted from nobody to chief communications officer; and how Kirk meets up with Scott on some random backwoods planet. But what is the nature of this "destiny"? Is it the will of some sort of deity? Yes, in a way. The only way that "destiny" really makes any sense is if you consider "destiny" to be the will and expectations of the fans. I mean, think about it: this is a radically changed timeline. When Nero & Spock came back in time, they supposedly altered everyone's lives, most especially Kirk's, whose father was killed by Nero. Wouldn't it make sense that some OTHER person in this new timeline would become the greatest engineer/language expert/Starfleet captain/doctor/whatever, instead of one of the characters from the original series? The only way it really makes sense, the only way that these characters still become who they become is because we, the fans, expect them to be that. We will tolerate a slightly different Kirk or Spock or whomever, but not a Kirk who isn't a bad-ass mack-daddy Starfleet Captain, or a Bones who is a happy-go-lucky Vulcan lover. So, in fact, it is the fans who make the world of the new Star Trek coherent, ensuring that all the characters come together in some recognizable form, taking the places that they are "destined" to hold.
So, now some minor nitpicking: the way Scott & Kirk get off Delta Vega and on to the Enterprise. We are told it is through transwarp teleportation. Now, let's assume a couple of things: Kirk has been on this planet for AT LEAST 4-5 hours -- long enough to wander around, meet Spock, wander around some more, and convince Scotty to travel with him to the Enterprise. All this time, the Enterprise has been traveling AWAY from the planet at warp speed. How far has it gotten? Not sure, but pretty damn far. It's got to be out of the solar system. We're talking millions of miles away. Now, Wikipedia tells me that transporters in TOS were 40000 kilometers. Even in TNG there is only an "experimental" transporter than can traverse interstellar distances. Now Scott -- with the help of Future Spock -- can suddenly transport people from solar system to solar system? What the hell is the point of space ships anymore if you can just teleport bazillions of miles?! I know they had to get them on the Enterprise somehow, but that was a bit lazy.
Other nitpicky problems: the confrontation between Kirk & Spock when Kirk gets back on board is very rushed. Uhura has a bigger role in the movie but still doesn't really DO anything except convey information for Kirk & Spock to use. And finally, when Kirk cheats at the Kobayashi Maru test, he is way too cute about it. I would expect Kirk to be a bit less obvious about his cheating.
OK, enough babbling. Goodnight.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Board Games & RPGs
This post on Metafilter got me thinking about my youthful days as a board gamer & D&D nerd. The post is about a "monster game" called "The Campaign for North Africa," reputed to be one of the most complex and long board games ever created. Clocking in at 1000-1500 hours of gameplay for 10 people to complete, it's more like an accounting job than a fun night of Balderdash with the family. But, something inside me would love to try it, if I had unlimited funds and time.
When I was younger, I was introduced to Dungeons & Dragons by a friend (I don't remember who). I started playing in junior high with a small group of people I went to school with. I read tons of the D&D world novels (I remember reading about 60 in one summer), got as many of the books and expansion packs as I could, and went to local gaming conventions whenever I got the chance. But, for all that, I was never much of a serious player.
Part of that may come down to the people with whom I was playing. Besides myself, there was Jesse, Hans, David, and Chris -- I think that's everyone. We all had our own strange ideas about what the game was for. Chris was always the knight (or, Paladin, as it was called under the AD&D 2nd Edition rules we used). He was a fairly straightforward and serious player, if somewhat lacking in imagination. David used it to fulfill his fantasies; he was always wanting his character to find some river nymph to get it on with, and when he was Dungeon Master, there were always more than a few erotic encounters in our campaigns -- well, erotic by a 13 yr old boy's standards. Hans was also fulfilling fantasies, but of a different type. A typical encounter would go something like this:
DM: You are led into the King's throneroom. He says, "I have a mission for you."
Hans: I attack him.
DM: What? No, he's a good king, he wants to hire you.
Hans: I want to attack him and take his gold.
DM: sigh...
And Jesse was just there to ruin everyone else's time by screwing around. He wasn't really into the whole idea of role-playing games, but he did it because most of our group of friends was into it.
And me? Well, I always wanted to have interesting and complex campaigns. I was fairly serious, but I wanted it to be fun. However, I was (and am) a bit of a control freak, so I had a specific idea about how the game should have been played. I wanted people to take the game seriously -- that is, become absorbed into the world of the game -- because they wanted to experience the new worlds and storylines we had available to us. Not that jokes and silliness were not allowed in my mind -- but in service of making the experience fun for all, not in service of winding up others because you're an obnoxious jerk. It is probably no wonder that I a) am pursuing a career as a literature professor, and b) focus on the Renaissance. But I digress...
So, I wasn't with the most serious gamers, and to be honest, I didn't have tons of fortitude for playing the game endlessly myself. I loved to read the rulebooks, though, imagine scenarios, create characters, come up with ideas for campaigns and encounters, design new worlds and weapons... Perhaps if I had gotten hooked up with some big time gamers I would have been more hardcore. But, those hardcore gamers also intimidated me. I remember going to the gaming and comic book conventions when I was 12, 13, 14 years old, seeing the hardcore nerds playing weekend long marathon sessions of different games -- sometimes D&D or some other RPG, sometimes the historical wargames, sometimes other wargames like Warhammer or whatever the mech-battle games were. Those guys (and they were almost always male -- there were few women at these cons; in fact, I don't remember seeing a lot of RPG females until Vampire came out, and then Magic: The Gathering after it, 2 games that I never played), who I didn't really look up to as "cool" in any way, did impress me with their dedication and knowledge and, yes, their ability to play these games. In a well-run campaign, strategy is an important part of gameplay, and I was impressed by how much these cats knew, or appeared to know, at least.
Anyway, I never got into that level of play, which is probably for the best -- if I had, I'd probably be stuck in a miserable job spending my weekends playing games constantly, as opposed to stuck in a low-paying but rewarding job and spending my weekends researching and grading constantly. (Is that better?) But, I always kind of wanted to; those gamers had something they were really good at, something they were devoted to, something that created a community. My gamer friends were not much of a community, and while sometimes the gameplay was fun, we never created those lasting memories that you're supposed to create with your friends during your youth.
I still miss the gaming, or at least, the benefits that it brought when things went well. Getting together with a group of people, laughing, eating, talking, having a common task to accomplish, creating a story together. One thing that can be lacking in an academic life is that sort of casual group camaraderie and play. I really think that games are one of the best ways to have fun group interactions. Unfortunately, in the US, there are some pretty stark lines between gaming subcultures. You've got the nerds and geeks who are hardcore gamers, love big games with lots of rules and set-up and dice rolling and charts etc. Then you've got the people who are obsessed with 1 "adult" game -- usually something like Scrabble -- or with a solitary game like Sudoku or crossword puzzles. And finally, there's the rest of the population, who occassionally like to play Monopoly (a game that can be sort of fun, if you like spending 4 hours grinding your friends into the dust) or a silly social game like Balderdash or Taboo (both of which are pretty fun).
I recently bought Settlers of Catan after hearing a lot about it -- it has a short set-up time, quick play, balanced and nuanced rules that encourage thoughtful play but don't require memorizing tons of rules, and a generally fun, competitive, but not vicious design that eliminates the harshness and misery of a game like Monopoly while keeping the competitive element alive. The problem is, it has enough of a learning curve that you don't just pop it out like you would Trivial Pursuit, and it encourages a long-term committment -- that is, it isn't something to play just once, but rather something to play with a group of people who want to get together semi-regularly. So, it kind of falls in-between the casual non-gamer & the hardcore gamer crowd. I hope to find some people who'd like to play it semi-regularly, but that may be difficult. We shall see, I guess.
In the meantime, if anyone needs someone else to join their D&D campaign, I'm happy to jump in, if you're willing to bring me up to speed. It's been about 20 years since I played, so I may be a bit rusty.
When I was younger, I was introduced to Dungeons & Dragons by a friend (I don't remember who). I started playing in junior high with a small group of people I went to school with. I read tons of the D&D world novels (I remember reading about 60 in one summer), got as many of the books and expansion packs as I could, and went to local gaming conventions whenever I got the chance. But, for all that, I was never much of a serious player.
Part of that may come down to the people with whom I was playing. Besides myself, there was Jesse, Hans, David, and Chris -- I think that's everyone. We all had our own strange ideas about what the game was for. Chris was always the knight (or, Paladin, as it was called under the AD&D 2nd Edition rules we used). He was a fairly straightforward and serious player, if somewhat lacking in imagination. David used it to fulfill his fantasies; he was always wanting his character to find some river nymph to get it on with, and when he was Dungeon Master, there were always more than a few erotic encounters in our campaigns -- well, erotic by a 13 yr old boy's standards. Hans was also fulfilling fantasies, but of a different type. A typical encounter would go something like this:
DM: You are led into the King's throneroom. He says, "I have a mission for you."
Hans: I attack him.
DM: What? No, he's a good king, he wants to hire you.
Hans: I want to attack him and take his gold.
DM: sigh...
And Jesse was just there to ruin everyone else's time by screwing around. He wasn't really into the whole idea of role-playing games, but he did it because most of our group of friends was into it.
And me? Well, I always wanted to have interesting and complex campaigns. I was fairly serious, but I wanted it to be fun. However, I was (and am) a bit of a control freak, so I had a specific idea about how the game should have been played. I wanted people to take the game seriously -- that is, become absorbed into the world of the game -- because they wanted to experience the new worlds and storylines we had available to us. Not that jokes and silliness were not allowed in my mind -- but in service of making the experience fun for all, not in service of winding up others because you're an obnoxious jerk. It is probably no wonder that I a) am pursuing a career as a literature professor, and b) focus on the Renaissance. But I digress...
So, I wasn't with the most serious gamers, and to be honest, I didn't have tons of fortitude for playing the game endlessly myself. I loved to read the rulebooks, though, imagine scenarios, create characters, come up with ideas for campaigns and encounters, design new worlds and weapons... Perhaps if I had gotten hooked up with some big time gamers I would have been more hardcore. But, those hardcore gamers also intimidated me. I remember going to the gaming and comic book conventions when I was 12, 13, 14 years old, seeing the hardcore nerds playing weekend long marathon sessions of different games -- sometimes D&D or some other RPG, sometimes the historical wargames, sometimes other wargames like Warhammer or whatever the mech-battle games were. Those guys (and they were almost always male -- there were few women at these cons; in fact, I don't remember seeing a lot of RPG females until Vampire came out, and then Magic: The Gathering after it, 2 games that I never played), who I didn't really look up to as "cool" in any way, did impress me with their dedication and knowledge and, yes, their ability to play these games. In a well-run campaign, strategy is an important part of gameplay, and I was impressed by how much these cats knew, or appeared to know, at least.
Anyway, I never got into that level of play, which is probably for the best -- if I had, I'd probably be stuck in a miserable job spending my weekends playing games constantly, as opposed to stuck in a low-paying but rewarding job and spending my weekends researching and grading constantly. (Is that better?) But, I always kind of wanted to; those gamers had something they were really good at, something they were devoted to, something that created a community. My gamer friends were not much of a community, and while sometimes the gameplay was fun, we never created those lasting memories that you're supposed to create with your friends during your youth.
I still miss the gaming, or at least, the benefits that it brought when things went well. Getting together with a group of people, laughing, eating, talking, having a common task to accomplish, creating a story together. One thing that can be lacking in an academic life is that sort of casual group camaraderie and play. I really think that games are one of the best ways to have fun group interactions. Unfortunately, in the US, there are some pretty stark lines between gaming subcultures. You've got the nerds and geeks who are hardcore gamers, love big games with lots of rules and set-up and dice rolling and charts etc. Then you've got the people who are obsessed with 1 "adult" game -- usually something like Scrabble -- or with a solitary game like Sudoku or crossword puzzles. And finally, there's the rest of the population, who occassionally like to play Monopoly (a game that can be sort of fun, if you like spending 4 hours grinding your friends into the dust) or a silly social game like Balderdash or Taboo (both of which are pretty fun).
I recently bought Settlers of Catan after hearing a lot about it -- it has a short set-up time, quick play, balanced and nuanced rules that encourage thoughtful play but don't require memorizing tons of rules, and a generally fun, competitive, but not vicious design that eliminates the harshness and misery of a game like Monopoly while keeping the competitive element alive. The problem is, it has enough of a learning curve that you don't just pop it out like you would Trivial Pursuit, and it encourages a long-term committment -- that is, it isn't something to play just once, but rather something to play with a group of people who want to get together semi-regularly. So, it kind of falls in-between the casual non-gamer & the hardcore gamer crowd. I hope to find some people who'd like to play it semi-regularly, but that may be difficult. We shall see, I guess.
In the meantime, if anyone needs someone else to join their D&D campaign, I'm happy to jump in, if you're willing to bring me up to speed. It's been about 20 years since I played, so I may be a bit rusty.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Immortal Longings: A Review
Just got home from The Rogue Theatre's production of Immortal Longings. The basic overview: 10 of Shakespeare's most famous female characters are living in some ethereal, eternal Mind of the Poet. Juliet decides she is sick of dying at the end of her play and wants to rewrite it. Portia oversees a trial to decide, with the main supporters of Julia being Beatrice and Kate, the main opponents to changing the play Lady Macbeth and Cleopatra; the various women present scenes from their plays as evidence.
Overall, it was a rather good production. Joseph McGrath's writing melded well with Shakespeare's, and he deftly mixed his own original Elizabethan blank verse with modern language. The performers were by and large quite good: Cleopatra was mostly in the background, but was powerful when acting out her death scene; Ophelia was largely a comic commentator, except for a brief but rather insightful moment when she considered her "relationship" with Hamlet. The friendship between Kate and Beatrice worked perfectly, as well; they are from two of my least favorite comedies, but their duo in support of Juliet's free will just felt right. Desdemona was played with a kind of wide-eyed naivete that bordered on delusion (a nice comic touch was added as she repeatedly dropped her handkerchief forgetfully), and her scene getting ready for bed was also very powerful. Rosalind was good, Juliet was excellent, and Lady Macbeth was as well, as the character with the most insight into the nature of drama. Only Viola and Portia were questionable, the former because of the actor's inexperience, the latter because of the odd choice to make her much older than the character was. Portia is certainly not as young as Juliet, but she seemed to be played as though she were in her late 20s or 30s, which just seems odd to me. The actors also doubled as the male and female characters in each other's scenes, and some of them, especially Ophelia and Rosalind, were very adept at switching back and forth.
In writing a meta-theatrical play about Shakespeare, you take a pretty big risk. First off, Will's work is so very meta-theatrical already; but perhaps more importantly, after Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, what is there left to say, really? I mean, as the play about Shakespeare, it is hard to find a more intelligent and insightful analysis. But, McGrath does a good job of finding a new angle by addressing the problematic situation of the women in these plays, where even a happy ending is often less lustrous than it seems. He also handles the challenge of the ending well. I was wondering how they would resolve it -- giving Juliet freedom to write a happy ending would seem too simple-minded and sappy, while saying "You can't change what Shakespeare writes!" would seem like annoying bardolatry. I won't say what happens, but they handled it well, and the play became an insightful look at the nature of narrative and writing in general.
The characters are all heavy hitters in the Shakespeare canon, but the play is clearly written for people who know Shakespeare. Not experts, certainly, but smart people who have read or seen the major works. As a Shakespeare "expert" (ahem), I couldn't help but think nerdy things like, "Oh, I wonder what Perdita would say?" or, "Volumnia wouldn't take that crap!" It was also fun for me because as a (teenage) academic, I have a certain perspective on the plays; I tend to take a more cynical read on many of them (including Romeo & Juliet) but the reading provided by McGrath & Co was a bit more in line with mainstream interpretations. That's fine, though; it works both ways, and certainly if you are writing a play about how these women are understood in the cultural imagination, it makes sense to go with the inherited understanding of R&J as the greatest tragic love story of all time. One exception: there were no scenes acted from Hamlet (yay!) but Ophelia's brief moment reflecting on her "love" was a beautiful puncturing of the whiny, self-centered bastard.
So... go see it, if you can. It's on through April 5 at The Rogue Theatre
Overall, it was a rather good production. Joseph McGrath's writing melded well with Shakespeare's, and he deftly mixed his own original Elizabethan blank verse with modern language. The performers were by and large quite good: Cleopatra was mostly in the background, but was powerful when acting out her death scene; Ophelia was largely a comic commentator, except for a brief but rather insightful moment when she considered her "relationship" with Hamlet. The friendship between Kate and Beatrice worked perfectly, as well; they are from two of my least favorite comedies, but their duo in support of Juliet's free will just felt right. Desdemona was played with a kind of wide-eyed naivete that bordered on delusion (a nice comic touch was added as she repeatedly dropped her handkerchief forgetfully), and her scene getting ready for bed was also very powerful. Rosalind was good, Juliet was excellent, and Lady Macbeth was as well, as the character with the most insight into the nature of drama. Only Viola and Portia were questionable, the former because of the actor's inexperience, the latter because of the odd choice to make her much older than the character was. Portia is certainly not as young as Juliet, but she seemed to be played as though she were in her late 20s or 30s, which just seems odd to me. The actors also doubled as the male and female characters in each other's scenes, and some of them, especially Ophelia and Rosalind, were very adept at switching back and forth.
In writing a meta-theatrical play about Shakespeare, you take a pretty big risk. First off, Will's work is so very meta-theatrical already; but perhaps more importantly, after Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, what is there left to say, really? I mean, as the play about Shakespeare, it is hard to find a more intelligent and insightful analysis. But, McGrath does a good job of finding a new angle by addressing the problematic situation of the women in these plays, where even a happy ending is often less lustrous than it seems. He also handles the challenge of the ending well. I was wondering how they would resolve it -- giving Juliet freedom to write a happy ending would seem too simple-minded and sappy, while saying "You can't change what Shakespeare writes!" would seem like annoying bardolatry. I won't say what happens, but they handled it well, and the play became an insightful look at the nature of narrative and writing in general.
The characters are all heavy hitters in the Shakespeare canon, but the play is clearly written for people who know Shakespeare. Not experts, certainly, but smart people who have read or seen the major works. As a Shakespeare "expert" (ahem), I couldn't help but think nerdy things like, "Oh, I wonder what Perdita would say?" or, "Volumnia wouldn't take that crap!" It was also fun for me because as a (teenage) academic, I have a certain perspective on the plays; I tend to take a more cynical read on many of them (including Romeo & Juliet) but the reading provided by McGrath & Co was a bit more in line with mainstream interpretations. That's fine, though; it works both ways, and certainly if you are writing a play about how these women are understood in the cultural imagination, it makes sense to go with the inherited understanding of R&J as the greatest tragic love story of all time. One exception: there were no scenes acted from Hamlet (yay!) but Ophelia's brief moment reflecting on her "love" was a beautiful puncturing of the whiny, self-centered bastard.
So... go see it, if you can. It's on through April 5 at The Rogue Theatre
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Book Addiction
I am a book addict.
I own a lot of books. I mean, a lot. I have yet to make a full count, but probably a couple thousand. I have read... well, perhaps a decent minority of them. And yet, I still buy books constantly.
What kinds of books do I buy? Someone mentions an interesting novel, I buy it. I see a book on early modern history, culture, or literature, I buy it. I hear about an important philosophical or theoretical text, I buy it. I hear a lecture or read an article about an interesting new field or topic, I go out and buy one or more of the foundational texts in it. I find a better edition or a critical edition of a book I already own, I buy it (and sell the old one). I see a book and sense that somehow, in some way, at some point in the future, I may want to read or be interested in, I buy it. I am depressed or bored, I go to the bookstore and buy books. I have some extra cash on hand, I buy some books. I get a bonus or a scholarship, I buy some books. I see a class that looks interesting, I get the syllabus and buy the books on it. In other words: I buy a lot of books.
Now, just to clear up any misconceptions, I am not rich. I buy most of my books at used bookstores or through the used book sellers on Amazon. I also trade in a lot of old books, DVDs, and CDs that I no longer want for credit at used bookstores -- somehow, I always seem to have a bunch of crap that I no longer want, no matter how much of it I manage to get rid of. I also use my position as a college instructor to get free (or heavily discounted) books from academic publishers, although I try not to abuse this privilege, since I don't want to put any more strain on companies that are already suffering, especially since I'll need them one day to publish my own book (hopefully). But despite this, I still spend a good chunk of change on books.
When I was younger, my consumer good of choice was the Compact Disc. I've been a big music lover for years, so I was constantly spending my extra cash (or my grocery money) on new CDs. My collection is still pretty sizeable:somewhere around 1200-1400 cds, not counting albums that I've burned or downloaded, which adds another 500 or so. I still buy CDs (because I am old-fashioned and don't like to listen to music on iPods), but not nearly as many as I used to. Then for a while it was DVDs, but my collection at its height was probably only around 150. Lately I've been getting rid of a lot of them, partially because I realized that I couldn't foresee wanting to watch a lot of these movies that often, and partially because I got a PS3/Blu-Ray player. So, now I'm only picking up things that I think are truly great and that I will probably want to watch again; I'm still buying DVDs (or, BRDs or whatever the proper acronym is), but in much much smaller numbers and with much greater care.
But books I still buy like nobody's business. Why? Well, partly because I want to be really, really smart. I want to master the content in all of these books, put it together, and spit out my master theory of the universe. Also, as a (teenage) academic, I want to build up my professional library -- I like the idea of owning just about any major text that I could possibly want to refer to. And, I think, part of it is just my materialism. I live in a consumer capitalist culture. It has engendered in me a certain pack rat/collector-completist mentality. When I was a child, I wanted every He-Man toy, then every Transformers toy, then every GI Joe toy. Now, I want every major text on Shakespeare, everything written by Foucault, every book on Lacanian theory, and all the major texts of feminist theory and history. Because I really am interested, yes, but also because I look at my books and I feel complete. They tell me something about myself: that I'm smart (or, at least, trying to get smart), that I have a good eye, that I know what are the important texts that humans have produced, and, perhaps most of all, that one day I will be up there with those books, staring out from the inside flap of a hardcover book from a major academic press.
Of course, there are some major downsides to this. I have blown a lot of money on books that I may never, ever, ever read. I have developed a routine: when I'm bummed out about life, I go online or go to the nearest used bookstore and buy some stuff. I don't even want to think about what it is going to be like when I move. But worst is the feeling of impending doom, the feeling that these books are staring at me and laughing at my pretension for owning them without reading them. Will I one day be uncovered as a big old fraud because I haven't even read the back cover of my copy of Gramsci's Prison Notebooks? If I actually read my growing collection of Deleuze and Guattari, would I even understand it?
But, I try not to look at it that way. I try to see the books as the past made future. These are the things that have made me and my world; reading and absorbing them will make the rest of my life. I don't know if I'll get to all of them, or even most of them, before I die. If I stopped buying new books right now and spent the rest of my time just reading what I've got, I would probably be hard-pressed to finish them all. But, the challenge is the thing. And really, should I feel so bad about being a book collector (although not a collector of rare or valuable books, unfortunately)? We all have our hobbies; this one is pretty good, right? And, should I ever have someone to leave my things to, well, they'll get quite an intellectual inheritance from my library.
So, I will try to control my addiction, but I will also embrace it and use it for the best. Collect important books; be honest with yourself -- will you ever read this? If not, pass it by, or, if you already have it, sell it or give it away. Watch your budget, but don't feel guilty about spending money on something that you really want. After all, money isn't any good in and of itself, and the guilt just makes you feel bad, which means you gotta buy something to get yourself out of the dumps. So buy books, sure, but don't get crazy with it. Just admit it:
I am a book addict.
I own a lot of books. I mean, a lot. I have yet to make a full count, but probably a couple thousand. I have read... well, perhaps a decent minority of them. And yet, I still buy books constantly.
What kinds of books do I buy? Someone mentions an interesting novel, I buy it. I see a book on early modern history, culture, or literature, I buy it. I hear about an important philosophical or theoretical text, I buy it. I hear a lecture or read an article about an interesting new field or topic, I go out and buy one or more of the foundational texts in it. I find a better edition or a critical edition of a book I already own, I buy it (and sell the old one). I see a book and sense that somehow, in some way, at some point in the future, I may want to read or be interested in, I buy it. I am depressed or bored, I go to the bookstore and buy books. I have some extra cash on hand, I buy some books. I get a bonus or a scholarship, I buy some books. I see a class that looks interesting, I get the syllabus and buy the books on it. In other words: I buy a lot of books.
Now, just to clear up any misconceptions, I am not rich. I buy most of my books at used bookstores or through the used book sellers on Amazon. I also trade in a lot of old books, DVDs, and CDs that I no longer want for credit at used bookstores -- somehow, I always seem to have a bunch of crap that I no longer want, no matter how much of it I manage to get rid of. I also use my position as a college instructor to get free (or heavily discounted) books from academic publishers, although I try not to abuse this privilege, since I don't want to put any more strain on companies that are already suffering, especially since I'll need them one day to publish my own book (hopefully). But despite this, I still spend a good chunk of change on books.
When I was younger, my consumer good of choice was the Compact Disc. I've been a big music lover for years, so I was constantly spending my extra cash (or my grocery money) on new CDs. My collection is still pretty sizeable:somewhere around 1200-1400 cds, not counting albums that I've burned or downloaded, which adds another 500 or so. I still buy CDs (because I am old-fashioned and don't like to listen to music on iPods), but not nearly as many as I used to. Then for a while it was DVDs, but my collection at its height was probably only around 150. Lately I've been getting rid of a lot of them, partially because I realized that I couldn't foresee wanting to watch a lot of these movies that often, and partially because I got a PS3/Blu-Ray player. So, now I'm only picking up things that I think are truly great and that I will probably want to watch again; I'm still buying DVDs (or, BRDs or whatever the proper acronym is), but in much much smaller numbers and with much greater care.
But books I still buy like nobody's business. Why? Well, partly because I want to be really, really smart. I want to master the content in all of these books, put it together, and spit out my master theory of the universe. Also, as a (teenage) academic, I want to build up my professional library -- I like the idea of owning just about any major text that I could possibly want to refer to. And, I think, part of it is just my materialism. I live in a consumer capitalist culture. It has engendered in me a certain pack rat/collector-completist mentality. When I was a child, I wanted every He-Man toy, then every Transformers toy, then every GI Joe toy. Now, I want every major text on Shakespeare, everything written by Foucault, every book on Lacanian theory, and all the major texts of feminist theory and history. Because I really am interested, yes, but also because I look at my books and I feel complete. They tell me something about myself: that I'm smart (or, at least, trying to get smart), that I have a good eye, that I know what are the important texts that humans have produced, and, perhaps most of all, that one day I will be up there with those books, staring out from the inside flap of a hardcover book from a major academic press.
Of course, there are some major downsides to this. I have blown a lot of money on books that I may never, ever, ever read. I have developed a routine: when I'm bummed out about life, I go online or go to the nearest used bookstore and buy some stuff. I don't even want to think about what it is going to be like when I move. But worst is the feeling of impending doom, the feeling that these books are staring at me and laughing at my pretension for owning them without reading them. Will I one day be uncovered as a big old fraud because I haven't even read the back cover of my copy of Gramsci's Prison Notebooks? If I actually read my growing collection of Deleuze and Guattari, would I even understand it?
But, I try not to look at it that way. I try to see the books as the past made future. These are the things that have made me and my world; reading and absorbing them will make the rest of my life. I don't know if I'll get to all of them, or even most of them, before I die. If I stopped buying new books right now and spent the rest of my time just reading what I've got, I would probably be hard-pressed to finish them all. But, the challenge is the thing. And really, should I feel so bad about being a book collector (although not a collector of rare or valuable books, unfortunately)? We all have our hobbies; this one is pretty good, right? And, should I ever have someone to leave my things to, well, they'll get quite an intellectual inheritance from my library.
So, I will try to control my addiction, but I will also embrace it and use it for the best. Collect important books; be honest with yourself -- will you ever read this? If not, pass it by, or, if you already have it, sell it or give it away. Watch your budget, but don't feel guilty about spending money on something that you really want. After all, money isn't any good in and of itself, and the guilt just makes you feel bad, which means you gotta buy something to get yourself out of the dumps. So buy books, sure, but don't get crazy with it. Just admit it:
I am a book addict.
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