On the Value and Interpretation of Personal Texts

My local library is known in the region as focusing on local history and genealogy. When the pandemic started to really affect public life when the stay at home order was issued, the regional library system asked for people to consider keep journal and diaries and give them to the library to document daily life during “these unprecedented times”. Not long ago, I had a conversation with a friend (socially distanced of course) about travel and keeping a journal to keep track of places or experiences to potentially return to. This has got me thinking about how we know some of what we do about daily life in the Middle Ages and Renaissance through diaries, shared books (with marginal notes and conversations), letters, and the types of written communication that aren’t often considered in a literary sense.

Most of what survives is not from everyday people, since the middle and lower classes would likely have not had the time, education, and/or materials to use for leisure or social written communications. Adding to this the probability that history was unlikely to have had much interest in preserving such records over time if they existed, and you end up with plagues that have a much stronger record in literary sources (mostly featuring the upper classes) such as Boccaccio’s Decameron or Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet than in non-fictional sources. That’s not to say such sources have not survived, they have, but these records have received far less attention as literary and historical documents. In today’s social media saturated world, it’s pretty easy to find all kinds of stories and experiences directly related to the pandemic, but it’s a very different situation for historical plagues and other society changing events pre-mass media.

So this brings up the question to me about the travel journal I’ve kept the past several summers, mostly for conferences, and the quarantine journal I started back in March. Had COVID-19 not happened, I would be on my way to the UK for about 2 ½ weeks of travel and conferences, and I would have brought with my travel journal since both locations (Durham and Leeds) are places I’ve been before. Besides trying to schedule and map out days, most of my notes have to do with travel routes and methods, and favored food/drink or shopping stops. I remember a few years ago in London, taking note of a favorite bubble tea place (including the street address) and then going back there the following year, only to find a fried chicken joint in its place. The note from the following year reads “UpT (keep notes! J) now fried chicken place L”. Thinking back on that, I have to wonder what or how someone else looking at that note might have understood it. I’ve worked with enough manuscripts to know the challenges that come first with deciphering the words and handwriting, and then interpreting them and figuring out the context and meaning. I also think back to a book I vaguely remember titled Motel of the Mysteries that is about archeologists in the 41st century future discovering and trying to interpret a motel from the 20th century; the only bit I remember is the detail that a toilet seat was considered to be a ceremonial headdress.

So, on to the quarantine journal. What stood out to me most was that at first I was using sentences and fuller phrases, but the last 6 weeks or so have been mostly lists. For example, entry #1 dates 3/20 includes the following:

-Not full isolation start b/c HVAC and bug guys & trip to WalMart (measure tape for knit) & car wash

-3m run went pretty well; did some sweeping & a little yard stuff

-Stinky pretty cooperative

{…}

Three months later, the entry for 6/20 looks like this:

-walk

-kitty

-Target/BksMill/Joanne’s/Grocery

-Class prep and revs

– pie start

-nap

-fin pie

-dinner prep.

I can think of all kinds of probable questions from someone who wasn’t familiar with my daily life and general abbreviations. For example, who or what is Stinky, what’s 3m, what does ‘kitty’ mean, why is there ‘pie start’ and ‘pie fin’ (what’s fin?) with something in between, what’s ‘revs’, etc. All this of course assumes you can read my casual cursive.

What also stands out is that there’s virtually nothing here about the pandemic; it’s all basically daily life. There’s no real reason to keep this kind of record except that it’s something to do, and it might be interesting to me later on for some reason. I have a hard time thinking that someone else at a later might get something useful or meaningful out of this. This suggests to me that it’s possible that this sort of reasoning may be part of the reason why texts like Boccaccio’s don’t feature as much about the actual plague, beyond the preface.

I’m also starting to think about potentially using something like this as a class exercise. It’s pretty common for students in literature classes, even the required intro surveys, to focus on finding “the meaning” of whatever they’ve been asked to read. Here’s my thinking: have students keep some kind of journal for about a week, and then in class on the last day, have them switch possibly not know whose they’ve got, and then ask for interpretations. This might be a valuable exercise in considering how intentional meaning might be, as well as hopefully providing the point that sometimes the meaning is on the reader not the writer, and not everything needs a deeper point, sometimes the surface is right. I think that perception, that there’s always a deeper meaning in something literary, can prevent students in some cases from enjoying a reading assignment.

Obviously this would all need more careful thought, organization, and focus before actually implementing such an assignment. I do think though that some kind of literature to history to everyday documentation exercise would have value and interest for students, especially in a time when the world seems unpredictable and new and not very welcoming. Doing something like this fairly early in the term might be helpful to get students thinking about how they approach textual interpretation, and hopefully humanize the texts they read later on a bit more.

Since history and literature both require information and interpretation, and these sorts of documents often become important records for how most people understand the past, I realize that how my personal journals might be taken in the future is not predictable, but that too is a feature of working with this kind of writing. The intent and meaning of when it’s made might differ substantially later on. I still don’t think the library system would be interested in my quarantine journal though, but then again maybe that’s what the letter writers of the Middle Ages thought at the time too.

Medieval Brewing, or More Contemplations of Yeast

Yeast is still a scarce commodity, at least in the forms used for baking. Brewer’s yeast though may be a different story. I checked the website of a home brewing store that I used when I was learning to make soda (aka pop) and cider while living in Milwaukee WI (Northern Brewer), and they appear to have various types of yeast in stock for beer and ale brewing, cider brewing, and wine as well. While it’s likely true that there are fewer people looking to start brewing than baking right now since there is considerable more investment in time, equipment, and ingredients, the fact remains that yeast is apparently available for this purpose, and for not hugely inflated prices. Side-note/ for the record: the difference between ale and beer is that beer requires the use of hops, while ale does not.

This got me thinking about the medieval processes for such products as compared to bread. With bread baking, the basic recipes and procedures have not changed a lot over the centuries. While certain modern inventions like electric ovens, different forms of yeast and flour, as well as a greater variety of loaf types have updated how we bake today, bread baking has not changed fundamentally as a key food product which is made from flour, yeast, salt, and water, and baked.

As with last time, I’m operating with limited scholarly resources but here’s what I’m figuring: in fact there are some significant differences in the recipes and methods used for brewing between medieval Europe and today. Ale was likely the more common beverage, and probably more nutritious as well, so we’ll go with that as a base for comparison. Beers and ales are also considerably older than the medieval period, but since the opening comparison was with medieval bread, again, that’s what I’m sticking with; although, bread itself is likewise much older than Medieval Europe.

So, first the ingredients. Ale requires water, yeast, and malted grain (probably oats or barley in the Middle Ages). Malting refers to a process involving soaking then drying the grain, and partially crushing it. The basic process involves boiling the malt and any additional grain and flavoring (like honey, herbs, roots, etc.), letting it ferment, adding the yeast, and letting it further ferment. Straining the resulting brew a few times would likely be required before drinking. The whole process from start to drink probably took about a week. Recipes and procedure from aristocratic and religious orders survive from about the 13th century onwards, although older recipes do survive from previous time periods.

On the modern side, the process and ingredients differ substantially, as does the terminology. The modern recipe I’m referring to includes two items not present in the medieval recipes: sugar and hops. This would technically make it a beer, so that’s a major change there, that beer and ale are now more interchangeable as terms to the modern brewer. “Beer” now generally means a drink brewed using fermented grain, leaving the distinctions to be made between types of method and ingredients. For example, ale is made with top fermenting yeast and brewed with heat, while lager uses a bottom fermenting yeast brewed at lower temperatures over a longer period of time. The modern recipe starts much like the medieval in that it requires boiling and fermenting of the malt, grain and any additional flavorings, and later adding yeast. However, after the first week, there are additional process and time. The ale is not ready for further processing (bottling) until about the end of week 2, and once sealed in its bottle, the ale needs another few weeks before drinking. This process represents some significant difference, not even considering the substantial differences in the types of equipment likely used, not limited to but including the modern hydrometer.

There are some steps I’m not considering individually such as the lowering and raising of the temperature during the initial cooking/boiling stage in the modern recipe, and the additions of certain amounts of water followed by resting done in stages in the medieval recipe. These elements are similar in both time frames and the exact details would differ from individual recipe and batch, especially in the medieval versions. It’s also worth noting that one possible procedural element in the Middle Ages, that of storage, is not being factored here. Ales (and beers) certainly could be, and would have been, stored in medieval Europe, and apparently thanks to someone paying attention to what happened to the ale or beer during the winter and realizing that the product kept up some fermentation even at the colder temperatures, this led to what we now call “lager”. Also worth noting, the yeast used in these processes would most likely have been used a second time in bread baking.

I remember a few years ago at a medieval academic conference, there was a social hour during which beer brewed according to medieval methods and recipe, and using the medieval ingredients (or as close as is possible), was served. I don’t remember the details but I do remember thinking that one of the samples was fairly weak tasting, and neither of the two I tried had the level of carbonation most modern beverages of similar sort might contain. Granted, modern technology includes the use of CO2 infusers and other ways to measure and control that factor, but I was still a little surprised. I know for a fact that brewing exclusively with yeast can result in some powerfully fizzy drinks, since in the past I have tried brewing my own cola and root beer. Interestingly, the Middle Ages and later eras had similar types of drinks. Brewed beverages made from herbs and spices (and/or maybe fruit) that were lower in alcohol were called “small beers” by the Renaissance, and references and recipes for such things survive from at least the eleventh century, the time St. Arnold.

So overall, it seems that beer is more complex in its history which may be why it’s so much more different now than it was in past centuries. Unlike bread, where the basics have not changed much, fermented brewed beverages not only varied more over time, they also have more varied history and language associated with them. These two features are probably related.

 

Works Consulted (short form):

http://allaboutbeer.com/article/lager-beer-vs-ale-beer%E2%80%94does-it-matter/

https://www.cs.cmu.edu/~pwp/tofi/medieval_english_ale.html

http://kecksrootbeer.com/?page_id=11

https://medievalmeadandbeer.wordpress.com/root-beer/

https://regia.org/research/life/brewing.htm

Medieval Baking, or Baking without Modern Ingredients?

One of the more interesting things, in hindsight, about the 2020 pandemic is how-when-why certain products suddenly become hard to find. Things like toilet paper and paper towels make some sense with people preparing to be staying home for an undetermined period of time, but the sudden scarcity of flour and yeast surprised me a little. Flour is starting to reappear with greater regularity on grocery shelves, but yeast is still hard to find, at least for any kind of reasonable normal(ish) price. I saw a strip on 3 packets of a common brand on Amazon going for over $20 not long ago. I also saw some of the reports about how a big part of the reason for the shortages was people suddenly deciding they wanted to learn how to/bake sourdough bread specifically.

Personally I do some bread baking, but I’ve never really cared to try sourdough; it’s just too much effort and it seems a little wasteful since you’re supposed to get rid of a large amount of starter every time you feed it. My point? I decided to consider if the Middle Ages had any insight into baking without a lot of the modern conveniences like dried yeast, baking powder or soda, etc. Full disclosure, I’m going to be relying more on general internet sources and my own knowledge than I might otherwise do but that’s just the way it’s got to be right now with most physical universities and their libraries closed.

As I was reminded by a recent re-run of the Great British Bake Off (or Baking Show, depending on where you are; in the US, Pillsbury had copyrighted the phrase “Bake Off” so the title had to be adjusted for American broadcast) {Season 2, episode 4 by the US airing), the oldest cookbook in England dates to the late fourteenth century, probably the 1390s during Richard II’s reign, and is titled The Forme of Cury, which essentially translates to Techniques of Cooking. I already had some general familiarity with this text since I had to use it for some research several years ago, but I hadn’t remembered that it was the oldest surviving cookbook in English/England. Here’s a link for reference: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8102 The preface alone is a fascinating introduction to the history of cooking and culinary practice and understanding in the ancient and medieval worlds of Western Europe. I’ve linked to an untranslated version, but it does have some explanatory notes.

Bread and bread flours are referenced as ingredients but there are no recipes for standard bread in the book. Bread was referenced as toasted, as crumbs, and as a whole loaf, but always prepared already. There are recipes for things like fritters but it seems assumed that the user of the book would already know how to make a bread dough or have bread already on hand. It’s entirely possible other cookbooks of the time from other countries might differ, but that’s another project. Unleavened bread was probably more common (oatcakes for example) especially among the peasant classes, but I’m more interested in considering the possibility for raised dough that might not use yeast.

According to Ken Albala, a food historian attached to the Getty (also a well published professor at University of the Pacific), after growing and milling the grain, the general practice would have been to create a basic starter of flour and water, and feed it for a few weeks as it attracted and grew natural yeast and bacteria. Then more flour, water and salt were combined, kneaded, and allowed to rise, and eventually baked. Albala notes that the earliest actual bread recipe in England with any detail dates to the seventeenth century. Medieval recipes also survive elsewhere in Europe that involve using beer, and the yeast therein, as well as those which call for the use of yeast itself. See for example, this article from Medievalists.net: https://www.medievalists.net/2013/07/bread-in-the-middle-ages/

For bread at least, it would seem that even in the Middle Ages, yeast was an important ingredient if you wanted a leavened bread. The natural starter sourdough method would appear then to be the technique to use if you were desperate to bake your own bread without yeast or chemical leavening.

Fritter recipes in The Forme of Cury used ale as the leavening agent when one was called for (and it wasn’t always). For example:

Take skyrwater and pasternakes and apples, & parboile hem, make a batour of flour and ayrenn, cast þerto ale. safroun & salt. wete hem in þe batour and frye hem in oile or in grece. do þerto Almaund Mylk. & serue it forth.

Translation (with some help from http://dictionary.medievalcookery.com/): Take parsnip and carrot and apples, and par-boil them. Make a batter of flour and eggs, add ale to the mixture, along with saffron and salt. Dip them (the root veggies and apple, presumably chopped and mixed) in the batter and fry in oil (probably olive) or grease (likely lard). Add to that almond milk and serve.

Almond milk was probably used here (and it’s pretty common in The Forme of Cury) because actual dairy would have been more likely to spoil very quickly, and thus was less commonly used for such recipes (this idea is from the same GBBO episode cited above). The ale would probably have served more like baking powder for a more or less instant puff of the dough, since there’s no reference to rising in the recipe.

The Forme also contains recipes similar to various forms of tarts and pies, yet these usually do not involve a yeasted dough. Usually the only instruction for the pastry in the main recipe was to call for a “cofyn”, as with the following recipe for apple tart:

Tak gode Applys and gode Spycis and Figys and reysons and Perys and wan they are wel ybrayed colourd wyth Safroun wel and do yt in a cofyn and do yt forth to bake wel.

Take good apples and good spices and figs and raisons and pears, and when they are ground well, color with saffron well, and add it into a crust, and put it forth {in the oven} to bake well.

Basically, it would appear that for most leavened breads, yeast was an essential ingredient, although it could be attempted via natural fermentation as in sourdough. Lesson 2 would be that bread along with pastry were 2 things common or artisan enough that they did not require recording, at least not in the earliest English records.

Keeping Things Somewhat Medieval Online

It seems like a lot of things you see about online teaching right now are about the sudden shift we all went through this spring from in person to online only courses, especially in places like Inside Higher Ed etc. Then there’s all the responses, often on social media which tend to take one of two positions: just surviving is what’s going on OR people are doing great things. The other thing I’ve noticed online a lot are comparisons between the virus situation in the world now and medieval plagues, and in the pieces by actual medieval scholars the main idea tends to be, the similarities are mostly superficial and if you look at the details (and most people won’t, let’s face it) things were actually a lot more complicated in the medieval world than is often credited.

These two near-simultaneous threads got me thinking about some of the parallels between the shift to suddenly entirely online education, and medieval pedagogy at the university level. You might think there’s nothing in common between the two times and methods, but at least in some ways, there are some interesting points of connection. Just for the record, what follows is not at all researched specifically in this context, nor is anything citable beyond my own memory. With libraries closed and being at a non-R1 institution (meaning without a fully stocked online library), this is the best I can do for now.

The basic medieval university program was based on the seven liberal arts for curriculum, and lecture and disputation in the classroom. The seven liberal arts were subdivided into the initial 3 (trivium) subjects of rhetoric, grammar, and logic, and the more advanced later 4 (quadrivium) of math, music, astronomy, and geometry. The specific content in each subject area was basically the classical texts by ancient and earlier medieval authors, and their main commentaries. In class, students would sit and take notes as the instructor read the textbook out loud; “lecture” comes from the Latin for “to read”, and this was in the days before the printing press (meaning personal books were probably beyond a student’s means). In order to progress to the next stage or complete their education, a student would have to participate and do well in a public debate called a disputation, which would involve interpretive argumentation based on the curricular texts. This is pretty over-simplified, but it’s the basic gist of how a medieval college student would be expected to learn.

So, some practices in the modern college or university classroom remain the same. Many instructors still “lecture” and expect students to take notes, students still need to prove their knowledge and skill to progress, and there is often some common educational content required of all students. One of the biggest changes at least philosophically is now one of the main objectives is to show students how to use critical thinking and come up with their own thoughts and reasoning. Not that this was entirely absent in the Middle Ages, it wasn’t, but the focus on individual interpretive creativity is most definitely a more modern focus.

One of things that I noticed was that the degree of interactivity between class members (including the instructor) dropped drastically when my students came back after an extended spring break to a purely online educational experience. This goes beyond students not discussing with each other as much as they might have in an in-person setting, but also when it comes to things like lectures. The most efficient thing could think of was to take the PowerPoints or lecture notes I already would have used, and added voice-over to them for the students to play and listen to in their own time. This makes the lecture experience considerably less interactive than it would have been otherwise, and at least a bit more like the medieval classroom experience.

A reason why the interactivity in particular stood out to me relates to the results of an informal survey I did of the students. As an extra credit option, they could fill out and return (online) an evaluation that specifically targeted the online section of the course (basically, the last month of class). One of the questions asked directly about the degree of interaction: did they like the lower degree or working with their class mates or would they have preferred more, and why? What surprised me was that of those who chose to do the extra assignment, there were actually more in favor of the less classmate interaction than more. While there are all kinds of reasons why this might have happened, a lot of the reasoning given was similar: students liked being able to think at their own pace. I had asked students about a week after we’d gone online to take a survey embedded in our course management software concerning if they wanted me to implement video interactivity or other more person to person technology to raise the options for discussion beyond the discussion board.

Of the three classes this was put to, a total of zero students filled out the survey. While this may have been partly due to student unfamiliarity with the tool involved, again I was a little surprised that no one was in favor of more personal interaction, because most modern pedagogical reasoning would be that many students prefer being able to discuss and interact with each other before committing to ideas or possibilities. The modern concept of there being benefit to being exposed to a variety of possibilities and reasonings before fully working out one’s own is on the one hand seemingly in opposition of the medieval focus on knowing the “correct” interpretations and reasons, and yet I was faced with students saying they preferred something almost similar to the medieval experience by working more with the texts and my lectures by themselves, as they might have in preparation for a medieval disputation.

While there certainly were students who stated their preference for more interactive personal discussion and education experience, as I was expecting, they were not in the majority. This takes me back to an article I read somewhere that suggested that many modern students actually like getting the facts and starting point interpretive ideas that often form the basis for most lectures. I also have to consider how, in a course that had been online the entire semester, students rarely engaged with the interactive options, including the discussion board, video chat, as well as voice only, any more than they were required to for a grade. Out of a class of over 20, there were about 4 or 5 students who regularly used those options. While technological experience is likely a factor, this phenomenon still seems to me to suggest that for all the focus and value put on modern students personally connecting with their instructor and each other, there might also be something to the medieval models.

I don’t know enough about the historical details of the various plagues that came through Europe in the centuries of the Middle Ages and Renaissance to speak in any detail on how those situations compare to our own world in 2020, but the one thing I will say about comparisons to those situations and now was that when addressing Boccaccio’s Decameron and Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales the basic premises of concepts such as the quarantine and social distancing made those texts a lot more interesting to teach. I had already designed an assignment involving re-writing a frame and tale, and as you might expect students really used that to consider their own life situations or those of people around them in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic. The thing that really got my attention beyond how much thought students were seeming to put into this assignment compared to others was that no one took the comparison too far, that is I didn’t have to correct anyone on trying to get too ahistorical with the plague that formed a part of Boccaccio’s frame.

In any event, if nothing else, I have learned from this last month’s teaching experience that students will 1) surprise you no matter what the situation, and that 2) the Middle Ages are still relevant in a lot of interesting ways.

A Few Ideas Comparing the Past and Present

I was reading a book a while back about the importance of a handful of beverages in social history. Coffee was one and the coffee house was really the main focus of the chapter. Basically, in the Enlightenment (18th century Europe) the coffee house was the one of the social and intellectual centers of life for most people. While I had some problems with how the book in question presented and interpreted its information, it got me thinking about my own habits in coffee shops. Since I was in graduate school, the local Milwaukee coffee shops were where I got a lot of my academic stuff done. They also were good meeting up places for social get-togethers. When I moved half a country away, one of the first things I did was find the local places, and there’s been one or two added since then (about 5 years ago).

Two now come to mind: one, the current pandemic and social distancing practices, and two, what would the medieval equivalent have been?

I can’t think of a general equivalent of such a location for the Middle Ages that matches well; it would have to be somewhere that had both practical/business and social functions, as well as cater to a wide range of different kinds of people. Taverns could be an option, but those weren’t quite as socially diverse as a modern coffee shop, at least not to my knowledge. Certainly there were such places for the nobles and places for the upper class peasants and places for the lower classes, but was there much or any intermixing? It’s either too bad most libraries are closed right now, or this could be a chance for trying to research like most students would want to start (as in, To the Google!). Church or local festivals of public functions might be another option, but those are less about location and business, at least in some ways. It’s an interesting question in terms of history, but also in terms of modern society. How socially open are modern coffeehouses? Starbucks for example is supposedly open to any and all, but when you go into one, there isn’t necessarily a wide mix in terms of social standing.

Medieval Europe also has experience with pandemic and plague outbreaks, although Black Death was bacterial not viral. The bubonic plague of the 14th century does have some significant parallels including the social panic and distancing (think the frame of Boccaccio’s Decameron), as well as the origins of the term “quarantine”. Again, the details are quite different than the now, but the general parallels do make for interesting ideas.

Besides adapting to a lot more life and work online, I’ve also noticed another phenomenon with connections to the medieval past including the roles of books and reading, and personal written works. I kept a diary when I was younger (as in 20 years ago) but I have over recent years started to keep a journal when travelling. That’s unlikely to be much of thing for me this year since most of my summer travel has been canceled or postponed, but I have started to keep track of what goes on in daily life since social distancing went into full effect in my area, not quite two weeks as of this moment of writing. Looking at what I’ve got so far, it’s mostly just listing off things done, but also includes some general observations about for example how exciting it was to see a display of toilet paper and paper towels that wasn’t totally empty in a grocery store a few days ago, or how I took my fairly new car through a drive through for the first time ever (as in first time for the car, not first time ever for me). The travel journal was a major genre in the middle ages, to the point where now it’s hard to tell some of the fact from the fiction. For example, the Book of John Mandeville and the Book of Margery Kempe both contain aspects of actual travel as well as interpretive observations and thoughts and feelings about what’s been going on for the author. Then you’ve got the more household familial texts, like the Paston letters. The interesting thing here is that the forms are not quite what we might now call a journal, since Mandeville and Kempe’s are travel texts (at least as one of their main genres) and the Paston books are epistolary collections. The personal diary as we know it becomes a thing a bit later in history.

Then there’s the reading. Books as objects especially in the earlier part of the what we might call the medieval era would not have a been a common item in most households, since the printing press wasn’t around yet, and even towards the end of the fifteenth century when it was still a newer thing. Storytelling might have been one general option, and the popularity of the story telling collections from this time (Boccaccio, Chaucer, Christine de Pizan – not necessarily in any kind of order here) suggest this might have actually been a possibility. Today, there’s a lot on social media about how some people plan to catch up on their reading, but there’s also responses about how realistic of an expectation this might be. Fiction definitely seems to have some kind of social effect, not just for the entertainment value (although it’s certainly that) but also for the ‘escapist’ factor. I would be willing to bet that there’s a good bit of promise in the idea, since I know that there’s plenty of scholarship on the book as an object. I also have to wonder how far a research project into the use of fiction as a coping mechanism could go without a research library since I for one find great value in shelf browsing. Not that the databases etc. aren’t good places to go, they are, but sometimes finding exactly the right search is a struggle, and you find the best sources by checking out what’s near whatever it was you had found in the catalog.

There have already been some more public comparisons to history of pandemics and outbreaks of disease, and this one here is by no means detailed or comprehensive. I’m mostly considering a series of general ideas and how they might apply both to the past and to the present, and maybe a little intot he future.

Getting Medieval on Theory

I face an interesting challenge this fall: teaching my first theory and methods for English majors course. I’ve had to start thinking on it now since textbook orders are due late February. I was surprised how few theory anthologies there are which are not $100 plus, or mostly summaries of ideas without actual excerpts (preferably longer ones) of the actual original theories. I had the idea that for the first ¾ of the class I would choose a single base text that students could practice on. Ideally, this would be something of manageable length, has been around long enough to have been subjected to a variety of examinations, and not too much of a chore read, meaning something most students are likely to have at least heard of if not had to read bits of before. Not a deal breaker but also preferable would be something I’ve studied in some detail myself, so that gives me medieval works like Beowulf and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Shakespeare was also an option for a while (I was thinking either Macbeth or Midsummer Night’s Dream), but I figured that a) there might be too much on some of the plays, and b) I don’t know the scholarship off hand quite as well, meaning more set up work for me.

The full semester at my institution is 16 weeks, which means I can cover about 12-13 areas of theory; there needs to be an intro week, and a few weeks at the end to focus on the main end-of-course paper/project. It’s going to take me a while to really get things fully designed, but for a starting point, here’s an initial list, in no particular order: feminist studies, gender studies, Marxist, new critical, new historicism, eco-criticism, race studies, queer theory, post-colonialism, structuralism, deconstruction, disability studies, psychoanalysis, reader response, and cultural studies. I did find a theory reader that has a decent balance of description and actual readings from theorists, as well as some sample applications. It’s slightly out of date for some theories but I can deal with that with some supplementary lecture and articles.

The other side of the course is the methods side, and I found that textbook pretty quickly after getting a hold of several library titles that looked promising, and one of them was exactly right, although it too is a few years out of date, but not unmanageably so. This handbook covers general research resources both online and print, bibliography, history of the book and editing literary texts, history of the discipline, interdisciplinarity, translation, media, and planning/executing a larger research project. My literary trial text needs to be something that has options for all of these areas, and with medieval literature, many of them are pretty accessible, even for mid-level undergraduate students.

So besides the obvious need to overlap and work out scheduling time for each thing to be covered, I still need that literary test piece. If Beowulf and SGGK are my main choices, the big question now is which one will work best, again bearing in mind the level of my students.

Beowulf:

Feminist reading: Gendel’s mother and the Hrothgar’s queen

Gender: masculinity and warriors

Marxism: social hierarchies and some of the transactions between families during war/feuds

New Critical: details of the poetic forms

New Historical: cultures of the original time and place of composition

Eco-criticism: landscape descriptions, role of environment, interactions with outdoors

Race: the controversy and contents of the new collection of essays that was all over social media late 2019; also Gredelkin as racially other

Queer: less of the sexuality angle, more on the otherness identities of some characters

Post-colonial: Grendlekin as native against the Danes, maybe Geats and Danes in each other’s lands

Structuralism: language and genre conventions, possible links to other Scandinavian epics or sagas; maybe bring up Tolkien here

Deconstruction: paradox and self-revelation possibly in Beowulf the character

Psychoanalysis: dreams, prophecies (alluded to in the songs), and maybe Beowulf and Grendel’s mother

Disability: this one will be trickier but I’m thinking maybe old Beowulf’s final battle

Cultural studies: possibly bringing in ideologies and nationalities

Reader response: ways to describe how people might react to and make meaning from the text

Beowulf also offers ample possibilities for all the basic methods components including bibliography, editions, translation, media, etc.

 

On the other hand, we have Sir Gawain and the Green Knight:

Feminist reading: Arthur’s queen, Morgan leFay, and Lady Bertilak

Gender: masculinity and warriors

Marxism: social hierarchies and the transactional nature of the bargains

New Critical: details of the poetic forms

New Historical: cultures of the original time and place of composition

Eco-criticism: landscape descriptions, role of environment, interactions with outdoors; the Green Man

Race: the othering of certain characters in certain situations, the casting of Gawain in the new movie, possibly race in Arthuriana

Queer: discussions of Gawain’s identity

Post-colonial: founding of Britain frame, Gawain and the Green Knight in each other’s territories

Structuralism: language and genre conventions, the Arthurian traditions

Deconstruction: paradox and self-revelation Gawain, but also the identities of the Green Knight, and possibly a few others

Psychoanalysis: symbolism, Gawain’s psychology, and Gawain in Bertilak’s castle

Disability: Gawain as guest in the castle vs the hunting; this one again might take a little work to get right

Cultural studies: possibly bringing in ideologies and nationalities of Arthur’s court vs the Bertilak’s

Reader response: ways to describe how people might react to and make meaning from the text

 

Much like Beowulf, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight also has plenty of strong options for the methods areas to be covered.

So far, the two texts are roughly equal. It comes down to text options. Both texts are available in a range of translations and edition types. I decided I didn’t want an edition that comes with a lot of extra supplementary analysis either, because the goal of using the text would be for the students to start working on their own analyses using the various theoretical and methodological applications. Part of the decision came from personal taste in terms of translation options, and I also wanted something that kept some of the original style or language but that was done in a readable way for a 21st century student, and was readily available in a paperback or ebook under $20. I landed on Armitage’s SGGK.

What I’ve got listed here are really only the initial starting possibilities. As I start to focus on designing this course over the summer, I’ll be getting a lot more into the details of each theory as it has been and could be applied to the medieval text. I’m also going to need to consider how to align pairing theoretical work with methodologies. IF anyone has any ideas or advice, I’d love to hear it…

End of the year review: sort of

Maybe it’s just the people I’m around on social media, but it seems like nearly everyone was ending 2019 and/or starting 2020 with goals concerning reading, nearly always in the form of a goal number of books to be read or finish reading. Take Goodreads: it’s an easy way to keep track of what you want to and already have and are currently reading. It’s also pretty good for helping decide if a book is something you might want to add to your reading list, with the reviews. And it lets you do all this in public, in front of everyone you know via digital stuff. I’m reasonably sure you can’t turn off the feature that sends you an email every time you list another book as “Read”, although you can turn off or block the daily notices about what your friends are reading, adding, or finishing. So one question this all brings up is something of a paradox: reading is largely a solitary activity, and yet it has become a fairly public performance. The question then is how much of this is due to the oversharing/bragging/trolling (frequently anonymous) opportunities offered by social media, or how much of it is something else?

What strikes me is how much this resembles medieval practices in some ways. Books, or at least the contents of books, essentially were a form of social media, they were a prestige item, they had social and solitary aspects to them, and people had opinions about them. Books also existed in multiple formats, much as they do now, although obviously some of the forms themselves have changed.

Take audio books for example. I’ve never really been able to get into this method of experiencing books, but it is quite popular. Back in the Middle Ages, this way actually how a lot of people would experience books. The origins of the term “lecture” comes from the Latin for “to read”, and that’s how higher levels of education were often provided. The instructor would read from the lone copy of the textbook, and possibly commentate, while the students took notes. In some cases students could copy out their own versions of the book, but this would need to be done by hand, either by themselves or someone they paid. There are also records of medieval monasteries that indicate that it was a practice to have someone reading from scripture or other religious text while everyone else was eating.

Certain forms of ebooks also have medieval analogues or at least general comparisons. On several online platforms, including GoogleBooks, you don’t flip through the pages, you scroll. The modern book through which one flips or turns pages is a descendant of the codex, while the scroll through counterpart is the much older roll or scroll. You read as you unroll and re-roll. There’s actually an older hilarious video called “Medieval Helpdesk” (you can find it subtitled on Youtube, since it was originally done in Norwegian: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQHX-SjgQvQ) that makes the very real suggestion that, at one time, the book in the shape that it’s now most commonly known for was a revolutionary thing.

Books had a social function much as they do now as well, especially if you follow platforms like the above mentioned Goodreads. People would leave comments in the margins containing critiques, comments, and sometimes even discussion threads. One of my favorite examples is from the Devonshire Manuscript (British Library Additional 17492). This book was originally passed around a group of lady friends at Henry VIII’s court, and one page has a poem composed by a gentleman hoping to court one of the ladies. Here is Cynthia Roger’s description of the thread:

Poem 8 on fols. 6v-7r is a declaration of love to Mary Shelton from one of her admirers. The first letter of each stanza spells out her last name. She seems to have known the author, as she writes a tart reply to his poem just below it— “Undesired service, requires no hire (payment).” Margaret Douglas seems to have also known the author and the fact that her friend was rejecting him, as she writes out to the side of this poem, “Forget this.” Mary, being a little more charitable, writes underneath Margaret’s comment, “It is worthy.”

Manuscripts like this also show people sharing favorite bits of text, much in the way we might now retweet or share a post we particularly enjoyed or wanted to share, and many such examples still survive.

Reading in the Middle Ages and beyond was commonly a public activity. In times before the printing press and better sources and methods of production came along, books were not something readily available. So, in this time which was also before modern forms of entertainment like television and streaming, people might get together and read to each other.  We get a look at this even in stories, like Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde. After Pandarus has agreed to help Troilus win Criseyde’s affections, he goes off to find her, and he finds her and two companions listening to a fourth lady reading out loud:

Whan he was come vnto his Neces place,

“Wher is my lady?” to hire folk quod he;

And they hym tolde and he forth in gan pace

And fond two othere ladys sete, and she,

With-inne a paued parlour, and they thre

Herden a mayden reden hem the geste

Of the siege of Thebes while hem leste.      (II.78-84)

 

Reading could also still be a private activity in the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance, especially when it came to producing and collecting books. The anonymous writer of the lyric “Pangur Ban” for example describes a scene in which the monk studies alone, while his cat pays attention to the mice. Such scenes of personal solitary reading or study also show up in a lot of dream visions, like the introductions of Chaucer’s Book of the Duchess and Parliament of Foules. Many medieval books that still survive come to us from private collections gathered during the Early Modern period and later, and possessing such a personal or private library would have been a sign of wealth or prestige, or in other words, something only a few people could or did do.

Bookmaking was itself both a solitary and group activity. A monastery scriptorium for example was a public space used by many, but each copyist or artist was largely working alone on his part of the book.

Finally, the reviews. In addition to marginalia, medieval versions of reviews and trolls and fan fiction still survive, even in highly respected literary works. Gower and Chaucer and Lydgate all participated in such activities. Towards the end of Troilus and Criseyde, Chaucer makes a dedication to “moral Gower” a label which stuck and has been taken as a slight insult towards his acquaintance and possibly friend. Lydgate frames his Siege of Thebes as an additional Canterbury Tale. While it’s not possible to definitively prove Chaucer’s intention in his remark about Gower, it has long been taken as snarky in a way that might pass for light-hearted trolling. It is possible to prove Lydgate’s fan-fiction though since Lydgate directly places himself within the frame of the Canterbury Tales, and he wrote admiringly of Chaucer in other works, such as The Fall of Princes.

There is a good deal of serious research and scholarship that has been done on reading as practice and what it meant culturally in medieval Europe, not to mention a good deal of modern scientific work on how the human brain may have evolved or adapted to/for reading and how it manages what appear to be several complex simultaneous processes that need to happen in order for reading to be done. While I’m not touching much on those details here, it is worth realizing that the idea of reading as well as the practice is far more complicated than most people realize. It’s something worth thinking about, even if only in terms of personal practice.

Reading Classics: Challenges and Ideas

I am not likely to meet a goal/deadline: I wanted to finish reading Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes by the end of October. It’s got really pretty, literary writing, but I’ve had to sometimes force myself through certain parts when I get bored or lose focus. This got me thinking about the struggle to read something because you have to or feel you should. I’m planning to teach something that takes inspiration in part from Bradbury’s novel, plus it’s a classic work by a canonical author which I’ve never read. The thing that’s causing me some trouble here is I suspect that I want the story and the style to work better together; for me at least, I’d like to be able to enjoy the two things together, but it’s been hard so far to do that. Mostly, I’ve only been able to focus on one or the other. If I, who have lots of academic literary training have a hard time with something that’s supposed to be a classic, then what must students sometimes feel when asked to read things like this, or things even less familiar in terms of language and/or cultural background?

For commonly assigned longer readings, like Beowulf, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, or Canterbury Tales, I have found that students have often already read at least excerpts, and thus get bored, or they find the material and style too difficult, and give up on actually doing the reading. I noticed pretty quickly that when I included Beowulf and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight on syllabi for World Lit and Brit Lit 1 surveys that a lot of students had had to read at least some of those texts in previous classes. One problem is that it’s difficult to introduce some of the more intricate issues and interesting problems of either one of these two texts when about half the class knows the story but the other half does not. Issue two is that in most surveys, reading the entirety of multiple longer poems like this can be difficult to get students to actually read, as opposed to the Shmoop, CliffNotes. Grade Saver, etc. summaries. Some of that kind of thing is inevitable, but when students get tired of struggling with the style, that makes considering some of the features of the actual poetry more difficult, and those are some of the things that most survey students are not as likely to have encountered before.

This is something I can relate to from Something Wicked This Way Comes because the style is so much the point of the book, more so than with an average novel at any rate. I have to admit I looked at some of the supplementary materials in the edition I have and found out enough that I can already summarize the entire plot without having read half the novel yet. On one hand, now that I know the story I can focus a bit more on the style and more literary elements like foreshadow etc, but on the other I won’t be able to follow the gradual building of the characters and the world as naturally.

Something I’ve been considering doing is switching to some lesser known texts that cover many of the same literary and cultural elements as the commonly taught ones. For example, instead of Beowulf, The Battle of Maldon contains a lot of the same warrior culture stuff and literary elements, and has the added bonus of being relevant to actual history as well as the Vikings. One assignment I personally would enjoy would be to have students write their own endings and/or introductions to the story since we know the history for guidance but enough of the text is missing that students could get creative.

Instead of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, I think selections from a sister text like Pearl might be an interesting option. As with the Old English texts, there remains a lot of cultural and historical and poetic room for exploration and interest. I taught excerpts of Pearl in a Middle English language and culture course one summer, and I was surprised a little at how much some of the students took to Pearl. I have not really looked, but I have to wonder if there is a passable translation readily and freely available for students to use. I know for a fact such things exist for The Battle of Maldon, so I have some hope for Pearl. Maldon is short enough that it can be done in its entirety, and wouldn’t be too much of a burden on someone’s attention or interest if it turns out this just is not something they can get into; for Pearl, I would imagine that the opening sequence and the conclusion would provide enough for students to work with and appreciate, but likewise not be overly difficult to get through if again it turns out this is just not something a given person gets into.

This brings me to another related idea; when you are told something is canon, classic, or traditional, it can give the impression that you must like it to demonstrate you are a person of intelligence and/or taste. I would like to figure a way to allow students to dislike something as long as they can explain why in more depth than “Boring”, “Too hard”, “Too long”, etc. I hesitate to use examples of my own personal taste because then students are apt to go with the strategy of “cater to Prof’s personal interests”. However, I do think the general idea has some merit. I don’t especially care for Leaves of Grass, but I can explain why in terms of technical details of poetry. I also cannot stand a lot of traditional chivalric romances, particularly those in the Arthurian tradition. A lot of Crétiene de Troyes’ works annoy me in a fairly visceral way and I absolutely cannot stand Le Morte d’ Arthur for their overly melodramatic and soap-opera-esque characters and plot-lines. Nevertheless, these things do have cultural and historical interest to them, and a lot of people are likely familiar with some of the basics but not as much with the original stories or versions.

To the original question of what to do about classic works and the perceived need to read them, there seems to be a bit of a stalemate: one the one hand, students should have at least some basic familiarity with the literary canon in order to consider where current trends (literary, historical, cultural, etc) might have come from and they might actually discover a surprising interest, but on the other the majority of the time, reading such things can be burdensome when forced, making it far less likely a person would be able to appreciate anything about a particular text. This is why I’m thinking of changing a few things out to see if it makes any difference. As for Bradbury, I will finish it in part because it would be professionally useful for me since I am planning to teach a novel with direct literary debts to this canonical original. Whether or not I end up enjoying the original is still unclear, but we’ll just have to see.

Academic Vs General Public Book Gatherings

Over a recent long weekend I went to my second ever non-academic book festival (the Decatur Book Festival), and this second time I really noticed a couple of things. First, there’s the question to authors of all varieties “How do you get your ideas?” Two writers, one I knew of and one I didn’t, on different panels on very different styles and age ranges, gave almost the same answer: ‘I wrote what I {would have} wanted to read when I was {that age}”.  Both authors have been and currently are best-sellers in YA and kid’s lit, and one of them has done that in adult novels as well. Both were apparently rather nerdy as children, getting into science fiction or fantasy, Star Wars and Harry Potter were what they named as the thing that really inspired them.

There is an entirely different atmosphere at this type of gathering than at academic conferences even though there are similarities, at least on the surface. Attendees at both types tend to like to read and/or write, and both have a high number of people who either do or want to do the writing and reading in some sort of professional capacity. One kind of funny, in the sense of vague irony, thing I noticed that really does show the difference in atmosphere is that when it was discussion time, at a major national academic conference I was at about 9 months ago, there were constant reminders to attendees that “questions” should be no more than a few sentences and end in a question mark. To someone who has been to any kind of academic conference, this is at the same time silly but also necessary since there always seem to be people who want to talk about their own work and its relevance to everything instead of focusing on the content of the panel in front of them. At the public festival, there was no need for such reminders. It’s like the people were genuinely there to learn about the subject-work-person in a far more genuine way.

The panelists at the public festival also seemed more interested in each other and in connections between their work than at the academic level. On one panel, the two lady authors, both of whom wrote best-selling fantasy for YA/adult readers, but were there to talk about new middle grade books, started conversing and the moderator let them do it, staying out of things for almost 10 minutes. I have never seen this sort of thing happen at an academic gathering, although sometimes panelists do ask each other questions, but it never really seems to develop into extended conversation.

The other thing that I noticed, besides the general tone, was that even for a general interest book festival, at least some of the panels were reasonably intellectual. The first panel I went to was on wit and humor and I was kind of surprised at how well some of the theories brought up matched with some of the ancient and medieval definitions that I’d recently been working with. At this panel, one of the presenters argued that the key to successful wit or humor was to have to allow the audience to make some of the connections and jumps in meaning, sometimes invoking a bit of misdirection for effect. For example, in an essay discussing the definition or identification of humor in the Middle Ages and Early Modern eras or Western European literature, Albrecht Classen argues that, the comic “results from a conflict between norms, their breach or transgression, though mostly not too egregious to hurt or insult badly”.[1] This idea suggests that the audience would then find the humor by having to fill in the incongruity through a jump in reasoning otherwise making the connection between the conflicting ideas, nearly a repeat of the current scholar of wit and humor. Puns were one of the speaker’s key examples, and to illustrate, medievalists of a certain persuasion should likely be able to spot the one in my title.

Lastly, it may have been some of the particular panels I went to, but there were a lot more children than I’ve ever seen at an academic conference. Occasionally, someone might bring along a spouse and young child, but neither are often seen, and never during the actual panels. Granted, a general interest presentation geared towards things children might be interested in, like books they know and like in terms they can understand, would attract parent with their children, as opposed to a panel talking about the academic theories and interpretations of the same. Even so, there was a child at the book festival complaining to his mother, “This is sooooo boring!”; I’m guessing he was about 5 or so. Another reason you may not see too many children at an academic conference is that, it’s bad enough to have to tell your child in a situation where it might be expected “Don’t kick the person in front of you! Say ‘sorry’!” {child mumbles the apology, and the person nudged never acknowledges either being kicked or apologized to}. These sorts of things would probably be considered far too distracting or interrupting at a more academic event, but it does make the tone more real. That’s real kid, as opposed to listening to people talk about for example the levels and variations of morality or ethics in the same book these two kids were apparently present to hear about, the latest in a series called The Last Kids on Earth; this was not something I’m familiar with, but I’m probably out of the loop on the most current trends and what’s popular, not having kids within the target age range myself.

There’s a certain level of artifice present in the academic world in terms of writing and reading that was just not there at this non-academic festival. People actually wanted to be there for the most part and enjoyed it. Academic conferences can be fun if you know people and/or like to meet new people, but it’s still more like work, and that can take some of the joy out of it.

Circling back to the beginning for a moment, when the author of this series mentioned he was a Star Wars fan-boy as a child, I was reminded of how many people in their late teens through early thirties have said that the Harry Potter series was what really got them into reading and maybe even writing. I was slightly above the target age range when the first few books came out, and was unaware of them until not long after the third novel was published when I was a senior in high school. I re-read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone for another project not long ago, and some things really stood out to me. It’s so well written and the world and characters building are so detailed and well done without a lot of the tropes that get old, like the info dump speeches from one character to another (not that I mind these, it’s just that they’re pretty common). After book 3, when the books doubled to tripled in size, the writing was less witty and the story was less about the world and characters and more about action plot things and angst. I’m not the first to point to the differences between books 1-3 as a set and 4-7, but I feel it more upon a reread much removed from the first time through. Anyways, with these novels being so influential on the current starts and rising stars of the fiction, especially fantasy and sci-fi, it’s going to be interesting to see how much things change if these writers are going to write what they wanted to read other than Harry Potter.

[1] “Laughter as an Expression of Human Nature in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period: Literary, Historical, Theological, Philosophical, and Psychological Reflections. Also an Introduction.”  Laughter in the Middle Ages and Early Modern Times. Ed. Albrecht Classen. De Gruyeter, 2010. Pp.1-140. Here p.5.

Reading Motivations

Motivation is important. In order to motivate yourself, you need to know what motivates you. Me, I like challenges, especially if there’s a reward of some sort at the end. Sometimes, competition works too.

It seems like every New Years for the past few, I’ve something in my resolutions about fun reading. First, it was spending more time at it, then it was focusing on books I already had, and most recently (ongoing for 2019) it was to finish the several things that I had started the year before before I started on anything new. I’ve only been half successful with that. There’s one thing I really need to finish that I bought when it came out, started about two years later, and two years after that, haven’t properly finished. But that’s not the point here.

My point is that over the past 2 ½ months, I’ve made a visible dent in my TBR (to-be-read) shelves. Why? Thanks mostly to 3 challenges, one ongoing that I’ve participated in for about four years, and two new.  Two are related. The ongoing previously done challenge is a book review group/website that’s an offshoot of Pajiba, the pop culture site, called “Cannonball Reads“. Basically it’s a challenge to read and review 52 books in a year (or a half-cannonball at 26, or a double at 104). It all started as a way to honor a founding member who passed away from cancer, and to raise money for cancer research. I found out about this from a friend from graduate school, and then enrolled myself after finishing my degree as a way to get back into pleasure reading; those years are the main reason why my TBR shelf was actually shelves. I’d purchased things I really wanted to read, but didn’t have time for at the time, on the assumption I’d eventually have time. The goal setting is not really competitive here; it’s more of a social thing, and a way to raise money for a good cause. This year, I think I finished my 52 earlier than I have in years past. Part of this I’m reasonably sure was thanks to new challenge #1.

I found out from a colleague that the local library system was running a summer reading program, not surprising in itself, that included kids, teens, and (surprisingly) adults. If you signed up, read so many hours between May-June-July, you could exchange your reading log for prizes. For the adults, that meant a clip on reading light for 15 hours, and a tote bag for 25 hours. I am one of those people who will do a ridiculous amount of work for small prizes if the work is something I like or is somehow beneficial (including things like a t-shirt for a 5k race or attend so many fitness classes in a month, etc). I wanted me my tote bag. I got me my tote bag. The funny thing is, that I’m pretty sure I actually underrepresented the hours I spent on each book I worked through for that challenge. In any event, some of the books I read for that were recent releases, but quite a few were things I’d been wanting to get to for a while.

Challenge 2 is new to me in the sense that I’ve not tried doing it before, but it’s been running for a couple of years now I think for Cannonball Reads people, and I’d known about it before. I think the momentum from the library challenge stayed with me long enough and they two challenges did overlap by about a month; I may have double dipped a little. Anyways, basically it’s a Bingo board with various categories that you have to read and review a qualifying book for. It’s not a race or standard Bingo in that whoever fills a line first wins; it’s whoever gets a Bingo gets an entry into a drawing for books stuff (I’m honestly not  sure of the specifics for this year, but that doesn’t really matter anyways), and more lines filled equals more chances. The added challenge here is of course the requirement that the book be reviewed. The reviews are often informal, personal, and usually not that long (350-500 words is average). Since the challenge opened in early July, I’ve been trying to average 2-3 books per week, since once school gets back in session, my free time will probably be more limited. I honestly haven’t been all that strategic about planning what to read next as long as it fits somewhere on the board, and so far I’ve got 1 Bingo and probably 4 other possible full lines halfway done.

Not only have I made a dent in my TBR shelves thanks to these 3 events, to the point where there’s actually room for new books, I’ve rediscovered popular non-fiction, found a new series or two, and picked up some things I may not have otherwise.

So, what’s to be gained from all this? Knowing what motivates you helps you read sometimes. Why does this matter? Classroom tactics. I’ve seen plenty of articles and studies bemoaning how difficult it is to get undergraduate students to actually read things, and how few of them are likely to actually complete something that’s assigned. Granted, personal motivation is different for everyone, and there’s realistic way to ensure that every individual in a class group will want to participate, but as I’m starting to set up for the fall semester (which starts in just over a week), I’m starting to need to strategize. Incentive 1: less homework, but more focused and in-depth homework. Incentive 2: possibly some kind of silly competitive game for part or all of the semester. Incentive 3: trying out more interesting, relevant, and/or recent readings. Incentive 4: trying to match readings to skills and outcomes. Basically, try to have the reading be something that models or is otherwise applicable towards a graded assignment.

As already noted, I’m only now getting around to some of the more specific aspects of planning out the semester’s calendars, so some options aren’t fully realized, and I may come up with more. Suggestions appreciated, and we’ll see how this all turns out.