On the Arts of Notebooks and Conferencing

I saw a thread on Twitter started by someone asking what the most necessary thing to bring to major overseas conference might be. I found the resulting thread interesting. Some things noted were expected like a converter or running shoes or a copy of the program. Then there were some surprises. One of the most mentioned was stationary, including pens and notebooks. This first reminded me of a colleague who said that the last time she attended this particular conference (last year -2018) she had filled whole notebook. Then, came some mild disagreement (internal). Yes, you certainly need a pen or few and a notebook, but why not get those things at the venue or area as souvenirs?

I also noticed that surprisingly there were not many mentions of things like a novel for fun reading; even if you end up with not lots of downtime planned, you definitely will have some during travel, and quite frankly if you’re not a night-partier/socializer (and I’m really not, not even a little) and you don’t have tv or access to your Netflix etc. (overseas licensing stuff often blocks US streaming US stuff), you’re going to need and want something else to do with a few hours most evenings. There’s also the question of securing technology for phone/data use (at least GPS), and figuring out work/communication strategies for any work related projects or classes currently ongoing.

Back to the notion of The Conference Notebook. I have noticed that a standard size (80-100 pages, college rule) for one conference doesn’t work since I almost always only fill part of it. The problem then becomes what to do with the rest, unless I know I’m planning to make that paper into an article. A small notebook can work, but those are easier to lose on a desk full of books, grading, etc.; notepad freebies from hotel or vendors are often too small or flimsy. Then there’s also the problem of what to do with handouts (still a thing) and keep the relevant one with corresponding notes. Full sized notebooks allow better space for adding inserts. Folders are too easy to lose or get separated from the notebook.

This year I decided to try using the same standard notebook for all 2019 conferences. We’ll see how this goes since there is still to go (MMLA) after 4 down (MLA, CAMWS, Sewanee, Leeds). I have started using it a bit for researching/trying to finish something from last year too. SO far this loose organization seems to be working out.

I’ve also started something similar for teaching. I essentially have color coded my commonly taught classes, and have been using the same pink notebook for Comp 101 for the past few terms, purple for Comp 102, and green for World Lit 1; I’m close to filling that last one. This seems to be a good way for me to keep track of lesson plans and what’s been working, what I’ve tried out, and what might need some changing next (which there will inevitably be).

I remember a similar issue to when I was a college student and didn’t fill a notebook for a class.  If you keep such things (and I have), it’s a waste of paper to stop using a notebook before it’s filled but then again if you’re using the same notebook for 2 different things, it can  get hard to keep track of what’s where.

Back to conferencing advice. I have found that it’s a good idea to try and plan to get to the conference venue at least one afternoon before the conference gets going. This allows you some time to figure out where key locations are, and in most cases recover a little from the strain of long distance travel. It also is potentially the one chance to explore a little bit if you haven’t been to the area before. I have not been to the International Medieval Congress at Leeds before, and that first evening was about my only chance to explore dinner options off campus since most other evenings would be booked with conference activities. I discovered a really good restaurant within walking distance (an Asian place called Fuji Hiro- really good veggie ramen!) as well as two bubble tea shops, two non-chain coffee shops, and the local grocery store where I stocked up on UK junk food not easily available in the US.

I also find that it’s a good idea to know where several of the tea/coffee stations are if you’re at a larger conference like IMC Leeds. That way if one is super busy and you’re on a deadline to get to another session, you can hopefully swing by another station and get your caffeine or water there.

Penultimate-ly, be ready for surprises. These are often good, although there are also the inevitable snags; occasionally one even ends up being the same thing. For example, your dorm building fire alarm going off at 2:30am and again at 4:30am one night/morning is on the one hand highly irritating and disruptive, but on the other hand, it’s an opportunity to meet your building-mates all at once. Good surprises are things like finding out on the final day of the conference there’s a food-stall market on the premises along with the expected medieval performances and demos of things like falconry and armor (complete with people on horses).

Lastly, promise yourself to try at least one new or unusual thing for you. I mentioned earlier that I don’t often attend late evening social events. I found one that sounded interesting and made myself go. It turns out that medieval court and folk dancing is a little more complex than you might think. I was also definitely not the only novice or newbie there, which was nice when we were told to form groups. I still have one of the tunes stuck in my head a few days later, and will not be forgetting the little shoulder shimmy move that looked surprisingly modern.

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How to Learn or Explore the Comedy of Good Omens

I chose to assign an intro to lit class Good Omens; this decision was made before I realized the timing of the release of the tv version. The resulting assignment is a research paper looking into basic tropes and how the novel applies, ignores, tweaks, or generally deals with said set of expectations and conditions. The beginning of class very nearly coincided with the tv release, so there was a good bit of media attention to both the pending tv release as well as its source novel. Two particular themes kept showing up in the reviews and predictions: the comedy (success, failure, possible dated-ness) and romance/gender (especially the nature of Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s relationship, and the presence and treatment of female characters). The thing with the comedy got me thinking about how a group of early-ish career college students in a not-large urban-ish area in the Southern United States were going to be able to appreciate nearly 30-year old British language and comedy. Never mind the possible research subject, I was starting to wonder about just following the story.

We haven’t gotten to this point in the course yet, but I’m wondering if a review on general British comedy might not be in order. Starting with medieval riddles, fabliaux, and drama would be something fun to look into. One of my favorite things to do when teaching Chaucer, in both surveys and upper-level literature courses, is to surprise students with some of the lower level comic bits. It always amuses me that students don’t realize how old the word ‘fart’ actually is, and that they (farts) have been funny since before the Middle Ages in Europe. There is a surprising amount of scholarship on the history of farting and fart-based humor in the Middle Ages (and a good bit for even earlier times). Just search Google for “medieval fart”; you’ll end up with academic and non-academic links and some videos about comic performances involving farts, significant and often untimely farts in history, ancient and medieval medical practices involving farts (often capturing them in various ways for various reasons), farting and early music, and more. Then there’s the “Christmas” song sing-along in the morality play Mankind; again students are often surprised that that kind of thing was actually A) done that long ago, B) was considered (by most) to be funny, and c) involved “bad” words modern students both recognize and (probably) use. I am actively trying to avoid the word ‘humor’ here since that word had a much different, and broader meaning pre-seventeenth century. To show a little continuity, I’m thinking some of the British poetry in the section of class (before drama, which is before the novel) might be helpful. Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress” along with John Donne’s “The Flea” might be an entertaining paring. Entertaining and potentially educational though this sort of thing can be, this is really not the same style of comedy or entertainment that appears in Good Omens. But it does provide a baseline for comparison, especially on the level of British vs American language.

One of the dramas currently on the reading syllabus is Tom Stoppard’s The Real Inspector Hound. In terms of style and type of comedy involved, this is the closest we get to Good Omens before the actual novel itself. Father Ted or Keeping Up Appearances, or The Office (the first, British one) might also be points of reference students can easily look up via places like Youtube, Netflix, etc. that give a similar flavor of the language and style. The level of absurdity is debatably a touch higher in the play than in the novel, but I would argue not by all that much. I hesitate to consider Monty Python here simply because the more theologically inclined of the movies (Life of Brian) is not something I think would be terribly productive. It’s not that I don’t think my students can’t be open-minded (I know for a fact many of them can be) but rather that it would be difficult for many of them to fathom the possibility and nature of the language used and the tone of the satire, meaning we’d spend too much time trying to figure out/explain the Monty Python, and lose track of the Pratchett/Gaiman. Holy Grail would be a better candidate both in terms of comfort with basic content (most everyone has at least heard of King Arthur et al.) and also for satiric-parodic meaning, but not as directly relevant in terms of content and potential meaning. Either way, the biggest problem has little to do with content and more with the language and cultural background. I’ve noticed in the past when using video clips of British performers doing Shakespeare or Stoppard, that many of my student struggled with the accents and vocabulary they were hearing. Add the cultural knowledge required to catch the comic intent, which in an introductory class isn’t guaranteed students have beforehand and would have to be provided, I’m wondering if it won’t be struggle enough to get through Good Omens itself, never mind the comic strategies at work; then again, the comedic elements are a major part of understanding the novel, so they can’t rightly be ignored.

There is some good theory and history out there that I could point students towards, since British tv and dramatic comedy has been well studied both in terms of works from this century and those past. Titles such as Comic Persuasion: Moral Structure in British Comedy from Shakespeare to Stoppard (Alice Rayner, 1987) or British TV Comedies: Cultural Concepts, Contexts & Controversies (ed. Jurgen Kamm, 2016) provide a good background in some of the theory and history behind a lot of things students are likely to be working with. A problem with using such books and article collections though is that my institution library does not carry many such titles, which means accessing useful material could be somewhat difficult.

The big problem I’m facing really isn’t even the lack of specialized resources; it’s the lack of time. The novel is scheduled to take that last 2 ½ weeks of class, which needs to include time to read, time to research, lectures and  classwork on how to do all that, and finally, write the research paper. A lot of what I’ve reviewed above would be a struggle to cram into a full-length semester course, never mind a shortened summer term. Comedy will be simply an option along with a host of others including Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, Armageddon, Biblical/Christian fiction, and fantasy. It’ll be interesting to see what members of the class choose to focus on.

To be continued….

 

This Year’s New Technique To Contemplate

So far this year I have not come across a new composition trick to try, at least not borrowed from someone else as I have in years past. Recently, I have realized one of my own which I intend to keep as an experiment to see if it bears sharing or implementing in composition classes starting this fall.

As usual, the last few weeks of the semester are busy with writing exam and study guides, and grading. For most instructors, I imagine, this time of the year involves putting one’s own projects either on hold or slow-down mode. In my case, I was holding off on spending sustained amount of time on a book review, drafting a conference paper, researching and drafting a second conference paper, and 4 CFPs (two due within the next week, the others not until fall). There’s also a writing project to pick back up, but that’s part of another story, as is the design of a summer syllabus. On top of all this, I had some family in town.

The past two days, I have been getting back into my usual pattern of being able to spend more than 30 minutes at a time on a particular project. I started to notice a trend. My grades were due two weeks ago Wednesday, but then the next two days (Th-Fri) I was struggling a bit to get back to work, which was a problem because of some looming deadlines. I took that first Monday off, mostly to get family to the airport, and then the next two days I was suddenly able to get productive. Part of this might be the day or two off, but I think it was more due to how I was spending my self-imposed work time.

In two days, I was able to draft 1 CFP, complete the book review and send it off, and draft the first conference paper (due to be given Friday- as in 2 days from now), in addition to getting some outlining done for my summer course. Not to mention only spending about 5 hours per day in my office and not doing scholarly-type work at home; a much needed spring deep clean of the home is currently underway, plus I have really started to get attached to the idea of keeping home for myself and not work if at all possible.

Here’s my new (to me at least) composition/scholarly technique: work on one thing until it starts to get difficult, then switch over to another thing for a while, and when that gets to be a struggle, switch to something else, etc., coming back to the first thing the next day with fresh mind and eyes. While I admit that sometimes just staring at something for a while can be effective, more often than not, that can be a waste of time, just like fighting the sleepies for an hour vs a 30-minute nap.

Another version of this is spend an hour on one project, then switch to another, etc., and repeat the cycle the next day. This way progress is continually made on multiple items, and there isn’t as much frustration about getting stuck on something even if a deadline is getting close. Avoiding some of the mental fatigue like this also seems to help keep the temptation to take a brain break on social media at bay, which can turn into a big unproductive time-suck as well.

The more I think about it, this seems to be related to several well-established bits of time-management-when-it-comes-to-studying advice. First, there’s the idea that cramming is less effective than frequent short bursts. Then there’s the idea of stopping just before you’ve run out of ideas so that you have somewhere to start next time. Lastly, there’s just listening to yourself and knowing your mental status, and what’s possible as a result. If I need to write both a paper and a course, if I feel more like one than the other, then why not work on what feels better if both need doing on similar timelines?

Another benefit of such a practice is that you have an automatic reason to get up and move at least a little after each hour or so. This is probably as good mentally as it is physically.

Last but not least, I would note that there will be days where any particular technique just won’t work. Maybe you’re just tired, or not feeling as good as usual, or just not focused for whatever reason. The key to any good system is flexibility, and some days you might just start something and be able to easily keep going for hours. I find this often happens more with repetitive tasks, like looking up and recording all instances of a certain word in Chaucer’s corpus in preparation for starting on a conference paper or setting up a class website in a course management system. It’s monotonous, not creative, often dull, and necessary prep work that has a definite deadline.

For now, I’m going to see how well this works out, before I start figuring out ways to adapt this into classroom settings and scenarios. But that’s not to say I can’t/won’t be noting ideas or possibilities. Composition techniques like this don’t seem to work well as general recommendations presented in lecture; they’re more likely to be effective when modeled in class and then tied to possible outside of class uses. Or alternatively, modeled in a homework or out of classroom assignment, then discussed in class. I don’t have anything exact in mind yet, but I’ll be working on that the next week or so when I really get my summer course calendar built up beyond its current outline state.

Thoughts on a Theory Kick

I remember a certain professor in graduate school who seemed to think that modern theory had little application for the study of medieval literature. I’m not going to take up that argument here, rather I’m suggesting that medieval ideas and texts offer some interesting challenges in terms of applications for modern theories. Take Joseph Campbell and his hero’s journey. Medieval literature is hugely influenced by myth and folklore, so there is some application there. However, there is also the question of the chivalric romance. Many of these stories feature stories that star “heroes” who go on journeys, and yet they don’t quite fit the pattern presented by Campbell. King Arthur stories comes to mind. Something like Sir Gawain and the Green Knight might work out in terms of following the monomyth, but Lancelot? Even Galahad, by Malory’s version at least, doesn’t quite fit the pattern on account of being too perfect. I have to wonder whether or not anyone has really tried this kind of theory on these stories beyond Arthur himself; it would be pretty interesting to see the results for anyone of the other Knights of the Round Table. A quick Google search suggests that there’s plenty out there on Arthur, but not much on other individual knights. On a side-note, there was one comparison or suggestion of tracing Tiger Wood’s career as following the monomyth alongside Harry Potter or King Arthur.

Propp’s 31 functions and 7 characters is another interesting case. With this one, the Arthuriana seems like it would fit reasonably well. However, I wonder whether or not a medieval story collection of mostly folk and common stories, like the Canterbury Tales, would hold up. The popularity of the frame narrative and story collection was pretty high in mid to late medieval Europe, and certain tales might work well, I wonder what a story-within-a-story would do to Propp’s ideas. While Propp does allow for repetition within the functions sequence, I have my doubts that the interweaving of stories within a master narrative would work. Admittedly, Propp’s theory was designed specifically for fairy tales, but even so, what happens if the fairy tale in question is part of a larger narrative, and an unfinished one at that?

Bakhtin is already in use and was in some ways designed especially for medieval narratives, including his ideas about discourse, heteroglossia, polyphony, and the carnivalesque. The ideas of the carnivalesque were borrowed from medieval carnival practices, and the dialogic stuff is still an approach used in manuscript and marginalia studies as well as literary studies. The Canterbury Tales has been examined from several of these approaches with genuine effort (as in un-ironic). But, there was a second frame story collection that was well known and influential in the Middle Ages: Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Both the Metamorphoses and some of The Canterbury Tales include scenarios, characters, and settings that meet the general definition of fantasy that involve the use of a frame story.  So then the question becomes, how seriously should the frames and the narratives they contain be taken? Chaucer’s frame has been observed to contain some degree of satire, but how about the Metamorphoses? It’s frame as a history of the world sets up a more serious tone on Ovid’s part. So the question becomes what would a more Bakhtinian reading of some of the escapades and the many problems of communication do to an interpretation of medieval versions like the Ovid Moralisé?

Gender and queer studies of various approaches are also in current use towards all kinds of texts, as are multicultural approaches and those which consider race. Travel and Crusade narratives provide a point of consideration for considering race, which Geraldine Heng gets into in her recent book The Invention of Race in the European Middle Ages. As general understanding about such concepts changes in the modern world, every so often, a re-evaluation of how they might help in understanding the medieval consideration of the same kinds of questions and issues might reflect an update in understanding or thinking. How the Middle Ages thought about Ovid’s Metamorphoses for example would change if the definitions and perception of gender and consent being applied had shifted substantially.

Theories like deconstruction and psychoanalysis are no longer as popular as they used to be, at least not in their original forms, and I’m guessing a good part of that at least in relation to medieval literature has to do with the recognition of the complexity of dealing with texts many centuries old. Derrida’s notion that language is fundamentally impossible to fully understand or assess is not particularly compatible with the reasonably recent notion that much medieval literature contains components that have gone unrecognized, and as such must now be studied. The connections between western Europe and the Middle East and parts of Asia and Africa are currently a topic of interest for many medieval scholars, and it almost seems like Derrida’s theory would sound like a poor excuse to ignore an important but until now overlooked or oppressed existence or perspective. I do have to wonder what applying Freud in any kind of depth to a fabliau would do beyond attempt to destroy the humor.

Semiotics and its focus on how meaning can be created using language still has some utility although the theory doesn’t seem to be terribly popular at the moment. The social side of language such as Barthes thought of it might make for an interesting consideration of something like the Harley lyrics or the riddles of the Exeter book which engages the question of how big a role should historical or cultural context play in interpretation, and how possible such analysis really is from a non-native perspective; non-native here refers both to time and place.

Even the New Critical focus on close reading and the-text-and-nothing-but-the-text is problematic for medieval works since they are so far separated in time and culture from any current scholar that without context, any real level of comprehension would be difficult if not impossible. Take Pearl for example. As a text alone, and no reference to medieval dream vision or theology, the story is superficial, and what narrative and character information would survive leads to only minimal understanding. Even the technical prowess of the text would have less meaning since a lot of the rhyme and numerical meaning depends on knowledge external of the text.

I’m also thinking that medieval theories and practices might have some interesting results when paired with modern texts and theories. But that’s another discussion.

Challenging the Canon

I teach a lot of survey courses, often to non-English majors. Recently the idea came to my attention of the question of accessibility of some less than canonical authors and texts that still might be useful in a literature survey. I have taught a few things that aren’t staples in surveys of global literature and British literature, but Ovid’s Amores, Boethius‘ Consolation of Philosophy, Rabelais’ Gargantua and Pantagruel, and Mankind are all canonical, at least tangentially, in terms of general Western literature. With some extra annotation and lecture framing, these texts are not too hard for a student to look up either for background or for translations or secondary analysis.

I have used Tom Stoppard’s The Real Inspector Hound before as well, and students generally respond well to it, although this is definitely a play where you need to use both the script and a performance. Because it isn’t a classroom standard, it’s less likely that students will have studied it previously, and some students might be more interested because this play is something new to them that they haven’t even heard of. Even Stoppard’s biggest commercial/popular hit, Shakespeare in Love, isn’t as well known to students in a first year introduction to literature class. I know this because I asked, and upon further reflection I figured out that the movie might be slightly older than some of the younger students.

There are some titles, both medieval and popular, that could have some real classroom use, but aren’t always available in accessible forms, which makes them even more likely to remain obscure. For example, the 9th century monk Sedulius Scottus wrote among other things a series of lyrics, some of which would fit nicely into either ancient or medieval traditions. For example, one of his poems (c. 81) is a debate between a rose and a lily. Not only is debate poetry a popular genre around that time, but the poem also explores some themes and images which are common like the symbolism of the two flowers, and the attempt to balance pagan and Christian ideas. The problem is that both the original Latin and the single published translation are not readily available. Neither is freely found online, and in physical book form, three copies of Sedulius Scottus: On Christian Rulers and The Poems and a single copy of Sedulii Scotti Carmina (CCCM 117) exist in the library system for the entire University System of Georgia (which includes places like the University of Georgia and Georgia Tech). There are ways to include a single poem in a syllabus, including doing my own translation, but if students get interested, their options for further exploration are quite limited.

Similarly, something like Walafrid Strabo’s Hortulus, as a botanical treatise, might get students who aren’t planning to be literature majors interested in 9th century poetry. Nursing is a popular major and learning that at one point in history lilies were considered an anti-venom in addition to their literary and cultural symbolism might be a gateway for certain students. A dual language (Latin and English) edition is the same large USG library system exists in only three copies; again, as with the lyrics of Sedulius Scottus, if a student were interested in further investigation, finding the materials to explore that text would be a struggle if their institution did not possess one of these copies. A more determined student might be able to find some additional resources, but often, if the class or assignment doesn’t directly align with the student’s major or career goals, they are less likely to be willing to take the time to seek out further information.

The problem with using something that’s not especially standard as a teaching text is not just that the primary text itself can be difficult to find. The same problem exists when a more modern text is popular, but too recent to have generated much secondary scholarship. I have previously used V.E. Schwab’s Vicious in the same general literature survey as The Real Inspector Hound. I also used novels by Kim Newman (The Secret of Drearcliff Grange School) and Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One. All three novels were reasonably popular (two were best-sellers) and all published within about the past ten years. My reasoning was that these were stories students might be able to get interested in, and that they wouldn’t be able to rely too much on secondary work and online summaries or study guides. Vicious was probably the most successful, and I’ll be using it again, but this time I’ll compare it to how students get on with Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere and Drew Hayes’ The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, Vampire Accountant. All of these novels are pretty readily available, although none free should a student want their own copy. It’s my experience with novels like these that tells me that often students aren’t often willing to spend time digging into related but less direct avenues of research if they can’t find something directly on their subject within an hour at most. Of the novelists I’ve listed, only Neil Gaiman has been around long enough, been popular enough, and been viewed as literary enough to have much secondary scholarship published on his work. But the interesting thing is that the university library system doesn’t have much of that scholarship; I had to go to the public library for it. Again, limited access and/or time many students may not be willing to spend.

While student struggles with critical thinking, especially when research might be involved, have long been lamented in various academically-centered media for some time, very little, at least of what I’ve seen, has been able to come up with a particularly useful solution. Getting students more interested and invested in what they’re working with is the best solution I’ve encountered, and sometimes the best way to do that is to use things that aren’t as traditional or even canonical in the classroom or academy. The problem of resources is much larger and one individual instructors don’t have much control over, but we can at least get things started by getting students interested, since demand after all can be a pretty powerful force.

No Clear Door or Window or Gateway

About 7 months ago, V.E. Schwab gave the annual Tolkien lecture at Oxford. Her theme was gateway stories, books that really draw someone into the world of literature, especially fantasy. Her overall thesis was two-fold: 1) She argued that stories and book considered “literary” should not be required reading for fans of a genre because forcing yourself or being forced to read something just to say you’ve read it risks killing any potential enjoyment. 2) There is no such thing as pure fantasy. To be good, proper fantasy, what a story should do is allow “the writer, and by extension the reader, to use fictional and fantastical analogs to examine the dilemmas of the real world. But it also allows the reader to escape from it. To discover a space where things are stranger, different, more.” I also had the chance to hear her speak in person around the same time, at the Decatur Book Festival 2018. In her talk she suggested that there are two general kinds of fantasy- those which provide doors (a more immersive and complete experience of the world and narrative) and windows (those which provide only a partial view of the world of the story ad require more inference on the part of the reader).

About a month and a half ago, I participated in a series of interviews with high schoolers, many of whom mentioned (often prompted) the book or story that really got them interested in literature and reading. There were connections, both in titles as well as general ideas. Several shared V.E. Schwab’s experience of Harry Potter being their gateway into fantasy and reading. Some others named Rick Riordan, particularly the Percy Jackson series. What caught my attention was not only the trends of these two series for this generation, but also how uncanonical they are in terms of the traditional “literary canon”; both series are best-selling popular fantasy fiction.

About the same time as the interviews, there was a thread bouncing around Twitter which had been started by someone asking academics and scholars about reading they considered guilty pleasures or fun junk; the majority of the responses were likely not what the author of the original Tweet had been looking for. Most of the responses that I saw were something along the lines of, “why should any reading be shameful?” and “just because something like a romance novel isn’t considered literary doesn’t mean I should feel guilty about enjoying it”. Putting these three events together in terms of both proximity and general argument, there would seem to be a bit of a trend developing where tradition and popularity converge, particularly in the realm of speculative fiction and fantasy.

All this got me thinking about what titles were my gateways since many of those mentioned above were not the ones that really got me into reading; I’m slightly older than V.E. Schwab, and now nearly old enough to be the biological parent of a high-schooler. I’m also a professional academic and scholar who tries to make time for ‘fun reading’, which in my case often leans towards the speculative, both fantasy and sci-fi. I avoided Harry Potter at first because it was on the best-seller lists, and I didn’t have much luck with enjoying titles that usually ended up there. But by the time the third novel was published, I’d gotten curious and borrowed a family member’s book club copy of the first one. This was my senior year in high school. Throughout college and a few years following, I became one of those fans who waited in line for the midnight release, and who downloaded and had to wait for the filters to buffer the movie trailers for the first film. Around the release of novel #6, I’d started to lose interest. I didn’t find out about the Percy Jackson series until I was in my early 30s, but I read all of them and enjoyed them. I tried a few of the other series as well, the Roman one and the Egyptian one; I just couldn’t get into the Egyptian mythology series, which is too bad since the actual mythology is fascinating. My point is that neither of these series could be my gateway since I’d gotten interested in reading beforehand, and neither really made me a lifelong fan of fantasy.

I agree with V.E. Schwab about the nature of fantasy and the nature of fandom. I also half agree with the Twitter thread. While I agree that there should be no shame in enjoying a book of any sort, whether we like it or not, there are some pretty clear expectations and cultural assumptions about what is canonical, popular, and literary. These things sometimes intersect, but frequently they do not.

I was always encouraged to read as a child. I don’t remember any favorites, but I do remember some series’, which I take to mean I must have liked them. I remember Dorrie the Little Witch (fantasy), Amelia Bedelia (comic but real world), and Babar (fantasy). I also remember reading C.S. Lewis Chronicles of Narnia in the originally intended publication order which is not fully chronological in terms of narrative. I remember more about the BBC tv movie versions (late 1980s, early 1990s) than I do the books. The one novel I do remember was The Horse and His Boy which is set in the same world, but features characters that have little to do with the Pevensies. I also remember liking the Little House on the Prairie novels. With the exception of Dorrie, all of these series are well-known canonical children’s series’; I honestly don’t know if Dorrie is still especially remembered and read.

The novels that stand out to me most as my likely gateway into fantasy and reading for fun are both something I found in a used bookstore in downtown Dublin (Ireland), Chapters, which is apparently still there (Long may it prosper!).  I had two experiences here that I’m pretty sure shaped my reading habits towards what they still are 20 years later. Both times, I saw a book, picked it up, thought it looked interesting, but put it back. After repeating this a few times, I finally bought and read the book. The first one was Watership Down by Richard Adams. The second was Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett. Both of these titles are fantasy, but one is recognized as more literary than the other. Part of this may be due to Watership Down being older (1972) than the Discworld series (The Color of Magic, 1983), but the best-selling nature of many installments of the Discworld series likely also factors in. Both have also been turned into tv programs, cartoons and live-ish action.

Terry Pratchett led to Neil Gaiman which led to Gail Carriger and a years-long steampunk kick. After college, when I started getting interested in Gaiman (I think Anansi Boys was my first novel of his- I really enjoyed it), I also got interested in manga and graphic novels. This I distinctly remember and can place. In 2006, I’d moved to an area rural enough to not have a bookstore, and to have a library but one which was not terribly well stocked for my tastes. I started picking up the Shonen Jump monthly, which was still in print at the time, at the grocery store, and flipping through it. I started buying that, then subscribed, and eventually started getting into the graphic novel forms, manga first, then comic books. The interesting thing about the graphic novel world is that no matter what the form or style (manga or comic book) a significant percentage of the titles belong in some way to a genre or sub-genre of fantasy.

I’m reasonably sure that it was manga and anime that brought me away from fantasy to science fiction; not that I don’t still read fantasy; I most certainly do, but I seem to have been expanding my fun reading a bit more the past year or two.  I just can’t quite pin down a gateway. If I had to, I supposed it might be either Chaucer’s “Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale” (c. 1390s) or Summerland by Hannu Rajaniemi (2018). I’ve also read some of the more canonical and popular science fiction but it’s never really grabbed me. I read Neoromancer because I figured I should; I didn’t enjoy it. I read Planetfall by Emma Newman because I loved her fantasy Split Worlds series. I didn’t like Planetfall.

My point? Inspired by the conversation going on about the nature of literature, popular, canonical and otherwise, examining my own reading habits and what got me started both supports the current discussion and disagrees. I definitely agree with V.E Schwab that there should be no such thing as required fan reading. Case in point: the things I’ve read because I figured I ought to, I frequently did not enjoy. V.E. Schwab is herself an exception to my general experience with best-sellers, since I don’t often agree with the general public opinion on the amazing-ness of the novel. The things that I don’t agree with quite as much is the existence of the single or few gateway books or stories. For those who have them, I say ‘good for you’. My experience suggests that it is also possible for the introduction and fandom of anything, including fantasy, also has the potential to be lot be more gradual. As far as I’ve seen, this option hasn’t been really addressed.

End/New Year New Idea

It seems like kind of a pattern that the past few years I’ve either ended the fall semester or begun the spring term with a big new thing to try, either research or teaching, that has something to do with writing. This year, over winter break, I was revising a composition course that doubles as introduction to literature since I have 3 sections of it this spring. I got the random idea that this semester I would work with students on a series of common problems or things students seemed to struggle with every term in writing assignments, the things I always seem to end up commenting on. I counted the number of class days I had to work with and, subtracting a few for things like the midterm and library research day, I came up with 28 class days for the semester. Each day could have one smallish composition related thing as its focus.

I eventually figured that this would make for a good warm up most class days. It did not take long to come up with the list. What took longer was trying to work out a good order (still working on that), and what components should be the focus of the 5-10 minutes of mini lecture/activity. I’m thinking already that I may end up wanting to reorder things.

What seems to be working so far (1 ½ weeks into the semester) is to tie the writing thing in with whatever the main literary concept of the day will be. I’ve annotated the first few days for example and also because I haven’t written the entire semester’s worth of actual notes or practice exercises yet. That’ll probably happen off and on every other week or so,

Writing Thing #1: Bibliography Citation (Bibliography vs Works Cited) MLA 8 for entry in anthology (prose or poetry) and complete work (like a novel) and web page (secondary)

Day 1 of class has no specific literary focus; it’s basically syllabus day. The main reason bibliography and general citation is first is that this will be necessary for nearly every assignment in class. I find this seems to be especially useful since there are always some students who don’t get the textbook right away for a number of reasons, and need to use alternative versions of the short stories for the first week or two. Thus, they need to provide a works cited in their homework so I know they are not leaving out parenthetical in-text references or getting the numbers wrong, but rather are using web versions without page numbers or simply a different edition.

Writing Thing #2: In-text parenthetical Citation for prose and poetry, both for quote and paraphrase

The literary focus is the short story genre, and plot graphing methods via line, circle, triangle/pyramid. The assigned story is Flannery O’Connor’s “A Good Man is Hard to Find”., and a set of lecture notes covering various definitions of short story. The exercise: Paraphrase from Poe’s definition of short story to have a single sentence which contains the main requirements for the genre. Quote in one sentence the necessary components given by Werlock.

Writing Thing #3: Signal phrases with quotes: don’t say ‘x quotes’ etc, format (commas and final punctuation), purpose of the signal phrase/attributive tag/lead in/ whatever other term of choice

The literary focus is narrators and narration, and the texts for the day are Poe’s “A Cask of Amontillado” and Millhauser’s “A Visit”. The exercise/discussion: Find where we finally definitively learn the name of the narrator in “A Cask of Amontillado”; hint: it’s located a ways into the story. Put together a sentence which includes a signal phrase and a quote (either the whole sentence or part of it) which responds to some element of why the name might be delayed.

Writing Thing #4: Quotation Marks: how and when to use when quoting and with titles (also use of italics in titles)

Writing Thing #5: Passive Voice: vs active, why to generally avoid it, when it’s ok; avoid ‘it can be seen/shown/proven etc’

Writing Thing #6: Pronouns- first vs second vs third (what they are and when to use), avoid generics (also expletive ‘it is’) as subject and why; also relatives (who vs whom, which vs that)

Writing Thing #7: Thesis Statements (detail and specific, ‘so what’ factor- meaning or importance)

Writing Thing #8: Topic Sentences- detail and specific, link to thesis, include ‘so what’ or meaning, placement, as transition and focus/forecast.

Writing Thing #9: Reasoning-Explanation of evidence; evidence supports not replaces argument or interpretation, must refer to details and explicitly reference evidence and reasoning behind how it supports idea(s)

Writing Thing #10: Comma use and abuse- joining clauses, oxford and with lists, with quotes, when to not use

Writing Thing #11: Colon and Semi-Colon- what they should be used for, not to be confused with/uses to avoid

Writing Thing #12: Grammatical person 1-2-3, and when to use what

Writing Thing #13: Introduction paragraph- provide context for subject and analysis (ie-thesis), not overgeneralized.

Writing Thing #14: Conclusion paragraph- review highlights, including thesis or main goal, final thought and/or why it might be important or useful to understand the way you’ve presented

Writing Thing #15: Supporting evidence- detailed, matched exactly to the point, cited

Writing Thing #16: Paraphrase- what it is (not patch-writing), when to use it, how to cite it

Writing Thing #17: MLA 8 Essay formatting: font, spacing, header, page number, bibliography, title

Writing Thing #18: Focus on the prompt- answer exactly what’s asked, note verbs and all required parts, don’t try to reconfigure too far to fit your ease/interest

Writing Thing #19: Focus and Interpretation- thesis and topic sentences, explanations (and evidence), detail, one point per paragraph.

Writing Thing #20: Reliable Sources (academic, general, popular) – author and date, publication source, use the works cited, when to use general or popular sources (and how to cite them)

Writing Thing #21: Using Dictionaries and Thesauri- know the exact definition and the proper context of the word.

Writing Thing #22: Synthesis- secondary source does not replace your ideas and need to be interpreted too as it suits your point.

Writing Thing #23: Fragments and Run-Ons- what they are, how to fix them

Writing Thing #24: Coordinates and Suboordinates conjunctions- what they are, which to use when

Writing Thing #25: Paragraph Structure review- point focused, specific; evidence- detailed, reasoning and explanation- focused and explicitly direct.

Writing Thing #26: Avoid- Generic statements, generalizing, rhetorical questions

Writing Thing #27: Web Searching- determining use and usefulness of source; can/should use this.

Writing Thing #28: Revision- order of revision: content (points and evidence, overalll structure), sentence-level, proofread, formatting.