Books!! & other ways of passing the time. . .

On Saturday we took a small road trip to one of our favorite places to spend a lot of money: Borders!!! Now, not all Borders were created equal. In fact, when Borders came to New Orleans, there was disappointment all around, I think. And we have seen Borders ranging from the awesome (Ann Arbor) to pathetic (Houston) and everything (but not everywhere) in between. This particular Borders is about 1 1/2 hours away, and worth the trip. I was the one who wanted to go. This has been fairly rare, I must admit--part of my overall "crisis of literacy" (and not the one that I'm writing about in the dissertation). You see, for someone who wholeheartedly believes in the importance and value of reading to the human person, I have done painfully little of it for the past few years. I have had little motivation to pick up a book, especially a book I had never read before. Especially fiction. I did find time for some religious works, and have particularly enjoyed reading conversion stories. I would quip, "Graduate school will do that," and I believe that's true to a degree. I couldn't even really browse in a bookstore--I had no idea what to look for!! And on a level, it pained me. On another level, I was consumed by deep frustration and even a little apathy.

The good news is, this is passing, or has passed. I have read more books this year than in many recent years. Some have been children's books--okay, MANY have been children's books!! Most have been fantasy. It is possible that all have been fantasy (except the dissertation books, and I'm not sure how rereading Sons and Lovers for a chapter counts. . .) But at any rate, I have been reading, and I went to a bookstore, and with real enjoyment, picked out books that I actually want to read--some for me and some for my son. And as an extra bonus, I got a 25% educator discount!!!

So these were our purchases:

• for the toddler: Learn Shapes with Frog (shaped like a frog, and she recently learned to say "frog" even though daddy & mommy insist on saying "froggy") and The Crayola Rainbow Colors Book. (She also got a "duck"--as she says instead of "ducky"--which is actually a TY goose from the Charlotte's Web movie. Cute!)

• for the 10-year-old: Time Cat by Lloyd Alexander, Bed-Knob and Broomstick by Mary Norton (of Borrowers fame), and Here Be Monsters! by Alan Snow, which seems to be written in the Roald Dahl tradition. Two we put back are Stowaway by Karen Hesse and Robert Andrew Parker (because we couldn't get everything) and The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick, which I've been looking at for months because it looks so compelling and postmodern (in a good way).

• for the husband: (and for the Tolkien collection) The Return of the Shadow by J. R. R. Tolkien, because we (though not me so much) are actively building up our collection of the back histories. I find them interesting in a scholarly way, but difficult to read cover-to-cover. I'm all for collecting them, though!

• for me: A Penguin Deluxe edition of Lady Chatterly's Lover, which really wouldn't be anything interesting, except that it has very amusing (and kind of pathetic) cartoons about D. H. Lawrence's life all over the cover. So really, I bought it more for the cover than for the text, but it really was worth it!! And I also bought a fantasy novel called City of Saints and Madmen by Jeff Vandermeer. I've never heard of Vandermeer, but the back blurb claims that he "has reinvented the literature of the fantastic." What was really interesting to me, though, was not the novelty, though that's what initially caught my attention; rather, the book has a "feel" of Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities. It definitely seems postmodern, perhaps less well-organized than Calvino's (Calvino was, after all, a genius), and involves intertwining stories. It is a city of "elegance and squalor. Of religious fervor and wanton lusts. And everywhere, on the walls of courtyards and churches, and incandescent fungus of mysterious and ominous origins." And that's not even mentioning characters! I hope it lives up to its blurb without being confusing and pointless (a definite danger with postmodernism!).

All in all, a happy book-buying excursion! ;) Now I have to find time to read! I'm supposed to be polishing off chapter 4 of the dissertation this week, after I prep for my class for the next few weeks. I have a doctor's appointment Monday (and here begin the weekly visits), and I will see if my doctor thinks I can safely go to the Renaissance Festival next Saturday!! I hadn't been thinking of going, but then it occurred to me--if I can go on a shopping trip this weekend, why not a festival next? I only feel pregnant when I'm trying to sleep and have to sit up to change positions, and when I have periodic fits of exhaustion during the day. Other than that, I just feel like. . . me! ;)

I AM, I am: A Rare Reflection on a Homily

In general, I tend to be slightly frustrated with homilies, even fairly good ones. The composition teacher in me wants to ask, "where is your thesis?"; to comment, "you introduce too many ideas in that paragraph" and "your composition lacks focus," "you repeat your point rather than elaborating" or "did you exceed the maximum word limit?" I generally prefer compositions that are too long to too short, as long as they remain on-topic with no unexplainable digressions. I do think there is some value in critiquing homilies, even in this manner, because it requires the ability to summarize or restate what the point or points were, with the possible result that we review and analyze the points of the homilies themselves, not just the possible structural imperfections! (Yes, we are paying attention to substance, too!--perhaps more than when I grade papers...)

This evening, the homily was given by a deacon who endeavors to stick close to and explain the readings, sometimes a bit too literally or pedantically, but I generally appreciate the effort to connect the readings to each other, to the particular feast day or liturgical season, or to the theology that they inform. He focused primarily on the first reading, from Exodus, in which Moses encounters the Burning Bush (a scene of Ten Commandments fame, and it's hard not to picture Charlton Heston--or, secondarily, Michelangelo's Moses). Particularly, he addressed the name by which Moses would call God as proof of his truth to the Israelites: I AM. In contrast the the great I AM, he recounted occasions on which no one answered "I am," occasions on which someone was asked to take personal responsibility for one's actions: "Who is responsible for the underwear up the flagpole?" "Who is responsible for moving the teacher's Volkswagon onto the sidewalk?" "Who is responsible for the mess in the kitchen?" He pointed out that society doesn't particularly like for us to answer the question, "Who is responsible?" with the response, "I am," particularly in the case of sins, which are increasingly explained as being something other than sin.

What he did not say was, I think, the most interesting point of the homily, the one which I would have tried to coax from the student writing an essay on the subject (in another life, when I have the occasion to grade a composition on a religious theme--my students would willingly write them, but I could not, in my current setting, fairly grade them because of the hogwash that they would offer for religious justification; in order to have an intelligent composition on religion, you likely have to have the ability to discuss religion openly in class as a valid topic, and to stress that religion and logic are compatible). The Deacon did not say, but I believe implied on some level, that by taking responsibility for our actions, by saying "I am" to the question, "Who is responsible?" we are able to participate in the Divine purpose in our lives, and in the Divine presence in the universe--by being the "I am"--the motivating force in our own lives, the moral agent that takes responsibility for our own actions--and doing so in accordance to our understanding of God's will, we are reaching for the "I AM." This can apply to any number of instances, and it has to do, at times, with participating in (or facilitating) the good that may come from evil and sin. Here, I clearly diverge from the homily, and I am thinking of two things--the "doing evil to undo evil" arguments for legalization of abortion, as a default argument, of sorts, and an extreme example to explain the point, and the co- or sub-creation within Creation that Tolkien portrays in The Silmarillion.

In The Silmarillion, Tolkien creates the Valar as sub-creators, whom Ilúvatar created in order to participate with him in Creation. Each of the Valar sings a part in the beginning melody, a song which brings about the actual substance of the universe. Melkor, the greatest of the Valar, seeks to challenge Ilúvatar (sorry for the oversimplification), and weaves discordant sounds into the melody in an attempt to take control of it himself, but each time, Ilúvatar is able to create still greater music and harmony out of the discord. This idea of creating beauty out of discord is extremely significant for Tolkien, and is a profound reflection on the Doctrine of Original Sin and the Incarnation. I understand the Great I AM, the underlying responsibility for the universe, in these or similar terms.

It is in reference to the personal "I am" that I invoke the problem of abortion. I invoke above, reluctantly, but because they are the most visible and dramatic example of the theology I am trying to invoke, the arguments that abortion should be permitted in the cases of rape and incest. The justification is typically seen by those who oppose abortion in all cases, on moral grounds, as seeking to "fix" an evil situation by acting in a manner that is intrinsically evil. In my terms, when asked, "Who is willing to take responsibility for this new life?" it is the refusal (or inability, in the face of the evil situation) to answer, "I am." The "I am" is not the answer, in these cases, to the question, "Who is responsible for creating this new life?" (The answer to that would be "I AM.") In this situation, the personal "I am" is having the strength (admittedly, such an act of responsibility would take considerable strength, and there is no way of knowing if any one of us would be equal to the task) to be responsible for transcending the evil, and participate in the Divine task of turning discord into beauty.

I am a strong believer in personal responsibility, and it is easy enough to recognize in perhaps the majority of elective abortions, the refusal, supported by numerous discourses, to take responsibility for one's own actions. But in the case of the usual exceptions, rape and incest, it is more difficult. The obvious answer is, "you can't answer evil with evil," but that answer is only partly satisfactory, and has always left me wondering whether there might be another way to answer this to address the injustice of making someone who is not, through an act of her own will, responsible for the situation take responsibility for the actions of another. (Notice I do not seek to answer the anticipated objection, "Well, is the Church going to support this child for her?"--The question is not relevant.) This is not where this post was meant to go, but it is, as I said, the most obvious example of being the remedy to a sin that is not one's own. Taking responsibility for one's own sins, the actual subject of the homily, is more straightforward. Furthermore, when one's personal sin yields a good result, it is not an excuse for the sin, but evidence of the turning of discord into beauty, and hence, a revelation of Divine goodness--the "I AM" behind the "I am."

It was a Lenten homily, and also a Spring Break homily, perhaps intended to save the priests time in the confessional before Easter listening to tales of Galveston. For me, it made sense of a puzzling passage--why "I AM," anyway? Was it just a Hebrew thing that didn't translate well?--and some puzzling moral issues, and provided a much longed-for excuse to blog about Tolkien. All in all, a successful homily!

P.S.--Part of the curse of teaching composition is that abortion is the ready-made example for EVERYTHING!

Exercise and the Academic

I have come to a realization recently that, having put into writing, I can not longer take back or deny, even to myself (barring catastrophic server failure--my how the "rules" of literacy are changed in the online environment!); namely, that exercise does increase intellectual productivity. I will revisit this post in my months of sloth later this semester, when I am lamenting all of the things I have to do, seemingly lacking the energy to do them. Exercise is something that I enjoy when I do it regularly, but that, in times of sloth, I look back on with fear and loathing. Why? I'm not sure. Perhaps what I remember is the sweatiness, not the faint pleasure and self-satisfaction that comes from slightly sore muscles or the pleasure of the warm bath afterwards (preferably with bubbles). Or I dwell on the seeming impossibility of making time to visit the rec center, the embarrassment of taking out fitness tapes in the living room, the worry that the yoga mat will get trampled by dirty feet. . . So having overcome all of these things, primarily because of Target's display of fitness items in the dollar (in this case, $2.50) spot in the front of the store, and having warmed up to the idea of exercise by playing a few rounds of Dance, Dance Revolution Mario Mix (I only do the Mario version), I have found that I actually do domestic tasks and perform intellectual acts in the same day. Trust me, this is a profound difference for me. I am actively working on the dissertation and preparing for the course I will be teaching starting next Tuesday, and I have even mustered the will to visit the library rather than having the items delivered to me electronically or via my very accommodating husband, who works there and pampers me by dutifully responding to any random Library of Congress call numbers I happen to send him during the day. I can only attribute these things to exercise, which I know gives physical energy, but which I've never found to deliver mental energy.

So I was thinking, what does this do to our image of the sedentary academic? You know, that outdated image that (for me anyway) still holds some charm--the "ivory tower" image, where the white male professor in tweeds collects dust among his books while writing his books. It occurs to me that the film (and play) Educating Rita exploits and subverts this image by portraying Frank, the professor, as depressed and frequently, a slobbering drunk. A lovable, crotchety, burned-out husk of a man, played brilliantly by Michael Cain. I also admit to having in mind the figure of J. R. R. Tolkien, who was incredibly prolific with his fantasy, enjoyed plenty of social intercourse with the Inklings, and also published the occasional scholarly work while reading, taking notes, teaching, learning ancient Scandinavian languages and the like. He had the tweed thing going on, and could be envisioned spending hours in a musty, dusty room. It does occur to me, however, that he loved to walk--to hike, more specifically, and that Professor Ransom in Lewis's Space trilogy--an active guy who goes on Australian-esque "walkabouts"--was in fact based on Tolkien. This specific example can perhaps be considered with the general walkability of college campuses built before--or largely in scorn of--automobiles. I have always wanted to attend such a college: brick buildings, large (undiseased) trees of various sorts, pavements (not concrete), ponds, etc. Alas! for state school aesthetics. In the past, or perhaps still in other places (with more walkable climates!), academics were, indeed, active. All this by way of trying to motivate myself to get some exercise each day. Whew!

Some other intellectual stimulants: warm baths and Republic of Tea Blackberry Sage Tea. That second one is especially important. They market it as a "Tea of Wisdom"--believe them. It does something to the brain--stimulates thought, cures headaches--beyond the power of ordinary caffeine. It is also a mood-altering drug with no counter indications.

Tea and baths; I am a hobbit indeed. Let's not even talk about mushrooms! So to end in a hobbitish fashion:

"Sing hey! for the bath at close of day
that washes the weary mud away!
A loon is he that will not sing:
O! Water Hot is a noble thing!"