Reading the Middle Ages, by Theodore L. Steinberg

I originally picked up this book on the fly at the library, simply because it looked like a fun read. (I should mention that I'm a medieval lit scholar, so "fun read," in this case, is an entirely relative opinion.) I can't say in retrospect that it was the most interesting or even the most useful resource on the Middle Ages that I've come across, but I'm glad I took the time to read it. And at a less-than-whopping 188 pages, it didn't take up too much of my time.

This book primarily functions as an introduction to medieval literature. (That is, in fact, the subtitle.) The author's purpose is to present a number of significant pieces of literature from the period, summarize them, and explain their value for contemporary readers. He reviews such famous works as Beowulf and the lais of Marie de France, and he also adds such less familiar pieces as The Tale of Genji and the literature of the Jewish people. On the whole, this is a fairly thorough survey of primary literature, although it inevitably leaves out some writings. But I can't complain about that. There's no good way to write a complete survey of medieval literature without sending the reader into an advanced state of narcolepsy. And Steinberg's purpose isn't necessarily to offer a complete look - just a look. For the most part, he succeeds, but my feelings about his success are mixed.

For one, the tone of this book is startlingly inconsistent. At times, Steinberg comes across as cloying and condescendingly simplistic; at other times, he becomes quite erudite and distant. I couldn't quite figure out what to make of his tone, and I almost felt as though I was reading a book that had been written at two entirely different periods in the man's life: the earlier part in his later years, the later part in his earlier years. (Difficult to explain, but this is how it read at times.)

I think the other problem lies in Steinberg's lack of clarity about the purpose for the book. Is it a guide for undergraduates? For graduate students? For high school students? My opinion is that this would be a great book for homeschooling parents who are going to be assigning some pieces of medieval literature and need a little background info to get their feet wet. This book would be very useful for that. It's informative and easy to read, and it has just enough information for people who will be reading the literature and need a little boost with it. I wouldn't recommend it, however, as a stand-alone guide, because it has just a little too much of Steinberg's opinion to be reliable.

For anyone who is interested in scanning this book to see if it's worth another look, it's actually on Google Books at this link.

Anne of Green Gables, by L. M. Montgomery

It might seem strange, to be reviewing a book that most readers are familiar with and that I wouldn't dream of not recommending. But I'm in the process of writing a study guide for Anne of Green Gables, and I'm finding myself charmed by it once again, so I thought I'd share some thoughts on it.

I first read this book (I think) in my late teens and remember enjoying it immensely. Not surprisingly, I got caught up in P.E.I. fever (to the extent that I now have an old book I found at a book sale, all about the history of the island) and read everything L. M. Montgomery that I could get my hands on. Reading Anne of Green Gables once again, though, I don't find myself as caught up in the passion for all things Avonlea as I am fascinated by the characterization in the story. It occurs to me now that what makes this book (and the series in general) such a classic is the way that Montgomery shapes her characters and the various means that she uses to represent them. Dialogue is such an important element in the story: the never-ending chatter that reveals Anne in all of her charming brilliance, the laconic remarks that help to define Matthew and Marilla individually, the sharp-tongued but well-meaning honesty of Rachel Lynde. As a student of literature, I find myself in love with the way that Montgomery is telling the story, as much as I find myself in love with the story all over again.

And of course, it is difficult not to love the story. Anne is so genuinely but aburdly dramatic. She is such a perfect fit for Matthew and Marilla and makes a place for herself in Avonlea such that the people there couldn't imagine a time before there was an Anne (with an e...) of Green Gables. I love that Montgomery shows Anne as a catalyst for character growth as much as she indicates Anne's own character development (character, in this case, referring to the personal character and not the figure in the story). Matthew and Marilla need to grow as people, just like Anne needs to grow. Anne brings change into people's lives that they didn't know they needed, and it is this universal sense of positive change that makes the story more than just your average children's book.

Because of this, I find myself suggesting that adults who read Anne of Green Gables a while back take another look at it. There are more gems to be discovered and delightful - or dare I say "scrumptious" - moments to relive in the story. So, I recommend a good pot of tea, a deep, comfy chair, and a few hours of pure bliss with Anne, Marilla, the indefatigable Rachel Lynde and the many adventures that Avonlea has to offer.

Inventing the Victorians, by Matthew Sweet

Completing this book completes a very unusual circle for me. I first checked it out from the library a little over a year and a half ago - before my husband and I found out that he was to be deployed and I moved back to Texas - and I was unable to finish it. On a recent trip to the library (now that I've returned to Hawaii), I saw it sitting on the shelf, and judging by the stamp on the inside cover, I appear to be the last person to have checked it out. So, I brought it home once more and decided to read it through this time.

While I find certain points about the Victorian Age to be fascinating, I'm not generally a fan of the period, having subscribed to the popularly negative point of view about it. It turns out that I might have simply bought into a generalization that has no substance whatsoever but has been imposed upon the Victorians by later generations. In wonderful detail (and perfectly delicious prose), Matthew Sweet presents a series of excellent arguments for why the Victorians have been misjudged and for how they should really be viewed in history. As he notes in the introduction:

We are less inclined to acknowledge their responsibility for an almost uncountable number of other important innovations: both for concepts which are often believed to be ahistorical - such as the inherent goodness of children, homosexuality and heterosexuality, the notion that family members, ideally, should like each other - and for a huge roster of inventions usually assumed to be of more recent origin. Blame them, or thank them, for the suburban housing estate. For the fax machine. For the football league, political spin-doctoring, heated curling tongs, vending machines, the electric iron, the petrol-driven car, feminism, the London Underground, DIY, investigative journalism, commercially-produced hardcore pornography, instantaneous transcontinental communications networks, high-rise public housing, plastic, free universal education, product placement, industrial pollution, environmentalism, fish and chips, X-ray technology, sex contact ads, paper bags, Christmas crackers, junk e-mail (by telegram, but just as annoying), global capitalism, interior design and Sanatogen - the stuff that surrounds us in the early twenty-first century world, both the good and the bad.

As the final comment suggests, Sweet's purpose is not so much to claim that the Victorians were better or worse than we think but that they were different. He provides a variety of examples to prove that the Victorians did not, in fact, cover their piano legs, force women into corsets to confine them morally, lack in social and cultural sophistication, or even lack at all in bedroom prowess (to put it delicately). Sweet indicates that the Victorians were socially aware, fascinated by all things sexual (and bisexual), in constant pursuit of new thrills, and considerably more open minded than we give them credit for. I've been in the habit of claiming that it is our fast-paced and over-stimulated culture that has created the problem of short attention spans and need for ever-greater thrills, but the Victorians were the ones to start this fad. I've become accustomed to thinking that the fashion of the corset and Victorian female dress had something to do with an obsession with patriarchy, but it might just have been fashion - as deplorable as the fashions of Botox, plastic surgery, and eating disorders are today, but they are also fashions and are followed for the reasons that only fashions are followed.

This book does have some weaknesses. Sweet does a very good job of skimming the overall surface and of providing a fairly complete argument, but there are some places where it seems to me that the details fall short of proving Sweet's point and of giving his argument finality. There are other places where Sweet fails to really make a point and only succeeds in offering some fascinating tidbits from history. But what makes this book work as a whole is the overall uniqueness in the argument and in Sweet's method of tracing clues to arrive at unexpected results. I was certainly convinced that I've misunderstood the Victorians, and this book offered me a completely new perspective for reading them. As a result, I recommend this book highly for anyone who has even the remotest interest in the Victorians or even in more modern history, as Sweet makes some truly wonderful connections between that era and ours.

Freebie

I recently cleaned out some boxes and found a copy of the two-CD set The Wise Woman's Guide to Blessing Her Husband's Vision, by Doug Phillips (released through Vision Forum). I'm giving it away to anyone who's willing to cover the cost of shipping. Here's what it looks like:



I removed the plastic but never actually listened to it, so it's essentially brand-new. My husband doesn't care for the materials that Vision Forum produces and has asked me to get rid of it - ironically giving me the opportunity to put the title of the CDs to good use without actually partaking of the material contained therein - but I wanted to see if anyone wanted it before I throw it away. Just let me know.

The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr, from the Reduced Shakespeare Company

Since I read Greenblatt's Will in the World last week, I thought to balance it with a, shall we say, lighter reading on Shakespeare. This book is based on the production of the same name performed by the Reduced Shakespeare Company. The text is written in play-form and represents to the reader what the performance would have been like (complete with extensive footnotes). Although I've not had the opportunity to attend a performance - I understand there are videos on YouTube, but I've not viewed them - I had a pretty good understanding of what it would be like just from reading the book.

The overall concept behind the Reduced Shakespeare Company's performance of the The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr (this is how the title is printed on the cover of the book, as shown above) is to indicate to readers at lightning speed the storylines of the various plays. And by lightning speed, I mean lightning speed. Titus Andronicus is reduced to a handful of lines, and even Romeo and Juliet gets short shrift. The performers run through most of the histories, tragedies, and comedies with only the mention of a sentence or two, but they do have the decency to devote fifteen minutes or so to Hamlet. The result for the reader or audience member is a quick summary of the plays and the most cursory understanding of what they are about.

As for my response to this particular read, my feelings are mixed. On the one hand, I enjoyed the RSC's brave attempt to perform all the plays of Shakespeare at once. On the other hand, it wasn't anywhere near as funny as I hoped it would be. Some of the humor felt a little dated, and I don't mean dated in the Elizabethan sense. The original performances were put on in the early 90s (or earlier), so the players made references to social events that were contemporary to that time. Not surprisingly, many of these social references are no longer funny. But it wasn't only the dated humor that failed to amuse me. I suspect that the performance translates better in person than in print, but from the text it felt contrived at time - a deliberate attempt to get a laugh from what I can only call goofiness. It didn't do much for me. The only time I remember laughing during the course of my reading was when they performed the reduced version of Hamlet backwards (I don't know why), and the ghost said, "Oob." For some reason, this tickled my funny bone. But that was it.

In addition to the contrived silliness throughout the performance, the footnotes quickly lost whatever humor they originally had with the constant references to various "secret" implications of homosexuality within Shakespeare's plays. The mention of swords (to name but one element) as a metaphor for male anatomy has long been overdone and is no longer amusing. But the footnotes kept going, never failing to indicate a place where such phallic imagery was possible and what it meant in a homosexual context. Yawn. Not funny at all. As a final note, and merely because it got on my nerves, the authors/performers felt the need in the conclusion/epilogue to comment on politics (for no reason other than personal opinion) with what I can only call unnecessary remarks about the man who was President at the time they began performing. While I accede to each American his write to vote for the candidate of his choice, I have little respect for people who retrospectively make offensive comments about previous leaders in the context of discussing literature. Not the time. Not the place. Choose another venue. (Like the polling booth...)

Anyway, I don't know that I recommend this book wholeheartedly, although it's not terribly time consuming and is, in places, pretty brilliant for the way that the performers managed to condense Shakespeare. This is more a book for the Shakespeare fan, I think. For the rest of us, maybe YouTube is a better option.

Bleak House, by Charles Dickens

In reviewing Bleak House, I think should start by back-pedaling a little from my previous comments about the works of Charles Dickens. I have, in the past, made it clear that I don't care for Dickens or his style of writing. In particular, I dislike the representation of protagonist females as a sort of "domestic goddess" - the beautiful and utterly virtuous (read: ideal) woman who is at all times gracious, supportive of her husband , sacrificial, and as a result painfully simpering. Not that it's wrong for a woman to be gracious, supportive of her husband, and sacrificial, but these female characters quickly blend into one another throughout the books and often have very little individual personality. This description of women is somewhat common to Victorian literature as a whole, with Dickens leading the way in the representation. (I am aware that these comments are wildly general, and I apologize to Victorian lit scholars. Suffice it to say, these are my own observations of the genre and my personal reasons for usually avoiding it.)

However...I really liked Bleak House, the stereotypical female character of Ada Clare notwithstanding. The Clare character was balanced enough by women who had more spunk and personality and didn't seem to turn the book into an epistle on the role of women. In fact, Bleak House is replete with fascinating female characters, and Dickens deserves respect for representing women in all of the diversity that they really exist. Ada Clare was unrealistic to me (far too obnoxiously perfect, although reasonably likable), but Esther Summerson - who narrates large portions of the story - is nothing like Ada. She's polite and ladylike, but she's determined, strong-willed, and comfortable with who she is, almost like the character of Eleanor in Barchester Towers. There's also Lady Dedlock, who is billed as something of a sinful women who pays for her crimes, but there are also strong indications of respect for her on the part of the narrators; and it would be difficult to categorize her easily. In the periphery, there are Caddy Jellyby, the indomitable Mrs Bagnet, and even the irrepressible Mrs Jellby to sprinkle the story with very complex female characters that make for a fascinating story. As for male characters, Dickens offers up some very memorable men, a few that are highly honorable and a few others that are just downright slimy. Mr Tulkinghorn is probably the most famous for his sneaky manipulations of those for whom he works, but I thought that Dickens outdid himself with Mr Vholes, who was extremely difficult to understand and even to describe with ease. To me, these are the characters that make the story one of the finest I've ever read.

To get to the story itself, at the center is the long-running case of Jarndyce and Jarndyce, a legal battle dating back to time unknown and revolving around the settlement of an estate. This case comes to represent the problems within the legal system itself and to symbolize the apparently miscellaneous stories that appear random but all seem to be connected in the end. Dickens is a master of character studies, so there are perfectly delicious moments that actually had me laughing out loud. (The description of the philanthropic women with the five unhappy sons is one of those moments.) At times it feels as though he is just carrying on for the sheer delight of it; but the detail is also a quality of the era in which Dickens is writing, and I suspect that no self-respecting Victorian writer would have scrimped on detail. At the same time, my copy of the book ran for 819 pages. It took me a couple of weeks to read, but around a week and a half I felt as though I'd been reading the book for most of my adult life. Even my husband - who usually pays little attention to what I'm reading - said a couple of times, "Good grief! Are you still reading Bleak House?"

But it was worth it. Bleak House has a little bit of a mystery in it - a heroine of mysterious birth - and that definitely kept me reading. The story does seem to wander at times, but Dickens very skillfully weaves it all together in the end. The subtitle of the book can very well be "It's a small world after all," because of how everyone and everything proves to be connected. This is a truly brilliant book, and I'm happy to admit that my dislike of Dickens now isn't universal. I recommend this book with enthusiasm, and I'm almost looking forward to reading David Copperfield, which is also on my reading list this year. Not back-to-back, though. Bleak House is lengthy and intense and I'm not sure I can recommend reading too much Dickens at once. I'll come upon liking his other books slowly.

Substitutions

When I made my original reading list for the year, I was making the assumption that I'd be able to acquire all of the books on it. Since moving to Hawaii, I've since discovered that such is not necessarily the case. The state of Hawaii has an excellent library system, but it's not exhaustive. I've decided that any books I'm unable to get through the library must be removed from my reading list and replaced with other selections. As of now, I'm making substitutions for the following books:

The Bible in Spain
Borden of Yale
The Burning Bush
The Cabinet of Antiquities
Catherine of Siena
Christianity and Liberalism
The Conquest of Granada
The Contender
Cripps, the Carrier
The Cruise of the Nona

My goal is still to read sixty books this year; it just won't be the sixty that I originally planned on reading. As I continue trying to locate books on my first list, there might be other substitutions as well. For now, these are definitely books that I won't be reading this year. I realized that I have a number of books in my personal collection that I've never read, and I don't feel like buying any books right now. I might as well take advantage of the resources that are available to me rather than conjuring up what's unavailable. Ah, well. I might enjoy the chance to go where the wind takes me on some of my substitutions.

Will in the World, by Stephen Greenblatt

The subtitle of Stephen Greenblatt's book Will in the World is How Shakespeare Became Shakespeare. The subtitle of my review of this book is Why Literary Scholars Should Not Write History. Now, in all fairness, Stephen Greenblatt is a great Renaissance scholar. He is (according to the back of my book) the University Professor of the Humanities at Harvard and is widely recognized as an influential voice in the field of Renaissance studies. My professors in graduate school noted that he is considered the voice in Renaissance studies at this time, so I have to tread lightly with respect to criticism of his work. Additionally, Greenblatt is considered a founder of the New Historicist movement with literary studies. Boiled down to its most basic, this movement is essentially the attempt by literary scholars to read history through literature. Greenblatt does this often in Will in the World. He quotes a passage from one of Shakespeare's plays and follows the quote up with an explanation about how one might read this passage in terms of Shakespeare's own life.

Notice the use of the word "might." I was only about five pages into this book when I began noticing something that disturbed me. Greenblatt claims to be examining the way that "Shakespeare became Shakespeare," but his theories are so speculative as to make this subtitle somewhat dishonest. Words and phrases such as "maybe," "perhaps," "it is possible," "almost certainly," and so forth are sprinkled throughout the book, but the story that Greenblatt weaves is so clever as to make this element less noticeable. But it is a problem in this book. I have no doubt that Greenblatt can handle a solid interpretation of Shakespeare with aplomb. In fact, he does it repeatedly throughout the book, and many of his close readings of passages from the plays and sonnets are beautifully done. As soon as he begins speculating on how these passages might relate to Shakespeare's life, he loses some authority. For instance, Greenblatt makes general observations about the marriages between characters in a number of plays and concludes that Shakespeare's marriage must have been unhappy. He notes some rather random points from Shakespeare's plays about fathers and makes what I would have to call sweeping statements about Shakespeare's own father. The problem is not that Greenblatt is necessarily wrong. The problem is that we have absolutely no idea if he is right or wrong and no way of finding out.

There is, in short, a dearth of information about Shakespeare. Apart from a smattering of mentions and name listing on a few legal documents, there is almost nothing tangible that modern readers have about Shakespeare's life. Thus, Greenblatt turns to the plays. The problem with this, however, is that the plays don't really provide anything more than a vague possibility for what was happening in Shakespeare's life. Case in point: after the publication of Lord of the Rings, a number of critics concluded that Tolkien must have been making a comment about World War II. Were we lacking information about and from Tolkien, this might appear to be a good argument. The problem is that Tolkien stated quite clearly on a number of occasions that this was not the case. I would have to say that the same potential exists in Shakespeare's writing. It's very possible that Greenblatt is making legitimate inferrences from the plays. It's even more possible that he's just creating a fantasy, however well-written.

I have to admit that far from convincing me, Greenblatt's book only raised more questions in my mind about who Shakespeare was. This review isn't the place to have a debate about the topic, but frankly, if I were a Shakespearean scholar I would have some major questions about the lack of information available about him. And that's what I took away from Greenblatt's book. I learned a great deal about Elizabethan England but almost nothing about Shakespeare. In fact, I feel that I know even less about him from reading this book than before I read it: in the process of opening the door of speculation, Greenblatt only managed to open the door of doubt. As a result, I have to say that I can't recommend Will in the World. It's certainly interesting and extremely readable, but it falls too short as a solid look at Shakespeare and is highly disappointing from such an accomplished academic.

Cross-posted at Bookfest

Tutoring

Now that I've finished my MA, I'll be doing online tutoring again, primarily (though not exclusively) for homeschoolers. Does anyone know of good places to advertise for this? I've been a little out of the loop while I've been in school, and it's always so hard to get the proverbial foot in the door.