Every published writer is the beneficiary of luck. Among my good fortune was the fact that editors began to treat me as if they were my aunts. They were all women, of course. There were no men in the fiction departments. On one of my visits to New York, three or four editors from different magazines sat me down in the Algonquin, plied me with manhattans, and discussed my career. It was now three years since my big resolution. I was selling stories regularly. One year I sold more stories to Redbook than anyone else ever had, using several pen names. It was the consensus of the group that I was ready for more. I needed an agent.
Ralph M. McInerny, author of the Father Dowling series, wrote about his career many years ago in First Things.
“What I thought were stories piled up on the workbench. With time I began to see why they were rejected: They weren’t stories.”
“An artificial intelligence system being developed at Facebook has created its own language,” reports Digital Journal. “It developed a system of code words to make communication more efficient. Researchers shut the system down when they realized the AI was no longer using English.”
Whether the AI agents were actually saying anything of consequence is another matter. If they weren’t, this is just an interesting story of robot slang, which is a natural way to use language. But it’s still evil, natch. Robots talking among themselves in a language they developed themselves? That’s the definition of evil.
A big story in the news this week is the return of an old story. People are rallying to remove monuments of Confederate soldiers, which remind them of our country’s disturbing history, a slave industry that continued to oppress long after its dismantling.
But slavery still exists in the sex industry and is defended by some of the very people calling for the removal of monuments (as well as some of those supporting the monuments). Brothels in Nevada, surrounded by barbed wire, imprison women, if not girls as well, who supposedly living free and fulfilled lives.
One of the most disturbing discoveries I made was that the loudest voices calling for legalisation and normalisation of prostitution are the people who profit from it: pimps, punters and brothel owners. They have succeeded in speaking for the women under their control. The people who know the real story about the sex trade have been gagged by a powerful lobby of deluded ‘liberal’ ideo-logues and sex-trade profiteers.
… why on earth do human rights campaigners and so many on the left support prostitution as a ‘job’ for women, and a ‘right’ of men? It all begins with the emergence of the campaign against HIV/Aids.
(via Prufrock News)
Callie Feyen writes about James Thurber’s The Wonderful O, in which a sailor named Black hates the letter O. She says it’s terribly funny.
Despite Black’s efforts, the people of Ooroo bring O back. They do it by speaking the names of characters in beloved stories: Romeo, Robin Hood, Shylock, and Captain Hook. Black scoffs at their efforts; these characters, he says, are mere creatures of fantasy, made of ink, and “ink can be destroyed . . . books can be burned.”
(via Prufrock News)
The Calling podcast has a good talk this week with Trevin Wax. He talks about his love of books and his calling as a writer in ways they don’t drip with sap (such as you may or may not read in other places). Here’s one quote lifted off the podcast page.
On writing’s challenges: “The biggest struggle is bouncing back and forth between pride and humiliation. If you’re not careful, that mix can paralyze you. If you take praise or criticism too personally, it’s bad for heart. It’ll shut you down.”
I would subscribe to The Calling, if my podcast app would cooperate with me, but it’s showing me the hand this week.
A new exhibit at the Getty offers a revealing look at women from the Middle Ages.
With an understandable weariness, the exhibition’s creators acknowledge, both on the introductory museum label and catalogue book jacket, that most people imagine medieval women as damsels in distress, being rescued perhaps by a dragon-hunting St. George. One has to meet the popular mind, fattened by dismissals of the Middle Ages (“a world lit only by fire”), where it unfortunately lags. But to slay this myth as surely as St. George speared his dragon, the curators unfurled manuscripts of a different, lesser known legend, that of St. Margaret. Consumed by a dragon, Margaret ripped her way out of his stomach herself with a crucifix. Like Jesus, it seems, Margaret could be born (from a dragon at least) without the help of a man.
James Wilson praises a new translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by John Ridland, calling it a “startling success.”
Most translators have either abandoned the [loose alliterative lines of the original] altogether or tried to replicate its alliterative movement in hopes of conveying its harsh, Germanic energy. Ridland, in contrast, renders the poem in loose iambic heptameter, thereby giving us a form that sounds both native and natural to our ear. He also introduces sporadic and spritely alliteration to preserve a hint of the poem’s exotic roughness.
He offers an excerpt, which you might compare with this translation (from the first stanza of part two):
a year turns full turn, and yields never a like;
the form of its finish foretold full seldom.
For this Yuletide passed by, and the year after,
and each season slips by pursuing another:
after Christmas comes crabbed Lenten time,
that forces on flesh fish and food more simple.
(via Prufrock News)
Stephen Burnett asks whether Christians have gotten over their opposition to Harry Potter. Although he has always been a fan, many of his connections have not and were not at some point in the past.
“Most of my Christian friends must agree with me. In the last week I’ve seen only Harry Potter positivity: quotes, memories, and glee over the Facebook magic-wand app tricks.”
He offers a few ideas on what may have changed, if anything. I suspect I saw many knee-jerk reactions to the series in the beginning, and now that book seven has been read and discussed we see Rowling’s full story. Many respectable leaders have praised the series for its Christological elements, making it difficult for someone who has not read the books to argue against them. How many people who oppose Harry Potter also oppose Lord of the Rings? That’s a hard sell for many believers.
Vincent “Vino” Malone fuels his blog with a love for Olive Garden pasta. It’s called “All Of Garden – One Man’s Quest to Eat All the Pasta.” He appears to have ended this quest, having eaten all the pasta he can stomach. I could be wrong.
Olive Garden Corporate has not rolled out any lasagna for the man who may be their biggest fan. Instead they’ve sent him a cease and desist letter, demanding he remove their name from his site.
And Vino replied.
>>date: Wed, Jul 19, 2017 at 8:47 AM
>>Mr. Forcements — may I call you Branden? Since this an asynchronous mode of communication, I’m going to assume you are magnanimously acquiescing, and I will refer to you as Branden forthwith — I received your email yesterday.<<
Someone deep within the garlic-filled halled of OG Corp. says this D&C letter was sent by a bot and no one will actual free will intends to followup with legal action. Presumably they also will not reply to Vino in limerick form, as he requested.
Last week my children joined dozens of others in daily rehearsals to pull together one of three Shakespearean plays, which were performed Friday and Saturday. Main characters were chosen months before and given benchmarks for memorizing their lines. They met for practice several times over the months, and costumes were worked out during that time, but last week everyone gathered to do everything that needed to be done.
My kids performed The Tempest. My eldest stretched herself marvelously to rend her heart on stage. “You cram these words into mine ears against the stomach of my sense.” She played the Queen of Naples, which is a switch from the original king, because with several girls ready to perform, some of the roles work more smoothly by changing their gender. Two other roles in the Naples royal party were switched, and I didn’t notice until just now when I looked it up.
The other plays were Much Ado About Nothing and Hamlet, and you should see these actors. Some of them have great comic timing, others marvelous artistic flare. I’m told Hamlet and Laertes met several times to practice the wrestling and fencing they performed; it was aggressive, real, and stunning.
The woman who has led these productions for years is researching how practicing Shakespeare has influenced these students. I’d think some studies have been done, but this kind of thing merits frequent review with new groups and practices. All the parents appreciate it. Far better to see your children pull together a strong Shakespearean play (with some of them as young as nine) than to see them in a cheesy skit or modern morality play on self-esteem. With Shakespeare, they are stretched to understand the story, the words, and the actions of the characters. That’s akin to reading old books in order to stretch your modern mindset. Anyone could benefit from that.
I’m glad we’ve been able to participate for the past five years.
Nick Ripatrazone writes about a few dystopian novels published in the past few years. In Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven, a group of actors struggle to survive and elevate the spirits of other survivors they find. Enter the villain, a religious huckster.
This leader of a doomsday cult reveals an interesting trope in the dystopian universe: it’s not enough for the world to end. That plot element is too grand, too distant. The characters need an immediate, human foil. Catastrophe turns them inward.
It’s the inner story that often most compelling.
R. A. Lafferty (1914-2002) stands out as a faithful Catholic who wrote science-fiction. Neil Gaiman called him “undoubtedly the finest writer of whatever it was that he did that ever there was.”
In her review of The Man with the Speckled Eyes, the fourth and newest volume of a collection of short stories, Helen Andrews describes the man and some of his ideas. (via Prufrock News)
Running throughout the book is Lafferty’s cyclical theory of world history. Mankind builds civilization generation by generation and, periodically, destroys what he has built, so cataclysmically that the next generation has to start from the beginning. Fourth Mansions, his novel based on Teresa of Avila’s Interior Castle, follows the same theory. Just as the individual soul ascends from mansion to mansion, mankind ascends through levels of civilization; the higher it gets, the more demons try to assail it. Teresa wrote of vipers and toads. In Lafferty’s cosmology, these are “tentacled liberalism (the python-hydra)” and “Communism, from underground (the toad with the tantalizing jewel in its head).”
Has it been simply, unquantifiable choices that has kept Jane Austen’s works so well liked or could it be her word choices? The Upshot spells out some research into what types of words Austen used compared to many other authors in a two century span. (via Alan Cornett)
In other news, Jane Austen’s letter hilariously mocking a gothic novel will be auctioned for the first time at Sotheby’s tomorrow.