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Listening comprehension

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Photo credit: Franco Antonio Giovanella . Unsplash license.

Still busy with my big translating project. I expect it will be done tomorrow. I worked through the weekend, and even had to work on Sunday, which I generally try not to do. But I kept the hours short that day, and made sure I gave myself time to relax on the sofa with an e-book in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day – not as beautiful as today (it almost got up to 70 degrees), but sunnier.

And a wonderful thing happened.

You may recall how I’ve been talking about “totally immersing” myself in Norwegian, to improve my conversational skills. I read the language well, but have trouble understanding it when spoken. So I started listening to Norwegian radio through an app on my phone. News from the state broadcasting channel, and a gospel station from Stavanger. Which meant the gospel station all weekend, because the all-day news channel turns into a BBC feed on Saturdays and Sundays.

So I was lying there on the couch, reading my book and listening to the gospel station. A man was preaching. And suddenly I realized I could understand him, pretty much.

I stopped reading and listened closely. Yes, I could follow him, most of the time. 75% comprehension, I’d say. Enough to follow his line of thought.

Now I need to explicate. He was speaking very distinctly and clearly, in the way of good preachers (though he was using a dialect, but I know most of the variant terms). And he was preaching from the Bible, so I understood all the quotations right off. So I’d compare my experience to someone learning to read with a beginner’s level book.

But being able to read a beginner’s book is a start. Listening to other things, I’m pretty sure I’m understanding more than I did. A week ago I was catching nothing but a few scattered nouns and verbs.

I lay there for a while with a feeling of wellbeing I haven’t experienced in a long time.

There’s a negative side-effect I find interesting. When I think about what I’m doing, there’s a small voice in my mind screaming “NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS! YOU AREN’T ABLE TO DO THIS!”

Examining it dispassionately, I think it’s related to my shyness/avoidance. The insane guy in my head is trying to protect me from the dangers of human interaction, terrified I’m going to open another portal by which enemies may enter.

That’s just part of the deal, I guess. I’ll have to handle it.

A more pleasant side effect is that I’ve been sleeping well. As an old man, I’ve gotten used to a state of things where I go to sleep around midnight and wake up around 6:00 a.m. Then I try to get back to sleep. Usually without success. But now I turn on Norwegian radio and listen to it idly while trying to get back to sleep, and so far it’s worked. Which means I’ve gotten three straight nights of relatively normal sleep hours.

I still feel tired, but that’s got to be a good thing.

Authors

A Review of Lewis’s Medieval Mind

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Understanding C.S. Lewis’s worldview, not as merely Christian with a British spin but as devoutly medieval, will help new readers grasp and enjoy his work. Lewis would hate social media and maybe every Internet. He disliked the mechanistic world and preferred organic nature. (I’m seeing this unfold in That Hideous Strength, which I’m reading with friends over several weeks.)

As an educator, Lewis the scholar sought to restore to students a medieval mindset capable of what Baxter calls “the right sentiments of praise and admiration for creation.” As we have lost our appreciation for that “slow, contemplative, symphonic world” that was the medieval cosmos, so we have lost our delight in the kinds of books medieval people loved, books that held up other criteria besides mere originality.

C.S. Lewis Was a Modern Man Who Breathed Medieval Air… | Christianity Today
Music

Sunday Singing: “Be Thou My Vision”

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“Be Thou My Vision” performed by Celtic Worship

This may be my favorite hymn for as long as I can remember. The original Irish words are attributed to the monk Dallan Forgaill in the poem, “Rop tú mo Baile.” They have been used in Christian services in Ireland for several hundred years. The folk tune, “Slane,” may go back to the 4th century. Both the words and tune are said to have been inspired by St. Patrick’s protest of King Logaire of Tara’s order forbidding any fires until after he lit the sacred fire of the spring equinox. Patrick ignited a fire for Easter on Slane Hill as a way of saying Christ is the king of heaven and earth.

I appreciate the group Celtic Worship for including the oft-skipped third verse in this hymn.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power

Authors, Blogs, Socials, Coffee, Tea, Drinks, Fiction, Poetry

Heeding the Dark Side, Janus-headed Poetry, and Serpents in the Classroom

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“Nature’s dark side is heeded now–“

Herman Melville wrote a poem in 1860 of his “Misgivings” before The Civil War.

“With shouts of the torrents down the gorges go,
And storms are formed behind the storm we feel:
The hemlock shakes in the rafter, the oak in the driving keel.”

We’ve had storms and rumors of storms for about a month.

This week, the Russian army bombed a large theater in Mariupol, Ukraine, trapping over a thousand people who were sheltering from the siege. Last week, The Guardian ran an article reporting that some believe such destruction is an intentional effort to wipe out Ukrainian heritage and identity, to steamroll their country into Soviet-era sameness with Russia. (via Prufrock)

It’s difficult to take my mind off of the rattling, explosive thunder from the other side of the world. But here are a few other things.

The Complete Review reads The Runes Have Been Cast by Robert Irwin (not a recommendation to our readers, but still of possible interest):

With its colorful characters — notably Raven and Wormsley, but also, for example, Molly (who admits: “I don’t want a happy life. I want an interesting one”) — and a composed-seeming Lancelyn who finds himself coming apart in a world he can not readily categorize and impose an order on, much of The Runes Have Been Cast is tremendous good fun.

Poetry: “De la Mare (1873-1956) was among the first poets I read as a kid. Much of his verse is Janus-headed.” (via Books, Inq)

Coffeehouse Renovation: The Christian Study Center of Gainesville, Florida, is raising funds to renovate Pascal’s, their university community’s coffeehouse.

Education: Thomas Korcok’s Serpents in the Classroom reveals the religious agenda of many who formed how we think of education today. He shows how “these pillars of today’s education rejected Christianity and offered their approach to education as a way to undermine its influence and instill in young people something better.”

Camus: Albert Camus’s The Stranger “was first published in an underground edition in 1942, during the Nazi occupation of France, a time of widespread killing without emotion or remorse. It excited controversy from the start; Jean-Paul Sartre admired the novel but called it ‘unjustified and unjustifiable’ …”

Pilgrim’s Progress: “Bunyan gives us four ways to engage in the mental and spiritual fight. We have to fight thoughts with thoughts, words with words, untruths with truths.”

Photo: Belmont County Courthouse, Saint Clairsville, Ohio. 1995. John Margolies Roadside America photograph archive (1972-2008), Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.

Uncategorized

‘Homeland of the Viking Kings’

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I have a lot to do. I can’t find any music that pleases me. So tonight you get a little promo video, telling you about Avaldsnes in Norway. This is where my great-grandfather was born, and it’s one of the places I’m going this summer (God willing) to play Viking — likely with some of the people shown in the video.

Have a good weekend.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Murder Must Advertise,’ by Dorothy L. Sayers

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…the most convincing copy  was always written with the tongue in the cheek, a genuine conviction of the commodity’s worth producing—for some reason—poverty and flatness of style….

All in all, among the delights of Dorothy Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey mystery series, Murder Must Advertise may be the most perfect specimen. Which is rather odd, to my mind, as it takes Lord Peter generally out of his natural environment (his priceless valet, Bunter, only makes a brief appearance). In Murder Must Advertise, Lord Peter goes undercover as an advertising copywriter, and finds to his surprise that he’s rather good at it. (Author Sayers herself spent some time in that very career – she is credited with coining the phrase, “It pays to advertise!”)

Victor Dean, a young copywriter at Pym’s Publicity, fell down an iron spiral staircase in the offices one day, breaking his neck. A letter to his employer was found among his effects, and that letter said that something illicit was going on among the staff. For that reason, Mr. Pym engages Lord Peter Wimsey to investigate. Lord Peter substitutes horn-rimmed glasses for his usual monocle and shows up for work, easily sliding into the circle of copywriters. He calls himself Death Bredon (these being his two actual middle names). Meanwhile, at night, Death Bredon becomes a habitue of wild parties hosted by a notorious young heiress. Drugs are being distributed at these parties, and somehow the drug network is connected to Pym’s Publicity. Death Bredon charms some people, insults others, and generally stirs things up to see what will happen. What happens is murder.

Murder Must Advertise is about as close as Miss Sayers ever came to full-blown hard-boiled fiction. Lord Peter is very different from Philip Marlowe, but there’s some of the same atmosphere here of mean streets and ruthless criminals. I like it quite a lot, it goes without saying.

Cautions, American readers, for a lengthy chapter involving a cricket game. Most of you will be as at sea in that environment as I am.

Non-fiction

Mariupol, a Ukrainian Black Sea Port, is Battered and Despairing

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Yesterday, three AP reporters published this account of the war horrors suffered in Mariupol, Ukraine. On March 4, the city lost power. The only stations the radios could receive played Russian news People took everything they could from the grocery stores.

On March 6, in the way of desperate people everywhere, they turned on each other. On one street lined with darkened stores, people smashed windows, pried open metal shutters, grabbed what they could.

…

Nearby, a soldier emerged from another looted store, on the verge of tears.

“People, please be united. … This is your home. Why are you smashing windows, why are you stealing from your shops?” he pleaded, his voice breaking.

There are so many bodies and as yet no way out.

Religion, Uncategorized

Ancient wisdom

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Cactus Watching the Sunset. Photo credit: Tom Gainor @its_tgain. Unsplash license.

Finished my paying translation for today. Working on the volunteer stuff now. I came across an expression that the author himself says is something “the old folks said” (and he’s writing in the 1890s). I have a vague idea what it must mean, but I thought I’d check with a couple Norwegian resources on Facebook. One was a former seminarian, the other a historian. Neither had ever heard of it. So I figure I’ll make my best guess, and footnote it, and chances are nobody will ever figure my mistake out if I’m wrong.

Here’s a story I came up with.

There was a young man who longed for ancient wisdom. He traveled the world, speaking to the wisest people he could find in Africa, the Middle East, and the Far East. He sat at their feet and listened to their wisdom, but his heart was not satisfied.

Eventually he made his way to the American Southwest. He heard of a Navajo wise man who lived in a hut on a mountaintop. He climbed the mountain, with much labor, and spoke to him. “I am seeking ancient wisdom,” he said. “What do you have to tell me?”

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life,” said the old Navajo.

“You don’t understand,” said the young man. “I was seeking ancient wisdom.”

“It’s 2,000 year old; what do you want?” replied the old man.

Music, Religion

‘Blott en Dag’

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Another busy day. I have much translating to do. This situation would be more pleasant if it was all  paying work, but I found out yesterday I’d fallen behind in my volunteer stuff. The volunteer stuff pays better, of course, but I’ll have to wait till I get to Heaven to collect.

Beautiful day today. Temperature in the 50s. It was a genuine pleasure to be outside, the short time I spent there. That hasn’t been true for some time.

I continue listening to Norwegian radio, both secular and sacred. Today one of the hymns I listened to was one that’s very popular among my tribe, though it comes originally from the hated Swedes. “Blott En Dag” means, essentially, “one day at a time.” Above, a young Sissel does it on Norwegian TV. The standard English translation is called “Day by Day” (not to be confused with the ditty from “Godspell”). Its first verse goes:

Day by day, and with each passing moment, 
Strength I find to meet my trials here. 
Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment, 
I’ve no cause for worry or for fear. 
He whose heart is kind beyond all measure 
Gives unto each day what He deems best. 
Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure, 
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

You can read the rest here, along with a short bio of the lyricist, Carolina Sandell, a really excellent Swedish hymn writer.

That mention can suffice to make this my obligatory Women’s History Month post, now I think of it. Don’t say I never threw a bone to the feminists.

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it…

Religion, Uncategorized

Swimming in linguistic waters

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Nothing to review, and I’ve done little but work in the last few days (no, that’s not true. I loafed yesterday. It was Sunday). So I’m journaling today, I guess. Yet again.

It was warm today, in the upper 30s. Tomorrow will be even better, and I don’t see a freezing day on the horizon. I approve of this development. I shall tip the waiter generously.

I complained, the other day, about my inability to understand spoken Norwegian, the language I translate professionally in text form. One of our readers, Deborah HH, suggested I listen to Norwegian radio. I thought this an excellent suggestion, and installed a Norwegian radio app on my cell phone.

My strategy (or wishful thinking) is to attack the problem subconsciously. I will just have the radio on, listening idly as I do other things. No sustained effort to understand what I’m hearing. My working theory is that that effort is a part of the problem. I know all these words. I just don’t process them when they come in through the audible gate. When I consciously try to interpret, I get hung up on individual words and lose the flow. What I need is an involuntary response. I’m hoping that as I listen over time, my subconscious will jump the gap and connect to my dictionary storage unit. Something like “total immersion” learning.

It took some searching to find the channels I wanted. Most Norwegian radio is indistinguishable from American radio, except for the announcements. They play music, and it’s mostly American music. I wanted talk, and in the Old Country language. There’s an NRK (Norwegian National Broadcasting) channel that’s all news, and that’s just the thing, as far as it goes. But around 2:00 pm (our time) they switch to BBC News, which is no use at all (in more than one sense).

But I finally found a channel to listen to after that. It’s Jæren Misjonsradio (Jæren Mission Radio). If the name Jæren seems familiar, its old name is Jaeder, and it’s the region where Erling Skjalgsson lived in his time (around Stavanger). A region with a great evangelical tradition, of which my ancestors were a part.

They feature preaching in Norwegian, which is good. I recognize the Bible passages, and that helps me along. And the music they play is mostly in Norwegian too – and some of it’s quite excellent.

Today I heard one preacher – a good one – and happened to notice his name on the crawl. Carl Fredrik Wisløff. This was thrilling. Wisløff was a prominent evangelical preacher, teacher, and writer in Norway up to his death in 2004. I used to sell some of his books in the bookstore at the seminary – we had a large stock of one of them. He even visited our schools once, I’m told, but that was before my time.

Now, back to work.