Ancient times and elderly people

Did Agatha Christie suffer from Alzheimer’s at the end? U of T Magazine reports on a Canadian study intended to use computers to find out.

Avid Christie fans had the unsettling feeling that there might have been: the plot wasn’t as tight, the mystery not as carefully conceived. In 2004, the English academic Peter Garrard argued that evidence of Iris Murdoch’s Alzheimer’s disease appeared in her written work even before her doctor diagnosed it. So Ian Lancashire, an English professor at the University of Toronto, decided to analyze a selection of Christie’s novels.

He teamed up with Graeme Hirst, a professor in the computer science department. After digitizing copies of the books and developing their own analytical software, they examined the first 50,000 words of 16 of Christie’s novels. The earliest one, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, was written at the beginning of her career, when she was in her mid-twenties. The last one, Postern of Fate, was penned when she was 82. She died at 85 of natural causes.

Tip: Mirabilis.

Most historical studies, operating on an evolutionist/materialist model, are written from the point of view that people first organized towns and cities (the beginnings of civilization) for economic reasons, developing religious institutions, as a sort of afterthought, later on.

But a German-born archaeologist, Klaus Schmidt is challenging that assumption, on the basis of a discovery in Turkey.

Schmidt has uncovered a vast and beautiful temple complex, a structure so ancient that it may be the very first thing human beings ever built. The site isn’t just old, it redefines old: the temple was built 11,500 years ago—a staggering 7,000 years before the Great Pyramid, and more than 6,000 years before Stonehenge first took shape. The ruins are so early that they predate villages, pottery, domesticated animals, and even agriculture—the first embers of civilization. In fact, Schmidt thinks the temple itself, built after the end of the last Ice Age by hunter-gatherers, became that ember—the spark that launched mankind toward farming, urban life, and all that followed.

Tip: First Thoughts.

Overstreet on Fantasy

Jeffrey Overstreet has a good interview in Curator Magazine in which he talks about fantasy in general.

In short, I think there are powers and mysteries at work in the world that can only be expressed through fairy tales. Fairy tales allow us to cast nets into mystery and catch things that are otherwise inexpressible. Tolkien said that fairy tales can give us a glimpse of our eventual redemption in a way no other story can.

At its best, fantasy provides us with an escape from the narrow, restrictive perspectives of modernism. And with its emphasis on the primal, it returns us to engagement with the elements, with the stuff of rocks and trees and fire and rivers and mountains. Since those elements of creation “pour forth speech,” according to the Psalmist, we’re able to hear some things more clearly when we meditate there.

(via The Rabbit Room)

Ambivalent progress

Ponies

A nice picture of ponies from Iceland, where they used to have a Lawspeaker.

Had an interesting dream last night. I dreamed I was driving on a superhighway, approaching a wide bridge or overpass. There had been some kind of accident or disaster, and the entire wall on the right-hand side—what do you call it, a balustrade—had fallen off. So if you drove in the right-hand lane and swerved a little, you ran the risk of running off the edge and plunging to your death.

In the dream, I was terrified of getting on that bridge. Although there were three lanes to the left, where you could feel reasonably safe in driving, I was convinced that once I got on the bridge I’d somehow be forced into the right-hand lane, and go off the edge.

Not sure what it meant. I can relate it to my personality, though. The way I tend to run away from things I’ve identified as dangerous, even when that danger is fairly remote.

Which relates not at all to the subject of this post.

One of the things I learned from Prof. Torgrim Titlestad’s Viking Norway concerned law and literacy. It surprised and intrigued me. Here’s how it works. Continue reading Ambivalent progress

Acheivement

Dinah Shore

Frances Rose Shore (born February 29, 1916), better known as Dinah Shore, loved to sing as a child. At times, her father encouraged her to sing to the customers of his dry goods store.

But by the time she was college age, her father thought she should pursue an education over singing. Apparently he didn’t believe she had much talent. She went to Vanderbilt in Nashville and graduated with a sociology degree. During her senior year and the following year, she went to New York to audition wherever she could. According to Michael Sims, she struggled to gain attention.

[A] producer at NBC summoned her to Rockefeller Center. As the accompanist played the piano, Shore opened her mouth and produced no sound–not one note. She fled in tears. . . . In auditions she was turned down by Tommy Dorsey, who didn’t like her bobby socks and sloppy joe sweater, and by a pastrami-chomping Benny Goodman, who would only listen during his lunch break. In January 1939 she was hired to sing for Leo Reisman’s orchestra at Brooklyn’s popular Strand Theater—for a princely $75 per week. Xavier Cugat heard her and asked her to record one of his songs, paying her $20.

She signed a recording contract with RCA Victor in the summer of 1939. After she sang at the New York World’s Fair, the Daily News described her voice as “smooth as silk.”

Listen to a recording from 1941 of Dinah singing “Stardust.”

Dinah Shore became the first woman to host a prime-time TV show, and she stayed on TV in different ways for decades. She was a household face, voice, and name. She has three stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, several Emmys, and other awards.

Thor, loser

Phil used to post a Friday Fight every week in this space, so I was amused when Floyd at Threedonia posted a “Friday Night Fight” this afternoon. Even more amusing, it’s this clip from a TV movie, “Hulk vs. Thor.”

Marvel Comics’ Thor was always a dilemma for me. I only saw a few issues as a kid, and I was grateful that they paid some lip service to actual Norse mythology. But they made Thor a blonde, and shaved off his beard. (A friend told me that he understood that the artist had determined from the first that he wanted Thor to wear a red cloak, and red hair would have tended to bleed into that. I say that if you prioritize wardrobe over authenticity, you must be gay.)

Aside from the aforementioned cosmetic problems, the big change Marvel made was to make Thor bright. The Thor we meet in the Norse myths does not have what you’d call an analytical mind. He solves problems by a) hitting things with his hammer, or b) getting help from a smarter friend.

Historically, this may be a residue of class prejudice. The myths as we have them come from Viking Age poems. These poems were written by poets (skalds) who congregated around royal courts and made their fortunes by their language skills. They were intellectuals. Odin, being a god of poetry, attracted their worship, and they gave him credit for high intelligence. Thor, on the other hand, was the popular god of the common people, and the skalds portrayed him as a country rube. I suspect the farmers had other myths which portrayed Thor in a more positive light, but they didn’t get into poems that have come down to us.

The Norse gods have been something of a challenge for me in my fantasy novels, and Thor in particular. I try to follow orthodox Christian theology in my presentation of the supernatural. Christianity has generally considered heathen gods to be either a) a delusion, or b) demons (“No, but the sacrifices of pagans are offered to demons, not to God….” 1 Corinthians 10:20). It works best for fantasy purposes to treat the old gods as existent beings.

Odin’s easy. He’s smart, crafty, a liar, and it’s no stretch to imagine him as completely evil.

Thor is harder. It’s hard to envision a dumb demon.

So when I gave him a scene in The Year of the Warrior, I pretty much played him as what he is in the myths—sort of a force of nature, powerful and dumb. I cast him in a comic scene, which I think was just as corrosive to his worship as demonization.

Misplaced outrage

Homeless man holding a blank piece of cardboard

There’s an anecdote about C.S. Lewis that I’ve always enjoyed. One of his friends told of walking down an Oxford street with him one day, when they were accosted by a beggar. Lewis stopped and gave the man some money.

“You know he’s just going to go off and drink it up, don’t you?” the friend asked as they went on their way.

“Yes, well,” said Lewis, “if I’d kept the money I’d have probably gone off and drunk it up myself.”

There’s a wonderful humility and recognition of shared humanity in that story, I think.

Some people take the wrong lessons from such stories, though.

The essential thing is that Lewis was giving away his own money.

Years and years ago, I sat in on a teaching session led by a Lutheran pastor (we’ll call him Pastor Number One). He told a story of his own, one which (he thought) taught a profound lesson. I think it taught a lesson too, but not the one he thought it did.

Pastor Number One had taken a pastoral educational class which called for a “real world experiment.” Each pastor in the program was required to pack away all his clothing and his wallet, put on old, dirty clothes, and go out to spend a few days on the street as a homeless person.

Pastor Number One told, with some indignation, of getting in to see the pastor of a church (let’s call him Pastor Number Two, shall we?). Pastor Number Two had looked at him and said, “You’re strong and healthy. Obviously you’re able to work. Why don’t you get a job?”

“He was lecturing me!” Pastor Number One exclaimed, recalling the outrage. “I was hungry! I needed food! I didn’t need a lecture!”

I’ve often thought about Pastor Number One over the years, and it seems to me his righteous indignation was a little unjust.

Because the fact was, Pastor Number Two had had his number. Pastor Number One was indeed strong and healthy, and perfectly capable of working. He had come into the church under false pretenses, and had lied in Pastor Number Two’s face.

Pastor Number Two (if my experience in a church office where I saw [and helped] a lot of transients is any indication) had probably, over the years, developed a pretty good nose for bovine sewage.

What Pastor Number One saw as cold-heartedness, was in all likelihood just the exercise by Pastor Number Two of his fiduciary duty not to waste the money entrusted to him by his congregation (as well as a determination not to enable unhealthy life choices, or treat grownups like children). If Pastor Number Two was being judgmental, so was Pastor Number One.

And Pastor Number Two had the moral advantage of not being a liar.

The rules are different here (in my head)

Angela Lu of WORLD Magazine contemplates a story from last week.

Atlanta Progressive News (APN) reporter Jonathan Springston was fired last week because “he held on to the notion that there was an objective reality that could be reported objectively, despite the fact that that was not our editorial policy at Atlanta Progressive News,” according to an e-mail from his editor.

What a fascinating story. And it raises so many interesting questions.

I don’t deny APN’s right to make the termination. They would appear to be an ideological news website (here’s their link), and it’s no more out of line for them to fire someone who denies their ideology than it would be for a Christian web site to fire someone who converted to Wicca.

But I have to wonder, what are the rules for subjective journalism? Is it possible to fact-check a story, when the editor’s reality and the reporter’s are held to be completely unconnected? And why would anyone go to them for news, if they admit from the outset that what they’re reporting may not apply in the reader’s world?

What if a subjective journalist committed plagiarism? Maybe there’s nothing wrong with plagiarism in his reality. Or maybe the original document doesn’t exist for him. Who’s to say?

And indeed, how can the editorial board be sure that their subjectivity rule applies in Jonathan Springston’s universe? Maybe he works for an Atlanta Progressive Journal that embraces objectivity.

These are a few of the dilemmas of postmodernism. And one reason why the whole structure is collapsing.

“Creative Writer” Blogger Award

Creative Writer Blogger AwardAs you have seen below, we’ve been tagged for a “Creative Writer” Blogger Award. The rules are”

• Thank the person who gave this to you. (Takk (Thank you) to Loren Eaton of “I Saw Lightning Fall.” Be sure your sins will find you out.)

• Copy the logo and place it on your blog.

• Link to the person who nominated you.

• Tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one outrageous truth – or – switch it around and tell six outrageous truths and one outrageous lie.

• Nominate seven “Creative Writers” who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies.

• Post links to the seven blogs you nominate.

• Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them.

I’m tempted to plagiarize this, but I guess I won’t.

  1. My only trip out of the U.S. has been for a tryst in Argentina.
  2. I used to work at the post office, but I spent my time writing instead of delivering the mail.
  3. I went spelunking several years ago, slipped on the rope, and fell 30-40 feet.
  4. I used to own a Prius before the radio got stuck on Air America and wouldn’t turn off.
  5. I currently advise the next president of the United States.
  6. I can “hear” the scream of murder inside a person’s heart from miles away. (You get used to it.)

Now, who else might enjoy this award?

Really, there’s no need to thank me.