periculaludus - Tumblr blog

[periculaludus]

This is going to sound awfully snobbish and arrogant. But I am struggling so much with the concept of narrowing my thesis. I'm writing a PhD and want to write about something meaningful (cue eye rolls...I know) but I keep on being told to narrow, narrow, narrow. I know this is very good advice, but it often feels like my topic is becoming uselessly niche and generally not very interesting or important. Have you experienced this feeling before? How do you get past this!?

So, I’m really mad because I wrote like a six-paragraph response to this and then acidentally hit the ‘back’ button. Fuck Tumblr for not saving drafts automatically. Fuck me for not doing it manually. Anyway I’m going to try to remember everything I just wrote: 

This doesn’t sound arrogant to me, but it does sound a little naïve. Now, bear with me while I talk about bees for a minute. (Yes, you read that right. Bees.) Bees are small. Some people are scared of them and some shitty people kill them, but most just don’t think about them very often. But without bees pollination wouldn’t happen, plants would die, animals that eat plants would die, and animals that eat animals that eat plants would die. Basically, without bees we’d be pretty much fucked. The same is true of academia. If you want to say anything meaningful, you have to know the minutiae first. You want to have big majestic bears, you can’t kill off the bees. Everybody who starts working on a thesis or dissertation wants to say something grand and meaningful, but those romantic notions will wear off pretty much as soon as you sit down to actually do the work and realize how many little things you need to know just to be qualified to attempt that. Academia is not the place for romance. It’s a place to be realistic. What kind of argument can you make convincingly in about 20,000 words? 

Here’s the other thing: Believe it or not, the ‘niche’ research is often what ends up being the most valuable. I mean, thank God Marcus Nordlund wrote 95 pages on the economy of candles in the early modern indoor playhouse so I didn’t have to in order to talk about darkness in The Duchess of Malfi. Thank God Charles S. Forker understands the Renaissance legal system in Naples so I didn’t have to learn Latin to edit one scene of The Devil’s Law-Case. You get the idea. All scholars have different specialties, and what might not seem particularly interesting to one may up being vitally important to another. ‘Niche’ is not a bad thing. Writing something ‘niche’ actually enables you to to make a sharp, pointed, and thoroughly researched argument instead of trying shoehorn a huge philosophical statement into a graduate thesis. At best it’s going to come out feeling cramped, at worst woefully incomplete, and either way two weeks before your deadline you will want to die. Trust me. I’ve made that mistake too many times to tell it any other way.

Here’s what I’d suggest: Start with one of those big ideas you’re passionate about. Feminism, atheism, colonialism, whatever. Start there and start reading primary/secondary material. (Pro-tip: Start with the most recent criticism and use their bibliographies to follow the breadcrumbs back to the origins.) As you do this reading, look for themes or trends or specific details of the argument that intrigue you. For instance: My dissertation started with the huge unwieldy topic of n/Nature in King Lear. Eight months later I’m using a very specific strain of Aristotelian ethics to explore the question of culpability for three of Shakespeare’s tragic villains. Narrow? Hell yes. But because the argument is so narrow it actually enables me to say, “Shakespeare was really the only early modern playwright (besides Chapman, sort of) who eschewed the absolute moral binary in favor of weighing characters’ actions against intent, agency, and other mitigating/aggravating factors. This matters because it’s the same legal framework we still use today, which makes it much easier to understand the plays and supports their continued relevance.“ That’s a big statement. But I can back it up because my research has been both exhaustive and specific. Have I had to read a lot of really dense philosophy and theology and jurisprudence dating back several thousand years? Yes. Has all of it been fun? Absolutely fucking not. But all of that ‘niche’ work has enabled me to present what I feel is a meaningful interpretation of Shakespeare’s tragic villains, which is something I care a whole lot about. This is a really long of way of saying: Start with the big idea and find a little idea inside the big idea. That’s how you stay excited without biting off more than you can chew. 

Make it about the bees. When you have a professorship and twelve research assistants you can worry about bears.

[periculaludus]

Rules: Complete the questions and say who tagged you in the beginning. When you’re finished, tag people to do this survey. Have fun and enjoy!

Tagged by @lady-musketeer-of-middle-earth Thanks for reminding me that tumblr exists.

1. Are you named after someone? My mum was a teacher, so she picked a name she didn’t associate with any horrible students.

2. When was the last time you cried? I don’t remember. It’s been a while.

3. Do you like your handwriting? It hasn’t changed much over the past 20 years. I’m okay with writing like a little kid. Recently, people have started to comment positively on it. I like to think that it at least entertains.

4. What is your favorite lunch meal? I usually have a fruit smoothie.

5. Do you have kids? I call my students my kids (even though they are adults) so hundreds of them.

6. If you were another person, would you be friends with you? I’d probably still be an introvert so it’s highly unlikely.

7. Do you use sarcasm? Never.

8. Do you still have your tonsils? Yes.

9. Would you bungee jump? Sure.

10. What is your favorite kind of cereal? Crunchy granola

11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? I try to remember, but it doesn’t always happen.

12. Do you think you’re a strong person? Like everyone else, I just deal with what’s being thrown at me.

13. What is your favorite ice cream? Chocolate. Ideally with chocolate chips and brownie bites and chocolate sauce and chocolate... you get the picture.

14. What is the first thing you notice about people? That they are too close to me.

15. What is the least favorite physical thing you like about yourself? This question seems a bit convoluted. So are we after something I like, but it’s pretty far down on my list of likes? Let’s go with my stripey hair in early spring. My hair goes very blonde during the summer and then brown during the winter. So right now I look like a skunk.

16. What color pants and shoes are you wearing now? I’m in bed, so let’s not go there.

17. What are you listening to right now? The sea gulls making a racket outside.

18. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Maroon.

19. Favorite smell? Wild gorse.

20. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? The travel health nurse to make an appointment for vaccinations.

21. Favorite sport to watch? Football. The only sport I ever really watch.

22. Hair color? See above, stripey. I’m thinking about dyeing it for my 30th, colour recommendations would be much appreciated.

23. Eye color? Baby’s got blue eyes...

24. Do you wear contacts? No.

25. Favorite food to eat? Steak in peppercorn sauce sounds good right now. Well, actually, it’s 8am so a pot of skyr is probably better.

26. Scary movies or comedy? Movies? Why??

27. Last movie you watched? Umm... @marigoldfaucet??

28. What color of shirt are you wearing? See above, I’m in bed.

29. Summer or winter? I enjoy all seasons, even the dark, dark winter this far up north.

30. Hugs or kisses? If I had to limit myself to only one it would be hugs, but I do quite like kisses as well.

31. What book are you currently reading? My PhD.

32. Who do you miss right now? My late dad.

33. What is on your mouse pad? Haven’t had one for ages.

34. What is the last TV program you watched? I watched Black Mirror last year! It didn’t bore me out of my mind.

35. What is the best sound? The roar of a crowd in a football stadium, birdsong, waves crashing, wind whistling... I like sounds.

36. Rolling Stones or The Beatles? The Beatles. Thanks dad.

37. What is the furthest you have ever traveled? Quick calculation of great circle distances... furthest I’ve been from where I am now is Hong Kong 9537km away, beating San Diego by a good 1000km.

38. Do you have a special talent? According to my first school report in primary school, I have a special talent for creating chaos. Judging by the evidence I’d say that’s correct.

39. Where were you born? Kehl, Germany

tagging: @marigoldfaucet @mistergandalf

[periculaludus]

Eavesdropping on his mother’s phone conversation, the grad student repeatedly hears the phrase “not a real doctor.”

[periculaludus]

Isolated and without communication, a lone nuclear-armed submarine and it’s crew are faced with a difficult choice in the aftermath of the destruction of the United Kingdom: Retaliate or Don’t Retaliate. 

For @periculaludus.

[periculaludus]

When Wren wishes her mother dead, she must set out on a quest to find the Witch in the Tower in order to bargain for her mother’s soul. In order to complete her quest, Wren must brave not only the dangers of the forest, but those of her own heart as well.

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into my arms, O Lord

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All quiet now Their mouths are stopped up by mud They lie flung in rags and make no sound

Underground Underground Leave them underground

[periculaludus]

THE RITUALS OF ROMANCE;

RITUALS OF BEAUTY are shared experiences of aesthetic romance. RITUALS OF PLEASURE are acts of sexual and erotic intimacy. RITUALS OF PRESENTATION are displays of material wealth or physical beauty. RITUALS OF FATE create a sense of destiny through the discovery of a shared past, longing, secret, dream or desire - without fate, the romance is doomed to tragedy.

[periculaludus]

Trying to grade sixty papers, read 800 pages, write three proposals, and reply to 50 e-mails in four days, the grad student simply cannot.

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The Half Hour S05E09 – Emily Heller

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InkTober Day 19

Terry Pratchett

[periculaludus]

This is gorgeous! Thank you so much darling, what a wonderful gift. Makes me feel so special. Thank you, this is lovely. My musketeer fics, all in one place and ready to be read. Perfection! This makes me turn all Athos—I’m so not worthy.

author adoration: @periculaludus

la messe de minuit | vigile pascale | praise and glory | sans peur et sans reproche

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When writing dialogue for stories or novels, you would think it’d be easy to talk the talk. But writing strong dialogue between characters requires knowing how to use specific craft techniques effectively—and knowing which grammar mistakes to avoid!

[periculaludus]

I’m not a paper grubbing, credit hungry, metric preoccupied, overcompensating sociopath with a penchant for overstatement. I just play one on my CV.

[periculaludus]

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Thorin from The Battle of the Five Armies.

[periculaludus]

Here’s my life. My husband and I get up each morning at 7 o’clock and he showers while I make coffee. By the time he’s dressed I’m already sitting at my desk writing. He kisses me goodbye then leaves for the job where he makes good money, draws excellent benefits and gets many perks, such as travel, catered lunches and full reimbursement for the gym where I attend yoga midday. His career has allowed me to work only sporadically, as a consultant, in a field I enjoy. All that disclosure is crass, I know. I’m sorry. Because in this world where women will sit around discussing the various topiary shapes of their bikini waxes, the conversation about money (or privilege) is the one we never have. Why? I think it’s the Marie Antoinette syndrome: Those with privilege and luck don’t want the riffraff knowing the details. After all, if “those people” understood the differences in our lives, they might revolt. Or, God forbid, not see us as somehow more special, talented and/or deserving than them. There’s a special version of this masquerade that we writers put on. Two examples: I attended a packed reading (I’m talking 300+ people) about a year and a half ago. The author was very well-known, a magnificent nonfictionist who has, deservedly, won several big awards. He also happens to be the heir to a mammoth fortune. Mega-millions. In other words he’s a man who has never had to work one job, much less two. He has several children; I know, because they were at the reading with him, all lined up. I heard someone say they were all traveling with him, plus two nannies, on his worldwide tour. None of this takes away from his brilliance. Yet, when an audience member — young, wide-eyed, clearly not clued in — rose to ask him how he’d managed to spend 10 years writing his current masterpiece — What had he done to sustain himself and his family during that time? — he told her in a serious tone that it had been tough but he’d written a number of magazine articles to get by. I heard a titter pass through the half of the audience that knew the truth. But the author, impassive, moved on and left this woman thinking he’d supported his Manhattan life for a decade with a handful of pieces in the Nation and Salon. Example two. A reading in a different city, featuring a 30-ish woman whose debut novel had just appeared on the front page of the New York Times Book Review. I didn’t love the book (a coming-of-age story set among wealthy teenagers) but many people I respect thought it was great, so I defer. The author had herself attended one of the big, East Coast prep schools, while her parents were busy growing their careers on the New York literary scene. These were people — her parents — who traded Christmas cards with William Maxwell and had the Styrons over for dinner. She, the author, was their only beloved child. After prep school, she’d earned two creative writing degrees (Iowa plus an Ivy). Her first book was being heralded by editors and reviewers all over the country, many of whom had watched her grow up. It was a phenomenon even before it hit bookshelves. She was an immediate star. When (again) an audience member, clearly an undergrad, rose to ask this glamorous writer to what she attributed her success, the woman paused, then said that she had worked very, very hard and she’d had some good training, but she thought in looking back it was her decision never to have children that had allowed her to become a true artist. If you have kids, she explained to the group of desperate nubile writers, you have to choose between them and your writing. Keep it pure. Don’t let yourself be distracted by a baby’s cry. I was dumbfounded. I wanted to leap to my feet and shout. “Hello? Alice Munro! Doris Lessing! Joan Didion!” Of course, there are thousands of other extraordinary writers who managed to produce art despite motherhood. But the essential point was that, the quality of her book notwithstanding, this author’s chief advantage had nothing to do with her reproductive decisions. It was about connections. Straight up. She’d had them since birth. In my opinion, we do an enormous “let them eat cake” disservice to our community when we obfuscate the circumstances that help us write, publish and in some way succeed. I can’t claim the wealth of the first author (not even close); nor do I have the connections of the second. I don’t have their fame either. But I do have a huge advantage over the writer who is living paycheck to paycheck, or lonely and isolated, or dealing with a medical condition, or working a full-time job. How can I be so sure? Because I used to be poor, overworked and overwhelmed. And I produced zero books during that time. Throughout my 20s, I was married to an addict who tried valiantly (but failed, over and over) to stay straight. We had three children, one with autism, and lived in poverty for a long, wretched time. In my 30s I divorced the man because it was the only way out of constant crisis. For the next 10 years, I worked two jobs and raised my three kids alone, without child support or the involvement of their dad. I published my first novel at 39, but only after a teaching stint where I met some influential writers and three months living with my parents while I completed the first draft. After turning in that manuscript, I landed a pretty cushy magazine editor’s job. A year later, I met my second husband. For the first time I had a true partner, someone I could rely on who was there in every way for me and our kids. Life got easier. I produced a nonfiction book, a second novel and about 30 essays within a relatively short time. Today, I am essentially “sponsored” by this very loving man who shows up at the end of the day, asks me how the writing went, pours me a glass of wine, then takes me out to eat. He accompanies me when I travel 500 miles to do a 75-minute reading, manages my finances, and never complains that my dark, heady little books have resulted in low advances and rather modest sales. I completed my third novel in eight months flat. I started the book while on a lovely vacation. Then I wrote happily and relatively quickly because I had the time and the funding, as well as help from my husband, my agent and a very talented editor friend. Without all those advantages, I might be on page 52. OK, there’s mine. Now show me yours.

Ann Bauer, ““Sponsored” by my husband: Why it’s a problem that writers never talk about where their money comes from”, http://www.salon.com/2015/01/25/sponsored_by_my_husband_why_its_a_problem_that_writers_never_talk_about_where_their_money_comes_from/ (via angrygirlcomics)

This is so important, especially for people like me, who are always hearing the radio station that plays “but you’re 26 and you are ~*~gifted~*~ and you can write, WHERE IS YOUR NOVEL” on constant loop.

It’s so important because I see younger people who can write going “oh yes, I can write, therefore I will be an English major, and write my book and live on that yes?? then I don’t have to do other jobs yes??” and you’re like “oh, no, honey, at least try to add another string to your bow, please believe that it will not happen quite like that” 

It’s so important not to be overly impressed by Walden because Thoreau’s mother continued to cook him food and wash his laundry while he was doing his self-sufficient wilderness-experiment “sit in a cabin and write” thing.

It’s so important because when you’re impressed by Lord of the Rings, remember that Tolkien had servants, a wife, university scouts and various underlings to do his admin, cook his meals, chase after him, and generally set up his life so that the only thing he had to do was wander around being vague and clever. In fact, the man could barely stand to show up at his own day job.

It’s important when you look at published fiction to remember that it is a non-random sample, and that it’s usually produced by the leisure class, so that most of what you study and consume is essentially wolves in captivity - not wolves in the wild - and does not reflect the experiences of all wolves.

Yeah. Important. Like that.

(via elodieunderglass)