Friday's Guest Blogger: Every Friday, we are going to have a guest blogger blog about whatever they'd like. I will include a little introduction here for each guest.
Today's guest is a reader and long time customer of the Gothic. He has chosen to remain anonymous but I think you will find this nonetheless interesting.
-Arthur-
Heard at the dinner table.
Man to my right, ‘What really blew me away was Napoleon’s chess set. They actually had Napoleon’s chess set. Can you believe it? The one he used at Saint Elba, where he died in exile.’
‘No. No.’ The woman to my left, ‘He was exiled to the island of Saint Helens.’
My two dinner companions were just about to step over the boundary of polite conversation and start an argument, and spoil our friendly dinner. The man had been describing his visit to Biltmore, the huge Vanderbilt mansion in Ashville, North Carolina. In one of the rooms he had seen a chess set that had supposedly belonged to Napoleon Bonaparte when he was banished to an island.
I happened to know that they were both right—and wrong. I was in a position to be the peacemaker.
‘You’re both right’, I said. ‘He was exiled in 1814 to the island of Elba, between northwest coast of Italy and his native island of Corsica, by the allied governments that had been fighting him. But early in 1815 he managed to escape and return to France. He was defeated again, this time at Waterloo. The allies wanted to be certain he could not escape again, so they had him taken to the island of Saint Helena, nearly in the middle of the South Atlantic, more than a thousand miles from the West Coast of Africa.’
Both of my dinner companions were elated: they were both ‘right’ and had demonstrated their erudition. I did not correct their little mistakes concerning the names of the islands.
But after a few moments the man turned to me and said, ‘I did not know that you were an historian.”
“I’m not’, I said.
‘You must be a geographer, then’ the woman said.
‘No, I’m not. I am a medical research scientist at Duke.’
‘Well, then, how do you know all this?’ they both asked.
‘I guess I just like to read’ I said. ‘And to know things.’
‘How interesting’ the man said. ‘I like to play golf.’
copyright©2008 bwallen
Friday, November 7, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Aw, Schlocks
Don’t worry, Arthur, we’re not going to try to smarten you up any. You’re already smarter than I am, and I can only barely stand knowing that.
I’m very much with you on the pleasures of reading for pure escapism. I’m at my happiest when I’m rereading an old Ross Thomas novel or diving into a good Batman comic. And I’m crazy for a grilled cheese, especially at the Village Lanes.
I’m not sure I’d be so eager to divide Schlock from High Lit, though. I think that the books we read for pure pleasure are just as edifying as the books we were once forced to read. I first read William Gibson because I wanted some exciting science fiction, yet he has turned out to be one of the most influential thinkers and writers of his generation. I go back to Gibson’s books for multiple readings because I enjoy them, but it’s undeniable that his ideas have an impact on me, regardless of whether I’m aware of it as I turn the pages.
It’s never been the case that we can tell in the moment what’s schlock or not. There are books that are widely regarded as classics now that were once thought of as pornography, pulp, or trash. People read these books when they were published not because some self-anointed culture maven told them to, but because they were salacious, exciting, or suspenseful. Charles Dickens published many of his works as serials, and they were as sensationalistic and closely followed in their time as Grey’s Anatomy is today.
So what’s my point? I guess it’s that it doesn’t matter whether you want to read the schlock or the classics, because it’s all the same stuff . Books lead to other books. You can go from The Godfather to King Lear to Neil Gaiman’s Sandman and you’ll be following a thematic thread across several genres, each of which is gratifying to read, and all of which go great with a grilled cheese.
I promised that I wouldn’t try to make you be smart, Arthur, and I won’t, because the truth is that you and Jim Butcher are taking care of that all on your own.
I’m very much with you on the pleasures of reading for pure escapism. I’m at my happiest when I’m rereading an old Ross Thomas novel or diving into a good Batman comic. And I’m crazy for a grilled cheese, especially at the Village Lanes.
I’m not sure I’d be so eager to divide Schlock from High Lit, though. I think that the books we read for pure pleasure are just as edifying as the books we were once forced to read. I first read William Gibson because I wanted some exciting science fiction, yet he has turned out to be one of the most influential thinkers and writers of his generation. I go back to Gibson’s books for multiple readings because I enjoy them, but it’s undeniable that his ideas have an impact on me, regardless of whether I’m aware of it as I turn the pages.
It’s never been the case that we can tell in the moment what’s schlock or not. There are books that are widely regarded as classics now that were once thought of as pornography, pulp, or trash. People read these books when they were published not because some self-anointed culture maven told them to, but because they were salacious, exciting, or suspenseful. Charles Dickens published many of his works as serials, and they were as sensationalistic and closely followed in their time as Grey’s Anatomy is today.
So what’s my point? I guess it’s that it doesn’t matter whether you want to read the schlock or the classics, because it’s all the same stuff . Books lead to other books. You can go from The Godfather to King Lear to Neil Gaiman’s Sandman and you’ll be following a thematic thread across several genres, each of which is gratifying to read, and all of which go great with a grilled cheese.
I promised that I wouldn’t try to make you be smart, Arthur, and I won’t, because the truth is that you and Jim Butcher are taking care of that all on your own.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Wanted: Proffreaders
I meant to do that. Was it annoying to read that? It was definitely annoying for me to type it and let it stand like that. But over the past several years, I've been noticing an increasing number of typos, wrong words and just plain errors cropping up in the books I read. Books from major publishers, not just tiny houses with stretched budgets or those that are part of the explosion of do-it-yourself print-to-order outfits.
Sometimes it's clear that someone has run spellcheck, but no more than that. I've seen feet instead of feat, bare instead of bear, tenant instead of tenet, cannon instead of canon. All words, but all nonsensical when placed where they don't belong. If I'm reading a work of fiction and I see a glaring error like that, it kicks me right out of the story. It's like seeing an extra in a crowd scene in Gladiator wearing a jeans, a t-shirt and a wristwatch, or seeing the trapdoor through which the Wicked Witch of the West descends, only partially hidden by her cloud of smoke. It's a short-circuit in the text-to-brain loop.
I've been a typesetter and proofreader, and I've seen manuscripts of varying degrees of legibility, but that's why they went through several different people before getting sent to the printer. Proofreading is expensive, both in-house and contracted, but the author put much time and care into producing the work, the least the publisher can do is make sure it is correct. Spellcheck isn't enough. It won't catch the wrong word, it might or might not catch an omitted word, and if the work concerns numbers or data in any form, spellcheck can't catch any of those errors. There is no substitute for a proofreader.
And of course, I just spent a very large span of time hunting for typos in this. It would be just my luck to goof up the word spellcheck. I'd never live it down.
Sometimes it's clear that someone has run spellcheck, but no more than that. I've seen feet instead of feat, bare instead of bear, tenant instead of tenet, cannon instead of canon. All words, but all nonsensical when placed where they don't belong. If I'm reading a work of fiction and I see a glaring error like that, it kicks me right out of the story. It's like seeing an extra in a crowd scene in Gladiator wearing a jeans, a t-shirt and a wristwatch, or seeing the trapdoor through which the Wicked Witch of the West descends, only partially hidden by her cloud of smoke. It's a short-circuit in the text-to-brain loop.
I've been a typesetter and proofreader, and I've seen manuscripts of varying degrees of legibility, but that's why they went through several different people before getting sent to the printer. Proofreading is expensive, both in-house and contracted, but the author put much time and care into producing the work, the least the publisher can do is make sure it is correct. Spellcheck isn't enough. It won't catch the wrong word, it might or might not catch an omitted word, and if the work concerns numbers or data in any form, spellcheck can't catch any of those errors. There is no substitute for a proofreader.
And of course, I just spent a very large span of time hunting for typos in this. It would be just my luck to goof up the word spellcheck. I'd never live it down.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Not Kidding Around
Some things in life are hard.
As a parent I can tell you one of the hardest things you will ever do is try and get your kids to read. In our culture today there are so many things competing for our children’s attention: television, video games, music, movies, and schoolwork. I love reading. I am passionate about reading but trying to pass that passion on to my kids is nigh unto impossible.
The weird thing about it is all of them are reading at or above grade level and they rarely crack a book at home without there being some sort of edict sent down from the high and lofty seat of power. “Go to your room and read or I will take that Nintendo Wii and hook it up to my TV.”
I think I did everything right. I read to them every night as they went to bed before they could do so themselves. They see me reading. They understand the importance of reading. So, why then do they not read?
The answer is not simple. I almost want to throw my hands in the air and say the answer is “ I have no freaking idea.” But that would be cheating and not a very interesting blog. (Though this might already be uninteresting)
Here’s my answer in a nutshell. I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing. I didn’t really develop good reading habits myself until I was in high school. As a parent I have to continue to provide a good example by allowing them to see me read, to see my passion for reading. I have to engage them in conversations about my book. They need to want to read before there ever going to become a reader.
So in conclusion, I plan to keep buying them books. I’ll read them myself if I have to. I’m going to continue to make a point of reading when I’m around them. I’m going to discuss books in front of them. I’m not going to force them to read. I’m not going to use the force to make them read.
I’m just going to wait, watch, and provide opportunities for my children to grow up strong, healthy, and passionate readers.
As a parent I can tell you one of the hardest things you will ever do is try and get your kids to read. In our culture today there are so many things competing for our children’s attention: television, video games, music, movies, and schoolwork. I love reading. I am passionate about reading but trying to pass that passion on to my kids is nigh unto impossible.
The weird thing about it is all of them are reading at or above grade level and they rarely crack a book at home without there being some sort of edict sent down from the high and lofty seat of power. “Go to your room and read or I will take that Nintendo Wii and hook it up to my TV.”
I think I did everything right. I read to them every night as they went to bed before they could do so themselves. They see me reading. They understand the importance of reading. So, why then do they not read?
The answer is not simple. I almost want to throw my hands in the air and say the answer is “ I have no freaking idea.” But that would be cheating and not a very interesting blog. (Though this might already be uninteresting)
Here’s my answer in a nutshell. I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing. I didn’t really develop good reading habits myself until I was in high school. As a parent I have to continue to provide a good example by allowing them to see me read, to see my passion for reading. I have to engage them in conversations about my book. They need to want to read before there ever going to become a reader.
So in conclusion, I plan to keep buying them books. I’ll read them myself if I have to. I’m going to continue to make a point of reading when I’m around them. I’m going to discuss books in front of them. I’m not going to force them to read. I’m not going to use the force to make them read.
I’m just going to wait, watch, and provide opportunities for my children to grow up strong, healthy, and passionate readers.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Women's Suffrage
I haven’t voted yet. For me going to the polls on the day of the election is all part of the experience. I don’t care if I have to stand in line. People are usually friendly. It doesn’t matter who you are voting for, it’s the sense of community felt by a group of people waiting in line to do their civic duty even if it means being late for work, or dinner, or a date, or just getting home. Neighbors who haven’t seen each other lately are catching up on each others’ news. I’m sure this year there will also be joking about it finally being over!
I always find myself thinking how glad I am I was born when women can vote. My grandmother couldn’t vote until after my mother was in high school. The 19th Amendment, proposing extending the right of suffrage to women was proposed in May, 1919, passed by Congress in June, 1919 and ratified on August 18, 1920. (The North Carolina General Assembly finally ratified it in 1971!)
So get out there and vote whether you’re a woman or not – but if you’re a woman, don’t take it for granted - savor it!
I always find myself thinking how glad I am I was born when women can vote. My grandmother couldn’t vote until after my mother was in high school. The 19th Amendment, proposing extending the right of suffrage to women was proposed in May, 1919, passed by Congress in June, 1919 and ratified on August 18, 1920. (The North Carolina General Assembly finally ratified it in 1971!)
So get out there and vote whether you’re a woman or not – but if you’re a woman, don’t take it for granted - savor it!
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