On Breaking Down Gender Stereotypes

Once again, I will not be supporting the GoldieBlox company, in spite of its stated goal to "break down gender stereotypes." In what one online friend referred to as a "jerkmove," GoldieBlox is threatening to sue the Beastie Boys to preempt a copyright infringement case over the use of the rap group's "Girls" song in a commercial. The Beastie Boys have published an open letter in the NYT.

I am so annoyed by this pseudo-feminist company that I can't even repost the original GoldieBlox commercial, even though it offers what I find to be a clever parody of the Beastie Boys song because I think the toy is a stupid gimmick. It features a conventionally pretty, able-bodied girl with long blonde hair. Sometimes she has an African American sidekick who is also as pretty as a Barbie. The toy does nothing to "break down gender stereotypes" other than give these characters pastel colored tools.

Just a quick little OMG

I did my first tweet ever for #AcWriMo.

My kid is breaking the first of her 2-year molars (bottom left, and she's 2 1/2). We were thinking she was just "being TWO" but no, she's just "being TWO in pain." There is a difference. I have to believe that.

Working on Marie Corelli always makes me happy. Because you're reading along and then you come to something like this:

... never in all the passing pageant and phantasmagoria of history did a greater generation of civilised hypocrites cumber the face of the globe than cumber it to-day,—never was the earth so oppressed with the weight of polite lying,—never were there such crowds of civil masqueraders, cultured tricksters, and social humbugs, who, though admirable as tricksters and humbugs, are wholly contemptible as men and women. Truth is at a discount,—and if one should utter it, the reproachful faces of one's so-called “friends” show how shocked they are at meeting with anything honest. We are drifting our days away in a condition of false luxury,—of over-ripe civilisation,—which has bred in us that apathetic inertia which is always a premonitory symptom of fatal disease.  (Modern Marriage Market)

I think she just nailed what folks now refer to as "first world problems." More wine please now.

Teaching Barthes, Foucault, and Gubar this week in my Lit Theory class.
Full of misery about 2/3 of my Composition class.
Waiting for good news from two major submissions last summer. Was supposed to hear "in October." And now it's November 2. Does anyone else watch the calendar like I do, in regards to these sorts of things?? Yes. They do.

Is it possible that there is too much Halloween candy in the house?
And there's this:

Good Morning Goon

This morning, I'm in the kitchen putting lunches together for me and the kid, and I hear her yell from her crib, "MAMA! I WANT A BOOK!" Of all the books on the floor of her room, this is the one she wanted:

I love this kid. 28 months old, and already a dedicated reader with a taste for parody.

Baking Bread is as Hard as I Thought It Would Be

In a charmingly clear essay called "The Intentional Fallacy," which I am preparing to teach to my Literary Theory class this week, William Wimsatt and Monroe Beardsley wrote,

Judging a poem is like judging a pudding or a machine. One demands that it work. ... Poetry is a feat of style by which a complex of meaning is handled all at once. Poetry succeeds because all or most of what is said or implied is relevant; what is irrelevant has been excluded, like lumps from pudding and 'bugs' from machinery.

I read this, and then I went to a bread-baking class, and the combination of Wimsatt & Beardsley and yeast was this poem. I have not written a poem in a long while, and I've never made bread from scratch.

How does one judge a loaf of bread?

Not as early as monks, but not as late as students
A morning more humid indoors than out
Seven or eight maybe, imperfections
In a church kitchen.
Unseen hands had heated the milk
Counted the yeast
Distributed spoons.
A wheelchair, a walker, one eye blind and one wandering,
All of us kneading for the sake of our souls
Unequal to our uneven ovens
With no leader, weak lighting, glass loaf pans, cold tea
A rising, then, a falling:
Mine, puckered, but still nourishing.
What is the standard by which we disown or accept the self?

From LJ Notices to Correspondents, December 2, 1854

Q. R. H.—Courtship is an indispensable preliminary to marriage. Sebastopol has to be taken by a regular siege. It is the same with that citadel—a woman’s heart. You must approach it in due form, and fire the big guns of big promises.

Here, the London Journal editor responds to a correspondent's query presumably about whether a period of courtship is necessary, with a timely reference to the Siege of Sebastopol that was, well, ongoing (September 1854 - September 1855), because the Russians did not wish to give up the Crimea. To translate: the peaceful-looking Victorian lady, pictured there in Charles Green's 1878 watercolor (titled appropriately "Courtship"), represents the Imperial Russian Army under attack by enormous British cannons, like this one:

by William Simpson

Sounds very romantic.

It's Not Just Me

One of my colleagues recently referred to me, to my face, as "baby crazy." Hunh. I did not realize I was so transparent. But you see, I am merely channeling a cultural preoccupation, one that rivals "belly melt."

Summer Break Update 2

Illustrated London News at Alderman Library

In June, I attended a class at the Rare Book School at UVa. We (8 students and 1 professor) spent the week reading about and discussing the theory and practice of bibliographic description, textual criticism, and scholarly editing. We also practiced collation (side-by-side page/image comparison) using the Lindstrand Comparator, the Hinman collator, and electronic options like Juxta. The week was not so much a carefree gallimaufry summer camp as a diversely focused conference *on the purest crack* -- with obligatory attendance, no late entrances to sessions, healthy food at breakfast and breaks, and "electives" that included a talk on rare text preservation, a screening of a documentary about paper, a printing press demonstration, lunch-break visits to Special Collections, weeping in the Alderman Library stacks (OK, I'm probably the only RBS student who took that elective), and lots of used book store shopping.

I am eager to put this new, hard-won knowledge to work, both in the classroom (Literary Theory and Criticism this fall) and in my research (planning for a scholarly edition is under way).

Other fun events in June? I was invited to give a lecture for the local chapter of the Victorian Society for America. I presented a PowerPoint about Victorian matrimonial advertising, because the subject is fun, accessible, and makes people reconsider what they imagine was/is "conventional" in match-making and courtship then/now. A reporter and photographer from the Virginian Pilot were present, and the story was printed in last Sunday's paper.

Sewing projects:

Found some English home-dec fabric scraps at an old upholstery shop

There were enough scraps to make the doll a dress, too

Not a fantastic picture, but there you have it: we all match

The Summer Reading-for-Pleasure Project continues to be a challenge. I finished Maisie Dobbs in record time, really loving the development of the lady detective character and the suggestive inter-war English cultural history lessons. I picked up--and put down--and repicked--and reput (and so on) The Wonderful Life of Oscar Wao. I just cannot get into this story, although many of my most respected reader-friends recommend it. I was counseled to drop it for this summer, since it's defeating the purpose of the Project. I have also been trying to finish The Marriage Plot. I never got through Middlesex and I found The Virgin Suicides alienating in a too-frothy (do I mean precious?) way. I'm not sure Eugenides does it for me, but the premise here is too good to pass over. Mostly, though, it seems like a rip-off of Franny and Zooey. What am I ripping through because it's so over-the-top awesome? Marie Corelli's 1887 novel Thelma. It merits a post of its own.

Television: OMG this season of Master Chef features mean girls, pretty girls, vegetarian girls, and hipster girls. SO GOOD. At home, we are practicing our pasta-from-scratch, our eggs benedict, our cheesecake, and our sentimental background narratives about why we would make TV-candy competitors for when we go out for the show.

I also started watching Alias. It's Buffy without the camp; Lost without the brain-teasers. I object to the frequency of torture scenes, especially to the constant representation of Sydney-Bristow torture. But otherwise, the show is awesome through Season 3 (I just started Season 4: jury is out), and it motivates me to exercise my pout.

Banjo: I can now strum the alphabet song, and my daughter doesn't run away screaming in terror anymore. I feel pretty smug about this. This week I'm supposed to practice some basic frailing and learn "Good Night Ladies."