Girl Detective's recommendations earned Lowboy (John Wray) and Logicomix: An Epic Search for Truth (Apostolos Doxiadis) their spots on the pile. She is also directly responsible for the imminent return of City of Thieves (David Benioff) to the pile and indirectly responsible for Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species: A Graphic Adaptation (Michael Keller), pictured above. She praised the former, and the latter? Well, it was recommended when I added Logicomix to my cart. How could I resist? Heh, heh, heh.
Little Bee is awaiting a chapbook entry.
After a significant delay, The Questing Knights of the Faerie Queen (a retelling by Geraldine McCaughrean) is now a selection in the "Girls Rule! Book Club."
Let's see... We'll finish watching Camelot this afternoon -- a tie-in with our recent literature selection, Rosemary Sutcliff's The Sword and the Circle -- and the girls wanted to to hear the soundtrack, which I found in our collection last night. I also found the Chopin, which I thought they might enjoy.
And that explains the state of my nightstand this morning, but there are other stacks of interest in the little house in the tiny woods on the prairie. Take this one, for example.
What have we here?
During her "personal research time" (our family-centered learning project's spin on sustained silent reading), Miss M-mv(i) has been test-driving books related to two topics that interest her greatly -- scientific illustration and wildlife rehabilitation -- and one topic that has, in the past, horrified her -- mathematics.
Over the last three weeks, then, her stack has included the titles listed below. Those marked with asterisks have emerged as her chosen companions.
Wildlife rehabilitation
■ Critter Chronicles (Donna J. Ralph) *
■ Flyaway: How a Wild Bird Rehabber Sought Adventure and Found Her Wings (Suzie Gilbert) *
■ Healers of the Wild (Shannon K. Jacobs)
■ The Scoop from "Bird Poop": 35 Years of Wild Bird Rescues (Bebe McCasland) *
Scientific illustration
■ Scientific Illustration: A Guide for the Beginning Artist (Zbignew T. Jastrzębski) *
■ Images of Science: A History of Scientific Illustration (Brian J. Ford)
■ Scientific Illustration (Phyllis Wood)
■ The Scientific Image from Cave to Computer (Harry Robin)
Mathematics
■ Math Doesn't Suck (Danica McKellar) *
Miss M-mv(ii) has been reading about botany and astronomy. As it turns out, her favorite text is an old volume I picked up at a library sale years ago. (Yes, she is aware of the fact that some of the material is now dated.) I've marked her companions with an asterisk.
Botany
■ The Life of Plants: Plant Classification (Richard Spilsbury)
■ The Life of Plants: Plant Parts (Richard Spilsbury)
■ Invisible World: The Life of Plants
■ 1000 Things You Should Know about Plants (John Farndon) *
■ Eyewitness Books: Plant *
Astronomy
■ The Picture History of Astronomy (Patrick Moore) *
On the nightstand
Reading life review: February
■ Building Background Knowledge for Academic Achievement (Robert J. Marzano)
Education. When combined, subject-specific vocabulary instruction and sustained silent reading (particularly SSR with a personal and in-depth focus) can develop the sort of background knowledge one needs -- for success in school, yes, but also for meaningful lifelong learning. While this text addresses classroom instruction, a seasoned tutor or home educator can easily adapt the ideas and techniques.
■ Brain Rules: 12 Principles for Surviving and Thriving at Work, Home, and School (John J. Medina)
Non-fiction. Easily understood and and implemented, most of the ideas here (e.g., forgo multitasking, rest well, exercise regularly, repeat material to remember it, etc.) are familiar but worth reviewing. Includes a DVD, but the additional material is also available at the author's website.
■ Stargirl (Jerry Spinelli)
YA fiction, audiobook. A reread, this time with the Misses. I loved the book when I first discovered it. This audiobook, read by the late John Ritter, made me fall in love all over again. Original, lovely, memorable. The Misses also give Stargirl an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
■ Little Bee (Chris Cleave)
Fiction. Beautifully written and (to lean on a cliché) haunting. The characters and their story have lingered in my thoughts so much longer than usual.
■ Shutter Island (Dennis Lehane)
Psychological thriller. Many readers solved the "mystery" by the novel's midpoint, and I did, too, but for several reasons (not the least of which was Lehane's well-styled dialogue), I wasn't that disappointed.
■ Empire (Orson Scott Card)
Science fiction. Blame the heat and chlorine fumes, I guess, because this poolside companion didn't seem nearly as awful as many people maintained. Yeah, there are implausible bits, and, no, it's not quite as compelling as Ender's Game, but I was hooked and entertained, and sometimes, that's all I demand from a book.
■ The Element: How Finding Your Passion Changes Everything (Ken Robinson)
Non-fiction. Call me mercurial. How else can I explain why Brain Rules, which also covers familiar territory, gets my recommendation, and The Element does not? Perhaps it's this simple: A feature-length article would have been the appropriate length for Robinson's rehash. Nearly three hundred pages? Overkill.
■ The Sword and the Circle: King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table (Rosemary Sutcliff)
YA, classic. With the Misses. A competent retelling of the Arthurian legend.
■ The Gift of Dyslexia (Ronald D. Davis)
Education. A popular and widely recommended book on this subject, but I didn't find it as informative as others have.
■ Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths Among Us (Robert D. Hare)
Psychology. Like Martha Stout's The Sociopath Next Door, this bit of pop-psych is readable, fascinating, informative, and, yes, frightening.
■ Linguistic Development through Poetry Memorization (Andrew Pudewa)
Poetry. The introduction to this resource can be found here.
Fine Art Friday
One of our fellow art students brought an application form to class this week.
"It's for the young person's show associated with [insert name of national juried art show]. I thought you," she addressed the Misses, "might want to enter something."
The girls thoughtfully considered their work, then discussed their selections with the art instructor, who arranged the pieces around the room and asked everyone to chime in about their favorites. Today we'll mat the selected pieces, and over the weekend, we'll deliver them.
When I swam to the surface of wakefulness this morning, I remembered that we needed to leave sufficient time to mat the work and complete the application. I remembered that we'd need to find some time between studies and chores and the extended swim practice and the double piano lessons and, and... and then I remembered to breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Ahhhhhh.
Today, at some point, the Misses and I will mat their work -- beautiful portraits that they completed last semester. I am appreciative that their older classmate thought their work merited inclusion in a show and pleased that my daughters are so confident of their art that they simply and graciously thanked the classmate for thinking of them. I am also appreciative of our art teacher, who is both direct and encouraging.
And I am proud -- but not for the reason you may think.
I am proud (if that is even the right word) because when the Misses swam to wakefulness this morning, they were, of course, aware of their obligations and activities, mindful of their opportunities and possible rewards, but they also remembered to observe the color of snow in the early morning, to add a few sentences to their latest stories and a few strokes to their art journals, to read what they wanted to read, to giggle and murmur, to greet me, to appreciate each other, to cuddle their cats, to relish the warmth of their beds for just one more minute.
In other words, they never forgot to breathe.
We must be doing something right around here, eh? Heh, heh, heh.
Take a cue from the Misses, folks: Breathe. Live.
Chapbook entry
■ A Man for All Seasons (Robert Bolt)
p. xxiii■ The Homeschool Liberation League (Lucy Frank)
From the description of the character of Sir Thomas More:
Late forties. Pale, middle-sized, not robust. But the life of the mind in him is so abundant and debonair that it illuminates the body. His movements are open and swift but never wild, having a natural moderation. The face is intellectual and quickly delighted, the norm to which it returns serious and compassionate. Only in moments of high crisis does it become ascetic – though then freezingly.
p. 91
More:
But what matters to me is not whether it’s true or not but that I believe it to be true, or rather, not that I believe it, but that I believe it… I trust I make myself obscure?
Norfolk:
Perfectly.
More:
That’s good. Obscurity’s what I have need of now.
Norfolk:
Thomas. This isn’t Spain, you know.
p. 94
More:
Not at all, Alice, I expect I’ll write a bit. (He woos them with unhappy cheerfulness) I’ll write, I’ll read, I’ll think. I think I’ll learn to fish! I’ll play with my grandchildren – when son Roper’s done his duty. (Eagerly) Alice, shall I teach you to read?
Alice:
No, by God!
p. 193■ The Element (Ken Robinson)
“… And I don’t want you to think I’m one of those government-school-is-evil, homeschool-is-good, my-way-or-the-highway types. I’m a firm believer in public schools.” He stirred [his double expresso] with the tiny spoon and looked over the tops of his glasses at Mom and Dad. “But I also believe that for the right families, homeschooling can be an excellent thing….”
p. 194-195
“That’s exactly right,” he said. “Because there are as many methods and philosophies of homeschooling as there are families. You do whatever works best, for your beliefs and your life. What my wife and I’ve settled on over the years is an eclectic, mix-n-match approach. Intellectually rigorous but flexible, interest-oriented but not quote-unquote loosey-goosey…”
p. 238
My own extremely strong belief, based on decades of work in the field, is that the best way to improve education is not to focus primarily on the curriculum, nor on assessment, important though these things are. The most powerful method of improving education is to invest in the improvement of teaching and the status of great teachers. There isn’t a great school anywhere that doesn’t have great teachers working in it. But there are plenty of poor schools with shelves of curriculum standards and reams of standardized tests.
"these hips are big hips... they don't fit into little petty places."
"Mighty" and "magic" though these hips may be, they have, during this long, snowy winter, missed the freedom and fitness they enjoyed when I rediscovered bicycling last year.
We -- these hips and I -- love to walk, but the weather has been mostly uncooperative, and the days are still a little too short to depend on a regular evening jaunt about the neighborhood. More, both Misses were named to the conference team, so we are poolside as the sun slides away and the stars begin to twinkle.
And so I have had to set these hips to dutiful swaying (a Leslie Sansone's DVD in the morning) and mechanical stepping (the treadmill twice during the day), and making time for this healthy obligation has trimmed my virtual itinerary. Again.
So I have a couple of books flagged for chapbook entries.
I have stacks that merit "On the nightstand" entries.
The month will end soon, and I'd like to prepare another reading life review.
We've seen good stuff on the small screen (e.g., Seasons 1 through 5 of "Project Runway" and the documentaries Food, Inc. and Ears, Open. Eyeballs, Click.) and returned to a few classics (including Sunset Boulevard, The Bad Seed, and Romeo + Juliet), and I regret not making recommendations.
I have some ideas to work out regarding the adaptation of sustained silent reading (SSR) techniques to the home education environment, including my observations about "Me Reading" here in the family-centered learning project.
And I have art to share and photos to download and birds to add to our lists and....
And I'll get to it.
Sooner or later.
Until then...
"And sometimes it was lovely just to be sitting and thinking like that for hours on end."
From "La Vie D’Ennui" (Philosophy Now, February/March 2010):
There’s something exquisite about boredom. Like melancholy and its darker cousin sadness, boredom is related to emptiness and meaninglessness, but in a perfectly enjoyable way. It’s like wandering though the National Gallery, being surrounded by all those great works of art, and deciding not to look at them because it’s a pleasure just walking from room to room enjoying the squeak of your soles on the polished floor. Boredom is the no-signal sound on a blank television, the closed-down monotone of a radio in the middle of the night. It’s an uninterrupted straight line.
Paying for college, revisited
Have you read this article?
From the conclusion of "The $555,000 Student-Loan Burden" (Wall Street Journal, February 13):
The debt load keeps her up at night. Her damaged credit has prevented her from buying a home or a new car. She says she and her boyfriend of three years have put off marriage and having children because of the debt.For a little while there, we worried that our proselytizing about avoiding debt at all costs had encouraged our son to set the bar too low: After receiving the so-called thin envelope from [insert name of service academy], he decided to remain at the local college to complete his associate degree in a program designed to transfer to a four-year institution. Since he was uncertain about his next steps, this seemed wise enough, but, as the semesters passed, we grew concerned when our questions about transferring (When? To where?) were met with somewhat vague replies about finding work or enlisting.
Dr. Bisutti told her 17-year-old niece the story of her debt as a cautionary tale "so the next generation of kids who want to get a higher education knows what they're getting into," she says. "I will likely have to deal with this debt for the rest of my life." [Emphasis added.]
Regular readers already know the rest of the story. In the end, things generally work out, don't they? Although we worried before, we have now reconciled ourselves to this much: Barring an excellent scholarship offer, the two-year transferable degree is a financially wise option for our children. Given that none has expressed interest in a field for which they would be ill-served by such an educational route, using the local college to both complete high school and earn college credit makes good sense. More, the college has established articulation agreements with all of the state colleges and universities, making transfer plans a simple matter of choosing courses from the lists of approved requirements and electives.
More on this subject later. Until then, here are two related entries:
■ Paying for college: A rant of modest proportions
■ About college
"You and your newly reconfigured family are in my thoughts and heart."
That's how a friend concluded her recent note to me. (And, yes, when you've corresponded with someone for several years, even toyed -- however briefly -- with the idea that maybe, just maybe, you could redraw your legendary personal-space boundaries for the opportunity to meet her -- live and in person! -- she is, in fact, a friend. Virtual qualifiers, be damned.)
My newly reconfigured family.
Yes. That's it. That is how I have been approaching this "what comes after the first one leaves" phase of our lives -- as a reconfiguration of what came before.
And, as it turns out, I prepared us well for the changes, big and small: In the months and then weeks preceding Master M-mv's departure, whenever one or another of the women became a little misty, we'd indulge in the melancholy for just a moment, and then I'd remind the Misses that while we'd certainly miss brother, we would not miss being slaves to his schedule (one of the few disadvantages of choosing the one-car-family lifestyle). No, we would not miss that. At. All. Nor would we miss the wry comparisons between his school experience and theirs, right? ("I never had piano lessons or horseback-riding lessons" was one familiar refrain. And when he was feeling a little petulant? "Oh, I remember that book. I read it when I was [subtract two or three years from the Miss M-mv(ii)'s age]." Of course, by his account, he had always done more chores, at a younger age, and better, too. Heh, heh, heh. Ah, older-brotherhood, eh?)
The next few months could represent a new and quite wonderful (although not necessarily better) version (reconfiguration) of our family-centered learning project, I suggested, with the primary focus on the Misses -- their interests, their journeys, their adventures, their schedules, their rhythms.
Yes, it would be the "Girls Rule!" School. And it could be cool.
And it has been. It has been very cool.
The second hand ceases its sweep from the moment one of Boy-boy's letters arrive until the moment we have called Mr. M-mv to read it aloud to him, but with each passing day, we three women* feel more and more comfortable with what has evolved from what remains. The rhythms are different and so, then, is the daily dance, but not so different that Master would not recognize its theme.
I knew we were going to be all right on Monday of Master's third week away. Miss M-mv(i) brought me a mug of coffee and said, "You know something? I miss Boy-boy, but I really love the 'Girls Rule!' School. It's going to be all right."
"Yes," I said, kissing the top of her head, where the scent of chlorine and shampoo mingle not unpleasantly. "Yes, it is."
_________________________
* I realize that it may seem as if Mr. M-mv is curiously absent from this narrative, but he is not. It's just that his daily dance, unlike ours, is essentially unchanged: He still rises early to go to work. He still returns home -- later than many fathers, yes, but, as always, engaged in his homelife. He still helps with dinner and does the laundry.
And so on.
If he were here, he'd probably add that there is certainly a lot less laundry since Master left... and a lot more leftovers. Of course, Mr. M-mv now lives in house full of women, which, I guess, represents a significant reconfiguration for him. But he seems to be handling it all right. Heh, heh, heh.
So while he certainly misses his son, Mr. M-mv is not quite as affected by his absence as we women are. More, he always "got" Master's interest in the Marines, and, by getting it, supported the adventure from its conception. This, I think, gives him a sort of serenity -- a confidence about his son's choices that I don't necessarily share.
And so it goes.
"Shakespeare offers more bang for the buck."
From "Shylock, My Students, and Me" (The American Scholar, Winter 2010):
They heard Shylock’s voice in these lines—and it was their own. I was shocked to see the number of students who claimed to have been treated like a “stranger cur”—-a dog. The well of resentment here, often going back to grade-school bullying, was deep and abiding for these 18- and 19-year-olds. I was initially mystified by their reaction. Why, as schools had become more adept at teaching cultural sensitivity, did students still manage not only to suffer ostracism but also to feel its effects so palpably? This might lead to the conclusion that teaching sensitivity is not useful, that it may, indeed, be harmful. My eventual view, however, was different. I concluded that in the past the pain of ostracism and alienation went unacknowledged; people pretended they didn’t feel hurt because they didn’t want to show weakness. Now, they had gained a voice and a vocabulary with which to express their feelings.
Black charcoal and white paper
between black charcoal and white paper.
The Misses and I are taking a class in charcoal techniques this semester. I had thought that of all of the courses we've taken together at the college, this would be my least favorite. It is, in fact, my absolute favorite. As it turns out, this anal-retentive editor adores the smudgy imperfection of vines and willows and blending with one's fingers. Here are some of our recent efforts.
"Friendship is devolving...."
From "In the World of Facebook" (The New York Review of Books, February 25):
What many find most enticing about Facebook is the steady stream of updates from "friends," new and old, which sociologists refer to as "ambient awareness." This is not a new phenomenon: everyone from our Cro-Magnon ancestors to Jane Austen has known how it feels to be surrounded by the constant chatter of other people. Facebook's continuing attraction comes from its ability to reduce the Internet's worldwide chatter to the size of a college, or a village, or a living room. But it is this very old form of sociability, transferred into the electronic age, that, rather than targeted ads or aesthetic monotony, some members find troubling about the site. As the writer William Deresiewicz, by far the most eloquent critic of Facebook, recently argued in The Chronicle of Higher Education:Related entriesWe have turned [our friends] into an indiscriminate mass, a kind of audience or faceless public. We address ourselves not to a circle, but to a cloud.... Friendship is devolving, in other words, from a relationship to a feeling.It's true that Facebook can lead to a false sense of connection to faraway friends, since few members post about the true difficulties of their lives. But most of us still know, despite Facebook's abuse of what should be the holiest word in the language, that a News Feed full of constantly updating "friends," like a room full of chattering people, is no substitute for a conversation.
■ Does Facebook make you a bad parent?
■ "What the hell have I become?"
■ "What does friendship mean when you have 532 'friends'?"
■ "Re-embrace your inner critic."
Mental resources
From "Easy = True" (Boston Globe, January 31):
One of the hottest topics in psychology today is something called “cognitive fluency.” Cognitive fluency is simply a measure of how easy it is to think about something, and it turns out that people prefer things that are easy to think about to those that are hard. On the face of it, it’s a rather intuitive idea. But psychologists are only beginning to uncover the surprising extent to which fluency guides our thinking, and in situations where we have no idea it is at work.From "Divided Attention" (The Chronicle Review, January 31):
[...]
Because it shapes our thinking in so many ways, fluency is implicated in decisions about everything from the products we buy to the people we find attractive to the candidates we vote for - in short, in any situation where we weigh information. It’s a key part of the puzzle of how feelings like attraction and belief and suspicion work, and what researchers are learning about fluency has ramifications for anyone interested in eliciting those emotions.
That illusion of competence is one of the things that worry scholars who study attention, cognition, and the classroom. Students' minds have been wandering since the dawn of education. But until recently—so the worry goes—students at least knew when they had checked out. A student today who moves his attention rapid-fire from text-messaging to the lecture to Facebook to note-taking and back again may walk away from the class feeling buzzed and alert, with a sense that he has absorbed much more of the lesson than he actually has.
Shakespeare for all ages and stages
The following entry, first published on 9.30.2006 and last resurrected on 11.20.2008, is culled from archives. You'll find a collection of M-mv entries on Shakespeare under the "Bardolatry" tab.
_________________________________
A few years ago, L. wrote to ask for advice about teaching her children Shakespeare. "I will be learning right alongside my children. In your opinion, what is the best way to do this?"
I've answered this question before, several times, on [insert home education message board name here]. But I was also able to find a version of my answer in the M-mv email archives: Nearly four years ago, MDH wrote, "I have a ten-year-old daughter. [...] Do you have any recommendations for the first work for her to read?"
My reply (reworked for inclusion here) offered recommendations and briefly described our approach.
A reply, then.
One thing I've pounded home, here and elsewhere, is that the introduction to Shakespeare should be as much like Shakespeare's intended experience as possible -- that is, his plays were meant to be seen and heard, not read. (I heartily disagree with our dear Mr. Bloom on this point, by the way. And that's okay.)
In keeping with the idea of meeting Shakespeare on his own terms, then, a live performance is generally superior to a film. The Misses M-mv met the bard in Kenneth Branagh's Henry V ("O Kate! Nice customs curtsey to great kings"), but they fell in love with him (yes, at six and eight) during a Chicago Shakespeare Theater (CST) production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. A rappin' Puck. A show-stealing Bottom. The grace and wonder of that stage. The fact that the actors met the audience in the lobby. They became hooked -- for life.
But if a live performance isn't possible...
Or if you think your students are not quite ready for the experience...
Branagh's Henry V is a terrific place to which to begin because, well, quite simply, it's easy to follow and exceptionally well done. The plot is uncomplicated, so one can focus on the language, which is exquisite. At the gates of Harfleur, most of us experience (or have already experienced) an "Ah-ha!" moment of the most wondrous sort: I get this! This is amazing! What's next? Shakespeare is great!
Other film intro possibilities
Franco Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet is an adequate introduction. A Midsummer Night's Dream featuring Kevin Kline isn't bad. As an introduction, though, Much Ado about Nothing is better, in my humble opinion. Again, the Branagh production. A mild caution: There is the briefest of nudity in the opening sequence and sexuality is openly (though discreetly, if that's possible) expressed during the scenes in which Claudio is duped into thinking Hero is impure. And speaking of caution, mild or otherwise: The battle violence in Branagh's Henry V may be unsuitable for some young people. You know your child better than I do.
My son's first film adaptation was actually Julius Caesar, with Jason Robbards as Brutus. He adored it. Our experience became the stuff of an article I sold, but this play probably isn't the best way to begin for most people. Besides, my son was already hooked: The year before he had attended a CST production of A Midsummer Night's Dream (a different production than the Misses).
Another possibility would be Twelfth Night, with the incomparable Ben Kingsley as Feste.
Now, then.
Prior to watching a live or filmed performance, we read aloud from an abridgment (e.g., Charles and Mary Lamb, E. Nesbitt, Beverly Birch, Bruce Coville, Adam McKeown -- the latter two being particular favorites here). This gives us the basic plot and, often, the key subplots. (Most recently, we've done this (again) with Hamlet.) Then we watch -- sometimes more than one performance, often more than once.
And then we read the unabridged play to the accompaniment of a quality audio production. Oh, how well we respond to the language when our reading is aided by the audio!
Naxos, Caedmon, and Arkangel are all quality sources for audio productions. Now, despite my unabashed lust for The Complete Arkangel Shakespeare, our absolute favorite audio productions are Naxos (King Lear, King Richard III, and The Tempest), Caedmon (Twelfth Night), and BBC Radio Presents (Hamlet). Check with your librarian to see what you can borrow before making an audio purchase. In fact, your library may also have many of the film adaptations I've recommended.
Why our English teachers did this in reverse order remains a mystery, no?
As far as I'm concerned, this method works well for adults, too. There is no reason why someone late to the table should miss this meal. I would add only that older students and adults will likely appreciate a more detailed synopsis of the play prior to watching, this in addition to an engaging retelling/abridgment. Master M-mv and I heartily recommend Shakespeare A to Z; The Essential Reference to His Plays, His Poems, His Life and Times, and More.
Other ideas for "teaching Shakespeare"
■ Use their toys.
The Misses M-mv were onto something when their Ken nodded to Barbie and assured her that nice customs curtsey to great kings. Using Barbies or Little Ponies or puppets or whatever to illustrate plot twists or illuminate intent... well, that's just child-like genius at work. Harness it to help your young viewers understand the intricacies of A Midsummer Night's Dream or the intrigue of Hamlet.
■ Keep a chapbook.
Master M-mv and I keep chapbooks devoted to our Shakespeare studies. We copy passages that "speak" to us and share our entries. How fascinating to see what someone else deems worthy of preservation.
■ Learn the language, naturally.
Family M-mv memorizes wide swaths of Shakespeare through repeated viewings and readings (i.e., "listenings"). Obviously, too, the nature of a family-centered learning project (as opposed to a more conventional learning environment) allows for many, many everyday conversations that are colored by bardolatry. (See this entry, for example.) Well, what we use, we own. It's really that simple.
And, as I've written before, Shakespeare need not be hard at all, Fintan.
"It just isn't important in today's society."
L. wrote, "Also, why do you think it is important to read Shakespeare? I have been told by a few folks (homeschoolers!) that it just isn't important in today's society. I disagree, but can't really articulate why. My 'gut instinct' just isn't enough of a reason."
Well, actually, "gut instinct" may be plenty of reason, but I can see why one might think this an inadequate response in conversation. As I wrote to L., though, I honestly don't know what to say to folks who could, in seriousness, maintain that Shakespeare -- the inventor of the human -- is unimportant. Nothing I said, however well articulated or carefully stated, would deter them from that (misinformed) position. And, as I grow older, I find that I'm less and less inclined to fight against such ignorance. A bemused sigh and furrowed brow might be all you can offer when confronted with -- well, I typed such fools but realized that some of you might find that too harsh and dismissive, so I'll go with people who hold that view.
Heh, heh, heh.
I also suggested that L. take a peek at this entry. There is, I am certain, something about the pursuit of excellence that some people simply. don't. get. But life is short, and the struggle to win over the ignorant is, in my experience, futile. I'd rather discuss Hamlet than attempt to persuade someone of Shakespeare's value.
In culling through the archives for related entries, I found this passage:
At 6:15 p.m.You see, I was late to the table -- for astronomy, for Shakespeare, for Latin, for physics. But I arrived. Finally. I arrived. And I am eating -- with my hands, sometimes, to cram it all in. And so, I cannot help but be amazed, staggered by students three decades younger who absorb the complexities of Hamlet with such seeming facility.
While waiting for brother, the Misses M-mv identified in the is-it-already-night dark sky Cassiopeia, Perseus, Cygnus, and Pegasus and discussed Bruce Coville's retelling of Hamlet with a sort of matter-of-factness that staggers me.
They are so very, very lucky.
Summary
1. The introduction to Shakespeare should be as much like Shakespeare's intended experience as possible -- that is, his plays were meant to be seen and heard, not read.
2. A live performance is generally superior to a film, but if that is not possible or practical, a quality film will work.
3. To prepare for a live or filmed performance, read an abridgment.
4. Then watch -- more than once, if practical; more than one production, if possible.
5. After that, read the unabridged play to the accompaniment of a quality audio production.
6. Read abridgment. Watch production. Read while listening to audio accompaniment.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Read. Think. Learn. Discuss.
7. Other ideas include using toys to simplify plots, keeping a chapbook, and natural memorization through regular use of the language.
8. This method works well for adults, too. There is no reason why someone late to the table should miss this meal.
Bibliography
It's incomplete, really, but the following list represents books titles that have been helpful in my own studies. These are the books to turn to -- after the abridgment and the performance and the reading/listening. (The ol' M-mv mantra: Wash. Rinse. Repeat.) I've boldfaced those I keep close.
Asimov, Isaac. Asimov’s Guide to Shakespeare (Volumes One and Two).
Barton, John. Playing Shakespeare: An Actor’s Guide.
Bloom, Harold. Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human.
Boyce, Charles. Shakespeare A to Z; The Essential Reference to His Plays, His Poems, His Life and Times, and More.
Brown, Ivor. Shakespeare.
Burgess, Anthony. Shakespeare.
Carter, Avis Murton. One Day in Shakespeare’s England.
Chrisp, Peter. Welcome to the Globe! The Story of Shakespeare’s Theater.
Crowl, Samuel. Shakespeare at the Cineplex: The Kenneth Branagh Era.
Epstein, Norrie. The Friendly Shakespeare: A Thoroughly Painless Guide to the Best of the Bard.
Fallon, Robert Thomas. A Theatergoer’s Guide to Shakespeare.
Garber, Marjorie. Shakespeare, After All.
Goddard, Harold C. The Meaning of Shakespeare (Volumes One and Two).
Gollub, Herman. Me and Shakespeare: Adventures with the Bard.
Green, John and Paul Negri. Great Scenes from Shakespeare’s Plays.
Greer, Germaine. Shakespeare: A Very Short Introduction.
Kermode, Frank. Shakespeare’s Language.
Kott, Jan. Shakespeare Our Contemporary.
Lomonico, Michael. The Shakespeare Book of Lists.
Morley, Jacqueline. Shakespeare’s Theater (part of the Inside Story series).
Norwich, John Julius. Shakespeare’s Kings: The Great Plays and the History of England in the Middle Ages: 1337–1485.
O’Dell, Leslie. Shakespearean Language: A Guide for Actors and Students.
— . Shakespearean Characterization: A Guide for Actors and Students.
O’Toole, Fintan. Shakespeare Is Hard, But So Is Life.
** Saccio, Peter. Shakespeare’s English Kings; History, Chronicle, and Drama.
Silverbush, Rhona and Sami Plotkin. Speak the Speech! Shakespeare’s Monologues Illuminated.
Smith, Bob. Hamlet’s Dresser.
Stanley, Diane, and Peter Vennema. Bard of Avalon: The Story of William Shakespeare.
Van Doren, Mark. Shakespeare.
** Master M-mv and I also recommend The Teaching Company's courses Shakespeare: Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies, taught by Saccio. Skip the DVDs; opt for the CDs. Unlike Shakespeare, Saccio is meant to be heard, not seen. Heh, heh, heh.
"Well, it's Groundhog Day. Again."
Ralph: That about sums it up for me.
Phil: Do you know what today is?
Rita: No, what?
Phil: Today is tomorrow. It happened.
Phil: I was in the Virgin Islands once. I met a girl. We ate lobster and drank pina coladas. At sunset we made love like sea otters. That was a pretty good day. Why couldn't I get that day over and over and over?
"The world is full of interesting things that don’t fit inside traditional fictional forms."
From "When fiction breaks down" (Telegraph, January 29):
The problem of the limits of fiction is one that has preoccupied me for a while. The novel is the worldliest of the great artistic forms: you can ignore the world in a painting, or a symphony, or a ballet, or a sculpture, but you can’t in a novel — not one that would be worth reading. But the worldliness of the novel is qualified, and there are things it doesn’t do, or doesn’t do well. Unlikeliness is one of them, and another, I’ve noticed, is work. The world of work, especially of modern work, is significantly under-represented in fiction.
Freud said that the two criteria of mental health were the ability to love and to work. The first of those impulses is amply chronicled in the world of fiction — indeed, exhaustively so, since there are shelves and shelves of books that are essentially all about love. The world of work barely features.
