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[Cold winds over the reeds,Yet buds on the kneeling birch tree,The swallows have come home.]

Cold winds over the reeds,

Yet buds on the kneeling birch tree,

The swallows have come home.


Wait, wrong format. Stand by!

"Shit! Mud-spike! Five o'clock! Close!"

Or perhaps

"Where thoughts come to die"

To continue an amusing theme:

Shall we bring the kettle off the fire, for now? Write not in affect now what you can thresh out, mill and bake into something sharper later, as my aunt never said.

Nonetheless, here comes a few loafs now.

On matters of biology and roles, I am unsure; I simply do not know. Although I am rather inclined to believe nurture over nature. While there are many things about me that is dictated by my flesh, I doubt that my reflex to take a woman's luggage is in my blood, as much as in my mind. The coils in my flesh is not why I reflexively pay the bill when I take a sweet-heart out for dinner. Nor indeed why I am inclined to hear the horn of the White Knight on occasion. Nor that when I am about to do something I do not like, I rally myself with the words 'be a man!' At least, I do not think so. It is a complicated matter, but I would say that it is insufficiently certain to claim biological fact to what is human mannerism. At their better, it hardly needs to be.
There are always certain facts of biology, but they do not need to mean what we presently think, and more to the point, they must be considered along with the environment in which we live.
As a man, I suppose I may have a 'head-start' on musculature, but being a man of a plentiful and relatively peaceful age, my ability to kill a lion with a spear remains woeful. I doubt that a woman, if we assume similar circumstance to mine, would be particularly worse at it than me. What differences we may have in predisposition to the task of spearing poor Mr Whiskers are likely to be nuture, as opposed to nature.


On the matter of censorship. I shall say that a discussion is not censorship. It is well fair to have a grievance, formulate it and bring it up.
Of course, some 'discussions' seem to come with pre-decided conclusions and actions attached, and those can jolly well bog off, but a discussion on itself is precisely that. A talk. A question. A grievance. Things can get ugly, and in this weather, they many times do, but there is still a sense of proportion. The participants of a discussion are generally not allowed to club each other dead. It is a talk, one that will hopefully bring forth some new considerations.

I cannot say that I agree with every conclusion on matters such as this, but listening is free. If a discussion comes with the 'understanding' that failure to agree and act on its conclusions was some sort of 'dog whistle', an indication of hate that must lead to a swift, forceful response, it would be, but someone raising a grievance in a structured manner is not an act of censorship.
Removing social media profiles, getting in touch with someone's employer to have them fired (^{or indeed having the former PM that now runs the national herring bank close their accounts on vague charges of money laundering}) is censorship. Presenting things that you think matter and should change, and being animate when you do it, is not.

Why, I think practically all contemporary architecture is an utter scam, an ugly waste, and I am not censoring modern architects until I directly or indirectly silence or stop them. I can propagate for the cause of stopping their vandalism, provided I do it well and refrain from calling them hideous things, but I cannot write them threatening letters or slash their tyres. I cannot demand that architects should not be allowed to speak. Modern architects are also free to disagree (provided they have some better point than that I would see their beauty, too, if I spend too much time in the same schools as they), but it ends, of course, when they ring up my employer.

Tests such as the Bechdel example are not, to my mind, censorship until works that fail them are stopped, in short. It is as useful a measure as you make it. It is a possibility for discussion, and a useful tool if you do feel the need to use it. It is, if nothing else, a good ground for you to consider your own conditions and considerations.

That was unexpectedly poetic Reiter, you wouldn't happen to write prose and essays for fancy magazines as your day job?

Also, I'm surprised that there was a Nicole Kidman film based on Gertrude Bell, I might just see it from curiosity. I'm not a super fan of Werner Herzog's films or his methods, but my mother adores his works
and he's an acclaimed filmmaker among "culture-cardigans" who consider any mainstream audience critiquing it for being boring to be a badge of honor. 
Plus I guess in my opinion, I'd rather have a boring than an unpleasant and malicious film when it comes to portraying real people.

I certainly wish that I did! One day. One day, I say!

Provided they do not run out of types.

I can see why she may like it. I do have a soft spot for pictures that dare to be slow, and have 'dead air'. I am also enough of a snob to be able to see why the cardigans would think that, I shall admit. And frankly, I do agree. They could have done much worse to Ms Bell than made her picture boring.

Now! Pertinent to the topic, I just thought of something. I recently fell in mad love with the game ArmA III. However, it fails the test quite severely as it does not seem to feature any women at all, which is a most curious absence now that I see it.

On the one hand, I see why. Previous games did feature women NPCs, as particularly ArmA II was about peacekeeping and establishing ties with the locals. N.o. 3, meanwhile, is more conventional combined arms fighting. The scope is not big enough to feature logistics or other areas where women service members would undoubtedly be present, if not in the front line, but they do not even feature in the radio communications or mission control. It is very weird, once you notice it. Extraordinarily curious. Considering that ArmA III did sacrifice a lot of the simulation aspect to bring the gameplay back to focus, a few servicewomen would not have been a stretch at all, certainly not for 2035.

Then again, the meat and potatoes of that game is making your own missions in it, with voice recordings and everything. Rigging and modelling is out of the question, but I certainly could cast a few servicewomen in the comms, at least. Dig where you stand!

That is also another question. Where stands a complete absence of women or different races where they should be expected to be, rather than a bad use of such characters? And what reasons for it are reasonable?

Both lice and turds are difficult to illustrate, of course. Difficult to model in a game. And in most war stories, there would be little point. In a Big Serious War is Hell picture, most certainly worth trying to bring across. Less so in Where Eagles Dare, for instance. Or indeed Call of Duty. War as entertainment is a different question all together.

I don't know where or when it began, but it's not uncommon to see soldiers vomiting of stress and fear in contemporary movies. Which was not shown in the XX century films, I believe.

That is a good point! It is a bit easier to illustrate that way, as it were, and I must say that it adds without taking away. A solution that I had forgotten, and now that you say it, I see it. Something to keep in mind.

It was a long time ago, and I will have to re-watch it some time, but I do think that To Hell and Back had similar instances, but it was also made to truly portray that sort of stress and fear, as much as the time it was made in could abide. It was quite raw for 1955, and frankly, I think it still is, even without arms and legs flying around. Of course, it is particularly interesting since the star of the picture, and indeed also the subject of it, would later speak out on battle-fatigue, its long-term conditions and how to improve the care of those afflicted. I imagine that a lot of modern post-traumatic care comes as a result of this movement. It is intriguing, how things work sometimes.

An interesting list, although as all such lists, it needs to remain somewhat open. Sunless Skies fulfills the second and third most easily, but it fails the first. This is simply because with the exception of the chosen player name and Her Renewed Majesty, Empress Victoria of Albion, Slayer of Suns, there are no names, only titles. 'Repentant Devil', 'Incognito Princess', 'Indurate Veteran', 'Inadvisably Big Dog', and so forth. They are all characters, but the Sunless games do not often 'do' proper names. It works better than it sounds, believe me.

True for most of the game, but there are exceptions in Fallen London and Sunless Sea: the three sisters at Hunter's Keep are Phoebe, Cyntia and Lucy; there's also Virginia, the deviless, F.F. Gebrandt, the chemist, and at some point, you can find out that Mrs. Plenty's first name is Miriam.

That is a very good point! I do feel very silly for forgetting the sister's names. Names are rare and valuable in the Neath, after all. It is a nice touch, I think, defining people by what they are, in a sense. When you do encounter a name, it is that much more significant.

Of course, I'm an atheist - so please watch God Is Not Dead and come to the conclusion that it's terrible on your own.

Speaking as a Christian* I cannot say that I wish to. It sounds quite dreary, and it is the sort of moaning and self-congratulating that I find quite difficult. I suppose that it is also that it is part of that very stupid game where the participants are asked to choose Team Science or Team Christ. That game does no good but the leading participants, and the type of people who live to grind axes. It seems like a rather wasteful picture, when there are so many good news that they could tell. If I am the intended audience, I decline it.

* I think. That is the path and the oath I chose, and it ought to be enough but I imagine that those evangelical types would find me a theological disaster area.

I shall join you. I will come over with the vodka. We will need it. Surströmming is a delight if you are sufficiently drunk. Which we will need to be if the Trumpet comes back for more.

I'll welcome the company, but I have to leave the drinking to you. I don't touch that stuff myself. 

More Koskenkorva for me! Division of labour. If that man ever does manage to hack a presidency campaign together again, at least I have something to look forward to.

Now, I do hope that the inauguration goes as planned. Of course, with the capitol full of guardsmen and everyone at the ready, I can hardly believe it would not. Certainly not now, when the first shock is waning. What happened in the capitol hall will of course be a division and a dark cloud for a very, very long time, but with Biden and some other grown-ups back in charge, things do seem to be looking up at last. It is well worth enduring the Trumpet's final volleys of empty boasting from the pulpet he shall soon have to relinquish. And, as pathetic as it was, there was a sense of vindication in finally seeing that bumbling cad finally burned his fingers.

An intriguing question. And a most intriguing discussion that it began. Brace yourself, the incompetent word-steward is about to dump far too much hot text in your lap!

Frankly, I do agree on the general nastiness of a lot of media nowadays. This peculiar sex-fiend arms-race in detective fiction is part of the reason why I do not like anything grittier than Father Brown these days, as far as television is concerned. Of course, not all contemporary crime dramas participate, but there is an unpleasant tendency to attempt to come up with new and fresh atrocities to keep the public shocked. For a while, it is as if a crime drama had no chance unless it featured some woman murdered in some ghastly, ironic manner.
I suppose I may simply be squeamish, but I cannot say that it is my type of entertainment, which is the operative word. At least the dreadful adverts featuring clips of abused animals have the purpose to draw in some money to the fund that means to help them.
I can see horrors and cruelty unbound whenever I please, behind my eyelids, if I look for it. I do not particularly want to, so I cannot say that I appreciate the service, even if it is meant to carry an element of catharsis.
I partly lay the blame at Stieg Larsson, at least locally. He exorcised some personal demons rather more publicly than I would consider proper, and then it seems to have become a sort of fad. One where ladies are the canvas the monster of the week is painted on. A standard. The trend is shifting, at last, but I think my general aversion to grit is permanent.

Indeed, George R. R. Martin is a most gifted author, and I do admire the solidity of his work. But I do not like it. I like me fairy-tales. They need to have something dark in them, but they need to be cosy. Wondrous, swashbuckling, grim and baroque at times, but they must have a space for cosiness. Post Game of Thrones, there seem to be an impression that fantasy must focus on cruelty and cynicism. As if Game of Thrones succeeded where other tales failed, and the cruelty that made so much of its stock had anything to do with it.
Lord of the Rings would no doubt had been greatly improved if Aragon had gouged the eyes out of a few rivals to the throne, Sam had sold Frodo out for a newly conquered fiefdom and Gimli had raped a few elves while they were passing through the elf woods.
I respect Mr Martin's authorship and I am happy for his successes. But when this dark legacy dissipate from fairy land, I shall be a very happy man.

Now, then. As a note on the subject of expectations and growing up. When I was a boy, I had a doll-house. I had made it myself and was very proud of it. It was vaguely modelled on 221b Baker Street, I seem to recall. Of course, no one could ever know. It was my little secret, something just for me. I kept it very close, and had a lot of good times with it. No one outside the family knew a thing.
I cannot say that I was truly ashamed of my little 'vice'. It harmed no one, and no one would ever know. You are in charge of making your own fun in this world. I would have died of embarrassment if it had become known, of course. Less because it was something to b e ashamed of, and more because it was a secret little deviancy, all of my own, and there were a lot of meaner boys out there. They could hurt you, and it felt so hideous, the very idea of the school-yard bully getting a chance to come in and destroy your private little world. It was not actually wrong of me to make dollies solve mysteries and decorate rooms in my own time; it was simply very unwise to let it become common knowledge.

I still think that people should be allowed this private space for themselves. My secret doll-house is now mostly an amusing anecdote to friends and a box of good memories, but I think that everyone should be allowed a secret garden.

Similarly, I recall another discussion I had with another boy. I was (and remain) fond of horses and horsemanship. He maintained that it was girly. I countered with knights, cowboys, caroleans. I think that he agreed, and saw my point (enough to not think less of me, at least), but he remained adamant that horses were now inseparably and irrevocably in the realm of girlhood. Sometimes, you are reminded even in youth that things do not necessarily make sense.

Peculiar things, these expectations there are. Of course, there is always room to defy them.

As to why the sexual violence inflicted upon soldiers is not mentioned very often, I am unsure. I have not thought of it. It is quite common, however, as is all modes of cruelty in a war. It is odd that it is not present more in the media that is decidedly anti-war and presents it at its most hellish. However, I cannot wonder that it, among with a lot of other hideous and utterly inglorious things are omitted in works that, if not glorifying to war, certainly tones down its horrors for the sake of the story or style of the piece.

It is a bit like an old naval warfare phenomenon that (mostly rightly) does not make it into the swashbuckling pirate films. All the chaps on the battery decks tend to have soiled themselves after a while. Partly out of fear or want for a break, but mostly because of the reality of firing a broadside in an enclosed area. Yesterday's dinner must go somewhere.
There is a reason that this is not modelled. It is rather hard to illustrate on film, and if it is one of those adventurous pirate pictures, it would rather break the mood. The same reason why the pirates are generally not shown branding, buggering or cutting the lips (and frying them) off of their victims, as was a distinct possibility amongst real pirate crews.
Indeed, the frequency in which the participants soil their underpants in battle is fairly great. It likely always have been. Battles are always terrifying, Marathon to Mosul, and as they are generally an all-day event, you could hardly duck out of the phalanx to tend to necessities. Considering the pressure and the shock-waves of the modern battlefield, I can only imagine that there is a significant expenditure on underpants on deployments.
There is the lice, too. I do believe George Orwell, in one of his novels, say something on the lines of 'All soldiers are riddled with lice in war. The pacifists would be wise to use pictures of them in their pamphlets. The men who fought at Verdun, Waterloo, Thermopyle, all had lice crawling over their testicles.'
Both lice and turds are difficult to illustrate, of course. Difficult to model in a game. And in most war stories, there would be little point. In a Big Serious War is Hell picture, most certainly worth trying to bring across. Less so in Where Eagles Dare, for instance. Or indeed Call of Duty. War as entertainment is a different question all together.

There is, however, good reason to discuss where sexual violence is specifically absent and where it is not. Would 'Lawrence of Arabia' have benefited from a rape scene? It is doubtful, and I can understand its omission. However, would the matter be treated differently if it had been 'Laura of Arabia' instead? I imagine it would, and that I find the disagreeable part.

Well, on that note, there practically was a Laura of Arabia. Queen of the Desert, about Gertrude Bell. Nicole Kidman, I believe. It rather failed to capture her, I fear. Ms Bell is a very intriguing woman. To make a boring film of her is almost as doubtful an achievement as making it needlessly unpleasant.

As for the original question, I am unsure. I am a firm believer in the power of checklists, but I think fiction may be the exception. Tests of this kind is useful to keep in mind, but I myself remain hesitant to use them, or at least stick to them. At least partly because I imagine I would simply muck it up.
That said, it is worth the time considering. A perfect agreement may not come, and I do not think that every work owes it to be spot-free, checked and tried. It is worth examining what stories that feature old-model Orcs à la Tolkien may say and what it may not say, but sometimes, a nasty old Orc is just what you need to make the blasted tale work as it needs to.

That all being said, I can't help but feel as though there's something incorrect about this whole discussion. 

Right. We were talking about discrimination tests in the first place.

Are really useful in videogaming?

_

(sorry if my first reply in this thread started a separate discussion and sidetracked the initial question) 

As for tests, I can agree that the Bechdel test isn't too useful when it comes to video games, due to many games not featuring conversations between npc's in the first place (everybody just hanging out waiting for the player to interact with them being an old standard in gaming),
but that doesn't mean other forms of discrimination tests don't matter. As I mentioned previously, as a girl, only seeing boys in video game marketing and only seeing burly men with guns on the covers made me feel alienated as a kid, and it was seeing cool female game protagonists like Lara Croft, April Ryan and Zoe Castillo that got me into gaming, and eventually made me want to try more different games (including those with burly gunmen on the cover). So yeah, I think representation matters in gaming because I've experienced the effects of it firsthand, and I think having media tests can be useful in discerning broad trends and help people start to think and discuss the matter.

Maybe an alternative to the Bechdel test more adapted to video game-style narratives would be to ask if a game has;
1. A named female character (with an actual name, not a title)
2. Who has a full conversation with the player character/protagonist (more than two sentences),
3. And her conversation isn't about a romantic or sexual relationship with the player character

Any thoughts on this?

An interesting list, although as all such lists, it needs to remain somewhat open. Sunless Skies fulfills the second and third most easily, but it fails the first. This is simply because with the exception of the chosen player name and Her Renewed Majesty, Empress Victoria of Albion, Slayer of Suns, there are no names, only titles. 'Repentant Devil', 'Incognito Princess', 'Indurate Veteran', 'Inadvisably Big Dog', and so forth. They are all characters, but the Sunless games do not often 'do' proper names. It works better than it sounds, believe me.

I think that I shall do what comes naturally - keep my tomato tucked in and do as I am told.

It will be a while before there will be a needle for me, but I shall take it when I am asked. Cleverer heads than mine have worked on this, after all. There does not seem to be any narcolepsy in this batch, at least.

I do detest needles, however. I am a baby when it comes to having them. It is terrifying, and I really do not want to have one. But I will have to, of course, so I will try to be a man about it. I suppose I could buy a lollipop on the way, and pretend the doctor gave it to me when I leave. I do hope the damned thing is worth it, but we shall see. EDIT: Apparently, the king and the queen had their dose today. Rather settles the matter; bring them on. I can take needles all day long.

I came out the victor in our first bout (I think), but I am quite aware that the second round may kill me all the same. This virus is a real maverick, it seems to do just about what-ever it please.

However, it would appear that  if this does take place, he will never be able to run for office again. Whew!

I've seen contradictory reporting on that. He might be able to run if not removed by the senate, at least, though I think it's going to be irrelevant. He may be dumb as a brick, but I doubt even he will want to take a second round of what he's been through.
If Trump is the leading Republican candidate in 2024, I will eat a whole tin of surströmming (and probably die).

I shall join you. I will come over with the vodka. We will need it. Surströmming is a delight if you are sufficiently drunk. Which we will need to be if the Trumpet comes back for more. Blondbraid (and her male doppelgänger Blondbeard) could join us, as well. A picnic under distressing circumstances but a picnic nonetheless!

Oh, hey, he used to be Hercules in that show I loved as a kid! Neat!

From what I've seen after that Kevin Sorbo started starring mostly in Evangelical Christian propaganda films made for right-wing Americans.

How very silly of him. God does not need propaganda. Mr Sorbo could be doing marketing for someone who needs it.

As for the manatee story; bugger them*. That is not done. Poor things.

As for the rest of it, it is amusing to see simply how severely Mr Trump has fallen on his arse this time. Truly a tweet too far. I do hope this impeachment business goes well, so that we do not have the distinct displeasure of having him back in office for anything more significant than a golf club. Not to mention changing the guards policy of the Capitol. It just seems outrageously unfair to leave it next to unguarded during an event like this, with all the potential it had to kick off, compared to how fortified the blasted place was this last summer. Dangerous, too, truly. A firm barrier at the right time saves lives.

*The perpetrators, I hasten to add. Manatees are guilty of nothing but being delightfully fat.

I made a peculiar find recently.

I cannot say that I am very fond of Kiss. It is not the music that I like - and I remain childishly unable to not read their name as 'wee' (which is what kiss means means 'round here).

Then, they went and made their 'anti-album', the sort of album some bands sometimes do, something so far from their ordinary path that their listeners cannot make heads or tails of it. In this case, it is Music from the Elder!

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABDAtZO6vxU

[close]

I heard it first as I imagine a lot of people did - with other youngsters sprawled around smoky rooms, nodding and mumbling. I have remembered it since, but I could not find it again. No wonder, though. I would never ever have guessed that it was Kiss, of all people! Then, it featured in a web-comic, and we were re-acquainted. Goodness, the world is small - and things have a tendency to return to you when you expect it the least.


It is not the best album, certainly not a favourite, but it is a very unexpected re-acquaintance. There is certainly some nostalgia from my part, but even so, I like it. It is good! Very good. Certainy the best Kiss ever did.

Thank you kindly! Most intriguing - it shall be an interesting read. Happy to see it available free of charge. I seem to remember hearing of her in connexion to Ordeal, but she seems a most fascinating writer, with an intriguing perspective.

I complain so much about the internet, but I cannot argue that it makes sourcing books ever so much simpler.

GENTLEMEN!

Do not make me come down there. I have a stick!

There are discussions to be had here, but this is not the mode. This is a terribly bad atmosphere. Particularly now that the subject of this thread is on the slide, hopefully for good. It is not a good time to do something silly. Let it be, we have a world with less covfefe in it to prepare for.

What IS covfefe, anyway? The cup of coffee the pub gives you when it is about time you go home? A type of chocolate bonbons? Have we reached a conclusion on this? I must know.

Here is that pie, ladies and gentlemen! Careful, it is quite warm.

Spoiler

[imgzoom]https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/7b/V%C3%A4sterbottenspaj%2C_2019.jpg/640px-V%C3%A4sterbottenspaj%2C_2019.jpg[/imgzoom]

[close]

Now, as for the Trumpet, it seems this may have been the last straw, fortunately. A coup is distinctively unlikely - that is what you get when you spend your political career spitting on the shoes of your officer corps. Eleven days, and we are through the thick of it for now. Joy!

Life is also an adventure game, without a save option and one where regardless of what you do, you lose.
Although some dream of becoming immortal gods 

Oh, indeed. A pointless hunt, as in a way, each of us are. Actors in the great play, the game of games. We have our verbs and our appointed rooms, our views and our global variables, all to He who points and clicks, and it is all magnificence. It could be worse. We could all be in a particularly cruel Sierra game.
(I ought to write this sermon out some day and see if the vicar wants it.)

I don't want to be caught in the crossfire, but... can't we all just get along? I mean this is just a web forum.

Unfortunately, as long as someone misinterprets having a different opinion as an attack on their identity, it will always be impossible for us to get along. 
And unfortunately that fight or flight response is built into us as humans. So we're destined to never get along... unless coincidentally we all like the same thing. Speaking of which, does anyone here like adventure games? 

I disagree. There will always be something - something - that unites us over our differences, what-ever that may be. The question is finding it.

That is not to say that some differences are not impossible to reconcile or that it is a command to do so, since those differences and those limits are yours to decide - I doubt I could ever have drinks down the pub with an open Daeshite, and I shall not reconsider this - but all the same, it is important to try the thought, when the alternative is ever so much more simple and inviting. What bridges do you burn, and how many can you spare?

In this case, good old adventure games are far more important than the Trumpet's big mess of a political career. We can unify around that particular totem (presumably made to look like a mouse pointer), or at the very least around making fun of Mr Trump's ridiculous, guinea pig hair-cut.

Yes, please tone it down, Khris, and focus on arguments not persons. We've been over that particular ground many times before, anyway.

(It's awkward for me to play a double role of mod and participant in discussions like this. We should get a dedicated mod for this forum.)

The polarization and name-calling in US politics are awful, but the worst part of it is how their bipartisan politics and the mentality of their "debates" keep bleeding over to discussions outside the US.

As a Swede and a History buff, I can't say I would be surprised if the USA ceased to be a superpower in this century, with the numbers of wars they've fought and foreign interventions they've kinda been burning the candle in both ends and there's been hardly any focus on sustainability or longevity. Few empires have lasted more than a couple of centuries, and those that did focused strongly on building a strong infrastructure and cohesive governmental body, whereas, as some rando on the internet said, USA isn't even a full country, it's 50 tiny countries in a trenchcoat.

Part of it is, I am sure, the political prudency of never wasting a good crisis. Part of it, I am starting to think, is that a lot of the more vocal people simply forget that they are not in America. It has such a vast presence, which they have absorbed for so long, that I do imagine that it is simply difficult for them to see where it ends these days. Goodness me, pulled pork became trendy again in a heart-beat once Biff Yankee started eating it, after all.

As for the future of Pax America, I do believe it is waning. Empires are troublesome. They are very rarely planned from the start, they are usually held together with hope and bits of string and if history have anything to teach aspiring empires, it is that the best you can hope for as an empire is finding yourself in a position where you can end your days peacefully. An empire 'succeeds' by dismantling itself in an orderly manner and with enough of what matters most to it intact to have something to live on, and preferably being able to meet the next new empire on tolerable terms.
What happens now is unclear, but there is a great shift coming. It will be ugly, but such are all inevitabilities. Project Europe looks rather bleak, for one. Indeed, as for the United States specifically, one wonders if it would be a happier union if it was a union of smaller unions instead. One hears a lot of 'right-sizing' and what-not, after all.

If we get another round of Trumpeting in '24, on the other hand, I will be very vexed.

Gentlemen, PLEASE!

That damned man is not worth it. This odious miasma he perpetually seem to generate is not worth it. Have some tea, let it be.

The Trumpet has finally shat in the blue cupboard so fiercely that it is inoperable, and by all accounts he is done. Done on the presidential throne, done in New York, done on the internet vomit machine. He will be out of office one day, and with these events, he may also finally go out of style.

We, meanwhile, will all be here tomorrow, when he is presumably packed off to Russia (if Ivan will take him in). We will have to get along when he is gone. It is not worth it, gentlemen.

EDIT: I am off to work, but surely we can all come along to laugh at the Trumpet later? I could bring a pie. Stay safe and stay calm!

Haopy new year! Happy 2021! Goodness, am I happy to see the end of this year. I suppose that it is nto einteirly the fault of the year - it is just a year, but it has been a dreary old slog nonetheless.

NoW! Let us send of this misforunate and ill-fated old '20, and welcome '21! The yEar of the World! Dawn is breaking, come and see!

Hurrah! Hurrah! hUrrah!

A happy new year to you all!

And books in school matters, Sir. At least I think they should.

It is a slogging and difficult threshing to sort this business out, but it is well worth doing. Otherwise, what is the point? Disband literature classes all together, and spend the time saved on learning to draft C.V.s or make pie charts on the computer.

I suppose that is a greater discussion, however. What is school and education for? And where does 'non-practical' subjects and things like gymnastics and art classes fit into it?

Intriguing discussion, nonetheless. As for the example, I thought that bat-man did not kill people out of principle. Except, I imagine, 'by accident', now and then.

Hah! Well, the program 'Noah's Island' is about a drifting volcanic island, and the polar bear Noah that finds it and becomes its captain. He assembles a crew out of all sorts of animals who come to the island after circus boat ship-wrecks and so forth.

One of captain Noah's merry men is a sort of Russian shrew called Sasha. His 'catch-phrase'?

'Hojski bojski!'

He said that at any opportunity, I seem to recall. And ended all his sentences with '-skij', I think. It was a long time ago. It may be different in English.

Nonetheless, I wish you the most splendid new year!

As for breakfast, I must admit that I am not a good breakfasteer. Tea and tobacco is the usual fair, perhaps some biscuits and olives. I just do not have an appetite in the morning. My body wakes up long after I do. Still, breakfast habits are intriguing. That Forest Gump fellow should have expanded his shoe theorem to include breakfasting. Weetabix are nothing for me, not while there are digestive biscuits.

As for Brexit, I admit that I am far out of my depth. Books and their importance I know (and write Leviathanian posts about), but this matter is well beyond my horisons. I still wonder what posessed Mr Cameron to hold an over-simplified Aye/Nay plebicite on such a complicated matter. I can understand that Tom, Dick and Harry did not know the complexities of the Union systems and its implications, but I jolly well expect a prime minister to know just what a tangle politics can be. It amuses me. I wonder if they have a leaking gas line at No. 10. Or if the cat snuck into the office and forged the decision to ensure less import duty on tuna.

'Noah's Island', by chance?

Hojski-bojski!

I think it's correct to regard an effort to change the curriculum as a politically motivated act, but it's huge mistake to regard efforts to keep the curriculum the same as politically neutral. They're both political, and neither of them shows greater respect towards abstract notions of literary or cultural value. Regarding the curriculum as if it were a monolithic and unchanging syllabus of Great Texts is an appealing conservative fantasy, but it's also clearly nonsense.

I agree, we shouldn't necessarily hide books which are deemed 'dangerous'. But which books does society deem dangerous? Is anyone afraid of Homer or Shakespeare? Or are the readers of the Wall Street Journal terrified that anti-racist (or pro-gay or pro-trans) literature will appear on the syllabus?

Oho! I understand what you mean. I lay no claim to neutrality in this question. There is no such thing, truly. I understand that there is a political motivation, of a kind, in my wish to keep the classics in the curriculum, and my severe reticence in seeing it changed. And, indeed, there is no such thing as stasis. Things do change, over time. It is a tempting thing, to pretend to belong to the old sensible in the face of a vast, lunatic modernity coming to rip it all down and replace it with vapid fashions of now. It is, of course, much more complicated than that, and I do my damnedest to remember that.

As for outright dangerous works, I admit they are few. Neither of the examples would be. 'Dangerous' was the wrong word to use, as it carries a certain emergency and fear with it. Works that are considered malinfluential, problematic, odious or hateful, at a first glance, or as a basic reaction.
The works that were to replace them are not a danger, either. They would well have merits beyond being what the current climate demands, and they, too, deserve their time at the desk, but I am wary of them becoming a replacement, and being treated as an improvement â€" an an idea that all books are the same, and what matters is that they are a good fit for the present.

Now, I suppose 'The Anarchist's Cookbook' or some other insurgency manuals are the only truly dangerous books, and I could understand why they would make no appearance â€" but the question of such books and their availability is a different matter, I suppose. Ironically, an old CIA-issue bomb making leaflet or some-such on the loose would probably be considerably more dangerous than a traceable and supervised darknet site. Intriguing, how it falls sometimes.

I think you take a different meaning from "relevance" (or "relevancy") than I do. Relevance does not imply complete identity or recognition, but rather some ability to relate: to connect it to one's own experience (external or internal, personal or second-hand). I believe that pre-modern literature has a higher threshold to achieve that connection because it rarely features any kind of psychological realism, which when present offers a ready bridge. Few readers will have faced a situation like Hamlet's, but we can emotionally relate â€" directly or indirectly â€" to his resentment of a stepfather, to his indecision in the face of a moral dilemma, to the way he lashes out in anger and grief, etc. Achilles's petulant refusal to fight, and his uncontrollable rage after Patroclus's death, on the other hand, are more opaque to us, more alien. In the Odyssey, I can only hesitantly identify Odysseus's experience of dislocation upon his return, and perhaps Telemachus's absence from growing up without a father, as points of connection for a contemporary audience.

(On the other hand, a number of interpreters have retold the stories in various ways to bring out some of the emotion perhaps latent in the original. I'm thinking particularly of The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood, The Lost Books of the Odyssey by Zachary Mason and Circe by Madeline Miller. They do however rely on some pretty heavy revisionism. Oh, and as I've just learned, the poem by Tennyson, which turns out to be the source of a number of lines I recognize, apparently in part from Skyfall, and which I find rather good: "Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' / Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades / For ever and forever when I move.")

I see what you mean, in the matter of relating. That is a different question, and I do agree that there is need to tread carefully. It is easier for someone young to see themselves in, say, a trodden and beaten little boy suddenly getting a whole new life and going off to a wizard school than in a warrior leaving his team because he feels unfairly treated when the king takes away his slave. Even so, there is things to recognise in Achilles and the men and women around them, and with some training, any distance can be bridged, and what was alien to the reader become familiar. Personal experiences are important, but to look beyond even them..! Oh, splendour, the world is greater than comprehension will allow!
It is another power of the word; that we can be invited into the hide of anything and anyone, eventually. Some works makes it easy, some are very difficult. I do think the young should be encouraged to try this, however. It is splendour, and one of the requirements of modern civility and life is the ability to look beyond the self and into the condition of the other. Learning to relate, first in familiar surroundings and then in hallowed or horrid or alien circumstances, will be of immeasurable help.
I may over-estimate the contemporary audience, particularly the young. But I want to believe that I am not, that anyone can step over. Far better it is than to not push them enough. Indeed, with so much other media all around them, making the fantastical familiar, I imagine the young of today can, with practice, put their eyes and heart where-ever they choose.

And, truly, thank you for that link! It is a delightful poem, and I am happy to know of that web-site now.

For instance, Arabian poetry may not have seem relevant to me, but having had the opportunity to examine it in manhood, I see how it is universal. Indeed, Arabian literature is a trove of treasures I am just now discovering, and it is splendid. That is how the written word is so radiant; it breaches all types of relevancies, and yet you meet the same things in it, wherever you go.

Oh, interesting. I recently read The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyám by Edward FitzGerald for the first time (not the most faithful rendering, I'm told, but I thought the interpreter might help smooth the way into the text). I must admit that my appreciation was limited. Do you have any recommendations for what I could try, given that I'm limited to English translations?

Oh, goodness, no! I am still very much a beginner, and you are likely far more versed in it than myself. I can only recommend hunting for a wide selection, and see what takes your fancy from there. It is a vast field! I, too, rely on translations. Arabic is a fascinating language (or family of languages, I am still not sure), but it is beyond my reach for now. If I find a promising vein, I shall get in touch.

At a guess, the "classic epic poetry" quota was taken up by selections from the Norse corpus (themselves not very extensive).

That is time well spent, I shall say, although it is a pity that there must be a choice. I barely recall my school days, but I do remember a disappointing lack of Norse verse in it. Although, the Nordic mythology lessons did a lot to fill the gap. I may have been too cyclopean (ha!) previous. There are, after all, other lessons, that may make up for what the literature lessons simply do not have time for. Nonetheless, there was a glaring omission of Beowulf, I recall now.

Speaking of omissions, Johan Ludvig Runeberg was absent. And in that case, I do suspect that the reasoning may have been political. He is certainly not a hard read or unrelatable. I imagine that he was simply considered a bit 'icky' â€" martial and nationalistic â€" when they were pruning the curriculum, so poor old Runeberg had to bite it. A pity, really, considering the joint heritage he represents.

Homer is, of course, a hard digest, but the act of learning to read what is sometimes difficult and stodgy texts, to understand references you might not just at once â€" or indeed circumnavigating something that you do not have the frame of reference to understand â€" is as valuable knowledge that much exceeds the historical importance of the text.

As for the difference in value between Homer and modernity, I would say that is part of the point to teach it. Such things change, and I do believe even children benefit from being made aware of this, of seeing it. Knowing that the values of Agamemnon's men and those of we who live now differ â€" and knowing why â€" is very important. Addressing it is not only a necessity, it is the point. Relevancy and understanding.

Indeed, but I don't think either of those lessons require Homer specifically.

But I will not argue that you are wrong. Something is no doubt lost when command of the classics (as traditionally conceived) is no longer expected of students, and it is valid to regret that loss. However, as Ali correctly points out, to instill that knowledge comes at an opportunity cost of learning other things, of opening up to reading other kinds of texts, and we should not be blind to that cost simply because it has been the traditional choice.

Perhaps... Perhaps. It is a good point. With a holistic (is that the right word) method of education, where each part links and aids the others is the best. Tradition, I hold as very important, but there may indeed be a time when the gains taken at its expense outweighs the loss. I suppose that I am simply unconvinced that the exchange will be any good, but I am always prepared to be surprised.

Well, if there's one thing to be said for the Greek classics, they are at least not anti-gay. (Though unless I misremember, Achilles's love for Patroclus is not explicitly sexual in Homer.)

It is important to remember that the way we see these things are always changing. Truly, antiquity were no less bothered and baffled by sexual matters than we are now, I would wager, only that their peculiarities and distinctions are different. It is very complicated, and I do not think a direct adaption to modern culture can be made without some misunderstandings along the way.

If we're talking about the Odyssey, I don't remember ever being asked to read it in full in school, and personally, I don't see why it should be either. There are several million books in existence,
and I personally think there are lots of books that can spark more interesting discussions than a work whose biggest influence on western society was giving filmmakers some ideas on what monsters to put in their blockbusters.

But even if you disagree and think the Odyssey is one of the greatest books ever, from my experience, our teachers were so pressed for time we could barely fit one book into a school year,
so that would just mean excluding another work if they were to choose the entirety of the Odyssey as part of the curriculum. I for one think Right-Wing Women by Andrea Dworkin is one of
the most eye-opening books I've ever read and I'd wish everyone would read it, but I'm not going to say it's censorship because it isn't part of every school curriculum.

I disagree, on the premise that it is not only a book (if there was ever such a thing as 'only' a book), as it carries so much more else with it, and have meant so much more than merely an inspiration for monster-makers (as an aside, consider the Aeneid! The implications and inspirations of that work, and what it meant to Rome, which could be monstrous for two!).

As I mentioned earlier, the songs of Homer is a gateway, a glimpse into an old world, and a reflexion to our own, and an excellent place to cut reading teeth. As a story, on its own amongst untold millions, it is not much. It is the all-reaching legacy it represents, the timelessness, and the lineage, which is this archetype of a work's true value. As a book amongst others, it is mediocre. As an inheritance, and more importantly as a great gateway, it is invaluable.
Now, reading the Iliad and the Odyssey, back to back, in their entirety, would of course be too much, but that is not, in my mind, what should be done with this sort of literature. A few, choice verses, and a greater view of the picture, is all that it takes.

I remember so little from my school days, but I do remember that classics from antiquity were part of it. It was a very brief visit, shorter than it should have been, but it did awaken the interest, the understanding. Which is, of course, what literary studies should do, particularly if pressed for time.
What matters most in such studies, now that I think of it, is not to read great works to their final line and letter, but to grasp them. To learn what they mean, what they represent, what they are. For it is a fact of life that the most important reading you will do is not done in the school bench, but on your own â€" out in your own life.
I am grateful for having been introduced to so much splendour by the curriculum, but the books that have truly mattered to me have â€" of course â€" almost all been off the curriculum. The literature classes simply pointed me in their direction and gave me what I needed to hunt for them.

Now, I shall see about Andrea Dworkin. She seems quite intriguing, and I can never have enough books to read!

Well, no. It is not a catastrophic omission, as it were. It is, however, a mistake. A pity. A mighty archetype that has been with us so long, and a window into another world, and a point of reference through the ages â€" it is a gift withheld. Its absence will not collapse our world, but it makes it poorer.

Relevancy, I think, does not matter. Not, at least, as what that term implies. Most novels do not feature telephones or the internet, and is thus woefully irrelevant to the life of a child today. And yet, of course, they are, for so little has truly changed. Something that literature helps to bring across. Something that I think it should bring across. A modern child in a smart villa in, say, Bergen - Norway, would soon discover that they are more closely united to Oliver Twist than either would know, despite their circumstances. Ink on paper is a splendid way to discover this.
Indeed, relevancy is an illusion for what is relevant to you changes as you observe something.
For instance, Arabian poetry may not have seem relevant to me, but having had the opportunity to examine it in manhood, I see how it is universal. Indeed, Arabian literature is a trove of treasures I am just now discovering, and it is splendid. That is how the written word is so radiant; it breaches all types of relevancies, and yet you meet the same things in it, wherever you go.

I would agree that that curriculum seems to have been an excellent, solid piece nonetheless, although I remain unconvinced as to why they left such an important part of it out, even though it certainly did make up the difference. Homer is, of course, a hard digest, but the act of learning to read what is sometimes difficult and stodgy texts, to understand references you might not just at once â€" or indeed circumnavigating something that you do not have the frame of reference to understand â€" is as valuable knowledge that much exceeds the historical importance of the text.

As for the difference in value between Homer and modernity, I would say that is part of the point to teach it. Such things change, and I do believe even children benefit from being made aware of this, of seeing it. Knowing that the values of Agamemnon's men and those of we who live now differ â€" and knowing why â€" is very important. Addressing it is not only a necessity, it is the point. Relevancy and understanding.
As an early surviving archetype, it stands tall still, and the gifts from trying to understand it is greater than the sum of the tale itself. And truly, what I mean by legacy does not limit it for Greeks alone, or that it is of less value to a Norwegian, as it is sufficiently old and vast that it transcends the modern nation-state. But I admit, if I had my way, Chinese and Indian epics would get their time on the bench here, too.

Now. I shall admit that having now threshed the matter through for a while, I see the impossibility. There is too much splendour, too much importance, to press into the teaching machine. It is impossible. There will always be glaring omissions, for want of time. What of Snorre Sturlasson? What of the Mahabharta? What of Milton, and Confucius? There will never be time, not even if I got to run my own public school!

Provided, of course, it is for a want of time that works are omitted, rather than foolish notions of what is appropriate and what is relevant and what is dangerous.

It is uplifting, in a way. That this vast treasure hoard around us is too great to survey, and hopeless to choose from. We can only pick which choice pieces to display.
But if such is the case, I argue that the most important part of literature in school is to point to this vast field and say 'Look. Take it! It is yours!', and open the pupil's eyes to this beauty, and to make them brave in the face of its hideousness.


To me, Homer is of greater importance than a 'mere' book. It is an archetype, a guide to a vast tradition, and a place to cut your teeth. But I see now that it may not be as utterly indispensable as I imagine, IF its replacement fits the same profile.

And, most importantly, that this replacement is not taught 'simply' as a book to know about. It is greater than that. If it can be replaced with just about anything on paper, what would be the point on spending school time studying books? If it should be taken off the curriculum for being distressing or problematic, how would one expect the pupils to learn what to do when they encounter such things in the wild? One would think it would be critical to the 'anti-biased' thinking that this here Disrupt Text movement seem to want.

Then again, I now remember when I recently watched some literature show on television, where one of the culture big-wigs in the studio said, very earnestly, that there was no inherent value in reading. In short, sending and receiving on the telephone or simply watching The Name of the Rose on Netflix is just as good, and books have no inherent value. He was met with general agreement, I seem to recall.

I myself and what I want literature and its reading to be may simply be wrong. I do not quite know anymore.

Still, it is mighty fun to thresh it out!