Welcome To The Watch

I was sitting around earlier reading a book by Bernard J. Bamberger called Fallen Angels: The Soldiers of Satan's Realm - an interesting survey of the texts about Lucifer and the fallen angels from which we derive much folkore. I'd even recommend this to someone who isn't privy to this crucial part of the Christian cosmological vision - for a literature or theology class, or for the heck of it - in addition to Ezekiel 28 ( I mention it mostly because it was the first biblical passage with which I was taught the fall of Lucifer ). Otherwise I notice that the folklore tends to be taken for granted - many assume one particular take on the story.

But the point of this post was a similar matter of risk, namely posting a short piece of writing I did earlier yesterday. Although it may seem that it is predominated by things I've read lately, I will object to that assumption. In fact, I've been familiar with texts like the Book of Enoch and other apocryphal tales for quite some time - their narratives about 'evil' I find to be great inspirations for theological as well as tickling my wild imagination. For a brief summary of the Watchers / Nephilim go here. The idea for the story came together as a result of this week of class, rather. We were reading Brome Abraham and Isaac and the Middle English refers to the Angel in the play as "God's sound" - like some disembodied voice speaking only to Abraham. When a classmate brought it up, I thought it was fantastic way of thinking of angels as messengers, something I'd imagine would be an amazingly dramatic thing by itself, to imagine "God's sound" speaking to mortal ears. The metaphor of God's messengers, Angels as "sounds" seemed to have so much narrative potential as an "idea" or "device" for a text. I was also thinking about the opening scene of Hamlet with the watch and guards - imagining how eerie any voice, not to mention a wandering ghost would be dramatically. For the last part, where the character wakes up in a dream-like landscape I was picturing the hellish crags at the Green Chapel in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

It has no name nor continuation beyond what you see, so far. So behold:

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“Nephilim!” she shrieked, before crumpling to the ground.

The shrill wail caught the attention of a frightened, hobbling passer-by. He looked up from the city pavement with a stab of his head, wide-eyed, towards the fallen woman. A cringe shook his face, locking his eyes closed as the wail pierced his ears and skull. Hands shot up in defence to cover his drumming ears. The noise continued to infest the air like a swarm of flies, their rank odour of filth boring into his skull. He flailed his arms around, trying to swat the buzzing away from his ears in vain, for seconds later the swarm laid eggs of babbling voices in his head. Then all sound ceased, a mind in limbo, until a few seconds later the whisper of a ghost-like wind blew in his ears. Hob opened his eyes and beheld a thick mist hovering atop a mountainous crag and patches of grass gleaming with an emerald shine, almost a dream vision.

“Welcome to the Watch,” a rasp in the mist greeted him.

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This is my second attempt, recently, at writing a short story about the ideas that interest me. The idea to be the thrust of the story was the sub-narrative of the Nephilim or giants born out of the union of lustful Angels and human women - an interesting example in the Bible, in the words of Bamberg, that one could interpret as a fear of "miscegenation". But I wanted to play the idea out with any "angel" being a sort of supernatural "sound" instead of a physical being. If I do expand it, I'd almost like to do what Bulgakov did in Master and Margarita - that is, insert an old biblical figure in to the modern landscape and see how the modern world would react.

The Conspiracy of Architecture

My apologies to those who check out this site, I haven't been updating my entries as regularly as I should. I spent the earlier part of the week scrambling to put the final touches on my Reef presentation, which was quite succesful to my surprise. Those who know me can attest to the fact that post-colonial texts are not my strong point. However, I got lucky because I picked a text that did not have the common disdain for classic texts nor make evident my shameful lack of some world history. As usual I have Viv to thank for suggesting a focus on the role of food in Romesh Gunesekera's Reef - as well as two texts from my professors (Pauline Head and Arun Mukherjee) for providing a board I could use to dive into the text. I need to extend my gratitude to Viv and her family who were the inspirational model for my idea, who have helped me understand that something as simple as 'food' can have immense meaning and importance in holding tradition together. When I finish my personal post-reflection as part of the assignment I'll post it up here so you can see what sorts of things I discussed, which I'm making seem so grand.

Now I'm starting to sound like a Grammy winner - I should thank my parents and God, too, shouldn't I?

On a completely different note, I've been trying to provide people with a glimpse in to the type of modern literature that I enjoy - as a nice break from the Literary Canon that I am wont to sing its eternal praises over modernity. Well, today's piece isn't exactly fiction, rather it's an interesting essay written by a modern Marxist New Weird authour who I've mentioned previously, named China Mieville. Even though I'm a lowly undergrad student, I feel strongly that this piece captures an idea in modern literature. If I do manage to have the courage to apply to graduate school, Mieville and the whole phenomenon of the New Weird is likely to be the focus of my study - perhaps even an idea in the works for a future course. Actually, if I were better read in 20th century "Fantasy" (e.g. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Clarke, Peake, Tolkien -- I'm sure I'm forgetting someone!) in all its major facets I'd love to teach an entire course on 20th century Fantasy - looking at the contrast between a Christian, Old English scholar like Tolkien compared with Mervyn Peake, or the New Weird's beef with the Tolkienesque idolatry in the 21st century. But a simple course like this would require a bit of background in Medieval genres, such as Romance or Monstrous texts.

Well, I've blathered enough. I hope you enjoy the article.

EXTRA NOTE: So far the only texts I know that would be able to explain things like the Medieval concept of the Grotesque (which is highly relevant to Chine Mieville's novels--the Remade characters specifically) is a book like David William's Deformed Discourse or for the tradition of (Arthurian) Romance, Geraldine Heng's Empire of Magic. Just some extra thoughts.

Till Death Do Us Part

I am proud to say that Vivian and I are celebrating our third anniversary today. Hooray! For three years now, we've been together - more passionately in love as the days go by. What a feat it is for both of us, to have walked this one true and narrow path where few dare to tread. A proud moment, indeed! I've never known a woman as smart and passionate and beautiful as her. My life has been enriched by her very presence, let alone her tender wit, love, and care. So today's entry is dedicated to that sweet lady of mine.

Writing Beyond The Grave

Looks like Canada has its own Roger Hargreaves character, in the form of Paul Martin.

Reefer Madness

With some help from Viv, I finally arrived at a concise topic for my presentation on Romesh Gunesekera's Reef. I will focus on the role of food in the novel, examining the idea of the "spirituality of food and memory." What I hope to do is capture how simple acts like cooking, smelling or tasting food are tied to religion, culture, ritual and memory in one part of the novel - when Mr Salgado hosts a X-mas party and Triton, the narrator/servant-cook has to prepare the meal. The most profound ideas surrounding the dinner discussion occur in this part, many which I considered covering (The Age of Aquarius, Eden, Noah's Ark, etc) but lacked the time and know-how.

The most interesting thing that Viv pointed out was a simple but profound statement from a commercial about men's deoderant, I believe (I could be mistaken), that captures the thrust of my presentation: "Scent is the strongest sense tied to memory"

Today's trivia: What commercial did that come from?

It's Not Fusty Billingsgate

I haven't much to say, other than that I'm busy trying to put a dent in the long list of assignments I have on my desk. There is still a lot of work to be done with my presentation on Reef. In the mean time I've typed up a poem that means a lot to me. It's the Old English (Anglo-Saxon) poem: The Wanderer. Ever since I was exposed to this poem over a year ago I've been captivated by it. I haven't yet been able to express or explain 'why' I feel something everytime I read this poem in print.

I've always believed that those who came before my time have been able to capture the truth so beautifully. Even though I know this doesn't absolutely hold true, because there are many wonderful contemporary authours, I hold Classical and Medieval texts in the highest regard above modernity. I figure I'll never be able to explain WHY we need these poems first and foremost, before modern literature, but I know we need them to guide our voyage of life and understanding. I'm starting to sound like another Anglo-Saxon poem: The Seafarer (this is the wonderful Ezra Pound rendition)

ADDENDUM: I found a quote in Reef that expresses how I feel about literature of the past: "The urge to build, to transform nature, to make something out of nothing is universal. But to conserve, to protect, to care for the past is something we have to learn." (188)

A Medieval Baby Mama Drama

After a day of meanders, fugues and daydreams - as well as watching 'Law & Order' followed by 'Chasing Ami' even after my parents abandoned their TV shows to sleep - I'm finally sitting down to consider another one of my inevitable assignments. This time it's about a Ye Olde (technically Middle) English drama from the 15th century: The Brome Abraham and Isaac, a 12 page dramatization of Gen 22:1-13 from an anthology of Early English Drama.

Here's the question: Discuss the methods used in this play to dramatize or make visual certain key doctrinal points or aspects of salvation history. Consider the potential or intended impact of this dramatic representation of the biblical story of Abraham and Isaac on the audience.

So, I'll add my thoughts shortly, after I've re-read the play.

Public Announcement

I extend my apologies to those who have willingly subjected themselves to the sort of nonsense I've written lately on this blog. Sometimes I use the blog to help get my ideas out - even if I find them invalid down the road. As you can tell, I have a tendency to bite off more than I can chew in terms of assignments - and sometimes the brain food has fancies mixed in it. I can't figure out my focus for the Reef presentation. First I considered looking at three intertexts, which turned out to be too much material to cover in 15 minutes. Second I convinced myself that Huxley's Island is being re-written by Gunesekera in Reef. Now I am beginning to think that there are similarities - but after reading an article by Tariq Jazeel on the concept of 'island-ness' in Reef I am reconsidering my topic, again! What seems to be happening, as it usually does, is that I am adding an extra layer each time I re-examine my focus - blurring parts in the process.

What I definitely stand by is the importance of the three intertexts, as well utopian and island narratives in Island and Reef. The question is, what now? I have 15 minutes. At the moment the best idea I have is to compare the use of 'utopian' and 'island' narratives in both novels - see what they say.

Shake A Spear Against William

Even though I've been diligently reading Huxley's Island for the sake of my presentation on Gunesekera's novel Reef, I did stop briefly to talk on the phone with Vivian. Somehow when we were talking about her essay for Modern Drama, making the distinction between illusions and apparitions in Pinter's The Homecoming and Genet's The Balcony, I tried to make a point of comparison to the issue of the ghost in Hamlet for whatever reason. Then Vivian offered in response the suggestion that I should investigate the episode of Saul summoning the spirit of Samuel with the Witch of Endor (1 Sam 28:3-25) for my essay.

Duh! How could I forget? The same issues surround this episode in the Nevi'im (The Prophets--its proper name instead of the derogatory term 'Old Testament'), specifically the First Book of Samuel. It got me thinking about my Shakespeare essay again, so I stopped working on my presentation for South Asian Literature and delved back in to Hamlet. When I looked over Act 1 Scene 5 a few things dawned on me. I was wrong when in said in an earlier post that the Ghost could be Adam. No, the thing I realized is that the ghost speaks in analogies (biblical comparisons to Adam and Eve and the Fall) and there's a reason for it. He tells Hamlet, starting in line 15, how "I could a tale unfold whose lightest word / Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, / Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres [...]" and et cetera. While I can honestly say I do not completely understand the image he is trying to show with the phrase 'like stars start from their spheres' (referring to the motion of the stars? as in spinning out of control or in a tizzy?) The image of his hair standing on end like a porcupine reminds me of the typical image of a horrified, blood-curdling screaming victim just before they die. Regardless of exactly what this meant the next lines made sense to me: "But this eternal blazon must not be / To ears of flesh and blood. List, Hamlet, list, O list! / If thou didst ever thy dear father love - [...] Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. (ll.21-23, 25). It reminded me of how few people in the Bible see God as His divine brightness would kill them or burn them to a crisp, unless blessed or protected by Him. The word 'blazon' caught my attention because the editor's footnote said it meant 'catalogue or display of the afterlife's mysteries' - but I have read enough medieval English literature to know that a blazon is something else, too, which the OED helped me remember. It can also refer to a 'coat of arms' or a 'shield with heraldry'--quite interesting in a play so very POLITICAL and about FAMILY that this should come up. So blazon could mean (1) catalogue or display of the afterlife's mysteries (2) a shield used in war (3) a shield bearing a coat of arms (family/regal crest/heraldry) meaning a clear marker (related to him asking to 'Mark me' perhaps? to identify who the ghost is. I started plugging in these meanings and it could mean several potential things: The words 'secrets' is the word that makes this passage hard to interpret - because is he referring to the prison-house as a setting or his crime (1) The ghost insists that mortal ears (like eyes) cannot bear the raw supernatural word (of Hell or Purgatory--which one? something to consider) (2) The ghost cannot directly reveal the mysteries of the afterlife or where he came from - as indicated earlier when he says "But that I am forbid / To tell the secrets of my prison-house" which means that it's not Heaven where he is. (3) He can't LITERALLY describe the tale but he can tell it in CRYPT (in cryptic, figurative language) - which ties in to Paolucci's story of Walsingham the famous spy of England who invented an 'encryption' that still cannot be cracked ! (4) The truth of the matter--the real event--could make your blood curdle because it is so shocking ! (the news is like a scary ghost?).

So at this point in the speech, I now begin to wonder IS the ghost starting to speak in crypt? or comparisons as he does in the next speech. For example, he draws a comparison: "'Tis given out that, sleeping in mine orchard, / A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark / Is by a forged process of my death / Rankly abused" (35-38). The thing that tipped me off was the word 'so' - a transitional word often used to illustrate comparison (yes, I looked it up the OED just to be sure). I've noticed in the ghost's speech that whenever he ceases using biblical stories/tropes he follows up with 'so' and mention of Denmark. Is that a fair observation? I think so. As he says earlier, the ghost cannot DIRECTLY tell Hamlet the truth but he can illustrate it in cryptic language (metaphors, analogies, allegories, etc). So this can mean that the ghost meant earlier that he would have to use a familiar language or set of stories to reveal the truth, as Lavinia has to point to a book of Greek myths to expose her rapists in Titus Andronicus.

I could write a whole book on this topic, couldn't I? Regardless, it is interesting how the ghost uses biblical language and tales in speaking with Hamlet. One last point I thought worth noting is the potential things the Ghost could be egging Hamlet on to by the end of his speech: not to be sinful like Adam and Eve OR the rest of Denmark, set an example, be an enlightened Christ-like ruler, show mercy, learn from the ghost's example. There's too much to consider ! Damn you Shakespeare!

ADDENDUM: I forgot to mention my hairbrained, but plausible theory that Hamlet is not a 'hero' as most slants assume but rather a 'questionable' 'villain' aspiring for power. I remember Paolucci mentioning it in lecture, but for the life of me I can't remember where in the play Hamlet confesses that he is power-hungry for the throne--and bumping off Claudius is part of the scheme. But the speech that made me consider this idea comes after Hamlet speaks to the ghost: "My tables, / My tables--met it is I set it down / That one may smile and smile and be a villain. / At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark." (ll.107-110). Of course 'tables' takes on a few meanings: earlier Hamlet refers to the 'table of my memory', as a brain that's taken note of all past theories, etc. and he says how he'll make a clean slate with only the ghost's commandment left. Is Hamlet 'setting down' that he will 'smile and be a villain', something he says is easy in Denmark. Why is it easy? Because no one knows what he knows--what the ghost supposedly told him--so no one will "see it coming" (it reminds me of the figure of 'Fortune' playing 'chess' in Chaucer's The Book of the Duchess). Or I could be misinterpreting it, and Hamlet is just acknowledging that Denmark is so corrupt. But Hamlet is playing so many people for fools, including the audience for most of the play. Something to consider...

Wisdom from the Island(s)

'It isn't a matter of forgetting. What one has to learn is how to remember and yet be free of the past. How to be there with the dead and yet still be here, on the spot, with the living.' She gave him a sad little smile and added, 'It isn't easy.'

A quotation from Aldous Huxley's Island, which I think is the point of Romesh Gunesekera's Reef and explains why Island is integral as an intertext, like Sherlock Holmes is to Norbu's The Mandala of Sherlock Holmes--especially in light of the Tsunamai disaster.

The Reef, The Reef, The Reef Is On Fire

The time has finally come when I can catch-up and get ahead on my upcoming assignments. It's a relief not to have school for a week - I'm a clutz, so I'm not very good at this balancing game. At least I have the time to focus on my next assignment - a presentation on Romesh Gunesekera's Reef - for my South Asian Literature class. Luckily I have read this book once before - at the behest of Vivian - so I have a rough sense of how it goes.

Since I have free reign on what I will present, my plan is to explore the intertextual elements of the novel. I want to look at the references to 'The Tempest' (island, politics, fantasy) in the epigraph, Garden of Eden, Noah's Flood, Godwanaland, and Age of Aquarius throughout the novel. All of these references tie in to the image of Sir Lanka in the novel as this "fallen" Eden - though I remember reading an article contesting the sort of utopia imagination that Romesh Gunesekera is alleged to use, which I will have to re-read to take it into consideration.
So far I am noticing a few predominant themes: Islands, Foundation, Politics, Nationalism, Fantasy, Utopia (Eden), and Apocalypse. I know it all ties together, but my project is to figure out how, and be able to explain it. While researching the 'Age of Aquarius' I noticed that this astrological concept is akin to the Christian notion of the Apocalypse or the Book of Revelation. The only difference is the language - astrology speaks in terms of planets and stars, while Revelation harkens to Jewish prophecy (Isaiah, Ezekiel, etc.) - the basic concept is the same. The same goes for this notion of a "Foundation Myth", especially for an Island - tied to Eden, Godwanaland to be spoiled by violent, political struggle for power (Adam and Eve and the Serpent, etc.). Another thing I've noticed is how these different narratives intertwine in the novel - how the sea is viewed as this "Deluge" or "Flood" like force, which has a voracious hunger and yet has the power to regenerate civilization , like in the case of Noah's Flood or the Age of Aquarius. But then I think the character's attempts to realize these myths, or force them upon the human or "earthly" world (trying to play God, perhaps?) is purposely foiled to demonstrate a point. How these human narratives always come undone, unlike divine narratives. Hmm....

That's enough musing for now. I need to go re-read The Tempest...

UPDATE: I hope you don't mind my stream-of-conscious blather - this is just part of the brainstorm process that I have unfortunately decided to reveal (and I find writing it on a blog helps!). However, I am reading Huxley's Island part project-work, part pleasure-reading. I am very glad I chose to read this novel after studying Futurism and Surrealism and people like Ginsberg and Burroughs - now I understand it better.

EXTRA UPDATE: I can't exactly shrive this post--censorship would just be wrong, and manipulative--either way you see how in the beginning the presentation was without form and floated over the deep....sorry I couldn't resist. If it wasn't for the flash of my bookish knowledge sometimes I swear people would realize how simple and impotent I am - a full-fledged doofus, when it comes to writing. I wish I could write like Vivian, who comes with grammar and diction and all those lovely rules of language built in to her brain. It's a crying shame that I can't naturally write proper sentences with good syntax, grammar, etc, without Vivian's help - AND I am still managing to get A's and B's in University. Sometimes it makes me sad to see that I--a language fiend, who knows not the true and narrator path to Godly writing-- can prevail over my fellow students despite my writing handicap.

The Year of Chauntecleer

It is the Year of the Rooster, which also happens to fall at a time when I am studying this tale in school. I had a chuckle when this occured to me, though I wouldn't expect others to find it funny. It's amusing on a literary level, as well as a personal one for me (Vivian will get the joke if she reads the tale).

In other news, I have almost completed my history paper. I just need to write a conclusion, and if I have time, edit it. Once it is complete I will post a link to it here.

I have to say that this essay has proven to be one of the most difficult papers I've had to write, even though it has been the shortest (a 500-1250 word limit or 2-5 page) essay I've ever written. It was especially hard to construct a well-written HISTORY paper on a play (Machiavelli's Mandragola) and letters of a Nurember merchant and his wife (Steven Ozment's collection Magdalena and Balthasar) without thinking of it in a literary fashion. The strangest part is that I felt as though this question forced one to write it from a New Historicist slant, something I have resisted in the past.

Speaking of New Historicism, I borrowed a copy of Steven Greenblatt's book, Hamlet in Purgatory, which explores the historical concept of Purgatory in the Medieval and Renaissance period. I have to confess that I am fascinated with this book, even though I've realized that it is about more than Hamlet. It is proving to be insightful in terms of the concepts and connotations that Purgatory would have in various time periods. I know some people do not like Greenblatt's approach when it comes to this book. I haven't read it yet, so I can't judge it. Still, I believe that it would be wrong to ignore the type of scholarship that Greenblatt brings to the table. Historical context is very important to understanding literature, especially when it adds new meaning to the words of a text.

Well, I've jabbered on enough. I should go write that conclusion.

ADDENDUM: Here is the paper. It hasn't had the benefit of Vivian's editing, unfortunately.

Case of the Cold Caper

There isn't much to add at this time. My cold is making essay writing rather interesting. As I stumble upon an excellent idea for my paper and sit down to write it, off my nose goes, running. So I have to pause, as I reach for some tissue, and hope in vain that the mighty tissue will prevent my nose from fleeing like a prisoner again. Nope. Instead I've only a few sentences to my credit and a bunch of loony ideas in the yard. My cold is starting to sound like the movie Lock Up or Shawshank Redemption.

The only good sentence to come out of this caper is the conclusion that:
The figures of Callimaco and Balthasar stand for a new class of men availing themselves of the developing urban, commercial base in sixteenth-century Europe.
Otherwise, I am still tinkering with the structure of the essay - setting it up so I write a HISTORY paper not an ENGLISH one. The other main comparison is that: While Mandragola represents an idealized portrait of a man as a commercial being, the letters of Magdalena and Balthasar reveal an altogether different picture of real life in sixteenth century Europe.

Wish me luck.

UPDATE: I had another restless night - barely 2 hours of tossing and turning - that has left me feeling miffed. I should have known that my nose would strike when all local pharmacies were closed, as if delighting in tweaking my sleepless brain.

Why does this seem like a real bad episode of Gogol's "The Nose"?

The Dean of Canadian Science Fiction

For your reading pleasure, here is a link to a short story by Robert J. Sawyer, called Shedskin. Don't worry, I'm not violating copyright laws -- it's available free on his website. If you like what you read, I suggest reading his Neanderthal Parallax series--Hominids, Humans, Hybrids--or Calculating God, Flashforward, Factoring Humanity. He also has another book coming out in March called Mindscan, which explores the idea of uploaded consciousness like "Shedskin". Before I spoil more, read on.

The Hardest 500-1250 Words

It's been another eventful Saturday. I woke up feeling sick as a dog, stayed home from church, watched two movies that were surprisingly good, and started working on my next school assignment--an essay for my Medieval and Early Modern Europe course at York. Thankfully the aching, coughing and pain is starting to go away due to the nasal and sinus relief medicine that I picked up mid-way through the day. While I am grateful my health is returning, this means I have no excuses for not tackling the essay. Compared to other classes, this one is a doozy.

Both Machiavelli's Mandragola and Steven Ozment's collection Magdalena and Balthasar present models of male behaviour in sixteenth-century Europe, though in very different ways. Compare the central figures of Callimaco and Balthasar and answer the following questions: How did Balthasar's life and attitude compare with the sentiment expressed above? [referring to a quote from Machiavelli's play expounding the usual carpe diem attitude] Would Balthasar have appreciated the humour of Mandragola? Would Callimaco have respected or ridiculed Balthasar's way of life? How might you suggest understanding the relationship between a self-conscious cultural artifact like Mandragola and realities of everyday life?

My ideas for the essay are still in the works. All I know is that these men pursue stable economic sources (patrons or trade) as a part of their daily life, self-made men as we call them. Perhaps it is a point when the pursuit of capital intersects with the old system of nobility - when the economy (not rulers) begins to regulate life in Europe, replacing the old lords. The old ideal (nobility; land ownership; Fortune) is juxtaposed/replaced by a new one (entreprenuers; trade/liquid capital; economy)? It's all about the struggle between the old and new way, perhaps? Or am I just being Marxist?

These are my ideas so far.

Lollygagging With Shakespeare

Even though I'm starting to write an assignment for my Medieval and Early Modern Europe class, I'm already thinking about my next Shakespeare assignment. For the Shakespeare essay we are required to examine critical articles and a book on a particular issue in a play. I am inclined to look into the issue of the ghost in Hamlet for two reasons: (1) no one seems to give a hoot about discussing it in tutorial (2) it intrigued me when I heard it come up in Viv's tutorial with Jeremy. The assignment involves discussing the various critic's positions then taking a position along this axis of criticism, to agree or not to agree, that is the question. In terms of selection, I've opted to focus on the scene of the ghost's speech to Hamlet where he says "I am thy father's spirit". It all started here. I remembered Jeremy's challenge that the ghost could be a malign demonic creature not a benevolent ghost of Hamlet Sr after I read the speech. Simultaneously, I thought of the connotations of these five words - that "spirit" could have multiple meanings - be it apparition, ghost, etc - and that "father's" could refer to a spiritual father (Jesus or Adam) or Hamlet Sr. In fact, once I finish writing this History essay I'll explain how I might argue that the ghost COULD be describing Adam, the forefather of Mankind. Perhaps it's a stretch, or maybe I'm on to something new. Ever since I sat in on Viv's Shakespeare class I've felt driven to challenge popular notions of texts (critics or pop culture) - to look at the plays as "naked texts" (for it's own sake, without the babbling of critics in the margins). I guess that makes me a Lollard (or a mere lollygagger), doesn't it?

So far I haven't been very fortunate in my search for articles and books exclusively on the issue of the ghost in Hamlet. I found a book by Stephen Greenblatt Hamlet In Purgatory that alleges to deal with this issue, but I am rather doubtful that it will help--I've heard enough bad things about Greenblatt. The other trouble I face is meeting the sole requiment stipulated by my tutorial leader: finding an article written after 1995. So far no luck. I've found one article written in 1961 by Miriam Joseph called Discerning the Ghost in Hamlet. From what I've read it seems somewhat credible. I am open to suggestions if anyone who reads this blog knows better.

Another issue I am wrestling with in my mind is that of the language used to describe the ghost. A lot of the vocabularly used to describe the ghost (fantasy, spirit, apparition?) came up in my study of Middle English dream visions from a century or two before Shakespeare. What I remember from Chaucer is that each word has a different connotation - words such as "ghost" or "spirit" or "apparition" and "fantasy" or "imagynacyon" has a distinct meaning derived from Aristotelian/Medieval notions of perception. Unfortunately I can't ask my tutorial leader for clarification as he has no background in Medieval literature. Perhaps I can ask my Religious Drama and Vision / Middle English teacher. She is quite the scholar, whereas my Shakespeare TA seems to know nothing of the Medieval period. Go figure. I suppose the only way to figure it out is to compare the usages of words to describe "fantastic" or ethereal objects and/or try plugging in the definitions provided in my Chaucer in to the Shakespeare play, and see if it fits.

ADDENDUM: I found an interesting one-page discussion by Lisa Hopkins called "Hell in 'Hamlet' and ''Tis Pity She's a Whore'," written in 1997. It's short but quite interesting.

Here is the essay I wrote last semester for those who wish to read another last-minute piece of work - another work much improved by Viv's terse editing. If you dare.

We're In The Red Light District

Apparently this is how we celebrate my birthday at York University. January 20th 2005.

Paradise Lost - Ad Naseum

In a bizarre twist, my Shakespeare TA is using our tutorial time to have the students perform various (modernised) takes on Hamlet. Our TA, Regi Khokher seems to think we'll understand the play better if we act it out. Of course it doesn't matter if we understand the play on a textual level - i.e. whether the ghost is benign or malign. Apparently, it matters if we can stage a "Godfather" version of Act 1 Scene 2, or a Queer reading, or anything postmodern/colonial - ad naseum, indeed. Evidently it's wrong to wish to tackle the text, or look at the issue of the Mousetrap. My tutorial seems content with Paolucci's lecture about "espionage" in Hamlet, so any student's attempt to interrogate the play is a trifle to them.

So, if I try to explain Christian themes/allusions in the play everyone figures I'm some bible-toting fundamentalist. And we can't be having anyone bring up the Bible, or Christianity, or religion - even if it's part of the text - in a class devoted to superficial, assuming postcolonial/modern readings. When I tried to start up a discussion about the ghost in Hamlet, suggesting it could be an "Adam" figure based on textual nuances - even my tutorial leader looked confused - and segued to an anecdote about how he first disliked reading Hamlet in high school, and that he prefered plays that addressed "postcolonial" issues (race, gender, etc.). I have no problem with looking at these aspects, but what happened to reading Shakespeare as...what he wrote in his plays. Sheesh. I feel like I'm being punished for wanting to read the nuances (puns, allusions) of the text.

It seems TAs like Jeremy, no-nonsense thought-provokers are things of the past.