Apologies to all five or six of you that read this blog, things have been hectic and I graduated a month ago and there were graduation cruises involved etc. and so forth. The good news is that I’ve finally settled down enough to begin reading and writing again, so expect some updates soon on the story front. I do have a more general piece of information, however- Elizabeth Strout just won the Pulitzer for her novel Olive Kitteridge. I have not read the book, but I had her as a professor when she visited Colgate and she was absolutely wonderful and a very talented and warm person. As a result, I do not feel bad shamelessly plugging her book, which you can buy at Amazon by clicking the link.

Speaking of shameless plugs- this blog originated as a forum for my thoughts and stories, but someone rightly pointed out that stories are not rolling off the assembly lines and as such there might be very few updates. Since I sometimes point out books that I enjoy anyway, the suggestion included writing up book reviews now and then. I will take the books that I mention and flesh out my opinion of them just a bit more, and hopefully that will provide some food for thought in-between my more original posts and musings. Look for those mixed in with the stories as we proceed!

Insomnia is a fascinating creature; it’s amazing that it can be caused by so many different things. I’m sure there are plenty of people who are awake at this very moment because of stress or heartbreak, fear or depression. Nightmares of bills that may go unpaid, lovers that may have just forever slipped through your grasp, or simply a kid’s fear of the dark.

It is no nightmare, however, that races through my mind now and does not let me sleep. It is a dream.

The study of heroes has consumed me for the better part of the last month, as it will for the months to come. My treatment of the subject is understandably and necessarily academic; a thesis for a university English department can be nothing else. My subject is the odd way in which a small group of Jewish-American writers in the 1930s re-imagined the heroic tradition into a tradition of spandex and super-strength, and to this end I have been reading texts on the nature of the hero,  on the socio-economic status of Jews in New York in the 1930s, and on the way in which the superheroic ideal has changed the 20th-century notion of a mythic hero. I find it fascinating from an intellectual standpoint, as I hope other people might, and I am engaged in the research and investigation of this topic not unwillingly at all.

At certain times, however, I find that my intellect fails me; it becomes too hard not to become emotionally invested in this sort of material. At these times I wonder whether or not it is in fact my heart that fuels my love for heroes. There is a part of me that is perfectly content to read comic books and watch movies without trying to sift through the tradition they hail from or the symbolism and mythology inherent in them. There is a part of me that simply needs to see someone larger than life stand tall, jaw set, against an unimaginable menace. It needs to know that there is something out there that is more than man and yet intensely human; an uncorruptible, indefatigable symbol of good that will always triumph over evil when all light seems to have been lost. A figure that always wins not because he is invulnerable or omnipotent but because he is simply hope given form; a figure that will always brave the night because he foresees the light of the dawn. Human will and perseverance taken to superhuman levels.

I do not believe Superman exists, nor do I believe in King Arthur. Their actual existence does not matter; what matters are the human truths these characters represent. Ideals like determination, bravery, or chivalry exist, and whether they are given form in flesh or on the page matters little. What matters is simply that people see heroes and are inspired and given hope.

It is said in some Arthurian legends that King Arthur will return from the island of Avalon to save England in its darkest hour. I do not think these legends are false. Certainly, King Arthur will never physically ride again through London and defeat an enemy entrenched on the beaches. There may come a time, however, when England is at the brink of destruction, whether it be from moral decay or war. It may seem that all hope is lost- until someone remembers a story they heard once, long ago. A story of a king who united England under a banner of hope and chivalry, arm-in-arm with other like-minded knights, creating a realm of prosperity, justice, and peace.

That someone might be inspired by such a story of courage and hope. They may go on to battle injustice and restore England from the brink. And if I were to hear that story, I would know that the legends did not lie to me: King Arthur returned when England needed him most.

Apologies for the scant updates- they might continue until April. I’m knee-deep in thesis research, and that leaves me very little time for reading and even less for writing (though I could possibly write about heroes in 20th century mythology). I did, however, find time to read a very interesting story yesterday- it’s called “The Postman’s Cottage”, and it’s by Patrick O’Keeffe. You can find it in a little book titled “The Hill Road”, a collection four small novellas of which “Postman” is one. O’Keeffe has a wonderful style and extraordinarily detailed prose; he is able to draw a scene without boring the reader with endless paragraphs of exposition. I haven’t read any of the other stories in the book yet, but I intend to with my free time. Check him out if you can!

I was reading a semicolon discussion today on a forum and it got me to thinking about the purpose of the semicolon. The general consensus seemed to be that semicolons aren’t quite so suited in writing except in very specialized cases. I must disagree; I think the semicolon is a useful punctation mark that serves a distinct purpose that the period and the comma cannot serve. Consider, for example, that last sentence. There are different ways I could have written it:

“I must disagree. I think the semicolon is a useful punctuation mark that serves a distinct purpose that the period and the comma cannot serve.”

“I must disagree, for I think the semicolon is a useful punctuation mark that serves a distinct purpose that the period and the comma cannot serve.”

They both don’t quite have the tone of voice that I was looking for. The semicolon gives me a pause longer than the comma but shorter than the period, and it enables me to keep a sentence connected without actually connecting it, if you take my meaning.

So use semicolons, if you like. I do. I’ll admit that I may be guilty of overusing them, but I think they serve their purpose well and shouldn’t be tossed away without consideration; they, like other facets of language, should be looked at and used only if they are right for the situation.

I spoke with someone today about these three subjects during a church fellowship, and I had a wonderful conversation about them. Besides realizing that I look like Dante Gabriel Rossetti and that my girlfriend looks like Jane Morris, the topic strayed to paradise gardens and I recommended him a poem by Andrew Marvell. The title of it is “The Garden”, and it’s an interesting poem if you’d like to read it (also a link for my talking buddy, if he could not find it). For those of you who aren’t Marvell fans in general, check him out- he has some really awesome poems. My favorite (perhaps everyone’s favorite) is “To His Coy Mistress”, a poem in which the dashing young Marvell seeks to entice his lover into pre-marital sex. Fun and flowery, linked to below. Have fun!

http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/marvell/garden.htm

http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/marvell/coy.htm

PS: Just one more! Speaking of the pre-Raphaelites, I was reminded of a great William Morris poem entitled “In Defence of Guenevere”. It’s really fun and portrays Guenevere in an interesting light. Here’s the link:

http://www.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/defguin.htm

(Disclaimer: This post is written by someone deeply steeped in 17th-19th century poetic tradition. Modernists and post-modernists need not apply)

I was browsing at Barnes & Noble the other day and I ran into a volume of poetry that was on some sort of shelf that awarded it high distinction. Intrigued, I picked it up- only to discover that the poet had absolutely no sense of her language! I felt my ears cringe at the blatant misuse of white space and awkward meter; to a writer weaned on Coleridge and Marvell, this was utter blasphemy. I have no idea what the book was and I can’t recall the passage from memory, but I thought it was truly awful. It sounded so harsh on the ears that I had no wish whatsoever to turn the page or even finish the one I was on. I think that many writers today have lost a sense of meter, a sense of rhythm- in short, they have lost the ability to make their language beautiful.

There are, of course, many objections to this. Beauty in and of itself is completely subjective, as is the definition of poetry and tons of other things this post deals with. Many people I encounter believe poetry is simply raw emotion- that whatever words you need to use must be used, regardless of sound, meter, or rhyme. Many people say they are constrained by the strictures of poetry, that they need to be free and use the page however they want. They want to be heard!

Yes. They want to be heard. I couldn’t agree more- but who wants to hear someone who doesn’t have a complete mastery of their language? I can fully appreciate the stark, raw emotion of someone who is lashing out with their words, and that’s fine. They will never, however, be anything but an amateur at their art unless they learn to master themselves and their medium of communication. I and many of the people I know don’t want to be clobbered over the head with your emotions- we want to be seduced by them, enraptured by them. We want to be subtly led to your innermost thoughts and feelings in an almost revelatory fashion. Be strong, yes- but above all, be eloquent. A writer’s strength is not always in passion- most often, in fact, it is the way that passion is presented.

So I guess, when you write, try to write as if you were giving a speech (Reading your work out loud is a great idea in general, I think). Make sure I am dazzled by the sound as well as the content- I’ve read a handful of books where I couldn’t care less about what was going on simply because the writing was so beautiful. Be James Bond, not the Hulk; don’t whack me over the head with “UHH! ME SAD”.  Seduce me instead- flash a smile, wink an eye, be so devastatingly smooth and suave that I’m not even sure what’s going on until it’s too late.

PS: Maybe some of you aren’t into this sort of thing, but Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan” is, I think, one of the finest examples of beauty in the English language. Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel Lee” is another beautiful one, as is Emily Dickinson’s “Because I could not stop for Death”. For you prose fiends out there, these rules apply to short stories and novels as well- check out any of Poe’s short stories or Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita” for an example of fantastic command of a language. Links to the public domain ones below.

Kubla Khan- http://etext.virginia.edu/stc/Coleridge/poems/Kubla_Khan.html

Annabel Lee- http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/annabel-lee/

Because I could not stop for Death- http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/english/melani/cs6/stop.html

Happy holidays to the bunch of you, and have a good one!

Sorry to all for being gone for months (all dozen of you that read this, anyway)- life’s been busy and the blog, as a newer thing, was forgotten about. Quick updates: I’ve written nothing new except academic papers, a topic that would most likely not interest anyone. I have, however, discovered two things in my absence:

1) Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey was a fascinating man. He was the son of the 3rd Duke of Norfolk, a military and literary genius, and a romantic hundreds of years before the term was officially coined; he dreamed of glory and fought for Henry VIII only to have his head chopped off due to political intrigue. He was proud of his lineage and disdainful of anyone who was less than chivalrous. He had his faults, but overall a pretty cool cat. If anyone cares to read more about him, Jesse Childs’ biography Henry VIII’s Last Victim is a fantastic read and a really in-depth look at a man who was born in the wrong time and pretty much invented the English sonnet as we know it today.

2) I’m doing research on my senior thesis, a topic that involves heroic mythology and how it applies specifically to modern-day superheroes. There is some fantastic literature on the subject- check out Super Heroes: A Study in Modern Mythology by Richard Reynolds. It’s a little academic but not in that boring sort of way, and Reynolds is a fun writer who keeps you interested even if you don’t know some of what he’s referring to. Good books on the subject of heroism in general (specifically heroes in the context of myth, which is what I’m studying) are Joseph Campbell’s Hero With a Thousand Faces and Power of Myth. More recommendations to come as I explore the topic further.

Happy Holidays to the bunch of you, and take care!

Sorry for my long absence; I was in Baltimore and then I had some catch-up work to do. Baltimore’s actually a really nice city, PS, in case anyone ever decides they’d like to visit.

I don’t usually like or write horror, but I was inspired to write by the Carnacki series, so here goes- enjoy!

The Giggling Ghost of Ardlen Castle

I was just browsing over stuff that I’ve read in the past and I rediscovered William Hope Hodgson and his “Carnacki” series. I’m ordinarily not a fan of horror or science fiction, but some of these stories are quite good- if anybody’s an H.P. Lovecraft fan, Lovecraft admired Hodgson quite a bit. Hodgson has this way of making your skin tingle that not too many writers have or give me anymore- here’s a link for your consideration.

http://www.forgottenfutures.com/game/ff4/carnacki.htm