My Fair Freddy

"She married Freddy, of course."

For some reason I've always remembered this line as being something George Bernard Shaw (GBS) wrote in his "sequel" to Pygmalion (the play better known in its musical incarnation as My Fair Lady). On rereading that story recently, I discovered it wasn't there. Not only wasn't it the first line, which is where I thought I remembered it being, but it wasn't in the text at all.

In the copy of Pygmalion I own (a second hand copy bought for a dollar back when I was a teenager), GBS has provided both a prologue and an epilogue for the play. In the prologue he tells of one of the professors of phonetics he knew back in the 1870s who formed a large part of the inspiration for Henry Higgins. In the epilogue he provides the "sequel" - telling us what happened to Eliza (and some of the other characters) after the events in the play had finished.

When I first read this story, as a teenager, I found it vaguely depressing. Like many people who loved the tension between Liza and Higgins, I wanted the play to be a love story. At the time, I thought the only fit sequel to the play would involve Liza eventually taming and marrying Higgins. The idea that she would settle for Freddy, of all people, just seemed like a let-down.

I think I've been at a disadvantage because I've only ever seen Freddy performed as something of a non-entity. Whenever I've watched the movie or stage production of My Fair Lady, Freddy comes across as being a bit of a sap, really. But, reading over the play again recently, I've noticed this isn't in the play at all.

Freddy can be played as a sap, or he can be played as the Prince Charming of this particular Cinderella story. The script supports either interpretation.

And there's something else the script supports: Freddy knows.

At the very beginning of the play, Freddy gets a very good look at Liza's face when they bump into each other. They look eyes with each other just as a lightening strike illuminates the scene with a clap of thunder.

Then he comes back and talks to her again before that scene is over - no doubt paying attention to this strange woman who somehow knew his name (just as his mother had before him).

When he meets her later, in Mrs Higgins' parlour, his first words to her are "I've certainly had the pleasure". Granted, he could just be a bit of a vague fool, like his mother and sister appear to be... Or he could be a henpecked man who has met someone beautiful and fascinating and has decided to play along with this interesting game she seems to be playing.

Freddy has had it rough. He was born into the upper echelons of society, but his family is broke. He was raised to be the kind of person who doesn't need to work, but he can't afford to maintain that position. His mother and sister treat him like an idiot, and he's constantly trying to follow behind them and keep up appearances as they go from one social engagement to another (well, insofar as they can afford it). He's probably expected to marry someone just like them - but even if he wanted to, would he be able to afford it? And then, suddenly, this gorgeous young woman is dragged into his world, and it's the most interesting thing he's ever encountered in his boring, henpecked existence. Is it any wonder he's happiest when he's hanging around outside her house?

At the end of the play Eliza makes it clear that Freddy isn't stupid, they've been in contact quite steadily during the past few months, and she knows he loves her. She never says anything to indicate Freddy is someone she is "putting up with", or that she doesn't and could never return his affection. In fact, depending on how you played her, it could be quite obvious that she loves him too, but is still trying to figure out what she wants from Higgins.

It turns out Pygmalion is a love story after all, but we're so distracted by the relationship between Cinderella and her Fairy Godfather that it's easy for us to miss the real love story between our courageous heroine and her slightly goofy Prince Charming.

Reading the "sequel" again in this light, it's so obviously right. That's exactly what should happen. Eliza should marry Freddy, and they should start a flower shop. They both happen to be fish-out-of-water in this bold new middle class world (as she came from the lower classes and he from the upper); they they should struggle together to make a go of it. Higgins is someone who should always be an important part of her life, but like a godfather, not like a lover.

As GBS himself points out - Galatea could never really love Pygmalion, he's too godlike.

And Freddy? Well Freddy deserves more attention. He's so subtly drawn in the play that he can be easily over looked, and given short shrift in performance, but I think it throws the play into a whole new light if you work on the assumption that he isn't an idiot, and he knows exactly who she is - and doesn't care.

You know, I think Freddy just became my favourite character.

Under Construction

Every now and then, I just want the drilling to stop.

That's all - not world peace, not health and riches, just a good solid hour without drilling.

I expect the students studying for their exams might agree with me.

Where to put a spoof?

I was in the public library the other day when I noticed this:



Now, at the risk of sounding like a character from Sesame Street: "one of these things is not like the other..."

For those of you who might not know, Molvania is not a real country, and the guide book is not a real guide book. It's a spoof of travel books - a joke aimed squarely at the Lonely Planet type books with which it is currently sharing shelf-space.

I wondered, for a moment, if I should say something to the librarians, and then realised they probably know - there just wasn't a better place to put it.

After all, where else would you put a spoof of a particular genre? 827.994 might work for Australian "humor and satire", but is that really a better place to put it than with the genre it is satirising? Perhaps having it interfiled with the books it is mocking is more appropriate.

But, still, the library geek in me thinks they should have put the 827 in the call number somewhere. It's been too long since I've taken a good look at the DDC, so this is probably a little bit off, but perhaps this would have been a more honest classification: 914.700827994.

Maybe I'm just putting too much thought into this for a Sunday morning...

Three books, Part Two

In one of my last posts, when I introduced the idea of the game "what three books would you choose for locking with a kidnap victim in a tower" (which makes much more sense if you think of the fact that the last two retellings of Rapunzel point out that she had exactly three books with her), I referenced a much more normal game (one with less kidnapping):

"If, by some miracle, you were able to plan ahead and keep three books with you on the off chance that you were shipwrecked on a deserted island, what three books would you take?"

These are my books:

1. The Complete Illustrated Works of Lewis Carroll.

Lewis Carroll's poems, in particular, are something near and dear to me. I could probably spend the next few years learning them by heart and reciting them to the trees quite happily. Besides, I might finally get around to reading Sylvie and Bruno. You never know.

2. Suur illustreeritud sõnaraamat, by Jean-Claude Corbeil and Ariane Archambault.

This is an illustrated dictionary that consists of exploded diagrams with every part labelled in English, Estonian, Russian, German and French. It kind of rocks. I have to hide it in another room so I don't stay up to midnight finding out what the French word for "casement window" is. Alone on a deserted island, I can waste as much time as I like on looking up random things.

3. The Bible, by various.

The Bible is the perfect book to have with you in such a situation. On the one hand, it's the anthology to end all anthologies. It has legends, history, poetry and philosophy. There are stories about battles, romances, politics, tales of daring-do and naval gazing. I maintain there's even a play in there (hello? The Song of Solomon has a Greek chorus, for crying out loud!). Some books are miserable, some books are joyful, some are perplexing and others are a wee bit sexy. And if you are willing to argue with the thing rather than blindly accept it word-for-word, there are puzzles that will have you changing your mind over and over again.

On the other hand, it's great for existential stuff. If you want to yell at God for abandoning you on an island, the Bible can help you with that. If you want to ask Him to rescue you, the Bible can help you with that. If you want to ask Him to change the way you see the world so that being lost on a deserted island doesn't seem so bad, the Bible can help you with that. And, woven throughout the entire thing, turning up in different places and in different ways, is the overarching message: "you are not alone".

Like I said, the perfect book for such a situation.

So, those are my three books. What are yours?

Three Books, Part 1, update

On second thought, The Complete Encyclopedia of Stitchery is not a good choice for locking with someone in a tower.

On the one hand, it could keep them occupied for hours on end, but on the other hand, it requires resources. You would have to keep supplying your victim with a steady stream of cloth and thread.

No, a much better book would be Mel Bay's Ukulele Chords, by Mel Bay. All you need to provide then is the ukulele and some spare strings in case one snaps.

Then you can happily leave your victim to be locked in the magic tower (which grows it's own fruit and vegetables) and only come to see them once a year.

I'm gravitating a bit towards the Rapunzel's Revenge scenario at this point.

Trashy Tabloid Attack!

I'm not a big fan of trashy tabloids. I find the celebration of all things vapid and vulgar just a little reprehensible.

Generally speaking, I hate bad journalism. I had the misfortune of learning what good journalism was supposed to look like in my high school English classes. I'm not sure if they still do it today (or even if they were supposed to do it when I was in school), but in my English class we learnt all about how the whole "writing for a newspaper" thing was supposed to work.

News reports are supposed to be informative, concise, non-biased and well written. Journalists are supposed to research carefully and write clearly. Then copy editors are supposed to check facts, find mistakes and make sure the writers haven't used bad spelling or poor grammar.

And then, in an ideal world, newspapers are supposed to present their readers with news, not gossip.

That is what a newspaper should be. Something well written, well researched and meaningful. That is what I want a news paper to be.

Needless to say, I hate most newspapers. I particularly hate trashy tabloids. Every time I see a trashy tabloid I have to fight the urge to track down a "journalist" and punch them in the face.

So I have to say, I am particularly annoyed by Nine MSN's tendency to throw a tabloid at me every time I log out of Hotmail.

When you log out of Hotmail, you get taken straight to the front page of one of the trashiest, most vapid online newspapers I have the privilege of encountering in my day. The layout it terrible. The headlines are offensively trashy. The pictures are usually the kind any good newspaper would be ashamed to print.

The whole thing screams: LOOK AT ME! FOLLOW MY LINKS! READ MY TRASH! YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE!!!

But I don't want to look at it. I don't want to follow the links or read the trash. I don't want to know the bit they've shown me, let alone more.

All I want is to log out of my email account without having a tabloid newspaper thrust into my face unbidden.

If I wanted to read a tabloid newspaper, I'd find one myself. It's not like I'm sitting around thinking, "Oh, I wish someone would tell me more about what the Kardashians are up to, but I have no idea where I could go to see dozens of photos of celebrities trying to walk to the corner shops in comfy pants and no make-up..."

Dear Nine MSN, You don't need to throw trashy tabloids at people. No, really, you don't. If you feel you really must drag every single person who uses your email services towards your news page, why not have at least two news pages (one for trash, and one for "real news") and give people the choice? You might earn yourselves a bit of respect that way.

Three Books, Pt 1

And so I'll read a book/ Or maybe two or three...

So, I've been fascinated by the fact that two recent retellings of the Rapunzel story (Disneys Tangled and Rapunzel's Revenge by Hale, Hale and Hale) have been very clear about the fact that Rapunzel had exactly three books in the tower.

Tangled never went into specifics about what the books were (EDIT: actually they did - see comment), but Hale, Hale and Hale showed us the titles of the books in their version:

• Girls Who Get Saved and the Princes Who Save Them
• Weave Your Own Twig Bonnet
• There's Always Bird Watching

Which made me really want at least one of those books to exist. At present, not-so-much. Give it time.

Anyway, it got me thinking about that game. You know the one: you have to imagine you've been shipwrecked on a deserted island, but somehow you were prepared for such things and you managed to take three books with you; you need to say what three books you would choose and why.

Well, for something different, how about we go with the following variation: you have to imagine you want to lock someone in a tower, and you want to chose three books that will distract them from escaping. They have to be real books that you have actually looked at in your travels.

What three books do you choose, and why?

My three picks for locking with someone in a tower would be:

The Lady of Shallott - the one where the entire book is just Tennyson's poem illustrated by Genevieve Cote. A) because everyone should have some poetry in their lives, even if they happen to be locked in a tower, and b) because the heroine is locked in a tower and dies when she leaves. The hidden message is: "Don't even think about looking out of the windows, it's not worth it".

The Complete Encyclopedia of Stitchery, by Mildred Graves Ryan (originally published in 1979). Knitting, embroidery, crochet... everything really, and with detailed, illustrated step-by-step instructions. You just need to make sure there's a constant supply of material, and hopefully your victim will keep her/himself occupied.

Gravesend by Jason Fischer. The world is full of zombies. The people who aren't zombies will probably shoot you anyway, just to be sure. You don't want to go out of the tower.

Of course, this is all working on the assumption that I kidnap the victim and lock them in the tower after they have already learnt to read...

The Librarian's Dilemma

One of the great things about working in a library is the fact that you get to know the collection really well.

You know to look for things in places other people might not think of - not because the books are "hidden" somewhere difficult to find, but rather because you have the freedom to think laterally.

So, for example, when I started learning German I not only went to the language section of the main collection, I also went to the curriculum collection. A number of academic libraries have a curriculum collection, although the collection may be known by a different name. These are designed to look like school libraries, so that Education students can see what kind of resources might be available to them when they go out to a school to teach.

I went to our CC to see what language resources they had, which is where I found one of my favourite "introduction to German" books Learn German (which I mentioned in my From Something to Nothing post.

I wanted my very own copy, but they appeared to be long out of print, so I ordered something that appeared to be a similar thing under a different title (Easy German) to see if it was related.

Turned out it was a later edition - and a substantially revised one at that. While the cartoon story was still there, the layout of the book had been completely overhauled and the illustrations were somewhat re-arranged as a result. The grammar points in the original had been peppered around the same page as the story, but in the new version they had been pulled out to their own pages and fleshed out a bit more. Oh, and a lot of the exercises from the original weren't there in the later version.

So, now that I knew a later version existed, the logical thing to do would be to order it for the CC... Except that the way things are at the moment, ordering a new edition would eventually lead to the old edition being "disposed of", if you know what I mean.

And, from a design perspective, they were quite different. I found the older version easier to read and more interactive, but the newer version more informative and in depth. If it were up to me, I'd definitely want to keep them both. Such things are, however, rarely up to me.

So I spent several weeks wondering if I should order the later edition of the book, knowing it would probably mean we would the older edition. This is particularly relevant to me at the moment, as I'm toying with the idea of looking at the design of introductory language texts as a Master's project.

In the end I bit the bullet and decided that, since I know own both versions (albeit, only in German - and the book does come in French and Spanish) the only people who will miss out are all of our members. And, hey, they probably wouldn't borrow out the older book anyway. Something about people, these days - they can't seem to see an old book on the shelf if there is a new book sitting right next to it...

A Garden in the Antipodes

In drips and drabs I have read From a Garden in the Antipodes. A poem or two at a time. Sometimes four at once, and then nothing for weeks. Months. It has taken me over a year to read a thin volume of verse. Not because the verse was challenging or difficult – far from it. It trips along lightly and easily, dances gently through the garden, and amiably leads the reader along. I have read it as I have had time and recollection – not for want of inclination. When I have remembered the book was there, and had a moment spare, I have visited Ursula’s garden.

The poems were first written as letters to friends and family, and that is how I’ve experienced them over the year – as correspondence, of a sort, rather than a book of poetry. I have picked up the book with the frequency which I might expect to receive a letter from a friend in New Zealand. Not by design (I’m not quite that clever), but that has been the effect none-the-less.

And over the year I have come to enjoy Ursula’s garden, appreciate the progress of her fuchsias and Omi-Kin-Kan (what was that, anyway? A ficus?), and smile at the adventures and misadventures of Michael, her cat. It’s such a lovely thing to spend a little time there, listening to her tell you about her plans for the box of bulbs she just received, or talk about how hard it is to keep order in that section along the path…

In the last tree poems I have encountered the one that first drew my attention to Mary Ursula Bethell: “Fall”. When I read that poem in an anthology, I found it so amiable that I wanted to spend more time with the person who wrote it, to see what else she had to say.

And the last poem? “Dirge”? I realised after I had read it that anyone who had come to this verse first, without spending time in Ursula’s garden, would probably read it quite differently. It was very strange to read it over a second time, and think how it would seem to a complete “stranger”. This is how one would encounter it in an anthology – divorced from the other poems that illuminate its context.

It makes me wonder how much is missed in an anthology – and wonder why we never seem to republish the original collections anymore. There has been much talk lately about the way buying music song-by-song is cheating listeners out of the experience of the album as a whole – but that’s how we’ve been packaging poetry for years.

The anthology is the iTunes library (or mixed tape) of poetry. Even in anthologies of verse from the same poet, the poems are removed from their original context. Whatever vision the poet might have had when originally setting out the order of verse is lost.

I don’t think we fully appreciate how the poem we have just read influences the way we read the next one. At the end of a book of verse about gardening, one has a very clear picture to go with the imagery used in “Dirge”. Found by itself amongst poems about, say, war, or the woes of 20th Century society, the same poem would have a different resonance and evoke different images.

I have said that I first encountered “Fall” in an anthology, and that I enjoyed it and wanted to seek out the poet. I was fortunate that my library held an old copy of From a Garden in the Antipodes, and I could read it in its original setting – finding it where it fell in the pattern of poems. Where the poet set it (like a jeweller sets a stone in a broach). I am glad I encountered “Dirge” her, in its original setting, the first time I read it.

But there are so many poems that I can’t read in their original settings. While individual poems (the poets’ “best of” lists) are constantly republished in anthologies, the original books are curiosities held in a handful of libraries. I don’t have access to them. While novels are republished time and time again, it is the fate of books of poetry and short stories to be broken up and sold for spare parts.

And that’s a pity.

I have nothing against anthologies – I think they are an excellent way to meet writers and get a feel for poems or short stories from a particular place or genre. I just think we shouldn’t be neglecting the original collections: the book of poems or short stories that the author first negotiated with the publishers.

DIRGE (by Mary Ursula Bethell)

Easter. And leaves falling.
Easter. And first autumn rains.
Easter. And dusk stealing
Our bright working daylight
And cold night coming down
In which we may not work.

Easter. And morning bells
Chime in the late dark.
Soon those fluttering birds
Will seek a more genial clime
Time has come to light fires
For lack of enlivening sun.

Summer’s arrow is spent,
Stored her last tribute,
So, now, we plant our bulbs
With assured vision,
And, now, we sow our seeds
Sagely for sure quickening.

So, purging our borders
We burn all rubbish up,
That all weak and waste growth,
That all unprofitable weeds,
All canker and corrosion,
May be consumed utterly.

These universal bonfires
Have a savour of sacrifice.
See how their clean smoke,
Ruddy and white whorls,
Rises to the still heavens
In plumy spirals.

You take me – yes, I know it –
Fresh from your vernal Lent.
These ashes I will now spread
For nutriment about the roses,
Dust unto fertile dust,
And say no word more.

Check it out!

Have you ever seen a book on a library shelf and thought: "that looks interesting" or "I love that book, I'm glad they have a copy here"? Did you then check it out? If not, you may not see it the next time you come into the library.

If you want a library to keep a book, you need to check it out.

It's a myth that libraries keep everything. It's not even remotely physically possible (no library has that much space), and studies have proven that the more books a library has on the shelf the less likely people are to find what they want.

So, librarians regularly go through the collection to find books that aren't being used. We get rid of these books to make way for new ones - it's called "weeding". If we can, we try to find a new home for the books. If we can't, we rip off the covers and throw them in the bin (kind of like a vet putting down a dog that can't be saved).

When it comes to academic libraries, there can be a lot of rules in place about what we can and can't do with weeded books. While a public library can sell the books they've weeded, an academic library can only give them to certain people. If those people don't want the books, then we have to destroy them.

It's unpleasant, but it's a fact of life. We can't keep getting new books without getting rid of the older ones, and the best method we have for deciding what books we keep and what books we weed is:

"How often has that book been checked out in the last few years?"

Yes, we know a lot of books are read and used in the library without being checked out, but we can't track that. And, yes, we know some books are important for historical reasons and should be kept - but we don't always know those reasons. So, if a book hasn't been checked out for the last five years and is fifteen or twenty years old...

Do you know who has the power to save the books and make sure they stay on the shelves? You.

If you see a book and you think the library should keep it, you can do one very simple thing to help ensure its survival: check it out.

Heck, you don't even have to take it home. You can check it out and put it straight in the returns chute if you want to. That would be weird (you may as well take it home and enjoy it for a couple of weeks), but useful. It gives us a record for that book - it tells us it is being used and that people still want it.

So the next time you are in a library (any library) and you see a book that looks interesting, or is a personal favourite, why not check it out? It can make a real difference to the book's survival.

Hot Buttered

Some days it's worth making the effort to turn up to work when you don't feel 100% with it. Some days you just end up having a pocket full of butter.

For future reference: Putting a pat of butter in your pocket is a bad idea.

Did I Mention I've Had a Paper Published?

I'm sure I must have mentioned it once or twice.

Perhaps to everyone in earshot. Whether they cared the first time I mentioned it or not.

Anyway, for the record:

Bryan, S. (2011). Extensive Reading, Narrow Reading and second language learners: implications for libraries. Australian Library Journal, 60(2), 113-122.

I may have stopped doing my happy dance, but then again there are no guarantees.

Stupid Informit

You know, researching with a head-ache would be easier if Informit wasn't trying to mess with me every time I attempted to save a citation to EndNote. Or, for that matter, when clicking on any button on the search page.

"Let's just change what search we're doing from one page to the next! That won't cause any difficulties. Also, when she tries to save her selected results, we'll just give her a different sent, and refuse to unmark them. That sounds useful. And, hey, why bother including details like the year and journal title in the record anyway. It's not like anyone ever looks at those..."

Stupid Informit.

From Nothing to Something

The German subject I'm taking at the moment is promoted as being an introductory course for beginners who have never studied German before, but it is based around a text-book programme that is not ideal for such a course. Especially in regards to distance learners

Deutsch: Na Klar! is a programme for beginners, but not for "true" beginners. The information it covers is basic, but not introductory.

The book/programme seems to be working on two assumptions:

1. It assumes students have had some exposure to German previously

Or at least some sort of language learning. It's undeniable. If you've never done anything with German in the past, you will struggle with this book. The Introduction is supposed to ease you into the course, instead it clearly works on the assumption that you already know something about German or language learning. Not much, but more than nothing. This is particularly obvious when you look at the explanations offered for many of the concepts covered in the Introduction and first chapter. It's just not sufficient to support someone who has no experience with the language or with language learning.

Which brings me to the second assumption:

2. It assumes you have regular class time and can consult with teachers and students

Once again, you can't avoid this fact. For one thing, the explanations are pretty sparse - if you have a teacher to elaborate on them and go into more detail, then this is fine, but when you are studying on your own it's a bit of a handy cap. Also, a large number of the exercises given in the book are for classroom activities. You need to undertake an activity with one or more classmates, and then discuss the activity with the rest of the class.

Neither of these assumptions make this a good programme to use with distance students who are learning German for the first time. I have a slight advantage in that I intentionally took an evening course in Basic German last year to prepare for this Diploma. If I hadn't, I think I'd be having a very rough time of it. I know some of the other distance learners who tune in for the Monday night online class are struggling. One hour a week with someone you can't see is not sufficient to make up for the short-falls in the programme.

Now, I'm not saying it's a bad programme. It has it's good points, and isn't too difficult. The problem is that it can't stand on it's own. You need the classroom environment to support it, and you need to have had some exposure to German ahead of encountering it.

I also have the advantage of being a librarian who has just completed a Master's project on using resources to support language learners, and I've been reading all about autonomous language learning techniques. As a result, I've been making up for some of the programme's short-falls by actively using other books and resources. For a while now, I've essentially been using two textbooks (not to mention a whole pile of other things, when I can get my hands on them).

Deutsch Heute is probably a better book for distance learners, in my humble opinion, as it gives more thorough explanations of the grammar and vocabulary points. I've been using the eighth edition of this book to augment the fifth edition of Na Klar. It has, in a way, become my classroom. When I want to get more explanation of something, or see a different range of examples, I turn to this book.

I've been using the eighth edition because that's what we had in our library. I'd say it was probably the text book used at the university back in 2005. I tried to buy a copy of that edition, but could only order the ninth. I'm hoping the ninth edition is not radically different from the eighth, and hasn't decided to move more information from the book to the Internet. I'm all for hypermedia augmentation, but I don't like it when you have to use the Internet because you can't get what you need from the book.

Now, having said all of that, I don't think Deutsch Heute is a suitable programme for absolute beginners, either. Neither of these books really work on the assumption that the student is starting from nothing

I've noticed this in other "introductory" text-books as well - especially those aimed at "academic" learners. They never seem designed to take you from nothing to something.

Books aimed at children or "life-long-learners" (in other words, people who aren't studying with any serious purpose) are much better at this. In fact, the best book I've found, so far, for taking someone from nothing to something (in German) is a book called Learn German by Nicole Irving.

Now, this is a very interesting book. For one thing, it's a book that knows its theory. The use of an adventure story to carry the dialogue; the way the dialogue is used to illustrate key grammar points; the use of simple charts and tables to describe language points; the comic-book style use of pictures to help comprehension; the use of "exercises" that bear a strong resemblance to games... These ideas were all in the "top of the pops" for the design of language material in the 1990s (at least at the school level). The book was, quite obviously, written to take advantages of all of the latest and greatest ideas that had been discussed in the literature of the time. There's also a tape that goes with the book, but my library didn't have a copy of it, so I can't comment on what was on it - besides, you don't need the tape to use the book.

For another thing, it's actually three books. Sort of. Perhaps it's better to describe it as a shell. The plot of the story, the illustrations and the design and layout of the book were used for three separate books: Learn German, Learn French and Learn Spanish. No aspect of the story or illustrations is particular to a given culture, so the dialogue and grammar descriptions could be converted to any language and the book would still work. The name of the town and characters is changed to be more typically French or Spanish (or whatesver), and away you go.

This book was specifically designed to take someone from nothing to something - and something decent, at that. It isn't focused on teaching you conversational German/French/Spanish, but rather give you a foundational knowledge about the language and its grammar - something you can then build on. And all while telling a story that was reasonably fun.

I found this book to be a great help when I started this whole German schtick last year - it pushed me ahead of what I was learning in the evening course and put me in a better position for understanding the material in these so-called "introductory" German courses. It was truly introductory.

Academic language courses need to consider starting with something like that when dealing with complete beginners. They need to give that first chapter or section over to those of us who need the basics introduced and elaborated, rather than just "covered" or "touched on".

Anyone designing an introductory language programme needs to start with the concept of taking people from nothing to something before trying to build on foundations that haven't been adequately laid.

I'd recommend Nicole Irving's Learn German/French/Spanish books to anyone who is thinking of learning that language... but they're out of print. You may be able to get a second hand copy, or borrow one from a library, but Usborne (the publisher) never reprinted them. I guess they just weren't as popular as the First Thousand Words in Something-Or-Other books that have been in print for ever. More's the pity.

I've ordered something by Irving from Usborne that I hope will be a kind of later edition of this book. I'll let you know if it's any good.

I think that means I've finished

So, a month or so ago I mailed away my "completion of enrollment" form.

I haven't had any acknowledgment by anyone that it was received/accepted/processed/whatever, but I have just been sent an email saying that if I fill in a graduates survey I could win a pen.

I think that means I've finished my degree.

When I follow a ridiculously long series of links to log into eStudent, it lists my course as "completed". So I think I must have finished.

Funny, I thought someone would have notified me...

Hmmm...

So, I was about to click on a link to a journal article on intrinsic motivation and retention when I couldn't help but feel a bit suspicious.

The title of the article was "Teaching you to Suck Eggs", and it was written by A Trapp.

Turns out it's actually a chapter in a book called "Teaching Psychology in Higher Education" and not a trap at all.

We don't have the book, by the way, but it sounds like something we should have...

Devanny Project Diary, Entry 9

Yep, definitely leaning towards focusing on Sugar Heaven. This is at least partly because I haven't managed to progress beyond the first half of The Butcher Shop and can't see myself reading any of her other novels before I have to start writing something for this project, and also partly because circling this one novel gives a nice scope.

The real question is moving away from 'what' and towards 'if'...

Oh, that's right, I have superpowers.

Every now and then, I forget I'm a librarian and I don't actually have to know what I'm looking for in order to find it.

Just as I finish writing a post on how I can't find the kind of music I'm after in German, I hit on a few new approaches and track down a possible lead. Not sure if I've found what I'm looking for, yet, as I'm sans sound at present. Will find out soon enough.

Once I've workout out whether my super librarian powers have actually helped me solve the German half of this problem, I can try for the Estonian side of things.

I wonder what it must be like to be normal, and actually be able to say "Oh, well - can't find it" and give up...

Listeners' Advisory

Readers' Advisory has been on my mind a lot lately. I took a short course on the subject last year, and learnt all sorts of interesting things. I haven't yet managed to convince anyone else to let me put that knowledge to good use, but I'm hoping to wear them down eventually.

The trouble with academic libraries is that we often forget we hold books that are interesting and entertaining, and that some people just want to read for the fun of it. We make it easy to find books with a purpose, but constantly neglect the users who want to discover books for the heck of it.

A Readers' Advisory service is like a travel agent for books. You go into a travel agent and say "I want to visit Europe", the travel agent should spend some time finding what elements of Europe you are most interested in (snow-capped mountains, beaches, vibrant cities, sleepy hamlets...) and make sure your itinerary doesn't have you spending most of your time in the north of Denmark when you'd much prefer to be in the south of Spain.

If you go to a Reader's Advisory service and say "I've just finished the Bourne books by Ludlum and would like to read something like that", then they should spend a few minutes finding out what it was you found particularly appealing about the books you have liked. It may be that what you loved about the Bourne books is not the specific spy/espionage genre, but rather the lone-man-against-an-unknown-foe side of things. In which case, you may enjoy many other books that are not spy thrillers.

I need a Listener's Advisory service. The online stores from which I tend to purchase music (such as Amazon.de and CDBaby.com) keep sending me recommendations based on genres. In the case of CDBaby.com, this isn't too bad as they have a slightly askew take on musical genres, so I am discovering new things through them. Amazon just keeps sending me recommendations that tick exactly the same boxes as the music I have bought in the past.

My real problem is that neither of them will give me recommendations based on what I want, and I don't know how to describe what I want in terms that will create a suitable result using their computer systems. At the moment, what I want is something like Ranarim, only not in Swedish. I want that kind of modernised-traditional-instrument-alt-folk-music thing that Ranarim does, but I want to find bands that do this sort of thing in German or Estonian.

It's a strange request, I'll grant you. I love listening to Ranarim for the sound of the music, but if I can get recordings in one of the two languages I'm currently learning, then my 'casual music listening' doubles up as my 'autonomous language learning', and I get to kill two birds with one stone.

CDBaby has never heard of Ranarim, so the system cannot offer me a "sounds like" option for the band. Even if I could, I would not be able to narrow that to the languages I'm after. You can search for country of origin, but not language, which means the odds of finding a German or Estonian language CD are really slim-to-none, let alone looking for one in a very specific sub-genre (for which I do not know the name).

Amazon.de is where I bought my current Ranarim CDs from, and is happy to recommend other folk groups from Sweden and Norway with a similar feel. Unfortunately, I want something in German, and when you go looking for German folk music you get something completely different. Wading through the popular stuff to see if what I'm after is lurking down the bottom is a challenge I haven't accepted as yet.

The sound I want is pretty easy to find in Celtic-themed groups (Ranarim actually performed at a couple of Celtic music gigs in Britain a few years back), but trying to feed the word "Celtic" into the machine just moves me further away from German language results.

Surely there's some service somewhere where I can say "I want something alt-folky and kind of Celtic, only in German or Estonian" and someone can make appropriate recommendations?

Just felt like a change

Yep, changed the blog theme again. Don't think it's been that long since the last time, but the background of the previous version was making me sleepy. This one makes me smile.

This, by the way, is the reason why I don't have any tattoos. Within three months I'll be bored and wanting to get it changed...

Scabies, Scurvy and other Piratical Ailments.

Did I say scabies? I meant scurvy. That whole thing about Krauts and Limeys was a piece of pointless trivia about scurvy. The only piece of pointless trivia I know about scabies is that it was common amongst pirates in the 18 Century (as were a variety of other mites, lice and similar communicable critters). But that's not really that special - they were common amongst a lot of sailors of the period, pirate or otherwise.

So, yeah, my apologies to the class of Pharmacy students to whom I told a piece of trivial information that was not only useless, but also incorrect.

Devanny Project Diary, Entry 8

Somewhere in the universe, there may or may not exist a "database" of historical photos, which may or may not be connected to Jean Devanny in a way I'm not at liberty to discuss.

This database may or may not contain the following description concerning a blurry photograph of a man holding a snake:

"This venomous 7 horse power diesel engined man eating morning after the night before snake killed ten men and ate 29 dogs before Patem Alley with his usual courageous determination captured it alive after spending 9 sleepless weeks tracking the monster to its lair in the heart of the merciless hot jungle"

This description may or may not be a complete fabrication by someone who may or may not have been testing to see if anyone was ever actually going to read the data put into the database - this being pure conjecture as it seems to have taken several years for someone to read that particular entry (which may or may not exist), and the identity of whoever originally entered it (who also may or may not exist) is lost in the sands of time.

It's flippin' hilarious, though. Slightly misleading, but flippin' hilarious.

I can't help but think Jean would have approved.

Devanny Project Diary Entry 7

Cyclone Yasi

So, it turns out that the cyclone I was pathetically whining about in the last post wasn't inconvenient so much as massive and devastating.

I was expecting a bit of damage. Instead, Silkwood has practically been wiped out, Tully isn't doing so well and no one is even mentioning Mourilyan. I don't know if that's a good sign or not.

Obviously, my thoughts are with the people who live in the region, but I'm also thinking about the history.

When a massive catastrophe hits a town, most people are justifiably thinking about saving lives and loved ones, but there was at least one museum in that region at some point. After Cyclone Larry, I was wondering if it would still be there. After Yasi, I'm guessing it probably isn't.

What happens to the local collections in the small community museums when the towns are taken out by flood, fire or storm? You can't think about these things when there's a major disaster looming with the promise of death and destruction, but how many of those small museums have disaster plans for their collections?

Devanny Project Diary Entry 6

Storm Surge/Cyclone

Darn these inconvenient massive weather events. Here I was, thinking: "That whole Innisfail region has had a couple of years to recover from the last cyclone, it's probably a good time to go up for a bit of a field trip. I can take a look at the local museums and libraries, figure out exactly how to pronounce Mourilyan, take some pictures and footage I could use for projections..."

And then we go and get ourselves a massive cyclone that is going to cause storm surges all up the coast of northern Queensland, and probably make landfall between Cairns and Innisfail. And, of course, we all know that the areas south of the cyclone get the worst winds and rain.

I'm still hoping to get up there around Easter-ish, but I was hoping to see the place in it's non-weather-ravaged form. It's bad enough that the historic sugar mill at Mourilyan was so badly damaged during the last cyclone that it stopped functioning.

Weather! Stop making a mess of things!

Devanny Project Diary Entry 5

Reflections on Sugar Heaven

What a daft way to end a book. Sure, there was a final, exultant proclamation about how much better the working men were as people now that they had organised themselves and tried to fight for their rights, but in terms of the story it was a real let down.

It's not so much that they lost the strike. I kind of new that would happen. It's the way everything took three chapters to peter into nothing.

Sugar Heaven is an oddly uneven book. It spends its time veering wildly between "reportage" and soap opera. One minute you're reading a gripping account of an altercation between the workers and the scabs at the mill, the next minute you're reading about Dulcie hating her husband's ex-wife (until she actually meets her, and then they become best friends - practically love at first sight).

And then, at the end, it goes from "we must reclaim our place on the land to make sure we are in a position to do better next time" to Dulcie being shocked at the existence of legal prostitution (and that somehow leading to her decision to have a baby) and Bill's confession to Hefty (of what, exactly?).

I have a feeling that the end was actually foreshadowed throughout the book. Hefty's taunt in the first few chapters that he had paid for as much as Dulcie had given him so far (leading to her thinking very poorly of him, but for all the wrong reasons*). The references to the fact that Bill doesn't look very well. Elsie's occasional comments that she had a right to flaunt her affair in front of Bill after what he did... Then at the end the concept of regulated prostitution is raised, with the idea put forward that "legal" prostitutes are regularly checked by a doctor, which implies that "illegal" prostitutes may have all sorts of diseases...

The final conversation between Hefty and Bill reveals nothing, but you are left wondering if Bill's great sin - the reason why he seems unwell and his wife is perfectly fine with taking a lover - is the contraction of a sexually transmitted disease from an illegal prostitute.

But, really, is that any way to end a book? Bill confesses something to Hefty that we have to guess from the context of the clues scattered throughout the novel; both men agree that all working class men in the area are intellectually better off now that they have gone through the strike and are on the verge of joining the Communist Party; the end.

It's not the lack of closure, it's the way things suddenly revert back to the soap opera, without quite letting go of the propaganda. The propaganda was easier to stomach when we were talking about the strike - not so much with the sudden prostitution and babies subplot.


*Dulcie's character arc in this novel is annoying. She has every right to object to the fact that her husband had been previously married and had visited prostitutes - especially since he neglected to tell her about this until after marrying her and taking her far away from her friends and family. However, she was also "unthinking" and stubborn, objecting to things purely because she felt they were objectionable, and not because she actually knew why they were objectionable. All that malarky about trying to insist Hefty didn't go any where near anyone or anything connected with his ex-wife, even though he was happy to think of Elsie as Bill's wife and leave it at that. Her fear of being seen in public with a man (any man) who wasn't her husband (what would people say!)... You just wanted to smack her in the head (hence, my last entry). And then, even her "growth" through the strike and the way it encouraged her to think for the first time was also kind of annoying.

I think we were supposed to follow a similar awakening to Dulcie, but her character really just exists so people can explain things to her (and, by association, us) within the context of the novel - so the book didn't spiral into report, rather than reportage. Like that character in Twister who was just there so people could tell her about tornadoes.

Devanny Project Diary - Entry 4

Must punch Dulcie in head.

Devanny Project Diary Entry 3

Building on the last idea:

Perhaps, instead of a "documentary" with live readings, there could be a number of "narrators" onstage.

One tells the story of Jean Devanny's life, one tells the story that is written in the novel, one tells the history of the strikes and the politics/people involved. And, of course, the reader, whose sole purpose is to read the passages of the novel which frame the discussion.

Still record interviews which can be projected, but the role of narrator that you usually get with documentaries can be split amongst people who actually move around and interact with each other on stage - making it more "live" and interesting.

Question: Can this be structured in such a way that it could be performed by one person, if necessary? Should it be? Four people on stage would be more interesting to watch, but one person would travel more easily...

Devanny Project Diary Entry 2

An Idea

"Sugar! Jean Devanny, Sugar Heaven and the 1935 Can Cutter's Strikes"

Tell the story of the strikes, Devanny's interest in them and the book - dipping into "reportage", but mostly telling the story of the people who worked and lived in the area, how they inspired the novel, what Devanny hoped to do with the book and how the book has been recieved over the years.

Put together a more or less honest-to-goodness documentary with filmed interviews. On stage, those interviews would be projected onto a number of screens, and framed by a performer reading excerpts from the book.

Recording the readings, the whole thing could be cut together as a DVD...

Devanny Project Diary Entry 1

Yesterday we started talking in earnest about the idea of using Museum Theatre to “open up” the Special Collections to the public. Bronwyn and I had half talked about it last year, saying “we should do it”, but not really getting much beyond that. She had dozens of projects to work on, and asked to hold off discussions until January.

I had been thinking about MT on Wednesday afternoon, and that night I was thinking about what collections we might have that would be “dramatic” enough to make a good first project. Jean Devanny’s name popped into my mind. I knew we’d had at least one visiting scholar in to see the collection in the last couple of years. Plus, Cheryl Taylor and Shirley (forgotten her last name atm) were doing some project on Devanny a couple of years back.

Mentioned it to Bronwyn, who said the Devanny collection was one of the suggestions for “first cab of the rank” for the digitisation project. We could tie the digitisation of the collection into the performance and make it some kind of “launch” for the digital collection.

Tossed a few loose ideas around concerning the extent of the project – taking it on tour to the local areas with funds from Playing Australia? Trying to tie it in with one of the local industries to get sponsorship?

Neither of us know much about Devanny beyond the name. Decided the next step was for me to "get to know her". Borrowed some books from Main and checked for biographies online. Nothing on Wikipedia. Used Ron Store’s brief biography and skimmed Ferrier’s book to put a quick and dirty entry on Wikipedia. Better than nothing, and hopefully more successful than my last attempt to add to Wikipedia (the Handball Incident).

Started reading Sugar Heaven, reading the Introduction to the 2002 edition first. So far, not bad. Interesting to encounter a mix of place names I’m very familiar with alongside ones I’ve never heard of. Are they still around, but I’ve never noticed them? Have they disappeared since 1936?

First thoughts:
• Tell the story of Devanny’s life by using her novels to highlight where she was “at” at the time.
• Communist propaganda. Her novels as propaganda, her tour through North Queensland and the Communist movement in NQ at the time.
• The 1935 strikes in particular – talk about her interest, writing this particular book, the history of the strikes and the outcomes. Maybe mixing in stories from cane cutters.
• “The Red North – Jean Devanny and Evangelical Communism in Queensland”
• “Fact in the Form of Fiction – Jean Devanny and the Art of Reportage”

Decided today that I really should be a member of IMTAL to add some weight to any proposals. Tried to join IMTAL-Europe (but had difficulty with the online forms), but discovered the Australasian version has advanced since I last looked at them. Not to the point where you can actually use their website to find out how to join, though.

The IMTAL conference is going to be in Melbourne this year, and the call for papers closes in April. We might be able to swing a little more prestige by bringing the possibility of an international conference…

Villette

While preparing the book display half of a "Blog Display" concerning the writing of the Brontë sisters, I went looking for pictures from the 1970 miniseries adaptation of Villette, staring Judy Parfitt as Lucy Snowe (English audiences may know her best as Mrs Clennam in Little Dorrit, American audiences may know her best for her role as the Queen in Ever After).

I couldn't find any I could really use. Heck, in the end I couldn't find any pictures that were directly connected to the book that were all that useful. In the end, I just went for a generic "French Village" image.

However, I did find this:



Which I found entertaining.

I read Villette at the same time I had been given Lonely Runs Both Ways (by Alison Krauss and Union Station) for Christmas, and I always found the song "If I Didn't Know Any Better" seemed to fit perfectly with the second half of the book. I had this crazy idea of having a completely bluegrass/country soundtrack for the film version of the book.

But, having watched the clip above, I have to admit that Macy Gray's "I Try" is a perfect fit for the first half of the book. So now I'm wondering if I could convince Alison Krauss to do a bluegrass cover of "I Try", or if I should just open up the music genres for my dream sound-track to my hypothetical film adaptation.

Jane Eyre is one of my all-time favourite books, but there's an extent to which I find Villette to be a better novel. The whole "Ghost of a Dead Nun Haunting the Attic" thing never works as well, for pure drama, as the "Madwoman in the Attic" and "Psychic connection via the moon" thing that Jane Eyre has going on, but I love the emotional depth of the novel.

The book is a celebration of second chances. It sets up one love story, stomps on it, then gives us another. In Jane Eyre (and Shirley), the young woman has one great love, and must go through many trials and heartbreaks before winning him in the end. She can never be happy without him - he is the only one for her! (Dramatically bring back of hand to forehead at this point). In Villette, it looks like it's setting up the exact same scenario... but then turns everything on its head.

M. Paul must have been at the school the whole time. He must have been floating around in the background while Lucy was busy swooning over Dr John. We just don't hear about him because she doesn't notice him. Too busy swooning, you see. Then, at some point, he just breaks in - seemingly out of nowhere. Then he does it again, and again, and again.

And then, suddenly, her breath catches in her throat at the thought of talking to him and she just can't fathom why. Suddenly, she's so turned around by this annoying little Frenchman that she can barely spare a thought for her glorious Dr John.

Suddenly, we don't give two hoots if Dr John goes off and marries Polly. We want to know what M. Paul wants to talk to Lucy about. We want to know why his cousin is trying so hard to keep him away. When he grabs Lucy's hand in the garden and draws her close, we pretty much forget about Dr John entirely.

And I love that element to the book - the new paradigm. In the romantic novel that is your life, you might not be Jane trying to overcome the obstacles needed to get to your Rochester. You might be Lucy who is still stuck on Dr John. Your M. Paul might be standing right behind you, waiting for you to turn around.

Luddite

"I'm a bit of a Luddite," she said. She's not the first person to say it, and she won't be the last, but she's still wrong.

They're almost all wrong.

Every time I hear someone say "I'm a bit of a Luddite" I have to stop myself from replying:

"No, you're not. You're just reluctant to learn how to use technology. I'm a bit of a Luddite, you're just holding yourself back."

If, like me, you believe that the automation of jobs sucks and we shouldn't be replacing human beings with machines - no matter how efficient they might be - due to the fact that the cost to our society is too great, then you could justifiably call yourself a Luddite.

If you, like me, believe the factory system pioneered by textile companies during the Industrial Revolution was the beginning of a process that has had a detrimental effect on our species and the planet, than you can call yourself a Luddite.

If you, like me, believe that the Industrial Revolution itself was, by and large, a bad idea...

Well, you get the drift.

If, however, you just find Word 2007 too different from Word 2003 and you'd rather not have to deal with it... Well, I'm afraid that doesn't make you a Luddite, it just makes you someone who needs to think carefully about aptitude and attitude and try to work out which one is getting in your way so that you can do something about it.

Smash the knitting frames! Down with spinning jennies! Curse your capitalist industrialism! Let the working man work!

Ahem.

As you were.