what characters want

My wife and I finally got around to some of the comment features on Babylon 5 DVDs, a few interesting discussions of the making and other background. J. Michael Straczynski, the force behind Babylon 5, had a few criteria on character issues that are simple and foundational:

1. What does the character want?
2. How much do they want it?
3. How far will they go to get it?

The answers to these questions, the author intimates, leads to story, stories that may or may not write themselves. B5 has a great character-driven pull that drew from the talent that helped the original Star Trek find its character metal. Anyway, practicing the above 3 criteria calls for lots of thinking about Jim or Deborah.

D wants into Harvard. J wants to win at Chess. Already we have a means of getting into D and J’s worlds, simply by asking question #1. But the question could also come from this: D doesn’t want UCONN. J can’t take loosing. The three questions above shouldn’t be taken as the “prime” questions. But they do give direction and focus and they’re too uncomplicated to forget.

Another issue has to do with the nature of resolution: does the character get what they want?

I think this is excellent simplicity, excellent advice.

wow factor 2

Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian and as his earlier novel, Suttree, are loaded with examples of readovers, as are Shakespeare’s plays. Here’s a readover example from Blood Meridian:

He rose and turned toward the lights of the town. The tidepools bright as smelterpots among the dark rocks where the phosphorescent seacrabs clambered back. Passing through the salt grass he looked back. The horse had not moved. A ship light winked in the swells. The colt stood against the horse with its head down and the horse was watching, out there past men’s knowing, where the stars are drowning and whales ferry their vast souls through the black and seamless sea.

This is interesting description, interesting sound (“phosphorescent seacrabs”). The second sentence, a fragment, is an elaboration of the first: a sort of sensual snap shot of what the protagonist of the novel, the kid, may or may not be seeing as he turns toward the lights of the town. The stuff out of the corner of the eye. Here the landscape is alive, but in the novel that “phenomenon”–the landscape being alive–takes on meaning in elaboration and action. We don’t know why the kid looks back, but he does.

The voice of the novel goes from near distance to far distance and the descriptive voice follows that distance into description that gives elements of the natural world fragility. The kid “watches,” the horse “watches.” They look “out there . . . where the stars are drowning and whales ferry their vast souls through the black and seamless sea.” This closer is related to the kid looking at the town, a human contruction, but the town faces another world so big and amazingly mysterious it calls for exactly what McCarthy gives it, a langauge that both grasps it but doesn’t grasp it, a hungry language, mysterious and scary: “where . . . whales ferry their vast souls through the vast and seamless sea.” It’s mysterious, frightening. But the image of the whale has an odd bouyancy, a lightness–it’s a “vast soul,” the sea “black and seamless.”

This language is delicate, light, perspicaciously placid, but in the context of the novel where so many horrible things happen, it haunts.

national curling champs

I have to admit to knowing nothing about the sport of curling. But apparently my sister, Cathy Floerchinger, and her Alaska rink know plenty. From the Fairbanks Daily news-miner:

Another national championship banner will be going up at the Fairbanks Curling Club.

The Steve Shuttleworth rink of Fairbanks worked overtime for the second straight day to capture the USA Curling Mixed National Championship title by knocking off the two-time defending national champion Brady Clark rink of Washington on Saturday at the Caledonian Curling Club in Mankato, Minn.

Shuttleworth, third Susan Carothers, second Peter Lundquist and lead Cathy Floerchinger became the first Alaska rink to win the mixed national championship since the tournament’s inception in 1975.

Congratulations!

the american press

No wonder the echo boomers distrust news. Mr. Marshall at Talking Points Memo has a couple of posts on the issue of reporting. I’m less interested in the politics, more interested in the competence. What happened to the “watchdog,” regardless of who’s in office.

Regarding the Richard Clarke issue, CNN has been leading into airs with the quote of Clarke’s that the president has done “a terrible job” on terrorism. Why is this “the quote” to quote from the 60 Min interview? I keep coming back to the Record monograph I cited and described below. What Clarke is going to say, said differently, is not knew. It hasn’t, as far as I’ve seen, been “studied” on the news as a matter of serious strategy–forget the politics and who’s attacking whom. There are too many attacks, so many it seems that all the press has time for. Now the press is going to start chewing on its own tail, blaming itself for who screwed up on reporting about WMD, and maybe rethink how to cover the White House. Talk strategy, talk analysis, talk study, and the airwaves go dead. This is not good.

We have Clarke on 60 Minutes saying one thing. We have Condoleeza Rice saying another at the Washington Post. Isn’t it fair to ask that some team of reporters try and figure out who’s telling it straight, rather than airing the partisans on television? We already know what they’re going to say. What the communications director of the white house is going to say in response to Clarke “isn’t news.”

syberia II

It’s coming coming coming. Syberia II. Here’s a preview by Randy Sluganski. How do I get these things into a fiction course. Maybe we should just do a game course. No text books. Just games. We’ll do Adventure, then Myst, then Leisure Suit Larry, Deus Ex, Gabriel Knight, then Syberia.

the art of critique/the art of learning

In this post Spinning considers how one should go about giving critique on a story. How the does the reader approach the work? What should the reader be looking for? Who should review?

Wed look for someone who is open, honest, and while knowledge of the art is not essential, some form of literary savvy in steering the writer towards the necessary elements of story is just as great a help as providing response as to the feelings a piece may give to the reader.

I think the answer has more to do with attitude as well as knowledge of the subject. People who love stories and talking about stories make good readers. In a workshop environment, knowing the elements and bringing an attitude of trust to the story under consideration makes for a great discussion, especially when the reader has invested in the life of the story. Best to get the writer and the reader charged, excited, ready to leave and get to the typewriter.

terrorism and the notion of order

In the British Literature sequence we (me and those who come to class) talk a lot about the idea of order, as we do in other courses. Tennyson’s Idylls can be read as a narrative with this structure: chaos (the world is broken and fractious)–>order (Arthur draws those factions into a unified whole)–>chaos (Arthur dies, the world becomes incoherent).

Terrorism is an agent of disorder or emblematic of it. But can the response also lead to further discord? Here’s what Jeffrey Record has to say on the issue from a monograph entitled Bounding the Global War on Terrorism (pdf) published by the Strategic Studies Institute:

Of particular concern has been the conflation of al-Qaeda and Saddam Husseins Iraq as a single, undifferentiated terrorist threat. This was a strategic error of the first order because it ignored critical differences between the two in character, threat level, and susceptibility to U.S. deterrence and military action. The result has been an unnecessary preventive war of choice against a deterred Iraq that has created a new front in the Middle East for Islamic terrorism and diverted attention and resources away from securing the American homeland against further assault by an undeterrable al-Qaeda. The war against Iraq was not integral to the GWOT, but rather a detour from it.

Additionally, most of the GWOTs declared objectives, which include the destruction of al-Qaeda and other transnational terrorist organizations, the transformation of Iraq into a prosperous, stable democracy, the democratization of the rest of the autocratic Middle East, the eradication of terrorism as a means of irregular warfare, and the (forcible, if necessary) termination of WMD proliferation to real and potential enemies worldwide, are unrealistic and condemn the United States to a hopeless quest for absolute security. As such, the GWOTs goals are also politically, fiscally, and militarily unsustainable.

Record focuses on three aspects of the GWOT (Global War on Terrorism): our ability to ascertain the threat, “the scope and feasibility of its objectives,” and sustainability issues (2).

The language we use to “define” or objectify threat is interesting and significant in the sense that discourse is a guide to framing ideas and responses to them. There’s always a logic behind the attempt at coherent description and explanation. Record writes,

American political discourse over the past several decades has embraced war as a metaphor for dealing with all kinds of enemies, domestic and foreign. One cannot, it seems, be serious about dealing with this or that problem short of making war on it. Political administrations accordingly have declared war on poverty, illiteracy, crime, drugs–and now terrorism. Even political campaign headquarters have war rooms, and war is a term used increasingly to describe bitter partisan disputes on Capitol Hill. War is perhaps the most over-used metaphor in America.

The logic lives behind the word war and the context it assumes, depending on what war brings to mind–Clausewitz, Machiavelli, Herodotus, Sun Tzu. As the judge claims in McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, War is God.

Traditionally, we know that war is about armies and battlefields, gas and blood, uniforms and medals, heavy metal, terror, and as Tim O’Brien would say, lots of walking or “humping.” It’s the thing that kings and states do. “Yet,” as Record would put it, “terrorist organizations do not field military forces as such and, in the case of al-Qaeda and its associated partners, are trans-state organizations that are pursuing nonterritorial ends. As such, and given their secretive, cellular, dispersed, and decentralized order of battle, they are not subject to conventional military destruction” (3). Through much of the first part of the monograph, Record details current administration rhetoric from documents such as the National Security Strategy and National Strategy for Combating Terrorism, concluding that the documents “conflate” the threat by equating terrorist organizations with rogue states. Record writes,

Unfortunately, stapling together rogue states and terrorist organizations with different agendas and threat levels to the United States as an undifferentiated threat obscures critical differences among rogues states, among terrorist organizations, and between rogue states and terrorist groups. One is reminded of the postulation of an international Communist monolith in the 1950s which blinded American policymakers to the infl uence and uniqueness of local circumstances and to key national, historical, and cultural differences and antagonisms within the Bloc. Communism was held to be a centrally directed international conspiracy; a Communist anywhere was a Communist everywhere, and all posed an equal threat to Americas security. A result of this inability to discriminate was disastrous U.S. military intervention in Vietnam against an enemy perceived to be little more than an extension of Kremlin designs in Southeast Asia and thus by definition completely lacking an historically comprehensible political agenda of its own.

One more quote may serve to lay a little more down about the order/chaos focus I’ve been trying to brick up here.

The chief problem with this GWOT goal, however, is that terrorism is not a proper noun. Like guerrilla warfare, it is a method of violence, a way of waging war. How do you defeat a technique, as opposed to a flesh-and-blood enemy? You can kill terrorists, infiltrate their organizations, shut down their sources of cash, wipe out their training bases, and attack their state sponsors, but how do you attack a method? A generic war on terrorism ‘ails to make the distinction between the differing objectives of those who practice terrorism and the context surrounding its use,’ observes Robert Worley. ‘Failing to make the necessary distinctions invites a single, homogenous policy and strategy.’ Again, one is reminded of the lack of threat discrimination that prompted U.S. intervention in the Vietnam War.

There’s much more to Record’s work than I can get into here, but the fundamental question continues to come up and will keep coming up as we grope for order: how to fight, how to think, and how to use language to understand.

contitutional question: chartists

This speech by Benjamin Disraeli gives a good entrance into certain issues we might want to take into consideration as we move into tech and cuture issues in English Literature, especially concerning cultural movements, such as Chartism. I urge the BL students to read it and follow the hypertext links. I’ll have more to say about basic political party issues in a few days.

Two views of the Chartist movement, from different points of view, from Marjie Bloy of The Victorian Web:

Bronterre O’Brien, Operative, 17 March 1839

Universal suffrage means meat and drink and clothing, good hours, and good beds, and good substantial furniture for every man, woman and child who will do a fair day’s work. Universal suffrage means a complete mastery, by all the people over all the laws and institutions in the country; and with that mastery the power of providing suitable employment for all, as well as of securing to all the full proceeds of their employment.

Archibald Alison, “The Chartists and Universal Suffrage”, Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine September 1839

The working-classes have now proved themselves unworthy of that extension of the Suffrage for which they contend; and that, whatever doubts might formerly have existed on the subject in the minds of well-meaning and enthusiastic, but simple and ill-informed men, it is now established beyond all doubt, that Universal Suffrage in reality means nothing else but universal pillage… What the working-classes understand by political power, is just the means of putting their hands in their neighbour’s and that it was the belief that the Reform Bill would give them that power, which was the main cause of the enthusiasm in its favour, and the disgust of the failure of these hopes, the principal reason of the present clamour for an extension of the Suffrage.

friends and friends

It was wonderful to be able to catch up with some friends this week. Thanks to Allie and Sarina for taking the time to visit with me. You’re welcome any time.

analysis and literature

The recent Brit Lit exams are evaluated. One of the issues that makes reading exams interesting is to note how students answer questions and what those answers tell me about study habits, note-taking skills, what gets heard, and what needs emphasis in discussion.

As a lit teacher I don’t think that reading poetry for its own sake, unless one likes to read poetry, which I do, benefits “students.” If one one wants to reader Blake by the swimming pool then there’s no need to read Blake for the same reason at school. If a person wants to write poetry, then work in Creative Writing might benefit. For me studying literature serves a purpose: to practice a kind of reasoning and analysis that leads to questions and providing a mean of seeing culture and life in other ways and drawing conclusions about it that may lead to more questions and arguments.

Culture to culture, time to time, people have defined virtuous behavior in various ways. These days we frown on plagiarism, which is a kind of stealing. When plagiarism is caught, we seek a just remedy or punishment. The question is why do we frown on plagiarism, and what makes it what it is? Is student plagiarism different than college president plagiarism?

Here’s one of the short answer questions from the exam going to Barbauld’s “Meditation.”

Contemplation comes from what source in Anna Letitia Barbauld? This source is a potential metaphor for what?”

Contemplation is personified in the poem and thus its position is pretty objective:

‘Tis now the hour
When Contemplation, from her sunless haunts,
The cool damp grotto, or the lonely depth
Of unpierc’d woods, where wrapt in solid shade
She mused away the gaudy hours of noon,
And fed on thoughts unripen’d by the sun,
Moves forward; and with radiant finger points
To yon blue concave swell’d by breath divine,
Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven
Awake. . .

Contemplation “moves forward” from “haunts,” “the grotto,” the “woods.” These places are given qualities, such as “sunless,” “cool” and “damp,” “unpierc’d.” What was Contemplation doing? Musing, of course. I suppose that’s what Contemplation does if shaped into fleshed concept. I doubt Contemplation would be found playing pool or craps during the day.

To say that Contemplation comes from nature is a vague response since nature has no quality or image value, no specific “place” to define origin. Barbauld, it would seem, really wants the reader to follow the movement, to experience the idea of Contemplation moving once the sun goes down. She wants us to read with precision.

But that’s not even the fun part. In the poem the world and mind is spaced into day and night, light (logic/reason) and lightlessness (musing and wandering thought, thought “unripen’d” by reason or hard logic, deep in the nocturnal mind where things like intuition, creativity, and inspiration may hang around playing unrestrained by the touch of light or restraining influences). Contemplation comes from the “unpierc’d woods,” places untouched by the light, and goes on in the poem to soar just as you’d think it would, as far as it wants until it hits the edge of known space, and can go no further. There are limits even to Contemplation, it would seem.

Barbauld’s a great lead into Blake, Wordsworth, and Wollstonecraft and her play with poetic space is intersting. Moreover, she hints at an internal mental process, not relying on an “external muse” or “cause” as the source for Contemplation, creative expression, inspiration, and musing.

Neuroscience is wrestling with this question, too. What is the physical source of the creative impulse in terms of brain activity.