Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Metis



Metis is one of the most difficult to define Greek words. It's a person, the first wife of Zeus, who he ate -- naturally -- to keep her from bearing a son who would take over. If you're familiar with Detienne and Vernant's book on the subject, you might define it as "cunning intelligence," from the book's subtitle. 

Metis is morally ambiguous: praiseworthy when employed by Odysseus to entrap Trojan spies and strategize a way into Troy, but a negative quality by the time of Euripides' Iphigenia at Aulis. Odysseus' metis in Iphigenia is so negatively portrayed that it allows the poet to pin the responsibility for Iphigenia's death on him, rather than on her father, who is to kill her, or her uncle, who started the war that made it necessary.

What's got me thinking about metis is some things I've read lately about the economy and the responsibilities of the younger generation. I see a tendency to expect metis of everyone in this modern world, and it makes our world more fragmented and angry. The Greeks, who invented cleverness and deception in the West, never envisioned a world where everyone would need to second-guess their neighbors and their public institutions on a daily basis. Maybe we should remember that cunning functions best when it's used only when necessary.  

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Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Noli credere id quod loquitur (Don't believe what people say)

"Wall, I am amazed you don't fall down, since you contain so many scribbles."

I often write here about the real world value of a classics education . I studied classics out of a simple, impractical affection for the subject; its practical value wasn't of interest to me until the affection had worn off a little. 

I've been thinking lately about how important it is *not* to take every statement at face value. Greek and Latin literature, read in the original, is the best education possible in the obfuscatoy power of language. Unless you're thoroughly anti-intellectual, a first glimpse of the 2-inch thick commentary on a 1000 line poem will destroy any notion of 'one word, one meaning. Witnessing an early Imperial poet damn Augustus while singing his praises *at the exact same time* makes you look askance at butt-kissers for the rest of your life.

Which brings me to a recent  NYT essay on disaffected working-class youth. "Young and Isolated" is about the poverty and isolation of working class young adults. Working class poverty is nothing new in the US, but the isolation of young adults is a fairly new issue. I had always naively assumed that one small advantage of a blue collar background is less pressure to move away from your extended family and perhaps even more time to spend with your spouse.

But you can't spend time with a spouse you believe you're too poor to have. From the article:

"Christopher, who was 25, stated simply, “Well, I have this problem of being tricked.” He explained: “Like, I will get a phone call that says, you won a free supply of magazines. And they will start coming to my house. Then all of a sudden I am getting calls from bill collectors for the subscriptions to Maxim and ESPN. It’s a runaround: I can’t figure out who to call. Now I don’t even pick up the phone, like I almost didn’t pick up when you called me.” He described isolation as the only safe path; by depending on no one, Christopher protected himself from trickery and betrayal.

....

Men often face a different challenge: the impossibility of living up to the male provider role. Brandon, who worked the night shift at a clothing store, described what he thought it would be like to be in a relationship with him: “No woman wants to sit on the couch all the time and watch TV and eat at Burger King. I can only take care of myself.”

This may be absurdly utopian,  but I can't help thinking that an acquaintance with classics would at least help with the problems of taking language too literally and having rigid notions of social roles. A standard line is that working class people need more and better vocational educaton, but I can't help thinking that a better appreciation of the subltleties of language, and its capacity for deception, would help Christopher. And Brandon might be amused by Ovid's thoughts
on the "male provider role":

now your beauty can’t captivate my eyes.
Why am I changed, you ask? Because you want gifts.
That’s the cause that stops you from pleasing me.
Once you were innocent, I loved you body and soul:
now your beauty’s flawed by this defect of mind.
Love is a child and naked: without the shabbiness of age
and without clothing, so he’s all openness.
Why tell Venus’s son to sell himself for cash?
Where can he keep cash, he’s got no clothes!





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Sunday, May 26, 2013

What were people like before personalities?



It might seem strange that I've just begun thinking about ancient concepts of personality, considering that I'm 50 pages into a novel narrated by a Mycenaean Greek. But it's true -- my protagonist has just set sail for Troy, and I find myself wondering what he would have thought about for those ten years, and what would have motivated him to commit war atrocities like flinging children off of towers. 

Historical fiction is based on the premise that you can 'know' people from the past -- understand their lives and motives well enough to want to read about them for pleasure. How strange were people from the past? How could they do some of the awful things they did, and still think of themselves as good? Did they care about thinking of themselves as good people? If not, how did they want to see themselves? When questions like this start coming think and fast, I know my fiction writing is going to be stalled for a bit.

Many years ago I remembered reading- or hearing about - somebody who argued that the archaic Greeks formed their self-concept based on what other people said about them, which is why Hector fights in order to avoid "feeling shame before the Trojans and the Trojan women with trailing garments." I think the idea originated with Bruno Snell, but I can't find the passage. His chapter "Homer's View of Man" seems to be building towards some such point through a discussion of how Homeric Greek sees spirit, mind and psyche as separate entities, self-contained like any other bodily organ. 

How do you write about someone like that? What do that person's thought processes look like? I had little trouble showing Odysseus at home in Ithaca and marrying him off. These are universal, uncontroversial experiences. But leading soldiers in the Trojan war is an experience utterly unique to that (mythical) place and time, and so the character's motives become harder to imagine. There's the added difficulty of dirus Ulixes, the scarily detached and cruel Odysseus of the Iliad who seems so at odds with the intellectually curious explorer and dedicated husband of the Odyssey. If his spirit, mind and psyche operate separately, that might make it easier for him to commit atrocities like the betrayal of Dolon or the killing of Astyanax. On the other hand, where is the 'real' person in all this, the individual with whom a modern reader can sympathize? A tentative answer in my next post.
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Monday, May 20, 2013

Where's Egbert Bakker when you need him?


Many weeks ago, before an unscheduled hiatus from blogging, I read Mary Beard's post on defending the traditional lecture. Her main point is that lectures are about "changing minds and attitudes" rather than conveying information. She expands on this point in an anecdotal kind of way appropriate to a blog entry.

Now, I'm in favor of keeping the traditional lecture because it's usually the laziest students who want you to put more stuff online, plus PhDs are screwed over enough without suddenly making it possible for one part-timer to teach thousands of students. And it's still true, even in these degenerate days, that face to face teaching creates an intellectual alchemy that can't be found elsewhere.

If a more formal defense of the traditional lecture is offered, I wonder if classicists who specialize in archaic performance culture could contribute something. After all, they constantly write and think about oral performances and the formation of culture. A 2008 essay by Anna Bonifazi on how performances of the Iliad and Odyssey engaged the audience in a process of "shared visualization" is a perfect example: ? argues that audiences and the poet were familiar with more versions of the Trojan cycle than could be covered in a single performance, and that the performer used certain Greek words beginning with au- to direct the audiences' 'gaze' to particular scenes, characters and episodes. If it could be demonstrated that a similar process takes place in a college lecture hall, it would be a perfect example of how the in-person lecture goes far beyond content delivery.
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Friday, May 3, 2013

Loki grants stupid wishes

the Lokistone

So I love Zeus Grants Stupid Wishes so much I haven't finished it yet, because I have been limiting myself to one story a day. I read it aloud and the spouse and I laugh so hard we cry and the toddler laughs too, out of sympathy (we abbreviate/spell non-family friendly words, naturally).

The best part, so far, are the stories from Norse mythology, mostly because Loki (the Norse trickster god), Thor and Frejya have such a 'Three Stooges' thing going on. An example, from 'Thor Gets Jacked':

And Thor's like SOMEONE STOLE MY HAMMER."
And Loki is like "Wow. I actually seriously am not responsible for once"….
So they go see Freyja
and Freyja is like "Hey, Thor, what's good?"
And Thor is like "SOMEONE STOLE MY HAMMER. WAAAAHHHHH."
And Freyja is like "Shut the f*** up, man.
We can solve this mystery.
Loki, did you steal the hammer?"
And Loki is like "Nope."
And Freyja is like "Well, I'm out of ideas."

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Friday, March 15, 2013

Medieval People Doing Things


Elizabeth Chadwick, one of my favorite medieval fiction writers, blogged this video as one of her 'Friday Favorites' last week:



This is the kind of thing that is going to be roundly mocked by those without a soft spot for the middle ages. I might have liked a few more examples of illuminations from the manuscript, but there's still much to enjoy. I love the low-key, intensely practical daily activities and the 'clutter with a purpose' in the inside rooms: i.e., I have all this crap on a shelf because I'm making all my family's clothes or creating a beautiful book, not because I'm a hoarder.

Plus, toddlers love it. Lots of animals.


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Wednesday, March 13, 2013

I wish I could lecture like this: Zeus Grants Stupid Wishes



If you love myth, or just wish you could use more colorful language while teaching, check out Zeus Grants Stupid Wishes. A taste:

"… for a long, LONG time, the difference between a good story and a bad story was whether a bard could memorize it well enough to not get eviscerated by a mead hall full of drunken barbarians."

Discussing Cronus:

"So the moral of the story
is that if you are not ready to be a father
consider all of your options
before skipping directly to cannibalism."

I'm still reading it, so I'll no doubt have more quotes to share.

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Tuesday, March 5, 2013

'Sleeping Eros' and Educational Rigor



The spouse and I have been discussing whether 'less is more' in teaching, and if so, whether we should push back against that or embrace it. I had a classics-in-translation course I taught several times, and the year I got very (excessively?) rigorous with it was the year I got the worst set of final papers. Other years, when I occasionally let class out early and gaged readings by how much I thought they could absorb at one time, rather than how much they should, I had much better results.

My philosophy kind of boils down to this: pandering and what I call 'gumball machine pedagogy' are both counterproductive. Gumball pedagogy assumes that if you put certain exercises or information into students, identical results pop out. If they don't it's the teacher's fault for not putting in the right thing. I regret to say that senior faculty are particularly apt to inflict this attitude on junior faculty. If senior faculty don't get the results they desire, there are much more *complex* forces at work …

All of this came to mind while reading the NYT review of the Met's show 'Sleeping Eros.' The review begins "A shortage of cash sometimes proves beneficial," and goes on to extol the virtues of a small, relatively simple exhibition in which drawing exclusively from its own collection forces the museum to make unusual juxtapositions (like combining sculpture from antiquity and the Renaissance). Amy Dacyczyn calls it "creative deprivation," as in deprivation that enhances creativity. We might also think of it as the simple lack of overstimulation, a rare condition indeed in the days of google and "more is better" educational philosophy.

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Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Review: Goddess of Yesterday



Goddess of Yesterday follows Anaxandra, daughter of a minor chieftain in Mycenaean Greece, sent as hostage to the king of Siphnos. When Siphnos is sacked she ends up in the care of Menelaus of Sparta, witnessing the theft of Helen and the start of the Trojan war.

Cooney's novel succeeds where other fiction about the Bronze Age (like the execrable Gates of Fire) fails, largely because of the naive narrator. A girl raised in isolation, Anaxandra has no pretensions to sophistication or anachronistic open-mindedness. Observing Helen of Troy and her family from a child's perspective, she feels the eerie attraction of the queen's beauty and the repulsiveness of her selfish heart, but does not try to rationalize away the contrast as an adult would. 

Anaxandra's youth also leads her to accept other Mycenaean customs such as the sacrifice of animals and humans in a natural manner. She imagines Agamemnon was shocked when the gods ordered him to "make his own daughter holy," but there is no pretense that he should have tried to second-guess fate. The romance between the heroine and the neutral king Evenus is innocent without being Victorian, and sparked by the 'new' custom of horseback riding.

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Sunday, February 10, 2013

The Roman theater of Sabratha

It seems that Libya is home to an impressive collection of Roman ruins, which officially didn't exist under Quadafi's regime. I admit to finding 'other' Roman ruins (as in, not the Roman forum) a bit boring, even very extensive ones that have been more or less lost and rediscovered:

Leptis Magna, the arch of Septimius Severus (Image credit)
But I think even non-archaeologists might find themeselves captivated by the theater at Sabratha, where a three-story architectural backdrop still stands:

Image credit


I would love to know if this was a standard feature of Roman theaters. Perhaps we don't even know for sure, if theater backdrops are not preserved elsewhere. But it does change the way I imagine the theater scenes from Ars Amatoria, or the performances at the Theater of Pompey where Caesar was assassinated (in an adjoining meeting room).

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Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Valuing life in antiquity



From the comments to a PhDiva post on post-traumatic stress disorder in antiquity:
I sometimes wonder if modern scholars think that ancient people just didn't value their lives as much as we do since they did not shrink from casualties as high as 50,000 in a single military engagement or investment of an enemy city. But if you've ever looked at some of the poignant grave goods found in ancient burials or studied the reliefs on ancient funerary monuments I think you will conclude that we are only separated by time not by our shared human nature.
I think this is spot-on. I'm reminded of one of my favorite classical essays, Simone Weil's The Iliad or the Poem of Force:
The bitterness of [violent death] is offered us absolutely undiluted [in the Iliad]. No comforting fiction intervenes; no consoling prospect of immortality; and on the hero's head no washed-out halo of patriotism descends….
Still more poignant -- so painful is the contrast -- is the sudden evocation, as quickly rubbed out, of another world: the far-away, precarious, touching world of peace … [4]
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Sunday, January 20, 2013

'I can't bear the movie _300_ because I used to excavate in Sparta'

'Where are the other 299?'

Just discovered the site Dorothy King's PhDiva. It's an absorbing mix of commentary about the author's projects (King published The Elgin Marbles in 2006), personal musings  and delightfully quirky pieces by Sarah Bond (a co-blogger?), such as the recent 'Revolutionary Materials: Furniture and Civil Uprisings in Antiquity'.)

I've added it to the sidebar. Enjoy!

*Quote is from King's 'about' page.


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Thursday, January 17, 2013

If Tutankhamun never happened: Lady Almina and the Real Downton Abby



I might be wrong in assuming that many of my readers love Downton Abbey, but it seems like the kind of show that goes hand-in-hand with a love of classics. The spouse and I and even the toddler love it, although she was concerned when Lady Sibyl was caught up in that riot over the elections in season 1. (We stepped up the fast-forwarding after that.)

Over winter break I read Lady Almina and the Real Downton Abbey. I found it as a Kindle library book after spotting a paper copy at Barnes & Noble. It was really a fun read and makes a lot of little things in season 3 clearer.

For those of you new to this party, Downton Abbey is filmed at Highclere Castle, and the show appears loosely based on the early-20th-century exploits of the fifth Earl of Carnarvon, especially the fifth earl. He's the Lord Carnavon who discovered the tomb of King Tutankhamun, although not without spending a fortune and contracting a deadly case of blood poisoning.

His wife Lady Almina was the daughter of her mother's lover Alfred de Rothschild, whose fortune assisted in the establishment of a hospital at Highclere Castle during World War I.

The book, by the current Countess of Carnarvon, Fiona Aitken, is solid in the history of the period, but kept from dryness by her affection for Lady Almina and her editorializing about her predecessor's foibles ("Alfred occasionally used to remonstrate gently with Almina, saying, 'Oh, puss-cat, I gave you ten thousand pounds only last week. Whatever have you don with it, my darling child?' But he never refused her; he simply took out his chequebook and unscrewed the lid of his pen." [124])

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Thursday, January 10, 2013

Keeping up with the (Indiana) Joneses



A couple of stories to remind us that there's more to scholarship than verb tenses:

1) The Roman shipwreck where the Antikythera mechanism was discovered is about to be re-explored. Apparently there are several large calcified boulders on the sea bed, out of reach of the original expedition, that look exactly like the mechanism did before it was recovered. Marine archaeologist Theotokis Theodolou says tantalizingly, "this was not a normal ship."

2) From the Globe and Mail, a story about the heroic scholars who are going undercover into Timbuktu to save ancient African manuscripts. The facility where many of the texts are held has been turned into a base for Islamist rebels. In surely the understatement of the year, a researcher terms it a "big setback for the institute."

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Monday, January 7, 2013

College Misery: 'An Open Letter to My Spring Students'


College Misery can be over the top, but this entry is both funny and (based on my experience) accurate:


An Open Letter to My Spring Students....
Dear Flakes,
Hi. I've been getting your panicky emails ever since Christmas. Me, too; I'm nervous too!
Here are answers to the top 10 questions:
1. Yes, our MW class meets every Monday and every Wednesday, including the first Monday and Wednesday of the semester. Crazy! 
2.The books are in a building on campus called the bookstore. Take your registration slip, which shows your class number and section, and then move through space and time until you find a stack of books for your class. Buy those. Bring them. 
3. No, I didn't know what a great English teacher you had in high school. It should make our job even easier 
4. If I knew if it was going to snow next week, I'd be on channel 1 
5. It depends. If your class time is 8-9:20 am, then we start at 8 and end at 9:20. If it's another time, then follow the rules set down by the ancient Italian timekeeper Casio Timex and meet me in your classroom AT THOSE TIMES.

Read the whole thing. #1 and #5 sound like the kind of thing that should be made up, but aren't. Strangely, I don't think college students are too stupid to work out when their classes meet (usually), it's just that some of them think they look extra dedicated if they check every tiny basic detail with their profs.
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Saturday, January 5, 2013

'What a Saturnalia it's been!"




As i've written about before, the winter date of Christmas is strongly influenced by the Roman holiday Saturnalia, which occurred on Dec. 17. Saturnalia was celebrated with gift-giving, eating and a "carnival atomsphere that overturned Roman social norms," to quote Wikipedia.

Mary Beard, in the character of a Roman priestess, has a 'look back' at this year's Saturnalia. This is pretty much the lecture style I aspire to in introductory classes :) Read her blog entry about the experience here.
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