"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No.1

Synopsis:

The monster Grendel rises from the swamps and attacks Castle Hrothgar, angry about the "sounds of life" coming from the men within. The scop (known also as "The Shaper") appears to Beowulf and through a cryptic prophecy tells him of the troubles at Castle Hrothgar. This same scop appears in Hrothgar's court and tells them of Beowulf's approach, just before Grendel's attack. Meanwhile, on the sea voyage to the Castle Hrothgar, Beowulf and his men encounter a beautiful siren luring them into the Underworld. Beowulf defeats the demons controlling the siren, and we learn that she is Nan-zee, a Swedish Scylfing warrior who is nearly Beowulf's match in battle. As Beowulf and his companions (including Nan-zee) approach the Castle Hrothgar, Unferth fears humiliation, and so he casts a spell that casts them into a swamp, where they are attacked by "Swamp Men -- Disciples of Satan!"

In this first comic, it appears that the writers are going to try to include some thematic elements from the Beowulf poem. "Wyrd" is referred to as "the God of Fate," Beowulf says that he will fight for "'lof,' or fame as some call it," and the scop appears to have some central role, though he becomes "The Shaper," rather than God. All that gets abandoned really quickly.

Beowulf himself appears as a sort of general barbarian figure, when we first see him, he is killing, and violence isn't just his main approach to any situation -- it's his ONLY approach. Consider the rather S&M way in which he woos the lovely Nan-zee:

Not exactly the method I'd use, but it appears to work for him. Hey, are you a 12-year-old boy confused about girls? Here's some advice from DC comics: When you meet a girl you like, make fun of her and her nationality, then punch her into the mud.* Chicks dig that.

The idea of a siren is our first hint that this whole series is going to be a mash-up, mostly with classical mythology. As the series progresses, Beowulf encounters a whole bunch of non-Beowulfian creatures and situations. Nan-zee herself is a mash-up, since she is an Amazon-type siren/warrior (classical Mediterranean) rescued by a Geatish warrior (medieval Germanic) from her enthrallment by demons of Satan (Judeo-Christian).

The character of Unferth doesn't make any sense. First of all, his garb is quite strange compared to that of others, making him look like he's dresses as a lizard at a costume party (just in case you missed it, this is called "Beowulf: Dragon Slayer," hint hint). On the one hand, he's supposed to be a some kind of tough guy, but on the other we are told he is "arthritic." His role appears to be the all-purpose bad guy in Hrothgar's court.

Interestingly, this first book seems to have literary pretensions. Though the notes at the end contrast it with "Classics Illustrated" comics, the writers do refer to it as "educational" and "an Epic in Comic-Book form." Also, the scop at one point suddenly launches into a speech that uses alliteration, kennings and oral formulae:

The world-candle burns as the life-sphere turns; To Beowulf, boon of the Geats!
He swings his sword -- his iron-killer lord! His might explodes across this
blue-orb Earth, as rosy-fingered dawn brings peace to the land of his birth!

OK, Caedmon meets Homer it ain't, but you can see what they are trying to do. I wonder how many kids tried writing book reports based on the comic?

*UPDATE: After posting this, I realized that the image was not clear enough to read the page. Here are the six panels in the image:

1. Nan-zee stabs a bat-demon that was attacking Beowulf.
2. Beowulf: "You saved my life! Why? Who are you? I thought--" Nan-zee: "You thought like the bull-headed male you are! My name is Nan-zee! I'm a Scylfing warrior who--"
3. Beowulf: "You?!? A warrior? A woman a warrior? HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! And a Swede no less! HA-HA-HA-HA!"
4. Nan-zee lays out Beowulf with a hard right to the chin. BOFF
5. Nan-zee (as Beowulf hits the mud): "As I was saying -- I was caught in Satan's whirlpool when he destroyed my ship! Coming ashore here, I became possessed by his spirits and forced to guard this entrance into the underworld!
6. Nan-zee: "Finally when --OH!" as Beowulf knocks her into the mud too, and says "Wench!"

Weekend Beowulf Blogging

I've been dormant on the blogosphere for more than a week now, for several reasons, the main ones being that I had a couple of tight deadlines dropped on me, I'm renovating my house, AND an old friend sent me a big stack of literature-inspired comic books, including DC's "Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" from the mid 70s, which I believe is complete in its six book run.

I've been reading these comics and laughing (I don't think I'm supposed to laugh, but I it's pretty silly), so I've decided to share the joy. For the next six weekends, I'll share one comic book with you.

Here's Joshua Carlson's assessment of the series.

Gawain, Don Quixote, the Avatamsaka Sutra, a Bottle of Korean Wine, and Thou

Jeffery Hodges over at Gypsy Scholar has been blogging on the process of writing a paper focusing on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. His frequent digressions into Don Quixote, a Buddhist text I know nothing about, and the Korean wine market made his blog an eclectic read this week. The seven parts of the series are:

1. On knights errant and courtly love...
2. "I'm 'a get medieval on your eyes"
3. Sudhana encounters Vasumitra
4. Lady Bertilak's Gift to Gawain: luf-lace and drurye
5. Sir Gawain: "quen pryde schal me pryk for prowes of armes"
6. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: A Medieval Bildungsroman?
7. Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Wine!

Carmen Butcher & Grendel

One of the neat things about the Chronicle article is that medievalists I didn't know have been writing me or linking to me all day. I do my best to keep my blogroll updated, but new blogs pop up all the time, old ones fade, and blogs drift into and out of focus on the medieval. If you've got a medieval or website, please don't hesitate to send me a link.

A gem that I'd somehow missed is Carmen Acevedo Butcher's website and blog. Last time I was at Kalamazoo, the Digital Medievalist and I griped to one another that no medievalists were video podcasting. Apparently, we were wrong! Dr. Butcher has four video posts: three about Hildegard of Bingen, and one about Grendel. Here's the one on Grendel:

Sir Nokes, Knight of the Faculty Lounge

John Gravois at The Chronicle of Higher Education has a print article about popular medievalism among academics, paired with an audio report about just how darn fun the International Medieval Congress at Kalamazoo is. During my telephone interview with Gravois, I sensed that his visit to K'zoo really impressed on him just how lively the academic medieval world is. The word he used to describe medieval studies was "vitality" -- as good a word as any.

Gravois opens "Knights of the Faculty Lounge: From dragons to scholars, one man's journey through medieval studies" with this:

I had a fat chance of finding a Dungeons & Dragons game in Kalamazoo, they told me. It was a harebrained quest. But it was a quest, at least, and that seemed appropriate.

OK, I admit it. I was among the skeptics. I knew that a lot of medievalists had come to the field through RPGs, but I thought it would be their secret shame, one that would remain in the closet during the Congress.

I really should have known better. Just look at his brief (non-comprehensive) list of popular medievalist subcultures:

• Lord of the Rings fans
• The Society for Creative Anachronism
• Renaissance Faires
• World of Warcraft
• Everquest

I've participated in all of the above with the exception of SCA -- and I'm attending my first SCA meeting tomorrow night. I should have known that I could be out-geeked by other medievalists.

In the two articles (though there is some overlap, the audio piece is an article in its own right, not just a reading of the print piece), I was struck by how much agreement there is among the scholars he spoke with. Dan Kline, Jeff Sypeck, JJ Cohen, Eileen Joy and I might often be in disagreement about a lot of things (often theoretical), but I found myself in total agreement with what they said here about popular medievalism, love of medievalism, and academic anxieties about that love.

I'm starting to think that the most juvenile part of our love is our denial of it. I'm not a grad student any more -- I can read dead languages, properly handle and transcribe medieval manuscripts, and measure my library by the pound rather than by numbers of books. Who are trying to impress here, anyway?

So, here's my unsurprising confession: I love this stuff. I love the high culture and the low. I love tweed-and-bowtie adorned lectures, and I love playing medievalist games. I love reading academic critiques of medieval lit, and I love reading Terry Pratchett. I love the medieval geek culture of academic conference, and I love the very different species of geek at fantasy conventions. And if you don't like it, you can eat the most famous artifact at the York Archaeological Resource Centre and die.

One clarification: At one point in the article, I refer to "the pseudo-medieval world." The quote is accurate, but I was using someone else's nomenclature. I prefer "popular medievalism" to such terms as "recreational medievalism," "quasi-medievalism," "pseudo-medievalism," and "neo-medievalism" -- but that's just a preference, not a point of angry contention. I do sometimes use the term "recreational medievalism" to refer to a sub-category of popular medievalism, i.e. anything that is for fun but cannot be considered art (such as books, film, etc), e.g. Renaissance Faires, SCA, etc.

UPDATE, JULY 3
Arts & Letters Daily (which I read every single day -- as you should) included the "Knights of the Faculty Lounge" article in their "Articles of Note" section for today. Also, Kate Laity of Wombat's World found a YouTube video from the K'zoo dance.

Speaking of Vikings ...

... they have apparently decided to give up on the Incas and go raiding on the Irish again. Some folks have build the Sea Stallion, a replica of a Viking longship, and they plan to launch it later today on a 1000 nautical mile trip from Roskilde to Dublin. The website looks pretty basic at first, but it has some neat stuff, such as the ability to follow the progress of the Sea Stallion on a map. You can also watch a video with English narration, but it's a little slow-loading. And, as if it weren't super-cool-awesome enough to be sailing around in a Viking longship, this woman will be going with them. Lumberjacks, blacksmiths, tar-makers, and one really cute biologist ... if a person could literally die from envy, I'd be in serious danger.

On a personal tangent, when I was in high school my great aunt gave me a book called The Sinbad Voyage, about a fellow who built a replica of the type of ship contemporary with the Sinbad myth, and sailed it around the various places found in the mythology. I let that book gather dust for a year or two, because it didn't seem too interesting when the first chapter was about fundraising and such. When I picked it up out of boredom later, though, I found it fascinating -- very cool, very educated, and very macho. I remember seeing the picture of these Sinbad-geeks passing around AK-47s for target practice in case they got attacked by (real) pirates, and I thought that was absolutely the coolest thing ever. Heck, I still think it's absolutely the coolest thing ever.

The only question remaining regarding the Viking voyage is this: Will the value of the Lloyd's Bank turd be diminished by the collective dookies of the Sea Stallion's crew?

h/t Muhlberger's Early History

Herring Wrapped in a Corn Tortilla

There has been an interesting discussion going on over at Treading Water about a recent find in Norway suggesting some sort of Incan/Viking connection about a thousand years ago.

Color me skeptical. I'm usually riding on the, "hey, ancient and medieval peoples were better travelled than we give them credit for" bandwagon, but this seems to me far more likely a chance genetic abnormality in a medieval Norwegian.

I want HIS job!

WARNING: Non-Medieval Content Ahead

Last night, I watched Stranger than Fiction, a film in which Dustin Hoffman plays a professor of literary theory named "Professor Jules Hilbert." Though I'm sure as I watched the film I was supposed to be struck by the cleverness of using Vladimir Propp-style theory to help the protagonist determine his future by plugging his situation into a few archetypal story arcs, I couldn't concentrate on it because of Prof. Hilbert's office.

This office* was HUGE. Two of the walls were glass, looking out on a nice view. No doubt a single piece of this furniture was of more value than all the furniture in my entire office. The Chancellor's office at my university isn't as nice as this English professor's office was.

Well, maybe he is some kind of celebrity professor, then? At one point in the film, he mentions that he is teaching FIVE courses that semester -- a terribly heavy load even at a community college. He talks about teaching, and he talks about service, but the only research he really talks about is writing un-answered letters to Emma Thompson's character. So, here's a guy on a burdensome teaching load with an office that would rival that of most university presidents.

I own a business on the town square. Every so often, my students will meet my wife there (she runs it) and realize it is mine. They then ask me a question like, "Why do you own a business? I mean, if I got paid as much as a professor, I wouldn't work so hard." I then ask them how much they think I make, and they nearly always give an answer in the six-figure territory.

It's surprising how much people think professors make. Here is a movie about a character in a book who also happens to be a real person, who can hear the narrator speaking in his head, and the most unbelievable part of the film is the professor's office. Though movies like this no doubt feed the image of the wealthy professor, I think it probably reacts more to an image people already have. Somehow, we are perceived as wealthy.

Perhaps it is because we are respected, and people equate respect with wealth. Not many jobs come with a title, and most professors (in America anyway) are entitled to two: Doctor and Professor. Doctors make a lot of money, right? And they aren't even real PhDs -- in most cases, they are merely MDs, right? Therefore, it stands to reason that professors make even more than medical doctors!

Perhaps it is because everyone around us is so poor. I spend most of my day around two types of people: other professors and students. Other professors are paid on a similar pay scale to me, and students are at the poorest they will probably ever be in their lives. By comparison to students, professors are rolling in the dough!

Or perhaps it is because so many professors come out of families with money. Though there are plenty of first-generation-college-graduates among the ranks of professors, graduate school is an expensive proposition, so it helps to have parents with financial resources. Often I'll meet professors with very expensive tastes, and in most cases these were cultivated as they were growing up.

I understand the image of professors as lazy -- most of the work done by professors is done when no one is watching. Not surprisingly, most college graduates think of the job of professors as being teachers, and so when professors spend no more than 12 hours a week in the classroom, it sure seems like we don't do much of anything. Research and service tend to be solitary activities (or at least out of the public eye), so they are naturally not noticed. This I understand. The wealthy professor? That part I don't get at all.

*I couldn't find an image of the office online. Sorry.

It's Raining Beowulf!

On the same day that a friend calls and offers to send me all her old Beowulf comics, I read in Cinerati that Beowulf: The Board Game is coming later this year. Let's jump on board and offer some more commercial tie-ins to promote medieval literature:

• Diet Cherry Vanilla Mead
• Survivor: Heorot Hall
• Kamelot Kids -- A cartoon set in Camelot when all the characters were in elementary school!
• Spider-man IV: Sir Gawain and the Green Goblin
• Andreas Cappelanus hosts The Bachelor
• "Caedmon's Hymn" ringtones
• Canterbury Tales collectable glasses at Burger King -- collect all the pilgrims!
• Boccaccio Band-Aids (WARNING: Not effective against the Plague)
• Dante's Inferno Heating and Cooling Units: "Be in your own circle of comfort!"
• People magazine special "Tristan & Isolde" issue
• Super Saint Squad: Hagiography action figures -- Press the button on the back for Martyrdom Action Power!
• VH1 Behind the Music: Chanson de Roland

If we plan this right, we can promote medieval literature AND make a bundle!

Is it safe?

I probably shouldn't find this as funny as I do, but the comments responding to this article about me in ACTA Online are focused almost entirely on someone taking offense at the "About Me" section of this blog, "A professor of medieval literature at Troy University, Dr. Nokes enjoys reading, film, and torturing students." At first I thought the objection was that one should not joke about torture (a reasonable position, I think), but instead it appears that the poster is suggesting that outsiders will believe that I literally* torture students.

I invite my students to offer testimonials describing the torments that await one in my classes!

* Er, by "literally," I mean physically torture students, not torture them with literature, because I'm sure some students would claim that I did the latter.

Protestants and the Medieval

Until today, I hadn't realized that when I put Anonymous Medievalist in my reader subscription, I had neglected to include AM on my blogroll (an error I just remedied). Anonymous Medievalist sloughed off one layer of anonymity today by revealing that he/she/it is Mormon, in a very interesting post entitled "Mormon Doctrine on the Apostasy and its effects upon the Mormon conception of the Middle Ages." If I can go off on a bit of a tangent here, I've got a similar gripe about Protestants.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, most of the Wordhoarders would consider me a Protestant as a member of the Restoration Movement.* The RM is just as guilty of this anti-medievalism, though, so I'm including my folks in this gripe.

Because Protestant denominations so often define themselves against Roman Catholicism, too often the sense of Church history from my Protestant students (here primarily Southern Baptist, Episcopalian, Methodist, and RM Church of Christ) runs something like this:

1. The world was created.
2. Adam and Eve had a snack.
3. Noah built an ark.
4. Joseph made a fashion statement.
5. Baby Jesus was born of Mary and Santa Claus.
6. Some bad people killed Him.
7. Jesus came back to life and posed for Renaissance portraits.
8. The apostles did a bunch of boring preachy stuff.
9. The First Century ended.
10. Nothing much happened for a millennium and a half.
11. Henry VIII/Martin Luther/John Calvin/John Wesley/R.C. Sproul was born.
12. I was born.
13. The End.

Now, while there is a lot here to be irritated over, the part that's relevant to the medieval is that idea that nothing much happened between the First Century and the Reformation. There is this idea that anything that happened during the Medieval Era was Catholic, and therefore has nothing much to do with Protestants.

OK, now, leaving aside the whole issue of Eastern Christianity, essentially, this is saying that anyone who was born in the Medieval Era isn't just a heretic -- they don't count at all (I find this particularly puzzling among the Episcopalian students, since as I understand it, they accept the idea of Apostolic Succession as descending down to them rather than Rome). We then immediately discount any Christian thinkers that pre-date the Reformation.

Augustine? Ignore him, he's Catholic. Aquinas? Ditto. Tertullian? Origen? Anselm? Catholic, Catholic, and Catholic. C.S. Lewis -- Ah, a Protestant! He's OK!

This isn't to say that there isn't Protestant academic study of medieval Christians ... of course there is, and a lot of good stuff. This is to say that in popular Protestant thought, the Middle Ages were either a time when nothing good happened for the Church, or when everything that happened was Catholic. I get papers saying things like this: "During medieval times the Catholic Church had some crusades against muslims" -- the tone of which implies that the Crusades are part of Catholic history specifically, but somehow not part of Christian history generally. It isn't just unpopular stuff like the Crusades and the Spanish Inquisition that get shoved off on the Catholics, either. I find that popular Protestantism gives the Catholics credit for the good stuff too, like monastary libraries.

Maybe it's just my Restoration Movement way of thinking, but that grates on my nerves. The medieval Church is a wonderfully lively creature, full of all sorts of fascinating movements and thinkers ... and we descend from them, Catholic and Protestant alike. When I see the medieval Church, I see the most powerful force for reform in human history. Within itself, the Church was writhing with reform movements, spawning various orders and movements that give rise to the Church today.

I suppose I also see American history much as the same. Thomas Jefferson's famous "wall of separation" seems to me ridiculously superfluous -- like asserting that we need a wall separating the land from the sea. The Church in America has been a reforming force of moral authority against the State just as it was in the Medieval Era. Abolition, Prohibition, the New Deal, Civil Rights, nuclear disarmament, Right to Life -- all of these garnered their support, to some degree, from the Church. Just as in the Medieval Era, the Church is no monolith, with movements sometimes pushing for reform in one direction, and sometimes in another; Garry Wills will push one way, James Dobson another. The State will try to resist both, but will not be able to avoid being transformed.

Of course, there are plenty of Protestants out there who would consider Catholics not just separated brethren, or heretics, but fully-fledged Hell-bound apostates, and aren't likely to accept my Restoration Movement attitudes. In that case, can't we at least say that "Roman Catholic" doesn't really take on its modern meaning until the Reformation? Do we have to condemn ALL medieval Christians to the dustbin of history (and the Cosmos)? Can't we at least claim the Lollards? Or the Celtic Church?** Was the last proto-Protestant Paul?

The gripe is a bit of a chimera: It has a head of Restoration Movement attitudes, a body of protest against general ignorance of the medieval Church, and the tail of irritation with popular Protestant culture. I suppose it says as much about my own academic prejudices as about the Church.

*The reason for the awkward wording there is that I would not call myself Protestant because the RM is all about rejecting denominational barriers -- so while my Catholic brothers would probably call me one of the "separated brethren," I'd just call myself "Christian," and them too. Still, the RM grew out of Protestant denominations, so the worship tends to look rather Protestant. In this case, the RM is afflicted with the same medieval trouble I'm complaining about in Protestantism generally because of those historical origins.
**I mean, the Celtic Church has got really cool art, you know.

Frazier's Dragons

When driving through Louisville, I notice that the Fraizer International History Museum is running an exhibit called "Dragons!" Going to their website, though, I couldn't find information on what kind of dragon-oriented artifacts they are exhibiting in the collection. This press release seems to imply that the exhibit is for children. Any Wordhoarders know first-hand?

Welcome, Heavenfield!

Let's all give a mighty blogospheric welcome to Heavenfield, a new blog about "medieval northern Britain, church history and spirituality, and the continuing commemoration of the early medieval saints and their spirituality today." So far the posts have been mostly about feast days of various medieval saints, filling a niche for a need that was out there. Yesterday, for example, was Æthelthryth's day. Update your blogrolls accordingly.

Some stuff I missed

Here are links to some medieval stuff I missed while I was gone. I'm sure I didn't get everything, but then again I've never caught every fish in a pond, either.

Stán Cynedóm has a translation of Wulf and Eadwacer (very hard to translate, so be generous as you read) and a post on medieval song.

Over at In the Middle, Karl Steel has a post on Cynocephali, and JJ Cohen has one on Lindow Man, druids, and Stonehenge.

News for Medievalists has had a lot of stuff, including a couple of medieval festivals, and a school for knights (which appears to be a way of tricking young boys into taking etiquette classes -- sort of like calling dolls "action figures").

Jeff over at Quid plura? responds to Mathew Gabriele's post comparing Tony Soprano to Charlemagne (sorry your interview isn't on line yet, Jeff ... we're still trying to compress the download to under 10 minutes).

Heroic Viking Turd

Sorry for the unannounced blogging interruption. I was on the road, and didn't even get a chance to check e-mail the last couple of days.

While on the road, though, I ran across a story that demonstrates how tough Vikings were. According to news reports, the Lloyd's Bank turd, a 1200-year-old fossilized Viking excrement, was accidentally broken into three pieces and had to be repaired.

For those of you who are sensible and use English units, let me do a conversion for you. According to these reports, the famous feces is 20 cm. by 5 cm. That's approximately 8 inches by 2 inches. That's AFTER a millennium of shrinkage. The Guardian, demonstrating mindless reporting, contains this idiotic sentence: "The Viking who lay it down probably gave his faeces little thought..."

Um, Mr. Jeffery, let me ask you this -- if you lay down faeces of that size, would you give it little thought? I'm sure the Viking's mind was very, very focused as he accomplished this prodigious task. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that his colleagues had to carry him back to the boat afterwards.

One of the regular Wordhoarders happens to be an expert on human waste management (no, I'm not joking). I wonder if he, or anyone else, could give us a rough estimate of the original size of the Viking trophy in question?

Now that I have completely lost all dignity by discussing this issue here, I would like to call on all Wordhoarders to begin saving and labelling your evacuations for future generations to display in museums. You may either send the artifacts to your favorite museum, or to the York Archaeological Resource Centre, which already has a nice anchor for their collection.

Happy Birthday Wordhoard!

Today is the second birthday of the Unlocked Wordhoard. I need gift ideas ... what do you get for the 2-year-old medieval blog that has everything?

Welcome, Whoever You Are

Welcome to the Anonymous Medievalist, who appears to have started a blog about a week ago. No, I don't know who it is, nor would I out him/her/it even if I did, so please don't write me to ask.

Tony Sopranomagne

Full disclosure: I've never watched a single moment of The Sopranos. Everything I know about the show comes from other sources, so I'm not in any position to say anything informed about it.

Modern Medieval, though, has an interesting post comparing Tony Soprano and Charlemagne. I'm not sure what I think of the argument, since it seems to me that the whole "sleeping emperor" thing is more part of the general archetype of the hero who is lost but whose return is anticipated -- such as King Arthur, Hunapuh and Xblalanque, Gandalf, Odysseus, and (of course) the Big One, Jesus. Still, I'm not familiar with The Sopranos, so I'll have to defer to my more informed colleague.

When you think about it, though, it is possible that the desire for more of The Sopranos is not just an omnivorous hunger for more, more, more, but is maybe also the expectation of eternal narrative cycles. Maybe Eliade's The Myth of the Eternal Return can explain why every dang movie this summer is a sequel. Or maybe it's just because sequels are guaranteed money-makers, no matter how bad they are.

While I'd like to think the former ... it's probably the latter.

Consoled by Shoes

The honest truth is that I thought the whole thing was a hoax. Manolo the Shoeblogger had, supposedly, written a book called The Consolation of Shoes, an obvious parody (homage?) to Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy. It even had an introduction by the deliciously over-the-top character Herr Professor Doktor Boethius von Korncrake.

Then Manolo sent me a *.pdf copy of his book, and I'll be darned if it isn't a real thing: a book-length version of Boethius's Consolation, except with shoes. For those of you unfamiliar with Boethius and his Consolation of Philosophy, let me explain.

Boethius was a government official in what remained of the Roman Empire in the early 6th century. He was then accused of treason (an accusation that is probably false) against the Ostrogothic King Theodoric the Great. After spending many months in prison, he was executed as a traitor.

During his time in prison, Boethius wrote the Consolation. In it, Lady Philosophy comes to console him in prison. She argues that all of the things that men think make them happy do not, and that the only things that can bring happiness are internal. Probably the most famous line in the book is when Lady Philosophy says, “Why, then, O mortal men, do you seek that happiness outside, which lies within yourselves?” Though it is little known today, the Consolation was extremely influential in the medieval era, probably moreso than even Plato (who had influenced Boethius).

So here's the way The Consolation of Shoes works: Substitute the word "shoes" for philosophy. That most famous Boethian quote is transformed into "Why, then, oh mortal men, do you seek happiness outside that which lies within your shoes?" The impoverished Manolo is visited by Lady Fashion, who shows him a heavenly pair of shoes and cryptically tells him, "We shall always have the shoes." Manolo embarks on a spiritual quest to find these perfect shoes, only to realize at the end that the shoes Lady Fashioned showed him were not a single pair of perfect shoes, but rather the sum of all shoes combined. Every shoe, then, is part of these shoes, and their heavenly perfection is reflected in lowly earthly shoes.

For a Boethius geek like me (I come to it through King Alfred the Great's translation), Manolo's Consolation is both very funny and a little disturbing, and both for the same reasons. Manolo's work is so ironic that the irony turns back upon itself. A two or three page treatment might have been different, but by making it book length, Manolo creates a nihilistic work, where things internal and eternal are of no more value than shoes. This attitude is reflected in one of my favorite quotes from The Simpsons, in an episode entitled "Homerpalooza":

Disaffected youth #1: Here comes that cannonball guy. He's cool.
Disaffected youth #2: Are you being sarcastic, dude?
Disaffected youth #1: I don't even know anymore.

Very often the elevation of kitsch and irony can be a barrier between us and Truth; if we can keep our focus on things that take themselves too seriously (broadway musicals, celebrity gossip, fashion), we can avoid taking ourselves too seriously. Now, this can be a good thing taken in moderation, but too much of it can be a way of avoiding confrontation with nasty truths about ourselves. If life is not serious, then there is no Truth, and I cannot be held accountable.

In form, Manolo's work is of this spiritually deadening type. Unlike Boethius, who fell from high earthly position and only found true liberation from his prison in philosophy, Manolo begins as poor but, as the introduction by Herr Professor Doktor Boethius von Korncrake* makes clear, Manolo has risen to high social position. Only the surface is important, and things like fashion, fame, and wealth can satisfy (sounds like a more educated version of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" now that I describe it).

But I think the modern relative obscurity of Boethius prevents The Consolation of Shoes from being dangerous in its nihilism, and keeps it good fun. After all, the only people who would know Boethius well enough to get the joke are, well, people who know Boethius. If you have already read Boethius, then you have been confronted intellectually with the question of what is important in life, so Manolo isn't presenting you with any ideas that you weren't already familiar with.

OK, ok, so this review has been a lot more serious than perhaps a light-hearted piece like Manolo the Shoeblogger's The Consolation of Shoes calls for. If you know your Boethius, it is very funny, with several laugh-out-loud moments. I would highly recommend it for anyone toiling away at serious Boethius scholarship. Go ahead, give your mind a break, and let it dangle its toes in the sparkling stream that is The Consolation of Shoes.

*Man, I love typing that whole thing out. It makes me laugh every time.


UPDATE, June 15th:
I received a very kind e-mail from Manolo the Shoeblogger, who made some important clarifications, writing, in part:

[W]hat the Manolo meant to convey in his work was that the eternal might well be
found in the most unlikely and humble of objects. Is it not possible to see God in the handiwork of the craftsman, in his devotion to his craft, and in the product of that devotion? Why should the handiwork of the scholar and philosopher be preferred over the handiwork of the cobbler? Both are capable of glorifying God in their own way.

This strikes me as a reasonable (and quite beautiful) way to read The Consolation of Shoes. I suppose it is to Manolo's credit that I received far more mail over the last week concerning this post than I have for my other posts!

The Medieval X-Files

Over the last couple of days all sorts of bizarre creatures have been sighted in the medieval blogosphere.

JJ Cohen at In the Middle saw "diminutive household spirits, beautiful ladies dancing by night in woodland halls, and other fleeting and uncanny creatures," Horace Jeffrey Hodges the Gypsy Scholar wrote a poem about his* seduction by a medieval succubus, and Gail the Scribal Terror tells us all about barnacle geese and the fearsome burning-dung-expelling bonnacon.

Not to be left out, I saw a bicorne in my yard yesterday. It looked hungry, but totally left me alone.

*Oh, he denies that it was him, winkwinknudgenudge.

A Sign of the State of the Field

Though I'm still fine-tuning* it, I just finished a column-style article on the state of Anglo-Saxon studies for The Heroic Age. Larry Swain has invited several insiders and outsiders of Anglo-Saxon studies to write these pieces, after which time we'll be responding to one another -- kind of like writing really long blog posts and commenting on one another's work. It's an interesting project, and one that I'm glad he invited me to do.

Part of my argument revolves around the lack of Old English in typical undergraduate curricula (and, indeed, grad school curricula), and lo, here comes an article on Shakespeare to make my argument newsworthy. The Gainsville Sun, in an article entitled "Abandoning the Bard" finds that "of the [University of Florida's English] department's 2006 graduates, about 70 percent had taken courses in pre-1800 literature, and most of those had taken a course in Shakespeare." From the medieval perspective, then that means that at least 30% of graduates from the UF English Department have no medieval literature at all. I'd be willing to bet a bottle of mead that most of the remaining 70% have nothing but Shakespeare.

The article quotes R. Allen Shoaf (a well-respected Chaucerian for those not familiar with academic culture) as saying: "Students regularly come to my office lamenting the fact that they cannot take courses in poetry and early literature."** From the Old English perspective, I'd also like to point out that the only two medievalists I noticed on the UF department webpage were Shoaf and James Paxon, making the department far more focused on Middle English. Of course, if they aren't even really offering the classes in Middle English either, I suppose it is irrelevant what sort of resources they have for classes they aren't going to teach anyway.

The American Council of Trustees and Alumni (ACTA) has been one of the groups keeping the Shakespeare issue in the spotlight, and I can only hope that their recognition that the problem only starts with Shakespeare will lead them to shine the light on medieval studies as well. It would be nice if some groups on the Left took up the cause, too.

Interestingly, the first comment on the ACTA blog seems to be trying to defend the situation, but unintentionally makes the point that UF not only offers an abundance of classes in non-medieval fields, but has entire programs within the Department dedicated to these other subfields.

In any case, I'd be willing to bet that the situation for medieval literature at University of Florida is common; it certainly mirrors the situation at every school with which I've associated.

*By "fine-tuning," I mean I'm cutting out all my long-windedness and unnecessary use of high-falutin' language and theory. What, ME, long-winded and given to use of big words? The devil you say!
**The article also quotes Shoaf in what seems to be an ironic mixing of metaphors in which he talks about mammels feathering their nests, showing once again that you have to be careful about getting too fancy when talking to reporters looking for soundbytes.

Which Came First, The Treatise or the Astrolabe?

Here's an interesting article about astrolabes that were supposedly owned by Chaucer, and the argument that astrolabes of that design were probably based on Chaucer's Treatise on the Astrolabe, rather than the other way around.

By the way, I am typing this on the computer used by Bill Gates to design Windows. I know this fact because my Windows operating system works much like the way Gates described it.

h/t Roving Medievalist

Quid Plura?

Jeff Sypeck, formerly of Quid Nomen Ilius?, has launched his new blog, Quid Plura? Adjust your readers/blogrolls accordingly.

Links o' the Day

Since I've got several things I have to do today, let me offer a set of links today:

Stan Cynedom has a delightful little Middle English poem, along with a discussion of translating a pun in it.

Scribal Terror has some etiquette tips from the 13th Century, including the all-important "Do not attack your enemy while he is squatting to defecate." I'm not sure if that tip is about being civilized, or keeping your enemy's poo off you.

Tiruncula has an image of what appears to be a creepy woodcarving of Grendel -- with some kind of walking stick or magic wand in his hand.

Peter Konieczny over at News for Medievalists lists eleven new articles on Medievalists.net. He also has two articles arguing that fleas on rats did not spread the Black Death -- though I doubt it will do much to raise the popularity of fleas on rats. He also has an article on a $7 million upgrade to a Medieval Times attraction, as well as an article entitled "Cho's Violent Crusade Ripped from the Middle Ages" both of which I may blog about later. He's had a lot of interesting things of late.

I may have another update later in the day, since I'm tardy with my review of Manolo the Shoeblogger's The Consolation of Shoes and I'm supposed to talk to a reporter today about things medievalist. Still, I have to finish an article I promised The Heroic Age, finish one I promised Coyote Wild, and fix my sprinklers, so we'll see.

The Main Man

According to this post, I am Mungowitz's main man. I am also the "good Nokes," not to be confused with my evil twin.

Over at Pros and Cons, the point is made that it is lamentable that there are not more professors like me, which echoes the official About.com position regarding me.

According to In the Middle, I'm dapper, humorous, and collegial.

Perhaps all this will inspire a Wikipedia entry on me:

Nokes, Richard Scott. Assistant professor at Troy University. Known for being good, dapper, humorous, and collegial. Many have lamented that there are not more professors like him. See also: Mungowitz, main man.

Review of La Chanson de Roland

Jacob of the New Donestre Social Club posted a review of Gerald Brault's student edition of La Chanson de Roland. I had intended to write an intelligent post about his review, but haven't quite worked one up, so I'll just include the link here.

By the way, if you are an English major trying to write a paper on The Song of Roland, the questions he offers at the bottom of the post would be some really, really interesting topics.

Medieval Brawl

No, contrary to the rumors, I was not one of the men involved in a "medieval brawl" in Huntsville. If you see the axe in the video, you'll see it is small and decorative-looking. Really, now, if I had attacked this man, I'd not have used such a girly axe, nor would he have such superficial cuts.

Interestingly enough, the first weapon to be used in the fight was a golf club, but the news reports did not refer to it as a "PGA brawl" -- demonstrating once again that Ted Turner and Rupert Murdoch have a secret alliance against us.

Isodore of Seville's Links

Patahistory directed me to Isodore of Seville.com, which has lots and lots of interesting links. The section on "Ancient and Medieval Civilization" is very heavy on ancient and very light on medieval, but there are some neat pictures in the "Mythical Beasts" section, such as medieval dragons, medieval griffins, and even medieval mermaids. Other notable sections are images of medieval angels and a section on Genghis Khan.

Silly Alfred, Silly Boethius

Podictionary's word today is silly. According to Hodgson, the first recorded use of silly in English is in King Alfred's translation of The Consolation of Philosophy. I had never heard that before, and now I'm going to have to look it up myself next time I'm in my office.

By the way, I recently received an examination copy of Manolo the Shoeblogger's Consolation of Shoes. I'll write a review of it soon.

Attending Dragon*Con?

I'm strongly considering attending Dragon*Con this year as part of my quest for popular medievalism. Are any other scholars attending? If anyone has attended in the past, is it worth my while to go?

Scary Pigs

Very often when I'm teaching any medieval work involving boars, I have to students that boars are big, scary animals. Even here in Troy (which is not exactly an urban area), most of my students believe that pigs come in two forms: plastic wrapped at Walmart, and helpful talking pigs (think Piglet, Wilbur and Babe).

Even farm hogs can be dangerous. I can remember as a kid hearing stories about farmers who would disappear, only to have their watch and glasses found in the pig manure. And these are domesticated hogs, not wild boars.

Next time I have a student scoff about the pigs, maybe I'll show them images of this wild hog, shot not too far from here. How would you like to meet THIS boar with only an ashwood spear protecting you?

hat tip Pros & Cons

Lloyd Alexander, RIP

Lloyd Alexander, author of children's fantasy tales, died just under a week ago. I've been busy with lots of things on short deadlines and other non-professional responsibilities, so I didn't get a chance to comment on it. Timothy Burke, however, wrote a nice post entitled "Lloyd Alexander and Moral Instruction."

Update 5-25-07

Another tribute to Alexander at Cinerati.

Getting Medieval on Podictionary

Yesterday's Podictionary mentions the Wordhoard in Charles Hodgson's podcast on the word "medieval." At the end of the podcast, he mentions the phrase "going medieval," and that Urbandictionary attributes the first usage of it to Pulp Fiction (though if I remember correctly, the exact phrasing in the film is "get medieval on his ass." Hodgson discusses that usage, and suggests two factors:

the idea that people were brutal during the Middle Ages (think Vikings, think beheadings);
and also the fact that we pronounce medieval to sound like the word evil, even though there is no etymological connection.

I think the first point he makes merits some teasing out. When the gangster in Pulp Fiction uses the word "medieval," there is nothing particularly medieval about the context. We see no references to medieval literature, history, weaponry, culture, etc. Yet somehow the audience is expected to understand what the phrase "getting medieval" means -- it means inhuman brutality or the kind only a gangster/rape victim can possibly stomach. We are also not shown the violence performed, even though at this point the film has already shown about every form of violence imaginable. In this way, to "get medieval" is to become violent beyond imagination, and beyond the ability of a film to depict. The audience is supposed to fill in the blanks and provide the "medieval" punishments in their own minds.

What's so important about this is that the audience understands this. I have never heard of someone leaving the theater saying, "what does that mean?" I saw the movie in Korea, and my sense of it was that the audience understood what was meant, so the reference is not so culturally specific that only Americans (or Europeans) will get it.

This impulse to define the violent other as medieval is part of what I refer to as ahistorical medievalism. Ahistorical medievalism is never about the actual Middle Ages, but is instead about the here and now. The medieval is either a utopian time that prefigures our own (such as Life magazine's depiction of the Kennedy administration as Camelot, or the Ku Klux Klan's mythology of the Klansman as a noble Anglo-Saxon battling the forces of the interloping foreign Normans), or it is about a time in our distant past that was brutal and primative, acting as a foil against our enlightened times.

Ahistorical medievalism taps into what is important about the medieval -- the here and now. Let's compare, shall we? Was the 20th century (the one in which Pulp Fiction was released) less violent than the historical Middle Ages? Just looking at four events of the 2oth century, we end up with estimates of:

• WWI: 15 million
• Russian Civil War: 9 million
• Soviet Union: 20 million
• WWII: 55 million (possibly some overlap with the numbers in Stalin's Soviet Union)
  

That's a lot of dead people -- and we aren't counting the oppressed. By any standard, the 20th century was one of the most brutal times in history.

In this case, is Pulp Fiction trying to depict itself as analogous to or foil to the the medieval world? In many ways, this usage tries to have it both ways. By the time the phrase is used, we've seen all sorts of violence in the film: shootings, armed robbery, rape, boxing to the death, broken kneecaps, drug overdose, etc. The film simultaneously others this violence by referring to it as "fiction" and "medieval," yet at the same time depicts a world we have experienced and understood as our own. The violence of Pulp Fiction is both strange and familiar, and so the invocation of the term "medieval" is also meant to render the coming escalation of violence as both strange and familiar.

The upshot is that, although we usually equate the medieval with the violent with the intention of implicitly praising ourselves as peace-loving, the fact that we are using it to describe our own contemporary world implies that we recognize ourselves as the barbarians, constantly failing to live according to the standards we profess. Whether intentionally or not (and usually it is not), when we refer to something today as "medieval" we critique ourselves, and find our own world wanting.

Summer Speaking Opportunities

A couple of days ago, someone asked me if I would be available this summer for speaking engagements, and the surprising answer is YES! Because of a lot of uncertainty about my schedule earlier this spring, I was forced to leave my summer without strong commitments. The upshot is that I am now free to speak to your library / reading club / civic organization / SCA chapter / science fiction and fantasy convention, etc.

As of the last three of four days, though, the summer has started to be scheduled. If you are interested in having me speak about medieval stuff, contact me soon.

Blogging K'zoo 2007 (Part III)

Saturday was my last productive day at the Medieval Congress. At the moment it is Sunday morning, and I am sitting in my dorm room, all packed and waiting to meet a colleague for brunch. I had been planning earlier in the week to go to a session with two Lithuanian papers, including one by a scholar from Klaipeda University (where I taught from 1993-94), but my day isn't running as I planned those many weeks ago, so I'm counting 3:15 AM this morning (when the last person left my room) as the end of K'zoo 2007 for me.

Saturday began as a day of magic, and ended as a day of international scholarship. I started out by attending a Societas Magica session (which had three papers that, as it turns out, I knew nothing about), then hit the Societas Magica meeting. Societas Magica seems to be growing a great deal, making me realize that I've missed a lot by not attending the meetings the last two years. We* pitched our book, Curing Elf-shot and Other Mysterious Maladies, and we'll have to see how much publisher-shopping we'll need.

After that, my day shifted suddenly away from medieval magic to international medievalism. I went to a really excellent session in which old friends Tai-Won Kim and Ji-Soo Kang gave outstanding papers. Prof. Kang's paper must have been unbelievably wonderful because I loved it even though it was on Margery Kempe (who, as regular readers to the Wordhoard know, I can't stand). A fellow I didn't know at all, Peter H. Goodrich of Northern Michigan, gave a paper suggesting the use of the World System approach from economics to creating a global concept of the Middle Ages. I knew nothing about the World System approach, but found it interesting, so I'll no doubt be looking in to it this summer.

This was followed by a dinner where we presented a copy of Global Perspectives on Medieval English Literature, Language, and Culture to Paul Szarmach. The book is not really quite ready, but with the time delay with so many contributors in Poland and Korea, these things can only be hurried along so much. In either case, I'm looking forward to putting a copy on my shelf and putting it out of my mind for a while. The only disappointment was that none of our Polish colleagues from the Medieval English Studies Society could make it this year.

Now for the final score ... my mantra coming into the Congress this year was "don't over-commit." I've got a 4-4 load (two of which are freshman comps every semester), so over-commiting is very easy for me to do. Every year I come to K'zoo exhausted from the semester, and every year I leave excited about all of the projects I plan to do over the summer. This year's score of commitments:

Books: 0
Scholarly articles: 3
Popular articles: 1
International conferences: 1
Domestic conferences: 0
Bloggy commitments: 1

Is that over-commitment? Probably. But I commited to ZERO BOOK PROJECTS this year, so I'm doing better than I have in a long time. Hooray!

*By "we" I mean Kathryn Laity, with me standing behind her making supportive noises. Of course, looking at the cover page, I noticed yesterday that I had made myself first editor without thinking about it. Perhaps to resolve any potential dispute we can resort to cage fighting -- two editors enter, only one leaves.

Blogging K'zoo 2007 (Part II)

Today was the Day of the Blogger. I did do some non-blog-related things today, though, such as buying a couple more books and attending a few sessions. I will be nominating Michael Drout’s paper on Vainglory for an Oscar, in the category of “Best Paper Using Plastic Animals from the Burgess Shale.” Nevertheless, the day was dominated, from beginning to end, with blogging.

Breakfast was the blogger get-together. I’m not sure how much I should say about that event, since many (most?) of the bloggers there were anonymous or pseudonymous. Suffice it to say that I met a lot of nice and interesting people. A few seemed very shy, perhaps worried about outing themselves. Don’t worry -- there won’t be any outing going on here. A huzzah to Dr. Virago for organizing it.

Our blogging panel was fine in terms of content, but was poorly attended. I don’t think it was the subject matter, because we had more people at the early-morning get-together. There were a lot of other sessions running concurrently that no doubt drained people away -- indeed, I had to skip my own student’s paper. I was the nay-sayer in the group, but the truth is that our positions weren’t very different. I was skeptical of the use of blogs as pedagogical tools, but the others there shared the exact same concerns I did -- at the end of the day, it was a matter of different judgment calls.

Afterward, a small group of us got together for dinner and drinks. Mac Stone, Shana Worthen, Lisa Spangenberg, and my new friend Teresa Nielsen Hayden of Making Light talked well into the night. By sheer luck, Eileen Joy was seated at the table right next to us, which was a delight.* At some point I realized that I was the guest of honor at this little shindig, and when I asked why, I was treated to the most flattering praise of my public intellectualism project. It was pretty humbling, since I’m not sure I can quite live up to their high expectations, but I’ll do my best. If you are wondering how someone can simultaneously be both humbled and flattered, well, I can’t explain it, but there it is.

*As soon as she saw me, Eileen (who was rather drunk at the time), shouted obscenities at me and lunged at me with a knife. Fortunately, the wealthy Italian bodybuilder / race car driver / astronaut who happened to be her date accidentally got in the way and got a butter knife in the eye. He lost one eye, but that new eyepatch he wears only makes him look all the more exotic as he rips the bodice of the baron's nubile young daughter on the windswept heath. An absolutely true story. You ain't callin' me a liar, are ya?

Blogging K’zoo 2007 (Part I)

My first day at the 42nd International Medieval Congress (at Kalamazoo) reminds me of why this is the best large conference I know. I only got to attend two sessions (I missed the first), but the day was still full and fruitful. For the stuff that others would be interested in knowing:

If you are interested in things medieval, the book exhibition hall is heavenly, and it is growing bigger every year. Even back when I was a grad student it didn’t quite fill the cafeteria, but now has sprawled out into other wings of the building. Some book sellers even have their own rooms to themselves. If you’ve never been, imagine this -- basically every single book in print having to do with anything medieval, and lots of books not in print. Add to that the various sellers of other medievalia: amber jewelry, coffee mugs, manuscripts, music (on manuscript and on CD), t-shirts, computer applications, pens, children’s books, toys -- it’s all there, and deeply discounted. I probably spend more money on books at the K’zoo book hall than I do the entire rest of the year. It would be worth coming if only to shop.

Then there are the sessions. Let me give an example from today*: Katie Lynch, a grad student at University of Wisconsin-Madison, presented a paper entitled, “With** Dweorh: A Union of Text and Voice.” It was a very good paper in which she compared the metrical version of the charm “Against a Dwarf” to the two prose versions found in the Lacnunga manuscript. The conclusion she came to (that it is probably a remedy for fever) interested me less than the other issues raised by the paper -- questions about why some fevers are just “fever,” and others are caused by a dwarf, about the connections between the Seven Sleepers and fever, about issues of orality/ textuality in writing words vs. saying them, issues of interpreting individual letters in their manuscript context, etc. I hope she publishes it.

Of course, hers wasn’t the only good paper. Another grad student from U of W-Madison (Brian O‘Camb) gave a very convincing paper arguing that Athelwold’s translation of the Benedictine Rule is echoed in the Exeter Book Maxims, Natalie Grinnell voiced a healthy skepticism for the efficacy of using blogs as teaching tools (a skepticism that I characterize as “healthy” because I share it), and the session on Social Software delved into important tensions between public and private spaces (and students’ perceptions thereof).

Aside from the shopping and sessions is the socializing. Already, only one day into it, I had a nice lunch with Kathryn Laity where we discussed publishing our book, I ran into a lot of old friends by chance, and had a wonderful dinner with the Arthurian popular culture types and the folks from McFarland publishing. My only disappointment from the dinner is that I was too far down the table to hear Kevin Harty and Don Hoffman banter -- something that I know from past experience should not be missed.

Anyway, tomorrow is another day. The day will start with the blogger get-together, my own roundtable (3:30 at Sangren 2210, for those planning to come), and will end with a private dinner (the location of which I have already forgotten). In between doing all those things I’ll be attending sessions and buying books. It ought to be a great day.

*I should really have let her know that I might blog about her presentation, but I forgot to. Since I’m only saying nice things, though, I hope she doesn’t mind.
**For some reason I can’t get the laptop to give me the Old English font correctly, so I’m editing out any Anglo-Saxon special characters.

K'zoo Report on Medievalists.net

I see that Medievalists.net (a new site that I will be checking often, no doubt) is planning a Kalamazoo report this month. May I suggest they include a fashion report, revealing the latest tweed/bowtie ensemble I'll be sporting?

Seriously, though, this year I've actually got a laptop with wireless capabilities, and if I can get it to work out, I'll be blogging the Medieval Congress myself this year. Hopefully I'll post at least once per day during the Congress itself, for those of you who couldn't attend but really, really wish you could.

Huzzah to the Victor!

It has been a long time since I've posted anything serious on the Wordhoard, primarily because I've been drowning in a sea of grading and editing.

Still, I would be remiss if I did not direct the Wordhoarders to this article in that most reliable of news sources, The Onion.

Hail, Herr Professor Doktor Boethius P. von Korncrake!

If you are a geek medieval academic like me, you'll not be able to read the account of Herr Professor Doktor Boethius P. von Korncrake in Kalamazoo without spewing your imported, hand-harvested green tea out of your nose.

Only if you are a Boethius geek (and there must be so, so many of us out there in the world) will you truly appreciate the glory that is Manolo the Shoeblogger's The Consolation of Shoes, with special attention to the excerpt. I must diligently search the booksellers' room at Kalamazoo for a copy of this important tome, especially because of the oft-noted-yet-little-read introduction by Herr Professor Doktor Boethius P. von Korncrake.

I must confess that I am not as familiar with the scholarly work of von Korncrake as I might be. I invite my readers to review his scholarship in the contents section below.

hat tip In the Middle

Where's Nokes-o?

With the 2007 International Congress on Medieval Studies (affectionately known as "K'zoo" by professional medievalists, since it is always held in Kalamazoo, Michigan) coming up, I've been asked by any number of people where I'm likely to be.

I've got a busy schedule this time around, partly because the last two years I've had my trips to K'zoo cut short. This year I plan to be there for the whole shebang, starting with a Thursday lunch and ending with attending a Sunday morning session.

Even so, last year I found a number of people from the blog-o-sphere who wanted to meet me to see if my real-life persona is as sparkling and delightful as my online persona. Here is my schedule of things that are more-or-less written in stone. If someone out there really wants to meet with me at any other time, and we can work it out, I'd be happy to do it!

Thursday: Lunch with my co-editor on Curing Elf-shot and Other Mysterious Maladies: New Scholarship on Old English Charms. Dinner (7:30) -- private function by invitation only, sorry.

Friday: Breakfast (7:30-9:30) , blogger meet-up. If you don't mind the early rise, that's the best chance, because you'll get to meet other medieval bloggers. For more information on that, see Dr. Virago. At 3:30 will be the Weblogs and the Academy roundtable, in Sangren 2210. Dinner that evening will be another private function, by invitation only.

Saturday: Dinner at 6:00 to celebrate the publication of my book Global Perspectives on Medieval Literature, Language, and Culture. Also a private function. Dang, all my dinners are private, aren't they?

Except for all of the above, mostly free. I'll try to get to the Medieval and Early Modern English Studies Association of Korea sessions, as well as some International Boethius Society and Societas Magica events, but I'm going to play it by ear. See you there!

For He's a Jolly Good Non-Fellow

Some time ago in the Wordhoard I announced that I was being interviewed to be a White House Fellow, a topic that came up in subsequent posts.

I was surprised by the response. I got a lot of kind words of support from medievalists and other scholars. I think many people shared my hope that the after-effects of this kind of position might help the whole field.

About a week ago I got a letter from the White House Fellows office letting me know that I was not selected this year. The reason I've taken so long to mention it in this space is that there were friends and family who wanted to hear it from me before a public announcement.

Am I disappointed? Sure I am. The four people who are going from my region, though, are each of them fine, deserving people -- an F-16 Mission Commander, a test pilot/cellist, a Walt Disney World engineer, and a financial consultant. There's no shame in losing out to any of these four, and I hope each of them is ultimately drafted by an agency.

Lots of people have asked me, "What now?" Well, everything I was doing that interested the WH Fellows program in me was things I would be doing anyway. I'll still be editing and writing. I'll still be working with international students. I'll still be promoting medieval lit at every opportunity. It isn't as if I suddenly started these things a month ago to pad my CV for the interview. If one strives for a lifetime of public service, one has to perform tasks for, well, a lifetime.

The other question people have asked is whether I plan to apply again next year. Absolutely! The application process was interesting and, although it was time-consuming, much of the time-consumptive parts I can simply revise from my previous application. Plus, the interview process revealed a serious weakness in my application packet -- a weakness I plan to remedy next time around. I'll keep apply until either they give me a fellowship, stop interviewing me, or issue a restraining order.

The Simpsons Medieval Festival

The Middle Ages were exactly like this. A little known fact that I just made up: St. Bartholomew of Farne (feast day June 24th) was also expelled from elementary school for baking a giant rat pie.

Renaissance Faires and Popular Medievalism

Medieval academics, admit it. Like me, you have a bit of a snobby attitude about Renaissance Faires. I went to my first faire some years ago, and spent a good deal of time scoffing that:

• It's far more medieval than Renaissance.
• The Middle Ages weren't really like that! It's a myth!
• It's packed with a lot of overpriced garbage.
• Who ARE these geeks?

And now, having some years later attended my second, I can add one more:

• Pirates? I mean, really, what crass exploitation of Disney films.

Today I went to the Georgia Renaissance Festival, where I spent too much money, got too much sun, and had just the right amount of fun. On the trip back, I spent a good deal of time thinking about these attitudes, and submit to you the following responses:

Yes, it's more medieval than Renaissance ... but the Renaissance was itself home of all sorts of interesting medievalism. Since the Middle Ages, people have enjoyed harkening back to those days, whether through Early Modern love of heraldry or contemporary American theme festivals. In large part, this impulse toward an a-historical medievalism is nothing new (heck, look at how a-historical medieval histories are about the earlier Middle Ages!), but simply an attempt to write for ourselves a mythic past in an effort to define ourselves today. We define ourselves both with and against this medievalism -- patting ourselves on the back that we somehow share in the honor and courage of the jousting knight, and patting ourselves just as hard because we no longer have stocks and public floggings (Oprah guests excepted). It's more about who we are than who they were.

Yes, much of it is myth, and, as I mentioned above, those myths serve a powerful purpose. Still, in a couple of weeks I'll be at the International Medieval Congress at Kalamazoo, hearing from other experts in the field, and I bet I'll have at least one myth punctured. I always learn something at K'zoo, because there is simply no way for a single man to know everything about the Middle Ages, or medieval literature, or Anglo-Saxon literature, or even a single Anglo-Saxon poem. It is hard for me to condemn others for their ignorance when medieval studies is just their weekend hobby, and it is my bread-and-butter. When people are ignorant of medieval truths, medieval scholars are culpable too.

Let's examine the "over-priced garbage" complaint. Yup, the stuff is waaaay to expensive. Yup, much of it is garbage. Still, people buy it. People buy a lot of it. People buy so much of it that the Renaissance Faires are run as for-profit commercial enterprises. Hear that? Medievalism is profitable! People pay too much money for over-priced garbage because they are starving for medievalism. All the time I hear this nonsense that "no one cares about medieval studies, it just isn't relevant, and if we offer courses in it, no one will come" -- BULL! Hundreds of thousands of people (perhaps millions, if someone has the statistics) pour into these Faires every year. When I gave a presentation on real medieval magical and medical practices at InConjunction last year, it was to standing room only -- even more than my Tolkien presentation! Let's see the over-priced garbage as instead an indicator of the market value of what we are offering.

Who are these geeks? They are folks just like you and me, without the degrees. They love the same stuff we love, but because their lives took a different path, they celebrate that love at Renaissance Faires rather than International Medieval Congresses. We scholars have a deeper understanding of this subject that we love, but that doesn't make our love more worthwhile -- it makes our knowledge more worthwhile, but not our love. When I was 17 years old and trying to decide what to do with my life, I almost decided on biomedical engineering, but in the end chose (for whatever muddled 17-year-old reason) to study English instead. A different choice in my life, and I wouldn't find myself in the Medieval Congress either. So, let's not mock these geeks -- they are our brothers and sisters, our fellow travellers. Hey, Ren Faire geeks, I might not attend these faires but once per decade, but I'm one of you too, as is nearly every other person at the Congress.

As for the pirates ... well, these pirates seemed to do a lot more sword-wielding than pistol brandishing. They auctioned off a lot of weapons, but not one was a replica gun, or cannon, or pegleg. They were all daggers and swords and axes and shields and katanas -- as if we were supposed to imagine the Caribbean dotted with extremely disoriented samurais. The pirates are simply the current liaisons between us and the Middle Ages. I don't know for sure, but I'd guess that at one time you could buy a light saber at a Faire. Some day the pirates too will be replaced by a new liaison, so let's let them have their time in the sun.

So, to summarize -- Renaissance Faires, cool. Faire-geeks, cool. Medieval Congress, cool. Medieval scholars, cool. Let's all bask together in the inherent coolness of medievalism.

Charlemagne in Tawdry Sex Scandal with Hollywood Star!

Jeff Sypeck's presentation here on Troy University's campus on Becoming Charlemagne was really well received. Once he arrived, it was a whirlwind of interviews, presentations, signings, and very rich cake. Jeff is a personable guy, and I had such a delightful time chatting with him that neither of us got to bed at a decent hour. So, if Sypeck is coming to your area, I would encourage you to do more than just go to the book signing -- get to know him better!

One interesting fact that I did not know: Shirley MacLaine claims to have been Charlemagne's lover in a past life, and also has had an affair (in this life) with a reincarnation of Charlemagne. If I may add a little speculation -- MacLaine further claims to have been an orphan raised by elephants in a past life, and as we all know, Charlemagne had an elephant named Abul Abaz. I see no where that MacLaine claims to have been the human lover of Charlemagne, simply a "gypsy Moorish girl." Couldn't "gypsy Moorish girl" refer just as easily to a female elephant from Baghdad that travels for years before arriving in Aachen? I humbly submit to you, therefore, that Abul Abaz is the decendant of forbidden elephant/human marriage, and that therefore the name when Shirley MacLaine seduced Charlemagne, she did so in the incarnation of the elephant Abul Abaz. It's the only reasonable explanation.

On Point -- Inventing English

This came through AnSax Net this morning, though the show originally aired nearly two weeks ago -- NPR's "On Point" interview with Seth Lehrer about the history of the English language. Those of you who are regular Wordhoarders will know that I am nearly daily offended by NPR (which also happens to be one of only two radio stations I can receive consistently on my daily drive to drop of the kids at school), and I certainly can't recommend people listen to "On Point" regularly.

Still, this broadcast is probably worth a listen. Only about the first eleven minutes are medieval, after which time it becomes a discussion of Modern English dominated by Shakespeare. Near the end it becomes difficult to listen to as Ashbrook tries to show how hip he is (in that pathetic NPR way) by playing Tupac and M&M, but most listeners will probably abandon it by then.

One clarification: A school teacher calls in and says that she's been teaching that Latin came into English with the Roman invasion and occupation of England, and asks if that is correct. Lehrer very graciously uses ambiguous language to imply that it is sort-of right, but that you get more Latin influence with the Norman invasion in 1066.

Lehrer is just being polite in his careful mincing of words. The Romans invaded and occupied the Britons (who spoke a Celtic language), and the Anglo-Saxons didn't come to England in force until after the Romans had pulled out completely. Latin, then, comes in English as a language through the later Christianization of the Anglo-Saxons, not really from the Romans. In other words, what she's been teaching is essentially wrong.

Children of Hurin (and a lot of Drout)

Not only haven't I yet read The Children of Húrin, I haven't even bought it yet ... nor am I likely to do either until after the International Medieval Congress. Still, the book is around now, and for those who cannot get enough Tolkien, here are (in no particular order):

• The Washington Post Review
• The St. Petersburg Times Review
• The NPR Review (with Michael Drout)
• Michael Drout's review on Wormtalk and Slugspeak
• FAQs on Tolkien Library
• Adam Tolkien on the book
• CNN's Review
• Salon.com's review
• Bryan Appleyard's review in the Times Online
• Jeremy Marshall's review
• The Times Online's article
• Toronto Star's review
• The Library Journal's Review
• Houghton Mifflin's trailer for The Children of Húrin

Codpiece Silliness

Just a warning: There is nothing edifying in this short film on emergency codpiece substitutions. Also, though it has no nudity or profanity, it may not be workplace-friendly -- unless of course you are a medievalist like me (or an early-modern scholar), in which any discussion of codpieces is entirely within bounds.

Charlemagne in Troy

Jeff Sypeck, author of Becoming Charlemagne: Europe, Baghdad, and the Empires of A.D. 800, will do a presentation and book signing next week at Troy University, on Tuesday, April 24th at 3PM in HAL Hall of Honor.

In addition to getting to hear about why Charlemagne matters, we'll have refreshments and, of course, my own delightful presence. Of course, you don't have to come at all if you don't want to ... but then all your friends will be whispering about you behind your back.

If You Like This Page...

... you'll find other things to like in my blogroll.

As veteran medieval bloggers know, one of my favorite hobbyhorses is that medievalists should be linking to one another in order to raise our Google profile as a whole, so when people are looking for information on medieval topics they are sent to a legitimate site, not a freshman term paper cheat site.

The last few weeks the Wordhoard has caught fire. After flirting with the 500 page views per day benchmark, Unlocked Wordhoard crossed that recently, and is now flirting with 500+ unique visitors. Most of those visitors are first-timers coming here because of articles that are getting e-mailed around and linked to in various newsgroups.

So, new visitors, welcome! If you are interested in medieval stuff, I want to encourage you to visit the many fine medieval sites on the blogroll to the right. Just a few of the more recent postings among our colleagues:

• Cacciaguida has a post about Anselm and the Crucifixion
• Got Medieval has a post on the supposed bones of Joan of Arc
• Haligweorc has a post on monastic New Testament interpretation
• The Medieval Geek's Guide has a comic that combines Chuck E. Cheese with medieval themes.
• News for Medievalists has a possible medieval church in Newfoundland.
• Slouching Towards Extimacy has an interesting article about a medieval revival in Belgium
• Stan Cynedom has birthday wishes for poet (and Beowulf translator) Seamus Heaney.
• Wormtalk and Slugspeak has a post on critiquing Tolkien's prose.

Of course, I could have listed many others, but this is just a sampling of the most recent medieval offerings found in the blogroll. Spend a little time this weekend wandering through those other sites as well; I'm sure you'll find it rewarding.

In Southern England, Did They Say "þ'all?"

Christopher Hitchens broke into my mind, ransacked it, then published one of my favorite gripes in his article, "The You Decade." Most of it is not really relevant to medieval stuff, except for this:

I can clearly remember the first time I heard the expression y'all, which was at a Greyhound bus stop in Georgia more than 30 years ago. A young black man, hearing my English accent but mistaking my age, told me with exquisite courtesy and solemnity that he greatly admired "the stand y'all"—he actually spun it out all the way to "you all"—"took in 1940." Stirred as I was then, I was stirred and baffled, later, when others in Dixie used "y'all" to mean just myself and not anything plural. But then I heard someone say "all of y'all," which restored the plural to its throne.

The "y'all" construction has always struck me as fascinating. First, it is interesting because it recognizes a deficiency in Modern English -- the lack of a second person plural. Whether it's "y'all" or "you guys" or "youse guys," we keep trying to dance around the problem of no distinction between singular and plural in the second person.

The other reason it is fascinating is that, historically, "you" is the plural. In Old English, here's how the second person worked:*

_______________Singular_______________Plural
Subject...............................þu.........................................ge
Possessive.........................þin........................................eower
Object...........................þe.........................................eow

Since the þ was pronounced like Modern English "th", this can be represented more recognizably in Early Modern English (like in the King James Bible) like this:

_______________Singular_______________Plural
Subject .......................thou...........................................ye
Possessive.......................thine..........................................your
Object................................thee...........................................you

Looking at this, you can see that "you" actually is the plural. It is the anachronistic "thou" that is the singular. Somehow, then, English lost its singular and started using its plural for both singular and plural. People then started to think about that old plural as actually being singular, and now we feel like we have to create constructions around it to indicate plurality.

This can lead to all sorts of weirdness, such as the "y'all" and "youse guys" constructions. We also end up with real howlers when Modern English users try to use Early Modern English. I've heard more than one error from the pulpit when visiting KJV-only churches, where the preacher got confused about who was being addressed because he doesn't see the switch between "you" and "thou" as significant. More than once I've heard the hymn "As the Deer" sung like this...

As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after Thee. You alone are my heart's desire and I long to worship Thee.

... which would be OK if they just used the Modern English "you," but by throwing in the faux King James-style Early Modern "Thee" they switch back and forth between monotheism and polytheism.

One other little non-medieval tangent before closing. Hitchens describes someone as saying "all of y'all" as the southern plural. No true southerner would ever throw that "of" in there. Heck, I'm not a southerner and even I know that! You can, of course, put "all" before "y'all," but only if you are creating the plural possessive. So, I'll close with the true Deep South Second Person Paradigm:

_______________Singular_______________Plural Subject .......................you...........................................y'all
Possessive...................your........................................all y'all's
Object...........................you..........................................y'all


*OK, now, all you Old English scholars, don't write me nasty notes about this paradigm. Yes, yes, I've ignored some other spellings and conflated accusative and dative -- if you don't like it, make your OWN paradigm for popular audiences!

My Machiavellian Interview

A few days ago I interviewed in Atlanta for a position as a White House Fellow. The people I met there were fascinating. All the finalists and the panelists (who interviewed us) were astoundingly accomplished people. Though I've heard that the atmosphere of these events can be poisonously competitive, in my group all the finalists went out for drinks together on the first night, and shared information about what kinds of questions the different panels were asking (I wasn't very helpful in this regard, I'm afraid, since most of the questions I received were really tailored to me). The whole experience was fun and interesting, and I'll probably comment in a few later posts on the little bits of pieces of medievalism that erupted at those regional finals.

One bit of medievalism stuck out, though: Twice in interviews I was asked about Machiavelli, and once in casual conversation.* I wasn't really sure why. Part of it was, no doubt, that some of the panelists had training in political science and so had studied Machiavelli in that context. Still, I perceived a subtext to the questions. The panelists seemed to be waiting to see if I had a sophisticated view of Machiavelli, or if I would just dismiss him out of hand. I got the sense that saying "Machiavelli is evil because he is all about power" would have been seen as naive and simplistic, while "I love Machiavelli and live my life according to his teachings" would have seemed crass (and potentially dangerous).

Fortunately for me, I had just taught The Prince two days earlier, so it was very fresh in my mind. I was even able to quote a bit to one of the panelists. In the context of the interviews, I tried to distinguish between people who want power because they want to be something, and people who want power because they want to do something. At first glance, Machiavelli seems to be writing for the former: "So, you wanna be a prince, do you? Well, here's how you go about it." By the time we get to the end, though, we see it as a yearning to do something, i.e. resurrect the Roman Empire. That desire to achieve a goal that (from his perspective) would be good for all of Europe makes me a lot more sympathetic to Machiavelli, and a lot more willing to see his book as a serious study in the dynamics of power rather than as a guide for self-serving sociopaths.

The other time Machiavelli came up, I was talking to a high school teacher. He asked, "Is it better to be feared or loved?" Within about a minute, this question transformed into "Is it better to be feared or loved by your students?" The position I came up with on that is that it depends on which motivates those students the best. I knew a matronly woman once who got her students to work diligently by getting them to love her; none of them wanted to disappoint her. On the other hand, I've know some young-looking women instructors who had to operate through fear because the young men in their classes might misunderstand the nature of their affection. Each student is different, too, as is the cocktail of students that make up a class. The efficacy of fear or love depends on any number of factors, and any professor that embraces one to the exclusion of the other risks his students.

I was struck, though, by how easily Machiavelli sauntered into our conversations. Perhaps he is making a comeback in popular culture, or at least in popular political culture.

*Yes, I know Machiavelli is generally considered Early Modern (and I agree that he's more modern than medieval), but he is right on the cusp, and in any case the context of the questions made it clear that people thought of him as medieval.

Animated Bayeux Tapestry

If the only thing you ever thought was missing from the Bayeux Tapestry was motion and subtitles, this video is for you.

h/t Anachronista

An Open Letter Regarding "The 300"

No, it isn't medieval. Really, it isn't. Yes, I'm sure. I don't care what your friend says, it's not. Please stop asking me.