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 VANITY FEA: Blog de notas de José Angel García Landa (Biescas y Zaragoza) - Septiembre 2013
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Blog de hoy AQUÍ

Lunes 30 de septiembre de 2013

SOLICITUD DOCUMENTACIÓN SEXENIOS

Estimados compañeros:

Estoy llevando a los tribunales la no concesión de un sexenio por parte de la CNEAI (en 2012). No me importa reconocer que no me lo concedieron, por la notable arbitrariedad de la actuación de la comisión (en esta como en otras ocasiones) y porque ya tengo tres anteriores, y méritos suficientes para este también.

Desearía que alguna persona que quiera avenirse a apoyar esta demanda me ayude si se da el caso siguiente:

QUE SE LE HAYA INFORMADO FAVORABLEMENTE EN ALGUN CASO UNA PUBLICACION ESCRITA EN ESPAÑOL.

Una de mis contribuciones estaba en español, aunque publicada en una serie multilingüe alemana—también estaba traducida al inglés, cosa que la comisión ignora olímpicamente, por cierto.— Pero lo que me irritó sobremanera es que en la respuesta a mi recurso, se reafirmó la comisión en que no es aceptable el uso del español como lengua de investigación, aclarando además que el uso de la lengua española perjudica a la difusión del artículo tanto fuera COMO DENTRO de España. Así.

Evidentemente es un criterio no usado en otros casos, empezando por las publicaciones de la propia presidenta de la comisión y otros miembros de la misma. Ahora bien, quizá entienda la comisión que los profesores de Filología Inglesa, a diferencia de los de otras filologías, no podemos usar el español en nuestras publicaciones sin ser penalizados (contradiciendo, por cierto, a la Constitución). Por eso solicito que si alguien puede proporcionarme documentación al respecto, me la envíe lo antes posible. Le estaría muy agradecido, gane o no el recurso.

Se trataría de enviarme copia de la documentación en que se acredita la valoración positiva de un sexenio, habiendo sometido a evaluación en esa ocasión publicaciones escritas en español. El tema sólo figurará en el expediente judicial y no se harán públicos datos ni nombres.

Comprendo que no es fácil que haya constancia documental clara de estos hechos, dada la falta de transparencia de la CNEAI (en el caso de evaluaciones positivas especialmente), pero envío esta circular por si alguien se anima y puede enviarme algo para incluirlo en el expediente.

Y, si no, por lo menos que conozcáis esta actuación bochornosa para con la lengua española, por parte de una comisión supuestamente "nacional".

Un saludo muy cordial

José Angel García Landa
Universidad de Zaragoza


Este mensaje lo envío hoy a la lista de AEDEAN. Como otras veces, me lo devuelven por "no estar autorizado a enviar mensajes a esta lista" aunque sí soy miembro de AEDEAN. En fin, entre tanto se resuelve el tema, aquí dejo constancia del Caso.

El recurso, aclaro, lo doy por perdido de antemano, conociendo perfectamente cómo funcionan estas cosas y cómo respira nuestra judicatura. Tampoco me enviará nadie nada, por cierto.



Spanish forbidden in Spain








Looking at Me


Looking at Me








The Canterbury Tales


From The Oxford Companion to English Literature, ed. Margaret Drabble.

The Canterbury Tales, Chaucer's most celebrated work probably designed about 1387 and extending to 17,000 lines in prose and verse of various metres (though the predominant form is the rhyming couplet). The General Prologue describes the meeting of 29 pilgrims in the Tabard Inn in Southwark (in fact they add up to 31; it has been suggested that the prioress's 'preestes three' in line 164 may be an error since only one 'Nun's Priest' is mentioned in the body of the work). Detailed pen-pictures are given of 21 of them, vividly described but perhaps corresponding to traditional lists of the orders of society, clerical and lay (see J. Mann, Chaucer and Medieval Estates Satire, 1973). The host (see BAILLY) proposes that the pilgrims should shorten the road by telling four stories each, two on the way to Canterbuty and two on the way back; he will accompany them and award a free supper on their return to the teller of the best story. The work is incomplete; only 23 pilgrims tell stories, and there are only 24 stories told altogether (Chaucer tells two). In the scheme the stories are linked by narrative exchanges between the pilgrims and by prologues and epilogues to the tales; but this aspect of the work is also very incomplete. It is uncertain even, in what order the stories are meant to come; the evidence of the manuscripts and of geographical references is conflicting, as is the scholarly interpretation of that evidence. The order that follows is that of the Ellesmere manuscipt, followed in the best complete edition of Chaucer, The Riverside Chaucer, (ed. L. D. Benson et al., 1988).

(1) 'The Knight's Tale', a shortened version of the Teseida of Boccaccio, the story of the love of Palamon and Arcite (told again in Shakespeare's The Two Noble Kinsmen), prisoners of Theseus king of Athens, for Emelyie, sister of Hippolyta queen of the Amazons, whom Theseus has married.  The rivals compete for her in a tournament. Palamon is defeated, but Arcite, the favourite of Mars, at the moment of his triumph is thrown and injured by his horse through the intervention of Venus and Saturn, and dies. Palamon and Emelye, after prolonged mourning for Arcite, are united. Riverside follows the Ellesmere division of the tale into four parts, but it is not so divided in all the manuscripts. An interesting interpretation of the tale as ironic is given by Terry Jones in Chaucer's Knight (1978).chaucer knights tale 2

(2) 'The Miller's Tale', a ribald story of the deception, first of a husband (a carpenter) through the prediction of a second flood, and secondly of a lover who expects to kiss the lady's lips but kisses instead her 'nether eye'. He avenges himself on her lover for this humiliation with a red-hot ploughshare. The Tale has been said to be a parody of a courtly-love story.

(3) 'The Reeve's Tale' is a fabliau about two clerks who are robbed by a miller of some of the meal which they take to his mill to be ground, and who take their vengeance by sleeping with the miller's wife and daughter. There are two manuscript versions of a French analogue in Bryan and Dempster, Sources and Analogues of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales (1941), 126-47, 'Le Meunier et les II clers'. In Chaucer's context, it is an obvious rejoinder to the miller's tale of the duping of a carpenter, the reeve's profession.

(4) 'The Cook's Tale' of Perkyn Revelour only extends to 58 lines before it breaks off. It is another ribald fabliau which ends with the introduction of a prostitute, and it has been suggested that Chaucer may have decided that the occurrence of three indecent tales together was unbalanced. The tale of Gamelyn, not by Chaucer, is introduced for the cook in some manuscripts. The cook himself, Roger (by nickname traditionally Hodge) of Ware (l. 4336), has been identified with an attested cook of that name. See Riverside, p. 814.

(5) 'The Man of Law's Tale' is the story of Constance, daughter of a Christian emperor of Rome, who marries the sultan of Syria on condition that he become a Christian and who is cast adrift on a boat because of the machinations of the sultan's jealous mother. It is a frequently told medieval story, paralleled by the romance Emaré and by Gower's Constance story in Confessio Amantis, ii. 587ff.; there is argument about the priority of Chaucer's and Gower's versions. It is certain, at least, that Chaucer's is based on a passage in the early 14th-cent. Anglo-Norman Chronicle by Trivet. Both Trivet's and Gower's versions are in Bryan and Dempster.

(6) 'The Wife of Bath's Tale' is preceded by an 856-line prologue in which she condemns celibacy by describing her life with her five late husbands, in the course of which Chaucer draws widely on the medieval anti-feminist tradition, especially on Jean de Meun's La Vielle (the Duenna) in the Roman de la Rose. After this vigorous, learned, and colourful narrative, the folowing tale, though appropriate, seems rather flat. It is the story of 'the loathly lady' (paralleled by Gower's 'Tale of Florent' in Confessio Amantis, i. 1396 ff., and by the romance Weddynge of Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell, edited in D. B. Sands, Middle English Verse Romances, 323-47) in which a knight is asked to answer the question, 'what do women most desire?' The correct answer, 'sovereignty', is told him by a hideous old witch on condition that he marry her; when he does she is restored to youth and beauty. Since Kittredge (Chaucer and His Poetry, 1915, 185 ff.) it has generally been thought that this Prologue-Tale sets in motion a discussion of marriage, 'The Marriage Group', which is taken up (after interruptions) by the clerk, the merchant, and the franklin (see 9, 10, 12 below).

(7) 'The Friar's Tale' tells how a summoner meets the devil dressed as a yeoman and they agree to share out what they are given. They come upon a carter who curses his horse, commending it to the devil; the summoner asks the devil why he does not take the horse thus committed to him and the devil replies that it is because the commendation does not come from the heart. Later they visit an old woman from whom the summoner attempts to extort twelve pence, whereupon she commends him to the devil. The devil carries him off to hell because her curse was from the heart. The story is widely attested in popular tradition, and its motif is referred to as ex corde, 'from the heart'. Chaucer's exact source is not known, but it is clear that the firar tells it to enrage the summoner on the pilgrimage, who interrupts the narrative and rejoins with a scurrilous and discreditable story about a friar.

(8) The Summoner's Tale' tells of a greedy friar who undertakes to divide a deathbed legacy amongst his community; he receives a fart and has to devise an ingenious stratagem to divide it with perfect justice.

(9) 'The Clerk's Tale', which the poet tlles us he took from Petrarch, was translated into latin by the latter from the Italian version of Boccaccio in The Decameron (Day 10, Tale 10). Boccaccio was the first writer (in 1353) to take the story from popular currency, and there are several versions of the story in Italian, Latin, and French before Chaucer's (indeed it is clear that Chaucer's version is rather more dependent on a French prose version than on Petrarch's Latin). The stoyr tells of patient Griselda and her trials by her husband, the Marquis Walter. Chaucer's version has more hints of criticism in the relentless husband than any of his predecessors (except Boccaccio, whose narrator frowns on Gualtieri's 'strange desire' to try his wife's obedience). Apologists for 'The Marriage Group' (see 6 above) regard the tale as a response to the wife of Bath, partly because the Clerk concludes with an expression of good will towards her (IV. 1170 ff.).

(10) 'The Merchant's Tale', in which the merchant, prompted by the tale of Griselda's extreme obedience, tells his 'Tale' of January and May, the old husband with his young wife, and the problems with obedient fidelity involved in this relationship. After a lengthy review of the pros and cons of taking a young wife, January ignores the good advice of Justinus in favour of the time serving opinion of Placebo and marries May. When he goes blind she makes love to her suitor Damyan in a pear-tree round which January wraps his arms. Pluto mischievously restores January's sight at this point, but Proserpine inpires May to explain that the restoration of his sight was brought about by her activities in the pear-tree and that this had been their purpose. Critics have argued about the relative proportions of mordancy and humour in the tale; see E. Talbot Donaldson in Speaking of Chaucer (1970), 30-45. There are parallels to the various sections of the story in French, Latin, Italian, and German (see D. S. Brewer (ed.), Medieval Comic Tales, 1973, German no. 3 and Latin, (o)).

(11) 'The Squire's Tale', of Cambuscan, king of Tartary, to whom on his birthday an envoy from the king of Arabia brings magic gifts, including a ring for the king's daughter Canacee, which enables her to understand the language of birds. A female falcon tells Canacee the story of her own desertion by a tercelet. The tale is incomplete but it seems likely that Chaucer meant to finish it, judging from the fact that there is no suggestion that it is unfinished in the laudatory words of the franklin that follow it (V. 673 ff.). The precise origin of the tale is unknown, but a number of parallels are suggested by H. S. V. Jones in Bryan and Dempster, pp. 357-76.

(12) 'The Franklin's Tale', of Dorigen, wife of Arveragus, who to escape the attentions of her suitor, the squire Aurelius, makes her consent depend upon an impossible condition, that all the rocks on the coast of Brittany be removed. When this condition is realized by the aid of a magician, the suitor, from a generous remorse, releases her from her promise. Chaucer states that the tale is taken from a 'breton lay', but if this is true, the original is lost. There are a number of parallels in medieval literature, of which the closest is Boccaccio's Il filocolo, Question  4. See N. R. Hayely, Chaucer's Boccaccio (1980).

(13) 'The Physician's Tale' tells of Virginia who, at her own request, is killed by her father to escape the designs of the corrupt judge Appius. The original source is Livy's History, and this is what Chaucer cites, though his version seems to rely principally on the Roman de la rose, ll. 5589-658, by Jean de Meun.

(14) 'The Pardoner's Tale' follows a prologue in which he declares his own covetousness, and takes covetousness as its theme, relating it to other sins: drunkenness, gluttony, gambling, and swearing. Three rioters set out to find Death who has killed their companion; a mysterious old man tells them they will find him under a particular tree, but when they get there they find instead a heap of gold. By aiming to cheat each other in possessing the gold they kill each other. The character of the pardoner in the prologue here is related to Faus Semblant (False Seeming) in Jean de Meun's part of the Roman de la Rose, ll. 11065-972 (a section corresponding to the Middle English Romaunt of the Rose, Fragment C, lines 67061 ff.: Robinson, pp. 621 ff.). There are many analogues for the tale, in Latin, Italian, and German, but Chaucerr's exact source, if he had one, is not known.

(15) 'The Shipman's Tale.' There is a similar story in The Decameron (Day 8, Tale 1). The wife of a niggardly merchant asks the loan of a hundred francs from a priest to buy finery. The priest borrows the sum from the merchant and hands it to the wife, and the wife grants him her favours. On the merchant's return from a journey the priest tells him that he has repaid the sum to the wife, who cannot deny receiving it.

(16) 'The Prioress's Tale' tells of the murder of a child by Jews because he sings a Marian hymn while passing through their quarter and of the discovery of his body because of its continued singing of the hymn after death. There are a great many parallels for the story. Some critics, perhaps anachronistically, see the bland anti-Semitism of the story as a comment on the uncritical nature of the prioress.

(17) 'Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas' is a witty and elegant parody of the contemporary romance, both in its subject and in the insubstantiality of its tail-rhyme form. Its butts are no doubt general, but it can perhaps be taken to have special reference to the heroes it catalogues (VII. 898-900): Horn Child, the legend of Ypotys, Bevis of Hampton, Guy of Warwick, the unidentified Pleyndamour, and Libeaus Desconus. It is closest, it has been argued, to the last of these.

(18) When the Host interrupts the tale of Sir thopas, Chaucer moves to the opposite extreme with a heavy prose homily, 'The Tale of Melibeus'. This story of the impetuous Melibeus and his wise wife Prudence dates from Italy in the 1240s, when the story was written in Latin prose for his third son by Albertano of Brescia. Chaucer's immediate source was the 1336 version in French prose by Renaud de Louens.Chaucer Knights Tale

(19) 'The Monk's Tale' is composed of a number of 'tragedies' of persons fallen from high estate, taken from different authors and arranged on the model of Boccaccio's De Casibus Virorum Illustrium. The tale is in eight-line stanzas.

(20) 'The Nun's Priest's Tale' is related to the French cycle of Renart (see Reynard), telling of a fox that beguiled a cock by praising his father's singing and was in turn beguiled by him into losing him by pausing to boast at his victory. The mock-heroic story is full of rhetoric and exempla, and it is one of the most admired of the Tales, regarded as the most typically 'Chaucerian' in tone and content.  The fable is very familiar, but the parallels to Chaucer's treatment of it are not very close. The famous ending of the tale invites the reader to 'take the morality' of the Tale in spite of its apparent lightness of substance, on the grounds that St Paul says everything has some moral; this invitation has been taken with surprising solemnity by many critics.

(21) 'The Second Nun's Tale', in rhyme-royal, is perhaps translated from the life of St Cecilia in the Golden Legend of Jacobus de Voragine. It describes the miracles and martyrdom of the noble Roman maiden Cecilia and her husband Valerian.

(22) 'The Canon's Yeoman's Tale' is told by a character who joins the pilgrims at this late stage (VIII. 554 ff.) with his master, the dubious canon whose alchemical skills the yeoman praises. The first 200 lines of the tale tell of the Alchemist's arcane practice and its futility, before proceeding to the tale proper which tales of how an alchemical canon (who is not his master, he protests, perhaps suggesting that it is) tricks a priest out of £40 by pretending to teach him the art of making precious metals. The dishonesty of the alchemists was much discussed and condemned in the 14th cent.; there is a close analogue to Chaucer's stoyr in one of the Novelle of Sercambi (included in Bryan and Dempster, pp. 694-5). The most significant literary parallel, of course, is Jonson's The Alchemist.

(23) 'The Manciple's Tale' is the fable of the tell-tale crow, told by many authors from Ovid in Metamorphoses (2. 531-62) onwards. Phebus (Phoebus) has a crow which is white and can speak. It reveals to Phebus the infidelity of his wife (nameless in Chaucer, but Coronis in Ovid and most of the writers who follow him) and Phebus kills her in a rage. Then, in remorse, he plucks out the crow's white feathers, deprives it of speech and throws it 'unto the devel', which is why crows are now black. A very similar version of the story is told in Gower's Confessio Amantis (iii. 768-835), and there are other examples by Guillaume de Machaut and in the Ovide moralisé (c. 1324). As well as these, J. A. Work in Bryan and Dempster edits as analogues a story from The Seven Sages of Rome which does not name Phebus and which exchanges the fates of wife and bird, as well as some sententious parallels from Boethius and Jean de Meun.

(24) 'The Parson's Tale' which concludes the work (and was, no doubt, meant to, even if the main body of the Tales is incomplete) is a long prose treatise, ostensibly on Penitence but dealing at most length with the Seven Deadly Sins. The two principal sources are Raymund de Pennaforte's Summa (dating from the 1220s) for the sections on Penitence, and Guilielmus Peraldu's Summa Vitiorum (probably from the 21250s) for the Seven Deadly Sins.

Most manuscripts have 'The Parson's Tale' leading straight into Chaucer's closing 'Retracciouns' in which he takes leave of his book. He asks forgiveness of God for his 'translacions and enditynges of worldly vanities', including 'The Tales of Caunterbury, thilke that sownen into [i.e. tend towards] synne'. But this rhetorical conclusion need not be read as a revocation of his work by the poet; following St Augustine's Retractationes, many medieval works end by distancing the writer from the non-spiritual elements in his work: the Author's Epilogue in The Decameron and Chaucer's Troilus are other familiar examples. See N. F. Blake, The Canterbury Tales, Edited from the Hengwrt Manuscript (1980); H. Cooper, The Canterbury Tales (1989). Also an edition by V. A. Kolve and G. Olsen (1989).



The Canterbury Tales (Project Gutenberg)








Hermenéutica de la Relectura Retrospectiva


Una ponencia del año 96 del siglo pasado—"Understanding Misreading: Hermenéutica de la relectura retrospectiva." En español, y ahora en ResearchGate, donde estoy completando mi colección de viejos artículos. En inglés apareció en un libro editado por la Dra. Penas, The Pragmatics of Understanding and Misunderstanding (Zaragoza: Universidad de Zaragoza, 1998), 57-72.

Understanding Misreading: A Hermeneutic-Deconstructive Approach






Domingo 29 de septiembre de 2013

House of Rumour

O la Red Social de la Información en el siglo catorce—la Internet medieval.

El poema alegórico de Chaucer The House of Fame concluye con un episodio en el que el poeta viaja, en su sueño, desde la Casa de la Fama a la Casa del Rumor, en busca de noticias, curiosidades y cotilleo. Esta Casa del Rumor, paraíso de la sobreinformación, de la fiebre por la actualidad, de la rumorología, y de la polilogia inabarcable, es pintada aquí de manera vívida y memorable. Aunque me parece que ha hallado su encarnación propia y definitiva en la red que nos ocupa ahora. Y de hecho Chaucer describe la Casa del Rumor como un laberinto reticular, una especie de gran maraña móvil hecha de mimbres enlazados, que rueda dando tumbos de aquí para allá, atravesada por vientos y susurros, una red inestable de voces e innovaciones. Por eso considero que Chaucer vio en su sueño ondas del futuro, que ya se sabe tiende a llevar a un extremo lo que en el pasado parecía exageración o parodia—los mentideros de palacio o de la City del siglo XIV se quedan chiquitos hoy, pero algo prometían ya. Aqui hay un pasaje sobre el recalentamiento de la información y los memes víricos que puede considerarse uno de los pasajes clásicos al respecto. La alegoría del Rumor, claro, tiene antecedentes al menos desde el libro IV de la Eneida.


But such a congregatioun
Of folk, as I saw roam about,
Some within and some without,
Was never seen, nor shall be eft,*                *again, hereafter
That, certes, in the world n' is* left                      *is not
So many formed by Nature,
Nor dead so many a creature,
That well unnethes* in that place                         *scarcely
Had I a foote breadth of space;
And ev'ry wight that I saw there
Rown'd* evereach in other's ear                          *whispered
A newe tiding privily,
Or elles told all openly
Right thus, and saide, "Know'st not thou
What is betid,* lo! righte now?"                          *happened
"No," quoth he; "telle me what."
And then he told him this and that,
And swore thereto, that it was sooth;
"Thus hath he said," and "Thus he do'th,"
And "Thus shall 't be," and "Thus heard I say
"That shall be found, that dare I lay;"*                     *wager
That all the folk that is alive
Have not the cunning to descrive*                         *describe
The thinges that I hearde there,
What aloud, and what in th'ear.
But all the wonder most was this;
When one had heard a thing, y-wis,
He came straight to another wight,
And gan him tellen anon right
The same tale that to him was told,
Or it a furlong way was old,
And gan somewhat for to eche*                             *eke, add
To this tiding in his speech,
More than it ever spoken was.
And not so soon departed n'as*                                 *was
He from him, than that he met
With the third; and *ere he let
Any stound,* he told him als';           *without delaying a momen*
Were the tidings true or false,
Yet would he tell it natheless,
And evermore with more increase
Than it was erst.* Thus north and south                   *at first
Went ev'ry tiding from mouth to mouth,
And that increasing evermo',
As fire is wont to *quick and go*        *become alive, and spread*
From a spark y-sprung amiss,
Till all a city burnt up is.
And when that it was full up-sprung,
And waxen* more on ev'ry tongue                          *increased
Than e'er it was, it went anon
Up to a window out to go'n;
Or, but it mighte thereout pass,
It gan creep out at some crevass,*                  *crevice, chink
And fly forth faste for the nonce.
And sometimes saw I there at once
*A leasing, and a sad sooth saw,*       *a falsehood and an earnest
That gan *of adventure* draw true saying* *by chance
Out at a window for to pace;
And when they metten in that place,
They were checked both the two,
And neither of them might out go;
For other so they gan *to crowd,*       *push, squeeze, each other*
Till each of them gan cryen loud,
"Let me go first!" -- "Nay, but let me!
And here I will ensure thee,
With vowes, if thou wilt do so,
That I shall never from thee go,
But be thine owen sworen brother!
We will us medle* each with other,                          *mingle
That no man, be he ne'er so wroth,
Shall have one of us two, but both
At ones, as *beside his leave,*                *despite his desire*
Come we at morning or at eve,
Be we cried or *still y-rowned."*               *quietly whispered*
Thus saw I false and sooth, compouned,*                 *compounded
Together fly for one tiding.
Then out at holes gan to wring*                  *squeeze, struggle
Every tiding straight to Fame;
And she gan give to each his name
After her disposition,
And gave them eke duration,
Some to wax and wane soon,
As doth the faire white moon;
And let them go. There might I see
Winged wonders full fast flee,
Twenty thousand in a rout,*                                *company
As Aeolus them blew about.
And, Lord! this House in alle times
Was full of shipmen and pilgrimes,
With *scrippes bretfull of leasings,*   *wallets brimful of falsehoods*
house of fame
Entremedled with tidings*                             *true stories
And eke alone by themselve.
And many thousand times twelve
Saw I eke of these pardoners,
Couriers, and eke messengers,
With boistes* crammed full of lies                           *boxes

As ever vessel was with lyes.*                        *lees of wine
And as I altherfaste* went                          *with all speed
About, and did all mine intent
Me *for to play and for to lear,*        *to amuse and instruct myself*

And eke a tiding for to hear
That I had heard of some country,
That shall not now be told for me; --
For it no need is, readily;
Folk can sing it better than I.
For all must out, or late or rath,*                           *soon
All the sheaves in the lath;*                            *barn
I heard a greate noise withal
In a corner of the hall,
Where men of love tidings told;
And I gan thitherward behold,
For I saw running ev'ry wight
As fast as that they hadde might,
And ev'reach cried, "What thing is that?"
And some said, "I know never what."
And when they were all on a heap,
Those behinde gan up leap,
And clomb* upon each other fast,                      *climbed
And up the noise on high they cast,
And trodden fast on others' heels,
And stamp'd, as men do after eels...



En este caos termina el poema de Chaucer, apenas sosegado por la visión inacabada de "un hombre de gran autoridad" con la que se interrumpe el poema. Aquí está el poema completo, y aquí unas referencias bibliográficas sobre el tema de la fama y del Rumor y sus precedentes en las fuentes de Chaucer. La ilustración viene de esta bonita página sobre ediciones e ilustraciones de Chaucer. En la red.


Torbellinos de información







Novelist Spying on Himself

Hoy explicaba en clase de teatro la Teoría de los Marcos. Muy útil es para explicar las relaciones mutuas entre grandes secciones de textos y de contructos semióticos: los marcos pueden reciclarse, crearse o romperse, mezclarse, o transformarse sorpresivamente.

Algunos ejemplos de transiciones súbitas de un marco a otro comentaba yo hace años (¡ocho!) en el post La realidad flojea. Que me sirve de introducción y preliminar para señalar un caso más.

En la última novela de Ian McEwan, Sweet Tooth, tenemos un caso "de libro" de retroactive reframing, de reenmarcado retroactivo por decirlo en lo que debe ser mi idioma. Es decir, que empezamos habitando la narración en un marco, y terminamos en otro marco. O en el mismo, pero a la vez en otro.

La historia empieza como una narración autobiográfica, autobiografía ficticia of course de Serena Frome, ex-agente secreta de una oficina menor del MI5. Nos cuenta someramente su adolescencia de provincias en casa formal, y luego detalladamente sus amoríos de estudiante con un profesor universitario. Éste, sabremos, había sido reclutado por los espías de Su Majestad, y a su vez la encamina a lo que será su trabajo como secretaria/agente en el MI5. El rollete del profesor con la escultural e ingenua Serena termina en una desagradable escena, que con el tiempo sabremos era un montaje para ahorrarle a ella unos meses de convivencia con el cáncer terminal de él. Retroactiva o retrospectivamente, también saldrá eso a la luz.

Tras una temporada de celibato y oficina y archivos e informes, le encomiendan a Serena que seleccione autores políticamente correctos (anticomunistas) que serán "becados" por así decirlo por el MI5, discretamente y a través de una fundación cultural, sin que ellos lo sepan. Serena mea donde come y no sólo recluta al novelista Tom Haley, liberándolo de su puesto de precario en la universidad, sino que empieza una aventura de final indefinido con él. Pero le oculta su trabajo y la procedencia del dinero que se chafan. Todo esto lo hace con cierta inocencia espontánea, por chocante que parezca decirlo así, siendo la chica una espía de tacón de aguja.

Bien, al final un colega celoso y despechado revela la verdad a Tom Haley, y también la ventila por los periódicos, hundiendo la participación de Tom y de Serena en el programa (que se llamaba Sweet Tooth, como la novela). Serena se ve en los periódicos y acude a una entrevista con Tom Haley, segura de que será la ruptura definitiva.

Y allí es cuando se abre la trampilla falsa de la narración, y se reorganiza retroactivamente la novela.

Es una estructura narrativa paradójica que parece atraer especialmente a McEwan. En parte recuerda al final de Expiación, al mostrar cómo toda la obra ha sido escrita por uno de los personajes—lo que se suele llamar un novela autogenerada o self-begetting novel. Claro que esta novela ya había sido escrita por uno de los personajes, Serena, pues se presenta desde el principio como sus memorias ficticias (reales para ella, ficticias para nosotros, que McEwan no la publica con pseudónimo ni la llama otra cosa que novela). Lo que sucede aquí, en el último capítulo, es que la autoría pasa súbita y retroactivamente, de Serena a Tom Haley, y las memorias ficticiamente auténticas se convierten en una novela que las imita perfectamente—o quizá no... y la novela de McEwan se convierte en una novela más experimental de lo que parecía en un principio, pues genera unas dialécticas algo paradójicas en torno a la autoría de lo que hemos leído.
high heels
El último capítulo (cap. 22) de Sweet Tooth está narrado, intradiegéticamente, por Tom Haley. Es una carta dirigida a Serena, y que ella encuentra en la cocina de su casa, encima de un paquete cerrado. Con la lectura de la carta concluye el libro, con lo cual  podría ser que concluyese con la memoria escrita por Serena. En puridad, no sabemos si abrió el paquete siquiera, o no. Ahora bien, lo que contiene ese paquete cerrado es, quizá, la propia novela Sweet Tooth, o quizá una versión preliminar de la misma. En la carta, Tom Haley le cuenta a Serena cómo, al enterarse de que "salía con una espía", decidió vengarse en sus propios términos, espiándola a ella... bien a conciencia, desde dentro. Y lo ha hecho por el procedimiento de escribir la historia en la que se han visto envueltos, desde el punto de vista de Serena:

Now I knew what you knew, what you had to conceal, I tried to imagine being you, being in two places at once, loving and  . . . reporting back. How could I get in there and report back too? And that was it. I saw it. So simple. This story wasn't for me to tell. It was for you. Your job was to report back to me. I had to get out of my skin and into yours. I needed to be translated, to be a transvestite, to shoehorn myself into your skirts and high heels, into your knickers, and carry your white glossy handbag on its shoulder strap. On my shoulder. Then start talking, as you. Did I know you well enough? Clearly not. Was I a good enough ventriloquist? Only one way to find out. I had to begin. I took from my pocket my letter to you and tore it up, and let the bits drift down into the darkness of the Avon Gorge. Then I hurried back across the bridge, eventually waved down a taxi and spent that New Year's Eve and part of the next day in my hotel room filling another exercise book, trying your voice.  (357-58)

Pocas veces se habrá descrito tan vívidamente el acto de "travestismo" imaginativo que supone para un escritor masculino el crear personajes femeninos y hacerlos hablar; desde luego es un concepto generado por una fantasía extremadamente heterosexualista, más que heterosexual. Pasa Tom Haley a detallar cómo encontró un refinamiento especial del erotismo fingiendo ante Serena que no sabía nada—un placer intelectual y sensual a la vez haciendo el amor con ella sabiendo que la estaba espiando, un sentimiento de división interna que multiplicaba sus placeres al anticipar la manera en que luego describiría "desde fuera", o desde ella, la escena que ahora vivían. Hay aquí algo de voyeurismo, o incluso de auto-voyeurismo. Tom se precia de añadir "un pliegue más al tejido del engaño", y lo curioso es que en la carta plantea ese engaño como una experiencia intensificada de inmersión en el otro. Vemos aquí  un tratamiento novelístico interesante de un fenómeno que han estudiado Goffman y otros en la constitución interaccional de la subjetividad—la interacción de perspectivas de los sujetos, o, podríamos llamarlo así, la creación del yo mediante la interiorización de la alteridad. Más detalles al respecto doy en este artículo sobre la interacción internalizada, y en este otro comentario sobre un libro de Goffman al que suscribirían sin duda Serena y Tom—pues su tesis es que todos somos espías en la vida cotidiana. Lo llamo Teoría paranoica de la observación mutua. Sweet Tooth es, por tanto, una novela de espías, pero también del escritor como espía, del escribir como espiar, y del espionaje y disimulo diario que van mezclados en la inocente convivencia cotidiana con los demás, empezando por nuestras parejas.

Por eso es adecuada la estructura metaficcional del libro—no sabemos si lo ha escrito Tom, o si lo ha escrito Serena. Parece que se privilegia la perspectiva de Tom, y que lo que hemos leído es "la narración de Serena tal como la inventa Tom." Ahora bien, es necesario ingrediente para el plan del libro que la ambigüedad se mantenga, y que las perspectivas de ambos estén entrelazadas de modo paradójico e inextricable, a marriage of fictional minds más que a marriage of true minds. De este modo, Serena nos da su versión de Tom, y Tom su versión de Serena, en una máquina generativa de impresiones que nos permite suponer, tras la lectura de la novela, mucho más que un cortejo complicado y un matrimonio interesante; inevitablemente lleva a releer la novela en el sentido al menos de reevaluarla retroactivamente de modo que muchos elementos de su narración realista adquieren ahora un sentido o multiplicado, o ambiguo, o paradójico.

Uno de esos elementos es la propia autorrepresentación del autor. —Y no me refiero sólo a Serena, o a Tom, sino también a McEwan. Más llamativo que el espionaje de Tom a Serena es el autoespionaje a que se somete a sí mismo a través de los ojos de ella. Está claro que algunos de los elementos de la escritura de Tom recuerdan al propio McEwan—por ejemplo la historia del chimpancé, parecida a un relato de In Between the Sheets, o el curioso cuento de los gemelos. (Algún relato más bien recuerda a Cormac McCarthy, como la distopía post-apocalíptica que gana el Premio Jane Austen). Habría que saber qué elementos de reflexión sobre el sistema de premios o promociones en Gran Bretaña le ha llevado a McEwan a escribir esta novela—pues buena parte de su temática es el control a distancia de la creación y el éxito literarios por parte de los poderes y los servicios de inteligencia—salen a colación los casos de Encounter, de Orwell, etc. Algo de exorcismo tiene la novela en este sentido, y de aserción de la libertad de creación del novelista, por el hecho mismo de tratar el tema, y tratarlo de esta manera. Pero al margen de esto, en la autorrepresentación del autor está incluido el asunto del autor como figura erótica, visto desde fuera, desde Serena. Hay aquí una cierta dosis de autofascinación, o del experimento en erotismo complicado que decíamos antes, ver cómo la propia imagen está envuelta en las fantasías que tenemos con los demás, y cómo fingimos inocencia al respecto. Nos miramos por el ojo de la cerradura de los demás, como Tom Haley hace con Serena, como McEwan hace con sus personajes. Apunta la novela, esto es, cómo lejos de espiar sólo a los demás, también los espiamos para encontrar allí reflejos nuestros. Cómo nos espiamos hasta a nosotros mismos, disimulando para no enterarnos, cuando fingimos espiar a los demás...

____

García Landa, José Angel. "Somos teatreros." Ibercampus (Vanity Fea) 9 Sept. 2009.*
    http://www.ibercampus.es/articulos.asp?idarticulo=14466
    2013
Goffman, Erving. Strategic Interaction. (Conduct and Communication, 1). Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P,  cop. 1969. 2nd pr., 1970.
Kellman, Steven. The Self-Begetting Novel. London: Macmillan, 1980.
Saunders, Frances Stonor. Who Paid the Piper? The CIA and the Cultural Cold War.


Ian McEwan, Saturday



Segundas luces del anochecer

Segundas luces del anochecer



Sábado 28 de septiembre de 2013

Bibliografía sobre el hipertexto

Me obligan a buscar méritos míos por la Red. Es como apoyatura para un recurso que tengo planteado contra unos ineptos evaluadores de una comisión nacional, poco convencidos de mis méritos. Quizá llevados por la envidia, o quizás por la pura malevolencia, o por la ignorancia y la incompetencia sin más, han decidido que mi trabajo no tiene eco o no vale la pena tenerlo en cuenta para darme una evaluación positiva. Así que me veo abocado a la ingrata tarea de decir al juez lo mucho que valgo, y encima apoyarlo documentalmente. Cosa que no crean que es tan fácil como parecería.

En fin, mientras me busco por la red encuentro cosas que no sabía que tenía por allí. Por ejemplo esta bibliografía sobre el hipertexto, procedente de un rinconcito de mi opus magnum en 50 volúmenes y 500.000 versículos. Aquí la reinserto, y así vuelve a casita.

Hyper Text by agustina_mariam


La misma bibliografía puede encontrarse en una web rusa, ZNATE.ru, adornada de iconos típicamente rusos.

Llamaré la atención sobre una de las entradas mías: "Hiperhipertexto"—que pedía o predecía hace muchos años una hipertextualización de todo el texto, combinando enlaces y búsqueda automatizada. Aún estamos camino de ello, pero todo se andará.

Hipertextualización total automatizada






Cuando el mar se queda quieto

Cuando el mar se queda quieto



Me enlazan en Washington, DC


Está incluida mi bibliografía, según veo, como libro electrónico, en el catálogo combinado del Consorcio de Bibliotecas de Investigación de Washington (WRLC Catalog)—al que así define su página web:

The Washington Research Library Consortium (WRLC) was established as a non-profit corporation in 1987 to support and enhance the library and information services of universities in the Washington, DC metropolitan area. Currently, our partner universities are: 
The WRLC enables the success of learning and scholarship by creating coordinated collections, creating a robust infrastructure for discovery and access, ensuring the long-term preservation of physical and digital information resources and sharing expertise.

No forma parte de este consorcio otra biblioteca bien conocidad de Washington, que sin embargo es uno de los sitios que me envían más visitas: la Biblioteca del Congreso. Allí está incluida mi bibliografía desde hace ya muchos años en el apartado número nueve (Number Nine...) dedicado a la crítica literaria, de la sala de lectura principal.

Me alegro de aparecer por allí, ya que hace muchos años intenté ir a estudiar a Washington (a Georgetown) sin conseguirlo (—bueno, quería ir sin pagar...). Por fin quiso la Providencia que fuera a Rhode Island en vez de a DC; a Georgetown sólo he vuelto en forma de electrones.






Viernes 27 de septiembre de 2013

Dog-Walking Man

Dog-walking Man




Death Metaphors in Fairy Tales


Me citan mucho, pero en realidad me citan poco.
Me citan en esta tesis de máster, de la Universidad de Barcelona, en italiano. Sobre la narración en los medios digitales:


Scarinci, Alessia. "Digital Storytelling: Un'applicazione didattica per ripensare ai media attraverso i media." MA diss. Dpt. of Communication, U Pompeu Fabra, 2011. Online at e-Repositori (U Pompeu Fabra).*
        http://repositori.upf.edu/handle/10230/11308
    2013

 Y ésta otra del mismo departamento catalán, en catalán.

Cassany Viladomat, Roger. "Especificitats de la narrativa audiovisual informativa a Internet: Anàlisi de les rutines de producció i dels vídeos produïts per La Vanguardia Digital, VilaWeb i 3cat24.cat." MA diss. Dpt. of Communication, U Pompeu Fabra, 2010. Online at e-Repositori (U Pompeu Fabra).*
    http://repositori.upf.edu/handle/10230/11340
    2013

Las dos, dirigidas por Javier Díaz Noci.

Por lo menos hasta ahora no me citan negativamente, en las citas que se me alcanzan a mí y a Google.

Seguiré buscando quien me cite, a ver si mis obras han tenido éxito, mis librillos y libracos enviados a correr el mundo, sin su padre que los proteja, como decía Platón.


Death Metaphors in Fairy Tales




Jueves 26 de septiembre de 2013

Mi informe de autor de SSRN

Pasmante es la cantidad de información que me envían los robots del Social Science Research Network sobre la marcha de mis publicaciones allí. El equivalente a unos 200 pantallazos de datos sobre visitas, descargas, citas (que no las hay), etc.

Para su curiosidad, aquí está el último informe, según el cual llego a ubicarme, aupándome de puntillas, en el puesto 1099, de sus más de 230.000 autores académicos—según el criterio de "los más consultados este último año."


Aún sigo superándome




Llanura helada del mar




Llanura helada del mar




Miércoles 25 de septiembre de 2013


Hарративность фотоблогов (Семиосфера нарратологии)



       Аннотация: в настоящем документе рассматриваются повествование измерение личной фотоблогов с точки зрения повествования семиотики, принимая во внимание как преднамеренные и спонтанные нарративность, и повествование последовательности построен в средствах массовой информации и те, которые прогнозируются зрителей.


—oOo—

            И еще одна:
          
           Oпределенные типы нарративность пользуются привилегией стандартности в их особой культурной полисистемам или семиосферам. это хорошо удостоверенное явлением в изучении нарратологией.  Cтандартный нарративности является специфичным для конкретной субкультурные социальной сферы. Это ставит под сомнение определение стандарта. Тем не менее, именно это определение стандартности, что требует быть пересмотрены для того, чтобы разместить ее социально-прагматических функций. Я намерен изучить одну существенную роль Стандартный и нестандартный нарративность: обеспечение культурной передачи между различными литературными семиосферах. Стандартный тип текстакультурно-специфических но переводимые через процессы культурных связей, изменения, ассимиляции и перевода.





Семиосфера нарратологии: полилог языков и культур




El bañador minimizado 4


El bañador minimizado 4




Der Präsensroman


Avanessian, Armen, and Anke Hennig, eds. Der Präsensroman. (Narratologia, 36). Berlin and Boston: de Gruyter, 2013. (Introd., 1-24; Zusammenfassung, 269-81.).

Es este volumen, Der Präsensroman, uno de los últimos en aparecer en la serie "Narratologia: Contributions to Narrative Theory", publicada por de Gruyter en Boston y Berlín, con unos volúmenes en inglés y otros en alemán. Yo pertenezco al consejo de redacción pero no he tenido mano en este volumen, sólo en algunos de los publicados en inglés. Éste hace el número 36, pronto saldrá el 40. El índice va así:


     
           Banfield. Ann. "Zeit vergeht. Virginia Woolf, Postimpressionismus und Cambridge-Zeit." In Der Präsensroman. Ed. Armen Avanessian and Anke Hennig. Berlin and Boston: de Gruyter, 2013. 27-78.
           Coetzee, J. M. "Zeit, Tempus und Aktionsart in Kafkas Der Bau."  79-100.
           Fleischman, Suzanne. "Metalinguistische Funktionen. Erzählen im PRÄSENS."  101-24.
           Cohn, Dorrit. "'Ich döse und wache'. Die Normabweichung gleichzeitigen Erzählens."  125-38.
           Avanessian, Armen, and Anke Hennig. "Die Evolution des Präsens als Romantempus."  139-80.
           Hennig, Anke. "Miniaturen einer Reise. Ivan Bunins ikonisches Präsens."  183-95.
           Scheffel, Michael. "Von der unaufhörlichen Gegenwart des 'Großen Rätsels': Wolfgang Hildesheimers Tynset oder 'The End of Fiction'." 196-209.
           Kuhn, Roman. "Zweite Person Singular Präsens. Überlegungen zu Ein Mann der schläft von Georges Perec."  210-23.
           Wegmann, Thomas. "Beschriebenes beschreiben oder Nach dem Erzählen. Narratologische Anmerkungen zu Elfirde Jelinkes früher Prosa." . 224-36.
           Ekardt, Philipp. "Film ohne Star. Alexander Kluges Präsensgeschichte über Asta Nielsen." 237-47.
           Linck, Dirck. "'Ich erinnere nicht, ob die Lungen herausgenommen werden': Zur Verwendung des Tempus Präsens bei Hubert Fichte."  248-59.
           Avanessian, Armen. "Hören, bis einem das Sehen vergeht: Marcel Beyers Lesen der Vergangenheit."  260-68.


Está en Google Books pero por el momento sin vista parcial del contenido. Son libros caros—126 dólares en Amazon; 89 euros en Iberlibro. Menos mal que a mí me los regalan...


El presente retrospectivo en la novela moderna




Martes 24 de septiembre de 2013

Crown and Political Nation, 1604-1640









Azul y verde


Azul y verde







Lunes 23 de septiembre de 2013

chaucer ellesmereGeoffrey Chaucer


From The Oxford Companion to English Literature, ed. Margaret Drabble.

Chaucer, Geoffrey (c.1343-1400), the son of John Chaucer (c.1312-68), a London vintner.The date of his birth has been much argued, all views now placing it between 1339 and 1346. In 1357 he served with Lionel, afterwards duke of Clarence. In 1359 he was in France with Edward III's invading army, was taken prisoner, and ransomed. He married, perhaps in 1366, Philippa, the daughter of Sir Paon Roet of Hainault and the sister of John of Gaunt's third wife Katherine Swynford. Philippa died in 1387 and Chaucer enjoyed Gaunt's patronage throughout his life. He held a number of positions at court and in the king's service, and he travelled abroad on numerous occasions on diplomatic missions; as well as missions to France, he made a journey to Genoa and Florence in 1372-3 in the course of which he could theoretically have met Boccaccio and (slightly more plausibly) Petrarch. He was sent on to France and Lombardy in 1378. In 1374 he was appointed controller of customs in the port of London and leased his house over Aldgate. He  was knight of the shire for Kent in 1386 and probably lived in Kent for most of the rest of his life. His last official position was deputy forester of the King's Forest at Petyherton in Somerset (1391-8 at least) and it is possible that he lived there for some time. He was buried in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey where a monument was erected to him in 1555. The known facts of his life are well summarized in The Riverside Chaucer (ed. L. D. Benson et al., 1988), pp. xi-xxii. His writings develop through his career from a period of French influence in the late 1460s (of which the culmination was The Book of the Duchess in about 1370), through his middle period of both French and Italian influences (including The House of Fame in the 1370s and the mature Italian-influenced works of which the most important is Troilus and Criseyde, c. 1485), to the last period of most of the Canterbury Tales and his short lyrics, but this chronology is not ery enlightening. His prose works include a translation of Boethius (Boece) and the challenging A Treatise on the Astrolabe, written to 'little Lewis', probably the poet's son. Portraits of Chaucer occur in three places: in the Ellesmere MSS (now in the Huntington Library and the basis of most modern editions); in the manuscript of Troilus and Criseyde in Corpus Christi College, Cambridge; and in Hoccleve's The Regement of Princes, beside lines 4.995-6 (in several manuscripts: the best is the one dating from Hoccleve's time, British Library Harley 4866, edited by Furnivall for EETS ES 72).

See D. A. Pearsall, The Life of Geoffrey Chaucer: A Critical Biography (1992), P. Boitani and J. Mann (eds.), The Cambridge Chaucer Companion (1986); J. D. North, Chaucer's Universe (1988); J. A. Burrow (ed.), Geoffey Chaucer.


The Book of the Duchess, a dream-poem in 1,334 lines by Chaucer, probably written in 1369, in octosyllabic couplets. It is believed, in accordance with a long-standing tradition (which was questioned in the 1950s), to be an allegorical lament on the death of Blanche of Lancaster, the first wife of John of Gaunt, who died in Sept. 1369.

The love-lorn poet falls asleep reading the story of Ceix (Seys) and Alcyone and follows a hunting party. He meets a knight in black who laments the loss of his lady. The knight tells of her virtue and beauty and of their courtship, and in answer to the dreamer's question declares her dead. The hunting party reappears and a bell strikes twelve, awakening the poet, who finds his book still in his hand. The poem is one of Chaucer's earliest works, but it has great charm and accomplishment. It is founded on the French tradition of the dream as a vehicle for love poetry. 'A Complaynt of a Loveres Lyfe' by Lydgate is based on it. For an account of the poem, see A. C. Spearing, Medieval Dream-Poetry (1976), 49-73, and B. A. Windeatt, Chaucer's Dream-Poetry: Sources and Analogues (1982).

The House of Fame, an unfinished dream poem by Chaucer, composed at some time between 1374 and 1385. There are three books, in 2,158 lines of octosyllabics; it is believed to be Chaucer's last poem in that French form. The poem remains cryptic, and it is uncertain what its purpose or extent would have been (though the poem says that the third book will, in fact, be the final one).

After the prologue on dreams and the invocation to the god of sleep, Bk 1 says the poet fell asleep and dreamt that he was in a Temple of Glass where he saw depicted Aeneas and Dido (based on Aeneid, 4); the dream moves on to deal more briefly with other parts of the Aeneid. At the end of Bk 1 the poet sees an eagle who alights by him and is his guide through the House of Fame in Bk II (initially suggested, perhaps, by Fama, Rumour, in Aeneid, 4, 173 ff.). The eagle explains, philosophically and at length, how Fame works in its arbitrary ways and the book ends with a vision of the word (thought by some to be amongst Chaucer's most inspired writing: 896-1045). The eagle departs and at the beginning of Bk III Chaucer enters the Palace of Fame (Rumour) where he sees the famous of both classical and biblical lore. Eolus blows a trumpet to summon up the various celebrities who introduce themselves in categories reminiscent of the souls in Dante's Divina commedia. Towards the end of the poem comes a vision of bearers of false tidings: shipmen, pilgrims, pardoners, and messengers, whose confusion seems to be about to be resolved by the appearance of 'A man of gret auctorite . . .'; but there the poem ends. The identity of this figure has been much discussed; Boethius seems the most plausible suggestion. Versions of the poem were made by Lydgate (in The Temple of Glas), Douglas, and Skelton.

See J. A. W. Bennett, Chaucer's Book of Fame (1968); S. Delaney, Chaucer's House of Fame (1972); P. Boitani, Chaucer and the Imaginary World of Fame (1984); also The Riverside Chaucer, ed. L. D. Benson et al. (1988).

Troilus and Criseyde, Chaucer's longest complete poem, in 8,239 lines of rhyme-royal [ababbcc] probably written in the second half of the 1380s (J. D. North, RES, 1969, has shown that the events of the poem take place in calendar circumstances corresponding on astrological evidence to dates between 1385 and 1388). Chaucer takes his story from Boccaccio's Il filostrato, adapting its eight books to five and changing the characters of Criseyde and Pandarus. In Boccaccio Troilo falls in love with Criseida whose cousin, Troilo's friend Pandaro, persuades her, not unwillingly, to become Troilo's lover. In the end Criseida has to leave the Trojan camp to join her father who had defected to the Greeks; in the Greek camp she betrays Troilo by falling in love with Diomede. While following the same narrative pattern, Chaucer deepens the sense of seriousness in the story by making Pandaro Criseida's uncle and guardian, by showing her deliberating at more length (this series of exchanges between uncle and niece in Book II is one of the most admired and anthologized parts of the poem), and by introducing deliberative material, principally from Boethius, calling into question the lovers' freedom of action. The poem ends with an adjuration to the young to repair home from worldly vanity and to place their trust, not in an unstable fortune as Troilus did, but in God. Discussion of the poem has centred largely on the appropriateness of the epilogue to the preceding action, on the attitudes to love (courtly love in particular) in the poem, and on the personality of the narrator and his effect on the narrative. The love story has no basis in classical antiquity but is the invention of Benoit de Sainte-Maure in his Roman de Troie, which was based on the pretended histories of Troy by Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis. Boccaccio's intermediate source was Guido delle Colonne (see TROPHEE).  After Chaucer, the story was treated by Henryson in The Testament of Cresseid and by Shakespeare in Troilus and Cressida.

Ed. B. A. Windeatt (1984). N. R. Havely, Chaucer's Boccaccio (1980); J. D. North, Chaucer's Universe (1988); B. A. Windeatt, Troilus and Criseyde (1992); S. A. Barney (ed.), Critical Essays on Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde and His Major Early Poems (1991).


And last but not least,

The Canterbury Tales —from the Oxford Companion to English Literature.

—oOo—

Chaucer      - From The Short Oxford History of English Literature, by Andrew Sanders.

Despite the manifest political and social disruptions of his age, Geoffrey Chaucer's poetry both expresses and embodies a firm sense of order. This is true as much of his twin masterpieces, Troilus and Criseyde (probably written in the mid-1380s) and The Canterbury Tales (planned c.1387), as of his more modestly conceived 'minor' poems and surviving prose works. This sense of order is evident not simply in his reflections on the nature and workings of the cosmos (such as his prose treatise on the use of the astrolabe, written to instruct his little son Lewis) and in his frequent allusions to Boetius's highly esteemed disquisition De consolatione philosophiae (which Chaucer himself translated into English prose in c.1380) but also in his steady affirmations of an orthodox Christian belief in divine involvement in human affairs. In Troilus and Criseyde, at the end of his evocation of incidents supposed to have taken place at the time of the Trojan War, Chaucer turns from his account of 'payens corsed olde rytes' ('the accursed old rites of the pagans') to a vision of Troilus translated from this world to the next and able to laugh serenely at the woe of those who mourn his death. If tragedy is here transformed into a divine comedy, so the 'olde rytes' are effectively blotted out in the pious concluding address to the Holy Trinity. This exultant prayer, in part derived from Dante, sees the Triune God as reigning eternally over all things and setting his mystical seal on human aspiration.

Chaucer (c.1343-1400), in common with most of his European contemporaries, also recognized that the natural and the human worlds could be seen as interrelated in the divine scheme of things, and, like the kingdom of heaven, ordered in hierarchies. In the witty, elegantly formed The Parlement of Foulys, written, it has been argued, to compliment the marriage of King Richard II to Anne of Bohemia in 1382, he presents a vision of birds assembled on St Valentine's Day in order to choose their proper mates. The birds have gathered before the goddess of Nature, and, in accordance with 'natural' law, they pay court, dipute, and pair off in a strictly stratified way. The royal eagles, seated in the highest places, take precedence, followed in descending order by other birds of prey until we reach the humblest and smallest seed-eaters. The debate in this avian parliament about how properly to secure a mate may remain unresolved, but it is clear that the nobler the bird the more formal are the rituals of courtship accorded to it. Ducks may prove pragmatic when snubbed by particular drakes ('"Ye queck [quack]!" yit seyde the doke, ful well and feyre, / "There been no sterres [stars], God wot, than a payre!"') but eagles seek for higher things in defining and exploring love and look down on such churlish common sense ('"Thy kynde is of so low a wrechednesse / That what love is, thow canst nat seen ne gesse"').
chaucer canterbury tales
The question of degree, and of the social perceptions conditioned by rank, also determines the human world that Chaucer variously delineates in The Canterbury Tales. The General Prologue, which sets out the circumstances which bring the pilgrims together at the Tabard Inn before they set off for Canterbury to pray at the tomb of the martyred St Thomas Becket, also presents them to us, as far as it is feasible, according to their estate ('Me thynketh it accordaunt to resoun / To telle yow al the condicioun / Of ech of hem, so as it semed me, / And whiche they weren, and of what degree'). The Knight is naturally placed first, followed by his son the Squire, and by his attendant Yeoman. The Knight is duly succeeded by representatives of the Church: the fastidious Prioress with an accompanying Nun, personal chaplain, and three other priests; the Monk who holds the office of outrider in his monastery (and who therefore appears to enjoy extra-mural luxuries more than the disciplined life of his order); and the equally worldly and mercenary Friar. The third estate is represented by a greater variety of figures, rich, middling, and poor, beginning with a shomewhat shifty Merchant, a bookish Oxford Clerk, a Sergeant of the Law, and a Franklin. We move downwards socially to the urban guildsmen (Haberdasher, Carpenter, Weaver, Dyer, and Tapicer), to the skilled tradesmen (Cook, Shipman, Doctor of Physic), and to a well-off widow with a trade of her own (the Wife of Bath). Chaucer relegates his Parson, his Ploughman, his Manciple, and his reprobates (the Reeve, the Miller, the Summoner, and the Pardoner) to the end of his troupe (though he also modestly includes himself, a hig-ranking royal official, at the end of the list). It is with this last group that he seems to want to surprise his readers by contrasting paragons of virtue with those whose very calling prompts periodic falls from grace (the Reeve strikes fear into his master's tenants while feathering his own nest; the Miller steals corn and overcharges his clients; the lecherous Summoner makes a parade of his limited learning; and the Pardoner trades profitably in patently false relics). Where the Manciple's native wit and acquired administrative skills see to render him worthy of better things, Chaucer's stress on the due humility of the Parson and the Ploughman proclaims their exemplary fitness for their modest but essential social role. If the Knight at the top of the social scale had seemed 'a worthy man', loyal to his knightly vows and embodying the spirit of chivalry, so, in their respective callings, the Parson stands for the true mission of the Church to the poor, and the Ploughman for the blessedness of holy poverty. When Chaucer describes the two as brothers, it is likely that he sees their fraternity as rooted in Christian meekness and closeness to God. Both, in the manner of Langland's Piers, act out the gospel: the Parson by offering a 'noble ensample to his sheep' and the Ploughman by 'lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee'.

Although it has been suggested that the Knight's professional career has been marked by a series of military disasters and that both his portrait and his tale can be read ironically, it would seem likely that the overall scheme of The Canterbury Tales, had it ever been completed, would have served to enhance his dignity rather than to undermine it. The Host of the Tabard proposes that each of the pilgrims should tell two tales on the way to Canterbury and two on the return journey. Even in the fragmentary and unfinished form in which the poem has come down to us (only twenty-four tales are told), it is clear that the Knight's taking precedence as the first story-teller is not merely a matter of chance. The narrator comments that although he cannot tell whether it was a matter of 'aventure, or sort, or cas [chance]¡ that the luck of the draw fell to such a natural leader, the fact that it did so both pleases the other pilgrims and satisfies the demands of social decorum. The Knight's Tale, an abbreviated version of Boccaccio's Teseida, is an appropriately high-minded history of the rivalry of two noble cousins for the love of a princess, a history elegantly complemented by accounts of supernatural intervention in human affairs and equally elegant and decisive human ceremonial. If the Ploughman is not allotted a tale, the Parson's with which The Canterbury Tales concludes, is a long prose treatise on the seven deadly sins, less a tale than a careful sermon expressive of devout gravitas and earnest learning. Sandwiched between these two tales Chaucer arranges stories loosely fitted to their tellers' tastes and professions and tailored to fit into the overarching narrative shape by prologues, interjections, or disputes between characters. The Parson's singularly worthy discourse is complemented by that of the otherwise shadowy Nun's Priest who offers a lively story of a wily cock caught by a fox, a story which he rounds off with the clerical insistence that listeners grasp 'the moralite'. The Pardoner too tells a tidy moral tale, though its carefully shaped warning of the mortal dangers of covetousness can be seen reflecting back on the personal avarice to which its teller spiritedly and frankly confesses in his prologue: 'I preche of no thyng but for coveityse / . . . Thus kan I preche agayn that same vice / Which that I use, and that is avarice. / But though myself be gilty in that synne, / Yet kan I maken oother folk to twynne [turn] / From avarice, and soore to repente." The Prioress also tells a short, devotional tale of a pious Christian child whose throat is cut by Jews but who miraculously manages to continue singing a Marian hymn after his death. Its pathos, if not to the taste of more morally squeamish ages, is evidently well received by the devout fourteenth-century hearers.

Elsewhere in The Canterbury Tales tellers seem to have far less inclination to wear their hearts and consciences on their sleeves. The Merchant, prompted by the Clerk's adaptation of Boccaccio's story of the trials of patient Griselda, offers the salutary tale of an old husband (January) and his 'fresshe' young bride (May), an impatiently frisky wife who, exploiting her husband's sudden blindness, is seduced in a pear tree by her lover. When January's sight is mischievously restored by the god Pluto, Proserpine equally mischievously inspires May to claim that she was acting in her husband's best interests: 'Up peril of my soule, I shal not lyen, / As me was taught, to heele with youre eyes, / Was no thyng bet, to make yow see, / Than strugle with a man upon a tree / God woot, I dide it in ful good entente.' At the lower end of the social, and perhaps moral, scale Chaucer allots still earthier stories to the Miller, the Reeve, the Friar, and the Summoner. When the Host proposes that the Knight's 'noble storie' should be succeeded by something equally decorous from the Monk, the Miller drunkenly intrudes himself and, somewhat improbably, tells the beautifully plotted tale of a dull-witted carpenter, his tricksy wife, and her two suitors. The Miller's Tale presents a diametrically opposed view of courtship to that offered by the Knight. It also serves to provoke the Reeve (who is a carpenter by profession) into recounting an anecdote about a cuckolded miller. In like manner, the Friar tells a story about an extortionate summoner who is carried off to hell by the Devil, and the enraged Summoner ('lyk an aspen leef he quoke for ire') responds with the history of an ingenious friar obliged to share out the unexpected legacy of 'the rumblynge of a fart' amongst his brethren.

The Chaucer who so modestly place himself last in the list of the pilgrims also casts himself in the role of an incompetent story-teller. His irony is nowhere more pointed than in this cleverly extended and self-deprecatory ruse which opens with a direct challenge to his assumed shyness from the Host. 'What man artow [art thou]?', 'Chaucer' is asked, 'Thou lookest as thou woldest find an hare, / For evere on the ground I see thee stare'. The response is the tale of Sir Thopas, a parody of contemporary romance told in awkward, singsong, six-line stanzas. The parody may always have served to amuse sophisticated readers, but the Host, who rudely interrupts its progress, claims that its teller's evident ineptness is boring the company. The pilgrim 'Chaucer' is therefore obliged to begin another tale, this time a long and weighty prose homily which retells the story of imprudent Melibeus and his wife, the aptly named Prudence. At its conclusion the Host somewhat over-politely compensates for his earlier rudeness by unenthusiastically confessing that he would have liked his own wife to have heard the tale ('for she nys no thyng of swich pacience'). Despite such soothing politeness, Chaucer's pretence of incompetence in the company of such accomplished story-tellers as his fellow-pilgrims is a highly effective device. He had indirectly prepared for this device by insisting on the virtues of 'truthful' narrative representation at the end of the General Prologue. He had also attempted to justify his realism by citing the highest authorities:
chaucer knightstale
Whoso shal telle a tale after a man,
He moot reherce as ny as evere he kan
Everich a word, if it be in his charge,
Al speke he never so rudeliche and large,
Or ellis he moot telle his tae untrewe,
Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe.
He may nat spare, althogh he were his brother;
He moot as wel seye o [one] word as another.
Crist spak hymself ful brode plainly in hooly writ,
And wel ye woot no vileynye is it,
Eek Plato seith, whoso that kan hym rede,
The wordes moote be cosyn [akin] to the dede.
Also I prey yow to foryeve [forgive] it me.
Al have I nat set folk in hir degree
Heere in this tale, as that they sholde stonde.
My wit is short, ye may wel understonde.

Here is the pretence of modesty and incompetence, but here too is the insistence on frankness and proper representation, albeit justified with reference to Christ and to Plato (beyond whose authority few medieval readers would feel the need to refer), Chaucer neutralizes and diminishes himself as a narrator in order that his narrative representation of others' words and narratives might shine with a greater 'truth' to God's nature. In a way that his theologically minded contemporaries might readily understand, he is posing as the servant of the servants of Christ, having become, like St Paul before him, 'all things to all men' ('omnibus factus sum omnia'). The Christian poet of The Canterbury Tales, one variously influenced by both Boccaccio and Dante, endeavours to show us a broad spectrum of sinful humanity on an earthly journey, a journey which original readers would readily have recognized as a prevision of, and a preparation for, a heavenly one.


Despite his intellectual delight in the concept of cosmic, natural, and human order, Chaucer the poet and the truth-teller of necessity subverts certain received ideas of degree. Most crucially, he effectively undermines the commonly held medieval idea of the natural inferiority of women to men by representing articulate and intelligent women at the centre of human affairs rather than on the periphery. If the well-born ladies of antiquity are allowed to become norms against which human behaviour can be measured in The Legend of Good Women (c.1372-86), Troilus and Criseyde, and certain of The Canterbury Tales, the Wife of Bath asserts a distinctly ungenteel opposition to anti-feminist stereotypes. Although some readers may have interpreted the Wife's 856-line prologue as evidence of a woman protesting too much (and therefore confirming, or at the very least endorsing, many of the male prejudices against which she loudly complains), Chaucer's adoption of a strident woman's voice ought also to be seen as opening up an alternative polemic. Her very stridency, we also realize, is a direct consequence of over-rigid patriarchal ways of thinking and acting. The Wife of Bath is certainly no model of meekness, patience, and chastity. She opens her discourse with the word 'experience', and from that experience of living with five husbands (three of them good men, she observes, because they were 'riche, and olde') she builds up a spirited case against conventional, theoretical, clerically inspired anti-feminism. Celibacy and virginity are all very well, she insists, but Christ's stricter demands were addressed 'to hem that wolde lyve parfitly', and, as she adds for the benefit of her male listeners, 'lordynges, by youre leve, that am nat I'. Moreover, if God gave her her sexuality, she has been determined to enjoy it, albeit within the bounds of marriage ('In wyfhod I wol use myn instrument / As frely as my Makere hath it sent'). Having learned by experience and native with how to manage her first partners ('Atte ende I hadde the bettre in ech degree, / By sleighte, or force, or by som maner thyng, / As by continueel mumur or grucchyng') she seems to have met her match in the clerk Jankyn, her junior by twenty years. Jankyn had the particularly irritating habit of reading learned tracts against women in her presence, quoting choice items aloud in order to demonstrate the superiority of his own sex. Provoked into decisive action, she ripped three pages out of the book and dealt Jankyn a blow with her fist, only to be floored herself by a retaliatory blow. Nevertheless, her consequent unconsciousness (perhaps feigned) has worked its proper effect: the shocked Jankyn is brought to sudden repentance and thereafter she has ruled the domestic roost ('He yaf [gave] me al the bridel in my hond, / To han the governance of hous and lond, / And of his tonge, and of his hond also; / And made hym brenne [burn] his book anon right tho').

The Wife of Bath achieves mastery in what can be seen as an essentially bourgeois domestic comedy, albeit one informed with partially disgraced academic theories about women's limited marital and social roles. Elsewhere in his work, Chaucer stresses a distinctive self-assurance and dignity in women of the ancient and modern ruling classes, qualities which are more vital than the special honour accorded to the sex by the male-defined code of chivalry. In the early dream-poem, The Book of the Duchess (probably written c.1369 as an allegorical lament on the death of Blanche of Lancaster, the first wife of John of Gaunt), the narrator encounters a desolate knight, clad in black. The knight is mourning the death of a wife not, as in so much contemporary love-poetry, the absence, the fickleness, or the coldness of a mistress. Theirs has been more than a courtly liaison and more than the amorous vassalage of him to her. Mutual respect has made for a marriage of minds, and as far as was possible, a partnership in love. She was, the knight confesses, 'that swete wif / My suffisaunce, my lust, my lyf, / Myn hap, myn hele, and al my blesse'. The knight's therapeutic account of his long courtship, happy marriage, and unhappy bereavement is prefaced by a retelling of Ovid's story of the widowed Queen Alcyone, who, faithful to the memory of the dead King Ceys, is granted a vision of him. The pattern, re-exploring classical instances and Ovidian exempla is repeated on far grander scale in the unfinished The Legend of Good Women. Here ancient history is ransacked for appropriate subjects because, Chaucer's narrator insists, it had traditionally provided his predecessors with 'approved' stories 'of holynesse, of regnes, of victoryies, / of love, of hate'. It is on women's holiness and steadfastness in love that the narrator dwells, he having been rebuked in a dream by the god of Love for the former 'heresies' of speaking ill of women in The Romaunt of the Rose and Troilus and Criseyde. The nine legends he retells as a penance speak of heroines who suffered, and sometimes died, as a consequence of their devout love for faithless men. Instances of male violence and treachery are monotonously heaped one on another as Antony abandons Cleopatra, Aeneas Dido, Tarquin Lucrece, and Theseus Ariadne. By frequently appealing to sources, to named authors, and to what was commonly ackknowledged to be the authority of 'olde bokes', Chaucer attempts to turn an equally derivative clerical tradition of unrelenting misogyny on its head. He also shapes the legends to emphasize what he sees as the feminine virtue of 'pitee'. It is pity which renders women susceptible to male deceit, but it is also seen as an aspet of the highly eseemed human quality of generosity of spirit. As the legends demonstrate, this same aspect of generosity, to which men seem to be impervious, allows women to respond so fully to love, to grow in love and, through tragedy, to find the emotional strength which enables them to explore the depths of suffering.

In the Prologue to The Legend of Good Women the dapper god of Love seems to disparage Chaucer's most carefully wrought and self-consciously achieved single poem by referring to it simply as the story of 'how that Crisseyde Troylus forsok'. The god appears to have been persuaded that Troilus and Criseyde had taken up the traditional misogynist theme that throughout history 'wemen han dun mis' in their dealings with men. The god may not have been alone in his prejudiced reading of the sotry, but to many latter-day readers it seems to be a narrow and ungenerous one. The poem is less the story of a man betrayed by a woman than the account of how a woman, having been pressured into responding to a man's over enthusiastic love for her, is driven from one relationship to another. Instead of being portrayed as contrasted representatives of faith and betrayal, both Troilus and Criseyde are observed as victims of circumstances, at once humanly and divinely contrived, and beyond their direct control. Although Chaucer drew heavily on Boethius for his consolatory explorations of the ideas of free will, predestination, mutability, and fortune throughout Troilus and Criseyde, his immediate and principal source for the poem was contemporary. In no sense, however, was Chaucer merely translating Boccaccio's familiar and admired Trojan story, Il Filostrato, into English. His distinctive shifts in emphasis, narrative shape, and characterization clearly indicate that this is more a deliberate reinterpretation than a translation. Boccaccio's Criseida is, for example, willingly persuaded by her cousin Pandaro into accepting Troilo as a lover. In Chaucer's version the characters of Criseyde and Pandarus possess both a new dramatic energy and a new blood-relationship. Pandarus is transformed into Criseyde's sensible, sentimental, but none the less manipulative uncle, one who acts as her guardian and counsellor in the absence of her father. His task of persuading his niece to look favourably on Troilus's love is rendered one of subtle negotiation, mediation, suggestion, and emotional conditioning. She, rather than being fickle by nature, is seen as tender, sensitive, ingenuous, and open to change. Chaucer's narrative carefully balances the length of the process by whicvh she is persuaded to accept Troilus against the time she takes over agonizing about abandoning him. When the lovers are forced apart by her removal to join her father in the Greek camp outside Troy, Criseyde's grief is intense. Her avowals are as extravagant as they are agonized:
Rota fortunae
'And Troilus, my clothes everychon
Shul blake ben in tokenyng, herte swete,
That I am as out of this world agon,
That wont was yow to setten in quiete;
And of myn ordre, ay til deth me mete,
The observance evere, in youre absence,
Shal sorwe ben, compleynt and abstinence.

'Myn herte and ek the woful goost therinne
Byquethe I, with youre spirit to compleyne
Eternaly, for they shal nevere twynne.
For though in erthe ytwynned be we tweyne,
Yet in the feld of pite, out of peyne,
That highte Elisos [Elysium], shal we ben yfeere [together],
As Orpheus with Euridice, his fere [companion, wife].

Her ambiguously optimistic interpretation of the Orpheus/Eurydice story may well lead us to perceive how uneasily tragic are the undertones of her avowal. For Criseyde, lovers  symbolically pass through Hades to reach Elysium, or, in medieval Christian terms, they suffer penitentially in Purgatory as a preparation for Paradise. Criseyde's descent to Hades/Purgatory, a place where the only certainty is uncertainty, will be metaphoric. Separated from Troilus, a new element of ambiguity enters the narrative. The narrator himself purports to consult his source to find an exaggeratedly clear statement of her treachery. Criseyde, however, is painfully conscious that hers is indeed a world-without-end decision, one which will render her infamous in subsequent human annals:

But trewely, the storie telleth us,
Ther made nevere woman moore wo
Than she, whan that she falsed Troilus.
She seyde, 'Allas! for now is clene ago [gone]
My name of trouthe in love, for everemo!
For I have falsed oon the gentileste
That evere was, and oon the worthieste!

'Alas! of me, unto the worldes ende,
Shal neyther ben ywriten nor ysonge
No good word, for thise bokes wol me shende [reproach].
O, rolled shal I ben on many a tonge!
Thorughout the worrld my belle shal be ronge!
And wommen moost wol haten me of alle.
Allas, that swich a cas me sholde falle!'

Faced with such agonized self-awareness, the narrator retreats into pity, reluctant to blame her more than his historic predecessors have done but willingly to concede that her penitence impresses him ('For she so sory was for hire untrouthe, / Iwis, I wolde excuse hire yet for routhe [pity]').

If the narrator of Troilus and Criseyde is neither the gentle incompent 'Chaucer' of The Canterbury Tales nor the incomprehending innocent of the dream-poems, he nevertheless shares something of their generous susceptibility. Like them, he suggests a tense, shifting relationship between the poet and his persona, and consequently between the poet and his poem. He moves around his characters, allowing them to express their respective points of view, at times ruminating on the iron laws of fate and divinely imposed predestination, at others both suggesting and withdrawing from judgement. He allows the story a certain autonomy while varying his commentary by deferring both to his sources and to his audience. In Troilus and Criseyde at least, he seems to insist that history is steady and needs to be retold, while allowing that his story is reshaped in the very act of retelling it. Essentially, he remains ambivalent, or, perhaps, given his evident sympathy with women and his admiration for what he seems to have identified as feminine generosity of spirit, he assumes a deliberate androgyny. He is certainly the least egocentric of poets. Although Chaucer is in every sense a writer of his time, he was also the first poet in English both to display and to make a particular narrative issue of the quality which John Keats later so memorably defined as 'negative capability'.



Trouthe










Airy Stairway


An airy stairway





Domingo 22 de septiembre de 2013

Early Modern England with Keith E. Wrightson



A course at Yale University—with English subtitles:

Early Modern England: Politics, Religion, and Society under the Tudors and Stuarts (HIST 251)

Complete course materials are available at the Open Yale Courses website: http://open.yale.edu/courses

This course was recorded in Fall 2009.











History of England



poeEdgar Allan Poe: The Sanctuary of the Disengaged Soul

From A History of American Literature, by Richard Gray:


However much they differ . . . writers like Cooper and Sedgwick do have common interests and ideas, derived from the basic currency of Western myth: a belief in mobility, a concern with the future, a conviction that, whatever problems it may have, America is still a land of possibility. The counter-myth to this is the myth of the South: preoccupied with place and confinement rather than space and movement, obsessed with the guilt and burden of the past, riddled with doubt, unease, and the sense that, at their best, human beings are radically limited and, at their worst, tortured, grotesque, or evil. And if Cooper was the founding father of the Western myth in literature, even though he never actually saw the prairie, then, even more queerly, Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) was the founding father of the Southern myth, although he was actually born in Boston and hardly ever used Southern settings in his fiction or his poetry. What makes Poe a founder of Southern myth, typically of him, is not so much a matter of the literal as of the imaginative. "The Fall of the House of Usher" (1839) is set in an anonymous landscape, or rather dreamscape, but it has all the elements that were later to characterize Southern Gothic: a great house and family falling into decay and ruin, a feverish, introspective hero half in love with death, a pale, ethereal heroine who seems and then is more dead than alive, rumors of incest and guilt—and, above all, the sene that the past haunts the present and that there is evil in the world and it is strong. Typically of Poe, who turned his own life into drama, this Southern dimension is also a matter of self-consciousness: the causes he espoused, the opinions he expressed, the stories he told about himself. "I am a Virginian," he wrote in 1842, "at least I call myself one, for I have resided all my life, until within the last few days, in Richmond."

Despite all his aristocratic sneers at the bourgeois dullness and correctness of Boston, and his complaints about Southerners "being ridden to death by New-England," he was actually born there. He left at the age of two to be raised by a Richmond merchant, John Allan. It was from John Allan that, by choice, Poe took his middle name. And it was with the Allans that Poe lived in England from 1815 to 1820. Poe then entered the University of Virginia in 1826, but relations between him and Allan were by now severly strained. Allan wanted Poe to prepare for a legal career. Poe, however, left university for Boston, where he began a literay career with his first volume of poetry, Tamerlane and Other Poems (1827). Published anonymously and at his own expense, it went unnoticed. But it clearly announced his poetic intentions: aims and ambitions that were later to be articulated in such seminal essays as "The Philosophy of Composition" (1846) and "The Poetic Principle" (1850) and further put into practice in the later volumes, Poems by E. A. Poe (1831) and The Raven and Other Poems (1845). The poet, Poe wrote in his essays, should be concerned, first and last, with the "circumscribed Eden" of his own dreams. "It is the desire of the moth for the star," Poe says of the poetic impulse in "The Poetic Principle." "Inspired by an ecstatic prescience of the glories beyond the grave," he goes on, "we struggle, by multiform combinations among the things and thoughts of Time, to attain a portion of that Loveliness whose very elements, perhaps, appertain to eternity alone." According to this prescription, the poet's task is to weave a tapestry of talismanic signs and sounds in order to draw, or rather subdue, the reader into sharing the world beyond phenomenal experience. Poems make nothing happen in any practical, immediate sense, Poe suggests. On the contrary, the ideal poem becomes one in which the words efface themselves, disappear as they are read, leaving only a feeling of significant absence, of no-thing.

Just how Poe turned these poetic ideas into practice is briefly suggested in one of his poems, "Dreamland," where the narrator tells us that he has reached a strange nw land "out of SPACE—out of TIME."  That is the land that all Poe's art occupies or longs for: a fundamentally elusive reality, the reverse of all that our senses can receive or our reason can encompass—something that lies beyond life that we can discover only in sleep, madness, or trance, in death especially, and, if we are lucky, in a poem or story. Certain poetic scenes and subjects are favorites with Poe precisely because they reinforce his ultimately visionary aims. Unsurprisingly, life after death is a favorite topic, in poems like "Annabel Lee" and "The Sleeper." So, too, is the theme of a strange, shadowy region beyond the borders of normal consciousness: places such as those described in "The City in the Sea" or "Eldorado" which are, in effect, elaborate figures for death. As Poe himself explains in "The Philosophy of Composition," an account of how he wrote "The Raven," "the death . . . of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world" because it enhances the seductive nature of death, transforming annihilation into erotic fulfillment.
chica rubia"O! nothing earthly," begins "Al Aaraaf," one of Poe's earliest poems, and that captures his poetic thrust: whatever the apparent subject, the movement is always away from the ordinary, phenomenal world in and down to some other, subterranean level of consciousness and experience. The sights and sounds of a realizable reality may be there in a poem like "To Helen," but their presence is only fleeting, ephemeral. Poe's scenes are always shadowy and insubstantial, the colors dim, the lighting dusky. In the final instance, the things of the real world are there only to be discarded—as signposts to another country that is, strictly speaking, imperceptible, unrealizable by the waking consciousness.

"Helen, thy beauty is to me, /" "To Helen" begins, "Like those Nicean barks of yore, / That gently o'er a perfumed sea, / The warly, way-worn wanderer bore / To his own native shore." This is poetry as incantation. Poe uses hypnotic rhythm and recurring, verbal melody and words like "Nicean" that suggest more than they state: all to create a sense of mystery, or what a later poet, and disciple of Poe, Arthur Rimbaud, was to call "a prodigious, and rational disordering of all the senses." The narrator is transported, by the end of this poem, to "the regions which / Are Holy-Land!" So, ideally, is the reader. The motion here is remorselessly centripetal, away not just from the world of use, getting and spending, but from the entire world outside the self. In dreams, trance, death, Poe intimates, the self fashions its own reality, inviolable and intangible; it draws inward to a world that, to quote "Al Aaraaf" again, has "nothing of the dross" outside it, on the material plane. And, if the poet is capable of it, the poem makes a supreme version of that world: self-contained, fixed, perfect, it is a pure or closed field, as autonomous and impalpable as the reality it imitates. It is as if Poe, with typical perversity, had decided to rewrite the dangers that many of his contemporaries saw in the American ethic of selfhood, and the way it opened up the perilus possibility, in particular, of isolation. For, in his work, solipsism becomes the aim: the poet seeks neither to embrace nor to dominate the world but absolute solitude, the sanctuary of the disengaged soul.

Disengagement was not, however, something that Poe could pursue as a practical measure. He had to earn his living, to support himself and then later his wife: in 1836 he married his 13-year-old cousin, Virginia. He worked as an editor for various journals, including Burton's Gentleman's Magazine and Graham's Magazine; he was associated with other journals, such as the New-York Mirror and Godey's Lady's Book; in 1845 he even became proprietor of the Broadway Journal; and he was an apparently indefatigable essayist and reviewer. What the magazines wanted, in particular, was stories; and in 1835 Poe attracted attention with one of his first short stories, "MS Found in a Bottle," which won first prize in a contest judged by John Pendleton Kennedy (1795-1870)—himself a writer and author of one of the first idyllic fictional accounts of life in the old plantation, Swallow Barn: or, A Sojourn in the Old Dominion (1832). poe lonelyThis short story was followed by more and more tales appealing to the conteamporary taste for violent humor and macabre incident. "Murders in the Rue Morgue," "The Masque of the Red Death," and "The Imp of the Perverse" were all published in Graham's Magazine in 1841-1842, while 1843 saw the freelance publication of "The Tell-Tale Heart," "The Black Cat," "The Pit and the Pendulum," and another prize-winning story, "The Gold Bug." His first collection of stories, Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, was published in 1840; it included "Ligeia," "Berenice," and "The Assignation." In 1845 Tales appeared, a book that reprinted previous work selected by Evert Duyckinck (1816-1878)—an influential man of letters of the time who, with his brother George (1823-1863), was to produce a Cyclopaedia of American Literature (1855), the most comprehensive scholarly work of its kind at the time. This later collection contained "The Pit and the Pendulum" and "The Talle-Tale Heart" among other notable pieces. In the earlier, in turn, Poe made his [in]tentions as a short story writer clear in a brief preface. It was true, Poe admitted, that many of his stories were Gothic because they had terror as their "thesis." But that terror, he went on, was not of the conventional kind, since it had little to do with the usual Gothic paraphernalia; it was, instead, a terror "of the soul."

Whatever else he might have been, Poe was an unusually perceptive (if often also malicious) critic. And he was especially perceptive about his own work. Poe did not invent the Gothic tale, any more than he invented the detective story, science fiction, or absurd humor. To each of these genres or approaches, however, he did—as he realized and, in some instances, boasted—make his own vital contribution. In a detective story like "The Murders in the Rue Morgue", for example, Poe created the detective story as a tale of ratiocination, a mystery that is gradually unraveled and solved. He also created the character of the brilliant amateur who solves a crime that seems beyond the talents of the professionals. And in his Gothic stories, he first destabilizes the reader by using unreliable narrators: madmen and liars, initially rational men who have their rationalism thoroughly subverted, men who should by all commonsensical standards be dead. And he then locates the terror within, in something that springs from and bears down upon the inner life. In Poe's stories, the source of mystery and anxiety is something that remains inexplicable. It is the urge to self-betrayal that haunts the narrator of "The Tell-Tale Heart," or the cruel and indomitable will of the narrator of "Ligeia," which finally transforms reality into fantasy, his living wife into a dead one. It is the impulse towards self-destruction, and the capacity for sinking into nightmare worlds of his own creation, that the protagonist and narrator of The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (1838) reveals at so many moments of his life. For that matter, it is the strange ending of Pym's story. As he hurtles toward a chasm in the seas from which arises "a shrouded human figure, very far larger in its proportions than any dweller among men . . . the hue of the skin . . . of the perfect whiteness of the snow," he appears to be hurtling toward death. Imaginatively, emotionally, it seems he is dying; and yet, according to other textual detail—and the simple, logical fact that he is narrating the story—he would appear to be alive. Poe tears the Gothic tale out of the rationalist framework it previously inhabited, with accompanying gestures toward common sense, science, or explanation. And he makes it a medium for exploring the irrational, even flirting with the antirational. As such, he makes it as central and vital to the Romantic tradition as, say, the lyric poem or the dream play.

"The Fall of the House of Usher" shows how Poe makes a fictional art out of inwardness and instability. The narrator, an initially commonsensical man, is confused by his feelings when he first arrives at the home of his childhood friend, Roderick Usher. "What was it," he asks himself, "that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher?" But he is inclined to dismiss such feelings as "superstition": and, even when he is reunited with Usher, his response is "half of awe," suggesting suspicion that his host might know things hidden to him, and "half of pity," suggesting the superiority of the rational man. "Gradually, the narrator comes to speak only of "awe." He even admits that he feels "the wild influences" of Usher's "fantastic yet impressive superstitions" "creeping upon" him. The scene is set for the final moment when Roderick's sister Madeline arises from her grave to be reunited with him in death, and the House of Usher sinks into a "deep and dark tarn." At this precise moment, Usher turns to the narrator and speaks to him, for the last time, addressing him as "Madman." The reversal is now complete, either because the narrator has succumbed to the "superstition" of his host, or because his continued rationality argues for his essential insanity, his failure to comprehend a truth that lies beyond reason. Nothing is certain as the tale closes, except that what we have witnessed is an urgent, insistent movement inward: from daylight reality toward darker, ever more subterranean levels, in the house and in the mind of the hero. And as the narrator moves ever further inward, into "Usher" the house, we the readers move ever further inward into "Usher" the fiction. "The structures of the two journeys correspond. So, for that matter, do the arts of the hero and author. Roderick Usher uses his to transform his guests' minds and expectations, so also does Poe with his imaginative guests. And at the moment of revelation at the end—when the full measure of the solipsistic vision is revealed—both "Usher" the house and "Usher" the tale disintegrate, disappear, leaving narrator and reader alone with their thoughts and surmises. In short, the house of Usher is a house of mirrors. Every feature of the story is at once destabilizing and self-reflexive, referring us back to the actual process of creative production, by its author, and re-production, by its readers. Like so many other tales by Poe, "The Fall of the House of Usher" stands at the beginning of a long line of Southern narratives that incline toward narcissism and nostalgia, the movement inward and the movement back. And it stands at the beginning, also, of an even longer line of fiction, American and European, that disconcerts the reader by jettisoning the mundane in favor of the magical, bare fact in favor of mysterious fantasy—and turning the literal world into a kind of shadow play.
raven

Poe had, perhaps, his own reasons for wanting to turn the world into shadow play, and for associating women with death. His own mother had died when he was only two, which was why he went to live with the Allans; and, in 1847, his young wife Virginia died after a long, debilitating, and painful illness. Even during his more successful periods—when, for instance, "The Raven" was published in 1844 and became an overnight success—he was haunted by feelings of insecurity and inadequacy, reasonless fears that nothing seemed to diminish. In his last few years he remained prolific: in 1848 he published, among other things,
a long philosophical work, Eureka, and in 1849 he wrote one of his best known poems, "Annabel Lee." But he was finding it increasingly difficult to place his work. Suffering from periodic attacks of what he called "brainfever," or temporary mental instability, Poe turned for comfort to a series of relationships with women much older than himself, and to the simpler, chemical release offered by alcohol and opium. Nothing, however, seemed to relieve him; he attempted suicide. Then, in 1849, he disappeared in Baltimore on a journey; he was discovered five days later, in a delirious condition and wearing someone else's clothes. He never recovered enough to explain what he had been doing; he simply died four days after this. It was like one of his own stories; and, bizarre and disconcerting though it was, it seems an appropriate end for a writer who thrived on mystery, viewed life as a masquerade and death as a voyage into another, truer world. As we look at the story of Poe's forty years, we can see certain experiences and obsessions emerging to haunt his writing and aesthetic: death and beauty, alienation and subterfuge, loss and despair. What is perhaps more marked, however, is not this or that particular theme but a guiding impulse: the living and the writing show us someone who by sheer effort of will transforms everything he inhabits, who dissolves the sights and sounds of the world just as he touches them. Poe turned personality into performance, poetry and story into a series of ghostly gestures; in the process, he marked out boundaries for American Romanticism and its succeeding movements that few writers have been able, or even perhaps dared, to cross.



Edgar Allan Poe

Curtains 2


Curtains 2









Sábado 21 de septiembre de 2013

Entrevista con Ludmila

Con Ludmila coincidimos en París, en el congreso de la ENN. Va a editar un volumen en torno a la idea de Semiosfera, y hemos colaborado un poquillo allí con la Dra. Penas. Pero además me propone Ludmila una entrevista sobre los nuevos paradigmas de la narratología, para la revista Enthymema que hace un seguimiento o aftermath del congreso de París.  Y así emprendemos una conversación por Skype, ella en Rusia central y yo aquí, para darle forma al diálogo que publicaremos. Conversación en la que entre otros muchos temas sale esta cuestión de cómo los nuevos medios complementan a los congresos tradicionales—es la primera vez que empleo Skype para algo relacionado con el trabajo, prueba quizá de que los medios nos desbordan y que nos ofrecen muchas más posibilidades de las que somos capaces de aprovechar. Quién sabe cómo colaboraremos dentro de cinco años, igual han pasado los congresos a un lugar mucho más razonable, y tenemos una red de conversaciones y sitios web en su lugar. Cabe la posibilidad, desde luego, de usarlos mucho más creativamente de lo que solemos hacer ahora mismo, con la inercia de las costumbres adquiridas. Tememos la deslocalización que nos ofrece la web, y la ubicuidad absoluta de todo el mundo al alcance de un clic.

Mi conferencia de París








Flying over the Moon

Flying over the Moon





La Quête







Del musical El hombre de La Mancha. Se la oí a Jacques Brel.







Viernes 20 de septiembre de 2013

Tesis sobre Robinsones

Una tesis sobre náufragos colonizadores (de Defoe a Coetzee) en la que me citan:
 
 
Castaways and colonists from Crusoe to Coetzee
 
SUSANNA JOHANNA SMIT-MARAIS
 
11660139
 
Thesis submitted
in fulfilment of the requirements
for the degree Doctor ofPhilosophy in English 
at the Potchefstroom Campus of the North-WestUniversity
 
November 2012
 
Bueno, para más precisión, citan a Onega y García Landa.  Aquí está la tesis en PDF.






A Companion to Roman Love Elegy

Es un libro que me cita (soy "J. A. G. Landa"). En la página 412, y en la 423.  Puede comprobarse en Google Books:

Gold, Barbara K., ed. A Companion to Roman Love Elegy. John Wiley & Sons, 2012.
  http://books.google.es/books?id=vMvBMPB5Pd8C&lpg=PA410&ots=8R6xPovqd8&lr&pg=PP1#v=onepage&q=Landa&f=false
  





Pasando la ITV

All That Fall

Hale, hoy pasamos la ITV hasta el 2015. Para entonces ya tendrá mi moto más de veinticinco años. Si no los tiene ya. Claro que no me llega ni a la mitad a mí. De momento aún pasamos la ITV, pero cualquier día nos desguazan.





A Rose arose

A rose arose

"O rose, thou art!" [sic].




The Dark Ages of Greece

Lectures by Donald Kagan at Yale, on archaic Greek culture:






And the Dark Ages in the Homeric poems:






The Chicago Homer



Suicide Warriors

Suicide Warriors
By Richard A. Koenigsberg

(From a call for papers by the Library of Social  Science).

Douglas Haig was the British General who planned and executed the Battle of the Somme, which began on July 1, 1916. Visiting the battlefield on March 31, 1917, Haig reflected (De Groot, 1989) upon the hundreds of thousands of British casualties:
Credit must be paid to the splendid young officers who were able time and time again to attack these tremendous positions…To many it meant certain death, and all must have known that before they started.
Modris Eksteins observes that the “victimized crowd of attackers” moving into no man’s land has become the “supreme image” of the First World War. Attackers moved forward, usually without seeking cover, and were “mowed down in rows, with the mechanical efficiency of a scythe, like so many blades of grass.”

A German machine-gunner wrote of his experience of a British attack on the first day of the Somme: “We were surprised to see them walking. The officers went in front. When we started firing, we just had to load and reload. They went down in the hundreds. You didn’t have to aim, we just fired into them.”

The experience of this machine-gunner was not unusual; it was the norm. John Buchan described the first day of the offensive at the Somme in his pamphlet, The Battle of the Somme (1916):
The British moved forward in line after line, dressed as if on parade; not a man wavered or broke ranks; but minute by minute the ordered lines melted away under the deluge of high explosives, shrapnel, rifle, and machine-gun fire. The troops shed their blood like water for the liberty of the world.
Contemplating the nature of “heroic death,” Haig cited a speech by the Moghul Emperor Babur to his troops on March 16, 1527 (De Groot, 1989) which, he said, “is curiously appropriate now":
The most high God has been propitious to us: If we fall in the field, we die the death of martyrs. If we survive, we rise victorious the avengers of the cause of God.
This, Haig claimed, is the “root matter of the present war.”

Like Muslim warriors who died for Allah, British soldiers died for Great Britain. Hopefully, England would rise victorious. If not, the soldiers would have died “the death of martyrs.”

What is the difference between the Islamic warrior who died for Allah and the British soldier who died for God and country in the First World War? The magnitude of slaughter. In his report of August 22, 1919—Features of the War—Haig summarized British casualties, stating that they were “no larger than to be expected.” The total British casualties in all theaters of war, killed, wounded, missing and prisoners—including native troops—are approximately three million (3,076,388).
British casualties on the first day of the Battle of the Somme were 20,000 dead and 40,000 wounded—probably more casualties suffered by any army in any war on any single day. Clare Tisdale wrote about her experiences as a nurse working at a casualty clearing station during the battle:
We practically never stopped. I was up for seventeen nights before I had a night in bed. A lot of the boys had legs blown off, or hastily amputated at the front-line. These boys were the ones who were in the greatest pain, and I very often used to have to hold the stump up in the ambulance for the whole journey, so that it wouldn't bump on the stretcher.
The worse case I saw - and it still haunts me - was of a man being carried past us. It was at night, and in the dim light I thought that his face was covered with a black cloth. But as he came nearer, I was horrified to realize that the whole lower half of his face had been completely blown off and what had appeared to be a black cloth was a huge gaping hole. It was the only time I nearly fainted.
Horrific experiences like those reported by Nurse Tisdale occurred millions of times during the First World War. Historians don’t focus on the dead and mutilated human bodies as much as they do upon the political machinations that led to and continued the war. Despite its massive destructiveness and wastefulness, many historians write about the war as if it was about rational “interests”: the “great powers in contention” (Michael Vlahos, personal correspondence), struggling for dominance.
Given the volume of research and number of books written about the First World War, do we really understand why it occurred and kept going? One of the best historians of the war—Jay Winters—concludes his magnificent video series (The Great War and the Shaping of the 20th Century, 1996) with humility—in a tone of baffled bewilderment. Summing up, he says: “The war solved no problems. Its effects, both immediate and indirect, were either negative or disastrous. Morally subversive, economically destructive, socially degrading, confused in its course, futile in its result, it is the outstanding example in European history of meaningless conflict.”

The First World War was not generated as a form of primitive aggression, but was undertaken in the name of “civilization.” People died and killed in the name of—for the sake of—their societies. Lives were sacrificed to entities with names such as “France” and “Germany” and “Great Britain.” These “symbolic objects” justified slaughter and made it seem meaningful.

We have not adequately interrogated the slaughter that occurred in the First World War: this monumental episode of destruction and self-destruction. Why did Generals persist in deploying a futile battle strategy that resulted in the deaths of millions of human beings?

We turn our eyes away. We don’t want to encounter the reality of what occurred: What human societies did to human beings: the massive, pathological destruction that was generated by civilization. In the face of such horror, historians lose their resolve: “The Generals were stupid and incompetent.” “They underestimated the effectiveness of the machine-gun.”

Arriving home from the 1919 Paris Peace Conference, President Woodrow Wilson set about the task of convincing the Congress to ratify the treaty and to approve American participation in the League of Nations. Wilson toured the country to canvass support in favor of both the treaty and the League, giving one of his final addresses as President in support of the League in Pueblo, Colorado, on Sept. 15, 1919.

He spoke to his audience about “our pledges to the men that lie dead in France.” Americans went over there, he said, not to prove the prowess of America, but to ensure that “there never was such a war again.” His “clients,” Wilson said, were the next generation of children. He wanted to “redeem his pledge” that they should “not be sent on a similar errand.”

Wilson told his audience that again and again during his tour of the United States, mothers who lost their sons in France came up to him, took his hand, and while shedding tears said, “God bless you, Mr. President.” Why, he asks, should these ladies ask God to bless him? It was he that created the situation that led to the death of their sons, who ordered their sons overseas and consented to them being put in battle lines where “death was certain.”

Where death was certain! As General Haig put it: soldiers who attacked at battles like the Somme “knew before they started” that their actions meant “certain death.” Why this willingness—on the part of men like Wilson, Haig and numerous other national leaders—to put young men in situations where death was a certainty?

Haig claimed that three million British casualties were worth the cost because the issues involved in the “stupendous struggle” were “far greater than those concerned in any war in recent history. Civilization itself was at stake.”

Why, Wilson asks, did the mothers of young men who died in the First World War weep upon his hand and “call down the blessings of God upon me?” Because they agreed that their boys had died for something that “vastly transcends any of the immediate and palpable objects of the war.” These men were “crusaders.” By virtue of their sacrifices—giving the “gift of their life”—these men “saved the liberty of the world.”

As Islamic warriors died for Allah and British soldiers sacrificed their lives for civilization, so did American soldiers die in order to “save the liberty of the world.”
But Germany also fought the First World War in the name of civilization. In his study,God, Germany and Britain in the Great War (1989), Arlie Hoover conveys how Germans conceived of their superiority. One pastor explained that the German nation surpassed every nation in “extolling the command of duty.” As compared with the British who practiced the “sin of materialism,” Germany embraced idealistic values. For the German, nothing was greater than heroism: the willingness to “lay down one’s life for one’s brother.”

Hitler in Mein Kampf (1925) stated that the most precious blood in the First World War had “sacrificed itself joyfully” in the faith that it was “preserving the independence and freedom of the fatherland.” More than once, Hitler said, thousands and thousands of young Germans had stepped forward to “sacrifice their young lives freely and joyfully on the altar of the beloved fatherland.”

One can say Allah or the British Empire or the spirit of France or the German fatherland or the liberty of the world. What is the nature of this relationship linking sacrificial death and devotion to the sacred ideals of civilization?
We have yet to understand the massive political violence that characterized the Twentieth Century. History books record what occurred—but are unable to explain why. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that we have failed to interrogate the central variables that generated slaughter. Terms like “civilization” and “society” and “the country” are taken for granted.

The objects or entities to which these terms refer are present within each episode of political violence. However, we don’t analyze these objects or entities. They are accepted and embraced as constituting the essence of reality. Political history is dominated by reified entities endowed with a will—and possessing the capacity to act. It is Great Britain that performs acts of violence, or France, or Germany or America.
Many people feel that dying and killing in the name of Allah makes no sense. Suicide bombings seem fantastic. Allah is just a word to us—an empty construct. Why would human beings die and kill in the name of “Allah”?

However, when we discuss people dying and killing in the name of “France,” “Germany” or “Great Britain”—this seems to make perfect sense. To this day, we believe in the reality of these entities. We don’t understand the First World War—from which 20th Century political history descends—because we have not interrogated our relationship to the objects in whose names slaughter occurs.

Richard A. Koenigsberg, Ph.D

Director, Library of Social Science
rak@libraryofsocialscience.com







Natya Shastra


"Drama." Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia.*
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drama
2013
"Natya Shastra." Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia.*
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natyashastra
2013
Bharat Muni (Attr.). Natya Shastra. Ancient Sanskrit treatise on drama. (c. 200 BC-200 AD).
Abhinavagupta. Abhinavabharati. Commentary on Bharata's Natya Shastra.
Bharat Muni (Attr.). Natya Shastra. Trans. Manomohan Ghosh. 1951. Internet Archive.
http://archive.org/details/NatyaShastra
2013








Jueves 19 de septiembre de 2013

Gaviotillas aprendiendo la lección

Gaviotillas aprendiendo la lección

Una opinión para la tele



Suspendida, o suspensa, la inauguración del año académico con el Príncipe y el ministro Werty en la Universidad de Zaragoza.

No es que me guste mucho salir en la tele, así que es una suerte que mis apariciones sean tan pocas. Hoy a la salida de la Facultad estaban haciendo unas entrevistas para Atlas TV (¿?) y me preguntan qué me parece que la Universidad haya suspendido el acto de inauguración del año académico, al que venían el Príncipe y el abyectado ministro Wert. Primera noticia, les digo.

(Hay que decir que primero se eligió la Universidad de Zaragoza para inaugurar el año académico por considerarla "poco conflictiva", y que luego los distintos colectivos anti-PP han promovido huelgas, pitadas y protestas. Lo de "no conflictiva" no sé de dónde saldría pues aquí lo de la "marea verde" de protesta contra la política educativa del gobierno y los recortes, etc., tuvo un éxito masivo).

(Y hay que preguntarse en qué pensaba el Rector cuando le dijeron lo de inaugurar el año académico aquí. ¿Les avisaría de lo que hay, o diría unas frases así rectorales de "es una alegría y un privilegio para la Universidad de Zaragoza étece, étece..."?).

En fin, lo que les digo a la TV.

Que me parece fatal, eso de anunciarla y luego enmendalla. Que si se ha tomado una decisión, que habría que mantenerla y no echarse atrás por las protestas.

¿Y si hay desórdenes...?—me dicen.

Entonces es que hay que reconocer que estamos en una universidad pobrecica, y con pocos medios. Y, por otra parte, estamos en una Universidad con las actitudes divididas, porque, ¿qué sentido tiene que se anuncie oficialmente la apertura del curso con las autoridades, y que a la vez se proclame en el arco de entrada de la Universidad que vamos a recibir a Wert con una sonora pitada? Eso es la fachada pública de la Universidad, y si el Rector no manda a los servicios de limpieza que quiten esa pancarta, será porque le parece bien. En todo caso, a mí me parece vergonzoso. Esta Universidad no sabe lo que quiere (—y me refiero no a la universidad en la que mucha gente distinta quiere cosas distintas, sino al Rectorado, que es quien debería dar una imagen pública. No puedes invitar a las autoridades a la vez que anuncias en primera plana que vas a montar el pitote en la inauguración. O sí, pero entonces es que no te conocen bien las autoridades.  Y si esa pancarta que preside la entrada a la Ciudad Universitaria no es una proclama oficial, sino basura, pues eso, que la limpien. Un mínimo.

Y aún les iba a decir lo que pasa en esta universidad cada huelga general, cerrada por los sindicalistas a la fuerza, te guste o no, sin que el Rector mande abrirla por dignidad intelectual. Pero me corto, que ni les interesa ahora, ni le interesa eso a nadie en el público. Y menos aún en esta universidad.

La Dra. Penas, que iba conmigo, por su cuenta les dice que lo de la suspensión es una medida prudente si se sabe que va a haber conflictos, pero que por otra parte es una señal indicativa de que algo falla—que algo anda mal en esta universidad.


La Banda la Porra toma la Universidad





Una opinión para la tele en Ibercampus


 


Miércoles 18 de septiembre de 2013

Viendo un velero a lo lejos

Viendo un velero a lo lejos




The Short Oxford History of English Literature

El manual de Andrew Sanders The Short Oxford History of English Literature está en PDF en esta dirección (una página árabe):

http://lanquiz.org/assets/pdf-books/lanquiz.org__the_short_oxford_history_of_english_literature.pdf

El libro tiene 678 páginas, y el PDF 396 (Está todo el texto principal aunque faltan las bibliografías e índices finales). Es la primera edición, de 1994, luego revisada.

The Cambridge History of English and American Literature (ed. Ward & Waller)




Por no hablar por hablar

Pongo un comentario sobre el origen del lenguaje en el blog de J. M. Bermúdez de Castro (Reflexiones de un primate), en el artículo Lenguaje y cerebro:

Aún no se sabe cómo funcionan a nivel orgánico algunos de los mecanismos básicos del lenguaje, como la capacidad simbólica, o la capacidad de crear lo que Mark Turner llama mezclas de ámbito doble, símbolos complejos. (Sobre las asociaciones mentales y conexiones cerebrales, ver mi artículo Conectando con Heráclito el Oscuro). Por tanto si aún no sabemos completamente qué es el lenguaje y qué lo hace capaz de funcionar en un cerebro, menos aún podemos saber cuándo se originó. Por otra parte, la base orgánica de estos procesos es obviamente cerebral, y las conexiones cerebrales fosilizan mal, digamos. La anatomía de laringe, oído e incluso lóbulos cerebrales sólo ofrece datos indirectos; lo mismo las deducciones a partir de otros símbolos complejos que sí pervivan o dejen rastros (como las pinturas o las herramientas). La investigación tiene mucho terreno que rellenar entre la certidumbre práctica de que algo sí hablaban todos los homínidos, en el sentido de producir señales vocales, y la incertidumbre sobre QUÉ DECÍAN. Porque siendo el lenguaje una forma en evolución, no aparece de golpe en la cabeza: se desarrolla, y se vuelve complejo a lo largo de miles y miles de años. Hablar, todo el mundo habla a su manera, incluso las gaviotas por no decir los loros. Ahora bien, lo importante no es hablar por hablar, sino LO QUE SE DICE cuando se habla. Y eso requiere no sólo una evolución de la especie, sino también de la cultura desarrollada gracias a esa misma capacidad lingüística.



El origen (del lenguaje)




Martes 17 de septiembre de 2013

Mar para una

Mar para una



Lunes 16 de septiembre de 2013

Beowulf

An introduction to Beowulf. Basic facts from The Short Oxford Companion to English Literature, followed by a video lecture by Grant Voth (Monterey Peninsula College), emphasizing the Christian elements of the poem.


Beowulf,
an Old English poem of 3,182 lines, surviving in a 10th-cent. manuscript. It tells of two major events in the life of the Geatish hero Beowulf: the first when, in his youth, he fights and kills first Grendel, a monster who has been attacking Heorot, the hall of the Danish king Hrothgar, and then Grendel's mother who comes the next night to avenge her son; the second, 50 years later, when Bewoulf, who has for a long time been king of the Geats, fights a dragon who has attacked his people, in a combat in which both Beowulf and the dragon are mortally wounded. The historical period of the poem's events can be dated in the 6th cent. from a reference to Beowulf's king Hygelac by the historian Gregory of Tours; but much of the material of the poem is legendary and paralleled in other Germanic historical-mythological literature in Norse, Old English, and German.

The poem is generally dated in the 8th cent., when England was being won over from paganism to Christianity. This date is taken to account for the strong thread of Christian commentary which runs thorugh the poem.

Beowulf, the most important poem in Old English and the first major poem in a European vernacular language, is remarkable for its sustained grandeur of tone and for the brilliance of its style.


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Now a longer introduction, from A Critical History of English Literature, by David Daiches (London: Secker and Warburg, 1960). Followed by Michael Wood's documentary In Search of Beowulf.

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Of surviving Anglo-Saxon literature, that which brings us most closely into contact with the Germanic origins of the invaders is the heroic poetry, which still bears traces not only of the pre-Christian heroic society of the continental Saxons and others, but also of that community of subject which linked these early English with the wider civilization of Germania. This is written in the language we know as Old English or Anglo-Saxon, which is essentially the English language in an earlier stage of its development, with inflections which have since disappeared, a relatively small vocabulary from which many words have since been lost (though some which are lost to standard English remain in altered from in Scots and in regional English dialects), and significant differences between, for example, the West Saxon dialect of the south and the Anglian dialect of Northumbria. The verse is alliterative and stressed, without rhyme, each line containing four stressed syllables and a varying number unstressed. There is a definite pause (caesura) between the two halves of each line, with two stresses in each half.

We geascodon   Eormenrices
wylfenne ge þoht;   ahte wide folc
Gotena rices;  þæt wæs grim cyning.
Sæt secg monig   sorgum gebunden,
wean on wenan, wyscte geneahhe
þæt þæs cynerices   ofercumen wære.

To the superficial eye this looks very far removed from modern English; and in a sense it is. (The letter þ—"thorn"—has the sound of "th"). But a literal translation helps to bring out its relation to modern English:

We have learned of Eormanric's
wolfish disposition; he held wide dominion
in the realm of the Goths. That was a cruel king.
Many a man sat bound in sorrows,
anticipating woe, often wishing
that his kingdom were overcome.

Some thirty thousand lines of Anglo-Saxon poetry have survived, nearly all of it contained in four manuscripts (1), and we have no reason to believe that the older, nonreligious poetry that survives is more than a casually preserved fragment of what was written. Specifically religious poetry might be expected to have earned ecclesiastical care and preservation, but the heroic poetry which connects more directly with the Germanic origins of the Anglo-Saxons could not be expected to arouse any special ecclesiastical interest even when it had been superficially purged of its pagan feeling and in some degree Christianized in thought. The conversion of the English peoples began with the arrival of Augustine in Kent in 597; he had been sent by Gregory the Great with a band of monks in order to achieve his missionary task. But, though Æthelbert, king of Kent, was duly converted to Christianity and Augustine was soon able to establish the seat of his bishopric at Canterbury, the permanent establishment of Christianity through England proved to be a much lengthier task and one which required the active intervention of Celtic missionaries from Ireland and Scotland. Differences between the customs and practices of the Irish Church—which had remained somewhat isolated from Rome—and the Roman Church, which had sponsored Augustine's mission, made for certain difficulties between those English ecclesiastics who looked to Rome and those who looked to Iona and to Ireland, and these were not resolved until the Synod of Whitby in 663 (2); but it is sufficient for the student of literature to note that the development of English Christianity was not continuous but sporadic from the first century and more, with certain notable setbacks such as the defeat and death of the Christian Edwin, king of Northumbria, at the hands of the pagan Prenda, king of Mercia, in 632, which meant the disappearance of the Christian Church in Northumbria until its re-establishment by Aidan and his followers from Iona. If even the external ecclesiastical organization was thus unstable in the early centuries, it is not difficult to see how traces of pagan thought in varying kinds of relation to Christianity persisted for some time after the nominal conversion of the English.

Unfortunately, though much is known in general about the mythology of the Germanic and the Norse peoples, we have very little definite information about the heathen background of Old English culture. Though we can drawn analogies between what we know of Scandinavian heathendom and what we surmise of its Old English equivalent, the fact remains that the common origin of the two was was already far in the past by the time we find the Anglo-Saxons in England. Old English place names give some indication of pre-Christian activity associated with certain localities in Anglo-Saxon England, but tell us nothing of the larger patterns of attitude and belief which are of the most relevance for a study of the literature. That Anglo-Saxon heroic poetry, even as we have it, is the product of a pagan heroic society and in social tone and general mood bears evidence of its origins, can hardly be disputed. But debate on the degree to which Beowulf, for example, has been modified by a relatively sophisticated Latin culture—not only by Christian sentiment but, as has been claimed, by a Virgilian tradition,—cannot be resolved without knowledge of more details than it seems likely we shall ever possess about primitive Anglo-Saxon beliefs. On the whole, it would seem likely that Beowulf and such other remains of early English heroic poetry as survive are closer to their pagan origins in mood and purpose thn is sometimes believed.

Though there are difficulties in placing the earliest extant Anglo-Saxon poetry in its cultural context, we can take some comfort from the knowledge that what has survived of Anglo-Saxon poetry, fragmentary though it is and an arbitrary sample though it may be, is of earlier date than any extant poetry of the other Germanic literatures—of Old High German or Old Norse, for example. Anglo-Saxon heroic poetry is the nearest we can get to the oral pagan literature of teh Heroic Age of Germania. The stressed alliterative verse of Anglo-Saxon poetry is clearly the product of an oral court minstrelsy; it was intented to be recited by the scop, the itinerant minstrel who frequented the halls of kings and chiefs and sometimes found continuous service with one master. One of the earliest surviving Anglo-Saxon poems, Widsith, is the autobiographical record of such a scop. The poem as we have it is probably not homogeneous—some of the lines seem to be later interpolations—but the core of the work finely reflects the heroic attitude to the bard's function and gives us a fascinating glimpse of the Germanic world as it appeared to the imagination of the Anglo-Saxons. The text we have of the poem is in the Exeter Book, and is thus tenth-century and in the West Saxon dialect; the poem—which must have been originally composed in Northumbria—dates from the late seventh or early eight century, though parts of it must be older even than that. Widsith, the "far wanderer," tells of his travels throughout the Germanic world and mentions the many rulers he has visited. Many of the characters he mentions figure in other poems—in Beowulf, for example, and in the fragmentary stories of Finn and Waldhere. The princes he claims to have visited cover virtually the whole Germanic world and their lifetimes extend over two hundred years. He was, he tells us, with Eormanric (the Gothic king who died about 370): "likewise I was in Italy with Ælfwine," he tells us elsewhere in the poem, and
Ælfwine is Alboin, king of the Lombards, who died about 572 (and who is, incidentally, the latest character to be mentioned in any Germanic heroic poem). The poem thus cannot be true autobiography. It is, however, something much more interesting than that: it is a view of Germanic history and geography as it appeared to a Northumbrian bard of the seventh century drawing on the traditions of his people. What strikes us most forcibly is its catholicity: praise is meted out impartially to Huns, Goths, Burgundians, Franks, Danes, Swedes, Angles, Wends, Saxons, Langobards, and many others. "Ætla [Attila] ruled the Huns, Eormanric the Goths, Becca the Bannings, Gifica the Burgundians, . . . Theodric ruled the Franks, thyle the Rondings, Breoca the Brondings, Billing the Wærnas. Oswine ruled the Eowan, and Gefwulf the Jutes, Fin Folcwalding the race of the Frisians.  . . . Offa ruled Angel, Alewih the Danes; he was the most courageous of all these men, but he did not excel Offa in his mighty deeds." We are given here a bird's eye view of the subject matter of Germanic heroic poetry; and we are reminded that the heroes of that poetry were not regional or national but common to all Germania.

Widsith may be primitive stuff as poetry—indeed, the first catalogue of rulers in the poem is cast in the form of a very early early type of genealogical verse and may well date from the beginning of the sixth century or even from before the coming of the Anglo-Saxons to Britain—but it is this very primitive quality which is of most interest. In its combination of historical memories and heroic traditions it shows us something of the historical foundations of heroic poetry and reminds us of the nature and extent of that wide world of Germania which the author of Beowulf was equally to take for granted as familiar to his audience and thus as suitable material for allusion and analogy. The whole world of barbarian wanderings and conquests—the world which collided with, in a sense destroyed, and in a sense was absorbed by, the Roman Empire—is here sketched out. And that world provides the orchestration, as it were, for Beowulf.

Beowulf holds a special position in Anglo-Saxon literature—indeed, in older Germanic literature as a whole—because it is the only complete extant epic of its kind in an ancient Germanic language. Nowhere else is a traditional theme handled in a long narrative poem against a background which reveals to us the culture and society of the Heroic Age of the Germanic peoples. Whether there were in fact other Anglo-Saxon epics, which have not survived, is a question which may well be debated forever; but the fact remains that Beowulf survives in a single manuscript, which was damaged by fire before it was ever studied or transcribed. If it is impossible to determine conclusively whether it was the Anglo-Saxon epic or simply an Anglo-Saxon epic (though it should be mentioned  that modern opinion inclines to the belief that it was the only poem of its kind composed in Anglo-Saxon times), it can at least be said that it is a poem technically impressive in its handling of narrative verse, remarkably successful in rendering that combination of heroic idealism and somber fatalism which seems to have been part of the Germanic temper, yet structurally weak and providing insufficient unity of tone or organization to hold together effectively the two central episodes and the many digressions which make up the whole. Though the ultimate origin of the story is folklore (working, as folklore does, on history), and behind the poem probably lies a variety of popular lays, the poem as we have it is generally agreed to be the work of a single author writing in the first half of the eighth century, though a powerful case has been made out for its having been composed orally by a heathen considerably earlier, with the Christian references (of which there are about seventy) representing later revision or interpolations. Future scholars may well return to this latter view.

Beowulf falls into two main parts. The first deals with the visit of Beowulf, nephew of King Hygelac of the Geats (the Geats probably occupied what is now southern Sweden), to the court of King Hrothgar of Denmark. The aging Hrothgar had long been plagued by a man-eating monster, Grendel, who came regularly to the king's great hall of Heorot to prey on his warriors, and it was to slay the monster that Beowulf came to Denmark. He fights with and mortally wounds Grendel in Heorot, and when Grendel's mother comes to take revenge for the death of her son he follows her to her underwater home and after a desperate struggle slays her too. Beowulf and his companions then leave for home, laden with honors and presents from the Danish king. The second part takes place fifty years later, when Beowulf has long been king of the Geats. A dragon, guarding a hoard of treasure, has been disturbed, and has been going out to wreak slaughter throughout the land. Beowulf, to save his country from the dragon's ravages, undertakes to fight it, and though he succeeds in slaying it he is himself mortally wounded in the struggle. The poem ends with an account of Beowulf's funeral: his body is burned on an elaborate funeral pyre, amid the lamentations of his warriors.

There are historical elements in Beowulf, though they are seen through the folk memory and the folk imagination, in combination with a variety of marvelous legends. There are also onumerous digressions and allusions which make it clear that the author is taking for granted among his readers (or auditors) knoweledge of a whole body of stories concerning Germanic heroies. In the feast of Heorot celebrating Beowulf's victory over Grendel we are told how the minstrel recited the story of Hnæf's death at the hands of the sons of Finn and the subsequent vengeance taken on Finn by the Danes, whose leader
Hnæf had been. Part of the minstrel's recital is given at considerable length in Beowulf, but it can have had little meaning to anyone without a knowledge of the whole story. We can in some dgree reconstruct the sequence of events with the help of a fragmentary Anglo-Saxon lay, The Fight at Finnsburh, which appears to deal with other evens in the same story, told on a different scale. Other stories are referred to in Beowulf more casually, and part of its interest lies in the thread of Germantic story that runs, through allusions, analogies, and references, through the poem. Though it is an Anglo-Saxon poem, composed in England, it harks back to the period of Germanic history before the Anglo-Saxon invasion and shows no bias toward English heroes. Geats,
Danes, and Swedes occupy the foreground of the narrative, and emerging briefly from the background are a number of figures whom we also meet in Scandinavian tradition and in the poetry and legends of a variety of Teutonic peoples.

On the surface, Beowulf is a heroic poem, celebrating the exploits of a great warrior whose character and actions are held up as a model of aristocratic virtue. It reflects the ideals of that state of society we call the Heroic Age, and its resemblance to the Odyssey in this respect has often been noted. The grave courtesy with which men of rank are received and dismissed, the generosity of rulers and the loyalty of retainers, the thirst for fame through the achievement of deeds of courage and endurance, the solemn boasting of warriors before and after performance, the interest in genealogies and pride in a noble heredity—all these things are to be found in both poems. But Beowulf is also a record of marvels rather different in kind from those encountered by Ulysses in his adventures, and, further, its Anglo-Saxon gravity is reinforced by the introduction of Christian elements which do not, however, seriously weaken the pagan atmosphere of the poem, for they are voncerned with large elemental facts such as God's creation and governance of the world and such Old Testament stories as that of Cain's murder of Abel. If the general atmosphere of Beowulf can be called seriously pagan, with the seriousness deepened and the pagan heroic ideal enlarged by Christian elements, it is certainly not uncivilized, though the civilization it reflects is primitive enough. There is a genuine ideal of nobility underlying its adventure stories.

It is the splendid gravity of the poem that falls more impressively on modern ears. Sometimes in a single line the poem conveys atmosphere and mood to perfection. We are given an acount of Beowulf's reception at Heorot, and his confident words before his warriors lay themselves down to sleep. Then:

                           Com on warne niht
scrið (3) an sceadu-3en3a.   Sceotend swaefon,
þa þæt horn-reced         healdan scoldon,
ealle buton anum. . . .
    Ða com of more   under mist-hleoþum
3rendel 3on3an, 3odes yrre bær. . . .
                  
                            Came on the dark night
gliding, the shadowy prowler. The warriors slept
who were to hold the antlered hall,
all but one. . . .
    Then from the moor under the misty cliffs
came Grendel marching, he bore God's anger.


The tone is not uniform, but the poem is at its most effective in its moments of slow terror or suspense, and in its more elegiac moods. It has neither the larger epic conception of the Odyssey nor the fine polish of a "secondary" epic such as the Aeneid. But it is an impressive, if uneven, performance, carrying us successfully into the Anglo-Saxon heroic imagination, with its emphasis on solemn courtesy, generosity, fidelity, and sheer endurance. And underlying all is the sense of the shortness of life and the passing away of all things except the fame a man leaves behind.

There is little else surviving of Anglo-Saxon literature which makes direct contact with the older heroic view of life. Deor, an interesting poem of forty-two lines, is the complaint of a minstrel who, after years of service to his lord, has been supplanted by a rival, Heorrenda. He comforts himself by recounting the trials of Germanic heroes, all of which were eventually overcome. After each reference to the troubles of some famous character there occurs the refrain

Þæs ofereode,     þisses swa mæg.
That was surmounted; so may this be
                     
We get fascinating glimpses of figures famous in Germanic legend—Weland the smith, Theodoric the Ostrogoth, Eormanric the Goth, and others—and of the troubles they suffered or caused; but the main interest of the poem lies in its combination of this kind of subject matter with a personal, elegiac note, not common in Anglo-Saxon poetry, though fo¡und even more intensely in The Wanderer and The Seafarer, to be discussed later.









Notes

(1) These are: (1) MS Cotton Vitellius A XV in the British Museum, which contains Beowulf, Judith, and three prose works. (2) The Junius Manuscript in the Bodleian Library, Oxford (MS Bodleian Junius 11), which contains Genesis, Exodus, Daniel, and Christ and Satan. (3). The Exeter Book, given by Bishop Leofric to Exeter Cathedral, containing Christ, Juliana, The Wanderer, The Seafarer, Widsith, Deor, and many other short pieces. (4). The Vercelli Book, preserved in the cathedral library at Vercelli, in northern Italy, which contains Andreas, The Fates of the Apostles, Address of the Soul to the Body, The Dream of the Rood, and Elene.

(2) Not 664, as is traditionally held. Bede dates it 664, but he begins his year in September, and as the Synod can be shown to have been held in late September or early October, this would mean 663 in our dating.

(3) ð, like þ, has the sound of "th". Ð is the capital form of ð.


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Some additional materials:

Beowulf the Legendary Geatish Hero (Clash of the Gods series). YouTube (DiscoveryHaven) 11 July 2013.*
     http://youtu.be/-ta6v0GnPW4

In Search of the Dark Ages. Michael Wood documentary video series.
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BetL06FPG9Q&list=PL8AA4A963265F0364
    2013

 


The Wanderer 


Domingo 15 de septiembre de 2013

Minimalizando la marina


Minimalizando la marina



Elysium

Hoy vamos a ver Elysium, la última del sudafricano Neill Blomkamp.




Y sigue en efecto la línea cyberpunk de Distrito 9, que también nos gustó mucho. Excelente, igualmente, en cuanto a efectos especiales. Los niños no han quedado decepcionados con las simulaciones de cuerpos explotando, espectáculo occidental muy de nuestros días.

El guión, también de Blomkamp, se parece a Distrito 9 en la temática del apartheid, ciudadanos con dos tipos de derechos, y es también una historia de liberación, con el colapso del sistema opresor en la falsa utopía Elysium, construida en una estación espacial fuera de la Tierra superpoblada. Las lecturas a que invita no son sólo los condominiums sudafricanos, norteamericanos y cada vez más también europeos, áreas residenciales a salvo de intrusos, sino más generalmente el contraste entre haves y have nots, quizá con un énfasis en el contraste entre Occidente y el Tercer Mundo, la historia de las vallas fronterizas y pateras como la que tenemos en España, vista en un espejo distorsionador del futuro. Demasiado cercano a veces a la actualidad, el espejo, como para que resulte una ficción tranquilizadora.

Elysium, queda claro, está construido sobre la explotación capitalista de la mayoría de la población, confinada a una Tierra sin recursos y sumida en la pobreza, con derechos laborales nulos, y donde el crimen y las mafias gobiernan el día a día, con ocasionales intervenciones de la Isal Flotante (esa Laputa opresora la inventó Swift, hay que recordarlo) cuando sus intereses se ven amenazados, o no se comportan los de abajo. Sale Occidente bien retratado: las cloacas del Estado envueltas en intrigas y golpes políticos para reconducir la situación, los mercenarios entre marginales y protegidos para trabajos sucios, la burocracia europea aparentemente bienpensante e idealista, pero regida por intereses que apenas quieren reconocer, y pelele en última instancia de los intereses del gran capital. Que si bien funciona como una máquina, y es controlado por máquinas en buena medida, siempre tiene una clase ociosa flotando como nata blanca por encima, y esos no son máquinas, aunque a veces lo parecen. La ministra del interior, Jodie Foster, es una francesa nazi, vestida de blanco inmaculado pero pringándose más de lo que querría. Se enreda en sus maniobras sucias cuando intenta cambiar el código para que sea la alianza de Lobbies Armamentísticos y Aristocracia Capitalista la que rija Elysium, dejándose ya los legalismos y zarandajas de los burócratas de Bruselas, o de la ONU.

El ritmo de la película, endiablado como requieren los tiempos, es lo que más la abre a críticas, pues le lleva a enseñar las costuras cuando necesita acelerar aceleradamente algún proceso, ya sea informático o médico, para pasar a la siguiente escena. Lo tomamos fácilmente como una convención del género, OK, pero es que si todo lo pasamos por convenciones del género todo vale. El final trágico / feliz, pongamos. Matt Damon se sacrifica y visto que va a morir, muere por un ideal de entrega, para salvar a la hija de su chica, y ¿acabar con Elysium? Eso sugiere la película, pero lo que vemos es una revolución o la toma del poder por los comunistas—en este caso por Spider, el hacker mafioso que organizaba viajes en patera voladora. No parece muy de fiar como gobernante, y tampoco lo fueron Lenin y Stalin, rompiendo los huevos a la clase dominante y a millones de súbditos, para instaurar un régimen de miseria para todos... menos para ellos. Un vistazo a la historia no le augura mejor futuro a la revolución ésta que nos permite cerrar la película con final feliz.

Sí, la pareja protagonista se regía por el ideal de la Tierra como planeta azul, planeta ecológico donde todos somos responsables de todos, y del cual no se puede o no se debe huir a empíreos de privilegio. (Es una monja la que le enseña el ideal de la Tierra solidaria, por cierto). Pero al final de la película si la Tierra hace algún gesto de solidaridad, no es más azul que antes, ni promete serlo. Cierto, que un planeta corresponsable tiene mejores razones para no degradarse, y por eso el planeta debería ser socialista-ecologista o no será.... pero quién sabe lo que será. Me recuerda esta historia de gueux asaltando la Île de la Cité al musical que se hizo sobre Notre-Dame de Paris de Victor Hugo, o a la reciente película de Los Miserables si se quiere también, historias de revoluciones, allí fallidas (aunque triufaba el ideal virtualmente), aquí realizadas... pero con un oportuno corte a tiempo, y comieron perdices. A los Occidentales de Elysium, que vamos al cine a pagar entretenimiento caro, nos gusta además que éste haga gestos solidarios y muestre el colapso de nuestro sistema de privilegios, somos así de viciosos. En serio, muchas de las imágenes de la película, con Los Angeles convertido en un Tercer Mundo decadente, rascacielos invadidos de chabolas, etc., son inquietantes y casi valen tanto como la película en su conjunto. Pero no son originales, claro, estas ficciones de crisis están a la orden del día, y más que estarán, a medida que apriete la superpoblación y la escasez de recursos. Hablaba hace poco de Inferno de Dan Brown, a costa de esto, también proponiendo soluciones imaginarias a problemas reales, como buena ficción ideológica. Ha dado allí Dan Brown con un problema importante como base para su argumento, un acierto, y lo mismo podemos decir de Elysium, a pesar del tratamiento ambivalente que se da a las cuestiones ideológicas en estos productos de gran tirada.

La gran contradicción de Elysium—la pongo en dos palabras, porque se vea bien el meollo de la cuestión. El argumento opone egoísmo y altruismo, el egoísmo de protección mutua de las redes de contactos e influencias de Elysium, frente al altruismo del protagonista, que da su vida por salvar a la chica de su chica. Pero Matt Damon también se movía por egoísmo—los intereses de supervivencia propia dictan muchas de sus elecciones, y el altruismo frente a su moza es sólo accidentalmente altruista para con los demás habitantes del planeta. Los motivos de los personajes van dictados por el máximo beneficio para sí, su grupo o su proyecto—Spider se arriesga a ir a Elysium en lugar de controlar su mafia tranquilamente porque así se colocará a la cabeza del cotarro, luego ya veremos qué hace con él. La mamá / chica de Damon piensa en su hija, y no tenemos noticias de que le preocupe el resto de la humanidad excepto como apéndice unido a su hija. Y en sustancia, si hay un Elysium es porque cada cual lucha por la vida y procura rentabilizar sus posibilidades de medrar uno mismo y los que define como los suyos. Y esto se hace frente a otros grupos—en este caso, el saqueo de la utopía de Elysium es una fuente de recursos, pero no parece que la calidad de la sanidad privada de Elysium vaya a extenderse a todo el planeta, a pesar de la tendenciosa escena final de los hospitales aterrizando (será la Seguridad Social de Obama, o algo así, lo que se sugiere). En fin, que también hay tela aquí para discutir lo de la privatización y los recortes sanitarios. De decisiones egoístas, y de revoluciones superficialmente altruistas, está hecho ya el mundo que vemos al principio de la película. Es el mundo que construye la acción humana ejercida sin control, y ya vemos en el robot-JohnnyTaxi que el control total informatizado tampoco es bueno ni utópico.

Así que mi crítica: que la utopía construida al final de la película está construida, como la estrella flotante de Elysium, sobre bases engañosas o falaces. Y es tan poco sostenible como la Isla Flotante. Occidente, créanme, no va a elevar a su nivel de vida al resto del mundo. Y dentro del altruismo que guía las revoluciones se esconde, de nuevo, el gusanillo del interés—propio o tribal—que ha llevado al planeta a donde está ahora, y que lo seguirá llevando de conflicto en conflicto mientras haya recursos que repartir y bacalao que cortar, o mientras quede en pie el último árbol, como en Rapa Nui.

Welcome to the Machine











Beachwalking



Beachwalking





Sábado 14 de septiembre de 2013

¿Es éste nuestro último siglo?

El mío sí. Pero Martin Rees teme que el problema sea más general.











Solución imaginaria a problema real




For argument's sake


Una charla de Daniel H. Cohen en TED.



Me acabo de comprar unos cascos Sennheiser para oír este tipo de conferencias.






Peter, Paul & Mary - Early Morning Rain






The very best of Peter, Paul, & Mary





Pillo dos gaviotas


Pillo dos gaviotas


Y más.




Viernes 13 de septiembre de 2013

Los más escribidores

Estoy entre los académicos más escribidores—al menos entre los que suben sus artículos al Social Science Research Network. Hay que decir que éste es uno de los mayores repositorios mundiales, o sea que debe ser representativo, al menos en humanidades y ciencias sociales.

De más de 230.000 autores, hay muchos que apenas han contribuido algún artículo o tienen muy pocas visitas. Las estadísticas públicas se refieren no  la larga cola sino a los 30.000 principales autores. En esa página figuro en varias categorías—pero por número de artículos contribuidos tengo una posición muy alta, para mí un récord desde luego:



ssrn30000

Esta lista se puede ordenar según distintos criterios. La calidad de los artículos no la miden, pero sí otros parámetros como número de visitas, número de descargas, etc. Estoy, por número de artículos contribuidos, en el puesto 54. Hay algunos que escriben más, hay otros que escriben menos y mejor.

Por cierto, el SSRN ha perdido su puesto número 1 entre los repositorios mundiales. Ahora está el 5º. Aunque en humanidades y ciencias sociales sigue estando en cabeza, e incluye más de 500.000 artículos. De esos, más de 130 son míos. Y aún puedo subir el doble—just give me time, and a fishing rod.



Sigo subiendo en el ránking—o no.









Distributed Intimacies (CFP)

Banff Research in Culture 2014

Summer Research Residency



Program Dates: May 26, 2014 – June 13, 2014

Application Deadline: December 2, 2013

Application and Program Info: http://www.banffcentre.ca/programs/program.aspx?id=1394

Faculty: Lauren Berlant<http://www.banffcentre.ca/programs/program.aspx?id=1394&facId=4020&p=member>, Francisco Camacho<http://www.banffcentre.ca/programs/program.aspx?id=1394&facId=4282&p=member>, Wendy Hui Kyong Chun<http://www.banffcentre.ca/programs/program.aspx?id=1394&facId=4577&p=member>

Intimacy describes our relations with those people, places, creatures, and things to which we feel the deepest, most powerful or most abiding connections. The multiple ways in which we experience intimacy today draw attention to the complex patterning of closeness and distance that has always unconsciously structured our cultural, social and political practices. There have long been forms of distant intimacy—staying ‘in touch’ via the drama of epistolary exchanges or through sound waves emanating from a telephone—but recent technological developments, increased travel, the expansion of migration and immigration, and instantaneous virtual communication are fundamentally reshaping our understanding and experience of the proximity of bodies, sentiments, and ideas. Social networking and the democratization of modes of communication and media have had a profound significance for the experience of community, collectivity, and affinities; at every level, from the family to the nation, our sense of belonging is being redefined in ways that affect our daily experience but remain difficult to comprehend.

One can see evidence of the new distribution of intimacy everywhere: in the immediacy of a rock concert, one witnesses people en masse recording the spectacle for friends not present; on public transit around the world, passengers make connections to different elsewheres via newspapers, music, text messages, and mobile phone calls; and in political protests (as evidenced by the Arab Spring and recent dissent in Turkey), which have been reshaped by the use of technologies that are, for a new generation, part and parcel of everyday life. Intimacies of friendship, collectivity, love and belonging are being substantially redefined through the devices in our hands and a global infrastructure that supports instantaneous sharing.

Banff Research in Culture (BRiC) 2014 will investigate the cultural, social, and political repercussions of “distributed intimacies”—the processes and outcomes of new forms of mediation that have reshaped how we relate to one another, imagine ourselves as parts of groups, and constitute communities. Given the fractal character of our subjectivity—the ways in which we are necessarily the outcome of networks of intersubjective relations, experiences, and concepts—how are our intimacies constituted by the ways we live? What are the modes and machines by which intimacies are distributed, and what determines their intensities? How does the global distribution of goods, ideas and affects across oceans and continents shape forms of intimacy, belonging and community? What forms of intimacy feel inescapable? What impedes intimacy from flourishing? Are local scenes and forms of collectivity (e.g., non-traditional families, polyamory, activist movements, alternative forms of political practice) enabled by new forms of distributed intimacies? In what ways do contemporary cultural and art practices participate in the distribution of intimacy? To what extent are our intimacies segmented, remote-controlled, and apportioned, and can we redefine these distributions without lapsing into a nostalgic primitivism? Finally, what does distributed intimacy imply for social change as well as for the politics of shaping one’s own self in relation to others?

We look forward to receiving compelling and original project proposals from thinkers and creators working on a wide range of projects.


Imre Szeman
Canada Research Chair in Cultural Studies
Killam Annual Professor
Professor of English, Film Studies and Sociology
University of Alberta
www.crcculturalstudies.ca<http://www.crcculturalstudies.ca/>


Jueves 12 de septiembre de 2013

Johnson & Boswell

—dos conferencias de Miguel Martínez-Lage en la Fundación Juan March:

Ciclos de Conferencias GÉNESIS DE LA BIOGRAFÍA MODERNA

CICLOS DE CONFERENCIAS: GÉNESIS DE LA BIOGRAFÍA MODERNA

The Enthusiastick Fit


Pearltrees: Narratología


Aparezco en este diagrama en árbol de los que se generan con Pearltrees para presentar información conectada de manera gráfica.

También aparece allí por ejemplo esta página sobre Gérard Genette, uno de los santos patrones de la narratología.

Y contacto con el Centro de Estudios de Narratología, en Argentina, gracias a la información que encuentro allí, en otra rama. Curioseen, de rama en rama. Internet es un árbol como éste, sólo que más grande, todo un bosque narrativo de esos que decía Eco.

Structural Narratology





La casa del árbol

La casa del árbol



Micromicrorrelato realista


Cuando se despertó, seguía allí.









Miércoles 11 de septiembre de 2013

Debate sobre el independentismo catalán

Y los autoencadenados voluntarios de la Vía Catalana. En El Gato al Agua:











Es una opción, la de que se vayan, muy apoyada en Cataluña, como se ve. Pero también en el resto de España.

Un éxito mediático para el independentismo catalán la organización de la gigantesca sardana. Y un golpe de efecto inteligente el de Intereconomía, al hacer sobrevolar sobre toda la cadena humana una avioneta con la doble bandera española y catalana y el lema "Juntos más fuertes"—obligándoselo a leer a todos los encadenados uno detrás de otro.






Fila de cormoranes



Fila de cormoranes





Overreacting, in hindsight

Se abre paso modestamente la sugerencia de que los EE.UU. reaccionaron desmedidamente a los ataques del 11/M.  John Horgan: "Did United States Overreact to 9/11 Terror Attacks?" http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/cross-check/2013/09/10/did-united-states-overreact-to-911-terror-attacks/?WT.mc_id=SA_sharetool_Twitter … via @sciam

Ante un ataque tan repugnante en su concepción, y donde tanta gente murió, parece difícil creer que pueda haber una reacción desproporcionada. Pero a quien haya seguido la reacción en los USA, aun descontando las guerras montadas fuera a veces a tontas y a locas, no se le escapará que ha habido, en efecto, sobrerreacción. Y dado el ambiente de ciudad sitiada es comprensible, claro, que a muchos americanos les cueste ver el exceso de esa reacción.

— Curioso que John Horgan cambie el título quitando lo de "overreacted..."

Qué hacías tú el 11-S





En chino en China


En China estoy, o al menos en la Wikipedia china. Allí sale mi bibliografía, en el artículo sobre Crítica Literaria. Tomo pantallazo por dejar constancia de cómo se escribe en chino Bibliografía de Teoría Literaria, Crítica y Filología; es el último de estos enlaces:

wikipedia china

Según el traductor de Google, pone allí "La teoría literaria, la crítica y la lingüística bibliografía" Y aqui 萨拉戈萨大学 pone "Universidad de Zaragoza". Para muchos chinos, sin duda, debo ser una referencia. Sea como sea, no estoy en mala compañía: la IPL, la biblioteca de la Universidad de Virginia... no son empresas de una persona. La mía sí.


En la Enciclopedia China




Martes 10 de septiembre de 2013

Two Men on a Boat

Two Men on a Boat













Me enlazan en la Universidad de Michigan

En Ann Arbor me enlazan la bibliografía. En el catálogo en red Mirlyn de la Universidad de Michigan. Me trae a la memoria de cuando les ponían nombres a los ordenadores en las universidades, a modo del malvado Hal 9000 creado supuestamente en la universidad de Illinois. En Brown allá por los 80, cuando Hal estaba en el pasado en la ficción y en el futuro todavía en la realidad,  se llamaba Josiah el catálogo. En nuestra universidad seguíamos con los ficheros de fichas, que aún siguen por ahí creo. Se acumulaban los libros y no daban abasto a ficharlos; aún ayudé yo a los bibliotecarios a fichar varios cientos o quizá miles de libros en mi máquina electrónica recién comprada—que aún no se usaba ordenador por entonces. A la vuelta de América estuve en una comisión de bibliotecas en la Facultad, cuando se puso en marcha la informatización de nuestra biblioteca. Así que mis viejas fichas tecleadas ahí irán acumulando polvo.... Pero no me he librado de fichar libros, que ahora van todos a las fauces insaciables de la bibliografía, ese loose baggy monster. También obsoleta a su manera, la bibliografía—pero sin embargo me hace ilusión cuando me la enlazan en un sitio de cierto prestigio como es el caso hoy. Aunque sea en una edición atrasada, y se acumulen las obsolescencias. Hoy me leía unos números recientes del European English Messenger y me sentía yo mismo un tanto desenlazado de la profesión, con sus congresos y sus publicaciones, y sus proyectos de investigación... Aunque algo de todo eso hago, pero me reconozco más en estas actividades un tanto más dudosas o marginales—blogs, bibliografías, autopublicaciones varias.

Indexándome







50 años de Avengers y X-Men

50 años de 'Los Vengadores' y 'X-Men'. Especial de y



Y lo que me gustaban a mí hace 40 años... Claro que también me leí los primeros números, que llegaban aquí con retraso, a principios de los 70. Aparte de las versiones atroces reformateadas de mala manera que publicaba Ediciones Vértice, también me leía muchos originales gracias al intercambio que teníamos entre Biescas y la base americana de Zaragoza, establecido por mi padre. Montañas de cómics, nos traíamos, los números atrasados que ellos ya no querían.

Por entonces era yo dibujante aficionado, y me hacía buenos pósters de todos estos individuos en leotardos. Desarrollé una curiosa técnica de grises y sombreados con mi instrumento favorito: el boli bic negro de punta fina. Y hasta dibujé un par de números completos de guerras mutantes por mi cuenta, unas 100 páginas o más, de estos cómics, incluyendo la muerte de la Patrulla X. Porque todo muere, en su momento—aunque en realidad la ilusión es lo primero que muere.



the end
Comic


Imágenes del lector en la novela de Beckett


Un artículo revisado de mi tesis de 1988 que no me dio tiempo a publicar por separado antes de que saliese en mi libro sobre Beckett de 1992. Qué hacías tú en el 92...  Ahora me pasma la cantidad de libros que consultaba, en cinco idiomas. En el 2004 colgué una versión preliminar, y ahora lo subo a varios repositorios y redes.

 "'And he wondered': Imágenes del lector en la novela de Beckett." Word file, U de Zaragoza, 1991. Internet edition (2004):
    http://www.unizar.es/departamentos/filologia_inglesa/garciala/publicaciones/wondered.html
    2013
_____. "'And he wondered': Imágenes del lector en la novela de Beckett." Social Science Research Network 8 Sept. 2013.*
http://ssrn.com/abstract=2321814
    2013
_____. "'And he wondered': Imágenes del lector en la novela de Beckett." Academia 10 Sept. 2013.*
 http://www.academia.edu/4446323/
    2013
_____. "'And he wondered': Imágenes del lector en la novela de Beckett." ResearchGate 10 Sept. 2013.*
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/256470923
    2013

______

También aparece el artículo, en el SSRN, en la revista English & Commonwealth Literature e Journal, sección Twentieth-Century British Literature, con fecha de 8 de septiembre de 2013.

Caos de elementos en disolución progresiva




Lunes 9 de septiembre de 2013

Figura en una cala

Figura en una cala



Materialismo, evolución y consiliencia en Diderot


Aparece en Diderot, unido a su razonamiento sobre la evolución, no el concepto de consiliencia sino un principio muy relacionado con él—el principio de elegir la explicación más sencilla e integradora, y que esta misma capacidad sea el criterio de definición de la verdad. Aparece en una argumentación contra Voltaire, en una carta de Diderot a Damilaville. El principio más explicativo, y por tanto más verdadero, al que se refiere, es el materialismo frente al deísmo:

Si un philosophe avait fait une supposition qui expliquât tous les phénomènes, ne seriez-vous pas tenté de prendre  cette supposition pour une vérité? Pourquoi donc ne prenez-vous pas pour une fausseté une supposition que vous ne pouvez appliquer à aucune question métaphysique, physique, politique et morale, sans l'obscurcir? (1)

Voltaire, por su parte, resumía así las tesis de los materialistas:

J'ai cependant connu des mutins qui disaient qu'il n'y a point d'intelligence formatrice et que le mouvement seul a formé par lui-même tout ce que nous voyons et tout ce que nous sommes [...]; donce il est possible que, dans l'éternité, le seul mouvement de la matière ait produit l'univers entier tel qu'il existe. Voilà le raisonnement de ces messieurs.(2)

Para los Ilustrados materialistas (Fréret, La Mettrie, Maupertuis, Diderot, Helvétius, d'Holbach) no sólo no hay inmortalidad del alma (como convenía Voltaire, aunque prefería que el pueblo creyese lo contrario para sustentar la ética). Tampoco hay Dios, ni diseño inteligente alguno en la creación del Universo. Por tanto, a los principios del materialismo va unido necesariamente el evolucionismo autoformante, o autoselectivo. Voltaire argumentaba que el evolucionismo materialista no podría nunca explicar el surgimiento de la inteligencia; también se atenía al argumento del diseño inteligente. En cuanto a los materialistas, su tradición se remontaba a Lucrecio, Leucipo y Demócrito, donde podemos buscar el origen filosófico de la noción de la selección natural como principio creador de orden y de complejidad a partir de lo simple.

Ahora, lo que me ha llamado más la atención en la cita de Diderot es el criterio de potencia explicativa, y de integración, como definitorio de la verdad. El "efecto de verdad" se produce no por una adecuación entre la cosa y la mente, sino por una congruencia entre las explicaciones de los distintos fenómenos—es un principio de economía explicativa y de comunicación, además de una redefinición de la naturaleza de los objetos para la mente.

Es natural que un principio filosófico como el materialismo lleve por una parte al evolucionismo, ante la necesidad de explicar el desarrollo del orden, de las vida y del pensamiento a partir de la materia, y por otra parte a la consiliencia—pues todas las ramas del conocimiento habrán de fundamentarse en última instancia sobre los mismos principios elementales de constitución de la realidad por autogeneración. De ahí que el evolucionismo, materialismo, y consiliencia se retroalimentan en un bucle explicativo que es, en efecto (antes de Darwin) una revolución del pensamiento, para mostrar cómo se sustenta el cosmos sólo sobre sí mismo, y cómo, en efecto, las cosas se crean por sí solas a partir de la nada, por la fuerza de la costumbre complicada por la retroalimentación que supone el que los mismos principios actúen en un momento posterior, y por tanto sobre un mundo ya diferenciado.

_______

(1). Carta de Diderot a Damilaville, 12 sept. 1765, en Diderot, Correspondance, ed. G. Roth, vol. 5, p. 48. Cit. en la introducción de Jean Varloot a Le Rêve de d'Alembert de Diderot (Paris, 1962), xviii.
(2). Voltaire, A.B.C. (1768), cit. en Varloot, xx.



Sobre el orden autogenerado



El camino al Cabo Udra
El camino al cabo Udra



Domingo 8 de septiembre de 2013

Top Ten Americanist Top Ten Americanist

Ya sé que me repito más que el ajo, pero es que observo que aunque no estoy en el primer puesto de la lista de americanistas (que digamos) sí que soy el único (no-)americanista que tiene a estas alturas DOS artículos en este Top Ten de literatura norteamericana del Social Science Research Network—el único (no-)americanista que tiene DOS artículos en este Top Ten de literatura norteamericana del Social Science Research Network. Vamos, entre los artículos más leídos allí en los últimos 15 años de la Internet. El SSRN no es el cogollito del mundo de la americanística, pero sí es el repositorio número uno del mundo en humanidades y ciencias sociales, según quienes establecen estos ránkings.

Merece pantallazo:

SSRNamLit2013

Uno de los artículos va sobre The Road de Cormac McCarthy, y otro sobre Pattern Recognition de William Gibson. No se diga que no estoy a la penúltima.

Pues eso, léanselos si tienen tiempo y nada mejor que leer. Están, por cierto, en español, a pesar del título inglés.  También les diría algo de que no veo por allí a los americanistas que me asignaban calificación de suspenso, corvas almas ellos, por razones no de criterio sino de torticero maniobrar profesional—pero para qué abundar en ello. De todos modos estos méritos tampoco son tales porque nadie los tiene en cuenta, al menos en mi entorno.

Aunque a mi madre sí que le ha alegrado la noticia.


SSRN, insuficientemente académico







Pregón de Pedro Estaún

En las fiestas de Biescas este agosto, grabado por mi madre—en su canal está. Habla Pedro Estaún en este punto de las excursiones que hacía con mi padre y con los Oliver; yo también me acuerdo de haber ido a una con ellos y con mi padre, a Peña Telera.





Y salen los Oliver en el vídeo, y mi tío Fernando y tía Fina, y tío Agustín, tío Sebastián y tía Angelines, y primos y sobrinos... mi primo Luis, que es el alcalde del pueblo, también en el balcón— y mi madre detrás de la cámara, claro. Ahora mismo acaba de subir el vídeo a su canal de YouTube.










Sábado 7 de septiembre de 2013

Mástil y pueblo con mar

Mástil y pueblo con mar


Me he vuelto a hacer con mi programa de iPhoto y vuelvo a subir, como se ve, una remesa diaria de mis fotos del verano. Hay Galicia para rato, aviso.



España, como siempre, ridícula y servil



En cuanto a la intervención en Siria. Mariano Rajoy—Mariano— vende barato el apoyo a Obama, metiéndose en un fregado que ni le viene ni le va. E igualmente insensata y abyecta es la postura de España en tantos otros asuntos, todos los que toca, de hecho. Pero para qué extenderse más. Hoy hay en EsRadio un programa de Sin Complejos donde lo debaten por extenso.

Comenzando por un buen editorial, "Pan y Circo"—contra los Juegos Olímpicos de "20020", que tan caros nos han salido ya a estas alturas, por obra y gracia del manirroto ministro de Justicia. Que mejor estaría en un banquillo que al frente de la justicia española. Un país de memos, gobernado por delincuentes a quienes elegimos, votándoles como borregos descerebrados a pesar de su currículum deslumbrante en letras de neón.

Y sobre el tema de Siria, una preguntita, a ver. Esas prisas por gastar misiles, a cuenta de los lobbies de Washington. Se supone que el gobierno de Siria ha cometido algún acto criminal internacional. ¿Acaso, antes de echarle una lluvia de misiles a los sirios, han manifestado los americanos, ya no digo los españoles, su voluntad de derrocar a ese gobierno? ¿Hay órdenes internacionales de detención contra Al Assad y sus ministros? ¿Le han embargado las cuentas en Suiza que tenga, y detallitos de estos?

Aquí el Nobel de la Paz Obama se está retratando una vez más, como otro bombero incendiario que no quiere pisarle la manguera a los otros bomberos. Y Rajoy, el bombero torero, para qué decir nada de él a estas alturas. ¿Conocen a alguien que le vote, o que le haya votado? Pues trabajen por ahí, por hacerle entrar en razón al votante del PPSOE, si creen que vale la pena hacer algo por este país.



País de idiotas—y de golfos





Viernes 6 de septiembre de 2013

Figuras diminutas en paisaje tropical

Figuras diminutas en paisaje tropical
 
Es parte de la vista desde mi escritorio.




Filólogo en la Wikipedia Árabe

Salgo en la Wikipedia árabe. Esta vez en el artículo sobre "Literatura". El último de esta lista de referencias soy, que me parece que les veo mal de árabe:
wikipedia arabe

Wikipedia (Arabic) ("Literature").


No estoy mal acompañado. Algunas referencias junto a la mía, que son páginas de interés:


The Online Books Page. John Mark Ockerbloom, University of Pennsylvania Library.
   

Internet Book List
   

"The Art of Literature" by Kenneth Rexroth. Encyclopedia Britannica article, 1974.


Award Annals


También salgo en la Wikipedia árabe, con arábiga ecuanimidad, como referencia mundial, en el artículo sobre Lingüística. Porque para eso soy filólogo ¿no?—estudioso de la lingüística y de la literatura.  Y eso que según los que entienden en mi departamento y disciplina "no soy lingüista", y así quedó sentado en una célebre oposición que montó un escándalo. En fin, pues aquí sí que lo soy, for what it's worth:

Wikipedia (Arabic) ("Linguistics")
ar.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D8%A7%D9%84%D9%84%D8%B3%D8%A7%D9%86%D9%8A%D8%A7%D8%AA


Y aparezco asimismo, como referencia referenciante, en muchas otras páginas lingüísticas y filológicas académicas, árabes, alemanas o americanas, de Abo Akademi a Yale. Y a Zaragoza. Por ejemplo salgo en The Linguist List, donde llevo desde principios de siglo, o desde finales del anterior. Y en otros sitios que no digo, porque ahora tengo un sueño que ni Martin Luther King. Por ahí hay una lista. Eso sí: en ninguno de esos sitios he visto referenciado a ningún individuo de los del tribunal que me suspendió por no ser lingüista. Ni como lingüistas, ni como literatos, ni como filólogos.


Links to the Bibliography



Jueves 5 de septiembre de 2013

Cosmic Mirror

Cosmic Mirror




More Less

Less is more (Mies van der Rohe)

Less is More
and More is Less
Which is More.
Which is Less.

Gracián aplicado



Sólo solo


Me voy con tu nombre en los labios
y tu sonrisa en la memoria
.
Me voy de ti contigo y solo me voy,
y sólo me voy,
porque te llevo conmigo.
 (José Vicente Guzmán)


Rewriting, rephrasing...

Me voy sin nombrar más tu nombre
Y sólo en la memoria tu sonrisa.
Me voy de ti sin ti.
Y sí, solo me voy,
Aunque te lleve conmigo.


You Did Not Come / Me Sin You / Añicos






Miércoles 4 de septiembre de 2013

Two Suns in the Sunset

La canción de Pink Floyd que oíamos allá a mediados de los 80—en versión de Leif Erickson.









Dark Sunset 2

Dark Sunset 2





Vendiendo electrones

Me doy de alta en la nueva web de royalties de Pearson, pero sólo a tiempo, me temo, de ver mi último balance. Ahora el libro que publicaba Longman, que pasó a Addison-Wesley, que pasó a Pearson, resulta que pasa a Routledge (que pasó a Taylor and Francis) que será quien lo venda y edite a partir de ahora. Siempre he querido publicar en Routledge, aunque no he hecho muchos esfuerzos por ello. Pero como con Mahoma y la montaña, resulta que ahora me llega la montaña.


http://www.routledge.com/books/details/9780582255432/


Pero en Routledge poca montaña de libros venderé. Apenas un par de libros vendidos en el último medio año, claro que es un título de hace más de 15 años. Eso si, los derechos electrónicos, cedidos a Questia Media (Houston), dan un total de 4.174 ejemplares vendidos (ejemplares electrónicos vendidos, a menos que sean consultas en bases de datos). Y de esos les pasan a Pearson unos meros 27 euros, de los cuales me corresponde la mitad de un 30%, o sea, cuatro euros. Si es que de vender electrones no voy a vivir... y libros parece que tampoco, con esa concurrencia.








Filosofía y Literatura


Aquí hay un PDF de una asignatura sobre Filosofía y Literatura, de la Universidad de Granada, donde se me referencia como referencia. Entre otras autoridades sobre la cuestión. Bueno, no estoy entre las "principales fuentes" ni entre la "bibliografía secundaria", sino que sólo es mi bibliografía un "enlace recomendado." Ya sé que es poca cosa. Pero la de ustedes no la recomiendan.

Filología y tecnología







Martes 3 de septiembre de 2013

Showing You Them Cars


Showing You Them Cars

Obama's Identity Theme


Or perhaps Obama's strategy of self-presentation and self-preservation. Murray Schwartz on PsyArt:

Dear Psyarters,

At this precarious moment in the United States' response to the use of nerve gas in Syria -- a response that will be deeply consequential, whatever it turns our to be -- I would like to return for a moment to the suggestion Norm made years ago, that we explore Obama's "identity theme."  In response to Norm's invitation, there was speculation that Obama seeks to unify opposing forces or persons.  I have observed a different pattern, and I think Obama is repeating it now.  He plays rope-a dope, to borrow a phrase from Mohammad Ali.  That is, he puts himself in a position of apparent weakness in order to set the stage for exposure of the weakness of a rival.  The impulse to unify, to bring people together, is only a starting point, or moment, in this dynamic -- and risky -- process.  The current enactment of this process is his challenge to congress to support his commitment to respond to Assad's use of banned chemical weapons in Syria.  As I watch this challenge play out, I am!
  mindful of the numerous occasions in which Obama has been -- or placed himself -- in the same position, as he did a few weeks before each presidential election, which he won.

  --Best, Murray

I have a Dream—my missiles over Syria...—oh wait.

¿Tú aquí qué ves?





Imaginative Within Bounds (Concluding Reading Matters)


Aún me estoy leyendo a ratos perdidos, en exámenes y demás, Reading Matters: Narratives in the New Media Ecology (ed. Joseph Tabbi y Michael Wutz, 1997). De hecho me lo voy leyendo y releyendo, picoteando y olvidando. Es curioso pensar cómo en un ensayo vanguardista sobre el hipertexto en 1997 la Red aparecía aún como un experimento interesante y prometedor, nada específico ni destacado. Así especulaba Stuart Moulthrop sobre la ecología del enlace:

"Consider a generation for whom "words that yield" are a regular occurence, not a discursive anomaly. Consider readers and writers for whom jumps out of the system are commonplace, and who regularly articulate both hypertextual and hypotextual structures. Though this generation would still undeniably linked by tradition and cultural continuity to our own, would they not have a fundamentally different understanding of texts and textual enterprises?" (291)

Lejos estaban aún (de la mente) los blogs y la hipertextualización de todo el texto. Que en cierto modo la trajo Google, al hacer la información usable e inmediatamente accesible. En 1997 aún estábamos en la ecología Yahoo. Y viendo el futuro con Stuart Moulthrop.

Así concluye su ensayo "No War Machine", y el libro, Stuart Moulthrop—con una esperanza de que el Hipertexto nos llevará más allá del Libro:

"In such anxious contexts, the nostalgia for exact replications and authoritative, cybernetic command of information may be understandable. But this devotion can lead to cultural stagnation, to a conservatism that locks us into deadened orthodoxy, the unquestioned logic of the Line. To be 'imaginative beyond bounds' may be terrible, but what does it mean to be imaginative within bounds? Who determines the boundary or border lines? Which practices of discourse are ordained as safe, and which are condemned as hazards to the Book of Life? Play the metaphor out: if the viral potential of cybernetic language represents the 'cancerous and dangerous proliferation of significations,' in Foucault's phrase ('What Is an Author?' 159), then we might see in the new Deuternomy the familiar conservative nostrums: abstinence and monogamy. That would leave hypertext the only remaining way ofrelative liberty, a form of 'safe' intercourse whose object is to preserve possibilities of contact without jeopardizing public health. In a wold caufht in the pincers of virus on the one hand and askesis on the other, hypertext may provide a therapy, if not a cure. It may not represent a war machine, or a true cultural revolution; but it could be our only option if we do not wish to have the Book thrown at us yet again." (291-2).
 
El Libro, o el Libro Electrónico. La web, y sus formas más informes, la búsqueda, el correo electrónico, las redes sociales y los blogs son la mejor manera de esquivar ese Libro, o de tenerlo en movimiento. Los libros acelerados y dispersos por la Red ya pasan a otra dimensión mediática—como intuían Benjamin o McLuhan, están cogidos en una transición intermedial, y vemos que buscaban expresar cosas más allá de sus medios.

De un bonito ensayo de Geoffrey Winthrop-Young sobre Thomas Mann ("Magic Media Mountain: Technology and the Umbildungsroman") cojo estas citas intermediáticas para un ensayo sobre la narratividad del fotoblog—otra de esas formas acumulativas y secuenciadas que sólo la red hace posibles:

"from Plato's look back in philosophic anger at the Athenian shift from body-based orality to text-based literacy all the way to William Gibson's uneasy anticipation of the bodiless exultations of cyberspace, writing—that peculiar activity promoted by storage media—has paid special attention to its technological makeup as well as to other, 'competing' technologies. These concerns are especially present in times of media change, when societies undergo information revolutions that promote new media technologies and demote others. New technologies, however, are not just simply added to the existing stock like logs stacked up in a shed; media form an ecology in which arrivals and departures change the entire system. Furthermore, our information processing capabilities are not strictly compartmentalized. There is no clear division of data labor with photography focusing exclusively on domain A, writing on B, movies on C, computers on D, and so on. Of course a photo of a tree is not the same as a description or a painting of a tree, but all three deal with trees and, more important, the fact that we can photograph trees has influenced the way we describe and paint them. Finally, the ways in which we used to read and write about trees may have contained something that pointed ahead to photography. Painting mimicking photography, writing co-opting phonography, movies imitating or debunking books...: these are intermedial boundary conflicts, and of such stuff great art is made." (31)

—No es gran arte el blog, o al menos aún no podemos verlo así. Pero qué potencial tiene, allí donde se encuentran todas las tecnologías de representación, gráficas, sonoras, musicales, lenguaje hablado y escrito, vídeo... toda una semiosfera comprimida; hay que señalar en este ensayo sobre el fotoblog la relación entre la semiosfera y la multimedialidad, que a Lotman se le escapaba en parte al vivir en la era Gutenberg.

Para Winthrop-Young es La Montaña Mágica una novela de la medialidad, del impacto de las nuevas formas de representación e información en la experiencia, el pensamiento y en la vida cotidiana. Tanto como William Gibson y sus transhumanidades cibernéticas:

"There is more than a passing resemblance between Thomas Mann's Castorp and William Gibson's Case: both are medianauts intent on relishing up-to-date media experiences. Both demonstrate that who we are is defined by what we can experience; that what we can experience depends, in turn, on our media (including our body); and that literary representations of what our experiences have made of us will therefore have to be mindful of changing technological standards." (51)

En ello estamos todos, en realidad—aquí, por ejemplo, sumergidos en medio de este medio.


CyberNetics



Lunes 2 de septiembre de 2013

Se compuso solo
Se compuso solo 2

Como el resto de la Creación.


Dix ans plus tôt


Dix ans plus tôt (2) from Jose Angel García Landa on Vimeo.



Domingo 1 de septiembre de 2013

La Universidad cateada

Artículo de César Vidal en La Razón:

LA UNIVERSIDAD CATEADA
César Vidal
Un año más han vuelto a aparecer las listas en que se evalúan a las diferentes universidades y ni una sola española se encuentra entre las doscientas primeras. Sé que es obligado referirse a las honrosas excepciones entre los docentes, pero la realidad es inamovible desde hace años: nuestra universidad suspende bochornosamente. Las razones no son difíciles de determinar. La primera es el sistema de acceso al profesorado creado por el PSOE para colocar a amigos y que desde hace décadas desplomó la calidad docente. Como me señalaba recientemente un catedrático, “ya no es que entren los parientes, los de carnet o los que han aprobado los exámenes de catalán… es que entran los zotes”. No exageraba. Yo he llegado a conocer a profesores de Historia Antigua que no sabían quién era Galba. La segunda razón ha sido el mal empleo descontrolado del gasto. Lejos de que el Estado no haya entregado dinero a la universidad – como vociferan los que lo derrochan – lo que ha existido es una escandalosa impunidad para el despilfarro. Un rector de universidad que dedicara el presupuesto a construir pisos para profesores y dejara un agujero millonario tendría muchas posibilidades en Estados Unidos de acabar en la cárcel. En España, por el contrario, se pasa por alto semejante conducta y, por añadidura, se le considera un progresista. La tercera causa ha sido que la universidad se convirtió hace tiempo en un ente cada vez más alejado de la realidad siquiera porque no pocos de sus docentes viven en un universo virtual donde lo mismo se defiende a Hugo Chávez que se piensa que lo mejor que se puede hacer con fondos de todos es levantar un monumento a las Brigadas internacionales. De ese mundo ficticio no puede salir ni por aproximación una visión que permita obtener empleo porque, para empezar, no tiene punto de contacto con lo que sucede. Por último, está la incapacidad para articular una alternativa privada suficiente. En no pocos casos, los defectos de la pública – amiguismo, sectarismo, etc – se han repetido en la privada cegando una vía de salida más que necesaria. Así, burla burlando, la universidad española está detrás no ya de las de Reino Unido, Alemania o Francia sino de Singapur o Nueva Zelanda y, entre las consecuencias, de esa situación se halla el que constituya también una fábrica de parados. A nadie debería sorprender porque es lo que sucede siempre cuando el mérito es sustituido por otros baremos a la hora de cubrir puestos.
www.larazon.es



Hombre, un recurso muy socorrido en nuestra universidad y departamento es dejar una plaza vacante cuando los candidatos no caen bien, por muchos méritos que tengan (después de todo, nobody is perfect), y en cambio ponerle 100 puntos a un amigo o pariente cuando se presenta con los mismos méritos o menos.  Con este sistema casi ni se nota.






Reunión en Biescas






Con mis tíos y sus amigos y mi madre detrás de la cámara. Pues eso, que nos podamos reunir así.





Microblog de septiembre 2013


Proliferation of details detalle


Solía yo poner un microblog almacenando las entradas de mi cbox... pero este mes me paso a Twitter. Así que que aqui abajo irá a partir de ahora... A menos que...



30 sep 13, 09:39
JoseAngel: Mi página de enlaces: http://bit.ly/garcialanda
29 sep 13, 21:52
JoseAngel: A lecture on the Restoration: http://youtu.be/ceFidZi9ge4
28 sep 13, 00:20
JoseAngel: Sobre la competencia del narrador en la ficción: http://www.academia.edu/176322/

24 sep 13, 20:05
JoseAngel: Actos indirectos y en general poco serios: La tradición literaria como pragmática intertextual: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/256023573
23 sep 13, 22:23
JoseAngel: Apuestas: Los del chivatazo del Faisán no van a ver la cárcel ni de lejos. Así están de conchabados jueces, PP, PSOE... y los amigos de la Eta.
22 sep 13, 07:07
JoseAngel: Acting and Mirror Neurons: http://youtu.be/loB-Lg0X1qo
21 sep 13, 19:43
JoseAngel: Acabo de ver a Alvarete con Paloma desde el balcón - ¡qué majetes!
21 sep 13, 11:05
JoseAngel: A ver cuándo dejamos de financiar el nacionalismo: http://esradio.libertaddigital.com/fonoteca/2013-09-21/editorial-de-luis-del-pino-financiando-el-nacionalismo-63988.html
19 sep 13, 23:35
JoseAngel: Vanity Fea: Prospecciones intertextuales | @scoopit http://sco.lt/8cerVB
19 sep 13, 20:02
JoseAngel: El gobierno tapando el caso Faisán, después de tanto denunciarlo: http://esradio.libertaddigital.com/fonoteca/2013-09-17/federico-a-las-7-hubo-orden-politica-en-el-faisan-63819.html?utm_source=9&utm_m
17 sep 13, 08:40
JoseAngel: Horizonte invisible: http://lamiradaindiscretafotoblog.blogspot.com.es/2013/09/horizonte-invisible.html
15 sep 13, 22:28
JoseAngel: Rajoy y sus "diálogos" http://esradio.libertaddigital.com/fonoteca/2013-09-15/sin-complejos-programa-completo-15092013-63767.html
15 sep 13, 00:01
JoseAngel: A partir de ahora muchas cosas de esta cbox irán a Twitter. Ya veremos si la conservo o no.
14 sep 13, 17:13
JoseAngel: The Guidestones: http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/crux/?p=3494#.UjR77LzNdmM
14 sep 13, 16:47
JoseAngel: Daniel H. Cohen, For Argument's Sake: http://www.ted.com/talks/daniel_h_cohen_for_argument_s_sake.html
14 sep 13, 15:43
JoseAngel: Según la geolocalización de Twitter prácticamente no había independentistas catalanes FUERA de la cadena - JUAS: http://t.co/4J7DLzXQLs
14 sep 13, 11:42
JoseAngel: Mélissa, What's up: http://youtu.be/Ib5nWMTxOSY
14 sep 13, 11:26
JoseAngel: Malditos chismes de limpieza y jardinería del Ayuntamiento y de la Universidad. Qué estruendo causan, qué contaminación sonora tan asquerosa
14 sep 13, 01:04
JoseAngel: Algunos elementos metaficcionales: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/256022778
13 sep 13, 23:23
JoseAngel: Moby Dick rediviva: http://www.fogonazos.es/2013/09/otra-aparicion-estelar-de-migaloo-la.html
13 sep 13, 11:57
JoseAngel: Otro ránking en el que no salimos: http://prensa.unizar.es/noticias/1309/130912_z0_abcuniver.pdf
13 sep 13, 00:37
JoseAngel: Absolutamente de acuerdo con el editorial de ayer del diario @abc_es pic.twitter.com/HT0EzOKz3P @Santi_ABASCAL
13 sep 13, 00:04
JoseAngel: Yo también estoy por seguir ese camino.
12 sep 13, 23:54
JoseAngel: Nasa says Voyager 1 space probe has left solar system and is first manmade object to enter interstellar space http://bbc.in/17Zw8Gj
12 sep 13, 23:41
JoseAngel: Algunos elementos metaficcionales: http://www.academia.edu/4471376/
12 sep 13, 19:02
JoseAngel: Siniestros fantoches asesinos... Así murió ejecutada Halima por disparos de su propio padre | España | elmundo.es http://mun.do/15XIY5h
12 sep 13, 17:12
JoseAngel: Enviada a Rusia la versión final de mi artículo para el volumen sobre la Semiosfera.
12 sep 13, 13:32
JoseAngel: Comentario estilo aragonés sobre la Diada independentista catalana: http://esradio.libertaddigital.com/fonoteca/2013-09-12/federico-a-las-7-queman-la-bandera-de-espana-63634.html
12 sep 13, 06:22
JoseAngel: Cuando se despertó, seguía allí.
12 sep 13, 00:12
JoseAngel: "Complicidad silenciosa" de muchos catalanes (y otros españoles) con los independentistas, dice Sánchez Camacho.
12 sep 13, 00:00
JoseAngel: El gato al agua sobre Cataluña: http://www.intereconomia.com/videoplayer?categoria=otros&nid=1079338&parte=0
11 sep 13, 23:19
JoseAngel: La cadena por la independencia catalana en EsRadio: http://esradio.libertaddigital.com/fonoteca/2013-09-11/editorial-de-luis-herrero-la-cadena-por-la-independencia-63623.html
11 sep 13, 22:39
JoseAngel: La obsesiva sardana: http://endirecto.lavanguardia.com/politica/20130911/54382304190/via-catalana.html
11 sep 13, 19:40
JoseAngel: Homage to Iain Banks: http://blogs.uab.cat/saramartinalegre/2013/09/07/read-you-later-iain-m-banks-learning-the-meaning-of-the-word-completist/
11 sep 13, 13:31
JoseAngel: Vivan las caenas. Boicot a productos catalanes mientras sigan eligiendo gobiernos nacionalistas.
11 sep 13, 09:22
JoseAngel: Alaya preimputa a Chaves y a Griñán (presidentes del PSOE): http://esradio.libertaddigital.com/fonoteca/2013-09-11/federico-a-las-6-alaya-preimputa-a-chaves-y-grinan-63586.html
11 sep 13, 08:12
JoseAngel: El Fiscal Anticorrupción, perdiendo el culo por si puede proteger a los mafiosos del PSOE andaluz.
10 sep 13, 22:21
JoseAngel: La presidencia del PSOE, al banquillo por MAFIOSOS: http://t.co/2RiJ6eGHS5
10 sep 13, 20:33
JoseAngel: The Love of Books: The Philobiblion of Richard de Bury: http://search.lib.virginia.edu/catalog/uva-lib:476744
10 sep 13, 19:30
JoseAngel: Muchos profesores, y con poca capacidad de maniobra: http://prensa.unizar.es/noticias/1309/130910_z0_mundopisa.pdf
10 sep 13, 11:14
JoseAngel: Rosa Díez: "Nada de lo que pide Mas es razonable, todo es inconstitucional" http://www.antena3.com/noticias/espana/rosa-diez-nada-que-pide-mas-razonable-todo-inconstitucional_2013091000028.html
10 sep 13, 11:12
JoseAngel: Sigo con la tos latosa.
10 sep 13, 07:07
JoseAngel: Federico a las 7: "Hoy una cadena, mañana el váter completo"
9 sep 13, 23:51
JoseAngel: VUELTA CICLISTA ESPAÑA 2013 en Biescas grabada por mi madre. Más motoristas que ciclistas: http://t.co/9mmGippQAQ vía @youtube
9 sep 13, 21:51
JoseAngel: Más de 3000 españoles PAGAN por apuntarse a la cola de un viaje a Marte sin retorno. Sí que está mal el país—o algunas cabezas.
9 sep 13, 17:30
JoseAngel: Imagism: http://youtu.be/2gU4F6ePhcM
9 sep 13, 13:51
JoseAngel: Plácido Díez no se cree lo de que la crisis se acaba. Ni yo http://prensa.unizar.es/noticias/1309/130909_z0_15.pdf
9 sep 13, 13:38
JoseAngel: Un patrimonio de depredadores, tampoco es para pelearse por él: http://prensa.unizar.es/noticias/1309/130909_z0_15.pdf
9 sep 13, 13:14
JoseAngel: Citan mi bibliografía en la asignatura de Apreciación Artística del Colegio de Bachilleres de México: http://t.co/rnJMurlBR2
9 sep 13, 12:24
JoseAngel: Edgar Allan Poe: The Mystery: http://youtu.be/WiXKmn8WwZg
8 sep 13, 23:45
JoseAngel: Otra vez en Zaragoza, después del último viaje a Biescas de este verano. Creo.
8 sep 13, 23:18
JoseAngel: Políticos que pactan con la mafia: http://esradio.libertaddigital.com/fonoteca/2013-09-08/sin-complejos-programa-completo-08092013-63486.html
8 sep 13, 10:20
JoseAngel: Se va al fango el "sueño olímpico". Ya han sacado bastante tajada algunos, ya. http://www.rtve.es/deportes/20130907/madrid-2020-cae-eliminada-dice-adios-juegos-olimpicos/745462.shtml
8 sep 13, 10:19
JoseAngel: El día 7, el 7, el 7 de septiembre... Quién cada siete de septiembre.
6 sep 13, 23:04
JoseAngel: Gadamer narra la historia de la filosofía: http://efimeroescombrera.wordpress.com/2013/08/28/video-youtube-gadamer-narra-la-historia-de-la-filosofia-completo/
6 sep 13, 22:35
JoseAngel: Patético Mariano, a repetir lo de Irak calcado, a ver si puedes caer más bajo.
6 sep 13, 22:33
JoseAngel: España respalda «una contundente respuesta internacional contra Siria" - El capote de Obama a Mariano se vende así http://t.co/tdx3lzd5JD
6 sep 13, 20:36
JoseAngel: Eudald Carbonell, Los grandes hitos de la evolución humana: http://www.march.es/conferencias/anteriores/voz.aspx?id=1582&l=1
6 sep 13, 18:54
JoseAngel: 'And he wondered': Imágenes del lector en la novela de Beckett: http://ssrn.com/abstract=2321814
6 sep 13, 17:01
JoseAngel: El Arte como elemento de cohesión social durante la prehistoria: http://www.march.es/conferencias/anteriores/voz.aspx?id=2530&l=1
6 sep 13, 16:58
JoseAngel: Conferencia (audio) sobre la cultura y civilización humana como evolución: http://www.march.es/conferencias/anteriores/voz.aspx?id=2532&l=1
6 sep 13, 14:13
JoseAngel: Inglés: la llave para entrar en una época de oportunidades http://prensa.unizar.es/noticias/1309/130906_z0_18.pdf
5 sep 13, 23:15
JoseAngel: Eudald Carbonell: Tecnología socializada http://www.march.es/conferencias/anteriores/voz.aspx?id=2531&l=1
5 sep 13, 19:43
JoseAngel: Yo también hago cadenetas: BOICOT A PRODUCTOS CATALANES.
5 sep 13, 19:32
JoseAngel: ¿Madrid 20020? Ojala acierte la profecía del logo: https://t.co/83v70J5DJi
5 sep 13, 19:25
JoseAngel: Un sitio por donde no pasear... excepto en pantalla completa: http://www.webislam.com/videos/57300-el_camino_del_rey.html
5 sep 13, 19:16
JoseAngel: Obama rascándole la espalda a Rajoy, no me vengas... Necesita aliados, y una buena palabra sale barata.
5 sep 13, 16:33
JoseAngel: A debate on revolution by theorists: http://backdoorbroadcasting.net/2013/07/london-critical-theory-summer-school-2013-friday-debate-i/
5 sep 13, 16:30
JoseAngel: Con Zapatero como príncipe filósofo, y piedra de toque para 'philistines'. Visto desde lejos, claro.
5 sep 13, 16:09
JoseAngel: Quentin Skinner, Why the History of Philosophy? http://backdoorbroadcasting.net/2010/11/quentin-skinner-why-the-history-of-philosophy/
5 sep 13, 15:45
JoseAngel: @BarackObama Do not bomb #Syria. Give up the idea of starting a war or give back the #Nobel Peace Price http://t.co/WSVI9mXKeX
4 sep 13, 21:54
JoseAngel: Vanity Fea: El Efecto Mateo y la calidad retroactiva | @scoopit http://t.co/csQniilXDE
4 sep 13, 17:39
JoseAngel: We'll become something different. And once we have become it, we won't be able to remember who we were: http://t.co/9mTbTCAtHN
4 sep 13, 13:44
JoseAngel: Quiere venderme un certificado honorífico el International Biographical Centre: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Biographical_Centre
4 sep 13, 13:12
JoseAngel: El efecto viral de un infundio supera con creces al de su desmentido: http://t.co/XnlI5zahs6
4 sep 13, 13:04
JoseAngel: Aurora Egido, Medalla de Oro de la Ciudad. Los premios son acumulativos. http://prensa.unizar.es/noticias/1309/130904_z0_6.pdf
4 sep 13, 12:52
JoseAngel: NARRATOLOGY (libro que coedité) ahora publicado por Routledge: http://www.routledge.com/books/details/9780582255432/
4 sep 13, 09:15
JoseAngel: La interpretación del TS ha derogado completamente los delitos de corrupción para los políticos. http://t.co/RT6VsmK2SR
3 sep 13, 23:45
JoseAngel: @encasadeherrero Maldición, llegó el jodío fútbol a la noche de esRadio. Tendremos que emigrar a otra emisora.
3 sep 13, 21:51
JoseAngel: Comprando libros de texto de los chavales. Ya no estudian "Lengua española y literatura" sino "Lengua castellana y literatura" — hay que joderse
3 sep 13, 15:51
JoseAngel: El desafío de la Diada. Pero esRadio pierde mucho al irse César Vidal, y en esta presentación NI LO NOMBRAN. Qué mal. http://t.co/EBFgnwLG3M
2 sep 13, 15:11
JoseAngel: I in my eye: Blog de notas de agosto 2013: http://www.unizar.es/departamentos/filologia_inglesa/garciala/z13-8.html
2 sep 13, 14:21
JoseAngel: CiU contrapone 'la Cataluña productiva' con 'la España subsidiada' para defender la soberanía http://elmun.do/172MMFL Tendrán cojonazos. Boicot a productos catalanes.
2 sep 13, 14:19
JoseAngel: Ya he estado en Hacienda, de bancos, en el taller de la moto, y luego un examen. Me queda la ITV y los libros del cole. Viva septiembre.
2 sep 13, 01:54
JoseAngel: Minuto 23: Izquierda Unida, partidaria de la dedocracia del corrupto Griñán: http://www.libertaddigital.com/opinion/juan-carlos-girauta/rajoy-responde-a-mas-69295/
2 sep 13, 01:40
JoseAngel: Rajoy responde a Mas: http://www.libertaddigital.com/opinion/juan-carlos-girauta/rajoy-responde-a-mas-69295/
2 sep 13, 01:35
JoseAngel: Entrevista a Alejo Vidal Quadras: http://esradio.libertaddigital.com/fonoteca/2013-08-31/entrevista-a-alejo-vidal-cuadras-63192.html
2 sep 13, 01:31
JoseAngel: Llegamos a Zaragoza tras un viaje un tanto lúgubre. Vemos a Fabiola justo antes de que salga para Alemania.
1 sep 13, 10:24
JoseAngel: Saliendo de Bueu, camino de Zaragoza. Y del otoño.
1 sep 13, 08:48
JoseAngel: Se va César Vidal de EsRadio: http://www.diarioliberal.com/2013/07/23/cesar-vidal-sigue-atacando-a-esradio-y-a-javier-somalo/



Microblog de agosto 2013