Gillian Polack's Blog, page 127
February 5, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-02-06T13:20:00
So term has begun. We talked about various rulers and would-be rulers of England and decided that Isabella would not be our next-best friend (we always decide this when discussing Isabella). I'm still entertained by a local news report tangling weapons with fish and claiming that Richard was killed by a halibut - alas, the student who heard this doesn't remember which station.
All the rest of the session was language. There was some surprise when my pronunciation of 'bade' turned out to be the same as the dictionary's, for the class was agreed on quite a different pronunciation. And word of the day was 'corps.' We looked at the Latin and, I'm afraid, returned to jokes about dead bodies and parking. That was our lot for the day...
All the rest of the session was language. There was some surprise when my pronunciation of 'bade' turned out to be the same as the dictionary's, for the class was agreed on quite a different pronunciation. And word of the day was 'corps.' We looked at the Latin and, I'm afraid, returned to jokes about dead bodies and parking. That was our lot for the day...
February 4, 2013
courses
I'm getting in a reminder while people are still thinking - wow! Richard! It feels all kinds of wrong to do this, but people are due a reminder anyhow, so...
My history courses at the ANU for this semester include:
Medieval places, which can include carparks in Leicester and their contents (and actually does include the shape and function of a town that size, so it will be quite obvious why Richard entered where he entered and left where he left and slept where he slept the last night of his life): http://www.anu.edu.au/cce/cecourses/outlines/history/Medievalplaces.pdf
and
The taste of history. Since I put a whole section on the food of Richard's coronation in the Conflux cookbook (because I could, to be honest - it wasn't actually relevant), I'm pretty sure I can talk about that and also the food around in his day. Only if the class wants it, of course: http://www.anu.edu.au/cce/cecourses/outlines/history/Thetasteofhistory.pdf
Also, the masterclass I'm giving in Queensland in March will be all about the relationship between history and fiction from the writer's point of view. http://www.qwc.asn.au/courses-and-events/courses/weekend-workshops/masterclasses/making-fiction-history-using-the-past-to-build-your-world/
I'm also teaching punctuation and grammar (Act Writers' Centre) and novel writing (ANU) but they're nothing to do with Richard.
My history courses at the ANU for this semester include:
Medieval places, which can include carparks in Leicester and their contents (and actually does include the shape and function of a town that size, so it will be quite obvious why Richard entered where he entered and left where he left and slept where he slept the last night of his life): http://www.anu.edu.au/cce/cecourses/outlines/history/Medievalplaces.pdf
and
The taste of history. Since I put a whole section on the food of Richard's coronation in the Conflux cookbook (because I could, to be honest - it wasn't actually relevant), I'm pretty sure I can talk about that and also the food around in his day. Only if the class wants it, of course: http://www.anu.edu.au/cce/cecourses/outlines/history/Thetasteofhistory.pdf
Also, the masterclass I'm giving in Queensland in March will be all about the relationship between history and fiction from the writer's point of view. http://www.qwc.asn.au/courses-and-events/courses/weekend-workshops/masterclasses/making-fiction-history-using-the-past-to-build-your-world/
I'm also teaching punctuation and grammar (Act Writers' Centre) and novel writing (ANU) but they're nothing to do with Richard.
gillpolack @ 2013-02-05T11:32:00
I've had an exciting morning, but haven't got a lot of work done.
My next door neighbour called "Gillian! Gillian!" until I came out. It appeared that we had Plumbers. It also appears that we have a major blockage. Tree roots have interfered with drainage bigtime.
The plumbers are leaving now (having borrowed power from me) and say that they haven't solved the problem, but that they've cleared out a lot of stuff. They said they might not be able to sort it. I said that there could be a wider problem if they didn't, and pointed out where in the valley we were and told them the history of drainage in this area. "We'll have to do something, then" they said. "We'll probably be back later on. See you then."
This is partly related to my sink problems of a few weeks ago. I still had sink problems (and they're now sorted) but there are roots interfering with drainage right across the block of flats. Once they're cleared, things'll be fine for about 16 years.
No, this isn't the first time this has happened. However did you guess?
My next door neighbour called "Gillian! Gillian!" until I came out. It appeared that we had Plumbers. It also appears that we have a major blockage. Tree roots have interfered with drainage bigtime.
The plumbers are leaving now (having borrowed power from me) and say that they haven't solved the problem, but that they've cleared out a lot of stuff. They said they might not be able to sort it. I said that there could be a wider problem if they didn't, and pointed out where in the valley we were and told them the history of drainage in this area. "We'll have to do something, then" they said. "We'll probably be back later on. See you then."
This is partly related to my sink problems of a few weeks ago. I still had sink problems (and they're now sorted) but there are roots interfering with drainage right across the block of flats. Once they're cleared, things'll be fine for about 16 years.
No, this isn't the first time this has happened. However did you guess?
gillpolack @ 2013-02-04T22:04:00
The Richard III announcement is making me very happy right now. I love that the team talked about the issues of identification and the issues with historical record and genetic record as part of the press conference and didn't just present an "Aren't we clever: yes, it's him."
I'll watch for the next few months and see if this changes local awareness of history and archaeology. As the person who teaches Medieval Studies to the wider world in my local community, I'm nicely placed.
Also, my forthcoming short story contains battered bones. For the record, yes, I was influenecd by the account of the battering Richard received after death. I was hoping that he had actually been treated with respect, but the story was too good and so I was influenced by it. It's really sad that the story was too good to resist for those handling his body.
I'll watch for the next few months and see if this changes local awareness of history and archaeology. As the person who teaches Medieval Studies to the wider world in my local community, I'm nicely placed.
Also, my forthcoming short story contains battered bones. For the record, yes, I was influenecd by the account of the battering Richard received after death. I was hoping that he had actually been treated with respect, but the story was too good and so I was influenced by it. It's really sad that the story was too good to resist for those handling his body.
February 2, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-02-03T12:51:00
It's about time I saw the Orson Welles Jane Eyre, so that's my viewing this afternoon when I need a break from work. I can only watch it in segments, because the pathos was not something I enjoyed in the book and so, of course, I have limited tolerance for it in the film. I'd avoided watching it for years, simply because Jane Eyre is my least favourite Bronte work and I was watching new versions as released (not all of them - I maybe ought to catch up on the others one day, but that means braving the pathos!) and I had somehow forgotten this one. I was a tad stupid, for it's a good film. Pathos in the early sections notwithstanding, it's an amazing cast (Elizabeth Taylor is Helen, which I did not realise - this means the film has three of the best child actors of the 40s) and astonishing writers (Houseman and Huxley adapting Bronte!).
I borrowed the DVD from the library because I was curious to compare Jane Eyre's Gothic to the Gothic tropes in The Secret Garden. I love the way Hodgson Burnett undermines Gothicness, bit by bit, and it struck me that it would be good to see how a well-made film did precisely the opposite.
This morning I was analysing a local editor (because I discovered a gap in my understanding for a section of my history and fiction analysis - and it was an easy and quick and very productive analysis to do to fill in that hole), and I realised that this editor has a problem with getting their writers to break down the tropes and to understand how those tropes work. When I read a dozen stories edited by this person, it was quite clear that they see each story as itself and do not have a wider context for it*. This means that some stories were wholly predictable and others were less thoughtful than they could be. Not understanding the mechanics behind genre has an interesting effect over a range of stories, but not a good one. I found this sad, and shifted my own tropeishness to today, as happiness creation.
Right now, however, I believe I'm to spend an hour with the rocks and trees and agricultural practices of the Middle Ages. More Jane Eyre when I'm finished!
*I need to do more of this analysis of patterns in works produced by a single editor. It's very illuminating and surprisingly straightforward. I didn't realise just how much of the editor's attitudes to fiction show through when one has enough examples on the same theme. I'd love to know what shows through of my attitudes and limitations in Baggage!
I borrowed the DVD from the library because I was curious to compare Jane Eyre's Gothic to the Gothic tropes in The Secret Garden. I love the way Hodgson Burnett undermines Gothicness, bit by bit, and it struck me that it would be good to see how a well-made film did precisely the opposite.
This morning I was analysing a local editor (because I discovered a gap in my understanding for a section of my history and fiction analysis - and it was an easy and quick and very productive analysis to do to fill in that hole), and I realised that this editor has a problem with getting their writers to break down the tropes and to understand how those tropes work. When I read a dozen stories edited by this person, it was quite clear that they see each story as itself and do not have a wider context for it*. This means that some stories were wholly predictable and others were less thoughtful than they could be. Not understanding the mechanics behind genre has an interesting effect over a range of stories, but not a good one. I found this sad, and shifted my own tropeishness to today, as happiness creation.
Right now, however, I believe I'm to spend an hour with the rocks and trees and agricultural practices of the Middle Ages. More Jane Eyre when I'm finished!
*I need to do more of this analysis of patterns in works produced by a single editor. It's very illuminating and surprisingly straightforward. I didn't realise just how much of the editor's attitudes to fiction show through when one has enough examples on the same theme. I'd love to know what shows through of my attitudes and limitations in Baggage!
gillpolack @ 2013-02-03T01:33:00
I have possibly been working a bit late, but it's OK, for I wasn't working very hard. This is part of my destruction of deadlines over the next week. It's a great and worthwhile ambition.
That's not the reason I'm blogging, though. The reason that I'm blogging is because it's eight degrees outside right now and about to cool down further. This is thirty-something degrees colder than when the bushfires decided to swarm. And it's February, which is technically the hottest month of the year. My sense of humour is decidedly tickled by this.
Half Canberra will have had windows open and will wake up on Sunday possessed of fine headcolds. I may do that, just to keep up with the Joneses, but I shall try to avoid it.
One day I shall post interestingly again. Not quite now, though. Now my life is just terribly, terribly mundane. If you don't believe me, say so and I shall post about the state of my kitchen sink, or talk about my little toe. I'm kindness personified, you see, and if you want evidence of the dullness of my current existence, I shall endeavour to provide it.
I shall also endeavour to stop reading pretentious writing, for I'm totally sure it's infecting my prose. It's a pity, for my tomorrow's writing is my much-delayed conference paper, and it's all about SF and it's for Medievalists, and I'm honestly not sure which of my dialects to use. Possibly not the pretentious one. Possibly straightforward plain language and hope that everyone's as nice about crossing discipline boundaries as they were at Leeds.
That's not the reason I'm blogging, though. The reason that I'm blogging is because it's eight degrees outside right now and about to cool down further. This is thirty-something degrees colder than when the bushfires decided to swarm. And it's February, which is technically the hottest month of the year. My sense of humour is decidedly tickled by this.
Half Canberra will have had windows open and will wake up on Sunday possessed of fine headcolds. I may do that, just to keep up with the Joneses, but I shall try to avoid it.
One day I shall post interestingly again. Not quite now, though. Now my life is just terribly, terribly mundane. If you don't believe me, say so and I shall post about the state of my kitchen sink, or talk about my little toe. I'm kindness personified, you see, and if you want evidence of the dullness of my current existence, I shall endeavour to provide it.
I shall also endeavour to stop reading pretentious writing, for I'm totally sure it's infecting my prose. It's a pity, for my tomorrow's writing is my much-delayed conference paper, and it's all about SF and it's for Medievalists, and I'm honestly not sure which of my dialects to use. Possibly not the pretentious one. Possibly straightforward plain language and hope that everyone's as nice about crossing discipline boundaries as they were at Leeds.
February 1, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-02-02T16:01:00
I have a lowish pain day and watched Hugo to celebrate.
Of the various things I need to do in the next week I have so far achieved precisely one. This isn't quite as bad as it sounds (not quite) for of the difficult items, I've made progress on two more. I don't think this is going to be a fascinating week, however.
Except for teaching on Wednesday. Teaching will be fascinating because it's my favourite class and I have something special lined up for this term. Not quantum physics. Not poetry. Just words. Except that words are never 'just' words, and that's what we're going to spend the term discovering.
I'm reflecting back on the last few years with my Wednesday class and I've just realised that their reading skills are all far more advanced, and so are their analytical skills. It really does make a difference when students want to learn and willingly accept homework. A very big difference.
And now I'm reflecting on my reflections and realised that I'm in danger of simple procrastination. Never put off til later today the task that you can do tomorrow? (For my next trick, I shall book a bus.)
Of the various things I need to do in the next week I have so far achieved precisely one. This isn't quite as bad as it sounds (not quite) for of the difficult items, I've made progress on two more. I don't think this is going to be a fascinating week, however.
Except for teaching on Wednesday. Teaching will be fascinating because it's my favourite class and I have something special lined up for this term. Not quantum physics. Not poetry. Just words. Except that words are never 'just' words, and that's what we're going to spend the term discovering.
I'm reflecting back on the last few years with my Wednesday class and I've just realised that their reading skills are all far more advanced, and so are their analytical skills. It really does make a difference when students want to learn and willingly accept homework. A very big difference.
And now I'm reflecting on my reflections and realised that I'm in danger of simple procrastination. Never put off til later today the task that you can do tomorrow? (For my next trick, I shall book a bus.)
gillpolack @ 2013-02-01T23:50:00
Today was strange. Just strange. No other way to describe it, really.
I was so tired after the last few days, that mostly I slept and caught up with more little things that needed doing. I managed to repair my fridge (I'm very proud of this, for I am the home handyperson of most person's nightmares ie I'm much better at breaking than repairing) and even air my place. This latter was possible due to rain. There are more fires, but they're not blowing my way, currently, nor are they even nearby**.
My heart goes out to the people in the new fire-region, though, for the rest of us have had rain (and the more northerly of us were flooded, which includes family and friends though as far as I know, all my family and friends had power outages but that's about all, which was a series of reliefs as I heard about each and all of them) but a whole swathe of Victorians and New South Welshpeople are still in the middle of a big dry and big dries and fire seasons are dangerously combustible. I'm most worried for the people in the Mt Hotham area, right now.
Honestly, Australia isn't normally this exciting.
My lists for this week mainly concern things that need to be done before my bathroom and laundry are made halfway decent again. It's not a home-beautiful approach. It's more 'Get someone in who can fix the complete tile and wallpaper disaster in one room and the cabinet and paint disaster in another and sort the worst of the kitchen to boot.' I have to put a lot of things away or out of the way, but I also have to finish up with a bunch of work.
In fact, I don't have a list for this week. I'm tired of lists, I think. I'm writing that which must be done on small bits of paper and each one will be ritually torn to shreds as that task is complete and by this time next week, of paper there will be none. It's not exciting, but it makes my life feel as if it's not mundane.
I think the confinement-to-home is making my brain murky, despite the best efforts of friends. My friends' help means I do not lack for sustenance or DVDs and lo, I had a social trip out last week to see The Hobbit, but it's still pretty strange to be indoors for such a long period and so I make very small mischief.
The very small mischief started the week before last, and builds up pace the more stir crazy I become. I've been rearranging all kinds of possessions into tiny tableaux. Boozoo*, for instance, is being threatened by an angry robot (actually a pencil sharpener). No-one notices these tableaux except me, so I can set them up in odd corners of my lounge room with no ill effect. My Pyramids of Mars pieces are misbehaving dreadfully, though,. The Doctor is sitting on K9 and watching three mummies disco wildly.
And now I'm dreaming of other small mischief. I think I'd possibly better get to bed before I do anything so mean-spirited as put an arrowhead through my dancing dead, or cover a little wizard in foaming handmade lace. Oh dear, I forgot. The wizard drowned in lace the day before yesterday. His face peeps bravely through white cascade...
One day I need to retrieve my miniature gamelan orchestra from my storeroom. That would open up so many possibilities.
I think the moral of this story is "Never leave Gillian on her own for too long."
Why am I doing all this and not writing? That's the thing. Many hours of pain, alone, at home, no teaching - I'm doing all this and I'm writing as well. Though not today. Today I slept. I also had many phonecalls from very interesting people. As a result, there are no new tableaux today, which is sad. My friends distracted me from my vile path...
*a present from the publisher of Illuminations from the book tour - he's a Louisianan alligator of maybe 2 inches in height, drinking a margarita and I love him dearly
** When the wind changes direction, though, I have to close the windows. This is now, I fear. Still, I got to air my place! And it's lovely and cool outside.
I was so tired after the last few days, that mostly I slept and caught up with more little things that needed doing. I managed to repair my fridge (I'm very proud of this, for I am the home handyperson of most person's nightmares ie I'm much better at breaking than repairing) and even air my place. This latter was possible due to rain. There are more fires, but they're not blowing my way, currently, nor are they even nearby**.
My heart goes out to the people in the new fire-region, though, for the rest of us have had rain (and the more northerly of us were flooded, which includes family and friends though as far as I know, all my family and friends had power outages but that's about all, which was a series of reliefs as I heard about each and all of them) but a whole swathe of Victorians and New South Welshpeople are still in the middle of a big dry and big dries and fire seasons are dangerously combustible. I'm most worried for the people in the Mt Hotham area, right now.
Honestly, Australia isn't normally this exciting.
My lists for this week mainly concern things that need to be done before my bathroom and laundry are made halfway decent again. It's not a home-beautiful approach. It's more 'Get someone in who can fix the complete tile and wallpaper disaster in one room and the cabinet and paint disaster in another and sort the worst of the kitchen to boot.' I have to put a lot of things away or out of the way, but I also have to finish up with a bunch of work.
In fact, I don't have a list for this week. I'm tired of lists, I think. I'm writing that which must be done on small bits of paper and each one will be ritually torn to shreds as that task is complete and by this time next week, of paper there will be none. It's not exciting, but it makes my life feel as if it's not mundane.
I think the confinement-to-home is making my brain murky, despite the best efforts of friends. My friends' help means I do not lack for sustenance or DVDs and lo, I had a social trip out last week to see The Hobbit, but it's still pretty strange to be indoors for such a long period and so I make very small mischief.
The very small mischief started the week before last, and builds up pace the more stir crazy I become. I've been rearranging all kinds of possessions into tiny tableaux. Boozoo*, for instance, is being threatened by an angry robot (actually a pencil sharpener). No-one notices these tableaux except me, so I can set them up in odd corners of my lounge room with no ill effect. My Pyramids of Mars pieces are misbehaving dreadfully, though,. The Doctor is sitting on K9 and watching three mummies disco wildly.
And now I'm dreaming of other small mischief. I think I'd possibly better get to bed before I do anything so mean-spirited as put an arrowhead through my dancing dead, or cover a little wizard in foaming handmade lace. Oh dear, I forgot. The wizard drowned in lace the day before yesterday. His face peeps bravely through white cascade...
One day I need to retrieve my miniature gamelan orchestra from my storeroom. That would open up so many possibilities.
I think the moral of this story is "Never leave Gillian on her own for too long."
Why am I doing all this and not writing? That's the thing. Many hours of pain, alone, at home, no teaching - I'm doing all this and I'm writing as well. Though not today. Today I slept. I also had many phonecalls from very interesting people. As a result, there are no new tableaux today, which is sad. My friends distracted me from my vile path...
*a present from the publisher of Illuminations from the book tour - he's a Louisianan alligator of maybe 2 inches in height, drinking a margarita and I love him dearly
** When the wind changes direction, though, I have to close the windows. This is now, I fear. Still, I got to air my place! And it's lovely and cool outside.
January 31, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-01-31T23:43:00
Today has been another high pain day. I dealt by putting off the thinking work until tomorrow and by doing a full day of little things that needed doing. Papers got sorted and emails got sent and my backlist of tasks undone is significantly smaller. I have my wallchart of tasks to be finished in February setup and staring untidily from the back of the front door. I found all my missing files and have taken suitable action with most of them.
Thanks to a friend's help (lift!) I have sent a wedding present to the UK, a birthday present to NSW, a you-are-a-chef! present to NSW (for the son of the friend whose birthday it was, who has just graduated) and various other things. I've been to the library and to the bank. I've made tomorrow's main meal.
If I can do three more things before bed, it won't be a wasted day by any stretch of the imagination, just a very sore one. And I've been persuaded by my mother that if this level of pain persists past mid-February, I need to see the doctor. I'm pretty sure I know what's causing it (the joys of PMT during perimenopause) but Mum's worrying about how debilitating it is, and I'm beginning to think she's right.
The interesting aspect of these high pain period is the objects around me break in sympathy. I don't have to be touching them, just within about a metre of them.
Today's dramatic breakage was the bar that stops the milk from falling off the door of the fridge. I was forced to drink a half bottle of Brown Brothers' dessert wine. Forced, I tell you!
The wine didn't diminish the pain, but it left me dreadfully drunk during the late afternoon. I need to learn that when this particular set of symptoms means I metabolise alcohol differently. Normally, I don't get drunk at all, but this afternoon I was the opposite. I had to lie down until it faded, which was probably what I should have been doing anyhow, rather than breaking my fridge. The wine was particularly delicious, which I also found interesting - normally I have a limited capacity for anything sweet these days.
I'm not allowed to wash dishes until my capacity to break objects by simply walking past them is a little less strong. I can weep tears over this if you want, but they'd be crocodile tears. If ever I get a place with a dishwasher, I will be a better human being for it.
Thanks to a friend's help (lift!) I have sent a wedding present to the UK, a birthday present to NSW, a you-are-a-chef! present to NSW (for the son of the friend whose birthday it was, who has just graduated) and various other things. I've been to the library and to the bank. I've made tomorrow's main meal.
If I can do three more things before bed, it won't be a wasted day by any stretch of the imagination, just a very sore one. And I've been persuaded by my mother that if this level of pain persists past mid-February, I need to see the doctor. I'm pretty sure I know what's causing it (the joys of PMT during perimenopause) but Mum's worrying about how debilitating it is, and I'm beginning to think she's right.
The interesting aspect of these high pain period is the objects around me break in sympathy. I don't have to be touching them, just within about a metre of them.
Today's dramatic breakage was the bar that stops the milk from falling off the door of the fridge. I was forced to drink a half bottle of Brown Brothers' dessert wine. Forced, I tell you!
The wine didn't diminish the pain, but it left me dreadfully drunk during the late afternoon. I need to learn that when this particular set of symptoms means I metabolise alcohol differently. Normally, I don't get drunk at all, but this afternoon I was the opposite. I had to lie down until it faded, which was probably what I should have been doing anyhow, rather than breaking my fridge. The wine was particularly delicious, which I also found interesting - normally I have a limited capacity for anything sweet these days.
I'm not allowed to wash dishes until my capacity to break objects by simply walking past them is a little less strong. I can weep tears over this if you want, but they'd be crocodile tears. If ever I get a place with a dishwasher, I will be a better human being for it.
January 29, 2013
On writers and their worlds
My thought for the day is that people carry their own experiences around with them everywhere. It shows in the oddest places. The Aurealis reading, for instance, has more than one example of a writer who knows one country and is writing about another in terms that better fit his/her country of origin. If anyone wants to me explore the specific books that do this and talk about their approaches and how that prior knowledge changes the story, ask me after the finalists are announced, which is when I can talk about individual books.
In the meantime, though, this matches exactly what I've found with writers who use history in their work. Those who are writing solely using instinct or instinct aided by limited research aren't questioning what they 'know' about the world from their life experience. This means that, when there is a gap in knowledge it is filled with prior understanding. When there's a gap in understanding, it's filled using assumptions based on...a lot of stuff.
I know this is nothing new. It just stared at me rather starkly today and reminded me that a good writer is someone who questions widely and deeply. It's not how many books a writer reads that counts (although being widely read helps a lot, for it pushes one into that self-questioning) it's how much they actually understand of what's around them, so that they can understand how what they already know affects the world of their novel. And because it's staring me in the face and reminding me that I have (of course) unquestioned assumptions that feed into my fiction, I'm wondering if anyone knows books by someone who has studied this in relation to writers?
I suspect there's not much technical analysis of this out there, because we tend to discuss writers as individuals and this is a combination of a craft question and a culture question - and there aren't that many scholars who tackle that kind of thing. I know
fjm
does this in some of her work, and there are others, but I'm missing most of them. This means, of course, I'm missing a whole branch of literature. In which case - more to learn!
Can anyone advise?
In the meantime, though, this matches exactly what I've found with writers who use history in their work. Those who are writing solely using instinct or instinct aided by limited research aren't questioning what they 'know' about the world from their life experience. This means that, when there is a gap in knowledge it is filled with prior understanding. When there's a gap in understanding, it's filled using assumptions based on...a lot of stuff.
I know this is nothing new. It just stared at me rather starkly today and reminded me that a good writer is someone who questions widely and deeply. It's not how many books a writer reads that counts (although being widely read helps a lot, for it pushes one into that self-questioning) it's how much they actually understand of what's around them, so that they can understand how what they already know affects the world of their novel. And because it's staring me in the face and reminding me that I have (of course) unquestioned assumptions that feed into my fiction, I'm wondering if anyone knows books by someone who has studied this in relation to writers?
I suspect there's not much technical analysis of this out there, because we tend to discuss writers as individuals and this is a combination of a craft question and a culture question - and there aren't that many scholars who tackle that kind of thing. I know
fjm
does this in some of her work, and there are others, but I'm missing most of them. This means, of course, I'm missing a whole branch of literature. In which case - more to learn!Can anyone advise?
