Gillian Polack's Blog, page 227
October 14, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-10-14T14:11:00
Today is a high pain day for no apparent reason at all. Unless there are thunderstorms coming, my body has just decided to hurt unless I rest. This means that I do some work and then some rest and then some quiet exercise and then some work and then some rest and then some quiet exercise. The housework is not happening. The frilly extras are not happening. And really, I'm not getting through work at a whacking great pace. I am, however, making progress and several things that need to reach my in-box before I can do anything on them haven't yet reached my in-box so I'm not particularly falling behind. Things could be worse.
I managed to work myself into a state of irateness earlier, because of people who - when discussing food allergies - talk happily about how clever they were in when they introduced their children to what food and how their children are well and happy as a result and how other children, less cleverly handled, have developed allergies. I think I'm very tired of parents being blamed for allergies. If my parents had thrown me out of a moving vehicle and I had broken a leg, then they should be blamed. They really shouldn't be blamed for handing on their genes. I will stir Mum about it, but I would never tell her that if she had handled my eating habits differently when I was little, my life might have been safer. Because it would not have been. The allergy experts have worked this one out, aided by many tests. The big thing is that - despite the allergies - I'm alive. That's good parenting, not bad.
There's all sorts of holier-than-thou going on right now around me. My Chinese grocer (actually, he's Malaysian Chinese and a Dr Who fan) was wildly anti-Jewish the other day. It was anti-Semitism couched as anti-Israel sentiment. He shook my hand when I argued back and has promised to look into the politics of hate a bit more. Before then, however, he said some things that weren't so good. It's the usual stuff and I won't go into it. It leaves me feeling vulnerable, as always.
I'm hoping that no-one will feel the need to tell me what to think or feel about any aspect of anti-Semitism for the next few days. I just want to let it fade. I know why many people will not admit to being Jewish - the world feels a lot safer when one hides it.
This is all life as usual. It's just that the usual aspects of life are a bit more direct than they have been recently and it all feels a bit looming. Pain makes me feel vulnerable, perhaps.
Some of it also echoes in my fiction. I found the conversation with my Chinese grocer echoed scene by scene in Secret Jewish Women's Business, upon which I'm currently working (unexpectedly). I predicted this conversation several years ago! It's especially odd when one considers one of the other themes of the novel, now that I'm doing interesting things to a once-straightforward narrative. Something Stephanie Smith said to me at Conflux made me realise I might have the answers to the problems with two novels within my grasp, here and now, and that's the good thing about my week. I think I might have my answer, but it's taking a lot of work. And I'm discovering scenes that have recently appeared in my own life. This is disconcerting.
In fact' disconcerting' is a good word for the last few days. If 'disconcerting' and 'normal' belong together, this is the week that is so.
I managed to work myself into a state of irateness earlier, because of people who - when discussing food allergies - talk happily about how clever they were in when they introduced their children to what food and how their children are well and happy as a result and how other children, less cleverly handled, have developed allergies. I think I'm very tired of parents being blamed for allergies. If my parents had thrown me out of a moving vehicle and I had broken a leg, then they should be blamed. They really shouldn't be blamed for handing on their genes. I will stir Mum about it, but I would never tell her that if she had handled my eating habits differently when I was little, my life might have been safer. Because it would not have been. The allergy experts have worked this one out, aided by many tests. The big thing is that - despite the allergies - I'm alive. That's good parenting, not bad.
There's all sorts of holier-than-thou going on right now around me. My Chinese grocer (actually, he's Malaysian Chinese and a Dr Who fan) was wildly anti-Jewish the other day. It was anti-Semitism couched as anti-Israel sentiment. He shook my hand when I argued back and has promised to look into the politics of hate a bit more. Before then, however, he said some things that weren't so good. It's the usual stuff and I won't go into it. It leaves me feeling vulnerable, as always.
I'm hoping that no-one will feel the need to tell me what to think or feel about any aspect of anti-Semitism for the next few days. I just want to let it fade. I know why many people will not admit to being Jewish - the world feels a lot safer when one hides it.
This is all life as usual. It's just that the usual aspects of life are a bit more direct than they have been recently and it all feels a bit looming. Pain makes me feel vulnerable, perhaps.
Some of it also echoes in my fiction. I found the conversation with my Chinese grocer echoed scene by scene in Secret Jewish Women's Business, upon which I'm currently working (unexpectedly). I predicted this conversation several years ago! It's especially odd when one considers one of the other themes of the novel, now that I'm doing interesting things to a once-straightforward narrative. Something Stephanie Smith said to me at Conflux made me realise I might have the answers to the problems with two novels within my grasp, here and now, and that's the good thing about my week. I think I might have my answer, but it's taking a lot of work. And I'm discovering scenes that have recently appeared in my own life. This is disconcerting.
In fact' disconcerting' is a good word for the last few days. If 'disconcerting' and 'normal' belong together, this is the week that is so.
October 13, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-10-13T15:13:00
Teaching grammar and syntax and punctuation is such a good thing. Today I'm reaping the non-financial rewards for those classes I gave. I'm analysing my own text and am able to see syntactical problems and grammatical fuzz and dubious punctuation far more clearly than I could a few months ago. I probably should make teaching these things a regular event, just for the good it does to my writing. I'm turning a whole lot of past narrative into simple past, and saving the complex tenses for where they will be most effective. The immediate effect is to pick up the pace. It's great!
gillpolack @ 2011-10-13T12:57:00
Some of the lost things are now found. I have all my letterbox keys, for instance. In fact, only three missing items are still outstanding. I don't know why so many things hid themselves at once, nor why they should start appearing yesterday, but I'm very happy about it.
I'm celebrating by trying a radical experiment with a novel. If it works, I might need beta readers in a few days. Even if it doesn't work, I am learning a lot about how I structure novels and what patterns repeat in my writing and how to turn those patterns into strengths.
I ought to be doing wild amounts of other work right now, but one of the things this doctorate has gently delivered to me is the capacity to see aspects of the structure of my work I never could see before, and I want to consolidate this learning. If I can sort out this particular bit of education this week, then, when the current novel is returned to me with comments, I can then follow-up, and the two bits of effort will mean I know more about writing. Not the theory fo writing, but actually pulling something together at the bones level.
What I need now in my life is a writerly version of "Oh the neck bone's connected to the..."
I'm celebrating by trying a radical experiment with a novel. If it works, I might need beta readers in a few days. Even if it doesn't work, I am learning a lot about how I structure novels and what patterns repeat in my writing and how to turn those patterns into strengths.
I ought to be doing wild amounts of other work right now, but one of the things this doctorate has gently delivered to me is the capacity to see aspects of the structure of my work I never could see before, and I want to consolidate this learning. If I can sort out this particular bit of education this week, then, when the current novel is returned to me with comments, I can then follow-up, and the two bits of effort will mean I know more about writing. Not the theory fo writing, but actually pulling something together at the bones level.
What I need now in my life is a writerly version of "Oh the neck bone's connected to the..."
October 11, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-10-12T09:32:00
I have my new front door system, but the front door itself won't have the system until Friday. What this means is that anyone visiting me will have to use the telephone or come round to my backdoor and knock loudly. I'm hoping no parcels will be delivered during this time, because it probably means the postie not being able to get my attention and me having to go round to the post office personally*. The good news is that the system is very smart and lets me see who is there and even takes photos if I so require. If you've been making evil faces or casting wicked gestures in my direction while ringing my doorbell, you quite possibly want to restrain yourself in future.
*I just typed that and lo, the postie came with a parcel and I got to tell him that the buzzer won't work until Friday. The bloke who is installing the system was there, madly working on its innards in the hallway.
*I just typed that and lo, the postie came with a parcel and I got to tell him that the buzzer won't work until Friday. The bloke who is installing the system was there, madly working on its innards in the hallway.
gillpolack @ 2011-10-12T07:22:00
What am I doing up and dressed and working at 7.15 am? While I'd love to say that I am exceptionally efficient and am now a magically morning person, the truth is that I answered the doorbell.
"I'm here about the intercom. What time suits you?"
"Anytime this morning." Even unawake I knew that sometime in October our new intercom system was going to be installed and that I would be able to eye off intruders from the safety of my loungeroom.
"Eight a.m. do?"
"Sure," said I. I hung up the current intercom and looked at the time, showered, dressed, computered on, tidied a few things and looked at the time again. I'm still not awake, but the electric drill the bloke is using outside to extract the old system would have prevented sleep, regardless, so it's just as well that I'm out of bed and my hair and soul are clean.
Anyhow, if all this goes dreadfully wrong and the man with the drill turns out to be a secret axe-murderer, at least you will all know why I was found wearing a wildly pink tee-shirt. If it all goes right, of course, I shall have my new intercom. I have to be home until he finishes all the units (since there is no security until then) which may put paid to my Floriade plans for today. On the other hand, I'm about to make a big pot of coffee and chicory and start in on one of my piles of books. If I can reduce my piles of books, maybe the other piles will get worried and behave themselves for once.
"I'm here about the intercom. What time suits you?"
"Anytime this morning." Even unawake I knew that sometime in October our new intercom system was going to be installed and that I would be able to eye off intruders from the safety of my loungeroom.
"Eight a.m. do?"
"Sure," said I. I hung up the current intercom and looked at the time, showered, dressed, computered on, tidied a few things and looked at the time again. I'm still not awake, but the electric drill the bloke is using outside to extract the old system would have prevented sleep, regardless, so it's just as well that I'm out of bed and my hair and soul are clean.
Anyhow, if all this goes dreadfully wrong and the man with the drill turns out to be a secret axe-murderer, at least you will all know why I was found wearing a wildly pink tee-shirt. If it all goes right, of course, I shall have my new intercom. I have to be home until he finishes all the units (since there is no security until then) which may put paid to my Floriade plans for today. On the other hand, I'm about to make a big pot of coffee and chicory and start in on one of my piles of books. If I can reduce my piles of books, maybe the other piles will get worried and behave themselves for once.
gillpolack @ 2011-10-11T21:35:00
A friend just started up an online shop for vintage objects (in the UK). She's selling the exact model mirror I used for Life through Cellophane. I wonder if hers is dangerous? http://www.curlewvintage.com/userimages/procart2.htm
gillpolack @ 2011-10-11T13:40:00
Today is cool and I'm not breathing that well, therefore it is a day of much labour. Tomorrow is Floriade. Thursday could be, but I promised Robin Hood during my time out, so tomorrow it must be (for Floriade finishes this weekend). It may not be any warmer tomorrow, but at least there'll be more oxygen inside me. I find it very frustrating that I did all that amazing stuff while overseas and now I have trouble putting rubbish out, but it's probably cause and effect and it's not precisely slowing my work down, which is the big thing. Also, I get to eat chocolate.
ETA: Today warmed up, but it's still a day I get work done, rather than a day I jaunt. This is because the cool morning tricked my breathing into thinking it had to deal. This is not a bad thing - it means I got to find the book in my mail *hours* earlier.
ETA: Today warmed up, but it's still a day I get work done, rather than a day I jaunt. This is because the cool morning tricked my breathing into thinking it had to deal. This is not a bad thing - it means I got to find the book in my mail *hours* earlier.
gillpolack @ 2011-10-11T12:03:00
This morning I was trying to get my head around how the technical approaches to history that I know (historiography covering two and a half millenia, ethnohistory, historical method) fit in with Tosh's stuff (not hard) and with historicism, both oldish and newish. Adding historicism in makes it harder. It really ought not, but it does.
My problem of the moment is that neither Tosh nor the historicism bods have (unless I'm missing a study - it would make my life easier if I'm missing a study) examined the ramifications of their thoughts for historical narratives of a particular sort. In other words, they take their theories so far and no further, and novels do not enter the picture.
My pain, however, doesn't lie in this. This neglect of a particular narrative form of history (and the assumption by me that it *is* a narrative form of history) leaves room for me to play. My pain is that I will only have three hundred words to explain it all and fit it in with my thesis. Or even two hundred words A single article that talked about narrative in forms in general as it relates to historicism would help (and I have the new edition of post-modern, which doesn't do that, but at least chats around the edges) but what I really, really need is someone who explains the position of fictional narratives, unequivocally. I don't have to agree with them. They just have to make sense.
This isn't today's work, or even this week's work: it belongs to the week after next. I'm just sorting out what I don't have and wondering what to do about it. The easy way out is to declare that historicism doesn't address my question at all and to leave it out. I don't like this kind of easy way out. It means that the basic and essential problem - the relationship of formal history writing with the writing of fictional narratives on related subjects - is chatted about around the edges, because it's too complicated. I won't accept that one, either. I may have to take it past the dissertation and write that book I was threatening in Leeds, but there are some very real questions about narrative, about history, about how and why we shape and perceive our past in the way we do, and I want to see these questions through.
In other news, I'm tired of not breathing: I may have to go to the doctor again tomorrow.
My problem of the moment is that neither Tosh nor the historicism bods have (unless I'm missing a study - it would make my life easier if I'm missing a study) examined the ramifications of their thoughts for historical narratives of a particular sort. In other words, they take their theories so far and no further, and novels do not enter the picture.
My pain, however, doesn't lie in this. This neglect of a particular narrative form of history (and the assumption by me that it *is* a narrative form of history) leaves room for me to play. My pain is that I will only have three hundred words to explain it all and fit it in with my thesis. Or even two hundred words A single article that talked about narrative in forms in general as it relates to historicism would help (and I have the new edition of post-modern, which doesn't do that, but at least chats around the edges) but what I really, really need is someone who explains the position of fictional narratives, unequivocally. I don't have to agree with them. They just have to make sense.
This isn't today's work, or even this week's work: it belongs to the week after next. I'm just sorting out what I don't have and wondering what to do about it. The easy way out is to declare that historicism doesn't address my question at all and to leave it out. I don't like this kind of easy way out. It means that the basic and essential problem - the relationship of formal history writing with the writing of fictional narratives on related subjects - is chatted about around the edges, because it's too complicated. I won't accept that one, either. I may have to take it past the dissertation and write that book I was threatening in Leeds, but there are some very real questions about narrative, about history, about how and why we shape and perceive our past in the way we do, and I want to see these questions through.
In other news, I'm tired of not breathing: I may have to go to the doctor again tomorrow.
October 9, 2011
Where Gillan's books have too many adventures (again)
I need to find a method of making my books behave.
This morning, I realised that my flat suddenly possesses three piles of steampunk where there should be only one*, and several steampunk novels have silently added themselves to the pile next to my bed where novels currently languish (since I'm not reading in bed much these days). I could make one heap of steampunkery, or - since obviously steampunk novels have minds of their own - I could read most of them this week then find them permanent homes. This means finding space in the bookshelves, of course, which is a somewhat herculean task** but it also means a week of reading steampunk in between other work, and this week is a non-teaching week and ... The more I think of it, the more I suspect that my steampunk books were sending me a message of "Read me!"
The first book that allowed itself to be found when my creative stacks decided to get more creative is now missing again. It's a volume on Medieval science and I really *do* have to finish that review of it this week (along with the half-written review of Norbert Ohler's updated book and the one I want to write about Kafkaesque), so I shall be sending out search parties (again). All the other outstanding Medieval books are for different projects and currently make one neat little stack, not too high, topped by "La grande cuisine arabe du moyen age" and right next to "The Seven Beauties of Science Fiction."
Why am I giving you all this information? If my books are sending me a message, it's so very occult*** that I'm missing it. If the advice is that I have too many books, I shall ignore it. I gave away four books at Conflux and three in Melbourne, and I was impressed at myself. Seven books is as good as it gets in terms of volume-loss**** .
What I really need are translators of bookish - suggestions as to what the behaviour of my books are saying. I only hope my volumes are polite...
* Don't steampunk novels know their Highlander? Honestly!!
**There is a reason for my books revolting in exquisite fashion and it is full shelves and a full apartment.
***Speaking of occult, that dratted manual of necromancy is now safely stowed next to Walter of Wimbourne. I'm hoping Walter can keep it under control. Yesterday I found it in the middle of my lounge room floor, which is better than being unaccountably missing for three years, I guess.
****![[info]](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1380451598i/2033940.gif)
desperance
- just ignore this comment - of course you can lose books. Although in my case donating to a very specific fund-raising caused most of the loss, and friends yearning after books caused the rest - it was more natural attrition, in fact, than calculated loss. I wonder if there is a Book-Watchers organisation for those who can't lose books when they need to?
This morning, I realised that my flat suddenly possesses three piles of steampunk where there should be only one*, and several steampunk novels have silently added themselves to the pile next to my bed where novels currently languish (since I'm not reading in bed much these days). I could make one heap of steampunkery, or - since obviously steampunk novels have minds of their own - I could read most of them this week then find them permanent homes. This means finding space in the bookshelves, of course, which is a somewhat herculean task** but it also means a week of reading steampunk in between other work, and this week is a non-teaching week and ... The more I think of it, the more I suspect that my steampunk books were sending me a message of "Read me!"
The first book that allowed itself to be found when my creative stacks decided to get more creative is now missing again. It's a volume on Medieval science and I really *do* have to finish that review of it this week (along with the half-written review of Norbert Ohler's updated book and the one I want to write about Kafkaesque), so I shall be sending out search parties (again). All the other outstanding Medieval books are for different projects and currently make one neat little stack, not too high, topped by "La grande cuisine arabe du moyen age" and right next to "The Seven Beauties of Science Fiction."
Why am I giving you all this information? If my books are sending me a message, it's so very occult*** that I'm missing it. If the advice is that I have too many books, I shall ignore it. I gave away four books at Conflux and three in Melbourne, and I was impressed at myself. Seven books is as good as it gets in terms of volume-loss**** .
What I really need are translators of bookish - suggestions as to what the behaviour of my books are saying. I only hope my volumes are polite...
* Don't steampunk novels know their Highlander? Honestly!!
**There is a reason for my books revolting in exquisite fashion and it is full shelves and a full apartment.
***Speaking of occult, that dratted manual of necromancy is now safely stowed next to Walter of Wimbourne. I'm hoping Walter can keep it under control. Yesterday I found it in the middle of my lounge room floor, which is better than being unaccountably missing for three years, I guess.
****
desperance
- just ignore this comment - of course you can lose books. Although in my case donating to a very specific fund-raising caused most of the loss, and friends yearning after books caused the rest - it was more natural attrition, in fact, than calculated loss. I wonder if there is a Book-Watchers organisation for those who can't lose books when they need to?
gillpolack @ 2011-10-09T15:57:00
I found some of my missing review books. Half of them have ended up stacked in with the Aurealis books. Now I'm going to sort them out and tell them firmly to stay sorted. The Aurealis books were in three careful stacks (read and potential shortlistee, read and not potential shortlistee, to read) but those stacks have all changed, too. And other books have ended up in all the new piles. The worrying ones were for my dissertation. It means that I no longer know if I've read everything in every single pile for each and every chapter I have done (there was a pile of 'not finished with' books) and I have to go back through each and every book and compare to my notes and work it out again.
I discovered this just now when I was hunting my next review book. I found my last one, but the rest of them may well be hidden in those stacks.
This happens to my flat from time to time and it's quite mysterious. The stacks of books are under tables or (in one case) under a cupboard and still they moved. What it means is that I really have to reduce the piles of books if I'm to have a Chanukah party this year, as last year my work was a mess after Chanukah simply because of the rearrangement of volumes. Anyhow, the odd movement in my library (where everything has a place, but where, currently I'm the only one who understands the place) means that I've prettty well determined what I'm doing for the rest of the day. I can't deal with review books or my dissertation or the Beast or most other things unless the right books are to hand.
What alerted me to the problem were Joe Abercrombie, Mary Victoria and Harry Turtledove sitting proudly on top of the Aurealis books. None of them quite fit the Aurealis guidelines...
PS I gravely doubt any of my friends rearranged the books, since they all know I work from home - this has happened before, though not quite as dramatically. Tessa has called my library L-space.
I discovered this just now when I was hunting my next review book. I found my last one, but the rest of them may well be hidden in those stacks.
This happens to my flat from time to time and it's quite mysterious. The stacks of books are under tables or (in one case) under a cupboard and still they moved. What it means is that I really have to reduce the piles of books if I'm to have a Chanukah party this year, as last year my work was a mess after Chanukah simply because of the rearrangement of volumes. Anyhow, the odd movement in my library (where everything has a place, but where, currently I'm the only one who understands the place) means that I've prettty well determined what I'm doing for the rest of the day. I can't deal with review books or my dissertation or the Beast or most other things unless the right books are to hand.
What alerted me to the problem were Joe Abercrombie, Mary Victoria and Harry Turtledove sitting proudly on top of the Aurealis books. None of them quite fit the Aurealis guidelines...
PS I gravely doubt any of my friends rearranged the books, since they all know I work from home - this has happened before, though not quite as dramatically. Tessa has called my library L-space.
