Gillian Polack's Blog, page 240
July 20, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-07-20T18:45:00
I have a half hour before I check out and lose this wonderful internet connection. You may or may not hear from me from Paris (depends on the state of the wifi - I don't have the energy I had early in the trip, to go chasing - if it is not easy to get, then I shall be incommunicado, I'm afraid.).
This morning is all about recouping energy. I shall go straight to the station when I check out, and sit down and relax over a cuppa and then over lunch. After that it's train to London, change for Paris and try to make sense of my notes (the ones that tell me where the hotel are). I get there in time for a late dinner.
My Paris time is probably the most crowded of the whole period (why I'm trying not to overdo things today), simply because a lot of the research I was doing in the UK was background for the research I'm doing in France ie I can't skip any of it. This means that the long train rides will be spent thinking it through and sorting my brain. I can't distract myself with the narratives of others any more (except possibly tomorrow night)- from here on in, it's all about my own narrative and those of my characters. They're starting to emerge.
I realised over breakfast that I finally know what one of my people would have thought about unreliable silver coinage. Also, I now know what the coinage weighed when one tossed it - this makes a vast difference to how someone sees a coin. Heft or lack of heft, tarnish or lack of tarnish- these are big things for individuals. I have a bunch of reproductions from various times if anyone wants to see what I'm talking about. Ask me when I get home. It's funny, though, that the museums were wonderful and the staff were helpful, but that I get the biggest insight from the cheap reproduction coinage.
This morning is all about recouping energy. I shall go straight to the station when I check out, and sit down and relax over a cuppa and then over lunch. After that it's train to London, change for Paris and try to make sense of my notes (the ones that tell me where the hotel are). I get there in time for a late dinner.
My Paris time is probably the most crowded of the whole period (why I'm trying not to overdo things today), simply because a lot of the research I was doing in the UK was background for the research I'm doing in France ie I can't skip any of it. This means that the long train rides will be spent thinking it through and sorting my brain. I can't distract myself with the narratives of others any more (except possibly tomorrow night)- from here on in, it's all about my own narrative and those of my characters. They're starting to emerge.
I realised over breakfast that I finally know what one of my people would have thought about unreliable silver coinage. Also, I now know what the coinage weighed when one tossed it - this makes a vast difference to how someone sees a coin. Heft or lack of heft, tarnish or lack of tarnish- these are big things for individuals. I have a bunch of reproductions from various times if anyone wants to see what I'm talking about. Ask me when I get home. It's funny, though, that the museums were wonderful and the staff were helpful, but that I get the biggest insight from the cheap reproduction coinage.
July 19, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-07-20T04:33:00
My new column is up on BiblioBuffet. I think it's something to do with a bunch of new books that use fantsy in their history, or history in their fantasy, but Brian and I got wet through five separate times on our way to and from five different museums, so I can't remember (we had a great day - Brian is terrific company).
My glib theories of two weeks ago hold, but also have fallen completely apart. I need to define them very carefully and allow more space for how specific authors approach history. The truth is that writers are each and every one highly individual and don't fall neatly into patterns. Museums are less individual but I'm not actually writing about museum narratives, though I can if anyone wants. I did a lot of analysis of the narratives of museums, trying to find out how writers operate. Anyhow, Brian thinks like Brian, not like Gillian's theory, likewise Chaz thinks like Chaz and Elizabeth thinks like Elizabeth. I need to put them in the contexts of their work and then work out how they fit into my lovely designs. They do actually fit. My theories are all fine - they're just not clean and neat anymore, and I have to remember that Brian is Brian and Chaz is Chaz and Elizabeth is Elizabeth.
What all this means is that I have a path I can take when I approach modern historiograhical theory, for my next big step. This I don't have to do til I get home. I'm still allowed to think, but mostly from here on in I shall be trying to find the stuff of about 6 characters. It's novel time! (Actually, I thought I was supposed to be doing that today, but today was like going to a library and finding that the books you have ordered are not useful for your project but are brilliant for something related). With some exceptions, I find museums surprisingly tough to build characters from. Conflicting narratives again. The museum itself has a narrative and the teaching has a narrative and wedging my characters' private lives in was just a bit of a pain. I have taken a bunch of material away, however, and shall work on it futher.
Barley Hall (the most important of the 5 museums, from my point of view) devoted its top floor to costumes from famous historical filmic stuff. It was a bit "Mr Darcy meets The House of Elliot." Since photos were allowed and since I have quite a few friends who melt at the thought of the costumes of film (and the actors who inhabit them) I took pictures of each and every costume and will produce a slideshow on demand.
I have some HG Wells I owned not (first non-serial edition, 1907). I also have an 1805 book. Thus passeth the morningstar...
And now I need to progress with drying off. Did I say that today was very, very, very wet?
My glib theories of two weeks ago hold, but also have fallen completely apart. I need to define them very carefully and allow more space for how specific authors approach history. The truth is that writers are each and every one highly individual and don't fall neatly into patterns. Museums are less individual but I'm not actually writing about museum narratives, though I can if anyone wants. I did a lot of analysis of the narratives of museums, trying to find out how writers operate. Anyhow, Brian thinks like Brian, not like Gillian's theory, likewise Chaz thinks like Chaz and Elizabeth thinks like Elizabeth. I need to put them in the contexts of their work and then work out how they fit into my lovely designs. They do actually fit. My theories are all fine - they're just not clean and neat anymore, and I have to remember that Brian is Brian and Chaz is Chaz and Elizabeth is Elizabeth.
What all this means is that I have a path I can take when I approach modern historiograhical theory, for my next big step. This I don't have to do til I get home. I'm still allowed to think, but mostly from here on in I shall be trying to find the stuff of about 6 characters. It's novel time! (Actually, I thought I was supposed to be doing that today, but today was like going to a library and finding that the books you have ordered are not useful for your project but are brilliant for something related). With some exceptions, I find museums surprisingly tough to build characters from. Conflicting narratives again. The museum itself has a narrative and the teaching has a narrative and wedging my characters' private lives in was just a bit of a pain. I have taken a bunch of material away, however, and shall work on it futher.
Barley Hall (the most important of the 5 museums, from my point of view) devoted its top floor to costumes from famous historical filmic stuff. It was a bit "Mr Darcy meets The House of Elliot." Since photos were allowed and since I have quite a few friends who melt at the thought of the costumes of film (and the actors who inhabit them) I took pictures of each and every costume and will produce a slideshow on demand.
I have some HG Wells I owned not (first non-serial edition, 1907). I also have an 1805 book. Thus passeth the morningstar...
And now I need to progress with drying off. Did I say that today was very, very, very wet?
July 18, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-07-19T03:18:00
Durham and Newcastle were beautiful and wet. Jean and Chaz and Roger were wonderful and not at all wet. I'm back in York, tired, but again, very happy. No big breakthroughs workwise, unless you count realising that cathedrals and abbeys are complex living structures and contain complex living beings and that it's only right they bring me minor grief.
I no longer have the morningstar. It turns out that the shop was quite wrong and that I cannot bring one into Australia. Fortunately they realised their error and refunded me my money. They were very nice about it, too. I promptly spent the money on a couple of small presents. I will buy myself a special treat in France, perhaps.
I never did get those 4000 words written. There was too much other paperworl to do. When i finish tonight's batch of paperwork, maybe I'll be able to write something. I've mostly prepared my class for my first day back in Canberra, however, so I don't feel quite as far behind as maybe I should. Tonight and tomorrow night are paperwork and early to bed, for last night I didn't think to look at the time and we talked rather late. By Australian time, it wasn't late at all, of course, and that shall remain my excuse.
There is a building in Newcastle which ought to be the centrepiece of an anthology. Every floor is a bit magic and, at the same time, looks the same as every other floor. And the Lit and Phil is possibly the best working space/library I have ever seen. And their castle does indeed have a railway running through it. And there is much rain. And I have walked on Hadrian's Wall.
Durham Cathedral is still my favourite anywhere and Bede is still one of my heroes. I had to share the cloisters with choristers and with Harry Potter fans (I had thought those cloisters looked familiar in the film!) but, in recompense, I got to eat in the almshouse and see all sorts of wonderful other things. My friends are brilliant tourguides and good hosts and even nicer in person than online. (Note to self: read Anne Fine and obtain more John Verney books.)
Tomorrow is all about the Middle Ages and about fiction, as Brian Wainwright and I will be spending the day in museums and exploring York and talking about matters dear to both of us. I just realised earlier today that I have just about the best research project imaginable. This stuff is all work! Life is so tough...
I no longer have the morningstar. It turns out that the shop was quite wrong and that I cannot bring one into Australia. Fortunately they realised their error and refunded me my money. They were very nice about it, too. I promptly spent the money on a couple of small presents. I will buy myself a special treat in France, perhaps.
I never did get those 4000 words written. There was too much other paperworl to do. When i finish tonight's batch of paperwork, maybe I'll be able to write something. I've mostly prepared my class for my first day back in Canberra, however, so I don't feel quite as far behind as maybe I should. Tonight and tomorrow night are paperwork and early to bed, for last night I didn't think to look at the time and we talked rather late. By Australian time, it wasn't late at all, of course, and that shall remain my excuse.
There is a building in Newcastle which ought to be the centrepiece of an anthology. Every floor is a bit magic and, at the same time, looks the same as every other floor. And the Lit and Phil is possibly the best working space/library I have ever seen. And their castle does indeed have a railway running through it. And there is much rain. And I have walked on Hadrian's Wall.
Durham Cathedral is still my favourite anywhere and Bede is still one of my heroes. I had to share the cloisters with choristers and with Harry Potter fans (I had thought those cloisters looked familiar in the film!) but, in recompense, I got to eat in the almshouse and see all sorts of wonderful other things. My friends are brilliant tourguides and good hosts and even nicer in person than online. (Note to self: read Anne Fine and obtain more John Verney books.)
Tomorrow is all about the Middle Ages and about fiction, as Brian Wainwright and I will be spending the day in museums and exploring York and talking about matters dear to both of us. I just realised earlier today that I have just about the best research project imaginable. This stuff is all work! Life is so tough...
July 16, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-07-17T03:25:00
Every month I have one entirely inevitable day of high pain. I whinge about it here and arrange my life around it. Today was that day. It was complicated by it being in York and with me being unable to find my panadeine, but, fortunately, the UK has the same range of drug approvals and I just kept going til I came across a chemist (though this involved asking someone if they knew where one was and them saying "Across the road.") Unfortunately, my body's normal cycle was added to Weather and to me having done something to my shoulder. Panadeine made it almost bearable, however, and I allowed myself extra time to do things and wasn't very ambitious in my plans.
Given all this, I accomplished a surprising amount today. Nothing super-Gillianish, but quite repectable. I got lost *all* the time (York does this to me) but each and every time I got lost, something good came out of it. I found a baby present that I promised I'd buy, and bought myself a morningstar with my birthday money (reason #34562 why I should not be given money - it is fully functional and exquisitely balanced), I found a collector's fair and acquired 3 miniature horsebrasses c 1910 on their original harness, I found the market (oddly, in the marketplace) and dinner is fresh fruit and vegies and pistachio nuts. I visited three of my museums. Some great stuff, but only marginally useful. That fitted the day. I also saw a squirrel and the squirrel saw me and we each independently decided that the other was exceedingly interesting and we did much mutual staring.
Tomorrow I'm back to doing the big and wonderful (Durham Cathedral! friends! dinner by Chaz!) so it's just as well the pain decided to manifest today. Tomorrow would be have been far more of a nuisance.
I'll be online off and on for the next few hours, but the most I'll get to do tomorrow (and that depends on us actually remembering and not getting distracted with finally getting to meet up) is check email.
I had a ton of other things to say, but they have flown my mind. All I can think right now is that Clifford's Tower *still* makes me cry and that I ought to make a pot of tea and do some work and justify my existence.
Given all this, I accomplished a surprising amount today. Nothing super-Gillianish, but quite repectable. I got lost *all* the time (York does this to me) but each and every time I got lost, something good came out of it. I found a baby present that I promised I'd buy, and bought myself a morningstar with my birthday money (reason #34562 why I should not be given money - it is fully functional and exquisitely balanced), I found a collector's fair and acquired 3 miniature horsebrasses c 1910 on their original harness, I found the market (oddly, in the marketplace) and dinner is fresh fruit and vegies and pistachio nuts. I visited three of my museums. Some great stuff, but only marginally useful. That fitted the day. I also saw a squirrel and the squirrel saw me and we each independently decided that the other was exceedingly interesting and we did much mutual staring.
Tomorrow I'm back to doing the big and wonderful (Durham Cathedral! friends! dinner by Chaz!) so it's just as well the pain decided to manifest today. Tomorrow would be have been far more of a nuisance.
I'll be online off and on for the next few hours, but the most I'll get to do tomorrow (and that depends on us actually remembering and not getting distracted with finally getting to meet up) is check email.
I had a ton of other things to say, but they have flown my mind. All I can think right now is that Clifford's Tower *still* makes me cry and that I ought to make a pot of tea and do some work and justify my existence.
July 15, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-07-16T05:24:00
I just realised that I have left my computer on Canberra time. I added three hours and subtracted twenty-four before I realised this fact. Now I'm wondering why I'm so chirpy at 5 am.
Another thing I calculated was how much work I have to do as follow-up for the last two weeks. Some of it will have to wait til my return, but I'm going to take advantage of being tired and spend tonight and tomorrow night sitting (or sprawling, when I want to act sybaritically) on my bed and doing bits and pieces of it. There's a perfectly comfortable chair in my room, but I am a lazy sod and will work lying down. My aim is 2000 words tonight and tomorrow night, then that whole block of writing will be done. Also, I have had book-creep happen unto me. If I write really, really quickly, then I could lie in bed and read books. Then i could write on them here and read quite different books upon my return.
Did I say that, in the end, I posted 27 kg of books to myself? This is thanks to the wisdom of friends who knew such things would arise. Although I'm not sure that any of the friends concerned quite envisaged 27 kg of books...
York is, as ever, beautiful. I had choc cake for afternoon tea and had a long talk with Lee Harris who is just as awesome in real life as online. Also very patient, for I talked a great deal, even for a Gillian.
I spent time in parks, after that, for there was much green in the cities I've been in, but parks were not as omnipresent as Canberra, and I missed them. I ought to have contemplated my sins in the Museum Park, for there were many scraps of the Middle Ages around me, turned into flowerbeds and stray ornaments, but instead I drank rose lemonade and I took photos for numerous purposes (teaching, researching, stirring friends) and then I watching the boating people (York has a river festival - I was waiting for the river god to make an appearance but he was scared away by two nine year old girls competing to see who could roll down the hill fastest) and I worked out that it was probably a good idea to make a start on reports and writing up.
Whenever I sort out the narratives that different groups use and how fiction writers access them (not a part of my work directly, but indirectly of huge importance, because it governs why some facts work in a novel and some don't, why some are accessible to fiction writers and some not) I find a hitch. My latest one is that the narratives that are most accessible to fiction writers (tour guides, for instance, which is what Michael Crichton may have based his contextualisations on (from what he says on his website - and now I've committed punctuation heresy and must pull my socks up or behave)) are really not trusted by a lot of specialists. Was it Katrin or Sara Louise or Valerie who reminded me of this at Lincoln? Valerie, perhaps, which means this insight is really hers, not mine at all. One of our archaeologist commented that the guides always blamed Cromwell for the problems with one window, when the problem was that the window had been structurally unsound and had collapsed and been assembled rather haphazardly.
Fiction writers really need historian's skills of evaluation of narratives and sources. It's that simple, and that impossible. They need to be able to compare the whole windows in the cathedral with the random one and say "Why would Cromwell's supporters blow out one window and not others?" They also need the capacity to ask the archaeologist who had worked out what happened with those windows, what his evidence was for no-one eating vegies in the Bishop's palace. Technical specialists are not universal sources of knowledge, and educators of the public will sometimes choose colour and education over a complex technical response.
On another note, I'm still getting that excited reaction when people discover I'm writing a time travel novel. Evil Gillian would really like all the historians she knows to announce the same thing in order to find out if the reading world actually wants time travel novels by historians. I suspect they do. More cans of worms.
Speaking of worms, I refrained from buying a tequila lollipop today, mainly because the dead caterpillar entombed in it did not tempt me at all. Also, I have discovered a shop that sells absinthe - 82% - can I carry it round France safely? I will worry about this in a few days time. Maybe the desire for absinthe will have passed by then. it's one of those drinks I've wondered about for years, though.
I'm not drinking nearly as much as it sounds, alas. What I'm doing is winding down after a frenetic two weeks that may well be two of the best weeks of my life. I haven't told you the half of it. If anyone wants the slide show, I think I know how to show it on a television, so consider yourself invited to dinner in August (or invite me to dinner in August - I'll be in Sydney 27-8, for teaching) and i'll give you the pretty sights and some of the Middle Ages. The rest will emerge on the blog if it becomes public. So many possibilities have opened up, but none of them are certainties. More watching of this space!
Another thing I calculated was how much work I have to do as follow-up for the last two weeks. Some of it will have to wait til my return, but I'm going to take advantage of being tired and spend tonight and tomorrow night sitting (or sprawling, when I want to act sybaritically) on my bed and doing bits and pieces of it. There's a perfectly comfortable chair in my room, but I am a lazy sod and will work lying down. My aim is 2000 words tonight and tomorrow night, then that whole block of writing will be done. Also, I have had book-creep happen unto me. If I write really, really quickly, then I could lie in bed and read books. Then i could write on them here and read quite different books upon my return.
Did I say that, in the end, I posted 27 kg of books to myself? This is thanks to the wisdom of friends who knew such things would arise. Although I'm not sure that any of the friends concerned quite envisaged 27 kg of books...
York is, as ever, beautiful. I had choc cake for afternoon tea and had a long talk with Lee Harris who is just as awesome in real life as online. Also very patient, for I talked a great deal, even for a Gillian.
I spent time in parks, after that, for there was much green in the cities I've been in, but parks were not as omnipresent as Canberra, and I missed them. I ought to have contemplated my sins in the Museum Park, for there were many scraps of the Middle Ages around me, turned into flowerbeds and stray ornaments, but instead I drank rose lemonade and I took photos for numerous purposes (teaching, researching, stirring friends) and then I watching the boating people (York has a river festival - I was waiting for the river god to make an appearance but he was scared away by two nine year old girls competing to see who could roll down the hill fastest) and I worked out that it was probably a good idea to make a start on reports and writing up.
Whenever I sort out the narratives that different groups use and how fiction writers access them (not a part of my work directly, but indirectly of huge importance, because it governs why some facts work in a novel and some don't, why some are accessible to fiction writers and some not) I find a hitch. My latest one is that the narratives that are most accessible to fiction writers (tour guides, for instance, which is what Michael Crichton may have based his contextualisations on (from what he says on his website - and now I've committed punctuation heresy and must pull my socks up or behave)) are really not trusted by a lot of specialists. Was it Katrin or Sara Louise or Valerie who reminded me of this at Lincoln? Valerie, perhaps, which means this insight is really hers, not mine at all. One of our archaeologist commented that the guides always blamed Cromwell for the problems with one window, when the problem was that the window had been structurally unsound and had collapsed and been assembled rather haphazardly.
Fiction writers really need historian's skills of evaluation of narratives and sources. It's that simple, and that impossible. They need to be able to compare the whole windows in the cathedral with the random one and say "Why would Cromwell's supporters blow out one window and not others?" They also need the capacity to ask the archaeologist who had worked out what happened with those windows, what his evidence was for no-one eating vegies in the Bishop's palace. Technical specialists are not universal sources of knowledge, and educators of the public will sometimes choose colour and education over a complex technical response.
On another note, I'm still getting that excited reaction when people discover I'm writing a time travel novel. Evil Gillian would really like all the historians she knows to announce the same thing in order to find out if the reading world actually wants time travel novels by historians. I suspect they do. More cans of worms.
Speaking of worms, I refrained from buying a tequila lollipop today, mainly because the dead caterpillar entombed in it did not tempt me at all. Also, I have discovered a shop that sells absinthe - 82% - can I carry it round France safely? I will worry about this in a few days time. Maybe the desire for absinthe will have passed by then. it's one of those drinks I've wondered about for years, though.
I'm not drinking nearly as much as it sounds, alas. What I'm doing is winding down after a frenetic two weeks that may well be two of the best weeks of my life. I haven't told you the half of it. If anyone wants the slide show, I think I know how to show it on a television, so consider yourself invited to dinner in August (or invite me to dinner in August - I'll be in Sydney 27-8, for teaching) and i'll give you the pretty sights and some of the Middle Ages. The rest will emerge on the blog if it becomes public. So many possibilities have opened up, but none of them are certainties. More watching of this space!
gillpolack @ 2011-07-15T23:16:00
My York B&B has wireless and I have the key! This means I can check in at least once a day, which is handy. Also, my banking hiccup (in which it looked as if my card might have been stopped) proved to be just that. And I came to York the pretty route, with a vagrant US post-punk medievalist. He did a bunch of heavy lifting and I did a bunch of minding baggage - it was a much easier journey in so many ways. Lots went wrong, you see. For the record, Leeds station listing leaves York off a whole series of trips that end there and they are capable of chaning platforms on one board but not on another. The good thing is that there are trains every hour and that my ticket turned out to be valid anytime today (as did Bram's) so we had time for a cuppa and Bram got chatted at muchly.
I don't have long here, because I'm meeting someone in an hour, but I thought I ought to check in. Also, that I am taking the discrete route and catching taxis instead of walking 1500 metres with luggage until my body starts behaving properly. Travelling is taking its toll. There's nothing to worry about because I am simply taking more care now. Not carrying heavy things. Not walking quickly. And from here on in I have far more control over my time. I was doing exceptionally long hours at Leeds - from 8 am until nealry 2 am most days, almost all full-on. I factored in time for quiet drifting in York, since I know it and knew I would be tired. In other words, I'm doing rather well.
I'm very worried about the bottle fo wine I'm carrying. It's Friday here and it only has until Sunday before it's delivered. That bottle has gone from Rutherglen to Canberra, from Canberra to Sydney, from Sydney to Bangkok, from Bangkok to London, from London to Leeds and now from Leeds to York. it would be terribly sad if it broke en route from York to Durham!! I am handling it with great care at this stage...
And now I must fare forth. I see coffee and possibly alcohol in my future. Today is about meeting Lee and also about reorienting myself on the streeets. I need to think about the relationship of major religious institutions to streets here, since Lincoln yesterday only provided partial answers. (I was referring to Lincoln with slide shows, but somehow that line disappeared and I was too tired to chase it. My camera took one route through Licnoln Cathedral and I took another, and we both had a good time.)
I have forty five minutes to find Mr Harris. The map says that it's almost a straight line from here to there. I can walk very, very slowly. I can stop and get a bite to eat. I can hurry and spend some time admiring the Minster (which I have already admired, but it's one of those buildings which is worth admiring many times.). If I actually leave, rather than doing a melba, then I might be able to achieve all three.
The big thing you need to know is that I have internet in the evenings. I am contactable for a few more days.
I don't have long here, because I'm meeting someone in an hour, but I thought I ought to check in. Also, that I am taking the discrete route and catching taxis instead of walking 1500 metres with luggage until my body starts behaving properly. Travelling is taking its toll. There's nothing to worry about because I am simply taking more care now. Not carrying heavy things. Not walking quickly. And from here on in I have far more control over my time. I was doing exceptionally long hours at Leeds - from 8 am until nealry 2 am most days, almost all full-on. I factored in time for quiet drifting in York, since I know it and knew I would be tired. In other words, I'm doing rather well.
I'm very worried about the bottle fo wine I'm carrying. It's Friday here and it only has until Sunday before it's delivered. That bottle has gone from Rutherglen to Canberra, from Canberra to Sydney, from Sydney to Bangkok, from Bangkok to London, from London to Leeds and now from Leeds to York. it would be terribly sad if it broke en route from York to Durham!! I am handling it with great care at this stage...
And now I must fare forth. I see coffee and possibly alcohol in my future. Today is about meeting Lee and also about reorienting myself on the streeets. I need to think about the relationship of major religious institutions to streets here, since Lincoln yesterday only provided partial answers. (I was referring to Lincoln with slide shows, but somehow that line disappeared and I was too tired to chase it. My camera took one route through Licnoln Cathedral and I took another, and we both had a good time.)
I have forty five minutes to find Mr Harris. The map says that it's almost a straight line from here to there. I can walk very, very slowly. I can stop and get a bite to eat. I can hurry and spend some time admiring the Minster (which I have already admired, but it's one of those buildings which is worth admiring many times.). If I actually leave, rather than doing a melba, then I might be able to achieve all three.
The big thing you need to know is that I have internet in the evenings. I am contactable for a few more days.
July 14, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-07-15T09:38:00
Leeds has been exceptionally good to me. The people of the IMC, starting with Axel and including everyone have been even better. It was the warmest and friendliest academic conference I have ever attended. I am beyond tired and have eaten too much, but I am very, very happy. I have lots of follow-through to do, but when it happens you will hear some possibly very interesting things. Watch this space. Even if some of the very interesting things don't eventuate, I have met some cool people who do fascinating things and I have learned so much and I want, very much, to keep in touch with both the people and the learning.
Medieval history and speculative fiction are both my worlds. The reason my career was at a halt when i was trying to choose between them was because a choice was impossible. I had different happinesses in London and in Leeds, but have been walking around with an idiot grin in both places every day. And there are a whole bunch of people with overlap. I spent tonight talking geekishly in a bar. For those of you who were in that group who went to Troy with me, every single person in the group shared my reation to the movie. We talked abotu Dr Who and superheroes and Robin Hood and why spec fic and medieval hsitory have this curious overlap. We talked about vegemite and oyster cards and doing dissertations. We talked about students and teachers and Roger Zelazny.
I need to sleep, so ask for teh slide show when you see me next. My camera went on one journey and I went on another - but that's a different story. Tomorrow I'll be in York, and don't know what my internet access is like. I may not get secure internet again until 24 July, so don't panic if I drop out of sight for a bit.
Medieval history and speculative fiction are both my worlds. The reason my career was at a halt when i was trying to choose between them was because a choice was impossible. I had different happinesses in London and in Leeds, but have been walking around with an idiot grin in both places every day. And there are a whole bunch of people with overlap. I spent tonight talking geekishly in a bar. For those of you who were in that group who went to Troy with me, every single person in the group shared my reation to the movie. We talked abotu Dr Who and superheroes and Robin Hood and why spec fic and medieval hsitory have this curious overlap. We talked about vegemite and oyster cards and doing dissertations. We talked about students and teachers and Roger Zelazny.
I need to sleep, so ask for teh slide show when you see me next. My camera went on one journey and I went on another - but that's a different story. Tomorrow I'll be in York, and don't know what my internet access is like. I may not get secure internet again until 24 July, so don't panic if I drop out of sight for a bit.
July 13, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-07-13T22:20:00
I'm having a quiet moment in my room before braving throngs again. The second panel I wanted to go to today was cancelled at the last minute, but Caroline Yeldman and I were talking food and related histories, so we simply adjourned our discussion to where the coffee was and continued from there. It was a fabulous conversation and I suspect we need to continue it via email. The only thing that caused it to stop was the sad fact that we had booked lunches in quite different corners of the IMC.
I'm still getting feedback from my paper (two people today) which means it really did go well. I need to stop being insecure! I also need to think about writing it up for a journal, though, as of this moment, I don't know which journal would suit it.
Today is the last day of Congress proper for me, because tomorrow I'm off with a busload of Medievalists to spend the day in Lincoln. Friday I go to York and lose the wifi. If you need to say anything to me that I do not already know, tonight and tomorrow are good times to email. If I don't hear from you and I'm seeing you, I'll assume that our previous arrangements stand.
What else do you need to know? That Leeds in summer is about the same as Canberra in early September? That it's just as well I saw the Leeds Armouries my first day, because since then there has been time even to ring people I meant to see (but who hadn't got round to arranging anything in advance)? That I spend breakfast times (becuase I am not sociable at that hour) analysing the plates of others and working out where they come from by their choice of breakfast? The only thing I have worked out for certain is that if there are 3 or more carbs on a plate, then the diner is American. Not all American congress-goers each this way, but everyone who does has both a US university on their tag and a US accent. Drinkers of black coffee are most likely to be French, Spanish or Israeli. Israelis and Spanish are, by the way, blithely assured that no-one will understand them. My Hebrew andSpanish are definitely improving. Alas, my breakfast neighbours said nothing interesting. My spoken capacity in these languages (especially Hebrew) is rather embarrassing, so I just sit and eat or just sit (when it's on the bus). It's odd however that in a large crowd of people who have a tendency to languages that any group should assume they will not be understood.
I have, BTW, discovered why I have had minimalist conversations with a couple of people. The Australian accent totally defeats a small minority of those for whom English is not a native language, but they're too polite to say so. They blame their langauge skils rather than my accent. My accent is sometimes Canberra and sometimes Melbourne, which is giving me an identity issue. I hope it settles down soon.
I'm still getting feedback from my paper (two people today) which means it really did go well. I need to stop being insecure! I also need to think about writing it up for a journal, though, as of this moment, I don't know which journal would suit it.
Today is the last day of Congress proper for me, because tomorrow I'm off with a busload of Medievalists to spend the day in Lincoln. Friday I go to York and lose the wifi. If you need to say anything to me that I do not already know, tonight and tomorrow are good times to email. If I don't hear from you and I'm seeing you, I'll assume that our previous arrangements stand.
What else do you need to know? That Leeds in summer is about the same as Canberra in early September? That it's just as well I saw the Leeds Armouries my first day, because since then there has been time even to ring people I meant to see (but who hadn't got round to arranging anything in advance)? That I spend breakfast times (becuase I am not sociable at that hour) analysing the plates of others and working out where they come from by their choice of breakfast? The only thing I have worked out for certain is that if there are 3 or more carbs on a plate, then the diner is American. Not all American congress-goers each this way, but everyone who does has both a US university on their tag and a US accent. Drinkers of black coffee are most likely to be French, Spanish or Israeli. Israelis and Spanish are, by the way, blithely assured that no-one will understand them. My Hebrew andSpanish are definitely improving. Alas, my breakfast neighbours said nothing interesting. My spoken capacity in these languages (especially Hebrew) is rather embarrassing, so I just sit and eat or just sit (when it's on the bus). It's odd however that in a large crowd of people who have a tendency to languages that any group should assume they will not be understood.
I have, BTW, discovered why I have had minimalist conversations with a couple of people. The Australian accent totally defeats a small minority of those for whom English is not a native language, but they're too polite to say so. They blame their langauge skils rather than my accent. My accent is sometimes Canberra and sometimes Melbourne, which is giving me an identity issue. I hope it settles down soon.
gillpolack @ 2011-07-13T10:18:00
Apart from a miscommunication and confusion in the early afternoon, today was totally lovely. Leeds is a warm and friendly conference, full of very interesting folks. One of those very interesting folks was the supervisor of my first PhD, who came to hear my paper. Apparently he wrote to me earlier in the year and the letter went astray.
The paper elicited lots of good questions and I had to be forcibly dragged away to get to my next thing (owlfishes are indomitable - also very supportive). There are a few people working on projects related to mine and we did much business card swapping and planning. I'll let you know what eventuates when it does. I love it that I now have an international peer group in both my main fields. It's a magical thing!
Also magical is the food historian at work. I saw a real food historian in action (not a part-time one like me) and it was fascinating. I saw her kitchen and we talked for a while and yes, we swapped business cards and talked possibilities.
I have bought cider and been bought cider and talked about institutions (since there are some people here from various of my previous universities) and discussed political systems and the wonders of Italian tax records and rare texts and life dreams and chips.
I should have been asleep two hours ago. I started wending sleepwards three hours ago, but saw someone over whom lurked a question and so I barged into the bar and asked her and a series of conversations began and I only just realised the time. This isn't as intense as the masterclass, but and the nature of its awesomeness is different, but it is still altogether awesome. it really helps, though, having a couple of friends who I could sit with quietly at lunchtime and ... just sit. Friends make changing realities possible, I think, and not so intimidating.
Health is just holding up. I have very early nights planned for the first two days at York, since there was always the possibility that the IMC would be a physical strain. I'm eating more and doing less exercise and it's working.
I have so much more to report, but instead I'm going to sleep. It's already tomorrow, here.
The paper elicited lots of good questions and I had to be forcibly dragged away to get to my next thing (owlfishes are indomitable - also very supportive). There are a few people working on projects related to mine and we did much business card swapping and planning. I'll let you know what eventuates when it does. I love it that I now have an international peer group in both my main fields. It's a magical thing!
Also magical is the food historian at work. I saw a real food historian in action (not a part-time one like me) and it was fascinating. I saw her kitchen and we talked for a while and yes, we swapped business cards and talked possibilities.
I have bought cider and been bought cider and talked about institutions (since there are some people here from various of my previous universities) and discussed political systems and the wonders of Italian tax records and rare texts and life dreams and chips.
I should have been asleep two hours ago. I started wending sleepwards three hours ago, but saw someone over whom lurked a question and so I barged into the bar and asked her and a series of conversations began and I only just realised the time. This isn't as intense as the masterclass, but and the nature of its awesomeness is different, but it is still altogether awesome. it really helps, though, having a couple of friends who I could sit with quietly at lunchtime and ... just sit. Friends make changing realities possible, I think, and not so intimidating.
Health is just holding up. I have very early nights planned for the first two days at York, since there was always the possibility that the IMC would be a physical strain. I'm eating more and doing less exercise and it's working.
I have so much more to report, but instead I'm going to sleep. It's already tomorrow, here.
July 12, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-07-12T23:45:00
There are about five panels I want to attend and I'm supposed to be meeting someone, but either she hasn't shown or she's waiting for me somewhere else. This means I'm sitting down in a comfortable armchair. This is an excellent thing, because yesterday and this morning were pretty full on. I have many thoughts and just some notes. I have teaching tools and I have discussions with editors about books (sounding each other out, basically) and I have cool new friends and meeting with people from my past. There actually *is* someone here who has definitely read and owns Illuminations. This means I have no choice but to be all my various selves and so I'm talking about narratives and fiction and the Jewish Middle Ages and food history and a sqillion other things.
My panel is straight after afternoon tea. My paper is in my handbag. I suspect I hav a bad case of the jitters, which would be worse if I were sitting in a panel a mile away, however, interesting the papers.
I've lived in a fear of being both a scholar and a fiction writer for so long that I wasn't very daring with either. This last 2 weeks I've managed to be both and all it means is being me. Nothing to be scared of. I need to time travel and let my twenty-something self know that.
If anyone reading this is at Leeds and sees a koala clinging closely to a woooden bowl in the craft fair, that might be my fault. If I'm going to be myself in public, after all, I might as well be all my selves.
For anyone enroling in my ANU courses second semester (enrol now, if you're enroling, because lack of numbers is always a potential problem) I have some seriously cool stuff for playing with. Arrowheads and pins and needles and a purse and a ship's candlestick.
I am a bit short of sleep. I keep talking to people. I tell myself that this is out of character, finding fascinating human beings and talking late, but I lie.
No news. There is none. My existence is like a bubbling pot, just coming to the boil. I have no idea what will happen next, but it's unlikely to be boring.
My panel is straight after afternoon tea. My paper is in my handbag. I suspect I hav a bad case of the jitters, which would be worse if I were sitting in a panel a mile away, however, interesting the papers.
I've lived in a fear of being both a scholar and a fiction writer for so long that I wasn't very daring with either. This last 2 weeks I've managed to be both and all it means is being me. Nothing to be scared of. I need to time travel and let my twenty-something self know that.
If anyone reading this is at Leeds and sees a koala clinging closely to a woooden bowl in the craft fair, that might be my fault. If I'm going to be myself in public, after all, I might as well be all my selves.
For anyone enroling in my ANU courses second semester (enrol now, if you're enroling, because lack of numbers is always a potential problem) I have some seriously cool stuff for playing with. Arrowheads and pins and needles and a purse and a ship's candlestick.
I am a bit short of sleep. I keep talking to people. I tell myself that this is out of character, finding fascinating human beings and talking late, but I lie.
No news. There is none. My existence is like a bubbling pot, just coming to the boil. I have no idea what will happen next, but it's unlikely to be boring.
