I've been a fan of xkcd for as long as I can remember. Apparently Randall Munroe started the website in September 2005, when I must have been on the Internet for a couple of years already, but I simply can't remember being online and not checking the website for new comics every so often (the publishing schedule has varied throughout time).
So what is xkcd, you may wonder. It's a webcomic. A nerdy, scientific, but also very funny webcomic, written by a very nerdy (ex-NASA) guy. I've seen one of Randall's TED talks, and it is almost impossible to believe that someone that dry and nerdy can write such funny comics. For one, the name of the website isn't an acronym, it's simply 'a word with no phonetic pronunciation'. I can't really get all of the jokes, to be honest, but thankfully there is even a website explaining the jokes (and science) in the comics.
Randall has created a couple of side projects, one of which is What if? in which he answers scientific questions (usually of the ridiculous kind). This has sparked a book, which contains even more questions about what would happen if you'd do something pretty crazy. He's also written a Thing Explainer, in which complicated things such as rockets are explained using only the thousand most common words.
His latest book is How To, which tells you how to do a couple of things: how to dig a hole, how to decorate a tree, or how to see if you're a nineties kid. The answers are never as straightforward as you may think. I love these kinds of books. You learn about something pretty complicated, like quantum physics or crowd psychology, while reading absurd stories of how Serena Williams takes down a drone by hitting it with a tennis ball. Randall tries to explain things in the easiest ways possible, sometimes showing how off the cuff estimations can get you pretty close to the real answer without having to do a lot of difficult calculations. If you understand the logic behind something, the way things work and affect each other, you can get pretty far without crunching the numbers.
The trademark comics are interspersed with the text, so you don't feel like you're reading a physics book. Rather, it feels like reading a comic book with some chunks of text in the middle. It feels like learning without studying, and that physics isn't as scary as you might think.
Showing posts with label insights. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insights. Show all posts
Monday, 16 September 2019
Sunday, 19 April 2015
War remembrance
It's almost May, which means that in the Netherlands, the yearly debate surrounding the remembrance of WWII is heating up again. We have our Remembrance Day on the 4th of May, with the national ceremony at 20:00. The 5th of May is Liberation Day, with lots of music and festivals around the country. There has been some debate as to whether the proportion of remembrance and celebration is quite right: many people are keen to celebrate their freedom, but not to remember those who died for it.
Having witnessed Remembrance Day on the 11th of November at the National War Monument in Canberra, I can tell you that our 'remembrance' pales in the light of the Anglo-Saxon way. This is partly a cultural thing: we Dutch don't like to dramatise things and we don't really have a strong military presence, and probably partly due to the fact that we weren't the liberators who sent thousands of young men halfway across the world to die on foreign soil, we were the ones who had to be liberated, after failing to keep out the enemy. Also, for the Allied forces, it's easy to determine who was 'good' and who was 'bad' in the war: we are still trying to come to terms with some of the things that Dutch people did to other Dutch people 70 years ago.
In a way, the whole debate surrounding the remembrance makes the event itself seem less important, at least to the younger generation who hasn't witnessed the war itself, or seen the effects on our parents. Which is why I turn to books, as with so many things in life. From an early age on, I've always been interested in WWII, and at some point I'd literally read all the WWII children's books our library stocked. It wasn't really a subject my grandparents talked a lot about, but for some reason I found it fascinating, so I went and got my information from elsewhere. As I got older and discovered 'real' literature this interest waned somewhat, but as I've been digging into 'the classics', I've come across several war books which have made a pretty big impression on me.
Firstly, there is All Quiet on the Western Front, a German account of WWI. 'We' were neutral in that one, so what is known as the Great War in other parts of the world isn't really a thing here, but this novel did bring the message home. I cannot imagine how anyone could ever start another war after reading that novel, which was probably why it was banned in Nazi Germany. I'd read some of the English war poets for my literature classes and was pretty familiar with that side of the story, but you keep forgetting that it was just as bad for those on the other side.
Then I read The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, which isn't about a 'live' war, but plays out in post-WWII Berlin. The Cold War is something that ended during my lifetime, so I have some memories of it (the fall of the Berlin Wall, most prominently, although I was very piqued when the country which I'd finally memorised as Czechoslovakia suddenly didn't exist anymore, and was now two separate countries). 'Cold' as it may have been, that war also changed many lives, and the setting of this novel made quite an impression.
Then I read Slaughterhouse 5, which you can't actually say anything proper about, except that again I cannot imagine anyone reading that novel and still being in favour of warfare. It is harrowing, and it will stay with me for some time to come. But I loved the jumbled-up style, and I wish I'd read this book before my 'trauma theory' essay for literature, as this would have been a great primary text to work with.
Concurrent with all the above, I've been reading De Ontdekking van de Hemel, which is translated as The Discovery of Heaven in English. This doesn't deal so much with WWII directly, but the after effects on Dutch society run throughout the novel.
And finally, my newest read is Brideshead Revisited. This was written during WWII by someone actively involved in WWII, and although most of the story takes place earlier, the whole atmosphere is that of a time gone by, destroyed by the War (amongst other things). In that sense, the novel has more in common with The Discovery of Heaven than any of the other novels written during a war.
In a way, I find these novels even more disconcerting. We can all imagine the horrors of war, but the effects that a war leaves on a society, the things that are lost and cannot be restored because something essential has been taken out, be it trust or innocence or a whole generation of young men, those effects are much harder to formulate and come to terms with. I cannot imagine how my country and my society would have been without WWII, because it took place and changed the world irreversibly. But through reading novels like these, we can get a glimpse of the profound impact a war can have on society. Maybe it isn't about whether we would have been 'good' or 'bad' during the war itself, but about how we go on when the war has ended, and peace will never be the same again.
Having witnessed Remembrance Day on the 11th of November at the National War Monument in Canberra, I can tell you that our 'remembrance' pales in the light of the Anglo-Saxon way. This is partly a cultural thing: we Dutch don't like to dramatise things and we don't really have a strong military presence, and probably partly due to the fact that we weren't the liberators who sent thousands of young men halfway across the world to die on foreign soil, we were the ones who had to be liberated, after failing to keep out the enemy. Also, for the Allied forces, it's easy to determine who was 'good' and who was 'bad' in the war: we are still trying to come to terms with some of the things that Dutch people did to other Dutch people 70 years ago.
In a way, the whole debate surrounding the remembrance makes the event itself seem less important, at least to the younger generation who hasn't witnessed the war itself, or seen the effects on our parents. Which is why I turn to books, as with so many things in life. From an early age on, I've always been interested in WWII, and at some point I'd literally read all the WWII children's books our library stocked. It wasn't really a subject my grandparents talked a lot about, but for some reason I found it fascinating, so I went and got my information from elsewhere. As I got older and discovered 'real' literature this interest waned somewhat, but as I've been digging into 'the classics', I've come across several war books which have made a pretty big impression on me.
Firstly, there is All Quiet on the Western Front, a German account of WWI. 'We' were neutral in that one, so what is known as the Great War in other parts of the world isn't really a thing here, but this novel did bring the message home. I cannot imagine how anyone could ever start another war after reading that novel, which was probably why it was banned in Nazi Germany. I'd read some of the English war poets for my literature classes and was pretty familiar with that side of the story, but you keep forgetting that it was just as bad for those on the other side.
Then I read The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, which isn't about a 'live' war, but plays out in post-WWII Berlin. The Cold War is something that ended during my lifetime, so I have some memories of it (the fall of the Berlin Wall, most prominently, although I was very piqued when the country which I'd finally memorised as Czechoslovakia suddenly didn't exist anymore, and was now two separate countries). 'Cold' as it may have been, that war also changed many lives, and the setting of this novel made quite an impression.
Then I read Slaughterhouse 5, which you can't actually say anything proper about, except that again I cannot imagine anyone reading that novel and still being in favour of warfare. It is harrowing, and it will stay with me for some time to come. But I loved the jumbled-up style, and I wish I'd read this book before my 'trauma theory' essay for literature, as this would have been a great primary text to work with.
Concurrent with all the above, I've been reading De Ontdekking van de Hemel, which is translated as The Discovery of Heaven in English. This doesn't deal so much with WWII directly, but the after effects on Dutch society run throughout the novel.
And finally, my newest read is Brideshead Revisited. This was written during WWII by someone actively involved in WWII, and although most of the story takes place earlier, the whole atmosphere is that of a time gone by, destroyed by the War (amongst other things). In that sense, the novel has more in common with The Discovery of Heaven than any of the other novels written during a war.
In a way, I find these novels even more disconcerting. We can all imagine the horrors of war, but the effects that a war leaves on a society, the things that are lost and cannot be restored because something essential has been taken out, be it trust or innocence or a whole generation of young men, those effects are much harder to formulate and come to terms with. I cannot imagine how my country and my society would have been without WWII, because it took place and changed the world irreversibly. But through reading novels like these, we can get a glimpse of the profound impact a war can have on society. Maybe it isn't about whether we would have been 'good' or 'bad' during the war itself, but about how we go on when the war has ended, and peace will never be the same again.
Thursday, 2 January 2014
New Year's resolutions
I'm not really someone for New Year's resolutions (or 'good resolutions', as we call them in Dutch - as opposed to the bad resolutions you can have all year round); I try to improve on things I'm not really happy about whenever I get the chance. I haven't heard many amongst my friends and colleagues so far either, except for 'eat less and exercise more', but that to me seems no more than logical after a week of almost continuous eating and hardly any movement.
So they're not really for me - or so I thought! Today someone viewed the first post I ever wrote on this blog, which pops up on my 'stats' panel, and that post was written on the 10th of January 2012. And then somehow I came to check the date I joined Postcrossing, a neat 1089 days ago, and that was on the 9th of January 2011. Two rather big things in my life, which I apparently started in January.
I can remember lurking around the Postcrossing website and fora for a while before deciding to join, so that really wasn't a spur-of-the moment thing, it was a conscious decision. Same goes for starting this blog: I'd been wanting to finish my old blog (which is now just attracting lots and lots of spam) for a while, and starting afresh, but somehow couldn't do it until January arrived.
So maybe there is something to New Year's resolutions, even if they're not consciously connected to the whole phenomenon: January seems to get people in motion. And I can say for Postcrossing and blogging, that even though I can't spend half as much time on them as I would like, they were pretty good unconscious New Year's resolutions.
Happy and healthy 2014 everyone!
So they're not really for me - or so I thought! Today someone viewed the first post I ever wrote on this blog, which pops up on my 'stats' panel, and that post was written on the 10th of January 2012. And then somehow I came to check the date I joined Postcrossing, a neat 1089 days ago, and that was on the 9th of January 2011. Two rather big things in my life, which I apparently started in January.
I can remember lurking around the Postcrossing website and fora for a while before deciding to join, so that really wasn't a spur-of-the moment thing, it was a conscious decision. Same goes for starting this blog: I'd been wanting to finish my old blog (which is now just attracting lots and lots of spam) for a while, and starting afresh, but somehow couldn't do it until January arrived.
So maybe there is something to New Year's resolutions, even if they're not consciously connected to the whole phenomenon: January seems to get people in motion. And I can say for Postcrossing and blogging, that even though I can't spend half as much time on them as I would like, they were pretty good unconscious New Year's resolutions.
Happy and healthy 2014 everyone!
Monday, 30 December 2013
Sports action live
We Dutch love our ice skating. The best part is when it freezes outside and we get what is called 'natural ice' (as opposed to artificial ice in the skating halls) and everyone drops whatever they're doing and goes ice skating. The absolute high point of the mania is when there might be an Elfstedentocht, which is a 200 km long track touring the 11 (historic) cities of Friesland.
But even without outdoor ice, things can get pretty exciting on indoor ice skating. There are two kinds: long track and short track, and the former is by far the more popular (although short track is catching on quickly). Apart from soccer, speed skating is probably the most popular sport in the Netherlands (which could be exemplified by the fact that Jeremy Wotherspoon didn't qualify for the 500m in Sochi was the second item on the news yesterday). It's one of the few sports we're actually pretty good at on the Olympics, apart from that other thing to do with water - swimming (and dressage, but somehow horse-related things never really catch on here).
Anyway, for the past 5 days, the qualification tournament for Sochi has been taking place, and it's been a fierce battle. The problem, if you can call it that, is that we have too many good skaters. We can only send 3 or 4 people for most distances, and we have about 8 good ones you want to send (some distances are better represented than others, but still most are pretty well covered). The qualifications are taking place in Thialf, which is the Dutch Valhalla of ice skating. And last Friday, I was there to watch the action.
This is probably the time to mention that I am not really a sports fan in the true sense of the word. To stick to skating: I cannot tell you what would be a good or bad time for any given distance. I cannot tell you the name of all the skaters. And when given a name, I could not tell you which team they're skating for, or who their coach (all old skating pros) is.
But I do like to watch. So far, I'd only watched the skating on TV, but now I was going in for the live thing. I'd never seen a real sporting competition up close and in person, and to tell you the truth, I've never really understood why people would go sit/stand in a cold windy stadium where they can only see a very small part of the action (or only very small players) while they could watch the same thing at home from different camera angles with meaningful commentary. Now I know: it's the atmosphere.
The distances we watched were the 500m for the men and the 3000m for the women. The 500m always has to be done twice, so that adds a lot of extra tension: a person having a good first go may falter on the second go around and still not qualify. Also, the skating was very, very good. Michel Mulder rode a track record on the 500m, and several other skaters were very very fast too. And most importantly, the whole stadium becomes one giant, living, breathing organism that can almost literally push a skater that little bit further by their shouting, cheering, clapping, and hammering on the wooden panelling. This sense of togetherness, of seeing a few individuals push themselves to the limit, carried by our cheers and well-wishes, and seeing them perform the things that we could never do, creates such a great atmosphere of beloging and togetherness and possibility, it's impossible not to join in the shouting and jumping and other crazy things. To me, at least.
So now I do understand why people go to sporting matches, even when it can be cold and uncomfortable and crowded and you can't see half the things you could if you were snugly at home. The thing that you don't get at home, the sense of belonging, makes up for all of that. So would I go there again? Definitely, but not too often. There are people who come to Thialf every day, who write down the times and know everybody's personal record by heart: that's not me. To me it is more of a special outing, and special things should be taken sparingly to keep them special. But it has given me new insights, and a great experience I will remember for a while to come.
But even without outdoor ice, things can get pretty exciting on indoor ice skating. There are two kinds: long track and short track, and the former is by far the more popular (although short track is catching on quickly). Apart from soccer, speed skating is probably the most popular sport in the Netherlands (which could be exemplified by the fact that Jeremy Wotherspoon didn't qualify for the 500m in Sochi was the second item on the news yesterday). It's one of the few sports we're actually pretty good at on the Olympics, apart from that other thing to do with water - swimming (and dressage, but somehow horse-related things never really catch on here).
Anyway, for the past 5 days, the qualification tournament for Sochi has been taking place, and it's been a fierce battle. The problem, if you can call it that, is that we have too many good skaters. We can only send 3 or 4 people for most distances, and we have about 8 good ones you want to send (some distances are better represented than others, but still most are pretty well covered). The qualifications are taking place in Thialf, which is the Dutch Valhalla of ice skating. And last Friday, I was there to watch the action.
This is probably the time to mention that I am not really a sports fan in the true sense of the word. To stick to skating: I cannot tell you what would be a good or bad time for any given distance. I cannot tell you the name of all the skaters. And when given a name, I could not tell you which team they're skating for, or who their coach (all old skating pros) is.
But I do like to watch. So far, I'd only watched the skating on TV, but now I was going in for the live thing. I'd never seen a real sporting competition up close and in person, and to tell you the truth, I've never really understood why people would go sit/stand in a cold windy stadium where they can only see a very small part of the action (or only very small players) while they could watch the same thing at home from different camera angles with meaningful commentary. Now I know: it's the atmosphere.
The distances we watched were the 500m for the men and the 3000m for the women. The 500m always has to be done twice, so that adds a lot of extra tension: a person having a good first go may falter on the second go around and still not qualify. Also, the skating was very, very good. Michel Mulder rode a track record on the 500m, and several other skaters were very very fast too. And most importantly, the whole stadium becomes one giant, living, breathing organism that can almost literally push a skater that little bit further by their shouting, cheering, clapping, and hammering on the wooden panelling. This sense of togetherness, of seeing a few individuals push themselves to the limit, carried by our cheers and well-wishes, and seeing them perform the things that we could never do, creates such a great atmosphere of beloging and togetherness and possibility, it's impossible not to join in the shouting and jumping and other crazy things. To me, at least.
So now I do understand why people go to sporting matches, even when it can be cold and uncomfortable and crowded and you can't see half the things you could if you were snugly at home. The thing that you don't get at home, the sense of belonging, makes up for all of that. So would I go there again? Definitely, but not too often. There are people who come to Thialf every day, who write down the times and know everybody's personal record by heart: that's not me. To me it is more of a special outing, and special things should be taken sparingly to keep them special. But it has given me new insights, and a great experience I will remember for a while to come.
Sunday, 22 December 2013
The Quest
I've finished Hard Times (a bit slow in the middle, but picking up nicely towards the end) and before diving into the next classic, I decided to read a novel I'd gotten for my birthday from a friend who likes to give me novels by people I've never heard of before, which then turn out to be things I absolutely love (The Eyre Affair being a great example). In this case, the novel in question was The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. It's about a guy who suddenly decides to leave his home behind and go on a 'pilgrimage' across England, on foot.
Sounds familiar? Maybe because it reminds you of The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared, last year's great hit. Somehow, the idea of men suddenly dropping out of their lives to go on a great quest appeals to readers.
Now the theme of 'the quest' is nothing new, of course. Classical and medieval literature is littered with examples, and also many modern day novels include a quest of some sort, be it a physical journey (The Hobbit, to name the most obvious example), a journey of social acceptance (most post-9/11 novels), or a coming-of-age story (most young adult fiction, ranging from The Hunger Games to the diaries of wimpy kids). In short, there has to be some sort of development, some sort of journey (The Hero's Journey is one of the commonest narrative elements) for a novel or story to function.
All this is very well, but the surprising thing in the novels mentioned above, is that this journey is taking place in our world, in our time, by people who could be us. No super-natural events, alternate universes or even parallel worlds (like in Harry Potter), but actual named and described places. Almost as if the event could be taking place right now. And almost as if we, the readers, could be part of that event. That is what got me thinking.
Literature (art in general) functions as an escape from our 'real' lives, I think everybody knows that by now. But somehow, that escape resembles those real lives ever closer. Instead of a hobbit going on an adventure, it's Harold Fry, a simple guy who could just as well be living next door. This can mean two things: either our own imagination is coming up short and we need help by authors guiding us through the 'real' world with 'real' people (I don't think so), or we want to be shown that an adventure is possible in our day and age and life, if only we had the chance. We don't have that chance, because contrary to Allan Karlsson and Harold Fry, we do have jobs and kids and mortgages, and basically no room or time or motivation, but if we were hundred-year-olds or retired and bored, we could just walk out the door in search of adventure. In that sense, it's a consolation: even those guys, who have all but 'left' the world, are still out there doing these great things and travelling these great distances.
Which is kind of sad, really, when you think about it, because it makes me imagine all these people desperate for an adventure or journey or something out of the ordinary, but thinking that they're having to wait until their life is almost over for it to happen. So instead of escaping into literature, I'd advise them to put down the books and go out and have an adventure themselves!
But of course that isn't the main reason for reading these kinds of novels, so if you think your life is quite adventurous enough (as in fact Alan and Harold do, because they never really search out the adventure, it somehow happens to them), do read The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, because it really is a fun book, even if you're happy to just let it happen to someone else.
Sounds familiar? Maybe because it reminds you of The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared, last year's great hit. Somehow, the idea of men suddenly dropping out of their lives to go on a great quest appeals to readers.
Now the theme of 'the quest' is nothing new, of course. Classical and medieval literature is littered with examples, and also many modern day novels include a quest of some sort, be it a physical journey (The Hobbit, to name the most obvious example), a journey of social acceptance (most post-9/11 novels), or a coming-of-age story (most young adult fiction, ranging from The Hunger Games to the diaries of wimpy kids). In short, there has to be some sort of development, some sort of journey (The Hero's Journey is one of the commonest narrative elements) for a novel or story to function.
All this is very well, but the surprising thing in the novels mentioned above, is that this journey is taking place in our world, in our time, by people who could be us. No super-natural events, alternate universes or even parallel worlds (like in Harry Potter), but actual named and described places. Almost as if the event could be taking place right now. And almost as if we, the readers, could be part of that event. That is what got me thinking.
Literature (art in general) functions as an escape from our 'real' lives, I think everybody knows that by now. But somehow, that escape resembles those real lives ever closer. Instead of a hobbit going on an adventure, it's Harold Fry, a simple guy who could just as well be living next door. This can mean two things: either our own imagination is coming up short and we need help by authors guiding us through the 'real' world with 'real' people (I don't think so), or we want to be shown that an adventure is possible in our day and age and life, if only we had the chance. We don't have that chance, because contrary to Allan Karlsson and Harold Fry, we do have jobs and kids and mortgages, and basically no room or time or motivation, but if we were hundred-year-olds or retired and bored, we could just walk out the door in search of adventure. In that sense, it's a consolation: even those guys, who have all but 'left' the world, are still out there doing these great things and travelling these great distances.
Which is kind of sad, really, when you think about it, because it makes me imagine all these people desperate for an adventure or journey or something out of the ordinary, but thinking that they're having to wait until their life is almost over for it to happen. So instead of escaping into literature, I'd advise them to put down the books and go out and have an adventure themselves!
But of course that isn't the main reason for reading these kinds of novels, so if you think your life is quite adventurous enough (as in fact Alan and Harold do, because they never really search out the adventure, it somehow happens to them), do read The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, because it really is a fun book, even if you're happy to just let it happen to someone else.
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
To kill a mockingbird
There was a time in my life when I decided I would not read any of 'the classics', by which I didn't mean the ancient Greek or Roman texts, but the novels 'everybody should read'. I was going to be different, and original, and only read contemporary stuff that was different, and original.
At some point I realised that to know whether something is original, it might be nice to have read older stuff as well. Also, after reading some of 'the classics', I realised that they are classics for a reason: they actually are pretty good, and still relevant. Since then, I've been trying to mix new novels with classic novels, and have started on Yates and Steinbeck (somehow, I appear to have read more British than American classics, probably due to the British-oriented university I attended), and several 'classic' Dutch authors (Hermans, Mulisch), and acquired some other novels I still have to read.
Upon admitting that I had owned To kill a mockingbird for about a year, but still had not read it, several friends drew a collective intake of breath, so I decided that would be my next novel. I had absolutely no idea of what it was about, and the blurb on the back didn't really help me any further, so I was a complete blank slate going into it.
And again, this novel proved to be worthy of the caption 'classic'. It is one of those novels where everything comes together: plot, style, characters, themes. You just know that the character mentioned in the first line, as a side remark, will come back at the end of the novel to neatly complete the circle. It is completely understandable that this is one of the most important novels in American education, and that it has not been out of print since its appearance.
As you are probably all better familiar with the content than I was, I will just finish by sharing some interesting surprises I discovered while reading some background information on the novel (for me, the author is definitely not dead). First, I discovered that Harper Lee is in fact a woman. Second, I discovered that she is still alive (albeit 89 years old). Thirdly, that the novel is partly autobiographical, and that the Dill character is actually Truman Capote. Finally, that Harper Lee never wrote anything ever again, and has hardly ever spoken publicly about To kill a mockingbird after finishing it.
To me, all these extra tidbits of information just add to the novel's depth and complexity. Without them, the novel is great and brilliant and special as it is, but with them, it just gets an extra layer or shine. Although it does make me sad that there are no other novels by the same author to devour.
Ah well, now it's on to another contemporary novel (Dominion by C.J. Sansom) and then on to more classic literary education.
At some point I realised that to know whether something is original, it might be nice to have read older stuff as well. Also, after reading some of 'the classics', I realised that they are classics for a reason: they actually are pretty good, and still relevant. Since then, I've been trying to mix new novels with classic novels, and have started on Yates and Steinbeck (somehow, I appear to have read more British than American classics, probably due to the British-oriented university I attended), and several 'classic' Dutch authors (Hermans, Mulisch), and acquired some other novels I still have to read.
Upon admitting that I had owned To kill a mockingbird for about a year, but still had not read it, several friends drew a collective intake of breath, so I decided that would be my next novel. I had absolutely no idea of what it was about, and the blurb on the back didn't really help me any further, so I was a complete blank slate going into it.
And again, this novel proved to be worthy of the caption 'classic'. It is one of those novels where everything comes together: plot, style, characters, themes. You just know that the character mentioned in the first line, as a side remark, will come back at the end of the novel to neatly complete the circle. It is completely understandable that this is one of the most important novels in American education, and that it has not been out of print since its appearance.
As you are probably all better familiar with the content than I was, I will just finish by sharing some interesting surprises I discovered while reading some background information on the novel (for me, the author is definitely not dead). First, I discovered that Harper Lee is in fact a woman. Second, I discovered that she is still alive (albeit 89 years old). Thirdly, that the novel is partly autobiographical, and that the Dill character is actually Truman Capote. Finally, that Harper Lee never wrote anything ever again, and has hardly ever spoken publicly about To kill a mockingbird after finishing it.
To me, all these extra tidbits of information just add to the novel's depth and complexity. Without them, the novel is great and brilliant and special as it is, but with them, it just gets an extra layer or shine. Although it does make me sad that there are no other novels by the same author to devour.
Ah well, now it's on to another contemporary novel (Dominion by C.J. Sansom) and then on to more classic literary education.
Friday, 15 November 2013
In Bruges
Things have been a bit quiet over here, because we have been away on a short holiday. Or to be more exact: a city trip. We visited Bruges and Ghent, two beautiful cities in the Flemish part of Belgium.
Now many things are the same in Flanders as they are in the Netherlands: we share a language, many cultural aspects, opinions, and habits. But there are some small things, things that you generally take for granted as being 'normal' the way you are used to them, that made me realise that I really was abroad.
And I don't mean the general stereotype that Belgians are more friendly, polite and welcoming than the Dutch, although in general, that did prove to be the case once again.
No, I'm talking about small things like having to pay for toilet use, even in cinemas where you've paid 9 Euros for a film ticket, or in restaurants, or in department stores. This may be Dutch thrift, or it may not: I read an outraged review by an American visitor who complained heartily about this.
Then there is the complete lack of proper directions on the road: it seems like every department or city council can just decide whether they want to put signs before or after the exit (or not place them at all), and without our satnav, we would have been lost several times. The Netherlands may be overfilled with rules and regulations, at least you can find your way by just relaying on the signs.
In a more positive streak: Belgians do take the time to go out for lunch, generally accompanied by a glass of wine. Even people who have their lunch break alone go to a restaurant or take-out and sit at a table and eat their lunch. In the Netherlands, this is highly uncommon: most people just eat their lunch at their desks, or run errands, or possibly have a short lunch walk: actually taking an hour to go lunch in a restaurant not attached to your building is a rarity. This is one area in which I hope we will copy our southern neighbours.
I could mention many more things, all small and seemingly 'normal', which show the subtle difference between two countries so alike and so well-connected. I wonder whether it's these little things or the big things like religion or politics, that in the end define us more.
Now many things are the same in Flanders as they are in the Netherlands: we share a language, many cultural aspects, opinions, and habits. But there are some small things, things that you generally take for granted as being 'normal' the way you are used to them, that made me realise that I really was abroad.
And I don't mean the general stereotype that Belgians are more friendly, polite and welcoming than the Dutch, although in general, that did prove to be the case once again.
No, I'm talking about small things like having to pay for toilet use, even in cinemas where you've paid 9 Euros for a film ticket, or in restaurants, or in department stores. This may be Dutch thrift, or it may not: I read an outraged review by an American visitor who complained heartily about this.
Then there is the complete lack of proper directions on the road: it seems like every department or city council can just decide whether they want to put signs before or after the exit (or not place them at all), and without our satnav, we would have been lost several times. The Netherlands may be overfilled with rules and regulations, at least you can find your way by just relaying on the signs.
In a more positive streak: Belgians do take the time to go out for lunch, generally accompanied by a glass of wine. Even people who have their lunch break alone go to a restaurant or take-out and sit at a table and eat their lunch. In the Netherlands, this is highly uncommon: most people just eat their lunch at their desks, or run errands, or possibly have a short lunch walk: actually taking an hour to go lunch in a restaurant not attached to your building is a rarity. This is one area in which I hope we will copy our southern neighbours.
I could mention many more things, all small and seemingly 'normal', which show the subtle difference between two countries so alike and so well-connected. I wonder whether it's these little things or the big things like religion or politics, that in the end define us more.
Sunday, 20 January 2013
Alpha vs beta
In the Netherlands, there exists a differentiation between 'alpha' and 'beta' people. This difference starts in secondary school, when you have to choose between an 'alpha' or 'beta' profile, the first including mostly languages and/or creative subjects, the second being the science subjects. It is almost impossible to combine the two, especially since most schools now offer 4 'streams' you can choose from: nature & mechanics, nature & health, economics & society and economics & culture (the last one is a combination of things I still fail to understand). Once you're in a stream, your somewhat fixed, and it's almost impossible to take courses from any of the other streams (as classes are planned on the same time, e.g., 'chemistry is 3rd period, so we can plan arts history then as well, as nobody will want to take both'). But also further in life, people can ask you whether you are a typical alpha or beta person (or 'gamma', if you're into psychology) and then judge you as creative or logical or social or anti-social accordingly. You are put into the 'alpha' or 'beta' box and stay there.
I know this system does not exist in most other countries. I know, because I've tried to explain it to so many foreigners, who have looked at me blankly as I struggled to make it clear. It isn't clear. It's not really a 'system' either, it's just a way of labelling people, putting them into boxes to make things easier.
Of course, there are some people who do not fit in either of these boxes. I was at a talk by someone who studied Dutch, history and geography, and there was another person who studied economics and English. All of these things are not easily 'married' in the Dutch educational system, but do still belong to the 'alpha' box. It becomes even more difficult when you try to live in both boxes.
In secondary school, I took the 'nature & health' profile, but I added German and Spanish on to that, because I really enjoyed science but I also really enjoyed languages. I studied Biology, which went pretty well, but when it turned out (during my research MSc) that this was not the way I wanted to spend my life, I studied English Language & Culture after that. I enjoy science, reading about science, and discovering things, but I also love languages, reading, writing, and creating. Strangely enough, I do not enjoy the 'scientific' side of languages: linguistics. It is a weird combination.
Now it seems that weird combination has landed me a job. As there are so very few people who combine an interest in science with an interest in language, there are also very few people who can write scientific school books. And I've been doing an internship at a publisher for school books. And they mentioned they needed people who had affiliation with both 'beta' subjects and language, and whether I knew someone. I mentioned that I knew myself. Somehow, this led to me getting a temporal position at the 'beta' department for secondary education.
The interesting thing is, the third person I met in this department studied chemistry and arts. That is crossing the alpha/beta division even more than my biology and English. So now I'm starting to wonder what we're trying to achieve with this alpha/beta divide. Clearly, there are many people who do not fit in these standardised boxes. So making the world easier to grasp by trying to put secondary school pupils in one of four streams may be throwing a way a lot of good things, as people are not encouraged to stimulate other parts of their interests. They may enjoy biology and chemistry, but also history and geography, and now they have to choose. This may cause frustration, but also lead to poorer results because they have to take the 'full package' of what comes with the stream, regardless of whether they also like for example maths. If you choose a 'beta' stream, you have to take the whole thing. I was able to compliment my science profile with languages, and after 9 years of university have finally managed to find a place where I can use both. But how many people have to suppress or ignore part of what they love to do because they do not 'fit' in the system?
If we are the only (that I know of) country actually using this weird system, maybe it's time to look critically, and dispose of it. There are no 'alpha' or 'beta' people. There are just people, with loves and interests, and they should be able to study and learn everything they want.
I know this system does not exist in most other countries. I know, because I've tried to explain it to so many foreigners, who have looked at me blankly as I struggled to make it clear. It isn't clear. It's not really a 'system' either, it's just a way of labelling people, putting them into boxes to make things easier.
Of course, there are some people who do not fit in either of these boxes. I was at a talk by someone who studied Dutch, history and geography, and there was another person who studied economics and English. All of these things are not easily 'married' in the Dutch educational system, but do still belong to the 'alpha' box. It becomes even more difficult when you try to live in both boxes.
In secondary school, I took the 'nature & health' profile, but I added German and Spanish on to that, because I really enjoyed science but I also really enjoyed languages. I studied Biology, which went pretty well, but when it turned out (during my research MSc) that this was not the way I wanted to spend my life, I studied English Language & Culture after that. I enjoy science, reading about science, and discovering things, but I also love languages, reading, writing, and creating. Strangely enough, I do not enjoy the 'scientific' side of languages: linguistics. It is a weird combination.
Now it seems that weird combination has landed me a job. As there are so very few people who combine an interest in science with an interest in language, there are also very few people who can write scientific school books. And I've been doing an internship at a publisher for school books. And they mentioned they needed people who had affiliation with both 'beta' subjects and language, and whether I knew someone. I mentioned that I knew myself. Somehow, this led to me getting a temporal position at the 'beta' department for secondary education.
The interesting thing is, the third person I met in this department studied chemistry and arts. That is crossing the alpha/beta division even more than my biology and English. So now I'm starting to wonder what we're trying to achieve with this alpha/beta divide. Clearly, there are many people who do not fit in these standardised boxes. So making the world easier to grasp by trying to put secondary school pupils in one of four streams may be throwing a way a lot of good things, as people are not encouraged to stimulate other parts of their interests. They may enjoy biology and chemistry, but also history and geography, and now they have to choose. This may cause frustration, but also lead to poorer results because they have to take the 'full package' of what comes with the stream, regardless of whether they also like for example maths. If you choose a 'beta' stream, you have to take the whole thing. I was able to compliment my science profile with languages, and after 9 years of university have finally managed to find a place where I can use both. But how many people have to suppress or ignore part of what they love to do because they do not 'fit' in the system?
If we are the only (that I know of) country actually using this weird system, maybe it's time to look critically, and dispose of it. There are no 'alpha' or 'beta' people. There are just people, with loves and interests, and they should be able to study and learn everything they want.
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
Facing the difficulties
Today, the 5th of December, is usually a day of joy in The Netherlands. It's Sinterklaas, meaning presents, poems, sweets, chocolate, and family time. As there are no small children 'believing' in Sinterklaas in my family anymore we celebrated it last Friday, but many of my internship colleagues are leaving early, and there was a Sinterklaas walking around the building handing out pepernoten and sweets just an hour ago.
But today, its more a day of misery. Bad things seem to be happening all around me; people getting fired, plans going awry, things they've worked towards for months suddenly being cancelled or changed... I won't go into specifics, as these are not my personal things, but somehow, they all come at the same time.
I've had some bad stuff myself; yesterday I agreed with my supervisor that I am going to completely rewrite my MA dissertation, which will take a lot of work, as I am basically starting all over again from scratch. This is something I decided on my own, and I'm happy with that decision, so it's not completely a bad thing, but still, it threw me for a while. And then today, the guy at the bank told us that we won't be getting our mortgage at the time we thought we would, so we wont be able to sign our contract and get the key on the date we'd planned, so now we've had to move everything around, from the signing day to the day the contractor is going to inspect to the day we actually start working.
This was more than annoying, this was actually enough to make me quite angry, as the bank guy told us the stuff would be done/available by a certain date, and now he was telling us that they were very busy, and had to do overtime, and were understaffed, and boo-hoo, and he couldn't make it. They should have seen this coming weeks ago, as the mortgage laws are going to change by 1 January 2013, and lots of people are wanting to get in on the old system while they still can. And moreover, him working overtime is none of my problem, we're paying him to do this work, so he should be doing it (in time!).
But in neither cases I really got angry. I got annoyed, but not in the shouty "I won't talk to you because you're ruining all my plans but I will shout at you until you give me what I want" way that some people have. I get annoyed for about 10 seconds, and then I switch into practical "okay, this is not the way we'd planned it or wanted it, but this is the situation we have, so how can we make it work anyway?" Pragmatism. I never knew I was pragmatic until faced with these kinds of things, and I'm happy I am, because being angry and/or annoyed and/or shouting your head off at the person who needs to help you doesn't get you anywhere.
But that doesn't take away from the fact that some people are having a really bad day today, and that there's a wall (a mountain, more like) of stuff coming up for me to do, all of it over the holidays, meaning no rest for the interning, dissertation-writing DIY-ers. I hope I can retain the positive view on things that I have now, which is mostly based on "I/we'll figure it out in the end". And you always do.
But today, its more a day of misery. Bad things seem to be happening all around me; people getting fired, plans going awry, things they've worked towards for months suddenly being cancelled or changed... I won't go into specifics, as these are not my personal things, but somehow, they all come at the same time.
I've had some bad stuff myself; yesterday I agreed with my supervisor that I am going to completely rewrite my MA dissertation, which will take a lot of work, as I am basically starting all over again from scratch. This is something I decided on my own, and I'm happy with that decision, so it's not completely a bad thing, but still, it threw me for a while. And then today, the guy at the bank told us that we won't be getting our mortgage at the time we thought we would, so we wont be able to sign our contract and get the key on the date we'd planned, so now we've had to move everything around, from the signing day to the day the contractor is going to inspect to the day we actually start working.
This was more than annoying, this was actually enough to make me quite angry, as the bank guy told us the stuff would be done/available by a certain date, and now he was telling us that they were very busy, and had to do overtime, and were understaffed, and boo-hoo, and he couldn't make it. They should have seen this coming weeks ago, as the mortgage laws are going to change by 1 January 2013, and lots of people are wanting to get in on the old system while they still can. And moreover, him working overtime is none of my problem, we're paying him to do this work, so he should be doing it (in time!).
But in neither cases I really got angry. I got annoyed, but not in the shouty "I won't talk to you because you're ruining all my plans but I will shout at you until you give me what I want" way that some people have. I get annoyed for about 10 seconds, and then I switch into practical "okay, this is not the way we'd planned it or wanted it, but this is the situation we have, so how can we make it work anyway?" Pragmatism. I never knew I was pragmatic until faced with these kinds of things, and I'm happy I am, because being angry and/or annoyed and/or shouting your head off at the person who needs to help you doesn't get you anywhere.
But that doesn't take away from the fact that some people are having a really bad day today, and that there's a wall (a mountain, more like) of stuff coming up for me to do, all of it over the holidays, meaning no rest for the interning, dissertation-writing DIY-ers. I hope I can retain the positive view on things that I have now, which is mostly based on "I/we'll figure it out in the end". And you always do.
Sunday, 16 September 2012
American impressions
So the last three weeks I was in America. This was my first time to the other side of the big Atlantic pond, and it's made quite an impression. You have some sort of image in your head of what a country or its people is going to be like, and when you actually do visit you realise all your (subconscious) preconceptions and stereotypes are based on nothing much. Below you will find some things that I noticed, or talked about, or that are just maybe interesting to know or realise. I have only been to the north eastern part (NYC, Boston, some New England, Cape Cod, New Jersey, and Washington DC), so what I say here is probably generalising those areas only, but I wouldn't know.
- There really is a Starbucks on every corner. There is also a McDonald's, Dunkin' Donuts, Wendy's, or Whole Foods. These are never to be found when you are actually looking for them, if you are hungry or in need of free wifi. Also, there are very many small supermarkets and privately owned stores, cafes, and restaurants, which have somehow managed to survive the big chains. We usually went to them instead, as I can have a Starbucks coffee here in Groningen too, if I want to.
- All these shops and stores and restaurants and public transport buildings and what not have a surplus of employees. The Apple Stores are the biggest in this, but generally in restaurants or cafes there was about double the amount of personnel as one would have in a similar European setting. All of these people are very friendly, curious to get to know you, and desperate to please you. As there are so many, they are generally bored, and will be very happy if you talk to them. Also, it's simply polite to say "no thank you, I'm just browsing" than ignore them. I've had some really great conversations with people sitting behind desks or helping out in stores who were just doing their job and interested in getting to know me. I realised that some people just saw them as stupid worker bees that you can ignore when you feel better or smarter than they, but really, these are smart people just trying to earn some money. And they aren't earning a lot of that, so do tip. I was surprised at how happy people are when you give them a tip, even though the US is supposed to be the "big tip" country where you tip at least 15-20% in restaurants (in Europe it's usually 10%, although most people just forget doing it).
- In big cities, people don't greet each other, talk to strangers, or give each other random compliments or services (like holding a door open). When you do do these things, people are generally very happy and outgoing, again eager to help and be nice. In small towns, the situation is the reverse: everybody greets everybody, talks to them, gives them compliments, and helps them out, and if you don't do these things you are generally regarded as strange or outlandish. In big cities, most people ignored us and the fact that we spoke Dutch amongst ourselves, in small towns, some people looked at us suspiciously when doing the same thing.
- Most things are relatively cheap. Hotel rooms in big cities are expensive, of course, but the amount of service you get for the money is pretty high, so overall that's good. Food is cheap too, although alcoholic drinks are expensive. Public transport is really cheap, as is petrol, which is interesting as in Europe both are expensive. A lot of toll on roads and bridges, some of which are ridiculously high, while others are strangely low. Government sites and museums are almost always free or charge a low fee, stand-alone museums or other attractions are very expensive. Once you are inside them, the food is also pretty expensive without being of a great quality (a 12$ sandwich at the US Open which was a soggy 'ciabatta' just containing cold, greasy "grilled vegetables" and some weird hummus paste was the absolute low point). Do mark that most prices are without sales tax, which can be anything from 7 to 20%. If they say "2 donuts for 2$", you will have to dig in your wallet for coins if you show up with just 2 dollar bills in hand. You don't have to pay tax on books, which is something more countries should have.
- Nature is everywhere. I can now see why Americans don't make a big thing about nature loss; they have so much of it. Everywhere there are trees and fields of grass and beaches and rocks and hills and mountains and what not... In cities this is less, of course, but still they are not all concrete and asphalt, there are many trees and parks and grassy edges. But the forests we saw from the plane, stretching all the way from when we first saw the tip of Canada to the suburbs of New York, are just one example. I envy their big country, where there is so much space for everybody that they did not need to cut all these beautiful forests down, like we have done here. Also, a lot of wildlife. Many species of birds and butterflies bigger than my hand. We saw possums and skunks and huuuuge turkeys walking (or laying dead, sadly) by the wayside, and beautiful whales and dolphins in a marine sanctuary. I can now also understand the stress some Americans have over here when there are bugs or other creatures: they have some scary ones over there. Luckily we didn't meet any of them (except in the zoo), but nature is still really and truly nature over there, the good and the bad parts.
- There are a lot of dogs. I have never seen this many dogs in 3 weeks before. Perhaps related, but I'm not sure: many children. Young children, babies, you name it. They somehow disappear around the age of 10, but below that, you'll see everything. Parents with 3 young children in tow in the middle of NYC is not a strange sight. You hardly ever see them on the subways. Also, many tires on the side of the freeways. No idea why, but many people seem to lose their tires. Finally, a lot of joggers. Everybody seems to be jogging at some point of the day. Which brings me to the next point...
- Most people are obsessed with being healthy. To an extreme degree, I would say. Interestingly enough, most of these people are actually overweight and probably in a pretty bad condition. They eat healthy by choosing the "veggie lovers" pizza at PizzaHut, and then take the bus back to their hotel. I have had some very strange looks over ordering some dishes filled with ricotta or some other kind of cheese, while Americans ordered the "salad", which usually comes with some kind of fried thing (bacon, shrimp) and more dressing than I could wade through. The actual amount of fresh vegetables is usually pretty low. Also, the actual amount of movement these people have is very low (every day some Americans staying in our DC hotel asked us which bus or subway line we took, and every day they were amazed that we walked everywhere. I don't think they believed us, as they were complaining about the subway station being 7 blocks from the hotel, and that the walk was so hard...). Taking cabs everywhere and sitting behind your desk for 10 hours straight drinking coffee and eating bagels isn't going to go away with a jog in the park. But sports are important and a big part of the culture, even though most people aren't able to practise them. Also, corn syrup in everything. Most of the "jams" are just corn syrup with some fruit juice (and colouring agents). I've had pizza slices that tasted sweet and sugary. (If you do want to eat pizza, find a good Italian. American pizzas are huge and fatty and they'll leave you hungry about an hour later, whereas Italian pizzas are just filling and taste a lot better, even though they are a quarter the size...) The positive thing is of course that people are willing and trying to be healthier. The sad thing is that they don't really know how to, and that it's almost impossible to do with the amount of junk that goes into their food.
- In a last point, I think few Americans could have written this post. Not only because it is somehow looking at their society from the outside in (although it is extreme how quickly you adapt to your new situation, and how strange some European things now are to me (Americans walk slower, and the handle to flush the toilet is usually on the left-hand side while here it is on the right, to name a few things)). But especially, because in "the land of the free", people are really and truly free. They can choose whatever they want, and others don't chastise them for it. I heard very little complaining while I was there, very little gossip, and many people who were in terrible situations were positive and nice. They are free to wear clothes that others wouldn't ever dream about wearing without getting strange or dirty looks, free to eat breakfast at 9 in the evening or get a pizza at 8 in the morning, free to visit their great national museums or complain that too much money is going to them, free to practise their religion, not get health insurance, get a job after high school, or get a child at 16. You may see this as bad things (in Europe, governments usually have these strict campaigns trying to discourage or encourage people), but the point of the matter is that they can choose. It took me a while to figure this thing out, but in the end, I think it is a good thing. In the Netherlands, the government decides so many things for you, that usually people a) don't think for themselves anymore and b) complain and gripe about everything. They never feel like it is their decision or possibility to change things, as they are being "taken care of". Now I know many Americans are in shitty situations that they did not choose for themselves and would love a little help, so it isn't the best system either. But overall, on many points, I think the American outlook on life is more positive and healthier. I wouldn't mind living there for a couple of years (I've said this about many countries, so this is not really a big thing, but the point is that I would never have said this before visiting) and I am very sure I will travel there again!
- There really is a Starbucks on every corner. There is also a McDonald's, Dunkin' Donuts, Wendy's, or Whole Foods. These are never to be found when you are actually looking for them, if you are hungry or in need of free wifi. Also, there are very many small supermarkets and privately owned stores, cafes, and restaurants, which have somehow managed to survive the big chains. We usually went to them instead, as I can have a Starbucks coffee here in Groningen too, if I want to.
- All these shops and stores and restaurants and public transport buildings and what not have a surplus of employees. The Apple Stores are the biggest in this, but generally in restaurants or cafes there was about double the amount of personnel as one would have in a similar European setting. All of these people are very friendly, curious to get to know you, and desperate to please you. As there are so many, they are generally bored, and will be very happy if you talk to them. Also, it's simply polite to say "no thank you, I'm just browsing" than ignore them. I've had some really great conversations with people sitting behind desks or helping out in stores who were just doing their job and interested in getting to know me. I realised that some people just saw them as stupid worker bees that you can ignore when you feel better or smarter than they, but really, these are smart people just trying to earn some money. And they aren't earning a lot of that, so do tip. I was surprised at how happy people are when you give them a tip, even though the US is supposed to be the "big tip" country where you tip at least 15-20% in restaurants (in Europe it's usually 10%, although most people just forget doing it).
- In big cities, people don't greet each other, talk to strangers, or give each other random compliments or services (like holding a door open). When you do do these things, people are generally very happy and outgoing, again eager to help and be nice. In small towns, the situation is the reverse: everybody greets everybody, talks to them, gives them compliments, and helps them out, and if you don't do these things you are generally regarded as strange or outlandish. In big cities, most people ignored us and the fact that we spoke Dutch amongst ourselves, in small towns, some people looked at us suspiciously when doing the same thing.
- Most things are relatively cheap. Hotel rooms in big cities are expensive, of course, but the amount of service you get for the money is pretty high, so overall that's good. Food is cheap too, although alcoholic drinks are expensive. Public transport is really cheap, as is petrol, which is interesting as in Europe both are expensive. A lot of toll on roads and bridges, some of which are ridiculously high, while others are strangely low. Government sites and museums are almost always free or charge a low fee, stand-alone museums or other attractions are very expensive. Once you are inside them, the food is also pretty expensive without being of a great quality (a 12$ sandwich at the US Open which was a soggy 'ciabatta' just containing cold, greasy "grilled vegetables" and some weird hummus paste was the absolute low point). Do mark that most prices are without sales tax, which can be anything from 7 to 20%. If they say "2 donuts for 2$", you will have to dig in your wallet for coins if you show up with just 2 dollar bills in hand. You don't have to pay tax on books, which is something more countries should have.
- Nature is everywhere. I can now see why Americans don't make a big thing about nature loss; they have so much of it. Everywhere there are trees and fields of grass and beaches and rocks and hills and mountains and what not... In cities this is less, of course, but still they are not all concrete and asphalt, there are many trees and parks and grassy edges. But the forests we saw from the plane, stretching all the way from when we first saw the tip of Canada to the suburbs of New York, are just one example. I envy their big country, where there is so much space for everybody that they did not need to cut all these beautiful forests down, like we have done here. Also, a lot of wildlife. Many species of birds and butterflies bigger than my hand. We saw possums and skunks and huuuuge turkeys walking (or laying dead, sadly) by the wayside, and beautiful whales and dolphins in a marine sanctuary. I can now also understand the stress some Americans have over here when there are bugs or other creatures: they have some scary ones over there. Luckily we didn't meet any of them (except in the zoo), but nature is still really and truly nature over there, the good and the bad parts.
- There are a lot of dogs. I have never seen this many dogs in 3 weeks before. Perhaps related, but I'm not sure: many children. Young children, babies, you name it. They somehow disappear around the age of 10, but below that, you'll see everything. Parents with 3 young children in tow in the middle of NYC is not a strange sight. You hardly ever see them on the subways. Also, many tires on the side of the freeways. No idea why, but many people seem to lose their tires. Finally, a lot of joggers. Everybody seems to be jogging at some point of the day. Which brings me to the next point...
- Most people are obsessed with being healthy. To an extreme degree, I would say. Interestingly enough, most of these people are actually overweight and probably in a pretty bad condition. They eat healthy by choosing the "veggie lovers" pizza at PizzaHut, and then take the bus back to their hotel. I have had some very strange looks over ordering some dishes filled with ricotta or some other kind of cheese, while Americans ordered the "salad", which usually comes with some kind of fried thing (bacon, shrimp) and more dressing than I could wade through. The actual amount of fresh vegetables is usually pretty low. Also, the actual amount of movement these people have is very low (every day some Americans staying in our DC hotel asked us which bus or subway line we took, and every day they were amazed that we walked everywhere. I don't think they believed us, as they were complaining about the subway station being 7 blocks from the hotel, and that the walk was so hard...). Taking cabs everywhere and sitting behind your desk for 10 hours straight drinking coffee and eating bagels isn't going to go away with a jog in the park. But sports are important and a big part of the culture, even though most people aren't able to practise them. Also, corn syrup in everything. Most of the "jams" are just corn syrup with some fruit juice (and colouring agents). I've had pizza slices that tasted sweet and sugary. (If you do want to eat pizza, find a good Italian. American pizzas are huge and fatty and they'll leave you hungry about an hour later, whereas Italian pizzas are just filling and taste a lot better, even though they are a quarter the size...) The positive thing is of course that people are willing and trying to be healthier. The sad thing is that they don't really know how to, and that it's almost impossible to do with the amount of junk that goes into their food.
- In a last point, I think few Americans could have written this post. Not only because it is somehow looking at their society from the outside in (although it is extreme how quickly you adapt to your new situation, and how strange some European things now are to me (Americans walk slower, and the handle to flush the toilet is usually on the left-hand side while here it is on the right, to name a few things)). But especially, because in "the land of the free", people are really and truly free. They can choose whatever they want, and others don't chastise them for it. I heard very little complaining while I was there, very little gossip, and many people who were in terrible situations were positive and nice. They are free to wear clothes that others wouldn't ever dream about wearing without getting strange or dirty looks, free to eat breakfast at 9 in the evening or get a pizza at 8 in the morning, free to visit their great national museums or complain that too much money is going to them, free to practise their religion, not get health insurance, get a job after high school, or get a child at 16. You may see this as bad things (in Europe, governments usually have these strict campaigns trying to discourage or encourage people), but the point of the matter is that they can choose. It took me a while to figure this thing out, but in the end, I think it is a good thing. In the Netherlands, the government decides so many things for you, that usually people a) don't think for themselves anymore and b) complain and gripe about everything. They never feel like it is their decision or possibility to change things, as they are being "taken care of". Now I know many Americans are in shitty situations that they did not choose for themselves and would love a little help, so it isn't the best system either. But overall, on many points, I think the American outlook on life is more positive and healthier. I wouldn't mind living there for a couple of years (I've said this about many countries, so this is not really a big thing, but the point is that I would never have said this before visiting) and I am very sure I will travel there again!
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
Home or away?
I've been studying English Language & Culture for 4 years now, and I naturally feel a great affinity with Great Britain. Maybe that's even an understatement: I love the atmosphere, the nature, the countryside, the people, the culture. I usually only watch BBC programs, most of my favourite authors are British, and I know more about British culture, history, and arts than any other country, including my own. I've always loved British novels and tea, but now I've also acquired a taste for many other traditionally British things, including many bakery things, rugby, (British) theatre, and of course British humour (I still can't figure out cricket, but I will one day!).
So usually, when there's a sporting event, I back both the Netherlands and Great Britain (or England if the countries compete separately, as in the Six Nations Cup). I thought I might get into a bit of a conscience conflict with the 2012 Olympics, as these are held in London and I felt that I would probably back Great Britain more than the Netherlands.
Interestingly, the opposite has happened. I've cheered for the Dutch so much more, especially when competing against Great Britain, which happened mostly in the sailing, cycling, and equestrian sports, that I've been thoroughly annoyed at all the medals the Brits keep winning. Even more, in other sports I'm also starting to oppose the British, and starting to favour people from countries I'd never thought I'd like (yesterday I cheered for Ivan Ukhov in the high jump, but he's just the most eccentric athlete you've ever seen...). In any case, blood apparently does run thicker than water.
I wonder how this will play out when the Olympics are over. I'm generally not a huge admirer of Dutch culture or customs, even though I write extensively about them on my Postcrossing cards, I often think that I'd rather live somewhere less narrow, less self-absorbed, where people have more respect for others (I'm now thinking that probably everyone feels this way about their country, but hey). But then where ever I'd go, I'd probably still feel inherently Dutch, even though I'd always thought I'd easily adapt to whatever environment I'd find myself in. Not that I would be one for importing drop and hagelslag (Dutch things) because I couldn't do without them, but this has shown me that the Dutch thing is ingrained deeper than I thought.
Another positive revelation is that I apparently don't automatically back the horse that is doing best. The Netherlands are doing great, with 5 gold medals so far, but Great Britain is really on a roll. All I can say is: good for them!
PS: The title is from a round of questions in A Question of Sport, another BBC program, great fun even for non-sport lovers!
So usually, when there's a sporting event, I back both the Netherlands and Great Britain (or England if the countries compete separately, as in the Six Nations Cup). I thought I might get into a bit of a conscience conflict with the 2012 Olympics, as these are held in London and I felt that I would probably back Great Britain more than the Netherlands.
Interestingly, the opposite has happened. I've cheered for the Dutch so much more, especially when competing against Great Britain, which happened mostly in the sailing, cycling, and equestrian sports, that I've been thoroughly annoyed at all the medals the Brits keep winning. Even more, in other sports I'm also starting to oppose the British, and starting to favour people from countries I'd never thought I'd like (yesterday I cheered for Ivan Ukhov in the high jump, but he's just the most eccentric athlete you've ever seen...). In any case, blood apparently does run thicker than water.
I wonder how this will play out when the Olympics are over. I'm generally not a huge admirer of Dutch culture or customs, even though I write extensively about them on my Postcrossing cards, I often think that I'd rather live somewhere less narrow, less self-absorbed, where people have more respect for others (I'm now thinking that probably everyone feels this way about their country, but hey). But then where ever I'd go, I'd probably still feel inherently Dutch, even though I'd always thought I'd easily adapt to whatever environment I'd find myself in. Not that I would be one for importing drop and hagelslag (Dutch things) because I couldn't do without them, but this has shown me that the Dutch thing is ingrained deeper than I thought.
Another positive revelation is that I apparently don't automatically back the horse that is doing best. The Netherlands are doing great, with 5 gold medals so far, but Great Britain is really on a roll. All I can say is: good for them!
PS: The title is from a round of questions in A Question of Sport, another BBC program, great fun even for non-sport lovers!
Monday, 23 July 2012
Complaining
So yesterday I was eating breakfast with my boyfriend, and he had boiled some eggs, and I cut mine open and said; "Wow, that really is hard-boiled!" I like my eggs hard-boiled, if there is one thing that will make me gag it's gooey egg yolk running all over my toast. But my boyfriend took it differently and said; "That's what you wanted, right?" I found this puzzling, as I was trying to pay him a compliment, but he saw it as a complaint.
I had the same experience a couple of weeks ago, when we walked into a room for a meeting and I said: "Oh, it's warm in here!" I was happy about that, because it'd been cold outside, but the others took it the wrong way and said; "You shouldn't complain about that!"
There must be more examples, but I can't think of them right now, and trying to dig up negative responses from people out of your memory is no way to spend an afternoon.
But I do think it is interesting, and also somewhat worrying. Apparently, people's first response is to assume that you are complaining when you are making a neutral comment without expressing clear joy or happiness. I know I can sometimes come across as ironic or sarcastic, but in both these cases, I was just making off-hand remarks without any negative thoughts attached (or pronounced, as far as I know). This is not to say that the interpreters of my comments are wrong in interpreting the emotions of others, but maybe it does tell us something about the general mental state of people.
A few years ago, I bought A Complaint Free World by Will Bowen. This book encourages people to stop complaining (including gossip) for 21 consecutive days, which will then cure you from your negative state of mind. It provides you with bracelets that you have to move every time you do complain, so there is a physical action involved to tune your mind towards the complaining (I did not do the bracelet thing at the time, as I was working a job where I couldn't wear anything around my wrists for 8 hours at a time, but I might do it in the future). Now there is a lot of The Secret-like "The Universe will provide as long as you dare to ask" crap in there, including some veeeeery unbelievable "real life" examples and super-enthusiastic letters of experience from all of Will Bowen's family members, neighbours, and employees, but there are also some very good things in there.
One of the things that stuck with me is "people who hurt are hurting", meaning that people who cause harm or distress to others are themselves suffering from harm or distress, in whatever shape or form. Think about it. The last time you snapped at someone else, was there some other reason behind it? Were you tired, grumpy, stressed? Or was that person maybe doing something that annoys you in yourself but haven't been able to change? I think the general principle is true, and whenever people verbally assault or insult me, I usually try to see what might be behind this, and in many cases I can realise that their words are not specifically directed at me but just serve to relieve some of their own stress, so I don't get worked up or angry or sad myself (this can be very hard, as I'm not a very patient person).
Secondly, Bowen argues that the more we focus on the bad things, the more bad things there will be. Not really, of course, but if you lose sight of the good stuff, the bad stuff will more easily jump at you. This usually only works for your own bad stuff; as soon as someone talks about somebody else who is very sick, people generally appreciate their own health better, even though just 5 minutes ago they were complaining of back pain. But by focusing on that back pain, you are missing all the good things that you do have, and your mind becomes ingrained in focusing on bad stuff. This does not mean that you shouldn't say something if you are genuinely in pain, or distressed, or sad, but if it's just minor things, turn your attention to better prospects, and in the long run, you will notice more positive than negative things.
And finally, the people around you are often of the same "complaint-level" as you are. Groups of people often have similar levels of a multitude of things (income, education, political views) and complaining is no different. If you are thinking that all those people around you are complaining too much, then you probably are too. While reading the book, I started to notice this in people around me, both the positive and the negative, and I now have a lot less contact with several friends who were very negative and always complaining about things that they had caused themselves, could easily fix, or that were just out of anyone's reach (the weather). Complaining appeared to be their default mode of communication. Lessening the contact was quite a conscious action on my side, not because I did not like them anymore as people, but because I wanted to have a more positive outlook on life, and talking to them made me feel negative, sore, and depleated of energy.
Now I won't say this book did me any miracles, but the three main messages that I got out of it have helped me to get a better outlook on life. I can complain that I am sitting inside working while it's 24 degrees and sunny outside, and I can hear my neighbours laughing in their backyard, but that doesn't help the situation, and the work gets me money and the money will pay for my university fees for next year, so in the end that makes me happier. I've made a conscious choice to sit indoors and work, so why should I complain? I can still feel sorry for myself on the inside, but I've noticed that the more you focus on the good things while talking, the happier your 'inner voice' also becomes.
I do think many people have a negative outlook on life and assume that others are also complaining, and that this will be around for quite some time yet. But maybe we can all get a little bit more positive about our own life and situation with just a little effort.
I had the same experience a couple of weeks ago, when we walked into a room for a meeting and I said: "Oh, it's warm in here!" I was happy about that, because it'd been cold outside, but the others took it the wrong way and said; "You shouldn't complain about that!"
There must be more examples, but I can't think of them right now, and trying to dig up negative responses from people out of your memory is no way to spend an afternoon.
But I do think it is interesting, and also somewhat worrying. Apparently, people's first response is to assume that you are complaining when you are making a neutral comment without expressing clear joy or happiness. I know I can sometimes come across as ironic or sarcastic, but in both these cases, I was just making off-hand remarks without any negative thoughts attached (or pronounced, as far as I know). This is not to say that the interpreters of my comments are wrong in interpreting the emotions of others, but maybe it does tell us something about the general mental state of people.
A few years ago, I bought A Complaint Free World by Will Bowen. This book encourages people to stop complaining (including gossip) for 21 consecutive days, which will then cure you from your negative state of mind. It provides you with bracelets that you have to move every time you do complain, so there is a physical action involved to tune your mind towards the complaining (I did not do the bracelet thing at the time, as I was working a job where I couldn't wear anything around my wrists for 8 hours at a time, but I might do it in the future). Now there is a lot of The Secret-like "The Universe will provide as long as you dare to ask" crap in there, including some veeeeery unbelievable "real life" examples and super-enthusiastic letters of experience from all of Will Bowen's family members, neighbours, and employees, but there are also some very good things in there.
One of the things that stuck with me is "people who hurt are hurting", meaning that people who cause harm or distress to others are themselves suffering from harm or distress, in whatever shape or form. Think about it. The last time you snapped at someone else, was there some other reason behind it? Were you tired, grumpy, stressed? Or was that person maybe doing something that annoys you in yourself but haven't been able to change? I think the general principle is true, and whenever people verbally assault or insult me, I usually try to see what might be behind this, and in many cases I can realise that their words are not specifically directed at me but just serve to relieve some of their own stress, so I don't get worked up or angry or sad myself (this can be very hard, as I'm not a very patient person).
Secondly, Bowen argues that the more we focus on the bad things, the more bad things there will be. Not really, of course, but if you lose sight of the good stuff, the bad stuff will more easily jump at you. This usually only works for your own bad stuff; as soon as someone talks about somebody else who is very sick, people generally appreciate their own health better, even though just 5 minutes ago they were complaining of back pain. But by focusing on that back pain, you are missing all the good things that you do have, and your mind becomes ingrained in focusing on bad stuff. This does not mean that you shouldn't say something if you are genuinely in pain, or distressed, or sad, but if it's just minor things, turn your attention to better prospects, and in the long run, you will notice more positive than negative things.
And finally, the people around you are often of the same "complaint-level" as you are. Groups of people often have similar levels of a multitude of things (income, education, political views) and complaining is no different. If you are thinking that all those people around you are complaining too much, then you probably are too. While reading the book, I started to notice this in people around me, both the positive and the negative, and I now have a lot less contact with several friends who were very negative and always complaining about things that they had caused themselves, could easily fix, or that were just out of anyone's reach (the weather). Complaining appeared to be their default mode of communication. Lessening the contact was quite a conscious action on my side, not because I did not like them anymore as people, but because I wanted to have a more positive outlook on life, and talking to them made me feel negative, sore, and depleated of energy.
Now I won't say this book did me any miracles, but the three main messages that I got out of it have helped me to get a better outlook on life. I can complain that I am sitting inside working while it's 24 degrees and sunny outside, and I can hear my neighbours laughing in their backyard, but that doesn't help the situation, and the work gets me money and the money will pay for my university fees for next year, so in the end that makes me happier. I've made a conscious choice to sit indoors and work, so why should I complain? I can still feel sorry for myself on the inside, but I've noticed that the more you focus on the good things while talking, the happier your 'inner voice' also becomes.
I do think many people have a negative outlook on life and assume that others are also complaining, and that this will be around for quite some time yet. But maybe we can all get a little bit more positive about our own life and situation with just a little effort.
Thursday, 10 May 2012
Older films
So I was watching A Streetcar named Desire yesterday, the 1953 film version (for a class, sadly enough, the last time I could watch an entire movie just for the sake of watching it must have been months ago. Actually, come to think of it, that must've been The Hunger Games, somewhere in the middle of March. The only things I now actually make time for are Game of Thrones and The Apprentice. Ah, the joy of being busy...), and then it struck me: old(er) films are just much better than the ones we have today.
Now I should immediately put in a disclaimer here, because I don't want to sound like someone who knows her stuff when I don't. I haven't watched that many "old" films. I'm one of those people who keeps saying she wants to watch Casablanca and Gone with the Wind and The Graduate and never really does it. But I do think I've seen enough old(er) and new(er) films to make some kind of judgement.
Now with Streetcar, you can clearly see that the set is not that realistic, that the camera wobbles, that most of the sound effects were added later in a studio, and that the acting is just a little bit over the top. But that doesn't matter. The story, the characters, they draw you in every time, even though you know the plot, even though you know exactly what's going to happen. It keeps you on the edge, it makes you wonder, it does everything a good film or play is supposed to do.
Does this mean that actors were just that much better in those days? I don't think so, because we still have some great ones (although it is of course telling that Marlon Brando also played in what is regarded as the best film for a long time now, The Godfather). I think they did have the advantage of also having acted on stage, which calls for a different kind of acting than film-acting, because the audience is that much farther away and not inside the camera shoved next to your face (although it isn't really, in these older movies, because it couldn't be. So that may also be one of the differences; actors had to act with their whole bodies, their whole selves, not just with that tiny bit showing on the close-up).
No, I think the main difference is that it is real. The people are real, the situations are real, the behaviour is a close enough approximation of real, and the story is told in a clear, not-too-forced manner. What I mean is this; Stanley and Stella and Blanche and the house they live in and their friends and the situations they find themselves in, they're all recognisable. We've all played poker or had an unexpected guest stay too long or known someone who kept up appearances even though inside she was crumbling. They all look real, too, not too much make-up (they even had to make Vivian Leigh look older, because she was too good-looking to play Blanche), and obviously no digital touch-ups. Stella is nice and plump, not the too-skinny kind of actress you have today, and Stanley's friends are big and small and tall and unshaven as real people would be. The filming is kinda wobbly, but that is okay, because in real life you don't have a steady vision of things anyway. The camera is in those places a real person could also be, we don't see the action as if we're "in the wall" or whatever. So, in short, it looks real.
Now compare this to the latest film I've seen that actually came close to gripping me for its entire length; The Hunger Games (yes, I keep coming back to this film, but as I said, it's one of the last I've actually seen and can properly discuss). The situation is unrealistic from the outset, but that's a given in a post-apocalyptic dystopian movie, so we'll let that one go. However, the characters are also unrealistic. Katniss is way to muscular for how little food she has been eating, same goes for Gale. Their faces and clothes are too clean, overall their cloths are just too expensive (Katniss has a pair of leather boots that would cost more that her entire family has in a year). And finally, of course, they look too perfect. Their faces have been made completely smooth by make-up, their hair is always perfect, they are thin but muscular, or broad and muscular in the case of the guys, and they just are unrealistically pretty. Otherwise, the acting is realistic, the responses to situations seem real and are understandable, even though they are situations that we've never found ourselves in. The camerawork is nice and wobbly, "because we wanted to show it was Katniss's point of view", as the director said, even though the camera sometimes occupies a place no normal person could have been (extreme close-ups, extreme overview shots).
On the whole, if you compare these two films, the main difference is the physique and looks of the actors and the camera positions. No matter how good your story is, if your characters look unbelievable or you tell it from a point of view that people couldn't have in real life, people won't follow your story.
Does it matter? Of course it doesn't. Most people don't watch a film to be drawn into the story, to experience highs and lows, to gain new insights into Life, the Universe, and Everything. They watch a movie to relax, to enjoy themselves with friends, to keep the kids quiet. And in response, that's the kind of film we're getting.
However, as Aristotle said (oh my, doesn't that make me sound presumptuous), emotional catharsis in the audience is one of the most important elements of tragic theatre (as you'll see, I'm leaving out comedy for the moment, partly because it's a totally different thing and partly because I don't like 95% of all comic films being made right now, so I don't watch them, so I can't talk about them). For me, it is definitely important. If I'm going to invest my time and attention and energy (and money) into a film, I better get something out of it, or I better be drawn into it in such a way that I forget about everything else for a while. Maybe that's why I haven't been watching that many movies lately; they just aren't good enough. Not for what I want to get out of them.
So perhaps it's time to get some of those oldies, hunker down with some popcorn, and be swept away in black-and-white for a day.
Now I should immediately put in a disclaimer here, because I don't want to sound like someone who knows her stuff when I don't. I haven't watched that many "old" films. I'm one of those people who keeps saying she wants to watch Casablanca and Gone with the Wind and The Graduate and never really does it. But I do think I've seen enough old(er) and new(er) films to make some kind of judgement.
Now with Streetcar, you can clearly see that the set is not that realistic, that the camera wobbles, that most of the sound effects were added later in a studio, and that the acting is just a little bit over the top. But that doesn't matter. The story, the characters, they draw you in every time, even though you know the plot, even though you know exactly what's going to happen. It keeps you on the edge, it makes you wonder, it does everything a good film or play is supposed to do.
Does this mean that actors were just that much better in those days? I don't think so, because we still have some great ones (although it is of course telling that Marlon Brando also played in what is regarded as the best film for a long time now, The Godfather). I think they did have the advantage of also having acted on stage, which calls for a different kind of acting than film-acting, because the audience is that much farther away and not inside the camera shoved next to your face (although it isn't really, in these older movies, because it couldn't be. So that may also be one of the differences; actors had to act with their whole bodies, their whole selves, not just with that tiny bit showing on the close-up).
No, I think the main difference is that it is real. The people are real, the situations are real, the behaviour is a close enough approximation of real, and the story is told in a clear, not-too-forced manner. What I mean is this; Stanley and Stella and Blanche and the house they live in and their friends and the situations they find themselves in, they're all recognisable. We've all played poker or had an unexpected guest stay too long or known someone who kept up appearances even though inside she was crumbling. They all look real, too, not too much make-up (they even had to make Vivian Leigh look older, because she was too good-looking to play Blanche), and obviously no digital touch-ups. Stella is nice and plump, not the too-skinny kind of actress you have today, and Stanley's friends are big and small and tall and unshaven as real people would be. The filming is kinda wobbly, but that is okay, because in real life you don't have a steady vision of things anyway. The camera is in those places a real person could also be, we don't see the action as if we're "in the wall" or whatever. So, in short, it looks real.
Now compare this to the latest film I've seen that actually came close to gripping me for its entire length; The Hunger Games (yes, I keep coming back to this film, but as I said, it's one of the last I've actually seen and can properly discuss). The situation is unrealistic from the outset, but that's a given in a post-apocalyptic dystopian movie, so we'll let that one go. However, the characters are also unrealistic. Katniss is way to muscular for how little food she has been eating, same goes for Gale. Their faces and clothes are too clean, overall their cloths are just too expensive (Katniss has a pair of leather boots that would cost more that her entire family has in a year). And finally, of course, they look too perfect. Their faces have been made completely smooth by make-up, their hair is always perfect, they are thin but muscular, or broad and muscular in the case of the guys, and they just are unrealistically pretty. Otherwise, the acting is realistic, the responses to situations seem real and are understandable, even though they are situations that we've never found ourselves in. The camerawork is nice and wobbly, "because we wanted to show it was Katniss's point of view", as the director said, even though the camera sometimes occupies a place no normal person could have been (extreme close-ups, extreme overview shots).
On the whole, if you compare these two films, the main difference is the physique and looks of the actors and the camera positions. No matter how good your story is, if your characters look unbelievable or you tell it from a point of view that people couldn't have in real life, people won't follow your story.
Does it matter? Of course it doesn't. Most people don't watch a film to be drawn into the story, to experience highs and lows, to gain new insights into Life, the Universe, and Everything. They watch a movie to relax, to enjoy themselves with friends, to keep the kids quiet. And in response, that's the kind of film we're getting.
However, as Aristotle said (oh my, doesn't that make me sound presumptuous), emotional catharsis in the audience is one of the most important elements of tragic theatre (as you'll see, I'm leaving out comedy for the moment, partly because it's a totally different thing and partly because I don't like 95% of all comic films being made right now, so I don't watch them, so I can't talk about them). For me, it is definitely important. If I'm going to invest my time and attention and energy (and money) into a film, I better get something out of it, or I better be drawn into it in such a way that I forget about everything else for a while. Maybe that's why I haven't been watching that many movies lately; they just aren't good enough. Not for what I want to get out of them.
So perhaps it's time to get some of those oldies, hunker down with some popcorn, and be swept away in black-and-white for a day.
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
Watership Down
I've finally managed to get through the book that I just couldn't finish (I won't tell you which it is, because I did really like it, and now it may look like it is a horrible and boring book while it isn't). As I am waiting for my Amazon order to get in, I started to re-read Watership Down, which is one of my favourite books ever. I love the themes of friendship and loyalty and freedom of choice, the rabbit's stories and "religion", and the beautiful descriptions of the English countryside. I love that it has many short chapters so that you can read a whole chapter before going to sleep, instead of just a few pages in other books (even though it comes down to the same amount of reading, you still feel more accomplished when you finish a whole chapter).
Now I first read this book when I was somewhere between 10 and 12, because that was around the time that I had read all the children's books in the library with any literary value twice, and all my own books at least 5 times. I was raiding my mother's books, which led me to some great books I may have read a little bit too early on, including The Lord of the Rings, The Clan of the Cave Bear, and Wild Swans. All in Dutch, of course. I couldn't read a full sentence in English until I was 13, due to a lack of playing computer games, but I think I made up for that quite nicely.
Anyway, having read that book so early on, and at least 5 times afterwards, I thought I knew what it was about. I thought I knew what I would find. But when I started to read it again (I have this great second-hand Penguin paperback from 1976 that used to be orange on the side, but has turned completely white after years of standing in the sun (in someone else's bookcase, I never put books in direct sunlight), which has travelled to several countries with me and even has my address and e-mailaddress in the back from that time that I lent it to a German girl I had only known for 3 days and wouldn't see again in my life, ever. But the book came back, somehow), I did discover new things.
Firstly, there is really a strong focus on the military, isn't there? I mean, really. I knew that Efrafa is bad, and that Sandleford isn't the best place to be, but besides that there are many many references to military practises and morale. Why did I never notice this before? Because I love to know why authors did certain things in their books (this is an ongoing discussion between me and a classmate; he doesn't want to know the first thing about the author, the author is dead, whereas I want to know everything), I looked it up, and it turns out that Richard Adams was actually fighting in the Netherlands in 1944. It's all his own WW II experience put in there. So when he says that Hazel isn't going to leave Fiver and Pipkin to the dog, but stand and fight with them, I immediately get this image of one of his superiors not leaving soldiers behind. Or when Hazel takes care of Pipkin's hurt paw before going to sleep, thinking that he is responsible for the well-being of all, it must have a similar basis. To me, this just gives the story that much extra meaning, I know it's about universal themes and not just about rabbits, but when the author has experienced a certain situation for himself it makes it that more believable, I think.
Secondly, there are some really brilliant jokes in there. Really funny situations. I never noticed them before. Maybe I was too busy being swept away with the story before, or maybe my English wasn't good enough or maybe I was just too young (you know, like when you watch a Disney film again, and go "I never knew that was in there! That's a brilliant joke! Why did I never see that before?"?) to see them, but there are some humorous things. Like how Hazel and Blackberry keep saying to Bigwig how he is a strong and useful guy, especially when he is annoying the hell out of them, and then ask him to go do something on the other side of a hill ("exploring") so that they can have a little peace of mind. Great.
Thirdly, Bigwig used to be one of my favourite rabbits, together with Blackberry because he's smart. Blackberry is still a favourite, but Bigwig has gone down the ladder a bit, because it turns out that he really is quite annoying and bullying, even though he is quite smart (he is one of the few to understand Blackberry's raft idea). But I now prefer Dandelion, because he is the story-teller, and Hazel, because, well, he is Hazel. You can't not like Hazel, I think. Funny how these things change. Fiver used to annoy me, always whimpering and whining and never standing up for himself, but now I see that he actually handles things in quite a clever way, and in the end they always do what he wants, even if he has to have a hard time to get there.
So there. New insights. I know it is one of the qualifications of great literature that you can read it again and again and still discover new things, but I also know not many children's books are considered great literature these days, so perhaps Watership Down doesn't qualify for everybody. It does for me. I think it is one of those books you can read at ten and still read when you're ninety (if you get that far), and still discover new things, messages, stories, and morals in. What more could you want from a book?
Now I first read this book when I was somewhere between 10 and 12, because that was around the time that I had read all the children's books in the library with any literary value twice, and all my own books at least 5 times. I was raiding my mother's books, which led me to some great books I may have read a little bit too early on, including The Lord of the Rings, The Clan of the Cave Bear, and Wild Swans. All in Dutch, of course. I couldn't read a full sentence in English until I was 13, due to a lack of playing computer games, but I think I made up for that quite nicely.
Anyway, having read that book so early on, and at least 5 times afterwards, I thought I knew what it was about. I thought I knew what I would find. But when I started to read it again (I have this great second-hand Penguin paperback from 1976 that used to be orange on the side, but has turned completely white after years of standing in the sun (in someone else's bookcase, I never put books in direct sunlight), which has travelled to several countries with me and even has my address and e-mailaddress in the back from that time that I lent it to a German girl I had only known for 3 days and wouldn't see again in my life, ever. But the book came back, somehow), I did discover new things.
Firstly, there is really a strong focus on the military, isn't there? I mean, really. I knew that Efrafa is bad, and that Sandleford isn't the best place to be, but besides that there are many many references to military practises and morale. Why did I never notice this before? Because I love to know why authors did certain things in their books (this is an ongoing discussion between me and a classmate; he doesn't want to know the first thing about the author, the author is dead, whereas I want to know everything), I looked it up, and it turns out that Richard Adams was actually fighting in the Netherlands in 1944. It's all his own WW II experience put in there. So when he says that Hazel isn't going to leave Fiver and Pipkin to the dog, but stand and fight with them, I immediately get this image of one of his superiors not leaving soldiers behind. Or when Hazel takes care of Pipkin's hurt paw before going to sleep, thinking that he is responsible for the well-being of all, it must have a similar basis. To me, this just gives the story that much extra meaning, I know it's about universal themes and not just about rabbits, but when the author has experienced a certain situation for himself it makes it that more believable, I think.
Secondly, there are some really brilliant jokes in there. Really funny situations. I never noticed them before. Maybe I was too busy being swept away with the story before, or maybe my English wasn't good enough or maybe I was just too young (you know, like when you watch a Disney film again, and go "I never knew that was in there! That's a brilliant joke! Why did I never see that before?"?) to see them, but there are some humorous things. Like how Hazel and Blackberry keep saying to Bigwig how he is a strong and useful guy, especially when he is annoying the hell out of them, and then ask him to go do something on the other side of a hill ("exploring") so that they can have a little peace of mind. Great.
Thirdly, Bigwig used to be one of my favourite rabbits, together with Blackberry because he's smart. Blackberry is still a favourite, but Bigwig has gone down the ladder a bit, because it turns out that he really is quite annoying and bullying, even though he is quite smart (he is one of the few to understand Blackberry's raft idea). But I now prefer Dandelion, because he is the story-teller, and Hazel, because, well, he is Hazel. You can't not like Hazel, I think. Funny how these things change. Fiver used to annoy me, always whimpering and whining and never standing up for himself, but now I see that he actually handles things in quite a clever way, and in the end they always do what he wants, even if he has to have a hard time to get there.
So there. New insights. I know it is one of the qualifications of great literature that you can read it again and again and still discover new things, but I also know not many children's books are considered great literature these days, so perhaps Watership Down doesn't qualify for everybody. It does for me. I think it is one of those books you can read at ten and still read when you're ninety (if you get that far), and still discover new things, messages, stories, and morals in. What more could you want from a book?
Friday, 30 March 2012
No.
So today, I said "no". It was just a few minutes ago, really. It feels weird, because it feels as if I am letting someone down or being too lazy to do something, but really, I think it is the only thing I can do.
What happened?
Well, as you may have noticed from the lack of blogposts, the last 1.5 weeks or so has been one of the busiest periods I've had in a long time. I'm studying, which should take 40 hours a week, but took a bit more in this case because I was preparing a discussion piece which I will present later today. On top of that, I worked for 20 hours on some publishing assignments. That makes around 60 hours. Added to which are various committees I'm on, birthdays, visits to parents, quiz nights, lunch/tea/coffee/dinner with friends, etc. So it was busy.
Now next week, I have a "reading week", which means that I don't have any scheduled classes but have to do exams or write essays. It just so happens that I won't be taking any of those, so I am basically free to do what I want. So I decided to do some work, and am going to do a big project for the aforementioned publishing company. This starts on Wednesday. So, they asked me whether I wanted to do some more assignments like the one I've been doing last week. And I said "no". I still have some stuff I need to do for classes, I need to figure out how the system for my next project works, and basically, I want to have some time off. I've been working close to 12 hours each day for the last week, and I feel like Bilbo said it; stretched thin, like butter scraped over too much bread.
But then immediately after I told them "sorry, I can't do it, I have other stuff to do", I felt guilty. Like I am letting them down (I am not, because I never said I would be available or do anything) or being a lazy git (don't think so, really, I've enough other stuff that needs to be done).
I mean, right, I want to have some time to do the things that I like to do, like blogging or painting or reading (seriously, I've been reading the same book for two weeks now, and it only has 180 pages!), or just doing nothing. Finish watching the first GoT season on DVD so I can dive into the second season when it arrives (we were going to watch one ep every night for 10 days so we would be ready on April 1st, we've watched 2 so far). I need, to put it in a vaguely disgusting "hip" term, some me-time.
And that's probably why I feel guilty, because I'm supposed to be this ambitious career girl, and I'm not supposed to need time to myself until I have achieved all I wanted to achieve, and then I'll definitely not have time for it anymore. This is not right, is it? I mean, I should be allowed to have a free weekend, not working until 10 in the evening on a Saturday night, and then finish the preparation for of my classes on Monday and Tuesday, and then dive into the next project on Wednesday. But as you can see, I feel the need to justify this, to myself, to my "employer" (I'm just doing projects for them, it's nothing "official" with a contract or anything), and to the world. Clearly, there must be a lot of pressure to perform, to spend all of your time in a "useful" way, to maximise your CV and experience, and be ready to devote your life to your ambitions. It's no wonder that 40% of all students (said an article in the uni newspaper) can't sleep, feel depressed, burned out, or way too stressed. There is too much pressure. And sadly, most of that pressure is probably coming from us, we're doing this to ourselves, because we think it's what others expect from us.
So today, I said "no". And now I'm stressed about that.
What happened?
Well, as you may have noticed from the lack of blogposts, the last 1.5 weeks or so has been one of the busiest periods I've had in a long time. I'm studying, which should take 40 hours a week, but took a bit more in this case because I was preparing a discussion piece which I will present later today. On top of that, I worked for 20 hours on some publishing assignments. That makes around 60 hours. Added to which are various committees I'm on, birthdays, visits to parents, quiz nights, lunch/tea/coffee/dinner with friends, etc. So it was busy.
Now next week, I have a "reading week", which means that I don't have any scheduled classes but have to do exams or write essays. It just so happens that I won't be taking any of those, so I am basically free to do what I want. So I decided to do some work, and am going to do a big project for the aforementioned publishing company. This starts on Wednesday. So, they asked me whether I wanted to do some more assignments like the one I've been doing last week. And I said "no". I still have some stuff I need to do for classes, I need to figure out how the system for my next project works, and basically, I want to have some time off. I've been working close to 12 hours each day for the last week, and I feel like Bilbo said it; stretched thin, like butter scraped over too much bread.
But then immediately after I told them "sorry, I can't do it, I have other stuff to do", I felt guilty. Like I am letting them down (I am not, because I never said I would be available or do anything) or being a lazy git (don't think so, really, I've enough other stuff that needs to be done).
I mean, right, I want to have some time to do the things that I like to do, like blogging or painting or reading (seriously, I've been reading the same book for two weeks now, and it only has 180 pages!), or just doing nothing. Finish watching the first GoT season on DVD so I can dive into the second season when it arrives (we were going to watch one ep every night for 10 days so we would be ready on April 1st, we've watched 2 so far). I need, to put it in a vaguely disgusting "hip" term, some me-time.
And that's probably why I feel guilty, because I'm supposed to be this ambitious career girl, and I'm not supposed to need time to myself until I have achieved all I wanted to achieve, and then I'll definitely not have time for it anymore. This is not right, is it? I mean, I should be allowed to have a free weekend, not working until 10 in the evening on a Saturday night, and then finish the preparation for of my classes on Monday and Tuesday, and then dive into the next project on Wednesday. But as you can see, I feel the need to justify this, to myself, to my "employer" (I'm just doing projects for them, it's nothing "official" with a contract or anything), and to the world. Clearly, there must be a lot of pressure to perform, to spend all of your time in a "useful" way, to maximise your CV and experience, and be ready to devote your life to your ambitions. It's no wonder that 40% of all students (said an article in the uni newspaper) can't sleep, feel depressed, burned out, or way too stressed. There is too much pressure. And sadly, most of that pressure is probably coming from us, we're doing this to ourselves, because we think it's what others expect from us.
So today, I said "no". And now I'm stressed about that.
Tuesday, 17 January 2012
You can do better!
I have been reading The Fry Chronicles, which is the second part of Stephen Fry's autobiography (I was unaware that there was a first part before I began reading, otherwise I would have started there) and it is one of the best books I have read in a long time. This is partly because Fry thinks along the same lines as I do, and partly because he has done a lot of things that I am very curious about (such as go to Cambridge), but mostly because his writing style is just so brilliantly dry and ironic and self-critical and humorous. He just loves his alliterations, as when he describes the "fumbling, frotting, fondling and farcically floppy failure as well as more infrequent feats of fizzing fanfare and triumphant fleshy fulfilment" (104) that made up his love life. Sometimes he can explode in anger, while still maintaining his own voice, as in "[t]he people who tell you this are cut from the same cloth as those who grow up these days to become trollers on internet sites and who specialize in posting barbarous, mean, abusive, look-at-me, listen-to-me anonymous comments on YouTube and BBC 'Have Your Say' pages and other websites and blogs foolish enough to allow space for their poison. Such swine specialize in second-guessing the motives of those who are brave enough to commit to the risk of making fools of themselves in public and they are a blight on the face of the earth" (95). It truly is a wonderful book, I would recommend it to anyone, even those slightly less interested in the person of Stephen Fry.
But that is not the point I was going to make today! And believe me, there is a point to all this.
At some point (haha), Fry discusses his choice to go into theatre, even though he cannot sing, dance, or act very well. He explains one of his motives very shortly, saying "I suppose a conviction that one can do better is a necessary part of pursuing a calling" (93), however arrogant or presumptious it may seem. Reading or seeing or hearing something, and then thinking "I can do better than that!" as a kick-starter to artistic (or other) ambitions.
So I thought about that, and I think it is true for a lot of activists, artists, actors, or other professionals, like sportspersons (cannot say "sportsmen" anymore) or bankers (although they may be leaning more towards "I can do better for myself!"). You need that kind of drive to get going and keep going, in some things.
But on the other hand it's also very daunting, trying to be better than Ian McKellen or Vincent van Gogh or The Beatles or whatever. I mean, if I think about reading a book by Ian McEwan and thinking "I can do better than that!" it not only feels like blasphemy, it's genuinely untrue. I don't think I can do better than him, on the contrary, every time I read a very well-written book I feel like I will never get there, I will never be that good. And that is precisely one of those reasons why I tend to give up after a while; I have made some progress, something is visible, words are on the page or paint is on the canvas, and I look at it and go; "This can never be as good as X or Y! I might as well stop here, because it will all be for nothing anyway!"
And that, my friend, is what we call the wrong attitude!
So the insight of today is; I should become more arrogant. No, I shouldn't. But I should become more self-confident and not expect some masterpiece on first attempt, but think about the fact that Ian McEwan, or even Stephen Fry for that matter, must have written several drafts before their words were put that perfectly on the page. You can only get better with practise (I used to have a primary school teacher who was always telling me to "Practise! Practise! Practise!"), and you (I) will only practise if you do not think about all the masterpieces that are out there, but focus on what you are doing. Although you do have to be aware of it, of course. So that may not precisely be what Fry was talking about, but then again I am not "pursuing a calling" and not as ambitious as many think me to be, even though I do still dream of a life as an author (without all the stupid tv programs and quiz shows and whatever). Anyway, it's not as if he became what he set out to be, because he was determined to become a teacher in a boarding school. So who knows where we (I) will end up.
So that was my Fry-induced insight of today, and I hope it may do someone else some good as well!
But that is not the point I was going to make today! And believe me, there is a point to all this.
At some point (haha), Fry discusses his choice to go into theatre, even though he cannot sing, dance, or act very well. He explains one of his motives very shortly, saying "I suppose a conviction that one can do better is a necessary part of pursuing a calling" (93), however arrogant or presumptious it may seem. Reading or seeing or hearing something, and then thinking "I can do better than that!" as a kick-starter to artistic (or other) ambitions.
So I thought about that, and I think it is true for a lot of activists, artists, actors, or other professionals, like sportspersons (cannot say "sportsmen" anymore) or bankers (although they may be leaning more towards "I can do better for myself!"). You need that kind of drive to get going and keep going, in some things.
But on the other hand it's also very daunting, trying to be better than Ian McKellen or Vincent van Gogh or The Beatles or whatever. I mean, if I think about reading a book by Ian McEwan and thinking "I can do better than that!" it not only feels like blasphemy, it's genuinely untrue. I don't think I can do better than him, on the contrary, every time I read a very well-written book I feel like I will never get there, I will never be that good. And that is precisely one of those reasons why I tend to give up after a while; I have made some progress, something is visible, words are on the page or paint is on the canvas, and I look at it and go; "This can never be as good as X or Y! I might as well stop here, because it will all be for nothing anyway!"
And that, my friend, is what we call the wrong attitude!
So the insight of today is; I should become more arrogant. No, I shouldn't. But I should become more self-confident and not expect some masterpiece on first attempt, but think about the fact that Ian McEwan, or even Stephen Fry for that matter, must have written several drafts before their words were put that perfectly on the page. You can only get better with practise (I used to have a primary school teacher who was always telling me to "Practise! Practise! Practise!"), and you (I) will only practise if you do not think about all the masterpieces that are out there, but focus on what you are doing. Although you do have to be aware of it, of course. So that may not precisely be what Fry was talking about, but then again I am not "pursuing a calling" and not as ambitious as many think me to be, even though I do still dream of a life as an author (without all the stupid tv programs and quiz shows and whatever). Anyway, it's not as if he became what he set out to be, because he was determined to become a teacher in a boarding school. So who knows where we (I) will end up.
So that was my Fry-induced insight of today, and I hope it may do someone else some good as well!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)