An Extremely Literary Week: BEA, Housing Works, and Shakespeare

I have just had possibly the most literary week of my life (outside of majoring in English at university), and it was spectacular. Here are some of the highlights:

BookExpo America

This is the annual trade fair for publishing in the US (which also attracts a lot of foreign exhibitors). As I did last year, I borrowed a pass from one of my coworkers and attended the fair for a few hours on Thursday. I got to gawk at the exhibits, catch up with some former colleagues, and grab a pile of galleys that I'm very excited to dive into (not literally):

And parked right in the Javits Center was the Penguin truck!

The moment I spotted this reminded me of being seven years old again, watching the ice cream truck come around the corner. (Maybe I was a weird kid.)

Housing Works Book Fair

Over the weekend, I volunteered at the Housing Works Book Fair. It's a great organization -- all proceeds from the bookstore go towards combating homelessness and AIDS. They have a street fair every summer where used books and media are sold very cheaply ($1 books!), with food, live music, and other festivities. There were pavilions full of books, which I was helping stock:

And at the end of the day, there were still boxes upon boxes of books remaining, so we constructed a great wall of books along the sidewalk (from which the books were loaded onto a truck):

Shakespeare in the Park

Tonight, my friend Deb won tickets to Much Ado About Nothing, the first play of this summer's Shakespeare in the Park. I adore Shakespeare, and though I've entered the lottery for (free!) tickets many times, I've never won. I was thrilled to finally be able to partake of this New York summer tradition, and it was every bit as excellent as I expected. I'd forgotten how funny Much Ado About Nothing really is (I read it years ago), and it's so much better live than it is on the page. I can't wait for King Lear during the second half of the season!

And that was my week. I'm looking forward to more literary pursuits in the coming months!

It's the Season for NaNoWriMo

It's that time of year again... NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month, begins today. The challenge, in a nutshell, is to write 50,000 words of fiction -- roughly the length of a very short novel -- in one month. (It sounds mad, but this will be my sixth time doing NaNoWriMo, and hopefully my fifth time "winning.") You can track my progress via the little wordcount bar on the right.

Towards the end of November, my life might look something like this (which I consider a fine use of the Thanksgiving holiday, for the record):

So, friends (Romans, countrymen), forgive me for being a little antisocial and non-responsive for the next thirty days. I haven't fallen off a cliff, I promise.

Boston

I went to Boston this weekend to visit one of my oldest friends (we've known each other for most of our lives). It was wonderful to experience a different city with someone who knows the lay of the land. Here are some highlights of the weekend...

My trip apparently coincided with a major sporting event, so there were people wearing Boston gear all over the city. Someone decided to clothe the Public Garden's decorative brass ducks:

And this is what looks like a ballroom in the main branch of the Boston Public Library:

It's a stunning space, with wood panelling and frescoes running the entire length of the walls. I could imagine a medieval ball being held here.

This library could give the New York Public Library at Bryant Park a run for its money. It has an interior courtyard that looks like it was airlifted from Renaissance Europe:

I'm reminded of the courtyard of the Frick Museum. I could imagine Juliet leaning on the rail of the balcony on the left, beckoning to Romeo in the garden below. I've never been to Verona, but in my mind, it looks something like this.

Boston is also home to the world's only Curious George store! I didn't know this a few days ago.

This was taken on a bridge over a particularly scenic stretch of the Charles River:

I believe it was the Longfellow Bridge, which was named for the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He was one of the preeminent poets of his day; one of his most famous works, "Paul Revere's Ride," is a classic in the American canon. There is a plaque in his honor, and the poem is engraved on a stretch of the footpath on the bridge. I didn't think to get a photo of it at the time; I was too busy walking backwards reading the poem!

And that was Boston. It's such a quaint place (cobblestone streets! trolleys!) with so much history tucked into the fabric of the city.

Faulkner on Literature, Humanity, and Immortality

On Sunday, I had dinner with my friend Brett after an afternoon visit to the Met. I was telling him about an amazing, inspiring book talk I'd recently attended: it was a conversation between Adam Johnson, a Stanford English professor and this year's Pulitzer winner in fiction, and Fredrik Logevall, a Cornell history professor and the Pulitzer winner in nonfiction, moderated by their editor, David Ebershoff, of Random House.

Brett was reminded of (and sent me) this particular speech delivered by William Faulkner on the acceptance of his Nobel Prize in Literature in 1949:
http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1949/faulkner-speech.html

It's brilliant and quite worth reading (and not very long) -- so do actually read it! Faulkner's claim is, essentially, that literature -- the written word, storytelling, art -- is humanity's way of achieving some semblance of immortality. He writes not of the genetic "immortality" perpetuated by our biology, of course; I think one of the prerequisites of sentience is a consciousness of meaning greater than base instinct. Rather, Faulkner speaks to our legacy as a species -- the ideas, the intellectual and creative achievements by which humanity might define itself.

Literature is one such vehicle. I would hesitate to call it a record -- that term falls too much in the realm of historiography (which is itself an ambitious and meaningful endeavour, of course) -- but perhaps one might consider literature the pared-down essence of what it means to be human. In books, in art, we see reflected not only the best (and the worst) -- but also the deepest, truest, and most beautiful aspects of ourselves. In literature, we are immortal -- not only the writer, and sometimes not the writer at all (Homer is the example that comes to mind) -- but we, as a sentient species, are captured, burnished, chased in silver -- forever.

Shakespeare expressed a similar sentiment centuries earlier:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
(Sonnet 18, lines 13-14)

If I Used Twitter

my post for the night would be:

Helping my sister with an English project on Julius Caesar -- haven't had this much fun with Shakespeare since college! #EnglishMajorArmadillo

That is all.

NYTimes: Richard III, Lost and Found

In recent news -- making both archaeological and regular news headlines around the world -- the bones of Richard III were discovered under a parking lot in Leicester:

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/05/world/europe/richard-the-third-bones.html?hp

I'm inclined to be more sympathetic towards Richard III than literature portrays him (Shakespeare's play was an instrument of the Tudor smear campaign against the Plantagenets). He probably suffered from "younger sibling syndrome," as did many "spare heirs" of monarchs in the Middle Ages -- see Scar vs. Mufasa in The Lion King (and play "spot the Shakespeare references"). This was also probably exacerbated by his uninspiring physical appearance -- see Tyrion Lannister in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. (Especially in those days, physical birth defects were seen as portents of ill fortune.) Richard came by the throne in a slightly roundabout way that involved some unsavory tactics; certainly, he can't have been completely innocent in the Princes in the Tower episode. But he was by and large a competent administrator who contributed significantly to the nascent English legal system and, notably, lifted most public and private censorship of written work -- not a move to be taken lightly, especially given the political turmoil surrounding his ascension and reign. He was ruthless, to be sure, sometimes excessively so, but his were much more violent times. (Nasty, brutish, and short would be about right.) Richard III was not, among his peers, particularly remarkable in his ruthlessness -- which the Tudors, Shakespeare, and partisan historians conveniently forget.

Anyhow. I imagine it must have been a fascinating experience for the modern-day descendants of Richard III, a few of whom contributed some DNA to the project.

The Stanford Daily: Shakespeare (Kind of) in the Park

An article I wrote (I think it's my first lead story!) that runs today:

http://www.stanforddaily.com/2011/05/13/shakespeare-kind-of-in-the-park

As You Like It is really funny (though I'll admit that I often find Shakespearean humor more amusing than I do contemporary humor), and the Stanford Shakespeare Company does it quite well. You can see the review for details, but suffice to say that I'd gladly see it again. If you're on campus, go see it! Tickets: http://shakespeare.stanford.edu.

(I also realize that there's a bit of a skewed representation of my journalism on the blog. I'm predominately a book critic, but it seems like everything I plug here is about drama. I'll try to remember to post more of my book reviews!)

Edit: If you're interested in books, or just journalist-y things that I write, there's now a new button in the sidebar. Someone told me it would be a good idea, but I forget who it was, so thanks!

The Stanford Daily: StanShakes Triumphs with "Julius Caesar"

An article I wrote last week:

http://www.stanforddaily.com/2011/02/25/stanshakes-triumphs-with-julius-caesar/

Julius Caesar is amazing -- I went through several phases of "favorite Shakespeare play" and it's my most recent favorite. I loved A Midsummer Night's Dream in elementary and early middle school -- I thought it was absolutely hysterical. It was also the time, at least in elementary, when kids were obsessed with the notion that the other gender had "cooties". Go figure. Then, in middle school, I really liked Hamlet. I think it might have been the brooding, misunderstood, woe-is-me element of it; most teenagers angst and have persecution complexes and think their parental figures don't understand them (I wasn't so far removed from that myself; I merely had... different ways of expressing it). And then, in early high school, I started taking Latin again, and rediscovered a love of Roman history and political structures. Hence the especial fondness for Julius Caesar. Somewhere in there, I briefly liked Macbeth (oops, sorry, I mean "that Scottish play"), but my tenth grade English teacher sort of ruined it for me. I was, apparently, reading it too much in historical context, rather than as pure literature. But that's another story.

Sonnet 130 (by William Shakespeare)

I haven't posted any poetry in a while, so here's some more Shakespeare. This is another one of my all-time favorite sonnets:

The 1609 Quarto Version

My Miſtres eyes are nothing like the Sunne,
Currall is farre more red, then her lips red,
If ſnow be white, why then her breſts are dun:
If haires be wiers, black wiers grow on her head:
I haue ſeene Roſes damaskt, red and white,
But no ſuch Roſes ſee I in her cheekes,
And in ſome perfumes is there more delight,
Then in the breath that from my Miſtres reekes.
I loue to heare her ſpeake,yet well I know,
That Muſicke hath a farre  more pleaſing found:
I graunt I neuer ſaw a goddeſſe goe,
My Miſtres when ſhee walkes treads on the ground.
    And yet by heauen I thinke my loue as rare,
    As any ſhe beli'd with falſe compare.

And a modernized version, with the typesetting and spelling "cleaned up" a bit:

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
     And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
     As any she belied with false compare.

At first glance, it reads as though the Bard is complaining about his mistress's rather plain looks -- but upon closer inspection, the poem is really about love in spite of, or in acknowledgment of, one's beloved's flaws. It's about love as acceptance of all of another person, not just the appealing parts. Everyone has a dark side, however small or non-apparent. Love that embraces that dark side is love with eyes wide open, a truer love than the rose-tinted infatuation that poets are so inclined to extol. Such is a love I would wish for myself.

The New Adventures of Queen Victoria: Bunny Hamlet

Hamlet is one of my favorite Shakespeare plays, and this is an especially humorous interpretation:

http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2010/07/17

A whole new take on lucky rabbits' feet...

NYTimes: Summer Shakespeare, Outside and Urban

One of the many things I love about summers in New York:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/04/theater/04shakespeare.html?ref=nyregion

I intend to catch at least one play this summer. Anyone want to come?

NYTimes: Tips on Scoring Discounted Tickets to Musicals, Plays, Museum Tours, &c. in New York this Summer

A handy article for anyone in New York for the summer:

http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/05/28/travel/28linestrategy.html?hpw

Entertainment in the City isn't cheap; Broadway shows, operas, concerts, &c. are mostly beyond your average college students' budgets. The ones that don't cost as much, like museum tours, Shakespeare in the Park, that sort of thing, all sell out ridiculously quickly; I know people who have waited in line, in ungodly hours of night and early morning, to try to get tickets to Shakespeare in the Park. (Yes, the part of me that laments the decline of literacy of the masses is greatly heartened to hear it, even though it means that I didn't get to see Othello last summer.)

Chances are, though, that after this article, people will flock to these once-secret box offices, and these tips will grow obsolete within the summer. Ah, well.

Sonnet 29 (by William Shakespeare)

You've probably seen this (another old favorite):

The 1609 Quarto Version

When in diſgrace with Fortune and mens eyes,
I all alone beweepe my out-caſt ſtate,
And trouble deafe heauen with my bootleſſe cries,
And looke vpon my ſelfe and curſe my fate.
Wiſhing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him,like him with friends poſſeſt,
Deſiring this mans art,and that mans skope,
With what I moſt inioy contented leaſt,
Yet in theſe thoughts my ſelfe almoft deſpiſing,
Haply I thinke on thee, and then my ſtate,
(Like to the Larke at breake of daye ariſing )
From ſullen earth ſings himns at Heauens gate,
For thy ſweet loue remembred ſuch welth brings,
That then I skorne to change my ſtate with Kings.

And because I know that 1600s typesetting and spelling are difficult for the modern reader, here is the modern "translation":

When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,—and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

It's beautiful, isn't it? To love somebody enough that one is willing to truly accept one's lot in life -- against all the many wonderful fantasies one may have -- because the love of that particular person is enough to offset all the troubles it brings, and more.

The New Yorker: A Tiny Feast

http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2009/04/20/090420fi_fiction_adrian

It's a really excellent short story. I love A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Chris Adrian captures the Fey Folk perfectly. And the Beastie is just a wonderful touch.