oursin: Brush the wandering hedgehog dancing in his new coat (Brush dancing)

The Isley Brothers, exhorting 'Take some time out for love!'

Well, on the one hand, this might be a valuable reminder to keep a viable work-life balance -

On the other hand, that 'old cross boss' might have a different viewpoint on it, particularly if one was just up and taking some time out for LOVE in the middle of the working day -

But on the prehensile tail, perchance one could make the business case that taking some time out for love would, in the long run, improve productivity?

One is almost inclined to Ask A Manager what her opinion on this advice might be.

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)

Dept of les neiges d'antan: Ringo is 70 today.

***

Dept of well, I suppose this all balances out. 2 very nice blurbs from fellow-scholars for the cover of the biography, which I am rather hugging to myself, as have had a truly vicious review of the slim monograph I published 3 years ago.

It is the poorest of ton to whinge about one's clueless reviewers, and this was something that was venturing outside my usual field, undertaken out of friendship for the publisher and love for the subject, into which I did not pour years of research and analysis and which I in fact ending up writing in a marathon effort against the deadline in just about 1 month (on top of, you know, full-time employment). (Having read works by, and such criticism as there is on, the subject, which is not much to date, over the preceding months.) So, you know, not huge swathes of Casaubonesque amour-propre tied up in this one.

But am vastly annoyed at the snotty and condescending tone taken towards the subject, who I strongly suspect would have had reviewer for breakfast.

***

Dept of fanfic:

Following kind suggestion by [personal profile] carbonel have posted my little Casablanca snippet at Archive Of Our Own, along with the teeny Mitfordverse fic I did years ago. Maybe this will encourage me to finish the one about Jassy and Moira, and even get back to the Kim fic I started.

oursin: Frankie Howerd, probably in Up Pompeii, overwritten Don't Mock (Don't Mock)

Oh dear, French philosopher living right up to the stereotype:

"Hats off for this invented-but-more-real-than-real Kant, whose portrait, whether signed Botul, Pages or John Smith, seems to be in harmony with my idea of a Kant who was tormented by demons that were less theoretical than it seemed".

after falling for easily-detectable hoax. We should trust his opinions re Polanski-wuz-ronged exactly why?

***

In less guffawy news, the claim that late C18th anatomists were on a serial killing spree seems to have already well jumped the tracks of 'an historian claims' to Troo Faxx. Sigh. Moan. Groan. No-one seems to be saying 'who is this "historian" and plz 2 b showin workinz'.

***

Also, hedjog does moans:

Over people who cite archival documents (including 'undated letter' without any mention even of the file it was in) within a huge collection by the overall collection reference (and I take a haddock to the journal editors and referees who didn't at any stage pick that up).

People who seem to think that having a modest expertise on one or two facets of Victorian life means they can ask me a massively detailed and complex question about some different facet of Victorian life ('Doo myyyy research for meeee, pleeeez').

People who are writing an article and want me to provide them with weird and quirky facts about the topic. Topic is much overdone, in my opinion: anyway, there are several published books on it, most of them leeching off serious scholarly study of the 1930s.

Groan, sigh, headbang.

***

In less moany news, in yoga yesterday my balance postures attained some moments of, well, actual balance. I was really surprised.

***

Grouchy hedjog seeks soothing strokes:

My Valentinr - wanderinghedgehog

oursin: Julia Margaret Cameron photograph of Hypatia (Hypatia)

This is a wonderful book - it's not perfect, because the whole subject is just at its beginning and things are only beginning to be thought about and defined. And in a volume of edited essays (pretty interdisciplinary) there are going to be some which resonate more than others. But it opens up new perspectives and vistas and generates 'aha' moments.

It is about the opposite of epistemology: instead of how knowledge is constructed, it's about how unknowledge is constructed.

So it deals both with the things that people don't know (because they're not looking or their mindset means they can't even see certain things) or that they believe wrong things about.

And it's terribly relevant to various recent stuff: RaceFail 09 certainly (not just the piece on 'White Ignorance' but several other pieces which look at whose knowledge counts and forms part of the picture and is woven into the genealogy of a subject) but also the recent revelations over the MMR vaccine business. There are several articles which deal with the ways in which 'science' is deployed to confuzzle scientific findings (e.g. over the risks of smoking, or on environmental issues) and the spurious appeal to 'balance' in the debate as if both sides had equal credence.

And, of course, sexism is interwoven with these (such a pity that there isn't, perhaps, something on Alice Stewart, or some other highly qualifed woman who came up against the male medical or scientific establishment). There's the lost history of West Indian herbal abortifacients, and the convoluted knowledge/ignorance around the female orgasm.

It's an academic work, and some of the articles are dense, and some are a bit dry, but it's exceedingly worthwhile reading, taken in smallish doses.

oursin: Photograph of the statue of Justice on top of the Old Bailey, London (Justice)

Thinking about balance in connection with [livejournal.com profile] mrissa's 'One Year Closer to Balance Day', and I've already indicated in the appropriate places what I'm doing today which could be considered to be about restoring, or at least improving, the balance in my own life here and now.

But thinking about balance makes me think about what is possible my Worst Thing in yoga, which is balance poses. (I have probably previously done the thing about my tree-pose being whipped about in a hurricane.) And it only quite recently occurred to me that possibly one issue there might be astigmatism, because of the whole 'choosing a point and focussing on it' (and as I don't wear glasses when doing yoga, there's no element of correction), and besides being extremely myopic, I also have some degree of astigmatism. (This also gives me some 'looking down from really quite minor heights' problems, which is I believe a Known Issue.)

Another thing that I've been thinking about it is whether I'm thinking too much of balance as being a static, rigid, Patience-on-a-monument state rather than something that is dynamic, a question of small shifts and accommodations and re-centering, that it's more about change and movement and keeping one's balance through that.

And whether there is ever actual balance rather than a constant swirl of stuff that may, if I'm lucky, average out to something like a balance.

The dancer is swayed to music, but maintains balance?

An interesting metaphor for all sorts of things.

My Valentinr - wanderinghedgehog

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)

A possibly not very coherent late-night post after a long day about a thought that struck me. I was for some reason remembering a very disagreeable person I met once - admittedly, there had been a particularly awful and shocking event in this person's life - who complained that though they had done a lot for friends and neighbours when they were in straits, no-one had done the same for them when they were struck by awful and shocking event.

And this made me think about doing things for others and what sort of return we expect. Even if we don't expect any immediate reciprocation, do we expect to get back the same thing at some future date?

I don't think so. But sometimes some other principle of exchange is involved, which may not necessarily be explicit in the terms of 'I do X favour for you, and you do Y favour for me'. And there are people whom one knows not to expect certain things of: some people may be great at responding to anguished 3 am phonecalls but be completely unreliable over other matters. But I'm rather dubious about the concept of doing things for people in the expectation of some eventual return.

And I'm not entirely sure to what extent we necessarily recognise what other people do do for us, if it's not the same thing that we do for them; or possibly we give different weights to these things in our mental accounting. (And it occurs to me that there's something to be said here perhaps about the traditional invisibility of certain kinds of 'woman's work', but that's tangential to what I'm trying to think through here.)

And I wonder if there are things that people are doing for me and I'm not noticing. And whether perhaps the noticing and appreciating is at least as significant as whatever the exchange thing is.

oursin: George Beresford photograph of Marie of Roumania, overwritten 'And I AM Marie of Roumania' (Marie of Roumania)

I have posted before, yeah, verily, probably at tedious length, about my tendency to say 'yes' when people ask me to do something (give conference paper, write encyclopaedia article or chapter in a book, read someone's ms, etc etc), whether or not this is a sensible thing to do. But this isn't so much about that, and I am getting better at saying no (I think).

Up until I completed my thesis, I was writing fiction. I was producing quite a lot. I had an agent, though nothing was actually getting sold, in spite of some hints of interest from editors.

After I completed my thesis, and began turning it into a (commissioned) book, my fiction-productivity decreased. This was no doubt partly to do with the fact that I no longer had a designated study leave day each week for the academic stuff.

And then people started to ask me to give papers, write articles, do reviews. And I got persuaded into signing up for book 2. A lot of these things (including book 2) were not things I'd have spontaneously and out of my interest in the subject, or perception of new directions from the research I'd already done, chosen to do.

Not that that's necessarily a bad thing. It's probably a lot better to be challenged and pushed to do things that stretch one's boundaries than to sit mewed up in one's study endlessly preparing the definitive Key to All Mythologies.

But after a bit, I had quite a lot on my plate in the way of academic demands and writing fiction went more or less on hiatus. Partly of course this was to do with limited time and energy. But partly, I think, it was because, you know, people were asking me to do this stuff, there was a sense that it was wanted.

I'm not sure that this is entirely about 'I wanna audience!', because, frankly, some of the things I've had published have probably been read by 3 people max, since all this saying yes has meant I've appeared in a lot of fairly obscure edited collections of essays. But the editors at least wanted my contribution.

There have, it is true, been things that I have written for myself (like the biography), and also things that, although I was asked to do something by an external source, were in fact things I'd been thinking about doing, already had ideas about, etc.

I was wondering How Odd Is This and how other people perceive this business of the internal drive vs the external pressures/demands, or don't see it at all.

[GIP: I don't think Marie of Roumania has any relevance to this post, but I just made this one.]

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)

I was going to make the appropriate 'Happy New Year' wishes to all those who read this, and then I thought, is 'a happy year' the best good (Socrates vs pig issue)? Ringing in my mind was Dorothy Parker's 'Fair Weather':

This level reach of blue is not my sea;
Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun,
Whose quiet ripples meet obediently
A marked and measured line, one after one.
This is no sea of mine, that humbly laves
Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm.
I have a need of wilder, crueler waves;
They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.

and although I've done my share of complaining about the trials of the last couple of years, I also remember some years which looked calm but were not, in the long run, so fruitful, did not have the same important turning-points, as years which were much more ruffled and choppy and uncomfortable. And while I like a bit of peace and quiet and time to contemplate, after a bit that can get very stale. And lines from a hymn come back from my childhood:
Not for ever by still waters
Would we idly rest and stay,
But would strike the living fountains
From the rocks about our way.

- Maria Willis (1824-1908)

So I could wish for you what I should like myself, which is a liveable balance between challenges and times of calm and peace. Or, since as wishing for others what one would like oneself has its limitations, I could wish for you the year you would wish for yourselves. I think I'll go with the latter, and hope that it is acceptable.

May 2026

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