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inmyriadbitsI am afraid this won't make much sense to anyone else. I'm not sure it's very clear, I'm damn sure it's not concise, and I'm fairly certain most of the textual references are sufficiently clouded by lack of sleep and personal filters to be near-impossible to understand.
Anyway, I've just finished Gaudy Night (I was up till 7am last night reading, shh, don't tell), and it was more than a bit thought-provoking. I suspect great parts of it will stick with me for years, and I'm quite alright with that. Once again, Sayers reminds me of Bujold; I have the same reaction to a few of the Miles books (mainly Memory and Komarr). Harriet and Peter fascinate me in much the same way that Ekaterin and Miles always have. I suppose it's a bit foolish or naive to think so much of those relationships. In the first place, lord knows they don't have an easy time of it. In the second...well, people like that are so rare. One might even say they're unrealistic. I would say they're larger than life, by all means. But I yearn for the balance they find--Harriet's spinning top of a world--the give-and-take, the equality, the interdependence and independence they somehow simultaneously attain. I wish that anything could matter so much to me, and I'm young enough and perhaps foolish enough to hope for it still. But more than that, I want to live my life with half as much honor as they live theirs. And I'm not talking about any stupid definition of honor; the boring, untouched, and pristine sanctity of Galahad is not for me, nor for any human. There's a dirtiness to this kind of honor that makes it more beautiful somehow, that it endures in spite of death or hubris or betrayal. You just go on, reputation is what others know about you while honor is what you know about yourself, not knowing what you feel doesn't matter as long as you don't persuade yourself into appropriate feelings, anything worth doing is worth doing well, (if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard), the only thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart... [note: all quotes/paraphrasing.] I guess I mean integrity more than honor. We watched Stagecoach the other day in class, and the reason you sympathize with Dallas is that she has integrity and generosity and strength, whereas Mrs. Mallory has only her gentlewoman's code. Dallas has honor; Mrs. Mallory has reputation. The real struggle is to find what one considers integral, and that's something I'm still wrestling with.
I believe the characters that strike me most deeply are those who gather meaning from their actions. Conversely, they also assign meaning to their actions. There is a continuity between thought and action, an elegant conservation of purpose that waylays the haplessness of absurdity. One would never find Peter Wimsey in the situation of Tom Stoppard's Professor George Moore, for instance.
I have a half-bred theory about falling in love with romantic couples or pairings; I generally find myself surprised by things in common with one, with accompanying sympathy and identification. I usually fall in love with the other character for the same reasons the former does. See: Alanna & George, Harriet & Peter, Fraser & Ray, Ekaterin & Miles, Elizabeth & Darcy, the dozens of other fictional pairings to capture my heart and mind. Sometimes it's both at once--identifying with both and thus seeing each through the other's eyes, and so being able to understand it all. Perhaps I'll think about it more when it's not 4:30am.
And then there is the whole issue of women's education Sayers stirred up. What a knock in head, hm? I can't help finding it all terribly relevant at a women's college, and the persistence of so many problems from 1936 to 2007 is something I need to think about a lot more. There's an address here at Barnard on "The Work/Family Dilemma," and I can't help but feel a little unsettled by the same issue springing up as motive in a crime novel written 70 years ago. Of course, there are differences, progress has been made and all that, but...well, I need to think on it. Perhaps this is another subject better left until tomorrow.
Anyway, I've just finished Gaudy Night (I was up till 7am last night reading, shh, don't tell), and it was more than a bit thought-provoking. I suspect great parts of it will stick with me for years, and I'm quite alright with that. Once again, Sayers reminds me of Bujold; I have the same reaction to a few of the Miles books (mainly Memory and Komarr). Harriet and Peter fascinate me in much the same way that Ekaterin and Miles always have. I suppose it's a bit foolish or naive to think so much of those relationships. In the first place, lord knows they don't have an easy time of it. In the second...well, people like that are so rare. One might even say they're unrealistic. I would say they're larger than life, by all means. But I yearn for the balance they find--Harriet's spinning top of a world--the give-and-take, the equality, the interdependence and independence they somehow simultaneously attain. I wish that anything could matter so much to me, and I'm young enough and perhaps foolish enough to hope for it still. But more than that, I want to live my life with half as much honor as they live theirs. And I'm not talking about any stupid definition of honor; the boring, untouched, and pristine sanctity of Galahad is not for me, nor for any human. There's a dirtiness to this kind of honor that makes it more beautiful somehow, that it endures in spite of death or hubris or betrayal. You just go on, reputation is what others know about you while honor is what you know about yourself, not knowing what you feel doesn't matter as long as you don't persuade yourself into appropriate feelings, anything worth doing is worth doing well, (if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard), the only thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart... [note: all quotes/paraphrasing.] I guess I mean integrity more than honor. We watched Stagecoach the other day in class, and the reason you sympathize with Dallas is that she has integrity and generosity and strength, whereas Mrs. Mallory has only her gentlewoman's code. Dallas has honor; Mrs. Mallory has reputation. The real struggle is to find what one considers integral, and that's something I'm still wrestling with.
I believe the characters that strike me most deeply are those who gather meaning from their actions. Conversely, they also assign meaning to their actions. There is a continuity between thought and action, an elegant conservation of purpose that waylays the haplessness of absurdity. One would never find Peter Wimsey in the situation of Tom Stoppard's Professor George Moore, for instance.
I have a half-bred theory about falling in love with romantic couples or pairings; I generally find myself surprised by things in common with one, with accompanying sympathy and identification. I usually fall in love with the other character for the same reasons the former does. See: Alanna & George, Harriet & Peter, Fraser & Ray, Ekaterin & Miles, Elizabeth & Darcy, the dozens of other fictional pairings to capture my heart and mind. Sometimes it's both at once--identifying with both and thus seeing each through the other's eyes, and so being able to understand it all. Perhaps I'll think about it more when it's not 4:30am.
And then there is the whole issue of women's education Sayers stirred up. What a knock in head, hm? I can't help finding it all terribly relevant at a women's college, and the persistence of so many problems from 1936 to 2007 is something I need to think about a lot more. There's an address here at Barnard on "The Work/Family Dilemma," and I can't help but feel a little unsettled by the same issue springing up as motive in a crime novel written 70 years ago. Of course, there are differences, progress has been made and all that, but...well, I need to think on it. Perhaps this is another subject better left until tomorrow.
