Absent without leave

May 24th, 2006

I am still here, never you worry — just very very busy. I’ll get back to blogging soon, because there are exciting new developments in my (academic) life that I need to tell you all about. The picture is of one of the things that have kept me from blogging lately: editing the latest issue of the Dutch Yearbook for Women’s History, on Gender and Utopian Studies. If you happen to in Amsterdam coming Saturday, you are cordially invited to the festive presentation of the 26th Yearbook!

Thanks to everyone for their comments and ideas on the medieval/renaissance theatre post. I have set Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus as the text that students need to prepare before class, and I’m looking forward to teaching the lecture next week. I’ll let you know how that went as well. I’ll be back soon!

The perks of writing

May 16th, 2006

Anne Galloway has started a new weblog Lost in Dissertation, where she will chart her progress during the final two months of writing her PhD thesis. Anne makes dissertation writing fun by following Jane McGonigal ’s idea of posting her best sentence of the day on her blog. I think it is a wonderful idea to savour the nitty-gritty details of writing. And the concept is catching on; Jean at Creativity/Machine yesterday posted a choice specimen of her day’s writing.

And for the perks of online history writing: History Carnival #31 is up at Airminded!

Finally!

May 11th, 2006

Brett has his own weblog! I am thrilled to announce: Sound and Fury, Brett’s “medium for publishing self-indulgent, relentless rants and ramblings on all things English Renaissance.” Since he is a regular commenter here, I can assure you that his ramblings are very informed and up-to-date, always abreast of the latest publications in the field of early modern literature. His weblog comes with a very useful set of links to online resources and journals. Go see!

Medieval and early modern English theatre

May 10th, 2006

Medieval and early modern (literary) scholars out there — I could use your help. I have been asked to contribute a lecture to an interesting interdisciplinary BA-course on the question: how sharp is the dividing line between the medieval and the early modern period? After a general introduction that questions the traditional notion of the differences between the two periods, the course looks at a different art form each week, ranging from music, to painting, to theatre — and more. I get to do the lecture on early modern theatre on 1 June, preceded by a lecture on medieval theatre earlier in the week.

I was asked to contribute to the course yesterday, so there are three weeks left for preparations. I have so far concocted the following plan: I will start with a quotation from Stephen Greenblatt’s Will in the World, in which he imagines how the young Shakespeare might have accompanied his father to the town of Coventry, nearby Stratford-upon-Avon. There,

in late May or June, in the time of long, sweetly lingering twilights, they could also have seen one of the great annual Corpus Christi pageants,

as Greenblatt puts it poetically. The imagined moment is a symbolic point of contact between the canonical playwright of the renaissance, and the theatrical traditions of the Middle Ages. Greenblatt’s sweetly lingering twilights resonate nicely with the title of the course, which puns on twilight zones. More to the point, the years of Shakespeare’s youth could be seen as a theatrical twilight zone between medieval genres of theatre and the plays of the professional theatres that emerged in 1576 (The Theatre) or even 1567 (The Red Lion).

What I intend to do in the two-hour lecture for students from all kinds of backgrounds, is firstly to introduce some of the commonly made distinctions between medieval and renaissance theatrical traditions (off the top of my head, things such as religious vs non-religious subject matter; community theatre versus commercial theatre — with a short overview of what early modern theatres looked like and how they worked; the emergence of a sense of inwardness in renaissance theatre). I might compare an allegorical play with a renaissance soliloquy, with the good and the bad angel in Dr Faustus as an interesting twilight case (drawing on David Bevington’s From Mankind to Marlowe). Or I might compare a medieval Vice to Shakespeare’s Richard the Third. Then, I will start to problematize matters.

I thought I might discuss some possible dates or events that could be identified as the watershed between medieval and renaissance traditions of theatre, such as the emergence of the professional theatres, or perhaps the Reformation that put a stop to many local theatrical traditions associated with Saint’s days, and finally also to the Corpus Christi cycles (in the 1570s). Or one might single out Shakespeare’s Hamlet as a typical renaissance play, written on the cusp of medieval and early modern traditions. I would then like to probe each and every one of these boundaries, and see how there are also strong continuities between the two traditions (perhaps drawing also on Eamon Duffy’s The Stripping of the Altars where Catholic traditions are concerned).

I would talk about the arbitrariness of periodisation, about the problems with terms such as “renaissance”, “early modern” and “middle ages.” Also, I would like to examine whether early modern theatre itself perhaps contributed to our perception of a break between medieval and renaissance drama, by creating the notion itself. When Hamlet tells the visiting players to act naturally, and contrasts that ideal to a style of acting that “out-Herods Herod,” he refers to the Corpus Christi cycles, in which according to one famous stage direction “Herode rageth in the pagond and in the streete also”. By portraying medieval styles of acting are portrayed as outrageous and oldfashioned, the play draws a line between its medieval inheritance and its own genre. Finally, I might look at the ways our associations of the renaissance with notions of inwardness have themselves been shaped by the canonisation of Hamlet, for example.

That’s what I’ve thought of so far. It’s a lecture, not a seminar, but since there are about 30 students, I will also be thinking about ways I could activate the students — having them compare a passage from a medieval morality play and a passage from Richard III in groups, for example, with questions to discuss, and a plenary discussion afterwards. I can prescribe a text to students, and since the workload of the course appears to be quite heavy already, I thought I might restrict myself to a single article. I am thinking of using: Michael O’Connell’s “Continuities Between ‘Medieval’ and ‘Early Modern’ Drama,” in: A Companion to English Renaissance Drama, ed. Michael Hattaway (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000), 477-85.

So, what do you think? Any advice or comments, or have you spotted errors in my ideas so far? I am especially concerned about over-simplifying my representation of medieval drama (although the companion lecture on medieval drama by an expert in the field will probably set me straight there), and I would be interested to hear from you. What are your thoughts on periodisation, on (dis)continuities between medieval and renaissance traditions? Where would you draw a line between the two, if you had to, and why? Which primary texts would you use in class? And how would you go about teaching this lecture?

Hat honour

May 7th, 2006

Man donning hat by Jacques Callot, 1625I sometimes wish I could beam myself over to the UK for one-day events such as this one: on 21 June the Early Modern Research Centre at Reading University hosts a seminar by Arnold Hunt on the subject of:

“Hat Honour in Early Modern England”

With an honourable tip of the hat to Renaissance Lit.

The gender of reading (2)

May 5th, 2006

Time for an update on the gender of reading post. There have been many comments, some of which on other blogs, so I’ll attempt a summary here. In the original post, I jotted down some thoughts on the function of books in paintings or photos, elaborating on the Dutch sociologist Jolande Withuis’s observation that women are more often depicted in the act of reading, whereas men tend to look away from their books.

Debate in the comment section focused on the eroticism of reading, on voyeurism and perspective, taking off from Helmer’s mention of a famous Dutch photo of a naked Phil Bloom reading a newspaper, and Peacay’s link to Marilyn Monroe reading Ulysses.

Jean Burgess at the ever-inspiring blog Creativity Machine today wrote a post comparing Peacay and misteraitch’s two versions of Marilyn Monroe reading. Jean wonders whether the second image is perhaps more voyeuristic than the first. Perhaps we should relate the image to what Monroe is reading — are we, as readers of Ulysses’s final chapter, not also voyeurs?

Jean links to the weblog Purse Lip Square Jaw which cites a wonderful piece by Jeanette Winterson on the Marilyn Monroe photo. It appeared in a special Guardian feature published on the 26th of April: Solitary Pleasures. To mark the announcement of the Orange Prize shortlist, The Guardian asked writers to choose their favourite picture from the recently published English translation of Stefan Bollman’s Frauen die lesen, sind gefährlich, entitled Reading Women. There are contributions by A. S. Byatt, Ali Smith, Marina Warner and many others, engaging with various issues that occupied us here, such as private and public reading, sexuality, and the emancipating force of being absorbed in reading. Deborah Moggach looks at one of the paintings I also discussed, the reading woman by Pieter Janssens Elinga. And A. S. Byatt has the most interesting opening line of them all:

I love books and most of these paintings of women reading don’t love books.

Also, Roy Booth at Early Modern Whale examines which books men and women in paintings are holding, and what it says about them. Roy discusses Italian paintings of women holding Petrarch’s Sonnets, and looks at the function of Seneca in the Holbein family portrait of Sir Thomas More. Now, why didn’t I think of that! I hope readers will comment with more examples of identifiable books in (early modern) paintings, because this is a fascinating topic.

I close with Monica Ali’s analysis of one of the paintings in Reading Women — in which the woman portrayed is an exception to the rule; she is not reading:

 
Vincent van Gogh
L’Arlésienne: Madame Joseph-Michel Ginoux
 

What I like about this picture is that she is not “lost in the book”. She is thinking her own thoughts, triggered - perhaps - by what she has just read. I imagine she’s read something with which she disagrees and she’s formulating her response internally. The way she’s resting her head on her hand suggests that she’s unsure of her position; it’s being tested. The book engages rather than confirms her intellect. Monica Ali

Green Shakespeare

May 3rd, 2006

I often use Gabriel Egan’s online database of early modern drama, and today I noticed that not only has the layout of the site changed, it also brings news of Gabriel Egan’s new book, Green Shakespeare.

After Jonathan Bate’s two influential works Romantic Ecology (1991) and The Song of the Earth (2000), ecocriticism has now reached Shakespeare Studies. Amazon reports that the book contains

an analysis of themes such as nature and human society; food and biological nature; the supernatural and the weather; and a bold argument for a contemporary ‘EcoShakespeare’, taking into account the environmental and political implications of globalization and intellectual property laws.

I cannot wait to read the book. What does ecocriticism do with Shakespeare? Or what did Shakespeare do with ecopolitics? Should we draw lessons from the abolition of the commons, or from life in the forest of Arden in As You Like It? Does Prospero’s storm tell us anything about human manipulations of the weather, or Lear’s storm about human inability to manipulate the weather? I am not being cynical, believe you me, I’m curious. Anyone out there who has read the book already?

Green Shakespeare: From Ecopolitics to Ecocriticism was published by Routledge in April 2006.