My (Minority Opinion) Affection for Semicolons

A couple of days ago, I happened to look down at the keyboard on my five-year-old laptop at home, and suddenly noticed that the most smudged key -- a sure sign of frequent usage -- was the semicolon key. I chuckled to myself, as I have long had a special (geeky, I know) affection for the semicolon, which is not, I know, the majority opinion. Many English instructors and others interested in language believe that few people know how to use semicolons correctly any more. For example, a few years ago, one of my daughter's high school English teachers was so exasperated with their misuse that she preemptively banned their use in her students' papers. I was somewhat annoyed at this edict, as I had made sure that my daughter knew how to use them! I also make sure my students know how to use them. In a nice coincidence, a day after I noticed my smudged semi-colon key, a Facebook friend posted a lovely, graceful 1979 Lewis Thomas essay (from his book "The Medusa and the Snail") about punctuation, which included the following sentences: "I have grown fond of semicolons in recent years. The semicolon tells you that there is still some question about the preceding full sentence; something needs to be added; it reminds you sometimes of the Greek usage. It is almost always a greater pleasure to come across a semicolon than a period....with a semicolon there you get a pleasant little feeling of expectancy; there is more to come;... it will get better."

The Thrill of Being Cited

Please forgive today's bit of academic nerdiness, but bear with me: it IS related to writing and reading! As one who came late to academic publishing, I was -- and still am -- probably particularly susceptible to being pleased, even thrilled, when my own publications (journal articles, books, book chapters) started being cited in other scholars' work. Other scholars' mention of one's work in their articles and books is a bit of recognition that means a lot academically, professionally, and personally. Most of all, it is a sign that all the work of writing, revising, submitting, more revising, sometimes getting rejected, still more revising, and finally getting one's writing published is actually validated by others' saying they have read it and found it worth mentioning as support for their own work. Or to boil it down to its basics, and in very non-academic language: People are reading my work! Hurray! People think it is worth mentioning in their publications! It feels great! (I know I am not the only one who feels this way; colleagues/friends have told me they feel the same.)

"True Prep"

"True Prep" (Knopf, 2010), by Lisa Birnbach with Chip Kidd, is a sort of sequel or update to Birnbach's 1980 bestseller, "The Official Preppy Handbook." It, like the earlier book, is a half serious, half tongue-in-cheek compendium of information and advice about the lives of the upper class in the U.S. Topics include schools, colleges, jobs, wardrobes, travels, houses, second houses, food, drink, etiquette, and more. The book is rather non-linear, and is profusely sprinkled with pictures, drawings, diagrams, and lists. Although presented in a "fun," self-deprecating tone, it is clear the authors are describing a social class that does still exist and that they believe is admirable for its history, tradition, and -- to them -- endearing traits. It is also clear that they hope to have it both ways in gaining readers: they hope for readers who will enjoy the book in an ironic, satirical, humorous way, as well as readers who may take it as a useful guide to acting more like members of a class they aspire to. As someone who writes about social class and its effects, I find the U.S.'s ambivalent relationship to class matters interesting and telling. Americans both deny social class differences and are fascinated by those differences, whether in a yearning or a condemnatory manner. "True Prep" captures a bit of this ambivalence, although in a light and indirect way.

The Ever-Fascinating Bloomsbury Group

As many readers know, the Bloomsbury Group of writers, artists, and critics lived, met, wrote, and painted in and around the Bloomsbury area of London (as well as outside of London) before, during, and after World War II. Many of them met through the Stephen family, whose most famous member is Virginia Woolf (about whom I posted on 2/26/10). The other main point of connection was Cambridge University, where most of the male members of the group studied. Besides Virginia Woolf, the most prominent members of the group were her husband Leonard Woolf, the publisher and writer; E.M. Forster, the great novelist; Virginia's sister Vanessa Bell, an artist; Vanessa's husband, Clive Bell, an art critic; Vanessa's lover, Duncan Grant, a painter; John Maynard Keynes, the famous economist; Lytton Strachey, a great and very witty writer; Roger Fry, a painter; and Desmond McCarthy, a critic. There were others on the periphery of the group as well. Many of the members were related professionally, familially, maritally, and sexually. They were known not only for their literary and artistic work, but for being progressive in their ideas about art, literature, politics, economics, and social issues, as well as in their own lifestyles. There have been hundreds, perhaps thousands of books and articles written about this group and its members; it has always had a fascination, even a sort of magic, for those of us who care about literature and art. During their time, and even now, their talent, their dedication to the arts, their flouting of many of society's "rules" and norms, and their intricate and often shifting relationships with each other over time seemed and seem both enviable and the source of much gossip and sometimes disapproval. Over the years, I have read many books by and about this group, their work, and their entanglements, and never grow tired of learning more about them. I also visited (from the outside only) some of their former homes in London. Although I acknowledge that they had their faults, they were and are enormously influential, and -- still -- fascinating!

But What If I Run Out?

We visited my mother, brothers, and families this weekend, a three hour trip each way by car. For two days and one night, most of which was of course filled with visiting with family, I took one substantial novel I had just started reading ("My Hollywood," which I am sure I will be posting on in a few days), six magazines, and that day's newspaper. I came back tonight having read that day's newspaper and a few pages of one magazine. What was I thinking? I knew I would never read more than a very small portion of what I took, yet I was impelled to take it all anyway. I think the key is a fear of running out of things to read, a fate too awful to contemplate. This is one case when I never learn from experience, and keep doing the same thing over and over again. Fortunately there are no serious negative consequences of hauling reading material back and forth in one's suitcase.

International Novels by Women

When I wrote on 10/4/10 about world literature I had read in my 20s, I mentioned that much later – in the mid-1990s - I designed and taught several times a class called Contemporary Fiction by Nonwestern Women. Today I want to briefly write about three of the novels I taught in that class. Duong Thu Huong is a well-known Vietnamese writer and political dissident; her novel “Paradise of the Blind” (Penguin, 1993, originally published 1988) describes Vietnam from the 1950s to the 1980s, focusing on how land reform destroyed many families and their connection to the land. It is a sad novel, but also glows with the light of family and food. Yes, food. The descriptions of family meals, markets, and food in general are detailed, sensuous, and practically leap off the page. Nigerian author Buchi Emecheta’s title “The Joys of Motherhood” (Heinemann, 1994; originally published 1979) is somewhat ironic, as the main character constantly struggles with poverty and other problems (moving from her village to the big city where she feels disconnected from her community, dealing with her husband’s taking new wives, and much more) in order to raise her children. But there is joy as well, as she takes pride in her children, and is respected by others. Nahid Rachlin is an Iranian-American writer whose novel “Married to a Stranger” (City Lights, 1983) tells the story of the marriage of a young couple who, although they chose each other, are unprepared for marriage, especially in the changing Iran of the Revolution. All three of these powerful novels feature strong women characters and glimpses into women’s lives in the three countries where the novels are set.

"After This"

I just finished listening to the audio version of "After This," (Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, 2006; Audiobooks America, 2006), by Alice McDermott. This lovely novel tells the story of an Irish American Catholic family in Long Island. Early in the novel, Mary meets John; they then marry and have a family, and their kids grow up and begin their own lives and families. That is pretty much it. There are no pyrotechnics, just good writing. Although nothing amazing or strange happens, the usual family events -- romances, marriages, births, schooling, jobs, deaths -- are told with dignity and with a quiet lyricism. The novel is in effect a series of set pieces; the author gives great, detailed, loving attention to some scenes, and then skips over years to other scenes. The scenes described at length are almost tableaux; the reader keeps thinking they are leading up to dramatic events, yet in most of the scenes they do not. One scene in which John and a pregnant Mary take their three young children to the beach reminded me of a painting, or of one of those leisurely European films which dwells lovingly on the simple details of everyday life. In contrast, the dramatic events in "After This" are often sprung upon us suddenly. There are even a few disconcerting fast forwards, almost asides, to tell us the eventual fate of some of the characters. Another lovely aspect of this novel is the quiet, modest goodness of the main characters. I recommend this novel to your attention.