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2014 in Review: The Platypus of Truth

And lo I am with you always, even unto the end of the Age. Today is the last day of 2014.  The big news of 2014 is that Western Culture has survived one-hundred years after the onset of the Great War.  The world is changed.  At least somewhat.  But in the shadow of that great anniversary, many other things have happened.  Here at the Platypus of Truth, it's been a pleasant, but low-volume year.  That may be due to the fact that 2014 was the first summer in some time that I didn't attempt any live-blog read-throughs.  Those raise the number of posts per year like nobody's business.  Instead, 2014 saw an uptick in poetic compositions and a continuation of 2013's travel-blogging.  That makes 2014 the year of memory and reflection at Platypus of Truth and that seems appropriate a hundred years after the end of one of the most astounding eras in Western history.  What will next year bring?  I don't know.  There will certainly be more about Clariel  and Nix's attemp

Nix's Clariel and the Call to Adventure (Cont.): The Platypus Reads Part CCLXXIX

My strategic reading of Garth Nix's Clariel  continues.  My goal with this reading is to find out how Nix creates an interesting novel with a heroine who persistently refuses the "call to adventure".  To this end, I've been taking notes as I read and sharing them here.  Those who have not read Clariel  may not wish to continue reading as I do mention major plot points in my remarks. *Dr. Song Says: Spoilers!* The last post ended with Clariel's first lesson at the house of Magister Kargrin.  This post will run to the end of chapter nineteen or Clariel's escape from the prison hole. 7. A reluctant hero often draws the wrong conclusion from valuable information since their focus is in the wrong place.  Nix manages to use Clariel's wrong conclusions in a way that still keeps her headed toward the "the call to adventure".  She consistently fails to realize that the threats posed by Kilp and Aziminil threaten any chance she has of living as a bo

Nix's Clariel and the Call to Adventure: The Platypus Reads Part CCLXXVIII

I'm about one-hundred pages in to Garth Nix's YA novel Clariel .  One purpose I have in reading this book is to discover how Nix gets us to invest in a story with a gruff and unlikable heroine who consistently resists the call to adventure.  That's a tall order for any author, but Garth Nix seems to have pulled it off.  So here I am, pen in hand, taking notes on how he does it.  Since it looks like I'll have quite the page of notes by the time I finish Clariel , I've decided to share my thoughts in several installments.  What follows takes us through the first one-hundred pages, or right up to her first lesson in Charter Magic.  If you haven't read the book yet, you may not want to continue reading. 1. To make an "unsympathetic character" "sympathetic", establish what they love and what their goal is early on.  Give them something they want that the audience can sympathize with.  For Clariel, it's a desire to go back to the Forest and

Wintry Reading (Cont.): The Platypus Reads Part CCLXXVII

Christmas Vacation is finally here and with it some time for Winter reading.  Winter reading isn't the long, lazy, meandering sort of thing that Summer reading is.  For one, the time is too short.  For two, the holiday season and the end of the quarter leave little time for easy ambling.  Winter reading is the sort of thing that gets done in a busy airport, in the shotgun seat of the car, while relatives watch t.v., or right before bed.  It's a way of filling in the corners of holiday time, a way to savor the last bit of the season. So what have I crammed in to my Christmas Break? Smith of Wootton Major: We read this Tolkienic scripta minora in one go with the Inklings Club this weekend.   Smith of Wootten Major  is a melancholy tale about a boy who is given a passport to Faerie that he must surrender when he reaches old age.  Tolkien advised his audience to simply read and enjoy, but it's hard not to see this as Tolkien's musings on the limits of creativity and the

Gillette's Holmes: The Platypus Reads Part CCLXXVI

Sherlock Holmes has been a perennial favorite since his creation at the turn of the last century.  Over the last few years, the super-sleuth's stock has risen higher than ever with an American movie franchise running side-by-side with the BBC's modern television adaptation.  Whether you're a fan of Robert Downey Jr. or Benedict Cumberbatch, the baseline for the part was set down by now-forgotten American actor William Gillette . William Gillette (1853-1937) led a rather colorful life that involved hanging out with Mark Twain, living for years on a river boat, revolutionizing American theater, having his posters done by the artist of the Rider-Waite Tarot deck, and building his own private castle on the Connecticut River.  He even had the cheek to dress up as Sherlock Holmes for his first meeting with Conan Doyle.  This singular gent over the course of 1,300 performances created the Holmes we know and love: deerstalker cap, bent briar pipe, hawk-like profile, and prominent

Wintry Platypus Entertainments

I can't really say that it's been a long December yet, and I don't really have any reason to believe that next year will be better than the last.  It may be some consolation that I've been out of the L.A. sprawl for more than five years now.  At any rate, Winter is coming.  Winter doesn't mean much in meteorological terms in Houston, but there is still a special sort of je ne sais qua that permeates the last month of the year.  Some books , some games , some movies, and some music (without special regard for their Christmas-i-ness) feel more appropriate in December regardless of where one happens to be. Now that the month has begun, my thoughts are turning toward the right artistic combination for the season.  In two weeks, my students and I will all be going to see the final installment in Peter Jackson's Hobbit  trilogy at the end of finals week.  In the meantime, my wife and I are in the middle of Akira Kurosawa's Kagemusha , a beautiful and slowly-u

Across the Grey Atlantic: Creative Platypus

Across the grey Atlantic, Across Saint Brendan’s sea, Is the land where the lairds wear sackcloth And all the serfs are free. Across the grey Atlantic, Across the spume and foam, Lies the land of the Imram ’ s  castles Where a Gael can find a home. In the green fields of Elysium, Every blade of grass is a sword To pierce the feet of trespassers In the Garden of the Lord. Just so the Emerald Isle, Though e nslaved and conquered be, Will never lack for weapons To set her people free. But wars go on forever And the killing's never done Though the smoke rise up to heaven And strike from the sky the Sun. So many Gaels went wandering Across the Earth’s expanse, To find fair fields in foreign lands Where peaceful feet could dance. They flooded into Boston, Found safe harbor in New York, And others flew to southern climes As surely as the stork. They raked the bogs for cranberries While old Thoreau explained That if

Notes on Pixar's Brave and Beowulf: Film Platypus

Something struck me this year as I was reading through  Beowulf with  my tenth graders: Pixar's Brave  is Beowulf  from the perspective of Queen Wealtheow and Princess Freawaru and set during the time of the formation of the Kingdom of Scotland as opposed to the rise of the Danish people over their neighbors.  As in the case of Hrothgar's developing kingdom, Brave's Scotland is besieged by two troubles: a giant monster that carries off the people and an unstable network of human alliances that threatens war and division.  In each case, the reigning monarch finds himself powerless to stave off the supernatural terror and relies on the aid of his politically astute wife to keep order among the clans.  Where Beowulf  deals with questions of finding a new warrior with courage and greatness enough to solve the problems and eventually become king, Brave  deals with the problem of forging a marriage alliance with the princess and raising her up to be the next queen. A careful re

Patriots In Exile: Creative Platypus

Patriots in Exile The real world has no room for an Aeneas, And perhaps that is a good thing. Troy burned and Troy rebuilt As much as seven-gated Thebes Or Hiroshima and Dresden –even Roman Carthage- though the Goths Sacked that one. There are no more seas to sail, No new worlds to discover. I’ve been from one coast To another And believe me, The World is round. On the other side is Russia And that’s right back to where You came from; Whether Irish or Algonquin. So we’ll drink another round In a bar in Massachusetts And we’ll raise a toast to Foxwoods As a Wonder of the World. I met an old Oneida in the land Of broken promise And he spoke of David Brainard And a little of John Eliot. Here we were across the world Far from both our lands and fathers And I’d bless him by Saint Patrick If I were still a papist. Homes are tricky things And a heritage’s a burden Whether it’s one that you can’t get to Or it’s lost as su

Walking in MacDonald's Walden: Platypus Travels Part LVII/The Platypus Reads Part CCLXXV

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George MacDonald begins his enigmatic Science Fiction novel, Lilith , with a quote from Henry David Thoreau's essay Walking .  Thoreau's haunting, yet ultimately satirical and political description of a trip down an abandoned wagon road in rural Massachusetts is transformed by MacDonald's imagination into a statement on how thin the barrier is that separates our world from other realms. The text below gives the quote from Thoreau as it appears in Lilith , which can be found in it entirety for free here . I took a walk on Spaulding's Farm the other afternoon. I saw the setting sun lighting up the opposite side of a stately pine wood. Its golden rays straggled into the aisles of the wood as into some noble hall. I was impressed as if some ancient and altogether admirable and shining family had settled there in that part of the land called Concord, unknown to me,—to whom the sun was servant,— who had not gone into society in the village,—who had not been called on. I

New England Reflections and Platypus Readings: Platypus Travels Part LVI/The Platypus Reads Part CCLXXIV

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Our travels this summer took us all over Connecticut and Massachusetts on the trail of historic locations and famous figures.  One place we were particularly delighted to see was Walden Pond, the site a which Henry David Thoreau conducted his famous experiment.  Both my wife and I have taught a selection of Thoreau's works and it was a treat to see Walden complete with a replica of Thoreau's cabin (the original was sold for scrap shortly after he vacated it). I don't know what I think of Thoreau's thought.  On the whole, he seems more useful as a critic than as any positive role model.  On the other hand, we had a nice long chat with a wonderful park ranger at Walden who had been inspired in her job by Thoreau's love of nature.  If Dana Gioia can co-opt lapsed Catholics as part of a larger Catholic literary culture, maybe Thoreau can be treated as a lapsed Puritan.  His thought, iconoclastic, numinous, visionary, and full of a wonder and love for creation, certa

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.): Platypus Travels Part LV

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 The Wooster monument at Oak Cliff Cemetery Derby, Connecticut.  Many of the graves in this cemetery are arranged in family plots with a central monument that lists the names and dates of those buried there.  Small stones with initials mark the actual burial site of individual family members.  I have written about another family plot in this cemetery here . Buried along with the Woosters in a place of honor is Harry N. Thomas, their African-American servant.  I'm in the middle of teaching The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass  and Up From Slavery  to my seniors.  We've had some hard conversations and will be having a few more.  One goal of those conversations is to help them see that slavery may have ended in 1865, but the effects of slavery continue on in all manner of forms down to the present day. W.E.B. Du Bois begins his magnum opus The Souls of Black Folk  by saying that there is one question he continually senses in the minds of white folk but that they

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.): Platypus Travels Part LIV

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The Church on the Green There are two churches on Huntington Green.  I passed them nearly every day.  Neither of them are particularly grand -at least not by the standards of other churches on other greens.  I never attended either of them, but I love them each in their own special way.  I've already shown you two gems from the Episcopal church pictured above.  Let me show you the rest.  The sky blue vault represents heaven.  The lamps you see would originally have burned whale oil but have been converted for electricity.  All these pictures were taken in natural light at about 10:30 in the morning.  The church is not laid out in a cruciform pattern, but follows the simple "salt box" colonial architecture.  In this, as in its general austerity, Congregationalist influence is evident.  To add a little Episcopal twist, the rectangular sanctuary has been divided (by the columns that support the balcony) into three parts (representing the Trinity), as in ea

The Return of Homestar Runner: Platypus Nostalgia

Homestar Runner is back on the map with a new music video "Fisheye Lens."  This quirky little flash comic provided infinite entertainment for me and my associates in years past.  I was sad when the site finally ground to a halt half-a-decade ago.  As promised in an interview this past summer, however, the brothers chaps have vowed to make a comeback.  Their quirky first offerings seem like a good start.  Where it goes from here, only time will tell, but I'm glad to see them back in the saddle again.

Hellboy in Hell: The Platypus Reads Part CCLXXIII

After twelve issues spanning the better part of a decade, Hellboy's life on earth came to a apocalyptic end in The Storm and the Fury .  While his existence on this plain ended as was foretold, Hellboy's story is far from over.  That story continues with the launch of the brand new series Hellboy in Hell.  The collected first volume came out this summer and I was happy to stumble upon it at Barnes and Noble while I was looking for a map of Southern New England. The original Hellboy series ended with such a resounding "bang" that I had a little trepidation upon first opening the volume.  The new series has to start at the start and build up the action from scratch.  That sort of relaunch can kill all interest in a story.  I was glad to find (and I've just finished my third reading) that this is not the case with Hellboy in Hell: The Descent .  By now, Mignola's imagined world is so thick that it can sustain our interest even when the action slows almost to a

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.): Platypus Travels Part LIII

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...and cold hic jacets of the dead... I have loved and feared cemeteries for as long as I can remember.  I grew up surrounded by them and so some sort of reaction to their ubiquitous presence was inevitable.  While the fear has lessened to the point of being negligible, the love has grown to make them one of my favorite places.  Fortunately, my wife shares this attraction so that our summers in New England have involved numerous trips to grave yards.  Featured here is a gem I found while looking for the graves of several Sheltons in Derby .  It's a family plot, but contains only three burials that I could identify.  This is common in 19th century cemeteries: acquiring wealth gave one generation a desire for permanence but keeping wealth required the next generation to embrace mobility.  The oak sighs in Mamre, but there is no one left to bear a coffin up from Egypt. The funerary arch at the rear of the mortuary garden gives the name of the Family.  The words "come u

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.): Platypus Travels Part LII

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Lieutenant Daniel Shelton, the first of his family to settle in the town that now bears their name.  The lichen grows thick on his stone, but careful observers can still make out the name. On my father's side of the family, the Irish and Italian, we're recent immigrants; solidly 20th century.  The Rileys and Kennedys on my mother's side go back to the potato famine. The Quebecois stretch back to the 1600s, but that side also migrated to the states in the 20th century.  Much of my family's world began in the mill towns of Northern Massachusetts.  The Italians fared better opening up a diner in Hartford that was a stop-off for musicians in the Jazz Age. Our roots were shallow and therefore easy to pull up.  The family tree has fared well in new soil from California to North Carolina.  We've done well, but my heart still belongs to the little Connecticut hill town where the bones of the founding families lie thicker than glacial rock in the fields.  Some of them ar

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.): The Platypus Travels Part LI

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When I began The Platypus Travels thread, I never thought that I would reach fifty-one posts.  The Platypus of Truth was originally conceived as a sort of daily journal share-able thoughts.  Around 2007-2008, it evolved into a literary blog with The Platypus Reads taking the lion's share of each year's posts.  The share-able thoughts and the book reviews have remained, but I'm pleased to see that The Platypus of Truth as grown over the past years to include poems, academic reflections, classic gaming reviews, and now travel blogging.  If one thread doesn't appeal to you, hopefully another will. From a small seed, this blog has grown into a vast tree and every branch and leaf is dear to me. Today's post, then, is a short follow-up to this discussion of Victorian stained glass .  Specifically, I want to show you the companion piece on the west side of the church.  This window is in a more traditional style and features the Agnus Dei, or "Lamb of God".  The

The Seven Heavens of Summer Reading 2014: The Platypus Reads Part CCLXXII

Summer is dead and gone good lady; Summer's dead and gone.  The sunny season has finally given way to her more temperate cousin and that means it's time to take stock of this year's Summer Reading.  As usual on this blog, that also means that I'm handing out awards for the seven best books I've read during the break.  The awards are themed around the attributes of the seven medieval heavens in honor of C.S. Lewis and Michael Ward.  So, without further ado, here are this year's winners. Moon: The planet of madness goes to a book that nearly drove me mad:  Night Train to Lisbon .  Pascal Mercier's story of a Swiss school teacher's mid-life crisis is the sort of book that reminds you of the emperor's new clothes.  It attempts to cow you with its own pretentiousness.  That's sad, because with another round or two of merciless edits, I think it could have been a good book. Mercury:  This year's award for the planet of wordsmiths goes to one of

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.): Platypus Travels Part L

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O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing‐masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. - Sailing to Byzantium, W.B. Yates Having a Tiffany factory in town has its advantages.  There are two windows in the old Episcopal church that dominates one side of the green (the other, true to form, belongs to the Congregational church).  One of these windows (featured to the left) depicts Saint Paul, the saint after which the church is named.  We caught the image at the right time of day with the morning sun was streaming through the East windows.  It was  a weekday, and the secretary was nice enough to lend us the  key along with as much viewing time as we wanted provided that we lock up and return the key once we were done. Having had a good bit of time to view the window, then, let me

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.):The Platypus Travels Part XLIX

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Who says you can't go home? Connecticut is called "The Land of Steady Habits" both by those that inhabit it and by their neighbors.  Going back, even after sixteen or seventeen years doesn't mean that you're going to find much in the way of change.  There may be a few new houses and a few new faces, but things mostly stay in their place -the trees grow taller.  Not all change is bad, however, and it's always a delight to pop back in to a place you know and love and find that its beauty has been carefully tended and enriched.  Below, is one of my favorite places : the old library.   The town I grew up in once had a Tiffany glass factory and that factory provided a beautiful set of stained glass windows(ok, it's not actually stained glass, but a modern technique [rolled glass?] that Tiffany pioneered) for the town library.  These turn-of-the-century windows were damaged long ago and moved to the musty recesses of the attic so that I never saw them while I

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.): Platypus Travels Part XLVIII

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Major Connecticut hero, minor video game character Places can become ways of seeing things, but things can also become ways of seeing places.  I discussed this in regard to books in the previous post , but today I'd like to take a moment and extend the concept to video games. Games can also be a way of seeing.  In fact, we should expect this since video and computer games are primarily a visual medium.  An abnormally frosty morning in North Houston can be transformed for a group of teenage boys just by playing the first notes of the Skyrim theme.  Eyes light up, slack faces crack into a smile, and immediately their imaginations begin to spin.  The chill frost and bleak landscape they were complaining about a minute ago is transformed into a wide world of adventure with a wilderness of dragons.  In my youth, games like Secret of Mana   and The Legend of Zelda   colored the way I saw my surroundings.  Exploring the woods, or canoeing, or archery were all different because the

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.): Platypus Travels Part XLVII

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A way of seeing Places are a way of seeing.  They are a prism, or a lens, through which we view reality.  The places that we live in shape us just as we shape them.  As an illustration of this principle, I've posted pictures from the area where I grew up with the first quotes that came to mind when I sat down to review them.  That's not to say that they're exactly how I picture Minas Tirith, or Camelot, or Rivendell, but that my vision of each literary location takes its color from the basic images of my youth.  Now this can be seen the other way round as well.  Books have colored my sense of place.  There's an extra layer of meaning to all the towns and hamlets of rural new England because they are so "Shire-like".  The Colt Arms factory, even now that its been renovated, will always appear to me through the screen of Osgiliath.  All the Victorian Gothic follies and monuments will forever be hallowed for me by the image of the king .  Books and places.