July 2nd, 2003

bear by san


I found gravlax at the grocery store this morning. Mmmm!

(Gravlax is a Swedish smoked salmon with dill, much less salty than lox.)

And I just bought a whole bunchamo books on Kit and Will.Again. Including the edition of the sonnets recommended by truepenny. I had better sell this damned book so I can write some of this material off, is all I have to say.

All right. Time to shower, eat some sashimi, and go kill me some wordcount.
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bear by san

(no subject)

I'm amused as hell over this review of Anthony Burgess' A Dead Man in Deptford that I stumbled across which refers to Kit Marlowe as a "practicing" homosexual.

My first reaction: "You'd think if anybody would have gotten buggery perfected, it would have been Marlowe."

Leah's was better: "As opposed to a lapsed homosexual?"

We'll not even get into the silliness of attempting to assign modern Western binary gay/straight notions of sexuality to other cultures. Which reminds me. I'm having a hell of a time getting across to the modern readers who don't already know it just how close the Elizabethan ideal of male friendship and love can be without being considered sexual.

I may just have to find a way to do a little straight exposition, which in tight third pov can be a trick.

The Onion: The nation's most reliable source for news.

Hah, you think I'm kidding.
Re: My personal revamping of Shakespearean criticism: There are also two "Rival Poets." Possibly three.

I tend to think the organization of the sonnets as originally published suggests that while they were organized by theme, sonnets published side by side and numbered sequentially were not necessarily written anything like close to one another. I blame compulsive poetic quests for tidyness on the final organization.

I think some of them very definitely form an arc, as it were. But it's the grossest kind of critical laziness to assume they only form one narrative arc. I'm about the same age now that will was in 1595, just about the beginning of the peak of his career, and I can point to a *lot* of my own work that might seem to make a nice tidy story if you lined it up in the right sort of order. But. That's what editors (and self-editors) do: they make all the blood and guts and juice of a creative life look superficially tidy.
Okay, had a nap and may now attempt food and to expand on the whimpering, cringing little 250 words I got this morning. Ew, I feel like ech.
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