Thesis Update: Midpoint Revelations on The Prisoner

Thesis Updates

One week ago tomorrow, I turned in the half completed portion of my thesis (which will probably end up meaning its but a third completed, as I have a lot I still wish to discuss).

A huge relief in passing the thing in. I’ll have roughly a month before jumping back in, but during that month I’ll be rewatching The Prisoner, either for fun or actually picking out arguments for the thesis, along with writing up an appendix with brief descriptions of each episode. Why? Well, its a cult show. I think probably about 7 people on my entire campus have seen it start to finish, and that’s a liberal guess. Unfortunately, if I say I’m writing about The Prisoner, if someone’s heard of it, they assume its the remake. No no no.

I’ve learned three things while writing this first half (all of which can be named with the letter “P”):

Planning

I’m not generally a fly by the seat of my pants person when it comes to writing papers. I need to gather data, make outlines (of a sort) and need an idea before I can really start working.

Persistence

Ah, the essay known as “The Essay of a Thousand Directions.” Each time I met with my supervisor, I had a different topic in mind. “I’ll do a character study of Number 6 using Cambell’s The Hero With a Thousand Faces! Oh, I’ll look at the stifling of individuality in The Village! The presentation of The Village as a prison! Ooh! Ooh! New shiny topic! So many topics my supervisor suggested I just write my doctoral dissertation on this…(not going for my doctorate at this time…)

Well, while reading sources and brainstorming, I persisted in my quest to come up with an original topic. Though not my entire paper, I’m looking into the perversion of childhood signs in the show.

For next semester, I’m keeping on target, working hard and finishing this paper up.

Passion

Roughly seven months into this project, and I still enjoy working on it. I still love The Prisoner. I’m happily devoted to this project. It interests me and continues to hold my interest. That, and I care deeply about writing it well.

My friends see this project as bordering on obsessive. So what if it is? It’s fun.

 

Here’s to the upcoming semester. May it be fruitful! And may Christmas break be restful. 🙂

Reading Derrida for the first time…

Nerds Have More Fun

Is akin to watching “Fall Out,” (the final episode in The Prisoner. It blows your mind.
However, unlike “Fall Out,” Derrida lacks two important things:
Cathartic release.
Patrick McGoohan.

This is why I should not be reading theory early in the morning. I’m not even reading Derrida right now–I’m reading Althusser and Zizek. But Zizek’s the man, so its okay.

 

(C) Beth

Potter, Potter Everywhere…

Nerds Have More Fun

Well, as the entire world knows, Part 1 of the Seventh Harry Potter movie was released over two weeks ago.

Here’s one Potter fan who hasn’t seen it.

Why?

Well, its a pretty simple reason. I was in New York City opening weekend, and like hell am I going to see a movie when I’m being a tourist. That, and Thanksgiving was way too short. Not enough hours to accomplish what I needed to.

So Potter slipped by the wayside. It’s been over two weeks since it was released…

Now, I love movies. I could watch them and discuss them and digest them til the cows came home (and probably after). I enjoy going to the movies.  But I can’t see spending $11 to be entertained for a couple of hours. I’d rather go out with friends, or even stay in with friends.

And at this point, pretty much everyone on the face of the planet has seen it who wants to. I don’t like going to the movies alone (because I am a movie commentator. Feel free to chuck popcorn at me. I need to make comments).

So…eh. I might. I might not. I’m kind of Pottered out. ABC Family is having yet ANOTHER Harry Potter weekend. Harry’s all over the city on posters and such. Too much Potter.

I really want to see HP7 part 1 because of the Three Brothers portion. I’ve heard its amazing.

Happy Deathday, Mr Dahl

The Twirl and Swirl of Letters
Roald Dahl

From Wikipedia. Photograph by Carl Van Vechten

Roald Dahl died 20 years ago today, 23 November 1990.

What can I say about one of my favorite writers that hasn’t been said before?

Roald Dahl, the writer who continues to weave his way through my life. As a child, I loved his books. I wanted powers like Matilda’s. I loved the story of the BFG. My sister had a Book On Tape of it, and we listened to that story on car rides to visit my grandparents or on family vacations. In elementary school, we read James and the Giant Peach during a very long fire drill. As a young child, I read Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator first, and never forgot those Vermicious Knids.

But then I hit that barren wasteland of middle school, where it was no longer cool to love his books. They were kids’ stuff, to be regulated to a far corner, to the back of our minds, to be remembered fondly but never admitted.

High School brought a return to the awesome. My prom theme was Golden Ticket, styled after the Gene Wilder movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, complete with golden tickets, candy everywhere, and a (fake) chocolate waterfall. But still, I ignored the books.

Cue sophomore year of college. My roommate, the fantastic Holmes, got a copy of a collection of his adult short stories. She made me read “Genesis and Catastrophe”. I was hooked on the way my stomach felt after reading that story. I began to read more, to crave more. “Lamb to the Slaughter” introduced me to Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and the story “Beware of the Dog” brought me to 36 Hours (a really good thriller).

Through it, I read a book called The Irregulars, about Dahl’s time as a spy during WWII, which subsequently kicked off my interest in the RAF (or may have just helped to spawn it, I’m really unsure of how that came to be).

I’ve read most of his adult stories by this point. When I travel, I bring Over to You, a collection of his RAF stories, with me. It’s a slim book, perfect for sticking into a computer bag. I want to read My Uncle Oswald, a novel about his delightfully devious character of the same name.

Recently, Holmes and I have started rereading some of his children’s books. We recently finished Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I never realized how delightful of a morality play it is. The evil children all meet their very fitting ends, all receive their punishments in accordance to their crimes. Its delightful how twisted the tale is. In rewatching the Gene Wilder movie, we realized how much it distorts the story, how it takes away from Charlie being such a deserving character. In the movie, he misbehaves as the other children do. And Grandpa Joe is such a bad influence in the movie.

Dahl’s wicked sense of humor appeals to all ages, from the child looking for a creepy bedtime story, to the adult looking for a good gut-twisting story. There’s a magic to his work, an appeal that transcends ages.

In honor of Mr Dahl, I shall be eating chocolate today (a favorite food of his, in fact, he allegedly was buried with some), and reading a portion of Over to You.

Read one of his short stories today. I promise that you won’t be disappointed.

Here’s to many more years enjoying Roald Dahl’s stories, the fantastic, the strange, the heartbreaking, the wicked.

Trekking to the City that Never Sleeps

American Adventures

One thing that I miss about Italy is being able to jump on a train and go somewhere. Sure, I can still do that here (kind of), wandering about Boston, but I miss those days of looking to my friends and saying, “Let’s go to Cortona this weekend.”

After much planning, I’m headed to New York City for the third time in my life (criminal). Sadly, I’ll only be in the City for one day, but it will be for an amazing reason.

My favorite entirely living band, The Frames, is on tour for their 20th anniversary. As they don’t have a Boston stop, I convinced a couple of friends to head into New York with me. It really didn’t take too much arm twisting.

So, to New York City we are headed.

 

The Joy of the Small Things in Life

The Twirl and Swirl of Letters

On October 25, I attended a lecture given by Alexander McCall Smith at the Boston Public Library.

McCall Smith is my favorite living writer, so the opportunity to hear him speak was an amazing opportunity. Apparently he was supposed to speak at the BPL last Spring, but the Volcano Incident kept him in Europe. All the better for me, as I was in Italy and would have been unable to attend the lecture.

His lecture was a funny, touching one, like his books. His main point was one quite close to me, a person on the brink of great wide world: find the joy in the little things in life. It isn’t the great, massive things that ultimately matter. It isn’t the grand adventures that we set out on, not the jobs we hold or how much we make (but I’m sure this helps), rather, it’s those moments of laughter, of friendship, of joy that create our lives. When I look back on my life, while I have had bright, brilliant memories, its those little moments of elation: I don’t remember why we laughing, only that we were, that we were having fun. That we enjoyed ourselves.

It isn’t the drama. It isn’t the news that defines our world, though it certainly impacts us. It’s the people we know and how we spend time with them. It’s that kind hello, that sweet smile. The invitation for a walk, the hug from a friend. That’s what our life is.

These ideas, the idea of friendship, of warmth, of love, are throughout his serial works, from The Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency series to 44 Scotland Street. That’s why I love them so much. You care for them, even the ones you didn’t like as much (Bertie’s mother the terrible Irene is one).

The highlights of the evening:

After the lecture, there was a brief question and answer session. I tentatively raised my hand, a thousand questions whirling about. I didn’t expect that I would be picked.

I blanked.

Somehow my mouth managed to say, “Do you laugh while writing your books?”

His response: “Yes. Sometimes my wife knocks on the door and asks me what’s so funny.”

He then recounted a scene in the forthcoming 44 Scotland Street book The Importance of Being Seven, where Bertie meets a boy who collects penknives.

That had me on cloud nine. Seeing my favorite author speak, his answering my question…and a book signing to follow.

Cue waiting in line. There, I chatted with those around me about Alexander McCall Smith’s books, travel and art.

Soon enough, it was my turn to speak briefly with Mr McCall Smith. We spoke no more than a minute or so, in which I thanked him for the speech and answering my question. I told him that his books made me happy and were an inspiration to me as a writer. He inquired about my work, and after I said I had written a novel that “wasn’t terribly good,” he said just to move on to the next one. Simple advice.

It was a pretty awesome night.

I’m still on cloud nine.