Does anybody know what these scary creatures are called? They abound here but I have no idea what they are. I managed to overcome my terror of them and came up close enough to take a picture. Apparently, they have no fear whatsoever of people.
This is my favorite cocktail they serve here: raspberry mint lemonade. It’s like a non-alcoholic mojito. We are improving the image of Russian-speakers everywhere by showing very scarce interest towards alcohol.
When I first started dating a Russian person, a friend of mine asked me what he drank.
“He never drinks alcohol,” I said.
“Oh, I get it, he’s in AA,” my friend immediately responded. The idea of a Russian person who doesn’t drink simply because he doesn’t feel like it was alien to him.
Since today N. and I are celebrating our anniversary, I want to share one of many funny stories that happened to us over the years.
Once, we went to Chicago for a conference in N.’s car. A valet met us at the hotel’s doors.
“Are you staying with us?” he inquired.
“Yes, we are here for a one-night stand,” N. announced brightly.
He meant a one-night stay, of course.
I was leafing through Kindle Sunshine Deals and was surprised to discover how many sequels, prequels and rewritings of Jane Austen’s middling-quality novel Pride and Prejudice keep appearing on a regular basis. This author has written much better stuff, but it’s Pride and Prejudice that keeps getting rewritten and filmed obsessively. Can anybody explain this to me? The whole point of the book is that an intelligent, sensitive woman falls in love with a man she used to detest after she gets to see his big, beautiful, impressive, huge, desirable. . . house. What’s so inspiring about that?
I love Jane Austen but this particular novel always made me cringe because of the sheer shamelessness of the female protagonist who just sells herself so easily and unapologetically.
It is always sad to see how a writer who has lost his creative powers is trying to revive interest towards himself through unintelligent and outrageous statements. V.S. Naipaul, a brilliant writer who is, sadly, long past his artistic prime, is attempting to attract people’s attention by making nasty statements about female writers:
This time around, his target is the woman writer, a species whose work and “narrow” concerns, he says, is “unequal to me.” During an interview at the Royal Geographic Society earlier this week, he singled out Jane Austen for a Naipaulian drubbing, claiming that he “couldn’t possibly share her sentimental ambitions, her sentimental sense of the world.” He can read a paragraph of text and “know whether it is by a woman or not,” since “inevitably for a woman, she is not a complete master of a house, so that comes over in her writing too.”
It makes me cringe in vicarious shame to see a talented author make such a fool of himself.
Thank you, KT, for sending me the link to this article.
OK, this is seriously scary. We are on the 16th floor (and what a relief to leave the one-storey America behind for a while). So I went out to the balcony to admire the view.
A big sea-gull was passing by but when it saw me, it literally stopped in the air. For what felt like a full minute, the sea-gull stayed almost motionless in the air, observing me with a curious, round eye. I was so unprepared for this that I didn’t even take a photo of the whole thing for my blog. The face of a bird in flight is truly worth observing.
I’ve heard of people who look so good, they stop the traffic. Have you ever heard, however, of people whose appearance (on a balcony) can stop birds in mid-flight?
I’ve only been blogging at WordPress for 2 weeks and there has already been over 100 spam comments. I experienced nothing similar on Blogger. Does anybody know if there is a reason for that? WordPress is great at catching spammers, but I’m just curious.
As much as I was looking forward to reading José Penalva’s Corruption in the University, I have to admit that the author chose the worst possible manner to address the important issues of nepotism, corruption and harassment that exist in the system of higher education in Spain. For one, Penalva chose to write a novel (or something approximating it.) He might be a brilliant researcher in his field (which is Pedagogy), but a writer he is not. The first person present-tense narrative by a fictional young scholar José Montag alternates between short, choppy statements and long convoluted sentences where Latin expressions exist side by side with Sancho Panza-style proverbs. The author’s writing style relies on repetitions to the extent where the reader begins to wonder how much of the text was simply copy-pasted. To give an example, the narrator mentions that he “didn’t want to take off his pants” (meaning he didn’t want to be humiliated by his colleagues) so many times that I was practically ready to howl every time I encountered this phrase yet again.
Penalva makes the book even less endearing to the reader by his insistent references to Don Quijote. The novel’s narrator obviously sees himself as some kind of a Quixotic figure and even uses the famous opening sentence of Cervantes’s masterpiece as the first sentence of his story. An author whose writing is so poor from the aesthetic point of view and who lacks a realistic vision of himself to the degree where he would compare himself to Cervantes is not to be trusted in terms of the message he is trying to communicate about the system of higher ed.
Penalva’s protagonist is as lacking in social skills as he is in being capable of seeing his own actions with any degree of self-criticism. I’m not extremely good at interpersonal communication myself, but even I know enough not to tell my dissertation committee during the process of my defense that the committee members are to blame for Franco’s dictatorship since they lived under Franco and did nothing to fight him. It is also pretty clear to everybody but Penalva’s character that it might not be the best idea in the world to tell the scholar you want to be your thesis advisor that all you want from him is his signature on the dissertation form and that you have no interest in being directed by him in any way.
The book’s protagonist dislikes absolutely everybody he encounters. Colleagues, administrators, undergrads, graduate students, union members, judges, lawyers, journalists, politicians, and secretaries are all profoundly evil creatures who conspire to persecute this brilliant young academic.
The protagonist insists that he is the only one who actually does any work at the entire department of Pedagogy. He is also the only faculty member ever to visit the library, which he does while the evil colleagues meet in secret to conspire against him. Even a former professor who works for a different university and his own lawyers betray José.
Don’t get me wrong, I have no doubt that corruption is rampant in the Spanish system of higher ed. However, I find it extremely hard to believe that every single person at a university – except for one persecuted academic – can really be an irredeemable villain. As my professor used to say, “If it seems to you that everybody else in the room is a complete idiot, there is probably just one idiot in that room. And that’s you.”
In the Prologue that Penalva writes under his own name, he indicates that the reason why he was subjected to harassment at his university in Spain is that his vision of his field is so innovative that other academics find it difficult to accept it. He fails, however, to explain what it is that his approach to Pedagogy entails. I am not completely alien to this discipline and I believe that I would have been able to understand Penalva’s insights into Pedagogy had he managed to transmit them with any degree of clarity. His failure to do so makes his claims of professional and scholarly superiority suspect.
When I first heard of this book, I was hoping that finally somebody had written a fact-based study of corruption in Spanish system of higher ed. We all know that such book is sorely needed. Unfortunately, Penalva’s Corrupción en la Universidad is so poorly structured and badly written that it sounds like a 200-page rant of a person who is so rigid, unbending and lacking in self-awareness that he manages to make enemies wherever he goes.
My heart goes out to a fellow academic who obviously endured some pretty vicious harassment at his university. (Even though I find it difficult to believe that academics who want to get you out of their department are truly likely to resort to death threats.) However, the way he chose to denounce the injustices done to him is simply counter-productive. Penalva’s alter ego José Montag keeps repeating that there will be a sequel to this book. In that sequel, we will supposedly find factual proof of the harassment he suffered. It remains unclear whose harassment the narrator means: the fictional one he experienced in the novel or the real one suffered by Penalva. I don’t think that the readers of the first book in what promises to be a series will care enough to want to find out.