Why Do People Like Pride and Prejudice So Much?

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.

Naipaul Is Slipping

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.

What Is Alligator Made Of?

I have a really stupid question. This appetizer you can see on the photo here is called “Florida Alligator Bites.” And it tastes quite good, too. But it can’t be made of actual alligator, right? The meat is very tender and light-colored.

Does anybody know what the alligator is made of?

Curious Sea-gull

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?

Why Does WordPress Attract More Spammers Than Blogger?

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.

José Penalva’s Corruption in the University (Corrupción en la Universidad): A Review

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.

The Mother of the “Genderless Baby” Keeps Fanning the Flames

I’m not one of those people who pretends to hate saying “I told you so.” I love it. So here it is: I told you that the parents of the so-called “genderless baby”* were shameless attention seekers. I was completely right, as evidenced by the fact that the baby’s mother has now regaled us with an article filled with a string of inanities as to how color preferences and dress choices in small children have something to do with gender. Or sex. Or something else that is unidentified but still vaguely threatening. Crowds of people buy pink clothes for little boys and let them grow their hair out. Very few, however, manage to make such a huge deal out of it.

I am shocked by the hypocrisy of a person who first sticks a newborn in front of the cameras, then does everything she can to keep the story alive, and in the end has the gall to congratulate herself on declining to be interviewed. Of course, who needs to answer questions when you can just offer monologues instead. I have strong suspicion that we will soon see a book on “genderless” upbringing of infants touted on Oprah or whatever show is scheduled to substitute it.

* A ridiculous linguistic construction that ignores the basics of psychology. All babies are “genderless” and, as even very ignorant people know, gender identifications are only formed by the age of 3.

Ohio Professors Nurture Ukraine

University Diaries somehow manages to find the best quotes ever. Look at this excerpt from an article about Ohio State University:

Our faculty are discovering new star systems, nurturing democratic processes in the Ukraine, and unraveling the link between emotional stress and disease.

With all due respect to Ohio State, condescending much? What if Kharkov State University, my university in Ukraine, published a release stating that its faculty members are “nurturing democratic processes in the US”, huh? Would that sound like a normal statement to make? And if you don’t see why it is completely ridiculous to make such statements, you should keep as far as possible from Ukraine. And, hopefully, everybody else.

My Ukrainian Relatives and Friends

On July 4, I will celebrate 13 years since, at the age of 22, I left my country forever. Since then, I never went back for a visit. After my grandfather died five years ago, I haven’t made a single call to Ukraine. Today, I read this fascinating and touching post by Spanish prof (false modesty aside, I actually suggested that it be written) and started thinking about why I have no relationship with any of my Ukrainian relatives and friends (except those who also emigrated.)

Back in the Soviet Union, everybody who tried to leave the country was considered a traitor, was persecuted and abused. Those who managed to leave were not allowed to keep in touch with those who remained. As a result, emigrating was pretty much like dying. You go away, and nobody hears from you ever again. The Soviet Union fell apart, but this attitude towards people who emigrate remained. I discovered it when I received my immigrant visa to Canada and came to my university to share the news with my friends and classmates. The second they saw me, they turned away and pretended I wasn’t there. The experience of being ignored like this by people who, for years, were your bosom buddies is not pleasant.

Then, one of those bosom buddies stole my money and said, “Well, you are leaving anyways” in explanation.

A professor – who used to like me the entire time I was at the university and who used to call me “our department’s star” – yelled that I was a traitor and that she would do everything in her power to destroy my life.

The only friend who did come to say good-bye to me and cried and hugged me was the one who was about to emigrate as well. She now lives in Baltimore and we are still in touch. (Hey, Lenchik!) Other close friends told me they were too busy to meet and say good-bye.

So I never went back. My parents, sister and aunt have visited Ukraine since we emigrated.

My mother went to visit her best friend of many decades. She brought gifts that she had chosen with care and love to suit the preferences of each family member. I saw her run from store to store for weeks trying to find the best gifts possible for the friend she loves so much. The best friend looked at the gifts, put them all back in the bag, handed it to my mother and said, “I’d rather you take your gifts back and give me their value in money.” (In case you think these people are starving or anything like that, you couldn’t be more mistaken.)

My aunt went to meet her nephew whom she babysat and adored when he was a kid. The nephew charged her for the gas he “wasted” on coming to meet her. Her niece stole her money to buy gifts for her boyfriend.

One of my aunts who remained in Ukraine stole the jewelry that had been in my father’s family for over 100 years (my father, mind you, is not related to her except by marriage) and destroyed a suitcase filled with photos of his ancestors, their records, and sentimental souvenirs. This is the aunt whom my parents helped out financially (a lot) for decades.

There are other things but they are too painful to write about at this particular moment. Please don’t think that we somehow managed to end up with a particularly vicious group of relatives and friends. The few times I tried participating in Russian-speaking blogs (run by complete strangers) I always was told that nobody had any interest in talking to a person who’d emigrated.

If I were to go to Ukraine right now, it would be like going to Greece or New Zealand, places where I don’t know anybody and would be completely alone. At least, in Greece and New Zealand I can hope to get in touch with people who read my blog and be welcomed by them. In Ukraine, I’d be completely isolated.

This was supposed to be a post on friendships but it somehow ended up being quite depressive. I will write the second part of the post later and I promise that it will be about my positive experiences with friendship.