Forming a final connection...

As I conducted my research this semester, I began by searching a broad variety of periodicals and presenting on the article that interested me the most that specific day. I did not have a plan so to speak; rather, I freely explored a variety of periodicals, articles, topics, etc. with minimal attention to creating a unified thread over the course of the semester. However, I did begin to focus mid-to-late semester, as I realized that I was drawn to searching within a rural/farmer/agriculture context. By beginning my search broadly, my focus developed holistically if you will, and though I enjoyed my random searches in the beginning of the semester, I became more intrigued to see what was out there in my new narrowed focus and specifically, in the specific periodical that I chose to explore.

In November, I began to focus on searching under "farmer" in addition to the various other search terms for each week. On November 1st, our search terms were "execution[s], murderer[s], robbers, thieves, and highwaymen." I chose to search broadly - not limiting to a specific periodical at this point - under "farmer" and "highwaymen." I found an article titled, "Boy and Highwayman," in The Atheneum; or, Spirit of the English Magazines (1817-1833) and dated Aug 1, 1821. "Boy and Highwayman" is a brief account of a young boy who sold a cow and was on the way back home with his profit. He was overtaken by a highwayman, but being a quick and swift young fellow, the boy threw the money up in the air, and as the highwayman was attempting to gather the cash, the boy grabbed the highwayman's horse and took off for home. The story gets even better when the boy gets home and realizes that "there were found twelve pounds in cash, and two loaded pistols. The horse was also valuable." Though this is a brief account, the author clearly relates the message that the highwayman got what was coming to him. There is also an interesting point here that though it seemed to be okay that the boy stole the highwayman's property, it was not okay that the highwayman attempted to rob the boy. Perhaps theft is only acceptable if it is against the antagonist of the story?

On November 15th, I searched under "rural" and "miracles." At this point, I had narrowed down my target periodical, The Rural Magazine and Literary Evening Fire - Side (1820-1820), and I was quite surprised to actually find an article from June 1, 1820 that included both of these terms, given that this magazine only ran for a single year. In complete disclosure, though, the article only included "miracles" and "rural" was in the title of the magazine. This article, however, is my absolute favorite of the entire semester. Titled, "A curious phenomenon," the article presents a story about a young preacher's wife who had twins, and due to her nervous condition, could not nurse both of the babies. So, the grandmother - the new mother's mother, if that makes more sense - prayed for a miracle that she would be able to nurse one of the babies. Yes, this story seems as though it is straight out of the Old Testament. Her prayers were answered, and she nursed one of the babies for her daughter for over a year, traveling with the child to tell of the wonders wherever she went and "giving her friends ocular demonstration of the lactiferous miracle." The last sentence of this story makes the whole article! There seem to be many points of extraction here, primarily the presence or account of a divine miracle, the role of women as nurturers and caregivers, the mental state of new mothers, and perhaps even the resurgence of females values and responsibilities in this 1820's context. How interesting it is to think about this simple story as a representation of the very roles and responsibilities of women inside the home beginning again in this decade. Well, that and the lactiferous miracle!

Finally, in the same periodical, The Rural Magazine and Literary Evening Fire - Side (1820-1820) I searched under "liberty" for our November 22nd search term. I gave up the continual search under "farmer," as I limited my search enough given my focus on a periodical that had a broad appeal to the rural and that satisfied my initial focus on specific search terms. In the May 1st publication, I found an article, "Sentiments of an Old Soldier," that takes on a very different focus on liberty than I was expecting. I anticipated finding an article that promoted republican values, highlighted the fight for liberty, and appealed to these core American values; however, the article that I found does exactly the opposite. The writer appeals to parents - probably the obvious readers - to prevent their children from joining the military, to oppose war and the horrors that it entails, and to preserve peace and virtue of the new republic. Sparing no words, the writer claims that he was "dupe my whole life," seduced by the seductions of the plume and the sword," establishing his ethos as a veteran of what we can assume was the Revolutionary War. Interestingly, the focus towards the end of the article suggests that the writer is writing about a conflict between the states: "these states should stop and reflect before it is too late. We have escaped from one war with a crippled constitution; the next will probably destroy it; therefore, let the motto of the state be - PEACE." I can assume that the writer is alluding to the conflict over slavery and the growing division between the North and South, and this warning is interesting, as the writer is appealing to parents at the beginning but states at the end. Is there something to be said about voting here? Perhaps there is an appeal to citizenship and personal involvement in the state's actions? I hesitate to proceed further in my assumptions without additional research, but this is certainly an interesting connection that deserves a thorough exploration.

What did I find this semester? I found my focus, and as I pour through the pages researching for my periodical presentation, I realize that I really enjoy looking at articles that no one else might find remotely interesting in an magazine that had a limited run and appealed to a small audience. I began this search without an idea of where I was going, but I am actually quite please with what I found and what I want to continue exploring.

11/22 Response

Though the reading on novels was not lengthy, I found myself taking a bit of time to get through the brief eight pages. Yes, the material was fairly familiar; it was challenging to be a novelist in the early republic, and it was only around the mid-nineteenth century when technology propelled the ease of publication and distribution that novels and works of fiction increased and were more accessible. This was not new news to me.  What was intriguing to me in this chapter is the exploration of female susceptibility and the fear of female reader response as created and promoted by novels during this era. The novel was considered "dangerous to society" but why (444)? If the readership was primarily female and if the novels, like sentimental literature attempted to "teach by a negative example," (444) then this implies the potential susceptibility that women during this era had and the need to control what they read and how they read it in order to contain the accepted roles of women in the home and in a larger context, in society (445).

I have read Charlotte Temple and Weiland, and my previous attention has been on the role of the characters and the exploration of sentimental fiction in both texts.  However, I am now prompted to reread looking primarily at the reader response and the potential PR spinning, so to speak, that was necessary to convince readers how not to behave. For to convince readers of what not to do implies that reader - women in particular - could have choices in how to act, think, or behave and that there was a need to reign in this impressionable readership. This is powerful, for it implies that women did have potential agency during this time, though there was a need to control and manipulate what was appropriate behavior. If nothing else, the early novel worked to express cautionary tales, which fundamentally allowed women to experience and reject behaviors that would be deemed inappropriate or unconventional.

Barnes makes a valuable point that, "impressionable women readers represented a potentially seducible American citizenry;" thus, there is a larger context at play here, specifically in how Americans began to recognize their own national identity and the need to contain or mold this perception (445). Perhaps, as Barnes' suggests, women were only a representation of the larger influential American population during these early years of establishing a national identity. Perhaps, in a way all Americans were easily influenced in this time period, as there was a recognition of what they weren't (English) but not yet a firm understanding of what they were (Americans). In this way, observing female readership of the novel provides a nice analogy for observing the larger citizenry as a whole and the influential nature of this time period. This was the time for agency, but as we saw in previous readings this semester and as represented by the female readers in this chapter, there was a need/desire/power struggle to compose a new identity and to conform a vast citizenship into Americans. Just as important, though, is observing and analyzing these readers as having potential choices to some degree.

I have to wonder though if we aren't in some way still experiencing this struggle to establish ourselves in whatever "American" context we so choose as print and media publications attempt to guide us to identifying in certain ways that reinforce traditional or accepted roles, especially as women, but as the "Novels" chapter shows, women are only a representation here of a larger social body. As Thanksgiving approaches, we are bombarded with material influencing us to uphold the traditions so carefully established and upheld by a hegemonic power. Yes, I've been just waiting to insert that here, but I have not the time nor the energy to detail what/who I think this power is. I just saw Martha on TV explaining how to create the perfect Thanksgiving dinner, and while I plan to enjoy this holiday, and I appreciate a day devoted, or in least in my family, to celebrating family and giving thanks for our blessings, I have to question how far we've actually come in being influenced to continue to create and uphold an identity uniquely "American." Food for thought, or is that too corny of a term given this holiday season? :)

Side note: Though The Power of Sympathy; or, The Triumph of Nature "failed miserably" in the late eighteenth century, I have just added it to my "to read" list, provided that it is still in print. Nothing says fun Christmas reading like a half-brother and half-sister planning to marry and then dying of humiliation, especially if it was based (or partially based) on a true story!

11/15 Response

Since Jen and I are presenting on "Women Writing in the Early Republic" tonight, I hate to give too many thoughts/questions away ahead of time.  However, I'll spare a section about today's reading that really made me ponder my whole view of women's writing during this time.  I will admit that I have often thought of women's writing as totally under the sphere of domesticity during this era.  Perhaps more specific, I generalized my view of "this era" as a mainly nineteenth-century approach, where women were the "nation's moral axis" (366) and where women were limited to "domestic agendas and subject matter" (374).  I suppose that this is a result of my focused attention on nineteenth century works and writers; however, after reading and pondering on Dobson and Zagarell's chapter, I now realize that I have paid minimal attention to the role of women in the eighteenth century, specifically in the role that they played in establishing this new national identity.

Yes, I have heard of Warren, Morton, and Murray, and I have read Wollstonecraft - different subject matter and continent but still prevalent for an eighteenth century discussion - but I had not realized the Enlightenment principles that these women embraced and the role of their writing - I'm speaking of American women writers here - in the creation of a national identity.  These women had a unique role through print, as they had a voice in letters, poetry, essays, education treaties, histories, novels, and plays (367) and post-revolution, their writing ventured to politics, history, religion, and the concept of new nationhood (369).  To assume - as many people might - that women writers were confined to the domestic realm during this time period is to overlook their influence through print on a vast number of cultural and political issues, as these women were addressing content that is considered public and male-dominated.  Moreover, the very fact women began to acknowledge themselves as writers (369) suggests an important shift in this era of the new republic, as women are able to participate through print in a way that makes them not only a participant in the conversation of social and public matters but as creators of discourse about these subjects.

As I am now self-reflecting on this material, I realize that I had yet to connect my understanding of works like "On the Equality of the Sexes" in relation to the role that women were also playing in the new republic.  Somehow, we tend - I understand I am generalizing here - to focus on the fight for women's rights and the realm of domesticity, while skipping over the role that women did have in print during the early years of the new republic.  Yes, I do think it is important to talk about the lack of female agency in the public domain; however, if we solely focus on the domestic sphere of the nineteenth century, then we are overlooking an important aspect of the role of women in print culture before the 1830's, though Harriet Beecher Stowe and Harriet Jacobs clearly found a way to continue to contribute even past the 1830's landmark.  I now realize that I have gone on more than I intended, but I just find it fascinating that I have missed this crucial period up until this point.  And, because apparently I just cannot stop writing now, I think there is much to be said about the role that female editors played in defining the role of female authorship in the 1820's; however, I will save comments on that for our class discussion.

11/8 Response

I must admit that it took me quite a long time to read for today.  Though the chapter was brief, I found myself taking my time, marking up my book, and pondering on each paragraph.  Granted, this was quite productive, as I have focused much of my attention in the past on the idea of womanhood, not manhood.  Perhaps I am admitting my ignorance here, but I will spend more time thinking about and reflecting on my own womanhood/wifehood/motherhood/etc.  I suppose my attention to the role of the female in the private and public sphere bears a direct relation to my own gender, and my need to connect or relate to the forerunners of my sex.  However, this chapter certainly made me stop and think about the men writing in the early republic, especially in terms of their need to establish themselves as men of a new country. 

I found it interesting that in the early years (1790-1840), men crossed the gender line, using pseudonyms for their writing (350).  It is fairly easy to understand the rational behind this.  These early writers were still attached – though increasingly distancing – to their heritage from England.  At this point, authorship was related to a “gentlemanly leisure, distanced from the commerce, conflicts, and profits that secured the social position of many members of the post-revolutionary elite” (351).  At this point, writers are still – though I am generalizing here – holding on to this idea of the “gentleman” writer, the notion that to put one’s name on a work was to vulgarize the text and commit the lowest of offenses for a man of the genteel class.  Though this is not the idea of authorship that we associate with, it makes sense that using a pseudonym would have been the proper way to approach writing.  It is, after all, what they understood as appropriate from their European past.

However, men began to distance themselves from the English tradition of genteel authorship, as they began to conceptualize what exactly it meant to be an American man.  While the majority of my interest has been on womanhood, the thought that men now had to situate themselves in a new country, in a new role, in a new society completely unfamiliar with their past certainly deserves attention.  Moreover, the very definition of authorship changed with, or as a result, of this increasing movement to define the American man.  One of my favorite literary characters is Natty Bumppo, but how did a man/character like this emerge?  How did this representation of an American man like Natty Bumppo – wild and competent in the wilderness – develop?  How did the American man evolve from genteel heritage to the wilderness? 

I do realize that I began talking about authorship, and I have now transitioned to the conceptualization and evolution of the American man as represented by a literary character.  However, I think that there is a direct connection here; though, I will surely not get this all fleshed out in this one blog post.  What did it mean to be a successful author in America?  What did it mean to be a successful man as well?  How do we define this?  How do we evaluate it?  I have no answers, just rampant curiosity at the moment.  Fear not; I am not abandoning my interest in women’s studies, especially as I am presenting with Jen next week on “Women Writing in the Early Republic.” But, I do think that I have a new interest here as well.

11/1 Response

I must admit that I am a bit agitated with Andie Tucher's chapter in A History of the Book in America, primarily due to the brief section on the country press.  Perhaps my main complaint is as simple as I disagree with the writer's slant that is evident in Tucher's rhetorical choices.  To me, it seems as though Tucher has little appreciation for the expansion of the country press and the purpose that they served.  I thought that this section was really going to highlight the role of the press in localized regions - as our past readings have - especially when Tucher begins with a quote from Daniel Webster, which stresses that knowledge during this time has "triumphed, and is triumphing over distance" (395).  At this point, the chapter seems to be off to a positive start!

That positivity does not last long however, as in the next sentence, Tucher states: "Yet, grand ideas aside, most of the ragamuffin little country papers lived so close to the edge of disaster that mere survival was often their most pressing concern" (395).  Well, yes, it may be a vital point that rural papers had a difficult time surviving; however, the urban vs. rural importance or privileging here is evident in his use of "ragamuffin" and "little" to describe the small, rural press.  I am not arguing his point that survival was difficult for the small, rural press, but it is off-putting to read such obvious preference to the large, urban presses.  This is especially apparent just a few pages over where Tucher refers to the "exemplary Harvard men" who edited New England publications.

Moreover, instead of focusing on the positive aspects of the rural press, of the great strides in the desire to print and distribute information - whatever type it may be - to the public, Tucher chooses to focus on what the printers did wrong and how it did not work.  Using the example of a printer from Kentucky who produced a "skimpy" first issue, Tucher focuses on the printer's ignorance rather than explaining why there might have even been a need to start this publication.  Surely there is more to this story than just a single focus on ignorance!  As a reader, I would appreciate more depth in this section on the country papers, instead of a heavy-handed and overt writer's preference for the larger, more metropolitan areas.  The country papers may have had their difficulties, but in my opinion, this small section just did not do them justice.

Chasing rabbits

Okay, I am admitting in full disclosure that I am chasing rabbits today.  (Literally squirrels in my backyard - saving them from my fierce Shih Tzus - but rabbits in theory!)  As I read the selection for today, I immediately began connecting with the common man, the average farmer who for the first time saw an opportunity for social improvement.  I have no focus for this post other than highlighting the various points in Brown's chapter that made me stop and reflect on the empowerment the print provided:

1)  The Appalachian region:  For the first time this semester - or the first time that it caught my attention - a writer mentioned the Appalachian region.  Yes, we've had some coverage of the South (minimal, Carrie, I know!), but the Appalachian region has gone fairly unexplored.  There is rich history in this area, and though the region may be more known for its backwoods/moonshine/anything-else-derogatory, Brown makes the point that "printers and booksellers became familiar figures" the Appalachian periphery (60).  Of course, we only get one sentence, but I appreciate the mention.  Especially as it leaves the implication that people in this region were become literate and self-educating, as printers and booksellers could only be "familiar figures" if people were seeking their products.  I remember reading something about print culture in The Journal of Appalachian Studies, however, I cannot find the article for the life of me today.  Of course I wouldn't be able to find it when I needed it!

2)  In conjunction with my fondness for the Appalachian region, I have a soft spot in my heart for the common man, especially the rural farmer/rancher, and it doesn't take a Freudian analysis to figure out why I am so interested in this (I grew up on a ranch).  As Brown briefly explored Paine's Common Sense, I took note of the rhetoric Brown used to describe Paine's discourse: "blunt message," "blunt language," "familiar vocabulary," "homespun illustrations," and "vernacular language" (65).  In taken in isolation, this rhetorical analysis may sound derogatory; however, Brown makes it clear that Paine was quite effective in his writing, as it was this type of rhetoric that reached such a broad audience, especially those (like the commoner) outside of traditional, genteel readership.  Common Sense "dwarfed the sales of 'Farmer's Letters'" - a publication written in the "persona of a 'farmer,'" yet clearly composed by a gentleman - primarily due to its ability to relate to the average reader (65).  It has been years since I have read Common Sense, but I am now encouraged to read it once again.  And, I am going to locate (if possible) and read "Farmer's Letters" in order to have a better understanding of John Dickinson's writing.  I haven't hear of him/his work before, so I am now specifically focused on comparing the two texts, since Brown clearly juxtaposed them in the same paragraph.

3)  Along with Dickinson, I highlighted a variety of individuals that I found interesting in Brown's chapter and that I want to research:

• Elijah Lovejoy 
• Mercy Otis Warren
• Lemuel Haynes
• William Manning
• Mr. and Mrs. Calvin Fletcher

Brown mentions these five individuals briefly in his chapter, and they all have some connection to early literacy and/or print.  Going along with my "everyman" theme today, I really want to know more about their lives and roles in the early Republic, and I will have to follow-up with a full report on my findings in due time.

All in all, I enjoyed the reading for today. It certainly left me wanting to know more/research more/understand more.  I suppose that is a sign of a productive chapter!

10/18 Response

As I made my way through A History of the Book in America Vol 2, I realized that this introduction highlights many of the same aspects of the early republic and print culture that we read about in Starr and Davidson.  Following along the same general path as our previous writers, Robert Gross seeks to explore the rise of print culture in America, and as is typical in an introduction, Gross highlights the basic foundation of print culture and briefly stated the three main areas of focus for this rather long volume: economic growth and capitalism, democracy and the public sphere, and nationalism and national identity.  Perhaps I am becoming versed in this subject matter, as much of the introduction made reference to similar material that we've read in previous weeks; however, due to the almost 700 pages of text and notes, I can assume that we are on the path to discovering the material in even more depth than before!

Out of all of the material in Gross's introduction, I found myself pondering the role of the face-to-face book selling technique that was prevalent in the early nineteenth century.  According to Gross, the vast territory in the early republic provided for quite a logistical problem in terms of selling books to the general population and the answer was book agents who made rounds selling orders to the local families in rural areas.  Gross suggests that locals worried that either they would pay and not get their book(s) or that they would not be able to rid themselves of the book seller.  The later immediately made me think of Mr. Haney on Green Acres, who was always peddling something to Oliver Wendell Douglas, and it usually involved some level of trickery, similar to the fictional story that Gross provides with the book agent and the minister.  In this light, the book agent (or all face-to-face salesmen in the example of Green Acres) seems to be destined to be dishonest.

Mr. Haney, Green Acres 

However, Gross also makes the point that book selling in the peddler fashion was hard work and often unrewarded, quoting a salesman as stating, "To bring books among such rabble is like throwing Pearls before Swine" (26).  Wow!  In contrast to the previous view of the dishonest salesman, this book seller seems to have little faith in the book buyer.  Again, this idea of the face-to-face is interesting to me.  Why is it that a face-to-face transaction could have so much doubt and frustration from both sides?  I began to think about my own buying experience with face-to-face salesman.  Gone are the days when people go door to door selling books, but it is not beyond my memory. Apparently, I am on a TV show reference roll, as I remember the episode of Friends when Joey buys one book of an encyclopedia series.  He is so proud of his purchase, even though the fifty dollars is an extreme amount of money for his financially strapped situation.

Perhaps this clip explores both perspectives: the book seller needing to make a sale and the book buyer being put in a position to make a purchase.  Of course, this is far from identical to the book selling situation of the early republic, but it relates directly to the buying and selling of books using a face-to-face method.  I realize that we often, especially in our technologically friendly environment, avoid the face-to-face transaction when we buy our own books.  The days of door-to-door book sellers may be behind us, as this Friends clip dates itself, and we often - or at least I will owe up to this - initially doubt door-to-door salesmen of any kind; however, how many of us even go into a bookstore to purchase our books now?  I, for one, buy everything on Amazon, where I manage my book lists and orders with a click of the button.  Even Gross mentions the change in book buying when books could "be sold through the mail" beginning in 1851 (25).  There seems to be a theme in the idea that buying books from a distant subject, via mail in mid-nineteenth century or online today, is less problematic for both parties than physically purchasing from an individual.  Just something to consider when we think about how similar/different we actually are from book buyers of past generations.

On a side note, I am tempted here to also include a clip from You've Got Mail that highlights the role of the small bookstore; however, that would transition even more off-topic that this blog already is!

10/4 Response

Throughout my reading of Chapters Three and Four this week, I found myself constantly making connections between the past and the present readers.  Perhaps I am under the constant influence of my current theory professor – thanks, Neil! – but I am now more than ever acutely aware of the ideological forces behind what readers read and how certain books are perceived in culture.  Why was the novel a disputed literary form during the early republic?  Could it, perhaps, have some correlation to an overwhelming ideological force (or forces) present during this era?

Using Habermas’ theory that “ideology is always implicitly or explicitly reactionary, a counterstance to some other force within a culture,” Davidson brings up the point that “the pervasive censure of fiction eloquently attests to the force that fiction itself was perceived to have as an ideology (or agent of ideology).  Had the novel not been deemed a potent proponent of certain threatening changes, there would have been little reason to attack it” (103).  Ah ha!  The answer to my question.  But, was it that simple?  For modern readers, it might be easy to quickly bypass or over simplify the ideological forces that threatened the rise of the novel.  Yes, it would be fairly simple to blame this on the institution of religion (I have most certainly heard this before); however, this attack was not solely founded on religious principles to keep the people under the authority of the local clergyman.  While I will admit that it was a certainly a factor, I think there is a vital point to be made that it is not the only factor, though an easy scapegoat to many whom disregard the larger social context.

Davidson makes the claim that novels were contested on many grounds:
• The equation with “novel reading today, licentious riot and senseless revolution tomorrow” (104)
• “Denouncing the novel […] was ancillary to or coextensive with or even integral to the civic, religious, or educational duties of right-minded men” (104).
• “The novel threaded not just to coexist with elite literature but to replace it, and its critics knew full well that changes in the primary reading of an increasingly greater number of people presaged far more than a faddish redeployment of leisure time” (105).
• “Might not the American novel by addressing those unprivileged in the emerging society persuade them that they had a voice in that society and thus serve as the literary equivalent of a Daniel Shays by leading its followers to riot and ruin?” (105)

I could keep quoting, as Davidson thoroughly makes and supports her claims that the novel was attacked by civic and religious leaders in an attempt to maintain hegemony over the common man, but I think the point is clear.  In essence, “theirs [the elite minority in Davidson’s terms] was a fight for survival” (105).  Novels might prompt licentious behavior, or even worse, subvert the accepted duties of “right-minded” – controlled, in other words – men.  This was a challenging time for the novel, and those in power resisted this medium that would potentially reach the average, the common, and the every day man and create “a concomitant questioning of political, ministerial, legal, and even medical authorities” (109).  Ideologically, the novel had the potential to challenge almost every part of accepted society, a troubling thought for those in power.

As I began to study on this, I realized that whether we want to admit it or not, we – I am speaking broadly here, friends – have a very similar situation with our views of current literature.  This past week was the Banned Books Week, drawing attention to the fact that books are currently being contested and that there is a fight to make this censorship public.  How is this any different from the contest against Davidson’s explanation of the early contest against the novel?  Could it be that there are also ideological forces now in a constant struggle to “protect children” from the pages of certain books?  It is fairly easy to look back at the past and to take lightly the early attack on the novel; it is a bit more difficult to realize and conceptualize our current similarities to the past.

I will leave you with background information taken directly from the American Library Association website:

Background Information from 2001 to 2010
Over the past ten years, American libraries were faced with 4,660 challenges.

• 1,536 challenges due to “sexually explicit” material;
• 1,231 challenges due to “offensive language”;
• 977 challenges due to material deemed “unsuited to age group”;
• 553 challenges due to “violence”
• 370 challenges due to “homosexuality”; and

Further, 121 materials were challenged because they were “anti-family,” and an additional 304 were challenged because of their “religious viewpoints.”

1,720 of these challenges (approximately 37%) were in classrooms; 30% (or1, 432) were in school libraries; 24% (or 1,119) took place in public libraries.  There were 32 challenges to college classes; and 106 to academic libraries.  There are isolated cases of challenges to materials made available in or by prisons, special libraries, community groups, and student groups.  The majority of challenges were initiated by parents (almost exactly 48%), while patrons and administrators followed behind (10% each).

9/27 Response

As I read Chapters One and Two of Revolution and the Word this week, I found myself continually reflecting on the role of the reader in the progression of the novel into an everyday, fairly affordable commodity.  I have boxes and boxes of books, and my Amazon wish list is quite extensive; however, my opportunities as a reader are vastly different from readers in the new Republic.  This difference between past and present readership is so interesting to me, as the first readers of the novel paid dearly for items that I, admittedly, take for granted on a daily basis.  As one who finds the ordinary interesting, I am quite taken with these early readers, their habits, and the struggle and sacrifice that they had in order to have books.

Davidson makes the claim early on in Chapter One that we must look at readers clues for information about the early readers of the novel: “prefatory material or any other such reading clues also serve as reader clues and indicate something of the gender, age, class, and level of literacy of the first audience to whom the book was addressed” (62).  As Davidson explores the habits of the readers – markings in the page, practiced penmanship, folded down pages – we get a glimpse of the people that read these early works.  We get a sense of the humanity of the readers and the everydayness of their pursuits.  Moreover, by looking at the way that readers valued, appreciated, and used the books, we find a connection to our personal readerships.  In Davidson’s terminology, “we search for roots not out of dispassionate curiosity about the past but because we know that the family tree ultimately produced ‘me’” (69).  I am a product of the readership of the past; I have the opportunity to read and appreciate books (novels in reference here) because of this heritage.  Call it ordinary, but to me, it is fascinating.

Moreover, I have the ability to own my books – a seemingly common occurrence now but not in the early years of novel production.  If an ordinary laborer earned $1 per day and a novel could cost between $.75 and $1.50, novel ownership would have been a sacrifice for families, especially, when food and necessities for large families take presence in terms of the necessity for daily living.  Moreover, if Davidson’s calculations are correct in terms of inflation, “ a typical late eighteenth-century novel would have cost approximately three to four times more than an equivalent hardcover volume today” (85).  Wow!  To own a book during this time period was a painful sacrifice for families, especially rural families, and “buying novels in quantity […] was well beyond the means of common people at the end of the eighteenth century.  Yet there is evidence that those of modest to low income increasingly read books” (87).  Introduce lending libraries, borrowing from friends and family, reading before returning a mistress’s novel to the library, and communal reading.  All of these factors increased access to novels, which in turn, increased demand, prompted new technology, and ultimately began the path to making books more accessible.  This past is the reason why novels are accessible in the present.

So why do I find this fascinating?  Because my readership is completely shaped by this historical precedence.  I think about how I read – yes, I mark up my books – but I am only able to do this because my books do not over my daily wage, and I can afford to buy personal copies.  Moreover, I have the ability to buy in quantity, and I am by no means “wealthy.”  With electronic books for $.99 now, almost everyone can afford to read, and even those of us who prefer paper copies can usually afford the ones we really want.  But, we take it for granted.  We only have this ability because it was at one time a sacrifice.  My freedom as a reader is not even comparable to the readers in the new Republic, and even into the nineteenth century.  These readers paved the way for modern readership, and from their struggle, sacrifice, and pursuit of novel reading, novel are accessible and affordable now.

However, are novels too accessible?  I have just spent four paragraphs exploring the link between past and present readers; however, there is a key difference that deserves attention.  I am aligning myself with the past readers because I have a love for literature and I seek out and value novels (and most all books in general).  However, with the rise in new media, the closing of libraries, and the constant allurement of the Internet, is the same desire for reading novels in the current generations as it was in the past?  I will admit that I am probably an exception to the current trend away from readership, or at least novel reading as a leisurely activity, highly valued and pursued.  We have the complete reversal from our “roots” now.  Early novel readers – I admit to mass generalization here – had the overwhelming desire for novel reading but limited resources.  Because of their pursuit to be active readers and the role of the publisher/literary agents/writers/etc., printing became more advanced, technology continually improved, and book production became more affordable.  Problem solved.  But was it?  We – as twenty-first century readers – have the resources now but is the desire gone because the novel is too accessible?  Have we, in fact, had a complete reversal from the new Republic readers?  Do we, in fact, have a new problem now? I know that I am posing quite a few questions here, but I see a very interesting relationship with our past and present.  We are exploring the progression of the novel, but I suggest that we may be discovering questions about ourselves – or at least our generations – that pose an equally interesting discussion in relation to the evolving role of the novel.

Reading Response for 9/20

When we learned about the U.S. Constitution in grade school, most of us probably remember hearing about the forward thinking men who sat in a room and made the plans for a rising democratic nation.  You may have had the impression that these men had the best interest of all people in mind (we can argue about this point later) and that their job was to think and work collectively and to produce documents that would emphasize democratic ideals and principles.  In this light, the Constitution is often seen as a product, or, as Davidson puts it, “a monument” of the nation-building work done by the founding fathers (5).  While the Constitution is a very important document for the United States, and while I do not want to undermine the significance of what this document – or other key documents for that matter – represents, it is the view that the Constitution is a product or monument that I find so interesting, especially as I think about this as a writing teacher.

In our composition courses, we stress the importance of recognizing the role of the process in writing the final product.  For example, we carefully create assignments that lead students through invention activities, daily work, drafting, workshopping, revising – the list can go on and on.  Our – or at least my – goal is to get students to see value in the work that goes into each stage of the writing process.  Their final copy of a paper should be directly influenced by every step of the process work, and in turn, they should have a much stronger grasp on the final product and more of an investment in the journey that got them to that point.

I immediately saw the connection between process and product in my writing classes and in Davidson’s view of the Constitution as a monument, or final product if you will.  She writes: “Popular history […] has made the Constitution a monument, not the result of a process, representing only a fraction of those living in what would become the United States, that was sometimes divisive, contentious, and even cynical” (5).  When people see the Constitution as a product – especially as a final product – they are missing a huge portion of the nation-building process, just as students who only see their papers as final products overlook the many, many steps that got them to that point.  And, I am not talking about breaking down the steps of the drafting process when writing the Constitution but in the process of nation-building as a whole.  How can we see the process of nation-building in order to have a better understanding of the final product – a democratic nation?

Davidson makes the claim that “the novel operated (to speak metaphorically) among the populace milling outside those locked doors, a populace whose very existence challenged and thus influenced what happened within” (5).  The novel gives us insight into the “range of problems that were both included and overlooked in the nation’s founding documents” (5); they “remind us that ‘nationalism’ was a process, even a contest, about what shape thirteen colonies would assume in the wake of their successful revolt against England” (13).  Thus, novels allow us – as readers – to see the process of forming a democratic nation from a variety of perspective that are not evident in the founding documents themselves, or to turn that statement around, are evident by their omission.  If we read specifically looking for insight into the process of nation-building, as opposed to viewing the Constitution as the final product, then we gain insight into what was an evolving and painful process in order to attempt to have a well-rounded view of nation-building during this time period.  We get an opportunity to observe class, race and gender divisions just to name a few aspects that are key to consider in thinking about the process of creating national identity.  Davidson claims, “Revolution and the Word returns us to the exact moment when process, not product, was the topic at hand” (19).  This sounds like an interesting read, especially in reverting the traditional, popular history view of the Constitution as the final product and thinking about the process that it took for America to become – at least in theory – a democratic nation.

Also, on a side note, I must mention Davidson’s 1993 American Studies Association presidential address, which called for a more transnational approach.  What a nice segway back to our American exceptionalism discussions from The Creation of the Media!

9/13 Periodical Search

To: All female readers, especially single women of the early nineteenth century.
From: A helpful friend
Date: June 17, 1820
Subject: Hints for the Ladies

If you want to get married, then you must not fall into the patterns of the coquette.  What are these patterns you might ask?  Do not be in love with yourself.  Do not like the chase of courtship.  Do not have the idea of conquest in your head.  Do not want more than you already have.  Do not be hard to please.

So, now that you know what not to do, rest easy, because this author has your best interest in heart.  You should not be "doomed to eternal celibacy." Rather, pay close attention for there is another reason why you are not married.  You are just too expensive!  Remember, the children will take a considerable amount of the income, so your extravagant wants - especially in the way you dress - must take a backseat to "the expenses of our children."  I hope you know that children - yes, "half a dozen brats at our fire sides" - are expected.

But, do not fear!  Now that you know what not to do, here are some helpful hints that should make it much easier to find a husband.

1) Have a good humor.
2) Have a pleasing face.
3) Practice good economy.
4) Practice simplicity in heart and mind.
5) Study housekeeping.
6) Minimal your study on attire.
7) Read the Spectator.

This advice guarantees better luck in finding a mate; however, after you do all of this work, I will leave you with an encouraging note: "I must confess, that for most of them [men], I have very little mercy."  Good luck!

"Hints for the Ladies." The Ladies' Literary Cabinet, Being a Repository of Miscellaneous Literary Productions, Both in Original and Selected Prose and Verse (1819-1922) 2.6 (17 June 1820): 45. Web. 12 Sept. 2011.

Reading Response for 9/13

After our class discussion last week, I found myself contemplating Starr's account of - or obsession with, depending on your personal view - American exceptionalism.  In the previous three chapters, he goes to great lengths to state the case for American exceptionalism, and as Melissa stated in her blog last week, "Early in chapter two, after citing some American accomplishments in media, he [Star] notes that, during the same period, British North America (henceforth Canada), had made little communications progress. Why was America successful when Canada was not? The answer might shock you (sarcasm intended): because of 'the political transformation of American society in the previous half-century' (49)."  Well summarized, Melissa!  Starr most certainly makes the claim that this unique political structure sets America apart from any other country, especially the "mother country" and her affiliates.  Moreover, he strives to prove this claim by directly linking American political policies with the rise in communication, ending Chapter Three with the claim that "the United States had started down a distinctive path in communications that would influence its institutions long after its early head start in the half century after the Revolution" (111).  Well, with a claim like this, one can only assume that Starr's subsequent chapters will aim to prove America's influential power long after the days of the early Republic.

With that in mind, I was a bit surprised to read the opening of Chapter Four: "Even Europeans in the early 1800's who admired America's self-government, prosperity, and common schools were unimpressed with American literature and culture" (113).  On the one hand, Starr stays true to his view of the exceptional political system in America; however, this exceptionalist view does not translate to exceptional culture.  In all honesty, I found this a bit refreshing, as there is a clear point to make here.  What was the cultural impact of literature in America during this time?  Whereas the political revolution was, in fact, revolutionary, what place did American literature have in America and in Europe?  Apparently, American literature was actually not that exceptional in regards to "accepted" traditions and norms.  In the early nineteenth century, British reprints were primarily in the public domain, and according to Starr, "reflected the continual appeal of older classics as well as the persistent sense of American cultural inferiority" (122).  In the early years, it seems as though Americans rejected British political order but had a reliance on European classics.  Was this, perhaps, one area where America had yet to insert a certain identity, unique and set apart from England?  Well, is would seem that America cannot be exceptional at everything all at once (did I just speak too soon?).

Yes, I did!  It does not take Starr too terribly long to make the case that America is in fact exceptional when it comes to print, literature included.  Starr borrows a quote from Noah Webster to emphasize this: "'America must as independent in literature as she is in Politics, as famous for arts as for arms'" (120).  Of course "she" must!  So, how might America do this?  How can this new country - with an exceptional political system (take this however you may) - also have exceptional literature?  The answer lies not in the great works that could be immediately produced but in price for literature: "the rise of cheap books and other forms of cheap print [...] reflect distinctive patterns of nineteenth-century American consumer markets" (126).  According to Starr, it was crucial to appeal to the mass population - that was the model in this country - and "Americans readily accepted products which had been deliberately designed for low cost, mass production methods" (126).  It was not about leather bound books that attracted an elite readership; rather, Starr makes the claim that it was about mass readership - that if America was going to be exceptional, it was in the broad appeal to the literate population, both in urban and rural settings.  And, literature did in fact flourish.  The new outlets, like dime novels, "broke down the traditional hierarchy of taste that had been expressed in the physical form of the book," and people began to read more and more and more because they could afford the literature (138).

Starr does, however, want to thoroughly make the point that "low price did not necessarily mean lowbrow" (124).  And, this is true to some extent, as he does use the example of Longfellow, who made his works accessible to the mass public.  Moreover, Starr point out the all-male cast - Hawthorne, Melville, Emerson, etc. - as examples of an "genuine indigenous literary tradition in America" (137).  He strives to claim that people were not just reading lowbrow fiction in an affordable format, but that great American writers were publishing during this time.  Yes, I am a fan of the early American writer, but I think that it is crucial to point out that if we are following Starr's pattern of American exceptionalism, it came from the accessibility to literature that was not as prevalent in Europe.  This set America apart, if we are still focusing on American versus Western European traditions.  With accessibility grew a literary culture, but it was only because people began to read, could afford to read, and read mass quantities due to the low prices.  Starr wants to transition to exceptional American literature by quoting from Larzer Ziff: "there were American books of the first rank, by prevailing provincial standards but by the standards of world literature" (138).  And, while the quality of writing in fact be a valid point - that is a topic for another day - it is not what makes America "exceptional" during this time.  If Starr wants to stay true to the exceptionalist claim, then we must focus on the accessibility of texts in nineteenth century America, as that was truly a new era in readership for the mass population and not overreach even more than we have already done.

Reading Response for 9/6

In my reading this week of The Creation of the Media, I was struck by the persuasive and manipulative communication tactics of the founding fathers, specifically in the example of the Stamp Act crisis in 1765.  As Starr explicitly states, “the Stamp Act politicized the press,” creating a catalyst for opposition against the British (65).  However, my focus is not on the Stamp Act itself but on the way in which key historical figures – John Adams, for example – used the press to further their agendas, specifically in the primary aim to stir revolutionary sentiments in the minds of the general populous.  Starr writes: “As printers during the Stamp Act crisis began to identify their interests with resistance to the British, so patriot leaders came to identify their cause with the printing press” (66-67).  And why might these leaders see a direct correlation between their cause and mass publication?  The answer clearly lies in the fact that patriot leaders could control what was being printed, and in turn, how the publications might influence the general public to support a revolutionary cause.

A key example is in the rhetoric that John Adams used to manipulate the readers’ beliefs about why early settlers came to the new country.  Starr paraphrases and quotes Adams to exemplify this point: "The early settlers, he [Adams] wrote, had come to America in search of liberty and believed that ‘knowledge diffused generally thro’ the whole body of the people’ could preserve their descendants from tyranny […] ‘But none of the means of information are more sacred, or have been cherished with more tenderness and care by the settlers of America, than the Press.  Care has been taken, that the art of printing should be encouraged, and that it should be easy and cheap and safe for any person to communicate his thoughts to the public'" (67).  While this is certainly a persuasive point, did the early settlers in fact come to the new country for liberty and did they always promote the freedom of expressing and encouraging all printing and all thoughts in the public sphere?  While this ideology would support the revolutionary cause, it does not in fact truly reflect the laws and customs in the early colonial settlements; thus, it is an inadequate representation of communication in the early seventeenth century.

So, what was the role of printing and communication during the early colonial years?  The Puritan settlement in Massachusetts promoted education – for white males, of course – and communication, only so long as it was in concordance with the Puritan belief system and in alignment with the ideology of the local ministers and magistrates.  For, “although not all differences of opinion were suppressed, dissenters were frequently banished from the colony” and “criticism of officials or the governments in New England (as in the southern colonies) frequently met with severe penalties, including ‘bodily correction’” (51).  Hmmm, this does not sound quite as pleasant as Adams’ interpretation – or elaboration, shall we say – of the actual role of the press and communication in the first half of the seventeenth century.  Moreover, the press was limited to an even more extreme degree in the Chesapeake colony, as the leaders sought to control the press in an attempt to maintain order and control over commerce, and “as a result of deliberate policy, Virginia continued without any press through the first three decades of the eighteenth century” (53).  And, while you may be thinking – hoping even – that there was freedom of the press in the Middle Colonies and that this was where Adams’ drew his information, you are sadly mistaken. Though on into the late seventeenth century “the Quakers initially suffocated printing” and though two presses later developed, they only printed safe information, which basically means bland and uncontroversial facts (54).  So, what “early settlers” did Adams reference when he strove to convince his readership that “none of the means of information are more sacred, or have been cherished with more tenderness and care by the settlers of America, than the Press” (67)?  It most certainly seems that this was not an accurate or reliable statement by Adams, given the historical accounts that Starr provides and that I have noted earlier in this paragraph.  Did Adams, perhaps, provide exaggeration and embellishment in order to manipulate his readership by using “historical precedence?”  All accounts lead to one answer – yes.

Why would Adams manipulate the truth about the press and early mass communication?  The answer lies in the fact that he had an agenda to produce to the mass public through the press.  Whereas the early leaders were concerned with differing opinions on the press, Adams saw the press as an opportunity to promote his agenda.  And, if he could convince readers that the early settlers aligned liberty and freedom of communication through the press in the highest regards, then he would be more successful in convincing his readers of aligning themselves with the revolutionary mindset, just as he suggested their forefathers had done.  Adams realized that the press was crucial in getting the mass population on board with reacting against the Stamp Act and in turn, against the British.  If readers could associate the freedom of the press with the reasons that their forefathers left England in the first place, then it would provide a more solid foundation for reacting against the British in the mid-eighteenth century.  True historical evidence was not necessary in serving Adams’ point; rather, his purpose was served by invoking the early settlers to serve his revolutionary purpose.

If we remotely think that the press is without an agenda – in the past or present – then we are naïve and are no different to the readers that Adams sought to reach.  Surely Adams’ readers would have realized that this was, in fact, not an accurate account of their forefathers; yet, we must be mindful of how quickly our current generations forget the past, and we even have many avenues of mass communication available at a moments notice, a sharp difference from the seventeenth century settlers.  As seen in the example with Adams and in relation to current readers, people often read with a willingness to believe the author rather than crucially research and interpret the facts.  Adams’ message served a purpose and there is now true freedom of the press, but with that freedom comes a “freeness” to promote, to twist, to manipulate history into serving a purpose that aligns with a particular position.  This is not new territory, but at what point will readers learn from the blindness of the past?

8/30 Periodical Search

On my search of the periodicals today, I discovered one particular work that provides insight into the moral implications of novel reading in the early nineteenth century.  Beware, dear readers, for this is not a light-hearted account of the novel in the early 1800’s; rather, it explores the role of the novel in relation to criminal behavior and moral depravity.

In “Effects of Novel Reading: From the London,” published by the Boston Recorder on April 14, 1818, the writer explores the connection between novel reading, check fraud, and a execution.  To recount, “On the 11th of December, 1817, John Verile was executed before Newgate, London, for forging a check for 400l, with an intent to defraud Messrs. Brenchley and Co.”  The reader would assume that the executed, Mr. Verile, received due punishment for his crime of fraud.  In an imaginative sense, the reader might go on to hypothesize about the reasons for this man’s criminal behavior, but in fact, that hypothesis is not necessary, as the article clearly explains the cause of Mr. Verile’s downfall: “At 15 he engaged with an attorney; when he began the fatal course of Novel reading, and the perusal of infidel writings.”  Fatal course – no pun intended, right?  All joking aside, the writer forms the connection between Mr. Verile’s crime, punishment, and the cause – novel reading.  Though we, as modern readers, may not be able to draw this “obvious” connection, there was a clear relationship between the cause, effect, and punishment in 1817, as the writer reveals the cause, novel reading, just four sentences into the essay.

This connection must have been common, for even Mr. Verile offered analysis on his criminal behavior before his execution: “The seeds of infidelity which had been sown [from novel reading], began now to make their appearance […] From a course of novel-reading, which I pursued three or four years ago, I had contracted principles of infidelity, which I never rejected till within these past few weeks.”  Upon his conviction and during his time of reflection, the convicted man reached the moral high ground and rejected his wicked ways, which were a direct result, of course, from the novel reading of his youth.  This article serves to forewarn readers of the perils that may result if youth engage in this unsavory activity and directly connects novel reading with acts punishable by death.  Reading, specifically novel reading, is a cause for concern and serious study in this example, and though he had to pay the physical cost of his crime, Mr. Verile was only venerated – publically, at least – by his acknowledgment and rejection of this genre.

Let us end with a closing section from the article: “Let them [the rising generation] beware of those infidel writing which seduce the mind and destroy the principles of moral obligations.”  You, dear reader, have been forewarned of the perils that reading – yes, novel reading – can do to your innocent and susceptible mind!

Introduction and Chapter One

Communication. Media. America. As I began to read Paul Starr’s The Creation of the Media, the relationship between these terms kept coming to mind.  Communication is synonymous with our current cultural framework, and as Starr states, “the global influence of the American media and the American model now puts an even heavier responsibility on the United States than in the past” (19).  Wow – that one sentence demands necessary attention in order to fully begin to interpret the role of communication and media in our culture.  Obviously, this is only one blog post, but I think it deserves at least a few reflective thoughts in order to prompt discussion and insight into an aspect of American society that most citizen take for granted on a daily basis.

To begin, one must look at the American model.  What does communication and media look like in “our” world? With Facebook, Twitter, email, and Skype, we are not at a lack for communication tools, and this is only a very abbreviated list of communication avenues.  At this point in American society, there are communication options on a minute-by-minute basis, and we can, theoretically, remain in contact with thousands of people a day; this is the norm for the upcoming generations, and with communication tools become ever more usable and available, this is bound to only increase with time.  Americans have the opportunity to communicate horizontally, and this in itself is a key aspect of the American model.  This model encourages interaction, and while this may seem to be an obvious “right” to many Americans, it is revolutionary when looking at the rights to horizontal communication as recent as the 1990’s in the Soviet Union (9).  How important it is to realize that Americans are living in an American model, to borrow from Starr, and that this model has not been universal accepted or understood in other parts of the world.

Moreover, in the American model, we taking advantage of this horizontal approach to communication on a daily – hourly – basis in our intake and reaction to news reports. There are numerous media outlets reporting – from their stance, of course – on a plethora of political issues, and we – in the most broad and general sense of the American population – typically have access to a variety of perspectives on a given issue in a matter of couple of seconds with a quick Google search.  To use a cliché, “we have the world at our fingertips,” quite literally.  And, this is not purely limited to the intake of information; rather, it is a reciprocal relationship, as Americans have the ability to interact with the source by writing a response – in agreement or disagreement – via the Internet; in essence, Americans have the unique ability to be receivers and participants in the communication framework of this society – a right, according to Starr, that would have been punishable at one time in England, France, and the Soviet Union if it involved the government or a governmental issue. Perhaps, it is also important to note again here that horizontal communication is still problematic in many countries and that the reciprocal interaction with the American model is not a globally accepted norm.

As Starr concludes in the last paragraph of his introduction, “the question is no longer whether a post-industrial, information society is coming; it has come;” it is the “American model” (19).  This is the norm in American culture, but it also begs the question that if the United States is credited with being a power player in the advent of the modern communication culture, what is the “global influence of American media” (19)?  What is the “responsibility,” to use Starr’s term, of the United States in reacting to and engaging with this issue in the global setting?  We can infer that America has a unique role in this arena.  Does the American model – in all communication avenues – play to the advantage of the American government as it attempts to exemplify democracy across the globe?  Perhaps that is the question now at hand.

Response to Assignment One

Where are you from?  How would you describe your hometown?

I am originally from Jacksboro, Texas, a small town an hour west of Fort Worth.  I grew up in a town where everyone knows everyone, primarily because we've all been there for generations and are related either by blood or marriage.  It was a wonderful way to grow up, despite our feelings as young adults!  I was a child of the town in the best possible way; I still hear, "You look just like a Fitzgerald,” quite often. (Fitzgerald was my maiden name, and I usually still go by it when I go home.  It is just easier.) 

Growing up, I spent more time outside than in.  I was use to getting up at 5:00 a.m. to exercise my horses before school, and mucking the barn was not a chore but just a regular Saturday activity.  We didn’t have allowances because we worked together as a family, and we really didn’t even ask for it.  I’m sure most kids now would think that is crazy!  If you ask me, it was the best childhood ever.

Describe yourself as a reader. 

I have evolved as a reader, from a lover of books in my childhood to a student of the written word.  In all honesty, I cannot say that I love reading the same way that I did before my M.A. program.  Now, I find myself analyzing constantly, even if the reading is not required literature.  I sometimes wish that I could just read for pure enjoyment again.  I still enjoy reading, but I cannot seem to disconnect my brain from analyzing the work. 

Describe yourself as a writer. 

I am also constantly evolving as a writer; however, I am still striving to reach a point where I am satisfied with my work.  Also, I write best late at night, and I have the habit of eating while I am writing. This is a very bad habit that I am attempting to break!

What are your goals for this semester?

I absolutely love primary research.  I can see how it probably relates directly to my upbringing and my need/desire for personal connection.  My primary goal is a goal of discovery.  I am interested in finding those hidden gems of everyday life.

Describe the worst class or the worst teacher you have ever had.

Well, let’s just say that teachers should shower at least a week before the first day of class (one would assume that this type of behavior would be learned in the process of achieving tenure), should probably not say that they are uncomfortable being around people, i.e. graduate students, and should most definitely not have a nervous breakdown during the middle of the semester.  And, that’s all I should say about that!

List three books that have deeply touched your life. 

Isn’t that like asking a parent to choose their favorite child?  I do not know if I can pick just three.  Let’s see, this summer I was into spiritual reading: Captivating, The Bible, anything by Beth Moore.  In the scholarly sense, Uncle Tom’s Children shook me to my very core, as did Iola Leroy and Love in the time of Cholera and Like Water for Chocolate and the list can go on and on.  Basically, I love every book until I read the next one that then becomes my new favorite.  I am so indecisive on this issue!

I should note that all of my books are currently in storage, and my favorites change on a rotating basis based on mood.  This has now prompted me to dig through my books once I get them back in my possession. (Literally, the book boxes totaled 500 lbs.  Many hours of book collection = very unhappy movers.)

List three things that you know about the US during the years 1770-1830.

1)   1789 – George Washington is elected President.

2)   1792 – Publication began with the Old Farmer’s Almanac.

3)   War of 1812

Tell me three things that I ought to know about you.

1)   I have two Shih Tzu fur babies, Miss Elizabeth and Bentley.  They are quite spoiled and rule our house.  If this is any indication of my parenting skills, we are in trouble.

2)   I have an eighty-nine year old pen pal, and we’ve written letters weekly since I graduated from high school.

3)   While my husband was in the Army, we moved five times in five years.  I do not recommend this to anyone!