Battle Cry of Freedom: Attempting to Understand America's Civil War

Here we are, at book three of the summer reading challenge!

Battle Cry of Freedom is part of the Oxford History of the United States series. The book was originally published in 1988, and earned McPherson a Pulitzer Prize. The New York Times reviewer called it "...the best one-volume treatment of its subject I have ever come across." It continues to be used in classrooms today to teach the history of the Civil War across high school and college curriculums.

The book covers the background and history of the American Civil War, starting in the 1830s and tracing the evolution of the slavery issue and ending in the aftermath of the Lincoln assassination and disarray before the Reconstruction era began. McPherson does an excellent job of portraying both sides equally, without any particular bias - a difficult feat, especially in one of the most divisive subjects in American history. Much of his efforts go towards understanding what each side was fighting for. Both sides fought for freedom - but McPherson explains that they understood the idea of freedom very differently. This differentiation of each side, while showing their similarities, is what makes McPherson's book so succinct and understandable. He helps to make the war more understandable to the modern reader, separated as we are by a little over 150 years from the actual events.

I've been wanting to read this book since I finished my Civil War class in undergrad. Somehow, I've become even more interested in the war, especially in light of current events. I started this year out reading Confederates in the Attic, Tony Horowitz's study of Southern memory and the Civil War and the books I've chosen to read this summer include three more on the subject (Battle Cry included). Something about this war continues to draw me in and pique my curiosity. What I most enjoyed about McPherson's book was his readability. I've read other pieces of his writing before (his essay collection This Mighty Scourge; For Cause and Comrades, a book on the soldiers fighting in the war; and Tried by War, his biography of Abraham Lincoln as commander-in-chief) and greatly enjoyed their flow. What I appreciated most from this particular work was the snarky sense of humor that popped in occasionally. Peppered throughout the text, it made reading the book even more enjoyable. My only disappointment was that McPherson completely skipped Lincoln's assassination, instead mentioning Booth's comment about killing the President and then jumping directly into the aftermath.

I really enjoyed reading this. I think it's definitely the best summary of the war I've read - but it is rather long, and if I ever wind up using it as a reading for students, I might assign specific portions of the book rather than the entire thing. I do think it's an important piece of Civil War historiography, and I'm glad I took the time to pick it up and read it.

Overall rating: 9.5/10 stars

Discovering Something New: Re-reading Donna Tartt's The Secret History

Second book of the summer reading challenge has been completed! To kick off my reread selections, we're starting with The Secret History.

The Secret History is Donna Tartt's first novel - you may recognize her from her most recent work, The Goldfinch, which won the Pulitzer Prize. Published in 1992, the novel is unique for its why-dun-it set up - a reversal of the mystery tradition.

The Secret History tells the story of a group of Classics students at a remote Vermont college: Henry Winter, the dark brooding intellectual, completely immersed in studying Greek; Bunny Corcoran, the all-American student, former football captain turned Classics student; Francis Abernathy, the delicate aesthete, a severe hypochondriac with a fondness for nice clothes and cigarettes; and Charles and Camilla Macaulay, identical twins whose personalities are anything but identical. Narrated by Richard Papen, a Californian attempting to reinvent himself, the novel is divided into two parts: before the murder, and after the murder. Along the way, the group is heavily influenced by their professor, Julian, who encourages them to engage completely with the ancient lifestyle.

The first time I read this book, I was a rising junior in undergrad. A friend of mine (who is a Classics major herself) recommended it to me, and told me that I absolutely had to read it. I couldn't put it down. I vaguely recall reading it at night, staying up to incredibly odd hours because the chapter hadn't ended, and not wanting to end my lunch breaks at work because I had just gotten to a good part. I think I read it in a day and a half, and didn't ever actually put it down (except for when I had to). There's something about this book that draws me in every time - the concept of beauty as terror, the lyrical form of the prose, the lives of the students... This time, I was drawn to Richard's descriptions of people and places, especially when talking about himself. Somehow, Richard manages to make himself an accessory, but never completely complicit in anything. He's so uncomfortable with himself and his situation that he would rather lie about his life than face the truth.

I also notice, every time I read this, that there are a ton of parallels to Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Whether these were intentional or are just me reading way too much into this, I don't know.

I love this book, and I recommend it to basically anyone who asks for a book rec. It's on my list of favorite books of all time, and re-reading it has only cemented its place. And if you like this one, you should check out M.L. Rio's novel If We Were Villains; it's a similar premise, but with Shakespearean actors instead of classicists (and I also love it to death).

Overall rating: 11/10 stars

And Suddenly There's Lycanthropy: John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi

I've made it through the first book on my summer reading challenge! So we're starting posts with John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi.

Webster's play was written and performed in the early 1610s. Believed to be based on true events, the story's manipulation of the tragic form has ensured it a place among the most important of early modern English plays.

Title page for John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi

The story follows the newly widowed Duchess of Malfi and her two brothers, Ferdinand and the Cardinal. After her brothers tell her not to remarry, the Duchess defies them, confessing her love for her steward, Antonio. The two marry in secret, an act known only to the Duchess' maid, Cariola. The brothers don't trust her, though, and so they hire a servant, Bosola, to spy on her for them. Time passes, and Bosola suspects the Duchess is pregnant. He comes up with a plan to feed her apricots, which make her ill, but doesn't prove his suspicion. It is only after Antonio drops the horoscope for the Duchess' new baby boy that he is proven right. He immediately tells the brothers, who are (not surprisingly) displeased - especially because they think the child is illegitimate. More time passes, and the Duchess and Antonio have two more children. At this point, her brothers are furious. Ferdinand makes a surprise visit, hides himself in his sister's room to find out the identity of her lover, and then jumps out and hands the Duchess a knife, advising her to kill herself. Bosola tricks the Duchess into revealing who her husband is and where he has gone, and immediately tells Ferdinand. The brothers banish the couple, removing their wedding rings. The Duchess and her two youngest return to Malfi, and Antonio and their eldest son flee to Milan. Ferdinand then convinces the Duchess that her husband and son are dead (they're not, though), and tries to drive her insane. When that fails, he orders her executed. Bosola, finally catching on to the fact that these brothers are not exactly the best of guys, tries to plead for the Duchess' life, but she, her maid, and her two children are all strangled. Determined that Antonio and his son should survive, Bosola promises to prevent their deaths. Meanwhile, Ferdinand has fallen victim to lycanthropy, and the Cardinal (who's been having some rather sleazy dealings on the side with a married woman) fears that he will reveal their joint decision to murder their sister. Learning that the Cardinal intends to murder Antonio, Bosola accepts the contract while planning to murder the brothers instead. While hiding in wait for the Cardinal, Bosola accidentally stabs Antonio, who had decided to come wreck his own form of vengeance on the Cardinal. Discovering his mistake, Bosola then manages to stab the Cardinal; this act wakes Ferdinand from his madness, and he and Bosola stab each other. Everyone dies (but not before Bosola tells the story of what happened), and Antonio's friend, Delio, promises to raise the couple's remaining child.

I was drawn to this play, not only because I hadn't read it, but because I've read very few early modern playwrights outside of Shakespeare. I did read John Ford's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore in undergrad, and actually really liked it. When I was preparing for the English GRE Subject Test this spring, The Duchess of Malfi appeared on several reading lists as a popular choice for questions. Clearly, I didn't manage to read this before the exam, but I'm glad that I did.

This play clearly follows in the vein of other Elizabethan and Jacobean tragedies. Everyone dies (like Hamlet or Titus Andronicus), there's a healthy implication of incestuous feelings (a la 'Tis Pity She's a Whore), and plenty of violence and bloodshed. But what makes it stand out for me is the sudden appearance of lycanthropy. In Act V, one of the characters asks the doctor attending Ferdinand what ails him, and his response is, "A very pestilent disease, my lord, / They call it lycanthropia" (5.2.5-6). But this doesn't necessarily mean what we associate with the term today; instead, Ferdinand merely believes himself to be a wolf, and was found one night holding part of a corpse. Of all the twists that I was expecting, a werewolf was not one of them.

Ultimately, I enjoyed reading this play. It has some really great quotes, interesting characters, and intense moments. There was just enough confusion for me, though, to make it difficult to follow.

Overall rating: 8.5/10 stars
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Summer Reading Challenge 2018

I realize I've basically not posted anything since December two years ago.

Oops.

But as I roll around towards my MA thesis, I realize that I need a place to record some of the reading that I do outside of the required stuff. The stuff I read (or reread) for fun. The random books in my book haul when I go out to local bookstores. Books that I recommend, books that I don't, and books that have been recommended to me.

So my goal this summer is to keep track of what I'm reading, both here and on Goodreads. I'm also creating a small tracker in my bullet journal to make sure I follow my reading goals.

I'm going to plan out 20 books that I know I want to read this summer: five fiction, five non-fiction, five plays/poems, five rereads. I'm also going to list (separately) books that I want to reread in order to teach them in the spring.

With each book, I will post a blog review when I finish it. The rating system will be 1-10 (and some books can go to 11). I'll include a brief blurb about the book, what made me want to read it, and what my thoughts are. And then on to the next book.

So here's my 20 Summer Reads for 2018:

1. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoevsky
2. A Farewell to Arms - Ernest Hemingway
3. We, the Drowned - Carston Jensen
4. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay - Michael Chabon
5. Infinite Jest - David Foster Wallace
6. Battle Cry of Freedom - James McPherson
7. American Brutus - Michael W. Kauffman
8. The Romanovs - Simon Sebag Montefiore
9. Grant - Ron Chernow
10. The Invention of Murder - Judith Flanders
11. The Winter's Tale - William Shakespeare
12. Five Revenge Tragedies: Kyd, Shakespeare, Marston, Chettle, Middleton
13. The Duchess of Malfi - John Webster
14. Pericles - William Shakespeare
15. Five Plays - Christopher Marlowe
16. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
17. Wolf Hall - Hilary Mantel
18. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
19. Master and Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov
20. The Beautiful and Damned - F. Scott Fitzgerald

And other assorted books that I'll be rereading this summer may include:

• Henry V - William Shakespeare
• Confederates in the Attic - Tony Horowitz
• The Killer Angels - Michael Shaara
• The Things They Carried - Tim O'Brien
• Code Name Verity - Elizabeth Wein
• The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy

Feel free to join along! There's not any set timetable for this, other than to be done by the end of the summer. Fingers crossed that I make it there!

Reflecting

As you may have noticed, I kind of disappeared from this blog for the past four months (give or take a few months).

Please don't think that I was just abandoning you, dear reader.

I became enveloped in probably one of the most important research projects I'll be doing in my life. My senior seminar.

And this is only the first one.

I started with my English seminar, and, after approval from the English department, chose to look at Shakespeare's Richard II. I wanted to see why performances had a) increased (there have been at least three big shows in the past five years) and b) why, of the ones that I have seen, the characterization of Richard seemed to be so similar.

I started by asking myself whether Richard was being portrayed as gay (a form I termed gay!Richard in my shorthand notes); after some research, I began to wonder if he was actually being portrayed as gay, or if I was just reading a whole lot into it (which I termed gay?Richard); and finally, after some serious discussion with my mentor, decided that he was being portrayed as androgynous (and, you guessed it, this was shorthanded androgynous!Richard).

My interest in the play came from seeing The Hollow Crown when it first came on in 2013. I was a small, overeager freshman, and Shakespeare seemed like the most exciting thing to me since sliced bread. I had read Hamlet as a senior in high school, and was in the midst of a plan to read the Complete Works before I turned 18 (shockingly, that didn't happen). But Hollow Crown helped the history plays come alive for me in a way that I never thought they could - especially because they were so incredibly well cast. When I wouldn't shut up about Ben Whishaw and Tom Hiddleston, my parents bought the DVDs for me as a birthday gift.

Fast forward to last year, when I went to Stratford-upon-Avon for Thanksgiving. I knew that David Tennant was also doing a production of the play, but I had missed it - it was at the Barbican, at the time, and I was not setting foot anywhere near a major metropolitan area after the Paris attacks. But the RSC happened to sell a copy of it - and the employees, when I mentioned that I really enjoyed reading the play, raved about the performance. I was told I had to watch it, and that it was fantastic.

When I got home to the States in the spring, I was mulling ideas over in my head. Since my freshman year, I had always thought I'd write about Gatsby - it is still, to this day, my favorite book, and up until that point, I was pretty certain I would be looking at it in comparison to Donna Tartt's The Secret History. But, one afternoon, when talking to a professor about a number of topics (including my desire to take a Russian lit class before I graduated, which he then offered me the chance to do), the topic of my seminar came up. And, when I mentioned that I had one that I was mulling around but hadn't really considered yet, he perked up. He was even more excited by the idea of working with Richard II than I was, and his response - that our prof who specializes in Shakespeare would be super excited about it - made me think twice about what I was doing. I set up a meeting with our Shakespearean and didn't look back (except to read Gatsby again. Because that's a great novel and everyone should read it sometime).

I don't think I realized just how correct that assessment was. I've never seen a professor so excited about a topic before. And I mean, I was excited (and I'm way more excited now, at the end, about my topic than I ever was at the beginning when I had zero idea about what I was talking about), but not that excited. Over the rest of the spring semester, I was sent essays, suggested reading, and so much more. I spent my summer writing up notes on the basics of homosexuality in early modern England, history plays, and Richard studies in general, as well as performance theory - a relatively new thing in Shakespeare studies.

I did a lot of reading.

And then seminar kicked in.

I learned that, as a double major, my default mode is not English major, but history. And so I worked on cutting down the issues I had with pointing to facts and saying, "so there."

I learned that, while things might be clear to me (and to my mentor, God bless him), the argument chain has to be completely written out for everyone else. So I can't just say, "LOOK AT THIS. THIS IS BAD." I actually have to explain it.

I learned that, just because I thought I wasn't far enough along on my project, that I wasn't actually behind. I watched classmates struggle to meet deadlines because we were all on different timelines and schedules.

I learned that, despite what I think (and I think it often), I am a good writer. I can pull together papers that flow well, that argue cohesive thoughts, and make a point about the text.

I also learned that I can present my ideas well. And sound professional while I do it. Despite what I think.

I also learned that, if you stick two Shakespeare nerds in a room with a project that needs to be worked on, they won't be able to focus for longer than 30 minutes at a time (and by the end of it, baboons on the early modern stage will have come up).

I learned that both of my departments have my back. I have never felt so loved or appreciated as I have this semester, when I would just walk into someone's office and either almost cry from stress or just start talking about a problem I was having (I owe all of you cookies before I graduate).

I learned that I should not be afraid of saying what I'm thinking, or being honest with my mentor. Because let's be honest, if I'm having this question, he's probably been waiting for me to ask it.

I learned that my seminar topic follows me everywhere. No matter how hard I tried, it would pop up in literally every class I took this semester (even in World Wars I and II. Which was impressive.).

I learned that Foucault is hard to read, but if you talk it out enough times, it makes sense (to an extent).

I learned that trying to be in a Shakespeare play and also write about a Shakespeare play at the same time is not the best thing to do. Especially for the sanity of your cast mates, who don't want to hear about traditional staging or costuming techniques for the 500th time (I love all of you - thanks for putting up with me).

I learned that my small group members are invaluable in encouraging me to keep going when times are tough. Thanks, you guys.

Most importantly, though, I realized that I'm definitely on the right track. I'm applying to grad schools right now, and the English programs I've chosen are all early modern, with a focus on Shakespeare. I want to keep doing research like this - looking closely at a text that I love and finding out more about it - for as long as I can. If anything, I've fallen more in love with Shakespeare and Richard II than I was when I started this project. My friends may groan when I mention something that starts with "fun fact" and ends with "Shakespeare" now, but I know that this project has only cemented my love for the Bard.

I'm very glad I've found where I belong.

It's also given me a chance to closely work with the English department. And - let me tell you - this department is fantastic. They don't get nearly enough credit for the work that they do.

I could go on and on with the stories I have about these intrepid men and women, but I'll try and focus.

Working with these people has made me realize just how little I really know about books and literature. But it's also made me realize how great they are. I can walk into someone's office (literally anyone's, their doors are always open) with a question about theory or books or Star Wars or cats and it can lead to an amazing conversation. These people have seen me at my best and my worst, and aren't afraid to tell it to me like it is when it needs to be said. I've had profs come and support me in my extracurricular endeavors, but also remind me when it was time to step back and take a break from life.

In my desire to become a professor myself, I could not have asked for better examples. I have been blest to learn from the very best.

So, as I wrap up the final edits on my seminar paper, I am able to look back on the experiences of this past semester (and all four years of English literature classes) and turn toward the future with a straight back and a confident smile.

Onward to history seminar.

Expecting Too Much: Or, Why I Have an Issue with College Board's 101 Books to Read Before College

Earlier this morning, I discovered a list made by the College Board of 101 books that college-bound freshmen should have read before attending their first day of school. I went through the list, thinking that it wouldn't be too bad - especially since, as an English major, I would most likely have read a majority, if not all of, the list.

I was wrong.

Of the 101 books, I have only read 52. And of those 52, 11 were books that I did not read until college - and I attended an incredibly progressive high school and read outside of class. So that was an issue for me. 

Other issues were their selections. No high school student is going to willingly pick up War and Peace or Moby-Dick, even for class. I read both of them - the former in high school and the latter over the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college - because I enjoy pushing myself. Even then, War and Peace still took me a year and a half to complete with my other reading, because I read it outside of class. And I only finished Moby-Dick because I was halfway through and didn't want to give up on it.

I also have yet to see a high school student who has picked up Faulkner for fun, much less two of his novels (and there are very few English student who would do so, as well).

Many of the books on this list are supposed to promote diversity and open up readers' eyes to the world around them. I don't have an issue with that - I think that's a wonderful idea. What I do take issue with is that not a single book on this list has been published recently. There are certain books that have been published in the last 15-20 years that are considered modern classics - and yet the most recent work on the list is probably from the 1970s or 1980s. It would be amazing to see the addition of a novel such as The Secret History or American Gods to this list. It certainly isn't one that shies from difficult topics - it includes books on slavery, femininity, and war, among other topics. These books all raise questions that make readers think - so why not include thinking questions from modern authors, too?

I have no issue with the concept of recommended reading lists for incoming college students - in fact,there is one on this blog that I have composed. But I think, for the sake of those students, they should be composed with the student in mind - with keeping them engaged in their reading and focusing on the world around the student, and making the pedigree of the reading list to a minimum. 

You can find the College Board's list here: http://www.uhlibrary.net/pdf/college_board_recommended_books.pdf

You can find my post about recommended summer reading here: http://wateryink.blogspot.com/2015/07/a-summer-reading-list-for-rising.html

The Great Russian Readthrough

Hello, readers!

I realize it has been a few months since I have posted here, so I wanted to give you an update on what I've been reading.

For the next semester, I am doing an independent study of Russian Literature, which I have designed to cover everything from the 19th century Golden Age (think Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and the other greats) to the 21st. The purpose of this span is not only to give me the chance to read more Russian lit (which, I confess, while incredibly strange, is something that I've wanted to do for ages), but to see how Russian history has affected what Russian authors write about. Specifically, I'm interested to see whether Soviet control of propaganda and other information which was released to the public caused authors to cloak their critiques of the government in historical events.

In order to get through everything that I will be reading this semester in a timely manner, I've set up a reading schedule over the summer so that I can read each book and take notes before the school year starts.

Here's a taste of what I'm going to be reading:

1. Eugene Onegin - Alexander Pushkin
2. Notes from Underground - Fydor Dostoevsky
3. Demons: A Novel in Three Parts - Fydor Dostoevsky
4. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
5. The Cherry Orchard - Anton Chekov
6. And Quiet Flows the Don - Mikhail Sholokhov
7. Life and Fate - Vassily Grossman
8. Siberia - Nikolai Maslov
9. One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich - Alexander Solzhenitsyn
10. The Master and Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov
11. The Funeral Party - Lyudmila Ulitskaya
12. Selected Poems - Marina Tsvetayeva
13. The Day of the Oprichnik - Vladimir Sorokin

I've already finished the first three, and I'm almost done with Anna Karenina, so I feel like I'm doing well. The only one that I'm worried about getting stuck in is Life and Fate, because it's almost as long as War and Peace (you can see that it is noticeably absent from this list - there's a reason for that). I'm really excited for discussion with these works, though.

Of the three that I've finished, I surprisingly most enjoyed Eugene Onegin. I don't usually like poetry, especially extended poems, but I couldn't put the work down. I understood the characters so well, and felt like they were human and fleshed out. By comparison, I felt like Dostoevsky's characters were too bogged down in philosophizing and passing on religion to be fully formed. And at least one of the characters in each novel has to be insane, apparently (this is a running theme I'm noticing, having found it in The Brothers Karamazov and in Crime and Punishment as well). 

Anna Karenina is interesting, in that so far (at least) it does not have nearly the level of political commentary that its companions have had. It is solely a social commentary. If anything, what it does the most is reveal the position of women in Russian society in the 19th century, through four different female characters. As I finish reading, I might keep pondering this viewpoint (maybe it could be a good paper topic!).

That's it for now - I look forward to updating you all with more about the Great Russian Readthrough! 

Happy summer reading, everyone!