(no subject)

Feminists make better wives declares the SMH today.
When you actually LOOK at the article, apparently feminists make better partners, generally, are more likely to be in a relationship, have greater relationship stability and greater sexual satisfaction.
All of which qualities may or may not make a better wife, I suppose, but that doesn't seem to be the point of the study at all.

Grendel- First Music Critic

Last semester, as part of Awesome's Anglo-Saxon course on Devils and Demons, we had to translate the passage introducing Grendel, and his arrival at Hereot. Anglo-Saxon poetry and I have never got along particularly well, and Beowulf in particular i tend to make a dog's breakfast of.
So there I was, late on a Wednesday night, sitting at my college desk, wishing I was doing anything else rather than translate Beowulf (sermons? penitentials? anything?). All around me, as will happen on a Wednesday night in college, there seemed to be a riot going on. Possibly a Viking raid? Someone was definitely being ravaged. There was loud music, incoherent shouting and people vomiting in the bathrooms. YAY.

So you can understand that I was inclined to sympathise with poor ole Grendel, who, according to my sloppy translation, endured a difficult period, because every day he heard mirth loud in the hall; there was the sound of the harp, the poet's clear song.

Hal Duncan, who is not a medievalist at all but still has a less than spectacular opinion of the movie ("a fluffy confection"), describes Grendel's attack on Hereot as "the first instance of music criticism in recorded history".

Meanwhile, I'm not alone in sympathising with Grendel's neighbour-trouble. Nina, at Blog-Her, who attended Richard Nokes' showing of Beowulf, introduces her review of the movie with this reflection:

We live across the street from two sets of very noisy neighbors. They break the golden rule of neighborly politeness by turning their bass up to eleven, which doesn't sit well with Mike and I. Mike, especially, gets upset whenever they come bumping up to their house at 2am. "I give them ten minutes," he says, "and then I'm calling the police."

Eventually, he's going to turn into a shriveled recluse, covering his pounding ears to protect himself from the noise of those around them. Not unlike Grendel, the demon spawn of a succubus and King Hrothgar of the Danes.

So, folks. Grendel is a likeable fellow, if in need of better anger management techniques. Is he man or monster? What exactly does "the kin of Cain" mean, anyway? So far as I can tell from my botchy translation, it's possible that Grendel, descendant of Cain, is a man banished to live among monsters; or equally possible that monsters, "who made war with God a long time", are collectively the descendants of the banished Cain, including Grendel. I don't really think that kind of distinction is helpful though- the contents of the Beowulf Manuscript (Beowulf, St Christopher- dog-headed saint- The Wonders of the East- list of crazy monsters- Alexander's Letter to Aristotole- or is it Aristotle's to Alexander?- and, interestingly, the Judith poem) seem to be collected with an eye to the relationships between man and monster. A monster is someone who is like, but crucially unlike, 'true' humans. Grendel, for example, is outside of the dryht, the warrior community which defines a hero's existence. He doesn't understand or operate by the rules of honour, fued and vengance. (Interestingly, his mother does operate within these structures, so her monstrosity must lie somewhere else.)
Anyway. That's enough meandering about monsters and Beowulf, particularly from Highly-who-hasn't-read-the-whole-poem-yet. I can talk about St Christopher at length later on, if you like.

The cheery folks at Riddle 47 are hosting a Grendel-drawing project, in the interests of investigating different people's interpretations of the man-monster. Leslie Doon has posted her sketch, with commentary, on the blog for all to see.

Highly narrowly defeats biscuits!

Cooking is supposed to be fun, right?

Well, what's fun without:

*getting biscuit mix from here to kingdom come?
*getting to the final step of a recipe which began with "cream butter and sugar", and only realising that your mixture is too dry when it sets like a rock in the piping tube?
*ringing your mother for advice, and having a long meandering conversation with her answering machine during which you realise you'd only used half the required amount of butter, back at step one?
*figuring out ways to remedy this?
*figuring out how to use the piping tube, during the process of which several biscuits end up looking like caterpillars, cowpats, and various other things aside from neat fat finger-width biscuits?
*Many of those which acheive the appropriate length and bredth ending up with odd, upward-tilting phallic protuberances at the end until you figure out how to finish off neatly?
*dropping a bowl of biscuit batter, catching it one-handed while the other hand swings the piping tube around and gets batter all up the side of the bench?
*eating nearly as much of the mix as goes into the oven, and then feeling queasy?

( photographic evidence )

now we wait for dad to come home with the chocolate to coat them :)