Philip Hilton scribbles,

Snakes sit in their cage of darkened glass,
Opaque to the last degree,
Holding death in their mouths
Impotently biting the glass walls.

The visitor sees only the darkened glass
He does not see their hate
And so the snakes
Bite the glass impotently.

The snake strikes, and bites, and strikes again:
Why does not the stupid glass wall die?
And he bites, and bites, and bites,
Yet still the dying glass will not let him out.

Dark secrets are like snakes;
Precisely.
Except that you are the glass wall,
And the snakes are not impotent.

Nick Embrey writes,

lady, my arm is swollen like a trunk
and it bleeds thick and poisoned blood;
pus blocks my sight, my eyes have sunk
in their sockets; my mouth is all mud.

there, one ear lies on the green ground
and pales as I watch, I fall beneath
a rotting oak, stretch my arms around
a lower branch and spit out broken teeth;

yes here I am; my noble deed is done
lady, lady I am far too wretched for you.
I am of the day and I die with the sun;
my part is complete, pray yours continue.

Gabriel Bertilson writes

It has been a long time since I posted last, so I thought I’d post something at last. (I have also been both petitioned and threatened with tickling by various people to spur me on a bit.)

So, I decided to do a post of pictures, since I couldn’t readily come up with something philological. This is a post I’ve been thinking of writing for a long time, but haven’t quite ever finished.

On April 23st of this year, I went with my grandparents and a friend of theirs to see sharp-tailed grouse dancing at one of their leks in northern Minnesota, near McGregor, Minnesota, about fifty miles west of Duluth. We drove up the afternoon before and drove around Rice Lake National Wildlife Refuge.

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Hannah Roorda writes:

Well, I know I promised more poems– but as soon as I said that, a large number of other poems turned up on this blog. I’m not used to that, and it threw me off. I said, surely no one wants to read that much poetry all at once? So my Wednesday night poems are still just scribbled on the back of church bulletins in my car, and you’ll have to keep waiting. But, if you are one of those who starts to get dizzy after a few attempts at amateur verse, find relief, dear friend.

First– this is the blog’s 100th post! A significant milestone I am sure.

And second, the actual posty bit:

When I got there, she explained the problem. Her neighbor had called to let her know the sheep were out– but we didn’t know where they were. I threw on a pair of her younger brother’s boots and followed her and her dog out to the lower pasture. We scanned the fence, but didn’t see any breaks, so we had to walk down to both ends of the pasture. The fence on the west end was intact, so we knew they must down at the east end, across the creek. It took us a few minutes to walk down there, but when we did, the little escapees were easily spotted. They were standing in the neighbors’ soybeans, contentedly eating. They didn’t look like they were suffering from any pangs of conscience!

We easily rounded them up and chased them back towards the barn and the other pasture. When we got there, Lauren opened the gate into the upper pasture– the sheep were almost there– but we had rejoiced too soon. Half of them headed for the other end of the pasture we were in, and half of them ran back towards the creek. I didn’t react soon enough, and the creek-bound half easily made it past me and started high-tailing it down there. I ran after them in exasperation, the mud boots slapping against my legs.

Before I had come close to reaching that group of sheep, I heard more little hooves running along behind me. I turned around, and there was the other half of the herd, chasing their friends and I. I stood my ground, more out of desperation than determination, and yelled at them, “So help me, if you don’t turn around and go right back where you came from, I WILL get an ax and slaughter you all!” I don’t think they understood all the words, but the tone was clear, and they headed back to Lauren.

I turned my attention to the original group. By now they were nearly at the creek, and my window of catching them without having to jump the creek again was narrowing. I ran along the fence line, trying to ignore the way my feet were beginning to hurt and the thought of how badly I’d smell if I ever made it to choir. I eyed the gap between us– if I beat them to where the fence turned a corner, I could circle around, stop them from crossing the creek, and get them headed back towards the barn. I managed a final burst of speed– but they beat me. But I wasn’t going to cross that creek again, no way! I was yelling again: “You dumb sheep! Don’t you cross that creek! Oh, I’ll make you regret it!” With an inhuman speed, I ran around them and was now between them and the creek. They looked at me. I looked at them. If they’d wanted to, they could have split center and gotten around me– but I was counting on their herd mentality– and it came through. I dashed at them, and they turned around and finally were running towards the barn.

I started to holler at Lauren as I ran along behind them. “We’re coming, I got them, get ready!” As they approached the fence, she swung wide the gate to the other pasture, and with a bit of cutting them off as the dashed first too far right, then too far left, we got them inside.

Except for one.

One little sheep decided she’d be better off down at the creek, and she was headed there again, ignoring the rest of the herd in the other pasture. I took a deep breath, rolled my eyes, and pursued, Lauren running along the other side.

Fortunately, at this point Lauren’s dog decided to intervene, and she scared that little sheep back towards the barn. I turned around and chased it away from the creek while Lauren got the fence ready again. We zig-zagged around the pasture awhile– the sheep crazily turning left, right, backwards, forwards again– anywhere but inside the gate. I followed along behind, guarding the way to the creek. But after a few tiring minutes of this, I eventually cornered it in the barn. I glared at it. I was out of breath, my feet were beginning to blister, I smelled like the pasture, and I was late to choir. The sheep glared insolently back. All my epithets forgotten, I merely stood, staring, until Lauren rounded the corner and tackled the straying sheep. It collapsed, sincerely offended, and had to be dragged into the other pasture.

After we finally pulled the gate shut, the sheep still lay on the ground, motionless. Lauren prodded it, checked it for injuries, pleaded with it– but it wouldn’t get up. We agreed to come back later to check on it, but as we climbed out of the pasture, it at last got over itself and got up.

As we changed into clean clothes (a must!) and made our way to choir, at least half an hour late, we were both thinking the same thing: God calls us sheep, and boy, it’s a good thing grace is free.

Philip Hilton scribbles,

Awhile ago I was having a conversation with a friend, and we fell to discussing Emma; upon which she commented that even men liked Mr. Knightley, while most men seemed to dislike Mr. Darcy. At any rate, that is what she said if we translate it from the crude colloquiallisms of our era, into the formal language of this essay, which the present author esteems infinitely, etc, etc. Unfortunately, I am unable at this point to lecture you about the incredible coolness of Victorian English, and shall satisfy myself only with considering, with due formality, why Mr. Knightley appeals to men so much more than Mr. Darcy. That is, in short, the point of this essay. After some rambling, you will get to that painful bit, to which, for the reader’s happiness, I have only devoted a paragraph.

In the first place, we must consider the two in light of their initial and final character. Mr. Darcy, on the one hand, is initially overwhelmingly arrogant, extremely prejudiced, and very impolite. Although at the first reading we may be inclined to pass over his conduct as merely “a bit arrogant”, the fact is that he is loaded with it. When he says, at the ball, that Elizabeth is only “tolerable”, it would, I imagine, be a significant insult. Also, not dancing a single dance with any outside his own party is again, a significant discourtesy. Apart from being told several times that his own friends esteem him highly, and knowing that he has been fair towards Wickham, we nowhere see him in a really good light until after he proposes to Elizabeth.

On the other hand, Mr. Knightley is invariably courteous: he does not consider himself above anybody, although in terms of consequence, he would not be able to marry a Harriet, I am sure. He is about as rich as Darcy, yet not arrogant; and we know that he will eventually unite his estate with Emma’s fortune. Additionally, both men have their good judgment highly spoken of, and it is asserted by Austen in the various ways available to an author.

At the end of the book, Mr. Knightley is largely the same: eternally polite, unchanged in character, and as loving towards Emma as he ever was. Mr. Darcy’s case is quite different.

After being rejected by Elizabeth, he promptly changes his coat completely. Although before worried by the lowness of her connections, he is now perfectly fine with them; before he thought she was too poor to be really worthy of notice; now, apparently, not. Before, he could hardly bear her taunts…actually, that doesn’t change too much. Surprisingly, he is unable to be shocked either by Elizabeth’s connection with Wickham; or, worse, Lydia’s scandal.

All these considerations show one important thing to me: Mr. Darcy is clearly out of his senses; Mr. Knightley is clearly in full possession of his.

Mr. Darcy is foolishly obssessed with Elizabeth, and might not be that happy after marriage in real life, while Mr. Knightley is likely to be perfectly happy, and was more careful (or lucky) in his choice. Of course, one must make allowances for love, which throws us in with some strange people; still, Mr. Darcy’s connection is bad: he connects foolishly with Wickham, he connects badly with Lydia’s scandal, he displeases his relatives, he marries beneath him, etc. All these would be, in my opinion, very excellent reasons to escape from an attachment, not only in Victorian times, but now. And so I really think Mr. Darcy is, in the end, infatuated and slightly stupid.

I shall quickly say that Mr. Darcy’s willingness to change for “his girl” (O Victorians, forgive this colloquiallism!) is annoying to guys, but delightful for girls. Girls love to have “their guy” (:P) change for them. Guys are quite willing to do this while “under the influence” (O! The pain of the vulgarism!), but not otherwise. In short, guys like dignified, serious, heroes (and lovers) and girls don’t mind how bad he is in the beginning if he changes “just for me”. :P

Of course, the more skeptical among you will argue either that guys like Mr. Darcy quite as much as Mr. Knightley; or that girls, like guys, consider Mr. Knightley a superior specimen of lover to Mr. Darcy. Yet ignoring these skeptics, I declare my eternal adoration of and devotion to the Mr. Knightley Fanclub.

L. M. Corinth writes,

From the Merriam-Webster Dictionary: prophecy, n. 2: an inspired utterance of a prophet; 3: a prediction of something to come

When we think of a prophecy, we think of a white-robed sylph, delivering a chanted prediction in sepulchral tones, with an altar in the background. These prophecies are generally not cheerful, and always come down to mortals from the deities above. They are thought to be external to our lives, and yet, people always try to get around the unpleasant prophecies made about them.

Now, suppose this sylph was not delivering her prophecy to a group of followers. Suppose the same white-robed prophetess was, rather, sitting before a small fire in a shadowy cave high in a mountainside. She casts her bones and shells, and utters the prophecy in the same sepulchral voice – but there is no one around to hear.

The question is – would the prophecy still come true? At first thought, it seems there might be no difference between the situations. However, I present two examples from literature for examination – one modern, one ancient.

First, let us look at the prophecy in the Harry Potter books. For those less familiar with this series than others, here is a synopsis. The dark wizard, Voldemort, we discover in the first book, has dedicated at least thirty years of his life to the task of bending the wizarding world to his cruel way of living. One of his henchmen overhears a seer making a prophecy, but only the first part. The part that is reported back to Voldemort states that a boy, born in July, whose parents have thrice defied Voldemort, will defeated Voldemort in the end. Therefore, Voldemort decides that he will go and kill this boy, to make sure the boy won’t kill him. He manages to kill the boy’s parents, but the baby boy, due to his mother’s sacrifice of her life, nearly kills Voldemort. The books are then about Voldemort regaining his power, and the boy (Harry) making it his goal to defeat Voldemort because the dark wizard killed his parents, and ultimately the prophecy is fulfilled.

However, if Voldemort had never heard that prophecy, he would never have gone to kill Harry Potter, and would never have killed Harry’s parents and tried to kill Harry, thus nearly killing himself, and marking Harry to be the one who would kill him.

There was also a part in the prophecy about Harry’s role in the matter. “Neither can live while the other survives.” If Harry had never heard the prophecy — even if Voldemort had killed his parents for other reasons — Harry would not have fought so hard against Voldemort. He would have hated Voldemort simply for whom Voldemort was, and hoped perhaps to be able to help bring him down, but would neither have wanted to nor felt the obligation to hunt him down himself.

Onto my second example, which is taken from ancient literature – perhaps a work that more of the readers will be familiar with. Oedipus Rex, by the Greek poet Sophocles, is the story of King Oedipus, about whom at birth was made the prophecy that he would kill his father and marry his mother.

Upon hearing such a horrific prediction about their baby, Oedipus’ parents sent him to another household, so that he would never know his parents and there would be no danger of the prophecy coming true. However, many years later, ignorant of his real family, Oedipus comes upon his father on the road and kills him in a dispute. He then, as was the custom, marries the dead man’s widow – (his mother) and neither of them were the wiser.

Now, suppose Oedipus’ parents had never heard the prophecy, suppose Teiresias the prophet had made it in a dark cave on a mountainside. The parents would not have sent him away – at least not for that reason – and he would most likely have grown up knowing his mother and father, with no chance of the prophecy coming true.

In both of these examples, the victims’ hearing and reaction to the prophecy is what caused the prophecies to come true. Is the magic of prophecies that of humans’ reaction to them? Perhaps prophecies do not come true, but rather are fulfilled. I would venture to say yes — but we will never know, because if we don’t know what prophecies are being made about us (and thus not reacting to them) how can we know if they are coming true?

John Ahern writes,

In light of the fact that Regina’s already reviewed the Dark Knight, Jeremy Sauder intends to (or intended to the last time I talked to him), and that Mark and Nick have talked to me (separately) about the various profundities behind the Joker, I think perhaps he (the Joker) would be an interesting subject to bring up in a little more depth.

Oh, there are spoilers here. I’m not going to put it in all caps and italics, because if you’re the sort of person who refuses to read anything that isn’t in all caps and italics, then your happening to see spoilers down there isn’t the least concern of mine.

My argument overall is about negative capability through the portrayal of the devil. The devil ran across my mind the morning after the midnight showing of DK as I thought back on the Joker, searching for some Biblical archetype. Earlier that morning (3:00ish), a friend of mine had leaned over to me during the credits saying, “That’s not your average film.” It stuck with me, and that’s why I was searching for something close to the Joker elsewhere. He was obviously something that didn’t show up often. I dismissed the Joker-devil connection because I thought the devil had a motive behind his sin – ostensibly pride – and the Joker obviously had no such motive.

But then – I think he was the first to suggest it – Sam Thielman expressed what I’d been thinking about the Joker and then convinced me I was wrong about the devil.

“The film’s early reviews have been gently quizzical about the late, lamented Heath Ledger’s magnetic performance as the Joker. It’s obvious that he’s doing a superb job, but nobody seems to know what he’s doing. Let me clear things up: He’s playing Satan. Ledger flicks his tongue like a snake, tempts people to kill one another, and is gleefully sloppy with bullets, bombs, and knives. Everyone else plays gangland archetypes; Ledger’s Joker has escaped to the movies from Milton, or C.S. Lewis’ Perelandra.”

Among my friends who all read WORLD magazine, for which Sam Thielman reviews movies, it became the accepted interpretation – Heath Ledger was playing the devil. If you don’t believe it, watch the scene where Batman is being tempted to torture the Joker by the Joker. This is a person who’s so sadistic he’s willing to be a masochist to get there. Perhaps the Joker even knows he’s going to be beaten in the end, but he’s there to twist as much fun out of the situation as he can while he goes. To quote Thielman’s review again, “Terror is not his means, it’s his end.”

Two things are essential to understanding the Joker’s character. One – he’s a liar. The Tolkienist, in commenting on Regina’s post, cited the fact that the Joker says he’s “a man of my word”. But that can only be irony – he’s so obviously not a man of his word. He only uses truth insofar as it’s conducive to the spreading of lies. Think how he got his scars (something I’ll bring up later). He tells two stories, both of which are obvious lies. He says he’s not a man with a plan, but Jason Bourne couldn’t think as far as the Joker could. The Joker tells Batman that Rachel Dawse is at this address and that Harvey Dent is at that address. Batman grunts to Gordon that he’s going for Rachel, but he arrives there to find Harvey Dent. Then, bang. Batman should have remembered the time-honored truth that, when talking to dragons, always treat what they say as a lie.

Second, the Joker is eerily perceptive. He’s always dealing with people on a soulish level. The effective tactic that the Green Goblin always uses against Peter Parker (capturing his girl) looks shallow in comparison with the way the Joker can see through people’s emotions. The Joker knows almost too well how people are going to react. As he tells one cop, “I know your friends better than you ever did.” And, the fact that the Joker’s story of his scars to Rachel Dawse is vaguely symbolic of her relationship to the Batman I don’t think is coincidental. I think he’s being a perverted Aslan – he’s telling everyone their own story. In a way, he’s too omniscient to be just a character. His knowledge is almost authorial.

Two central themes recur. First – Batman’s maculate fight against evil wouldn’t be complete without the Joker’s contribution. “You just couldn’t let me go could you? This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You truly are incorruptible aren’t you? You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness, and I won’t kill you, because you’re just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever.”

Second, the Joker is willing to do anything he can – including pain not only to other people (a clichéd villain tactic) but pain to himself – to win “the battle for Gotham’s soul”. I think he actually wins (here’s where I slightly disagree with Regina) in the end by converting, if you will, Harvey Dent into a monstrous Nietzschian villain, 2face. Harvey Dent represents Gotham’s bright future. A bright future, by the end of the movie, that’s a little burnt. But the film has a hopeful ending, somehow.

But this first point is the important one – it’s another of the Joker’s lies. C. S. Lewis talks in “the Invasion” in Mere Christianity about the lie of duality, which he says “is the manliest and most sensible creed on the market [besides Christianity]. But it has a catch in it.” Duality is basically the idea that there is a good God and an evil God who are equal in power and competing for control over the universe. That’s what the Joker wants us to believe – that Batman’s goodness really wouldn’t be complete without the Joker’s evilness. The “catch” in it is something Christopher and Jonathon Nolan seem to recognize – that if you have a dualistic universe, there’s no law higher than both of these equal powers that would determine if one was Good and the other Bad. Or, as the Joker says, “[The one rule is that the] only sensible way to live in this world is without rules. And tonight you’re gonna break your one rule.”

When talking to Nick Embrey about this (who adamantly disagreed with this interpretation), he pointed out that the Joker, as a character, is an actor – he’s playing out a part. I thought this was a dazzling insight and it just so happens to fit my argument perfectly. If you’re like me, you’ve always wondered, “Why is the devil so stupid if he knows God is more powerful than him and he’s going to lose in the end?” I think Nick answered it perfectly. There’s a persona the devil has to put on and he puts it on just to be evil.

Now, did the Nolan brothers consciously think of all this? No, probably not. I hope my post can convince you of one thing though – these are authors who have created such a vivid character that he developed intelligible profundities beyond what they might have intended. That happens with other similar villains, like Richard III or aristocracy from Robert Browning, and I think this is negative capability in startling form.

From the keyboard of Regina Bertilson, (technically, though, it isn’t mine…)

I promised John I would post something, so, after much procrastination (mostly because I couldn’t think of something to post, and once I did, I thought it wasn’t good enough), I’ve decided to just post. I still haven’t figured out what exactly I’m going to post.. Dangerous idea, making it up along the way.

Perhaps a movie review? Of WALL-E, maybe, because Mark keeps asking me to write one? Or the Dark Knight, which I absolutely LOVED and desperately need to see again? Or perhaps a short review for both? Sounds good to me. I’ll probably get carried away, though.

First, WALL-E. My family and I were stuck in Salt Lake City this summer, when our van broke down. We stayed with some cousins of our mom’s, but we could tell that after a few days they were getting a bit stressed out. So, we decided we’d leave. The only problem was, we had to leave when it was cool, in other words, a few hours after it got dark. I thought, hey, this is the perfect opportunity to suggest we go to a movie! I didn’t really think it would happen; I was mostly joking. But, to my utter joy, at my persuasions to go to WALL-E because it came out a week ago or so (when this happened, that is), my parents said yes. So, we went.

I absolutely loved it. As usual, Pixar delivered a brilliant story that was funny, touching, and family friendly. It’s a story about a little robot, Waste Allocation Load Lifter Earth-Class (thus, WALL-E), who, all alone on earth, is cleaning up the huge amounts of garbage left by the humans. He also is a collector, of sorts. Anything he sees that he likes, he takes back to his little home. There is one thing he found that he cherishes dearly: a video cassette of Hello, Dolly! (which, by the way, I have never seen), which he watches and sadly yearns for someone to love and hold hands with. Now, since I don’t want to spoil anything for anyone who hasn’t seen it, I won’t say anything more about the plot. I will say, though, that this movie has a beautiful example of love. I also have got to say this. To anyone who thinks that it was a movie against so-called ‘global warming’ (or, actually, I think, as it is now being changed to ‘climate change’) or fat people: No, for heaven’s sake, you’re completely missing the point of the movie. Go back and watch it again right now and look for what the real point is. Those things were just the set, to get the setup for what the plot needed. The real point is love.

I read somewhere (I think it might’ve been on www.decentfilms.com) that there was a mom or dad who, halfway through the movie, had to take their kids out because the kids were bored. But Mr. Steven D. Greydanus, the author of the reviews on decentfilms, said that his kids absolutely loved the movie. Personally, I think that anyone who has kids who can’t sit through that movie needs to ban the kids from watching TV for a while. WALL-E is another absolutely stunning animated film from Pixar, possible the best animated movie that has been made yet (though I think The Incredibles was darn close). If you haven’t seen it yet, go, take your whole family, and see it. It’s worth the money.

The Dark Knight. Best movie of the year, without a doubt. (WALL-E, I believe, is second best.)

As probably all of you know, Batman is the dark knight in the Dark Knight. The star of the movie, though, is not Batman, but the Joker. The reason for this is Heath Ledger’s genius performance. The Joker is out to get Batman in this new sequel to Batman Begins and his methods are as unpleasant as his scarred face. Probably the most disturbing thing about him is that, when he’s caught, and may be punished for his crimes, he doesn’t care. He’s not like other bad guys, no cowering, no pleading, instead, he dares people to hit him. When they do, it’s his triumph, not theirs. He’s proved that yet another person is like the Joker. His goal is to show Batman that his job is hopeless. Batman can’t save Gotham city. Batman is fighting a mission that is going nowhere. Everything is bad. Everyone is evil, in their heart of hearts. The Joker preaches a message of sin. It’s everywhere, he says, no one can get away from it, so we might as well just give in.

Now, the Dark Knight could just turn out to be one of those really depressing movies that no one should ever watch, but it doesn’t. The Joker is proven wrong, people have compassion, there is hope.

The Dark Knight is an incredible movie. It shows that this world is sinful, but also shows that there’s good in the world. It shows evil of a fascinating and sinister sort, but also beautiful heroism. Not to mention there’s a really creepy laugh.

Man, now I really want to see it again. Too bad it’s ten o’clock.

So, enjoy my reviews, everyone. I’ve finally started writing ones near what I want them to be like. A bit of worldview, not too much spoiling of the plot.. Perfect. Well, almost.