RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Ladder and the Beetle

I’m launched on a Wittgenstein project. I thought it was about time I knew more about him and his work than the odd anecdote and the quotation beloved by English teaching theorists: “The limits of my language are the limits of my world.”  Any Wittgensteinian folks out there with words of advice? All thoughts welcome. I’m easing my way in…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb

On the Seashore of Endless Worlds

In 1913, the Nobel Prize in Literature was awarded to the Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore “because of his profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse, by which, with consummate skill, he has made his poetic thought, expressed in his own English words, a part of the literature of the West” 1921 the Nobel Prize in Physics was awarded to the German Albert…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb

Guilty as Charged

Long ago, but not so far away, but decades before DEI rebranded itself as Divide, Exclude, and Intrude I too committed acts of diversity workshopping. I have no idea whether they were in any way useful but the intentions were good. But you know where those usually lead. I know we’re in the dog days of summer but any moment…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb

Haughty Indifference and Artificial Intelligence

A long time ago I studied Christopher Marlowe’s play Edward II as a set text for “A” level. As was my wont, I scoured the meager resources of the school library for as much information and commentary on the play as I could. I came across the expression “haughty indifference” in a description of the character of Mortimer. It captured…

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Books, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Corner That Held Them

On 14 June 1940, Paris fell to the German Army. The British author Sylvia Townsend Warner wrote in her diary. ‘Paris has fallen — has been abandoned.” The occupation of Paris, the cultural pivot of Europe, and the fall of France which followed two days later were ‘a flaring, presaging comet in all men’s eyes’. The war was not going…

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Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

When DEI means Deny, Exclude, Intrude

The daily stroll last week took us down Claremont Avenue where large picture window affords a passing glimpse into a college classroom at Barnard.  A young teacher was talking while on the large screen was a slide headed “Principles of Democracy”. Only the top bullet had been revealed – “Inclusion”.  Perhaps I jumped to a wrong conclusion but that gave…

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Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Conversations Through the Rabbit Glass

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked. “Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.” “How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice. “You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.” Why is a raven like a writing desk?’ Alice laughed. “There’s no use…

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Books, Poetry, Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

When Milton met Galileo

I chanced upon this painting of the meeting between Galileo and John Milton and had a flashback to undergraduate days and the anthology we were required to buy and lug around (and possibly read.) It was  American, very heavy, very expensive, and full of all kinds of interesting but rather dense texts. I remember the pages were flimsy thin, and…

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Books, Food, RattleBag and Rhubarb

A Scream in Soho

It’s London in wartime, in the blackout before the Blitz and the streets of Soho are full of characters straight out of central casting. Our protagonist is Scotland Yard’s Detective Inspector Patrick Aloysius McCarthy, a hard-boiled cop with an Irish father and a Neopolitan mother and all the stereotypical traits of both. He’s prone to hunches and the luck of…

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Food, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Coronation Toad-in-the-Hole

With May being coronation month and all, the NYTimes Cooking section has a selection of dishes it deems British, and suitable for the occasion.  I’ve made a few of these recipes and can recommend the Vegetarian Shepherd’s Pie, Bacon-Wrapped Dates, and the Orange Marmalade Cake. The Cider-Spiked Fish Pie was OK. Classic Scones are always good but best eaten in…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

Progress is a Myth: We Live in Regressive Times

I’ve chuntered about progress as a myth for years now. Mostly – it has to be said – out of a contrarian instinct not to get caught up in the mainstream notion of things are always getting better – when clearly – some things certainly are not. But it’s not something I’ve really given a lot of thought to or…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb

Art and the Garden

If you are in New York City and looking for a outing here’s a suggestion: Wave Hill Garden in the Bronx. We were there on a bright morning this week and it was glorious. It really is one of the world’s great outdoor works of art with 28 acres of gardens, and woodlands. And with the view out over the…

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Education, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

Lying to the Young is Wrong

In his day, the Soviet poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko’ was something of an international rock star whose readings could fill sports stadiums. He was one of those A-List literati who make the front pages. His poem Lies was much anthologized in English teaching materials in the years following its publication in the Soviet Literary journal Novy Mir in 1959.  The kind…

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Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW2

The East Coker Opera House Murders #1940Club

Based on his published letters,1940 was a busy year for T.S.Eliot. He was based in London and working at Faber and Faber as editor and director. I’ve picked out a few (mostly) bookish highlights here.  In January he enjoyed an evening with Stephen Spender,  and tut-tutted about his domestic tangles  commenting: The irregularities of that group of young people are…

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