A Review
Back from Folklife. It’s a hot day for it! And Folklife when it’s hot can be a little much. Crowded, not much shade, crowded, all those stupid teenage abdomens poking out, crowded, and hot. But it was fun. We got lucky and happened on a terrific group – the North Shore Celtic Ensemble – along with a shady spot to stand, so that made the afternoon. Some African drumming, some shanties, and that was enough. If it had been cooler I would have hunted for some Inca music and maybe a little Bulgarian dancing, but this was good.
Another item. I’m slowly catching up…
There’s an excellent archaeology site that has a great review of the Dictionary. He so thoroughly sees the point…
I became quite depressed while taking my MPhil in Archaeology. I was being taught philosophy. By archaeologists. I’m not an expert on Philosophy but I’m willing to bet that with three years for a BA, and another 3+1 for the MA and PhD, there’s a bit more to Philosophy than using long words. Sorry, deploying extensive lexical structures within a textual context. I also suspect that a background in Philosophy would help in teaching it, but I’m open to being corrected by those who know better.
Ain’t it the truth. What else have we been gently hinting to Judith Halberstam – but will she listen? I seriously doubt it.
It’s not that it skewers a clique I find offensive that makes me like this book. There are lots of people willing to criticise post-modernism especially among people who haven’t read the original texts. A lot of ‘criticisms’ are knee-jerk anti-intellectualism. The difference is that Benson and Stangroom have read what is being said and understand it. Which is more than the authors of post-modern articles do. Except as Benson and Stangroom point out, authors don’t really exist.
Which is why postmodernists never put their names on their books, or collect royalties, or accept promotion or tenure, or assign their books to their students. Yep.
I think I’ll find it useful if I give a paper at the Theoretical Archaeology Group conference this year. I may well cite some of the definitions deadpan. They should pass through without firing a neuron of doubt in a section of the audience.
Now that makes my little red eyes well up. He thinks he might find it useful at a Theoretical conference. I’ve seldom been so flattered. Sic ’em, Alun!
Alun’s review reminds me that I didn’t quite get the Burgess-Snail reference… Could you explain it to me – by e-mail if you don’t want to spoil others’ fun here?
It’s got nothing to do with the Burgess Shale, does it?
I don’t mind spoiling fun here. We were supposed to provide some explanations on a page at B&W anyway – that was my colleague’s rash idea, and he rashly said so in an Afterword, but he’s the one who knows how to program such things, and he hasn’t had time, so that rash promise goes rashly unmet.
Yes, it has everything to do with the Burgess Shale. It’s just a totally silly absurdist joke, which for some reason made us laugh insanely in the very early days of the Dictionary. It starts with a confusion between the Burgess Shale and a snail called Burgess, then throws in Guy Burgess (the spy who fled to Moscow just before being unmasked) and Anthony Burgess (who wrote Clockwork Orange along with many other novels). We knew it would be irritatingly obscure, and argued a good bit about what to include (I’m the one who threw in Guy and Anthony), and ended up just deciding to have one really absurd incomprehensible one. Or maybe I decided and my colleague gave up fighting – I forget.