I just received a three-star book review, and I’m thrilled! Why? Because it’s a fair and honest review, and because its writer has understood what I was trying to do in the book. So here are some lessons to be learned:
(may mean that your mother wrote it!)
written by a troll or your angry next-door neighbor)
( probably means just what it says: a good book but not the reader’s favorite genre)
I’ll take the three star reviewer any day of the week.
This fellow was looking for battles and tales of comradeship, and he didn’t find them. If he had ever been in one of my history classes, he would have known that “I don’t do battles.” I’m interested in the causes that lead people to war (in hope that we can learn from them about what not to do.) I’m interested in the effects of war (so that we better understand what happens when the battles are over). And more than anything, I want to tell the “stories behind the history “— the stories of the people who don’t make it into textbooks — but who suffer because of what goes on in those battles. And I think he “got” that. Listen to what he says:
"This book is not an action-oriented tale of battlefield and comradeship.
It is instead a thoughtful narrative, driven by dialogue between and
among the characters as the war begins and continues in all its
challenges and emergencies; these strains that the war placed [upon] the
civilians, becomes the heart of this story. What action exists in the
book is usually related in letters the family members receive from
relatives and friends in the Confederate forces, or in local discussions
of the events. The steady decline of food supplies in the South (the
Grenvilles tirelessly tend their vegetable gardens to hold back hunger),
and the inevitable decline of the South is told quickly in the last
pages, which makes a nice metaphor for the painful defeat that no one
wanted to face.
"Damned Yankee" is a good tale of the war from the
perspective of the overlooked bystanders who bear no arms but suffer
equally from the ravages of the conflict.
Before I put away my medieval mindset and get back to America's Civil War, I have to make one more observation about the purpose and accomplishments that have come out of the annual gathering at Kalamazoo (formally known as the International Congress for Medieval Studies). I spent some time today reading observations from this year's attendees. I couldn't help but notice that many of them were quoting from postings that had appeared on Twitter. And then I stumbled on a long blog post from a first-year attendee, who mused about all the wonderful connections that the internet makes possible today. "Ten years ago," she said, "all this would have been impossible, and even five years ago, it would have been unusual." In some ways, she was right. Twitter wasn't around ten years ago.
But in other ways, I had to sigh over the shortness of people's memories -- because the internet made possible all sorts of wonderful connections way back in the "dark ages" of the 20th century. Because I was there, I feel entitled to remind the youngsters of their electronic history. Two accomplishments stand out in my mind.
1. Around 1991, a few people were playing around with the possibility of using computers to allow scholars to talk to each other in a relaxed and casual setting. The leader of this tiny group was Lynn Nelson, medieval historian at the University of Kansas. He started the discussion list "Mediev-l" with just two other people: an instructor from Boise, Idaho (whose name escapes me at the moment), and me, a brand new assistant of history at Rhodes College. We roped in our friends, and before long Mediev-l was an active and useful resource for scholars all over the country. Researchers with questions could join the list and get answers to the most elusive bits of trivia. It's still going strong, by the way, although ownership of the list has passed through several hands.
2. And then (here's the connection to Kalamazoo) in 1995, Lynn Nelson, who was by then too ill to travel to conferences, suggested that some of us should get together at the "Zoo" and figure out what else we could profitably do with the internet as our medium. And so on a Saturday afternoon in May 1995, five people met in the lobby of Valley II. I remember Paul Crawford, who was still a grad student, Laura Blanchard, who worked at University of Pennsylvania library, Norman Hinton, an English professor, and one other (maybe it was Paul Hassell but I can't be sure), and me.
With Lynn Nelson egging us on from afar, we decided to create an Online Reference Book for Medieval Studies (ORB). And when Lynn could not house it at Kansas, I managed to convince Rhodes College to give us bandwidth to create an online encyclopedia. In the next eight years, we expanded from the original five people to over 200 authors, each serving as editors of the pages in their own specialties. More important, we were getting 250,000 hits a month on our pages. When I retired, the site passed into other hands in New York and slowly lost ground as the rest of the world learned to use the internet. But I still like to think that medievalists were first.
That's the sort of thing that goes on at Kalamazoo. I've never heard anyone call it a "Think-Tank", but that's what it is. That's why almost 3000 people made their way to Michigan last week to attend their choice of some 600 seminars. But make no mistake, young medievalists. We've been coming up with new ideas at the 'Zoo for a very long time -- as is entirely fitting for medievalists.
Every year in May, medievalists from all over the world come together in Kalamazoo, Michigan , to indulge in several days of living in semi-monastic conditions and pretending that the Middle Ages still have their charms. You'll find historians, of course, but also writers, artists, literature buffs, art historians, archaeologists, real monks, nuns, and priests, philosophers, publishers, editors, and book salesmen.
Young scholars attend to try out their theses and dissertation topics. Older scholars use the opportunity to catch up with old friends and check up on their young students. Some 600 paper sessions give everyone a chance to feel scholarly, and book displays give everyone who has published a book the chance to walk by a table and think "There's my book!" In the evenings, innumerable learned societies offer open bars, there's a free wine pour if your tastes run to plonk, and lengthy dinners where the attendees are more important than the food. There's even a dance where the most dignified academics turn into kids at a sock hop.
I attended this amazing gathering faithfully while I was teaching at Rhodes, but I haven't been back since I retired. There are too many people, too much bad wine, too long waits to get through the cafeteria lines, and too many hills to climb.
So what do I miss most? Probably the chance to buy old books and to indulge in some really silly medieval bling. In previous years, I hauled home too many books, but also earrings featuring medieval bugs encased in balls of amber, a ceramic head of a court jester on a stick, gargoyles, wax replicas of kingly seals, feather quills with ink made of carbon black, and a couple of loose pages from a 14th-century prayer book.
If I had been in at the 'Zoo last week, I would not have been able to resist this wonderful bookbag bearing a medieval curse for all book thieves and borrowers. Thanks to Lois Huneycutt for the picture.
|The following excerpt from a recent newspaper article explains some of the efforts being made to preserve the wild ponies of South Carolina's Lowcountry. I wish iIknew someone at one of these organizations, so that I could twist an arm or two and get these wonderful people some help. If you know anyone who can do that, please pass this information along.
It's been a long, difficult season for the marsh ponies of northern Beaufort County, not to mention the humans working to ensure their health. That's why Venaye Reece McGlashan is happy to report: "Everybody is very happy the ponies have made it through the winter."
The feral marsh ponies -- hybrids of Shetland ponies and marsh tackies -- have roamed the tidal flats near Little Horse Island for about five decades. The herd included about 20 animals as recently as this past fall, when when one wandered into a road and was struck and killed by a car. That's when residents banded together and enlisted veterinarians and animal control officials to help protect the horses.
The marsh ponies were corralled. All were vaccinated. Some were gelded and returned to the marsh, others sent to adoptive homes, according to McGlashan, a retired vet who moved to St. Helena Island several years ago.
The volunteers' action thinned the herd to seven adults and one colt, reducing pressure on their primary food source -- marsh grass, which was becoming scarce. The animals that kept wandering away likely were seeking other places to graze, McGlashan said. Now, the marsh grass is showing signs of new growth, although the horses have been challenged by an unusually cold winter.
McGlashan said she and her husband, Dave, made daily trips to the marsh to supplement the ponies' diet with pellet feed and hay. Neighbors have donated $400 to $500 to purchase the feed, which costs about $15 for a 50-pound bag, she said. Others have donated hay.
The horses seem to be doing well, McGlashan said.
McGlashan said that although the population seems to again be stabilized, a more permanent solution is needed.
"This is not a long-term solution. We cannot do this forever," she said.
Pat Snow, a Horse Island resident who has helped collect and account for donations to help the horses, said this past November that she wants a government agency to declare the area a sanctuary for the ponies. Beaufort County Animal Control director Tallulah Trice suggested that might be possible through the county's Rural and Critical Lands Program.
McGlashan said she also is reaching out to the Fripp Audubon Club, which might have an interest in preserving the surroundings, as well. The tidal flats are attract many birds, and there are rookeries and roosting spots nearby, she said.
Reprinted with permission from http://www.islandpacket.com/2015/03/09/3634196_little-horse-island-revisited.html?rh=1