King Solomon's Mines - H. Rider Haggard

The actual volume that first introduced me to the adventures of Alan Quartermain may still be sitting on the shelves of the Yorba Linda Public Library from which I had borrowed it sometime around 1996. This book was a nostalgia-fueled purchase, although I couldn’t complain much about a decent hardcover for 25 cents at a Literature department book sale in 2006. I had been keeping my eye out for a nice copy of this book ever since I had first adventured with Haggard's Victorian hero to discover hidden treasure in far-off places in Africa where no map had gone. Interestingly enough, as of the date of this writing, my father, who was originally responsible for introducing me to Haggard’s novel, has borrowed this book and I have no idea when it will be returned to me.

Haggard, H. Rider. King Solomon’s Mines. New York: Reader’s Digest, 1994.

Ulysses

I call these my Leprechuan books since they are uniquely small (about 4”x5”), green, contain gilded pages, and perhaps even because their origin is mysterious (it should be noted that the editing on these editions is quite poor, with numerous misspellings and inconsistent punctuation, even for Joyce). I purchased this set from the bookstore of Trinity College on a weekend trip to Dublin, Ireland during the aforementioned semester abroad. The great part about this novel in particular is its own basis in Homer’s Odyssey; Ulysses tells the disjointed tale of Leo Bloom who spends a day wandering around Dublin and experiencing uncanny and profound adventures before arriving home a changed man. On the weekend I purchased these books I can say that I had done very much the same thing.

Joyce, James. Ulysses. N.L.: N.P., N.D. (novel is printed in three volumes in a boxed-set entitled The Works of James Joyce in Ten Volumes).

Complete Works of Shakespeare 1

I thought my discovery of this three-volume, oversized, complete-works set was a terrific buy at a bargain-rack seven dollars at my favorite used book store in the summer of 2004. The timing was perfect too, since I would be leaving in August for a semester of study in London, England. In preparation for my trip I was expected to read a number of Shakespeare's plays, including The Tempest (1-42), a play about a duke of Milan named Prospero who had been forced abroad and abandoned on a magical island for almost twenty years. Fortunately, my semester didn’t feel like exile at all and despite the fact that this book was far too large to take with me, I was able to see most of its contents performed by professional companies in the UK that semester.

Shakespeare, William. The Complete Works of Shakespeare, from the Original Text: Comedies. Secaucus, NJ: Wellfleet Press, 1987. (one of a set of three volumes)

Pursuing a Designated Emphasis in Nerd Studies

This week I've taken a break from the usual Collection posts to talk about some thoughts that I've been mulling over while attempting to make sense of my place in this wild world. Enjoy.

Being excited about the recently-aired Dr. Who 50th anniversary special, I watched a short clip from the BBC Graham Norton chat show which featured the two most recent doctors, Matt Smith and David Tennant, as well as comic Jimmy Carr. During one of Norton's audience-involvement segments, Carr mocked a die-hard Whoovian with what has undoubtedly become a tired trope of nerd-hate, "What do you think its going to be like to touch a girl?" The jibe got uproarious laughter from the audience and deprecating giggles from the object of Carr's mockery and got me thinking about my career. Didn't see that coming, did you? I'll explain:
Admittedly, Carr is known for being particularly aggressive onstage and undoubtedly the joke was made in fun, but the canned response to such a joke reveals a very interesting trend in the way that nerds are understood in popular culture. Sure, the growth of Comic-con and the mass success of nerdy franchises have all served to legitimate the nerd in global pop culture, but I would submit that this popularity is still held at arms-length by a large portion of the global population, and a lot of this liminal space is packed with anxieties of conventional masculinity. What Carr hits upon in making this comment is a certain expectation of heteronormative masculine performance that is threatened by another male who wears his passions on his sleeve, as it were.
In a 2013 convention appearance, a loud voice for nerd-culture Wil Wheaton articulated what it means to be a nerd, explaining that nerds are not afraid to wholeheartedly explore and share their passions. The unfortunate thing is that far too often, this means that those who do not share those same passions are alienated by the nerd to the point of feeling a need to respond with a reaffirmation of the most traditional and, I would say, least self-critical of masculine passions: sex. The non-nerd dissociates himself from the nerd by valuing a passion that he unquestioningly places above pursuits that he labels puerile. I would say that this response is riddled with anxieties of identity since the non-nerd is most threatened by the self-possession of the impassioned nerd; the non-nerd is not self-critical in his immediate assumption that his access to tail is ontonogically superior to the nerd's desire to, perhaps, make his/her own tail.
Yet I would say that popular culture as a whole, despite its grand investment in all-things nerdy, has not quite caught up to this realization. Case in point: The Big Bang Theory. While this show would appear to bring a representations of nerd-culture into the mainstream in a sympathetic light, its wild popularity among the same people that make Jimmy Carr-esque jokes indicates that its popularity is problematic (a BBT fan is more likely to talk about how badass Christopher Nolan's Batmobile was than to discuss the issue of its being armed with lethal weaponry). Instead of doing justice to nerds and truly allowing audiences to connect to the characters, The Big Bang Theory manages to include just enough of nerd culture for the popular non-nerd audience to recognize what is nerdy, but ultimately reduces a handful nerd personality tropes into a few manageable tidbits that allow the non-nerd viewer to maintain his/her distance and still laugh at, and not with, the nerd. In essence, The Big Bang Theory is the vaudeville blackface of nerd culture.
Admittedly, there are a great number of nerds whose social skills and general presentation do not fit with what the non-nerd considers the standard fare of cultural interaction and often the visibility of these inconsistencies allow for the nerd to be reduced to these stereotypes. The typical response is to expect the nerd to conform to the same social standards of the non-nerd, although this conversation is rarely much different than that of Jimmy Carr and his Whoovian quarry above. But I would submit that these nerds represent alternate masculinities (and sometimes femininities, although this is typically a smaller portion. Stereotypical, I know, and some of that is changing, but you won't see many women in D&D campaigns or at Magic: The Gathering tournaments) that deserve recognition and understanding.
It has been my observation in working among a phenomenal department of English graduate students and faculty that most scholars tend to pursue fields of study that hit closest to home. Latin American scholars are interested in chicano literature and Latin American studies; my gay and lesbian colleagues often gravitate towards queer studies and many of the female scholars I know are often compelled to seek representation for the feminine in their work. Each scholar works to represent and understand what is important or integral in his or her own identity. For the longest time I have been wondering what it is that hits closest to home for me; I am a white middle-class male from California and I have experienced what I feel has always been a limited amount of diversity or adversity. I love medieval literature and tales of warriors and heroes and probably can attribute most of my interests to a continuing love of J. R. R. Tolkien, an author many still consider escapist. But Tolkien fans are passionate, nerdy, and number among a vast subculture of people that may no longer be entirely shunned by the dominant culture, but still occupy a marginalized space within it. In High School I had always occupied a shifting space between the nerd and non-nerd; I could wax philosophical about Batman but played basketball, I knew what furries were but could converse comfortably with the ASB kids. Yet I was always disappointed at the interaction between those with less fluid identities, especially since the socially dominant would invariably belittle the 'socially' awkward. At the time, I was probably too self-conscious and insecure to make an articulate defense for the little-guy, but if I learned anything from my dad, it was that one should always root for the little guy (a strangely chivalric notion from one of the least literate men in my life, God bless him).
I don't see myself working directly to change this, but if there is any cause that I see myself fighting for in my scholarly work it is to foster an understanding of marginalized masculinities that does not demand that the nerdy learn to conform, but that the non-nerdy learn to empathize.

The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide - Douglas Adams

This is another economical but quite nice looking edition with gilded edges and a ribbon bookmark. The nicest touch, I think, is the inside cover which is patterned with the iconic 'taunting planet' that adorned the covers of Adams’ paperbacks during the 70’s (although I’ve always been disappointed that the publishers decided not to put DON’T PANIC in large, friendly letters on the cover of this collection). The story of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and its sequels is a highly comic romp through the universe with Arthur Dent, a human displaced from his home after Earth is demolished by beuraucratic aliens in order to make way for an interstellar bypass. So much of Arthur Dent's journey in this five-book trilogy (this is Adams' term and perhaps the kind of humour we can expect from a novelist who also wrote for Monty Python’s Flying Circus) is concerned with his search for a home and I’ve always felt this strikingly relevant since I read this volume cover-to-cover during the summer of 2003, my first summer back from college and the last summer I ever spent at home.

Adams, Douglas. The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide. New York: Portland House, 1986.

Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad

This book represents a turning point in my personal and professional aspirations. The object itself is nothing special, a tattered paperback edition purchased used from my university's bookstore. I was assigned this book in a World Civilizations course in 2003 during my second semester in college. Despite the fact that my disorganized and inarticulate professor never actually got around to discussing it, I devoured Conrad’s dark tale of exploration into the unknown, barbaric, and primal reaches of the Congo river, especially since the story is made more profound upon its narrator, Marlowe's, return to civilization and recounting of his tale. At the time I enjoyed the novel but I was not fully aware of how it would propel me into the vast unknown of literary study until I returned to it in a British Literature course during my own journey abroad in London in 2004 (see entry #19 and #20). I have since come to consider Heart of Darkness to be one of the most dense and fascinating pieces of literature in the English language.

Conrad, Joseph. Heart of Darkness. New York: Penguin, 1995.

The Works of H.G. Wells

This book is not particularly valuable but it looks like it might with its faux leather binding and gilded pages. I was given this book for Christmas during my first break home from college in 2002. The giver was my high school girlfriend who, a year younger than I, had remained behind while I went off to school. Perhaps as is typical with long-distance arrangements such as these, the relationship did not last beyond Spring Break. The connections between my life and my books continue to be uncanny since the first novel in this collection that I read when Summer Break began was The Time Machine (17-76). The novel concerns the journey of an unnamed scientist to the future where he finds that humanity is nothing like it had been in his own time. The story is related to the novel's narrator by the inventor himself, but when the traveler leaves for his second trip, the story ends because the time traveler never returns.

Wells, H.G. The Works of H.G. Wells. Ann Arbor, MI: State Street Press, 2001.