Videos - Film & Shakespeare & Stuff Like That

 Not all the videos I watched while sick were about history.

Not a real Trekkie, but I get sucked in anyway:

 Colm Meaney interviewed:

Shocking movies: 

(Sorry, but I did not “Eyes Wide Shut” so shocking apart from in its pointlessness.)

 

Sejanus and His Fall, and the End of the English Renaissance:

 

Musidora - French silent star

 

 

Troilus & Cressida why? Brecht!

 

 

 The Seaview:

 Crossovers:

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Videos - History

 For two weeks I had little energy or appetite for writing, but watching videos takes little energy.

The Huns - genetics

 Sarah Paine: Something Huge is Happening to the Global Order:

 Comanches v. Apaches:

 What if Britain stayed out of WWI

 Austro-Hungarian Army

1066 fails

  Response to AlternateHistoryHub...

 Highland Regiments:

 Most Jacobite Town in Scotland:

 5 Vatican mysteries:

 Grumman F7F:

 Belle Gunness:

 Axe Man of New Orleans:

TR - what Trump aspires to and is too incompetent to stand the test:

Religion in the lands before America:

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A Quick One

 I spent too long writing an email to my eldest sister, so I apologize for the bare bones of this post.

Yesterday, I attended my first Muncie writers group. I want to write a bit more on that than two sentences.

I talked to KH and MW yesterday. 

I have been nowhere today apart from the closest convenience store.

Hopefully, I have seen the end of one research project. I am running behind on the other. 

I worked a little on a novella. 

Too many naps today. 

Otherwise, I have been  making submissions.

 2/11

Colorado Review: “Pieces About A Small Indiana Factory Town, 1976 - 1984”

Blue Earth Review,  F(r)iction, The Georgia Review, The Los Angeles Review, Pithead Chapel, The Drift,  Southeast Review - “Ahab in the Moonlight.”

 

2/12

“Going for the Kid” went to Haven Spec Magazine 

Ahab in the Moonlight went to Toronto Journal, Southeast Review, The Drift, Pithead Chapel, The Los Angeles Review, The Georgia Review,  F(r)iction, Blue Earth Review, Southword, and Cover.

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Mann Essayed, Infinite Jest, Oedipus, Camille Bordas Interview, Shakespeare Goes To The Genre War

 Another grab bag, as I clean up my email and broswer tabs.

Two pieces from John Pistelli, two works by Thomas Mann that I have not yet read. 

 Thomas Mann, Mario and the Magician

It is an old problem: how not to become what we behold, how not to transform into one’s enemy—how to be sure anti-fascism doesn’t become fully indistinct from fascism itself. Given our psychology, with its tendencies toward projective and dichotomous thinking, and given political realities, which often make violent confrontation seem fated, this may be an insoluble problem. Perhaps every anti-[X] is doomed by the occult law of similarities to become [X]; perhaps our time is better spent in simply not being [X] rather than defining ourselves against and therefore by [X]. The strongest fiction, if it is too complex to serve as historical evidence, succeeds in its world-making complexity by alerting us to these flaws inherent in the soul—the human soul, northern, southern, or otherwise. 

Thomas Mann, Doctor Faustus 

The several outward crises of Leverkühn’s life are erotic, and are to a striking degree surmised rather than being verified by Zeitblom. (For all of Nabokov’s hatred for what he took to be Mann’s lumbering Dostoevskean overinvestment in ideological fiction, Doctor Faustus is a novel of almost Nabokovian trickiness, about which more later.) As a young man, Leverkühn deliberately contracts syphilis by coupling with a prostitute named Esmerelda; later, he becomes involved in a love quadrangle with a male violinist who is his friend and lover and with two women in their social circle. This entanglement ends, in a passage of shocking melodrama for this slowest of novels, in a public murder on a streetcar.

***

In fact, Mann, who received a teenaged Susan Sontag in his California exile, seemed almost unable to write without deploying illness as metaphor, a metaphor above all for artists’ Nietzschean dalliance with the Dionysian forces of nature’s primordial flux. This dangerous encounter with Dionysus is necessary to make artists’ ordered Apollonian images vital enough to command and console an audience. Doctor Faustus does for syphilis what Death in Venice does for cholera and what The Magic Mountain does for TB. (By the way, the limitations of this metaphor can be shown by recent scholarship’s recision of some high-profile syphilis diagnoses: for instance and to the best of my knowledge, neither Nietzsche nor Wilde are currently thought to have had the sexually-transmitted disease, as they once were.) 

***

So it appears that Doctor Faustus is, for all its dense and riddling disquisitions on modernism and music, a story with a very clear moral: Mann comes out for humanism, reason, moderation, and against modernism’s Faustian ambition and romance with the inhuman. On the other hand, who wants to read a tract? And does the novel not frequently raise the possibility of parody, to say nothing of irony? There is that Nabokovian trickiness I mentioned at the outset. Could so staid a narrator as Zeitblom, who is always telling us just how staid he is, just how “eerie” and “uncanny” he finds the story he is telling us, be unreliable? Yes: simply because he is always telling us we can trust him, we should suspect him.

Doctor Faustus uses a narrative mode that Anglophone readers will recognize from Melville’s Moby-Dick, Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, Fitzgerald’s Great Gatsby: all of these books feature narrators of self-proclaimed humanism and enlightenment who tell us about the grand catastrophes of other, very different men, “ungodly god-like men,” to borrow from Melville. Yet each of these books, Doctor Faustus no less than the others, carefully shows us the secret yearning, even the erotic longing, of its stolid narrator to be more like its tragic anti-hero.

 From LARB:

Incredible Prophecies, Sick Truths; Oedipal iterations, from Sophocles to Arundhati Roy.  - left me battered and bruised mentally; I never felt the Oedipus Complex, so I am not sure what credence to give it.

...It was a vital component of his self-analysis in the aftermath of his father’s death even though Sophocles’s luckless Oedipus is innocent of both a patricidal and an incestuous tendency. He is a tragic hero without a tragic flaw. As Cynthia Chase aptly observes, “Sophocles’ play portrays Oedipus as the one person in history without an Oedipus complex in the conventional sense: he has murdered his father and married his mother in an appreciation of expediency rather than in satisfaction of a desire.” Unlike Roy, whose toxic relationship is sublimated in the search for a shibboleth or vocation that is neither inherited nor imbibed but auto-generated in privation and pain, Oedipus is left babbling “unholy words” in his mother tongue, begging to be released from the house under a curse that is his own. The name Oedipus, “Swellfoot” or “Knowfoot,” is a found object, like the foundling in swaddling clothes, not a moniker given by a mother or a father to shape the son’s destiny but merely a banal descriptor of his disability (or special ability). Parents traumatize the feet as they cast him away; the Sphinx tries to further constrict and strangle the unwanted life. Yet the myth drags on. This text is the plague we turn to generation after generation for incredible prophecies that yield sick truths.

Misaimed Kindnesses and Cruelties; Camille Bordas discusses her new story collection, her writing process, and why anxiety fuels her as a person and a writer. 

LILY FELSENTHAL: You’ve published four novels—two in English, two in French—and this is your first collection of short fiction. When you have an idea for a story, how do you know if it’s destined to be a condensed piece or something longer?

CAMILLE BORDAS: I think I don’t really have ideas in general. I mean, as the story develops and decides to go in a certain direction, I will kind of build the ideas that the characters need to survive. But as a writer, I don’t start off with a premise or a theme that the story should touch on—I usually start with a weird thing that someone is thinking and try to pull that thread. It happened once that I wrote a novel and it ended up being a story. I spent three years on a novel and I was really disappointed with it; I realized the only thing that interested me was this one character and this particular job that he had, and so I wrote a story from his perspective. But usually I kind of know what I’m doing in terms of is this long or short form?—I know it pretty instantly from the kind of problem the narrator has. If the problem is very clearly and quickly there, I’m like, That’s going to be a story. And if the problem takes a little time to arise, I’m like, Okay, this sounds like a more complex web of things to untangle.

 From Counter Craft: Don't Draft Shakespeare into Your Genre Wars  

One refuge from the news is small stakes literary scuffles. What else are we on literary Substack for, anyway? One silly discourse that caught my attention was bickering about whether William Shakespeare was a “genre writer” or a “literary writer.” I’ve hidden the user names because I’m not trying to dunk on any individuals (and I think the “outright literary” poster is being at least a bit tongue-in-cheek). Still, anachronistic shoehorning of past writers into “teams” based on contemporary literary divisions is a pet peeve of mine. Was Jane Austen a commercial Romance writer? Did Homer write fan fic? Should we call Anton Chekhov MFA fiction? No. Be quiet. Isn’t Tumblr still around to quarantine these takes?

Seriously though, I write a lot about the question of genre fiction and literary fiction because I think these are interesting traditions and that learning about them can deepen your understanding and appreciation of literature. As I wrote in my “The Grand Ballroom Theory of Literature” essay, I like to think of literature as a unending part in a vast ballroom the stretches throughout time. Genres and styles are conversations that take place between authors (and readers, editors, etc.) in that ballroom. Genres aren’t mere marketing labels. They are conversations where authors speak, rebut, compliment, and subvert each other. This, for me, is an illuminating way to think about books.

Never mind the lit-bros: Infinite Jest is a true classic at 30 (The Guardian).

It is tempting to see Infinite Jest as one final act of heroism in the name of fiction. Certainly, I think it’s no stretch to say it’s unlikely we’ll see another book like this in our lifetimes. Ten years from now, Infinite Jest may exist as an artefact of an era when humans still wrote, from a writer who could describe the weather with detail as compelling as the realists, a work that combines Shakespearean lexical boldness with literary brat-pack druggie precocious cool and mainstream momentum to create one of the enduring literary successes of the 20th century.

When I was approached to celebrate the novel’s 30th anniversary edition, it was perhaps hoped that I might assist in assuaging the unfair, outsized connotations of what it means to be a David Foster Wallace reader, which, at its worst, has come to signify misogyny, and at its best, someone who’s just slightly annoying.

When I emerged from those weeks of dedicated reading I had a feeling of intensified mental acuity, but more importantly, there was the sensation of grief. It was a type of mourning I had not experienced before, one contingent on the fact that this book had demanded so much of my attention for so long a time. I missed these characters. I had lived with Hal, Joelle, Orin, Stice, Pemulis, and meaty, square-head, heart-of-gold Don Gately, witness to their deformities and obsessions so meticulously detailed and made so alive on the page, and suddenly without them I felt hollow. And just as with real grief, I found myself wanting to be surrounded by fellow mourners, to seek them out and convene in our collective memory, people who I realised were defined by a set of attributes wholly different from those I had assumed, people who had committed an act of defiance and tenacity, curiosity and rigour, and after it all, were sad to see its end.

I can agree with all of that, even if I am still uncertain about my feelings towards this novel. 

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Grab Bag - Writing Articles - Revision & Characters

Continuing some items I gathered while down with my sinus infection and then recuperation. I am still off on my daily reports.

I have taken to reading Angela Yuriko Smith's Substack on writing and life - only I got behind in that reading. What follows are my notes from two of her posts. 

With all the rejections piling up, I begin wondering is it the story or my prose? The former means to me that I have not written a compelling character. The latter makes me question how I have put the story together - structure overall and at the sentence level, dialog's content; the technical stuff. 

Revision, Not Reinvention: Designing ourselves with intention and care

 As writers, we know the difference between a character who wants something and a character who is constructed to move through the story in a particular way. Want alone doesn’t carry a narrative. A character can want many things and still remain inert on the page.

Construction is what gives desire traction. It’s the combination of values, limitations, habits, fears, and boundaries that determine how a character responds when the story applies pressure. Craft is what decides whether a character hesitates or acts, bends or breaks, compromises or holds the line.

One is aspiration. The other is architecture.

***

Traditional intention-setting asks: What do I want to achieve?

Craft-based intention asks: What kind of character am I writing and what choices would make them believable?

One chases outcomes. The other establishes coherence. And coherence is what sustains us when motivation fails.

We don’t need a vision board for this. We don’t need more classes, more books, or color-coded clutter in matching bins. We need to unearth ourselves.

Small Rewrites That Change Everything: How one-sentence edits quietly reshape our lives (oh, how those changes snowball in my revisions!)

Most meaningful change doesn’t arrive as a dramatic turning point. It arrives as a line edit. In writing, a single sentence can change the entire tone of a chapter. We can shift a motivation slightly, clarify a value, remove one false note, and suddenly the character reads as truer, more coherent, and more alive. The plot hasn’t changed, but the experience of the story has.

Our lives work the same way.

We tend to imagine change as something sweeping: new systems, new identities, new declarations. Those are complete rewrites. What we want instead are developmental edits. What we’re practicing here is revision. Revision happens at the sentence level.

A one-sentence shift might sound like:

• I don’t have time for this can become This isn’t a priority right now.

• I should say yes can become I’m allowed to pause before deciding.

• I’ll do it perfectly or not at all can become I’ll do the next honest version.

These are not empty affirmations. They’re edits. They don’t ask us to believe something new. They ask us to tell our truth more precisely. Micro-decisions are how authorship becomes visible.

 And there is also to be savored how Ms. Smith applies these concepts to a philosophy of life.

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Rejections & Submissions 2/4 to 2/9

Rejections 

 2/4

[Necessary Fiction] rejected “Coming Home”

Thanks for sending "Coming Home" our way. We're grateful for the opportunity to read your work but unfortunately are not able to publish this story. We're sorry for not being able to reply more personally, but the number of submissions makes that difficult.

Best,

NF

“Coming Home” with its second rejection of the day:

Thank you for submitting to Augur Magazine—we’re honoured you trusted us with your work. Unfortunately, we are only able to accept ~1% of submissions, and will not be purchasing Going For The Kid for an upcoming issue of Augur Magazine.

Want to submit again? You can follow us here:

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/augursociety/
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/augursociety
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/augurmag
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/augursociety.bsky.social

Wishing you all the best,

The Augur Team 

2/6:

Thank you for sending us "A Heart’s Judgment Judged." I greatly appreciate the chance to read it. Unfortunately, this one doesn't wholly feel like a match for me as a reader and I am going to pass.

Thanks again, and best of luck with this!

Sincerely,

Aaron Burch

Editor, Short Story, Long

2/7 

Coming Home:

Thank you for submitting your work to Grist. After careful consideration, we regret that this story is not a fit with the upcoming issue. We hope that you will keep us in mind for the future, and we wish you the best of luck placing this piece elsewhere.


Sincerely,

The Editors

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Grist: A Journal of the Literary Arts

http://www.gristjournal.com/ 

***

Thank you for giving us the chance to consider "Coming Home" for publication. We have decided to pass on your work at this time, but appreciate your interest in the magazine and your commitment to your craft. 

We ask that you wait 3 months before submitting new work.

With gratitude,

--

Penelle Magazine

penellemagazine.com

2/9

And a rejection:

Thank you for submitting The Dead and The Dying for consideration by Bard Books. We understand and appreciate the effort it takes to send a book to a publisher.

We have completed our review, and this book was not chosen for publication. Every writer and every book is distinct, and many factors inform our decision, including taste. We therefore hope you will not consider this note a reflection on your writing.

Although Bard Books will not be publishing The Dead and The Dying, we hope it finds a good home.

Bard Books

 ***

Thank you very much for sending us "Coming Home." We appreciated the chance to read it. While, unfortunately, the piece is not for us, we wish you all the best in finding a home for it.

Sincerely,

Clockhouse 

Submissions

Midwest Review, Southampton Review - “Pieces About A Small Indiana Factory, 1976 - 1984”

2/8/26 

“Pieces About A Small Indiana Factory, 1976-1984” - Socrates on the Beach, Paris Review, A Public Space, Mudroom, Gordon Square Review, Baltimore Review

 Uncharted Magazine Cinematic Short Story Contest - “Going For The Kid”

2/9

Bright Flash Literary Review, Litro Magazine - 

And a rejection from today:

Thank you for submitting your work to Bright Flash Literary Review. Unfortunately, it was not quite the right fit for us. Good luck as you continue your writing journey.

Best regards,

Bright Flash Literary Review

 

 

Tuesday In Muncie - Getting Caught Up, Hanging with Mamet, Sarah Paine, and Weird Indiana Stuff

 I went no further than the closest convenience store today.

There was a research project started, two naps, and submissions made.  No other writing done but this.

“Going for the Kid” went to  Electric Spec, Unlikely Stories

“Pieces About A Small Indiana Factory, 1976-1984” went to Sand Hills, Sunspot Literary Journal, Southeast Review, Small Print Magazine, OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letter, StoryBottle Co,  The Coachella Review, Barnstorm, AZURE, The Writing Disorder, 

 “Ahab in the Moonlight” went to Heimat Review, Unleash Lit, The Academy of the Heart and Mind

A rejection:

Thank you for submitting "Agnes" to CRAFT. We appreciate that you thought of us as a potential home for your work. Unfortunately, we have to say no at this time. We wish you luck placing this piece elsewhere soon.

Best,

The Editors

CRAFT

While I have been reading and submitting, I listened to the following:

 

 (Because I never understood why Stephen Stills was considered a Big Deal.)

 

 (Because I do think smartphones are addictive and dangerous to our well-being—also a bit of Michigan/national politics.)

 

 (Words make us, even if we do not always get to make the words.)

 

Some videos about Indiana:

 

Listening to Sarah Paine will make us all smarter (even if it is too late for me):

 

 

Some historical stuff - between amusement, a movie watched, and a fascination with Mexican history:

 

 

I read “The Yellow King” while in prison and thought it was typical Victorian weird fiction. While there I also watched a lot of “True Detective.” I did not know that the latter had anything to do with the former, or vice versa.

 And I finish with David Mamet; herein, I found him cantankerous, a bit of a jerk, and insights on art and writing that made me glad to have put up with the other bits. It might also be that I agree with him about Sinclair Lewis not being a great writer, albeit one whose stories I find can sneak up on you. (Not that I will ever go back to read Main Street  or Babbitt!)

 

I thought of saving this charming and informative video essay about Gulliver's Travels (another book I possessed for a long time but did not read until prison) for a separate post, but here it is,

 I finished watching "Conduct Unbecoming" over dinner—I had seen a bit of it decades ago. Not bad, but there are points where time or direction let down the whole thing. I would call it a 6  out of 10.  It could be a good starting point for discussing honor - which is almost extinct nowadays - and the entanglements of comradeship.

 Songs for the day:

 

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