Mele Kalikimaka

Christmas in Oahu, as it turns out, is even more surreal than Christmas in Los Angeles.



Santa really enjoys the occasional tropical sunset.




Reindeer can appreciate the spirit of Aloha too.



Not captured on film (by me) are the giant Hawaiian Santa and Mrs. Klaus that grace downtown Honolulu.  They're wearing shorts.



Of course, it is possible to get away from it all...


...on Kauai, at least.

An Enthusiasm of Links

Christmas Day, 2010
You know what I haven't done in forever?  Posted an enthusiasm of links.

(You might also have answered "Reviewed a book or film," and right you'd be.  Mt. Grademore behind me and Mt. Courseprep looming, let's see whether I can't remedy that one as well in the near future.)


Via the Smart Bitches, a monkishly silent Hallelujah chorus:


It makes me think of the creepier seasons of Buffy.

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A piece of Onion brilliance reposted in honor of recent legislation: "Repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell Paves Way for Gay Sex Right on Battlefield, Opponents Fantasize."  And, just like that, a million romance novel plots are hatched in the fevered brains of gay rights opponents....

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Mere days after finishing the grading on my metatheatre course, the AV Club's annual TV awards supplied me with this piece of sublime oddity made possible by knowing that not a soul is watching your show: a metasitcom.




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An old link, but an intriguing one: nearly a year ago, the Believer reversed the blind review structure, asking the reviewer to evaluate a book about which he had no background information.  The cover was stripped, as was the title page, and the title and author's name were blacked out on the spine. Here's what happened.

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In the excellent Guardian Theatre Blog, Alexis Soloski ponders why America doesn't have a richer tradition of historical drama, and concludes that it is (at least in part) due to the lack of formative canonical precedents like Shakespeare's history plays.  I don't know.  America has always easily claimed the British literary tradition whenever it suited.  It seems more likely to me that this is a combination of 1) early religious antitheatricalism which slowed the development of new dramas in general and commercially risky theatre in particular, 2) a later dearth of the sort of established and extensive new theatre funding models that exist in Europe, with a particular emphasis on the lack of a central national theatre in this country that might take history as one of its natural subjects.  I'd love to hear more on this subject, as I'm certainly no Americanist in my dramatic scholarship.

But I wonder - are there really (proportional to the total theatrical output) fewer American history plays than other nations produce? How many history plays does Britain produce in an average year?  If the subject were political theatre, I would certainly agree - the American theatre system is considerably more profit-driven than its British counterpart, and its audience in general more conservative.  Moreover, there isn't as much of a sense that theatre (which is inevitably slow in its responses to current events, because of production costs and time) is the best forum for discussing politics, which change in the mercurial fashion of national obsession here.  We are unlike our great Athenian predecessors in democracy in this way; for them, the theatre was the perfect place to engage with the civic questions that each citizen would directly influence through votes, juries, and debates.  In fact, the theatrical model of conflict (the agon between two ethical forces equally convinced of their own rightness - think Creon and Antigone) is exactly the same model of debate that we have inherited from Athenian democratic and legal practices.

Please, all ye who know more about these topics, enter into this agon with me.  Educate me; I'm interested.

In every Nook and cranny

Christmas Day, 2010


Happy Christmas and Merry Solstice, all.  I'm with my family in Washington, DC now, eating heartily and basking in the company of old friends.  We've given up holiday gift-giving in my family (to the very great reduction in our wintertime stress and expenditure), but my antimaterialism isn't so ardent that I didn't get myself a bit of a Mt. Grademore-completion present:  a NOOK!

Ever since I've been madly reading away on it.  Despite my steadfast commitment to the experience of reading paper books, the ereader has its distinctive pleasures, not least of which is the ability to take hundreds of books with me when I travel.  (I thought this had been a light year for travel for me.  Then I totted up the list of places I've been in 2010: Halifax, Cape Breton, Washington, Los Angeles, London, Dublin, Oahu, Kauai, North Carolina.  Guess I need a memory adjustment.)  Three things that would improve the excellent Nook experience for me: 1) Better screensavers (the Kindle has such lovely ones - pages from medieval manuscripts and the like - while the Nook has cartoon portraits of authors looking oddly like Hollywood actors), 2) easier library navigation, and 3) more font choices for a cleaner aesthetic experience.

The long and the short of it is that reading a paper book is a more satisfyingly sensual experience: the design of print books is better because it is fully within the control of the designer (in other words, the more control you give to the reader, the less coherent the design will become, and the less books will appear as art objects in their own right) and the tactile experience of paper is richer.  And, of course, until the Nook and Kindle come with little Smell-o-vision atomizer attachments, the olfactory experience of reading won't be the same with ebooks.  But the ereader is, to my very great shock, profoundly comfortable. I'm loving mine.