From The Oxford Companion to American Literature, by Hart and Leininger.
Transcendentalism, a philosophic and literary movement that flourished in New England, particularly at Concord (c. 1836-60), as a reaction against 18th-century rationalism, the skeptical philosophy of Locke, and the confining religious orthodoxy of New England Calvinism. This romantic, idealistic, mystical, and individualistic belief was more a cast of thought than a systematic philosophy. It was eclectic in nature and had many sources. Its qualities may be discerned in Jonathan Edwards's belief in "a Divine and Supernatural Light, immediately imparted to the soul by the spirit of God," and the idealism of Channing, whose Unitarianism was a religious predecessor of this belief in an indwelling God and intuitive thought. It was also a manifestation of the general humanitarian trend of 19th-century thought. The name, as well as many of the ideas, was derived from Kant's Critique of Practical Reason (1788), in which he declares, "I call all knowledge transcendental which is concerned, not with objects, but with our mode of knowing objects so far as this is possible a priori." From other German philosophers, such as Jacobi, Fichte, Schleiermacher, Schelling, and Herder, it received impulses toward mysticism and toward practical action as an expression of the will. Through Goethe, Richter, Novalis, and other literary figures, the philosophy was more easily communicated to American authors, and, at second remove, the doctrines of German transcendentalism were reflected in the poetry and criticism of such English authors as Coleridge, Carlyle, and Wordsworth. In addition, the New England Transcendentalist belief was shaped by the ideas of Plato, Plotinus, and such English neo-Platonists as Cudworth and More, as well as by certain aspects of the teachings of Confucius, the Mohammedan Sufis, the writers of the Upanishads and the Bhagavad-Gita, the Buddhists, the eclectic idealist Victor Cousin, the Hebrew and Greek scriptural authors, Thomas à Kempis, Pascal, and Swedenborg.
Although the very spirit of Transcendentalism permitted contradiction, and its eclectic sourdes made for diverse concepts, in its larger outlines the belief had as its fundamental base a monism holding to the unity of the world and God and the immanence of God in the world. Because of this indwelling of divinity, everything in the world is a microcosm containing within itself all the laws and meaning of existence. Likewise, the soul of each individual is identical with the soul of the world, and latently contains all that the world contains. Man may fulfill his divine potentialities either through a rapt mystical state, in which the divine is infused into the human, or through coming into contact with the truth, beauty, and goodness embodied in nature and originating in the Over-Soul. Thus occurs the doctrine of correspondence between the tangible world and the human mind, and the identity of moral and physical laws. Through belief in the divine authority of the soul's intuitions and impulses, based on this identification of the individual soul with God, there developed the doctrine of self-reliance and individualism, the disregard of external authority, tradition, and logical demonstration, and the absolute optimism of the movement.
These primary beliefs varied greatly as they were interpreted in the writings of differnt authors, although the most important literay expression of transcendental thought is considered to lie in Thoreau's Walden* and in such works of Emerson as Nature,* The American Scholar,* the Divinity School Address,* "The Over-Soul,"* "Self-Reliance,"* and "Compensation."* Other members of the informal Transcendental Club* whose prose and poetry expresses similar ideas, included Alcott, Margaret Fuller, the younger W. E. Channing, Ripley, Jones Very, C. P. Cranch, J. F. Clarke, Theodore Parker, Brownson, Elizabeth Peabody, and W. H. Channing. Since there was no formal association, many writers of the time, such as Hawthorne and Julia Ward Howe, were on the fringe of the steadfast believers, and in one way or another the beliefs affected many not usually associated with the movement, including Lowell, Longfellow, Bryant, Whittier, Melville, and Whitman. So far as the movement had a certain voice, The Dial* (1840-44) may be considered its organ, and, although it necessarily remained on an idealistic plane, it was instrumental in the formation of such social experiments as Brook Farm* and Fruitlands.*
From The Oxford Companion to English Literature, ed. Margaret Drabble.
Richarson, Samuel (1689-1761), the son of a joiner, born near Derby, where his parents lived briefly before returning to London. Little is known of his boyhood, but because of his father's comparative poverty he appears to have received (in his own words) 'only common School-learning'. The tradition that he attended either Merchant Taylors' or *Christ's Hospital cannot be substantiated. As a boy he read widely, told stories to his friends, and by the age of 13 was employed writing letters for young lovers. In 1706 he was apprenticed to a printer (as his father could not afford to enter him to the Church), and in 1715 he was admitted a freeman of the *Stationers' Company. He set up in business on his own in 1721, in which year he married Martha Wilde, the daughter of his former master. All his working life he was extremely industrious, and his business prospered and expanded steadily. Like all printers of his time, he combined printing and publishing, producing books, journals, advertisement posters, and much miscellaneous work. In 1723 he took over the printing of an influential Tory journal, the True Briton,and by 1727 was sufficiently established in his profession to be appointed renter warden of the Stationers' Company. In the 1720s and early 1730s he suffered the early deaths of all his six children, and in 1731 that of his wife. He attributed the nervous disorders of his later life to the shock of these deaths. In 1733 he married Elizabeth Leake, the daughter of a fellow printer, and four of the daughters of their marriages survived. In the same year he published his The Apprentice's Vade Mecum, a book of advice on morals and conduct. In 1738 he purchased in Fulham a weekend 'country' house, which he always referred to as 'North End' , and which later became famous for his readings and literary parties. He published in 1739 his own version, pointedly moral, of Aesop's Fables, and more importantly, he began Pamela.
Inspiration for the novel initially came from a series of 'familiar letters' which fellow printers had encouraged him to write on the problems and concerns of everyday life. While these eventually grew into Pamela, they were also published separately as Letters . . . to and for Particular Friends (1741). Pamela was written in two months, between November 1739 and January 1740, and was published later that year, to very considerable acclaim. The morality and realism of the work were particularly praised, as Richardson had hoped. However, complaints of its impropriety persuaded him to revise his second edition considerably. The work had a great vogue abroad, and was soon adapted for the stage in France. Imitations and forged 'continuations' persuaded Richardson to go on with the story, and volumes iii and iv (Pamela II) were published in 1741. In that year, there appeared a stinging parody called An Apology for the Life of Mrs *Shamela Andrews, which Richardson believed to be by Fielding (as it almost certainly was) and which he never forgave. Fielding's *Joseph Andrews, which begins as a parody of Pamela, was published in 1742 but did not affect the popularity of Pamela II.
Richardson's business continued to prosper, although his health was beginning to cause him great concern, and he extended his publications in religion, history, biography, and literature. In 1733 he had begun printing for the House of Commons and in 1742 he secured the lucrative post of printer of its journals. His circle of friends had by now vastly increased, and included many admiring young ladies, known as his 'songbirds' or 'honorary daughters'. During the writing of *Clarissa, which was probably begun in 1744, he endlessly asked his friends for comment and advice, and read passages aloud to them in his 'grotto' (or summer house) at Norht End. The first two volumes of Clarissa appeared in 1747 and were very favourably received. After heavy revision, and determined efforts to prune, a further five volumes appeared in 1748. Correspondents and the circle of friends continued to grow and now included the *Bluestocking ladies Mrs *Delany, Mrs *Carter, and later Mrs *Chapone. Clarissa was an undoubted success but there were complaints about both its length and its indecency, and it was not reprinted as often as Pamela. However, it also became very popular abroad and was translated into French, Dutch, and German.
Urged by friends, Richardson began thinking, in about 1750, of the portrayal of a 'Good Man'. He asked for the views of his extensive acquaintance and began experimenting with the 'letters' of Harriet, who was to become one of the heroines of his next novels. His illnesses and general malaise, which appear to have included a form of Parkinson's disease, increased steadily but he persevered strenuously both with his business and his writing. His authors in the 1750s included Charlotte *Lennox, Sarah *Fielding, Edward *Young and George *Lyttelton. He had now become friendly with Dr *Johnson, to whose *Rambler he contributed in 1750 and whom he helped with money in 1751. In 1752 Johnson (together with many of Richardson's other friends) read the draft of Sir Charles *Grandison,and Richardson printed the fourth volume of the Rambler. In 1753 he travelled to Bath and Cheltenham, which was as far as he had ever gone, and in 1753-4 he published the seven volumes of Sir Charles Grandison. The book sold well and rapidly became fashionable, but was assailed in various critical pamphlets for length, tedium, and doubtful morality.
In 1754-5 Richardson was master of the Stationers' Company. He published in 1755 A Collection of the Moral and Instructive Sentiments . . . in the Histories of Pamela, Clarissa, and Sir Charles Grandison, a book which he considered contained the pith of all his work. In the same year Dr Johnson published the Dictionary, which contained 97 citations from Clarissa. In 1756 Richardson was asked by *Blackstone for adevice on the reform of the *Oxford University Press. Towards the end of his life Richarson wrote a few 'letters' to, from, and about Mrs Beaumont, a minor character from Sir Charles Grandison, who had been someone of mysterious importance in his early life. He continued to revise his novels heavily, and remained active in his business until his death.
Richarson is generally agreed to be one of the chief founders of the modern novel. All his novels were *epistolary, a form he took from earlier works in English and French, which he appreciated for its immediacy ('writing to the moment' as he called it), and which he reaised to a level not attained by any of his predecessors. The 'letters', of which his novels consist, contain many long transcriptions of conversations, and the kinship with drama seems very strong. He was acutely aware of the problems of prolixity ('Length, is my principle Disgust') and worked hard to prune his original drafts, but his interest in minute analysis led inevitably to an expansive style.
A selection of his letters (6 vols, 1804) was edited by Mrs *Barbauld: see also Selected Letters of Samuel Richardson, ed. J. Carroll (1964). There is a life by T. C. D. Eaves and B. D. Kimpel (1971); see also M. Kinkead-Weekes, Samuel Richardson, Dramatic Novelist (1973); M. A. Doody, A Natural Passion (1974).
Clarissa: or The History of a Young Lady, an *epistolary novel by S. *Richardson, published 1748 (for 1747)-1749, in eight volumes. About one-third of the work (which is in all over a million words) consists of the letters of Clarissa and Lovelace, mainly written to Anna Howe and John Belford respectively, but there are over 20 correspondents in all, displaying many points of view and variations in style.
Lovelace, a handsome, dashing rake, is courting Arabella Harlowe, the elder sister of Clarissa. The Harlowes are an acquisitive, ambitious, 'narrow-souled' family, and when Lovelace transfers his affections to Clarissa they decide he is not good enough and that Clarissa must marry the welathy but ugly Solmes, whom she detests. When she refuses she is locked up and humiliated. Lovelace, cleverly representing himself as her deliverer, plays on her fears, convinces her that he is forwarding her reconciliation with her family, and persuades her to escape under his protection to London. There he establishes her in a superior brothel, which she at first supposes to be respectable lodgings. She unwaveringly resists his advances and he, enraged by her intransigence, is also attracted by it and finds his love and respect for her increase. Her emotions are likewise deeply confused; she is fascinated by his charm and wit, but distrusts him and refuses his eventual proposals of marriage. In his growing insistence, Lovelace overreaches himself, interfering with her letters, deceiving her over a supposed emissary from her family, violently assalulting her, and cunningly ensnaring her after he escapes. As she unhappily but stubbornly resists, he becomes more obsessive in his determination to conquer, and makes an attempt to rape her. He claims to believe that her resistance is no more than prudery and that, once subdued, she will turn to him: 'Is not this the hour of trial—And in her, of the trial of the virtue of her whole Sex, so long premeditated, so long threatened? —Whether her frost be frost indeed? Whether her virtue be principle?' (vol. V, Letter 31). To Clarissa chastity represents identity, and the climax of her tragedy comes when Lovelace, abetted by the women of the house, drugs and rapes her, an event he reports in one of the shortest letters of the work: 'And now, Belford, I can go no farther. The affair is over. Clarissa lives.' (Vol. V, Letter 32).
Slowly Clarissa loses grip of her reason, and Lovelace realizess that he has lost the very dominance he had hoped to establish. Cut off from family, friends, and even correspondence, Clarissa eventually escapes, only to find herself trapped in a debtor's prison. She is rescued by Belford, who looks after her with affectionate care. Lovelace is overwhelmed by remorse. Clarissa recovers her sanity, but almost ceases to write, and her long decline and Christian preparation for death are reported largely in lettters by Belford. After her death her cousin, Colonel Morden, kills Lovelace in a duel. Because of its great length, the novel has been more admired than read, but it has always been held in high critical esteem; the characters of the protagonists are developed with great sutblety, and the irresolvable nature of their conflict takes on an emblematic and tragic quality unique for its author and its period.
El boletín iUnizar introduce más criterios restrictivos sobre la información que se puede hacer pasar a través de él a la comunidad universitaria. Pasan estas nuevas regulaciones desde la Jefa del Gabinete del Rectorado. Supongo que será parte de la Gobernanza ésta que decía el Rector que se cernía sobre nosotros. Pero de hecho ya eliminaban del boletín todo los que les pareciese inconveniente —aunque fuese verdad— si lo enviaba un simple profesor indocumentado.
El 12 de febrero de 2010 se puso en marcha iUnizar, boletín informativo diario dirigido a la comunidad universitaria que recoge las informaciones institucionales y las comunicaciones y actividades de centros, institutos, departamentos y servicios centrales. Su objetivo era mejorar la comunicación interna, evitando el envío masivo de correos electrónicos que dificultaban el trabajo diario y acarreaban otros problemas añadidos de gestión y seguridad. La experiencia ha demostrado que se ha reducido significativamente (un 92,5%) el número de correos recibidos, a la vez que ha aumentado (un 38,0%) la información remitida, lo que ha llevado consigo una clara mejora de la comunicación. En este momento, se canaliza a través suyo la mayor parte de la información universitaria. El aumento de la información recogida y la experiencia acumulada en este periodo hacen conveniente introducir algunas modificaciones, para mejorar su contenido y eficiencia. Estos cambios afectan, fundamentalmente, a tres cuestiones. En primer lugar, una nueva ordenación de las secciones, que seguirá a partir de ahora un criterio temático y no de procedencia de la información. En segundo lugar, se fusionan los canales destinados a PDI y PAS. Finalmente, la introducción de la información se realizará únicamente por las personas autorizadas, de manera que se asegure la veracidad e interés de la misma. La clave será única para cada unidad, pero también deberá dejarse constancia de la persona que incluye la información (estos datos no serán públicos). En principio, se ha considerado que estarán autorizadas las personas que figuran en el anexo que se adjunta, abierto a las sugerencias de los responsables correspondientes. Es necesario destacar que el nuevo apartado «Información institucional» comprenderá todas aquellas informaciones de obligado conocimiento, por ser instrucciones de carácter general (con independencia de que también hubiesen de enviarse por otro conducto. En el encabezamiento se hará constar explícitamente que «esta información no sustituye a la comunicación oficial, que deberá realizarse por el procedimiento reglamentario»). Asimismo, incluirá información básica sobre el Consejo de Gobierno y el Claustro Universitario, y nombramientos de órganos unipersonales de gobierno. El documento adjunto contiene una descripción detallada de estos criterios, e incorpora un «Manual de uso y estilo», destinado a resolver algunas cuestiones que pueden plantearse. La fecha que nos hemos fijado para la puesta en marcha del nuevo procedimiento es el 7 de enero. Como es muy posible que surjan cuestiones que no estén contempladas, le ruego que antes del 13 de diciembre nos plantee sus sugerencias que –tras analizar su conveniencia– se incorporarán ahora o en una modificación posterior, ya que buscamos una mejora continua de esta vía de comunicación. Le ruego también que antes de esa fecha nos envíe el nombre de las personas autorizadas (que podrán cambiarse cuando sea necesario). En ambos casos, puede hacerlo con un correo dirigido a email@example.com Posteriormente remitiremos el documento definitivo y las claves. De esta manera, conseguiremos una mejor difusión de la información universitaria.
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Chapter 7 of the Cambridge Illustrated History of British Theatre, by Simon Trussler. The accession of Charles I in 1625 was overshadowed by the severest outbreak of plague since 1603—ironically, the year in which his father had come to the throne. Though the disease had remained endemic, prohibitions against playing during James's reign had generally been brief: now its more severe recurrence put the very survival of the weaker companies at risk. Apart from losing their 'ordinary poet', John Fletcher, in the outbreak of 1625, the King's Men were thus alone in weathering a closure of the theatres which lasted from James's death in late March until the following December. By then Charles had transferred his own protection, ex officio as it were, to the King's —whither the leading players of his former troupe, the Prince's also found their way. THE CAROLINE PLAYERS As Shakespeare's near-contemporaries (and first editors) Heminges and Condell began to bow out of the company's affairs, its management fell increasingly into the hands of John Lowin—a stalwart member since 1603, whose speciality lay in bluff confidants and insidious malcontents—and a more recent arrival, John Taylor, who had taken on Burbage's 'line' of parts following the great actor's death in 1619. Philip Henslowe had also died in 1616, and Palsgrave's Men had barely recovered from this misfortune (ending an association which went back to their Elizabethan origins under the Lord Admiral) when the fire at the Fortune in 1621 consumed their precious prompt-books. For them the plague closure proved a fatal blow,—as it did also for the Lady Elizabeth's Men, who had previously occupied Christopher Beeston's Phoenix (or Cockpit) theatre in Dury Lane. Beeston, having disbanded the company proceeded to combine its best players with Queen Anne's to form a troupe headed by Richard Perkins, probably the best-known actor of the day. For this he successfully sought the protection of Charles's bride of a few months, Queen Henrietta Maria, who at the time was enjoying a honeymoon with all loyal subjects by virtue of being French—almost a White Queen for their new White King. Measured by the frequency of their calls to perform at court, Queen Henrietta's went on to achieve a success second only to the King's, and were the only other troupe to be honoured with a grant of royal livery. But when a later, devastating outbreak of plague kept the theatres shut for an even longer spell, from May 1636 to November 1637, Beeston threw out the company in favour of a new troupe, in part composed of children, which became known simply as "Beeston's Boys." A new Queen Henrietta's thereupon began to play at the Salisbury Court—the latest indoor playhouse, built in 1629 just to the west of the Blackfriars, between Fleet Street and the Thames. The second Fortune had reopened in 1625 with a company which united the remnants of the Palsgrave's Men with others of the Lady Elizabeth's, to become known as the King and Queen of Bohemia's. It thus revived and combined the patronate-in-exile of the popular couple, with whose distant troubles all good protestants felt common cause, despite the unbrotherly inertia of the King. The new company does not seem to have survived beyond 1629, when its manager Richard Gunnell went over to the King's Revels—a troupe created to open the Salisbury Court, with the declared aim of training boy players for the King's Men. Beset by financial problems, this company (by then composed manily of adults) disappeared from view after the closure of 1636-37. The birth of an heir to the throne led in 1631 to the creation of a new company of Prince Charles's Men, which also played briefly at the Salisbury Court. But Prince Charles's were later to be found either at the Fortune or at the Red Bull, the surviving outdoor theatres beyond the northern City boundaries, where they alternated with a company of doubtful provenance known as the Red Bull-King's Men. Since the Globe was now the only theatre remaining on Bankside, the addition of the Salisbury Court to the Blackfriars and the Phoenix meant that there were now as many 'private' indoor theatres as there were outdoor playhouses—though the seating capacity of the 'public' theatres was of course far larger, since the indoor houses played to a self-limiting, wealthier clientele. (Illust.): Richard Perkins (c. 1585-1650) was the first Flamineo in Webster's The White Devil at the Red Bull in 1612, and was singled out for praise by the author for his 'well-approved industry', which 'did crown both the beginning and the end'. Perkins had joined Worcester's (alter Queen Anne's) Men in 1601, and after the death of Thomas ('Tu quoque') Greene in 1612 became their leading player. From 1625 he was with the new company of Queen's Men at the Phoenix, where his friend Heywood commended his performance as Barabas in Marlowe's The Jew of Malta. THE CAROLINE AUDIENCE The received wisdom that a once-homogenous Elizabethan audience became fragmented during the Jacobean period when the supposed elite defected to the private playhouses has, however, recently been disputed—one scholar actually contending that few of the 'unprivileged' even of Elizabethan London could have afforded either the time or money to visit a theatre. ye, apart form requiring the 'privileged' to be almost fanatically frequent in their theatregoing, this view would make foolhardy the practice of the King's Men, after their move to the Blackfriars, of returning to the much larger Globe for the summer—when the legal profession was on vacation and most of fashionable society out of town. And, so far as the Caroline period is concerned, it also discounts derisive contemporary references to 'the meaner sort of people' said to attend the remaining outdoor playhouses. What little we know of the repertoire of the public theatres does suggest an audience not only less upmarket but apparently less up-to-date—one which still relished the devils of Faustus, the battles of Tamburlaine, or the Machiavellian intrigues of The Jew of Malta, along with the easygoing certainties of the old chronicles, while also approving plays which portrayed the tribulations and triumphs of merchants and apprentices. The handful of new plays which have come down to us from these theatres also suggests their audiences' predilection for works of 'low life and roguery among brothels and prisons', as the theatre historian Martin Butler puts it, or even such a 'full-blown adventure packed with spectacle, devilry, and magic' as The Seven Champions of Christendom by John Kirke (c. 1638). We should beware of taking at face value the glib dismissals of these theatres from contemporary writers who were, in truth, less concerned about their old-fashioned tastes than their new-fangled politics. As broadsides and pamphlets increasingly provided their own kind of outlets for popular discontents, the popular theatre—whose capacity for survival proved formidable—began to give these a dramatic focus. But the public playhouses, although the protests they voiced were the most radical, wer not alone in offering a theatrical critique of the government—especially after 1629, when Charles began his ill-fated eleven-year experiment in personal rule, and the theatre became one of the many public forms for an opposition that was now, perforce, extra-parliamentary. THEATRICALS AT COURT To the ever-more-politicized theatre of the decade or so before the Civil Wars we shall return later in the present chapter. But the government, of course, already had its own theatrical mouthpiece, in London's 'third theatre'—that of Charles's court. When his father's Banqueting Hall in Whitehall had burned down in 1619, Inigo Jones was ready with plans for a new building within three months, and by 1622 this was in regular use. However, the installation of Rubens's ceiling panels in 1635 necessitated a change of venue to a temporary hall of similar size next door, lest the masterpiece be damaged by smoke from the thousands of torches and candles required for the masking. Mainly for visiting professionals, Jones also built, in 1629-30, the 'Cockpit at Court', which is illustrated and described [here:] (Illust.): Reconstruction of the Cockpit in Court by Richard Leacroft, from the extant plans of Inigo Jones. Built in 1629-30 (and so-called to distinguish it from Beeston's theatre in Drury Lane), this was better suited than Jones's new Banqueting House to the twenty or so plays brought to court each year by the professional companies. Here, the King sat enthroned on a miniature stage of his own, directly facing the actors—the seating plan ensuring that no spectator could entirely turn his back on the royal presence. Queen Henrietta Maria soon became the dominant influence over royal theatricals. At first, her great love was for pastoral—that curious idealization of supposed rustic innocence, of which Fletcher's The Faithful Shepherdess (c. 1608) had been a pioneering example in the English drama. For her first Christmas at court she outraged convention by requiring the ladies-in-waiting (who customarily combined their decorative presence with decorous silence) to take on speaking roles in the French pastoral L'Arténice—even persuading them into beards for the male parts. In 1632 the Queen hired Joseph Taylor from the King's Men to rehearse her amateur cast (and herself) in another pastoral, The Shepherd's Paradise, which took some seven hours to perform. Taylor was rewarded with £100, which was more than generous for a common player, while the total of £2,500 given to the courtly author, Walter Montague, appears the more astonishing set against the fee of £10 for the outright sale of the play to one of professional companies. A few years earlier, in 1629, there had been great public outrage when a visiting French company, which included actresses, had tried to play a season at the Blackfriars, and it was probably this occasion which the Puritan lawyer William Prynne had in mind when he attacked 'women actors, notorious whores' in his anti-theatrical pamphlet Histrio-Mastix, the Player's Scourge—which, however, was published just ten days before the performance of Montague's play during the New Year celebrations of 1633. Prynne was savagely punished for his supposed libelling of the Queen, even to the painful indignity of losing his ears: and the Inns of Court, to which Prynne had belonged until debarred for his crime, made recompense by mounting James Shirley's shrovetide masque The Triumph of Peace, processing to stage it at Whitehall, and later in the City, in the presence of the King and Queen. With the ageing Ben Jonson out of favour, and no longer demonstrating and defending the literary potential of the masque, this became an ever more spectacular affair as Charles's reign progressed. Inigo Jones was now able to subdue the ambitions of more compliant dramatists to the whims of his scenographic genius—as he was still doing on the very eve of the Civil Wars, when Sir William Davenan'ts Salmacida Spolia (1640) paid its elaborate allegorical compliment to an all-wise King and a prudent, pregnant Queen for averting, through their 'secret power', the threats of 'Discord, a malicious Fury' and her malignant spirits.
(llustr.): Designs by Inigo Jones for the final masque of Charles's reign, Davenant's Salmacida Spolia (1640). This opens by acknowledging that the King has to 'live and goven in a sullen age'—but soon Concord and the Good Genius of Great Britain appear, to acclaim one whose 'secret wisdom' will outlast 'those storms the people's giddy fury raise.' It was during this last chorus that the pregnant Queen and her ladies descended from the 'huge cloud of variuos colours' here illlustrated, costumed 'in Amazonian habits of carnation, embroidered with silver, with plumed helms'. (Illustr.): Portrait by Van Dyck of Inigo Jones (1573-1652). Appointed to the household of James I's young heir apparent, Prince Henry, in 1604, within a year Jones was using perspective scenery for the first time in the English court theatre. He introduced the proscenium arch to 'frame' his stage pictures, used elaborate continental devices for the transformation of scenes—and even experimented with colored lighting, using candles ranged behind tinted glass. When, in 1619, he designed the Banqueting House in Whitehall, he had installed sophisticated devices for the raising and lowering of scenery. After the last of his many quarrels with Jonson over precedence, in 1631, he overawed other masque writers, and was approaching seventy when he produced his last designs, for Salmacida Spolia(...). He died in poverty during the Commonwealth.
Literary critics have tended to bemoan the triumph of decoration in the Caroline masque. Aganst this, it is argued that the masque was only now discovering itself as essentially a visual and musical medium—which, incidentally but crucially, was formative to the development of English scenography. Yet it must finally be conceded that the form came to mirror and even to encourage Charles's increasing detachment from political and social realities. If the pastoral prettified an actually discontented countryside, the masque became a substitute instead of a symbol for the King's relationship with his people—in both cases, theatricality as wish-fulfilment. Among the other 'cavalier dramatists' of Charles's court were Sir John Suckling, Sir John Denham, adn Sir William Berkeley, whose The Lost Lady, staged in 1637, celebrated the ideal of platonic love which the Queen had for some years been cultivating—a convenient cover for her political intrigues, which demanded the unswerving devotion of courtly male 'servants' without threatening the sanctity of her marriage with the King (which, in ironic contrast with his father's and his son's, remained a model of domestic harmony). Jonson had both imitated and parodied the dramatic possibilities of the emergent neoplatonic cult in one of his last plays, The New Inn (1629): unsurprisingly, it was a flop, for few beyond the charmed and self-deceiving circles of the court could make even satirical connections between the convolutions of courtly role-playing and the harsh actualitites of life in an increasingly discontented kingdom. Although the King's Men dutifully took a number of plays by the cavalier dramatists from the court to the public stage of the Blackfriars, it is significant that these never seem to have survived the transfer for long—through the costumes that came with them were no doubt gratefully recycled by the tire-man. Indeed, in the two-way traffic between court and theatre, only Davenant proved equally competent and successful in both. In the single year of 1634, for instance, he was anticipating eponymously in The Wits the favourite character types of Restoration comedy and in Love and Honour the heroic abstractions of its tragedy, and within another twelvemonth he had produced an old-style Jonsonian comedy, News from Plymouth, for the Globe, while accomodating the niceties of neoplatonism in The Temple of Love—one of the several court masques in which he submitted to the twin disciplines of allegory and Inigo Jones. But in other respects, as we shall see later, he was very much his own man. THE PROFESSIONAL PLAYWRIGHTS Among the professional dramatists who had learned their craft in the Jacobean theatre, Philip Massinger—who took over as regular dramatist for the King's Men following Fletcher's death—and his close contemporary John Ford were competent and prolific writers, whose skill lay in their ability to sense and give dramatic shape to the uncertainties of the new reign. As Charles's absolutist ambitions became clearer, 'opposition' began to imply independence not just of means but of ends—not only rejection of a monarch's advisors, but repudiation of the actions of the King himself. The average citizen was beginning to recognize that the patterns of court behaviour and morality were not necessarily either the best or even the most convenient: and the 'accepted order' began to appear neither very acceptable nor even (which to the middle classes was more threatening) capable of maintaining an appearance of social stability. If Massinger's line of tragi-comedy was less fluent and easygoing than Fletcher's, this was, then, because the self-consciousness to which some critics have objected derived from an uncertainty of values which was entirely characteristic of the age. The alleged prurience of the incest theme in Ford's best-remembered work, 'Tis Pity She's a Whore (c. 1632) reflects a similar sense that new rules mught be needed for new situations: 'unnatural' love may only lead to self-destruction within the constraints of tragedy, but here it is allowed to speak for itself, and threatens to transcend generic as well as moral boundaries. So Massinger and Ford, familiarly believed to represent a drama in its decadence, may alternatively be understood as theatricalizing their own astonishment at the world they were opening up. If their tragedies and tragi-comedies remain second-rate, as charged by the influential poet-critic T. S. Eliot, it is because the dilemmas they pose are not easily accomodated within the formulaic patterns of those genres—whereas their comedies remain alive (if largely ignored) because here the form gives bewilderment to its own comedic dignity and slightly subversive triumph. Thus, Massinger's best-known work in the genre, A New Way to Pay Old Debts (1825) juxtaposes the conventional expectations of city comedy with the actual sympathies aroused for 'country' values—while The City Madam (1632) is as much a 'problem play' as a comedy proper, its resolution no less ambiguous than that of Measure for Measure. As with so much Caroline drama, one's response depends on whether one feels that the dramatist is purposefully posing the problem, or compounding it by evasion of the moral issues. We look separately [below] at the social comedies of James Shirley and Richard Brome—whose usual theatre, the Salisbury Court, played host on occasion to companies otherwise to be found outdoors. Indeed, we find in its repertoire fewer plays calculated to appeal to courtly tastes than we might expect: and it was here in 1635 that Nathaniel Richards's Messalina reached the stage—a play that could be and was interpreted as downright puritanical in its critique of courtly extravagance and the self-indulgence of the rich. Audiences in the Phoenix, too, must have enjoyed the affirmation of mercantile and yeoman values to be found in the plays of Beeston's old colleague, the still prolific Thomas Heywood, who wrote regularly for Queen Henrietta's in the early 1630s. THEATRE IN THE PROTESTANT CAUSE Heywood achieved a modest success at court with Love's Mistress in 1634, and, perhaps, in consequence, went on to spend two years with the King's Men, collaborating with Brome on the topical piece The Late Lancashire Witches and the lost but significantly titled The Apprentice's Prize. However, after the plague closure of 1636-37 Heywood seems to have written no more for the stage, though his prose output from then until his death in 1641 shows if anything a final flowering rather than any diminution of his prodigious energies. As titles of pamphlets such as The Black Box of Rome Opened and The Jesuits Taken in Their Own Net suggest, the stalwart old Elizabethan may have decided that pamphleteering was a better way of supporting the opposition. Not all dramatists felt that way, however, and in the course of the 1630s the theatre became increasingly responsive to the concerns of those who were critical of Charles's authoritarian rule. Among extant plays of that decade, Henry Glapthorne's Albertus Wallenstein thus glorified the protestant cause in its struggles abroad, while an anonymous piece, The Valiant Scot, found an historical analogy for the presbyterian church's defiance of Charles's attempts to impose an Anglican liturgy in Scotland. And the titles of many among the numerous lost plays, particularly from the remaining public theatres—Dekker's Gustavus, King of Sweden, Heywood and Brome's The Wars of the Low Countries, the anonymous Play of the Netherlands—suggest that clear (if sometimes historically analogous) connections were made with current events. For a few years before the close of 1642, it seemed almost as though the theatre was conspiring to offend the authorities. In 1639 the Red Bull company at the Fortune had been fined and some of its actors imprisoned for performing 'a new old play', now lost, called The Cardinal's Conspiracy, which was said to ridicule the Church—and they proceeded to compound their offence with a revival of The Valiant Scot. Later in the same year Prince Charles's Men were brought before the Privy Council when The Whore New Vamped, an attack on custom-farming, was claimed to have 'reflected upon the present government'. Then, in the following spring, Beeston's Boys at the Salisbury Court staged Brome's unlicensed The Court Beggar, perceived by Charles as an attack upon his expedition into Scotland. The actors, defying a royal command to cease playing, were eventually slapped into prison—along with their manager William Beeston,who had only just inherited the threatre on his father's death in 1638. The trusted Davenant was installed, unsuccessfully and briefly, as manager in his place. The man responsible for Beeston's imprisonment was the Lord Chamberlain, the Earl of Pembroke—co-dedicatee with his brother of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays. Symptomatically of the shifting loyalties of the times, Permbroke was himself dismissed in the following year for negotiating and recommending to Charles unacceptable peace terms with the Scots, and for subsequently supporting the impeachment of Strafford. The historian Margot Heinemann actually supects Pembroke of complicity in Christopher Beeston's ousting of Queen Henrietta's Men, and identifies numerous other 'opposition' plays in the repertoire of his 'Boys'. Even at the respectable Blackfriars, that cautious career-dramatist Shirley can scarcely have been unconscious of the parallels with Laud's downfall in his tragedy The Cardinal of 1641—while in the same year and at the same theatre Jonson's last patron, the Duke of Newcastle, dared in The Variety not only to satirize courtiers but even to parody that last resort of Caroline self-deception, the court masque. By this time, not only were such plays alluding directly or indirectly to the current situation, but ever more explicit dramatic dialogues were appearing in profusion in pamphlet form. Few of these, perhaps, were intended for performance, but Richard Overton's A New Play Called Canterbury His Change of Diet (1641), does bear marks of having reached the stage: thus, an engraving in the published text, [reproduced alongside], not only depicts Archbishop Laud in company with a mocking stage clown, but imprisons him in a 'property' cage such as revivals of Tamburlaine would have left ready to hand. The 'play' has been aptly compared with the French proto-absurdist Alfred Jarry's Ubu Roi for its blend of broad but biting satire and surreal slapstick (part of the 'diet' that Laud is forced to change is his taste for human ears, poor Prynne's having proved an addictive morsel).
(Illustration:) "A new PLAY called CANTERBURIE His Change of Diet. Which sheweth variety of wit and mirth: privately acted neire the Palace-yard at Westminster. In th' 1st the Bishop of Canterbury having variety of dainties, is not satisfied till he be fed with tippets of mens eares. In th' 2 Act, he hat his nose held to the Grinde-stone. In th' 3 Act, he is put into a birdCage with the Confessor. In th'4 Act, the Jester tells the King the Story. Printed Anno Domini, 1641." Title page of a pamphlet-play by the puritan satirist Richard Overton, A New Play Called Canterbury His Change of Diet (1641). The woodcut shows the third act, in which the impeached Archbishop Laud and a Jesuit priest are brought on in a 'great bird cage together, and a fool standing by, and laughing at them'. Although the piece is thought by some not to have been intended for the stage, its very brevity suggests its possible use as a jig. Such properties as are required would have been readily available—the cage, for example, from the ever-popular Tamburlaine.
Despite the political confusion—to some extent because of it, in view of the loosening of the censorship it entailed—the season of 1641-42 looked propitious for the theatre. Brome was at the height of his powers as a truly exciting and innovative dramatist, and, although Massinger was recently dead, Shirley was back in London and in harness for the King's Men. Most important of all, the theatre seemed set to exploit its recently discovered potential as an agent for change, not merely a mirror of its causes and effects. Had Charles been reconciled to the political compromise for which all but his extremest opponents were working, it seems at least possible that, so far from dwindling into decadence, the later Caroline theatre would have survived its necessary unshackling from past glories to emerge with a renewed and vigorous sense of purpose.
Social playwrights of the Caroline Theatre: The critic Margot Heinemann has usefully reminded us that the Mermaid collections which, from their first appearance in the late 1890s until the 1960s, remained the most accessible editions of 'the best plays of the old dramatists' for the average actor, teacher, or student, were at the time revolutionary in their editors' preference for plays which dealt frankly with sexual and emotional relationships. But the 'old Mermaids' often misrepresented a dramatist's full range, overlooking work which illuminated social or political themes—themes which, in the case of Caroline writers, tended better to suit the tight, 'well-made' plot construction of which James Shirley was perhaps the pre-eminent exponent. Shirley began his theatrical career in 1625 as 'ordinary poet' for Queen Henrietta's Men at the Phoenix, worked in a similar capacity for the first permanent playhouse in Dublin during and after the plague of 1636-37, then returned to London after the death of Massinger in 1640 to fill the same role for the King's Men—a thoroughgoing professional, steadily productive and in continuous employment. Like Davenant, Shirley tends to look forwards rather than back, anticipating the Restoration in distilling the social 'manners' of his times into comedic form—and also, like Massinger, contrasting the values of 'the town' with those of 'the court' and 'the country', investigating and exploiting all these modes of behaviour with a typically Caroline sense of polite shock that there should be alternatives in such matters. At his best, as in The Example (1634), Shirley creates a chiaroscuro of local color within the framework of a confessedly mechanical plot. In two plays of 1632, The Ball and Hyde Park, the very titles reflect his discovery and exploration of new venues for social (and dramatic) mingling, away from the conventional confines of City and Whitehall. He writes of a leisured society at ease with itself, but aware of the tensions between classes and sexes, of shifting allegiances—and of the threat to leisure itself as the mark of a gentleman. Shirley's steady output averaged two plays a year—and when the reformed company of Queen Henrietta's Men went to the Salisbury Court in 1637, and Richard Brome took over as 'ordinary poet', we know from a lawsuit over his contract that this appears to have been a standard contractual expectation. Brome was less able to sustain such a pace—hence the necessity for the lawsuit—but his output, if less prolific than Shirley's, was in many ways more interesting, and intensely and consistently social in its range. In part for this reason, no doubt, Brome was not even accorded the passing immortality of a Mermaid edition, and his work remains extremely difficult to come by.
Brome was fond of directing satirical jibes not only at the cavalier playwrights and their tricksy staging techniques, but at the political system which the court, in the absence of a parliament, was increasingly assumed to represent. He blended the skill of his olf master Jonson in the depiction of everyday London life with the softer realism of a Dekker, the love of intrigue of a Middleton—and, less expectedly, the capacity of a Shakespeare for showing characters changed by their experiences. Yet his works, so far from seeming derivative, are a higly personal synthesis of their elements—as of others which foreshadow trends instead of following them. The multiple levels of action in A Jovial Crew (1641) thus anticipate Pirandello in their creation of a complex sense of theatrical illusion—even to the imaginary author who reveals himself at the end. And the therapeutic playacting in The Antipodes (1638) amounts to a seventeenth-century variation upon psychodrama, set in a topsy-turvy world of inverted behaviour. Here, beggars are courtiers, usurers give charity, and ladies learn parrot-fashion—from parrots. Not only does Brome display zestful ingenuity in these carnivalesque inversions, but the juggling of moral values in his anti-London has the purposeful ambiguity of Swift's Gulliver stranded in Lilliput or Brobdingnag. Others of Brome's plays touch more closely on the immediacies of an actual London where civil war was now imminent—but, almost to the end, not in the least expected. Charles himself saw Brome's The Court Beggar (1640) as a satire on his recent, disastrous Scottish campaign, and the play's depiction of foolish and corrupt courtier makes its own none-too-implicit comment upon the whole panoply of a personal government now in terminal decay.
As it was, the theatres were ordered to be closed immediately after the outbreak of hostilities in August 1642—'while these sad causes and sad times of humiliation do continue'. As this phrasing suggests, it is unlikely that more than a temporary closure—expected by the players to times of plague and during periods of royal mourning—was intended. Often claimed to be the long awaited revenge of rabid puritans, the closure was more probably the precautionary move of a still-moderate parliament concerned to secure the support of the respectable bourgeoisie, and worried by the new role of the public theatres as a mouthpiece for the people—thus potentially encouraging what would have been perceived as mob-rule. Whatever the cause of the edict, its effect was the cessation of authorized playing for eighteen years. Very soon, this began to create problems for the members of what was now a well-organized profession, heavy with obligations to hirelings and landlords—a plight unavailingly described in a pamphlet of 1643 entitled The Actors' Remonstrance. As another, more satisfied source declared: 'They have beaten them out of their Cockpit, baited them at the Bull, and overthrown their Fortune"—and, it might have added, spun their Globe out of orbit, for its occupants, as befitted King's Men, had early volunteered for Charles's service, and by 1644 their old outdoor theatre had been demolished. In the following year the actors evidently found discretion the better part of loyalty, and threw themselves on the mercy of parliament: they were awarded their back pay, but given no hope for their future. Yet playacting, despite its loss of legal sanction, did not altogether disappear. The Fortune was raided several times on account of illicit playing,and William Beeston was evidently active at the Salisbury Court at least until 1647, when soldiers broke up a performance of Beaumont and Fletcher's A King and No King. How many move such surreptitious occasions went undetected, and so unrecorded, we have no means of knowing—though the lull between the First and Second Civil Wars in 1647-48 evidently saw a more widespread resurgence of theatrical activity, necessitating a new ordinance to put it down. Eventually, this led to the demolition or wrecking of the interior of all the old playhouses—except, apparently and inexplicably, the Red Bull, which, despite the regular intervention of the authorities, seems to have kept going intermittently almost until the Restoration.
Printed plays, closet dramas, and drolls. One expedient available to dispossessed actors and poets was to publish their plays—which, of course, they could now do free from fear of poaching by their rivals. The clause in Brome's contract that he should not publish his work without his company's consent appears to have been a standard one: thus, typically, none of the plays written by Shirley for the King's Men between 1640 and 1642 was published during those years, but all were brought into print in 1653. And it was presumably to alleviate the hardships of the King's Men that in 1647 they published a folio of plays attributed (with varying accuracy) to the marketable partnership of Beaumont and Fletcher—only the third time, following Jonson and Shakespeare, that writers had been so honoured. Ironically and fruitlessly, the volume was dedicated to the Earl of Pembroke, now firm for the parliamentary cause.
Numerous 'closet' dramas also found their way into print. Some, like those of the amiably eccentric Duchess of Newcastle, would have been unlikely ever to reach the stage—but others, such as those by Thomas Killigrew (whose long theatrical career began as a dramatist under Charles I), were published only as an unsatisfactory alternative to performance. However, one work which remained unpublished until after the Restoration was The Wits, a collection of brief and usually farcical pieces often taken from longer plays—as was Bottom the Weaver from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Such 'drolls' had come into their own during the interregnum, for they required only a clear space in a tavern or a fit-up stage hastily erected in a public place, and so were much less readily purt down than regular plays. The popularity of these pieces may have been in part responsible for the style and flavour of the propagandist playlets which continued to appear either in pamphlet form or in the newspapers or 'mercurys' that in the 1640s had begun to find a ready audience. Often reading like uptated versions of the political moralities of a century earlier, these were probably written by authors who could also turn their hands to broadside ballads and chapbooks. Whether or not they were performed, outlets for them became severely restricted when unlicensed printing was suppressed in 1649, and only drolls on such age-old themes as sexual gulling and knock-about roguery survived. Although only briefly surfacing within the 'official' culture during this period of political and social ferment, the drolls derived from a popular tradition which predated the interregnum as surely as it was to survive it.
Ironically, the performing art which eventually achieved an official seal of approval under Cromwell's protectorate was aristocratic rather then popular in its origins. Music had always been more acceptable to the puritan mind than the drama, and masques were still occasionally performed—Shirley's Cupid and Death, for example, before the Portuguese ambassador in 1653, and Thomas Jordan's Fancy's Festivals in 1657. Then, in 1657, William Davenant—who, following two years of imprisonment as an active royalist, was seeking to revive his fortunes through his old profession—because the leading and most successful exponent of a new kind of music drama when, in his own home, he staged the so-called First Day's Entertainment at Rutland House. This served as a dry-run for what turned out to be the first part of his The Siege of Rhodes—usually dignified as the earliest English opera, wihch it accidentally was, since it differed from the masque in that its dialogue was sung throughout. Inigo Jones's pupil, collaborator, and successor John Webb designed the scenery for Davenant's stage in a style which in everything except its domesticated scale anticipated that of the Restoration—as also did the presence of a woman among the amateur cast. That Davenant was not especially aiming at an operatic format, but at any performing mode which might overcome official objections to the spoken drama, is suggested by his next piece, The Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru, for which in 1658 he actually obtained authority to refurbish the old Phoenix theatre. This contained juggling, acrobatic, dramatic monologues, and even tight-rope walking within what was in effect a compilation bill—but which won approval by making its political points in conformity, with the anti-Spanish policy of the government. Eventually, by the time Davenant came to write The Second Part of the Siege of Rhodes in 1659, Cromwell was dead, General Monk about to make his move, and a Restoration expected: so Davenant simply reverted to the more traditional dramatic format of his past and many of his future successes. Throughout the interregnum, there had been prominent support for reopening of the theatres on reformed lines—most notably from the poet and parliamentary supporter John Milton, who even drew up a list of appropriate biblical and historical themes. These would have carried suitable moral messages, sweetened with a few scenes of spectacle and even mild titillation, but were essentially modelled along the neocassical lines he himself later employed for Samson Agonistes (1671). The composer Richard Flecknoe, too, wrote his closet Love's Dominion (1654) as a 'pattern for the reformed stage', which he tactfully proposed as 'an humble coadjutor of the pulpit'. In the event, of course, 'reform' as it was understood by the returning monarch had to do not with the theatre's moral probity but with putting into effect the continental innovations which had impressed him in exile. As early as 1639, the ubiquitous Davenant had been projecting a scheme for a lavish new playhouse, where 'scenes', previouly only utilized for court performances, might be set—and Charles himself, his reformist and sexual zeal neatly coinciding, was anxious that 'the evil and scandal' of boys appearing in 'the habits of women' should be remedied by the employment of actresses. And so, as the critic John Dennis was later to recall, 'They altered at once the whole face of the stage by introducing scenes and women'.
Se trata de una traducción anotada, al español, del ensayo de Mijail Bajtin "El problema del texto en la lingüística, la filología, y las humanidades: Experimento de análisis filosófico." Traduzco el texto del libro Speech Genres and Other Essays, y relaciono las reflexiones de Bajtin sobre el dialogismo con otras teorías sobre la comunicación humana, más concretamente procedentes del campo de la narratología, y también con teorías interaccionalistas y pragmáticas del uso del lenguaje, como las de Austin y Goffmann, así como con la hermenéutica de Schleiermacher. Se presta especial atención en el comentario a la cuestión de la alocución en literatura (narradores, autores implícitos, lectores implícitos).
This is an annotated Spanish translation of Mikhail Bakhtin's essay "The Problem of the Text in Linguistics, Philology, and the Human Sciences: An Experiment in Philosophical Analysis," from Speech Genres and Other Essays. Bakhtin's reflections on dialogism are related to other accounts of literary communication, especially from the field of narratology, and also to interactional and pragmaticist theories of language use, such as Austin's and Goffman's, as well as Schleiermacher's hermeneutics. The question of address in literature (narrators, implied authors, implied readers) is given particular prominence in the commentary.
Allí pueden cotillear quién suspende mucho, quién poco, etc. O si yo tengo un alto porcentaje de sobresalientes y matrículas.
Puestos a cotillear, transcribo la sección de Quejas:
Quejas recibidas y su valoración: 1) Los representantes de alumnos volvieron a presentar quejas verbales por la actuación de un profesor que ejerce docencia en segundo curso y al que ya habían denunciado por escrito el curso anterior ante el aparente incumplimiento de aspectos relacionados con su docencia. Tal parece que, reunida documentación y testimonios al respecto, la resolución de dicho caso sigue pendiente de la decisión del Sr. Rector, ante el asombro manifiesto de los representantes de alumnos por la tardanza en resolverse el conflicto.
2) Algunos profesores y la Comisión Permanente del Departamento de Filología Inglesa y Alemana manifestaron a la Coordinación del Grado su protesta por la realización de un único examen por asignatura, independientemente del número de grupos y profesores que la asignatura tenga. El Coordinador justifica el hecho por la normativa existente y por razones de coherencia en la aplicación del proceso de calidad. Reunida la Comisión de Garantía de todos los grados de la Facultad de Filosofía y Letras con el Sr. Vicerrector de Estudiantes, este ratifica la necesidad del examen único. El Coordinador recomienda al profesorado de grupos distintos de asignaturas únicas que negocien entre ellos la elaboración de las pruebas de evaluación y consideren los niveles competenciales a los que los alumnos deben llegar como el criterio esencial a la hora de elaborar el procedimiento de evaluación.
3) La Coordinación del Grado ha vuelto a quejarse por escrito de la permisividad existente a la hora de matricular alumnos Erasmus en asignaturas del Primer y Segundo curso del Grado, lo que motiva claros desajustes en la calidad de dichas asignaturas.
4) La Coordinación del Grado ha vuelto a quejarse, esta vez por escrito, del procedimiento de realización de las encuestas de satisfacción de los estudiantes, abogando por otros métodos más prácticos para su realización.
5) Algunos profesores del Grado, en una ocasión por escrito, se han quejado por el comportamiento poco educado y académico de algunos alumnos y, en especial, de un grupo de Primer curso. El 2 de marzo de 2013 el Coordinador escribió a los delegados de cursos rogando que transmitiesen tales quejas a sus compañeros.
6) La Coordinación del Grado se quejó en su día a las instancias pertinentes por la aparente falta de disponibilidad de algunos profesores en horarios de tutorías razonables para sus alumnos. Tanto la dirección del Departamento como el Centro adoptaron medidas al respecto y dieron publicidad a la necesidad de entender la tutoría como una parte fundamental del proceso de calidad docente.
Observo también, en el Grado de Lenguas Modernas, que los estudiantes están descontentos con el diseño de la asignatura que imparto de Introducción a la Literatura Inglesa. Ciertamente se les hace cuesta arriba. Habrá que rebajar la pendiente.
This paper deals with those dimensions of narrative which define it as such (i.e. narrativity). It examines some current conceptions of narrativity, and puts forward an emergentist theory of narrativity, one which takes into account the narrative structuring effected by narratological analysis itself as a distinct cognitive activity.
November 1857 Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade into dimness apace, Silent; —hardly a shout From a few boys late at their play! The lights come out in the street, In the school-room windows; —but cold, Solemn, unlighted, austere, Through the gathering darkness, arise The chapel-walls, in whose bound Thou, my father! art laid. There thou dost lie, in the gloom Of the autumn evening. But ah! That word, gloom, to my mind Brings thee back, in the light Of thy radiant vigour, again; In the gloom of November we pass'd Days not dark at thy side; Seasons impair'd not the ray Of thy buoyant cheefulness clear. Such thou wast! and I stand In the autumn evening, and think Of bygone autumns with thee. Fifteen years have gone round Since thou arosest to tread, In the summer-morning, the road Of death, at a call unforeseen, Sudden. For fifteen years, We who till then in thy shade Rested as under the boughs Of a mighty oak, have endured Sunshine and rain as we might, Bare, unshaded, alone, Lacking the shelter of thee. O strong soul, by what shore Tarriest thou now? For that force, Surely, has not been left vain! Somewhere, surely, afar, In the sounding labour-house vast Of being, is practised that strength, Zealous, beneficient, firm! Yes, in some far-shining sphere, Conscious or not of the past, Still thou performest the word Of the Spirit in whom thou dost live— Prompt, unwearied, as here! Still thou upraisest with zeal The humble good from the ground, Sternly repressest the bad! Still, like a trumpet dost rouse Those who with half-open eyes Tread the border-land dim 'Twixt vice and virtue; reviv'st, Succourest!—this was thy work, this was thy life upon earth. What is the course of the life Of mortal men on the earth?— Most men eddy about Here and there—eat and drink, Chatter and love and hate, Gather and squander, are raised Aloft, are hurled in the dust, Striving blindly, achieving Nothing; and then they die— Perish;—and no one asks Who or what they have been, More than he asks what waves, In the moonlit solitudes mild Of the midmost Ocean, have swell'd, Foam'd for a moment, and gone. And there are some, whom a thirst Ardent, unquenchable, fires, Not with the crowd to be spent, Not without aim to go round, In an eddy of purposeless dust, Effort unmeaning and vain. Ah yes! Some of us strive Not without action to die Fruitless, but something to snatch From dull oblivion, not all Glut the devouring grave! We, we have chosen our path— Path to a clear-purposed goal, Path of advance!—but it leads A long, steep journey, through sunk Gorges, o'er mountains in snow. Cheerful, with friends, we set forth— Then, on the height, comes the storm. Thunder crashes from rock To rock, the cataracts reply, Lightnings dazzle our eyes. Roaring torrents have breach'd The track, the stream-bed descends In the place where the wayfarer once Planted his footstep—the spray Boils o'er its borders! aloft The unseen snow-beds dislodge Their hanging ruin; alas, Havoc is made in our train! Friends, who set forth at our side, Falter, are lost in the storm. We, we only are left! With frowning foreheads, with lips Sternly compresse'd, we strain on, On—and at nightfall at last Come to the end of our way, To the lonely inn 'mid the rocks; Where the gaunt and taciturn host Stans on the threshold, the wind Shaking his thin white hairs— Holds his lantern to scan Our storm-beat figures, and asks: Whom in our party we bring? Whom we have left in the snow?
Sadly we answer: We bring Only ourselves! we lost Sight of the rest in the storm. Hardly ourselves we fought through, Stripp'd, without friends, as we are. Friends, companions, and train, The avalanche swept from our side.
But thou would'st not alone Be saved, my father! alone Conquer and come to thy goal, Leaving the rest in the wild. We were weary, and we Fearful, and we in our march Fain tro drop down and to die. Still thou turnedst, and still Beckonedst the trembler, and still Gavest the weary thy hand.
If, in the paths of the world, Stones might have wounded thy feet, Toil or dejection have tried Thy spirit, of that we saw Nothing—to us thou wast still Cheerful, and helpful, and firm! Therefore to thee it was given Many to save with thyself; And, at the end of the day, O faithful shepherd! to come, Bringing thy sheep in thy hand.
And through thee I believe In the noble and great who are gone; Pure souls honour'd and blest By former ages, who else— Such, so soulless, so poor, Is the race of men whom see— Seem'd but a dream of the heart, Seem'd but a cry of desire. Yes! I believe that there lived Others like thee in the past, Not like the men of the crowd Who all round me to-day Bluster or cringe, and make life Hideous, and arid, and vile; But souls temper'd with fire, Fervent, heroic, and good, Helpers and friends of mankind.
Servants of God!—or sons Shall I not call you? because Not as servants ye knew Your Father's innermost mind, His, who unwillingly sees One of his little ones lost— Yours is the praise, if mankind Hath not as yet in its march Fainted, and fallen, and died!
See! In the rocks of the world Marches the host of mankind, A feeble, wavering line. Where are they tending?—A God Marshall'd them, gave them their goal. Ah, but the way is so long! Years they have been in the wild! Sore thirst plagues them, the rocks, Rising all round, overawe; Factions divide them, their host Threatens to break, to dissolve. —Ah, keep, keep them combined! Else, of the myriads who fill That army, not one shall arrive; Sole they shall stray; in the rocks Stagger for ever in vain, Die one by one in the waste.
Then, in such hour of need Of your fainting, dispirited race, Ye, like angels, appear, Radiant with ardour divine! Beacons of hope, ye appear! Languor is not in your heart, Weakness is not in your word, Weariness not on your brow. Ye alight in our van! at your voice, Panic, despair, flee away. Ye move through the ranks, recall The stragglers, refresh the outworn, Praise, re-inspire the brave! Order, courage, return. Eyes rekindling, and prayers, Follow your steps as ye go. Ye fill up the gaps in our files, Strengthen the wavering line, Stablish, continue our march, On, to the bound of the waste, On, to the City of God.
Por cierto que me parece que voy a ir al congreso de la Sociedad Hemingway a Venecia, o a Venecia, esta próxima y lejana primavera. No presento ningún artículo, iré de vaporetto sólo, pero si quisiera podría haber llevado esta reflexión sobre Balls, Bells, and Bulos...
Aquí hemos estado viendo en el Teatro Principal el montaje de Tomás Moro: Una Utopía, dirigida por Tamzin Townsend y anunciada como "la obra clandestina de William Shakespeare." Cierto que Shakespeare colaboró en la versión revisada de Sir Thomas More, reescribiendo al menos alguna escena—de hecho se cree que incluye su manuscrito un fragmento escrito de puño y letra de Shakespeare, la única escritura suya que nos queda al margen de las firmas en documentos legales.
La obra es una reflexión sobre la Fortuna, en la línea del Espejo para Magistrados y otras colecciones de historias trágicas sobre gente poderosa que ascendió para luego caer espectacularmente. Moro hacía este tipo de reflexiones sobre sí mismo, añadiéndole al personaje una dimensión metaliteraria y una teatralidad que resultaban atractivas para Shakespeare. Este montaje recorta algunas escenas que derivaban demasiado desviando la atención del personaje, y completa lo que falta en la obra original con un poco de narración y contexto—y hasta crítica interpretativa en boca de un narrador brechtiano, que se mezcla con los actores y se convierte en personaje cuando es preciso. Nos lleva la obra desde el ascenso de Moro, sofocando una rebelión en Londres con la fuerza de su palabra, y apelando al deber de la obediencia, hasta su ascenso como Lord Canciller. Una escena ésa, la del discurso sobre la sumisión, que Shakespeare recordará en Coriolano. Y subraya el comentador cómo Moro es coherente en su teoría de la obediencia debida a los príncipes, que lo conduce así más adelante a la Torre de Londres y al cadalso, condenado por sí mismo—por no querer contemporizar, y obedecer al Rey traicionando sus principios religiosos.
Shakespeare heredó la obra de Anthony Munday y otros coautores (Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood—a los que ahora hay que añadir a Ignacio García May, como recortador y añadidor). La heredó como tantas otras que reescribió más—ésta la reescribió menos. Pero con su interés por los experimentos trágicos, y con los antecedentes católicos de su familia, se entiende que le atrajese el tema. Quizá fuese él quien adornase la obra con esos juegos metateatrales a los que tan aficionado era: Moro preparándole una broma a Erasmo de Rotterdam, haciendo que su criado le suplante—o el episodio de la obra de teatro fallida, un buen complemento de otras piezas metateatrales ridículas como las que hay en Trabajos de Amor Perdidos o El sueño de una noche de verano. Así se asocia a Moro con la inteligencia irónica y con la teatralidad; y llegado su momento, se despoja de su cargo y de su pasado como un actor se quita un papel forzado, y adopta uno que le va más, el de alguien que descubre cuál va a ser su destino auténtico, después de la palabrería. Moro en la cárcel nos recuerda a otros ermitaños vocacionales de Shakespeare, como Enrique VI, o Lear—pero éste lo lleva con más alegría y distancia teatral con respecto a sí mismo.
La Utopía de Moro abunda más en este montaje que en la obra de Shakespeare, y se suma al mensaje de la obra: qué utopía "si todos los hombres fueran buenos", concluye. Pero también muestra cómo a veces el sufrimiento les viene a los hombres buenos de sí mismos, de su fidelidad a un ideal, que los lleva a enfrentarse a los demás y a sus propias contradicciones. No por ello deja de dejar en su lugar a los oportunistas, y a los tiranos... aunque en su tiempo la escribió un Shakespeare con media mano izquierda, y amordazado, "art tongue-tied by authority", por la cuenta que le traía. Quizá veía en Moro a un intransigente moral, como Southwell y otros mártires católicos que le fueron más cercanos, un camino que él tuvo cuidado de no emprender. Deja aquí testimonio de su admiración, y se proyecta en parte, aunque a distancia admirativa, en el personaje total que es Moro, humanista, político, santo, family man, sabio y bufón a la vez. Cabezas podían rodar, y rodaban, con la hija de Enrique VIII, igual que con el padre.
Quizá el retrato más memorable que queda es el del político y gobernante que toma la prisión, como decía Lovelace, a modo de ermita de eremita, y halla dentro más paz de la que tuvo fuera, y más tranquilidad con su propia conciencia ahora que ya no es poderoso ni es ya responsable de nada más que de su propia coherencia moral:
Fair prison, welcome; yet, methinks, For thy fair building is too foul a name. Many a guilty soul, and many an innocent, Have breathed their farewell to thy hollow rooms. I oft have entered into thee this way; Yet, I thank God, ne’er with a clear conscience Than at this hour: This is my comfort yet, how hard sore My lodging prove, the cry of the poor suitor, Fatherless orphan, or distressed widow, Shall not disturb me in my quiet sleep. On, then, a God’s name, to our close abode! God is as strong here as he is abroad.
Este Tomás Moro hizo el bien que pudo en politica, pero dejar la política es entrar a una dimensión ética más pura. Sin embargo, la paradoja de Tomás Moro es que en cierto modo nunca se retiró de la política, pues si lo hubiese hecho del todo habría fingido con un juramento vacío, en lugar de retar al rey con su insistencia en guardar silencio. Una diferencia sutil, pero a veces una diferencia sutil es toda la diferencia. Y retar con el silencio y la sumisión casi total pero no absoluta era quizá la manera de demostrar la diferencia absoluta entre la ley y la tiranía, y de resistir a ésta con el mayor efecto y con los medios mínimos. Y con los máximos también: pues no pudo pagar un precio más alto desobedeciendo menos.
Literary Theory and Criticism eJournal 10/2011; 1(8). DOI:10.2139/ssrn.1926133
RESUMEN: Autor implícito y narrador no fiable son dos conceptos que están estrechamente unidos en teoría narrativa, tal como fueron originariamente formulados por Wayne Booth. Sus trayectorias subsiguiente han sido divergentes: el concepto de autor implícito se ve con frecuencia cuestionado o se rechaza su validez teórica, siendo habitualmente dejado un tanto de lado en las teorías narratológicas. Los narradores no fiables, sin embargo, gozan de un éxito de crítica y una expansión sin precedentes Añadimos a la exposición crítica de estas figuras unas breves notas históricas, e intentamos mostrar además que la figura del autor implícito no puede eliminarse tan fácilmente, puesto que es lógicamente necesaria en una definición adecuada del concepto de narrador no fiable. ______
Implied Authors and Unreliable Narrators—From Our Point of View:
Implied authors and unreliable narrators are two concepts which are closely linked in narrative theory, as they were originally developed by Wayne Booth. Their afterlives have diverged: the implied author is often questioned or rejected as a theoretical concept, and is usually downplayed in narratologists's accounts; while the unreliable narrator has acquired an unprecedented popularity and expansion. I will add some historical notes and will try to show that the implied author is not so easily done away with; moreover, it is a necessary concept in order to give an adequate definition of the unreliable narrator.
ABSTRACT El presente trabajo es una reseña y comentario por extenso del libro NEW TRENDS IN TRANSLATION AND CULTURAL IDENTITY, ed. Micaela Muñoz-Calvo, Carmen Buesa-Gómez, y M. Ángeles Ruiz-Moneva (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008). 459 p.
This paper is a review and commentary, in Spanish, of the collective volume New Trends in Translation and Cultural Identity, edited by Micaela Muñoz-Calvo, Carmen Buesa-Gómez and M. Ángeles Ruiz-Moneva (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008). The book's thirty chapters provide a panoramic introduction to many problems and issues in translation theory and practice, in a wide variety of cultural and communicative contexts. This volume will be of interest to students of translation as well as to those dealing with any of the many specific issues, both academic and professional, on which the individual papers focus. The book is divided in four thematic sections: I. Cultural identity, Ideology, and Translation; II. Popular culture, literature and translation; ; III. Translating the Media: Translating the Culture; IV. Scientific Discourse as Cultural Translation. Each of the thirty papers in the volume is summarized and commented in this review.
Fielding, Henry (1707-54), the son of a lieutenant (who later became lieutenant general), born at Shaprham Park, the house of his maternal grandfather in Somerset. His mother died when he was 11, and when his father remarried Henry was sent to Eton. There he was happy, enjoyed his studies, and made lifelong friends of *Lyttelton, who was to become a generous future patron, and of *Pitt the elder. At 19 he attempted to elope with a beautiful heiress, but failing in this settled in London, determined to earn his living as a dramatist. Lady M. W. *Montagu, a distant cousin, encouraged him, and in 1728 at Drury Lane his play Love in Several Masques was successfully performed. In the same year he became a student of letters at Leiden, where he remained about 18 months, greatly enlarging his knowledge of classical literature. On his return to London he continued his energetic but precarious life as a dramatist, and between 1729 and 1737 wrote some 25 assorted dramas, largely in the form of farce and satire, and including two adaptations of Molière, The Mock Doctor and The Miser. In 1730 three of his plays were performed: The Author's Farce, Rape upon Rape, a savage satire on the practices of the law, embodied in Justice Squeezum; and the most successful of all his dramas, *Tom Thumb (which was published in a revised form the following year as The Tragedy of Tragedies, or The life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great), one of several extravagant burlesques modelled on Buckingham's *The Rehearsal, of the turgid fashionable tragedies of the day. *Hogarth designed the frontispiece, and a long and close friendship began. Don Quixote, a satire which is in part a tribute to *Cervantes, appeared in 1734. In the same year Fielding married Charlotte Cradock, who became his model for Sophia in *Tom Jones and for the heroine of Amelia, and with whom he enjoyed ten years of great happiness until her death. His improvidence led to long periods of considerable poverty, but he was greatly assisted at various periods of his life by his close and wealthy friend R. *Allen, who became, with Lyttleton, the model for Allworthy in Tom Jones. In 1736 Fielding took over the management of the New Theatre, for the opening of which he wrote the hightly successful satirical comedy Pasquin, which aimed at various religious and political targets, including electioneering abuses. But The Historical Register for 1736 was fiercer political satire than *Walpole's government woul tolerate, and the Licensing Act of 17137, introducing censorship by the lord chamberlain, brought Fielding's career in the theatre to an end.
He entered the Middle Temple and began to read for the bar. In 1739-40 he wrote most of the columns of the *Champion, a satirical and anti-Jacobite journal. In 1740 he was called to the bar but his health began to fail and he suffered acutely from gout. In the same year Richardson's Pamela appeared and enjoyed tremendous popular success. In 1741 Fielding expressed his contempt in his pseudonymous parody An Apology fro the Life of Mrs *Shamela Andrews. Meanwhile, because of increasing illness, he was unable to pursue his legal career with any consistency. Instead, in 1742, he produced The Adventures of *Joseph Andrewsand His Friend, Mr abraham Adams, for which he received from his publisher £185 11s. In 1743 his old friend *Garrick put on Fielding's The Wedding Day, and in the same year Fielding published three volumes of Miscellanies, which included *A Journey from This World to the Next and a ferocious satire, The LIfe and Death of *Jonathan Wildthe Great. In 1744 he suffered a terrible blow in the death of his wife, and for a year or so he wrote little except a preface to his sister Sarah's novel *David Simple, and some journalism, particularly the True Patriot and the Jacobite's Journal. In 1746 he probably began The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, and in 1747 caused some scandal by marrying his wife's maid and friend Mary Daniel. With the aid of Lyttelton, he was appointed JP for Westminster in 1747 and once again joined battle, now from the inside, with legal corruption and the 'trading justices' who imposed and embezzled fines. In 1749 Tom Jones was enthusiastically received by the general public, if not by *Richardson, *Smollett, Dr *Johnson, and other literary figures. In the same year his legal jurisdiction was extended to the whole county of Middlesex, and he was made chairman of the quarter sessions of Westminster. From his court in Bow Street he continued his struggle against corruption and lawlessness and, with his blind half-brother and fellow magistrate Sir John Fielding, strove to establish new standards of honesty and competence on the bench. He wrote various influential legal enquiries and pamphlets, including a proposal for the abolition of public hangings. In 1751 he published Amelia, which sold the best of all his novels. He returned to journalism in 1752 with the *Covent Garden Journal, and published in 1753 a Provision for the Poor. He organized and saw successfully implemented a plan for breaking up the criminal gangs who were then flourishing in London. But his gout, asthma, and other afflictions were now so far advanced that he had to use crutches, and in 1754, in hope of improvement, he set off with his wife and one of his daughter for Portugal. *The Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, published poshumously in 1755, describes in unsparing detail the departure and journey. He had prepared it for the press ('a novel without a Plot') before he died in Lisbon in october.
Fielding is generally agreed to be an innovating master of the highest originality. He himself believed he was 'the founder of a new province of writing,' and Sir Walter *Scott commended him for his 'high notions of the dignity of an art which he may be considered as having founded'. His three acknowledged masters were *Lucian, *Swift, and Cervantes. In breaking away from the epistolary method of his contemporary Richardson, and others, he devised what he described as 'comic epics in prose', which may be characterized as the first modern novels in English, leading straight to the works of *Dickens and *Thackeray. The standard biography is M. C. Battestin, Henry Fielding (1989). The standard edition is the Wesleyan Edition (1967- ) with 11 volumes printed as of 1997.
Ya está presentado el recurso contencioso administrativo contra la CNEAI, por la actuación de su comisión de Filosofía y Filología (presidida, qué cosas, por el catedrático de nuestro departamento, Dr. Collado) al denegarme el último sexenio de investigación que solicité. Más datos aquí. El recurso es largo, con mucha argumentación jurídica previa de mi abogada, y mucho otrosí. Por lo cual cito sólo como muestra un botón sobre prácticas arbitrarias a la hora de puntuar una de las aportaciones.
Este tipo de recursos los juzgados los archivan pronto, en la papelera—o sea que no tengo ni muchas esperanzas ni pocas de sacarlo adelante. Pero por mí que no quede. Porque aceptar una injusticia, o no impugnarla, es colaborar uno mismo en ella. Y yo con este comité no colaboro ni pasándoles la sal; son actuaciones como ésta las que hacen que la universidad española dé el asquito que da tantas veces en muchos de sus recovecos.
TERCERO.- El ejercicio de la potestad discrecional está en todo caso sujeto a revisión jurisdiccional mediante el control por los principios generales del derecho y los hechos determinantes. La resolución de la CNEAI ha vulnerado el principio de interdicción de la arbitrariedad.
En este fundamento se pasa a abordar cómo la actuación de la Administración resulta arbitraria, por cuanto, la aparente fundamentación de las puntuaciones no es tal, tal y como se pasa a abordar a continuación.
1.- Arbitrariedad en la incorporación del requisito de que la aportación esté en lengua española.
Por resolución de 23 de noviembre de 2011, de la Presidencia de la Comisión Nacional Evaluadora de la Actividad Investigadora, se establecen los criterios específicos en cada uno de los campos de evaluación. Pues bien, nada se establece en relación a que la utilización de la lengua inglesa sea un requisito para la valoración de las aportaciones en este campo, o que la utilización de la lengua española sea un demérito en orden a valorar una aportación.
Sin embargo, y en relación a la aportación cuarta “Los Blogs y la Narratividad de la Experiencia” (2009) se viene a valorar la misma con una puntuación de 4,5 por estar escrita en lengua española lo cual “hace disminuir potencialmente su impacto internacional”.
Por su parte, en el Informe complementario (folio 61 del expediente) se viene a señalar que “la lengua española empleada en esta aportación u en el volumen en el que se edita disminuye el impacto internacional y nacional”.
Este capítulo “Los Blogs y la Narratividad de la Experiencia”, se incluye en el Libro: Estudios sobre el texto: Nuevos enfoques y propuestas. Editorial Peter Lang.
Pues bien, se acompaña al presente escrito de demanda, solicitud realizada por Dña. ***** de evaluación de su actividad investigadora para los años 2004-2009 donde precisamente incluía para su valoración un capitulo (en lengua española) del mismo libro. La Sra. ***** sí que fue valorada positivamente. (Documento nº Uno y nº Dos). El español es lengua de conocimiento internacional y por supuesto en España, a diferencia de lo que aduce la sentencia diciendo que "la lengua española empleada en esta aportación y en el volumen en el que se edita disminuye el impacto internacional Y NACIONAL" del artículo. Es no sólo inadmisible, sino incluso podría tildarse de inconstitucional, al utilizar como demérito el utilizar el idioma español. Pero es que, además, hay un dato esencial al que no se hace referencia en la resolución recurrida, y es que el artículo en lengua española, también está en inglés. Ver: Jose Angel Garcia Landa, "Blogs and the Narrativity of Experience." Online PDF at Social Science Research Network 1 abril 2008: http://ssrn.com/abstract=1113321 Recogido asimismo en el Literary Theory & Criticism eJournal (1 abril 2008): http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/JELJOUR_Results.cfm?npage=2&form_name=journalBrowse&journal_id=949618 En virtud de lo anterior, no solo no constituye motivo alguno para la puntuación otorgada el que dicho artículo esté escrito en lengua española, sino que además, se ha acreditado que el mismo está en inglés, y este hecho ha sido silenciado por parte de la resolución recurrida, lo cual provoca que la misma esté viciada de arbitrariedad.
2.- Arbitrariedad en la contradicción entre criterios de evaluación de dos aportaciones.
Efectivamente, la misma editorial Peter Lang, se evalúa positivamente en la primera de las contribuciones (valorando con 6,2 puntos) haciendo constar que no existen observaciones negativas y que se ha utilizado un medio adecuado y sin embargo en la contribución cuarta, publicada en la misma editorial, cuando se pregunta ¿utiliza un medio de difusión adecuado? La respuesta es NO, señalando que se trata de una editorial “poco selectiva, sin suficientes criterios explícitos de selección de manuscritos”.
Esto constituye una actuación de todo punto de vista arbitrario, por cuanto, por el mismo Comité Asesor se está diciendo al mismo tiempo que una editorial es adecuada y que no lo es, cuestión que denota de nuevo la arbitrariedad en la que ha incurrido la Administración al valorar a mi mandante.
La evolución de la consciencia aparece también como una parte de la carrera armamentística entre explotadores y evitadores ("the arms race between exploiters and avoiders") que rige tantos fenómenos en la selección natural y la lucha por la vida. También funcionan así las dinámicas a nivel estatal—entre quienes quieren apropiarse de los recursos públicos en beneficio propio, y quienes tratan de evitarlo.
Una pequeña sección de mi fallida memoria de oposición a cátedras. El tribunal ya había decidido, de antemano, dejar vacante la plaza. Ahora, por cierto, parece que se van a consagrar las subáreas dichosas entre "literatos" y "lingüistas" en el departamento nuestro de manera oficial. Desde luego a mi crítica no le hicieron ni mucho caso ni poco.
Este artículo examina el papel de las diversas disciplinas involucradas en el estudio filológico de la lengua en el contexto español, más específicamente en el área de Filología Inglesa—disciplinas como la gramática, la lingüística histórica, la literatura y la teoría literaria, la pragmática, la teoría de la interpretación, la estilística, el análisis del discurso o la lingüística textual. Sostenemos que los desarrollos más fructíferos tienen lugar en la interfaz de estas disciplinas, y que no hay una división pre-establecida del campo entre "sub-áreas" de estudios "lingüísticos" y "literarios" que sean mutuamente excluyentes. ____________
ABSTRACT: This paper examines the role of the different disciplines involved in philological study of language in the Spanish context, more specifically in English studies, disciplines such as grammar, historical linguistics, literature and literary theory, pragmatics, interpretation, stylistics, discourse analysis, or text linguistics. It is argued that the most fruitful approaches occur at the interface of these disciplines, and that there is no clear-cut division of the field into mutually exclusive "linguistic" and "literary" sub-areas.
Blumer, Herbert. Symbolic Interactionism: Perspective and Method. Englewood Cliffs (NJ): Prentice-Hall, 1969. _____. Symbolic Interactionism: Perspective and Method. Berkeley: U of California P, 1986.* _____. Interaccionismo simbólico. Hora, S. A., 1982.
Una conferencia sobre las evasivas sobre la falta de fe y la no creencia en Dios, en especial en el caso los sacerdotes ateos. Ateos en secreto, claro—los que han perdido la fe pero se ponen excusas a sí mismos o a los demás. Me ha recordado a esa famosa novela de Unamuno que les hacen leer a los niños en el colegio, sin sacar las consecuencias lógicas—San Manuel Bueno, Mártir: http://vanityfea.blogspot.com/2010/06/que-se-suenen-inmortales.html
Y una frase para máxima vital, sobre cosas en las que se puede perder el tiempo: "If it's not worth doing, it's not worth doing well."
JoseAngel: Hoy 19,30 conferencia de Julián Casanova en el Paraninfo sobre imágenes de la Guerra Civil.
10 dic 13, 08:47
JoseAngel: Soñando con tigres que me rondaban. No les hacía caso, como si fuesen perros, hasta que caia en que eran tigres.
9 dic 13, 11:35
JoseAngel: Pero tantas cosas me extrañan y desilusionan.
9 dic 13, 11:34
JoseAngel: Reconozco que, observando la actividad en Facebook, no entiendo las prioridades de mis amistades en el uso de las redes sociales. O, quizá mejor dicho, muchas veces me extrañan y desilusionan.
Blog de notas de José Ángel García Landa (Biescas y Zaragoza) :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: "Algo hay en el formato mismo de los blogs que estimula un desarrollo casi canceroso de nuestro ego" (John Hiler)