January 18th, 2010

Life, the Universe, and Rhetoric

This isn’t a word I use a lot but I’ve felt fairly confident in its place in my vocabulary since undergrad. But, like I said in the vocab post earlier this week, once I *think* I know what a word means, why would I ever look it up unless someone challenges or corrects me? Which is not precisely what happened in that post, but a few people I think might be smarter than I did mention they were impressed that I am comfortable using such a word…which immediately made it uncomfortable.

So let’s do it: here’s how I use the word rhetoric on the rare occasions on which I do:

Rhetoric is presentation or argumentation of an issue, theory, or concept. Rhetoric is *not* synonymous with the thing itself; it is synonymous with the words used to present that thing, from a given point of view, in a given style, and from a given agenda. For example, the rhetoric around breast cancer from the “pink ribbon campaign” has a personal, gently feminist tone and focuses a great deal on personal empowerment, separate from medical intervention. My rhetorical presentation of PC brand dulce de leche banana cream pie involved a lot of religious, divine-revelation-style language, but really it is just a pie.

Ok, that’s how I’ve been using it–let’s see if I’m right. To do this, I turn to M. H. Abrams’s A Glossary of Literary Terms, the source of most of my knowledge that doesn’t come from The New Yorker, Facebook, or something someone told me that I sorta half remember.

Mr. Abrams uses a lot of history, including figures like Aristotle and “the Roman rhetorician Quintillian” (no idea, and I’m not even going to link, because I would have no idea if I’d got the right link or not). Eventually he distills down to “In a general sense, then, rhetoric can be described as the study of language in its practical uses, focusing on the effects of language, especially persuasion, and on the means by which one can achieve these effects on auditors or readers.

Whew. So I think this means I’ve got it about right. More or less. If anyone feels like chiming in, to add or critique, feel free–my advice by itself is not worth a whole lot, at least not on complex topics like this. On simple topics like, for example, whether you should buy the book and/or the pie mentioned above, you should totally listen when I say: yes, both, resoundingly!!

There are too many colons in this post.

RR

January 15th, 2010

Week-ender

Thanks so much to all who chimed in (or even thought chimeful thoughts) on my vocab-rant last post. I don’t think anything on Rose-coloured has ever garnered 11 comments. Thanks for letting me know/reminding me that word definitions are whatever most people understand it to be, my last subhead was defeated by its own cleverness, and the rules of grammar do not apply to David Mamet–I’m feeling considerably more chilled out about things now.

Except rhetoric–comments from smart people indicating that they don’t understand that word have undermined my own confidence that I understand it! So, coming soon: a post about rhetoric.

But today promises to be the busiest day ever, so not today. Today I’m just enjoying about simple things like: a) it’s sufficiently warm in my apartment (example of the simple joys in my life: I got out of the shower and didn’t want to die), b) my headache from yesterday went away, c) the video below, and c+) the fact that I may have learned to embed it correctly (we’ll see), d) that if I can just make it through the busiest day ever, I get to Skype with far-off friends, and tomorrow, someone is going to make me sweet-potato soup (Rose-coloured philosophy: hooray for sweet potatoes! I recognize as a philosophy that needs work).

I have noted that not everything in the world is good. Accidentally watching the news from Haiti last night on the gym left me near tears on the elliptical trainer, I am so sad about the loss of P.K. Page, and I think certain friends are having some tough times these days.

I’m not saying that this video ameliorates any of that, but I do think it’s very funny and it’s only 47 seconds long. 47 seconds of distraction is worthwhile, I think. (Thanks, Ben, for the link!)

RR

January 13th, 2010

Vocabulary Rant: Winter Edition

Remember last week when I was miserable? I read a lot, and every time I came across some vocabulary error I went on a (silent) rant about whatever it was being basic knowledge and who were these writers who didn’t even know the definition of “savory”??

Of course, that’s nonsense–vocabulary’s hard, because once you think you know a word, why on earth would you look it up to confirm the definition? If the word is esoteric, you might not even use it in conversation often enough for someone who knows better to hear it and correct you. You are stuck with this erroneous impression for life, perhaps…

I’ve carried mistakes around unvoiced for years, only to be blown away when, for example, my TA couldn’t understand what I meant when I said “re-TOR-ick” and another student had to step in and say, “I think she means rhetoric,” as if I were an over-precocious child or perhaps a trained monkey. Er, ahem, that was a bad day.

Anyway, this is a (modestly) good day, and I am ready to assert some things about some words in the hopes that it’ll help someone and, if I get anything wrong, some kind commenter will step in quickly to set me straight and save me from years of further errors. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?

I’m going to skip over where I found these errors, as the works in questions were actually pretty good and I don’t wish to embarrass anyone (as that oblivious TA did to me!!)

You can’t call sweets “savory,” because they are sweet. Foods that are savory have a predominant flavour of herbs, spices, salt, or some combination thereof. They are what one eats for appetizers or the interesting part of main courses (the potatoes/bread/pasta are the bland part). When someone is having a potluck and realizes that all the guests are bringing cakes and cookies and they say, “We have too many sweets and not enough…not-sweets,” what they mean is savory. In this context, sweet and savory are opposites–fruits, candies, cakes’n’pies, etc. are never savory–the issue I came across was a fruit being described that way, which sounds horrid (imagine a salty spicy strawberry!) I think the confusion arises from the verb “to savor” , one definition of which is to enjoy a flavour. That flavour can be anything, sweet or savory, so you see how people could think anything worth savoring could be described as savory but, sadly, it’s not.

I’m using American spellings here, because those are the dictionary references I could find online. In Canada, it should really be “savoury” and “to savour”.

Bemusement means confusion, not amusement…or am I confused? I was taught ages ago that bemusement is a kind of gentle confusion, often with some ironic tolerance built in–you can be bemused by your toddler’s insistence on putting toys in the fridge, but you can’t be bemused in the chaos after a car accident (well, I can’t). But then while I was fishing for online definitions for this post, I came across this one, which seems to imply that bemuse *can* be a 50-cent synonym for “amuse,” as I often hear it used. Is this a commonly accepted definition–anyone know?

That which you choose, that or which, makes a difference. This one breaks my heart, because it is such a useful nuance of language and I’m pretty sure it’s going to die out. I recently lost an argument with a teenaged friend about why *not* spell “all right” as “alright”–my argument, because we already have a perfectly good way of spelling it and the new way does not add any new angle to the word, nor even save all that much energy not typing the second L and the space. His argument was, well, people often do, and are perfectly well understood. Then the example of “hoodie” for “hooded sweatshirt” came up, and that’s an evolution I rather like, as the slang word for a sloppy article of clothing seems so appropriate, plus the word reflects how people actually talk, and does save a lot of typing time.

So, fine, I accept “hoodie” as an addition to the language, and “alright” as at least not much of a subtraction, but losing the that/which distinction leaves us poorer, I think. And I do think it’s going, despite many people’s adherence, because fellow *editors* ask me about this one, and though they listen and even write it down when I explain, they always end by saying, “Thanks. I never remember that one,” as if it were impossible to learn and not much of a loss, anyway. But here it is, one more time, with feeling:

Use that with no comma to introduce a restrictive clause–thus, to limit the statement to being about some part of a larger group. For example, to say, “Lorna thought about the sex she had with Steve that was great,” is to say, she thought about *some* of the sex she had with Steve, the times that were great, but not the other, less stellar, times.

On the other hand, use which with a comma to introduce a non-restrictive clause–that is, a clause that adds extra information about *all* of the topic at hand, and doesn’t separate out a subsection as different. Thus, to say, “Lorna thought about the sex she had with Steve, which was great,” says to us that Lorna is thinking about all the times she and Steve had gotten together, and by the way, it was always great.

You see there’s a big difference here, right? Both for Lorna (and Steve!) and for the reader. If you run into this baffling construction–“Lorna thought about the sex with Steve which was great”–who the hell knows how good their sex lives are?

Sometimes I get the impression that people think grammar rules are just snobbery, like rules about what fork to use for the shrimp–a way for people who know to feel that they are better than those that don’t know. And frankly, on really tough days, sometimes the grammar that I do know (which is certainly not all of it) is all I have to cling to. In truth, when it comes to Latinate rules like not ending a sentence with a preposition, it really is just rules for the sake of rules, but when it comes to Lorna and Steve, I think sentence construction does matter and is worth thinking about!

I would love to know, oh Rose-coloured readers, does anyone observe the that/which distinction anymore? Don’t be afraid–it’s 21 C in my apartment today, so I can take the bad news if it happens that you don’t!

Thanks for reading–it felt really good to get all that off my chest!
RR

January 11th, 2010

Rose-coloured Reviews The Weather Indoors

Thanks to all that provided such kind and useful advice on my indoor-weather predicament. I have to point out that, while I do doubt that my building-provided thermometer is accurate, it does say that the Rose-coloured Ranch is only a degree or two lower than the legal minimum of 21 C, and for a mysterious shining moment when I was not there but the building manager was, actually above it.

I’m pretty sure it’s colder than that–I am not *such* a whiner. But reading the stories in the comments section and hearing them from other friends reminds me that I am *kind of* a whiner. My apartment has never been 12 C by any thermometer, I have never been able to see my breath inside, and all my plants are still living. I should count my blessings. So I appreciate both the advice about ovens, showers, and thermometers (which I’ll likely use) and the reminder to buck up.

That said, it *does* seem a little more pleasant at my place now. This could be a morale issue, as I spent a delightful weekend abroad, but I do think it’s warmer. Last night, when I returned home, if I happened to put a foot on the floor with only a sock on (my slippers sometimes fall off) it is not so terribly distressing. Mind you, I still slept rolled like a taquito in a fleece blanket (you wrap yourself standing up, then inch-worm under the normal covers) clutching a teddy bear whose floral-sachet heart can be heated in the microwave for warmth and aroma therapy. But having done all those things, I was quite warm and comfortable.

Perhaps I will be able to move on from this chilly period in my life and I actually post about a book soon. Just in case, I think I’ll bake a cake tonight and leave the oven on a little extra.

RR

January 9th, 2010

Better

The promised improvement report: I am feeling a good bit better about the world today, owing in large part to have found somewhere else to sleep last night where I didn’t have to wear a hood to bed. This is not a permanent solution, I know, but I’ll work on one of those next week. It may involve an oil drum; stay tuned.

In keeping with my theme of devastating literature, yesterday I read Joyce Carol Oates’s Where are you going, where have you been? and may never get over it. What she achieves in this story is amazingly harrowing, and then you pull out of the story and feel like you’ve gone so far from reality, but really you haven’t at all. Bizarre, amazing, and not for the timid–you were warned.

Warmly,
RR

January 8th, 2010

Everything is terrible

Examples of everything:

–Building manager’s inspection of my apartment finds that it is not illegally cold. But last night, before bed, teeth were chattering! Mine! Indoors! That should be illegal.
–This morning, my bus rear-ended another bus.
–A tiny but important little bit’o’code on my computer was devoured in the night. Now I can do everything but the thing I need to do right now. (note: this was fixed almost immediately after I wrote about it by a kind colleague, but that’s not the point. The point is what is the universe’s *deal* that it would do that to me?)
–Hot Friday night plans: avalanche of tax forms.

Although everything is, in fact, terrible, that expression is not mine. There is actually a website called Everything Is Terrible (you should have known) filled with alarming/sad/hilarious found footage. I’ve only seen the cat massage video, which I think has been doctored to make it even more disturbing than it was originally (ie., very) but it’s an interesting concept.

I’m just gonna put my head down for a little bit now. Oh, no, wait, I’m going to do this mountain of work.

RR

PS–I will try to post something rose-coloured on the weekend. As soon as this migraine receeds a little.

January 7th, 2010

Dark Materials

It wasn’t intentional, but as soon as the holidays were over I started reading and watching much darker stuff than in late December. Though it wasn’t the plan, but it’s worked out to kind of suit my mood–it’s freezing in my apartment (and outside of it), the war with UPS rages on, and I have way too much work. Also, I miss the days when everything was about tinsel instead of to-do lists–where are you, oh halcyon days of late December??

But of course, if something’s going to be sad, it helps a lot if it’s also darkly funny and searingly realistic. I went to see Up in the Air because it is being marketed as a snappy romantic comedy and (sue me) I like those. But though there are a few rom-com type scenes (a groom with cold feet, a cra-zay party where everyone gets drunk and lets their feelings show), those wind up looking strange and out of place in the midst of all the dark and searing.

This film is about a man named Ryan (played by George Clooney) who is hired for a day or a week by companies who want to fire some of their employees but management can’t a actually face doing it. Ryan describes losing a job as one of the worst days of most people’s lives–and in this film, you get to see that, over and over. Many of the dozens of newly fired folks are played by real people who actually *have* been recently let go. They improvise their lines, and the pain apparent made me want to look away, and unable to look away.

So the film is about how people relate to their jobs, how Ryan relates to his job, and to the women around him. He mainly *doesn’t* relate to people in non-business relationships, until he meets a sexy lady in a bar, and that relationship somehow lets him engage with people like his sisters, his vulnerable young colleague, etc. So you see how this could have been an inspiring little love story, but I have been running around begging people not to see it if that’s what they’re hoping for.

The gooey middle of the story ends soon enough and the ending is a one-two punch that left my companion and I sitting like blast victims as the credits rolled and everyone else left the theatre. *Up in the Air* is a very good movie, but brace yourself.

There certainly are flaws in that film, despite my love for it. On the other hand, though in many ways grim, Denis Johnson’s short story collection Jesus’ Son is pretty pitch-perfect. Such immense clarity and respect he brings to even descriptions of suffering that I was really awed my the book, though again, I often wanted to look away. These are linked stories–they all have the same narrator, a young junkie of no fixed address with a string of unhappy girlfriends and a flexible relationship with violence.

The stories are likely what you’d imagine them to be, tales of deals gone wrong, confusion, suffering, gore, all with the hazy chronology and causality that comes from telling stories on chemicals. But there is an incredible beauty in these pieces, too, which comes partially from the narrator’s fractured viewpoint and partially from the circumstances he finds himself in, quite unlike what most of us will ever see. I saw the film version ages back (it was pretty good, I think) and the most memorable part involved Jack Black as a strung-out hospital orderly, and a patient with a switchblade in his eye. That incident is found here in the story “Emergency,” similarly striking but much quieter, much more ordinary in its strangeness and impossible beauty.

This is from the last piece in the book, “Beverly Home.” The 20 pages of the story feel epic as the narrator takes a job in a nursing home, dates a dwarf, goes to AA, struggles to live what he imagines a real drug-free life would be:

“One day, too, when I’d passed through the lot and was walking along behind a row of town houses on the way to the bus stop, I heard the sound of a woman singing in her shower. I thought of mermaids: the blurry music of falling water, the soft song from the wet chamber. The dusk was down, and the heat came off the hovering buildings. It was rush hour, but the desert sky has a way of absorbing the sounds of traffic and making them seem idel and small. Her voice was the clearest thing coming to my ears.”

So many people talk about how amazing this book is that I was daunted to read it–book almost never live up to that sort of hype. I am so glad this one did.

I’m, uh, gonna maybe do something cheerful now.

RR

January 6th, 2010

12 sentences

Another way people of the blogosphere (do I overuse that word?) are recapping the year is by posting the first sentences from the first post of each month in 2009 together, to see if they form a narrative. Mine don’t, but it was fun for me to cruise through all my old posts and remember all those good times. Also, to realize that I write really really long sentences; gotta work on that!

12 random bits of 2009:

These 365-day units do not necessarily break off at useful points–I’m having trouble encapsulating the past year or imagining the next one because I’m in the *middle* of so many things.

So you live in an apartment for ages, get used to all the tricks of the door locks and the shower faucet, keep your shorts available during the winter because you know the heat is unpredictable, realize there is a tiny bloodstain on a floortile here or there and don’t worry about it because it’s probably yours, tape things to every available surface, install splitters on the phone jack and a power bar on the electrical jack and generally just assume that the place is your domain and you know it cold.

Saturday February 28, 2009, dawned a bit watery, but the dawn did come before 7 am (only the third day of the year that we got light before 7!) and by the time sun was fully in the sky, the flimsy cloud cover had delicately burnt off or blown away, leaving us with a ravishing yellow and blue to breakfast by. In

As you might have been able to glean from the occasion dysphoric comment here at Rose-coloured, or my eye-rolls in person, my current manuscript is not coming together as well as I’d like.

I’m reading reading reading student stories this week, and they are *good*!

This is week is one with way too much fun in it, such that of the events below, I’m only actually able to attend a couple.

Colour vapour labour odour realize analyze vapourize glamour (but glamorous) jewellery ageing cheque judgment lasagna gonnorhea etc.

I started thinking about story (and poem) submissions to literary journals when a friend said she was going to start sending some out.

Joyland Stories will soon be a part of the daily dose of aweomse that is CellStories, a site that sends cell phone and Blackberry (etc.) users a new short story every day (you can also read the stories at the link above).

Mr. Turner is an important author for me (although really also for Canada) for various reasons, not least his was one of the first literary readings I ever saw, and at said reading, the very first pornographic film I ever saw.

Reminder that Amy Jones, Kathleen Winter and I are reading tomorrow at the Drawn & Quarterly store in Montreal, 211 rue Bernard West, at 7pm.

The Advent Books blog is up and running.

RR

January 5th, 2010

New month’s resolution

So I couldn’t come up with any new year’s resolutions. That makes me sad, because I love new year’s resolutions. Hooray for opportunities to improve–I have lots of ways I need to improve! In past years, I have made 10 little resolutions to work on throughout the year, with a midyear review on my birthday (in case I decide some resolutions are stupid and decide to junk them).

But this year I can’t think of anything I want to work on all year. In truth, that’s often what’s wrong with me–some resolutions get “resolved” early in the year because they are specific (ie., last year I resolved to learn one word in Japanese a week until I went there, and I did, and then I went there, and that was that) and others drag on because they are too open-ended (become braver was the other resolution–wtf was I thinking?? how?? and how will I know if I have??)

Even if they are good specific-but-long-term plans, by the time I get to the end of the year both my world and myself are usually completely different and I no longer want to do the thing I resolved to do. I think a large part of my problem with life, actually, is that I don’t realize that everything changes all the time.

So this year I have resolved to resolve a new thing for each month. If it works, great, that can be part of my lifestyle, and I’ll resolve something new for the next month. If it sucks, oh well, I’ll junk it and have something new for the next month. I guess I could also renew a resolution for a second month if need be, but Penelope Trunk says it only takes three weeks to make a new habit, and I’m giving myself an extra week for cushion.

My January resolution is to start writing in the mornings, at least a little bit. Tonnes of writers swear by this habit, but I’ve always been a little brain-dead in the morning. I’m totally a morning person, I’m happy to get up and do things and even chat with you (very few people want to chat with me early in the morning, it turns out), but I don’t feel I come up with great insight before 9am very often.

So what I usually do with my early mornings is go to the gym, but this winter I have been feeling that if I have to leave the house at 5:45 and walk in slush and cold and blackness to the gym every morning, I might die. Serious, this is a creaky old person sensation, and it’s not good.

Thus I’ve been going to the gym in the evenings, which cuts into my writing time, so the logical thing would be…there you go. I tried it this morning–it was a little disorganized and not my best work by far but it’s a try. Three weeks less a day to go!

Happy new year!
RR

Hearts and stars to 2009

Ok, I’m lagging behind but I am still thinking about 2009 and trying to think of an appropriate tribute. Just to be clear, this was a year I liked *very* much, but I don’t think all the highlights are blog-appropriate (every cookie I ate and person I hugged and time a civil servant was extra nice to me could get dull, not to mention unwieldy). So I’m concentrating on bookish highlights–they are, after all, often the most interesting parts of my day.

Books read: 69 (ha!)

Books written: 1/2 of one (hiatus’d); 1/2 of another (promising!)

Regrets regarding the first of those: none that I wrote it, none that I stopped (right now, at least; I’m a little moody on this subject)

Best reading experience: Tongue by Kyung-Ran Jo over the course of two days in July, while lying in the grass in various public parks in Toronto. This was very much not the best book I read in 2009–in fact I have a lot of problems with it that I’m dying to discuss (any takers?) But it certainly is suspenseful and I was very eager to find out what happened, and I had nothing to do but keep reading in the glorious sunshine, interrupted only by bathroom breaks, eating on patios and conversations with my equally bookish companion. There aren’t many better weekends, I’d say.

Best CanLit in-joke that I actually got: In the novella “Gator Wrestling” in Leon Rooke’s The Last Shot. This is a stellar piece, even if you never get the joke–it’s just the sprinkles on already overwhelmingly delicious frosted cake. Conversely, there are likely many jokes I didn’t get in books I’ve read this year–but how good were those books to start with?