Thursday, October 31, 2013

El interés epistémico de la "útil" investigación académica

El artículo al que se hace referencia en el siguiente comentario es el siguiente:

http://www.monografias.com/trabajos16/investigacion-ciencia-tecnologia/investigacion-ciencia-tecnologia.shtml de Miguel Ángel Rodríguez Sosa

El artículo de Rodríguez Sosa plantea la manida cuestión sobre la utilidad o la estética contemplativa como metas (o procesos) de la investigación académica. Partiendo de la base de que no toda investigación científica debe tener un propósito final  de utilidad indiscutible –véase para ello cualquier abstract de estudios literarios o artísticos, en general, o consúltese cualesquiera tesis doctorales sobre el estudio eminentemente observativo–, podemos empezar considerar que uno de los axiomas concluyentes tratados en este trabajo no tiene la calidad de convincente.

Efectivamente, considerar que un trabajo científico, así como cualquier tipo de investigación académica, debe resultar en una serie de “’utilidades’ en el sentido de valores” –al menos cuando se trata de las humanidades– no resulta no menos que escandaloso. Cualquier estudio estético sobre el estilo de cualquier obra del siglo XX, y en especial si nos centramos en el post-modernismo inglés, podrá hacernos ver con mucha claridad, que esta afirmación realizada por Rodríguez Sosa es bastante general, si no generalista. No debemos ir tan lejos, como para tomar por cierta e indiscutible la cita de Oscar Wilde (“Todo arte es completamente inútil”), pues esto nos llevaría a realizar –o a tildar de– inútil cualquier trabajo que perteneciera al campo o al ámbito de las letras. O, por el contrario, a desprestigiarlo tanto, que el estudio y la investigación de las letras (especialmente del arte) resultara siendo abandonado por cualquier escritor que se precie.


Las cuestiones tratadas al principio del artículo de Rodríguez Sosa no se alejan del todo de la realidad a la que los investigadores se enfrentan día a día; pues sí, efectivamente, hay un cierto interés por parte de los investigadores –interés epistémico– que, aunque de manera subconsciente raye el ego personal, resulta en una búsqueda de la verdad.  

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Happy Halloween

In order to celebrate this scary day with all of you, I'd like to share Tim Burton's creation --as great as always-- Vincent.

His gothic mastery makes Tim Burton one of the fathers of our childish Halloween. This is one of his wonderful pieces of art. I hope you enjoy it!


Vincent Malloy is seven years old
He's polite and always does as he's told
For a boy his age, he's considerate and nice
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price

He doesn't mind living with his sister, dog, and cats
Though he'd rather share a home with spiders and bats
There he could reflect on the horrors he has invented and wander dark hallways alone and tormented

Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum
He likes to experiment on his dog Abocrombie
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie
So that he and his horrible zombie dog
could go searching for victims in the London fog

His thoughts aren't only of ghoulish crime
He likes to paint and read to pass some of the time
While other kids read books like "Go Jane Go"
Vincent's favorite author is Edgar Allen Poe.

One night while reading a gruesome tale
he read a passage that made him turn pale
Such horrible news he could not survive
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive

He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead
Unaware that her grave was his mother's flower bed
His mother sent Vincent off to his room
He knew he'd been banished to the tower of doom
where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life
alone with the portrait of his beautiful wife.

While alone and insane incased in his doom
Vincent's mother burst suddenly into the room
She said, "If you want, you can go out and play
It's sunny outside and a beautiful day."

Vincent tried to talk but he just couldn't speak
the years of isolation had made him quite weak
So he took out some paper and scrawled with a pen:
"I'm possessed by this house and can never leave it again."

His mother said, "You are NOT possessed and you are NOT almost dead
These games you play are all in your head
You are NOT Vincent Price, you're Vincent Malloy
You're not tormented or insane, you're just a young boy
You're seven years old, and you are my son
I want you to get outside and have some real fun."

Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall
While Vincent backed slowly against the wall
The room started to sway, to shiver and creak
His horrored insanity had reached its peak
He saw Abocrombie, his zombie slave
and heard his wife call from beyond the grave

She spoke through her coffin and made ghoulish demands
While through cracking walls reached skeleton hands
Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams
swept his mad laughter to terrified screams

To escape the badness, he reached for the door
but fell limp and lifeless down on the floor
His voice was soft and very slow
As he quoted "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe:
"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted...Nevermore."


Sunday, October 21, 2012

English words borrowed from Old Norse

I would like to start offering my reader short lists of words with an interesting etymological background. Here you have the first one:

bag - from Old Norse 'baggi' (Norwegian 'bag', ironically re-imported from English).

bank - from Old Norse 'banki' (Norwegian 'bank').

gun - from Old Norse 'gunn' [was, battle] (proper name in Norwegian).

hell - from 'Hel', the god of the underworld in Norwegian mythology ('hell' in modern Norwegian is 'helvete').

keel - from Old Norse 'kjör' (Norwegian 'kil').

slaughter - from Old Norse *slahtr [butchering, butcher meat], slatra [to slaughter] (Norwegian 'slakting' means 'to kill').

raft - from Old Norse 'raptr' [log] (the Norwegian word 'rafting' has been re-imported from English).

Saturday, September 01, 2012

The Children's University - Lesson #1

Hello everyone, I'm currently working on an English Summer Camp in Spain :) I'm very happy about it and I think it is a good experience to be shared. My duties are quite different and randomly chosen by my boss, but one of them is to prepare certain 'lectures' or classes for children and teens regarding the culture and history of the are where the camp is.


Lesson #1:

We are going to talk about the first half of the sixteenth century. When we talk about the first half of the sixteenth century, we talk about Emperor Charles V.


Why are we talking about Emperor Charles V right here? Well, because Emperor Charles V lived or spent a few months in the impressive and beautiful castle of Jarandilla de la Vera.


Why did he spend a few months here, in Jarandilla de la Vera? Because his son Philip II became King of Spain. And the Emperor, his father, Emperor Charles V decided to retire in Yuste, in the monastery of Yuste, which is not far from here. The monastery was the place where the Emperor spent his last days and died.


The Emperor's body was not buried there. The Emperor's body is in El Escorial with all the other monarchs, kings and queens, princes and princesses. All the Royal Family is buried in El Escorial, which is not far from Madrid.


Sunday, June 03, 2012

A Royal Marriage Extracted from a Horror Novel



Last week, I visited Vila Viçosa (Portugal) and in order to illustrate the importance of such a visit, I decided to write this post regarding the figure of Catherine of Branganza and her marriage to Charles II.
Negotiations for the marriage began during the reign of King Charles I, were renewed immediately after the Restoration, and on the 23rd of June, in spite of Spanish opposition, the marriage contract was signed, England securing Tangier (in North Africa) and Bombay (in India), with trading privileges in Brazil and the East Indies, religious and commercial freedom in Portugal and two million Portuguese crowns (about £300,000); while Portugal obtained military and naval support against Spain and liberty of worship for Catherine. She reached England on the 13th of May 1662, but was not visited by Charles at Portsmouth until the 20th. The next day the marriage was solemnized twice, according to the Roman Catholic and Anglican usages. Catherine possessed several good qualities, but had been brought up in a conventual seclusion and was scarcely a wife Charles would have chosen for himself. Her personal charms were not potent enough to wean Charles away from the society of his mistresses, and in a few weeks after her arrival she became aware of her painful and humiliating position as the wife of a licentious king.
The couple were married in two more ceremonies – a Catholic one conducted in secret, followed by a public Anglican service – on 21 May at Domus Dei now known as the Royal Garrison Church at Portsmouth. Little is known of Catherine's own thoughts on the match. While her mother plotted and schemed to secure an alliance with England and her future husband celebrated his restoration by sporting with his mistresses, Catherine's time had been spent in the sombre seclusion of her convent home where there was little opportunity for fun or frivolity. Even outside of the convent her actions were governed by the strict etiquette of the royal court of Portugal. By all accounts Catherine grew into a quiet, even-tempered young woman. The Portuguese Ambassador proudly remarked that she was, 'totally without that meddling and activity in her nature.' At the time of her marriage she was already twenty-three, (something which was not lost on her critics), and had long since resigned herself to the necessity of making a grand match abroad. Contented and serene, Catherine's rather quaint response on being told of her impending nuptials was to request permission to make a pilgrimage to a favourite shrine of hers in Lisbon. Devoted to her beloved Portugal, as she set sail for England any distress she may have felt at leaving her family and her home was no doubt lessened by the knowledge that her marriage had been hailed as 'the welcomest news that ever came to the Portuguese people'.

Catherine became pregnant and miscarried three times, and during a severe illness in 1663, she thought, for a time, she had given birth. Charles comforted her by telling her she had indeed given birth to two sons and a daughter. Her position was a difficult one, though Charles continued to have children by his many mistresses, he insisted she be treated with respect, and sided with her over his mistresses when he felt she was not receiving the respect she was due. After her three miscarriages, it seemed to be more and more unlikely that the queen would bear an heir. Royal advisors urged the monarch to seek a divorce. hoping that the new wife would be a protestant and fertile, but Charles refused. This eventually led to her being a target by the courtiers.
She did not involve herself in English politics, instead she kept up an active interest in her native country. Anxious to re-establish good relations with the Pope and perhaps gain recognition for Portuguese independence, she sent Richard Bellings, later her principal secretary, to Rome with letters for the pope and several cardinals. In 1669 she involved herself in the relief of Candia in Crete, which was under siege by the Turks and whose cause Rome was promoting, although she failed to persuade her husband to take any action. In 1670, as a sign of her rising favour with the pontiff she requested, and was granted, devotional objects.
On the first presentation to Charles Maîtresse-en-titre, Barbara Palmer, 1st Duchess of Cleveland, who was created the Countess of Castlemaine (Lady Castlemaine), she fainted away when Charles insisted on making her Catherine's lady of the bedchamber. She accepted Castlemaine, however later withdrew from the king's society, and in spite of Clarendon's attempts to moderate her resentment, declared she would return to Portugal rather than consent to a base compliance. To overcome her resistance nearly the whole of her Portuguese retinue was dismissed. She was helpless, and the violence of her grief and anger soon changed to passive resistance, and then to a complete forbearance and complaisance which gained the king's regard and favor. In the midst of Charles's debauched and licentious court, she lived neglected and retired.

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Works Consulted

Plaidy, Jean. (2008). ''The Merry Monarch's Wife: The Story of Catherine of Braganza.'' Broadway. ISBN 0-307-34617-X
Plaidy, Jean. (2005). ''The Loves of Charles II: The Stuart Saga.'' Broadway. ISBN 1-4000-8248-X
Koen, Karleen. (2006). ''Dark Angels.'' Broadway. ISBN 0-307-33992-0
Sousa, Manuel E. (1995). ''Catherine of Braganza.'' Howell Press Inc. ISBN 978-9729019739
Elsna, Hebe. (1967). ''Catherine of Braganza : Charles II's Queen.'' Hale.
Mackay, Janet. (1937).''Catherine of Braganza.'' J. Long, Limited; First Edition edition.
Barnes, Margaret Campbell. (1951). ''With All My Heart: The Love Story of Catherine of Braganza.'' Macrae-Smith Company.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Women in Walpole's Gothic tale

Throughout The Castle of Otranto, a certain underlying theme becomes evident. One cannot hep but notice the important role that women play throughout the entire book. Every major event that takes place in the novel involves, happens because of, or affects a woman in some way. While the reader may not notice this on an initial reading, the role women play becomes very evident. Upon recalling the strange happenings of the book, one can easily trace their causes and effects back to Hippolita, Isabella, Matilda or Bianca. Each of these events create momentum for the story to move onward. Everything relies on what just happened, and the women of the story propel these happenings, and thus send the plot into motion.

'The Castle of Otranto'. Salvador Dalí

Isabella is the driving force behind almost every interesting action in The Castle of Otranto; she incites the actions of almost every character at least once throughout the book. One of these instances occurs when Isabella sneaks around underneath the castle, trying to escape from Manfred. As she makes her way to the trap door, she happens upon Theodore. Theodore helps her through the trap door, bit it slams behind her, leaving Theodore to be found by Manfred. Had she not been there, Manfred may have never discovered Theodore. If Manfred had not found him, the plot would be immensely affected in ways that are impossible to comprehend. Theodore would not have been connected to Isabella in any way; thus Manfred would have no reason to suspect him has her lover. Regardless of this speculation however, Isabella's character serves an important purpose by happening upon Theodore. If she never had shown up, Theodore would have no reason to repeatedly save her later in the book. Isabella brought Theodore into the book as a main character, and several of Walpole's plot twists wouldn't have been possible without him.

Isabella is not the only woman who affects the outcome of the book, however. Hippolita also plays a crucial role throughout in the novel. Hippolita acts as an enabler to Manfred. She basically forgoes all of her values and beliefs, solely for the purpose of keeping Manfred happy. If Hippolita were firmer in her beliefs and values, many events in the story would not have happened, or at least not as easily. One of the critical events that drives Manfred's frenzy becomes shows itself with the divorce of his wife. Had Hippolita not been so quick to agree with his wish, Manfred would have been preoccupied with that situation. As doubtful as it may be, Hippolita might have slowed him down, or at least turned more people against him, had she not given in to his wishes so readily.

Yet again, another woman's role becomes evident in the book. While considered a main character, Matilda does not seem to have too great of an impact throughout most of the story. Although she was the daughter that nobody cared about in the beginning, one cannot possibly ignore the role she plays at the end. By meeting Theodore underneath the castle, Matilda sets the stage for her own murder. If it were not for the death of Matilda, Manfred would not have ended up retiring to a convent with Hippolita; consequently, Theodore receives the rights to the castle. By falling in love with Theodore, Matilda seals the entire ending of the book.

'The Gothic in Demento'. Josiah Harrist

Throughout the book, one can notice that characters who play seemingly smaller roles can still affect the outsome of the story so profoundly. Although Matilda provides a mediocre example of affecting the outcome, Bianca demonstrates it even better. Although Bianca seems to be even less of a main character than Matilda, her actions greatly affect the happenings of the book. If it were not for Bianca, it is unlikely that Matilda and Theodore would have ever met. If they had not met, Matilda would never have been stabbed. The reader is left to contemplate a never-ending list of possibilities and possible outcomes, enhancing the plot, and keeping the novel captivating. Not only would Matilda have never been stabbed, Theodore also would not be alive if it were not for Bianca. If she had not screamed at just the right moment, Theodore would have been executed, and once again, the book would have had to end completely differently.

Another dimension is added to the book through the constant wondering and working out of different possibilities. Not only do the women of the book help to fuel the storylines, they also make you think while you are reading. The women in the story are crucial to both the plot, and each other. The actions of each woman in the story not only affect the actions of the other characters, but also of the the other women. The four main women depend on each other immensely, and if even one were missing, the story would not be communicated as effectively. Throughout the plot, they play off of one another, and thus complicate storylines and sub-plots even further. The mental aspect makes for an entrancing story, and is only one aspect of many that make The Castle of Otranto a truly enjoyable read.



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Works Consulted

Cohenour, Gretchen. "A Man's Home is His Castle: Bloodlines and The Castle of Otranto." EAPSU Journal of Critical and Creative Work. 5. (2008): 73-87.

---. "Eighteenth Century Gothic Novels and Gendered Spaces: What's Left to Say?" Diss. University of Rhode Island, 2008. ProQuest LLC, 2008.

Drakakis, John and Dale Townshend. Gothic Shakespeares. New York: Routledge, 2008.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Sentimental Novel: From Defoe to Richardson

Against the prevailing ideology (or philosophy) of the XVIIIth century –also called ‘The Age of Reason’, the epoch of the enlightenment, the time of the exaltation of the norm, science, logic, etc–,  the sentimental novel exalted feeling above reason. By doing so, it paved the way to the romanticism literature, becoming a forerunner of the gothic novel itself.
This fact does not imply that the sentimental novel was not a bourgeois genre, or that it did not serve the interests of the ideology of that social class that gave rise to the novel, or that it is not a realist genre; in my modest opinion, it was indeed a realist genre. Richardson, for example, responded to the concerns and needs of the middle classes, and used the language and the topics of the middle classes. But probably, the middle classes of the 1840s were more interested in intimate and human ‘transactions’ than in commercial transactions, that is, more interested in human relationships than in economic relations. Perhaps –and if it is allowed to add a note of sarcasm– people at this time had enough money and wealth and did not have to worry about those “materialistic” and “chrematistic” values. They finally had time for their sentiments, for human and private ‘transactions’. Their parents, the older generation, the Defoes and the novelists and middle classes of the early Augustan Age did probably not have so much time for this private and intimate “business”: they were too busy creating the economic and political establishment or system that their children –the new middle classes, the Richarsons, for instance– were now enjoying. In other words, the older generation had to spend all their time with, and based their novels on, economic and commercial transactions and, maybe not public or political affairs. To some kind of reading public, this change of topics make probably the sentimental novel more interesting than ‘the realist novel’ written in Defoe’s times. The next clip explains --even though it does it in Spanish-- what the sentimental novel is.

These observations are by no means intended to undervalue the sentimental novel. Neither are they intended to reduce the realist value of the sentimental novels written at that time. They shared with the rest of the realist novels not only style and content, but also a firm teaching purpose. As a matter of fact, they were welcomed by politicians, intellectuals and even clergymen as an ethical project, as a very efficient instrument for the sentimental education of the new society. The fact that they paved the way to the romantic rebellion of the following generation of artists and intellectuals is once again evidence of an undisputed truth: in each literary movement, trend, fashion... grows the seed of its overcoming or, sometimes, its destruction.

Samuel Richardson remains a vital figure in the history of the novel and of ideology. He initiates a discourse on sexual roles which, with all its ambiguities, is as important to nowadays’ reading public as it was in the mid-eighteenth century. His epistolary novel, Pamela (1740), was not a sudden innovation; novels in the form of letter were of fashion in France, and they had been popular for several decades, like Aphra Behn’s Love Letters between a Nobleman and his Sister. Richardson wanted to raise the tone of the literary works from the level of this kind of subject matter, and in doing so; he created a heroine for the times, a woman of feelings. Poor but virtuous, Pamela suffers a series of trials at the hands of Mr B, culminating in attempted rape. The contrast between female submission, which becomes a paragon of virtue and chastity admired by all in the novel, and male domination, with its implied sensuality, was immediately criticised as hypocritical, and parodied by Henry Fielding in Shamela.
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Works Cited
Armstrong, Nancy. "The Rise of the Domestic Woman." Rpt. in The Ideology of Conduct: Essays on Literature and the History of Sexuality, ed. Nancy Armstrong and Leonard Tennenhouse. New York: Methuen, 1987.
Armstrong, Nancy. Desire and Domestic Fiction : A Political History of the Novel. New York: Oxford University Press 1989, 1987.
Samuels, Shirley, ed. The Culture of Sentiment: Race, Gender, and Sentimentality in Nineteenth-Century England. New York : Oxford University Press, 1992. PS 217 S55 C85 1992.