Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, textbooks, and other stuff. Not in that order.

Today, I had approximately three hours of black despair and suicidal ideations. Not fun.

(Combination of imposter syndrome and financial worries. Joys, I say unto you. Joys.)

(And, you know, it's quite strange to realise that there's a hidden, deep-rooted part of you that really believes you don't deserve to be liked.)

---

Yesterday's achievements:

Greek, thirty minutes. Latin, six sentences. Pronunciation. 1.5 chapters of the Ehrman book.

Running: about a mile in vile, vile, heavy rain.

---

I've not even read two chapters, and already I really don't like Ehrman's The New Testament: A Historical Introduction to the Early Christian Writings.

It's not the first book I've read that was specifically written as an introductory textbook to a subject. It is, however, the first one I've read since secondary school that took the gently gently, let's not scare the young peoples by expecting them to think too much too fast approach to imparting knowledge.

Considering that last year, I had the novel experience of not one but two half-year classes that demanded rapid familiarisation with the methods and intentions of both the literary/textual and the social-historical approaches to analysis (the course on prophecy in Israel was seriously about getting thrown in the deep end to sink or swim, and the course on apocalyptic, magic, and mysticism in the Second Temple period wasn't all that much less so, what with Ezekial and Enoch and Jubilees and Qum'ran and the four extra weeks on mysticism within the later rabbinic tradition) and another, year-long, course on Israel/Judah's responses to empire which depended in large part upon using the tools of literary-historical, redactional, and socio-historical criticism, I'm not happy with a book that seems to think it has to take me by the hand or lead me around by the nose. It seems, quite frankly, a book more aimed at the needs of a secondary school audience than the demands of a university one.

(And it occurs to me to wonder if this a result of its subject matter, or if introductory college textbooks from the US are all this gently-gently. Horrifying thought.)

Fortunately, it's not my book. The lecturer who's offering the course on early Christian writings next year loaned it to me, so I'll read the recommended chapters and try to control my irritation.

---

Rented Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles last night, and watched all nine episodes.

I don't care that their guns seem to appear by magic. This is Lena Headey and Summer Glau, people. Kicking arse and taking names. Apart from the fact that they're both fairly superb actors (I don't hold The Brothers Grimm against Headey, and her performance in 300 impressed the hell out of me), they're both impressively authentic in terms of the physicality of their roles: it's fairly clear that both Headey and Glau know not only how to punch, but how to move.

The supporting performances are also of impressive caliber, and some sharp plotting, pretty decent dialogue, and a willingness to offer a certain amount of ambiguity more than make up for its minor flaws.

Of course, my only exposure to the Terminator franchise heretofore was the first film, and I have to say, this? Much more impressive than that.

I'm really glad to see it's going to have a second season.

---

And, also:

Happy birthday, raecarson.

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, textbooks, and other stuff. Not in that order.

Today, I had approximately three hours of black despair and suicidal ideations. Not fun.

(Combination of imposter syndrome and financial worries. Joys, I say unto you. Joys.)

(And, you know, it's quite strange to realise that there's a hidden, deep-rooted part of you that really believes you don't deserve to be liked.)

---

Yesterday's achievements:

Greek, thirty minutes. Latin, six sentences. Pronunciation. 1.5 chapters of the Ehrman book.

Running: about a mile in vile, vile, heavy rain.

---

I've not even read two chapters, and already I really don't like Ehrman's The New Testament: A Historical Introduction to the Early Christian Writings.

It's not the first book I've read that was specifically written as an introductory textbook to a subject. It is, however, the first one I've read since secondary school that took the gently gently, let's not scare the young peoples by expecting them to think too much too fast approach to imparting knowledge.

Considering that last year, I had the novel experience of not one but two half-year classes that demanded rapid familiarisation with the methods and intentions of both the literary/textual and the social-historical approaches to analysis (the course on prophecy in Israel was seriously about getting thrown in the deep end to sink or swim, and the course on apocalyptic, magic, and mysticism in the Second Temple period wasn't all that much less so, what with Ezekial and Enoch and Jubilees and Qum'ran and the four extra weeks on mysticism within the later rabbinic tradition) and another, year-long, course on Israel/Judah's responses to empire which depended in large part upon using the tools of literary-historical, redactional, and socio-historical criticism, I'm not happy with a book that seems to think it has to take me by the hand or lead me around by the nose. It seems, quite frankly, a book more aimed at the needs of a secondary school audience than the demands of a university one.

(And it occurs to me to wonder if this a result of its subject matter, or if introductory college textbooks from the US are all this gently-gently. Horrifying thought.)

Fortunately, it's not my book. The lecturer who's offering the course on early Christian writings next year loaned it to me, so I'll read the recommended chapters and try to control my irritation.

---

Rented Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles last night, and watched all nine episodes.

I don't care that their guns seem to appear by magic. This is Lena Headey and Summer Glau, people. Kicking arse and taking names. Apart from the fact that they're both fairly superb actors (I don't hold The Brothers Grimm against Headey, and her performance in 300 impressed the hell out of me), they're both impressively authentic in terms of the physicality of their roles: it's fairly clear that both Headey and Glau know not only how to punch, but how to move.

The supporting performances are also of impressive caliber, and some sharp plotting, pretty decent dialogue, and a willingness to offer a certain amount of ambiguity more than make up for its minor flaws.

Of course, my only exposure to the Terminator franchise heretofore was the first film, and I have to say, this? Much more impressive than that.

I'm really glad to see it's going to have a second season.

---

And, also:

Happy birthday, raecarson.

Books, interesting modern history

Books 2008: 104, non-fiction

104. Munro Price, The Perilous Crown: France between Revolutions 1814-1848.

I'd never read anything about the Bourbon restoration (1814-1830) or the Orléanist monarchy (1830-1848) in France before I picked up this book. Intellectually I knew there had to be something between the First Republic and First Empire and the Second Empire and Third Republic periods (another republic, if nothing else) but I hadn't the first clue what that was.

Well, now I do.

This is a very interesting book. Drawing on a number of private and published papers, including those of Louis-Philippe, duc d'Orléans and later king of France, and his sister, Adélaide, Price puts into context the interesting thirty-four year period that was France's experiment with limited (not quite 'constitutional') monarchy. Price's main focus is Louis-Philippe and Adélaide and the Orléanist monarchy: out of eleven chapters, only about three to three and a half concentrate on the Bourbon kings, Louis XVIII and Charles X.

Price treats his main subjects with great sympathy, perhaps too great. (It seems a common failing among biographers to avoid extensive analysis of their subjects' flaws, and for all this is a history of France, at times it reads more like a biography of Louis-Philippe et famille). This is, however, only a mild criticism: it's fairly evident that both Louis-Philippe and Adélaide were somewhat remarkable people, and that there's enough material in the period to fill a dozen books, at least.

(You have to wonder, too, what might've happened in 1848 if Ferdinand-Philippe, duc d'Orléans and Louis-Philippe's heir, hadn't cracked his head open in a carriage accident in 1842.)

It's certainly a compelling and very readable introduction to the period, and if I longed for a just a little more analysis... well, it seems I say that a lot. It appears not every historian is a Marcus Rediker or a Sarah B. Pomeroy or a Martin Goodman, alas.

#

Next up in the not-ancient history reading (straight from the bargain basement!): Adam Zamoyski, Holy Madness: Romantics, Patriots and Revolutionaries, 1776-1871. The preface does not encourage me to hope for analysis, but the subject matter should at least prove fertile ground for more damned b&!k ideas.

Books, interesting modern history

Books 2008: 104, non-fiction

104. Munro Price, The Perilous Crown: France between Revolutions 1814-1848.

I'd never read anything about the Bourbon restoration (1814-1830) or the Orléanist monarchy (1830-1848) in France before I picked up this book. Intellectually I knew there had to be something between the First Republic and First Empire and the Second Empire and Third Republic periods (another republic, if nothing else) but I hadn't the first clue what that was.

Well, now I do.

This is a very interesting book. Drawing on a number of private and published papers, including those of Louis-Philippe, duc d'Orléans and later king of France, and his sister, Adélaide, Price puts into context the interesting thirty-four year period that was France's experiment with limited (not quite 'constitutional') monarchy. Price's main focus is Louis-Philippe and Adélaide and the Orléanist monarchy: out of eleven chapters, only about three to three and a half concentrate on the Bourbon kings, Louis XVIII and Charles X.

Price treats his main subjects with great sympathy, perhaps too great. (It seems a common failing among biographers to avoid extensive analysis of their subjects' flaws, and for all this is a history of France, at times it reads more like a biography of Louis-Philippe et famille). This is, however, only a mild criticism: it's fairly evident that both Louis-Philippe and Adélaide were somewhat remarkable people, and that there's enough material in the period to fill a dozen books, at least.

(You have to wonder, too, what might've happened in 1848 if Ferdinand-Philippe, duc d'Orléans and Louis-Philippe's heir, hadn't cracked his head open in a carriage accident in 1842.)

It's certainly a compelling and very readable introduction to the period, and if I longed for a just a little more analysis... well, it seems I say that a lot. It appears not every historian is a Marcus Rediker or a Sarah B. Pomeroy or a Martin Goodman, alas.

#

Next up in the not-ancient history reading (straight from the bargain basement!): Adam Zamoyski, Holy Madness: Romantics, Patriots and Revolutionaries, 1776-1871. The preface does not encourage me to hope for analysis, but the subject matter should at least prove fertile ground for more damned b&!k ideas.