Eileen followed me to Paris. She came about a week after I got here, stayed for a night, then went off to Deauville with her mother. Then she was back for a few more days and is now back in Berlin. She came with an assortment of German candy and some Waldmeister syrup. We even made Berliner Weiße! To commemorate that visit (which was...yes, I know...over a week ago—sorry for not writing in so long!), here is a list of things I miss from Berlin.
1) The prices: Paris is so expensive! Berlin was so cheap! Everything, from groceries to restaurants, was just so reasonably priced. Eileen assures me it's because everyone in Berlin is paid less than everyone else in the world, but it's still nice that my tiny graduate student salary goes a lot farther there.
2) The language: Strangely enough, I miss the German language! This is for two reasons. First, I felt like I was finally making some progress and now I never hear it or speak it at all. Second, it was kind of nice being totally incompetent in a language for once. It reminded me of why I like learning languages in the first place—the challenge. It's been a long time since I had such a challenge. Italian after French must have made me cocky.
3) The people: People in Berlin are much more down to earth than Parisians. This might be because of the difference in prices, but Paris gives off a vibe that it is an "exclusive city." If you can't afford something, you are less of a person. There might be similar things in Berlin, but I didn't notice them. Paris is expensive like New York, and enjoying it requires a certain level of money and social standing. And since the French educational system is essentially designed to keep the rich people rich and powerful, it's no wonder that people act entitled even in the streets.
4) John Muir: the amazing bar that makes its own (reasonably priced) signature cocktails! Though, it's closed right now for renovations, so I'm not regretting it too much.
5) Markthalle: I miss that food lover's paradise! Such good ethnic varieties and such reasonable prices. And it was just a lovely way to spend an evening. I haven't ever found anything like that in Paris...
6) Elevators: Okay, Paris has elevators. But I miss not having to walk up five flights of stairs to get home. It changes the way I plan my day. But, my legs are getting pretty muscular!
7) The lack of purpose: It was kind of nice to have a "vacation" and be able to do random bits of work as I wanted to, with no real deadlines. It was also nice to do that all in a remote location where I was a foreigner, especially a place that had no real link to my work. I could say it helped me have the proper distance from my studies, but that would be silly. It was just a nice vacation.
8) The recycling: this building I live in doesn't recycle!!! I've been keeping my bottles in a corner so that I can take them to the recycling bins on the streets, because the place where we put our trash in the courtyard of this building doesn't have any recycling receptacle. After Germany's intense recycling, this is a big change for me.
9) Monday night Karaoke: so cheap, so much fun!
10) Eileen: it's strange not having someone making sarcastic/ironic comments at everything I say, criticizing the way I hang my laundry on the drying rack, and otherwise acting as a European filter for everything I don't know. Yeah, I know I'm used to life in France and don't need a filter here, but living with Eileen was definitely fun.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
La rentrée
So, I bet a lot of you are wondering what it's like to study at a foreign school. And not just any foreign school, but one of France's premiere "Grandes Écoles." Well, it has its ups and downs. Mostly downs at first. Let me tell you about my experience with "la rentrée."
Four years ago when I studied abroad, I didn't deal with any of this stuff. Instead, CUPA gave us a three week orientation in which we learned all about French methodology, worked on our language skills, learned about current events, had practical info sessions on how to make friends at school and how to interact with our host families, etc. This all happened during the three week administrative/pedagogical "rentrée" that normal French students have to deal with. In retrospect, CUPA's brilliant orientation now seems even more so, since it spared me the necessity of dealing with French academic bureaucracy. And even though I was already very displeased with the French educational system upon arriving here this time, the rentrée has convinced me that I have not misplaced my criticisms.
My first day at the ENS was a useless meeting where they welcomed the international students in their broken English with a bunch of irrelevant information about alumni associations, university rankings, and a few useless student clubs. The next day, which I thought was supposed to be important, was actually just five hours of filling out paperwork. The following Monday was a three hour presentation of each department, mostly meant for the new students who will actually be attending this school, but as our schedule said "obligatoire," I decided to attend. After I ditched the end of the presentations, we had to wait for two hours in line to discuss finding a "tuteur" which I can only imagine is some sort of advisor. As I already have an advisor who is concerned with my work, the woman told me that she couldn't do anything for me. She also told me that Princeton is "the best of the best" and that my research sounds "fascinating." I heard a lot of that...though it seems no one at the ENS is capable of giving me any advice about mathematics.
In those first three weeks, I also got my all-purpose card, learned how to request library access (no, that doesn't come on the card for some reason...), put money on it for the cafeteria, and open a French bank account (see my previous blogs—I already know that I don't want to open a new account). Getting library access was a bit tricky, since I requested access to both the humanities and sciences libraries. In France, academics is divided into "lettres" and "sciences," which traditionally just do not mix. So, the librarians were extremely confused when I barged into the math library even though my card says "lettres." I explained my research and...guess what! It sounds really interesting! But they tried to send me to the math department anyway. Eventually they caved in once I told them I had a BA in math. Not sure why that should be required to take out math textbooks, but who knows with these people?
So, you may be wondering: what about the classes? The students? Well, I'll be writing about that soon. Courses just started yesterday, and even though I'm not going to be taking many (too much of my own work), I definitely have some observations to make about my first introductory Hebrew lesson yesterday.
All I can think of to end this post is this: thank you CUPA for being such an excellent study abroad program! Not only did you prepare me for a lifetime of French literature research, but you spared me from the rentrée and I am eternally grateful!
Four years ago when I studied abroad, I didn't deal with any of this stuff. Instead, CUPA gave us a three week orientation in which we learned all about French methodology, worked on our language skills, learned about current events, had practical info sessions on how to make friends at school and how to interact with our host families, etc. This all happened during the three week administrative/pedagogical "rentrée" that normal French students have to deal with. In retrospect, CUPA's brilliant orientation now seems even more so, since it spared me the necessity of dealing with French academic bureaucracy. And even though I was already very displeased with the French educational system upon arriving here this time, the rentrée has convinced me that I have not misplaced my criticisms.
My first day at the ENS was a useless meeting where they welcomed the international students in their broken English with a bunch of irrelevant information about alumni associations, university rankings, and a few useless student clubs. The next day, which I thought was supposed to be important, was actually just five hours of filling out paperwork. The following Monday was a three hour presentation of each department, mostly meant for the new students who will actually be attending this school, but as our schedule said "obligatoire," I decided to attend. After I ditched the end of the presentations, we had to wait for two hours in line to discuss finding a "tuteur" which I can only imagine is some sort of advisor. As I already have an advisor who is concerned with my work, the woman told me that she couldn't do anything for me. She also told me that Princeton is "the best of the best" and that my research sounds "fascinating." I heard a lot of that...though it seems no one at the ENS is capable of giving me any advice about mathematics.
In those first three weeks, I also got my all-purpose card, learned how to request library access (no, that doesn't come on the card for some reason...), put money on it for the cafeteria, and open a French bank account (see my previous blogs—I already know that I don't want to open a new account). Getting library access was a bit tricky, since I requested access to both the humanities and sciences libraries. In France, academics is divided into "lettres" and "sciences," which traditionally just do not mix. So, the librarians were extremely confused when I barged into the math library even though my card says "lettres." I explained my research and...guess what! It sounds really interesting! But they tried to send me to the math department anyway. Eventually they caved in once I told them I had a BA in math. Not sure why that should be required to take out math textbooks, but who knows with these people?
So, you may be wondering: what about the classes? The students? Well, I'll be writing about that soon. Courses just started yesterday, and even though I'm not going to be taking many (too much of my own work), I definitely have some observations to make about my first introductory Hebrew lesson yesterday.
All I can think of to end this post is this: thank you CUPA for being such an excellent study abroad program! Not only did you prepare me for a lifetime of French literature research, but you spared me from the rentrée and I am eternally grateful!
Sunday, September 14, 2014
My Parisian Apartment
So, the reason for my lack of posting is that I had a bunch of things to do before leaving Berlin, and then had a lot of administrative things to take care of upon arriving here in Paris. But, today I'll get caught up and explain what I've been doing in the past few weeks.
First off, I'm in Paris now. Getting here involved dragging my two extremely bulky and heavy suitcases through Berlin U-Bahn and buses, to the airport, off the luggage belt at Orly (the other Paris airport), through the OrlyVal (terminal shuttle), into the RER B, then up the escalator at Luxembourg Station. That's where the problem happened. It wasn't totally on the step, the bigger suitcase, and brought me down with it. A guy behind me had to hold me on the suitcase to avoid the suitcase dragging us both down the up escalator! At the top, he asked if I was okay, to which I responded: "um...oui, ça va" at the exact moment when my suitcase's handle snapped clean off. Good thing my new flatmate Louise came to find me and help me get these ridiculous bags up the five flights of stairs in my new elevator-less Parisian apartment.
To sum things up, this apartment has the best and the worst of Paris all wrapped up into one. I'll just go through the pros and cons, then give you some "before" pictures. I'm in the process of cleaning and buying things to make it a bit more livable (read: American).
Pros:
• Location, location, location: This apartment is in the heart of the Latin Quarter (where the universities are). It is a ten minute walk from the ENS, a five minute walk from the rue Mouffetard (a very famous street, with very good crêpes), a five minute walk from the Panthéon (my favorite building in Paris, which is unfortunately under construction right now), a five minute walk from Berthillon (my favorite ice cream, which I've almost been having daily, and also very close to my Lebanese sandwich place, favorite garden, etc. It's the perfect location.
• The building is typically Parisian, and therefore quite charming. While the lack of an elevator is a pain when bringing the suitcases up, it has an old-school feel and is very charming how old the staircase is and how each step creaks a bit as you walk up. It's a spiral staircase as well, so you even get dizzy going up!
• The balcony: overlooks some very beautiful buildings in one of the oldest parts of the city.
• The wood floors of the apartment creak, the old fireplaces are delightfully nonfunctional, the doorknobs are all loose, the toilet and the bathtub are in separate rooms, and if you're in a room on the street side of the building, you can hear literally EVERYTHING.
Cons:
• Basically all of the pros are also cons when you think about it.
• The wood floors of the apartment creak, which is loud. They are also kind of dirty. I've been so busy buying sheets and stuff that I haven't had a chance to clean it all yet. But I did buy a bath mat and slippers, so my bare feet never have to touch the floor.
• The white tile gets very dirty, very fast.
• It is very small, especially the kitchen which has no built-in appliances. The only cooking options are: a portable stovetop (with two burners), a toaster oven (which Louise assures me is sufficient for baking a cake...), a toaster, and a microwave. We also have a somewhat small fridge and a sink with a slightly temperamental faucet.
• The toilet and the bathroom are separate, and the sink is in the bathroom. So, after using the toilet, you have to go into another room to wash your hands. Seems awfully unsanitary to me. I might buy some hand sanitizer to put on top of the washing machine, which also makes the toilet quite cramped. It also doesn't close too well since the light switch blocks the top from opening.
• No dryer: just one little drying rack in the salon area.
• The bathroom is also quite dirty. But I will be cleaning that soon. At least I bought the bath mat.
• The sheet situation was a bit unacceptable. But I have now bought myself a "drap housse" (the thing that goes over the mattress pad), a "drap plat" (a sheet to sleep under), and a blanket, as well as two pillows, pillow cases, and a comfy purple blanket. I even got extras. Louise told me that French people only use one sheet and a blanket, but the people at the store assured me that she was wrong.
Anyway, here is a before picture of my room. I'm going to go eat a crêpe with Mélanie.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
OuLiPo Transcriptions
I believe I mentioned it before, but this year I'm participating in a large transcription project for a new OuLiPo research group. They are digitizing the early OuLiPo documents (meeting minutes, early texts, etc.), a project for which they are outsourcing free labor from young researchers like me. My group is the "jeunes chercheurs anglophones" or the "young anglophone researchers" group and I've already completed one of the transcriptions since I've been here in Berlin. Basically, my job is this:
1) I am given scanned documents in a shared file system, which I then download.
2) I type up everything into a Microsoft Word document
3) I assign different "styles" to various aspects of the text. For instance, if they mention a specific constraint, I use the style field "notions" (which has been predetermined by the organizers of the project) to make it whatever color they have designated for oulipian notions.
4) I upload my finished Word document back to the shared doc page.
What is the purpose of this, you might ask? This will make the OuLiPo's early documents available to anyone who needs them, whether or not they are near the archives (which seem to be dispersed among several libraries in Paris and also partly in the OuLiPo's definitively provisional/provisionally definitive secretary's attic—he is, by the way, the same person, Marcel Benabou). It will also make these documents searchable in the database, not just by word, but by notion, oulipian, author, title, etc. Basically, rather than sift through a bunch of typewritten pages from the 1960's, those studying the OuLiPo will be able to say: I'm interested in the lipogram...where was it mentioned in the meeting minutes?
Why am I doing this slave labor? Well, first off it will benefit me in the long run to have the archives digitized. Second, I am being sent scanned versions of Oulipian meetings, so it's rather exciting for me! Third, I get to participate in a project with many other academics—OuLiPo specialists, graduate students, etc.—which will make me feel like I'm participating in a larger conversation about my field. All in all, I'd say it's an excellent way to spend a few hours a week!
And in case anyone wants a sample of what I've been transcribing, here is the definition of "philosophy" according to Latis (an Oulipian with many, many pseudonyms):
— Si je t’explique quelque chose que j’ai compris et que tu comprends, ce n’est pas de la philosophie ;
— Si je t’explique quelque chose que j’ai compris et que tu ne comprends pas, ce n’est pas de la philosophie ;
— Si je t’explique quelque chose que je n’ai pas compris et que tu comprends, ce n’est pas de la philosophie ;
— Si je t’explique quelque chose que je n’ai pas compris et que tu ne comprends pas, c’est de la philosophie.
— Si je t’explique quelque chose que j’ai compris et que tu ne comprends pas, ce n’est pas de la philosophie ;
— Si je t’explique quelque chose que je n’ai pas compris et que tu comprends, ce n’est pas de la philosophie ;
— Si je t’explique quelque chose que je n’ai pas compris et que tu ne comprends pas, c’est de la philosophie.
Translation (mine):
— If I explain something to you that I understand and that you understand, that's not philosophy.
— If I explain something to you that I understand and that you don't understand, that's not philosophy.
— If I explain something to you that I don't understand and that you understand, that's not philosophy.
— If I explain something to you that I don't understand and that you don't understand, that's philosophy.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Many Subtle Channels (Daniel Levin Becker)
My German course has been great in that I am being forced to practice German for a certain amount of time every day. It has also succeeded in regularizing my schedule here: now I have somewhere to be from noon to 3, and it takes about 30 minutes to get there. So, I wake up at the same time every day and don't dillydally. Rather than reading until I feel like eating breakfast, I eat, get dressed, and sometimes have to finish my homework before doing anything else. I get home about an hour before Eileen gets out of work, so I have time to do dishes or practice my flute or read on my own before we get dinner or do something else.
The downside is, I have far less time. Suddenly, four hours a day are just for the class and commute, then an additional hour for homework. My blog writing has suffered, and I haven't been doing as much writing in general. But I have been reading (in the subway, in breaks from class, etc.) but haven't been writing about it here. So, one of the books I finished was called Many Subtle Channels by a young, American member of the OuLiPo named Daniel Levin Becker.
It is a charming book that serves mostly as a general introduction to the group, its history, and the way it operates. Rather than write a "review" (like I seem to have done for the other books), I'm going to put in a few quotes I found interesting for my own work and elaborate on them. I've been reading predominately on my Kindle, so one of the perks is that it keeps all of my notes in one place for me without forcing me to write in the pages of one of my actual, physical books.
1) "Potential literature is both the things that literature could be and the things that could be literature. Potential literature is language; potential literature is life. Nobody's ever been entirely, definitively clear on what potential literature is, and this is to everyone's advantage. When you don't know what you're looking for, as they say, your chances of finding it are excellent." (9)
I've been toying with a metaphor for potential literature lately, and I think I've found one with a bit of potential (pun definitely intended): fractals. A fractal, in case you don't know, is a mathematical set/natural phenomenon of a repeated pattern at every scale. A good example is a cauliflower: look at the whole thing and there is clearly a pattern; look at just a part and it is the same pattern as the whole, but smaller. I feel that potential literature can be understood like that. A constraint has the potential to produce an unlimited body of texts, all of which will continue to speak about the constraint on every level. The self-reflexivity could conceivably extend in all directions forever. For instance, writing a book without a letter (like Perec does with La disparition, foregoing the letter E) is called a lipogram. That specific constraint, however, could produce tons of different books. Then, one could choose another letter. And another, and another. The potential for the lipogram is a subsection of the potential of language itself, and each text written without use of a letter will share certain properties. The language of the lipogram—or the potential language of a lipogram—is like a fractal.
2) "Bens's minutes frame this as an exciting time, not least due to the more or less concurrent development of big efficient calculating machines called computers. Certain tasks with conceivable if outlandish literary merit were becoming possible, as means or as ends unto themselves: compiling concordances, isolating the borders of poems, scanning for metrical qualities, writing poems in programming languages. At one point Braffort mentions a research center in Bensançon that has all the tragedies of Racine and Corneille on perforated cards; in Queneau's subsequent questions about whether a computer could classify sonnets by end-rhymes or scan a piece of prose for twelve-syllable units—i.e., involuntary alexandrines—the possibility for mischief nearly jumps off the page." (135)
Look out for more on computers, as I'm currently working on writing an article about algorithmic literature. I'm also considering putting an entire chapter on computers and algorithms into my dissertation. A new academic trend seems to be "Digital Humanities," which isn't very well-defined yet. Hopefully I can work it into my own work and also help to contribute to figuring out what exactly it is. From what I can tell so far, Digital Humanities is an experimental subsection of the humanities that seems to want to serve the role that the OuLiPo defines within literature. They seek to examine the potential of new technology in humanistic studies. We'll see what's there.
3) "'If 'pataphysics is the science of imaginary solutions,' Paul Braffort wrote in 2002, 'the Oulipo could be the search for real solutions to imaginary problems.'" (150)
'Pataphysics is a strange organization that still exists to day. It is of interest to me (and to anyone who studies the OuLiPo) because the OuLiPo began as a subsection of the group. This quote, for me, is a very apt description of the fundamental difference between the two projects, and why they are no longer truly affiliated. Look out for more later, as I'll be writing on a book I'm currently reading on 'Pataphysics.
4) "Roubaud also proposes an analogous relationship between the groups' [OuLiPo and Bourbaki] methods—'a structure in Bourbaki's conception of mathematics is capable of producing an infinity of theorems, by deductions from its axioms. A constraint is the oulipian equivalent of a bourbakist structure'—and between the goals behind them, namely a fastening of the practice of mathematics and literature, respectively, to 'a sound and rigorous basis' that could be derived over and over again from first principles. This ultimately comes across as a little too neat a comparison, but that's fifty years' hindsight talking. For Queneau and Le Lionnais, both of whom were supremely interested in the work Bourbaki was doing, this model was more than just a constructive counterpoint to that of the Surrealists." (152)
This is essentially a summary of part of the presentation I gave for my dissertation prospectus defense. I'm hoping to begin my dissertation with a close examination of the oulipian appropriation of Bourbaki's axiomatic set theory and how they propose to apply it to literature.
5) "'The meaning of the Oulipo is to give empty structures, to propose empty structures,'" [Queneau] said. 'Well then, I'll ask this,' said Charbonnier: 'Is that possible?' 'Probably,' Queneau murmured, after a pause." (288)
I think this quote speaks for itself!
6) "The Oulipo's generosity, then, is something like a conceptual generosity: it lies more in suggesting that literature might have a cookbook than in furnishing any actual recipes, more in framing an idea as the center of a labyrinth, and the finished work as the outside, than in offering any tips on how to navigate out." (290)
Like mathematics itself, this sort of idea implies that what the OuLiPo does exists in the fabric of literature itself and it is actually for everyone to find.
7) "...creative reading is no less noble, no less rewarding, no less potentially spectacular, than creative writing. To do either one well is simply to leave things more interesting than you found them." (300)
This quote is fundamental to understanding what the addition of mathematics to literature does to reading.
8) "Language is just as artificial as literature, probably more so—a diffuse and shape-shifting and ideally unstable system we invented a long time ago—but then the same can be said of most of the means we routinely and unthinkingly use to describe and deal with our surroundings...Potential literature is what we might call language in the hands of a crafty reader, the way potential music is sound to a crafty listener. Reading, no matter what you're reading, presupposes a belief in the potential of the text—to speak to you, enlighten you, stir your imagination or temporarily distract you—just as living, if it is to have any sense, presupposes a belief in the potential of your life." (316-7)
An important point, which I will undoubtedly return to later.
The downside is, I have far less time. Suddenly, four hours a day are just for the class and commute, then an additional hour for homework. My blog writing has suffered, and I haven't been doing as much writing in general. But I have been reading (in the subway, in breaks from class, etc.) but haven't been writing about it here. So, one of the books I finished was called Many Subtle Channels by a young, American member of the OuLiPo named Daniel Levin Becker.
1) "Potential literature is both the things that literature could be and the things that could be literature. Potential literature is language; potential literature is life. Nobody's ever been entirely, definitively clear on what potential literature is, and this is to everyone's advantage. When you don't know what you're looking for, as they say, your chances of finding it are excellent." (9)
I've been toying with a metaphor for potential literature lately, and I think I've found one with a bit of potential (pun definitely intended): fractals. A fractal, in case you don't know, is a mathematical set/natural phenomenon of a repeated pattern at every scale. A good example is a cauliflower: look at the whole thing and there is clearly a pattern; look at just a part and it is the same pattern as the whole, but smaller. I feel that potential literature can be understood like that. A constraint has the potential to produce an unlimited body of texts, all of which will continue to speak about the constraint on every level. The self-reflexivity could conceivably extend in all directions forever. For instance, writing a book without a letter (like Perec does with La disparition, foregoing the letter E) is called a lipogram. That specific constraint, however, could produce tons of different books. Then, one could choose another letter. And another, and another. The potential for the lipogram is a subsection of the potential of language itself, and each text written without use of a letter will share certain properties. The language of the lipogram—or the potential language of a lipogram—is like a fractal.
2) "Bens's minutes frame this as an exciting time, not least due to the more or less concurrent development of big efficient calculating machines called computers. Certain tasks with conceivable if outlandish literary merit were becoming possible, as means or as ends unto themselves: compiling concordances, isolating the borders of poems, scanning for metrical qualities, writing poems in programming languages. At one point Braffort mentions a research center in Bensançon that has all the tragedies of Racine and Corneille on perforated cards; in Queneau's subsequent questions about whether a computer could classify sonnets by end-rhymes or scan a piece of prose for twelve-syllable units—i.e., involuntary alexandrines—the possibility for mischief nearly jumps off the page." (135)
Look out for more on computers, as I'm currently working on writing an article about algorithmic literature. I'm also considering putting an entire chapter on computers and algorithms into my dissertation. A new academic trend seems to be "Digital Humanities," which isn't very well-defined yet. Hopefully I can work it into my own work and also help to contribute to figuring out what exactly it is. From what I can tell so far, Digital Humanities is an experimental subsection of the humanities that seems to want to serve the role that the OuLiPo defines within literature. They seek to examine the potential of new technology in humanistic studies. We'll see what's there.
3) "'If 'pataphysics is the science of imaginary solutions,' Paul Braffort wrote in 2002, 'the Oulipo could be the search for real solutions to imaginary problems.'" (150)
'Pataphysics is a strange organization that still exists to day. It is of interest to me (and to anyone who studies the OuLiPo) because the OuLiPo began as a subsection of the group. This quote, for me, is a very apt description of the fundamental difference between the two projects, and why they are no longer truly affiliated. Look out for more later, as I'll be writing on a book I'm currently reading on 'Pataphysics.
4) "Roubaud also proposes an analogous relationship between the groups' [OuLiPo and Bourbaki] methods—'a structure in Bourbaki's conception of mathematics is capable of producing an infinity of theorems, by deductions from its axioms. A constraint is the oulipian equivalent of a bourbakist structure'—and between the goals behind them, namely a fastening of the practice of mathematics and literature, respectively, to 'a sound and rigorous basis' that could be derived over and over again from first principles. This ultimately comes across as a little too neat a comparison, but that's fifty years' hindsight talking. For Queneau and Le Lionnais, both of whom were supremely interested in the work Bourbaki was doing, this model was more than just a constructive counterpoint to that of the Surrealists." (152)
This is essentially a summary of part of the presentation I gave for my dissertation prospectus defense. I'm hoping to begin my dissertation with a close examination of the oulipian appropriation of Bourbaki's axiomatic set theory and how they propose to apply it to literature.
5) "'The meaning of the Oulipo is to give empty structures, to propose empty structures,'" [Queneau] said. 'Well then, I'll ask this,' said Charbonnier: 'Is that possible?' 'Probably,' Queneau murmured, after a pause." (288)
I think this quote speaks for itself!
6) "The Oulipo's generosity, then, is something like a conceptual generosity: it lies more in suggesting that literature might have a cookbook than in furnishing any actual recipes, more in framing an idea as the center of a labyrinth, and the finished work as the outside, than in offering any tips on how to navigate out." (290)
Like mathematics itself, this sort of idea implies that what the OuLiPo does exists in the fabric of literature itself and it is actually for everyone to find.
7) "...creative reading is no less noble, no less rewarding, no less potentially spectacular, than creative writing. To do either one well is simply to leave things more interesting than you found them." (300)
This quote is fundamental to understanding what the addition of mathematics to literature does to reading.
8) "Language is just as artificial as literature, probably more so—a diffuse and shape-shifting and ideally unstable system we invented a long time ago—but then the same can be said of most of the means we routinely and unthinkingly use to describe and deal with our surroundings...Potential literature is what we might call language in the hands of a crafty reader, the way potential music is sound to a crafty listener. Reading, no matter what you're reading, presupposes a belief in the potential of the text—to speak to you, enlighten you, stir your imagination or temporarily distract you—just as living, if it is to have any sense, presupposes a belief in the potential of your life." (316-7)
An important point, which I will undoubtedly return to later.
Taking German in Germany—My B2 course at the DeutschAkademie
Well, it turns out I am indeed a B2, or at least, the level of the course isn't necessarily beyond my capabilities in German. I'm about to begin my third (and last) week of the course, and so here I think I'll just list some of my reflections on the course and its pros and cons.
My course is a B,2,1 course at the DeutschAkademie at Wittenbergplatz. The other students are international as well, though for most of them, learning German isn't a hobby, but rather a necessity. There is a Bulgarian engineer who has moved here to live with his German girlfriend but cannot find work without having a better level of German (generally one would have to finish the B2, 1-2 courses in order to be qualified to work for a German company, from what I can tell). He speaks English fluently after having lived for a long time in England and South Africa. There are also four Chinese students, all of whom are either working or living here and need to pass the test at the end of the subsequent course in order to work or study here. Then, there are two Filipino sisters who seem to have picked up some German in Switzerland, but now want to learn German German (yes, they are so different that most Germans can't actually understand Swiss Germans...). Finally, there is a Mexican man who has just moved here with his German wife and another American girl who wants to do her MA here. I'm really the oddball out—when asked why I wanted to learn German, my only response was: "I like learning languages, and German is different from the other ones I know, so it's more of a challenge."
My strengths and weaknesses in the course: I'm very good with grammar, especially when I have time to think about it (so reading and writing aren't too difficult); I'm not very good with vocabulary (I have only been learning this language since last September, so I haven't had time to learn tons of less common words); my accent seems to be okay compared to the other students in the class (it's not recognizably American like the other American girl, and I seem to be able to speak somewhat fluidly now in a standard conversation about a not-too-philosophical or complicated topic); my comprehension is just okay—it's improved a lot since I've been here, but I still get frustrated and give up if I listen to a sentence that has more than two words I don't know.
Now for the actual course. Being a graduate student in French, I have to teach French myself and had to take a course in second language acquisition pedagogy. So, I can't really help but be a bit critical of the way others teach languages:
•The textbook is very well-organized. Each chapter introduces vocabulary very organically and has a Wortschatz or word list at the end of the book where you can write down meanings of words included in each theme/chapter. The activities are all multiple parts and each one builds on the previous one. It also does a very good job of alternating between the four main linguistic competencies: listening, writing, reading, and speaking.
•The textbook is also kind of oriented towards people who have immigrated here and are looking for jobs. We spent several days on writing résumés in German and about specific vocabulary for job interviews/employment contracts/etc. The first chapter was about homesickness and immigration and we're currently discussing poverty, and varying roles of men and women. In the end, while I'd probably prefer reading literary texts, fairy tales, or other narratives in order to acquire the vocabulary, I can understand and appreciate the thematic outline of the book and how it is more useful for their average student.
•The course is conducted entirely in German, which is very good. But we use very few authentic documents. Everything is in the textbook and the professor seems totally dependent on it. I find that kind of a shame, considering we are in Germany and there are actual people using actual résumés every day. Ostensibly we all know at least one German person. Why are our assignments always redundant grammar exercises rather than going out into the streets, finding an advertisement we can understand, and explaining the product and the advertising method to the class? Or writing our own cover letters for a real job application we find and then critiquing each other? Or being prepped about a movie that is in theaters and then going to see it without any subtitles? There are so many possibilities to incorporate the city and German culture into the class without using the textbook, but we never do.
•I also feel that we spend a lot of time on the homework in class. It would be more productive if the teacher were to give us the homework answers via email and then we could address specific questions in the first ten minutes of class or so. We have three hours a day and spend about the first half hour going down the line reading out our answers. I feel that that time could be much better spent.
•The levels of the students are quite varied. While I know that intermediate language courses are often like that, I do feel they might have been better with their placement tests for one or two students whose inability to understand at all moments is hindering the other students' progress in the course.
•Finally, our teacher is very nice, but isn't able to be here for the final week of the course. In order to avoid getting a substitute, this past week we had four hours of class on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and we are also having an additional morning class every Friday (even though the course is supposed to be just Monday-Thursday). While I don't mind the extra hours or classes, I do think the four hour sessions were really strenuous in terms of our cognitive thresholds. It was quite clear after the three hour mark that people were tired and not as engaged, but the type of work we were doing didn't change to reflect that. It's always very important as a language teacher to gauge how your students feel and when their brains just can't take the language any more. At that point, we could switch to a vocabulary game rather than strict grammar rule definition, or open conversations.
All in all, I'm happy I spent the 205 euros on the course. It is at the very least 3 hours of speaking German in a controlled setting and I am learning new vocabulary. The question will be: how will I keep it up in France?
My course is a B,2,1 course at the DeutschAkademie at Wittenbergplatz. The other students are international as well, though for most of them, learning German isn't a hobby, but rather a necessity. There is a Bulgarian engineer who has moved here to live with his German girlfriend but cannot find work without having a better level of German (generally one would have to finish the B2, 1-2 courses in order to be qualified to work for a German company, from what I can tell). He speaks English fluently after having lived for a long time in England and South Africa. There are also four Chinese students, all of whom are either working or living here and need to pass the test at the end of the subsequent course in order to work or study here. Then, there are two Filipino sisters who seem to have picked up some German in Switzerland, but now want to learn German German (yes, they are so different that most Germans can't actually understand Swiss Germans...). Finally, there is a Mexican man who has just moved here with his German wife and another American girl who wants to do her MA here. I'm really the oddball out—when asked why I wanted to learn German, my only response was: "I like learning languages, and German is different from the other ones I know, so it's more of a challenge."
My strengths and weaknesses in the course: I'm very good with grammar, especially when I have time to think about it (so reading and writing aren't too difficult); I'm not very good with vocabulary (I have only been learning this language since last September, so I haven't had time to learn tons of less common words); my accent seems to be okay compared to the other students in the class (it's not recognizably American like the other American girl, and I seem to be able to speak somewhat fluidly now in a standard conversation about a not-too-philosophical or complicated topic); my comprehension is just okay—it's improved a lot since I've been here, but I still get frustrated and give up if I listen to a sentence that has more than two words I don't know.
Now for the actual course. Being a graduate student in French, I have to teach French myself and had to take a course in second language acquisition pedagogy. So, I can't really help but be a bit critical of the way others teach languages:
•The textbook is very well-organized. Each chapter introduces vocabulary very organically and has a Wortschatz or word list at the end of the book where you can write down meanings of words included in each theme/chapter. The activities are all multiple parts and each one builds on the previous one. It also does a very good job of alternating between the four main linguistic competencies: listening, writing, reading, and speaking.
•The textbook is also kind of oriented towards people who have immigrated here and are looking for jobs. We spent several days on writing résumés in German and about specific vocabulary for job interviews/employment contracts/etc. The first chapter was about homesickness and immigration and we're currently discussing poverty, and varying roles of men and women. In the end, while I'd probably prefer reading literary texts, fairy tales, or other narratives in order to acquire the vocabulary, I can understand and appreciate the thematic outline of the book and how it is more useful for their average student.
•The course is conducted entirely in German, which is very good. But we use very few authentic documents. Everything is in the textbook and the professor seems totally dependent on it. I find that kind of a shame, considering we are in Germany and there are actual people using actual résumés every day. Ostensibly we all know at least one German person. Why are our assignments always redundant grammar exercises rather than going out into the streets, finding an advertisement we can understand, and explaining the product and the advertising method to the class? Or writing our own cover letters for a real job application we find and then critiquing each other? Or being prepped about a movie that is in theaters and then going to see it without any subtitles? There are so many possibilities to incorporate the city and German culture into the class without using the textbook, but we never do.
•I also feel that we spend a lot of time on the homework in class. It would be more productive if the teacher were to give us the homework answers via email and then we could address specific questions in the first ten minutes of class or so. We have three hours a day and spend about the first half hour going down the line reading out our answers. I feel that that time could be much better spent.
•The levels of the students are quite varied. While I know that intermediate language courses are often like that, I do feel they might have been better with their placement tests for one or two students whose inability to understand at all moments is hindering the other students' progress in the course.
•Finally, our teacher is very nice, but isn't able to be here for the final week of the course. In order to avoid getting a substitute, this past week we had four hours of class on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and we are also having an additional morning class every Friday (even though the course is supposed to be just Monday-Thursday). While I don't mind the extra hours or classes, I do think the four hour sessions were really strenuous in terms of our cognitive thresholds. It was quite clear after the three hour mark that people were tired and not as engaged, but the type of work we were doing didn't change to reflect that. It's always very important as a language teacher to gauge how your students feel and when their brains just can't take the language any more. At that point, we could switch to a vocabulary game rather than strict grammar rule definition, or open conversations.
All in all, I'm happy I spent the 205 euros on the course. It is at the very least 3 hours of speaking German in a controlled setting and I am learning new vocabulary. The question will be: how will I keep it up in France?
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Addendum to the many ways to see Berlin
There is one more way to see Berlin that I failed to mention the last time, mostly because I hadn't done it yet. Berlin is the home of the world's largest tethered hot air balloon (or "captured" as they say here). The world is called "Die Welt" which just means "The World" (die being the definite article for feminine nouns in German—don't confuse it with the English word "die," though Eileen and I sure punned on it the entire time!), and the balloon looks like the world. It's as simple as that. Since I wasn't able to take an untethered hot air balloon ride in Vilnius, I decided to see another European capital by balloon, and what a sight it was! Since a picture's worth a thousand words, here are several thousand words that you can peruse at your leisure. As far as 15 minute rides go, this was pretty fun—it was the hour and a half waiting in line that wasn't that interesting.
What the balloon looks like up in the air. Once again, I can't emphasize this enough—it is not telling everyone to "die"!
The technical information about how big it is, and how it works.
Eileen waiting in the safe area for our turn. She wasn't scared at all...
I feel that this is a very clever picture somehow...
We got on just in time for the sunset!
The TV Tower
Antarctica?
The Holocaust memorial from above. Amazing, no?
The Reichstag
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