i was all intent on coming home to write a disgruntled email about how rottenly went my morning classes and how malu-ed i felt, but i ran into bob reeder on my way home and i always have invigorating conversations with him (usually about nohrnberg - pedestal, please) - i am auditing his shakespeare class, i divulged. - i am jealous, he says, i've always wanted to hear nohrnberg on shakespeare. of nohrnberg's four regular offerings in the course catalogue, he's had 2 of them, and i've had 3. we decide that getting all four classes is something like collecting all the suits in cards. don't leave virginia without the full deck!

also nohrnberg seems amused by the pratchett quote i sent him: "the trouble was that he was talking in philosophy, but they were listening in gibberish."

mostly though, today i'm thinking about anne shirley (of green gables), and how these things are built into the story. these things being that, in the stories about girlhood, the heroines, despite their shortcomings - usually those of unruliness, a fiery temper, mule-ish obstinacy - we're supposed to like them, on account of their vivacity and pluck (the exact word!) and passionate energy and maybe especially because they do bend rules. we're meant to like them. that much is built into the narrative, which is what makes us like laura more than mary, alice more than dora, jo more than meg, elizabeth more than jane bennet, daiyu more than baochai. and that's becos the sweet, proper, absolutely good peopledon't make good copy. anyway, it isn't the business of literature to teach people to be good (and they'll be happy), but you see, it isn't their business to teach you not to be, either, and justify that thinking - i'm not as good, but that's okay, because i'm more interesting or passionate or living life to the fullest or whatever.

i've been thinking about scarlett o'hara also, becos i went and watched gone with the wind on monday night. i admire scarlett for many things, for her will, (to the pt of willfulness perhaps), spirit, charm, resourcefulness, audacity, but when i was watching the movie this time i see a lot of negatives in her (petulance, manipulativeness, callousness) and find that I admire melanie much more. not becos melanie is the silent suffering type. i don't admire her for that, not her silent suffering, her deliberate idealism, her desire to see the best and think best of everyone, making excuses for them. but i admire her for her power of - like nesbit describes of bobbie in railway children - of silent sympathy, her ability to think of other people, see the big picture. to bear a lot without necessarily being a martyr. for having the ability to love deeply and silently over a long time, for her reflectiveness, her gentle spirit, "heart" as the movie calls it. and somehow i think that real womanliness is in that. and maybe a lot of people will think that's a narrow and out-moded view of "woman" or the feminine. but you see, i don't mean staying at home and being a helpmeet and speak when you're spoken to and that sort of thing. and i do not generally like, or see, passivity as a feminine virtue.

(not even, you know, the way p.l. travers puts it, which i quote from su-lin's email: "to become a crone, it seems to me, is the last great hope of woman, supremely worth achieving, an old woman who remembers, who has gathered up all the threads of life and sits by the fire with her hands in her lap - not doing anything any more - what a marvellous thing! this is what it is to become wise. there you sit in your rocking chair as in the fairy tales - i hope I shall, anyway - aware of all you have learned and garnered and having it available in case the young ones want it. you will not force it on them, but simply tell it." my idea of the woman storyteller is nowhere crone-like, not byatt's old woman in the last house collecting stories, nor is it christabel and her egg-riddle, not the snow queen's ice puzzles, not the lady of shalott weaving in the tower, choosing between the perfection of the life and the work, but one who is truly alive, who'd use all her scarlett charms and wiles and vivacity to coax and tease and charm the world and make the world believe with her.)

i don't think i mean woman in terms of men/women, but in terms of girl/woman. i think what i mean is something like this: there is a lot to be said for keeping the child in yourself, and most people do not. i think i shan't ever lose that. but one can't stay there only, always. and knowing this has everything to do with becoming a woman. do people remember claire chiang's speech at one of the rgs speech day or founder's day or something like that. she said that it is obvious to singapore that rgs girls are independent thinkers and confident leaders, but it's the scgs girls who are gentle and gracious. i was outraged and probably rather hurt, although i'm sure i also thought to myself, well so what? surely it's that, being independent, being clever, standing on your own two feet, that's more important than being some soft-spoken and sweet little yes dear whatever you say dear. i really believe that, not just being "so there" about it. but i think what claire chiang was implying, that has something to do with i mean. that things like kindness and graciousness, and the ability to be a steadfast comfort, gentleness and enduring love, those are real womanly virtues that must temper the other sort of spirit. water and fire, maybe? or earth and air, remembering raederle to morgon of hed: i would be changeless as the earth of an for you. but we must learn to have both, be both scarlett and melanie. the ability to suffer and the ability to survive are related to each other, but not the same thing. i wonder which i have. probably the latter, which is what makes me scarlett-like. to dare, to grit your teeth, face the world, to believe in living, because tomorrow is another day, that is the ability to survive. what of the other then? addy sent me a card earlier this year - "as water that flows over the rocks, your gentle spirit will wear away all pains." is what it says. that, i think, is the ability to suffer.