Second-Year Springtime

Slogging through Tennyson can mean reading a lot of less-than-stimulating verse (in my humble opinion).  But then there are moments when you run across a gorgeous line or a sweet moment, and they make it worth while.  Bonus points for Cambridge references.  For example, here's a bit from a sonnet he wrote for a college friend who had died when they were both old men:

How oft we two have heard St Mary's chimes!     [The university church]
How oft the Cantab supper, host and guest,          [Cantab = Cambridge]
Would echo helpless laughter to your jest!
How oft with him we paced that walk of limes,    [path to the back entry of Trinity College]
Him, the lost light of those dawn-golden times,
Who loved you well!  Now both are gone to rest.
.................................................
                              dream of a shadow, go --
God bless you.  I shall join you in a day.

It's still not the most amazing stuff he ever wrote, but it's poignant.  I'm only halfway through his collected poems, but that hasn't stopped me from writing my second-year review piece.  It's nearly 20,000 words long, which is 1/3 of the minimum length for the complete dissertation.  It's a big stack of paper.  That big stack of paper is sitting at my left elbow as I write this, with notes from my supervisor sprinkled throughout it.  We had a good meeting last week, and basically she thinks it's an interesting subject and good material, but I need to make it clear what my claims are and why I'm using particular poems.

It's really exciting to hear confirmation that I'm on a path that will actually lead to a PhD.  I can see how much I still need to do -- discuss the work of other critics, for example -- but that's now in the context of filling out a shape I have in mind.

Meanwhile, spring/summer has suddenly blazed forth in Cambridge.  It's positively humid, and everyone has dug out their shorts and sandals from whatever cupboard they were buried in.  I have mounted to the top of the college library and have a gorgeous view of the sunset light on the spires of King's College chapel.  The sound of happy student chatter drifts up from Latham Lawn and through the windows that have been cranked open for the breeze.  It was only a few days ago that it was hard to believe we'd ever get clear sky and warmth again, and now winter seems aeons ago.  Here is a recording of the sounds from earlier this evening, the chapel bell at King's calling people to evensong:

Can't deal with that right now

That has more or less been my mental state for the last three weeks, which is why you haven't heard from me in a while.  The pace of Cambridge life is slightly slower during Easter (spring) term, but there has been rowing training six days a week and a symposium to organize.  Each of these brought their own reasons to be stressed and occasionally frustrated.

Every year (well, for three years now), the MCR puts on a half-day symposium for its members and the fellows of the college; there are talks, a keynote, a discussion panel, and humorous debates.  This year, it was my honor to organize it.  Many aspects were easier than I anticipated -- getting volunteers to talk and debate, for example -- but other things slipped through the cracks (inviting the master more than three days in advance...).  And would you believe it took me something like four hours to design the program?  Here's the front of it.  I like the picture because next to Marshall McLuhan's left elbow is a Trinity Hall-crested tobacco pot.  For those who don't know, McLuhan was a big-time commentator on the media from the 1960s onward and coined the phrases "global village" and "the media is the message."  In Woody Allen's movie "Annie Hall," he miraculously appears to tell off a pretentious guy in a movie theater (see here).  He was also a Tit Hall alum.  The symposium itself went really well -- but very few people turned up to it.  This was extremely disappointing, not only because I had worked so hard, but because it was a sharp drop-off from last year.

As for rowing, the weather has not been cooperating to make this term as lovely a time as usual to be on the water.  In fact, when I first got back it rained for two weeks straight; even when not actually raining, the sky was so dark that it was simply depressing.  It is less consistently awful now, but the sun is still a rare sight.  To cap things off, I didn't quite make it into the first boat for May Bumps (barring an injury or similar problem).  I'm not exactly shocked, because two women have returned after rowing for the university (they're really good!), but it did grate that a couple of other women waltzed in after not being around all year.  My pride can swallow moving down a boat, but it's frustrating to move from a crew that is really technically strong to one that is -- shall we say -- pretty wobbly at the moment.  I have also grown accustomed to our very demanding first-boat coach, who expects you to work really hard and be really good, so you do and you are.  I'm not convinced that everyone in W2 has had that mindset drilled into them yet.  But it's not all bad; it's less stress...and I'll get that crescent on my blazer next year.