William Shakespeare / Referenced By - TV Tropes
Check out #Lysander photos & videos on Instagram: latest posts and popular posts to see it tomorrow night ✨ #Shakespeare #play #Hermia #Lysander Swipe for more --> #sweetamoris #amoursucre #dolceflirt #castiel #nathaniel .. Armin: He changed his studies, 'cause he (in episode 40 I think) talked about. if this ain't a comfy cute ship then it's a cruise ship! when Hermia was escaping into the woods with Lysander, she called out, “I have just a small bag!. Good Night, Sweet Prince and Alas, Poor Yorick are subtropes. When an entire work is adapted from a Shakespearian source, see The Bard on Board. See also .
My family gave many of its native-born American sons to the armed services; my maternal grandparents came from Greece and my paternal grandparents came from Italy, and their American-born children went off to warthe Second World War, to be precise, a war that was not supposed to happen after the " war to end all wars ," the " Great War ," which led to the deaths of over 16 million people, including 7 million civilians.
Some of those in my family who fought in World War II came home as veterans: My Uncle Tony got frostbite during the Battle of the Bulgeand after being hit by mortar on April 7,he received the Purple Heart. My Uncle Frank was not as lucky; he was killed in that battle, in which American forces suffered heavy casualties, under the weight of a German tank offensive. One of those veterans, my Uncle Sam Salvatore Sclafani, I had the honor of interviewing in ; that interview formed the basis of a Memorial Day tribute to himbut as a naval veteran of World War II, he was one of those Veterans of Foreign Wars who, perhaps more than any other relative, had the greatest impact on my early thinking about politics.
The film was an adaptation of Robert E. Sherwood 's playfor which the playwright won a Pulitzer Prize. It was Uncle Sam who had introduced me to several antiwar films from the early days of cinema that had a profound effect on his thinking about the horrors of war.
- finishing each other's sandwiches
And yet it was the Clark Gable movie that left a profound effect on my Uncle Sam, just for a couple of lines of dialogue that resonated with him through the yearsprecisely because he experienced first hand the nightmares of war, as he was stationed in the Aleutian Islands, the closest U. The character Achille Weber played by actor Edward Arnold asks: Those who sell the instruments of death or those who buy them and use them? It is they who make war seem noble and heroic.
Roosevelt for his promise that American boys would not fight on foreign soil.Ep. 9 [Part 3 Lysander] Sfarsit!
As my Uncle Sam later observed: He was outspoken in his political views, always politically incorrect, but whatever views he held were colored deeply by his experiences in World War II.
I'd like to highlight a link to my interview with Uncle Sam, which was the basis of a Memorial Day tribute to him back inon the site of the History News Network. It's still a good read, especially on this th anniversary of the end of the First World War.
You can find the essay here. Elizabeth Salter's reading of the Knight's Talein her introduction to Chaucer, The Knight's Tale and the Clerk's Taleis perhaps the most consistently developed in terms of the "two voices" of the poet. See also Thurston, Artistic Ambivalence. After all, we like to read Chaucer this way, to point out the suitability of the tales to their fictional tellers, and most of us, even Robert Jordan, would agree that at least some of the tales, and certainly the Canterbury frame, encourage this sort of interpretation.
At that point, alas, I think we too often give up.
This passage, we say, must be the work of Chaucer the poet, speaking over the head or from behind the mask of the Knight or the Miller or the Physician, creating ironies, setting us straight on doctrine, pointing us "the righte weye. Different critics find the poet in different passages of the same tale, and they often have great difficulty in deciphering his message once they have found him—a difficulty that seems odd if Chaucer thought the message worth disrupting the fiction.
Thus Howard, whose observations on the critical disagreement over the humorous element in the Knight's Tale are well taken, offers an interpretation of "The destinee, ministre general" that is in fact uncommon. His account of the ironic tone of these lines in context is at least more attentive to the effect of the language than are the numerous readings that take the passage relatively straight. Even within this group, however, the range of proposed answers to the question, Who's talking here?
To mention only those who discuss this particular passage, the work of William Frost, Paul G. Kean is representative of the large body of criticism that remains relatively inattentive to the whole question of voicing in the tale.
Of those who, like Howard, find something odd about the passage, Burlin thinks that the speaker is Chaucer, who intends to suggest by it that Theseus is a man superior to Fortune but unaware of Providence Chaucerian Fiction, whereas Richard Neuse, the only critic to attribute the speech unequivocally to the Knight, maintains that it differentiates the latter's implicitly Christian view of the story from Theseus's more limited vision.
What are the consequences for interpretation if we concede both that the passage makes gentle fun of the machinery of destiny, at least as applied to so trivial an event, and that it is the Knight himself who is interested in obtaining this effect? Howard's suggestion notwithstanding, the passage is not really directed at Theseus's hunting but at the improbably fortuitous meeting in the glade of Theseus, Palamon, and Arcite described in the lines that immediately follow I, — The Knight, as Neuse points out "The Knight,"is adapting an "olde storie" for the present occasion, and the irony here reflects his opinion of the style of those "olde bookes.
The point is that a notion like unimpersonated artistry, by dividing speakers into parts and denying them the full import of their speaking, puts us in the difficult position of trying to decide which parts of a single narrative are to be assigned to the pilgrim teller and which to the "author"; in these circumstances it is not surprising that different  Neuse, "The Knight," — References to the Canterbury Tales give fragment number and line numbers.
All such formulations involve finding or creating two speakers or even more in a narrative situation where it would appear simpler to deal with only one. Narrative entities are multiplied to the point where they become subjects of concern in their own right and require some sort of systematic or historical justification such as unimpersonated artistry or the deficiency of medieval ideas of personality; before long we are so busy trying to save the appearances of the epicyclic constructs we ourselves have created that we are no longer attending to the poems that the constructs were originally intended to explain.
Therefore I would like to preface my more detailed opposition to unimpersonated artistry with a general caveat. I call it Leicester's razor: Naturally I do not intend to let the matter rest with this general and essentially negative formula, though I think its application clears up a lot of difficulties.
I want to use the space my principle gives me to argue that the Canterbury tales are individually voiced, and radically so— that each of the tales is primarily in the sense of "first," that is, the place where one starts an expression of its teller's personality and outlook as embodied in the unfolding "now" of the telling. I am aware  See, for example, Jordan, Shape of Creation, where what is apparently envisioned is Chaucer the poet projecting Chaucer the pilgrim as the intermittent?
For an instance of how far this sort of thing can go, see Campbell, "Chaucer's 'Retraction. Robertson also uses it, as in the introduction to his Chaucer's London1—11, where he both specifies and generalizes statements he made previously in his Preface to Chaucer such as the following: They are directed toward the establishment and maintenance of those traditional hierarchies which were dear to the medieval mind.
They have nothing to do with 'psychology' or with 'character' in the modern sense, but are instead functions of attributes which are, in this instance, inherited from the traditions of medieval humanistic culture" —66; see also the discussion of the Friar's Tale that immediately follows. Judging from his remarks on Boccaccio, I am not at all sure that Spitzer would see Chaucer as a representative user of the "poetic 'I,'" but in any case I think his successors, unlike him, are arguing from "history" to texts, not the other way around.
Spitzer's formulation has become fossilized in those Chaucerians.
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Going back, in modern times, at least as far as Kittredge's characterization of the Canterbury Tales as a human comedy, with the pilgrims as dramatis personae, it reaches its high point in Lumiansky's Of Sondry Folk and apparently its dead end as well: I think one reason the idea has never been pushed as hard or as far as I would like to take it is that the voicing of individual tales has almost always been interpreted on the basis of something external to them, usually either some aspect of the historical background of the poems what we know from other sources about knights, millers, lawyers, nuns or the descriptions of the speakers given in the Canterbury frame, especially in the General Prologue.
Such materials are combined in various ways to construct an image of a given pilgrim outside his or her tale, and each tale is then read as a product of the figure who tells it, a product whose interpretation is constrained by the limitations we conceive the pilgrim to have. The question of historical presuppositions, the feeling that medieval men and women could not have thought or spoken in certain ways, I will address in a moment; but the problem of the Canterbury frame has been the more immediate obstacle to reading the tales as examples of impersonated artistry.
Since I do not mean by that phrase what either the critics or the defenders of similar notions appear to have meant in the past, the topic is worth pausing over. The issue is generally joined concerning the question of verisimilitude, the consistency with which the fiction of the tales sustains a dramatic illusion of real people taking part in real and present interaction with one another.
The critic who has most consistently taken this dramatic view of the poem is Lumiansky, who locates both the "reality" of the pilgrims and the "drama" of their relations with one another outside the tales themselves, preeminently in the frame. He ordinarily begins his discussion of a given tale and its dramatic context with a character sketch of the pilgrim drawn from the General Prologue and from any relevant links and then treats the tale itself as an exemplification and extension of the traits and situations in the frame.
He is attentive to such details as direct  Kittredge, Chaucer and His Poetrychap. This approach leads to an account of the poem as a whole that doubles the overt narrative of the frame and, in effect, allows the frame to tyrannize the individual tales: Other critics have not been slow to point out that this procedure neglects a great deal.
Such interruptions as the injunction in the Miller's Prologue to "Turne over the leef and chese another tale" I, and the moment in the Knight's Tale when the supposedly oral narrator remarks, "But of that storie list me nat to write" I, not only destroy verisimilitude but draw attention to what Howard has called the bookness of the poem Idea of the Canterbury Tales63—67as do, less vibrantly, incipits and explicits, the patently incomplete state of the text, or "the contingency that a tale not memorized but told impromptu is in verse" Idea of the Canterbury Tales Now this conspicuous textuality by which I mean that Chaucer not only produces written texts but does so self-consciously and calls attention to his writing certainly militates strongly against the illusion of drama as living presence.
It is no doubt this realization, coupled with the counterperception that some tales do seem "fitted to the teller," that has led Howard and others to adopt formulations like unimpersonated artistry in order to stay responsive to the apparent range of the poem's effects. Such a notion allows the critic to hover between bookness more commonly called writing nowadayswhich always implies absenceand the logocentrism that Howard calls voiceness —the fiction of presence we feel when "the author addresses us directly and himself rehearses tales told aloud by others: If we cannot have presence fully, we can at least have it partly.
But when and where exactly, and, above all, whose? As I have tried to suggest, a notion like unimpersonated artistry—which is an intermittent phenomenon—tries to save the feeling that someone is present at the cost of rendering us permanently uncertain about who is speaking at any given moment in or of the text: It seems to me that the roadside-drama approach, the criticisms of that approach, and compromise positions whether explicitly worked out like Howard's or more intuitive have in common a central confusion: The language of a given tale, or indeed of a given moment in a tale, is thus the end point of that person's activity, the point at which he or she delivers a self that existed prior to the text.
For this reason all these approaches keep circling back to the ambiguous traces of such an external self—in the frame, in the poet, in the facts of history, or in the "medieval mind. In maintaining that the Canterbury Tales is a collection of individually voiced texts, I want rather to begin with the fact of their textuality, to insist that there is nobody there, that there is only the text.
But if a written text implies and enforces the absence of the self, the real living person outside the text who may or may not have expressed himself or herself in producing it, the same absence is emphatically not true of the voice in the text, which I might also call the voice or subject of the text. In writing, voice is first of all a function not of persons but of language, of the linguistic codes and conventions that make it possible for an "I" to appear. For a representative discussion of the problem of presence and a typical critique of logocentric metaphysics, see "Writing Before the Letter," part 1 of Derrida, Of Grammatology1— Chapters 18 and 20 are especially helpful, but the whole section chaps.
Because language is positional it is inherently dramatic: Thus any text, by its nature as a linguistic phenomenon, generates its own set of rhetorical inflections of the grammatical subjectwhat in literary texts is often called its speaker. The speaker is a subject created by the text itself as a structure of linguistic and semantic relationships, and the character, or subjectivity, of the speaker is a function of the specific deployment of those relationships in a particular case to produce the voice of the text.
This kind of voiceness is a property of any text, and it is therefore theoretically possible to read any text in a way that elicits its particular voice, its individual first-person subject. Such a reading would, for example, try to attend consistently to the "I" of the text, expressed or implied, and would make the referential aspects of the discourse functions of the "I. It would ask what sort of first person notices these details rather than others and what sort conceives of an audience in such a way that he or she addresses it in this particular tone, and so forth.
Although any text can be read in a way that elicits its voice, some texts actively engage the phenomenon of voice, exploit it, make it the center of their discourse—in fact, make it their content. This sort of text is about its speaker, and I contend that the Canterbury Talesespecially the individual tales, is such a text.
The tales are examples of impersonated artistry because they concentrate not on the way preexisting persons create language but on the way language creates people. What this textual impersonation implies for the concrete interpretation of the poem is that the relation I have been questioning between the tales and the frame, or between the tales and their historical or social background, needs to be reversed.
The voicing of any tale—the personality of any pilgrim—is not given in advance by the prologue portrait or the facts of history, nor is it dependent on them. The personality has to be worked out by analyzing and defining the voice created by each tale.
It is this personality in the foreground, in his or her intensive and detailed textual life, that supplies a guide to the weighting of details and emphasis, the interpretationof the background, whether portrait or history.
finishing each other's sandwiches
To say, for example, that the Miller's Tale is not fitted to its teller because it is "too good" for him, because a miller would not be educated enough or intelligent enough to produce it, is to move in exactly the wrong direction.
In fact, it is just this sort of social typing that irritates and troubles the Miller himself, especially since both the Host and the general narrator typed him long before any Chaucer critic did I, —31, —69, The characters in his tale repeatedly indulge in social typing, as does the Miller. The end of the tale demonstrates how the maimed, uncomfortably sympathetic carpenter is sacrificed to the mirth of the townsfolk and the pilgrims; he is shouted down by the class solidarity of Nicholas's brethren: One could go on to show how the representation of the Miller's sensibility in the tale retrospectively and decisively revises the portrait of him in the General Prologue into something quite different from what it appears to be in prospect, but the same point can be suggested more economically concerning the Physician.
When we read in the General Prologue that "His studie was but litel on the Bible" I,the line sounds condemnatory in an absolute, moral way. Retrospectively the poet's comment characterizes a man of irreproachable, if conventional, morality, whose profession channels his reading into medical texts rather than sacred ones and who uses such biblical knowledge as he has for pathetic effect at the expense of narrative consistency: The situation in the tale is a good deal more complex than this, but I think the general point is clear enough: The Knight's mention of writing in his tale is indeed an anomalous detail in the context of the pilgrimage.
It is often regarded as a sign of the incomplete revision of the hypothetical "Palamon and Arcite," supposedly written before Chaucer had the idea of the Canterbury Tales and afterward inserted in its present position in fragment I.
The reference to writing is taken as evidence that the Knight was not the speaker "originally" and, in a reading like Howard's, that sometimes he still isn't. Details like the Knight's mention of writing are not immediately relevant because they do not affect the intention to create a speaker they may become relevant at a different level of analysis later.
Impersonation, the controlled use of voicing to direct us to what a narrative tells us about its narrator, precedes dramatization of the Canterbury sort in Chaucer, analytically and no doubt sometimes chronologically.
The proper method is to ascribe the entire narration, in all its details, to a single speaker on the authority of Leicester's razor and use it as evidence in constructing that speaker's subjectivity, keeping the question of the speaker's "identity" open until the analysis is complete. It is convenient and harmless to accept the framing fiction that the Knight's Tale is the tale the Knight tells, as long as we recog-  See Kempton, "Physician's Tale.
That is the method of reading that will be employed in this book.
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The first of its leading notions is that the tales must be treated not as the performances of preexisting selves but as texts.
They are not written to be spoken, like a play, but written to be read as if they were spoken. They are literary imitations of oral performance, in which the medium, writing, makes all the difference.
I will adopt as my central hypothesis the assumption that the speaker of each tale—the pilgrim who tells it—is in both senses the subject of all of its details. I will focus on the world of a given tale as evidence for a characterization of its speaker and examine how that speaker's telling creates him or her in the course of the narration.
To find out who each pilgrim "is" is the end point or goal, not the beginning, of the investigation. It can only be approached by looking at what the pilgrim does in telling. In line with these assumptions I will generally refrain from drawing on portraits of the individual pilgrims in the General Prologue for advance characterizations of them, though I will occasionally make use of information in the portraits if a given tale seems to authorize it.
The ante is upped here. And Tim gets his tour of present day magic. Occult for a walk through, you guessed it, Faerie. You guessed it, Tim gets to see The Dreaming as part of the package. Meanwhile, the Trenchcoat Brigade is freaking out, since they lost track of Tim and E long before they got that far. The book features not just recurring DC characters, but recurring important archetypes—particularly as codified in the tarot—that generally make these Hero Tales tick.
That of Faerie, the ghost of Magic Beyond Reason. The Land of Summer Twilight gives us events that are both the most ambiguous, and possibly the most important to Tim personally in the long run.