Rose in a Rowan Tree

This is the time of year when lots of new - and sometimes unexpected things - start happening.  The nights get longer, the days are rainier - but may still yield some surprises, like that somewhat tired rose amid the rowanberries.

I tend to feel less restless at this time of year, more focused; more inward-looking perhaps, but also with one eye on the changes in the trees and the colours of the hills I can see from my kitchen window. This is a good time for taking stock - harvesting, I guess - and making plans for the winter. Which will be long, as I recall.

Therefore melancholia is also allowed at this time of year, and this I like. It's alright to sit down for a while, to light a candle and to listen to soul-cleansing stuff like this:

Seuraa blogiani Bloglovinin avulla

Gone Ahead

My brain's bedazzled by the sudden arrival of the sun - so I can't really think of anything witty to say. Let the pictures speak for themselves.

Tori Amos can also speak for herself, too - and how:

Here's hoping that that rest of the winter will be as gorgeous as this - and that summer will be here soon, because I've already got some groovy things planned for both June and July.

Blue

It can't get much darker than this: six hours of daylight, most of which is blotted out by leaden clouds. Not a snowflake in sight.  Jingle-bloody-bells to you, too.

Tomorrow sees the end of my teaching career - so far, at least.  It's been a lot of work, but a lot of fun, too.  Here's hoping something as motivating turns up next year as well.

On a wholly unrelated note, on Juska's recommedation I've been listening to Tori Amos's latest album - a Christmas album would you believe - and liking it a lot. In fact, Midwinter Graces is brilliant.  If you don't believe me, listen for yourself:

...let me in-a your window-who-ho-ho

Over at The Pursuit of Harpyness people are discussing their favourite  19th century novelists (such as the Brontës and Jane Austen) - and especially their favourite male characters in these books.  Most deny that they have ever spent breathless hours reading about  (or even better, making up) the exploits of Heathcliff and Mr. Rochester. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, is much more warmly regarded; many feminists would be ready to set their cap at good old Fitzwilliam - and rightly so, for he's the only one of the three who hasn't got dark secrets cluttering up his past (or indeed his attic at Pemberley).

I have to make a confession: for me, the Brontë heros (especially Heathcliff, but also Mr. Rochester) were the stuff of teenage fantasy; Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, has always left me cold. However, having developed a somewhat maturer look on life and relationships, I can now wholeheartedly agree with the commentators of PoH: Messrs. H and R are complete gits.

Deep and dark and broodingly sexy as they might be, their world revolves around their own needs and desires - and anything (be it a mentally unstable wife or a completely innocent bystander) that gets in the way of these must be removed, usually by force. They have unhealthy obsessions, and unnaturally strong passions, which are taken out on other people (again). And yet, they attract perfectly sensible, self-possesssed women who seem to think they can bring out the best in these men. Whatever that may be.

Maybe it was the corsets. Anything that restricts your circulation can't be beneficial to your mental processes, either.
 

It's impossible to say what kind of protagonists Emily Brontë would have chosen for her next novel, but her big sister didn't show much improvement in her taste in men -  Villette for one has another bullying despot as its male lead, and another forgiving lady willing to prop up his ego. I don't know if anyone has ever has the hots for M. Paul - at least Mr. Rochester has the good manners not to patronise Jane Eyre so blatantly  (and as a reward only gets blinded and has his arm chopped off, whereas M. Paul - at least according to my reading - doesn't survive the old Brontë treatment).

Anne Brontë was perhaps the most sensible of the three - at least when it comes to the representation of men in her work. Hark! A Vagrant illustrates this beautifully: Dude Watchin' with the Brontës, ladies and gentlemen.

As to Jane Austen men, I can't say that I've been much moved by any of them (unless we're talking about the film versions. If so,  Colonel Brandon is my man). Perhaps it's got something to do with the stiff manners and the stilted sentences of the period, or the slightly stock-like nature of Austen's heroes (the protagonists have to get married in the end, after all); thus, while reading Sense and Sensibility, Emma, or Northanger Abbey, my attention mainly remains with the thoughts and feelings of the female characters.

Persuasion is the exception here: Captain Wentworth is a very intriguing character (with his Past and all), and a worthy equal of the poised Anne Elliot; he's made his mistakes in the past, and is not willing to be swayed by anyone's opinions (at least when it comes to choosing a wife). He's a bit gruff, but at least I get the feeling that he can also laugh at himself (a trait Mr Sourpuss Darcy certainly doesn't possess). And he's got a big ship.

Although P&P is undoubtledly the most sparkling of Austen's novels, Persuasion has got a quiet dignity that I like, and also some  brilliant insights into human nature. The final conversation between Anne Elliot and Captain Harville is a gem:

"Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to examples in books. Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove anything." 

"But how shall we prove anything?"

"We never shall. - - It is a difference of opinion which does not admit proof. We each begin, probably, with a little bias towards our own sex; and upon that bias build every circumstance in favour of it which has occurred within our own circle - -." 

And in case you've no idea what the title of this post refers to, I can only say that you've missed one of the finest pieces of popular music ever written: 

Lady in Black Eats off Swedish Plates

Here's what I accomplished today. After a couple of hours of babysitting M's daugther (with M safely in the same room, having her hair dyed) I took a turn in the local charity shop. My intention was to find something suitable to wear at my colleague's post- doctoral defense dinner: something rather more formal than the stuff currently lurking in my closet.

Now I'm the proud owner of a lovely black velvet dress - the first black dress I've ever owned. As can be gleaned from the photos, it's not entirely black (which made it less threatening for me), and judging by the label, it's none of your  usual [your favourite Swedish clothing chain] stuff. It cost me 6 euros.

Not bad, eh? Coupled with my 20s necklace it'll look right classy (and in a Viking-themed restaurant completely out of place, probably).

I also found a lovely stack of Rörstrand - my favourite Swedish vintage platemakers - plates. They cost an euro apiece, and don't clash too badly with my Finnish tablecloth, at least not yet. :)

Since Tuesday I've been floating in a kind of haze - glad that my thesis was so well received, and also so well criticised (after all, that's what this middle work between Master's and PhD is for), and at the same time uncertain of what to do next. My supervisor can probably help me with that, so until our next meeting I'll be killing time between lectures.

Which suits me just fine.

Here's what Kate Bush has to say about it:
 

Context, Cows and the Capital

I spent the weekend in Helsinki, celebrating Fidia's birthday in the usual manner  (but with fewer films this time) and also doing some work on our webpage with Otter and T. Thus in three days I indulged in catching up with a dozen of friends, eating in a rather fancy restaurant, making and helping to destroy a truly sinful chocolate cake, watching some great films, and - as always with Otter and T, planning a glorious future for SHS.

On Sunday I got treated to a side of Helsinki I rarely encounter - and one I enjoy greatly. As the pictures above show, there is more to our capital than concrete and traffic jams and grumpy people; indeed, it also seems to include cows and fields and friendly dog-owners. If I saw that side of the city more often, I might even get to tentatively like the darn place.

Today's been a cloudy day - both internally and weather-wise. I like the bleakness of October when it coincides so wonderfully with my mental state - which is similarly worn-out but at the same time serene and strangely expectant.

What I'm expecting, of course, is a satisfactory ending to my nearly year-long travail with my Licentiate, which should take place tomorrow. And even more than that I'm looking forward to the big chocolate cake I've been promised. :)

Contributing to my bitter-sweet mood has been Aimee Mann, whose soundscapes are perfect for this season. I love her matter-of-fact delivery and inventive lyrics, especially as they are set to devastatingly gorgeous music. Like so:

Here's one I made earlier

Autumn's great. Nights are dark, days are bright and colourful - or rainy and drab, which gives you the perfect excuse to stay in and bake. The raspberry pie above is a favourite of mine (I normally use lingonberries or blueberries) as its very quick and easy to make, and absolutely delicious.

This is also the perfect time for listening melancholy music (although I have to admit that I indluge in it regularly, regardless of season). I'm about to clean my mp3-player - chuck out most of the happy, summery songs (Lovin' Spoonful, The Best of Bollywood, Steely Dan etc.) and replace them with stuff like this:

Summer Sounds

I've been meaning to write a post about my favourite summer albums and songs, and isn't it just my luck that when I've finally got the time and inclination to do so, the weather turns foul... But that's no excuse, especially in this country, as good music is good music, regardless of the meteorological circumstances.

Ok, let's start with one of my all-time favourite albums, Gillian Welch's Soul Journey. As a rule, I know very little about bluegrass, and Welch is probably the only artist in my record collection who can be classified under that genre. I'm not sure about this album's summeriness, either, but since I first heard it in early summer (must have been around 2002...), the associations with sunshine and t-shirts have stayed with me. But there is a dusty, drowsy feeling to the songs, which makes Soul Journey a perfect soundtrack for late summer especially, with trees drooping in the sun, a winding dirt track rippling in the heat, and a gentle sound of banjos in the afternoon air.

Although in my case Joni Mitchell has been pretty much a 24/7 occupation for the past few years, some of her music has summery associations for me as well. The Hissing of Summer Lawns is an obvious choice, although it isn't among her best-known work. It also differs from Mitchell's previous albums in both its soundscape and its more socially-aware lyrical content. The title track, which slithers along like the snake depicted on the album cover, is a good example of this.

Very L.A. chic circa '75.

Speaking of which, the next summer album is also in the Californian jazz-rock vein, with some Latin influences thrown in for that irresistible groove. Can't Buy A Thrill by Steely Dan was one of those records I took to immediately, and I rediscovered it a couple of weeks ago.

Then the obligatory Motown feelgood track. In my case it's 'Dancing in the Street' by Martha and the Vandellas. Amazing singing, amazing energy. Not so sure about the lyrics, though... "Every guy, grab a girl / everywhere around the world". Buh.



However, when it comes to feelgood let-the-summer-begin songs, I need to say only three words:

"I should peddle butterflies / There's a shortage in the city... "

As my academic career seems to be going nowhere (quite literally) at the moment, I've got to provide some movement by some other means. So I went to Helsinki for May Day, mainly to see Fidia and to take care of some SHS business.

I finally got to meet my dress. It looks even better than I thought it would (when I was feeling overly optimistic); the green velvet (or the approximation thereof) is exactly the right shade, and the blue-and-gold brocade (ditto) looks really sumptuous. The only problem with the dress was the sleeves: being historically accurate, they weren't sown to the bodice, but came as separate attachments - but with only two holes on the shoulder and a length of ribbon to attach them with. As I had expected a less efficiently air-conditioned model, I spent the best part of Saturday afternoon attaching the sleeves to the bodice. I was positively surprised with the result (as I'm not a very adept needlewoman, and attaching things to other things has always been especially problematic for me), and now all I need is a bumroll (my mum has promised to make me one).

Anyway. Other Stereotypical History Society business included teaching Renaissance dancing to six other members of our society. The dances I'd chosen (bransle and pavan) were surprisingly simple, and my apt pupils picked them up very quickly - and even claimed to enjoy hopping about randomly in full view of other people. Although I have to say that folk who spend most of their time staring into a computer screen have some difficulty reaching even one tenth of the gracefulness of their Renaissance counterparts (who, I've been informed, spent their days practicing various sports, and yes, dancing).

I'm glad my friends showed genuine enthusiasm towards the dancing, because otherwise I've been feeling as if I've been left holding up the pole (with Otter and T holding up another), while the others are just glad to sit back in the carriage and enjoy the ride. Of course, others probably haven't got as much spare time on their hands as I do, and can't spend hours pondering the finer points of French hoods; yet, it's always a bit saddening when you realise other people aren't as enthusiastic about things you have a passion for.

Luckily, there's still plenty of time to get people interested in the Renaissance party, and make them realise they need to find something appropriate to wear as well.

Although the beginning of last week was more crappy than most, I'm feeling more optimistic and upbeat now - and, of course, still looking forward to the party. The song below pretty well sums up my present state of mind. (It's 'Aching to Pupate' by Regina Spektor. I wish I'd written that song).

The Best of 2008...vol. 2

While winter has never been my favourite season, at least it can't be blamed for being a boring one. A week ago I traipsed in the woods, taking pictures of snowy trees and then trying to warm up the camera in my mitten, as it was nearly -20 C. Today, the ground is nearly black again and rain is pouring down. They say it's going to get cold again at the end of the week.

Nothing like this would have happened in my childhood. We had proper cold, snowy winters then, and equally long, warm, sunny summers.

Naturally dogs were bigger back then, too.

Anyroad, continuing the cultural round-up of 2008, here comes a list of the best music I heard last year. This is not to say new music released last year, for, as anyone who knows me knows, I'm mostly interested in old music; however, during the recent years I've begun to expand my taste to cover contemporary artists as well. This also shows in the forthcoming list.

As mentioned earlier, lately I've become less and less dependent on music magazines when it comes to finding interesting artists and albums, and perhaps have also begun to trust my own ears more. Although I wouldn't have believed it five years ago, it's now the Internet that gives me the most useful tips - and especially net radios (such as last.fm) which have familiarised me with loads of (relatively) new stuff - and all of these albums listed below.

Kehitys kehittyy.

1. Martha Wainwright: Martha Wainwright.
After rotating this album in my mp3 player for 6 months I still can't get over the sheer brilliance of "Bloody Motherfucking Asshole". Lots of other good songs, too, but it's probably the overall sound of Wainwright's that makes the album stand out in my mind.

I wish I knew what "Dis, quand reviendras-tu?" is all about.

2. Regina Spektor: Begin to Hope
I head "Samson" almost two years ago, and the song haunted me so much I finally had to buy it, along with the rest of this awesome album. Despite Spektor's Russian-American background, there's something profoundly European about her music, especially on tracks like "Aprés Moi" and "20 Years of Snow". Although it was the brittleness of "Samson" that first attracted me to her music, I find myself particularly enjoying the upbeat tunes, especially "Better".






3. Aimee Mann: Bachelor No. 2
It's got both "Save Me" and "Just Like Anyone" on it. Nothing more need to be said.

4. Anna Ternheim: Separation Road
I haven't been paying much attention to the Swedish music scene - for some reason I've presumed that after ABBA, nothing interesting's been going on over there. And how wrong I was. It seems that there are loads of good singer-songwriters there, and Ternheim is the first to really grab my attention. There is such heartbreaking desolation to her music and lyrics that if it wasn't for her crystal-clear voice, it would be too much to bear. The exquisite "No Subtle Men" is still my favourite, and "Such a Lonely Soul" is quickly becoming another.

5. Steeleye Span: The Lark in the Morning.
This is cheating a bit: The Lark is actually a collection of three albums. If push comes to shove, Fairport Convention is my favourite Brit folk-rock group (no one can beat Sandy Denny), but there's something very serious about the band that makes it a bit hard on the ear sometimes. Steeleye, on the other hand, can get remarkably silly, and that is in my view one of their greatest strengths. Of course there's the formidable skill of the group's various members, and the repertoire which ranges from the aforementioned silly ("Four Nights Drunk") to the near-sublime ("When I Was on Horseback", "The Dark-Eyed Sailor").that also endears them to me. Although Maddy Prior's voice doesn't hold a candle to Denny's, it's also a less easily imitated instrument, and as such, quite peerless.

Here's "Lovely on the Water". The arrangement (especially the guitar solo) sounds curiously Finnish to me - as if the band's been listening to 60s rautalanka music before the recording of this track.





Bonus:

Maddy Prior & the Carnival Band: Carols at Christmas
Christmas music - just like the season itself - normally annoys me. Hearing schmaltzy versions of the same old tunes tends to put me off my gingerbread. This record, however, is something completely different. Firstly, because for a Finnish person like myself, most of these tunes are at best vaguely familiar. Secondly because of the insanely talented musicians (including Ms. Prior), and thirdly because of their their odd instruments (Breughel bagpipes, anyone?) and the amazingly diverse arrangements they're capable of (I can't think of anyone whose heart wouldn't melt at the sound of medieval jazz). The opening track alone (the a cappella rendition of "This Is The Truth / Sing Sing All Earth") is enough to start Xmas for me.

You've all heard this before, I'm sure

November was a busy month, apparently. I have something to show for it, too: the first draft of my Licenciate thesis is now finished and I'm already working on the final version. I'm not entirely happy with it (is anyone ever?) but at least I'm a lot closer to a PhD than I was half a year ago.

I did get to meet M's new dog - I've done so several times now - and a really lively doggie she is, too. Courtesy of M, I also got to journey back in time, when a couple of weeks ago we moved her horses to a place with no running water. This meant that the only way to water the horses was to walk to the spring in the middle of a forest and then struggle back with two brimming buckets. And then go back for more water. Coincidentally, the first time we did this, we were in the middle of the most vicious snowstorm in the history of Central Finland. Gave me a new sense of appreciation towards all my foremothers who have done the same thing, day in, day out - and without the help of Airam torches.

Despite all the busyness, I've had time to listen to some new music (at least compared to the music I normally listen to). As I don't have the inclination to follow the music papers (like I did some ten years ago), all information about new and exciting songwriters and bands reaches me with a considerale lag. That is, unless my better informed friends recommend something to me.

Juska, who is a more active person than me in many ways, and keeps abreast with the music biz, has been raving about Amanda Palmer for some time. I was slow to catch up, but eventually, I had to agree with her. Palmer makes great music.

This story also made me pay more attention to Palmer (and especially her videos, which are fantastic). Long story short: Roadrunner records won't promote Palmer because her belly is too fat. See the offending video (which is also behind the link) and judge for yourselves; as for me, her belly was probably the last thing I would have paid attention to in the visually rewarding video.

Here's another vid of Palmer's, dedicated to no other than Sarah Palin. Includes scenes of rape and coat-hanger abortion set to jaunty music. Brilliant, and extremely disturbing.






Another artist I should have heard about long ago is Anna Ternheim, a Swedish singer-songwriter of the old school (at least compared to Palmer). The songs I've heard tell of heartbreak, isolation, and solitude, and are delivered in a pure, charmingly accented voice - a perfect soundtrack to the pre-Xmas weirdness.

'No Subtle Men' is my current favourite.




A week of academic activity, and then I'm going north for a few weeks of frantic piano-playing, chocolate-eating and gingerbread-making. Should be good.

Wheee!

Last weekend I was in Helsinki, where we celebrated Fidia's birthday in the already traditional way: by watching loads of films (some classics like Kind Hearts and Coronets, and some not-so-classic ones like Hair), eating lots of cake and just generally socialising.

As usual, I had my guitar with me and treated my friends to some Joni Mitchell and other similarly cheerful stuff. It's great fun to play to an appreciative audience, but I hadn't realised just how appreciative they are. Just before I was about to launch into my set, they presented me with a brand new guitar case! It's one of the best presents I've ever got, especially as it comes from so many people, many of whom have been forced to hear my yodelling for years now. And my old case was falling apart at the hinges and was in dire need of replacing.

So thanks, guys! :)

It's a bit hard to get organised after a trip like that. In the next couple of weeks I should wrap up my licenciate, prepare and teach a four-hour session of literacy skills and fill in a few application forms. Should be great fun. But somehow things seem to be going pretty well at the moment, and I'm feeling uncharacteristically confident. Autumn, for some reason, agrees with me.

(In case you're wondering, the dog in the picture above is Olga, my cousing's Bernese mountain dog. A great character. )

Turned out nice again

After a week or so of glorious autumn weather, even I am finding it hard to constantly complain about things. So before the darkness and general grumpiness set in, I thought I'd better do a post about things I've been enjoying lately.

To start off, some music: Nellie McKay is an amazing artist who does Broadway-style songs with a twist (most of the times a political one), and liberally mixes all kinds of musical influecces ranging from jazz to rap. It's nice to hear some fresh protest songs in this cynical, passivist time.

Along with Joni Mitchell, I've been listening to a lot of English folk lately - June Tabor and Norma Waterson in particular. Great voices. Oh, and Martha Wainwright's 'Bloody Motherfucking Asshole' has been going around something silly in my mp3 player.

Thanks to my friend Fidia, I rediscovered Smack the Pony, which in my view is the most brilliant tv comedy series since Monty Python.





I never knew a bull could look so melancholy...

Finally, I must confess (and this shouldn't come as a surprise to those who know me) that I'm in awe of the British skill for making costume drama. I don't know which appeals to me most: the great actors (whose greatest quality is that they can get through a page-long sentence from Jane Austen without appearing at all constipated - and not the fact that they look great in corsets - although many of them do), the amazing locations, or the respect and sense of humour with which the 'classics' are treated. These people actually look like they've lived in that set, in those clothes, in that society.

The 1995 adaptations of Pride and Prejudice (the BBC series) and Sense and Sensibility (with Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman) are my favourites, but there's a marvellous one of Persuasion also from the same year. Amanda Root plays the sad-eyed Anne Elliot to perfection, but I particularly like Sophie Thompson's portrayal of her constantly ailing sister Mary.



I can also fully symphatise with Anne's dislike of Bath.