One of next summer's highlights will undoubtedly be a Renaissance party hosted by our very own Stereotypical History Society. While the society itself is quite a new development, Otter and I have fantasised about making a spectacle of ourselves in period costumes for some time now (probably ever since we've been watching British costume drama.)
Now that we've actually managed to book a venue (and a very nice venue it is, too, and apparently ridiculously exclusive as well) and confirm a date, all of us in the Society can concentrate on the really important stuff - like what to eat, and most importantly, what to wear.
The only dilemma is, of course, how to get clothes that are at the same time extremely authentic-looking and inexpensive. Personally, I'd go for the Tudor look with the exaggerated hourglass figure and bulky sleeves (see young Elizabeth above) - and I especially want a headpiece like that (it's called a French hood. Anne Boleyn liked them, too.). Wouldn't mind some of that bling, either.
Fortunately, there's still plenty of time to track down prospective (and cheap) dressmakers and eBay sellers and speculate endlessly on the correct lacing of a corset.
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.
Last year was a good one in many respects. It was a productive mixture of work and play, of solitude and socialising in perfect balance. Yet, this post isn't going to log all the highs and lows of 2008 - I thought I'd rather write about the books that made an impression on me last year.
So, in chronological order, the best literary bits of 2008.
1. EevaKilpi: Häätanhu. I'd always thought of Kilpi first and foremost as a poet, not a novelist - until I got my hands on this book. Although it's probably aimed at a slightly older audience, I couldn't help but be mesmerised by Kilpi's magnificent language and her loving portrayal of the Finnish summer through the senses of a middle-aged woman. On the surface nothing much happens - in an isolated cottage there's even no one to talk to, apart from the dog - but underneath the semi-autobiographical narrator goes through her past with all its joys and disappointments, preparing herself for a new life in another country.
2. Bobbie Ann Mason: Feather Crowns. Quintuplets were a rare occurrence in the 19th century. In her fictitious tale Mason also turns them into a media event powerful enough to stop trains. She has managed to weave into one narrative the tragic story of a Midwestern couple whose household gets turned upside down by the simultaneous arrival of five babies (and a horde of curious novelty-seekers) ,the effects of industrialisation on the American way of life, as well as the psychological journey of one woman through doubt and fear to serene self-knowledge.
3. ChimamandaNgoziAdichie: Purple Hibiscus. I very rarely follow book reviews because I find most of my books through trial and error, walking around in a library, browsing through the shelves, picking up interesting-sounding works and scanning them (and of course sometimes the cover is enough to convince me). This method gives me enormous satisfaction, and many times rewards me with true gems. Purple Hibiscus is one of those. Again, on the surface, it looks like a story a hundred times told: the struggles of a teenage girl to escape her oppressive home through self-discovery and first love. Yet, all the characters and the world they live in are depicted in such a lifelike way that one cannot help but be moved (and shocked).
4. Anne Enright: The Wig My Father Wore. What is it with the Irish soil that it produces writers with such twisted views of the world? At first, Enright reminded me of Flann O'Brien, but the more I read of The Wig, the more impressed I became of her own, eccentric sense of language. To recount the plot would be missing the point; what sticks with me is the sheer brilliance of her acrobatic narration.
5. Iris Murdoch: The Philosopher's Pupil.
Murdoch has caused me some confusion in the past. The first book of hers I read was The Unicorn - a meandering work which almost put me off her for good. Fortunately, I became interested in Murdoch's life (through her husband's biographies), and experimentally picked up The Sea, The Sea which I enjoyed a lot. The Philosopher's Pupil is, in my view, a stronger work still, exploring the dark moralistic underbelly of a fictitious spa town, throwing in all kinds of weird and fascinating sub-plots (including the tortuous story of a half-Irish countertenor). As always, however, it's the language that kept me hooked.
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.
Been doing a lot of writing lately (mainly my licenciate). So here's an arty picture to make up for my silence in the blogging department. The thing in the middle with three white splotches is Ruttu, a teddy bear that followed me home from Yorkshire.
Next week will be a more socially active one. I was promised
1) that I'd get to meet M's new dog 2) that I'd see the wondrous new colour scheme in M's house (lots of yellow, she said) 3) that there will be a new feminist reading group 4) that there will be lots of wine 5) and some coloured paper, glitter, glue and other miscellaneous fun at Otter's place in H.
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. )
What with my birthday coming up (well... soon enough), this year I asked my mum to buy me something practical, something I've wanted for a long time. And she did. Now I've got my own private sun.
It's one of those wake-up lamps that works like an alarm clock, only with an increasing amount of light. Apparently this fools your brain into thinking that the sun is rising and you wake up refreshed and happy even when it's pitch-dark outside. The darn thing even has different noises you can choose from; this morning I woke up to the most aggressive-sounding blackbird I've ever heard.
It does feel a bit creepy having a lamp that has a mind of its own, quietly (or not so quietly) glimmering into life next to you. Of course I was so excited about the thing that this morning I opened my eyes almost at the exact moment the lamp switched on (half an hour before the actual alarm time). Yet I think that it will be most useful in December.
And if the birdsong won't do it, there's always an insistent gong-sound, the expectancy of which will probably keep me awake all night.
An avid reader, amateur writer and musician and an all-round lover of words. Also a full-time feminist.
~
This blog mainly contains ramblings about popular culture, costume drama, and the weather. You can contact me at haukanmaa (at) gmail (dot) com
