In the world of Potter fans, I'm no Emerson Spartz, Melissa Anelli,, or Steve Vander Ark. However, I've become known in our circle of friends as the Potter fanatic. One daughter has a Ravenclaw scarf and hat, knitted by a loving grandmother. My other daughter had her second annual Harry Potter Sleepover this summer, complete with cauldron cakes, licorice wands, pumpkin pasties, Bernie Botts Every Flavour Beans, and a game or two of quidditch. The seven-book series, plus its companion books (Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them, Quidditch Through The Ages, The Tales of Beedle the Bard) and even a few books of commentary, occupy a place of honour in my bedroom. We have multiple copies of each book, softcover, hardcover, adult cover. I actually won myself a copy of Deathly Hallows by calling into a trivia show. (I mean, really, "What was the name of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers in each book?" That's the Potter trivia equivalent of "What is H20 more commonly known as?" The only trick is remembering that in Book Four it's Barty Crouch Jr. masquerading as Mad-Eye Moody, and not really Mad-Eye himself.) In a fit of boredom one day, I even wrote my own 43-question trivia quiz on the first six books. I tried to think up non-plot-related questions, so the answers couldn't be looked up easily. For example, Cornelius Fudge replaced Millicent Bagnold as Minister for Magic, but even I don't remember which book drops that little tidbit into our laps.
So I'm pretty well-versed in the Harry Potter canon, have the plots down to the minutiae, understand character, motivation, theme, and even the bit of symbolism that Rowling sneaks in here and there. But, unsurprisingly, I'm not a big fan of the movies.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The Sound of Silence
My husband has background noise going all the time. He has a cable hookup and PVR in his computer, so he's either watching taped TV or listening to music as he works. When he gets a phone call, he pauses the song or the show, and restarts it when he's done.
He can't understand how I can work in silence. "Turn on the radio!" he orders, whenever he comes up and finds me in my quiet kitchen.
"I can't read and concentrate with music going," I tell him, and he shakes his head and goes back to his basement office.
Sometimes a little background sound is necessary. If I try to cook or clean, I get bored very quickly, and I either pick up the phone to chat with a friend while the mindless tasks get done, or, if my number on call display scares them off, I turn on the radio. Doing needed but hated chores requires a distraction, and music works. It's a psychological trick; I'm tidying up while listening to the radio, not listening to the radio while I tidy. After all, you get fidgety if you just sit and listen. This way you get something done while listening to tunes. (TV is a little harder; if I try to watch TV while cleaning my room, I either rewind over and over, or nothing gets very clean.)
I think, if I was a single woman on my own, I would have more artificial noise around me. In a home with three lively children and a large dog who was born to guard us against any imaginary incursion, I have grown to value silence. When the children leave for school, and the dog goes to lie down until the doorbell rings again, I sit in the kitchen and listen to nothing. And it's very very soothing.
Besides, what I told my husband is true; I need silence to read, to write, to think. And I think that anyone who tries to complete an intellectual task with music playing (or worse, the TV on) secretly wants to be doing something other than reading, writing, or thinking. I can't even write a blog post with music going. Interruptions derail me. I resent the phone for ringing. I need to work until I reach a natural stop.
Between our computers, our phones, our children, our pets, tweeting, IM'ing, texting, and that little sound the computer makes when an e-mail lands in the inbox, I think we could all use a little sensory deprivation in our lives. I suggest everyone have "silent time" for a set period every day: at least fifteen minutes when you sit in a quiet spot and listen to the silence. Make it a bathroom break if you must. But focus on the silence, on the quiet, on the peace. You might find yourself addicted.
He can't understand how I can work in silence. "Turn on the radio!" he orders, whenever he comes up and finds me in my quiet kitchen.
"I can't read and concentrate with music going," I tell him, and he shakes his head and goes back to his basement office.
Sometimes a little background sound is necessary. If I try to cook or clean, I get bored very quickly, and I either pick up the phone to chat with a friend while the mindless tasks get done, or, if my number on call display scares them off, I turn on the radio. Doing needed but hated chores requires a distraction, and music works. It's a psychological trick; I'm tidying up while listening to the radio, not listening to the radio while I tidy. After all, you get fidgety if you just sit and listen. This way you get something done while listening to tunes. (TV is a little harder; if I try to watch TV while cleaning my room, I either rewind over and over, or nothing gets very clean.)
I think, if I was a single woman on my own, I would have more artificial noise around me. In a home with three lively children and a large dog who was born to guard us against any imaginary incursion, I have grown to value silence. When the children leave for school, and the dog goes to lie down until the doorbell rings again, I sit in the kitchen and listen to nothing. And it's very very soothing.
Besides, what I told my husband is true; I need silence to read, to write, to think. And I think that anyone who tries to complete an intellectual task with music playing (or worse, the TV on) secretly wants to be doing something other than reading, writing, or thinking. I can't even write a blog post with music going. Interruptions derail me. I resent the phone for ringing. I need to work until I reach a natural stop.
Between our computers, our phones, our children, our pets, tweeting, IM'ing, texting, and that little sound the computer makes when an e-mail lands in the inbox, I think we could all use a little sensory deprivation in our lives. I suggest everyone have "silent time" for a set period every day: at least fifteen minutes when you sit in a quiet spot and listen to the silence. Make it a bathroom break if you must. But focus on the silence, on the quiet, on the peace. You might find yourself addicted.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Lady Lawyers
A few weeks ago we had a young couple to dinner. He is articling at a law firm specializing in real estate law. While discussing his profession, both he and his wife opined that law is really not for women, as being a lawyer goes against a woman's "essential nature." I nearly fell over laughing, and said, "I'll tell Lawyer X (a very well-regarded female attorney) you said that!"
Now, I have studied a lot of psychology, and apart from a few die-hard feminists who still play the victim/blame game, it's pretty well acknowledged that stereotypical gender differences do, in fact, exist. On the whole, women are less aggressive and more nurturing. They often tend this way from childhood, and yes, they are praised for complying with stereotypical gender roles. However, these are tendencies, not rules. If you take 100 women and 100 men, there will be a woman or even three in that group who could slaughter all the men present. Yet unlike the men, their take-no-prisoners approach will not be lauded; rather, they will be tarred with the rather unpleasant epithet "ball-buster." Fortunately, these women don't much care what you call them, as long as you pay your bills and don't double-cross them.
But just for argument's sake, let's say our guests were right: women's essential natures are unsuited to the rough-and-tumble adversarial world of law. Who’s to say that they shouldn't enter it nonetheless? Perhaps less adversarial conduct is exactly what the world of law needs. Maybe if more women were lawyers, "I'll see you in court!" would be replaced by, "I'll see you at negotiations!"
Besides, the legal profession isn't 100% adversarial to begin with. I happened to spend part of yesterday with a lady attorney of my acquaintance. And I use the term "lady" deliberately, because she is one. She became a lawyer in her forties, and describes her profession as "helping people." She closes real estate transactions, drafts wills, and helps people sort out day-to-day legal issues that perhaps a bulldog longing for courtroom antics would find boring. But these things need to be done, and they need to be done by a lawyer. Wills and real estate may not be inherently dramatic, but contested wills and bad property transactions can ruin lives and relationships. These matters call for a calm, sensitive, objective, and diplomatic touch.
Perhaps we should find a new term, similar to "prosecutor" or "defense attorney" to define this non-litigious species of lawyer. Divorce attorneys have already co-opted the term "family law," but I'm sure we can come up with something. In Quebec they are called "notaries," but that term is used elsewhere to denote anyone who can witness passport applications and other such documents. So we need something universal. What we don't need is specious limitations put on who has the right "nature" to practice law. All one needs is a strong mind, and a desire to see order maintained, wrongs righted, and justice upheld. These are not qualities limited by gender.
Now, I have studied a lot of psychology, and apart from a few die-hard feminists who still play the victim/blame game, it's pretty well acknowledged that stereotypical gender differences do, in fact, exist. On the whole, women are less aggressive and more nurturing. They often tend this way from childhood, and yes, they are praised for complying with stereotypical gender roles. However, these are tendencies, not rules. If you take 100 women and 100 men, there will be a woman or even three in that group who could slaughter all the men present. Yet unlike the men, their take-no-prisoners approach will not be lauded; rather, they will be tarred with the rather unpleasant epithet "ball-buster." Fortunately, these women don't much care what you call them, as long as you pay your bills and don't double-cross them.
But just for argument's sake, let's say our guests were right: women's essential natures are unsuited to the rough-and-tumble adversarial world of law. Who’s to say that they shouldn't enter it nonetheless? Perhaps less adversarial conduct is exactly what the world of law needs. Maybe if more women were lawyers, "I'll see you in court!" would be replaced by, "I'll see you at negotiations!"
Besides, the legal profession isn't 100% adversarial to begin with. I happened to spend part of yesterday with a lady attorney of my acquaintance. And I use the term "lady" deliberately, because she is one. She became a lawyer in her forties, and describes her profession as "helping people." She closes real estate transactions, drafts wills, and helps people sort out day-to-day legal issues that perhaps a bulldog longing for courtroom antics would find boring. But these things need to be done, and they need to be done by a lawyer. Wills and real estate may not be inherently dramatic, but contested wills and bad property transactions can ruin lives and relationships. These matters call for a calm, sensitive, objective, and diplomatic touch.
Perhaps we should find a new term, similar to "prosecutor" or "defense attorney" to define this non-litigious species of lawyer. Divorce attorneys have already co-opted the term "family law," but I'm sure we can come up with something. In Quebec they are called "notaries," but that term is used elsewhere to denote anyone who can witness passport applications and other such documents. So we need something universal. What we don't need is specious limitations put on who has the right "nature" to practice law. All one needs is a strong mind, and a desire to see order maintained, wrongs righted, and justice upheld. These are not qualities limited by gender.
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