By Means of Pos(t)ing

See that title? The pa(ren)thetical pseudo-Derridean form is a Collegian favorite. Sorry, I just had to pull one off. I'll try not to make it a habit.

Okay, book 8 is the first part of The Epic of Humadapnon. That's 8,000 lines out of 53,000. The Hinilawod (a kinship of epics in Central Panay subsuming all the stories of the brothers, Labaw Donggon, Humadapnon, and Dumalapdap) is the longest recorded folk epic in the Philippines. The chanter Hugan-an was old at the time of the recording: 40 years ago. I wonder if her successors managed to appropriate all the lines? I wish I could get my hands on the entire thing. Unfortunately, the good Dr. Jocano has only published this first part.

My 9, 10, 11, and 12 are books 2, 3, 4, 5 of the Sandman. That's A Doll's House, Dream Country, Seasons of Mists, and A Game of You. I don't know if I got those in order. There's already much press on Gaiman pieces so I don't see need to note much here. I just note the fact that I finished 4 books on the list in 3 nights because graphic novels are allowed. Now I know what to get and read in case I get desperate for the 50! Harhar.

I also finally got to finish two volumes off the Borgesiana. Number 13 is a Universal History of Iniquity which tells you just how much one can get away with global 'Wanted: Dead or Alive' lists and notorious modus operandi if you know some good philosophy and neat paradoxes. The pieces here are more visceral than the usual Borges in that you see more guts spilling on the floor. Or off the cliff. Maybe I could claim that Borges foresaw violence as our generation's new porn? Well, multiple orgasms all around. I relished the take on the 47 ronin ('The Uncivil Teacher of Court Etiquette Kotsuke no Suke') and Billy the Kid ('The Disinterested Killer Bill Harrigan'). If prompted to pick a favorite (rereadings usually shuffle the ranking), right now I'd say it's 'Man on Pink Corner'.

The next volume, my 14, carries two collections, The Book of Sand" and "Shakespeare's Memory". These are counted as his geriatrica and often overlooked as the old man Borges writing just to get left-over ink off his pen. The labyrinths of Borges, like Kafka, elicit the same range of emotions. What can you feel in a labyrinth? He is an acquired taste (that I will force on my students next semester, harhar), and it's entirely understandable to dismiss him after a few stories off El Aleph and Ficciones. I think that's what the venerable (or insufferable?) Bloom did. For me though, old man Borges is not old man Gabriel Garcia Marquez (whose Strange Pilgrims failed to stimulate me). Marquez seemed to write of different things but it's the same flavor. Inferior, I even venture. In The Book of Sand, you'd think Borges is just at it again with his riddles. I found in them a nice feeling of being told stories by an erudite anti-grandfather who is resigned in many ways but remains inextricable from his own haughty, intricate labyrinths. I'd say the wine has aged, but hell, I don't drink.

Shakespeare's Memory has three stories, 'August 25, 1983' (where Borges attends his old self in his suicide-bed), 'The Rose of Paracelsus' (where an old mage reminiscent of the wizard of the The Tempest keeps his erudition and magicks to himself), and the title story (where the scholar receives the gift of the Bard's memory). Despite the pleasure these afforded me, I am unusually silent about them. Harhar.

Number 15 is By Means of Performance, a collection of performance research and theory compiled and edited by Richard Schechner and Willa Appel in memory of the late, great Victor Turner. Some pieces are quite literary (if there is anything that is really not literary to define this against). Still, it is a textbook in last semester's subject. I'd rather not talk about it until I get my classcard.

Which brings me to book 16, 'Postmodern Culture' edited by Hal Foster. I read the essays of Habermas, Baudrillard, Said, Ullmer, and Jameson. I will not discuss these because I labor under the belief that 'postmodern' is something a poseur mentions in Starfucks and Shittles' Best conversations with hopes that someone from the other table will get oh-so-excited and ask to get laid. Oh well, maybe 'Borges' and 'Gaiman' belong somewhere on the same list. Maybe I put in a self-orientalist, tokenist reference to folk epics to get the guilt out of the way?

Perhaps. Ah well. The only way to get around posing in pose-modern culture is to pose as a poseur. I bet Holden Caufield never saw that possibility. It is actually worse though, I think. Facticity makes poseurs of us all. Salinger be damned! Better quit while I'm behind. I leave with one note on the last book then: interestingly, Pluto Press published Postmodern Culture in 1984 under the series title Pluto Classics.