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I feel ali-i-i-ive...
So, I've been hanging out in the library since my lecture ended at 11, both restoring my sanity levels (yesterday I got too overstimulated, I need a quiet, restful day today) and doing necessary work for History.
I'd forgotten how good this feels - the thrill, the charge of reading books, tracking sources, finding texts. In addition to the Times' online archives and various other links, I spent a productive hour or so in the Scholars' Centre reading original copies of mid-19th century publications. Oh so fragile, and oh so fascinating.
Adjusting to reading the typeface can be disconcerting - mostly it's standard, except for those half-crossed "f"s in place of "s" - but only when not capitalised or word-final. My brain keeps parsing them as "f"s, but I'm gradually breaking that.
There are strict rules about using these ancient texts - pretty much all related to not damaging the materials, which can be quite fragile. (As I discovered when I untied the ribbon holding the first volume of The Mirror together, and the covers and half the spine turned out not to be actually attached to the bulk of the book.) But modern technology is not wholly forbidden. Taking notes on laptops is permitted (taking bags into the Centre is not), and digital cameras may be used to take pictures of the contents of the book if done with care not to damage the binding and the consent of the librarians. (Mostly so they can remind you to be careful of the binding, I think.)
For consideration as my original sources to take to my workshop this week, I have a couple of pieces photographed, but I'm leaning towards a really interesting column(ish thing) on the dearth of Scottish humour. It has a range of interesting ramifications implicit in the text - I'll post it here when I've typed it up - but it's some time before the author approaches what I suspect is the central issue: the Scottish language being banned in print, but still widespread in spoken conversation, the Scots are writing in a second language that does not entirely lend itself to natural humour-writing. The author notes that there was a great deal of written humour in pre-Union times, written in Scotch; now, however, the only real humour-writing tends to bitter irony.
Oh, the wealth of material in this one column alone! I am in love.
I'd forgotten how good this feels - the thrill, the charge of reading books, tracking sources, finding texts. In addition to the Times' online archives and various other links, I spent a productive hour or so in the Scholars' Centre reading original copies of mid-19th century publications. Oh so fragile, and oh so fascinating.
Adjusting to reading the typeface can be disconcerting - mostly it's standard, except for those half-crossed "f"s in place of "s" - but only when not capitalised or word-final. My brain keeps parsing them as "f"s, but I'm gradually breaking that.
There are strict rules about using these ancient texts - pretty much all related to not damaging the materials, which can be quite fragile. (As I discovered when I untied the ribbon holding the first volume of The Mirror together, and the covers and half the spine turned out not to be actually attached to the bulk of the book.) But modern technology is not wholly forbidden. Taking notes on laptops is permitted (taking bags into the Centre is not), and digital cameras may be used to take pictures of the contents of the book if done with care not to damage the binding and the consent of the librarians. (Mostly so they can remind you to be careful of the binding, I think.)
For consideration as my original sources to take to my workshop this week, I have a couple of pieces photographed, but I'm leaning towards a really interesting column(ish thing) on the dearth of Scottish humour. It has a range of interesting ramifications implicit in the text - I'll post it here when I've typed it up - but it's some time before the author approaches what I suspect is the central issue: the Scottish language being banned in print, but still widespread in spoken conversation, the Scots are writing in a second language that does not entirely lend itself to natural humour-writing. The author notes that there was a great deal of written humour in pre-Union times, written in Scotch; now, however, the only real humour-writing tends to bitter irony.
Oh, the wealth of material in this one column alone! I am in love.