Post #9: Summer Reading/Had Me a Blast

Hey Folks! It's Wednesday, July 18th, and we're halfway through the first week of the second half of Bread Loaf. 

I thought for today's post we'd feature photos of Summer Reading. The following photographs feature the summer readings selection of yours truly as well as other Front Desk Mavens. 

Once, not too long ago, I considered myself someone who likes to read books, i.e. an English Nerd, but I have to confess that I do not read books nearly as much as I'd like, (unless SportsCenter counts as reading.) This summer, however, I vowed to amend my wayward reading habits. To that end, I headed over to the Bread Loaf Bookstore and loaded up on a summer's worth of reading. 

The goods. Don't get caught on the wrong side of the book trade. 

I decided that my primary--but not exclusive--focus would be on books written by Bread Loaf faculty and staff.  Because a) it's nerdilicious that so many Bread Loaf faculty are highly esteemed writers and b) I was too cool for school back in my Pre-Maven days to buy their books. Since then I've had a number of life experiences that have given me a dose of humility. Like getting fat and dumb and losing my hair. I want to read these books before I forget how, like Charlie in...in....in....what was that book again?  

So, here's a look at Summer Reading.

"He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her, body and mind, conscious of nothing in the world but the dark pressure of her softly parting lips." Joyce? Or how I incorrectly pictured Senior Prom? 

"Lots of writers begin life as confused, manipulative, or self-destructive children, don't they?" Sam Swope? Or what Ms. Gaither, my first gade teacher said to my parents at the end of the year?

"In 2 years/I saved $90,/sent off to a Roanoke/pawn shop". David Huddle's poetry? Or an accurate description of my financial struggles in New York City?

 

"There were also hints of body odor, fast food, coffe, and alcohol sick flatulence: fermented fruit, camp-ground outhouse." A vivid description of Rusty's red Chevelle from chapter 4 of Greg Bottoms' book? Or how Brenda the Bread Loaf housekeeper describes my room?

 "When I tried it on, it made me feel like it must have been waiting for years for me to rescue it from oblivion. 'I never realized you had such pretty legs...' From the last chapter Nothing Can Make Me Do This? Or me getting dressed for Senior Prom?  

 

"Never act like they're imperfections. They're who you are. They let anyone who's lucky to enough to see them know that you've been subjected to certain explorations." Ann Beattie? Or how my doctor humored me after examining my bald spots when I was 19 years-old?

The New England Review of literature? 

Or the Bread Loaf Yearbook? 

"these women gathered.../to talk their usual talk,/their conversation spiked with the names/ of avenues in France." Lucille Clifton? Or the men's only bathroom in the Inn?

 "Oatmeal aisle/even here/too many choices". A haiku by Front Desk Maven Peter Newton? Or what repeatedly ran through my brain three seconds before a meltdown in the Ripton Country Store?

And now other Mavens:

Here we have  Front Desk Maven Gene.
Gene is sporting the trendy "hand beard," all the rage with hipsters.
Maven Gene is displaying one of the dozens of books he reads per month.

How does Gene manage to read a book a week? On average? Easy: steroids. 

Ma'am, please calm down. Ma'am. Ma'am. Drop the box, and step away from the road.  

(Special shout-out to Maven MacNair for being Post #9's expert photographer.) 

Yes, the book Maven Overlord Edward is reading is called "Obselete." He claims the book describes me.
And now for today's Installment of Edward Insults Me: Recently, a Bread Loafer approached the front desk window to ask if there were any athletic trainers on hand. For some reason my mind mixed up "trainer" with "supporter," as in athletic supporters, as in jockstraps. So I replied, bewildered by his odd request,"You mean like jockstraps?" All the fellow mavens busted up laughing. The young man in front of window was not amused (we didn't know it, but another Loafer was injured playing soccer. It was kind of serious). Edward jumped in at this point and loudly explained my confusion. "Hey, we're sorry, but the lobotomy wasn't as successful as we hoped."

Enjoy your summer reading, folks. You can bet the English Nerds are. 

Enjoy.

Christian Patrick Clarke

Front Desk Novitiate, 2012 

Hic et Ubique 

Post #8: The WFS (Week Four Shift)

Hey folks! It's Monday, July 16th, and as of 9:00 am today, we've officially started the second half of Bread Loaf. It's time to discuss the Week Four Shift. With three weeks remaining in the session, one can detect a palpable focus gripping the campus. Students and teachers alike have acclimated to the idiosyncratic rhythm of the typical Bread Loaf work week, which is marked by the dynamic balance between relaxation, fellowship, and intense study. It is in this fourth week that the English Nerds truly come into their own and embrace their Nerdery in a way that---dare I say it?---makes them kind of cool. Even fearsome. One can't help but admire the way Nerdus Habilis will hunker down with 4-inch thick texts and devour them, tearing through passage after densely- written passage with savage intellectual fury. In sum, the festive atmosphere of the first half of Bread Loaf is replaced with the whizzing thrum of locked-in minds.

Whatever you do,
do not come between Nerds and their text.
 You will pay.

Front Desk Mavens are not immune to the effects of the Week Four Shift. Each of us is engaged in our own creative pursuits, from reading and writing, to knitting. Suddenly we find our lives awash in a flood of half-read books, manuscripts, trivia questions, spools of yarn, and recording equipment.

Maven MacNair will soon inform her friend of her plans
for an all-white, one-woman, upper-middle class knitting sweatshop. 

As for me, the Week Four Shift could not have arrived sooner. I came to Bread Loaf a man on fire. For starters, I wanted to record at least a dozen conversations with some of the many amazing teachers up here at Bread Loaf in service of my podcast, Minilessons. I had other goals as well, less concrete ones aimed at being a better person. I was going to be a man of restraint and composure, right the wrongs of the previous...30 years. My plan was to eat less, move my legs faster on purpose, and do something creative. But somewhere along the way I fell by the wayside. For instance, I did not realize Ripton Country store sold bags of potato chips.

"A man of restraint and composure." 

Dick, owner of the Ripton country store and shameless potato chip pusher. What a...nevermind. 

Thankfully, my priorities have shifted. My interests are trending inward. I'm honed in on the tasks at hand. Like the other Loafers, this Maven is getting down to work, going about the business of Mavening, Christian style. 

This is what Bread Loaf currently means:
 empty coffee cups,  books, and microphones.

This is David Wandera.
He is Kenyan. He is a PhD student at Ohio State.
He taught English Literature in Kenya for many years.
He has been coming to Bread Loaf for 9 summers.
Somehow, this totally amazing guy let me interview him. 

What it comes down to is this: Bread Loaf is already a place where people come to be a better version of themselves. The Week Four Shift is a way of recommitting to those goals, a mid-session tune-up, if you will. It's a second chance at a second chance to fulfill all those wild New Year's Resolutions we abandon by January 5th, the ones where we fantasize what our lives would be like if we exercised more, ate less, and read good books. How awesome would could we be, we wonder, if we could finish that novel we started years ago or if treated our fellow man with more kindness? And then we find ourselves tired out by the mere act of imagining such a life and go to the nearest McDonald's and take a nap on the sidewalk. 

Pre-Bread Loaf, Pre-Fourth Week Shift, Post-Trip to McDonald's. 

But the Week Four Shift is when we wake up. 

Enjoy. 

Christian Patrick Clarke

Front Desk Novitiate, 2012

Hic et Ubique

And now for today's installment of Edward Insults Me: Recently, at a school-wide picnic, Edward introduced me to a visitor, a Bread Loaf graduate, as Christian Clarke, the front desk "trainee." The visitor remarked, "Oh. Three weeks into the summer and still a trainee?" Edward responded heartily, "Let's just say that if Christian was here for ten years he'd still be a 'trainee.' Okay?" 

Post #7: A Glimpse of Gilmore: or, The Living Poets Society

Hey Folks! It's Friday, July 13th, and you know what that means: last night was Gilmore Thursday. (Actually, most of you wouldn't know. Why wouldn't I know that?)

Now, there are many of ways of thinking about Bread Loaf: Adult Camp for Nerds; Wicca for Literature Teachers; Rehab for Christian. Depending on the day (or night) each of those descriptions are apt. However, there is one night when all those descriptions seem to roll into one, (save the Rehab), when Bread Loaf-osity reaches its zenith, when one feels as if one has stepped out of reality and into a movie. The night is Thursday. The event is called "Gilmore." The movie--or film, if you prefer, and if you do, you're not only a nerd but a raging dork--is Dead Poets Society. 

Bright Young Scholars

"Gilmore Thursday" is a complex phenomenon. It not only refers to an event but to a place. Gilmore, you see, is a huge student house where typically young single men are stashed. It is the one of the most remote of the Bread Loaf student houses, located on a bumpy dirt road nearly a mile up from the Barn. The thinking was that a bunch of raging young single men would naturally want to engage in the serious study of literature so they kept them away from the drunken masses. (Or maybe I have that notion backwards). Gilmore is so remote that years ago some guy--a deranged local--killed someone--another deranged local--and dumped the body in the woods not far from the house. And for years, this is where Bread Loafers chose to gather on Thursday nights to listen to campfire stories and then drink themselves into oblivion. All in the name of literature!

Not surprisingly, this the man who started Gilmore. Here he is reflecting on the path of destruction left in his wake. 

Many years later, Gilmore Thursdays still exist, but they have evolved. Slightly. There is still the pre-Gilmore ritual in which Loafers exercise restraint in the consumption of alcohol. This restraint typically lasts 2 hours and results in Frisbees being flung at each others' faces. That's Gilmore Part I. 

Pre-Gilmore Ritual: imbibe spirits and then try to maintain this pose for six minutes without falling. 

Gilmore Part II is the Ingathering of English Nerds at John's Pond. This begins well after sunset and highlighted by the long walk to John's Pond located a football field's length behind the barn. Artificial torches  about calf-high light the path to John's Pond. If you stood back you would see a solemn procession of Loafers making there way to the pond, and by "solemn," I mean, "hammered."

Fellow Front Desk Maven and Poet, Peter Newton, beer in hand, near the bonfire at John's Pond.
This is how a master of the haiku hones his craft. 

At John's Pond, there is beer, tiki torches, and a respectable bonfire, (sorry, due to legal issues I must henceforth refer to any fires as "campfires.") The fire is where the Loafers gather around like Nerd Moths to the Flame to hear the readings. This is where Part III takes place. 

Reverence.

Part III is the reading of Ellen: The Whisperings of an Old Pine. It was written and self-published by Joseph Battell, the 19th century logging baron. Mr. Battell used his wealth to build the victorian homes that comprise the Bread Loaf campus. To honor his legacy, current Bread Loafers read excerpts from his book, which is pretty much awful times infinity, and as far as anyone can tell, concerns a thinly disguised romantic love affair between a man and pine tree. Named Ellen. Seriously. I wish I was joking. 

The Pre-Reading Ritual: Reading Excerpts from Ellen 

Love hurts.

Mr. Battell: landowner, tree humper.

Part IV is the Faculty Reading. The Faculty reading is often a light-hearted occasion wherein a faculty member reads anything they want by any author they want, even themselves. They are encouraged to be "free" with their reading, which, as Dr. Kirkland, this week's reader commented, usually means, "raunchy." And was it ever. I'd recap Dr. Kirkland's poems but this is a family-friendly blog. Let's just say that only 5% of heat at the readings was from the campfire. 

This man read poems about sex to English nerds. 

Do you think he enjoyed the reading? 

In addition to being a literature scholar, a poet, he also finished his 1st year of law school. While teaching at NYU. Oh yeah, he also played football for Michigan St. How do you feel about your manhood, now? 

Part V of Gilmore is simple. After the reading at the pond, the Bread Loafers help themselves to complimentary beverages, which are served from something called a "keg." (everything is so mysterious up here). Once those beverages run out--in approximately 7 minutes--the Loafers beat a hasty retreat up the road to the Gilmore house where there are more complimentary beverages served from "kegs" and the party continues. Or just starts for that matter. 

After the reading, the Bread Loafers make their way calmly to the party at Gilmore.  

And let us not forget Part VI of Gilmore: the morning after.

The way Bread Loafers often feel Friday morning. 

And that, folks, is what Gilmore Thursdays is about. There are many interpretations of Gilmore Thursday. For many, the Gilmore Thursday represents all that is awesome about Bread Loaf. For others it represents something possibly threatening to the sanctity of literary pursuits. For me, they are among the most indispensable elements of the Mountain Experience. 

Edward says I need to work on how I end my blog posts. He says I should listen to him because he's the "Blog Doctor." He's probably right. 

Enjoy.
Christian Patrick Clarke
Front Desk Novitiate, 2012
Hic et Ubique

PS: See Photos of Wednesday night's Barn Trivia!

An example of Maven Gene's Trivia Questions:
"If a train leaving Moscow is carrying a group of literature students who are reading the Canterbury Tales to each other, and they have just finished reciting The Miller's Tale when their train strikes Anna Karenina, how many Tales will they have left to read while they wait for the tracks to be cleared?"

Typical Response to one of Gene's Trivia questions.

One faculty member commented on Trivia Night: "It was like a surreal version of game night at an old folks home." Yeah, I'll buy that.

"Talk to Daddy!" Edward Brown's typical response to any contestant who questioned the fairness of an answer. Unfortunately, for the contestant, "Talk to Daddy!" Was code for: "Shut the hell up!" 

Every time you hug a tree a billionaire republican develops gout.