Things have started to pick up a bit
I got an email from the Int. Journal of Cultural Studies that the printers are sending me the article proofs in the next fortnight, and seeing myself in print in a prestigious journal is really something I’ve been waiting for after working my ASS off with publications. Concerning the research project there are a few funding options for me to look into as one of my co-researchers gave me some advice on, and I’ll go into the research office at Cardiff tomorrow or next week to discuss the options. What I go for will obvs. depend on where I am next year but it’s possible for me to a) go for a kind of part time thing from AHRC if I have a post or b) stay on contracts for the 2014-15 year and apply for full time funding for 2015-16. My co-researchers would then have to try to get their own small grants to cover the time off from teaching for their contributions. I have my marking, and it’s not TOO overwhelming.
BUT ANYWAY. Let’s talk about film and books for a bit and remind myself why I’m trying for this career. COS ART IS ALL I CARE ABOUT. No, of course I don’t mean that. I care about a lot of things. And animals. And people. (But seriously, can we like replace the cultural obsession with football for one with books and films? Like instead of the football news every morning we have the culture news? Wouldn’t that objectively improve the human condition? Yes. The answer is yes). I adored and devoured Mary Renault’s The Persian Boy. I mean she clearly has an agenda of redemption going on because in the 70s the conquest of Asia was being so criticised and Alexander denounced as an alcoholic megalomaniac, and I don’t believe the Persian Boy, whose name was Bagoas, would have been quite as, well, naïve as she makes her narrator sometimes, because he wouldn’t have survived Darius III. Let’s be clear: whoever this boy was, he was clearly quite a survivor. Most of what we know of the events of his life are from Ptolemy’s Histories*: birth unknown, sold as a eunuch at thirteenish, favoured courtesan of Darius, then of Alexander after he captured Babylon. The word used to describe his relationship to Alexander is usually eromenos, which could frankly be translated as anything from 'beloved' to 'fuck toy'. Renowned for extreme beauty and grace. Survived the disastrous desert crossing of Gaugamela (which decimated the actual army, remember), won a dancing contest at Ecbatana at which the infamously xenophobic Macedonian troops called on Alexander to give him a victor’s kiss, which he did, signalling their acceptance of Persia into the Royal Household. Present at Alexander’s death (A HUGE DEAL): later a high official I think at Egypt. That’s all we know about the facts of Bagoas’ life, but for me it paints a picture of an intelligent survivor more than the melancholic, passionate if resourceful narrator of Renault’s novel. Frankly, I suspect he poisoned Hephaistion, less of out of jealousy as Renault has him tempted, but because that was how Darius’ court removed people standing in their way of influence.* But of course I’m speculating: how much can we really know about the lives and loves and feelings of people who lived 2500 years ago on the other side of the world? Possibly nothing. Possibly they were nothing like us, and contemporary films and novels about them would be incomprehensible to them. For instance, I've always assumed that Olympias' vehement insistence that she'd been impregnated by Zeus was a bit of pragmatism - that she knew perfectly well that Alexander wasn't Phillip's and upon giving birth to a blonde baby thought 'oh shit...er, God did it'. But who knows. Maybe she truly, truly believed Zeus had impregnated her in a way my modern mind just can't comprehend. Still, as a reflection on my own ultimate insignificance, I find it intensely comforting to know that they lived. And I wholeheartedly agree with Renault that it’s not only unfair but academically disingenuous to judge Alexander by contemporary standards given that the morality of waging war wouldn’t even be debated by Western philosophers for a good century after his death. All moral debate was about the conduct of war. Maybe in 2500 years, the morality of living in houses or eating cooked food or taking medicine will be under fierce contemporary debate, and we’ll all be judged by that.
So this made me all desirous all over again of more stories based on Ptolmey’s History, so I finally got around to watching the director’s cut of Oliver Stone’s Alexander. When the film came out in the cinematic edition, like everyone else, I was all ‘okay I see what you were going for....but wat’. Actually that’s a lie. I was 17 in 2004 and knew nothing about Greek tragedy, naturalism and stylization, or, to be frank, history. (To consult my journals of that date one would assume I knew everything about everything, but what can I say, I was 17). But in any case: yes. The director’s cut is much, MUCH better. Like infinitely better. So much better in fact that I just picked up the director’s final edition for £3 on ebay so I can get the commentaries etc. I still can’t quite get over using Northern Irish accents to denote ‘speaking Macedonian’ - I know why, because if Greek were English, supposedly that’s what Macedonian (which was “barely Greek”) would sound like - but Northern Irish accents have a specific set of contemporary connotations which I can’t just mentally transpose onto supposed ancient history without a mental screech. But a) the new edit makes a way more coherent and absorbing narrative and b) some of the camerawork is quite genius actually.
So about how I wrote I was going to beat my restrictive eating disorder into submission forever and never restrict again. It’s going okay. I’ve generally stuck to that except for a few days here and there. I’m still pretty uncomfortable with feeling ‘full’ - by which I mean, not feeling hungry. I’ve lived with mild to moderate hunger for so long, i.e. as far back as I can remember, that satiation feels like the most absurd kind of self-indulgence to me. Still, I have much more energy and better circulation, so it’s worth it. Also, because I am a terrible adult, I arranged to have food delivered today when Tesco have £1 delivery slots and managed to get myself in a position of still being hungry last night and...not having any food. Yet further evidence that having a PhD does not make you a genius. Actually I still have that problem right now. But my food shopping is getting delivered in like 4 hours. So meh. I’ll live.
Have a good one all. I’ve got a GoT fic going on A03 which is being well-received - the link is http://archiveofourown.org/works/1482778/chapters/3128695 and I’ll have the next chapter up by the end of this week.
* Mediated through other writers. In one of those horrible accidents of history, Ptolmey's first hand, eyewitness account of the conquest of Asia is lost. He was a general in the Macedonian army and one of the king's inner circle. I hope whoever destroyed any copy at any point died a slow and painful death. I would stab myself with a blunt spoon for a copy of the original.
* I know Ptolmey and someone else attributes Hephaistion’s death to typhus contracted in India, but medical historians have commented that the account reads...oddly, to say the least.