Back to School

I've enjoyed my trimester in Ireland. I climbed to the top of a round tower in Kilkenny (too tall, 8/10, would not climb again), saw 23 performances, and met 8 published authors. Overall, I'm really glad I did it, although I am currently bemoaning the fact that I still won't get a real break from school work until Thanksgiving.
The two weeks break between my summer and fall trimester has given me time to do a lot of reading that is not remotely related to class or Ireland. I enjoyed Chemistry by Weike Wang, Do Not Become Alarmed by Maile Meloy, and Mrs. Fletcher by Tom Perrotta. I also reread one of my favorite webcomics, Megan Lavey-Heaton and Isabelle Melançon's Namesake, from the beginning again. If you enjoy cute fantasy webcomics, Namesake is certainly one to check out. It includes plentiful references to Baum's Oz books, Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, as well as mentioning other childhood stories like Peter Pan, "Rumpelstiltskin", and "Jack the Giant-Killer".
I devoured Jeff VanderMeer's compelling and bizarre Southern Reach trilogy: Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance. I had some difficulty figuring out what genre the books ought to be. Annihilation won a Nebula Award in 2015 for Best Novel, and the Nebula Award is often referred to as a science fiction award, but it is voted on by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America and given to works of both the science fiction and fantasy genres. Science fiction is probably the best genre to place the Southern Reach trilogy in as a whole, but I'm still not entirely satisfied with that categorization. Annihilation is told from the perspective of the biologist on a four woman expedition to explore Area X. At first, it reminded me of Arthur C. Clarke's Rama series and John Varley's Gaia books, but it quickly became more of a horror story, and the unreliability of the narrator only added to the confusion. With so many unanswered questions, I immediately had to go on to the second book, Authority, which is narrated by John Rodriguez. This book is set in the Southern Reach agency that has been sending the expeditions into Area X and reads a bit like a mystery novel. This was my favorite book in the trilogy and contains a creepy scene that horrified me more than anything in the first book. The conclusion of the trilogy, Acceptance, is written from the viewpoint of various characters at different times and ties the entire trilogy together cohesively.
The 2016 Nebula Awards Best Novel, Naomi Novik's Uprooted, was also an entertaining read. In the first chapter, I was very concerned that the story was going to be a bit formulaic and bland, but those fears were soon laid to rest. As the tension built, later in the book, I became afraid that it would end in the middle of some dramatic event, only for me to learn that it was the first book in a series. Luckily, it's a standalone novel, her first in this particular fantasy universe, and you get all of the exciting action in the one book.
After reading Uprooted, I decided to reread Novik's Temeraire books, beginning with His Majesty's Dragon. I'm currently in the middle of the sixth book, Tongues of Serpents. My thoughts while reading this series are mostly something along the lines of "Where can I find the TV show?". This series would make a fantastic TV show--it's set in a steampunk alternate version of the Napoleonic Wars with dragons. This ought to appeal to the same audiences as Game of Thrones. It's during a war, so there's even some amount of character death and gore, although not quite on the same level as GoT; this show could be a lot more fun. There's politics, dragons, action scenes, dragons, ethics, dragons, and a protagonist who has a lot to learn. I'm waiting.

Expectations and Observations

Expectations I

Home is the place I can predict.
Away is the place I cannot.

To learn what home is, I leave.
I remind myself:
There are going to be surprises,
unexpected changes,
last-minute reshuffling of plans,
and maybe it will be good,
or possibly it will be bad,
but you certainly won’t die from it.
And then I forget
and predict the unpredictable.
I prophesy catastrophe:

I will misspell

my own name

on the customs forms,

be thrown into Irish airport jail,

never again to see the light of day.

The ATM will eat my debit card.

My purse will be stolen.

I will wander the streets destitute.

All of Ireland will have

neither restaurants nor grocery stores.

I will starve.

I will forget something

profoundly important

and expire on the spot.

A frenetic exorcism of my anxieties,

named and enumerated,

they wind themselves into a spring,

knot themselves into

the muscles of my shoulders and neck,

part of me now.

A bit of the unpredictable is diminished. 

Landing, somehow, I have not yet died
(of embarrassment,
starvation,
or heights),
been robbed,
or been voted off the island.

Away is the place I cannot predict.

Observations

Bins for recycling are not often seen.
Mail drop-off boxes are painted bright green.
Jars of nut butter are buried in stores.
Coins aren’t just change; they’re worth a bit more.
Everyone smokes; thick fumes choke the air.
Street signs are hidden; lost tourists beware.
Clothing is labeled to “KEEP AWAY FROM FIRE”.
Trash bags are strewn on the street to admire.
Drinking is legal; let the taps flow.
A butty, not a biscuit, is a breakfast to go.
No one packs water; they buy it to drink.
Hot chocolate comes with marshmallows, and they’re probably pink.

Expectations II

Among the familiar, I am a known quantity.
Everyone has already decided who I am, locked me into a box, lovingly written a label on top.
Their expectations choke, piling like stones on my chest.

Leave the place I know and am known.
Flee the familiar.

Alone and unknown, I become multiple.

I might be almost anyone:
Someone’s granddaughter
Just another lost American
Old enough to treat as an adult
Still a child
Confident and belonging
Lost and uncertain
Silent and occupied
Talkative storyteller
Awkward and ignorant
Victim of a tragic backstory
Beneficiary of a promising future

Don’t become familiar.
Once is enough.

The freedom of anonymity beckons from the crowd.

"Angela's Ashes Are Calling"

Characters from Frank McCourt’s Pulitzer Prize-winning memoir Angela’s Ashes spring out of the pages and into life in the world premiere of Angela’s Ashes: The Musical. Much like its source material, the musical conveys the story of a “miserable Irish Catholic childhood” in an engaging way. At Belfast’s Grand Opera House, the performance showcases an effective set and superb musical numbers.

A movable bridge reminiscent of metal bed frames dominates the set (designed by Francis O’Connor). This set allows physical representation of power, as when Angela goes to the St. Vincent De Paul Society to ask for charity and is confronted by three men looming over her, visually reinforcing her vulnerability. Also exceptionally striking is the scene in which the McCourts move from America back to Ireland. The family stands on the bridge and looks forward to their new life, while the movement of the bridge in conjunction with bright stage lighting is suggestive of a ship, visually indicating the hope for a better home that drives the family’s move.

Adam Howell’s emotionally moving musical arrangements will follow you out of the theatre. “Sing River Shannon” and “Angela’s Ashes Are Calling” are outstandingly memorable, while Jacinta Whyte’s and Eoin Cannon’s musical performances enthrall the audience.

The McCourts’ desire to “make this our land” when returning to Limerick is particularly heartening. Despite the misery of Frank’s childhood, the musical does not vilify Limerick. Similarly, many of the less sympathetic characters get an open-minded treatment. Grandma, the Catholic Church, Frank’s schoolmasters, and Malachy McCourt Sr. are all represented as multifaceted people; they’re human.

Unfortunately, the shift between the adult narrator Frank and his child self is distractingly awkward. No clothing changes are used to signify the switch; Eoin Cannon imitates the physicality and facial expressions of a toddler when playing his younger self, which is disturbing more than convincing. The lack of any consistent markers for age makes it difficult to determine whether Frank and Malachy are toddlers, schoolchildren, or even teenagers. Emmet Byrne’s performance as the young Malachy McCourt is somewhat more credible, but scenes in which he stands significantly taller next to his mother only accentuate the fact that he is an adult playing a small child.

Although the childhood the musical describes is miserable—the alcoholic father, the family’s eviction, the multiple dead children—some of the book’s effect is lost. The tiny details of life in poverty, such as the flooded and wretched living conditions or Frank’s disreputable clothing, are erased. The songs from the musical create a similar emotional impact but are not a complete picture.

Angela’s Ashes: The Musical is a compelling retelling of Frank McCourt’s memoir, preserving much of the original humour and honesty of his book. As the second adaptation of Angela’s Ashes (preceded by the 1999 film), it just goes to show that “your story never ends, even after you’re gone”.

Ireland Study Abroad, Installment 7

Belfast has been a very different experience from the other places we've been so far. Luckily, our border crossing was uneventful, although using pounds is odd after seven weeks of euros. I still don't understand why the two pence pieces are nearly the same size as the fifty pence pieces.
We've been able to stick to our normal class schedule while here; it's nice to have a routine. The close of the semester is drawing ever nearer; I still have a lot of writing to get done for my classes. There's been a lot less play-going while we're here, which is nice because that means we have most of our evenings to ourselves.
One of our first excursions was to see some of Belfast's murals. These are all generally of some political bent, sometimes local, sometimes more international, often featuring either Nationalist or Loyalist imagery or celebrating historical events. We also saw several informational panels, which are created digitally and then printed and posted. I'm not a big fan of these; the murals are far more striking and effective. Someone driving by won't read intimidating blocks of text, and only some walkers will do so, but an artistic image can be processed at a glance. Furthermore, the murals are temporary and generally reflective of the community's sentiments; the panels seem to defeat that purpose.
We also visited Healing Through Remembering, which I was really glad we were able to do. We saw a few items from their exhibit, Everyday Objects Transformed by the Conflict, as well as got to hear about a lot of their work and how their organization began. We were lucky to see them because they're currently in the process of a downsizing move.
On Thursday, we went to Angela's Ashes: The Musical, which I quite enjoyed. Several of the songs were rather catchy, and I think it did a reasonably good job of adapting the novel and maintaining a similar tone of sadness and humour. I was distracted by the children Malachy and Frank being played by adults.
Friday we took a field trip to several sites in County Antrim, including Giant's Causeway and the terrifying Carrick-a-rede Rope Bridge. We still have another week full of things to do in Belfast.