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Making Books Yours

3/16/2015

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    Books.  There’s just something about books that demands a sense of reverence for their inherent value.  As the Huffington Post recently demonstrated many people from all walks of life—authors and artists, statesmen and school teachers
--have elaborated on the various aspects of books which give them their value and allure, elucidating for us the complexity of humanity’s relationship with books.

    Clarence Shepard Day eloquently drives at the heart of books this way: "The world of books is the most remarkable creation of man. Nothing else that he builds ever lasts. Monuments fall; nations perish; civilizations grow old and die out; and, after an era of darkness, new races build others. But in the world of books are volumes that have seen this happen again and again, and yet live on, still young, still as fresh as the day they were written, still telling men's hearts of the hearts of men centuries dead."

    With the deepest gratitude I am able to say my parents raised me in a house very similar to the home of Clarisse McClellan in Ray Bradury’s famous Fahrenheit 451.  With a bookshelf or two in almost every room and a hallway lined with books leading to an office library in which almost every inch of wall-space was covered with books the incomparable value of books was impressed upon us all from a very early age.  Through I had no label for it until I was in college, in retrospect I realize that my parents very much followed the Charlotte Mason method when homeschooling us.  Though we had textbooks for almost every subject, much of our learning came from reading my parents' vast treasury of books and constantly discussing the ideas, stories, and facts contained within them.  All that reading and the ensuing conversations contributed immensely to who I am today.

    Because the books my parents filled our house with were there for the use and enjoyment of my parents and all of their nine children, and because the books were valued almost as sacred objects because of what they contained, they were treated like library books and we were to handle them with care, being sure not to mark or mar them in any way.  Thus while I learned to love books and constant learning and the discussion and evaluation of philosophies in the market place of ideas, I didn’t learn until college to really own a book, to create a permanent and evolving conversation between the author and myself by marking up the book, by turning down pages, highlighting favorite sentences, and scribbling notes in the margins.  Upon reflection this is rather funny considering how I regularly did those things in the most sacred text of all, the Holy Scriptures.  The difference was that as a Protestant I was taught that everyone should have their own copy of Scripture so that they might, through the ministry of the Holy Spirit, directly and intimately receive divine revelation from Yahweh, whereas all other books were communal possessions and thus to be kept unmarred so that one person’s use of the book did not inhibit another’s.  Thus when my literature profs suggested I mark up the books we were required to read for class I was initially appalled and had to get over the ingrained feeling that to do so would be to desecrate something scared.

    Now though, I see it as one of the most valuable lessons I learned in college; I seldom read a book without marking it up.  This allows for a continuing conversation with the author and my own self in which I can respond in the moment and then return to that thought, that moment of epiphany, of synthesis, later and continue the thought process sparked by the authors words, and reevaluated the authors words and my response.  Indeed this skill and process has been of great value to my marriage as my wife and I read books together, both of us writing in the book, responding to the author and each other by writing comments in the books as we digest the book’s contents.

    I highly recommend developing a system of notation and analysis for your own reading which makes organic sense to you, but for those who may have never done anything of the sort before I’ve outlined the system my wife and I use (it’s pretty simple), over at Skipping Bachelorhood as a guide to get you started.
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The Influence of Dvořák

2/24/2015

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Photo courtesy of my brother, the portrait artist Thomas Caleb Goggans. Click the picture to see his stunning work.
    The tracing of the intellectual or ideological heritage of a culture-shaper is always a fascinating thing to me (this piece looking at the philosophical underpinnings of our current president’s executive actions is quite fascinating), and as any instructor of an Intro to Fine Arts or Intro to Literature course will tell you on the first day of class, one of the things most crucial to deriving the most meaning and pleasure from any piece of true art (as opposed to kitsch) is an appreciation for the conventions of the form:  it is only when you begin to grasp how an artist has followed, adapted, ignored, or blatantly defied the historical conventions common to his medium that you can see how the artist holds a dialogue with the artists who have inspired, enraged, or bored him.  So it is that the more I listen to classical music, the more I hear different composers’ influences on each other, particularly the influence the great composers of the last 300 years have had on the movie score composers of 20th century.

    Now I’m not a audiophile: my life does not revolve around music, I didn’t take a single music class in college, and my poor ability at matching pitch after hearing a note within my singing range played on the piano barred me from entry to our school’s chorale--I had hoped if I was just good enough to get in it would provide me with an avenue for improvement, but I guess I was beyond hope. (I should state here my gratitude to the inimitable Dr. Luther for telling me in the most gracious and encouraging manner imaginable that I just didn’t make the cut.)  But I do love music dearly.  Growing up our family almost always had music playing on the stereo, and my mother and more than half of my eight siblings played at least one instrument well to middling, so I’ve always derived deep pleasure, encouragement, catharsis, and spiritual meaning from music of many forms, and despite my lack of natural talent, sought to deepen my technical understanding of and appreciation for the craft of making music.

One way I’ve done this is to read about pieces of classical music and then play them repeatedly so that I can listen for the use of the elements described in my reading.  As I find long classical pieces quite conductive to focusing on the medical writing I do for a living, this makes for very enjoyable synergistic multitasking.  At this point I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve listened to Antonin Dvořák’s New World Symphony in the past couple weeks, but the more I listen the more I love it.  A first listening makes it obvious why it’s one of the most popular symphonies ever written, regularly being performed around the world, however a closer analysis quickly reveals not only the musical traditions that influenced Dvořák when he composed the piece, but that it would be impossible to underestimate the influence of this work on almost every major American movie score composer in the last century.

    Dvořák’s extensive use of leitmotifs, frequently repeated musical phrases, shows him to be following and adapting the methods of Wagner and other musical giants who proceeded him—at the second minute in there is this little bit that reminds one strongly of Ride of the Valkyrie—but there are also sections that clearly set the tone for and inspired the works of many composers after him—at the 4 minute mark there is a section very reminiscent of old western movie scores (we’ll come back to this) but at the 5 minute mark we’re back to Valkyrie. From there on out the rest of the work clearly sets the stage for the works of many other famous American composers.

    At 13 minutes in there is a slow section with winds and strings that is strikingly similar to some of John Williams pieces for Star Wars, but also to some segments of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake.  At 21 minutes there is a similar section that reminds one more of the Hobbit/Shire theme Howard Shore wrote for the score of Peter Jackson's film adaptions of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings.  At 24 minutes the quick set of notes by the strings and winds reminds one simultaneously of Aaron Copland's Hoe-Down, William's Duel of the Fates, and Wagner’s Valkyrie.  The 26th minute sounds just like something from the works of Rogers and Hammerstein, Elmer Bernstein, or Dimitri Tiomkin, and the motif heard here repeats again at 29 minutes and progresses from strings to full orchestration.  Then at 30 minutes, and the beginning of the last movement, the opening cello lines sounds SO much like William's JAWS theme one is tempted to say he plagiarized Dvořák, even more so because when the cellos are joined by the winds and sweep into a march it sounds suspiciously like the theme of the ubiquitous dark helmeted servant of a famous evil Emperor.  A couple minutes later and we're back from outer space and are watching Native Americans spring an ambush on some cowboys and we'll stick with this feeling of drama in ruggedly grand, wide open, natural settings for the next 5 minutes before the strings and flute bring us sliding along a river in the moonlight, until the return of the motif brings sunrise and danger bursting over the horizon just before the 40 min mark.

Being such an exceptionally beautiful composition it is no wonder that it set the standard and tone for American composers for the next century, especially for those writing music about America.  For more information about the composers who followed this style of sweeping dramatic music when composing music meant to reflect the majesty and immensity of America’s diverse landscapes check out the links I’ve provided above, this list of spaghetti western composers, and this article on some of the best ever movies scores for westerns. And while you read, play the piece, and I promise you'll fall in love with it too.

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Dreams of Space

11/3/2014

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The recent images of Titan's hydrocarbon seas captured by NASA's Cassini spacecraft are absolutely stunning and the analysis and explanation of them quite fascinating.  Follow the links and feel the wonder.
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Ruminations on Reading and Writing

11/2/2014

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My friend Elijah Ammen teaches reading remediation to help students who would otherwise be passed through the system or drop out of school and writes about the lessons he creates, and the lessons he learns, on Lesson Planet, which is all round just an excellent resource for teachers.  His latest posting there, Southern Literature: Gritty, Gothic, and Grotesque, gives an excellent overview of the defining characteristics and incredible value of a genre of literature for which he and I both share a great love: Southern Literature.  The class on Southern Lit Elijah and I took under the exceptional tutelage of Dr. Whit Jones is one of the highlights of my College years and has deeply influenced my personal writing style and aesthetics.  I would earnestly encourage my readers read Elijah's brief expose on the treasures to be found in this much over looked genre and pick one of the works he mentions as your next story to read and reflect on.


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Longing for Valhala

10/23/2014

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    The other night Melanie and I decided that we needed to re-watch The Avengers and revel in the snappy dialogue and exploding things.  We spent a nice evening snuggled on the couch as we enjoyed the film, but at the end of the film I saw a depth to the after-the-credits scene which surprised me.  The first time I watched the shawarma scene it only struck me as funny: a passel of big costumed superheroes sitting around a little restaurant table eating silently after the noise of the battle was an amusing juxtaposition on multiple levels.  This time the humor was still there, but after a couple laughs I was taken by the subtleties which Whedon worked into the scene.

    First, with a sympathetic aching in my bones, I recognized their exhaustion.  These people are so worn out they have no energy or words to share; they just stare blankly ahead as they eat.  Yet though they hardly make eye contact with each other, it is not an awkward silence, but one of camaraderie: they fought each other and settled their differences, and they fought the enemy and won, and there’s nothing they need to say to each other.  After the harrows of a battle in which they were certain they’d lost a member of their team, simply being together is enough.

   Second, the scene eloquently conveys the reality of coping with life after tragedy.  In the wake of loss or trauma eating is one of the simple necessities that force us to process that life does indeed go on.  So, the heroes' work accomplished, they sit and mechanically put food in their mouths and chew, because it's simply the next thing that has to be done, just as in the background the hardy New Yorkers slowly, silently, stoically go about cleaning up their little shop, because there's nothing else for them to do; they must repair their restaurant and carry on if they are to survive.

    However this is more than just an animal stuffing of the face. As The Finder Walter Sherman says, “Food only becomes a meal when you share it with people.”  This is a meal that was planned in advance and followed through with; it is a gathering of friends and battle companions, a last supper before they part ways to meet other responsibilities, and watching it I couldn’t help but think of the song “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.”  That eloquent expression of loss is all the more poignant for its simplicity.  To me that song has almost no equal in expressing grief.  My whole life the table has been a place of special importance. Growing up my parents insisted on a family dinner almost every night, and from mock trial team meetings at Steak N’ Shake to cooking over a camp fire in the back woods, from hosting dinners for international students at my house to having my best friends over for a grill out in the back yard, many of my best memories from high school and college are from times of fellowship over food. 

    So as I listen to the song of mourning, and whisper the words along with Redmayne, I cry with him too, as I feel the absence of my friends and family living afar and of those no longer living on this mortal plane.  Quietly but ardently I long for that glorious moment when, after having fought the good fight, after the battle to end all battles is finished, after all wrongs have been set right, I can sit with my brethren, my friends, and family, at the wedding feast of the Lamb, and share a meal unlike any other: a meal filled with the untarnished joy of seeing around me the faces of all those whose absence I currently feel so keenly.

So, to all you distant folks:  Next year in Jerusalem!

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Published!

4/5/2014

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I am pleased to announce that, for the very first time, some of my creative works have been published somewhere other than my own blog or a student publication!  Three of my poems were selected for inclusion in Celebrating Poetry.  A collection of poems from everyday poets from around the world, this anthology also includes essays on poetry and poem writing exercises (with blank pages for your own creations) that make it an excellent workbook for those seeking to improve their understanding of and skill in poetry whether individually or in the classroom.  For those who wish it, a Kindle edition is available in addition to the paperback.

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The Evolution of Money

4/2/2014

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Felix Martin's discussion of Bitcoin in this piece for WIRED was very interesting and informative for me, but what I found the most fascinating was the historical overview of the evolution of the concept and use of money.  Knowledge is power and knowledge of all things economic is perhaps my weakest practical knowledge base, so I'll be reading Martin's book Money: the Unauthorised Biography very soon.
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Fix-it Day!

3/21/2014

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On a Fix-it Day I set up shop with glue and tools and the females of the family bring me all their broken stuff and watch me fix it.

I fixed Mel's jewelry box, the girl’s music box, and a broken tea cup. The girls were fascinated by the way the music box worked, all the little gears and the cylinder and prongs. Honestly, I think music boxes are so cool I could take up making them as a hobby.

What surprised me was the flood of memories the smell of the glues brought back: the vapors instantly took me back to fixing things with my dad in my parent’s home office and the workshop in my grandfather’s basement where our family business built and repaired vacuums.  In that moment of nostalgia I experienced moment of enlightenment as well: I realized I was carrying on an old tradition and was suddenly filled with immense gratitude to my family for training me how to be a good steward of the resources God has given me by being a Maker and a Fixer.

It was a good day.

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Redeeming the Time

7/24/2013

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I just wrote a new post for Skipping Bachelorhood referring my readers there to watch a great talk presented by Dr. Meg Jay about intentional living and making the most of one's twenties, rather than partying them away as is becoming the normal course of action for twentysomethings living in the western hemisphere.
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Seven Brothers Hit the Trail

6/20/2013

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Photo courtesy of my brother, the portrait artist Thomas Caleb Goggans. Click the picture to go to see his portfolio.
    A couple weekends ago my six brothers and I all went backpacking together for the first time ever.  Plenty of camping, hiking, and backpacking trips had previously occurred, but never with all of us together, or for so ambitious a trek.  In all we ascended over a mile in elevation, and packed over twenty miles of Smoky Mountain tails.  It was truly an adventure: we had cook stoves catch on fire due to failed o-ring values; we hiked through the rain and then had to take swift action to provide shelter and warm food for a couple members of our group who were edging towards hypothermia.  It was spiritually revitalizing: we sang hymn, talked about theology and life, saw deer, elk, and boar, and soaked in the glorious beauty of a temperate rain forest, lush with spruce, fir, rhododendron, mountain laurel, and wild azalea . It was truly an awesome trip.

    Odd as it may seem one of my favorite parts was hiking through the rain. At first it was a glorious reveling in the gentle cool rain and the mysterious mists. Then it was an endurance challenge, me against the elements: could I weather the storm?  The experience reminded me of a piece I wrote once upon a time when I didn’t have a car and walked through the rain a lot more than I do now, so I went back to my old blog to re-read it.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was almost as good of a composition as I remember it to be, but couldn’t resist reworking it a bit in light of my new experiences and posting it in my Creative Nonfiction here.

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    Andrew J. Goggans

    A medical writer and freelance wordsmith in the Raleigh, NC area, I devote my time to various writing endeavors and to life with my wife and three lovely daughters.  Described by friends as a "modern hobbit," I record my efforts, adventures, and contemplations here and at Skipping Bachelorhood.

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