Ranganathan, father of modern library systems

 http://www.daykeeperjournal.com/aarch09/0907jul/feature.shtml 

Reading charts systematically to interpret as bibliotherapy

 http://www.daykeeperjournal.com/aarch08/0812dec/feature.shtml 

PDF article on bibliotherapy study

 http://cscanada.net/index.php/sll/article/view/j

.sll.1923156320120402.1900

Must read Adam Phillips

 http://www.economist.com/comment/1337420 

School of Life

 http://bloomsburybell.wordpress.com/2012/04/11/bb-tries-bibliotherapy/ 

Belleview Literary Review

 http://blr.med.nyu.edu/content/current 

Emotional communion provided by literature

 http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/25/magazine/why-talk-therapy

-is-on-the-wane-and-writing-workshops-are-on-the-rise.html?pagewanted=all

NY Times article says writing groups are replacing traditional therapy.

 "The waning of psychotherapy has clear roots in the rise of psychopharmacology. Drug companies have been hard at work over the past three decades, marketing meds to troubleshoot our faulty brain chemistry. As managed care has compelled more and more psychiatrists to trade their notebooks for prescription pads, the classic image of the patient on the couch has been replaced by a man with a pill in his palm.

The ascent of creative-writing, particularly in an age dominated by the impatient pursuit of visual stimulation, might seem harder to explain. But my sense is that people remain desperate for the emotional communion provided by literature."

Don't Trust that Particular Flavor

William Gibson's collections of essays may not be new to diehard fans as they have all been previously published over the course of the last few decades, the oldest being "Rocket Radio" from 1989 Rolling Stone. But there is one quote that you may not have noticed that speaks beautifully to our topic of bibliotherapy.

At a talk given in NYC at Book Expo in 2010, Gibson said: "A book exists at the intersection of the author's subconscious and the reader's response." And later goes on to thank his audience of readers for shaping his career. Very cool.

Shakespeare quotes - Much Ado About Nothing & Twelth Night

"There was a star danced, and under that was I born." Much Ado About Nothing, 2.1

Twelth Night "If music be the food of love, play on."

 "Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them."

 "Better a witty fool that a foolish wit"

 “In nature there's no blemish but the mind; None can be called deformed but the unkind: Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks, o'erflourished by the devil.”

Twelth Night "Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better" Act III, Scene I

Shakespeare quote - As You Like It

"Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." - William Shakespeare, As You Like It, 2.1 "And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale." - William Shakespeare, As You Like It, 2.7 "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard; Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." - William Shakespeare, As You Like It, 2.7 "Can one desire too much of a good thing?" - William Shakespeare, As You Like It, 4.1 "Your 'if' is the only peacemaker; much virtue in 'if'." - William Shakespeare, As You Like It, 5.4 "Hope is a waking dream." - William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Epilogue

Shakespeare quotes - Hamlet

"All that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1.2 "Give thy thoughts no tongue." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1.3 "Brevity is the soul of wit." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 2.2 "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 2.2 "What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!" - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 2.2 "To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heartache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come," - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 3.1 "O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!" - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 3. 1 "Our wills and fates do so contrary run That our devices still are overthrown." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 3.2 "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 3.3 "Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 3.4 "A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 4.3 "Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew and dog will have his day." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet 5.1 "There's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet 5.2 "If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet 5.2 "The rest is silence." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet 5.2

Bibliotherapy for romance readers

 http://vaginalfantasy.com/ 

Fun and probaby cathartic. I have to admit, as a librarian, i have censored romance novels from our collection. But not because of the smut, because of the incredibly bad writing. I may have missed a trend toward improved calibre of authors who devote themselves to this genre. And, I have always thought that romance novels were women's porn. Good on the wymyn of Vaginal Fantasy for tackling the bodice ripper.

Twitter posts as of 04/04/12

 https://mobile.twitter.com/lorebrarian 

Just wondering if this will work...

Transparency or readers understanding characters

 http://www.onfiction.ca/?m=0 

Lesser known Bronte

Finished reading Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Emily and Charlotte's lesser known, though more prolific, sister Anne Bronte. This is an excellent resource as a preventative measure for misaligned or misdirected affection. Our heroine falls in love with the intention of improving her beloved spiritually and ethically, i.e., to save him from himself (where haven't we seen this before), only to find herself dredged through the mud of intesifying levels of degradation. I found it comforting, oddly enough, to learn that the women continue to take on this sisyphean task diametrically opposed to their own well-being generation after generation. The nobler sex is not just hype, though we have our share of debasing examples, women aspire to inspire in proverbial ranks of musing angels.

Anne Bronte wrote a feminist treatise that still speaks to us through centuries of a steady trickle of women who demand quarter for their worth (not a quarter, but recompense in equal measure.) At 3/4 the wage earning power of men, we continue to gain independence from perhaps ourselves and our own charitable intensions as much as anything or any one else.

Poetry Archive

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/themes.do (by theme) http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/forms.do (by poetic form) Note the glossary of poetic terms as well as search by author or title Create an account and save lists of favorites. Make your own Bibliotherapeutic Self-Help file. Poems by form If you're interested in a traditional form, this Search page makes it quick and easy for you to find examples. (Click on the "by form" link above for examples of the following: allegory anapaestic ballad blank couples couplets dactyls dialect dialogue elegy end epigram ghazal haiku kenning limericks monologue monorhyme narrative nonsense octave ode parody play poem prose quatrains rap rhyme rhyming riddle rubaiyat satire sequence sestina short song sonnet syllabics tercets test verse villanelle word

Outline for Creative Reading

Creative Reading Journaling Dreams Gestalt Catharsis Character dev Writing Poetry Fiction Prose NF Illustration Doodle Collage Transfer Text based Other kinds of reading Charts Maps Timelines Cards Colors Gems Knots Flowers Runes Music Signs Symbols Metaphor Dreams Theory Deconstruction - In describing deconstruction, Derrida famously observed that "there is nothing outside the text." That is to say, all of the references used to interpret a text are themselves texts, including the "text" of reality as a reader knows it. There is no true objective, non-textual reference from which interpretation can begin. Reader Response – Wolfgang Iser, Norman Holland, Stanley Fish Active Imagination – Marie-Louise von Franz Groups Self-actualization Transactional theory – Louise Rosenblatt

List of Cliches

http://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry_resources/list_of_cliches.aspx

Theme--Identity

In A Dark Time In a dark time, the eye begins to see, I meet my shadow in the deepening shade; I hear my echo in the echoing wood-- A lord of nature weeping to a tree, I live between the heron and the wren, Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den. What's madness but nobility of soul At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire! I know the purity of pure despair, My shadow pinned against a sweating wall, That place among the rocks--is it a cave, Or winding path? The edge is what I have. A steady storm of correspondences! A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon, And in broad day the midnight come again! A man goes far to find out what he is-- Death of the self in a long, tearless night, All natural shapes blazing unnatural light. Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire. My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly, Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I? A fallen man, I climb out of my fear. The mind enters itself, and God the mind, And one is One, free in the tearing wind. ~by Theodore Roethke We are the time. We are the famous We are the time. We are the famous metaphor from Heraclitus the Obscure. We are the water, not the hard diamond, the one that is lost, not the one that stands still. We are the river and we are that greek that looks himself into the river. His reflection changes into the waters of the changing mirror, into the crystal that changes like the fire. We are the vain predetermined river, in his travel to his sea. The shadows have surrounded him. Everything said goodbye to us, everything goes away. Memory does not stamp his own coin. However, there is something that stays however, there is something that bemoans. ~by Jorge Luis Borges The Four Ages of Man 1.1 Lo now! four other acts upon the stage, 1.2 Childhood, and Youth, the Manly, and Old-age. 1.3 The first: son unto Phlegm, grand-child to water, 1.4 Unstable, supple, moist, and cold's his Nature. 1.5 The second: frolic claims his pedigree; 1.6 From blood and air, for hot and moist is he. 1.7 The third of fire and choler is compos'd, 1.8 Vindicative, and quarrelsome dispos'd. 1.9 The last, of earth and heavy melancholy, 1.10 Solid, hating all lightness, and all folly. 1.11 Childhood was cloth'd in white, and given to show, 1.12 His spring was intermixed with some snow. 1.13 Upon his head a Garland Nature set: 1.14 Of Daisy, Primrose, and the Violet. 1.15 Such cold mean flowers (as these) blossom betime, 1.16 Before the Sun hath throughly warm'd the clime. 1.17 His hobby striding, did not ride, but run, 1.18 And in his hand an hour-glass new begun, 1.19 In dangers every moment of a fall, 1.20 And when 'tis broke, then ends his life and all. 1.21 But if he held till it have run its last, 1.22 Then may he live till threescore years or past. 1.23 Next, youth came up in gorgeous attire 1.24 (As that fond age, doth most of all desire), 1.25 His Suit of Crimson, and his Scarf of Green. 1.26 In's countenance, his pride quickly was seen. 1.27 Garland of Roses, Pinks, and Gillyflowers 1.28 Seemed to grow on's head (bedew'd with showers). 1.29 His face as fresh, as is Aurora fair, 1.30 When blushing first, she 'gins to red the Air. 1.31 No wooden horse, but one of metal try'd: 1.32 He seems to fly, or swim, and not to ride. 1.33 Then prancing on the Stage, about he wheels; 1.34 But as he went, death waited at his heels. 1.35 The next came up, in a more graver sort, 1.36 As one that cared for a good report. 1.37 His Sword by's side, and choler in his eyes, 1.38 But neither us'd (as yet) for he was wise, 1.39 Of Autumn fruits a basket on his arm, 1.40 His golden rod in's purse, which was his charm. 1.41 And last of all, to act upon this Stage, 1.42 Leaning upon his staff, comes up old age. 1.43 Under his arm a Sheaf of wheat he bore, 1.44 A Harvest of the best: what needs he more? 1.45 In's other hand a glass, ev'n almost run, 1.46 This writ about: This out, then I am done. 1.47 His hoary hairs and grave aspect made way, 1.48 And all gave ear to what he had to say. 1.49 These being met, each in his equipage 1.50 Intend to speak, according to their age, 1.51 But wise Old-age did with all gravity 1.52 To childish childhood give precedency, 1.53 And to the rest, his reason mildly told: 1.54 That he was young, before he grew so old. 1.55 To do as he, the rest full soon assents, 1.56 Their method was that of the Elements, 1.57 That each should tell what of himself he knew, 1.58 Both good and bad, but yet no more then's true. 1.59 With heed now stood, three ages of frail man, 1.60 To hear the child, who crying, thus began. Childhood. 2.1 Ah me! conceiv'd in sin, and born in sorrow, 2.2 A nothing, here to day, but gone to morrow, 2.3 Whose mean beginning, blushing can't reveal, 2.4 But night and darkness must with shame conceal. 2.5 My mother's breeding sickness, I will spare, 2.6 Her nine months' weary burden not declare. 2.7 To shew her bearing pangs, I should do wrong, 2.8 To tell that pain, which can't be told by tongue. 2.9 With tears into this world I did arrive; 2.10 My mother still did waste, as I did thrive, 2.11 Who yet with love and all alacity, 2.12 Spending was willing to be spent for me. 2.13 With wayward cries, I did disturb her rest, 2.14 Who sought still to appease me with her breast; 2.15 With weary arms, she danc'd, and By, By, sung, 2.16 When wretched I (ungrate) had done the wrong. 2.17 When Infancy was past, my Childishness 2.18 Did act all folly that it could express. 2.19 My silliness did only take delight, 2.20 In that which riper age did scorn and slight, 2.21 In Rattles, Bables, and such toyish stuff. 2.22 My then ambitious thoughts were low enough. 2.23 My high-born soul so straitly was confin'd 2.24 That its own worth it did not know nor mind. 2.25 This little house of flesh did spacious count, 2.26 Through ignorance, all troubles did surmount, 2.27 Yet this advantage had mine ignorance, 2.28 Freedom from Envy and from Arrogance. 2.29 How to be rich, or great, I did not cark, 2.30 A Baron or a Duke ne'r made my mark, 2.31 Nor studious was, Kings favours how to buy, 2.32 With costly presents, or base flattery; 2.33 No office coveted, wherein I might 2.34 Make strong my self and turn aside weak right. 2.35 No malice bare to this or that great Peer, 2.36 Nor unto buzzing whisperers gave ear. 2.37 I gave no hand, nor vote, for death, of life. 2.38 I'd nought to do, 'twixt Prince, and peoples' strife. 2.39 No Statist I: nor Marti'list i' th' field. 2.40 Where e're I went, mine innocence was shield. 2.41 My quarrels, not for Diadems, did rise, 2.42 But for an Apple, Plumb, or some such prize. 2.43 My strokes did cause no death, nor wounds, nor scars. 2.44 My little wrath did cease soon as my wars. 2.45 My duel was no challenge, nor did seek. 2.46 My foe should weltering, with his bowels reek. 2.47 I had no Suits at law, neighbours to vex, 2.48 Nor evidence for land did me perplex. 2.49 I fear'd no storms, nor all the winds that blows. 2.50 I had no ships at Sea, no fraughts to loose. 2.51 I fear'd no drought, nor wet; I had no crop, 2.52 Nor yet on future things did place my hope. 2.53 This was mine innocence, but oh the seeds 2.54 Lay raked up of all the cursed weeds, 2.55 Which sprouted forth in my insuing age, 2.56 As he can tell, that next comes on the stage. 2.57 But yet me let me relate, before I go, 2.58 The sins and dangers I am subject to: 2.59 From birth stained, with Adam's sinful fact, 2.60 From thence I 'gan to sin, as soon as act; 2.61 A perverse will, a love to what's forbid; 2.62 A serpent's sting in pleasing face lay hid; 2.63 A lying tongue as soon as it could speak 2.64 And fifth Commandment do daily break; 2.65 Oft stubborn, peevish, sullen, pout, and cry; 2.66 Then nought can please, and yet I know not why. 2.67 As many was my sins, so dangers too, 2.68 For sin brings sorrow, sickness, death, and woe, 2.69 And though I miss the tossings of the mind, 2.70 Yet griefs in my frail flesh I still do find. 2.71 What gripes of wind, mine infancy did pain? 2.72 What tortures I, in breeding teeth sustain? 2.73 What crudities my cold stomach hath bred? 2.74 Whence vomits, worms, and flux have issued? 2.75 What breaches, knocks, and falls I daily have? 2.76 And some perhaps, I carry to my grave. 2.77 Sometimes in fire, sometimes in water fall: 2.78 Strangely preserv'd, yet mind it not at all. 2.79 At home, abroad, my danger's manifold 2.80 That wonder 'tis, my glass till now doth hold. 2.81 I've done: unto my elders I give way, 2.82 For 'tis but little that a child can say. Youth. 3.1 My goodly clothing and beauteous skin 3.2 Declare some greater riches are within, 3.3 But what is best I'll first present to view, 3.4 And then the worst, in a more ugly hue, 3.5 For thus to do we on this Stage assemble, 3.6 Then let not him, which hath most craft dissemble. 3.7 Mine education, and my learning's such, 3.8 As might my self, and others, profit much: 3.9 With nurture trained up in virtue's Schools; 3.10 Of Science, Arts, and Tongues, I know the rules; 3.11 The manners of the Court, I likewise know, 3.12 Nor ignorant what they in Country do. 3.13 The brave attempts of valiant Knights I prize 3.14 That dare climb Battlements, rear'd to the skies. 3.15 The snorting Horse, the Trumpet, Drum I like, 3.16 The glist'ring Sword, and well advanced Pike. 3.17 I cannot lie in trench before a Town, 3.18 Nor wait til good advice our hopes do crown. 3.19 I scorn the heavy Corslet, Musket-proof; 3.20 I fly to catch the Bullet that's aloof. 3.21 Though thus in field, at home, to all most kind, 3.22 So affable that I do suit each mind, 3.23 I can insinuate into the breast 3.24 And by my mirth can raise the heart deprest. 3.25 Sweet Music rapteth my harmonious Soul, 3.26 And elevates my thoughts above the Pole. 3.27 My wit, my bounty, and my courtesy 3.28 Makes all to place their future hopes on me. 3.29 This is my best, but youth (is known) alas, 3.30 To be as wild as is the snuffing Ass, 3.31 As vain as froth, as vanity can be, 3.32 That who would see vain man may look on me: 3.33 My gifts abus'd, my education lost, 3.34 My woful Parents' longing hopes all crost; 3.35 My wit evaporates in merriment; 3.36 My valour in some beastly quarrel's spent; 3.37 Martial deeds I love not, 'cause they're virtuous, 3.38 But doing so, might seem magnanimous. 3.39 My Lust doth hurry me to all that's ill, 3.40 I know no Law, nor reason, but my will; 3.41 Sometimes lay wait to take a wealthy purse 3.42 Or stab the man in's own defence, that's worse. 3.43 Sometimes I cheat (unkind) a female Heir 3.44 Of all at once, who not so wise, as fair, 3.45 Trusteth my loving looks and glozing tongue 3.46 Until her friends, treasure, and honour's gone. 3.47 Sometimes I sit carousing others' health 3.48 Until mine own be gone, my wit, and wealth. 3.49 From pipe to pot, from pot to words and blows, 3.50 For he that loveth Wine wanteth no woes. 3.51 Days, nights, with Ruffins, Roarers, Fiddlers spend, 3.52 To all obscenity my ears I bend, 3.53 All counsel hate which tends to make me wise, 3.54 And dearest friends count for mine enemies. 3.55 If any care I take, 'tis to be fine, 3.56 For sure my suit more than my virtues shine. 3.57 If any time from company I spare, 3.58 'Tis spent in curling, frisling up my hair, 3.59 Some young Adonais I do strive to be. 3.60 Sardana Pallas now survives in me. 3.61 Cards, Dice, and Oaths, concomitant, I love; 3.62 To Masques, to Plays, to Taverns still I move; 3.63 And in a word, if what I am you'd hear, 3.64 Seek out a British, bruitish Cavalier. 3.65 Such wretch, such monster am I; but yet more 3.66 I want a heart all this for to deplore. 3.67 Thus, thus alas! I have mispent my time, 3.68 My youth, my best, my strength, my bud, and prime, 3.69 Remembring not the dreadful day of Doom, 3.70 Nor yet the heavy reckoning for to come, 3.71 Though dangers do attend me every hour 3.72 And ghastly death oft threats me with her power: 3.73 Sometimes by wounds in idle combats taken, 3.74 Sometimes by Agues all my body shaken; 3.75 Sometimes by Fevers, all my moisture drinking, 3.76 My heart lies frying, and my eyes are sinking. 3.77 Sometimes the Cough, Stitch, painful Pleurisy, 3.78 With sad affrights of death, do menace me. 3.79 Sometimes the loathsome Pox my face be-mars 3.80 With ugly marks of his eternal scars. 3.81 Sometimes the Frenzy strangely mads my Brain 3.82 That oft for it in Bedlam I remain. 3.83 Too many's my Diseases to recite, 3.84 That wonder 'tis I yet behold the light, 3.85 That yet my bed in darkness is not made, 3.86 And I in black oblivion's den long laid. 3.87 Of Marrow full my bones, of Milk my breasts, 3.88 Ceas'd by the gripes of Serjeant Death's Arrests: 3.89 Thus I have said, and what I've said you see, 3.90 Childhood and youth is vain, yea vanity. Middle Age. 4.1 Childhood and youth forgot, sometimes I've seen, 4.2 And now am grown more staid that have been green, 4.3 What they have done, the same was done by me: 4.4 As was their praise, or shame, so mine must be. 4.5 Now age is more, more good ye do expect; 4.6 But more my age, the more is my defect. 4.7 But what's of worth, your eyes shall first behold, 4.8 And then a world of dross among my gold. 4.9 When my Wild Oats were sown, and ripe, and mown, 4.10 I then receiv'd a harvest of mine own. 4.11 My reason, then bad judge, how little hope 4.12 Such empty seed should yield a better crop. 4.13 I then with both hands graspt the world together, 4.14 Thus out of one extreme into another, 4.15 But yet laid hold on virtue seemingly: 4.16 Who climbs without hold, climbs dangerously. 4.17 Be my condition mean, I then take pains 4.18 My family to keep, but not for gains. 4.19 If rich, I'm urged then to gather more 4.20 To bear me out i' th' world and feed the poor; 4.21 If a father, then for children must provide, 4.22 But if none, then for kindred near ally'd; 4.23 If Noble, then mine honour to maintain; 4.24 If not, yet wealth, Nobility can gain. 4.25 For time, for place, likewise for each relation, 4.26 I wanted not my ready allegation. 4.27 Yet all my powers for self-ends are not spent, 4.28 For hundreds bless me for my bounty sent, 4.29 Whose loins I've cloth'd, and bellies I have fed, 4.30 With mine own fleece, and with my household bread. 4.31 Yea, justice I have done, was I in place, 4.32 To cheer the good and wicked to deface. 4.33 The proud I crush'd, th'oppressed I set free, 4.34 The liars curb'd but nourisht verity. 4.35 Was I a pastor, I my flock did feed 4.36 And gently lead the lambs, as they had need. 4.37 A Captain I, with skill I train'd my band 4.38 And shew'd them how in face of foes to stand. 4.39 If a Soldier, with speed I did obey 4.40 As readily as could my Leader say. 4.41 Was I a laborer, I wrought all day 4.42 As cheerfully as ere I took my pay. 4.43 Thus hath mine age (in all) sometimes done well; 4.44 Sometimes mine age (in all) been worse than hell. 4.45 In meanness, greatness, riches, poverty 4.46 Did toil, did broil; oppress'd, did steal and lie. 4.47 Was I as poor as poverty could be, 4.48 Then baseness was companion unto me. 4.49 Such scum as Hedges and High-ways do yield, 4.50 As neither sow, nor reap, nor plant, nor build. 4.51 If to Agriculture I was ordain'd, 4.52 Great labours, sorrows, crosses I sustain'd. 4.53 The early Cock did summon, but in vain, 4.54 My wakeful thoughts up to my painful gain. 4.55 For restless day and night, I'm robb'd of sleep 4.56 By cankered care, who sentinel doth keep. 4.57 My weary breast rest from his toil can find, 4.58 But if I rest, the more distrest my mind. 4.59 If happiness my sordidness hath found, 4.60 'Twas in the crop of my manured ground: 4.61 My fatted Ox, and my exuberous Cow, 4.62 My fleeced Ewe, and ever farrowing Sow. 4.63 To greater things I never did aspire, 4.64 My dunghill thoughts or hopes could reach no higher. 4.65 If to be rich, or great, it was my fate. 4.66 How was I broil'd with envy, and with hate? 4.67 Greater than was the great'st was my desire, 4.68 And greater still, did set my heart on fire. 4.69 If honour was the point to which I steer'd, 4.70 To run my hull upon disgrace I fear'd, 4.71 But by ambitious sails I was so carried 4.72 That over flats, and sands, and rocks I hurried, 4.73 Opprest, and sunk, and sack'd, all in my way 4.74 That did oppose me to my longed bay. 4.75 My thirst was higher than Nobility 4.76 And oft long'd sore to taste on Royalty, 4.77 Whence poison, Pistols, and dread instruments 4.78 Have been curst furtherers of mine intents. 4.79 Nor Brothers, Nephews, Sons, nor Sires I've spar'd. 4.80 When to a Monarchy my way they barr'd, 4.81 There set, I rid my self straight out of hand 4.82 Of such as might my son, or his withstand, 4.83 Then heapt up gold and riches as the clay, 4.84 Which others scatter like the dew in May. 4.85 Sometimes vain-glory is the only bait 4.86 Whereby my empty school is lur'd and caught. 4.87 Be I of worth, of learning, or of parts, 4.88 I judge I should have room in all men's hearts; 4.89 And envy gnaws if any do surmount. 4.90 I hate for to be had in small account. 4.91 If Bias like, I'm stript unto my skin; 4.92 I glory in my wealth I have within. 4.93 Thus good, and bad, and what I am, you see, 4.94 Now in a word, what my diseases be: 4.95 The vexing Stone, in bladder and in reins, 4.96 Torments me with intolerable pains; 4.97 The windy cholic oft my bowels rend, 4.98 To break the darksome prison, where it's penn'd; 4.99 The knotty Gout doth sadly torture me, 4.100 And the restraining lame Sciatica; 4.101 The Quinsy and the Fevers often distaste me, 4.102 And the Consumption to the bones doth waste me, 4.103 Subject to all Diseases, that's the truth, 4.104 Though some more incident to age, or youth; 4.105 And to conclude, I may not tedious be, 4.106 Man at his best estate is vanity. Old Age. 5.1 What you have been, ev'n such have I before, 5.2 And all you say, say I, and something more. 5.3 Babe's innocence, Youth's wildness I have seen, 5.4 And in perplexed Middle-age have been, 5.5 Sickness, dangers, and anxieties have past, 5.6 And on this Stage am come to act my last. 5.7 I have been young, and strong, and wise as you 5.8 But now, Bis pueri senes is too true. 5.9 In every Age I've found much vanity. 5.10 An end of all perfection now I see. 5.11 It's not my valour, honour, nor my gold, 5.12 My ruin'd house, now falling can uphold; 5.13 It's not my Learning, Rhetoric, wit so large, 5.14 Now hath the power, Death's Warfare, to discharge. 5.15 It's not my goodly house, nor bed of down, 5.16 That can refresh, or ease, if Conscience frown; 5.17 Nor from alliance now can I have hope, 5.18 But what I have done well, that is my prop. 5.19 He that in youth is godly, wise, and sage 5.20 Provides a staff for to support his age. 5.21 Great mutations, some joyful, and some sad, 5.22 In this short Pilgrimage I oft have had. 5.23 Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smil'd on me, 5.24 Sometimes, again, rain'd all adversity; 5.25 Sometimes in honour, sometimes in disgrace, 5.26 Sometime an abject, then again in place: 5.27 Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen. 5.28 In various times of state I've also been. 5.29 I've seen a Kingdom flourish like a tree 5.30 When it was rul'd by that Celestial she, 5.31 And like a Cedar others so surmount 5.32 That but for shrubs they did themselves account. 5.33 Then saw I France, and Holland sav'd, Calais won, 5.34 And Philip and Albertus half undone. 5.35 I saw all peace at home, terror to foes, 5.36 But ah, I saw at last those eyes to close, 5.37 And then, me thought, the world at noon grew dark 5.38 When it had lost that radiant Sun-like spark. 5.39 In midst of griefs, I saw some hopes revive 5.40 (For 'twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive); 5.41 I saw hopes dash't, our forwardness was shent, 5.42 And silenc'd we, by Act of Parliament. 5.43 I've seen from Rome, an execrable thing, 5.44 A plot to blow up Nobles and their King. 5.45 I've seen designs at Ree and Cades cross't, 5.46 And poor Palatinate for every lost. 5.47 I've seen a Prince to live on others' lands, 5.48 A Royal one, by alms from Subjects' hands. 5.49 I've seen base men, advanc'd to great degree, 5.50 And worthy ones, put to extremity, 5.51 But not their Prince's love, nor state so high, 5.52 Could once reverse, their shameful destiny. 5.53 I've seen one stabb'd, another lose his head, 5.54 And others fly their Country through their dread. 5.55 I've seen, and so have ye, for 'tis but late, 5.56 The desolation of a goodly State. 5.57 Plotted and acted so that none can tell 5.58 Who gave the counsell, but the Prince of hell. 5.59 I've seen a land unmoulded with great pain, 5.60 But yet may live to see't made up again. 5.61 I've seen it shaken, rent, and soak'd in blood, 5.62 But out of troubles ye may see much good. 5.63 These are no old wives' tales, but this is truth. 5.64 We old men love to tell, what's done in youth. 5.65 But I return from whence I stept awry; 5.66 My memory is short and brain is dry. 5.67 My Almond-tree (gray hairs) doth flourish now, 5.68 And back, once straight, begins apace to bow. 5.69 My grinders now are few, my sight doth fail, 5.70 My skin is wrinkled, and my cheeks are pale. 5.71 No more rejoice, at music's pleasant noise, 5.72 But do awake at the cock's clanging voice. 5.73 I cannot scent savours of pleasant meat, 5.74 Nor sapors find in what I drink or eat. 5.75 My hands and arms, once strong, have lost their might. 5.76 I cannot labour, nor I cannot fight: 5.77 My comely legs, as nimble as the Roe, 5.78 Now stiff and numb, can hardly creep or go. 5.79 My heart sometimes as fierce, as Lion bold, 5.80 Now trembling, and fearful, sad, and cold. 5.81 My golden Bowl and silver Cord, e're long, 5.82 Shall both be broke, by wracking death so strong. 5.83 I then shall go whence I shall come no more. 5.84 Sons, Nephews, leave, my death for to deplore. 5.85 In pleasures, and in labours, I have found 5.86 That earth can give no consolation sound 5.87 To great, to rich, to poor, to young, or old, 5.88 To mean, to noble, fearful, or to bold. 5.89 From King to beggar, all degrees shall find 5.90 But vanity, vexation of the mind. 5.91 Yea, knowing much, the pleasant'st life of all 5.92 Hath yet amongst that sweet, some bitter gall. 5.93 Though reading others' Works doth much refresh, 5.94 Yet studying much brings weariness to th' flesh. 5.95 My studies, labours, readings all are done, 5.96 And my last period can e'en elmost run. 5.97 Corruption, my Father, I do call, 5.98 Mother, and sisters both; the worms that crawl 5.99 In my dark house, such kindred I have store. 5.100 There I shall rest till heavens shall be no more; 5.101 And when this flesh shall rot and be consum'd, 5.102 This body, by this soul, shall be assum'd; 5.103 And I shall see with these same very eyes 5.104 My strong Redeemer coming in the skies. 5.105 Triumph I shall, o're Sin, o're Death, o're Hell, 5.106 And in that hope, I bid you all farewell. ~by Anne Bradstreet

Theme--Time

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero, Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo. Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question… Oh, do not ask, "What is it?" Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— [They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— [They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"] Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare [But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? . . . . . Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? … I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . . And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep… tired… or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet—and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"— If one, settling a pillow by her head, Should say: "That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all." And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor— And this, and so much more?— It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." . . . . . No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old… I grow old… I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Theme--Death

Death is a Dialogue between Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. "Dissolve" says Death -- The Spirit "Sir I have another Trust" -- Death doubts it -- Argues from the Ground -- The Spirit turns away Just laying off for evidence An Overcoat of Clay. For Death -- or rather For Death -- or rather For the Things 'twould buy -- This -- put away Life's Opportunity -- The Things that Death will buy Are Room -- Escape from Circumstances -- And a Name -- With Gifts of Life How Death's Gifts may compare -- We know not -- For the Rates -- lie Here -- ~2 by Emily Dickinson dying is fine)but Death dying is fine)but Death ?o baby i wouldn't like Death if Death were good:for when(instead of stopping to think)you begin to feel of it,dying 's miraculous why?be cause dying is perfectly natural;perfectly putting it mildly lively(but Death is strictly scientific & artificial & evil & legal) we thank thee god almighty for dying (forgive us,o life!the sin of Death ~by E. E. Cummings Nothing But Death There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves, as though we were drowning inside our hearts, as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul. And there are corpses, feet made of cold and sticky clay, death is inside the bones, like a barking where there are no dogs, coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere, growing in the damp air like tears of rain. Sometimes I see alone coffins under sail, embarking with the pale dead, with women that have dead hair, with bakers who are as white as angels, and pensive young girls married to notary publics, caskets sailing up the vertical river of the dead, the river of dark purple, moving upstream with sails filled out by the sound of death, filled by the sound of death which is silence. Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it, comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no finger in it, comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue, with no throat. Nevertheless its steps can be heard and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree. I'm not sure, I understand only a little, I can hardly see, but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets, of violets that are at home in the earth, because the face of death is green, and the look death gives is green, with the penetrating dampness of a violet leaf and the somber color of embittered winter. But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom, lapping the floor, looking for dead bodies, death is inside the broom, the broom is the tongue of death looking for corpses, it is the needle of death looking for thread. Death is inside the folding cots: it spends its life sleeping on the slow mattresses, in the black blankets, and suddenly breathes out: it blows out a mournful sound that swells the sheets, and the beds go sailing toward a port where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral. ~by Pablo Neruda The Suicide by Edna St. Vincent Millay "Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore! And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me, I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly That I might eat again, and met thy sneers With deprecations, and thy blows with tears,— Aye, from thy glutted lash, glad, crawled away, As if spent passion were a holiday! And now I go. Nor threat, nor easy vow Of tardy kindness can avail thee now With me, whence fear and faith alike are flown; Lonely I came, and I depart alone, And know not where nor unto whom I go; But that thou canst not follow me I know." Thus I to Life, and ceased; but through my brain My thought ran still, until I spake again: "Ah, but I go not as I came,—no trace Is mine to bear away of that old grace I brought! I have been heated in thy fires, Bent by thy hands, fashioned to thy desires, Thy mark is on me! I am not the same Nor ever more shall be, as when I came. Ashes am I of all that once I seemed. In me all's sunk that leapt, and all that dreamed Is wakeful for alarm,—oh, shame to thee, For the ill change that thou hast wrought in me, Who laugh no more nor lift my throat to sing Ah, Life, I would have been a pleasant thing To have about the house when I was grown If thou hadst left my little joys alone! I asked of thee no favor save this one: That thou wouldst leave me playing in the sun! And this thou didst deny, calling my name Insistently, until I rose and came. I saw the sun no more.—It were not well So long on these unpleasant thoughts to dwell, Need I arise to-morrow and renew Again my hated tasks, but I am through With all things save my thoughts and this one night, So that in truth I seem already quite Free,and remote from thee,—I feel no haste And no reluctance to depart; I taste Merely, with thoughtful mien, an unknown draught, That in a little while I shall have quaffed." Thus I to Life, and ceased, and slightly smiled, Looking at nothing; and my thin dreams filed Before me one by one till once again I set new words unto an old refrain: "Treasures thou hast that never have been mine! Warm lights in many a secret chamber shine Of thy gaunt house, and gusts of song have blown Like blossoms out to me that sat alone! And I have waited well for thee to show If any share were mine,—and now I go Nothing I leave, and if I naught attain I shall but come into mine own again!" Thus I to Life, and ceased, and spake no more, But turning, straightway, sought a certain door In the rear wall. Heavy it was, and low And dark,—a way by which none e'er would go That other exit had, and never knock Was heard thereat,—bearing a curious lock Some chance had shown me fashioned faultily, Whereof Life held content the useless key, And great coarse hinges, thick and rough with rust, Whose sudden voice across a silence must, I knew, be harsh and horrible to hear,— A strange door, ugly like a dwarf.—So near I came I felt upon my feet the chill Of acid wind creeping across the sill. So stood longtime, till over me at last Came weariness, and all things other passed To make it room; the still night drifted deep Like snow about me, and I longed for sleep. But, suddenly, marking the morning hour, Bayed the deep-throated bell within the tower! Startled, I raised my head,—and with a shout Laid hold upon the latch,—and was without. * * * * Ah, long-forgotten, well-remembered road, Leading me back unto my old abode, My father's house! There in the night I came, And found them feasting, and all things the same As they had been before. A splendour hung Upon the walls, and such sweet songs were sung As, echoing out of very long ago, Had called me from the house of Life, I know. So fair their raiment shone I looked in shame On the unlovely garb in which I came; Then straightway at my hesitancy mocked: "It is my father's house!" I said and knocked; And the door opened. To the shining crowd Tattered and dark I entered, like a cloud, Seeing no face but his; to him I crept, And "Father!" I cried, and clasped his knees, and wept. * * * * Ah, days of joy that followed! All alone I wandered through the house. My own, my own, My own to touch, my own to taste and smell, All I had lacked so long and loved so well! None shook me out of sleep, nor hushed my song, Nor called me in from the sunlight all day long. I know not when the wonder came to me Of what my father's business might be, And whither fared and on what errands bent The tall and gracious messengers he sent. Yet one day with no song from dawn till night Wondering, I sat, and watched them out of sight. And the next day I called; and on the third Asked them if I might go,—but no one heard. Then, sick with longing, I arose at last And went unto my father,—in that vast Chamber wherein he for so many years Has sat, surrounded by his charts and spheres. "Father," I said, "Father, I cannot play The harp that thou didst give me, and all day I sit in idleness, while to and fro About me thy serene, grave servants go; And I am weary of my lonely ease. Better a perilous journey overseas Away from thee, than this, the life I lead, To sit all day in the sunshine like a weed That grows to naught,—I love thee more than they Who serve thee most; yet serve thee in no way. Father, I beg of thee a little task To dignify my days,—'tis all I ask Forever, but forever, this denied, I perish." "Child," my father's voice replied, "All things thy fancy hath desired of me Thou hast received. I have prepared for thee Within my house a spacious chamber, where Are delicate things to handle and to wear, And all these things are thine. Dost thou love song? My minstrels shall attend thee all day long. Or sigh for flowers? My fairest gardens stand Open as fields to thee on every hand. And all thy days this word shall hold the same: No pleasure shalt thou lack that thou shalt name. But as for tasks—" he smiled, and shook his head; "Thou hadst thy task, and laidst it by," he said.

Scarlett Thomas

The End of Mr. Y presents us with many questions about the present. Asks us to imagine a world created entirely from our imaginations. Leads us through a looking glass and lets us choose if we want to stay and play on the other side or return to mundane reality. Though return we must, as with all good stories the novel comes to an end. But treasure troves from the author remain long after the last page is turned. Like Olbers Paradox, who knew Edgar Allan Poe was a thought scientist, describing "infinity as the thought of a thought" in his poem Eureka in response, anticipating Big Bang theory 100 years before the experimental scientists. Or that hyperreality has been mapped by Derrida but we can't get there from here, i.e., language will always circumvent and we will find ourselves in a feedback loop. Or in considering "emotion" as metaphor, a symptom of something set in motion, a movement from one state to another but never the state itself. Thomas attempts narrative in a world of the infinite possibilities of poststructuralist physics in order to arrive at the conclusion realized by her protagonist, Ariel, who has "so much free will that nothing means anything anymore." But Thomas counters the only way she, or we, know how: Language creates causal connections between things aka beginning, middle, end. "And the middle is only there because the beginning is; the end is only there because the middle is. And in the beginning was the word..." BTW, Ariel's romantic interest in the novel is named Adam. As with her other novels, Scarlett Thomas is reading as educated entertainment.

Wikipedia pages category bibliotherapy

 http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Bibliotherapy 

Resurgence Rules!

 http://infopeople.org/training/bibliotherapy 

Free download from ASPDF: Bibliotherapy the power of words

 http://aspdf.com/download/5729/bibliotherapy-the-power-of-words-pdf.html 

Reading Weekends UK

 http://readingweekend.co.uk/booking 

Not sure if this is still happening. They fail to add 2012 to dates listed but must go with assumption that it is.

Library Thing books tagged bibliotherapy

 http://www.librarything.com/tag/bibliotherapy 

National Library of Australia catalogue bibliotherapy subject search results

 http://catalogue.nla.gov.au/Search/Home?lookfor=subject:%22Bibliotherapy.%22&iknowwhatimean=1 

Text Montage

 http://courses.washington.edu/hypertxt/cgi-bin/12.228.185.206/html/wordsinimages/unstablerels.html#textmon 

Visual Language...so many ways of reading

 http://courses.washington.edu/hypertxt/cgi-bin/12.228.185.206/html/wordsimages/wordsimages.html#mmodes 

Childhood bibliotherapy database good but looks abandoned

 http://childhoodbibliotherapy.blogspot.com/search/label/OCD?m=0 

Bibliotherapy Education Project

 http://www.library.unlv.edu/faculty/research/bibliotherapy/index.php 

Your Brain on Fiction NYT article

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/18/opinion/sunday/the-neuroscience-of-your-brain-on-fiction.html?_r=1

Prescriptive bibliotherapy popularity continues

 http://m.timesofindia.com/life-style/spirituality/holistic-living/Feeling-low-Try-Bibliotherapy/articleshow/12328268.cms 

All Things Healing group of bibliotherapists w/ bios

 http://www.allthingshealing.com/abeditor.php?uID=393 

Creativity necessary for psychological health

 http://www.winmentalhealth.com/poetry_therapy_coping_skills_for_depression.php 

Bibliosex therapy

 http://www.care2.com/greenliving/the-media-is-calling-it-mommy-porn.html 

Online mag "Psychology of Fiction"

 http://www.onfiction.ca/?m=1 

Scientific American's 10 novels to sharpen emotional mind

 http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=fiction-stories-that-sharpen-your-mind&utm_source=Publishers+Weekly's+PW+Daily&utm_campaign=1b86dd3bc3-UA-15906914-1&utm_medium=email 

Samuel McChord Cruthers coined term "bibliotherapy"

 http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_McChord_Crothers 

Good list of definitions for bibliotherapy off the top

 http://wwwold.aiias.edu/ict/vol_12/12cc_049-066.htm 

School of Life bibliotherapy rates

 http://www.theschooloflife.com/Bibliotherapy/In-Person-and-Remote-Consultations 

Love the press School of Life is bringing to bibliotherapy but want to stress that what they offer is more akin to what in library land is known as a readers advisory service.

The Reader Organization UK

 http://thereader.org.uk/get-into-reading/ 

This group in the UK is making bibliotherapy happen as group therapy accessible to any one. Brilliant. Wish we had something like it in the States. IMLS (Institute of Museum & Library Services) would be only org big enough to implement at the national level.

Rhythm Meter Scansion Made Easy

 http://server.riverdale.k12.or.us/~bblack/meter.html 

Nice discussion of Diane Ackerman's Origami Bridges

 http://quod.lib.umich.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?cc=mqr;c=mqr;c=mqrarchive;idno=act2080.0043.120;rgn=main;view=text;xc=1;g=mqrg 

Wiley Online Library resources

 http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/advanced/search/results?articleDoi=10.1111/j.1365-2648.2012.05966.x&scope=allContent&start=1&resultsPerPage=20 

Self-help bibliotherapy study success

 http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1365-2648.2012.05966.x/abstract 

Psychology & Narrative Arts resources

 http://tlaresources.wordpress.com/psychology-narrative-theory/ 

Resources for poetry therapy training

 http://www.poetrytherapy.org/training.html 

Trounstine's Social Advocacy Bibliotherapy

 http://swampscott.m.wickedlocal.com/wkdSwampscott/pm_31855/contentdetail.htm?contentguid=TkaL9sVe 

Joseph Gold Read for your Life (review)

 http://indextrious.blogspot.com/2009/10/read-for-your-life-golds-prescription.html?m=1

Review of Dr. Joseph Gold's Read for Your Life

 http://www.fitzhenry.ca/detail.aspx?ID=8131 

For anyone interested in bibliotherapy, this is The place to start.

Top 50 Literary Magazines

 http://www.everywritersresource.com/topliterarymagazines.html 

Bibliotherapy in Utah

 http://flavorwire.com/261446/utah-judge-orders-felons-to-read-victor-hugos-les-miserables 

Beautiful carved books

 http://karanarora.posterous.com/insane-art-formed-by-carving-books-with-surgi 

Tad Williams OTHERLAND

KAABA !XABBU (Dream of a Black Stone)
devoid unchangeable yet simulated desire
warped and scrambled as an avatar (orator) to persona
anodyne filtering of the Other
complex disruption rationed claustrophobia
ritual journey framework
happy to drown but empty floats
callow yellow light infused water ecstatically
sleeping when nonexistence
goes going gone sluggish worshipers
microcosmic god a firefly's luring luminescence
an incomprehensible answer
god, not mystery, is dead.

The above is a bibliotherapeutic exercise, the words lifted from Williams' novel while reading, then combined in juxtaposition to create a kind of poem. My next step will be editing amalgamation for meaning. Or not, at any rate, the process has been started and I have creatively engaged with the text.

quotes from the the novel:

"...people believe things which can be measured are true things, and things which cannot be measured are untrue things. What I read of science makes it even more sad, for that is what people point to as a 'truth,' yet science itself seems to say that all we can hope to find are patterns in things. But if that is true, why is one way of explaining a pattern worse than others?"

"There was no discrimination between 'real' and 'unreal,' not at the most basic, instinctual levels of fear and desire and self-preservation."

Who is Ella Berthoud?

 http://m.thebrowser.com/interviews/ella-berthoud-on-love-literature?page=full 

Some poetry books from the library

from Writing Your Rhythm: Using Nature, Culture, Form and Myth by Diane Thiel
Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote the following with each line depicting the meter it describes:
Trochee trips from long to short;
From long to long in solemn sort
Slow Spondee stalks, strong foot, yet ill able
Ever to come up with Dactyl trisyllable
Iambics march from short to long;
With a leap and a bound the swift Anapests throng.

had to return the book at page 180. Will recheck it later. Same with
The Everything Writing Poetry Book: a practical guide to style, structure, form, and expression by Tina D. Eliopulos & Todd Scott Moffett that had a nice list of schemes of repetition to look up later: anaphora, epistrophe, epanalepsis, anadiplosis, antimetabole, chiasmus, polyptoton

Louise Rosenblatt's Literature as Exploration from bibliography

Clifford, John, ed. The Experience of Reading: Louise Rosenblatt and Reader-Response Theory, 1990.

Farrell, Edmund J., and James R. Squire, eds. Transactions with Literature, 1990.

Probst, Robert E. Response and Analysis, 1988.

Rosenblatt, Louise M. "The Transactional Theory of Reading and Writing." in Theoretical Models and Processes Of Reading, 1994.

Dewey, John. Art as Experience, 1934.

Dewey, John and Arthur E. Bentley. Knowing the the Known, 1949.

Polyani, Michael. Personal Knowledge, 1964.

Rosenblatt, Louise. L'idee de l'art pour l'art, 1931.

Goldschmidt, Walter. The Human Career: The Self in the Symbolic World, 1990.

Bruner, Jerome. Actual Minds, Possible Worlds, 1986.

Gardner, Howard. Frames of Mind: The Theory of Multiple Intelligences, 1983.

Bateson, Mary Catherine. "Composing a Life" in Atlantic Monthly, 1989.

Brooks, Cleanth and Robert Penn Warren. Understanding Poetry, 1939.

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. Poetical Works, 1912.

Dewey, John. Art as Experience, 1934.

Eiseley, Loren C. The Immense Journey, 1957.

Farrell, Edmund J. and James R. Squire. Transactions with Literature, 1990.

Horney, Karen. The Neurotic Personality of Our Time, 1937.

Huxley, Aldous. "Wordsworth in the Tropics" in Do What You Will, 1929.

Ogden, C.K. and I.A. Richards. The Meaning of Meaning, 1923.

Purves, Alan C. and Richard Beach. Literature and the Reader: Research in Response to Literature, Reading Interests, and the Teaching of Literature, 1972.

Rosenblatt, Louise M. "The Poem as Event" in College English, 1964.

Zaccario & Moses Bibliotherapy

zaccario & moses bibliotherapy
Show Details
Gottschalk (9) for example notes the following objectives:
(a) it may help the patient understand better his own psychological and physical
reactions to frustration and conflict, (b) it may help to stimulate the
patient to talk about problems which he ordinarily finds difficult to discuss
freely because of fear, shame, or guilt, (c) if through the books chosen for
him, the patient discovers his own problems in the vicissitudes of others,
his feeling of being different from others may be dispelled. If he learns
that others have successfully attacked problems similar to his, his self-esteem
may be buoyed and his eagerness stimulated to seek an adjustment
that will lessen his conflicts, (d) it may help stimulate the patient to think
constructively between interviews and to analyze and synthesize further his
attitudes and behavior patterns . It may provide therapeutically planned
vicarious life experience to which the patient has previously adjusted only
with considerable conflict without exposing him to the real dangers of actual
experience, (e) it may reinforce, by precept and example, acceptable social
and cultural patterns and inhibit infantile patterns of behavior, (f) it may
stimulate the imagination, afford vicarious satisfaction or enlarge the
patient's sphere of interests.
Bryan (7) mentions the objective of showing the reader that he is not the
first to encounter the problem he is facing. In addition she cites the following
aims of bibliotherapy: (a) to permit the reader to see that more than one
solution to his problem is possible and that some choice may be made in the
way in which it is handled, (b) to help the reader see the basic motivations
of people involved in a particular situation, including his own, (c) to help
the reader see the values involved in experience in human rather than material
terms, (d) to provide facts needed for the solution of problems, (e)
to encourage the reader to face his situation realistically and to plan and
carry through a constructive course of action.
Twyeffort (27) regards the development of insight as the crucial factor
in successful therapy: (a) the individualized prescription of reading may
prove a valuable adjunct to treatment in helping the patient to achieve insight,
which involves an emotional as well as an intellectual appreciation of
the causes of illness and may often include a need for emotional growth away
from infantile reaction patterns, (b) it may assist toward a better understanding
of the manifold function of personality, especially the role of the
emotions, the nature of complexes, and their role in emotional conflicts,
(c) reading helps the patient to verbalize and externalize his problems, (d)
it may assist him in formulating the underlying difficulties if he has the opportunity
of viewing these same problems objectively as they occur in other
individual lives, (e) it may help to dispel in part his sense of isolation; a
measure of reassurance will come as the patient becomes desensitized to his
conviction of the uniqueness of his particular experience, (f) where the
source of emotional conflict lies not in character traits but in situational
factors, if the patient is confronted with a similar situation in his reading,
his reticence may be overcome, and objective discussion of his difficulty
facilitated, (g) when his difficulties spring from his personal liabilities,
considerable help may result from being able to see how other persons have
faced and tackled apparent failure with success, (h) planned reading may
assist in the determining and weighing of values, leading to a more satisfactory
orientation to life goals, (i) it may facilitate insight through frank stock-taking of personal assets and liabilities, (j) it maY stimulate the
patient to think between interviews and to digest and synthesize what he has
learned about himself, (k) it may result in creating 'movement' in a refractory
patient who is inclined to respond at a superficial level, (1) it may
stimulate new and creative interests or enlarge the sphere of existing or
latent interests.
Appel (2) ascribes to bibliotherapy the following uses: (a) to acquire
information and knowledge about the psychology and physiology of human
behavior, (b) to enable the individual to live up to the injunction of 'know
thyself, (c) to 'extravert' the patient and arouse interest in something outside
the self; (d) to arouse interest in and acquaintance with external reality,
(e) to effect a controlled release (abreaction) of unconscious processes,
(f) to offer opportunity for identification and compensation, (g) to help the
patient develop a clarification of his difficulties and insight into his condition,
(h) to utilize the experiences of others in effecting a cure. Reading
not only supplements the knowledge and experience of the therapist, but extends
the period of the therapeutic conference, when the patient cannot be
seeing the doctor, (i) to aid the patient to live more effectively.
Rosenblatt (20) analyzes the contributions of imaginative literature to
adjustment in terms of its social and personal values. Prolonged contact
with the personalities to be found in books leads to increased social sensitivity,
enabling the reader imaginatively to put himself into the place of
others; it may develop the habit of sensing the subtle interactions of temperament
upon temperament, so that the reader may come to understand
the needs and aspirations of others and thus make a more successful adjustment
in his daily relations with them. Literature enables one to feel intensely
the needs, sufferings, and aspirations of people whose personal interests
are distinct from his own, by nourishing the imaginative flexibility
essential to socialization.
Bibliotherapy can help the individual assimilate the culture pattern by
acquainting him with the superstructure of attitudes and expectancies which
he must erect on the basis of fundamental human impulses. At the same
time literature may release him from provincialism, by extending the
boundaries of his awareness beyond his own family, community, and national
background. From a personal point of view, literature enables one
to rehearse various possibilities of action in a given situation through an
imaginative trial and error process. In trying out various possible modes
of behavior and in envisioning the probable effects, the reader is afforded
an ideal opportunity for experiment. Through vicarious experience the
reader may be enabled to bring into consciousness various experiences, attitudes,
or impulses in his own nature or past emotional life, which, because
of feelings of guilt, he has submerged or censored. Thus he may be
released from unconscious fears and obsessions of guilt.
Moreover, one can talk of a book more readily than one can of his own
problems without the embarrassment of explicit self-revelation. A further
value lies in the means it provides for the sublimation through catharsis
of socially disapproved impulses, such as the desire for violence or
cruelty, the need to dominate others, the need for sex expression, or the wish to strike back. Literature can suggest socially approved channels of expression for such emotions and impulses; it may direct anti- social
fantasies into healthier channels. In short, literature may contribute to
one's understanding of his own emotional responses to a person or situation
by starting an inner readjustment which will modify his response to the
next person or situation encountered.
Rosenblatt further recognizes the preventive values of literature. It
may help to prevent the growth of neurotic tendencies through the vicarious
participation of the reader in other lives. The guilt-possessed or rebellious
adolescent may come to understand himself better and may learn to
perceive the value of his own temperamental bent even though it is not valued
in his own environment. Literature provides contrasts to the contemporary
American norm of the extroverted, go-getting, shrewd business man:
When the adolescent becomes aware of the fact that his present
experiences and anxieties are not unique and that others have
had the same impulses and conflicts, he may be better able to
handle them. Frequently literature is the only means by which
he can see he is 'normal' and allay guilt and fear thereby
(20:242-243).
Menninger summarizes the aim of the program in bibliotherapy at the
Menninger Clinic. Its purpose, beyond its recreational and social values,
is to encourage the individual to invest interest outside of himself and to
assist him in making contacts with external reality and gain insight into the
nature of his problems. Certain narcissistic gratifications may ensue from
the patient's reading: namely, escaping from his own conflict, making an
effort to maintain contact with reality, strengthening the ego, and desiring
to gain social approval through the therapist's interest and affection (17).
Russell submits six hypotheses about what reading may do for children
if certain conditions obtain: namely, that the children are able to read easily
and well; that a wide variety of suitable reading materials are available;
that a permissive reading environment exists; and that school and community
experiences reinforce the reading. Under these conditions reading may
increase understanding of the child's own behavior and that of others; it
may contribute to competence in activities with the accompanying positive
effects of such achievement; it may give a feeling of belonging to and understanding
one's own country; it can provide for fun and escape; and it may
contribute to ethical values.
Smith (23) affirms the power of literature to promote the development
of youth in the following ways: It can help young people to gauge themselves
accurately, to understand the motives of human conduct in general
and their own in particular, and to become aware of the many-sided influences
which play constantly upon them as they adjust to the world they
live in. It can contribute to their understanding of the widening and deepening
problems of life. It provides an inevitable substitute for direct experience
of the distant in time or place, or the inscrutable or obscure in
terms of our capacity to enter into it or understand. Finally, as a major
record of man's search for truth, it permits the reader to stand off on one
side to observe life. (pg10)
Reply to: Reply to Rory Loren
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Univ of Maryland Bibliotherapy Resource

 http://www.umaryland.edu/counseling/bibliotherapy.html 

notes from The Reader, the Text, the Poem by Louise Rosenblatt

p.132
Walter Pater's first step for the reader...primary goal when meeting the text is to have as full an aesthetic experience as possible, given own capacities and the sensibilities, preoccupations and memories brought to the transaction...the reader needs to slough off the old self-image as passively receiving the electric shocks of verbal stimuli. Then the quality of the work as experienced is seen as a function also of his close attention to the qualitative nuances produced by his own handling of his responses.
...the ephemeral personal evocation which is the literary work cannot be held static for later inspection. It cannot be shared directly with anyone else; it cannot be directly evaluated by others. Its ineffable and inward character undeniably present problems. Yes, in talking about the literary work we must have recourse to introspection and memory--anathema though they be to those who simplistically seek the objectivity...
p. 137
Whatever the reader may later add to that original creative activity is also rooted in his own responses during the reading event. His primary subject matter is the web of feelings, sensations, images, ideas that he weaves between himself and the text.
p.141
...the ordinary reader must refuse to abdicate his own role as a creator, or evoker, of a work from the text, per transactional reality: no one else, no matter how much more competent, more informed nearer to the ideal (whatever that might be), can read (perform) the poem or the story of the play for us.
p. 143
The reader needs to realize fully, to honor, what he is living through in his evocation of the work. This can spark a sense of engaging...in the same kind of creative enterprise as the expert, the critic. The emphasis should be on the creative transaction, a coming together of a human being (with all that implies of past experience and present preoccupations) and a text (with all that implies of potentialities for participation.)
p.145
The sense of personal identity comes largely from self-definition as against the "other," the external world of people and things. Literary texts provide us with a widely broadened "other" through which to define ourselves and our world. Reflection on our meshing with the text can foster the process of self-definition in a variety of ways... What within myself, the reader may ask, what temperamental leanings, what view of the world, what standards, made it less or more easy for me to animate the world symbolized by the text? What hitherto-untapped potentialities for feeling, thought, and perhaps action, have I discovered through this experience? the possibilities are infinite: the insights derived from contrasts with my own temperament and my own environment; the empathy with violence, the sadistic impulse, that may now be faced and perhaps controlled; the compassion for others formerly felt to be alien; the opportunity for trying out alternative modes of behavior in imagined situations...
p. 151
...psychological patterns or complexes of each reader may be revealed in characteristic responses while literary transactions free him to give utterance to underlying biases and obsessive attitudes. increasing self-understanding and consequent mis- or divergent interpretations may provide clues to the readers' preoccupations.
p. 153
In the last analysis, it is always individual readers evaluating their own personal transactions with the text; we must recognize the uniqueness that derives from the individual's particular selecting-out of elements from the cultural milieu, and the special value-demands due to the unique moment in the reader's life in which the literary transaction takes place. ...As with the evocatory and interpretive aspect of the reading process. reflection can lead to clarification and to confirmation or revision, of those primary evaluative responses.
p. 157
Literary transactions are woven into the fabric of individual lives. Personal meaningfulness should be recognized as at least one of the possible criteria to be applied by a reader assessing the reading event. of course, powerful personal reverberations and moments of intensity or illumination may be the result of the coming together of the reader and the text at an especially propitious moment. The reader, it can be said, provides at that point in his life or in that social situation, particularly receptive context, a kind of amplifier, for what he derives from the text. We should of course recognize the extent of the reader's projective contribution. Nevertheless, we should honor the intensity of fullness of consummation of the experience.
p. 173
By means of texts, the individual may share in the funded knowledge and wisdom of our culture. For the individual reader, each text is a new situation, a new challenge. The literary work of art is an important kind of transaction with the environment precisely because it permits self-aware acts of consciousness. The reader, bringing his own particular temperament and fund of past transactions to the text, lives through a process of handling new situations, new attitudes, new personalities, new conflicts in values. These he can reject, revise, or assimilate into the resources with which he engages his world.
...the essence of a work of art is precisely that a consciousness is a living through, a synthesizing evocation, from a text which involves many levels of the organism.
p. 174
With the aesthetic transaction as his fulcrum, the reader-critic can range as far as he wishes, bringing to bear ever wider and richer circles of literary, social, ethical, and philosophical contexts., achieving a certain objectivity through reflective self-awareness, through understanding that the work envisaged is a product of the reverberations between what he has brought to the text and what the text offers. He seeks to understand how his own sense of life, his own values, coincide with, or differ from , the world that he has participated in through the transaction with the text. ...The transactional concept can only reinforce interest in the dynamics of the relationship between the author, the text, the reader, and their cultural environments.
p. 175 Walt Whitman quote from "Democratic Vistas" in Prose Works 1892:
Books are to be call'd for, and supplied, on the assumption that the process of reading is not a half-sleep, but, in the highest sense, an exercise, a gymnast's struggle; that the reader is to do something for himself, must be on the alert, must himself or herself construct indeed the poem, argument, history, metaphysical essay--the text furnishing the hints, the clue, the start or frame-work. Not the book needs so much to be the complete thing, but the reader of the book does. That were to make a nation of supple and athletic minds, well-train'd, intuitive, used to depend on themselves, and not on a few coteries of writers.

Active Imagination aka "the golden thread"

http://www.folkstory.com/articles/onceupon.html

Once Upon a Time
How Fairy Tales Shape Our Lives

by Jonathan Young

Inside Journal magazine - Fall 1997
Rapunzel Singing in the Tower by Frank Cadogan Cowper

When the people of Hamelin refused to pay the Pied Piper what they had promised, he led the children of the village away with his magical music. This key moment in a familiar fairy tale carries many insights. It is, at once, a commentary on social values, a vivid example of family tragedy, and a bit of personal psychology. Folklore is compacted wisdom literature that yields more information with each reading.

There is much we can learn by reflecting on the stories heard in childhood. Magical characters such as the Pied Piper, the talking frog and the fairy godmother are likely to remain in the imagination for a lifetime. The adventures these stories describe often reflect challenges we face in our journeys. The tales hide a wealth of insights just below the surface. They are clearly more than mere entertainment for children.

My own first hearing of many of the old stories was in the places where they originated. Throughout my childhood, our family traveled abroad for several months every few years. There were six children. Keeping all the kids quiet took some imagination. My parents came up with an ingenious, and life-changing, idea, which was to have us study the local tales.

When we were in Denmark, we visited the home of Hans Christian Andersen, and discussed his stories, such as The Little Mermaid. In Germany, we went to the village of Hamelin, where the tale of the Pied Piper takes place. In each location, we would thoroughly examine a story and the sites associated with it. In Baghdad, it was the Arabian Nights. While visiting Greece and Egypt, we would discuss mythology. In the temples of India and Japan, the tales of Asia came to life. Seeing how the adventures reflected their settings and how the stories are still alive in those places was a powerful experience. It shaped my sense of the world.

Various people can imagine the tales quite differently. I had heard the stories before and had pictures in my mind about what the places looked like. When I saw, for example, the spot in Germany where the Pied Piper supposedly led the children away, it didn't look exactly the same as I had imagined. In a way, noticing that difference made me aware of how our creativity works. It was a glimpse into the power of imagination.

I later learned how these stories portray life issues in miniature. The story of the Pied Piper reminds us that every parent has to deal with letting go of their children and every former child has to cope with feelings about how it is to leave home. If we take the tale as a reflection of the inner landscape, we see that all the characters can represent aspects of our own personalities. The village leaders may symbolize a practical, thrifty side that does not sufficiently appreciate our magical qualities or artistic abilities. If we cheat the imagination of appropriate time and resources, things may go badly. Creativity and play engage the childlike energies that can leave us in a state of depression if they depart.

These tales are psychological mirrors and we become more complex as we mature. The storytellers intentionally loaded the adventures with heavy symbolism to reveal more meanings as we develop a deeper awareness of ourselves. Bedtime stories have enormous influence over our identities. People identify with certain characters in the stories they heard in childhood. To some degree, many live out these stories, largely unaware of how much the old tales may be shaping our lives.

It is a great treasure to know and reveal which tales from our childhood have a hold on us. Once the general pattern or storyline becomes evident, the challenge is to participate in the rewriting of our own story. We may not be able to create the rivers that carry us along but we can certainly navigate the little boats of our lives.

Mythic stories make up a kind of collective dream that we all have together. If we want to understand our dreams, in many respects, we can look at these stories and study them. If we want to understand the stories better, we can study our dreams. There is a great inter-relationship between these two forms of our imagination.

A talking animal in a story is often the voice of nature. Among other messages, we are being reminded that we are also animals. We are walking around in animal flesh. We sometimes forget this in our excessively mental, all too industrial culture. We are, first of all, animal creatures. We are not just visitors to nature, or merely caretakers of nature. We are nature. Guiding animals are crucial in mythic stories. Psychologically, this might well represent the wisdom of the body.

Sinister or wicked characters may represent aspects of ourselves that have been neglected or rejected. Carl Jung noted that the shadow energies in dreams and stories often appear as threatening witches or wolves. Jung insisted that something good can come from this darkness. Something valuable waits for us in the shadow. We are not to exclude that from how we define ourselves. Ultimately, inclusion is the goal. The challenge is to integrate these elements into identity in a constructive manner.

The darker elements in some tales often reveal shadow energies in an action, an image, or even a setting. The deep dark forest is a common representation of the feared elements within. The monsters live in the forest. The forest can reflect parts of ourselves that are never entirely tamed, that are always somewhat dangerous and chaotic. These elements sometimes come up in nightmares. They are important parts of ourselves. In some ways, they are the most creative aspects of our inner world. We need to go into the dark forest. It is difficult and mysterious. Still, fresh energies and new ideas come from that place.

Often we need the experiences in life that seem like setbacks and shadows. These can be difficult times. On the first reaction we wish we could avoid them. Ultimately, in hindsight, we realize those were enormously valuable moments. Such experiences force us to claim aspects of ourselves that we have neglected to develop. We become more than we thought was possible.

There is a tale about a farmer who plowing in his field. Suddenly, his plow catches on something. The farmer digs down to see what the plow has snagged on and he finds it has hooked a large ring. He digs farther, gets the plow unstuck, but sees that the ring emerges from a large flat stone. After more digging, the farmer lifts the ring and the stone. As the stone rises, it reveals the entrance to a deep underground cave filled with treasures.

The parable suggests that when something interrupts what we are trying to do, we should not be too sure this is a negative event. If we look into the impediment to our progress, we may open up hidden places in our souls and reveal secret riches. After discovering the buried treasure, we have the task of integrating these deep realms of beauty into our daily lives.

Learning to find the guidance in familiar adventures is not difficult but does take a little effort. The starting point is understanding symbolism. Certain significant images communicate helpful information. The key is knowing how to decode the messages. The farmer getting stuck shows how trouble can interrupt our journeys for good reasons that we may not immediately grasp. The tale is a visual experience. Any one of the symbols in a classic story is worthy of a close look. If we meditate on the flow of images, and reflect on the meanings it presents to us, the rewards can be great.

The ancient tales have their own lives, each with unique, eccentric qualities. Part of the richness is that the same story will have different lessons for each person who listens. Stories can be like the Holy Grail, which, when passed from person to person, let them drink what they alone desired. Also, when we come back to the same story after a time, it will tell us new things. Stories can speak to us in several ways at once. The practical aspects of our personalities appreciate the assistance they provide in prudent decision-making. Our playful child-like energies find the stories to be great fun. The quiet, spiritual side is grateful to have some time invested in reflection.

Poet William Stafford had a favorite image. He said that the work of creativity is to "follow the golden thread." Something catches your attention, a feeling, an image, an idea, the events of a moment. The challenge is to pay attention to that subtle urge and follow it gently. We must roll out the golden thread with care or it will break. Opening ourselves to greater significance in familiar stories requires a certain tenderness of spirit. The notions will be fragile at first. We must hold them gently for a time until they deliver their message to us. The effects of what we learn might well last for a lifetime.

Norman Holland's Thinking "in his own words"

Norman N. Holland's Thinking
(Outline form)



You only know things through some human act of perception.

There is no "god's eye" view.
As a reader or critic, you only know "the text" through your own or someone else's act of construction.
You only know "the text" (or anything else) through your identity or personal style of perceiving, experiencing, etc.

You can read a person's style as an identity. Definition: a person's identity is--a person can be described as--an identity theme plus the history of variations acted out on that theme.

An identity theme is a phrasing of a distinctive style that permeates the person's actions and thoughts, a unifying theme in that human being.
Weak version: "one can read" someone that way.
Strong version: evidence from brain science says that early experience marks the brain, inscribing an identity of this kind on the brain. Hence we can count on consistency in the people around us.

One can, however, only infer an identity through one's own or someone else's act of construction. One can only know an identity through an identity. Identity, one's own or anyone else's, cannot be known absolutely.
A person--an identity--senses and acts on the world through processes of feedback.

A feedback consists of three elements: a standard or hypothesis that one applies; a physical or mental way of applying that hypothesis to a text (or the world) and sensing what happens; a comparator that compares what is fed back from a text (or the world) to the original hypothesis.
The familiar example: a thermostat. The setting for desired temperature is like a hypothesis: Is this room 68 degrees? The device compares the temperature its thermometer senses with the desired temperature. If they are not the same, the device acts on the furnace and tries the hypothesis again.
One can put feedbacks in a hierarchy. A "higher" feedback loop can act by providing the standard for a "lower" feedback loop. Thus, perception controls motor activity (a "lower" loop) that feeds back and so controls perception.
One can distinguish three levels of feedback, hierarchically arranged
The highest level, the standard or hypothesis that governs everything else, is a unique identity interpreted as a theme and variations. It sets standards for the lower-level feedbacks and emotionally reacts to feedback outcomes
that identity governs, at intermediate levels, loops internalized from one's culture:
canon-loops, rules chosen, about which different "interpretive communities" regularly differ (e.g., political and aesthetic values)
code-loops, rules dictated by culture, about which no member of the culture would disagree (e.g., a red light means stop, green means go)
a special intermediate type of these rules are the metaphors described by cultural linguists (e.g., understanding is seeing).
identity and culture govern physiological loops of perception and activity common to all humans.
Humans are always already linked to these loops. We are born cultural.
In a specifically literary or filmic context, one can distinguish four kinds of hypotheses--questions--we bring to a work (DEFT):
Expectation: what do I hope for from this work?
Defense: will this work cause me guilt, anxiety, or other unpleasure, or will I be able to manage it?
Fantasy: will I be able to get from it the kind of gratification I favor?
Transformation: can I achieve the kind of "making sense of it" that I favor?
Common misconceptions about this position.
The text has vanished? No. The text is very much there. It is what the reader is responding to.
The system is solipsistic? Not in the technical sense that the self is the only reality. There are all kinds of realities, but we only know them through a self.
The system makes everything subjective? The system rests on what seems to me a truism, that we only know things through some human act of knowing. Any person's act of knowing expresses an identity and will be in some respects different from any other person's act of knowing the same thing. All knowing is, in that sense, "subjective." But acts of knowing also share codes and canons that make them similar.
Any reading is as good as any other? No. One can make judgments of good and bad--indeed, one cannot avoid doing so. From this perspective, however, one should state the basis on which one is making them. Otherwise one asserts an absolute, and the conversation ends.
There is no point in teaching? No. A good teacher helps students discover the canons and codes by which we know things. A good teacher challenges, develops, and adds to those codes.

Access to works by Norman Holland

Norman Holland is interested in literature and the brain.
http://www.normholland.com/

from The Delphi Seminar with Norman Holland & Murray Schwartz

the work as a whole or parts of it (characters,
phrases, ideas) that particularly
interest you.
Whatever you write about, try to
avoid the intellectual, analytical response
of the ordinary English class. Try instead
for three things: feelings, associations,
persons.
Feelings should form the foundation of
your written response. Describe them as
best you can . . . as precisely and as fully.
Analogies will help you and lead you
toward associations, that is, ideas, memories,
or thoughts that come to mind as
you let the literary work 'float' in your
consciousness.

After five weeks of writing about
poems and stories, the group took a
crucial step in order to discover more
clearly the characteristics of our several
styles of response. We began writing
about ourselves. We treated our accumulated
responses as themselves texts to be
written about, partly in the same associative
way as poems and stories, but partly
in explicit analysis of the personal
style we thought an individual was bringing
to the literary experience.

Thinking as teachers, the two of us
believe a Delphi seminar would work
with any combination of students, graduates,
undergraduates, or even schoolchildren,
and in a variety of subject
matters-provided the group is willing to
chance the Delphi method. That is, if
both teachers and students will risk a
temporary abandonment of the shelter of
subject matter to explore the feelings of
self and others, they can come back to
subject matter in a more profound, more
vital, and more honest way. In life and
letters we use our selves as sensing instruments.
In a Delphi seminar, both teachers
and students accept and articulate that
truth as they respond to literature, persons,
or any other subject matter.

Academic full text resource for reader response theory from State University Libraries of Florida

http://ufdc.ufl.edu/psa1/all?n=palmm

Norman Holland's Reader Response Criticism

In 1968, Norman Holland drew on psychoanalytic psychology in The Dynamics of Literary Response to model the literary work. Each reader introjects a fantasy "in" the text, then modifies it by defense mechanisms into an interpretation. In 1973, however, having recorded responses from real readers, Holland found variations too great to fit this model in which responses are mostly alike but show minor individual variations.

Holland then developed a second model based on his case studies 5 Readers Reading. An individual has (in the brain) a core identity theme (behaviors then becoming understandable as a theme and variations as in music). This core gives that individual a certain style of being--and reading. Each reader uses the physical literary work plus invariable codes (such as the shapes of letters) plus variable canons (different "interpretive communities", for example) plus an individual style of reading to build a response both like and unlike other readers' responses. Holland worked with others at the State University of New York at Buffalo, Murray Schwartz, David Willbern, and Robert Rogers, to develop a particular teaching format, the "Delphi seminar," designed to get students to "know themselves".