Tuesday, June 10, 2008

These are but wild and whirling words

Jones, Keith. ““Why, you are nothing then: Neither Maid, Widow, nor Wife?”: Motives, Morals, and Marriages in Measure for Measure.” WORD and RITE: The Bible and Ceremony in Selected Shakespeare Plays. The Shakespeare Institute. 5-7 June 2008
All the wonderful material presented at the Shakespeare Institute Conference is wildly whirling in my mind.

Conferences like these are energizing—there’s a great deal to think about afterwards, and some challenging ideas to explore.

And that doesn’t exclude my own essay. I hope it will find a home in some journal or as part of a larger project. It was, I believe, well-received, but twenty minutes goes by remarkably quickly! 


By the way, someone inquired as to the word count for the essay, so I thought it fair to post that information here. The essay was 4,597 words long.

By my calcualations, that’s about 229 words per minute. And that’s about 3.8 words per second.

My goodness! I was reading at a good clip, wasn’t I?

[Actually, I did edit out about four or five hundred words while reading the essay. But I do tend to read fast when I’m nervous, and I think I may have packed too much into the presentation.]
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Bardfilm is normally written as one word, though it can also be found under a search for "Bard Film Blog." Bardfilm is a Shakespeare blog (admittedly, one of many Shakespeare blogs), and it is dedicated to commentary on films (Shakespeare movies, The Shakespeare Movie, Shakespeare on television, Shakespeare at the cinema), plays, and other matter related to Shakespeare (allusions to Shakespeare in pop culture, quotes from Shakespeare in popular culture, quotations that come from Shakespeare, et cetera).

Unless otherwise indicated, quotations from Shakespeare's works are from the following edition:
Shakespeare, William. The Riverside Shakespeare. 2nd ed. Gen. ed. G. Blakemore Evans. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1997.
All material original to this blog is copyrighted: Copyright 2008-2039 (and into perpetuity thereafter) by Keith Jones.

The very instant that I saw you did / My heart fly to your service; there resides, / To make me slave to it; and, for your sake, / Am I this patient [b]log-man.

 —The Tempest