8th of March. The annual "when will we get a men's day?" day. I subtly indicated my impatience with the question last year, but agreed that there is more to be done in other parts of the world. That remains true; however, because stating the obvious gets old after a while, I thought I'd tackle the objection to feminism in the West today.

Surely it is obsolete? Women are running around deciding things all over the place; and not just what to make for dinner! Women are drinking as much as men, and we even get to have sex before marriage. Not to mention the fact that we are in universities and board rooms. Women, certainly in Norway, but one would think in the West as a whole, can be whatever they want to be, do whatever they want to do (within the legal limits that also apply to men, of course). Surely, we are home safe?

That is the trick. The legal stuff is, if not easy, then at least very obvious: you can point to it, demonstrate codified discrimination, and make a fuss. What remains is sneakier. People who make a fuss about it tend to be dismissed as hysteric women. And therein lies the problem.

Forskning.no recently had a piece on how Fem, a Norwegian television channel specifically directed at women, seems to broadcast an inordinate amount of nonsense (in which superstition and alternative medicine, not to mention crop circles ...

I dag er Fetetirsdag (eller mardi gras om man vil). Dette var egentlig aldri noe jeg tenkte noe særlig over før jeg flyttet til Storbritannia (jeg har inntrykk av at Fastelavnssøndag er mye viktigere i Norge). Men i Storbritannia kaller man altså dagen "Shrove Tuesday" eller ganske enkelt "Pancake Day". For det er pannekaker det handler om. Primært pannekaker med sukker og sitron.

Kort historisk digresjon: poenget med fetetirsdag er selvsagt at morgendagen er den såkalte "askeonsdag", den første dagen i fasten (40 dager til minne om Jesu' opphold i ørkenen, hvor han angivelig motsto allslags fristelser -- men ikke sjokolade, da sjokolade ennå ikke hadde dukket opp i den delen av verden). I løpet av fasten skulle man helst unngå mat som kom fra dyr, som kjøtt, egg og melk -- og da passer det jo godt at de to sistnevnte i alle fall kan brukes opp i pannekakelaging. Det er selvsagt knyttet til karnevalskonseptet (karneval, fra italiensk: carne levare eller latin carnem levāre, som betyr å legge bort kjøttet).

Jeg følte imidlertid ikke at jeg kunne skrive en av disse kalenderbaserte matspaltene om vanlige pannekaker, delvis siden vi med jevne mellomrom lager dem uten å måtte ty til oppskriftbøkene og delvis fordi dere sikkert allerede kan lage pannekaker og strø sukker og sitron på uten hjelp fra meg.

Jeg kikket derfor litt rundt i bokhyllen og oppdaget at Jamie Oliver hadde en spennede oppskrift på
Awesome Apple Pancakes (og ting som heter "awesome" må jo være bra).

Vi doblet oppskriften ...

"If I tell you it's gangster-political with a dash of steampunk you will get exactly the wrong idea", Harkaway told me in August 2009. And gangster-political steampunk it is; but not the kind you might think.

This is no faux-Victorian crime novel. It is unabashedly political and topical, with a generous helping of spies (or one former spy who feels like a generous helping), undertakers, a glorious train and a lawyer. And bad guys (not to be confused with the gangster-bit). Really very scary bad guys.

A select few knew how much I was looking forward to the arrival of this book. Only close family and friends and everyone who has met me over the last couple of years (or bumped into me online). I get enthusiastic, occasionally; and when I get enthusiastic, I do it enthusiastically, with enthusiasm. The Gone-Away World had its wicked way with me. But it is a first book.

Discovering Wodehouse is fairly safe, as is discovering Dumas or Doyle or Woolf or Austen or Peake or any number of other established authors. Falling for the first book of a new author is terrifying: it could all be a horrible, happy accident; what you loved about the book might be that which is shed as its author moves on to write the next. And so I approached Angelmaker with equal parts terror and giddy enthusiasm.

It is not The Gone-Away World II. This is a Good Thing: books should be different from each other ...

Today, this very day, the 7th of February, we dance joyfully through the streets, celebrating the Dickens Bicentennial: the Inimitable Boz is 200.

On the 7th of February 1812, a few months before Napoleon took the silly step of invading Russia, 20 days before Lord Byron first addressed the House of Lords, Charles John Huffam Dickens was born at 13 Mile End Terrace, Portsea, Portsmouth. If you are not busy dancing in the streets, you can read more on the man at the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (for now, at least).

The picture above was left unfinished upon the painter's death, five years after Dickens himself had died and left The Mystery of Edwin Drood unfinished. In 1836 Buss had almost gotten the job of illustrating The Pickwick Papers (after the first illustrator shot himself), but he ran into trouble with technology and was passed over in favour of Hablot Knight Browne (more commonly known as "Phiz"). 30-something years later, when Dickens died, Buss started painting this watercolour, which shows Dickens surrounded by the characters he created. These are iconic scenes from the books, showing the characters in their most famous poses.

I could have opened with a picture of Dickens, a photography; a young picture or an old picture, there are enough to choose from. But this painting more than anything, I think, presents Dickens the author, surrounded by the products of his mind, which is ...

Jeg sa tidligere i år at jeg har en intensjon om å bli flinkere til å bruke de mange fine oppskriftbøkene våre, og at jeg ville lage en ny rett én gang i måneden (minst). I januar er det kaldt og mørkt og alt er litt vanskelig. Det er derfor viktig, når man inviterer en utvalgt gruppe mennesker på mat, at man kan gjøre noe lettvint som likevel oser av kvalitet. Aller helst noe litt vektig. Og aller, aller helst noe som kan lage seg selv mens man rydder og vasker litt og dytter rotet inn på kontoret og lukker døra.

Som svar på våre bønner: Andreas Viestads oksegryte (med små variasjoner).

Caveat: Det er veldig viktig å ikke tenke at det tar 0 tid å lage denne retten. Det tenkte nemlig vi (jeg skylder på Tor). Siden alt bare skal kuttes i biter og slenges i gryten og så stå i ovnen og lage seg selv, tok vi det ganske rolig i morges, til tross for at vi visste den skulle stå i ovnen i mange timer. Vi slentret oss avgårde på butikken, kjøpte de ingrediensene vi ikke alltid har liggende i skapet, og trasket oss hjem igjen. Og så brukte vi sikkert en time på å kutte alt. Dette skyldes delvis at jeg tok bilder istedet for å hjelpe til.

1.8 kg bankebiff (de hadde ikke oksebringe, men kjøttet skal visst være seigt)
2 epler
Grønnsaker (1 kålrot, 2 gulrøtter, 1 hvitløk, 1 løk)
3-4 ss soyasaus ...

I call myself a bibliophile. [Cue all who have ever met me saying "well, duh" or some variation thereof.]



I have been reading almost for as long as I can remember; before that my parents read to me every night. I have devoured stories, admired language, marvelled at plots, loved characters, hated characters, gotten lost in worlds, lived exciting lives, seen wonders, wondered what would happen, cried, laughed, (yawned,) felt all manner of feelings and always, always wanted more.

When I was younger I would lie awake, reading with one hand on the light switch, having perfected a technique of closing the book, turning out the light and lying down in bed in one motion in case my parents came to check that I was asleep. I read while I walk, on the bus, on a plane, and sometimes even while knitting.

I studied literature, teach literature, read every day. It is an absolutely fundamental part of my life, central to my identity (both in that I see myself as someone who reads and in that what I have read has shaped how I see the world), and something I cannot imagine not wanting to do. I love the feeling of making my brain meet something new as much as the comfortable (safe) feeling of rereading. I read fiction and fact and that something in between. And I read (as I've stated before) a bit like a kid in a candy store (with no sense that one should finish ...

Det er jo noe med arbitrære inndelinger av tid som gir en illusjon av nye muligheter, rene blader og denslags. Jeg er generelt ikke en stor tilhenger av nyttårsforsetter, mest fordi jeg gjerne glemmer dem sånn halvveis uti januar; men ved å komme på ett nettopp sånn halvveis ute i januar tenkte jeg at jeg kanskje kunne unngå dét i alle fall.

Saken er den at vi har en del kokebøker, kokebøker som vi ikke er så flinke å bruke. Det er litt trist, for noen av dem er veldig gode kokebøker; og grunnen til at vi ikke bruker dem er ikke at vi er så geniale eksperimentører (om det ikke er et ord er det på tide det blir det, for "eksperimentalist" er noe annet) at vi stadig finner frem til nye og spennende retter på egenhånd: Vi går, tvert imot, gjennom en 10-20 retter hele året. Med enkelte sjeldne unntak.

Siden Tor og jeg har så god tid i år tenkte vi at det var det perfekte tidspunkt å gjøre noe med dette på. Tor sitter derfor nå og leser Cooking for Geeks, av Jeff Potter, fra perm til perm; og jeg har gått raskt gjennom noen av de mer lovende kokebøkene våre på jakt etter spennende ting vi kan lage fremover.

Jeg oppdaget at Mat & Drikke av Tom Victor Gausdal og Ole Martin Alfsen er inndelt etter årets måneder, og det passer jo ekstra bra. Her er nemlig planen:

I løpet av året skal vi prøve ...

04.00
Nå har alle gått hjem/for å legge seg. Og alle var enige om at det var en fin fest. Godt nytt år!

03.20
Vi fortviler over universitetssystemet og skolesystemet generelt og gråter bitre tårer over studenter som bare er interesserte i å stå på eksamen, ikke i å lære noe.

Nå kommer endelig Karoline og Anja, også.

Karoline: Jeg skal gjøre det bra på skolen. Og jeg skal være like lite sosial som jeg har vært hittil. Og Anja og jeg skal komme oss ut mer (ut i naturen). Jeg skal være mer hyggelig og omgjengelig.

Anja: Jeg skal komme igang med jogging igjen. Og spare penger til studiotid.


03.15
Vi ser på fjorårets nyttårsforsetter og ler og gråter.


Årets nyttårsforsetter er:

Are: Jeg skal veie under 83 kilo i andre halvår i snitt.

Ingvild: Jeg skal trene ryggen min (3 ganger i uken). Og la være å ødelegge akillesene. Gå en skikkelig tur i marka minst en gang i måneden. Lese mer norsk samtidslitteratur.

Silje: Jeg skal reise mer. Skal ha minst tre utenlandsturer i løpet av året (Glasgow er ikke nok). Og lese minst to skjønnlitterære bøker i måneden. Kanskje mer. Videreføre det der med å ikke være så paranoid. Skal være mindre socially awkward. Jeg skal bli mer normal.

Tor: Jeg skal skrive ferdig doktorgraden min. Jeg tror det er alt, egentlig.

Camilla: Jeg skal skrive ferdig den jævla graden. Og få enda en jobb (midlertidige jobber er ikke noe gøy). Lese ...

In 2012 we mark the bicentennial of the birth of Charles Dickens, and to contribute to the general ubiquity I intend to write a few articles about the man and his writing in this great forum. I expect, however, that by the end of next year most people may be a tad overwhelmed, and so I thought I'd do Dickens and Christmas now rather than in a year's time.

It is sometimes said that Charles Dickens invented Christmas as we know it (or as the British know it, at any rate); like most common knowledge, this is both a bit true and a bit not so true.

Christmas, in the early Victorian period, was just beginning to make a comeback. It had been banned by the Puritans under Cromwell, and while it was reintroduced with the Restoration, it had gotten a bit of a knock: the churches continued to oppose it as a frivolous Catholic celebration, and Christmas as it was celebrated was becoming a rather sombre, serious religious holiday and stood in danger of disappearing altogether.

When people say that Dickens invented Christmas, they are referring to his project of recasting it as a family-centred holiday with a philanthropic and merry sheen, which draws on older Christmas traditions (with the Tudor period standing as the ideal) with dancing and games and merriment. (Dickens was not the first to try to revive these older customs. He was heavily influenced, for example, by Washington Irving -- the man behind ``The ...

Lightning Rods tells the story of the introduction of women as sexual lightning rods into corporate American office environments in order to ward off sexual harassment lawsuits. Joe, the man behind the idea, bases it in one of his recurring sexual fantasies, and much of the novel concerns what happens when you translate fantasy into real life.

At first, I did not recognise this as a Helen DeWitt novel at all. You may ask with what temerity I presume to talk of "Helen DeWitt novels" when there has only ever been one (however wonderful that one is*), but there it is: I have spent some 10 years or so reading and re-reading The Last Samurai, and had formed some very clear ideas of what characterised this novel, and extrapolated from there to a general tendency. This is a dangerous thing to do.

DeWitt has said that

It was very different from The Last Samurai, so different that 50% (at a guess) of readers who loved TLS hated the book.

And for a moment there I really thought I was going to be one of them. The opening of the book really threw me. It did not help, of course, that my rather prudish mind was rather taken aback by being confronted with a failed salesman's failed sexual fantasies. Again and again. In fact, if I were not cursed (?) with an inability to actually give up on a book, I might have given up. This despite the fact that I ...