It took a few months, but I managed to transfer this blog to a new host. Links to posts from outside sources may no longer work, so if you’ve linked to a book review or favorite post in the past, you’ll need to find it via the search box in the sidebar and re-link to it.

On the plus side, the entire blog going back to 2007 has been restored, with special thanks to George for technical assistance that made it possible to save all of the photos as well.

If you’re new to this blog, welcome! For 13 years, I’ve used this site to write about America’s obsession with the Middle Ages, but I’ve also veered off into literature, history, formal poetry, and other topics that aren’t of interest to editors who actually pay for eyeballs and clicks. To see what I mean, browse the “categories” list in the sidebar, which includes the yearly “best of” posts.

Right now I’m focused on a project with a definite place in the world. For the past a year and a half, I’ve collaborated with two friends on a history of a Reconstruction-era African American town. The book will be available this fall; check out this video presentation from May and you’ll see why I’m enthusiastic about the story my friends’ ancestors have to tell.

(If the video doesn’t play, try clicking through to YouTube here.)

Thanks to all of you who sent emails, left comments, or shared thoughts on social media back in the spring. You convinced me that it was worth the trouble to keep the blog up and running. The traffic I get from search engines further suggests that someone, somewhere is always searching for more about a book, a poem, or a scrap of history that once caught my attention too.

Words aren’t precious; I don’t understand why all writers don’t have blogs for catching the sheer overflow of ideas, but I thank you for visiting mine. I may never post on a regular schedule, but I’ll offer you this: whatever turns up here you’ll never find anywhere else.

On June 1, 2020, almost thirteen years to the day since it began, this blog will disappear. My hosting service is shutting down, and I don’t have time right now to find an orderly home for hundreds of old posts.

In truth, this blog has been held together by pipe cleaners and putty for years. I grappled with outdated PHP, hopeless security issues, and chunks of code I cobbled together myself. The site crashed every time I uploaded a tiny image. Line spacing and photo placement were never right. Vital plug-ins were incompatible with each other. A database with a will of its own made it impossible for me to write and post when I wanted.

Yet it’s been fun. People are surprised when I say that much of my favorite writing is on this rickety site, even though some of it may be outdated, indulgent, or regrettable. Several posts still get quite a few hits per day from people looking for subjects they’ll only find here. Over the years, those posts have drawn more eyeballs, and sometimes better feedback, than books and articles I’ve written that carry the supposed prestige of someone else having published them.

When I started “Quid Plura?” in 2007, I had just written a book about Charlemagne, and I was still in my ten-year run of teaching medieval literature. Everything has changed since then—where I live, how I live, and even what I research and write. For the past year and a half, I’ve been collaborating with the descendants of the founders of a local town to tell their long-awaited story. As far as we can tell, the book we’ll publish this summer will be the first full-length history of a Reconstruction-era African American town in Maryland. If you’d like to learn more about our project, check out this video presentation, which will be viewable online through May 11.

Later this year, I’ll probably re-establish this blog with a new host. I like having my own little corner of the Internet. Blogs, however unfashionable, foster independent speech, the most potentially measured exchanges, and long-form writing on topics for which there aren’t paying markets.

In the meantime, if you need to find me, I’m available by email (jeffsypeck –at- gmail –dot- com), I check Twitter occasionally, and I have a new website to show off my professional writing. In the past thirteen years, this blog has brought me new real-world friends and many faithful long-term correspondents. People who still read blogs are the best kind of weird. They find, as I do, that corporate social media reins in discourse and smothers thought. If you’re one of those readers, thank you! Blogs give us room to breathe. That’s why I can’t imagine “Quid Plura?” not returning when the time is right. There’s always more to say.

Out here in the Maryland woods, we’ve turned on the water, torn out the weeds, set out feasts for nesting birds, and resumed watching our footpaths for snakes. While we wait for our seedlings to flourish and thrive, let’s wander through links about poems and writing and art.

Personal statement, prose poem, or something more? Dale Favier proposes “A Quieter Return.”

Chris Townsend makes plain why a “Walden” video game is a uniquely awful idea.

“Another of those fantastical, insane works I wish someone had forced me to read sooner”: Jake Seliger praises Lonesome Dove.

Chris at Hats & Rabbits is searching in vain for sincere works of popular art.

Prof Mondo gets hand-drawn proof that the kids in his poetry workshop are paying attention.

Flavia finds that devilish temptations make her a better writer.

George is reading to clear his shelves.

Do we get wiser with age? Stephen at First Known When Lost considers the question with his fond intermingling of poems and art.

Midori Snyder discovers Romare Bearden’s beguiling “Black Odyssey” colleges.

A psychologist and a museum director discuss art, and Marly Youmans plucks the prettiest parts.

“What are we supposed to do but keep creating, one way or another?” Poet Tim Miller ponders precedent and starts writing rhymes.

Can you name “America’s greatest living light verse poet”? A.M. Juster can (and does).

It is right and just: Maryann Corbett pens a “Prayer Concerning the New, More ‘Accurate’ Translation of Certain Prayers.”

Faced with an unsavory world, what can one do? For starters, we can promote and share the best work of other souls. Here’s an assortment of links I’ve been collecting for a while—some medieval, others poetic, all of them earnest, engaging, and good.

At his blog “The Winds of War,” Daniel Franke offers a long, rational, and rather contrarian take on the connections between medievalism, the humanities, ISIS, and politicians.

Where can you find medieval buildings brought piece by piece to the United States? This remarkably well-researched Atlas Obscura article will tell you. (Well done, Brianna Nofil and Jake Purcell!)

A Clerk of Oxford ponders winter in Middle English poetry and “the power of the untranslatable negatives.”

With neither piety nor snark, Dale Favier pens the rare topical poem I like: “Standing With France.”

“But I’m still lonely for him”: Flavia collaborates with a long-gone scholar she knows only through his work.

Jake Seliger checks out Excellent Sheep by William Deresiewicz.

Novelist and poet Marly Youmans pens a personal reflection on motherhood and a life in the arts.

Cynthia Haven makes the case for Rossetti’s “In the Bleak Midwinter” as the “best Christmas carol ever.”

Levi Stahl finds a fine passage on freedom and thinking from a book about Montaigne.

First Known When Lost mingles poems with art to make sense of acceptance in autumn.

Eight years ago today, after learning PHP and tinkering with a template, I published the first modest post on this blog, which promised “a place to ponder books, writing, teaching, and medievalism.” Blogs were a thriving medium then, and virtual strangers sent new readers here.

Free to tinker, I found projects that suited this format: From 2008 to 2012, I read everything by young-adult writer Lloyd Alexander and posted reviews of each book. In 2009, I posted a bit of light verse that turned, fifty-some poems later, into a book of poems inspired by the National Cathedral gargoyles. You’ll now find occasional posts about such recent fixations as gardening and taking pictures with antique Polaroids, but medievalism and poetry remain the twin caryatids that prop up this slouching facade.

When Facebook and Twitter prompted an exodus that made the blogosphere feel as empty as Iceland’s interior, I stuck with it. The culture craves pithier social media—photo memes, five-second movies—but I like long-form writing, even if some days I feel like a ham radio operator or a shut-in dialing into the Internet with a screeching modem and a Commodore 64.

So why do it? Well, I like interacting with those of you who still write or read blogs, since you don’t care to chase the cool kids. I also love having a site of my own. Because I do plenty of paid writing elsewhere, I don’t need to please editors, chase trends, or julienne my thoughts to fit someone else’s word count. You don’t have to monetize your writing for people to find it.

And they do find it. Every day, someone new discovers my two most popular posts: a 2007 piece about a line in an Indiana Jones movie that represents the best thing Charlemagne never said, and a 2013 defense of the real professor behind the much-maligned textbook from Dead Poets Society. Those posts have attracted tens of thousands of readers; my page-view stats tell me that many others land here because of books I’ve reviewed, historical recipes I’ve tried, or gargoyle-festooned churches I’ve written about. Once in a while, they buy my books.

Eight years on, “Quid Plura?” has the same design template it had on day one. As always, I struggle to find time to post, and I’m delighted when people stop by. Whatever brings you here, no matter how long you stay, whether you lurk in peace or leave thoughtful comments: thank you! I appreciate your eyeballs. As this blog lurches forward, however sporadic, I hope what you find here is still worth your time.

“A thousand skeptic hands won’t keep us from the things we plan,” Alcuin wrote to Theodulf of Orleans at the dawn of the ninth century, “unless we’re clinging to the things we prize.” Despite Alcuin’s optimism, a thorny new translation project has kept me from writing substantive blog posts, but I can share this enlightening array of mid-winter links.

What did a Tolkien expert think of the final Hobbit movie? Michael Drout weighs in.

Steven Muhlberger ponders what it means to be both a historian of the Middle Ages and a medieval reenactor.

Steve Donoghue appreciates Longfellow’s poetry: “the sheer unembarrassed power of it has undimmed power to work if readers drop their cynicism and let it.”

How is Michael Moorcock’s new fantasy novel? Steve Donoghue will tell you that, too.

At New York theaters, Paul Elie discovers Southern Gothic.

In France, Lucy sees smoke, and hears a bell tolling softly for another.

Dale Favier finds joy in the driveway of Copernicus.

Diane Seneschal concludes that in teaching, “the remedy is the poem itself.”

Chris at Hats and Rabbits sticks up for Rocky Balboa.

Flavia ponders Facebook taboos and “the pleasures of the private.”

Prof Mondo advises a student not to sweat those youthful fumbles.

Jake asks: What incentivizes professors to grade honestly?

It’s like the raft of the Medusa, only less cheerful: economists analyze the job market for English Ph.Ds.

According to one Carolingian poet, October was perfect for harvesting grapes and chasing swine into forests to chow down on autumn nuts. Fireside wine and a pig roast can wait; for now, I can offer only this backlog of savory links.

Literary scholar and critic D.G. Myers has died—but his final blog post, “Choosing life in the face of death,” is a worthy memorial.

Another Damned Medievalist explains what should be obvious: that being an adjunct professor is not at all like slavery.

Nancy Marie Brown considers Icelandic volcanoes on the anniversary of Snorri Sturlusson’s killing.

Added to my Christmas list: Medievalism: Key Critical Terms.

Flavia, a college professor, shares what she learned from doing the work she assigns.

At Book and Sword, Sean Manning meets Ötzi, who died in an Alpine pass some 5,300 years ago.

Jake Seliger knows that the best teachers aren’t always the best credentialed.

Scott Bailey offers a fiction-writing lesson from Robert Browning.

Cynthia Haven pays tribute to murdered journalist Steve Sotloff. Did you know he and his loved ones successfully hid his religion from his captors?

The indefatigable Steve Donoghue reads The Oxford Book of Letters.

Pete at Petelit continues to add to his blog post of memorable opening lines.

Recalling his software days, poet Dale Favier notes that “nothing has been built to specs.”

At First Known When Lost, Stephen Pentz links poetry to moments when life “clicks.”

George, the thoughtful fellow at 20011, blogs about coding and cooking, the pleasures of summer, and overuse of the term “iconic.”

Congrats to Tolkien scholar Jason Fisher, whose blog post became a essay in a reference book.

Daniel Franke wonders about Bill Gates and “big history.”

Diane L. Major remembers Harriet Tubman.

In an 8th-century poem by Alcuin, an aged shepherd decries winter as rerum prodigus atrox, a “terrible squanderer of wealth,” but spiky-haired, personified Winter defends himself by listing his seasonal pleasures: feasting, resting, and a warm fire at home. To that list, I’d only add: terrific links about books, medievalism, history, and poems.

Cynthia Haven (mostly) likes the BBC’s “Hollow Crown” retelling of Shakespeare.

Tolkien scholar Jason Fisher enjoyed The Desolation of Smaug.

Arrant Pedantry enjoyed the pronunciation of /smaug/.

Nancy Marie Brown is writing a book about the Lewis Chessmen.

Burnable Books debunks words not invented by Shakespeare.

Marly Youmans unveils seven new, myth-infused poems.

Dylan pens a ghazal about coffee.

In light of a Joyce Carol Oates story, Harvard magazine reconsiders Robert Frost.

Stanford hosts a “code poetry slam.”

Diana Seneschal rescues Wordsworth from a Common Core lesson gone wrong.

When it comes to English departments, George notes that today’s liberation may stultify tomorrow.

In Rome, the Cranky Professor finds a lot of scaffolding.

Bill Peschel remembers Peter O’Toole as a writer.

Steve Muhlberger is “ensorcelled” by the study in intimacy (or lack thereof) that is the BBC’s “Sherlock.”

Kevin is ambivalent about Apple’s new Walt Whitman adverts.

Six Words for a Hat reads Dickens with Ruskin in mind.

The Box Elder offers a meditation on the death of trees.

Cancer, baggage, marriage proposals! Asking Anna, a novel by my friend Jake Seliger, is out.

Traffic! Leftovers! Organized sports! Whether you’re traveling, relaxing, or getting a jump on Christmastime fretting, enjoy this cornucopia of savory links, all of them worth your time on a chilly autumn weekend.

Steve Muhlberger reads Worlds of Arthur, and likes its author’s skepticism and clarity.

Scouting New York spots the thousand gargoyles and grotesques of City College.

Gargoyle Girl discovers a French gargoyle pop-up book.

My friend Nancy Marie Brown tours saga sites on her 18th visit to Iceland.

A 9th-grade teacher is using hip-hop to teach Latin hexameter.

After a hiatus, Light: A Journal of Light Verse is back online.

First Known When Lost finds poems in praise of idleness.

Levi urges you: read that Mark Twain autobiography!

Bill Peschel wonders whether bad writers can make books that are good for you.

The Book Haven highlights Joseph Brodsky’s Nobel lecture.

Heather Domin is almost pleased that readers are pirating her books.

Pete ponders what Lou Reed meant to his writing.

Chris at Hats & Rabbits is finishing his father’s song.

As rainy gloom descends on D.C., we call the kobolds to come in from the fields. Enjoy what they bring: books, medievalism, and a bit of poetry.

Medievally Speaking reviews Tolkien’s The Fall of Arthur. (Kathy Cawsey recently read it, too.)

Box Elder explores an old church in the French town of Morlaix, both inside and out.

Nancy Marie Brown, author of the recent Song of the Vikings, fondly remembers a teacher, mentor, and friend.

Congrats to Michael Livingston, who’s published a casebook on Owen Glendower.

Steve Muhlberger spots a modern-day stylite living on a (large) pillar in Georgia.

Bibliographing likes and doesn’t like George R.R. Martin.

The Gargoyle Girl unveils a new alchemist-and-gargoyle mystery series.

Open Letters Monthly highlights The Black Spider, a Swiss horror novel from 1842.

Michael Drout announces his audiobook about the liberal arts.

Cynthia Haven hardly minds when American novelists don’t win the Nobel Prize.

With Halloween in mind, I’ve Been Reading Lately seeks out ghost stories in Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson.

Laudator Temporis Acti finds books in art.

Chris at Hats & Rabbits defies “the gods of creativity.”

First Known When Lost offers poems of arrival and departure.