The Northeast is sunny with pseudo-spring; like most Washingtonians, I’m rather caught up in it. As we wait for the cold to re-descend, here are some fun links for a pleasant winter day.

The Gypsy Scholar turns a Philip Larkin poem upside down and discovers that it’s still quite readable.

Steven Hart ponders the second-best swordfight movie of all time.

Jonathan Jarrett jauntily (and justifiably) jabs at jargon.

Scott Nokes reviews Raising a Modern Day Knight and remembers the Fisher-Price toy that begat many a proto-medievalist.

Patrick Kurp pokes around in the memoirs of Sir Alec Guinness, who concluded that “Shakespeare can take care of himself.”

The folks who field-test microwaveable meals at HeatEatReview offer their top ten posts of 2007.

Bob Eckstein has written a History of the Snowman. Perhaps he’ll let us know about medieval snowmen?

Michael Blowhard pines for a self-help book to write a blog post about self-help books.

Finally, here’s a tragically incomplete video of the world’s greatest cover of “Stairway to Heaven.” How does it affect you blokes?

After a long hiatus, Dave at Studenda Mira has returned with a seasonal snippet from Ireland, one that may link the distant rituals of the Iron Age with the modern observance of St. Stephen’s Day in West Cork.

While you’re at Studenda Mira, don’t miss Dave’s post from earlier this year about our visit to the Salarian Gate. Let me tell you, it’s good to have friends who know that going to Rome is about more than merely gawking at the Colosseum. (Although we did that, too. Honestly, how can you not?)

And this was, as thise bookes me remembre,
The colde, frosty seson of Decembre.
Phebus wax old, and hewed lyk laton,
That in his hoote declynacion
Shoon as the burned gold with stremes brighte;
But now in Capricorn adoun he lighte,
Where as he shoon ful pale, I dar wel seyn.
The bittre frostes, with the sleet and reyn,
Destroyed hath the the grene in every yerd.
Janus sits by the fyr, with double berd,
And drynketh of his bugle horn the wyn;
Biforn hym stant brawen of the tusked swyn,
And “Nowel!” crieth every lusty man.

— Geoffrey Chaucer, “The Franklin’s Tale”

No sun—no moon!
No morn—no noon—
No dawn—no dusk—no proper time of day—
No sky—no earthly view—
No distance looking blue—
No road—no street—no “t’other side the way”—
No end to any Row—
No indications where the Crescents go—
No top to any steeple—
No recognitions of familiar people—
No courtesies for showing ’em—
No knowing ’em!
No traveling at all—no locomotion—
No inkling of the way—no notion—
“No go”—by land or ocean—
No mail—no post—
No news from any foreign coast—
No Park—no Ring—no afternoon gentility—
No company—no nobility—
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member—
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds—
November!

— Thomas Hood (1799-1845)

I’m recovering from a week of travel, book talks, and nonstop copywriting—but here are a few links worth following on this foggy Wednesday morning.

If you plan to be in Alabama this weekend, why not join Unlocked Wordhoarder Scott Nokes for the Big Beowulf Bash? (Trust me, they serve mighty fine cake at those Troy University functions.)

Speaking of Anglo-Saxon epic, Gypsy Scholar Jeffery Hodges offers a preview of a Beowulf translation I’m eager to read.

Jonathan Jarrett at A Corner of Tenth-Century Europe wonders, not rhetorically: why should people become historians?

Television writer Lee Goldberg flies to Germany on Air India and can’t recommend the experience.

Steven Hart—author of The Last Three Miles—has smart things to say about the wrath of Harlan Ellison, the “generational taste” of Norman Mailer readers, and the obscurity of James Branch Cabell.

Happy Halloween! Here are a few video treats to get you in the spirit of the day.

With spooky poems, delivery is everything—especially for a classic horror ballad.

God help you if your childhood Halloweens were anything like Bill Haverchuck’s.

Bet you didn’t know the scariest castle ever once haunted the Jersey Shore.

Here’s a burning question: can Betty Boop prevail in Hell?

“Think happy thoughts, children, or the scary rapper man will do his crazy dancing in your nightmares.”

When you hear “Switzerland,” do you automatically think “bloodcurdling”? You will after watching this. (Just not for the reasons the Swiss hope you will.)

As my three-year-old nephew might say: Skeery!

Work, family, book promotion, teaching—all these things have conspired to keep me far from my keyboard. Until I can polish off the posts that are clogging up the queue, here are links to some fun posts by others.

Linda McCabe recently became so curious about jolly old Saint Nauphary and his walk-on role in the Charlemagne legends that she decided to track him across modern France. (I strongly and enviously endorse this sort of quest-based travel.)

Withywindle pens an open letter to his students.

Expat novelist Olen Steinhauer explains what he’s doing in Budapest.

Blogging from the great Garden State, author Steven Hart compares the Inklings to modern writers’ groups and finds the latter wanting.

At Per Omnia Saecula, it’s Weird Medieval Animal Monday.

Guess who’s having the Best Fortnyght Ever? Geoffrey Chaucer is defending Britney Spears.

Meanwhile, Chaucer-like, Carl at Got Medieval retracts his entire blog.

Thanks for stopping by—fresh posts are soon to come.

Good news for a slow week: the latest ancient and medieval edition of Carnivalesque is up at Tiruncula. It’s a rich one this time; the links are heavy on the medieval, but folks who do ancient history will find plenty to interest them. (Plus there’s a cool picture of an owl, which is always a good sign.)

Jeffery Hodges, the Gypsy Scholar, is one of the more eclectic academic bloggers out there. His interests are far-ranging; whether he’s writing about John Milton or the language of the Ozarks, he approaches intellectual problems with erudition and wit.

That’s why I’m confident that none of us, in the same position, would have shown any greater wisdom than he did in mediating a singular conundrum: his children arguing in Korean about an imaginary rabbit.

Let the Gypsy Scholar proclaim, as did Justinian upon beholding Hagia Sofia, “Solomon, I have surpassed you!”

Welcome! In the days ahead, I’ll use this site as a place to ponder books, writing, teaching, and medievalism. As the folks in my blogroll have shown, this format offers real opportunities to write pieces that otherwise might never find an audience, from essays and criticism to extremely short stories. I may be a traditionalist in many ways, but I do know that not everything worth reading needs to be committed to print or bound between covers.

Of course, mindful of my civic duty, I’ll sometimes put aside my usual concerns to alert you, dear reader, to matters of the utmost profundity. For example, those times when an 80’s classic asks the ukulele, “Where have you been all my life?”

I’m eager to see how this site will evolve. “Quid plura?” is typically translated as “need I say more?” or “what more can I say?” Ancient and medieval writers considered it a rhetorical question. I’m not sure it has to be—and I’ll enjoy using this space to see if I can answer it.