Check out the animated show Bat out of Hell on Kickstarter!

When Beavers Attack: Part III

This time it’s arterial…

http://news.sky.com/story/1076746/beaver-bites-man-to-death-in-belarus-attack

JOB

‘Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend’, by Gerard Manley Hopkins

By Ji-Elle (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

By Ji-Elle (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si disputem tecum; verumtamen
justa loquar ad te: Quare via impiorum prosperatur? &c.

Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend
With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just.
Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must
Disappointment all I endeavour end?
    Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,
How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost
Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust
Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,
Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
Now, leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
Them; birds build – but not I build; no, but strain,
Time’s eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.

Call for Book Reviews

call for reviews

Please consider it.We can’t pay but you could get a free book out of it.

Don’t make me get all Sally Struthers on y’all…

Achtung Korrektiv

Look, are we going to do this or not? I mean, the universe is broadcasting on an open channel here:

o-BILL-HADER-NEW-YORK-MAGAZINE-570

This article begins, “We have no idea what a self is. So how can we fix it?” Rally, Korrektiv, rally!

Thank you, Anthony Lane

Look, I’m depressed as hell and feeling stalled out and stupid on this Gaga thing that should be electric and piercing and just isn’t, I’m afraid, plus I have this [NEARLY ENDLESS LITANY OF SELF-PITY REDACTED]. In moments like these, I am especially grateful for Evelyn Waugh and Anthony Lane – the first for his genius, the second for his sensitive and probing assessment of that genius.

‘… on the sand, / Half sunk, a shattered flattered visage lies …’

At the very end of Lent 2012, the six members of the Korrektiv Kollektiv received, as a gift from Matthew Lickona, cartoon portraits from the pen of the wonderful Daniel Mitsui. What Mitsui memorialized in those small and startling figures, with unobtrusive allusiveness and an unsettling but corrective touch of the grotesque that exemplified the Korrektiv ethos of the classic period, was a golden age: a flowering, a ripening, the sun at zenith.

But flowers fade; ripeness turns to rot; light declines toward a slow, final failure; and shadows lengthen and coalesce unto the great shade, Night, who is herself the shadow of Death.

You couldn’t have noticed all that fading, rotting, and declining, though, since none of it showed on the surface — until November 1. On that day — All Saints’ Day (bitter irony!) —  a mistake was made.

Now, at the beginning of Advent 2012, Mr Lickona has once again hired Daniel Mitsui — not to memorialize glory this time, but folly.

Fittingly so: Our Faith teaches that wrongs can be not merely prevented, not merely undone, but actually redeemed. And this is true.

For example: Though my addition to this blog’s roster may be a loss for you, the reader (not to mention the dragging-down it entails for Jonathans Potter and Webb, Mr Finnegan, Mr Lickona, Mr JOB, and Ms Expat), I get a brilliant Mitsui portrait:

Enigmatic, spooky, funny, and a good likeness to boot, though enough obscured to provide a useful degree of plausible deniability. I could hardly be happier with it. If only it had not come at such awful cost to you, dear friends.

Thank you for the picture, Mr Mitsui. Thank you for the present, Mr Lickona.

Thank you (in advance) for forbearing to sting, scorpion.

The Institute of Living

From the New York Times comes this story about Marsha M. Linehan, a psychologist at the University of Washington here in Seattle. It reads like a real-life inversion of Chekov’s terrifying story, Ward No. 6. It also has implications that readers of a certain novel published by Korrektiv Press might find interesting.

It was 1967, several years after she left the institute as a desperate 20-year-old whom doctors gave little chance of surviving outside the hospital. Survive she did, barely: there was at least one suicide attempt in Tulsa, when she first arrived home; and another episode after she moved to a Y.M.C.A. in Chicago to start over.

She was hospitalized again and emerged confused, lonely and more committed than ever to her Catholic faith. She moved into another Y, found a job as a clerk in an insurance company, started taking night classes at Loyola University — and prayed, often, at a chapel in the Cenacle Retreat Center.

Moved into the Y, found her faith: no Will Barrett she. Read the whole thing.

Oh, dear.

C O E X I S T

Comment from the St Martin de Porres post:

lickona says:

Already the Dominican creep begins here at the traditionally Benedictine Korrektiv. (Really, things started to go downhill when they let a guy in who wore the mark of a Carmelite.)

For what it’s worth:

St Benedict medal,

suspended from

Carmelite scapular,

suspended from

Dominican neck.

I need all the help I can get.

Solecism Safari (2012.11.03)

Set aside the merits or demerits of the ballot initiative here advertised: Something is gravely wrong with this billboard.

Fifty (50) Korrektiv RewardsTM points to the first Kommenter who pinpoints the problem!

(SVILUPPO: We have a winner — but the conversation continues.)