Pronghorn, Chapter 3: Local History (I)

Continued from the previous chapter, here.

Pronghorn is, officially, the seat of Pronghorn County, which might be found in the Texas Hill Country if anyone were to look for it in just the right way. It is named for the animal otherwise known as the American antelope, which ranges into the area where the town sits and still attracts no few hunters during the appropriate season. The county is named after its seat, and the largish creek that runs through the town and supplied its early water is, as well. So are the local high school, the community college, their mascots, and no few of the businesses in town.

Why the pronghorn figures so prominently for the town, county, schools, and businesses has to do with one of the three families that helped found the town. The Zapatas had, of course, been on land near where Pronghorn would rise since the 1600s, holding it under the Spanish government, then the Mexican, the Texian, and the American Texan in succession. The Hochstedlers took a land grant from Stephen F. Austin–the original document is displayed prominently in what is still the main family house–and built a small compound on their land. But the Smithersons, coming in after the Republic of Texas formed but before the annexation by the United States, were led into the area by one Meriwether Smitherson, the son of an English immigrant who had settled in Illinois but been killed in a raid during the Black Hawk War.

Meriwether and his family–his wife, Elizabeth; his sons, Reginald, Samuel, and Thomas; his daughters, Ruth and Esther; and his brother, Henry George–staggered into the area in poor shape. The land they had crossed coming south had not been kind to them, and the last days before they reached what would become Pronghorn were dry and hungry for the lot of them. But the creek, being spring-fed, had water in it, and a herd of pronghorn was watering at it when the Smithersons arrived. Soon after, the herd was a fair bit smaller, and the Smithersons had no small amount to eat. With water ready to hand and a bit of arable land, they soon found themselves able to set about what they were really about, the continuation of a family tradition they had held to for centuries back in Merry Olde England.

They were apiarists, and Henry George Smitherson had carefully preserved the nucleus of a beehive–a queen and a few workers–during the relocation from Illinois to the Hill Country. Soon enough, the Smithersons had built up a thriving little compound of their own, and the Zapatas and Hochstedlers often came to them to trade for honey and wax. The Zapatas, who did a fair bit of farming of their own, would also hire Smitherson beehives to help their crops along. Business relations between the two families turned to romantic relations in due time, with George Henry marrying Teresa Zapata and Ruth later marrying Rodrigo Guerrero, a cousin of the Zapatas.

With continued trade and intercourse between the Smitherson and Zapata families, more people came into the area–some through birth, some through further settling. The Hochstedlers were perhaps a bit displeased to have more people come into the region–the original settler, Erhart, was well known to be something of a misanthrope, taking his land claim where he did in part because it was so far removed from others–but they could not deny the salutary effects of the increased population on the sales of their livestock. Some members of the family moved in closer to the growing population center to better capitalize on the increasing numbers of people in the market, adding another element to the town’s prototypically Hill Country mixture of people.

A span of a scant few years saw the town reach a population of more than 250, and it was decided that some form of order had to be put into place if things were to continue in an orderly fashion. Quiet petitions saw the city incorporated, and mechanisms of government deemed necessary–a mayor, a town constabulary that also served as a fire brigade, and the like–were put into place. Thomas Meriwether was elected the first mayor, with Rolf Hochstedler being chosen to head the constabulary and Guerrero finding himself in the position of presiding over the municipal court. A formal school was set up, as well, the town hiring Guy LeBeaux to teach students what it was deemed needful for them to know of books and the world beyond the Hill Country. Guy, as would be expected, brought his family with him, too, and, at his pointed question about what the town would be called to which he was moving, was told “Pronghorn.” It was the first recorded instance of the name being applied to the town, and Thomas Meriwether would note in his journals that the name came to him in memory of his family’s salvation years before.

Even with increasing numbers of people coming into the area from outside it, though, Pronghorn remained dominated by the interests of the three early families: the Zapatas, the Hochstedlers, and the Smithersons. As the Civil War was won and Reconstruction followed close behind, as the country lurched into the Great War and through the Depression into the Second World War, as Korea and Vietnam changed the way wars were viewed, the city offices in Pronghorn–and the county offices that had to be built when Austin, for whatever reason, split off a new Pronghorn County–were held mostly by members of one of those families or another. A LeBeaux had a good chance at one of the more reader-friendly civic jobs, and the occasional other person might get lucky on Election Day, but the town remained–and still remains–largely the shared demesne of three families that, over time, became all but indistinguishable from one another. Only in the core lines of each, and only tenuously, are the three families distinct from one another, and that through familial tradition as much as anything else–but even they recognize they have a lot of cousins in the others’ houses, and keeping those cousins happy takes up a fair bit of time.

Not all of them receive the attention they think they deserve.

Did I bring you as much pleasure as a mug of beer does? A glass of wine? Could you kick in as much for me as you pay for that so I can keep doing what you like? Click here, then, and thanks!

Pronghorn, Chapter 2: Reflections

Continuing from the previous chapter, here.

With the suitcases and trunk he had had in his car brought into his parents’ house, Asa sat in a plain chair in the guest room that had been given to him (given back, really; this used to be my room), looking out the window at the hills. This time of year, they were largely brown, their layered limestone covered in oak and mountain cedar, in mesquite and scrub brush, and in short grasses already feeling the lack of rain and the brunt of encroaching summer sunshine. Wildflower season was already long past, the glories of blue and red and yellow blooms stretching out to the horizon until the skies at sunrise and sunset bled into the ground muted now, browned in the oven still pre-heating for the broiling to come.

Looks like it’ll be a hot summer, thought Asa, but that’s not a surprise. He shook his head at the thought as a soft rumbling and a draft of cool air announced the workings of the air conditioner beginning again. When a knock at the room’s door punctuated the rumbling, he started.

Before he could answer, the door opened, and Asa’s mother trundled in, gray-haired head turning rapidly to take in how things were arranged in the room. “You’re settling in okay, honey? I know it’s not like it was when you headed off to school, but that’s been a while ago now.”

Asa stood. “Yes’m, I’m settling in alright. And I don’t mind the changes.” He looked at the walls, now in a seafoam green rather than the stark white (and smeared with oil from my hands and soot from burnt sticks I used to keep here) they had been when he was a boy, at the tasteful table and chest of drawers, the chair where he had been sitting. “They look nice, actually. I wish I’d had the good sense to decorate this way when I was young.”

His mother sat in the chair; Asa sat on the side of the bed. “You were a kid; of course you acted like a kid. Why wouldn’t you? But I’m glad you’re okay.”

She leaned forward. “You are okay, right?” Brown eyes looked into his own, wide under raised eyebrows.

Asa nodded again. “More or less, Mom. Not having work isn’t easy, no, and not having had much other than work makes that harder, but, yeah, I’m okay. More or less.”

Asa’s mother twisted her mouth, cocked her head, and dropped one eyebrow as she regarded her son. (Oh, God, that look!) “Asa.” Her voice, despite showing some hoariness, was still sharp. “Don’t blow smoke up my skirt.”

“Well, Mom, there’s not a lot to say about it.” There is, but you don’t want to hear it. “I’ve put in for jobs, but I haven’t gotten many responses–and no good ones. It’s not the best thing to hear only a little, and all of it bad, you know? And it’s not a mark of pride to have a doctorate and have only debt to show for it, either.”

“Asa, you know everything happens for a reason.”

“And sometimes the reason is that I’m an idiot.”

“That wasn’t what I mean, and you know it!”

“No, Mom, I knew what you meant.” And I know you meant well, but it doesn’t help. “But there’s only so happy you can expect me to be when things aren’t quite so good, right?”

“A bad attitude won’t help. It’s like with that one boy you used to know, that Richard.”

“What about him?” I haven’t thought about that kid in years.

“Well, even after all that happened to him, he kept on smiling and moving on, and look at him now. He’s got a job and a family, and he’s doing alright.”

“Is he, now?” Well, that makes me feel not at all better. He can do so well, and I’m stuck out of a job.

“Oh, yes. Maybe you ought to give him a call.”

“Why, Mom? We weren’t exactly friends when I was here before,” I wasn’t exactly friends with anyone, really, “and it’s been nearly twenty years I’ve been away.”

“It won’t hurt you to give him a call. I’ll get you his number.” Asa’s mother stood and left the room.

This is part of why I didn’t want to have to come back, Asa thought. I didn’t like the folks around here when I lived here; I didn’t like how they coasted by on family history or on the steroids or whatever it was the coaches would give them, and now Mom wants me to act like everything was happy and fun.

He sighed heavily and began muttering to himself. “Hell, Richard used to beat the shit out of me after school. I mean, I know his folks abused him badly, but, damn, he didn’t have to take it out on me. And those other assholes who used to help him–the Delgadillo boy and David Smitherson–they didn’t have even that much excuse. Both of ’em were spoiled little shits, getting by because their families helped found the town and still ran a damned lot; they had everything they could’ve asked for. Fuckers.”

Asa looked out at the browning limestone hills again, coughing a bit to clear his throat. But I probably ought to kiss up a bit, if I’m going to stay here for any length of time. The Zapatas and Smithersons probably still run half of town between them, and the Hochstedlers probably run another quarter, too. The Delgadillo boy–what was his name?–is kin to the Zapatas and Hochstedlers, both; he might know some people, and he might feel bad about being such a shit when he was a kid.

He shook his head at the thought and muttered aloud again. “Nah. If he had a conscience, it would’ve shown up a while back.”

The knock on the door sounded again, and Asa’s mother re-entered. “I’ve got that number. Give him a call, honey; you always did stay holed up too much, you know.”

Asa took the slip of paper she handed him. “I might do that, Mom. I just might.”

But probably not. I doubt it’d do me any good to try.

Did I bring you as much pleasure as a cup of coffee does? Half a cup? Could you kick in as much for me as you’d pay for that so that I can keep doing it? Click here, then, and thanks!

Pronghorn, Chapter 1: Coming Back

Drawing in a deep breath, holding it, and releasing it slowly, Asa Pemewan (PhD, not that that does a lot of good) knocked at an an old wooden door long familiar to him. Pier and beam flooring creaked in time with shuffling footsteps approaching the door from the other side, and a clattering of door-chains scraping and locks opening rattled at Asa’s ears before the door swung open, inward.

A weatherbeaten face not at root unlike Asa’s own–years of sun and wind and weather, and the years themselves, make changes–looked out at Asa, glancing up and down from atop thinning shoulders clad in a checkered shirt tucked into faded jeans behind a well-worn leather belt. A voice every bit as weatherbeaten grunted out “Trip okay, son?” as a large, gnarled hand stuck out.

Asa took it, his hand swallowed by his father’s ironwood grip for a moment before the older man pulled him in for a rib-crushing hug. Trying not to gasp, Asa answered “Fair t’middlin’, Pop,” falling back into the cadences of his youth (and how they would laugh to hear them, the bastards). Stepping back, he added “Long drive, but good weather for it. Coulda used some decent coffee, though.”

The old man snorted out a laugh. “Ain’t got that fancy milk crap they sell too damn many places anymore, but a reg’lar cup–we got that.”

From well in behind the door–and to the right–came another voice, that of Asa’s mother. “Of course we do, Asa, and your dad well knows it! Come on in and help yourself; you know where the cups and such are.”

“Yes’m” came the reply, and Asa’s father stood aside to let his son in, following him to the kitchen and pouring his own cup full after Asa had filled his.

Asa sat in one of the wooden chairs that had been around the kitchen table longer than he’d been breathing (and the table’s been around longer than that) and sighed in satisfaction after the first small swallow of steaming black brew. “How’re things here?”

Asa’s mother shut the oven door, dusted off her hands, and said “That’s what you ask me? ‘How’re things?’ and not ‘How’re y’all?'” But she smiled as she said it, and she hugged her son, kissing the top of his head.

“Well, then, how’re y’all?”

“I’m fine, honey. Still doin’ what I do. Your dad’s still doing his, too.” A nod from the older man confirmed the words to Asa, and another swallow of coffee allowed him not to have to say more. “Your sister’s still playing places in San Antonio, if you’re here long enough to get down there.”

Asa set down his cup. It was still half-full. “I think I will be, as it happens.”

Asa’s mother stepped back, eyes wide in surprise. Asa’s father’s coffee cup joined his son’s on the table–although it was empty. The older man asked “Really? Seems strange, coming from you.”

Asa nodded. “I know. And I know I ain’t been around much.” (I’ve got to stop this.) He drew a deep breath and released it. “But I don’t really have much choice at this point. The last teaching job didn’t work out, and nothing else there would take me on. Those that bothered to reply to me–and there weren’t many of them, maybe twenty out of two hundred fifty to three hundred–wouldn’t tell me why–and I asked. Oh, I asked. But I’d only get some line about ‘It was nothing you did; we had many excellent candidates,’ which is a lie but is the kind of lie that keeps things civil and keeps them from getting taken to court.” (Like I could ever afford a lawyer.) Asa realized his voice was rising as he went on; he picked up his cup and took another swallow of coffee.

When he went on, his voice was calmer. “Really, the only thing keeping me where I was was the job, and when it went away, I didn’t have any reason to stick around. So, after a while, I’m back here.”

Asa’s father leaned in a bit and asked “You got a job lined up here yet?”

“No, sir. Not yet, I’ve not. I’ve got a bit of money in savings, though, and some off-and-on work to do for a bit. It should hold me long enough to find something.”

Asa’s mother chimed in. “You will, honey. Something will come up. It has to come up, doesn’t it?”

Asa began to reply, but his father cut him off. “Got a place to stay lined up?”

Asa shrugged. “I was thinking the one motel for a day or two, until I could find something more permanent.”

“No” came from his mother. “That place is dirty, and we’ve got a spare room, yet.”

Asa began to feel himself flush. “Mom, you don’t need to–”

“You don’t need to tell me what I don’t need to do. You’re my son; of course you can stay here, and as long as you need to. Right, dear?”

Knowing the last was directed towards him, Asa’s father nodded. “I’ve got the paper in by my chair, if you wanna look at the want-ads. Can’t hurt.”

Asa nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “Don’t get weepy, son. Ain’t time for that. It’s time for you t’get your act together, see what all’s there for you t’do. Your mom’s right; something’s gonna come up. It’s gotta.”

“Yes, sir.” (I still can’t help that part, can I?) Asa stood, then. “I suppose I ought to unload the car, then.”

Asa’s father stood, as well. “Need a hand?”

Asa shrugged. “I could use one, sure.”

Asa’s mother asked “What about your things? Surely you’ve got more than will fit in the car?”

Asa shrugged again. “I do, but I’ve got it in storage between here and the last place. I found a storage unit with decent rates and reviews. And it’s just stuff, anyway. All the heirlooms are still here.” He paused. “They are still here, right?”

“Oh, yes” from Asa’s mother. From his father, “You know we don’t really throw things away if they’ve still got some use in ’em. Or y’ought to. Been away too long, son.”

Asa nodded again. “I suppose you’re right.” (You do always seem to be.)

Asa’s father nodded in reply. “Well, let’s get your stuff in” and he proceeded to where Asa’s car was parked on the side of the dusty street. Asa followed.

I suppose it’s good to be home.

Did I bring you as much pleasure as a cup of coffee does? Half a cup? Could you kick in as much for me as you’d pay for that so that I can keep doing it? Click here, then, and thanks!

Still More about the New Feature

So, I’ve thought more about what I want to do. For now, I’ll keep going with the donation buttons I have had–look for the link below–and, if the amount of money that comes in justifies it, I will see about migrating over to Patreon. So there’s that much figured out, at least for now. I’ll possibly want to change it later, but I can do that.

That I am not going with Patreon for the moment, though, does not mean that I cannot use ideas I ran into with it–as well as at such things as Kickstarter and GoFundMe (the latter of which I have used in the past). One such is the notion of rewards. I’ve noted that I’ve been given through the kind of button I have used in the past, and I’ve made a point of making direct thanks to those who have. A thank-you does not seem out of line for all contributions–and a thank-you on the next post made would be good, I think. Others should receive more, though.

Before going on about that, I ought to make a note about what I will be going on with. First, I’ll be looking into pushing out the Pronghorn stories. It seems a good thing with which to start. Other stuff might happen afterward. Or it might happen in and among the Pronghorn stuff. I might have to mess with it.

Anyway, those who contribute $25 (or more) will get their names integrated into the story in some minor way–a passing reference to a person in the town, perhaps, or an exchange with a cashier or server. Those who contribute $50 (or more) will also get a hard-copy of a Pronghorn story (please tell me which so that I can send the right one), signed. Higher contributions will get more, to be sure, but I am not quite arrogant enough to think that I can get more yet.

More to come later, obviously…

Did I bring you as much pleasure as a cup of coffee does? Half a cup? Could you kick in as much for me so that I can keep doing it? Click here, then, and thanks!

More about the New Feature

As I note in yesterday’s post, I am looking for ways to supplement my income stream, and since I already do a fair bit of writing, it makes sense that I would try to do so with the writing. I am still looking at Patreon–I am mindful of my good friend’s advice–but, in the meantime, I figure that I can continue to use the donation buttons I have long had (an example of which appears below; contributions are welcome). I know that they work, and I am happy to accept what others offer freely.

Donate Button with Credit Cards

The thing is that I have several ideas for what to address. I can, for example, follow the pattern I have in another webspace I maintain–the one that prompted my friend’s comment–and compose a cycle of poetry in these posts. (Indeed, I have one in progress already that might well serve.) I could also use this space to work on an idea I have long had, one detailing the workings of the large town or small city of Pronghorn.

Other ideas are possible, to be sure, and I have no doubt that I will pursue them now and again. For now, though, I will have to give the matter some more thought…

New Year, New Feature?

It is not a secret that most of the work I do in this webspace is in support of my teaching, that the “i” in “Elliott RWI” has gotten more attention than any other part of the site. That it has makes sense, since most of my time is taken up with the work of teaching–and it presents some problems to the pursuit of full-time academic work, since most of an academic’s time is supposed to be spent generating research.

It alsoDonate Button with Credit Cards presents some problems for my ability to support my family. The salaries of those who teach are not often high–and rarely have been, outside of a few special circumstances–and those like me who do so part-time fare even worse in that regard. As such, I have for some time featured buttons like that appearing amid this paragraph, and I cannot say they have been wholly unsuccessful at bringing in a bit more support. They have not brought in a lot of it, though, and I find myself in need of more of it; doing the things that are mentioned on my biography are not inexpensive, and raising a family is no small thing.

As such, I am looking into developing a Patreon or somesuch thing. (It has been recommended to me by a good friend that I do so.) Either that, or I will be making more posts to this webspace that focus more on the “w” in Elliott RWI and appending the “Donate” button to each. In either event, any support will be welcomed, and I hope to offer something more widely useful than my teaching materials–which my students note appreciating–have been.

Sample Comparison/Contrast Essay: Officially Better

What follows is an essay like that students are asked to produce for the C/C assignment in my section of ENGL 1301: Rhetoric & Composition during the Fall 2016 instructional term at Schreiner University. Its topic is of much the same sort as is requested of students, one echoing the earlier sample descriptive essay and the earlier sample illustrative definition essay (from which, indeed, it borrows).  It also adheres to the length requirements expressed to students; they are asked for approximately 1,625 words, exclusive of heading, title,  page numbers, and any necessary Works Cited entries, and the essay below is 1,630 words long, assessed by those standards. Its formatting will necessarily differ from student submissions due to the differing medium. How the medium influences reading is something well worth considering as a classroom discussion, particularly for those students who are going into particularly writing- or design-intensive fields.

As I note in my “Sample Illustrative Definition Essay: Official Averages,” I have been fortunate to occupy a number of academic office spaces since 2004 or 2005. My work at for-profit institutions has not been exempt from that; I have already attested to my office space at the former 56th Street campus of Technical Career Institutes (TCI) in New York City, but I also occupied office space at the Main Campus of that institution, and I have access to office space in my current capacity as visiting faculty at the San Antonio Metro campus of DeVry University. I was able to do much at the school in the Big Apple, and I am able to do much at the one in the Alamo City, so I have favorable opinions of both. However, if I examine them against what I know good academic offices must do–per “Official Averages,” “combine privacy and collegiality, feature a soothing plainness that admits of and encourages being overwritten, and ease the work of research held most vital to the mission of academe”–my office space at DeVry emerges as the better setting.

Admittedly, both my final office space at TCI and the space I have access to at DeVry have a problematic relationship with privacy. My TCI office was a cubicle in a pool shared among ten or so faculty and located at the back corner of the building’s second floor. Our schedules overlapped to some degree, so there were always others in the room. Private consultations with students and colleagues, perhaps in some sense eased by the almost hidden location of the office pool, were therefore not entirely possible; other ears were always there to hear, other eyes there to see, and not all of what was to be heard and seen was of a nature to be opened to others. As noted in “Official Averages,” there are legal issues involved with student records, and much of what is not legally privileged may well be ethically so; TCI made ensuring such privilege challenging.

DeVry offers somewhat better privacy. The office space I have there is also a cubicle in a cubicle pool–and a larger one than at TCI, with at least twenty cubicles available to faculty and others dedicated to support staff. Faculty schedules do not overlap so neatly at DeVry as at TCI, however. I am rarely encountered by more than two or three of my colleagues, and the support staff cubicles are at some remove from my own. Additionally, the cubicle pool is itself isolated from the rest of the campus by controlled-access doors, so that unauthorized entry into the room is far more difficulty than was the case at TCI, where the office door was commonly unlocked to ease the comings and goings of the occupying faculty. As such, DeVry does more to help keep confidential what needs to be, and in doing so, it offers me better office space than did TCI.

The same greater privacy, however, makes collegiality something of a concern. TCI, because it had me in close contact with my colleagues, helped me to converse with them–and because those colleagues were, for the most part, in other instructional units than mine, I had the opportunity to learn from them about matters not normally available to me. It is from such exchanges that new ideas about teaching and research, as well as the world which enfolds both, come, and TCI’s office pool did some of that for me. DeVry’s does not; the few colleagues I usually see are busy with their own affairs, as am I, and while we enjoy cordial–even friendly–discussions, we do not have the time together to go into the kind of detail that makes for new ideas. We have less chance for collegiality in part because of our physical surroundings, which I lament.

I must also confess myself less than pleased with the décor and ability to alter it in both office spaces. At TCI, my cubicle was placed in a row of side-by-side cubicles with shallow partitions between them. The space above my desk was taken up by built-in shelves. Wall space and shelf space were therefore both sharply limited, inhibiting the ability to customize either to any significant degree. Additionally, the partitions and shelves were pained a flat slate gray that stood out in sharp relief against the pale gray flecking of the associated desk surface and the standard black metal of the file cabinet assigned me–as well as the wall, painted a color somewhere between buff and khaki. As such, although all of the colors were neutral, they were neutrals that clashed; they did not form a soothing plainness so much as a jarring one, and, coupled with the inability to decorate, lessened the quality of my TCI office space.

DeVry does a fair bit better. Its cubicles are fairly standard office furniture, the cubicle walls a light gray fabric, the desktop a faux wood, the metal furnishings a pale gray or black. The surrounding walls are themselves an off-white, but one partaking more of gray than of brown. As such, the neutrals of the DeVry office pool work together reasonably well, coming off as more soothingly plan than do the disjunct colors of the TCI office pool–although the wood tone of the desk’s surface still sticks out. Further, the DeVry office materials are more amenable to customization. The fabric cubicle walls are easily reached and are of a kind that allows items to be hung upon them, as some of my colleagues demonstrate with pictures and award notices. Additionally, each of the cubicles is equipped with an integrated whiteboard. Soon after I took my cubicle, its whiteboard displayed a medievalist caricature of my face and a reasonable approximation of blackletter text announcing my name and contact information. They are touches unique to me in the office pool, bespeaking the way in which DeVry’s office space encourages customization–and in which it therefore situates itself as better office space than that I had at TCI.

Décor may well be argued a minor concern, certainly of less importance than qualities that have legal ramifications, but making intellectual work easier is far from insignificant a function of an academic office. Indeed, it can be figured as the most important such function, even at for-profit schools such as TCI and DeVry; both focus on job preparation, to be sure, but both also recognize that instruction benefits from being conducted by instructors who feel valued and supported, and that support extends to their research agendas in various forms. (Additionally, both recognize that having research-active faculty is likely to enhance their curricula and their name-recognition, both of which serve their purposes well.) As such, the fact that my cubicle at TCI did and my cubicle at DeVry does support my research work is to the credit of both.

The two cubicles do not do so evenly, however. The cubicle I held at TCI did make access to parts of my apparatus easier; having shelves above my desk made grabbing things from them easier, and that ease of access made my work faster, meaning I got more of it done. Too, the office afforded me a personal computer with library and database access, as well as some desk-space on which to put things while I worked and a file cabinet that allowed access to other materials entirely. Too, as noted above, it put me in reasonably easy contact with specialists in other fields than mine, which opened me to new and different ideas than I would have otherwise had, thereby increasing the amount of work that I could do and its quality when I did it. In brief, then, my space at TCI helped me to be a scholar, which is exactly what a good academic office should do.

Good as that cubicle was, the cubicle I have at DeVry is better. Admittedly, it does not grant me the same amount of easily-accessed shelf space–only one open shelf and one overhead cabinet compartment–but it does offer more in terms of under-desk storage–I have two file cabinet stacks–and in desk-space–the desk surface is a large L-shape some two and a half to three feet deep, while the TCI desk was a single strip a foot and a half deep. Too, the desk comes equipped with integrated lighting, which allows me to more easily examine those textual objects my work treats than did the cubicle at TCI, and I have additional storage space in the form of a private locker, so I can still have my research materials ready to hand. Add to that the fact that DeVry also provides me the same access to data (a personal computer with library and database access) that TCI did–if not more, given that DeVry’s database holdings are larger than TCI’s were–and DeVry’s office space emerges as doing more to ease my research work than the school in the Big Apple.

Thus, in terms of the combination of solitude and company, of a plain and customizable aesthetic, and of facilitating academic research, DeVry offers a better overall office space than did TCI. It has, admittedly, been some years since I worked in New York City, so perhaps matters have improved there; I certainly hope that they have. Again, I remember my time there fondly, in part because of the space accessible to me at that time, and I wish my colleagues and successors there well. But as I move forward in my own career and settle more fully into office spaces for what I hope will be the long term, I know that I will make those spaces more like what I have at DeVry University in San Antonio.

Work Cited

  • Elliott, Geoffrey B. “Sample Illustrative Definition Essay: Official Averages.” Elliott RWI.com, 21 October 2016, elliottrwi.com/2016/10/21/sample-illustrative-definition-essay-official-averages/. Accessed 10 November 2016.

Sample Final Paper: Shakespeare in Legend of the Five Rings

What follows is a conference paper like that students are asked to produce for the FinPap assignment in my section of ENGL & THRE 3333: Shakespeare: Comedies & Sonnets during the Fall 2016 instructional term at Schreiner University. As with the sample proposal, sample exploratory essay, and sample annotated bibliography from which it arises (and which it echoes), its topic is slightly aside from that allowed to the students; rather than treating a single work, it treats a more general Shakespearean reconstruction, looking for what prompts continuance of the Bard in popular culture. Additionally, it deviates from recommendations of composition made to students (although recommended order and obligated content differ–and the latter is addressed). It does, however, adhere to the length requirements expressed to students; they are asked for 2,600 to 3,250 words, exclusive of heading, title,  page numbers, and Works Cited. The paper below is 2,604 words long, assessed by those standards. Its formatting will necessarily differ from student submissions due to the differing medium. How the medium influences reading is something well worth considering as a classroom discussion, particularly for those students who are going into particularly writing- or design-intensive fields.

Set in a fantastical analogue of feudal Japan and China, the Legend of the Five Rings (L5R) is a tabletop gaming property that, across the first two decades of its existence, encompassed a collectible card game, a role-playing game, miniatures wargaming, and more “traditional” table games. (As of this writing, the property is undergoing a transition associated with new ownership. A card game is promised, and a role-playing game is suggested, as being forthcoming, but what connections to earlier incarnations of the property will be in place are unclear.) Each partook of an ongoing, player-driven storyline; that is, while there was an over-arching plotline for the whole gaming property, many of the points of that plot were determined by players, whether explicitly by fiat or through results achieved by victories at major gaming events. The direct and identifiable impact on storyline by players accounted for much of the game’s popularity and the loyalty of its player base. It also commanded a rich and detailed back history for the player-current narratives to emerge from, and that, in turn, included consideration of faux-historical cultural figures frequently derived from documented history and interpretations of it. (Indeed, the name of the game itself derives from Miyamoto Musashi’s Book of Five Rings, and its core rulebook is patterned explicitly on the work; no few other works are brought into the game, not seldom by name in-milieu and out.) One such faux-historical figure, Shosuro Furuyari, is a clear send-up of a particular view on William Shakespeare–one that is, unfortunately, not the most accurate view of the Bard to be found.

The focus of L5R is on the noble classes of the land of the Empire of Rokugan, the aforementioned analogue of feudal Japan and China. As noted in the core rulebook of the L5R role-playing game’s fourth edition (Carman et al., 13-71), the members of those noble classes are divided, for the most part, into various Clans and Families. The mightiest of the Clans, the Great Clans, originally descended from the divine children of the Sun and Moon, and their social roles and overall philosophies derive in large part from their founders. Each of the Clans adopts an animal totem to serve as its dominant heraldic emblem and as an overarching metaphor for the Clan as a whole. One such is the Scorpion Clan, descended from the underhanded Bayushi; its members are the spies and assassins of the Empire–its ninja–those willing to take most any means to get done whatever jobs need to get done, regardless of the stains on their personal honor. They find secrets and keep them, doing much to disguise such truths as may not be palatable or helpful–and as part of their disguising, they maintain extensive groups of actors and workers associated with acting. The set of workers includes no few playwrights, among whom is the figure of Shosuro Furuyari, acknowledged as the greatest dramatist in the milieu-–and a clear incarnation of Shakespeare.

To be fair, the nature of the tabletop role-playing game, even one with as involved a backstory as L5R, precludes full historical development. As it is, the in-game history of Rokugan is only cursorily sketched, more than a dozen centuries of material compressed into forms easily accessed by casual players (who still often find themselves daunted by the scope and extent of the material). That history occupies scores of pages across nearly two dozen books in the fourth edition of the role-playing game, some of which clarify historical circumstances for the benefit of players who wish to work in the deeper history of the game-world–as well as hundreds of other pages in the previous three editions of the game. Although the game texts are supplemented by no few works of fiction, written by the game’s writers and reflecting “official” developments of the storyline, as well as “flavor text” on any number of the associated playing cards, there is still a paucity of evidence upon which to base any assertions about in-game historical figures.

Such evidence as exists, however, serves to associate Furuyari with Shakespeare. For one, the very name of the character connects the Scorpion dramatist to the Bard. The character’s personal name, Furuyari, can be read as furu + yari–and in a language deliberately patterned after (sometimes poorly translated) Japanese. At least one meaning of furu, depending on the transliteration, is “shake,” and at least one meaning of yari is “spear.” The name therefore reads as “shake spear,” a slightly punning reference to the name of the Swan of Avon. The Bard himself was evidently aware of the joke, given what Heather Wolfe reports of his work in securing his family’s coat of arms–a spear emblazoned on the family shield, the family crest an eagle holding a spear upraised in one claw. It is a fitting name for a premiere dramatist in another milieu–how better to be shown as such than to be named with the same name as the first among playwrights?–and its deployment makes clear that the game’s writers are using the figure as a representative of the most famous of all playwrights.

Other evidence functions similarly. For example, one of Furuyari’s best known plays is One Winter’s Snowfall (Wulf et al., 32), the title of which evokes Shakespeare’s Winter’s Tale. Another of his major works, Death of the First Hantei, presents a scene in which many people lie to their liege lord to ease his mind–-but one refuses to do so, noting that he will, indeed, die while the others say he will live forever (Soesbee 28); the scene evokes Cordelia’s refusal to tell sweet untruths to her father early in King Lear. A further work, The Mask, makes much of one Scoprion leader whose identity is open (the Clan as a whole wears masks as a mocking commentary on honesty and public presentations [Wick 33-34], with the Clan leader more obliged to do so than most [Wulf et al., 5]); masking and mistaken identity serve to undergird such of Shakespeare’s plays as As You Like It, Twelfth Night, and The Merchant of Venice. A focus on the topic, then, serves to link the in-game works to the traditionally canonical, thus tying the authors together in some way.

Yet another of Furuyari’s plays is described as “a three-part epic” (“Honest”), calling to mind the Bard’s three plays about Henry IV and Henry V or the triad concerning Henry VI. Still another of Furuyari’s plays is titled Father and Daughter, and the relationship between father and daughter recurs as a plot point in Shakespeare’s corpus, comedies and tragedies both; Much Ado about Nothing, earlier portions of Othello, and the aforementioned Lear are standout examples, but they are not the only ones, by any means. Admittedly, no more than snippets of the texts of the plays are available; although role-playing games are themselves necessarily associated with theater through their performative nature (as is argued at some length by Daniel Mackay), it is not often that full scripts are presented within them. But even that can be read as evocative of Shakespeare, given such theorized lost plays as Love’s Labour’s Won; the corpus ascribed to the Bard is incomplete, so having an incomplete corpus from the foremost Rokugani playwright makes the character mimetic of Shakespeare. There are clear connections, therefore, to be made between the role-playing game’s character and the Swan of Avon.

Unfortunately, the Shakespeare stand-in in L5R is a fraud, a non-existent person used as a cover for others. In its origins, the façade serves to cover over dramatists uncertain of the reception of their plays and as a convenient vehicle for the Scorpion to maneuver into positions from which to gather intelligence (Wick 36). Agrarian feudal societies do not necessarily offer much in the way of entertainment, so traveling groups of performers were likely to be welcomed warmly–and in the hours after the plays and after-parties ended, as the grateful hosts slept, the actors could creep about and find out more than had already been revealed by careful observation and drink-loosened tongues. Later, the returned spirit of a villainous figure–again, L5R is a fantasy game, one whose supplementary materials and player involvement make much of figures of the past that can explicitly and forcefully enter into the game-world of the present–assumes the identity of Furuyari, using the reverence in which the setting holds the (imagined) writer to maneuver into positions of power and influence and thence to attempt a coup against the current rightful rulers. For a time, he stands among the closest advisers of the lord of the Scorpion Clan, only to be exposed–and to confess himself as–a traitor to that lord and to the Empire as a whole (Wulf, “Master”). Subsequently, he actively works to undermine the legitimate authorities of the Empire (Wulf, “Unfinished”). That is, by posing as the playwright, the pernicious antagonist accrues influence that is then put to vile–and objectively evil, in the context of the game–ends. Neither view of the Shakespeare-analogue–and therefore of the Bard, by proxy–is favorable; it is hard to argue that either a traitor or a fraud is venerable.

There is, admittedly, some justification for the game to use a view of the Bard as a fiction in its own fiction. Some scholars hold such views; one such is Donna N. Murphy. In The Marlowe-Shakespeare Continuum: Christopher Marlowe, Thomas Nashe, and the Authorship of Early Shakespeare and Anonymous Plays, she argues that Christopher Marlowe–notable as a playwright and poet for such works as Edward II, Doctor Faustus, and “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love”–is the actual author of those works ascribed to Shakespeare. She bases her view largely on commonalities of linguistic data (such as those featured in an NPR report of 24 October 2016 in which Gary Taylor, co-editor of the forthcoming edition of The New Oxford Shakespeare, discusses Marlowe’s co-authorship of the Henry VI plays) and the lack of reporting about Shakespeare by contemporary gossip-monger Thomas Nashe. Although Murphy’s stated views post-date initial revelations about Furuyari to the L5R player base, they reflect and emerge from a long-standing line of thought among some scholars and members of the general public that “Shakespeare” as Shakespeare is a longer-standing lie, that there was no such man writing poems and plays at the time–and if scholars who take early modern Englishes and their literatures as their specialized field of study can have such thoughts, then game designers working well outside that field can surely be forgiven for sharing them.

Or they can in part. Such scholars as Murphy are decidedly in the minority among those who make early modern Englishes and their literatures their particular areas of expertise; some will sidestep the question of “real” authorship entirely, citing the effect of the plays on prevailing understandings as more important than accidents of whose hand or hands put the words to their pages, while many more will note that Shakespeare was as real as any other author, citing not only the words of other contemporary and near-contemporary authors to do so, but also documentary evidence. And, indeed, the work of which Taylor speaks, work that would seem to support at least parts of Murphy’s conclusions in finding that some of Shakespeare’s work can, indeed, be ascribed to Marlowe, is explicitly presented as belying such assertions as Murphy’s; Taylor flatly states that “Shakespeare was not a fraud. Marlowe did not write all of Shakespeare’s works.” He is not alone in doing so, and as such, even if L5R has made some efforts to reflect scholarly thought (which it has, as the explicit invocation of the works of Georges Polti and Carlo Gozzi [301-08] in the fourth edition of the L5R role-playing game, its list of references included [384], and John Wick’s dedicatory comment to Way of the Scorpion [2] suggest), it has made inconsistent efforts–which is a shame for the game, which has otherwise done much well.

It might also be argued, and with some justice, that L5R is simply a game and that the assertions made in it are not to be taken as representative or directive–and the implications of it are far less so. L5R is a series of games, and there is a disjunction between the world of the game and the world that enfolds the game. Too, the contextual materials the game offers are scanty, as any simulation’s must be. But L5R is also a sprawling narrative, one that has pulled in thousands of audience members across decades, and it is no secret that the kinds of fans associated with tabletop gaming are often intense in their devotion to the objects of their fandom. As Flegel and Roth, Roth and Flegel, and Stein and Busse assert, fandoms take into themselves no small part of those properties of which they are fans, integrating with them in familial, communal ways; what the properties do exerts influence on who its fans are. Thus, what L5R does matters, and if it does things poorly, those things end up mattering.

Additionally, Gary Alan Fine remarks that broader, prevailing social structures are themselves composed of many smaller constituent parts–of which gaming communities are prominent examples, so that what they believe comes to shape how the broader systems of which they partake operate. Further, Teresa Copeland and her co-authors, as well as both Liz Danforth and Kat Werner, assert the utility of the role-playing game to the school and public library, and such experiences as present themselves in schools tend to shape all that follows. Paul Burda and Mark Silcox both independently argue that the role-playing game merits serious scholarly consideration, advancing their views for different reasons but to the same end–an end that moves aside from common complaints of the uselessness of academic studies, embedding gaming into what continues to happen in mainstream culture far removed from the tabletop. Finally, Stéphanie Daniau makes the case that role-playing games have a transformative power that enables more fully realized humanity, which makes their content potentially foundational to human experience. For L5R to put forth a view of Shakespeare that holds him a fiction–and one easily exploited for nefarious purposes–is therefore dangerous, even if the view is occluded and partial. That a thing works subtly and through suggestion does not mean it does not work, after all, as the victims of any number of half-heard rumors can attest.

Even with its problems of execution, though, L5R does engage with Shakespeare–and not only in Furuyari; for example, the plot of a foregrounded scene from a work of prominent in-world fiction closely mimics the final scene of Taming of the Shrew, highlighting a wager of obedience although taking it far further in the game than the Bard takes his characters on the stage (Wick 15-17). That it does so in Furuyari and elsewhere is itself an important thing. Among others, it reaffirms the central place of Shakespeare to the narrative communities that have succeeded him. It shows that the Swan of Avon still swims through the currents of popular consciousness in the English-speaking world, even in those eddies which may be thought to be far removed from the main stream, and it offers promise that the utility of the Bard and studies thereof are far from exhausted. More is being done in the prevailing cultural consciousness with Shakespeare, so more is yet to be done with what is being done, and both such mores offer no small hope for those who will continue to undertake academic study of the humanities.

Works Cited

  • Burda, Paul. “Roll a D20 and the Author Dies.” From Text to Txting: New Media in the Classroom, edited by Paul Budra and Clint Burnham, Indiana UP, 2012, pp. 1-14.
  • Carman, Shawn, et al. Legend of the Five Rings Roleplaying Game, 4th ed., Alderac Entertainment Group, 2010.
  • Copeland, Teresa, et al. “Three Different Paths for Tabletop Gaming in School Libraries.” Library Trends, vol. 61, no. 4, 2013, pp. 825-35. Project Muse, doi.org/10.1353/lib.2013.0018. Accessed 7 November 2016.
  • Danforth, Liz. “Gender and Games.” Library Journal, vol. 136, no. 13, 2011, p. 53. Academic Search Complete, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=64501689&scope=site. Accessed 7 November 2016.
  • Daniau, Stéphanie. “The Transformative Potential of Role-Playing Games–: From Play Skills to Human Skills.” Simulation & Gaming, vol. 47, no. 4, 2016, pp. 423-44, doi.org/10.1177/1046878116650765. Accessed 7 November 2016.
  • Fine, Gary Alan. Tiny Publics: A Theory of Group Action and Culture, Russell Sage Foundation, 2012.
  • Flegel, Monica, and Jenny Roth. “Legitimacy, Validity, and Wriitng for Free: Fan Fiction, Gender, and the Limits of (Unpaid) Labor.” The Journal of Popular Culture, vol. 47, no. 6, 2014, pp. 1092-1108.
  • “An Honest Ant.” Kaze no Shiro, www.kazenoshiro.com/kazenoshiro/1/hhorant.php. Accessed 5 October 2016.
  • Mackay, Daniel. The Fantasy Role-Playing Game: A New Performing Art, McFarland, 2001.
  • Murphy, Donna N. The Marlowe-Shakespeare Continuum: Christopher Marlowe, Thomas Nashe, and the Authorship of Early Shakespeare and Anonymous Plays, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013.
  • Roth, Jenny, and Monica Flegel. “It’s Like Rape: Metaphorical Family Transgressions, Copyright Ownership, and Fandom.” Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies, vol. 28, no. 6, 2014, pp. 901-13, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/10304312.2014.964175. Accessed 29 September 2016.
  • Shakespeare. As You Like It. The Necessary Shakespeare, edited by David Bevington, 4th ed., Pearson, 2014. pp. 150-89.
  • —. King Lear.The Necessary Shakespeare, edited by David Bevington, 4th ed., Pearson, 2014. pp. 656-709.
  • —. The Merchant of Venice. The Necessary Shakespeare, edited by David Bevington, 4th ed., Pearson, 2014. pp. 74-112.
  • —. Much Ado about Nothing. The Necessary Shakespeare, edited by David Bevington, 4th ed., Pearson, 2014. pp. 113-149.
  • —. Othello, the Moor of Venice. The Necessary Shakespeare, edited by David Bevington, 4th ed., Pearson, 2014. pp. 605-55.
  • —. The Taming of the Shrew. The Necessary Shakespeare, edited by David Bevington, 4th ed., Pearson, 2014. pp. 2-41.
  • —. Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will. The Necessary Shakespeare, edited by David Bevington, 4th ed., Pearson, 2014. pp. 190-226.
  • —. The Winter’s Tale. The Necessary Shakespeare, edited by David Bevington, 4th ed., Pearson, 2014. pp. 802-44.
  • Soesbee, Ree. Winter Court: Kyuden Seppun, Five Rings Publishing Group, 1999.
  • Stein, Louisa, and Kristina Busse. “Limit Play: Fan Authorship between Source Text, Intertext, and Context.” Popular Communication, vol. 7, 2009, pp. 192-207, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/15405700903177545. Accessed 29 September 2016.
  • Taylor, Gary. Interview by Robert Siegel. “Christopher Marlowe Credited as Shakespeare’s Co-Author on Henry VI Plays.” All Things Considered, NPR, 24 October 2016, www.npr.org/2016/10/24/499199341/christopher-marlowe-credited-as-shakespeares-co-author-on-henry-vi-plays. Accessed 7 November 2016.
  • Werner, Kat. “Bringing Them In: Developing a Gaming Program for the Library.” Library Trends, vol. 61, no. 4, 2013, pp. 790-801. Project Muse, doi.org/10.1353/lib.2013.0015. Accessed 7 November 2016.
  • Wick, John. Way of the Scorpion, Five Rings Publishing Group, 1998.
  • Wolfe, Heather. “Shakespeare Coat of Arms Discovery.” Folger Shakespeare Library, www.folger.edu/shakespeare-coat-of-arms-discovery. Accessed 3 October 2016.
  • Wulf, Rich. “Unfinished Business, Part II.” Kaze no Shiro, 2016, www.kazenoshiro.com/2008/10/06/unfinished-business-part-ii/. Accessed 4 October 2016.
  • —. “Master of Secrets.” Kaze no Shiro, 2016, www.kazenoshiro.com/2008/08/15/master-of-secrets/. Accessed 4 October 2016.
  • Wulf, Rich, et al. Secrets of the Scorpion, Alderac Entertainment Group, 2003.

Sample Annotated Bibliography: Shakespeare in Legend of the Five Rings

What follows is an annotated bibliography like that students are asked to produce for the AnnBib assignment in my section of ENGL & THRE 3333: Shakespeare: Comedies & Sonnets during the Fall 2016 instructional term at Schreiner University. As with the sample proposal and sample exploratory essay from which it arises (and which it echoes), its topic is slightly aside from that allowed to the students; rather than treating a single work, it treats a more general Shakespearean reconstruction, looking for what prompts continuance of the Bard in popular culture. It does, however, adhere to the length requirements expressed to students; they are asked for two paragraphs and eight three-part annotations (MLA-style Works Cited citation, source summary, and assessment of utility to the ongoing project), exclusive of heading, title,  and page numbers; the bibliography below conforms to those standards. Its formatting will necessarily differ from student submissions due to the differing medium. How the medium influences reading is something well worth considering as a classroom discussion, particularly for those students who are going into particularly writing- or design-intensive fields.

My own involvement with Legend of the Five Rings (L5R) dates back to the beginning of my undergraduate studies; a friend made early in my abortive tenure as a music major introduced me to the game, and I played steadily until moving to New York City in 2009. During that time, I participated in the in-person and online communities associated with the game, helping to steer small parts of its story through that participation and deriving no small pleasure therefrom (in addition to spending no small amount of money on doing so). Because L5R has been part of my life for as many years as it has, I have ample reason to look through its materials from time to time; it was during such a review that I ran again across the character of Shosuro Furuyari, described by various bits of the game’s narratives as the foremost playwright in the fictional milieu. From there, it was a small step to look at how the writer recapitulates beliefs about the Swan of Avon for a late twentieth and early twenty-first century gaming audience.

In pulling up critical materials on the game and its characters, I looked first through such databases as Academic Search Complete, JSTOR, and Project Muse for articles that answered to the search term “Legend of the Five Rings.” Given the niche market for L5R and the relatively limited scholarly treatment of role-playing games, generally, I did not expect to find much–and the expectation was met, revealing only a non-scholarly New York Times piece treating the game. I then expanded my search to “tabletop role-playing games,” opening my research to treatments of the genre as a whole; the search revealed more sources, although not all were useful due to being too early in publication, and others enjoyed privilege of access that prevented immediate review. Many of the latter–those showing up as most relevant by keyword search–were requested through interlibrary loan services and read, largely in the order received. Additionally, following the news that Marlowe has been credited as co-author with Shakespeare of the Henry VI plays, a search of Logan Library holdings for pieces treating the intersection of Marlowe and Shakespeare yielded one source readily available–the Murphy attested below–and another requested through interlibrary loan.


Burda, Paul. “Roll a D20 and the Author Dies.” From Text to Txting: New Media in the Classroom, edited by Paul Budra and Clint Burnham, Indiana UP, 2012, pp. 1-14.

After a brief vignette detailing involvement with a role-playing group, the chapter offers a brief history of the tabletop role-playing game and a definition of the genre taken from Daniel Mackay. Prior scholarship on role-playing games is rehearsed before Mackay’s definition is shaded against other scholarly treatments of performance and orality. The chapter then moves to posit how much of the role-playing game can be treated as literary, comparing rulebooks to theoretical tracts and instantiations of games to literary texts themselves. It also asserts that role-playing games prefigure digital media in terms of enacting deconstructionist ideas—and that they are, in fact, superior objects for the study of such theoretical approaches than the new media commonly supposed to be eminent in enacting them. Why they are is explained in some detail, and implications for teaching are noted before the chapter returns to its opening vignette to conclude.

As a serious scholarly treatment of role-playing games as objects of study, Burda’s chapter legitimates the genre. Further, although the piece focuses most on Dungeons & Dragons, it also explicitly makes mention of less-known gaming properties, which makes its arguments more readily applicable to L5R than might otherwise be the case. At root, Burda argues that role-playing games are art, and one of the things that art does is encapsulate and rework those tropes existent when it is developed. That L5R can be read as reinterpreting Shakespeare, then, becomes eminently sensible.


Copeland, Teresa, et al. “Three Different Paths for Tabletop Gaming in School Libraries.” Library Trends, vol. 61, no. 4, 2013, pp. 825-35. Project Muse, doi.org/10.1353/lib.2013.0018. Accessed 19 October 2016.

Working from the position that tabletop games are a useful educational resource and therefore to be promoted as library holdings, the article explicates how three school library staffers in the United States and United Kingdom integrate tabletop gaming into their institutions’ offerings. Copeland articulates how the pre-kindergarten-through-12th-grade school for which she works incorporates games into the whole curriculum, focusing on role-playing Homeric epic and related activities. Co-author Brenda Henderson reports on the more time-limited—but necessarily more focused—gaming activities at her school, their social ramifications, and their bridge into community involvement. Co-author Brian Mayer discusses how his institution partners with nearly two dozen school districts to facilitate integrating games into curricular and extracurricular offerings.

The article openly asserts the validity of gaming—including role-playing—as a teaching and learning tool. As such, it helps position games as exerting substantial influence on their players, particularly the younger players who encounter formalized gaming at a time in their lives when they are particularly prone to taking up ideas explicitly and implicitly indicated. The content of games is therefore singularly important—and even if L5R is not directed towards a young player-base, it is likely to be played by younger players. What it says, then, matters—even or especially if the information is inaccurate.


Danforth, Liz. “Gender and Games.” Library Journal, vol. 136, no. 13, 2011, p. 53. Academic Search Complete, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=64501689&scope=site. Accessed 17 October 2016.

The article argues that libraries should encourage gaming among their patrons, whatever their gender, and notes both difficulties in and possibilities for expanding gaming among feminine library patrons. After a brief introduction, the piece moves through a discussion of the context of gaming and the complexity of the gaming environment before articulating what libraries offer to gaming communities. Notable is the article’s emphasis on the inclusive nature of the library as an institution.

Because the article makes much of the inclusive nature of libraries and positions games of various sorts—including tabletop role-playing games—as activities eminently suited to libraries, it tacitly asserts that gaming is an activity available to be enjoyed by all. As such, its messages are similarly to be made available to all; it follows that those messages, being in a position to reach many, can—and perhaps ought to—exert substantial influence on the beliefs and attitudes of a large section of the populace. Accordingly, those messages become more than merely facets of what is “just a game,” and the view of Shakespeare advanced in L5R becomes one that can potentially mislead myriad current gamers—and gamers yet to come.


Daniau, Stéphanie. “The Transformative Potential of Role-Playing Games–: From Play Skills to Human Skills.” Simulation & Gaming, vol. 47, no. 4, 2016, pp. 423-44, doi.org/10.1177/1046878116650765. Accessed 31 October 2016.

Working in part from a doctoral dissertation, the article argues that tabletop role-playing games have substantial potential benefits to groups and individuals in that they offer practice in being more fully human. After laying out the scarce but burgeoning critical context of role-playing game study, the article situates its topic in context, presents a set of typical gaming structures, describes the game’s evolution, links game theory and play skills, and explores the transformative potential of the game, citing it as a means to help people construct themselves as more self-actualized and thus better able to face the world.

Daniau offers a perspective of role-playing games as not only therapeutic objects but as formative objects for social growth and change. Such a position privileges the content of the games themselves; if they are to be among the materials used to construct the constituent parts of society, they need to be based in the best available knowledge. If they are not, then, errors are embedded in the most elemental parts of the social fabric; the tapestry cannot help but be marred thereby.


Fine, Gary Alan. Tiny Publics: A Theory of Group Action and Culture, Russell Sage Foundation, 2012.

The author argues that the small groups in which people find themselves are the primary components of the larger cultural groups typically studied, that they are, in fact, people’s principal organizational affiliations. At root, larger societies reenact the dynamics of their smaller components; the study of those smaller components, then, offers transcendent representative generalizability of ideas. In supporting the idea, Fine draws upon several previous studies he had previously conducted, with topics ranging from Little League teams to tabletop role-playing groups to the National Weather Service, laying out the argument in an introduction and nine chapters what the eponymous tiny publics are, how they form, how they function internally, how they interact, and how they extend into larger groups.

Fine is the author of one of the seminal academic studies on tabletop role-playing games, Shared Fantasy, so his comments about such games are of some importance. Additionally, by arguing that small-scale social groups, explicitly including gaming communities, constitute larger groups and that the dynamics at work in the smaller directly and substantially influence the larger, he makes it possible to argue that what happens in gaming groups has larger ramifications for society at large. What they do well works to broader benefit; what they do poorly works to broader detriment.


Murphy, Donna N. The Marlowe-Shakespeare Continuum: Christopher Marlowe, Thomas Nashe, and the Authorship of Early Shakespeare and Anonymous Plays, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013.

Murphy argues that the playwright and otherwise talented Christopher Marlowe is the “actual” primary author of the plays attributed to Shakespeare. Following a foreword written by Cynthia Morgan, Murphy lays out in twelve chapters and two appendices her support for the idea that Marlowe faked his own death and continued writing under the pseudonym “William Shakespeare” to escape execution. Linguistic data taken from works by Marlowe and Shakespeare highlight commonalities of usage Murphy asserts are too close to be coincidence—particularly given the lack of attestation by newsmonger Thomas Nashe of the person of Shakespeare.

While Murphy does acknowledge that assigning authorship to early modern works definitively is problematic in part because of authorial practices of the time and the limits of documentation, she does present an extensive, peer-reviewed case against the traditional view of the Bard as sole or even primary author—or an actual person at all. While it might stretch credulity to think that a person who would expect execution by English authorities would remain in the area of London—and, indeed, in positions therein that would attract the notice of those very authorities—the book does serve as a useful counterargument to the idea that the Shakespeare presented in L5R is inaccurate. The work, and others like it, lend some validity to the view; if a dedicated scholar holds the view, one who would work with its object at some remove can surely be forgiven for doing the same.


Silcox, Mark. “On the Value of Make-Believe.” The Journal of Aesthetic Education, vol. 46, no. 4, 2012, pp. 20-31. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/10.5406/jaesteduc.46.4.0020. Accessed 19 October 2016.

Contextualizing its discussion in a history of play since the middle of the 20th century, the article explores ideas of the innate value of pretend play—in itself, rather than as a means to another end—through filtering the ideas of Kendall Walton, Ron Edwards, and Bernard Suits. The article summarizes the ideas in order, emphasizing Walton, but it shies away from making any kind of unifying claim. In effect, the article makes the case that consideration of whether pretend play—explicitly including role-playing games—has value needs to be conducted, likely in places strange to academia.

Along with several other articles, Silcox’s piece serves to situate role-playing games as objects worth scholarly study. Such a claim should not continue to be necessary, as the strong cultural studies motion among humanistic study ought to call for all such cultural products to be taken up as valid objects of consideration. Conservatism within academe, however, still vitiates against treating many less cachet-bearing objects, and broader misconceptions about humanistic study suggest that much of what it treats is folly. Having an argument against such views suggests itself as useful in making a claim about such objects as L5R.


Werner, Kat. “Bringing Them In: Developing a Gaming Program for the Library.” Library Trends, vol. 61, no. 4, 2013, pp. 790-801. Project Muse, doi.org/10.1353/lib.2013.0015. Accessed 19 October 2016.

After a brief introduction and background for the author’s involvement in developing library gaming programs the article lays out means for setting up such programs—including those for tabletop role-playing games—and tournaments. It then addresses local impacts, means for assessing effects of such programs, challenges such programs face, and additional resources. In concluding, the article looks forward and suggests that gaming programs can be a valuable source of ongoing community outreach.

Another library-based treatment of role-playing games, Werner’s piece functions much as those of Copeland et al. and Danforth. It marks the role-playing game as a useful educational artifact, which makes the contents of each game—including L5R—vitally important.

Sample Illustrative Definition Essay: Official Averages

What follows is an illustrative definition essay like that students are asked to produce for the IllDef assignment in my section of ENGL 1301: Rhetoric & Composition during the Fall 2016 instructional term at Schreiner University. Its topic is of much the same sort as is requested of students, one echoing the earlier sample descriptive essay (from which, indeed, it borrows).  It also adheres to the length requirements expressed to students; they are asked for approximately 1,300 words, exclusive of heading, title,  page numbers, and any necessary Works Cited entries, and the essay below is 1,325 words long, assessed by those standards. Its formatting will necessarily differ from student submissions due to the differing medium. How the medium influences reading is something well worth considering as a classroom discussion, particularly for those students who are going into particularly writing- or design-intensive fields.

From 2004 or 2005 onward, I have had access to academic office spaces. Some have been private; some have been shared. They have differed in other ways, too, but some common features present themselves among several of them: Deuce-38 at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, my office at the 56th Street building of Technical Career Institutes in New York City, my office in Morrill Hall at Oklahoma State University, and my current office at Schreiner University in Kerrville. Among many others, those offices demonstrate tendencies among the best academic offices: they combine privacy and collegiality, feature a soothing plainness that admits of and encourages being overwritten, and ease the work of research held most vital to the mission of academe.

One of the things that an academic office needs to do is afford its inhabitants privacy. Those of us who work in university settings often need to confer with our students about their progress in the course, and such conferences are privileged by law; privacy becomes a concern for them in that respect. Additionally, many of us find ourselves in the position of mentoring students; they come to us with their problems–and not only those of the classroom and institution. Since some of those matters are sensitive, too, they deserve some protection, and a good academic office will offer that protection. My office at the 56th Street building in New York City was particularly useful in that regard; as noted in “Where Writes Me,” it was a rarity to have isolated institutional space (247). What the article does not note, however, is how private the space was; to reach it, I and others had to pass through an often-locked door and down a passageway through an often-empty anteroom. As such, not only did I have private space there, I had private space largely removed from the concerns of its surroundings, private space with a buffer all around it.

The office I had at the 56th Street building is an exceptional example of the privacy a good academic office should offer, but it is not the only one. The first office I had as a graduate student, affectionately called Deuce-38 after its formal designation–Room 238 in H.L. Griffin Hall on the University of Louisiana at Lafayette campus–was subdivided into ten cubicles, most of which were assigned to master-level students awarded teaching assistantships; my cohort entered it in 2005. I took the third cubicle on the left side of the aisle that divided the room lengthwise; doing so put me near the center of my own office and closer to the middle of the section of the building in which Deuce-38 stands. As such, I was reasonably isolated from much of the outside noise of the hallways surrounding the section, offering some privacy. Too, the cubicle walls obscured view from almost all of the other desks in the room; only the desk held by the woman who is now my wife had easy line-of-sight to mine, and she and I worked together extensively, so we benefited from the ease of access to each other and the difficulty of access by others. I benefited from having the privacy afforded even by the cubicle, as I have from that provided by other offices–and as all do who have good academic offices.

There is a tension, however, associated with the privacy of a good academic office. The academy as a whole is an institution that works in large part because it puts people into dialogue with one another. Classes help students in large part because they place them alongside other students whose backgrounds and outlooks differ from their own; they have to address the views of others to be able to advance their own, and such addresses help make their ideas better. The same is true for those who work at the front of the classroom; faculty benefit from interacting with one another, and a good academic office will conduce to that end. Such an office as what I had in Morrill 411 offers an example. As I note in an earlier essay, “Sample Profile: Morrill 411,” a large part of the attractiveness of that office space inheres in the way it facilitates camaraderie among its inhabitants; the openness of the office space and the relative plainness of its fixtures and features encouraged its inhabitants to talk to one another, developing ideas in the light of one another’s backgrounds and understandings, and enriching everyone involved. Academic offices ought to work to benefit their inhabitants, so one that promotes collegiality is better positioned to be a good one.

Morrill 411 also highlights a common feature of good academic offices–that the decor should have a plain beginning that encourages overwriting. That is, the academic office should start as a relatively neutral space into which its inhabitant can inscribe him- or herself. My current office at Schreiner University offers an example; in an earlier piece, “Sample Descriptive Essay: Filling Weir 209,” I note that the space I currently call my campus home started off as “not necessarily remarkable,” equipped with standard-issue fixtures. As I remain in place, however, more of me emerges into the room; more of the bookcase is filled with my scholarly apparatus now than was before, and to the tokens of my association with the English honor society have been added pictures of my wife and daughter. Music emerges from my workstation in a stream still being carefully curated, filling the room with sounds that ease me because they surround me with what I hear in my inward ear–and that can be silenced quickly in favor of attending to the work of the day. I continue to concede that the way in which my office presents me is fraught, of course–I stand by what appears in “Where Writes Me,” even if the students I teach now are not (for the most part) the same set of people as I taught when I wrote the CCC piece–but I am also more at ease where I am than I was before. Such ease proceeds from how my office appears, which is one of the things that the décor of a good academic office ought to foster.

The most important thing that an academic office does, however, is facilitate the work of the academy–and that work inheres chiefly in the development of new knowledge and understanding. Indeed, part of the value of both privacy and collegiality, which good academic offices evidence, and part of the value of the decor of an academic office being what it is are that they make doing the work easier; privacy affords space in which to work, collegiality exposure to ideas to test the new knowledge being developed, and the background and fixtures shut our distractions and provide the relaxing comfort that allows work to flow well. More than that, though, a good academic office should convey an overall sense that it is a place to work, that it is a place where intellectual inquiry can be conducted and its results compiled into a form where others can see them. Such has been the case for my own offices. I wrote my master’s thesis largely at the desk I held in Deuce-38; much of my doctoral dissertation was written while I sat at my desk in the 56th Street building at Technical Career Institutes (including one day that saw me churn out a solid draft of the entire conclusion of my dissertation); no few conference papers and calls for them were drafted at my desk in Morrill 411, as well as many of the same kind of essays as this one; and I continue that work in Weir 209–as others do similar work in other good academic offices.

There are other factors that make for good offices, to be sure. Having any set of them, though, helps us know what to look for in our own spaces.

Works Cited