I’m quite ecstatic about the book, as well as the quick delivery. While I touted the wonders of the internet (which I still hold to be true, mind you), I was secretly concerned about something more “worldly”: international shipping hell. I’ve heard my fair share of horror stories about packages that were supposed to hop the pond, and I was really hoping that my book’s voyage didn’t become one of those stories. Obviously, it didn’t.

Lastly, my family thinks I’m a total geek (which I agree with), and perhaps mildly insane (which I can’t totally argue with, at least not all of the time). There’s something über-geeky about excitedly saying, “Excellent! My German-based Russian text has arrived!” Oh well.

Whatever the details behind the re-issuing, the book is available for free. It is basically what the title says: a handbook for those who wish to be scholars, to learn deeply, and to perhaps eventually publish their findings, whatever those may be. I’ve read the first 50 pages or so, and have enjoyed them. The most fundamental thing that the book has pushed beneath my nose is that you don’t have to be in academia to be a scholar. Most scholars are in academia, but the academic position isn’t a prerequisite to being a scholar. This is something that I would have “known”, had I ever thought about it, but I hadn’t. Funny how that works, isn’t it?

There’s a lot of practical how-to stuff in it. Thus far I’ve read about starting an intellectual journal, checking out various realms of knowledge (even if you’ll never be able to “master” all of them, or even a few of them), finding sources (interlibrary loans, databases, etc.). The table of contents shows there’s information on working with others, teaching, getting funding, and beyond, but I can’t say much on these, as I’ve not read them yet. However, if they’re as good, as helpful, and as enjoyable as what I have read, they’ll be quite nice indeed.

I don’t recall how I came across the book / site, but I was interested in it immediately; it sounded like something that would appeal to my inner book geek. If I hadn’t been hooked, I would have been after reading this quote from Max Schuster (of Simon and Schuster), which was said to the author of the book when he was an employee with above-mentioned company:

I have one piece of advice for you – not just for success in this business, but personally. Begin at once – not today, or tomorrow, or at some remote indefinite date, but right now, at this precise moment – to choose some subject, some concept, some great name or idea or event in history on which you can eventually make yourself the world’s supreme expert. Start a crash program immediately to qualify yourself for this self-assignment through reading, research, and reflection.

I’m not sure why, but that quote really spoke to me. It gave me goosebumps on the first read. Anyone else have a similar reaction, or am I just strange?

I received my copy of World War II Infantry Anti-Tank Tactics via OhioLINK, and wanted to remark on just a few of the things that popped out at me while I was reading it:

Despite their psychological impact on infantrymen in the open, tanks were far from being the undefeatable, unstoppable, fire-breathing monsters so often portrayed. Vulnerabilities abounded – if conditions were favourable to those fighting against them; . . . .

Hah! Well, now I don’t feel bad at all about my former misconceptions about tanks.

Except to the tank’s immediate front and the direction in which the turret was oriented, the crew were for all practical purposes blind. Many of the means of vision were mounted high to maximize their fields, and stealthy and courageous infantry could easily move into the tank’s blind zone or ‘dead space.’

Apparently my ideas based on playing Red Orchestra were right. Who said games are useless for education?

Fuel consumption limited operating range, and was measured in gallons per mile rather than miles per gallon.

This is another factor that I’d never considered before when thinking about tanks. I’m not entirely sure why, but I had never really taken all of the mechanical problems and issues of a tank into consideration. The tank was, in my mind, when I didn’t look at it too closely, above being a vehicle. It was closer to being alive rather than being a machine; that probably sounds absurd, but as I poke around in my memory, I realize that’s how I saw it. Logically, of course, I knew that it was a vehicle that had an engine, that required fuel, etc. – but just skimming over “tank” in my mind, none of that popped up. Maybe that just goes back to the above paragraph though, describing how many people viewed them as fire-breathing monsters rather than what they really were.

The tank crew had to endure great heat, deafening noise from the engine and running gear, dizzying fumes from the engine and gun, cramped space hampered by awkward interior fittings, violent pitching and lurching during cross-country movement, poor visibility, and the ever-present fire hazard.

Again, something else that I had never really considered. I always assumed that things on the inside of the tank, besides it being a bit cramped, were just fine. I’d never thought about extreme heat, fumes, and noise. Then again, in my defense, I’ve never been in a tank. All I’ve heard from them is the rather tank-specific sound of treads creaking. I suppose that, on the inside, the sound of creaking treads, guns firing, and the engine roaring would drown out most other sounds. I won’t quote it, because it’s a fairly long section, but the book explains that tank crews often had quite a time communicating with infantry and other tanks, which complicated movement and attack coordination considerably.

After reading the book, I’m left with an understanding that has been furthered, but is still quite close to what I had when I finished writing my first post on tanks. Tanks were:

• Terrifying
• Unstoppable
• Useless
• Battlefield dominating
• Total junk
• More trouble than they were worth
• The turn of the tide in many battles

The list could go on, but in short: it just really depended on the battlefield, what the attackers and defenders had available, and more than a little luck.

I could continue yanking quotes from the book that caught my attention, but I won’t, because I would most likely come close to rewriting it, which 1) I don’t want to do and 2) the publishers don’t want me to do. If you’re interested in how infantry went up against tanks, do get the book; it’s quite good.

I spoke to a fellow a couple of days ago who’s in the third world politics course that I’m taking. I asked him if he’d dropped the American history course that we had both started out in at the beginning of the semester; I asked because I hadn’t seem him in class for two weeks, and the class meets three times a week. “No,” he says. “I can bullshit my way through that professor’s tests, so I don’t come to class that often.” I just kind of nodded and went back to what I was doing at the time. By the way, that fellow’s major is history.

I’m not stupid; I realize that many view college as just a way to get a piece of paper which has, more or less, become a requirement to get your foot into the workplace door. Certainly, I want to get one of those slips of paper, too. I’d be lying if I said otherwise. But why has the desire to learn – to really learn, and not just cram to ace a test – declined so much? Maybe I’m being too idealistic in my views, but it seems to me that when you look at the behavior of higher education students in earlier time periods, they really did learn. Formerly, most students strived to master the material; now students regularly skip class because they know they can “bullshit their way through the tests.” It seems that the standards have dropped, and by a lot. What happened?

However, maybe I’m trying to graft my likes onto others. Learning for me isn’t a chore; I love it, actually, and it’s a huge part of who I am. If anything, maybe I go too far in the opposite direction: maybe I try to learn too much. I often feel like old Bilbo, “stretched thin,” like butter scraped over too much bread. I’ll find myself juggling different topics, often having to drop some until a later time. However, I try to always have something on the “learning burner,” so to speak, and thinking back, I honestly can’t remember the last time I wasn’t pursuing one subject or another. To me, the idea of taking a class and then purposefully skipping out and not learning anything, is just stupid.

What’s your take on the subject? Where does learning new stuff – regardless of what it is – rank in your life? High? Low? Not on the radar at all, as long as you’re having a good time? Do you think standards of education have dropped a lot in the past, say, century?

I’ve long been interested in World War 2; I’ve read about the major actions in the war, as well as about many of the major players in it. I’ve played (perhaps far too many) games set during World War 2. It is only, recently, however, that I’ve become interested in understanding how combat during World War 2 really worked.This interest stemmed from my general interest in the war, and from two of the games I’ve been playing lately: Red Orchestra and Company of Heroes. Red Orchestra is a first person shooter, built to be more realistic than most FPS games; bullets drop, tanks behave (mostly) as they would in the real world, there are no crosshairs (just ironsights), etc. There is, of course, that one not-so-realistic factor: players regularly respawn after being killed.

Company of Heroes is a real time strategy game, giving the player control over infantry, tanks, artillery, and a smattering of air support. The goals are what one would expect: capture this strategic town, defend against a counter-attack, protect convoys. It’s a good deal more arcade-ish than Red Orchestra, but there are still lessons to be learned from it. What are they?

My Major Misconception About Tanks

While playing both of these games, I noticed something: the tanks weren’t behaving as I expected them to. I had always imagined tanks to be these massive, unstoppable monstrosities, charging (or lumbering) across the battlefield, immune to infantry. If you had tanks and the enemy had infantry, you had already won. I assumed that the path that many combat operations went during World War 2 was like this: a group of tanks would basically smash into a defensive line (because they were unstoppable, you see), and the infantry would follow in their wake.

It’s amazing what our brains will come up with when they don’t have any real information.

In both games, I found that tanks were, alas, not immune to infantry. While sometimes infantry would fall before the might of schwere Panzers, quite often, if I was not careful with my tanks, they’d soon be flaming heaps of metal, surrounded by infantry.

A little bit of reading on tank warfare during World War 2 did two things for me. First, it confirmed what I was seeing in the games: infantry, with the right tools (anti-take mines, Panzershrecks or bazookas, anti-tank grenades) could and did take out enemy tanks. It certainly wasn’t a piece of cake, but it was doable. The second thing that my bit of reading did was make me realize just how little I know about combined arms tactics, and how very complicated the matter is.

Many Points in Time, Many Truths

I thought it rather ironic that, when I sat down to write this post, I thought I knew pretty much what I was going to say. I wanted to check a few more sources to double check what I “knew”; those few sources threw everything I had learned on its head.

The source that really knocked things into perspective for me was World War II Infantry Anti-Tank Tactics – or perhaps I should say just the first few pages, as that is all I can currently access. (I’ve already requested the book through interlibrary loan; perhaps once I’ve finished reading the book, I’ll find that this whole post is incorrect.)

In those first few pages, the book proved and disproved what I had thought about tanks. Let me elaborate…

From page 1:

The 1940 Blitzkrieg sent other armies into near panic, and a rush to find a means of countering it ensued on both sides of the Atlantic. The fear was often exaggerated, convincing some that infantry units were helpless against tanks. Often the planning committees looked only at the tank itself, and did not consider the combined arms aspects of German doctrine; but effective anti-tank defence would also have to be a combined arms effort.

Reading this made me feel not quite so silly, in assuming that tanks were the end-all, be-all of the battlefield; apparently, some pretty intelligent military people thought the same thing.

Perhaps a segment from the next page will explain, at least in part, where I got my ideas about what tanks were and what they were capable of:

From their first use by the British Army on the Western Front in September 1916, infantry has perceived tanks as a ‘terror’ weapon capable of routing troops, piercing defensive lines and driving deep into rear areas. Considering the limitations of period anti-tank weapons, there was considerable justification for this fear.

The first sentence sums up excellently how I viewed tanks. The view that tanks were basically unstoppable, terror-inducing machines has some truth behind it. The problem with this view, however, is that it’s too general and too static. The problem, in short, is not considering time. Again, from page 1 of the same book, providing an important key to understanding tanks during World War 2:

Anti-tank tactics and weapons were in a constant state of evolution throughout the war. Improved models of tanks, evolving armour tactics, new field innovations and the overall development of combined arms tactics all contributed to the process.

It may be that this is the second biggest misconception I had about tanks: that the tactics they used were the same throughout the war. If I had stopped to make my grey matter work a little, I would have realized that this was a silly notion. Tanks varied widely throughout the war, and how they were used (and how the enemy fought against them) varied accordingly. Why I had shoved all tanks of all nations into one general lump, I’m not entirely sure. In my defense though, until one starts digging into the matter, let’s face it: tanks look pretty similar across the board. How was I supposed to know that a Churchill tank was built to go up against dug-in infantry (World War 1 style), and not go toe-to-toe with a Tiger? They’re both big, armored vehicles, both with a big gun on a turret!

How Things Worked

While my understanding of how infantry and tanks worked together is still tenuous at best, something which I’m going to rectify with more study, as I understand it right now, here’s how things went down:

Early on in the war, my vision of how tanks functioned wasn’t too far from the mark. The anti-tank weapons that infantry had access to were all but useless, particularly the anti-tank rifle. This lack of decent hand weapons to go up against tanks led to the tanks controlling a battle if the defenders had no other anti-tank defenses, such as AT guns. It also led to desperation on the part of many defenders; there are records of Polish cavalary attacking German tanks. Incidentally, even many of the “anti-tank guns” early in the war were fairly useless; the Germans nicknamed a 37mm gun as an “armoured door knocker”; all it did was let the attackers know where the gunners were. This, however, was all to change, as both tanks and anti-tank weaponry were developed further.

Once these developments had taken place, the relationship between infantry and tanks shifted and became truly symbiotic. Instead of tanks bashing through lines followed by infantry, often, the infantry would move forward first to clear out anti-tank infantry; at this time, the tanks would support the advancing foot troops. After an area was secure from anti-tank defenses, then the tanks could move up, accompanied by the infantry. It sounds almost like some peculiar give-and-take dance.

At long range, clearly, tanks would have an advantage over infantry that did not have tank support or long range AT guns. However, at close range, particularly if the area being traversed is cramped with trees and buildings, advancing tanks need infantry support; otherwise, they’re basically sitting ducks, inviting enemy infantry to attack. To quote one of the acknowledgement voices from Company of Heroes (and pardon the language): “This tin can’s a fuckin’ death trap.” In an area of limited mobility, without infantry support to cover the tank’s flanks, this is rather true.

One of the major problems facing a tank crew in close quarters is the fact that visibility is awful. While I’m highly hesitant to trust Red Orchestra’s damage model completely, I do trust that the creators modeled the interior of the tanks correctly. From the positions available – driver, machine-gunner, and commander, who has access to the main gunsight as well as small rectangular holes in the tank cupola – one can mostly see in front of the tank, and even then, it’s not great visibility. The slits in the cupola afford the commander, in theory, a 360 view around the tank; however, there are rather large gaps in that view, as the slits aren’t very wide, and have pieces of the hull in between each one. There are three further options for getting a good view to the sides and rear of the tank:

1. Rotating the gun turret all the way around to use its sight; not a very practical method, as the vast majority of the turrets had a slow rotation time.
2. Popping the hatch and looking out. In a closed area, this obviously was quite dangerous; often, due to the tank’s noise and visibility issues, infantry could flank the tank and wait for an opportune time to attack. A commander popping his head out of the tank would be one of those times.
3. Some tanks had an almost trapdoor-like hatch on the front of the tank, allowing the driver to pop it open and stick his head out; the T34 to the left (painted with German markings) is a good example of this. Obviously, sticking your head out of that hole during a battle wouldn’t be a good idea.

Furthermore, even if the crew could see enemy infantry, problems arose when the infantry got near the tank for a close assault – namely, the tank couldn’t target them. Due to how most tanks were built, they couldn’t lower the angle of the main gun or the coaxial machine-gun enough to target enemies that were practically on top of the tank. So, if infantry could flank a tank in a tight area, not only would it be possible that the tank crew wouldn’t know about it, but even if they did, they couldn’t do anything about it. They were fish in a barrel, in other words. At that point, infantry could use a number of anti-tank weapons to knock out or immobilize the vehicle. (One of the more “interesting” assault weapons I read about was a smoke hand-grenade, which was typicaly smashed over an air vent, filling the tank with smoke, which would force the tankers to evacuate, at which point they’d be captured.)

While I realize that manning a tank in a videogame is far from being the real thing, I can add to all of this that while tanking in Red Orchestra, at least half the time when your tank is taken out, it’s from an enemy that none of the crew could see. I don’t know if that particular statistic for tanks being taken out by infantry during the war, but I’d say it was still a pretty high amount.

Misconceptions Overturned?

As I mentioned above, when I first thought of writing this post, I figured I’d set out to tear apart the common misconception that tanks were unstoppable. I knew my stuff, damnit! Instead, as I wrote the post, I think I simply opened a giant can of worms: as usual, instead of there being one simple truth that we can fall to, there are multiple truths, which vary a great deal depending on the circumstances at and.

Sometimes, tanks were unstoppable; if infantry were without proper weaponry, such as during early in the war, tanks could charge right through enemy lines, then surround the defenders. Other times, tanks were at a loss, relying on other parts of the military for support – aircraft, infantry, artillery.

I suppose, though, that I’ve at least “fixed” my misconception to a certain degree: I know that tanks weren’t always unstoppable, and that’s something, isn’t it?

While I know I have a long way to go to reach true understanding on this complex matter, I’ve nonetheless enjoyed learning what I have so far; I also enjoyed writing this post, even though it’s been more of a drain on me than most of my blog posts. If the post doesn’t make all of my subscribers run screaming into the hills, I’ll certainly continue writing stuff like this. (And, come to think of it, even if it does scare folks away, I’ll probably continue writing some stuff like this; it’s been a blast learning about all of it, even if I’ve only learned enough to realize I still know very little.)

As a final remark, while I’m all for learning, I have to admit that it is (and always will be) one thing to sit in my general’s armchair and study this stuff, and quite another to really experience it (which I have no great desire to do). While hindsight says that infantry did have ways to go up against tanks, that they weren’t always as unstoppable as I once had thought, if a sight like this came rolling at me…

… I can’t imagine how I’d respond. I think anyone can look at that picture and have at least a vague sense as to the terror these things instilled in people.

Cheers to the guys who went up against those mechanized monsters; you’re better men than me.

Write a post about your “learning edge” and what you’re into these days. Feel free to mention any books you’re reading, classes you’re taking, people you’re learning from or collaborating with, etc. Tell us about the gems you’re picking up, the fun you’re having, etc., especially if they’re shifting the way you look at what you do.

Well, let’s see.

Languages

I’m still studying languages a lot. Currently, I’m actively studying, every day, German and Russian. For German, I’m mostly trying to enlarge my vocabulary, so the primary books I’m using are dictionaries. I’m most often using Langenscheidt’s Größwörterbuch Deutsch als Fremdsprache. In the Russian department, I’m using the New Penguin Russian Course, along with Kenneth Katzner’s English-Russian, Russian-English Dictionary. I’m thoroughly enjoying Russian; the beginning stages are much less painful than my first steps with German were. Not because Russian is easier than German (quite the contrary, actually), but because I have a clue as to what I’m doing. Not much of a clue, but more of a clue than I had when I started learning German.

Whenever I talk about studying languages, the question generally comes up, “Oh, that’s interesting, why are you learning [German, Russian]?” In response: the same reason some people knit, or collect stamps. Languages just interest me in general. I’m not studying them for any particular reason (school, money, etc.)

History

As always, there’s a bit of history on my radar. I’m not reading any history books right now, but I have a few awaiting my attention. I’m probably going to start reading A History of Russia when I’m done with my current library loans (The Mote in God’s Eye and the first Harry Potter Book). The Celts by Gerhard Herm is also calling to me.

Spirituality

I’m hesitant to label it as spirituality, but I’m not sure of what else to call it… Anyway:

I’ve been listening to some new (to me) podcasts about Buddhism. The podcast is called Zencast. It’s done mostly by Gil Fronsdal, who teaches at the Insight Meditation Center in California. I’m not sure how much overlap there is, but there’s also this page full of talks by Gil. I’ve previously listened to the 21st Century Buddhism podcast, but I’ve given it up after finding Zencast. Zencast is far better. Ethan of 21st Centry Buddhism gives his best, but Gil clearly knows more about Buddhism; considering he has a PhD in Buddhist Studies, that’s to be expected. Gil also stays on topic a lot better.

In particular, I’m really enjoying Gil’s Introduction to Meditation episodes. They’re quite helpful for a beginner. He talks about many of the problems beginner meditators face: what do I do with thoughts? What do I do if I have an itch? Should I change positions if my legs fall asleep, or stay still? I have been very slack about my meditation practice, but I’m going to make it a habit to sit everyday.

I’m also reading a book on Zen, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind. It’s a short book, but I’ve been reading it off and on for a while now. Being about Zen, it’s – well, to be blunt, a bit confusing. It’s one of those books where you can spend hours thinking about a chapter, paragraph, or sentence. Brain food, I suppose.

Other Stuff

Ah, yes. The “other stuff.” I might as well fess up: I’m a learnaholic. I thrive on learning new things, and devote a large portion of my day to doing so. Here’s some other learning I’ve been doing:

• English words. A few days ago I signed up for a couple “word of the day” emails, to expand my English vocabulary. (For those interested, I’m signed up at wordsmith.org and Merriam Webster.com. If you know of some other good ones, let me know.)
• Knots! I’m learning a variety of knots that I need to know for boating. Being out on a big lake, with lots of wakes tossing the boat about, is not the ideal time or place to discover you have no idea how to tie off the yard. It is also not an ideal place to discover you’re not sure how to uncoil the sheet / brace lines for the sail.
• Organization. I’m extremely disorganized, and I’m trying to learn how to be better organized. Streamlining my life – what I do, how I do it, where I store all my junk – would make things much easier. I’ve had a go at this particular task previously and didn’t have much success with it. Maybe I just need to throw all of my stuff away…
• Cooking. I’m trying to learn how to cook, so if the women of my life suddenly leave, I won’t starve or have to live on Ramen noodles. Not burning stuff up is also a bonus.

Tag, You’re It

Just kidding. I don’t tag. However, if you’re interested in doing this meme, feel free. 

What else can you do with a history degree?

A lot. The American Historical Assocation has a detailed page about what a history major might do after graduation. People with a history degree might find themselves working in education, obviously, but they could also end up being communicators of some sort. Working in business, particularly administration, is also a possibility.

If you do a Google search for “what can you do with a history degree” and check out some of the top results, you’ll find that a lot of people think that all you can do with one is teach. They’re wrong.

Where It Gets Personal

It’s not a crime to be misinformed. It’s not a crime to put your nose where it doesn’t belong, either. While neither are a crime, when you combine those two things, the end result can be quite frustrating.

I can’t tell you how many people have questioned my choice of major; not in a curiosity way, either, like “Oh, cool, what do you want to do with that degree?” Instead, people have essentially attacked my choice of major: “History? What are you going to do with that?” (scorn) “You should switch to being a business major, they make way more money.” Their argument always follows the path of “Well, if you aren’t going to teach, you can’t do anything with it.”

I’ve learned to take such nonsense in stride, but it’s still a bit of a put off. I’m not an idiot (really); I have looked into this stuff, you know. While I can be spontaneous smetimes, I don’t often set aside 4 years of my life to get a degree without looking into what I can do with said degree.

Insult is often added to injury when these people will try to argue with me about this. I’ll tell them that you can do many things with a history degree; that I’ve looked into it a great deal. And they will, without missing a beat, tell me that I’m wrong, and that if I’m not going to teach, I can’t do anything with the degree.

Argh.

What ever happened to getting a degree in something that you enjoy? What’s with the obsession with vocation-based education? Jobs are important, but they aren’t the end-all, be-all of your life. If I wanted to major in business or nursing or dental hygiene or some other “you can get a high paying job immediately after graduating with this!” degree, I would. But I don’t. I want to major in history, and I refuse to be swayed by the masses.

I can hear the army of history geeks mustering now, to back me up. I hope.

1. Don’t take your finals too lightly, but also don’t take them too seriously. Try to keep things in perspective. While this won’t hold for all of your courses, generally, finals are one part of your grade in one course. Don’t kill yourself over it. While I’m all for academic excellence, giving yourself a nervous breakdown over an exam is (in my opinion) taking things a bit too far.
2. Plan accordingly. I’ve found that for most of my courses, the major obstacle in learning the material isn’t really the difficulty of the content, but instead, making sure I set aside time to actually study. If you know you have four final exams coming up on Monday and Tuesday, don’t wait until Sunday afternoon to start studying. This tip, by the way, will work well for all of your college career. Know when stuff is due and plan accordingly.
3. Sleep. Brains don’t like working without sleep. They tend to make stupid mistakes or just refuse to function at all. Massive amounts of coffee might help with this problem, but that’s a dangerous bet to make during finals week. Get some sleep. If you follow tip #2, you shouldn’t really need to stay up until 6AM studying.
4. Have fun. Following tip #2 helps with this too. Take breaks from studying and do something else. Go outside and play with your dog. Drink a beer (if that’s your thing). Have sex with your overstressed-from-finals-week significant other. Just get the hell away from the books for a little bit. Study burnout isn’t fun, and it generally won’t help your grade.
5. Don’t cheat. Cheaters suck. You don’t suck, do you? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Just don’t do it.
6. When you’re done with the exam, forget about it. You’ve followed my tips: You planned accordingly so you had plenty of time; you studied hard (but with breaks); you played some Mario Kart in between studying your microeconomics and ethics of 17th century Europe; and you didn’t sink to the low level of cheating. You did all you could to ensure that you’d do well on the exam. Now that it’s over, don’t stress over it; unless you have the ability to change the past, you’re wasting your time! Sit back and relax.

If you have any further finals exam survival tips, drop ‘em in the comments!

BONUS TIP: I did quite a bit of studying earlier today, and from that, I have another tip to share: Get out of your house and away from your family. It’s so much easier and productive to study when you aren’t at home. You’re away from all of your “stuff” – books, computers, music – which is helpful in keeping you focused on your studies. You’re also away from your family – which is helpful in keeping you sane. I know from experience the frustrations of trying to study material only to have someone interrupt me repeatedly. Not fun!

There are plenty of places that are conducive to studying. I’d recommend the no-brainer: the library. That’s where I did my studying today, and it was quite nice.

Since you study Russian, I was wondering what actually attracts you to it and to the people and the country. I can imagine someone studying a language on a purely theoretical basis, but it makes more sense if you actually admire or like the culture behind the language. Just thought of this while watching the news actually: Putin, Yeltsin, the protests, the riots in Estonia… It’s all very fascinating.

He also mentioned that the answer to that could prove to be an interesting blog post, and I agree, so here we are.

While I’d love to say that I have a solid reason for wanting to learn Russian – admiration of their culture, preference towards a communist state, plans of visiting Russia in the future – I’d be lying if I said I had such a reason. I began studying Russian right around the beginning of 2007, when I received a copy of The New Penguin Russian Course as an early Christmas gift. That doesn’t really help much in regards to why I started studying the language, though, because I specifically asked for that book as a gift. Now that I try to think back and remember of any particular thing that said “learn Russian!” to me, I’m coming with a bank.

I suppose it’s just a variety of things that led to my studying it. For one, I’m just a language geek in general, and enjoy learning languages. I’ve been studying German for about 4 years now, and felt that it was time that I try to add a second foreign language into the mix. I know one influencing factor was my interest in World War 2. Due to the Russians playing such a large role in the war, I was interested in learning more about them in general (because I knew next to nothing about them). I guess this desire to learn more about Russia and its peoples simply bled off into the language department. When I decided to learn Russian, it wasn’t a thought out, planned course of action, but more of a “hey, what the hell, why not?” thing.

While I hadn’t thought of this reason specifically, I’m glad I selected Russian. As I progress in my study of it, I’m finding that I enjoy the language, particularly how it sounds. I’m also glad that it’s a Slavic language, because by learning it, I’ll have given myself a good base to learn other Slavic languages, if I were so inclined. I don’t know how knowing it will help me professionally, or if it will at all, but I can’t help but think that knowing even the basics of a fairly difficult language will help me at some point, somehow.

When I get a decent base down for my Russian, I’ll probably start working on Spanish. For that language, I do have a reason: it’s practical for where I live. Spanish is the most often spoken foreign language in the U.S., and I’d say knowing some of it would help me career wise. If nothing else, it would let me communicate with all of the Mexicans who have appeared in my town during the past 5 years or so.

So, to give a short answer to my friend’s question: no particular reason. I just kind of decided to learn Russian. (Regarding politics though, communism doesn’t look too bad, on paper, anyway. It’s never actually worked like the theory prescribes, though, so we have no historical example to judge.)

I’ve not really gotten into any grammar, or even real Russian texts as of yet: I’ve been learning the Cyrillic alphabet, along with the pronunciation. As of yesterday, I’ve covered all 33 letters, which were broken down into 4 groups. With a little reviewing of the last group, which consists of letters totally unknown in English (coupled with quite a few sounds that are generally not used in English), I’ll be able to move on to lesson 2. When I first started working on the Cyrillic alphabet, I thought the biggest hurdle would be remembering all of these oddly formed letters. Now that I’m mostly through with the first lesson, I know otherwise. It’s not overly difficult at all to remember the letters; it is, however, difficult for my American tongue to produce some of the sounds that are called for. For example, in Russian, there is a letter that is called a soft sign. What it does is combines with the previous consonant, and blends a y sound into it. Now think about trying to say a rolled r at the end of the word, with y blended into it. The author stresses that you should try to not separate the sounds. They should be together. It’s doable – I’ve achieved it a few times – but it’s not easy. Luckily I don’t feel too bad about it, because in the book, the author notes that the r sound with y blended into it is one of the most difficult Russian sounds to make. I can see how he could come to that conclusion!

Having never studied Russian before, having only heard bits and pieces of it occasionally, and having always looked at the Cyrillic writing in awe (and with more than a bit of trepidation), I was surprised to find that there are some words that are cognates in English. At this point I have no idea how to produce Cyrillic on my computer, so here are some of the pronciations provided by the book:

• mye-tró – metro, underground
• tra-llyéy-boos – trolleybus
• kó-fye – coffee
• rye-sta-rá-ni – restaurant

While not specifically about the Russian language, I think it’s fitting to mention this here. I’ve always had trouble gauging my progress in German, particularly once I got past the beginning stages. Sometimes I’d think, all of this work and so little to show for it! I often felt like I was making no progress at all. After dipping into Russian I feel completely different. Starting a new foreign language has brought to my attention just how much German I do know. In my Russian book, I’m seeing basic words that I have no idea how to say – words which I’ve known how to say in German for a long time. It’s serving as an excellent reminder that, yes, at one point, I knew absolutely no German, so I should be happy with my progress.

* The person I was buying for was my older nephew. I had no idea what he’d want and he had no idea what I’d want, so we agreed to just tell each other what we’d like. Hence, there wasn’t much point in waiting a couple more weeks to swap gifts, because the mystery aspect was gone. If you’re curious, he wanted the Dungeon Guide to World of Warcraft.