Three faculty members in the English department — Jonathan Hill, David Wee '61 and Richard Peterson — were all important influences and mentors, both during and after college. There was a particular relationship with Richard Peterson because he was in the same field of 18th-century British literature, which I studied under him. He also was secretary of the American Society for 18th-Century Studies, which had its national offices at St. Olaf. He stayed in touch with me about my work, established me in the discipline and introduced me to leading figures in the field.

It's an excellent example of what a liberal arts college can produce: the intimate relationship between student and professor that occurs when you have small classes.

I was interested in the literary treatment of the problem of evil. The classic question has been: "If God is both all-powerful and good, why does He permit evil to occur?" Milton addresses this in Paradise Lost, and he sets his treatment of the question in the Genesis account of the creation and the fall. He addresses it in a poem through a biblical story. Later, in the 18th century, writers approach the problem in different ways, and I was interested in how they did that.

I did my thesis on James Thompson, who wrote The Seasons, one of the first great, extended English landscape poems. Instead of centering on evil in biblical terms like Milton, Thomson sets it in the natural workings of the created world. Because of Thomson I developed a thematic interest in location, and while at St. Olaf I taught a course on place in the English novel.

I reject "Age of Reason" as a descriptor. One of the 18th-century writers whom I'm most interested in is Samuel Johnson. I wrote an article called "Johnson and the Problem of Religious Verse," which is probably the best thing I ever wrote. Johnson was a complex, torn personality, and the complexity of his vision of human experience is profound. When someone talks about the 18th century as the "Age of Reason," Samuel Johnson comes to mind as this figure who, on one hand, publicly stood for reason. But on the other hand, he was very passionate and had these very strong feelings, some of which he wrote about.

So to call the entire era the "Age of Reason" isn't quite accurate.

It's true that the texts aren't always approachable. Students often find the construction and form difficult. But the 18th century is also a period of really zany writing: Swift's Gulliver's Travels and "A Modest Proposal," and Johnson's Rasselas, which is this "what I want to be when I grow up" story. There are some lovely and very approachable poems, and Johnson's Rambler essays address some of the essential questions about human existence.

There's an easy user interface in some of the works, and I start with those. People get past the formal barriers and then begin to enjoy the literature.

I got into detective fiction as a research assistant in graduate school. I was doing research for a biographer of the detective novelist Rex Stout. I had to read a lot of detective fiction, and I became interested in some of the themes of the genre. I found that detective fiction also represents and interrogates evil in the world.

I don't watch a lot of those shows, so I don't have an informed opinion of them. We're in a time when Americans are fascinated by crime and the pursuit of crime. You see this with the rise of court T.V., too. I don't really understand the fascination, and I don't know if it's particularly healthy.

My own approach to detective fiction isn't about the crime. I'm not interested in the crime itself. The stories that resonate with me have a rich depiction of the inner life of the person who's solving the crime. So, to the extent that any representation of crime is plot driven — a "who done it" — it's going to be less satisfying than something that invests in creating the world of the person solving the crime.

At the moment, I don't have a whole lot of time for reading for fun. I read The New Yorker to stay up to date on new fiction and current events. I also read The Economist, which has energetic and amusing writing and is the best news magazine for getting an international perspective. And I read The Chronicle of Higher Education.

As for books, I go to the library and take books off the new-release shelf to keep up on what's out there. Right now I'm reading a detective novel by John Sandford [the pen name for former journalist John Camp, who won a Pulitzer Prize at the St. Paul Pioneer Press when he was a reporter there in the 1980s].

It would be great to teach a class of some sort, but that's not going to happen in my first year. At some point, I would like to. It's the best way to get to know students.

It's related to my work as provost. Provosts are in the thick of a lot of personal matters, and I began to see over time that almost all matters that my office was engaged in wouldn't be solved by win-lose outcomes. The paradigm of "let's find out who's right and who's wrong" doesn't work. There's got to be a better way.

I took training in mediation at the Center for Dispute Resolution at Capital University, which focuses on negotiation skills and how to help parties find a way to discuss issues without intensifying them. Now I use it every single day. I can't believe I didn't take the program earlier.

[Click here for information on the Conflict Resolution Institute (CRI) at St. Olaf]

I'd forgotten about that. I have been known to play golf, but I don't play well. I may have to brush up on that. The president, Peter Barstow, died, but he wasn't the intended victim. At least I can take comfort in that.