Earlier today, I was thinking about all the Christmas films that are so popular this time of year, and it made me think about the lack of Christmas novels. Excluding picture books, I can only actually name two Christmas-based books: 'Let It Snow' by John Green, Maureen Johnson and Lauren Myracle (which I mentioned in my last post) and 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens. The former is a trio of interlinked novellas, and the latter is a singular novella. Even when I looked online for Christmas books, very few exist that aren't for young children and I've not heard of any of those that do exist. Compared to the twenty-odd Christmas films I can list and the dozens more I've heard of, this seems very strange.
So why is it that, in this particular genre, the number of films far out-strips the number of novels?
My first thought was that Christmas is a holiday for children more than it is for anybody else, which explains why children's Christmas books exist and Christmas books for teenagers and adults don't. Also, since Christmas is generally a family time, watching a film is more social than reading a book and can be shared by the whole family.
Everything becomes a bit hectic around Christmas; presents have to be bought and wrapped, cards have to be written, Christmas dinner has to be prepared, the tree has to be put up, family get-togethers need organising... All in all, nobody has a lot of time in the weeks leading up to Christmas, and a film takes only two hours to watch whereas books can take days or even weeks to read, depending on the reader.
There's also the issue that Christmas isn't easily transferrable to writing. Much of the feeling of Christmas is in the background: the decorations in homes and shops, the coats and scarves, the snow on the ground, and the Christmas music playing. All of this can be written, but it can't be maintained throughout an entire novel without becoming very repetitive, since each setting would have to be defined by its tree, tinsel, and Christmas song choices.
Similarly, Christmas is a very simple holiday. Christmas films are almost always predictable romances, silly comedies, or kids' action films with two-dimensional villains. These sorts of uncomplicated plots are not suitable to novels, which require character development, sub-plots, conflict and emotional impact. Christmas films are designed to be light-hearted, accessible, and fun -- not to be thoughtful or skilfully crafted or set in a fictional world of subtle complexities.
I suppose I can't argue that writers should be more inclined towards writing Christmas stories, since I personally take a long time to write, edit and polish a novel -- and I wouldn't want to be writing a Christmas story outside of Christmas. Still, the sweet simplicity of a Christmas romance could make for some good written stories, and I'd like to read them.
If anyone has read any novels, short stories or other fiction that's set at Christmas and not aimed at children, then let me know! I'll certainly be happy to read anything you recommend.
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
Thursday, 6 December 2012
Why I like YA fiction.
Around half of the fiction I read is classed as 'Young Adult' literature.
Basically, this means that the protagonist is about 15-20 years of age and that
the target audience is of roughly the same age span. The common misconception
of this category of fiction is that it is of a lesser quality that adult
fiction or that it is an easier read. In my experience, this isn't at all true.
The YA fiction I read ranges from dystopian to bildungsroman to comedy -- sometimes all three at once. It covers as wide a range as adult fiction does and some of this century's best authors write for young adults: John Green, Scott Westerfeld, and Cassandra Clare, to name just a few. This genre is entirely unlike Teen Fiction, which actually does tend to fit the stereotype and focuses mainly on high-school romance (usually with one half of the relationship being a mysteriously alluring vampire/werewolf/angel/demon) and has very little going for it in terms of plot, character development or writing quality (I'm looking at you, Stephenie Meyer). Young Adult fiction is as well written as adult fiction; the characters are just as flawed and just as real; the plots can be straightforward or riddled with intricacies but are almost unfailingly brilliant. Have I got my point across yet?
There you have the reasons why YA literature is just as good as adult literature. And here's why it's better: themes. Adult fiction lacks discovery. Young adults are living a critical period where the concept of It won't happen to me is ripped to shreds -- because it does happen to you. Everyone has experienced death in some form by the time they reach their late teens, everyone has come into contact with drugs and alcohol, everyone has been emotionally crushed in one way or another, everyone has been depressed or known someone with depression, everyone has loved and lost, and everyone has found something to believe in. Childhood is known as the age of firsts, but adolescence is the age of emotional firsts; it's when individuality and relationships have to come to terms with each other.
Death is a huge theme in Young Adult fiction -- I've yet to have encountered a YA author who hasn't written at least one tragic death. In fact, a sub-category of the YA genre has death as its central feature; I've read a dozen novels that are simply about the protagonist dying. If you're rolling your eyes right now and calling it unoriginal, then think about all the themes that come with dying young. Hope. Disappointment. Ambition. Love. What better way is there to look at humanity than through the eyes of someone who is both at the start of their life and at the end of it? Who has experienced love and loss if not the dying? Who knows what they truly want in life better than those to whom their aspirations are unattainable?
While death is one characteristic theme of YA novels, it is certainly not the only one. Family, sexuality, love, rape, friendship, drugs, discrimination, and the importance of the truth all crop up fairly often. Personally, I find that there's more depth in plots based on these themes than in adult novels, of which the most popular are crime and romance, the latter of which has always been clinging on to the edge of good literature, but which just dived head-first off a cliff with the Fifty Shades phenomenon. And you thought adults had better taste in fiction than young adults? The top-selling trilogy of the year begs to differ.
I'd like to make it clear that YA fiction is not an entirely new genre -- some of the first examples of YA fiction include (debatably) The Catcher in the Rye and To Kill A Mockingbird -- and that it is certainly not just for people of a specific age group. I've seen hundreds of positive book reviews from adults for YA novels; and, of course, the majority of the YA genre is actually written by adults.
If I've convinced you (I hope I have) that YA fiction is worth the read, then I recommend you take a look at this list of best ever Young Adult novels: http://www.npr.org/2012/08/07/157795366/your-favorites-100-best-ever-teen-novels
There are a few mainstream and terrible romances on there, but it's mostly good stuff. I've even written you a guide to my favourites!
Dystopian: The Hunger Games, Fahrenheit 451, Divergent, Uglies, Unwind.
Science Fiction: Chaos Walking, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Death: Thirteen Reasons Why, Before I Fall, If I Stay.
Comedy: The Princess Bride, 13 Little Blue Envelopes (which is sad as well as funny).
Fantasy: The Mortal Instruments, Shiver, The Hobbit.
General: The Outsiders, The Book Thief.
Also, here is a video of my favourite author recommending a load of great books while speaking extremely quickly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4UT9iBdQDI&list=UUGaVdbSav8xWuFWTadK6loA&index=3 (By the way, he is John Green and you should DEFINITELY READ HIS BOOKS, all but one of which are on the previously linked list. The exception is Let It Snow, written with two other fabulously talented authors, which is the greatest Christmas book of all time.)
On a side note, this is my fiftieth post! Hooray!
The YA fiction I read ranges from dystopian to bildungsroman to comedy -- sometimes all three at once. It covers as wide a range as adult fiction does and some of this century's best authors write for young adults: John Green, Scott Westerfeld, and Cassandra Clare, to name just a few. This genre is entirely unlike Teen Fiction, which actually does tend to fit the stereotype and focuses mainly on high-school romance (usually with one half of the relationship being a mysteriously alluring vampire/werewolf/angel/demon) and has very little going for it in terms of plot, character development or writing quality (I'm looking at you, Stephenie Meyer). Young Adult fiction is as well written as adult fiction; the characters are just as flawed and just as real; the plots can be straightforward or riddled with intricacies but are almost unfailingly brilliant. Have I got my point across yet?
There you have the reasons why YA literature is just as good as adult literature. And here's why it's better: themes. Adult fiction lacks discovery. Young adults are living a critical period where the concept of It won't happen to me is ripped to shreds -- because it does happen to you. Everyone has experienced death in some form by the time they reach their late teens, everyone has come into contact with drugs and alcohol, everyone has been emotionally crushed in one way or another, everyone has been depressed or known someone with depression, everyone has loved and lost, and everyone has found something to believe in. Childhood is known as the age of firsts, but adolescence is the age of emotional firsts; it's when individuality and relationships have to come to terms with each other.
Death is a huge theme in Young Adult fiction -- I've yet to have encountered a YA author who hasn't written at least one tragic death. In fact, a sub-category of the YA genre has death as its central feature; I've read a dozen novels that are simply about the protagonist dying. If you're rolling your eyes right now and calling it unoriginal, then think about all the themes that come with dying young. Hope. Disappointment. Ambition. Love. What better way is there to look at humanity than through the eyes of someone who is both at the start of their life and at the end of it? Who has experienced love and loss if not the dying? Who knows what they truly want in life better than those to whom their aspirations are unattainable?
While death is one characteristic theme of YA novels, it is certainly not the only one. Family, sexuality, love, rape, friendship, drugs, discrimination, and the importance of the truth all crop up fairly often. Personally, I find that there's more depth in plots based on these themes than in adult novels, of which the most popular are crime and romance, the latter of which has always been clinging on to the edge of good literature, but which just dived head-first off a cliff with the Fifty Shades phenomenon. And you thought adults had better taste in fiction than young adults? The top-selling trilogy of the year begs to differ.
I'd like to make it clear that YA fiction is not an entirely new genre -- some of the first examples of YA fiction include (debatably) The Catcher in the Rye and To Kill A Mockingbird -- and that it is certainly not just for people of a specific age group. I've seen hundreds of positive book reviews from adults for YA novels; and, of course, the majority of the YA genre is actually written by adults.
If I've convinced you (I hope I have) that YA fiction is worth the read, then I recommend you take a look at this list of best ever Young Adult novels: http://www.npr.org/2012/08/07/157795366/your-favorites-100-best-ever-teen-novels
There are a few mainstream and terrible romances on there, but it's mostly good stuff. I've even written you a guide to my favourites!
Dystopian: The Hunger Games, Fahrenheit 451, Divergent, Uglies, Unwind.
Science Fiction: Chaos Walking, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Death: Thirteen Reasons Why, Before I Fall, If I Stay.
Comedy: The Princess Bride, 13 Little Blue Envelopes (which is sad as well as funny).
Fantasy: The Mortal Instruments, Shiver, The Hobbit.
General: The Outsiders, The Book Thief.
Also, here is a video of my favourite author recommending a load of great books while speaking extremely quickly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4UT9iBdQDI&list=UUGaVdbSav8xWuFWTadK6loA&index=3 (By the way, he is John Green and you should DEFINITELY READ HIS BOOKS, all but one of which are on the previously linked list. The exception is Let It Snow, written with two other fabulously talented authors, which is the greatest Christmas book of all time.)
On a side note, this is my fiftieth post! Hooray!
Thursday, 15 November 2012
These are a few of my favourite things
I've already compiled a list of my favourite books (click here), but I've never talked about some specific
favourites: scenes, characters, romances, writing styles,
settings. This needs rectifying immediately.
Scenes:
My enjoyment of literature is a little bit macabre, so I struggled to think of memorable scenes that weren't, well, deaths. If I got onto deaths, we'd be here all day, which is why I'll steer clear of them.
The first scene that came to mind was from 'Alice in Wonderland' and is one of the most famous scenes in literature: the Hatter's tea party. I've spoken about the use of nonsense before, but it is never more poignant than in this scene, where Alice gets asked the famous "How is a raven like a writing desk?", a riddle to which there is no answer. In this scene, the characters are stuck in an eternal tea-time, because time refuses to move forward from 6pm. The beauty of this scene is that it prompts the reader to ask a thousand questions about the futility of a search for knowledge, about the nature of time, about the rigid structure of society, without Carroll ever needing to ask those questions outright, and without him trying to provide the answers.
Since I was trying to avoid deaths, the second scene took a little time, but I eventually thought of the ending of 'Let It Snow', a trio of interlinked Christmas stories by three of my favourite authors. It's a cliché, but I absolutely adore endings where everything comes together at once and where all the characters meet up at the end. This is a technique used over and over again in epic battles to end the novel or series on, but this time it was simple and sweet and yes, okay, I cried at how cute it was. Essentially, the main characters of all three stories end up in Starbucks on Christmas morning and they all vaguely recognise each other and it's just a really happy scene and the cutest thing in all of fiction.
Romances:
I'd like to start off by saying that Romeo and Juliet don't deserve the credit they get -- Romeo was already "in love" with Rosaline when the story began, and five days later he and Juliet were both dead, having only really spent a few hours together. As much as I will sing Shakespeare's praise for many of his other plays, this one was irritating. Pointless death isn't romantic.
On to the couples I actually do like. One of the classic romantic tales turns out to be one of my favourites: that Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy in ‘Pride and Prejudice’. The thing about this story is that Darcy is socially so far above Lizzie, since he's excruciatingly rich, has powerful family ties, and is enviably handsome. (He also happens to be generous, intelligent, and thoughtful. Sure, he's stuck-up, but so are most people of his social ranking -- he just looks appalling next to Bingley, who happens to be the epitome of courtesy.) So Darcy is infinitely above Lizzie, right? But he falls in love with her anyway -- and not because of beauty, because he states very early on that she is "not handsome enough to tempt [him]". No, Darcy falls for Lizzie because she's intelligent, witty, and insightful. He loves her for her brains. And this was 1813! Oh, Jane Austen, I do love you.
From one of the most famous romances of all time, I go next to one that I guarantee nobody reading this will have heard of. The characters of Niall and Irial, from Melissa Marr's 'Wicked Lovely' series, have twelve millennia of backstory, since the characters are immortal faeries. Most of their romance is tragic – once again, my taste tends to fall closer to angst than cheer -- so they spend a very long time growing to trust each other again. It's a very real relationship, despite the fantasy setting; it's at once a sweet and sexy, and they're intensely protective of each other, but there are power struggles and betrayals and regrets that are never going to go away. Oh, and they're also both in love with a third person, named Leslie. It's complicated, and that's why I like it. Complicated is believable.
Writing styles:
John Green writes great stories with great characters, but the main reason why he's my favourite author is because of the way he manipulates words, such as -- well, picking just one quotation is impossible, so instead I'll link you to a list of them. I will, however, point out one of my favourite lines of his: “I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”
Similarly, Oscar Wilde will forever be regarded as one of my favourite writers because he's just so damn quotable. He wrote the line "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Need I say more?
Maureen Johnson is on this list for an entirely different reason: I have found myself reading on of her novels at 2am because I couldn't put it down, and it forced me to muffle my laughter and then my sobs. She writes about death and love and misery, but she doesn't drag you down with the character -- she makes her protagonists sarcastic, her supporting characters silly, and her topics serious. It works for her as it wouldn't for the vast majority of authors.
Settings:
I love elaborate worlds. I always want dozens of characters, a hundred settings, and several on-going plots running parallel to the main storyline. This, I think, is the reason for my love of the 'Harry Potter' series. How many other stories have such vivid settings as Hogwarts, the Burrow, Diagon Alley, Privet Drive, and the Ministry of Magic? There are an almost-uncountable number of characters, and every book has its own set of secondary plots. The series is rich in detail and overflowing with backstory, and I can’t help but love it.
As for literal settings, the city of Alicante in 'The Mortal Instruments' has always been beautiful in my imagination; after all, it is also known as the Glass City, named so for the defensive towers around the city that look as though they are made of glass.
Of course, dystopian settings are always interesting, and they have a greater impact on the story than most settings do. Simple details in dystopian settings can reflect much of the ways of that society, as with the floor-to-ceiling screens in the houses of 'Fahrenheit 451'.
This post felt long, but it was fun to think about all of my favourite little things in books and how they can impact the overall story. As a writer, it's also useful to contemplate what made a novel or play particularly enjoyable or interesting to read, because it helps me to figure out exactly the best way to write what I want to write.
(You might have noticed that the one feature I listed in my opening paragraph that wasn’t discussed in its own section was ‘characters’ – this is because I had far too much to write and couldn’t cut it down to just talking about two or three characters. I could have happily written about thirty characters and have still had more to say.)
Scenes:
My enjoyment of literature is a little bit macabre, so I struggled to think of memorable scenes that weren't, well, deaths. If I got onto deaths, we'd be here all day, which is why I'll steer clear of them.
The first scene that came to mind was from 'Alice in Wonderland' and is one of the most famous scenes in literature: the Hatter's tea party. I've spoken about the use of nonsense before, but it is never more poignant than in this scene, where Alice gets asked the famous "How is a raven like a writing desk?", a riddle to which there is no answer. In this scene, the characters are stuck in an eternal tea-time, because time refuses to move forward from 6pm. The beauty of this scene is that it prompts the reader to ask a thousand questions about the futility of a search for knowledge, about the nature of time, about the rigid structure of society, without Carroll ever needing to ask those questions outright, and without him trying to provide the answers.
Since I was trying to avoid deaths, the second scene took a little time, but I eventually thought of the ending of 'Let It Snow', a trio of interlinked Christmas stories by three of my favourite authors. It's a cliché, but I absolutely adore endings where everything comes together at once and where all the characters meet up at the end. This is a technique used over and over again in epic battles to end the novel or series on, but this time it was simple and sweet and yes, okay, I cried at how cute it was. Essentially, the main characters of all three stories end up in Starbucks on Christmas morning and they all vaguely recognise each other and it's just a really happy scene and the cutest thing in all of fiction.
Romances:
I'd like to start off by saying that Romeo and Juliet don't deserve the credit they get -- Romeo was already "in love" with Rosaline when the story began, and five days later he and Juliet were both dead, having only really spent a few hours together. As much as I will sing Shakespeare's praise for many of his other plays, this one was irritating. Pointless death isn't romantic.
On to the couples I actually do like. One of the classic romantic tales turns out to be one of my favourites: that Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy in ‘Pride and Prejudice’. The thing about this story is that Darcy is socially so far above Lizzie, since he's excruciatingly rich, has powerful family ties, and is enviably handsome. (He also happens to be generous, intelligent, and thoughtful. Sure, he's stuck-up, but so are most people of his social ranking -- he just looks appalling next to Bingley, who happens to be the epitome of courtesy.) So Darcy is infinitely above Lizzie, right? But he falls in love with her anyway -- and not because of beauty, because he states very early on that she is "not handsome enough to tempt [him]". No, Darcy falls for Lizzie because she's intelligent, witty, and insightful. He loves her for her brains. And this was 1813! Oh, Jane Austen, I do love you.
From one of the most famous romances of all time, I go next to one that I guarantee nobody reading this will have heard of. The characters of Niall and Irial, from Melissa Marr's 'Wicked Lovely' series, have twelve millennia of backstory, since the characters are immortal faeries. Most of their romance is tragic – once again, my taste tends to fall closer to angst than cheer -- so they spend a very long time growing to trust each other again. It's a very real relationship, despite the fantasy setting; it's at once a sweet and sexy, and they're intensely protective of each other, but there are power struggles and betrayals and regrets that are never going to go away. Oh, and they're also both in love with a third person, named Leslie. It's complicated, and that's why I like it. Complicated is believable.
Writing styles:
John Green writes great stories with great characters, but the main reason why he's my favourite author is because of the way he manipulates words, such as -- well, picking just one quotation is impossible, so instead I'll link you to a list of them. I will, however, point out one of my favourite lines of his: “I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”
Similarly, Oscar Wilde will forever be regarded as one of my favourite writers because he's just so damn quotable. He wrote the line "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Need I say more?
Maureen Johnson is on this list for an entirely different reason: I have found myself reading on of her novels at 2am because I couldn't put it down, and it forced me to muffle my laughter and then my sobs. She writes about death and love and misery, but she doesn't drag you down with the character -- she makes her protagonists sarcastic, her supporting characters silly, and her topics serious. It works for her as it wouldn't for the vast majority of authors.
Settings:
I love elaborate worlds. I always want dozens of characters, a hundred settings, and several on-going plots running parallel to the main storyline. This, I think, is the reason for my love of the 'Harry Potter' series. How many other stories have such vivid settings as Hogwarts, the Burrow, Diagon Alley, Privet Drive, and the Ministry of Magic? There are an almost-uncountable number of characters, and every book has its own set of secondary plots. The series is rich in detail and overflowing with backstory, and I can’t help but love it.
As for literal settings, the city of Alicante in 'The Mortal Instruments' has always been beautiful in my imagination; after all, it is also known as the Glass City, named so for the defensive towers around the city that look as though they are made of glass.
Of course, dystopian settings are always interesting, and they have a greater impact on the story than most settings do. Simple details in dystopian settings can reflect much of the ways of that society, as with the floor-to-ceiling screens in the houses of 'Fahrenheit 451'.
This post felt long, but it was fun to think about all of my favourite little things in books and how they can impact the overall story. As a writer, it's also useful to contemplate what made a novel or play particularly enjoyable or interesting to read, because it helps me to figure out exactly the best way to write what I want to write.
(You might have noticed that the one feature I listed in my opening paragraph that wasn’t discussed in its own section was ‘characters’ – this is because I had far too much to write and couldn’t cut it down to just talking about two or three characters. I could have happily written about thirty characters and have still had more to say.)
Friday, 2 November 2012
Faeries in 19th century Irish poetry
This post is a sequel-of-sorts to my previous post about 19th century English poetry. I'm going to be analysing and comparing the poems 'The Stolen Child' by W. B. Yeats, 'The Maids of Elfen-Mere' by William Allingham, and Samuel Ferguson's 'The Fairy Well of Lagnanay'.
Ferguson and Yeats both depict faeries as untrustworthy, if not outright dangerous. The moon, personified as having "taken flight" in 'The Stolen Child', can be a symbol of mystery, a sense of which is evident in all three poems, though it can alternatively symbolise death and darkness, linking faeries to danger. In 'The Fairy Well of Lagnanay', faeries are "a silent race" -- Ferguson's use of this modifier similarly creates a sense of mystery, as silence indicates secrecy. The faeries in Ferguson's poem are mostly referred to by the third-person pronoun "they", which is impersonal in its lack of specificity, suggesting a sort of omnipotence in a faceless race. The imagery in 'The Fairy Well of Lagnanay' is decidedly negative; the metaphor "the memory which all my heart is haunting still" presents an unusual view of hearts, which are normally fragile and breakable, but which in this case has a description of being ghostly and oppressive.
The presentation of faeries in 'The Maids of Elfen-Mere' differs in that the faeries are more of a process than actual beings, and so they are dehumanised; they come "spinning to a pulsing cadence, singing songs of Elfin-Mere" every night and leave at the tolling of "the eleventh hour". Similarly, the faeries are described as "three doves on snowy plume" and as "three white lilies" -- objects and animals rather than women. However, Allingham uses these descriptions to link the faeries to the colour white, which is generally seen as a symbol of innocence and purity. Allingham tells of the Pastor's son, who winds back the clock to fool the faeries into staying for longer, but the faeries are killed by this act and all that is found of them is "three stains of gore". From this, we see that the faeries are in fact the victims, whose white innocence was reduced to red blood (where red is linked to sin and danger) by the Pastor's son "because true love should never lie". So here we see a role reversal similar to the English poems, in which the faery is the victim and the lustful, thoughtless human man is the one who causes the faeries' deaths.
Colour is also used in the other two poems. 'The Stolen Child' features "the reddest stolen cherries", where the superlative "reddest" emphasises the impossibility of anything being more evil or dangerous than the faeries, and the "dim grey sands" the faeries take the child to are intended to be a dull contrast to the dancing and the chaos of the faeries. Chaos is a lot less present in 'The Fairy Well of Lagnanay', as the faeries are more mysterious and cold, as is suggested by "the mountain's eye, cold and grey".
This stanza is repeated:
This is interesting because it suggests that, though the faeries might be mad and cruel, they are saving the child from a world of unthinkable sadness. The semantic field of water in 'The Stolen Child', such as "wandering water gushes" and "ferns drop their tears", seems to create a link to tears, which is particularly obvious in the line "the world's more full of weeping than you can understand", which is sinister because children are known to cry more than adults; this hints at a world unknown to the child where adults cry for much greater problems than the child can imagine. Being "hand in hand" creates a physical link between the faery and the child and demonstrates equality between the two of them, unlike the way humans could be expected to look down on the child.
Yeats' description of pools "that scarce could bathe a star" in 'The Stolen Child' perhaps uses a star as a symbol of childhood and is meant to imply that the child's innocence is washed away by adults, but as they travel farther into the realm of faeries this becomes "scarce". This idea of treasuring childhood is an idea of romanticism that became popular in the 19th century.
Music is heavily associated with faeries in Irish mythology, so it is to be expected the the faeries in each of these three poems are singing or dancing. In 'The Fairy Well of Lagnanay', the line "mournfully, sing mournfully" in repeated throughout, and is fairly ambiguous; whether this imperative was directed at the poem's audience or at the faeries is unknown. The singing in 'The Maids of Elfen-Mere' is alternately named as a "cadence" and as "lamentings", both of which are phonetically soft and lacking in harsh consonants, reflecting the gentle nature of Allingham's faeries. This contasts with the dynamic verbs "leap", "weaving", and "chase" in 'The Stolen Child', again showing the chaotic nature of the faeries in this poem.
The faeries in these poems are much more literal than those in the English poetry I analysed previously, but there is no consistency in the way they are depicted. This is quite likely a result of how legends and mythology can have many varients, especially in the case of Irish mythology, which was mostly passed down through word of mouth; even now it is difficult to find a telling of Irish mythology that is in any way complete or conclusive. Irish culture was heavily influenced by stories of faeries in the 19th century, and so its poetry is rich with mythology,
Ferguson and Yeats both depict faeries as untrustworthy, if not outright dangerous. The moon, personified as having "taken flight" in 'The Stolen Child', can be a symbol of mystery, a sense of which is evident in all three poems, though it can alternatively symbolise death and darkness, linking faeries to danger. In 'The Fairy Well of Lagnanay', faeries are "a silent race" -- Ferguson's use of this modifier similarly creates a sense of mystery, as silence indicates secrecy. The faeries in Ferguson's poem are mostly referred to by the third-person pronoun "they", which is impersonal in its lack of specificity, suggesting a sort of omnipotence in a faceless race. The imagery in 'The Fairy Well of Lagnanay' is decidedly negative; the metaphor "the memory which all my heart is haunting still" presents an unusual view of hearts, which are normally fragile and breakable, but which in this case has a description of being ghostly and oppressive.
The presentation of faeries in 'The Maids of Elfen-Mere' differs in that the faeries are more of a process than actual beings, and so they are dehumanised; they come "spinning to a pulsing cadence, singing songs of Elfin-Mere" every night and leave at the tolling of "the eleventh hour". Similarly, the faeries are described as "three doves on snowy plume" and as "three white lilies" -- objects and animals rather than women. However, Allingham uses these descriptions to link the faeries to the colour white, which is generally seen as a symbol of innocence and purity. Allingham tells of the Pastor's son, who winds back the clock to fool the faeries into staying for longer, but the faeries are killed by this act and all that is found of them is "three stains of gore". From this, we see that the faeries are in fact the victims, whose white innocence was reduced to red blood (where red is linked to sin and danger) by the Pastor's son "because true love should never lie". So here we see a role reversal similar to the English poems, in which the faery is the victim and the lustful, thoughtless human man is the one who causes the faeries' deaths.
Colour is also used in the other two poems. 'The Stolen Child' features "the reddest stolen cherries", where the superlative "reddest" emphasises the impossibility of anything being more evil or dangerous than the faeries, and the "dim grey sands" the faeries take the child to are intended to be a dull contrast to the dancing and the chaos of the faeries. Chaos is a lot less present in 'The Fairy Well of Lagnanay', as the faeries are more mysterious and cold, as is suggested by "the mountain's eye, cold and grey".
This stanza is repeated:
"Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand"
This is interesting because it suggests that, though the faeries might be mad and cruel, they are saving the child from a world of unthinkable sadness. The semantic field of water in 'The Stolen Child', such as "wandering water gushes" and "ferns drop their tears", seems to create a link to tears, which is particularly obvious in the line "the world's more full of weeping than you can understand", which is sinister because children are known to cry more than adults; this hints at a world unknown to the child where adults cry for much greater problems than the child can imagine. Being "hand in hand" creates a physical link between the faery and the child and demonstrates equality between the two of them, unlike the way humans could be expected to look down on the child.
Yeats' description of pools "that scarce could bathe a star" in 'The Stolen Child' perhaps uses a star as a symbol of childhood and is meant to imply that the child's innocence is washed away by adults, but as they travel farther into the realm of faeries this becomes "scarce". This idea of treasuring childhood is an idea of romanticism that became popular in the 19th century.
Music is heavily associated with faeries in Irish mythology, so it is to be expected the the faeries in each of these three poems are singing or dancing. In 'The Fairy Well of Lagnanay', the line "mournfully, sing mournfully" in repeated throughout, and is fairly ambiguous; whether this imperative was directed at the poem's audience or at the faeries is unknown. The singing in 'The Maids of Elfen-Mere' is alternately named as a "cadence" and as "lamentings", both of which are phonetically soft and lacking in harsh consonants, reflecting the gentle nature of Allingham's faeries. This contasts with the dynamic verbs "leap", "weaving", and "chase" in 'The Stolen Child', again showing the chaotic nature of the faeries in this poem.
The faeries in these poems are much more literal than those in the English poetry I analysed previously, but there is no consistency in the way they are depicted. This is quite likely a result of how legends and mythology can have many varients, especially in the case of Irish mythology, which was mostly passed down through word of mouth; even now it is difficult to find a telling of Irish mythology that is in any way complete or conclusive. Irish culture was heavily influenced by stories of faeries in the 19th century, and so its poetry is rich with mythology,
Friday, 26 October 2012
What counts as literature?
What exactly is literature? Some people might claim that any written work, from poetry to science, is literature. On the other end of the scale are those who believe literature to be only the most time-enduring and high quality pieces of creative work. Most people would probably be more inclined to agree with the latter opinion: for example, the works of Shakespeare, Austin, Chaucer, and Dickens would be classed as literature, but 'Harry Potter' wouldn't.
Personally, I would say that a text must be creatively written in order to count as literature, but that's still very broad. Are children's picture books literature? Are manga and comics? How about fanfiction? You can see how it's such a difficult concept to classify. Even more established literary modes of writing, such as novels, contain so much variety that it's impossible to draw any sort of definitive line between literature and not. I do not, however, think that literature is confined to novels, plays, and poetry; any creative form that uses language to tell a story or express emotion is literature, in my opinion. That includes works that are made up of a combination of words and images -- or even words and music.
I certainly don't think a text has to be of a certain age in order to have a literary status. Old writing is not necessarily better writing. In fact, we should theoretically have become better writers now, with modern communication making the sharing of techniques and ideas practically instant. I will fight to the death with anyone who claims that the authors I love aren't literary because they're modern -- if you don't think authors such as John Green write literature, then I will argue vehemently against that claim.
Literature, to me, is not necessarily of a certain quality, a certain, time period, a certain format, because it is an art. Art is subjective. The way we create it and the way we interpret it are all subjective. It is unfair to give one text a universally higher status than another, because some people would say that 'Twilight' is a better love story than 'Romeo and Juliet'. While I may not agree with them, I believe they have the freedom to like whatever they enjoy, and to call it literature if they wish to.
Personally, I would say that a text must be creatively written in order to count as literature, but that's still very broad. Are children's picture books literature? Are manga and comics? How about fanfiction? You can see how it's such a difficult concept to classify. Even more established literary modes of writing, such as novels, contain so much variety that it's impossible to draw any sort of definitive line between literature and not. I do not, however, think that literature is confined to novels, plays, and poetry; any creative form that uses language to tell a story or express emotion is literature, in my opinion. That includes works that are made up of a combination of words and images -- or even words and music.
I certainly don't think a text has to be of a certain age in order to have a literary status. Old writing is not necessarily better writing. In fact, we should theoretically have become better writers now, with modern communication making the sharing of techniques and ideas practically instant. I will fight to the death with anyone who claims that the authors I love aren't literary because they're modern -- if you don't think authors such as John Green write literature, then I will argue vehemently against that claim.
Literature, to me, is not necessarily of a certain quality, a certain, time period, a certain format, because it is an art. Art is subjective. The way we create it and the way we interpret it are all subjective. It is unfair to give one text a universally higher status than another, because some people would say that 'Twilight' is a better love story than 'Romeo and Juliet'. While I may not agree with them, I believe they have the freedom to like whatever they enjoy, and to call it literature if they wish to.
Sunday, 21 October 2012
'A Book of Nonsense'
For the past few months, I've been wading through the masses of unread books
that have sat on my shelves for so long that I'd almost forgotten them. There
were about thirty books that I'd either forgotten, started and got bored of, or
that had originally been put on my shelves by my mum when her bookshelves
overflowed, back when I was little and had very few books of my own. Because I
have an unfortunate habit of being unable to walk past a bookshop without going
in, and another habit of being unable to go into a bookshop without buying a
book, I end up buying books at about the same rate that I read them.
However, I've been forcing myself not to buy as many books recently, so the eternal pile of unread books has shrunk to just nine novels, two non-fiction books, a biography, an epic poem, a collection of short stories, and the complete works of Oscar Wilde. Phew!
The last book I read is one of those displaced onto my shelves when I was a kid: 'A Book of Nonsense', containing poems and stories by Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, and others. Many of the stories had very obvious morals, as with a story about a girl who played with matches and ended up being burnt alive. But the poems, in particular the limericks, seemed entirely without point.
Certain poems used nonsense words -- that is, words made up by the poet to add more confusion and silliness to the verse. Others use totally recognisable lexis in a phrasing that renders the words meaningless. It is, of course, perfectly possible that these nonsense poems exist only to entertain; after all, they are very often targeted at children. But there may be more to it than that.
My own opinion is that nonsense verse emphasises the power of words; we're so used to seeing words in an order that makes logical sense that nonsense is surprising and strange to us. I think nonsense opens our eyes to the fact that we have control over the way we choose to use words, which frees our imagination up to do what it wants. Nonsense poetry pushes the boundaries of what we might call literature, but it doesn't stand up and announce it as so much fiction does. The impact of nonsense verse is a subtly encroaching tide rather than a tidal wave, but it seeps into the mind nonetheless.
Whether or not you find it entertaining, I recommend searching for a little nonsense, as you might find it quite as useful as sense.
However, I've been forcing myself not to buy as many books recently, so the eternal pile of unread books has shrunk to just nine novels, two non-fiction books, a biography, an epic poem, a collection of short stories, and the complete works of Oscar Wilde. Phew!
The last book I read is one of those displaced onto my shelves when I was a kid: 'A Book of Nonsense', containing poems and stories by Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, and others. Many of the stories had very obvious morals, as with a story about a girl who played with matches and ended up being burnt alive. But the poems, in particular the limericks, seemed entirely without point.
Certain poems used nonsense words -- that is, words made up by the poet to add more confusion and silliness to the verse. Others use totally recognisable lexis in a phrasing that renders the words meaningless. It is, of course, perfectly possible that these nonsense poems exist only to entertain; after all, they are very often targeted at children. But there may be more to it than that.
My own opinion is that nonsense verse emphasises the power of words; we're so used to seeing words in an order that makes logical sense that nonsense is surprising and strange to us. I think nonsense opens our eyes to the fact that we have control over the way we choose to use words, which frees our imagination up to do what it wants. Nonsense poetry pushes the boundaries of what we might call literature, but it doesn't stand up and announce it as so much fiction does. The impact of nonsense verse is a subtly encroaching tide rather than a tidal wave, but it seeps into the mind nonetheless.
Whether or not you find it entertaining, I recommend searching for a little nonsense, as you might find it quite as useful as sense.
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
A poem
In my English lesson yesterday, my teacher presented us with a box of random items, told us to choose one, and asked us to write a poem about it. We had about ten minutes to write it: most of which, as is evident from my half a page of crossings-out, was spent attempting terrible rhymes.
My item was a notebook; the first page was covered in phone numbers, the twenty-or-so following pages were filled with diary entries (which I didn't read!) and after that the pages were blank. This is what I wrote:
The space around the words
Filled in with white,
Sentences soar like birds
As her story takes flight.
A phone number here
Belonging to whom?
A tingling of fear;
Surroundings of doom.
A car, a child, a long look
Recorded in this little book.
I think it's safe to say that I'm never going to be a published poet, but I don't think I did too badly for the work of ten minutes. In particular, I like my first stanza, but the middle stanza was hurried and meaningless -- the "surroundings of doom" had nothing to do with anything, but I wanted to create a sense of adventure and I needed a rhyme for "whom".
If nothing else, I've learnt from this that it's very difficult to write poetry without inspiration and without a point you want to get across. But I guess that's the same with writing anything, really. Regardless, it was a fun exercise and I encourage you to try writing some poetry -- even if it's as bad as mine!
My item was a notebook; the first page was covered in phone numbers, the twenty-or-so following pages were filled with diary entries (which I didn't read!) and after that the pages were blank. This is what I wrote:
The space around the words
Filled in with white,
Sentences soar like birds
As her story takes flight.
A phone number here
Belonging to whom?
A tingling of fear;
Surroundings of doom.
A car, a child, a long look
Recorded in this little book.
I think it's safe to say that I'm never going to be a published poet, but I don't think I did too badly for the work of ten minutes. In particular, I like my first stanza, but the middle stanza was hurried and meaningless -- the "surroundings of doom" had nothing to do with anything, but I wanted to create a sense of adventure and I needed a rhyme for "whom".
If nothing else, I've learnt from this that it's very difficult to write poetry without inspiration and without a point you want to get across. But I guess that's the same with writing anything, really. Regardless, it was a fun exercise and I encourage you to try writing some poetry -- even if it's as bad as mine!
Sunday, 14 October 2012
Faeries in 19th Century English Poetry
Faeries, or fairies, were an important part of 19th century poetry,
particularly in Ireland and England. I have chosen a select few poems to
analyse and compare in terms of the way faeries are presented. This post will focus
on the poems ‘The Lady of Shalott’ and ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ by English
poets Alfred, Lord Tennyson and John Keats, respectively.
First, I must consider the literality of the descriptions of faeries in these poems. In ‘The Lady of Shalott’, the character of the same name is perhaps only perceived as a faery due to her singing voice: “only reapers…hear a song that echoes clearly”. Similarly, the faery in ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ sings “a faery’s song”. In both poems, the label of “faery” is assigned to the women by others; either by the knight in ‘La Belle Dame’ or by the reapers in ‘The Lady’.
The titles of the poems both focus on the supposed faery women – ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ meaning “The Beautiful Lady Without Pity”. The two women are easily comparable, as they are both beautiful (this is evident in the title of ‘La Belle Dame’, and in ‘The Lady’, Sir Lancelot states that she “has a lovely face”), both isolated, and both objectified.
It is easy to see The Lady of Shalott as a victim, as she is drawn from her tower by her love for Sir Lancelot and thus dies of a curse; in fact, we can interpret that the curse is her love for Sir Lancelot, as she cries “The curse is come upon me” shortly after falling in love with him. Her innocence is evident in the “snowy white” robes she dies in, which contrast with the “coal-black curls” of Lancelot, depicting him as the villain. This juxtaposition of colours is maintained throughout the poem, with most characters dressed in red and her tower having “four grey walls”, illustrating that the outside world is a danger to her. At her death, “her eyes were darken’d wholly”, demonstrating a loss of purity as death claims her.
The woman in ‘La Belle Dame’, however, is less decidedly either a victim or a villain. Certainly, there is a semantic field of negativity, including the lexis “haggard”, “cold”, “horrid”, and “woe-begone”. The imagery, too, relates to death, as with the metaphors “on thy cheeks a fading rose” and “a lily on thy brow”, as lilies are often symbolic of death. There is clearly much suggestion of an association between the faery and death – however, there is also a suggestion of innocence about her. She is described as “a faery’s child”; as children are known for both innocence and mischief, this is perhaps an accurate description, as she is also repeatedly called “wild”. Her love for the knight seems real, as she states “I love thee true” and she also “look’d at [him] as she did love”. Perhaps it is the knight who is the villain, since he clearly has power over her; to quiet her crying, he “shut her wild wild eyes with kisses four” – this suggests to me both a desire to ignore and hide her sadness, and an unnatural, methodical nature, as he counts the kisses. The bracelets and garlands he creates for her can been seen as symbols of entrapment and ownership.
A feminist reading of these poems shows the knight and Sir Lancelot to both be the villains. Both objectify the women, seeing them as beautiful objects; indeed, Lancelot’s only comment of The Lady of Shalott after her death is of her beauty. The knight blames the faery for enthralling him, when she has in fact never done anything to harm or even seduce him. Her outburst of weeping clearly denotes unhappiness, which is entirely unexplained by the knight and also fails to fit with the implication of her being cruel. Sir Lancelot, while not directly to blame, is indifferent to the death of The Lady of Shalott, which entirely contrasts with the passion she had for him – so great that she would die for him.
Based on these two examples, faeries in English poetry seem to be merely depictions of women who have been objectified and twisted into creatures of myth to be feared and blamed. The poets’ awareness of such views of women perhaps reflects that the 19th century finally saw the beginning of feminism and of women’s rights.
First, I must consider the literality of the descriptions of faeries in these poems. In ‘The Lady of Shalott’, the character of the same name is perhaps only perceived as a faery due to her singing voice: “only reapers…hear a song that echoes clearly”. Similarly, the faery in ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ sings “a faery’s song”. In both poems, the label of “faery” is assigned to the women by others; either by the knight in ‘La Belle Dame’ or by the reapers in ‘The Lady’.
The titles of the poems both focus on the supposed faery women – ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ meaning “The Beautiful Lady Without Pity”. The two women are easily comparable, as they are both beautiful (this is evident in the title of ‘La Belle Dame’, and in ‘The Lady’, Sir Lancelot states that she “has a lovely face”), both isolated, and both objectified.
It is easy to see The Lady of Shalott as a victim, as she is drawn from her tower by her love for Sir Lancelot and thus dies of a curse; in fact, we can interpret that the curse is her love for Sir Lancelot, as she cries “The curse is come upon me” shortly after falling in love with him. Her innocence is evident in the “snowy white” robes she dies in, which contrast with the “coal-black curls” of Lancelot, depicting him as the villain. This juxtaposition of colours is maintained throughout the poem, with most characters dressed in red and her tower having “four grey walls”, illustrating that the outside world is a danger to her. At her death, “her eyes were darken’d wholly”, demonstrating a loss of purity as death claims her.
The woman in ‘La Belle Dame’, however, is less decidedly either a victim or a villain. Certainly, there is a semantic field of negativity, including the lexis “haggard”, “cold”, “horrid”, and “woe-begone”. The imagery, too, relates to death, as with the metaphors “on thy cheeks a fading rose” and “a lily on thy brow”, as lilies are often symbolic of death. There is clearly much suggestion of an association between the faery and death – however, there is also a suggestion of innocence about her. She is described as “a faery’s child”; as children are known for both innocence and mischief, this is perhaps an accurate description, as she is also repeatedly called “wild”. Her love for the knight seems real, as she states “I love thee true” and she also “look’d at [him] as she did love”. Perhaps it is the knight who is the villain, since he clearly has power over her; to quiet her crying, he “shut her wild wild eyes with kisses four” – this suggests to me both a desire to ignore and hide her sadness, and an unnatural, methodical nature, as he counts the kisses. The bracelets and garlands he creates for her can been seen as symbols of entrapment and ownership.
A feminist reading of these poems shows the knight and Sir Lancelot to both be the villains. Both objectify the women, seeing them as beautiful objects; indeed, Lancelot’s only comment of The Lady of Shalott after her death is of her beauty. The knight blames the faery for enthralling him, when she has in fact never done anything to harm or even seduce him. Her outburst of weeping clearly denotes unhappiness, which is entirely unexplained by the knight and also fails to fit with the implication of her being cruel. Sir Lancelot, while not directly to blame, is indifferent to the death of The Lady of Shalott, which entirely contrasts with the passion she had for him – so great that she would die for him.
Based on these two examples, faeries in English poetry seem to be merely depictions of women who have been objectified and twisted into creatures of myth to be feared and blamed. The poets’ awareness of such views of women perhaps reflects that the 19th century finally saw the beginning of feminism and of women’s rights.
Saturday, 6 October 2012
Plays
To
me, watching plays is as important as reading them as this is the form they
were intended for. I especially enjoy seeing the works of playwrights such as Shakespeare
and Wilde revamped on stage by small, independent theatre groups.
Every summer for the past three years, I've gone to see one or more plays performed by a group called Chapter House. Their plays are always outdoors, usually done at the castle near where I live or outside of a manor house. It's always cold and often raining, but everyone who attends is cheerful; we hide under our umbrellas, snuggle up in blankets, and enjoy the play.
From what I've seen, Chapter House have mostly performed Shakespeare, including 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', 'The Taming of the Shrew', and 'Romeo and Juliet'. Their other plays include Oscar Wilde's 'The Importance of Being Earnest', and Elizabeth Gaskell's 'Cranford', which they adapted from the novel. Though the quality of their plays is generally excellent, they have a unique adeptness for comedy; the written jokes become funnier in their hands, and they add their own touches here and there.
Of course, these experiences are very different to that of seeing the Royal Shakespeare Company take on 'Hamlet' or 'Macbeth'. But both are supremely dissimilar to reading the plays.
Drama is intended for the stage. While reading a play is certainly just as enjoyable, and perhaps more suited to critical analysis, much of the emotion and intent of the piece is only preserved in the stage production. When reading 'Hamlet', I was able to identify themes and discuss the language use -- but it wasn't until I saw the play on stage that I truly understood Hamlet's anguish, Claudius' machiavellean nature, or Laertes' reconciliation at the end of the play. Yes, each version of play on stage will have its differences from Shakespeare's original text, but it will also be more accessible and more intelligible to a modern audience.
So certainly, plays should be read, but we mustn't forget that they were always meant to be watched.
Every summer for the past three years, I've gone to see one or more plays performed by a group called Chapter House. Their plays are always outdoors, usually done at the castle near where I live or outside of a manor house. It's always cold and often raining, but everyone who attends is cheerful; we hide under our umbrellas, snuggle up in blankets, and enjoy the play.
From what I've seen, Chapter House have mostly performed Shakespeare, including 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', 'The Taming of the Shrew', and 'Romeo and Juliet'. Their other plays include Oscar Wilde's 'The Importance of Being Earnest', and Elizabeth Gaskell's 'Cranford', which they adapted from the novel. Though the quality of their plays is generally excellent, they have a unique adeptness for comedy; the written jokes become funnier in their hands, and they add their own touches here and there.
Of course, these experiences are very different to that of seeing the Royal Shakespeare Company take on 'Hamlet' or 'Macbeth'. But both are supremely dissimilar to reading the plays.
Drama is intended for the stage. While reading a play is certainly just as enjoyable, and perhaps more suited to critical analysis, much of the emotion and intent of the piece is only preserved in the stage production. When reading 'Hamlet', I was able to identify themes and discuss the language use -- but it wasn't until I saw the play on stage that I truly understood Hamlet's anguish, Claudius' machiavellean nature, or Laertes' reconciliation at the end of the play. Yes, each version of play on stage will have its differences from Shakespeare's original text, but it will also be more accessible and more intelligible to a modern audience.
So certainly, plays should be read, but we mustn't forget that they were always meant to be watched.
Sunday, 30 September 2012
Day 30: Grammar!
Part of the reason why I started this blog was for it to take the place of
the Grammar Club I started up and briefly ran at my school. Since it proved
impossible to find a time when everyone could attend Grammar Club (and the
number of people at my school who cared about grammar and language was limited
anyway), the club disbanded and I decided to write this blog instead. Because
of its origins, I think it's about time this blog had a grammar post on it,
don't you?
Here are ten tips to help you avoid the most basic, common grammatical errors:
1. You only ever use it's if you mean it is. Don't get confused by the possessive apostrophe rule (I'll get to that in another post), because in this case the possessive form doesn't have an apostrophe. Its means belonging to it.
"It's a nice day today" is interchangeable with "It is a nice day today".
"I'm going to give the dog its dinner" is different, because you couldn't say "I'm going to give the dog it is dinner" and still make sense.
2. There, they're, and their are all homophones -- which I've spoken about before -- so they're easily confused. Essentially, they're means they are, there is referring to a place, and their indicates that something is belonging to someone.
"They're eating dinner."
"Look over there!"
"The kids really like their Christmas presents."
3. Don't write loose when you mean lose. The former, loose, is the adjective form of the verb loosen; something that is loose is not tight. To lose is a verb, meaning to have misplaced something.
"These trousers are really loose."
"Did you lose your keys again?"
4. I once had a history teacher who would mark our essays down if we wrote could of instead of could have. I liked that teacher.
There are no circumstances I can think of where writing could of, would of, or should of is grammatically correct. What you mean is could have, would have, or should have. The reason for this common error is that the verbalised could've sounds a lot like could of.
"I could have passed that test if I'd revised."
5. Most people aren't entirely sure when to say and I as opposed to and me. Generally, people either guess with whatever sounds right or they just stick to the latter, which is more casual. The easiest way to tell the difference is by taking the other people out of the sentence.
"You and I should go to the party" is correct because "I should go to the party" is correct by itself.
"You should come to the party with Jane and me" works because "you should come to the party with me" works.
If you can't remember that rule, then just remember that and I almost always goes at the start of a sentence whereas and me generally comes at the end of the sentence (or clause).
6. Your and you're are another set of homophones, but they follow the same rules as their and they're: your is possessive, while you're means you are.
"You're looking very nice today."
"Are you aware that your coat is on fire?"
7. Not everybody is aware that practise and practice are two different words. Practise is a verb; practice is a noun.
"I have to practise the piano if I want to improve."
"Netball practice is after school."
8. Similarly, affect and effect are often confused. In general, effect is a noun and affect is a verb.
"This will have a causal effect."
"How will this affect the business?"
There are exceptions to this rule: in psychology, affect can be used as a noun to describe how someone is feeling; effect is also a verb meaning to bring about.
9. To understand when to use who and when to use whom, you need to understand what the subject and object of a sentence are. The subject is the one doing something the object is the one having something done to them. The sentence subject is referred to as who and the sentence object is whom.
"With whom are you going to the dance?"
"Who's coming with me?"
10. You can't interchangeably use i.e. and e.g.: i.e. means that is, so it is used to clarify your meaning, and e.g. means for example.
"I only like bright colours, e.g., yellow and orange."
"I spend all my time in one place, i.e., my bedroom."
I hope you find these tips useful! I'll post some more about grammar in the future.
Today was the last day of Blog Every Day September! I'm going to try to write a blog post every week from now on, but it was fun to post so often. I didn't realise quite how much I had to say until I tried it; I still have plenty of ideas for posts, so expect lots more.
Here are ten tips to help you avoid the most basic, common grammatical errors:
1. You only ever use it's if you mean it is. Don't get confused by the possessive apostrophe rule (I'll get to that in another post), because in this case the possessive form doesn't have an apostrophe. Its means belonging to it.
"It's a nice day today" is interchangeable with "It is a nice day today".
"I'm going to give the dog its dinner" is different, because you couldn't say "I'm going to give the dog it is dinner" and still make sense.
2. There, they're, and their are all homophones -- which I've spoken about before -- so they're easily confused. Essentially, they're means they are, there is referring to a place, and their indicates that something is belonging to someone.
"They're eating dinner."
"Look over there!"
"The kids really like their Christmas presents."
3. Don't write loose when you mean lose. The former, loose, is the adjective form of the verb loosen; something that is loose is not tight. To lose is a verb, meaning to have misplaced something.
"These trousers are really loose."
"Did you lose your keys again?"
4. I once had a history teacher who would mark our essays down if we wrote could of instead of could have. I liked that teacher.
There are no circumstances I can think of where writing could of, would of, or should of is grammatically correct. What you mean is could have, would have, or should have. The reason for this common error is that the verbalised could've sounds a lot like could of.
"I could have passed that test if I'd revised."
5. Most people aren't entirely sure when to say and I as opposed to and me. Generally, people either guess with whatever sounds right or they just stick to the latter, which is more casual. The easiest way to tell the difference is by taking the other people out of the sentence.
"You and I should go to the party" is correct because "I should go to the party" is correct by itself.
"You should come to the party with Jane and me" works because "you should come to the party with me" works.
If you can't remember that rule, then just remember that and I almost always goes at the start of a sentence whereas and me generally comes at the end of the sentence (or clause).
6. Your and you're are another set of homophones, but they follow the same rules as their and they're: your is possessive, while you're means you are.
"You're looking very nice today."
"Are you aware that your coat is on fire?"
7. Not everybody is aware that practise and practice are two different words. Practise is a verb; practice is a noun.
"I have to practise the piano if I want to improve."
"Netball practice is after school."
8. Similarly, affect and effect are often confused. In general, effect is a noun and affect is a verb.
"This will have a causal effect."
"How will this affect the business?"
There are exceptions to this rule: in psychology, affect can be used as a noun to describe how someone is feeling; effect is also a verb meaning to bring about.
9. To understand when to use who and when to use whom, you need to understand what the subject and object of a sentence are. The subject is the one doing something the object is the one having something done to them. The sentence subject is referred to as who and the sentence object is whom.
"With whom are you going to the dance?"
"Who's coming with me?"
10. You can't interchangeably use i.e. and e.g.: i.e. means that is, so it is used to clarify your meaning, and e.g. means for example.
"I only like bright colours, e.g., yellow and orange."
"I spend all my time in one place, i.e., my bedroom."
I hope you find these tips useful! I'll post some more about grammar in the future.
Today was the last day of Blog Every Day September! I'm going to try to write a blog post every week from now on, but it was fun to post so often. I didn't realise quite how much I had to say until I tried it; I still have plenty of ideas for posts, so expect lots more.
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