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.
Friday, 26 October 2012
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.
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