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.)

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:

"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,

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.
 

'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.

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!

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 19^th century finally saw the beginning of feminism and of women’s rights.

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.