Thoughts on rewriting Shakespeare

Literary obsessives among you may be aware of the recent news that Penguin Random House are commissioning a series that will adapt the plays of Shakespeare into the novel form. Award winning authors Margaret Atwood and Howard Jacobson have been added to the list of authors attempting this task (so far only four have been announced, see the story for more). As you might expect, some have been up in arms: surely the authors have better things to do? Why should we meddle with Shakespeare? What will this achieve? Is this going to ruin Shakespeare?

To be fair, I am generalising massively here and the reputation of the authors so far announced is making people very excited. Even better, some people are very open to reinterpretation of Shakespeare and correctly say that it is not a brand new idea. Indeed, there are a series of children's books which I got one Christmas that tell the plays of Shakespeare in modern prose and charming illustrations. Now, this project is going to be more ambitious than that series. Here, they are going to use the novel from to retell the stories rather than just summarise them. Again, not without precedence: A Thousand Acres (one of the many books on my 'must read' list) retells the story of King Lear, and there are numerous plays and films that use Shakespeare's plays as a starting point.

Personally, I'm going to read them and quite excited about future announcements. This is an exciting chance to see another interpretation of Shakespeare's work which we see every month it seems. I see no reason that this news should not be as exciting as the news this week of the Royal Shakespeare Company announcing its summer season. Both projects are going to give us versions of Shakespeare that will not be to everyone's taste. But everyone has their version of Shakespeare. That is why his work lasts, because it can be endlessly reassessed, looked at in a different way.

In fact, the novels will probably be more faithful to the plays than most modern theatre productions will be. Shakespeare's plays are long and a lot of the material simply doesn't work nowadays. This, as well as creative decisions, means that rarely do you see a Shakespeare play in its entirety (as Kenneth Branagh's film proved Hamlet would be about four hours long). Beyond page length, novels don't have this problem with length and just as modern productions do now, can rework the unworkable material into something that does.

I'm definitely going to check these out although as has been pointed out by others, so far no-one has been announced for the tragedies. While the commissioned author of Hamlet or Macbeth (my all time favourite Shakespeare play) will be naturally daunted, they should be thrilled to have such a unique opportunity that would be hard to refuse. As terrifying as it would be, I would definitely love to have a shot at producing my version of these timeless works. Best of luck to the authors, I can't wait to read them.

How should we treat YouTube? (Response to Culture Show: YouTube - The Future of TV?)

I don't purport to be an expert or deeply knowledgeable about YouTube. I am subscribed to many channels and love them all, but I wouldn't call myself an obsessive like I would about books. However I am fascinated with its inner workings. I've already discussed Becoming YouTube on this blog (it explains what Becoming YouTube is and saves me repeating myself here) and it is that has sparked my curiosity. I've finally decided to commit my incoherent thoughts into sort-or-coherent words as a response to the latest Culture Show programme which focused on YouTube and asked the question: "YouTube - The Future of TV?" (Not quite a question I know, but we'll get to that).

This has been a long time coming as the episode of Becoming YouTube presenter Jacques Peretti's cameo was in, of which we see the behind the scenes of in the programme, was put up at the end of May. Nevertheless, it was an interesting programme although despite his evident enthusiasm Peretti couldn't avoid the occasional patronising comment ("This is actually really funny"). It was very evident that the programme was from the perspective of a older generation of which YouTube is still perceived as a new thing that all the kids are into. I'm ready to admit my complete bias in my opinions about the site as I am clearly of the YouTube generation and at the age in which it was established early on in my life as an everyday thing. Nevertheless I genuinely think that YouTube is reaching the point, if it is not already, in which it can now be considered a medium in its own right.

That's right - alongside theatre, radio, television, literature and cinema, Youtube, I believe, can be considered just as much as an art form. Now before I explain how innovative YouTube is (as everyone constantly does) I want to mention how it arguably has roots in 'traditional media'. Communicating with your audience is the basis of phone in radio shows like 606 and is increasingly a key part to live television shows. Of course, reality shows literally leave the decisions up to audience, which was copied by some comedy and drama shows: a selection of endings were offered to the audience (usually with spoiler free titles such as Happy or Sad) who were then asked to pick one of them to be broadcast. Examples from my memory include CBBC show Jeopardy (a creepy Australian show) and BBC 3's Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps. Immediate response is also present in theatre - you literally know if the audience is enjoying it; the same applies to stand-up, musical performances or any other live performance. So those are just a handful of examples how YouTube actually fits in quite nicely with media and culture, so why such a fuss? What is so special about it?

Well, I'm not totally sure. As I say I'm not an expert or possess the journalistic skill of Benjamin Cook. but I'll have a go anyway. To be fair, it is not too far away to what Peretti was suggesting in The Culture Show special: there is something really inspiring about having such a blurred line between viewer and creator. Of course, all creators are viewers of some kind; there aren't many film directors or television stars, I imagine, that don't actually watch other films or television shows. However, that YouTube is on the Internet, where responses can be almost immediate (this very post being a prime example), means that it can be constantly on the ball, addressing the latest topic, covering recent events as they happen. The same can't be applied to other medium which generally require a longer creative process. With YouTube, a person can turn on their webcam, talk into it and then put it on YouTube within minutes. Just stop and appreciate how wonderful that is. The opportunities are endless and the sheer number of videos on YouTube prove that.

And this is why Becoming YouTube is so special. Because I genuinely consider it a work of art that will be long held up in the same regard as Shakespeare, Chaplin and the like. This sounds like hyperbole or exaggeration but that's because in comparison to other art forms, YouTube is in its infancy. And yet look how far it has come. I have laughed to tears, been incredibly moved, got shivers of excitement and reconsidered my views abut the world because of numerous YouTube videos. I have had similar reactions to theatrical productions, music concerts, books and films. It is clear to see that YouTube creators are constantly producing quality that is in the same league as those who work in those other mediums. Such that they now have it as a full-time job. And not all of them necessarily want to transfer their skills to television or film. YouTube is where they want to be and why the hell not? If it produces as good quality products, even better quality products, than shows on television or films in cinemas, why should they just abandon ship? Because right now its still not considered 'proper art'? Pretty much every art form has faced this scrutiny and overcome it. Why? Because it was popular and also bloody good. Theatre, cinema, television, radio, they've all been labelled as 'inferior' or 'the death of culture' at some point in history and are now part of the cultural bedrock. And, I believe, this is where YouTube will be soon.

Indeed, I wouldn't be surprised if in years to come it will join literature, theatre, film, music etc. as a worthy subject for a university degree. What on earth that would be like I have no idea, but the idea is not unfeasible in my mind. So basically, to answer my own question and at the same time the one posed by The Culture Show, YouTube isn't the future of TV or any other media. It is perfectly comfortable being a media in its own right. It's on a trajectory now where people aren't just watching television and film on it. They're actually watching original content and realising that it might actually be better than what else is out there. I'm not suggesting that this means other mediums have to step up their game; from what I can tell they're doing alright for themselves. But they're facing serious competition for viewers with YouTube. They're bringing something new to the party and the audience are loving it. It is not the future of entertainment. YouTube is just the newest form its taken.

Some thoughts on recent television

Sometimes these blog posts are hard to write. Actually, now I've set a (reasonably) strict schedule, more for myself then any one else, they're a struggle most of the time. Especially when I don't have an awful lot to say about something. This has led to Film Roundups and posts like these where I just collect comments on various shows which don't justify a post on their own. For example, new BBC show Family Tree, starring Chris O'Dowd, is really funny. There's not a lot more to say without simply listing my favourite jokes (personal highlights are the brilliant parodies of naff television genres that are used as background for the most part, proving how good the comedy is in this show). So go and watch that. Not particularly groundbreaking but it made me laugh and just a thoroughly likable show.

A programme that many, many people watched was of course, Doctor Who Live: The Next Doctor. While I've only just watched it on iPlayer, even on holiday in the mystical realms of York I managed to find out Peter Capaldi was cast. (By the way, great choice, can't wait for the specials, really excited to see what he does.) To be honest, it seems like it was the best way to find out as I didn't have to put up with over twenty minutes of cheesy television just for a five minute exclusive interview. While those five minutes were great, the rest was... well it was just naff, wasn't it?

Don't get me wrong, it was nice but really, what was the point? Hype basically. The whole show was like a child shouting at you "Isn't Doctor Who the best show ever?". Which, fair enough. I mean, I love it so of course I'm inclined to forgive it for behaving like that and its famous enough to not seem utterly moronic. But honestly, I would have been happy with the way they did it with Matt Smith - a far more understated programme that had a similar message (there's not much deviation possible with an announcement like this) but wasn't shoved so much down your throat. Of course, the reason it was making so much noise was because people would have actually heard of the actor this time.

So, basically, I'm not blaming the programme for how it did the announcement but it was still pretty empty. While Bernard Cribbins is always a joy to watch and it was great to see Rufus Hound being an unashamed geek, these moments of charm didn't hide the fact that it was all just a delay tactic that probably pissed a lot of people off. They just want to know who the Doctor is goddamit! Nice enough but honestly, it really needed to settle down a bit. Yes it's all exciting but there's no need to scream it in our faces. We want to scream as loud as it did but we know that's really annoying for 30 minutes. Still, at least people seem genuinely excited about all this. That's always nice to see.

Meanwhile, a programme that doesn't seem to be quite as popular proves to be just as charming. Folk at the BBC (available on iPlayer until next Saturday)has some truly lovely performances as you'd expect, but I was surprised to see other archive material that provides some context for the reception of folk music in Britain. While I'm unashamed to admit chuckling at the pure 60s-ness of the conversations (folk musicians are genuinely described as long-haired ruffians - proof that stereotypes, no matter how ridiculous, will always be believed in by someone), it is also really fascinating to see this footage.

There is a frankness in the coverage that is refreshing in comparison to Doctor Who Live. There's no incessant fawning here, people say what they feel and with real force which often seems lacking whenever anything cultural is covered in mainstream media. With shows like The Review Show and The Culture Show being awfully treated, there is real neglect for an audience interested in learning what is new in literature, music, film, television, theatre etc. Beyond radio show Front Row and the aforementioned shows, there are few programmes that exist for this audience that I would consider myself a part of.

Obviously, it is better to give more room to cultural content rather than shows about cultural content, but I always enjoy seeing people really passionate about the arts and as such when they occur (such as Danny Baker's lambasting on the BBC selling Television Centre in Goodbye Television Centre) I feel reassured that such people do exist. But it would be nice to not have to be reassured and see them as more prominent figures instead of being shoved onto increasingly neglected BBC 4. Speaking of which, one of its final original dramas Burton and Taylor was great and demonstrates why it is a tragedy that it is no longer allowed to continue producing some of the best programmes on the BBC.

Oh, and finally my thoughts on the final three episodes of The Returned, which is still one of my favourite television shows at the moment. (Considering the amount of television I watch is pretty small, this isn't much praise, but it's still an extraordinary piece of work). Its gradual buildup of tension and horror explodes in a truly unnerving piece of horror in the final episode. In this show, though, an explosion of horror just means that the chills and shivers are more frequent as it continues to skilfully use violence as shocking rather than unpleasant as bad horror does.

The standoff in the final fifteen minutes or so is incredibly tense and the highlight of the series. Dramatic in its own right, it is also packed with thematic significance as it provides a climax to the buildup of the series. As I predicted, the first series ends on a cliffhanger but it's not frustrating but suitably enigmatic. The only frustration is for the waiting for the next series. There are resolutions here but they are not final. The series has taken the first step in its story and its one that I hope will continue to be riveting, unsettling drama.

Now I know that people read these (or I look at them more often then I realise) so I'm going to ask for some advice on a future post. I definitely intend to talk about Southcliffe soon but I've been debating whether to start with The Mlll first, as it's already aired two of its four episodes. Has anyone seen it and what did you think? It'd be nice to actually know what my audience thinks so don't be afraid to comment.

Panorama on Hillsborough - "How They Buried the Truth"

I have now caught up with the Panorama documentary about the cover up of the Hillsborough disaster. It was broadcast back in May but is still available for another 10 months on iPlayer. I would highly recommend watching it. As you would expect, it is an emotional and horrifying piece but it is an important one. We can all recognise that the cover up was an atrocious tragedy but the documentary explores it thoroughly, revealing how its horror is complex and not as clear cut as we would like it to be. It is not enough, I feel, to call something evil and have done with it. Panorama prove that if we are to use this label we must understand why it deserves it. And in my mind there is absolutely no doubt that the cover up was evil. 
What I found particularly interesting is the relationship between the events as perceived at the time and as perceive now. A word that continually crops up in the discussions with those involved with the events is 'hindsight', and is most commonly used as a form of defence for what they did - without hindsight they had no idea of how devastating the tragedy was.

This is not a poor excuse in and of itself, and one I'm sure most of us have used in our own personal experiences. However, it is a poor excuse for the institutionalised discrimination that the police displayed here. Many of the people that headed the institutions that investigated the events excuse themselves or their superiors because of the huge demands expected of them and their role. Lord Dear, who helped lead the initial investigation, excuses Lord Justice Taylor for allowing South Yorkshire Police to take responsibility of the officers' statements, which included censorship and editing of these statements, by claiming that because he was Lord Justice  "It is not for you or I to query that [decision] I [would] suggest".
On the other hand, Dear is not presented as entirely unsympathetic although he seems to care more about his reputation rather than actual justice. Nevertheless, he and Taylor agreed that the tragedy was caused by overcrowding and poor organisation by the police responsible for the game.
And yet, the police still avoided total responsibility for the disaster and the documentary tracks the eventual reversal of this stance and was eventually made 'officialy' true.

As I was swept up in the incredible footage and moving statements, I noticed that at the heart of the documentary was a story that seems to appear in almost every fiction I've come across: that of the individual fighting against a society ruled by a collection of powerful, single-minded individuals. It seems that the reason it crops up in so much fiction is because it is a reality that many face. While it is easy to criticise and attack institutions, when we see the destruction they can cause, such as Hillsborough, it is not difficult to see why it is so easy to do so. In the end, the tragedy is not only in the exploitation individuals suffered (as devastating as it is). It is in the inability for major institutions (in this case, the police and the government) to accept the immorality of their actions unless it is made official by other institutions. They are trapped in bureaucracy that removes emotion and any sense of justice to the event. And so of course we ask "How could this happen?", because there's nothing else left to say.

That the institutions allow themselves to be so callous in their procedures is monstrous but at least it has come to light. At least the Hillsborough Inquest Panel refused to give up and let themselves be "worn down". This is democracy and free speech at its strongest. This is why we shouldn't suffer the bullshit institutions feel the need to provide in order to cover their backs. That is not to say they are entirely evil, but the documentary stresses something that apparently institutions seem to forget - they are there to help others, not their own interests. It's far more difficult to help individuals and so it is understandable when they make mistakes or are placed under stress. But that is only because without them, many people will be helpless to the actions of evil, selfish people. As soon as institutions refuse to aid those who need help and start to behave like selfish individuals, then those victims have nowhere to turn for help.

Now, looking objectively at the programme, the documentary is clearly biased in its argument. It opposes the arguments of the police by using the perspective of the fans and the families of the fans involved in the tragedy to tell the story of the coverup. But bias isn't automatically a bad thing unless it is overwhelmingly so. As I referred to in my review of London's Burning, the drama about the London riots, the lack of input from the police limited any argument the drama wanted to put forward. Here, there is balance with the police allowed to speak alongside the victims, which is a huge improvement to how Hillsborough had been discussed at the time. The argument had been short and clear cut - the fans were to blame and the police were in the right in all of their actions. There was no opposing voice that was considered of any value i.e. any opposing argument that at all implied the police were in the wrong.

As I said at the start, this documentary absolutely proves that the cover up of Hillsborough was an atrocity which nobody involved denies. The few attempts at justifications are non-retrospective and only considered in light of the circumstances of the events. It may end with an apology by David Cameron but it is clear that Hillsborough will never be over. This is not something to swept away as history. This is a tragedy that must be remembered for the horror that it is. This is an event that must never happen again.

Looking for authorial intent (Looking for Alaska)

If you're on the Internet (i.e. reading this), you've probably heard of John Green. If you read a lot, you've heard of John Green. If you have an interest in Young Adult fiction, you're wondering what I'm going to say about The Fault in Our Stars, his bestselling novel and being made into a film. However, I'm going to talk about his debut novel, Looking for Alaska. Since he always finds himself talking about it in his YouTube videos, I might as well chip in my two pennies (or two cents would probably be more appropriate).

As well as a well known author, John Green is arguably more well known for his YouTube channel, the Vlogbrothers, which I briefly mentioned in a previous post. Via numerous channels, he discusses (amongst many other things) the process of his books and his intentions in writing them. When specifically talking about Looking for Alaska, he's recently discussed the apparent pornographic content in Alaska (which he correctly asserts is an inaccurate description of said scene) and his use of the Manic Pixie Girl trope (which he helpfully defines two minutes into the video)*. What these videos seem to show is an author who realises the novel he has written is not the novel he intended. As it is a debut novel this feeling is not surprising, at least to me. Naturally it is going to take a while for a writer to hone their craft and make their technique match their ideas. The videos seem to show John considering Looking for Alaska as failing what he intended to do.

However, along with many others I think Looking for Alaska is my favourite of his books and I'm going to explain why the mistakes that John believes exists in the book are reasons for why it is great.

An event occurs halfway through the book that divides the book into two halves, 'Before' and 'After'. I won't spoil what that event is but I will discuss how the novel changes between sections which will probably hint at what this is, so go on at your peril if you haven't read it.
Interestingly, John did not intend this as an event that warrants a spoiler warning. It was meant to be something that was inevitable and fairly obvious to see coming. So if we are to take the author as the authority of their book, I should freely reveal what the event is.

But when the event happened, I was dumbstruck. I genuinely stopped reading to take in the impact. It was an incredibly powerful moment that I didn't see coming. Nor did many others. Which surprised John. Yet while John thinks this effect changes the book from his intentions, this effect is not a negative one. In fact, it benefits the book enormously. While it changes the tone, the first half character development isn't abandoned but expanded. As we get a hold of who we think the characters are (muddling through the unpredictability of growing up), the second half severely challenges them and it is devastating to see these characters who were getting more self-confidence to be so shaken up. In particular, the one that resonates is the narrator, Miles. Seeing him cope with the consequence of the event, which we see through his actions and the style of his narration, results in one of the most beautiful and powerful depictions of grief I've ever seen.

As effective as I found the book, this effect seems to create a different sort of tragedy, one probably every author has experienced: being misunderstood. Alaska is a deliberate distant figure as we see her through Miles' eyes, who idolises her and puts her on a pedestal while paradoxically desperate to obtain her. After the event, this distanced relationship means Alaska becomes even more of a mystery and leaves the audience as mystified as Miles, according to John. From what I can tell, John intended to show how foolish Miles' perception is rather than have us sympathise with it. But for me, I think a combination of the two occurs and is why it struck such a chord with me. I could recognise Miles' behaviour as similar to my own far too recently while also recognising it as a stupid way to treat girls who are nice to you. I don't believe John intended this, indeed I don't expect any writer to be able to depict emotions and experiences I have had. That's just the perks of literature; by attempting to capture aspects of humanity in a fictional form, various books will have a particular influence on certain people as they see things that only they would recognise.

In fact, this whole post has been based upon my interpretation of what John said in the videos - I haven't quoted him for example, which is bad for an essay but has a purpose in this post. John displays much confidence in what the books are about with good reason - after all, he wrote it. However, I am inclined to follow the 'death of the author' view of literature. I am aware most authors dislike this perception of literature, including John who made the humorous quip that this theory makes him worried about how long he has left to live. Funny as that is, I do believe that the text of a book is out of the control of the author as soon as someone else reads it. They bring their own experiences, lifestyle and interpretation to it, and so the text they read will probably (though not always) be a very different one to what the author believed they wrote. For example, it is fine for Baz Lurhmann to present The Great Gatsby as gaudy and visually spectacular, and it is also fine for people not to like that version and prefer the one they have when they read the book.

Basically, to clarify the title of this post, authorial intent is not totally irrelevant as long as you don't simply let it replace how you feel about the book. It's a similar approach to how one should read reviews - this is a person's opinion. It is fine for them to have a different one to you. Just don't assume either of you are entirely right because in literature, there can be no such thing.

And if you haven't read anything by John Green, I highly recommend you do. I have yet to read An Abundance of Katherines or Let It Snow, but all of his other books are well worth reading. I'm not as fond as The Fault in Our Stars as others (although it's still brilliant) and personally prefer Paper Towns. However, Looking for Alaska is far and away my favourite and is as good as a place as any to start.

*Don't worry about the fact he's playing FIFA and is weirdly obsessed in creating a fictional word involving those players. I enjoy the videos and would recommend watching from the start, but the linked videos are still worth watching on their own, if ever so slightly bewildering.

Becoming Youtube and becoming a person

There is a fascinating series on YouTube at the moment called Becoming Youtube, which allows relative newbies (such as myself) to get a brief catchup on the history of Youtube (and I mean very brief, it focuses on very specific areas, mostly due to who is available to intelligent and informative host and creator, Benjamin Cook) while also treating this influential website as an important cultural tool. By no means is it a cheerleader for the site though. Quite the contrary, it engages and challenges how its influence has grown and surpassed its original origins due to the huge growth in its audience. I'm going to be concerned with the latest episode, but every one so far has been fascinating, so here's a link to the first episode. They are fairly long but fascinating nevertheless.

The latest episode looked at fandom, with Nerdfighteria as the case study. I won't repeat the perfectly good summary in the episode (about 2.57) so just check that out and then we can continue.

You watched all of it didn't you? Don't blame you, after all I asked you to, although it was a long and lonely wait. So now we know what being a nerdfighter means we can move on.

Except.

That last sentence is wrong pretty much entirely. If you aren't a nerdfighter, surely you don't know what it is? Even if you think you do, if you were a part of it surely that definition would change. What you thought previously will be proved to be incorrect as you become more involved in the community. This is the problem that fandom has but is by no means unique - any group that encourages its participants to label themselves (fandoms are one example, as are political groups, religions, critical theorists and so on) automatically excludes themselves from those that aren't part of the group. I suppose that is the point of these groups, to find others who share your views and that aren't like everybody else. Until people who claim to be part of your group do things that act against everything that you thought the group stands for. You then have to justify your allegiance to the group to those who criticise it because of one individuals actions. Which can be quite difficult.

"Hi, I'm Kevin. I'm a big fan of the Batman films." Really? How big?
"Bit obsessive to be honest. Haha." Ha. What, like dressing up and stuff?
"Yeah, sometimes. But only when I'm out with my mates who love it as much as I do." So you're like that murderer in Colorado? Wasn't he dressed as the Joker or something?
"Oh, he's not like us." But he said he loves the films as well. He was just as big a fan as you.
"Well, not to me." So you're the representative of your group?
"Well no, there are others like me but they obviously have different views." Like the guy who killed all those people?
"Um..." Um....

Everyone is wrong aren't they? The critic is wrong to generalise a group because of an individual but the participant is similarly wrong to assume everyone in the group shares their view. Examples are evident in the documentary I mentioned above* as indeed there is in real life. And that's my problem with all these groups that encourage their fans to label themselves. They put them within a conflict that nobody wants to get involved in, but as I tried to demonstrate is automatic whenever being a fan of something appears. I'm sure many of us have experienced at some point. And probably from both sides.

Personally, I'm fond of many things and would consider myself a fan of a handful of them- Doctor Who (despite the recent increase of disappointment recently, the concept opens so many possible routes I can't abandon it), theatre and literature are the ones that dominate my life most. Both are capable of disappointing me or not doing things I like, but to me there is something about them that makes abandonment impossible. This doesn't mean you can't stop being a fan. Indeed, in some ways I would encourage it as it will generally cause less arguments. I used to be very passionate about football, but due to a gradual lack of interest and a feeling that if I said I supported Man. United I would be hated by many automatically. Similarly, I have no specific taste in music beyond being fond of certain bands (last night I went to a Two Door Cinema Club concert, who have yet to make a bad song and are incredible live. Check them out if you don't know them). The reason I like to be impartial in most of these areas is mostly because everyone is very proud and (obviously) committed to their opinions. As such, they will defend them to the bitter end, and as such can cause friendships, arguments and some parties to come to a similarly bitter end.

Obviously, being part of a group has many, many benefits which make these negative aspects somewhat bearable. I'm part of a drama society here at university, of which I'm proud of even if I don't know everyone. We all share a passion for performing and watching great shows, which triumphs over any tempestuous personal relations which arises naturally within large groups. What annoys me is those people who choose to use their group membership to be unnecessarily cruel to those who aren't part of their group and, unfortunately, other groups. Disagreement will always occur, but we can at least be respectful about it.

I have friends who like things I don't and vice versa, but crucially they are friends. If you're so committed to your group that friendships are unnecessary, then a reality check is in order. The feeling of fandom can come and go, at least in my experience. Building relationships with people outside that environment is more likely to be more rewarding and beneficial in your life - there are a significant minority of examples where that isn't the case. Even if you get successful through obsession of YouTube or Doctor Who or whatever, it won't be solely because of that. Involvement with the real world is the only way for you to actually do something, rather than just admire people who aren't just fans but able to actually do something (say running a political party or writing a script for a new TV show) that can potentially generate fandoms and group worship in the first place.

As ever, there are others out there who can summarise my posts into a one-liner and the trend continues today. In the latest episode of Becoming YouTube, Jack Howard says, "If people are Nerdfighters, then fine. Just don't be a prick about it."
Just because you are part of a group doesn't mean you are automatically a good or a bad person - you're just a person who likes something more than most people do. It's not an excuse or a justification for anything that is in and of itself morally repugnant and evil.



*I find I have to defend myself for referring to Becoming Youtube as a documentary. as it's on YouTube, associated with people falling over and funny animals, but the documentary is worthy of being shown on TV** but by being on YouTube, it feels more relevant / focused.

**which people think is somehow a better media than the Internet despite also showing people falling over and funny animals, clips of which are then put on YouTube - it's a vicious cycle the media.

A musing on stereotypes

I recently read an article in The Guardian the other day which was interesting.
Read the comments which were infuriating.
Here's why:

The article attempts fear mongering by claiming Michael Gove has commissioned three schools that will teach creationist teachings. This prompted a backlash in the comments sections where people cried out about the decline of modern education and how creationism is rubbish. While I agree, I would probably phrase it more tactfully, were it at all relevant. Because these people clearly didn't read the article. How do I know? Because by the end of the article, it is clear that the schools have stated that they will not teach creationism as a science and that even if they wanted to, it is against the law. While their statements may actually cover up their intentions, it is too soon to tell and will require following-up reporting once the schools have opened. So the comments are irrelevant criticisms of something that hasn't actually occurred, which leaves me very uncomfortable as they essentially show a prejudiced group of outspoken individuals with little respect for Christians.
They even prompted an article the next day written by a mouse, apparently. When you're argument is being debunked by a mouse, you need to seriously think about what you've done and be very, very ashamed. (Unfunny and mean but true.) Go and have a look, and see if you can get angry about a school teaching creationism in a class called Religious Education, which is notably different from that other subject called Science.

What is clear is a misunderstanding that is common on all perceptions of religious people: we are most aware of religious people through fundamentalists and as we are presented with them through media, anecdotes and street corners more than people who happen to be religious, they become the sole representatives of religious people. In other words, if you are religious, you must be a fundamentalist.
Which is clearly wrong, no matter how you view it. Yes, I agree the worst religious people are those who feel the need to shove religion down your throat and claim it as fact, but that doesn't mean they are all like that. Believe it or not, it is possible to have a calm, sensible conversation about religion with a Christian or a Muslim. But of course, its so much easier to have a go at fundamentalists who are so clearly wrong and confirm our own beliefs by deconstructing their argument without looking at our own.

This thought of mine was unexpectedly developed recently by a conversation I had with someone about the recent Colorado shooting during 'The Dark Knight Rises' premiere, in particular how it was reported in 'The Sun' with descriptions of the shooter as a "sicko" and apparently obsessing over a photo of a young woman. My friend commented that the papers can make anyone look obsessive with the right use of emotive language and information. This made me think about how we can all be labelled as a stereotype but we aren't and if we found out we were, we would be furious. It's that old chestnut the double-standard unfortunately; perfectly fine for us to stereotype others but as an individual we deserve the right to resist such labelling of ourselves.

In an uncomfortable segue, let me mention briefly 'A Tale of Two Cities' by Charles Dickens. (This will make sense I promise.) Now this is typically* regarded as a 'lesser' Dickens work, which I have to agree with. By no means bad, it has one of the best opening lines and one of the best closing lines in literature, and looking at them shows perhaps why the book stand out as unusual for Dickens:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

 "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far,far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.'

(That last quote, by the way, is used to incredibly powerful effect in the latest Batman film which is one unexpected surprise that I have spoiled but at least it's not a plot twist.)

The lines show a poetic quality which is not something one naturally associates with Dickens. His descriptions of London and France are of his typical lyrical quality (just look at the description of fog in the opening of 'Bleak House' for proof elsewhere) and he often uses repetition for effect but never has it flowed so beautifully as it does with those lines that are so often quoted out of context as wonderful writing. But what about the stuff in between? It's a simple story about individuals involved in the French Revolution, in England and France, of privileged and working-class backgrounds. This sounds interesting, and it is but it lacks Dickens' typical charm and fun. While his focus on the narrative and plot is admirable, it isn't quite as entertaining as a truly great work like 'Great Expectations'. That novel had glorious characters that reader and writer wanted to spend time with leading to many digressions from the plot to see how the characters spent their time. Not quite so with those in 'A Tale of Two Cities' - while fascinating enough, they aren't as captivating as I would like. So I'd have to say if you're interested in reading Dickens, I wouldn't start here but come back to it once you've fallen in love with his prose and imagination.

Now that is a very simple analysis of a book that would probably prompt some people to call me a nerd or, if they're being kind, bookish. Just for reading a book and having a view. Is this not similar for religion? Probably not, but then this post won't make sense. They have a belief in how to live their life by following the teachings of a book that isn't based entirely on reputable fact. Does this make them bad? No, it is how they behave and what they do with themselves that will decide that. Just because someone believes in creationism doesn't mean that they are stupid - they may be ignorant of evolution perhaps, or of particularly strong belief. Either of those possibilities are fine for me as long as they're not the kind of person that feels that it is the only view that matters. And that could be applied to any viewpoint: to people who think Shakespeare is rubbish because they can't understand him or that paintings are the only worthy art form - essentially those that feel the need to impose their view on everyone because it is 'fact'. These are the people who are a bigger problem than those who are capable of complete faith.


*NB: does stereotypically just mean typically on a larger scale or agreed by society rather than a single group of people?

A new perspective

Just realised how out of date this is (events that inspired te post occured on 21st March this year) but I still think it's worth showing. Let's see how it goes...

This blog hasn't gone the way I planned. I thought I'd enjoy reviewing stuff that people may not usually notice but they haven''t come out as I intended - they're either too harsh, too positive or precisely balanced. What I don't think comes across is how I actually feel about them so I'm just going to write anything that may or not be of interest just so I can commit thoughts that I can't say to other people because they'll get bored or they just won't care (yeah i need to sort that out...) Who knows if anyone's reading this but maybe there's something interesting about reading the word of a young guy who just doesn't really know anything...

Two things have happened lately that have made me consider things differently: I am reading 'The Bloody Chamber (and other stories)' by Angela Carter and experienced a seminar at a university with an unconvential lecturer.
This year, I have been studying Gothic literature and so have felt the need to read every book on the list of suggested texts outside of the three I am studying, which includes 'The Bloody Chamber'

As much as I am enjoying the stories, having studied the Gothic for a while now I can't help spotting the numerous motifs and references which are part of the genre. It made me think how easy it would be if I was studying it for the exam, as they are very blatant - the use of mirrors allow for doppelgangers to be created, the heroines are usually set free from their repressed social circumstances by male dominance, the bloody chamber of the title is used as a reference to the sexual awakenings of virgins and so on. There is stuff of interest but there does seem to me a sense that this is a checklist approach, particularly as Carter applies these to classic fairy tales which are either generally impressive (such as the titular story or eponymous if you want to be technical) or baffling like 'The Tiger's Wife'. The blatant references to other literature also become wearying after constant usage, and this is what worries me.
I cannot say I dislike it, but reading this has made me weary about Gothic literature and just, well, tired - which is a shame because I generally like Gothic literature even if I haven't read 'Frankenstein' yet. Speaking of which...

I recently had a very bizarre day - I found out I had been rejected by a university the day I returned from visiting another.
[I won't name names because anyone who cares about my feelings about them will probably know them already]
Dissapointment was the automatic response but I had enjoyed the open day, even though I was irritated that the sample lecture was on 'Frankenstein' so couldn't contribute as much as I'd liked. No such issues with the seminar as the professor quizzed us on our dedication to literature. I think I passed but frankly he was so entertaining it became irrelevant. The best English teachers I've had are those that I know that I could just talk to for ages about literature and when their passion comes across in their teaching. The most striking thing he said, for me, was when he criticised the use of literary theory - he claimed it made the department a laughing stock and subject to criticisms along the lines of "You're still using Freud? Hey, have you heard? Freud, I know!" It had produced siginificant observations but now he was more interested in hearing students talk about the meaning of the text - what we think the text is about. And that's what we can't do so much.

Now it's true it's still a key part for passing exams but that's all it's really needed for. Rather than just writing about what we think the text is about and how by reflecting the Gothic it is worthy of attention, we have to hit certain notes - there must be a debate (obviously, without debate you can't have progess - how do you know what's right without knowing what's wrong?), we have to talk about language, form and structure (i.e. the book) and we have to adress context (what was important about the period it was written, what's the difference between recepetion at the time and now). Now these are basic things for a literature essay but it doesn't seem like that - it feels like unnecessary information that I need to know to pass the exam. It feels like jumping through hoops, it doesn't feel like I'm enjoying studying the book which I do and I really appreciate the moments when I feel that way.
This is what progression in life is starting to feel like - you can't do what you want to do without going through the beauraucracy, wothout crossing the is and dotting the ts in the way expected from us - how ironic that we study the Gothic with a rational mind.


Phew far too serious, but helpful for me. I'm going to press publish and I'm going to put this out there

The most honest thing I've ever written. Man that makes it sound important.