My Summer Reading List

The Title is Pretty Self-explanatory

This isn't so much a proper blog post as it is a reminder to myself.

Today I have finished all of my exams (finally!) and can now concentrate on enjoying myself. Everyone who knows me knows that my summer holiday is going to be dedicated to reading and writing (and work, but I'm trying not to think about that). 

So here is a list of what I aim to read this summer! 

Key
- Currently reading
* Almost finished

• Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
• Slaughterhouse 5 by Kurt Vonnegut -*
• Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov -*
• On the Road by Jack Kerouac -
• I Am Legend by Richard Matheson -*
• Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk -*
• Beauty by Robin McKinley

As you can see, a lot of these books I've already begun and haven't had the time to finish. 

No doubt, I'll end up re-reading some of my all time favourites instead (such as 'Valley of the Dolls', as shown in the photo). 

Either way, I'm going to have an awesome summer!

Fantasy... or is it?

The Cultural Significance of Fairytales.

Fairytales are a global consistency. Every culture has its own story that's been passed down from generation to generation. 

They involve anthropomorphic animals, magical creatures and almost impossibly beautiful princesses. They are the quintessential ideal for childhood fantasy. Many people would agree that fairytales aren't true.

But then, one has to wonder... is that entirely correct?

I don't mean in the sense that fairies and gnomes are real (although a somewhat less cynical part of me would argue that there isn't consistent evidence to disprove their existence). I'm talking about their morals, the lessons they teach the young and impressionable. 

Fairytales are frequently associated with the Grimm brothers or Perrault. But tales of this kind have been present since as early as the Ancient Greeks, with Aesop. 

Aesop's fables are renowned for their strong moral message. One of the most poignant is the fable of 'The Wolf and The Lamb'. A wolf wishes to eat a lamb and, despite the lamb listing various reasons why he most definitely does not deserve to be eaten, the wolf does so anyway. The message? The wicked do not care about the innocent; their own need is more important. It's a lesson that many of us need to learn. We won't always be treated with compassion. 

Wolves are somewhat omnipresent in folklore. They represent the unjust, the corrupt. Everyone knows to fear The Big Bad Wolf. This figure acts as a catalyst for the morals of many tales. The most obvious would be 'Little Red Riding Hood', which has connotations of paedophilia and sexual awakening. Through the image of the wolf, children learn not to trust strangers, to not 'stray from the path'. 

I have seen some people argue that fairytales aren't good for little girls to read. There's an ongoing argument within some feminist groups that fairytales teach that a prince is necessary for a woman to fulfill her potential. They present the idea that a woman has to be beautiful, and anyone who is 'ugly' is a hag by default. I would argue the contrary and my supporting evidence is 'The Snow Queen'. 

Arthur Rackham's "Little Red Riding Hood"

'The Snow Queen' tells the tale of Gerda, a young girl who goes to rescue her playmate Kai from the Snow Queen. This story is dominated by female characters and notice how it is Gerda who saves Kai, one of only two males in the story (not counting The Devil). This tells young girls that they don't have to be the submissive ones; they can go out and kick ass! As for the whole "the princesses aren't positive role models" argument: the Princess in this story does seek love, but insists that she will only marry if the male in question is of the same mental capacity as her. She's asserting her independence, which is an extremely important lesson for young girls to learn in this age.

Furthermore, I fail to understand why young girls shouldn't read about princesses. Their stories seem to have the most important lessons of all: they teach you that it's okay to fall in love. It may be platonic, like with Gerda and Kai, or it may be something more. 

In a world full of wolves, a prince (or princess, as emphasised in this comic) is out there somewhere. You can find him or he can find you. 

As a young girl, I was enamoured with fairytales and still am. They're dark, they're often scary but they were a large part of making me who I am today. The novel I'm currently writing is hugely influenced by fairytales. 

So yes, I will sit in my 'Snow White' dress and sing along to 'Into the Woods', and I will do so unashamedly because sometimes, a little childlike indulgence is all you need. 

Heartbreak: The Political Memoir of a Feminist Militant

My Thoughts and Feelings Whilst Reading:

Heartbreak: The Political Memoir of a Feminist Militant

By Andrea Dworkin

In the town about 20 minutes away from where I live is a little second-hand bookstore. It is, perhaps, one of my most favourite places in the world. It's one of those shops you always read about but never actually see: books towering precariously at seven feet, rickety shelves that are misshapen under the staggering weight of ancient tomes, a dank mustiness in the air that is only achieved through age and ink. The owner is always sat behind the counter and every day he's reading a different book. Whilst it may not have a Costa coffee or a particularly organised structure like my beloved Waterstones, it is something of a rarity and a secret I keep close to my chest. 

The store is divided into five sections: the main entrance, the back room, the Arts and Philosophy room and the children's section. As my interests lie in the third room, that's where I headed. Soothing jazz music played as I perused the shelves and then I saw it. Heartbreak. 

I should make it known that I am not a radical feminist by any means. I think bras are far too expensive to burn. However, I would class myself as a Liberal Feminist and therefore am interested in all forms of feminist literature. Up until today, I had never heard of Andrea Dworkin. However, the cover drew my eye and, along with three other books, bought it. 

I started reading it as soon as I sat down a few hours ago and I've almost finished it (granted, it's not a long book at 163 pages). However, this isn't due to the length; it's the content.

Whilst I don't necessarily agree with all of Dworkin's ideas, I can definitely appreciate them and the way she fights her corner is articulate and persuasive. It's something of an autobiography, and she is incredibly frank. No subject is pussyfooted around, no stone is left unturned. She bares all and I find her incredibly brave for doing so. 

But it's the writing that I find myself in love with. Her writing style is beautiful. She could be talking about cleaning a toilet and I'd have tears streaming down my eyes. There's one paragraph, when discussing her and her classmates' attitudes towards their supposed impending doom, that particularly hit home:

"She was famous as the school whore, and she was widely envied though shunned on a normal day, since she knew the big secret; but on this day, the last day, she could have been crowned queen, sovereign of the girls... She was Eve's true descendant, the symbol of what it meant to bite the apple. Tomorrow she would go back to being the local slut, but on the day we were all going to die she was Cinderella an hour before midnight. I wished that I could grow up, but I could not entirely remember why. I waited with my schoolmates to die." 

You may or may not believe in feminism. After doing some quick research on Dworkin, I personally found some of her beliefs to be extremist and a little OTT. But please, please do yourself a favour and read this book. If not for what the book stands for, but for the beauty and the truth in the writing. It really does stick with you. It would be a crime to pass up the opportunity to read this book. To quote Dworkin:

"her secret masterpiece would be just that - secret, yet no less a masterpiece."

"Waterstone's" Has Ruined Me

My Addiction

It should be known that I am not a social person by any means. 

That's not to say that I don't enjoy interacting with people - I do - but the life of a reader/writer requires extended lengths of solitude, and my problem lies in that I am constantly reading or writing. Therefore, a social life has to be pushed to the side in order for me to pursue my hobbies. And honestly? I'm okay with that.

But my passion comes with a price, and that isn't the opportunity to fulfil my long-anticipated 'Rebellious Teen' phase. I'm talking about a literal price; you see, I am addicted to buying books.

Alongside my studies, I have a part time job. Whilst I'm on minimum wage, I still earn enough that I can treat myself from time to time. And, when I do go shopping, all my time is spent in a book store. More precisely, Waterstone's. 

Yes, I know that it's expensive! Yes, I can probably find the same book cheaper online or in another store! I know, I know, but I just love it there! Maybe it's the peace when you first step through the door. It could be the attractive clerk who smiles knowingly at you when you purchase yet another Kerouac novella. Perhaps its the organisation of the books, or the sheer number of books, or the fact that practically every one has a Costa in the back (Chai Latte is yet another vice).

So, whilst I will buy books from other stores if needs be, I will always end up in a Waterstone's. I physically cannot avoid them; it's like they have their own orbit, drawing me in and forcing me to explore. I must have an inbuilt sensor that tells me which way to go to reach the nearest one (no matter where I am or how few times I've visited a city, I will know exactly where to find the store). 

I estimate that over the course of a year I must spend at least £150+ in Waterstone's.

Oh well. If I end up bankrupt, I can build a hovel out of novels. 

The Beauty of Bukowski

An Ode to Charles Bukowski

A self-indulgent post about my favourite poet

 I find it somewhat difficult to put it into words just how much love I have for the writings of Charles Bukowski. However, with this post I aim to try. Hopefully, I may persuade some of you to read some of his works in the meantime. 

When I first discovered Bukowski, I was on my work experience placement at a local newspaper. I had an hour to kill before I had to go back so I mooched around Waterstones, debating whether or not to spend my lunch money on a copy of 'Slaughterhouse-Five' (a habit of mine that I need to try and keep in check; I spend about £200+ on books every year). I meandered into the poetry section and that's when I saw It. 

Spellbound, I staggered over to the bookshelf and wonderingly ran a finger along the spine. With trembling hands I removed it and weighed the tome; it was quite heavy, as though the content within was so hard-hitting that the paper could barely contain it. The book in question was 'The Pleasures of the Damned', a collection of poems by a man named Bukowski. I can't say what it was about the book that drew me in... there was something about it, a gravity that clutched onto me and sucked me into its orbit. You'd think that in that moment I would have forsaken my BLT and splurged out on the anthology there and then. 

But you would be wrong.

I left the bookstore with empty hands, heavy purse and a firm idea in my head that, when the time came, I would make that book mine. 

The time in question came almost three months later whilst I was on holiday. As per the norm, I entered the bookstore and there it sat, the centre piece of an otherwise bland display. I didn't hesitate; I grabbed it, paid for it and hid it in my bag so that my Dad wouldn't see it and tell me off for buying 'another damn book'! But that night, as I sat on the edge of my bed and I opened to the first page, I felt an overwhelming feeling of excitement. I knew that it was my calling to read this book. I jumped into his grimy underworld and I have yet to pull myself back. 

The underlying theme of all of Bukowski's works is his gritty, dirty take on everyday life. He doesn't give a damn about censorship, about the taboo; he tells it like it is. One of my favourite poems (and the namesake of this blog) An Empire of Coins is a perfect example of his brutal commentary on the drudgery of every day life. One particular quote that always stands out for me is: 

"is there anything less abstract
than dying everyday and
on the last day?"

But there are moments where his words aren't revolutionary, but rather are gentle and wrap themselves around you like an old blanket. The last verse of Verdi is one of the most beautiful I have ever read. Bluebird is Bukowski's soul-destroying admission of just how lonely he really feels and how the barriers he's built have caged him. But I would testify to the fact that Mind and Heart is perhaps his greatest poem, simply because of the honesty and the open way in which it is written. It never fails to bring me to tears.

I have bought several of his works since that point, but I will never forget my first time really discovering Charles Bukowski. To quote Leonard Cohen:

"He brought everybody down to earth, even the angels."

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time Review

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

By Mark Haddon

I attend a monthly book club and the novel we were set for March was 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time'. I had read it once before, but that had been about two years ago and so I decided to reread it so as to refresh my memory. 

'The Curious Incident' is a first person narrative from the perspective of Christopher Boone, a teenager with Asperger's Syndrome. In it, he describes his quest to discover who killed his neighbour's dog and, subsequently, how that affects his own life. 

The character of Christopher Boone is remarkable. Haddon presents the character in such a way that we truly have to marvel at how utterly brilliant his mind is. His logic behind certain things (such as his take on constellations) is intriguing and the way he solves maths equations with ease makes me look at my C grade GCSE in shame. He is at times funny, although he doesn't recognise it. His observations on human nature are on-point and make you question how you yourself act when you think no one is watching. 

However, I find that the most endearing thing about Haddon's character is his outlook on life. Christopher will occasionally say something so complex but in such a simple way that it will floor you. For example, whilst explaining why his chapters are all prime numbers, he says:

"I think prime numbers are like life. They are very logical but you could never work out the rules, even if you spent all your time thinking about them." 

 At that point I had to put the book down, stare up at the sky and take a moment to contemplate my existence; and that was just page 15. 

Whilst someone who does not have Asperger's Syndrome cannot even begin to comprehend the intricate way in which their minds' work, Haddon does an exceedingly good job at giving us a brief insight. His use of pictures, diagrams and formulae really helps us see and appreciate what Christopher sees, even if we don't necessarily understand it.

The very first sentence of Chapter 7 says:

"This is a murder mystery novel."

This, to some degree, is true. To begin with, the novel focuses on Christopher's hunt for the murderer of his neighbour's dog. However, very soon his father calls a stop to this and from this point on the book begins to centre around the relationship between father and son. Their interactions act as a catalyst for the novel, with Christopher's father's secrecy spurring our protagonist on in his actions. The tensions between them become increasingly strained until one revelation brings the entire novel to a head. 

The plot, I found, wasn't overly exciting. Whilst there are a few twists to the tale, it doesn't have you on the edge of your seat. However (and never in my life did I think I'd ever say this) the plot is not important. This is a novel that depends entirely on its characters to coax it along, and luckily for Haddon his cast is phenomenal. This is a prime example of what happens when an author well and truly cares about his characters. In a workshop with author William Hussey, he told me that "The character is your god... you do what they tell you." Haddon took this advice to heart and came out victorious. 

'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time' is, in short, phenomenal. It is witty, deep and occasionally life changing. Whilst I wouldn't recommend it to those who like non-stop action or Sherlock Holmes-esque mysteries, it really would be a shame to deny yourself the opportunity to give this book a chance as it truly is a gem.