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31 October, 2014

Her Breath

It’s dark. Cold, almost damp, moss grows through the stones like an idea in the brain. There is a bed under a small window, see the slats through the mattress. If it were day, you would see a forest, where she is waiting. The rain flecks in though the glassless window and dots the dusty floorboards

I’m sitting on the wall opposite, leaning, my legs in front, my toes looking like stalagmites. A glint at the window shifts my eye; the crystals there are stirred by the wind and rain. Little rainbows inside them whisper to me and make me want to move them, but I’m too smart. So I sit. The rain falls by my feet, the drops fall and make drawings upon the floor that change and seem to move, closer, closer.
Below me, that noise again, like a breath that lingers in a throat of a stitched mouthed corpse. I’m aware I’m still blocking the door. The candle by my hand flickers and my shadow remains absent. Thankfully. Hands fall aside. Dust. Floor is brittle bone. The rattle grows louder, almost crawling though the keyhole. My heart thumps inside my ears. This must stop! My candle is tired. One hand rises to my neck and pulls the twine from inside my robe and my fingers taste the metal key. I stand, count a minute, by the door, the rattle holds her breath. I unlock the door.
My feet feel the change of flooring, thicker dust; my toes are numb and black. I do not walk, just shift from one foot to the other. Forwards, down. Down in a much bigger room. Portraits of her with no eyes are all around. Every time I turn she does too! I feel fingers on my shoulders, but turn to see a fleeting shadow. It moves across the wall and rests a moment on her faces.
There’s breath to my left. Rattle. I startle to one side. A cold mouth presses against my cheek, I close my eyes.
I open them in front of a mirror, she’s stood behind me, and her hands clasp my neck.






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29 October, 2014

Grown-Up

Once upon a time, there was a little Girl with yellow hair, standing in a corridor to a hospital wing with a small file filled with colouring books in her hands. I feel very tired for this story but as my eyes start to close, I see her fingers and how very small they are. I see her and see her eyes. They are not looking upwards, but only ever down, down at the floor. There is sounds of motion from the rooms placed all along this corridor, people stir within, sorrowful, panicked. My mind can not help going here, it keeps getting stuck, just like the people in their rooms, in their hospital beds.
When this little Girl grows up two of her strongest memories of this time will be of this file and her old duvet cover. Her sleeping on a sofa with her sister underneath a duvet with clown bedding upon it. The duvet had his body printed on it, the pillow had his head, one side of the pillow he was smiling, the other side he was sad. She keeps the sad side hidden. The only colouring book from the file she will recall will be the one with the little pictures of ducks inside. I'm not sure why this image in particular seem so vivid to her grown-up self, perhaps because she had some control over them at the time. She had to give the pages of the books colour, which ever colours she liked. She had made them be yellow ducks. Now, I can't recall the last time I saw a yellow duck, can you? But the little Girl knew, like most little girls know, that yellow was the colour you use for ducks. I guess that the ducks weren't entirely free of control after all. Everything has rules and questions that are silenced.
I ask her, what are these ducks doing, are they in a pond?
The little Girl says to me, “No.”
Are they in a park, eating bread?
She says, “No.”
Is there more than one duck?
She looks up at me and says, “Sometimes there is.”
Why is she unsure of how many ducks there are? Maybe she has drawn a second duck beside the first, does she know how to draw a duck?
I ask her if I can see the book. She shakes her head, her yellow hair trembles away from her head, loosely in threads. She will no longer show me the colouring book.
 I ask her, why?
“Because. You’re a grown-up now.”
And she stops looking up at me and becomes very far away. I call to her to wait, and she does.
I call to her, where is your Mummy? Her figure has become vague.
“She is poorly”, she says.
The word ‘poorly’ sends a jutting feeling over my consciousness, like a car's emergency stop. Poorly is such a confusing word. Her voice sounds hollow. I can tell that these words aren't her own words and that she is repeating them back at me. These are the only words she's been given. She doesn’t understand or want them.
I ask her, is your Mum close to us?
She nods, her body becoming a little clearer in my sight.
I ask her, do you want to go see her?
She grows still and says, “I’m scared to.”
Neither of us know why it's scary, but everyone else is scared and she’s been living with Granddad for weeks. her sister has become distorted, now she is the little sister, the Girl has to watch over her now, but she's too young to do it right. Everything has changed and will keep on changing; now that Mum is poorly.
I wonder, where is her Dad?
But then I can’t focus on her any more. The image of the hospital walls become too prominent and the floor-tiles seem to lift an inch off of the floor, a luminosity shining up though their grout. The smell of chemicals and troubling food grows stronger, as do the sounds of mumbling and wailing, sobbing and delirium.
A dark figure appears from the left of the Girl; it walks to her, touches her shoulder, mumbles something to her and then walks up the corridor, it's shoes clicking before growing quiet.  The little Girl becomes hazy; she flickers in and out of my vision, like the picture in an old movie. And then she is gone.

I decide I had better try to look for her again, but can’t seem to figure out where she might have gone. I try my best to concentrate and stay still in my bed. I focus on my breathing, in and out.
 And then I see her, this time in a long white dress that I know she never owned. She is outside of her Granddad's front garden, underneath a hedge with thin, grey branches. She is a little bit older now and her hair is more copper coloured than yellow. It is winter time and so the garden is almost colourless. Only slight hints of colour still remain underneath a thin layer of frost, I think of the ice pops shaped like rockets that my Granddad used to buy just for me, with freezer frost on the wrapper. Granddad Stan, his name is a nursery rhyme to me now.
The Girl sits with her knees up to her chest with her arms embracing them, the white on her dress seems a bit faded, she is crying very softly as people are near by, she doesn't want them to hear. I crouch down next to her and try to figure out why she is crying, try to remember, try to remember…
 She doesn’t want anyone to find her. She won’t talk to me so I stand and look around the street. Recalling a night time game of neighbour football, everyone wearing pyjamas.
But soon people do find her and they tell her to “Stop beefing”. We both hate that phrase. I turn to the people, a dark haired young woman and an old lady, but I can't speak to them and they can't see me. She pulls herself to her feet and runs down the cul-de-sac to her home before I can speak to her. Number twenty-One, Forber Place. She is in my sight as she closes the door.

I try to follow her into that house but it feels like the will to move has left me and that my form has grown viscous like a dream. I look at the house, the one with ivy growing up its front, the one with four steps leading up to the white door with black detailing on the handle, letter slot, railings and window surrounds. There is a tall shrub to the right of the door, next to the tall gate to the back garden, the shrub has wide leaves and hot pink flowers that smell just as all summers should smell. It is the shrub that she, her sister and friends had made ‘perfume’ from, colouring it with pink and blue felt tip pens in litre bottles that once held pop.
I have moved to the bottom of the drive, seeing its ever depleting pebbles from power-ranger escapades and I see the phantom white sirocco car flickering, there, then gone again. Just like the man that used to own it, he married Mum and pretended to be Dad, but he wasn't. He just helped initiate and provide confusion, he did nothing more.
 I walk up the drive, the gravel crunching and shifting under my foot. I don't use the gate or path that leads home and to the neighbour on the right, it's walk-way separated by a tall hedge. No, you always used the drive, the path was hardly ever used. But I think I fell there once. I have a scar on my right knee that looks curiously like stitches, Mum says I never had stitches. I think the drive is still there today, but the path is not. I reach the steps and climb to the top and grasp the handle, my hand becomes the hand of the Girl and I become her, who was in my sight and she closes the door, once more.

Inside, my mind strains the surroundings. I know that there is a toy-box in the small hallway underneath the hanging coats on the wall, opposite the steps that lead to the top of the house. I don’t feel the need to go upstairs. Instead, I go forward into the living room, a room with a fleeting appearance, formed by a collage of photographs of Christmas's mixed in with memories of sitting and watching coal in the fire, waiting for the Tooth-fairy, a severed tooth sitting in salt under a pretty tea towel in front of the fireplace, searching for Santa who left a bitten carrot, crumbs from a mince pie, an empty cherry glass and, more fascinating, he left soot finger prints on the plate.
On the windowsill there is the toy fish-tank, with a mariners scene fixed in gel. It was a gift for the Girl’s sister that she always wanted to pick apart and free the toy birds from their false flying and the toy fish from their stillness. It was left behind, and so it stays.
I haven’t seen the Girl inside the house yet, but I know she is close. I turn into the kitchen; it’s partitioned in the middle. Kitchen. Dining room. It is all white and porcelain white ducks are collected and displayed here.
Why aren’t they yellow?
“Because… they’re grown-up now.”  She calls from behind the Dutch-door, white with black details, handles, hinges. "One day, my hair will be white too."
The top section of the door opens. It is summer outside now. I walk to it quickly to look out, pushing myself with my adult hands high enough to see over the closed bottom section, seeing the bright green grass, the shed, the Wendy-house that was built when Jenny was five and the Girl was two, door number fifty-two, the stepping stones Dad laid in a flick book of photographs, the swings, slide, hoops, see-saw, trees, flowers, the dome shaped chair with Oliver the black and white cat asleep upon it, coal bunker, high fences with a field behind, snail races, snowmen, paddling pools, dog toys, old chimney pots with shrubs growing from their tops.

The grass becomes exceptionally long and I am outside standing on the paving before it. She wants to play lions with me. Trample down the grass to make tunnels, trample a circle shape to create a lion den. Play tag.
 I see her in jean dungarees with a red top on, laughing and stomping it down. She seems happy, there are others laughing and running around the tunnels. A dog barks, a thick sounding bark and a border collie dog pushes past me and jumps to her, knocking her to the ground, covering her face with kisses.
"He wont hurt you… well maybe lick you to death." We say. The dogs name is Cap.
But then the scene breaks. Its winter once more, the grass has grown patchy, short and unloved. Everything is burnt. This isn't how I remember it. The others moved in here after the Girl was made to leave. They burned furniture and starved the grass, the Wendy-house Dad made, number fifty-two, torn down and burned. Burn is a word on fire, this is written on paper. Burn it all, just don’t let her ever see what you destroyed, keep it secret because everyone else is afraid. Keep her afraid.  I hope you are happy with yourself, others, this used to be her home. Now it is broken.

I go back inside the house to block out the haunting garden and see a film of my sixth birthday projected in colour and in high contrast upon the kitchen partition wall. My back is to the door, this birthday was before all of the changing. My whole family is there, Granddad, Mum, Jenny, Cap; as are my Aunts, Uncles, cousins, childhood friends and Uncle Kenny is there, oddly dressed as a clown, with a painted on smile. Even the Girl with yellow hair is present, playing with a Simba plush toy. The film-reel ends and the room becomes dark. I don't look for the light switch. This is a better place to focus on, she seemed happy there. I recall a still from the film when she is smiling and about to blow out the candles into darkness. I find it and observe it, this moment was October twenty-first, in the year before the word poorly changed its meaning to me. This is the only birthday I remember it didn't rain. This was childhood. She is leaning towards the flames, about to blow them out but her breath stays motionless and her eyes move from the candles and look into my own, we are alone now, standing before each other. I am not in my body now, I can see myself. My hair is the colour of honey now, or maybe it's brown, not yellow at all? Am I grown-up now?
 She smiles at me in a way that is too old for her face, and then as I breathe in, she is pulled into me like smoke. Both our heads rest heavily upon my pillow and together we dream about burning these words of 'once upon a time'. And then we are able to sleep softly, happily ever after.

Hi everyone, just a little note from me, there will be a special spooky re-post this Friday so be sure to visit on Halloween to see if I can scare you!


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22 October, 2014

Short Essay; Frank McGuinness and Seamus Dean.

Discuss how conventions of the Gothic genre are used to address the Troubles and the conflict of Political Ireland and Religious Ireland in Observe the Sons of Ulster's as they March Towards the Somme, by Frank McGuinness and Reading in the Dark, by Seamus Dean.



In this essay I will be attempting to show how the Catholic writers, Dean and McGuinness, use conventions of the Gothic genre and how they use them to enable communication about the Irish Troubles. I will be comparing each writer’s use of the Gothic genre conventions and how they create a different or similar affect in the two texts and endeavour to explain why this might be.

The Gothic genre was arguably initiated by Walpole's The Castle Otranto (1764) as a response to popular architecture and questioned key events and attitudes of it's time. Indeed, Victorian Gothic fiction was often used to voice a concern of the era that otherwise, if not hidden within allergy and the elements of the Gothic, would have been much too scandalous, or painful to write, be published and to be read. Many writers adopted the genre for their own means, such as Stoker's Dracula (1897) which used the genre to express concerns towards the development of Victorian (mainly female) sexuality and continued the Gothic theme of 'Science or Logical' vs. Religion as a response to the industrial progression of England and the power of the church failing. The Irish Gothic genre, although a sub-genre less known, existed along side these celebrated Gothic texts.
When looking at both Dean and McGuinness'  texts, it is clear that both writers have used this genre in a similar way to express concerns along with feelings and ideas that are painful to them and to their country. They both use the genre to express their confusion and critical outlooks on the Troubles in Ireland and the violence that the conflict founded. Both writers mimic the 'Science or Logical' vs. Religion in order to address the Troubles, but change the science concern to one of a Political nature while keeping the Religion. In creating a Politic vs. Religion text, using Gothic conventions, the writers both make unbreakable links to madness and, as a result of the madness, supernatural occurrences both being caused by these two themes. Both texts are strongly focused by other Gothic conventions such as death, the outsider, morals, violence and others that I will be discussing later in this essay.
Both texts are set in the past, a convention in Catholic writing and use ghosts (a supernatural being linked with Catholicism due to being the only religion to believe that the soles in purgatory haunt the living, a technique that is peculiar in Observe the sons… since all of the characters are protestant).In both of these texts, context of the Troubles and the writers religious background engage heavily with the texts intentions and significantly shape the texts aim.

In Reading in the Dark, Dean shows how close his association to the Troubles are through his use of a great amount of autobiographical details, in which he expresses some of his families and his own past involvement.
In an interview with Ross, Dean spoke about his involvement with the Troubles such as being a member in 'the Wolf Tone club' and spoke of how his actual Uncle Eddie disappeared like Eddie in the text. When Ross asked 'how intimately were you shaped by that family experience, and by “The Troubles” in general', Dean responded;

I don’t suppose that there was any point at which I ever felt that there was a visible gap between what people call politics and my private life. The two things were always integrated. I learned that a political system, especially when it’s a rancid one… has an effect on personal relationships — in fact, it spreads right through the whole society. Especially when the political system is based on various forms of coercion and colonization. (Ross, 1997)

This response shows how deeply his life is rooted with in Troubles and how much it effected his personal and family life. He went on to say after Ross asked 'did that rancidness infect people who fought the political system, like some of the characters in your book?';

I think everybody is infected… Some people have the ability — or luck — not to have it run in particular channels. But when a family has directly experienced political violence, then it’s very difficult to avoid the more deforming aspects of it. But it’s also useful, in that it allows you to see just how dangerously insinuating violence is. (Ross, 1997) 

In this quotation, Ross introduces the idea of the Troubles infecting people with political hatred which can be linked to another convention of Gothic, pestilence, this technique often used to make the horrific more relatable without stunting any of their seriousness, seen in Dean's novel, Reading in the Dark. Dean also responds to a Religious question in Ross' interview, in which he refers to the Catholic Church as growing 'weaker' and that 'it still has power, but nothing — neither the status nor the power — that it had even 10 years ago.' (Ross, 1997). In this Dean examines how the Troubles has detrimentally affected the Catholic religion, in relation back to his novel the reader may see how Dean has entwined his faith closely to the supernatural in order to express his opinion that his church, like the Fianna in Grianan (pp. 56), may fade but never lose power all together.

Similarly in Observe the Sons…, we see McGuinness' reflecting his experiences with the violence and hatred of Political and Religious Ireland.  In a play review, Shannon wrote that the actors for ' McIlwaine and Anderson… give discomfiting authenticity to the play’s invective against “filthy taigs,” as they brandish McGuinness’ anti-Fenian language with compelling brutish vengeance.' (Shannon, 2012). This shows how powerful McGuinness' script is when performed, in particular the strength to its hatred towards Catholic's. As violence and conflict are a key aspect of the Gothic text, McGuinness needed to connect with them successfully and by him writing from the prospective of the 'enemy' he is able to identify with the hatred more closely and effectively, being that he is of a Catholic background himself. The consequence of this is that the audience is given a superior insight into the ridicule he, and Catholic's, would face.

I will now be looking at examples in both texts to argue that they are part of the Gothic genre and what technique both writers use to address the conflict of Ireland.
In the novel, Reading in the Dark, Dean heavily uses both the Gothic convention of madness and the supernatural in such a way that they merge together and become an allergy for war, politics and religion, thus the Troubles.
The  character of nameless narrator's Mother is linked strongest with both, perhaps because of her knowledge of all of the secrets and sufferings within the family. She seems to be Ireland in a sense that she is in constant conflict and no side ever triumphs. In the line 'My Mother moved as though there were pounds of pressure pushing her down' (Dean, 1997, pp.139) we can see how she seems to be effected physically by the two and the pressure makes her unable to move. This is like the Troubles, both sides of the Republican/Catholic and Unionist/Protestant pushing against each other with equal force so that  they counter each other in to motionlessness. We see Dean linking Political conflict and Religious conflict in this quotation.

'Burning. It's burning. All out there, burning.' She flapped her hands a the field beyond the window… it was always like that. every night, we would be wakened by voices and come downstairs to find her sobbing in the backyard… 'Burning; it's all burning,' she would cry. (Dean, 1997, pp.139-140)

The imagery of burning may be to associate the burning of hell and the explosions of bombs.
The novel begins, similarly to McGuinness, with ghostly activity. Although at this point it is a shadow rather than a fully formed ghost. In the novel, supernatural activity builds as the church diminishes and this development may be to show how the religion being pacified rather than defeated by the Troubles. The supernatural grows significantly when the narrator's sister Una dies.

She, it was Una, was coming right down the path before me for an instant, dressed in her usual tartan skirt and jumper, her hair tied in ribbons, her smile sweeter than ever… I walked home slowly… I didn't know if I would tell or not; that depended on what I was asked. I knew it would upset my mother, but, then again it might consol her to think Una was still about, although I wished she wasn't wandering around that graveyard on her own. 
My older brother, Liam, settled the issue for me… [I] told him instantly. At first he was amused, but he got angry when I wondered aloud if I should tell my mother.
'…You'd drive her mad. She's out of her mind anyway…' (Dean, 1996, pp.17-18)

In this quotation the narrator continues, as he did prior to this section, repeating Una's name. This repetition enforces the reality Una is a real Ghost rather than dead which argues my previous point further with Una, a supernatural being linked to Religion. Dean also creates a tone of comfort in the narrator after the supernatural occurrences, this may be Dean expressing his views that the darker side to religion is much less harmful than the darker side to politics and war.
This novel is a bildungsroman, though a failed one, and the use of this genre by Dean may be to highlight the Troubles endlessness, and how Ireland isn't allowing itself psychological and moral growth like the narrator who Dean keeps unnamed, perhaps to hide this interpretation of the text. It also has some aspect, like Gothic fiction, of the Crime genre as the narrator tries to piece together his family history, this may be a metaphor for how long the Troubles has gone on, that no one seems to know what is true and fair previous or prior to the conflict.
The most Gothic section in Deans 'talk-story' text is 'Katie's Story' (pp.59,71) which is very reminiscent on James' (1898) The Turn of the Screw in tone and the use of the hysterical governess watching supernatural activities centred around two sibling children.
For now their voices had changed. The boy had the girl's voice, and they girl had the boy's voice. She put her hands over her ears. She shut her eyes. then she became calm for a moment. She knew she had to see… She helped them undress, even though they usually dressed them selves. And sure enough, their sex had changed too. (Dean, 1996, pp 65)

Capp writes;
In many ways, [Katie's] ghost stories are allegories for what is happening in the family; how the living are possessed by the dead… Katie shares her frustrations with her nephew, talking for the first time about McIlhenny and so providing the boy with further pieces of the jigsaw. "It's all coming out now," she announces, but is still cowed by her sister and quickly clams up. "There's the last story I'll tell you or any of you children," she tells him. "I'm glad it was a true one for a change". (Capp, 2001).

This shows the amount of fear that the characters, who represent all of the people of Ireland, have for the truth concerning anything about the Political conflict, which may be why Dean seems to side more with Religious Ireland.
Crazy Joe is also used as a fear for the outcome of telling the truth, Capp writes 'the novel suggests that in a culture of silence, those who want to tell the truth are liable to be regarded as mad - as is Crazy Joe, the local outcast - or informer' (2001). Furthermore, Dean uses the narrator, such like Pyper in Observe the sons…,  to question the state of logical (political) vs. the supernatural when he encounters Bamboozelem the magician, however Dean's narrator seems to be unable to view it as an act due to his belief in the supernatural, that is to say Religion.

They were all laughing. but were they all sure of what had happened? Was Mr Bamboozelem all right?...Liam laughed and called me an eedjit. 'He went down the trapdoor'… How could they be so sure? ' (Dean, 1996, pp.8)

This confusion is to express Deans concern in the Political conflict leading to the ghosting of his religion. 'How could they be so sure' could be in the relation to him questioning the idea that his faith still has any power left, yet Dean portrays this doubt being overcome to reinforce his belief of his Religion not being destroyed, rather it being in a state of hiding.

In Observe the Sons.., McGuinness uses the idea of 'the act' differently from Dean in the repeating of the word 'Dance'  as an instruction (First used, McGuinness, 1986, pp.12, last used pp.80) implying that the war is a Dance, therefore an act. He also uses it to enforce the audiences preconceptions of Pyper being insane and how he views himself as a creator (God/Puppet master) and to show that Pyper and therefore McGuinness has the outlook of logical (Political) defeating supernatural (Religion) in the way that it breaks Pyper's sanity and religious views which I will discuss later.
Arguably, McGuinness' play is about the Gothic convention of ruin. Pyper is the embodiment of how war can ruin a person. Herron writes;

It [Observe the Sons…] is “about” what happens when (you think) everything is taken away from you, when (you think) everything is destroyed. The parentheses indicate caution, because in fact the sky hasn’t fallen in yet. Pyper, the last of the sons of Ulster, doesn’t realize that. He sees no further than the ruins. And because of this inability to imagine a future anything other than incarcerated by the past, his predicament and that of the community he stands (in) for are in fact much closer to minor farce than the tragic conditions he imagines both himself and that community to be enduring. (Herron, 2004, pp.137)

But as the ending … folds back into the play’s beginning we realize that the drama will inevitably be repeated again … and again… we observe the men marching to the Somme and to their death, and then we see it again, and then again. This is the vision of the play: men marching toward the Somme in homogeneous, empty time: they marched, they are marching, they will march.   (Herron, 2004, pp.139)

In these quotations we can look at how McGuinness may be using the first World War, and the plays deathly climax on the anniversary (July 1st) for the battle of the Boyne, and the ruined life of Pyper not only to be a caution to the individual, but also as a concern to the fight being endless and unsolvable.  This is seen in the way McGuinness uses the Gothic genre to reinforce the harsh consequence of war as the only living character is Pyper, his name perhaps a play upon the Gothic Fairy Tale 'The Pied Piper of Hamelin' as he, like the Piper in the tale, encourages morale in followers which eventually leads to them following the Piper to their deaths.
In the monologue at the beginning of the play we see him on first observation (which most critics also argue) as an elder who's memories are haunting him in his reality, which Herron defines as prosopopoeia (pp.144). However, Etherton argues a more harsh and realistic view which McGuinness may have been trying to achieve in which he writes that  'Pyper … calls up the ghosts of his slaughtered companions” (1989, pp.48) which could be the horrific aim of McGuinness in order for his morals embedded in to play have impact. Herron also agues that ' the script insists they are ghosts, not shadows, figments, images, simulacra, memories, depictions, imaginings' (pp.148), they are ghosts. By McGuinness deciding that the reality of the play is supernatural, he is creating many paradoxes in religion (Protestants don’t believe in ghosts) and in Political Ireland being that they are now trapped within the state of fighting for freedom (a paradox in its self), so it will never be achieved.
However, as the language used here by McGuinness is very quickly passed, full of questions, pauses, and quick changes in topic it creates an effect whereby the audience questions Pyper's sanity, which leads to the questioning to the authenticity of the ghost as they appear. Yet, as clearly as Pyper is now insane , McGuinness clearly has a motive for his insanity as he plants the first reference to the truth ('they kept their nerve' implying he did not) of what happened as they went over-the-top, in the quotation below, where Pyper seems to be addressing Death, not his memories.

Some were lucky enough to suffer your visions immediately. Those I belonged to, those I have not forgotten… they kept their nerve, and they died. I survived. no, survival was not my lot. Darkness, for eternity, is not survival. (McGuinness, 1986, pp.9-10)

McGuinness is not using his insanity to question the reality of the ghosts but comment on how the war has damaged Pyper, as, prior to going over-the-top, Pyper was more of a joker or at least half-sane compared to what he is in the present.
McGuinness is addressing the social taboo of 'shell-shock'  and is exploring it using the Gothic texts to cushion it from having too much realism and he again makes the statement clearly that war is not good for the individual, as it leads to death and mental suffering, as he may be using the haunting and the use of the past repeating to imply that they are all fighting against the inevitable and endless.
We see Religion in the monologue and McGuinness furthers the idea of fighting for someone else, God or country,  rather than for the good of the individual.

We wished ourselves to die and in doing so we let others die to satisfy our blood lust. That lust we inherited. The true curse of Adam. (McGuinness, 1986, pp.12)

Pyper seems to see the War, and thus the Troubles, as a bond to God and also as a bond to the tribe, seen with use of the words 'Sons of'  in the title referring to the tribe of the division of Ulster and in the quotation above the reference to the biblical 'Adam' who they are all sons of.
By these ideas being so closely bonded, McGuinness forges the parallels between the Political and the Religious agendas hidden within the monologue closer together to the effect that the audience becomes clear on the plays intentions.
Throughout, the audience gets a sense that the play is set in either the recollections of the present day character,  Older Pyper, or in a repetition of the past. Either way the play has some unreliability, as in a sense, Pyper is our unreliable narrator, another convention of the Gothic, as we see all that he witnessed and, even more unreliably, what he has not. This is seen by how McGuinness has the other characters questioning Pyper's sanity even when he is being the joker. If it is a time loop, McGuinness is almost creating a paradox in choosing the form of the play (by it being performance itself) in which a repeated performance of the past is its main content. This suggest a further unreliability in the play, almost like a game of pass the message, in which inaccuracy occurs in repetition.

MILLIAN: Is this the barracks or an asylum? 
(McGuinness, 1986, pp.19)

PYPER: Then what are you doing here? 
CRAIG: My country's at war. I - 
PYPER: Did you not join up to die for me? 
CRAIG: For you? 
PYPER: It'll be good sport. 
CRAIG: You're a mad man, Pyper. 
PYPER: Am I, David? 
CRAIG: Well, you're a rare buckcat any road. 
PYPER: Funny word that. 
CRAIG: Buckcat? It's a - 
PYPER: No. Rare. Are you rare, David? 
CRAIG: When I want to be. Army's no place for rareness though.
PYPER: Why not? It tales all sort to make an army.
CRAIG: True enough. You never know. We could end up dying for each other.
PYPER: No, we couldn't. I wont anyway.
(McGuinness, 1986, pp.15-16)

In these quotations we can see another hint to Pyper's abandonment of his comrades and perhaps a hint towards a God complex in the lines 'Did you not join up to die for me?' and ' It'll be good sport'.  McGuinness may be doing this to Pyper in this scene to point out the barbarousness in the notion of fighting for Religion. McGuinness also writes of the characters hatred towards Protestants, shown in the ludicrous ways they punish and uncover them.

       PYPER: She bled to death.
MOORE: Why?
PYPER: I sawed her middle leg off.
(McGuinness, 1986, pp.30)


(ROULSTON snatches the bible violently. He roars.)
ROULSTON: Do you dare defile the word of god? Do you dare blaspheme against my Father? 
(McGuinness, 1986, pp.32)

ANDERSON: I spy a Taig. I spy a Taig.
MCILWAINE: Where? Tell me where?
ANDERSON: Use your nose, lad, use your nose. Have I not trained you to smell a Catholic within a mile of you? Get                                    him.
(MCILWAINE flings back his head, howls, rushes for CRAWFORD.)
       Tear his throat out. Mad dog…
(McGuinness, 1986, pp.33-34)

McGuinness uses very horrific and macabre images here, relating Anderson to a beast, linking again to the Gothic conventions and to the horrific violence that the Troubles ensured. It is clear that Dean and McGuinness have both used the Gothic Genre to address the conflicts of the Troubles in their texts, to the means of expressing the truth from their view points within Irish Society. They both question Political and Religious morals in their texts using the genre to communicate their views using the Gothic to sensor the severity of the conflicts reality, as is the reason for this genres conception.



Bibliography

Capp, F. (2001) 'Reading in the Dark; Haunted by Ghosts of the Past'. The Age Educational Resource Centre [Internet] <http://education.theage.com.au/cmspage.php?intid=136&intversion=21>
Dean, S.(1977) Reading in the Dark. London; Vintage.
Etherton, M. (1988) Contemporary Irish Dramatists. Basingstoke; Macmillan.
Herron, Tom (2004) ‘Dead men talking: Frank McGuinness’ spectral theatre’ Éire-Ireland: an interdisciplinary journal of Irish studies 39: 1 Spring / Summer 2004, 136 – 162.
McGuinness, F. (1987) Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme. London; Faber and Faber.
Ross, A (1997)'Irish Secrets and Lies'. Salon [Internet] <http://www.salon.com/1997/04/11/deane/>
Shannon, B. (2009) 'Review; Observe the Sons of Ulster as Marching Towards the Somme'. Irish Theatre Magazine [Internet] <http://www.irishtheatremagazine.ie/Reviews/Current/Observe-the-Sons-of-Ulster-Marching-Towards-the-So>

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13 October, 2014

Window of Collage



A courtyard of an old factory building, their windows are like cells. Are they offices now? Will you one day work in an office, will you wear a suit and forget who you are? Below you, the car park is clustered with ladybugs of metallic colourings, you watch people being alive and curiously open inside of your imagination, yet definitely real and closed off from your reality. The sky keeps twisting and shaking into new shades of grey. Thinking back to ink pots in art class, paint brush, water, parchment. Drawing Heathcliff's face one hour, reading and hating him the next. The sky mixes with rising smoke, whose origin you are unsure of. Hard Times. It is raining and it falls in lines that chase each other down the glass you are staring through. Like lines on a page, you think of the future, lines unwritten. People forgotten.
The wind blows through the leaves of the trees, it shakes the branches, each leaf a little sail. You can hear the sound it make very faintly but it is amplified by memories.
You are reminded of your first school, when you had just started to grow into the adult world, and leave forever that world of your childhood. You used to stare in class out at trees like these, very much like you are doing now, and as the days and years past by and the seasons flooded up the roots of the trees to change your view ever so slightly, the image of the trees you saw everyday became a symbol to you, a symbol of life and all it ever meant to you; but that you is dead now. All of those atoms replaced by new ones. The leaves that are falling are dead, but still you stare at them, feeling the feelings your child self used to have, but not remembering exactly what they were. One day you will look back at these words, written in the back for your notebook you use for college and think, this was one of the happiest days of my life, even though it is unremarkable in every way. You weren't paying attention to anything, maybe just the passing of time and the slowness you can find within stillness. Through the window. They are all more than just raindrops, leaves and hope.



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08 October, 2014

Harry Potter and the Gothic Genre - Introduction


Only £0.77! and it is available all over the world!

INTRODUCTION 


The Gothic genre is undoubtedly as transgressive as the content that it addresses, it is never completely stable and always under influence from culture and society. Botting, one of the most well know Gothic critic, has defined this genre to the best ability that the nature of the genre allows.

These days it seems increasingly difficult to speak of ‘the Gothic’ with any assurance.[…] adjectives often need to be inserted to supplement the indefinition of the category: ‘the eighteenth century Gothic’, ‘Victorian Gothic’, ‘modern Gothic, and, even, ‘post-modern gothic’, contain reference within a cultural-historical period. Genre appear to confine what was already a subgenre of the developing realistic novel to new subgenres in the shape of ‘female Gothic’, ‘postcolonial Gothic’, ‘queer Gothic’, ‘Gothic science fiction’, ‘urban Gothic’, thereby both classifying it in herms of another category and creating a new hybrid.  (Botting, the Gothic; Essays and Studies 2001’Preface: the Gothic’, p.1)
    He goes on to write that by searching for the Gothic the only certainties that define it as such is how centuries of Gothic texts have continuously depicted the transgression of natural law, moral law, class/social etiquette and social taboos. Due to the genre being founded and established by these texts, a text that is being considered of a place within the Gothic must incorporate all or most of these themes. The acknowledged first Gothic text is Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto (1764) which  paved the way to this genre with a beginning that is just as unstable as its predecessors. Haggerty writes in Gothic Fiction/Gothic Form that ‘Walpole faced all these problems in his attempt to blend the ancient and the modern’ (p.3) therefore it can be said with a degree of conviction that a text that is part of the Gothic must deal with this duality it some way, which the Harry Potter novels explore through Rowling’s co-existing magical and non-magical worlds.
    Over time, this genre has played an important role in the growth and changes of society, enabling the silent citizen a carefully guarded and masked voice in public, as well as giving the public figure an allegorical outlet for anxiety for topics that would be otherwise too controversial to publish, for fear of tarnishing their name or being persecuted. This genre was used in history often “to see a connection between national purity and fear of foreign invasion” (Bruhm, the Contemporary Gothic; Why we Need it, p.260) and it is now being used today for this effect, although the fear is much more varied than just the fear of foreign invasion. Today, the fear is against consumerism, the morality and sexuality of our youth and the fear of loss of an object, human or fear of losing the current social condition due to it threatening freedom, these are the anxieties Rowling explores in Harry Potter.
    The Gothic genre has roots within fairytale and folktales due to their strong sense in morality, however most readers do not deem all fairytales as Gothic due to their ‘Disney’ distorted perceptions of the fairytale. Very little people know that in the original Sleeping Beauty (unknown) the princess was raped whist she was sleeping, and that Little Red Riding Hood (unknown) is a cautionary tale for young girls not to have premarital sex, however the Gothic genre plays upon the same and often subtle techniques that these tales use, to build not only a forefront of terror but also a dark implied intention that is not expressed on the surface. Bruhm argues this idea that the Gothic is linked to the fairytale by it being the process “looking back into an imaginary history, pining for a social stability that never existed, mourning chivalry that belonged more to a fairy tale than to reality” (p.259 The Contemporary Gothic; Why we Need it). And in that sense the Gothic text correlates strongly to the fairytale as it continues the practice of promoting morals.
    Through the course of this dissertation, CHAPTER 1 will be addressing the use of Gothic spaces in the Harry Potter novel series, closely looking at the Castle/Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, Azkaban prison, St Mungo’s Hospital, Shacks and a brief look into the use of manor Houses; House of Gaunt and Malfoy manor. CHAPTER 2 will be used as a discussion of Rowling’s use of the supernatural, class and bloodline and how it challenges the Gothic text, and adapts it, mimicking a quality close to the original Gothic fairy tale. Focusing upon Witches/Wizards and ghosts in order to explore how they fit into the classes within Rowling’s magical society. Also, an approach to the House Elf through a Marxist reading of and investigating the supernatural relationship between Harry and Voldemort in regards to; blood and lineage, the ‘absent’ vampire and Freudian theory. In the final Chapter, CHAPTER 3, the use, or lack of, sexuality is being considered within the series, reflecting on the coming of age genre as well as the Gothic and exploring why Rowling’s intentions and motives towards the readership may have influenced this decision. A discussion of the relationships within the texts and the role of the Gothic heroine precede an investigation into the way Rowling updates the negative conception of women which the Gothic genre usual has, with consideration to how Gothic fairy tale female conceptions are used within these texts.
    It is through these means that I will argue that the Harry Potter series is appropriate to be included with in the Gothic Genre, despite its being marketed to a younger audience. It is worth mentioning here that as Rowling intended the reader to grow alongside her protagonist she used the series to deal with adult ideas and themes, in order for the anxiety to be explored.

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01 October, 2014

My Top Twenty, Part One


This is the first part of a list of my favorite books, curtsy of my Good-reads profile. I have written a small review next to each, although I will review some of them fully at some point or as requested. They are in no particular order as I love them all for very different reasons. Part two is available here.
 As always, please like, comment, and enjoy!







Mort (Discworld, #4)

 Terry Pratchett (1987)


Good-read rating; 4.15



I read a lot of the Discworld books in the last few years of high school after playing the Discworld game as a child. The characters are so lovable in this novel (not that they aren't in the other Discworld books) and as the character of Death is hilarious to me so his large presence in 'Mort' only makes me love it more. I recall laughing a fair bit when reading this, plus you get the satisfaction found in all of Pratchettt's work, the moment when you actually understand science and maths jokes. I'm sad to say that as I've gotten older, I get less and less of them.


The Secret Garden

 Frances Hodgson Burnett (1910)

Good-read rating; 4.09



One of the first books I read as a child. It is a very enchanting read for any age group or lover of the fairy-tale feel in novels. Although there is no real supernatural presence, it still has the same tone as the classic fairytale (like Hans Christian Anderson) because of its target audience being children. It also gets bonus points from being set in my home province, Yorkshire, England.


The Color Purple

 Alice Walker (1982)

Good-read rating; 4.13

The first book I read that wasn't written in standard English and its also in epistolary format which I love from the tone of realism it creates, which also makes Celie, the protagonist and narrator, appear more believable. I love how the language processes with the personal development of Celie. This novel deals with a lot of adult themes including racism, sexism, sexual abuse, sexuality, faith and gender roles. 


Reading in the Dark

Seamus Dean (1971)

Good-read rating; 3.72

I read this novel in my third year at university and I was transfixed, reading it in two sittings (confession, this was the only novel I read in detail, i.e. not skipping parts, from my reading list for the whole year). I was actually kind of saddened by how little we studied it but I wrote my essay for that module on this novel and "Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme", a play by Frank McGuinness (1985). I was captivated by the entire family in the text, which were loosely based on Deans own family, 


The Book of Lost Things

 John Connolly (2006)

Good-read rating; 3.97

This may be my all time favourite read as it appeals to both my inner-child but also satisfies me as an adult reader by not brushing over the harsh sides of the original fairy tales that Disney have made 'child-friendly'. The characters are very vivid and the whole text has a dream like quality that I really love.

For My full review please click here.


The Night Circus

Erin Morgenstern (2011)

Good-read rating; 4.00


I am actually due to re-read this so I will most likely be writing a full review. Set in Victorian London, Celia Bowen and Marco Alisdair are puppets in a magical feud/bet between their fathers in which the Circus is the venue.The structure of this novel is lovely, a short paragraph before each chapter more or less that is written in second person, where as the main text is in third. this technique really enables you to imagine the circus as if you are walking through it and imagine all of the strange and wonderful creations found within, including the magic and strangeness of an entirely black and white circus grounds. The descriptions are very thorough and charming, however they can sometimes be confusing due to a drastic change in pace. Again the characterization makes a relatable read, which is often not the case in a novel with so many fantasy elements. Just as a side note, the book is beautiful to look at too, I have the hard back addition. By the end you too will be a rêveur ( the name of the Night Circus's fans meaning Dreamer).




The Book of Words

Jenny Erpenbeck (2007)

Good-read rating; 3.81


I stumbled upon this book by accident in The Works, a shop that sells cheap books. It is a translation from German and is translated by Susan Bernofsky, which may account for the some of he strangeness of this novella. It is written in stream-of-consciousness and has a uneasiness that flows through out the text. It is a coming of age plot set in an unnamed South-African country, in with the unnamed protagonist witnesses the brutalities of war and tyranny along with unsettling truths about her family.


The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Writings

Edgar Allan Poe (1839)

Good-read rating; 4.12

This is my go-to for all things Poe as I have owned it for years (its contents being poetry, short stories, essay, reviews and a good introduction to the life of Poe). However, saying that I have many other collections, some just for short stories, others filled just with the poems... I really should just get the complete works. My favourite poems 'The Raven', 'The Valley of Unrest' and 'Romance' (however 'Bridal Ballad' is unfortunately absent). Short-stories included are; 'The Tell-Tale Heart', 'The Oval Portrait' and 'The Pit and the Pendulum' to name a few. I think is addition (see pictured above) is a great first glimpse into the darkness and lunacy found in Poe's writing.

The Little Prince

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1943)

Good-read rating; 4.23

I read this only a few years ago and enjoyed it immensely despite it being aimed at children (you may have noticed my love of fairy-tales etc. by now...). It is translated from the original 'le Petit Prince' as the Author was French. The experiences in the text are related to Antoine de Saints-Exupéry's experiences during his involvement in WWII. It has a myriad of spiritual and humanitarian ideas within, as well as beautiful child-like places and characters that are insightful metaphors that can be appreciated by the adult reader. Fully suitable for reading to your children.

Most Famous Quotation - "One sees clearly only with the heart"


The End of the Affair

Graham Greene (1951)


Good-read rating; 3.96

I am aware that Greene gets a lot of criticism from his slow pace and often idol characters, however in this text it is used to emphasis Bendrix's (the protagonist) obsessions, both as a writer and a human. Only Greene could have written this character. Set during WWII London, Bendrix struggles with faith, loyalty, infidelity, trust and love which was most likely based upon Greene's affair with Lady Catherine Walston  (whom it is assumed is the 'C' or 'Catherine', in the American additions, whom the novel is dedicated to). It was the last novel written by Greene that was explicitly Catholic and there has been film and operatic adaptation as well as a audio addition read by Colin Firth (Audible.com), who I think is a fantastic voice for this first person text.


I hope you enjoyed reading Part One of my Top Twenty, Part Two will be posted shortly!


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