Witterings about lots of things.
January. The long morning-after. A time of mad diets, tentative declarations of sobriety, and a communal wish to be anywhere but here and now. January does something evil to those of us in a cold climate: it's so bad, so unrelentingly bleak, that it begins to feel like a judgement from on high. We regret... Continue Reading →
So this is Christmas. We are divided, between those who are easily swayed by the mob mentality (Chrrriiiistmas they scream, eggnog drunk), and those who deem this season a massive waste of time and money. I would fall in to the latter (because I hate spending money and group projects are the worst) except this... Continue Reading →
‘I don’t ever remember feeling this awake’ – Thelma It starts the way all films should – two gals, a convertible and a loaded gun, off on a road trip together. They’ve got high-waisted jeans and enormous swaying hair. They’re getting away from hard work, boredom and Thelma’s cretin of a husband. What could possibly... Continue Reading →
“Secrets, silent, stony, sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned.” James Joyce, Ulysses Maybe it's a symptom of living in almost certain safety, to find the idea of banned books romantic. Imagine: the soft crackling of a paper bag containing a hard-back first... Continue Reading →
Ah, the comfort zone. It is such a snuggly place to be. Things that are in my comfort zone: People I love Places I know Nice, familiar feelings, like Friday Happiness, and Cheese-on-Toast Rapture. Things that are not in my comfort zone: Plane travel Public speaking Rollercoasters* Sadly, the comfort zone is easily squished. Bad... Continue Reading →
It’s hard to know when something momentous is about to happen. Unlike everyone in Alice’s Wonderland, we can’t remember the future, so we just have to wait until it’s all sped in to the past. It’s only then that the bright bits are easy to spot. Ah yes, this day was the most wonderful day; that moment was our... Continue Reading →
Novels are foxy and full of tricks: they wear guises, they steal tales and retell them, and they shape-shift shamelessly. You can have your narrator storytelling before he’s been born (Tristram Shandy); or have your main character stumble upon the author, only to accuse him of being inept (Lanark). Novels are unpredictable, capricious, and exquisite.... Continue Reading →
The alarm goes in the dark. The day looms ahead: rain, aches, itches, work. Wonderful possibilities are passing you by. Strangers are lost and unhappy and grief-struck. We’re an insignificant speckle amid infinite space. Yes, ‘tis the festive season again. Pass me my daylight therapy lamp, for I am s.a.d. If the dark is getting... Continue Reading →
I’ve been thinking about the word feminist for a long time. I’ve been thinking about it, but for most of my life, I haven’t been saying it. There were big reasons and small reasons. For the most part, it was to do with my feelings about privacy and the right to be a weird little... Continue Reading →
In the afterword to Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov wrote: "Every writer [...] is aware of this or that published book of his as a constant comforting presence. This presence, this glow of the book in an ever accessible remoteness is a most companionable feeling". Nabokov goes on to describe Lolita and his view of his completed... Continue Reading →
Amy Jardine 