Up the Mountain of Literature

There are many lists on the Internet and in the great works of people such as F.R Leavis that detail the best novels in the world; the ‘classics’. However, I tend to greet these lists with a degree of scepticism. I find myself debating with my friends and family the merit of Pride and Prejudice, and find myself vilifying it repeatedly. When discussing feminism in philosophy recently,  I somehow managed to spark a rather heated debate on Austen’s merit as a feminist writer and on her position as a ‘great’ author. In hindsight, this was not the wisest of topics to broach at that particular moment. Nonetheless, I defended my position and maintain it today in relation to that particular novel.

Let us for a minute consider Time’s list of the top ten novels; which can be found here.  The list is of American origin, and includes novels such as The Great Gatsby, alongside Hamlet, and even Marcel Proust’s masterpiece, In Search of Lost Time. It is not rare for Proust to appear on the top ten lists; despite being rather inaccessible, and being one of the longest texts ever conceived in the world. Time’s list is a rather complex one and is also rather multinational, ranging from America, to Russia, to France, to England. I do however wonder what criteria leads to the formation of this list; the top one hundred novels in Time Magazine also provides the beginning of a very lengthy literary debate, I think.

On listverse, also an American website, we see many similarities in their list of the top ten novels of all time; Lolita is also included. The nature of this novel is rather controversial, and as a result it often appears as one of the great novels. American lists on the whole tend to include more Russian novels, a form of literature that is perhaps neglected in English universities. Undoubtedly however they are stylistically fascinating, and are another particular interest of mine.

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In the English lists, there is an abundance of European texts, strewn among the classics of English literature. A seemingly omnipotent Middlemarch is included in most of these lists. An interesting and rather comprehensive collection is The Telegraph’s. Some lists, such as F.R Leavis’s have extremely strict criteria for selecting ‘the best’; at the beginning of the rise of critical theory was the simultaneous beginning of a systematic categorisation of the novel in general: what is the best, most profound, and most influential? These questions were all necessary to be considered when attempting to classify “great” ideas.

From a wholly liberal perspective, the best, and the most influential is a very subjective idea. Influential events are not the same for every person, and may be the most minute things; a person never wakes and realises that this day will be the most extraordinary of their existence; in the same way, the best novels could not be considered the greatest by everyone, a prime example being my aversion to Pride and Prejudice. My opinion on the novel is very rarely shared. This does infer however that an opinion on a novel is always different; in an academic environment a novel is put on a syllabus, and even though there is the scope to decide one’s own opinion, it is always slightly guided. An engaging lecturer can always lead the mind down a different path, and encourage a person to consider interpretation beyond their own psyche. This is one of the highlights of university, at least for me.

The great literature of the world can be explored by anyone who wishes to delve in, whether they are a banker, a builder, an electrician, an academic, or a child. The greatness of literature can be explored by everyone, and their own greats may diverge hugely from the culturally accepted, however this does not make them any less valid. I’m curious to know what we all consider to be our greats, for instance the writers who shaped our own ambitions to be writers, or who inspired us to be something.

Who’re your greats? Suggestions welcome!

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(1) http://timeentertainment.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/top-10-books-lev-grossman-v.jpg?w=240&h=360&crop=1

Good Afternoon, Mrs. Woolf

It is not an overstatement to say that Virginia Woolf and I have had a somewhat turbulent relationship; from adoration, to despair, to overriding hatred, and then finally a return to understanding and adoration. It has however, been rather one-sided. Over the years, from the beginning of my A-levels to the present day, I have been bound to read a variety of Virginia Woolf’s works; To the Lighthouse, Orlando, A Room of One’s Own… and so forth. It was very rare that I picked up Woolf of my own freewill (in fact, I’m not sure it has ever happened… ) because I found her fiction somewhat challenging, and as I found with Jane Austen, I thought that nothing really happened. Nothing of any note, at least. Nothing quite as gripping as a Robert Ludlum thriller; I felt it was all rather dry, focussing on the tiniest possible events in the upper middle class, bourgeois world in which she lived. As tends to happen however, I changed my mind.

To begin with, I was fascinated by To the Lighthouse, because whilst I found the prose itself beautiful, I deemed the novel a nemesis of mine; the unclear narrative, and the stream of consciousness technique has never been a particular favourite, largely because I am of the opinion that stream of consciousness has its platform, for instance in dreams, and in speech; however not written on a page, without any external context. I found it simply too dense, too difficult to relate to; it challenges all the boundaries of everything that was literature before the technique, and it is similar to linguistic doodling; pretty, perhaps; even beautiful, but nevertheless, without any coherent structure, and lacking in refinement.

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Orlando however was far more structured, however as tends to be the case with Virginia Woolf, some kind of boundary had to be pushed; in this case, it was the idea of gender. In the novel, the protagonist changes gender from a man to a woman, quite literally overnight; fundamentally however, she remains essentially the same in terms of person. I personally enjoyed Orlando, especially since it also includes a trip through the ages, over the course of Orlando’s life, from the Elizabethan Age to the 20th century. The protagonist is less a description of a person as opposed to a description of a persona; a symbolic representation of the fluidity of the concept of gender. For further information, Judith Butler’s essay on “Performative Acts and Gender Constitution” is fascinating.

And so by the end of 2009, I was firmly against Virginia Woolf, and was seriously considering building a time machine so that I could have gone back, changed her mind about being an author, and subsequently saved myself the agony that was that particular essay. Fortunately this somewhat childish plan changed when I had to read A Room of One’s Own. For the first time, in any of Woolf’s writings, I found her engaging, even charming. The content of the essay was delicate; it suited the theme of feminism extremely well. As a result, I became a full-time lover of Virginia Woolf, abandoning the turbulence of our previous relationship.

An astonishing element of literature, and of one’s relationship with the author, is the fact that one work can open one’s eyes to the others; providing almost a key of understanding, and a different perspective. This of course questions Roland Barthes assertion that the author is dead; when a person forms their own perception of the author, and understands their background, education and ideas, this can open up the text to the reader. It can exist in its own right, however it can also be inaccessible in this way, and so understanding a biography is just one of the ways in which a text can be understood.

Overall then, I’ve fallen for Virginia Woolf. I’m feeling tempted to go back and revisit To the Lighthouse, to see if I appreciate the techniques a little more this time around; I suspect that everything could be understood with a little perseverance and the right sort of teaching. Everything except calculus, that is.

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(1) http://content.scholastic.com/yawyr/b1ea5c45effc84c098a1644f8e0179fd8b9085a2.jpg

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Twittering Away

Twitter is a mode of technology I have consciously avoided, largely because I don’t understand it and secondly, it is about updating the world around you about what you are up to. However, my little sister decided to get twitter and so I thought I’d jump on the bandwagon, if only to chat to her. Upon signing up, my suspicions were confirmed; an update service, circling around the most obscure elements of everyday life. But at the same time, celebrities seem to use it as a PR tool; a way to attract attention. And blogging, if nothing else, is about promoting yourself, and your abilities, as an artist, a writer or even a photographer. So tweeting seems like a good idea.

Tweeting seems as though it’s a constant status update, looking into every aspect of your life from what you had for your dinner, what time you got up and had a morning shower, to what your recent Asda shop consisted of. And a (very large) part of me can’t help but wonder why people want to know everything about everyone else; it’s as though human fascination, or a fascination in humanity as a species, has hit an exponential scale; the minute detail of everyday life is fascinating.

Twitter however feeds into the idea of self promotion in much the same way as blogging, hence the term “micro blogging”. Businesses feed into Twitter, updating everything from their staff roster to their current activities, and in this way, often use twitter to instantly promote themselves without having to go to the trouble of employing a PR company to do twice the work, for a gargantuan sum of money, without even half the effectiveness, as a simple Twitter post that can be accessed by millions. The instant nature of the Internet makes the world a smaller place, tied together with silicone strings; there is no such thing as the Atlantic distance, because it appears straight on your computer screen.

So, I’m going to give this twittering business a try, and see if I can make some more headway with my blog, and maybe one day I’ll be promoted to the “freshly pressed” section; attempting to promote yourself these days is sometimes easier than having to go through a business, or having to be signed up to agent. Your own little space on the Internet can be created, and so you have your own domain, and a place to begin building up your attempt for world domination, one follower at a time!

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Wandering Across Jordan

Before my expedition to Jordan, I had never seen myself as much of a traveller; I despise flying, and travel tends to provoke a reaction in me known as “airport meltdown”. It usually means a strong coffee, a little chocolate, and buying something from duty-free to read during the flight. However, that was on conventional family holidays; when I was in Heathrow airport, ready to go to Jordan, there was little time to panic, and my airport demeanor changed radically. Perhaps it was the clothes; trekking shorts and t-shirts, as opposed to jeans and knitted jumpers; but however it happened, something changed rather radically.

Looking out over Amman

The country itself was a city completely removed from anything I have previously experienced; the traffic, the taxis, and the streets were a combination of organised chaos, the smell of every spice imaginable, and people greeting you every four steps (being the only party of Caucasian people walking through central Amman, you tended to attract attention). It was almost as though you were a different species, however the hospitality was unrivalled in Europe; in Paris, “good” treatment is the waiter serving your food within a reasonable time frame; in Jordan, more sweet teas than you could ever hope to consume were offered, without asking, by every person you walked by. For a country which is economically less developed than the western world, the human kindness of people was extraordinary; this perhaps shows that kindness, a commodity that has been lost largely in Europe, costs nothing.

As time went on, we made our way to the Dana nature reserve for a trek across the natural desert landscape, and to stay in the traditional huts. It was here that I spent one of the most memorable nights of my life; the day had been incredible, trekking and seeing native plants and reptiles, however the evening was quite literally life altering. After our trip leaders had done the sensible thing and gone into their huts for the night, one of our friends wished to know how the sweet tea (the kind I have never been able to replicate) was made. And so, the owner of the camp, invited us into a tiny kitchen around a fire, and showed us; later, we sat around a small camp fire, talking about his experiences, and imagining how it would be to live his life; the most haunting part of the tale for me is that he spends every day in almost complete solitary confinement; very rarely has he left the reserve. He lives a completely simple life, far away from modern-day technology, using only a mobile phone for business purposes. He still lives on the side of a hill where his mother did, and he will continue to do so, maintaining the family business.

Later sunrise in Dana

The world as we understand it today has lost many traditions that were revered only fifty years ago; our understanding of the family has changed, and where people once acquired a job at twenty that they would continue in until retirement, we constantly change careers, change our convictions, and change our ideas. This is symbolic of the age of change in which we live, however to experience a place that holds a deep regard for the traditional family structure, and maintaining the country as it once was, is a deeply moving experience.

Once we left the nature reserve, we went on into Petra, one of the seven wonders of the world. We spent a fantastic day climbing up to the very top; past the Monastery, and looking out across the country. It is rather under appreciated country, at least in my opinion, and I think it is breathtakingly beautiful. It was interesting to see how high the city really climbed; in that day, we estimated that we’d climbed up and down approximately two thousand stairs, determined to see the High Place of Sacrifice, the Monastery, and a tiny viewpoint above the Monastery that looks out over an extremely beautiful landscape. The physical effort that went into that day was more than worth it; and when we were watching sunset from the High Place of Sacrifice, I resolved to see all the wonders of both the ancient and modern world.

Looking down from the highest place in Petra

By the time I got back on the aeroplane to come home, I’d convinced myself that I would simply have to travel; everywhere, and everywhere. I’d just have to ignore my brain and fly all over the world, because I want to experience things like I did when I was in Jordan, all over again. I want to understand far more than is directly in front of my face, and I hope to be able to travel to South America, and go in a horseshoe shape, across the continent, doing things like volunteering, and of course, Machu Picchu and the Inca Trail.

I hope everyone , at least once in their life, gets to experience things like this; I feel immensely privileged to have had the opportunity to go, and when I’m at work, wondering why I should be making yet another decaf soya latte with extra foam, I think of Jordan, and the prospect of going even further afield, and this particular thought makes the task much more palatable.

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Blogging is a Launchpad

In today’s world of instantaneous Internet access, where relationships can change in a second, it is vital, if you are serious about publishing and breaking into the media sphere, to be able to write a blog, and publish regularly. The instant changes that are possible via the Internet make publishing, editing, and writing the most competitive it has ever been; editors in publishing have to sift through innumerable manuscripts, picking out only the very best, and the most marketable.

Perhaps one of the hardest challenges for a writer is the ability to reconcile their true artistic will with the potential for it to sell to a wider market. Simply put, there is a choice to be made: whether one wants to make money, or whether one wants to maintain his artistic integrity. Being able to work inside a market whilst writing exactly as one wishes to is potentially impossible.

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Blogging today however allows amateur writers to publish their work independently, and attract readers through their own merit, and of course, a little Internet wizardry. Everyone who wishes to can be a part of this community, which has spread over the last few years with an almost viral intensity; businesses, individuals, authors, musicians and academics all have some form a blog; a way to keep in touch with the real people who are interested in their work; and to this end, blogging is perhaps the greatest tool available in the corporate world; the ability to “put themselves out there” without seeking the approval of an editor, agent, or authority. It allows them to publish what they wish, publish what they believe is good, and receive approval or constructive criticism based on a peer review system.

There does however seem to be a sort of blogging hierarchy; ranging from the experienced to the newest bloggers (like myself) who seek advice from one another. This creates an informal network, with constant information available to every user of the Internet. Whilst this is generally a positive experience, the struggle to be noticed, commented on, and reviewed by one’s own peers can be soul-destroying in itself, because you could feel as though you are simply confined to the silicone scrap pile.

At this point, it would be prudent to look at the dangers of the Internet; identity issues, comment spammers, and those who act in a predatory fashion. There will always be the issue of Internet privacy, however with a little common sense, and informational discretion, problems such as this can be avoided. The key here is discretion; as with everything else in writing, subtlety is often the best policy.

For anyone hoping to start blogging as a way into the wider world, and as a way to explore different mediums of communication, I’d say go ahead, and never be afraid of commenting, following and generally being involved in other user’s forums. Being involved means that others become curious about you; and being shy on a blog is a guaranteed way to avoid people reading your work. Be brave, be bright, and consider what you want to write before you published; discretion is probably a good rule of thumb.

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Heathcliff, I Love You. Best, Cathy.

I may have mentioned on here before that I absolutely adore Wuthering Heights. As clichéd though it may be, it is one of my favourite novels of all time; not least because it represents the beginning of a darker, more emotional age of literature. Emily Bronte also represents the true beginning of the prominence of female writing, despite publishing under a pseudonym. She succeeded Jane Austen as a writer, however was at least in my opinion, the first truly revolutionary writer; the themes of Wuthering Heights were described as psychologically disturbing by critics of the age, especially because of the almost animalistic nature of Cathy and Heathcliff’s relationship, and the haunting, omnipotent style of their dependence on one another.

Cathy and Heathcliff, ITV Adaptation (1)

This is I think the most enchanting element of the novel; the essence of it being that nothing could stand in the way of their devotion to one another, regardless of the demands of the social hierarchy that they both existed in. Marriages and children seem to have little or no impact on the connection they had between themselves, and set within the Gothic Yorkshire landscape, the ghosts that seem to envelope the novel, and create a dark, moody atmosphere, become a trademark and allow anyone who wishes to, become a part of the novel.

The Yorkshire countryside plays a very significant part in the novel, purely because it is widely regarded as being a sparse, cold space which is uninhabitable by many. The regional accent of Joseph, demonstrated phonetically in the novel adds a large degree of regional identity, something that modern novels particularly seem to lack, especially when considered alongside the phenomena of social networking; we all inhabit each other’s linguistic space and therefore the regional difference and being able to visit a region with no understanding of the linguistic culture is extremely rare.

At this point, we can consider that Cathy is in herself an institution; she represents emotionally powerful women everywhere and she is not necessarily a victim of Heathcliff’s emotional attachment to her. The idea that she was not  financially dependant on Heathcliff, was almost unheard of at the time. Her financial dependence on Edgar Linton is a completely separate dependence from that which she has on Heathcliff. What is extremely interesting is that the relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff is never really defined; the reader never really discovers if they did in fact consummate their relationship, or whether their relationship is based around that of the childhood sweetheart. The indefinable relationship that exists between the two of them is perhaps what makes the characters of the novel so important in this particular instance; the reader is allowed to make up his or her own mind about the nature of their relationship. This unsolvable mystery can be pondered by critics, however will, I think, be open to individual interpretation across the board.

The novel has been remade on several occasions both in film and in song; Kate Bush famously made a song named “Wuthering Heights”, and ITV have recently made a two-part drama adaptation which is fantastic, even if it is not  accurate in terms of the text itself. The number of remakes, and the influence the novel has had on concepts of romantic love, shows the innate power of the novel to reshape and subvert our expectations of a 19th century relationship. It also represents how the novel has become an intrinsic part of popular culture, whether it is explicit or not.

Overall then, I think those who have yet to read the novel should go ahead and do it; if only to broaden their minds regarding 19th century literature. I did once believe that 19th century literature was simply dry social commentary, with very little action and even less depth. However I believe Wuthering Heights transcends our expectations of the 19th century novel and brings to life themes which are not immediately associated with a rural female writer.

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(1) http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/wutheringheights/homeimages/poster_wutheringheights.jpg

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Perceptions of Afghanistan: The Kite Runner

The novel, The Kite Runner, is singularly one of the most horrifying and simultaneously beautiful books I have ever had the honour of studying. The themes, including rape, warfare, and the idea of honour and betrayal, are perhaps themes that much bigger novels have attempted, however none, at least in my opinion, have succeeded quite so admirably and succinctly. I think that the  fecundity of the author’s mind alongside his own human experience produces the tenderness in the setting of the children; the use of such seemingly innocent minds is almost irreconcilable with the abhorrent acts included within the novel.

Children tend to represent the beautifully innocent mind; people who have not yet been naturally damaged by the world around them. The removal of innocence in the boys, one betraying the other however shows a disparity between the naivety associated with childhood, and the real political awareness one would have had, growing up in a war zone. The concept of conflict in itself, especially in a nation as politically unstable as Afghanistan is an interesting juxtaposition when considered alongside the children as entities in themselves; they go on to represent the damaged children of Afghanistan and the generations from the 1950s onwards that have lived their lives in such a way that the explosion of a bomb was an everyday occurrence.

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The country of Afghanistan I think was brought into a much more public, literary sphere than it had been previously entitled to as a result of the novel. The history of Afghanistan is tainted with the history of imperialism and subsequent occupation and invasion. The problem has been exacerbated in the last fifty years, especially with the rise of problems such as terrorism, jihad, and the freedom fighter. This led to the western world feeling threatened, and  therefore attempts to ‘control’ the nation lead to invasion, war, and inevitably a global misunderstanding of what true ‘jihad’ actually is, and instead promotes the media’s perception of the terrorist as someone involved in jihad. There is always a distinction to be made in each individual case, however it would be a terrible mistake to believe that every Muslim is involved in anti-western jihad; the majority of people of Muslim faith live in America peacefully and as part of their respective communities.

This misunderstanding is one explored within the parameters of the novel, and looks at how elements of change are also included as negative and positive; throughout the novel there is an element  of both positive and negative progression, and unlike most of the media coverage of events in Afghanistan, looks at domestic conflicts which are so rarely understood and sympathised with. I would suggest that everyone read the novel, if only to satisfy their own personal curiosity about some of the issues in the area.

I have an interest in politics of the Middle East and one day, I would love to be able to travel more freely around the area. The history of horrific oppression, often in a domestic setting and in relation to its position on an international platform makes the area a fascinating example of political and religious conflict; I hope to be able to look at more Eastern literature, and if I could, I would love to study a historical module on the modern history of the Middle East.

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(1) http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium/kings-tomb-kabul-afghanistan-michael-palmer.jpg

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A Classic Case of Writer’s Block

We’ve all been there; the moment where you stare at your computer screen, and continue to do so for the following three hours. During this time, words begin to lose all meaning and instead become small squiggles that no longer signify very much in relation to the English language. Your brain begins to explore the possibility of having yet another cup of tea, and what to have for dinner, what time you ought to shower, etc. But nevertheless, sitting staring at the computer screen, working at approximately three lines an hour, is what could be considered the journey of a thousand miles. What is worse is the apathy that follows, leading to procrastination, and watching endless amounts of TV, just while you “think about what to work on next”. This is the affliction that has cursed me this morning; an attempt to write an essay, ending in me staring at the screen, rearranging sentences, but writing hardly anything that could be considered coherent.

An Extreme Case... (1)

So, how to tackle the problem? Well, I’m not quite sure. But I’m going to start by switching off the essay screen, and reverting to the plan. And when I’ve finally found a new direction for my essay (hopefully at some time this evening), I will post-it note all the relevant pages, and start writing again. But for now, until that happy moment arrives, I’m going to attempt study group questions; at the very least, they provide prompts. The hardest part of university, without a doubt, is the idea that you are very rarely given a detailed description of what you must do; it tends to be your own ideas, and running on your own steam. Most of the time, this is a freedom that I adore, however sometimes, I get a classic case of writer’s block. The worst part of writer’s block is writer’s block  just when you have a deadline to contend with. A deadline in a week, in fact. And I am as close to finishing this essay (or working out where I’m going to go with it) as I am to working out the molecular structure of hydrogen without the assistance of Google. So, after my lecture, I shall make an extremely black coffee, and re-evaluate the plan and hopefully it will clear itself up. I’m sure I’ll unblock myself soon enough.

The problem is at its worst when I want to sit down to write pretty metaphors and lyrics, but I can think of nothing new and original to say. Not a new word or thought in my mind. And then I get frustrated, and feel worthless in my capacity as a writer, which is precisely how I feel now. Sometimes, I wonder why I decided I wanted to be a writer in the first place, and why couldn’t I have considered something that relies a little less on my own creative capacity, and focussed on something with a little more scientific basis; something where there is a solidly correct answer. And when I think about this, I tend to go back, and read through my blog, and have a flick through my favourite novels, and all my writing to date, and I remember, in the style of a true romantic, that I will always love to write, and it’ll always be for love as opposed to any logical factor.

This is what leads me to believe that my writer’s block will clear in a day or two; if I allow it to percolate, then something will happen. I’ll come back to it later, greet it like an old friend, and find a new way of thinking about it, as opposed to having to force through it. In the mean time, I’ll bumble through my study questions, finish off Mansfield Park and read my way through my anthology. Interspersed with tea breaks, and watching “The Simpsons”.

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(1). http://creativeconfessions.files.wordpress.com/2011/07/6a00d8341c928153ef0112796ec55b28a4-800wi.jpg

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My Misguided Affair with Jane Austen

For a long time now, I’ve hailed Jane Austen as my least favourite author. Having suffered through Pride and Prejudice at GCSE and despising every second of it, I couldn’t bring myself to suffer through Sense and Sensibility. However now, I’m compelled to read Mansfield Park  in preparation for next term, and so snuggled up in bed with a pot of tea, I braced myself for yet another sitting room drama and social commentary. And was extremely pleasantly surprised.

I’ve always found the endless social details of Jane Austen nothing but intolerable, but when I began this novel, I was slowly brought around to the idea that I may actually enjoy Jane Austen. The story of Fanny Price departs from the diatribe that is (at least in my opinion) Pride and Prejudice and begins to explore themes a little wider than marriage, and the roles of women; she begins to look at adultery and themes of friendship. The humility of Fanny is endearing to any reader, and unlike Pride and Prejudice, there seems to be a little more in the way of progression and action, which as a reader, I find crucial.

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In much the same way as I find Much Ado About Nothing intolerable, I like a novel to have an engaging and interesting plot, if only so that I can enjoy it on a superficial level, and to give some enjoyment to  the physical act of reading. There is nothing worse than having to struggle with a novel, reducing it to being an unendurable experience. Fundamentally, reading should be a positive act, something to entrance the mind instead of repelling it. By making literature inaccessible to everyone say a selected few, the author strangles his industry. That is not to say that Jane Austen is inaccessible however; only in my personal opinion, at least she was, up until now.

Whilst I haven’t quite finished the novel quite yet, I feel as though I’m going to enjoy it. I may become fascinated with her as both a person and a writer, and I think that after this novel, I will try to tackle Emma. Suggestions here are welcome!  I think my plan for the evening involves a small drink with my flat mates, an episode of Blackadder, and then an evening of Mansfield Park. What more could I ask for?

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(1) http://www.infobritain.co.uk/Jane_Austen_House_Garden.jpg

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Thoughts on Post Structuralism

Today, I was typing out my post structuralism notes into my laptop; remembering how bemused I was, in comparison to today, made me realise that university does inspire a degree of progress in a person; even though most of the time, you feel as though you are swimming against a tide, attempting to conquer the ever-growing reading list (an impossible task). The vague understanding of week three, in comparison to today’s more developed understanding made me think about how much I adore my course; despite the quagmire of definitions, reading and concepts, it does work. The ideas must be percolating in my head; spinning around in a subconscious, dream-like kind of way, ethereal and inexplicable, but they are there. And so then I began to think.

The most appealing idea of post structuralism is the idea of the “ghosts of meaning” proposed by Jacques Derrida. Nothing in linguistics can be absolute; it is in flux, continuously evolving and each linguistic interpretation is different to each person. This means that when you are in “discussion” with your parents about for instance, the wing mirror that may or may not have detached itself from the car door, you can simply argue that this is just their interpretation of events based on their background which then allows you to argue that your background (and therefore your linguistic experience) is different to theirs. This opens a whole new range of ways to try to prove your parents wrong. This is of course to be done at your own risk.

Another brilliant facet of post structuralism is the idea of the de-centred universe. This means, simply put, that you cannot even be sure of where, or even what, you are because there is no external way to measure yourself against something else. Nothing has a central, solid meaning, because like language, everything is in flux. Being completely unaware of your position in the universe is fascinating, and to a certain extent, also liberating. You are in some ways therefore completely free to consider yourself as being absolutely anywhere in the universe. Again, this can be used as a mechanism to argue with authorities, e.g. parents, and teachers. Unfortunately, even the most open-minded teacher is unlikely to accept the argument that because of the theory of post structuralism, you are not entirely certain that you are at a true school at all, and even less sure that your supposed exam board is real, and therefore why should you have to write five thousand word pieces of coursework? If you were feeling particularly inventive, you could even drop in a word or two about string theory physics, and the meaning of the universe. If anyone really succeeds, then please let me know.

Of my critical theory repertoire, post structuralism is the one I identify with most clearly, despite the immense complexity of it when applied to any given text. It’s also fascinating when applied to real life. I think a thesis on Derrida would be extraordinarily complex and yet extremely rewarding. I’m sure several brain cells would die attempting to process such a seething mass of information. Nonetheless, I’m looking forwards to being able to revisit the theory next term; I like understanding difficult ideas. It’s a good thing too really, since I’m at university.

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