I haven’t posted in some time. Partly because I’m lazy, and partly because I feel like time breeds high expectations. That’s why Flaubert was actually doing himself an injustice by being such a goddamn perfectionist. What could I possibly write about to meet these high, nay, impossible expectations? Well, I don’t actually know and I… Continue reading To Commute, or Not to Commute (That is the Question)
Lydia Davis’ translation of Madame Bovary was deemed the most ‘scandalous’ novel of all time by Playboy. Yes, you read that right. From publication, it titillated the sexually deprived and outraged “civilized” society, so much so that Flaubert was taken to court for obscenity. Nothing like a book about attraction, sex, and infidelity to get… Continue reading Madame Bovary–Sympathetic or Pathetic?
I sat in the grounds around Norwich Castle on a bench overlooking the city. The sun was shining, the sky clear. All around me, life was moving. And I felt elated. It’s rare that we take time to appreciate beauty. It’s rare that we see it in the every day at all. But in that… Continue reading Appreciation
Over the Christmas break I got those emails – any student regardless of course will know the ones. Those emails that detail the ins and outs of the modules to come, and, accompanied by trepidation and muted terror (for sanity and bank balance) the reading list. Initially, Marcel Proust’s Swann’s Way wasn’t intimidating, it was one novel (two translations)… Continue reading Pretending to be Proust
People often mention that they know I’m a Literature student before I tell them – and I often wonder, is that a compliment or an insult? I can never tell whether it’s my eclectic fashion sense or my personal musty book and tea fragrance that’s causing them to draw this conclusion. Or is it my… Continue reading Literature Student Safari
I am a bibliophile. My love for literature is all-consuming and more than a little bit unhealthy. If I was Heathcliff, I’d forget Cathy the moment I hit up the library. Books are a means of vicarious living. Wait, scratch that. To read is to actually forfeit reality, and by extension I suppose, life, in… Continue reading I am a Bibliophile