“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?”— Jeremiah 17:9 First of all... On the Reluctance to Read the Modern …or, Why I Approach Contemporary Novels Like They Might Bite Me There’s a particular stiffness in my posture whenever someone recommends a “brilliant new novel.” A twitch behind the eyes. … Continue reading Fingersmith: A Tale of Pickpockets, Pornographers, and Plot Twists So Sharp You’ll Need Stitches
Author: Robert
A fifty-something, retired Celestial Travel Agent and Afterlife Preparation Specialist. Walked many paths; some good, lots bad. Meandering through a difficult past, plodding in the present, crawling toward the future. I've studied English Literature, and hold a BA (Hons) Hum. (History & Art History) & MA (Humanities with English Literature)
Conclave – or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Accept the End of Western Storytelling
I made the mistake -the blunder - of watching Conclave the other evening. A decision roughly on par with licking a battery to see if it’s working. It wasn’t entertainment. It was a two-hour slow-motion shrug, like watching a dying man cough into a linen napkin. Now, I’d been seduced, you see. Hoodwinked by the timing. A … Continue reading Conclave – or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Accept the End of Western Storytelling
“Drop, Drop, Slow Tears” – A Meditation in the Margins
By a hopeless penitent with a bookshelf and a leaky conscience At the opening of Elizabeth Gaskell’s Ruth, before we meet the orphaned seamstress or the soft-hearted Bensons, we are met with tears. Not sentimental ones, but slow, penitential tears - each drop a silent argument for mercy. The chosen epigraph, “Drop, drop, slow tears”, … Continue reading “Drop, Drop, Slow Tears” – A Meditation in the Margins
The Secret Lives (and Afterlives) of Objects: A Meditation in Dust and Cup Handles
I’ve long suspected that my toaster is plotting something. Not out of any deeply held belief in sentient kitchenware, you understand, but because it simply feels too knowing. Its chrome glint catches the morning light with what can only be described as smugness. It pops the toast an inch too soon, as if to say, “Timing is … Continue reading The Secret Lives (and Afterlives) of Objects: A Meditation in Dust and Cup Handles
Haunted, Harrassed, and Hard-Done-By: Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black
They say curiosity killed the cat, but if you ask me, it merely got the cat thoroughly spooked and left it clinging to the curtains like a caffeinated spider. Such is the effect Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black has on a reader: you pick it up thinking you’re in for a quaint little ghost … Continue reading Haunted, Harrassed, and Hard-Done-By: Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black
Wording 