It’s almost too neat that Salomé should have been written in French. The language of Baudelaire, Mallarmé, and decadence itself lent Wilde the perfect tongue for blasphemy dressed in silks. The Victorians expected their theatre to teach morality, to improve the soul, to extol duty. Wilde offered them instead a necrophilic waltz in candlelight, where … Continue reading Wilde’s Salomé: A Decadent Dance with Death
Category: Writing
St. George, the Dragon, and the Colours We Raise
There he stands - or rather, rides - our St. George, spear braced, horse rearing, dragon writhing beneath (featured image below). It’s an image both timeless and terribly timely. Though centuries have passed since this tale was first illuminated in parchment or carved into stone, its symbolic force remains more urgent now than ever. For … Continue reading St. George, the Dragon, and the Colours We Raise
All Roads Lead Back: On Darwish, Memory, and the Futility of Forgetting
Mahmoud Darwish once wrote: ‘All roads lead to you, even those I took to forget you.’ On first reading, it sounds like the lament of a man caught in the undertow of lost love, circling endlessly back to the figure he most wishes to escape. But linger with it a while, and the line grows … Continue reading All Roads Lead Back: On Darwish, Memory, and the Futility of Forgetting
Varney the Vampire; or, How to Milk a Penny Dreadful for 220 Chapters
The vampire, that pallid, nocturnal pest, has taken on many shapes over the centuries. Byron made him a sulky aristocrat. Stoker made him a real estate enthusiast with a fondness for bats. Hollywood turned him into either a suave lounge lizard or a disco-dancing count for children’s television. But before all that, we had Varney … Continue reading Varney the Vampire; or, How to Milk a Penny Dreadful for 220 Chapters
A Pair of Blue Eyes – Or, How Not to Court a Vicar’s Daughter
When I first took up Hardy’s A Pair of Blue Eyes, I braced myself for the usual experience: a young woman falls in love, society disapproves, a man dangles from a cliff, and everyone ends up in a metaphorical ditch by chapter thirty. Hardy’s nothing if not consistent. He’s the grim reaper of literature - … Continue reading A Pair of Blue Eyes – Or, How Not to Court a Vicar’s Daughter
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