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
Tag: classics
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
Dialectics, or How Karl Marx Ruined My Shandy
There are few things more dangerous to a peaceful evening than a Marxist in full flow. One minute you’re happily contemplating the head on your shandy, the next you’re being lectured about 'historical inevitability' by someone who’s never held a job long enough to be sacked. The conversation usually begins with the inevitable: “Dialectics is … Continue reading Dialectics, or How Karl Marx Ruined My Shandy
Gaslight and Gossamer: Reflections on Iolanthe and the Art of British Satire
There’s something deliciously subversive about walking into a Victorian comic opera knowing full well that you are about to be lampooned, along with everyone else in the room. Iolanthe has always struck me as a peculiar miracle - one of those rare works of art that wears its mischief lightly, yet rests on a foundation … Continue reading Gaslight and Gossamer: Reflections on Iolanthe and the Art of British Satire
Ectoplasm and Ego: Reflections on Coward’s Blithe Spirit
Few things are more infuriating than being interrupted at dinner by a ghost. I say this not from experience - at least, not in the spectral sense - but because I’ve spent a good portion of my life watching Noël Coward’s Blithe Spirit with the growing suspicion that I, too, may one day be haunted … Continue reading Ectoplasm and Ego: Reflections on Coward’s Blithe Spirit
Wording 