Aaarrrgghhh!! Where has my time gone?? I've missed doing this so much, but am yet to find a balance that gives me half an hour to devote to it! The new job has started and I am very much in at the deep end. Haven't drowned yet, thankfully, but never say never! It's incredibly fascinating and deeply frustrating in turns. This is the first time in a month I've had a chance to really sit down and think about it, and I'm still not 100% sure it's what I want to devote my life to, but on reflection, I am enjoying it for now and I think I'm doing relatively well, all things considered. Probably can't really go into more detail here, as I read an article the other day about a professional in the same area who commented about her job on her blog and was immediately sacked. (Not that I'm doing anything secret - just all sorts of protection issues involved.) Nonetheless, it would sometimes be useful to have an impersonal arena in which to release some of the tension!
Am currently reading Scarlett Thomas's 'The End of Mr. Y". Just like Andrew Crumey's books, this has been something of an exciting discovery. In all honesty, I picked it out because of its look and feel (I know, I know...), but it is a genuinely wonderful story and the writing is exceptional; it has a real texture to it and is, in places, achingly beautiful. Unfortunately for my PhD - which is still plodding on - I have been so drawn into this book as to fail completely in the academic reading to which I should be devoting my precious free time!
Right, I really will endeavour to update far more regularly. Should be easier over the next few months, as a routine has just about been established...
Wednesday 27 May 2009
Tuesday 24 March 2009
Blogging, researching, teaching and a few other bits and bobs
The gaps between these posts are growing worryingly longer... I had intended to update the blog at least once a week, if not two or three times a week, but life appears to have caught up with me. The irony is that I love writing, but can't find time to do it because of all the *other stuff* (jobs, bills, rent, work - you know, the unimportant things...). In the relative calm after the storm of job-hunting and PhD writing, I've finally had a chance to come back and update the blog. More importantly, I've also had the chance to think creatively again. Which is useful, as it's given me a tonne of ideas for developing the PhD write-up. Which is not useful, as I need to be focusing on the teaching at the moment, and not the PhD!
Looking back over my more recent posts, and having recently discovered a friend's beautifully-written blog, I wonder what the purpose of this blog is - whether it is an outlet for ideas, some kind of journal or a space for reviewing (which is what I mostly seem to do). I suppose there's no reason it can't be a bit of all those things. Perhaps, more accurately, it is a place to store the things that build up in my head and look at them more objectively. I've always found that a particularly productive way of finding new ideas, even if it's a case of viewing the same old ideas in a new way.
Having sent my final first-draft chapter into the ether, I'm now able to take a similar approach to the PhD. It was always my aim to vomit material onto the page and then look at it from a distance to see what was working and what wasn't. Lots of it doesn't, but some bits feel right. I've also had what may turn out to be a very fruitful idea for the conclusion (the calling card for publishers: look, you want to publish my thesis really!). As I do a few final bits of reading, I've found I'm suddenly coming across lots of avenues that would benefit from further research in the light of what I've been doing so far. This is deeply frustrating, as I'm more aware then ever that I will probably not get the opportunity to do this; at least, not in the near future. I would love to work in higher education again some day, but it's really a case of taking one day at a time at the moment, and I am also very much looking forward to rehoning my skills in the classroom. I suspect (and don't tell anyone this) that teachers are actually far more creative than academics (particularly in the beginning of their careers), despite the lack of research opportunities.
The renewed interest in research is perhaps a knock-on effect of reading my sister's undergraduate thesis. She is finishing off a BA in Early Childhood Studies, with the intention of training as a primary school teacher (and a marvellous one she will make, too), but she has also always had a deep interest in books and reading (a family thing, perhaps?). Her research centres on the government-backed 'Boys Into Books' scheme, which promotes reading to boys in both primary schools and local authority libraries. Having read over her thesis a few times, I've found the whole question of reading schemes and libraries deeply interesting. Like all New Labour schemes, 'Boys Into Books' feels rushed and un-thought-through - a soundbite for a critical media, although it does touch upon some real issues. The assumption is that boys don't like reading and, if they do, they only like to read non-fiction material. The focus of the government is on the consequences for literacy at primary level (that is, the effect on primary league tables). [*As an aside, it was interesting and somewhat disturbing to recently observe a secondary school teacher assure their class that the 'whole point of education' was to fulfil the requirements of exam mark schemes.*] My sister's research highlights several ways in which these assumptions can be contested and several very intriguing avenues of further research. I won't go into it any further here, as it's yet to be examined, but I'll try and come back to it another time!
Other stuff that is hovering in my mind at the moment:
Why, when I read the Fidra blog (see the list of blogs I follow) does the icon on my dashboard change to their icon? No other blog affects my dashboard in this way!
The plug of the extension lead which connects my TV/DVD player etc to the electricity has been sparking worryingly for several weeks. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I'm finding it hard to justify going out and buying a new one when this one does occasionally fufil its purpose; however, how long do I leave it before I accidently burn the flat down? (Undoubtedly taking the whole block with it...) More to the point, what happens if it refuses to comply just before the next episode of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency begins?! Oh, the decisions we must make....
Perhaps my favourite BBC news article of the last few weeks: a very funny nursery rhyme from 1744! (Scroll through to picture 5.)
Looking back over my more recent posts, and having recently discovered a friend's beautifully-written blog, I wonder what the purpose of this blog is - whether it is an outlet for ideas, some kind of journal or a space for reviewing (which is what I mostly seem to do). I suppose there's no reason it can't be a bit of all those things. Perhaps, more accurately, it is a place to store the things that build up in my head and look at them more objectively. I've always found that a particularly productive way of finding new ideas, even if it's a case of viewing the same old ideas in a new way.
Having sent my final first-draft chapter into the ether, I'm now able to take a similar approach to the PhD. It was always my aim to vomit material onto the page and then look at it from a distance to see what was working and what wasn't. Lots of it doesn't, but some bits feel right. I've also had what may turn out to be a very fruitful idea for the conclusion (the calling card for publishers: look, you want to publish my thesis really!). As I do a few final bits of reading, I've found I'm suddenly coming across lots of avenues that would benefit from further research in the light of what I've been doing so far. This is deeply frustrating, as I'm more aware then ever that I will probably not get the opportunity to do this; at least, not in the near future. I would love to work in higher education again some day, but it's really a case of taking one day at a time at the moment, and I am also very much looking forward to rehoning my skills in the classroom. I suspect (and don't tell anyone this) that teachers are actually far more creative than academics (particularly in the beginning of their careers), despite the lack of research opportunities.
The renewed interest in research is perhaps a knock-on effect of reading my sister's undergraduate thesis. She is finishing off a BA in Early Childhood Studies, with the intention of training as a primary school teacher (and a marvellous one she will make, too), but she has also always had a deep interest in books and reading (a family thing, perhaps?). Her research centres on the government-backed 'Boys Into Books' scheme, which promotes reading to boys in both primary schools and local authority libraries. Having read over her thesis a few times, I've found the whole question of reading schemes and libraries deeply interesting. Like all New Labour schemes, 'Boys Into Books' feels rushed and un-thought-through - a soundbite for a critical media, although it does touch upon some real issues. The assumption is that boys don't like reading and, if they do, they only like to read non-fiction material. The focus of the government is on the consequences for literacy at primary level (that is, the effect on primary league tables). [*As an aside, it was interesting and somewhat disturbing to recently observe a secondary school teacher assure their class that the 'whole point of education' was to fulfil the requirements of exam mark schemes.*] My sister's research highlights several ways in which these assumptions can be contested and several very intriguing avenues of further research. I won't go into it any further here, as it's yet to be examined, but I'll try and come back to it another time!
Other stuff that is hovering in my mind at the moment:
Why, when I read the Fidra blog (see the list of blogs I follow) does the icon on my dashboard change to their icon? No other blog affects my dashboard in this way!
The plug of the extension lead which connects my TV/DVD player etc to the electricity has been sparking worryingly for several weeks. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I'm finding it hard to justify going out and buying a new one when this one does occasionally fufil its purpose; however, how long do I leave it before I accidently burn the flat down? (Undoubtedly taking the whole block with it...) More to the point, what happens if it refuses to comply just before the next episode of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency begins?! Oh, the decisions we must make....
Perhaps my favourite BBC news article of the last few weeks: a very funny nursery rhyme from 1744! (Scroll through to picture 5.)
Thursday 26 February 2009
Oops! Catch up...
Ah, have realised it's been about a month since the last post - mea culpa! To be fair, just as my head hits the pillow at stupid o'clock every night, I think, 'I really must update the blog...'
It has been a crazy few weeks. The impending and crashing doom of trying to finish the PhD finally scared me into looking for jobs and, of course, there aren't any. None. Niente. Nada. Nichts. Don't get me wrong - I'm really not picky, anything that pays the bills is fine. Several firms have been kind enough to make time to give me some work experience, but as I turn up to make tea and fill endless spreadsheets, they hold day-long meetings and lay-off employees. A very, very frightening time and piss-poor timing on my part.
Anyway, I've always enjoyed teaching; I've tutored for years and have taken every opportunity at university to give lectures and take seminar classes. So I thought, why not have a proper crack at
it? Religious Education is one of the priority subjects at secondary level, so they clearly need people. So, tried to get work experience in order to apply for a PGCE. Sent my CV round, and one school called me for interview for a part-time post to cover a teacher going on maternity leave. A day and a half to prepare for interview and to construct a portfolio from scratch, an entirely sleepless night, and then an interview which involved taking a class full of year 9s (oh, yes, that's right, the fourteen-year-olds) for part of an RE lesson. I really enjoyed it! Anyway, long story short, they offered me the post and have offered to sponser an application for training on the job. Day to fill out the paperwork, frantic week to sort out PhD funding and university status, and now, barring all major crises, I start work in a few weeks' time! It means putting the PhD on the back burner, but, as I'll now officially be part-time on that, there's time enough.
So, aside from my shiny new status as someone living in a recession with a job (hurrah!), there are a few other things to catch up on:
Interesting article on the oldest words in English language - I like the idea that the oldest words have to do with defining identities - self and other. The global nature of language appeals to me as well; it always gives me a bit of a thrill to discover a shared etymology that seems entirely improbable (for example, the Welsh, Russian and Portuguese words for 'five' all share a common root).
Truly frightening and frighteningly true article on liberty - more precisely, its gradual and secret seeping away - by Philip Pullman here.
200 words banned by Local Government Authorities... (I particularly like 'dialogue', 'outcome' and 'wellbeing')
Daleks are real and they're coming!! Dalek prop (or is it?) found at bottom of pond (search March 4th 2009).
Two thought-provoking new programmes this week:
First off, the start of a new crime drama series, No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency on BBC1. Based on the bestselling Alexander McCall Smith novels, this series was first premiered over the Christmas period, with a feature-length episode directed by Anthony Minghella. I have al
ways enjoyed the books for their pace - exciting, but not frenetic - and for their portrayal of an African country that doesn't focus on famine, political unrest or AIDS (although it doesn't shy away from the real experiences of Botswana). The Minghella episode captured this perfectly and I was looking forward to the beginning of the series. The programme told its story beautifully; the casting is wonderful (although I wondered whether the eager young boy might be a little too sacharrine) and the music and camera work weaved the fabric of the story more intricately, rather than unnecessarily detracting from it. Word of warning, though - do not watch if you don't like visiting the dentist... Looking forward to the next episode!
The second programme of note was an iPlayer find. Deborah 13: Servant of God was shown on BBC3. It's the story of a 13-year-old girl from rural England who has been brought up in what one might write off as a 'crazy Christian evangelical' family. Deborah (or Debbie, as she prefers to be known) is a middle child (in a family of 10) and it shows. There is something intense about her character and she seems to be trying to carve out a particular niche for herself. Unfortunately for her - fortunately for the programme-makers - she believes her particular niche lies in hellfire and damnation. Her elder brother, a student living 200 miles away at university and clearly trying to balance life in the immediate family community with life outside, seems worried for her. He repeatedly says that he wishes she would realise the blessings she has, rather than focusing on all the souls who are lost. Debbie goes out to evangelise amongst her own age-group, but, beyond sharing a year of birth, these teenagers seem to have little in common. In all honesty, the group of teenagers chosen particularly exemplify the media-encouraged image of 'all wot's wrong wiv kids 2day', but later conversations with her brother's university friends really emphasise how incompatible Debbie's views are with modern British society. These friends do their best to be open-minded about her approach to life and death, but feel frustrated by her inability to consider other possibilities. It's a difficult thing to face up to: if she is right, we are all damned to hellfire; if she is not, this is a 13-year-old girl whose self-identity is totally tied up with a particular expression of Christian belief that emphasises sinfulness and damnation. It was a fascinating watch, which left me feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
Right, bed.
It has been a crazy few weeks. The impending and crashing doom of trying to finish the PhD finally scared me into looking for jobs and, of course, there aren't any. None. Niente. Nada. Nichts. Don't get me wrong - I'm really not picky, anything that pays the bills is fine. Several firms have been kind enough to make time to give me some work experience, but as I turn up to make tea and fill endless spreadsheets, they hold day-long meetings and lay-off employees. A very, very frightening time and piss-poor timing on my part.
Anyway, I've always enjoyed teaching; I've tutored for years and have taken every opportunity at university to give lectures and take seminar classes. So I thought, why not have a proper crack at
it? Religious Education is one of the priority subjects at secondary level, so they clearly need people. So, tried to get work experience in order to apply for a PGCE. Sent my CV round, and one school called me for interview for a part-time post to cover a teacher going on maternity leave. A day and a half to prepare for interview and to construct a portfolio from scratch, an entirely sleepless night, and then an interview which involved taking a class full of year 9s (oh, yes, that's right, the fourteen-year-olds) for part of an RE lesson. I really enjoyed it! Anyway, long story short, they offered me the post and have offered to sponser an application for training on the job. Day to fill out the paperwork, frantic week to sort out PhD funding and university status, and now, barring all major crises, I start work in a few weeks' time! It means putting the PhD on the back burner, but, as I'll now officially be part-time on that, there's time enough.So, aside from my shiny new status as someone living in a recession with a job (hurrah!), there are a few other things to catch up on:
Interesting article on the oldest words in English language - I like the idea that the oldest words have to do with defining identities - self and other. The global nature of language appeals to me as well; it always gives me a bit of a thrill to discover a shared etymology that seems entirely improbable (for example, the Welsh, Russian and Portuguese words for 'five' all share a common root).
Truly frightening and frighteningly true article on liberty - more precisely, its gradual and secret seeping away - by Philip Pullman here.
200 words banned by Local Government Authorities... (I particularly like 'dialogue', 'outcome' and 'wellbeing')
Daleks are real and they're coming!! Dalek prop (or is it?) found at bottom of pond (search March 4th 2009).
Two thought-provoking new programmes this week:
First off, the start of a new crime drama series, No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency on BBC1. Based on the bestselling Alexander McCall Smith novels, this series was first premiered over the Christmas period, with a feature-length episode directed by Anthony Minghella. I have al
ways enjoyed the books for their pace - exciting, but not frenetic - and for their portrayal of an African country that doesn't focus on famine, political unrest or AIDS (although it doesn't shy away from the real experiences of Botswana). The Minghella episode captured this perfectly and I was looking forward to the beginning of the series. The programme told its story beautifully; the casting is wonderful (although I wondered whether the eager young boy might be a little too sacharrine) and the music and camera work weaved the fabric of the story more intricately, rather than unnecessarily detracting from it. Word of warning, though - do not watch if you don't like visiting the dentist... Looking forward to the next episode!The second programme of note was an iPlayer find. Deborah 13: Servant of God was shown on BBC3. It's the story of a 13-year-old girl from rural England who has been brought up in what one might write off as a 'crazy Christian evangelical' family. Deborah (or Debbie, as she prefers to be known) is a middle child (in a family of 10) and it shows. There is something intense about her character and she seems to be trying to carve out a particular niche for herself. Unfortunately for her - fortunately for the programme-makers - she believes her particular niche lies in hellfire and damnation. Her elder brother, a student living 200 miles away at university and clearly trying to balance life in the immediate family community with life outside, seems worried for her. He repeatedly says that he wishes she would realise the blessings she has, rather than focusing on all the souls who are lost. Debbie goes out to evangelise amongst her own age-group, but, beyond sharing a year of birth, these teenagers seem to have little in common. In all honesty, the group of teenagers chosen particularly exemplify the media-encouraged image of 'all wot's wrong wiv kids 2day', but later conversations with her brother's university friends really emphasise how incompatible Debbie's views are with modern British society. These friends do their best to be open-minded about her approach to life and death, but feel frustrated by her inability to consider other possibilities. It's a difficult thing to face up to: if she is right, we are all damned to hellfire; if she is not, this is a 13-year-old girl whose self-identity is totally tied up with a particular expression of Christian belief that emphasises sinfulness and damnation. It was a fascinating watch, which left me feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
Right, bed.
Wednesday 18 February 2009
Catch up: books, theatre, film and TV
Isn't it interesting that an awful lot of new children's books are reemphasising illustration (often by the author themselves)? I loved Quentin Blake's illustrations for Roald Dahl's stories - well, Quentin Blake's illustrations for anything, really. I know that there is a long-established tradition of illustrating children's stories in particular, but in recent years these pictures seem to have become an awful lot darker - perhaps to reflect the stories themselves (cf. Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book, illustrated in the UK edition by Chris Riddell). Of course, children's stories are not all fairies and candy floss; think of the Tales of the Brothers Grimm, and Dickens' Christmas Stories. There does seem to have been, however, a hiatus between the late nineteenth century and the late twentieth century as far as 'plastic' children's stories goes (with the odd - often bizarre - exception, e.g. Russell Hoban's stories for children). I like the return to stories in which the dark and dangerous illustrations reflect the dramatic tension of the story!
Went to see Graham Norton in La Cage aux Folles last week. Let's be honest - he's not known for his singing and I have to admit, I was a little nervous about how he would manage a 2 1/2 hour production as one of the lead roles. However, he pulled it off spectacularly. The production as a whole was wonderful, eerily erotic dancing from the men-women and superb acting from all of the lead roles. I'm familiar with some of the songs from this show, so it was a great joy to see them performed live. More than anything, though, I loved the audience. This was a matinee performance and, as you might expect, leaned fairly heavily to the pensioner side of things. (There is something odd about 200 pensioners coming to watch a play about a transvestite caberet in France...). However, they responded marvellously and I ended up sitting next to an elderly gentleman who had the most spectacular baritone laugh I have ever heard!
'Good God...', I think to myself, as Christopher Biggins comes out dressed as Danny Zuko with the oddest quiff and the biggest middle-aged spread imaginable (stretched tightly across a clinging black T-shirt). What follows is the most unnatural (and campest) version of 'You're the One that I Want' that I've ever seen. Nothing will top that, I think to myself. And then out comes Robert Webb with an utterly unique interpretation of 'Flashdance' complete with what looks like a rubber leotard and a rather disturbing hairy chest (as well as ridiculously feminine legs)! Both performances defy description, so watch them here.
So, Kate Winslet finally won her Oscar. I have to admit, I haven't seen The Reader yet, but I feel that she deserved one, if only for waiting so long! I didn't get the opportunity to watch the show, but it looks as though it was better than it has been for the last few years. I have to admit, I'm going to miss the build up now for another 12 months...
I'm currently reading Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. This is book my brother lent me and I haven't got round to picking it up until now. I'm only half-way through, so I can't really comment on the plot/characters yet, but what I can say is that it made me laugh out loud on the tube, much to the disgust of the man sitting next to me...
Went to see Graham Norton in La Cage aux Folles last week. Let's be honest - he's not known for his singing and I have to admit, I was a little nervous about how he would manage a 2 1/2 hour production as one of the lead roles. However, he pulled it off spectacularly. The production as a whole was wonderful, eerily erotic dancing from the men-women and superb acting from all of the lead roles. I'm familiar with some of the songs from this show, so it was a great joy to see them performed live. More than anything, though, I loved the audience. This was a matinee performance and, as you might expect, leaned fairly heavily to the pensioner side of things. (There is something odd about 200 pensioners coming to watch a play about a transvestite caberet in France...). However, they responded marvellously and I ended up sitting next to an elderly gentleman who had the most spectacular baritone laugh I have ever heard!
'Good God...', I think to myself, as Christopher Biggins comes out dressed as Danny Zuko with the oddest quiff and the biggest middle-aged spread imaginable (stretched tightly across a clinging black T-shirt). What follows is the most unnatural (and campest) version of 'You're the One that I Want' that I've ever seen. Nothing will top that, I think to myself. And then out comes Robert Webb with an utterly unique interpretation of 'Flashdance' complete with what looks like a rubber leotard and a rather disturbing hairy chest (as well as ridiculously feminine legs)! Both performances defy description, so watch them here.
So, Kate Winslet finally won her Oscar. I have to admit, I haven't seen The Reader yet, but I feel that she deserved one, if only for waiting so long! I didn't get the opportunity to watch the show, but it looks as though it was better than it has been for the last few years. I have to admit, I'm going to miss the build up now for another 12 months...
I'm currently reading Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. This is book my brother lent me and I haven't got round to picking it up until now. I'm only half-way through, so I can't really comment on the plot/characters yet, but what I can say is that it made me laugh out loud on the tube, much to the disgust of the man sitting next to me...
Wednesday 11 February 2009
Reading, evangelising, kissing and more...
It's been a manic few weeks - work seems to be collapsing at a frightening rate, just as other things are mounting up. Work experience is continuing to be interesting as well as being good fun; I was introduced to the chief exec this week and, apparently, next Monday there is to be drinks and nibbles and general merriment. I've also put in a job application for a teaching job in an independent secondary school. It was all fairly fast: I saw the advert on Thursday and had put the application in on Sunday. The closing date is on the 23rd and interviews are being held on the 2nd March. I'm using every spare second I have preparing just in case!
Anyway, I thought I'd better catch up on a few of the links that have caught my eye in the last week:
I read this posting about Michael Rosen's Just Read (BBC4) on Bookwitch and immediately switched over to the BBC iPlayer to see for myself. This programme was really interesting. I have a long-standing interest in reading and libraries, and it was fascinating to see the way in which an entire school's reading ethos changed in just three months. This was, of course, in large part due to the immediate presence of Michael Rosen (the current Children's Laureate). As ever, I foun
d myself distracted by his marvellous boggle-eyes and wonderful poems, but it was clear from the outset that the children responded to his apparently boundless enthusiasm for words. From my own experience of tutoring several primary-age children, I know that kids love stories, as long as someone is prepared to sit and read with them. Bearing in mind that some of the children I have come across in the past live in houses that don't contain a single book, this can be something of a challenge, but, as Mr. Rosen demonstrated, if you can get over the fact that reading books out loud 'isn't cool', then all of a sudden new horizons open up. Having said that, not every school is lucky enough to have a personal reading mentor of Mr. Rosen's calibre - not necessarily in terms of output or fame, but certainly in terms of energy! I think the only way any school is going to be able to promote - and sustain - a love of reading is if it is supported by the child's home life and that brings with it a whole new set of challenges.
Two other fascinating BBC programmes recently: Moses Jones, a BBC2 drama series which managed to clash with every other TV programme I enjoy and was subsequently relegated to iPlayer status, and Trouble in Amish Paradise, a documentary also shown on BBC2. The former was an extraordinarily well-scripted drama with edgy direction and a cast which gave honest performances. It showed the immigrant subculture of London without any of the usual assumptions and was a truly exciting insight into the breadth of experience in the city. As a Londoner, I felt as though the London I actually live in was at last being shown in its true brilliance and nastiness. That's something you find in Dickens - although this didn't feel as caricatured as some of his novels. Neither was it particularly cliched, and, although it did deal with some issues which have begun to feel a bit hackneyed, it came across as a genuinely truthful presentation of a collection of lives in London.
Trouble in Amish Paradise is another programme which might have fallen into cliche, but didn't. There were the usual shots of horse-drawn carriages and men and women in period costume, but at its heart, this was a story about two families teetering on the edge of the Amish culture and the wilderness beyond. Both families had been excommunicated by the community for disobeying the rules of the Elders, but both passionately believed in the justness of their beliefs. The central problem seemed to be the fact that they insisted on reading the Bible in English, not the original antiquated German, and they felt called to evangelise and discuss their views on Christianity with others, both inside and outside the immediate community. This may not seem such a sin to we outsiders looking in, but I imagine it had the potential to blow a huge hole in the structures of this protective and protected society. Despite their alienation from their friends and family, support was immediately provided when difficulties arose. A programme which might have made me knowingly mock a 'less-developed' attitude to Christianity instead made me long for that security of community through good times and bad - and who ever said living with others was meant to be easy?
Last week the General Synod of the Church of England voted to ban clergy from being members of the BNP; it simultaneously debated the role of its mission of conversion in the twenty-first century. The two things seem to me to be somehow linked. At the core of the issue is the importance o
f free speech in our society. People advocate the right to freedom of speech as one of the most enshrined of all human rights, and yet not everyone is happy to allow all matters to be expressed freely. The argument for conversion is not only that it is biblically grounded, but also that the opportunity to express freely (as enshrined in the right to freedom of speech) the evangelical aspects of Christian life should be more eagerly taken. The Church of England is often derided for not being proactive in its approach to evangelism and this would seem to be a welcome invitation (or a kick up the backside - whichever you prefer!) to become more active in the wider community. However, to simultaneously ban members of the clergy from expressing a particular political opinion seems to be taking the opposite track entirely. Please understand, I am not in *any* way condoning the 'policies' of the BNP; rather, I am noting the rather worrying precedent it may set for future debate. Freedom of speech is not always nice speech, or comforting speech, or safe speech, but it is free speech.
On a tangentially religious note, I've noticed various humorous responses to the agnostic bus signs ("There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life"), the best of which was a competition run on the Faith-Theology blogspot. My favourite proposed caption was "Relax! God loves a smiling atheist!".
Aside from that, other general links of interest:
Useful computer paraphernalia from the London Review Bookshop - one of those things you don't think you need until you find you can't live without it...
A very funny short film - This Way Up, directed by Alan Smith & Adam Foulkes of Nexus, nominated for best animated short at this year's Oscars - the only British nomination, as Nick Park of Wallace and Gromit fame missed deadline. I really enjoyed it and have passed the link on to as many friends and family as possible.
Bookmooch: a site for passing on books you don't need anymore (although I can't imagine ever actually being brave enough to let my books go).
And finally, a thought-provoking article from the BBC about the negative space of kissing: a series of sculptures being created by artist Chris Murphy at the Science Museum in London. The very idea of being able to visualise (and materialize) the space of a kiss is strange and yet somehow intriguing...
Keep an eye on the Russell Hoban blog - will be updating it in the next day or two as I come to the end of rereading all his novels!!! I'm existing in a world of Hoban oddness at the moment, where everything seems to be a little less real, but I'm sure it will pass eventually - or as soon as the work panic sets in again.
Anyway, I thought I'd better catch up on a few of the links that have caught my eye in the last week:
I read this posting about Michael Rosen's Just Read (BBC4) on Bookwitch and immediately switched over to the BBC iPlayer to see for myself. This programme was really interesting. I have a long-standing interest in reading and libraries, and it was fascinating to see the way in which an entire school's reading ethos changed in just three months. This was, of course, in large part due to the immediate presence of Michael Rosen (the current Children's Laureate). As ever, I foun
d myself distracted by his marvellous boggle-eyes and wonderful poems, but it was clear from the outset that the children responded to his apparently boundless enthusiasm for words. From my own experience of tutoring several primary-age children, I know that kids love stories, as long as someone is prepared to sit and read with them. Bearing in mind that some of the children I have come across in the past live in houses that don't contain a single book, this can be something of a challenge, but, as Mr. Rosen demonstrated, if you can get over the fact that reading books out loud 'isn't cool', then all of a sudden new horizons open up. Having said that, not every school is lucky enough to have a personal reading mentor of Mr. Rosen's calibre - not necessarily in terms of output or fame, but certainly in terms of energy! I think the only way any school is going to be able to promote - and sustain - a love of reading is if it is supported by the child's home life and that brings with it a whole new set of challenges.Two other fascinating BBC programmes recently: Moses Jones, a BBC2 drama series which managed to clash with every other TV programme I enjoy and was subsequently relegated to iPlayer status, and Trouble in Amish Paradise, a documentary also shown on BBC2. The former was an extraordinarily well-scripted drama with edgy direction and a cast which gave honest performances. It showed the immigrant subculture of London without any of the usual assumptions and was a truly exciting insight into the breadth of experience in the city. As a Londoner, I felt as though the London I actually live in was at last being shown in its true brilliance and nastiness. That's something you find in Dickens - although this didn't feel as caricatured as some of his novels. Neither was it particularly cliched, and, although it did deal with some issues which have begun to feel a bit hackneyed, it came across as a genuinely truthful presentation of a collection of lives in London.
Trouble in Amish Paradise is another programme which might have fallen into cliche, but didn't. There were the usual shots of horse-drawn carriages and men and women in period costume, but at its heart, this was a story about two families teetering on the edge of the Amish culture and the wilderness beyond. Both families had been excommunicated by the community for disobeying the rules of the Elders, but both passionately believed in the justness of their beliefs. The central problem seemed to be the fact that they insisted on reading the Bible in English, not the original antiquated German, and they felt called to evangelise and discuss their views on Christianity with others, both inside and outside the immediate community. This may not seem such a sin to we outsiders looking in, but I imagine it had the potential to blow a huge hole in the structures of this protective and protected society. Despite their alienation from their friends and family, support was immediately provided when difficulties arose. A programme which might have made me knowingly mock a 'less-developed' attitude to Christianity instead made me long for that security of community through good times and bad - and who ever said living with others was meant to be easy?
Last week the General Synod of the Church of England voted to ban clergy from being members of the BNP; it simultaneously debated the role of its mission of conversion in the twenty-first century. The two things seem to me to be somehow linked. At the core of the issue is the importance o
f free speech in our society. People advocate the right to freedom of speech as one of the most enshrined of all human rights, and yet not everyone is happy to allow all matters to be expressed freely. The argument for conversion is not only that it is biblically grounded, but also that the opportunity to express freely (as enshrined in the right to freedom of speech) the evangelical aspects of Christian life should be more eagerly taken. The Church of England is often derided for not being proactive in its approach to evangelism and this would seem to be a welcome invitation (or a kick up the backside - whichever you prefer!) to become more active in the wider community. However, to simultaneously ban members of the clergy from expressing a particular political opinion seems to be taking the opposite track entirely. Please understand, I am not in *any* way condoning the 'policies' of the BNP; rather, I am noting the rather worrying precedent it may set for future debate. Freedom of speech is not always nice speech, or comforting speech, or safe speech, but it is free speech.On a tangentially religious note, I've noticed various humorous responses to the agnostic bus signs ("There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life"), the best of which was a competition run on the Faith-Theology blogspot. My favourite proposed caption was "Relax! God loves a smiling atheist!".
Aside from that, other general links of interest:
Useful computer paraphernalia from the London Review Bookshop - one of those things you don't think you need until you find you can't live without it...
Bookmooch: a site for passing on books you don't need anymore (although I can't imagine ever actually being brave enough to let my books go).
And finally, a thought-provoking article from the BBC about the negative space of kissing: a series of sculptures being created by artist Chris Murphy at the Science Museum in London. The very idea of being able to visualise (and materialize) the space of a kiss is strange and yet somehow intriguing...
Keep an eye on the Russell Hoban blog - will be updating it in the next day or two as I come to the end of rereading all his novels!!! I'm existing in a world of Hoban oddness at the moment, where everything seems to be a little less real, but I'm sure it will pass eventually - or as soon as the work panic sets in again.
Monday 9 February 2009
Snowy/Rainy days in London
Sorry - it's been a bit of a week. Last Monday London officially shut down, sulking that it was just too hard to cope with snow. Also Boyfriend had his wisdom teeth out, which involved a fairly treacherous drive through north London. Boyfriend then developed post-operative complications and I spent the rest of the week doing my Florence Nightingale impersonation. (It wasn't very good - I'm not very patient.) All this meant:
a) I've done no work.
b) I ran out of time to prepare for work experience placement.
c) I am*seriously* behind with my blogging/twittering.
e) I missed Russell Hoban's birthday on the 4th - see the sa4qe blog.
d) I came down with the mother of all colds (the snow may have had something to do with that...)
On another note, I had my first day carrying out work experience today with a view to the gaping chasm that is my post-PhD employability. As I've previously mentioned, I'm keen to work in publishing, and I already have some experience of copy editing. I sent out what felt like thousands of CVs at the end of last year, and had one reply from SCM Press (one of the major publishers of academic theology in the UK). Off I trotted through the pouring rain this morning to Barbican, thougts swinging between the harsh realism of a publishing industry struggling through recession and wild hopes that a job (any job) may come out of this placement. As I walked out of the tube station, A to Z in hand, a young woman thrust a free newspaper into my hand, saying, "Short stories!" [It was a free Arts Council-funded paper called Notes from the Underground which prints unsolicited stories, poetry, reviews etc.] This seemed like a good sign, somehow, and the day went on to be very productive and very informative. The people were lovely and, although I am to be based in the Sales and Marketing department, they seem to be fairly flexible about letting me drift over to Editing now and then. The only real danger of going along once a week to their offices seems to be that I will allow the PhD work to lapse, which I really cannot afford to do at this stage.
Aside from that, all is carrying on as ever. I watched part of the Baftas on the BBC last night and was somewhat surprise to hear Mickey Rourke named as Best Actor for The Wrestler, but not at all surprised to watch Slumdog
Millionaire win award after award. The Baftas always tend to go for home-grown talent, and although this may somewhat compromise their standing in the awards season, it's nice to see the smaller (and smaller-budgeted) films have some success.
Friday 30 January 2009
Fairy tales
Just watching Jonathan Ross interviewing Glenn Close on the BBC. He's talking about her role in 101 Dalmatians and comments that you don't often see strong female characters in (especially Disney) cartoons. She replies, "I used to watch cartoons with my daughter and I noticed that you don't have any mothers in cartoons - you don't have any mothers in fairy tales - because mothers are fierce and if there were mothers in fairy tales, nothing would ever happen to the kids." I like that!
[*Although there is a mother in Stardust (Neil Gaiman's fairy tale. Or tale from Faerie.) Having said that, not wishing to give away too much of the plot, she can't do much for most of the story...]
[*Although there is a mother in Stardust (Neil Gaiman's fairy tale. Or tale from Faerie.) Having said that, not wishing to give away too much of the plot, she can't do much for most of the story...]
Cinema, TV and books
Went to see Ron Howard's Frost-Nixon on Wednesday. The Frost-Nixon interviews are now legendary in political broadcasting. I've never seen them all, but I have seen bits and bobs. It's difficult now to understand why they were so important at the time, and how deeply the USA felt the betrayal of President Nixon, but I think this film did a good job of addressing these issues. Michael Sheen is one of my favourite actors; he has played many biographical parts now (Tony Blair in The Queen - also Ron Howard; Kenneth Williams in Fantabulosa!) and, although he never physically resembles the person he is playing, he has a remarkable ability to assimilate their physical habits: twitches, raised eyebrows, hand gestures. It was somewhat unnerving, too, to be looking at Michael Sheen, and to hear David Frost's voice! Frank Langella was wonderful as President Nixon and fully deserves his Oscar nomination for Best Actor. Frost-Nixon is an understated film that is beautifully acted and directed. There were moments when the entire audience were collectively holding their breath - an experience I haven't had for a long time in the cinema. It makes me wish that I had seen the original theatre production.
Watching the BBC news yesterday evening, I felt somewhat bemused by the acceleration of events connected to the global economic crisis. Demonstrations in Paris were turning violent and attracting hundreds of thousands of people onto the streets. The French are exercising their democratic right to make their voices heard in protest against Sarkozy's policies of pumping huge amounts of taxpayers' money into failing banks, whilst at the same time not holding those responsible for the slump to account. And over here in the UK? We sit at home, drinking tea, muttering that someone really should do something about the Labour government, whose policies are near-identical. Jobs are being shed daily and there is a real sense of fear outside. Walking along the high street is a chastening experience, as empty shop after empty shop closes its doors for good. This is certainly not a good time to be looking for a job!
Of course, this morning's news told of various groups of industrial workers coming out on wildcat strikes across the UK. This is not a protest against govermental economic policy as such; rather, it is the concern that what jobs there are, are being given to non-UK residents (presumeably for reasons of cost-cutting). I was a very young child in the eighties, but I do remember TV news pictures of panic-stricken and angry men coming out on strike, especially in Scotland, Wales and the north of England. The pictures I saw this morning on the news were disturbingly similar. What is different now, however, is the rallying call of 'UK jobs for UK citizens': I worry that this could be a tipping point into a BNP nightmare. And of course, we musn't forget that this is not a BNP slogan, but a Labour soundbite from one of Mr. Brown's speeches in 2007...
Of all the blogs I follow, Bookwitch is my favourite. I always save it until last, because I know that whatever is written will be interesting and entertaining. Today's entry was no exception: the witch wrote about her love of Joan Aiken's The Wolves of Willoughby Chase series. I read this books avidly as a child and I think I may now pick them all up at the weekend from my parents' house and have a comfortable few days of reacquainting myself with Simon, Dido Twite and the rest!
Thursday 22 January 2009
More Hoban...
"Around us all is night, black night that howls outside the circle of our words or crouches magically with the fire reflected in its eyes. We are in it; it is in us. We need to know that night and we need not to know. Our primal 'What if?' is the twining of our fingers in the dark with those of unseen Chance and whispering Dread who walk with us. They are sister and brother to us, father and mother: the ancient family of not-knowing, walking in uncertainty."
Russell Hoban, 'Household Tales by The Brothers Grimm' in The Moment Under the Moment, 148-9.
He writes these words and as I read them, I know that they are in me, written just the same. They feel familiar; I recognise them as though they belong to me too.
Russell Hoban, 'Household Tales by The Brothers Grimm' in The Moment Under the Moment, 148-9.
He writes these words and as I read them, I know that they are in me, written just the same. They feel familiar; I recognise them as though they belong to me too.
Wednesday 21 January 2009
The dark and the new
I'm currently reading an awful lot of Russell Hoban for the purposes of my final PhD chapter (whilst listening to the soundtrack of the film Stardust - why is it reading to music can sometimes be impossible, and sometimes necessary?). His ability to weave and twist and embrace words is so achingly beautiful that it makes me want to cry:
"... the pleromatic depth and colour and luminosity of Venice: the light could almost be tasted like wine; the darks were juicy, musky, sweet, sombre, poignant, romantic, secret, tragic, dangerous, and always beckoning."
Hoban, 'The Colour of Love' in The Moment Under the Moment
He has a fascination with darkness, the moment between hereness and notness, time unfolded and unnecessary that holds the reader hypnotised. Ever since I was introduced to him by a slightly eccentric (and I don't think she'll mind me saying that!) English Literature teacher, I have felt a deep affinity between his novels and whatever it is that theology and philosophy grasp for. I don't mean to say that he is writing philosophical or religious literature; rather, he seems to get at the ungraspable, the 'Moment under the Moment'.
Moments seem more important than ever now: yesterday I was deeply aware of participating in hist
ory - not just going through daily life in the way that constitutes 99.9% of actual history, but of being present in a moment that marks something new (even if it does not ultimately succeed). 'Change has come' - is that not what all the American news networks are saying? I think they are right. It feels different now, as though this man might have the belief and bravery to change the world's path. Of course, he cannot do it on his own and I hope beyond hope that we can take the responsibility now for the things that need fixing. It feels new and exciting! This is perhaps the moment that will define my generation - as much as it has already been fixed by 9-11, a melting earth and financial crisis. Here's to the bright newness of tomorrow and the ancient darkness of all our todays!
"... the pleromatic depth and colour and luminosity of Venice: the light could almost be tasted like wine; the darks were juicy, musky, sweet, sombre, poignant, romantic, secret, tragic, dangerous, and always beckoning."
Hoban, 'The Colour of Love' in The Moment Under the Moment
He has a fascination with darkness, the moment between hereness and notness, time unfolded and unnecessary that holds the reader hypnotised. Ever since I was introduced to him by a slightly eccentric (and I don't think she'll mind me saying that!) English Literature teacher, I have felt a deep affinity between his novels and whatever it is that theology and philosophy grasp for. I don't mean to say that he is writing philosophical or religious literature; rather, he seems to get at the ungraspable, the 'Moment under the Moment'.
Moments seem more important than ever now: yesterday I was deeply aware of participating in hist
ory - not just going through daily life in the way that constitutes 99.9% of actual history, but of being present in a moment that marks something new (even if it does not ultimately succeed). 'Change has come' - is that not what all the American news networks are saying? I think they are right. It feels different now, as though this man might have the belief and bravery to change the world's path. Of course, he cannot do it on his own and I hope beyond hope that we can take the responsibility now for the things that need fixing. It feels new and exciting! This is perhaps the moment that will define my generation - as much as it has already been fixed by 9-11, a melting earth and financial crisis. Here's to the bright newness of tomorrow and the ancient darkness of all our todays!
Thursday 15 January 2009
Progress, at last!
Oh ho ho! Draft chapter 4 has been submitted - ahead of schedule, 'third time lucky'! ('Second time lucky' had me handing in last Monday; 'first time round' had a deadline in the last week of December...) It's not as bad as I had anticipated, although it's a little light on words. The glaringly obvious fault, however, is the fact that it doesn't yet hang together with the rest of the thesis, but that is something I intend to address after I have at the very least first drafts of all the proposed chapters. The next challenge, then, is to complete a draft of the final substantial chapter. This promises to be the most interesting chapter to write, and has the most potential to be creative. Having said that, I have very little idea at the moment of how to structure, or even what concept should be the guiding statement of the piece.
I've finished reading William Goldman's The Princess Bride. I really enjoyed it: the humour appealed to me and I really liked the 'abridger's inserts' - they reminded me of the meandering commentaries of Henry Fielding in Tom Jones and pretty much the whole of Tristram Shandy. I could quote whole chunks of the The Princess Bride that had me giggling, but here's one of the best:
"With no more words, she whirled into his arms then, saying, 'Oh, Westley, I didn't mean that, I didn't, I didn't, not a single syllabub of it.'
Now Westley knew that she meant to say, 'not a single syllable of it,' because a syllabub was something you ate, with cream and wine mixed in together to form the base. But he also knew an apology when he heard one. So he held her very close, and shut his loving eyes, and only whispered, 'I knew it was false, believe me, every single syllabub.'"
The story is a twist on the classic fairy tale (with the proviso that it may not end happily for all because, well, that's just life, isn't it?). The characters are appealing (or unappealing, if they are meant to be. Or, indeed, appealing in their unappealingness); the plot is sufficiently exciting to guide you through the jumps in time and narrative and the whole idea that this is a story that is meant to be read out loud is particularly interesting. We don't do that so much anymore, or, if we do, we limit it to reading to children. There is something performative about this novel which acknowledges that when you get down to it, stories are meant to be read aloud: whispered in quiet moments, told to friends in laughter, argued o
ver, loved and remembered. All in all, it's a highly recommended book!
As I was driving to my parents this morning (what is it about Friday mornings and traffic on the North Circular? It's as though everyone has agreed to go out between the hours of 10am and 11am just for the purpose of making my journey has hellish as possible....) I followed one of those G4 security vans with a sign on the back that reads, 'Police follow this van'. I can never work out whether this is a command or a warning. Oh, well, pondering that great question kept me occupied for 40 minutes between Hammersmith and Chiswick...
I've finished reading William Goldman's The Princess Bride. I really enjoyed it: the humour appealed to me and I really liked the 'abridger's inserts' - they reminded me of the meandering commentaries of Henry Fielding in Tom Jones and pretty much the whole of Tristram Shandy. I could quote whole chunks of the The Princess Bride that had me giggling, but here's one of the best:
"With no more words, she whirled into his arms then, saying, 'Oh, Westley, I didn't mean that, I didn't, I didn't, not a single syllabub of it.'
Now Westley knew that she meant to say, 'not a single syllable of it,' because a syllabub was something you ate, with cream and wine mixed in together to form the base. But he also knew an apology when he heard one. So he held her very close, and shut his loving eyes, and only whispered, 'I knew it was false, believe me, every single syllabub.'"
The story is a twist on the classic fairy tale (with the proviso that it may not end happily for all because, well, that's just life, isn't it?). The characters are appealing (or unappealing, if they are meant to be. Or, indeed, appealing in their unappealingness); the plot is sufficiently exciting to guide you through the jumps in time and narrative and the whole idea that this is a story that is meant to be read out loud is particularly interesting. We don't do that so much anymore, or, if we do, we limit it to reading to children. There is something performative about this novel which acknowledges that when you get down to it, stories are meant to be read aloud: whispered in quiet moments, told to friends in laughter, argued o
ver, loved and remembered. All in all, it's a highly recommended book!As I was driving to my parents this morning (what is it about Friday mornings and traffic on the North Circular? It's as though everyone has agreed to go out between the hours of 10am and 11am just for the purpose of making my journey has hellish as possible....) I followed one of those G4 security vans with a sign on the back that reads, 'Police follow this van'. I can never work out whether this is a command or a warning. Oh, well, pondering that great question kept me occupied for 40 minutes between Hammersmith and Chiswick...
Monday 12 January 2009
Currently reading
When I say that I am currently reading William Goldman's The Princess Bride, what I really mean is that this is the book that goes in my handbag when I am travelling on the tube. (Isn't it funny that one always needs something to do on the tube? Preferably a silent activity, of course - wouldn't want to rock the boat! Having said that, I endured a 45 minute trip to Heathrow over the weekend listening to a young man holding two conversations - on two mobile phones - simultaneoulsy. At yelling-across-a-room pitch. If I weren't so polite, I could quite cheerfully have given him a very mean stare. Or a kick in the balls.)
Aside from The Princess Bride, I am reading several hefty tomes concerning the authority of reading in the Christian Church. This is all contributing to chapter 4 (or is it chapter 3?) of the PhD. Time appears to be running out on this quicker than I can keep up, but I still find plenty of time to surf the net, play Spider Solitaire and create new and exciting playlists in iTunes... It's not the I don't enjoy what I am doing; it's just that I cannot yet grasp a sense of the whole, and that's holding me back significantly from constructing the parts. It is the literary equivalent of vomiting everywhere, then trying to collect it into one neat (and coherent!) pile. Frankly, I'm looking forward to getting shot of it now. It would be nice to have a weekend, or an evening, when I'm not thinking, "well, really, I should be typing up those notes on the Carolingian Church..." or, "Damn, I'd really better finish Chapter 2 today". And yet it is an immense privilege to have all this time to be creative, to produce something which I care about deeply, and wish pushes me intellectually as far as possible. It has been a frightening and exhilarating experience and I'm more tired than I can say. Sod savings - I think once I have finished this, I'm going to go on holiday!
Aside from The Princess Bride, I am reading several hefty tomes concerning the authority of reading in the Christian Church. This is all contributing to chapter 4 (or is it chapter 3?) of the PhD. Time appears to be running out on this quicker than I can keep up, but I still find plenty of time to surf the net, play Spider Solitaire and create new and exciting playlists in iTunes... It's not the I don't enjoy what I am doing; it's just that I cannot yet grasp a sense of the whole, and that's holding me back significantly from constructing the parts. It is the literary equivalent of vomiting everywhere, then trying to collect it into one neat (and coherent!) pile. Frankly, I'm looking forward to getting shot of it now. It would be nice to have a weekend, or an evening, when I'm not thinking, "well, really, I should be typing up those notes on the Carolingian Church..." or, "Damn, I'd really better finish Chapter 2 today". And yet it is an immense privilege to have all this time to be creative, to produce something which I care about deeply, and wish pushes me intellectually as far as possible. It has been a frightening and exhilarating experience and I'm more tired than I can say. Sod savings - I think once I have finished this, I'm going to go on holiday!
Wednesday 7 January 2009
Lessons from history
I would never normally advocate watching something or reading something when you already know what the ending is going to be, but I think sometimes it is good for the soul. Case in point: Deborah Moggach's version of The Diary of Anne Frank for the BBC. There is something dreadfully poignant about watching this 'tweenager' dream about her future as "a dancer, an ice-skater, I haven't really decided yet" when you know that in fact she is going to die in the typhus-ridden Bergen-Belsen camp only a few years' later. I know people often feel that Holocaust literature has been done to death, but it never ceases to be important to remind people of what they are capable of - both 
good and bad. This is, we are told, an opportunity to learn the lessons of history, but do we ever? I'm not sure where I stand on the current situation in Gaza, but I know it makes me feel deeply uncomfortable. What are the lengths we would go to to protect our own? The recent changes in British legislation are another example, opening the gates for a myriad of unsettling situations justified under 'anti-terrorism' laws. The fact that Iceland was recently declared a terrorist threat to the UK in order to allow the financiers to gain access to British funds in failing Icelandic banks is nothing short of disasterous. The dystopic worlds of Orwell and Huxley apparently exist, quietly and irrevocably, under a veil of polite deniability and 'human rights'. I would like to think that were such a situation as Anne Frank's ever to arise again, I would do the right thing, no matter how hard it may be. The absolutely terrifying thing is, however, that I do not know what I would do until I am faced with doing it. More terrifying, even, than that is whether there would be anyone to help me and mine if we became persona non grata for some reason or another.
good and bad. This is, we are told, an opportunity to learn the lessons of history, but do we ever? I'm not sure where I stand on the current situation in Gaza, but I know it makes me feel deeply uncomfortable. What are the lengths we would go to to protect our own? The recent changes in British legislation are another example, opening the gates for a myriad of unsettling situations justified under 'anti-terrorism' laws. The fact that Iceland was recently declared a terrorist threat to the UK in order to allow the financiers to gain access to British funds in failing Icelandic banks is nothing short of disasterous. The dystopic worlds of Orwell and Huxley apparently exist, quietly and irrevocably, under a veil of polite deniability and 'human rights'. I would like to think that were such a situation as Anne Frank's ever to arise again, I would do the right thing, no matter how hard it may be. The absolutely terrifying thing is, however, that I do not know what I would do until I am faced with doing it. More terrifying, even, than that is whether there would be anyone to help me and mine if we became persona non grata for some reason or another.
Tuesday 6 January 2009
Education, education, education...
I watched a really interesting documentary about behaviour management in UK primary schools last night. The Dispatches programme on Channel 4 dealt primarily with the issue of individual pupils who, for a variety of reasons, disrupt lessons to such an extent that it is no longer practical to have them in the classroom. It described a government-funded trial of 'nurture rooms' in schools across the country. These rooms double up as both a classroom and a safe environment for the children to explore some of the difficulties they face both in school and at home. The work that is carried out in these rooms focuses on their ability to function in social situations, as well as improving their general behaviour in the classroom to enable them to develop academically. It was a fascinating experiment: unlike many, the schools involved refused to see these pupils as 'just inherently bad' (as some of their parents seemed to think) and were determined to do what they could to get to the root of the problem. As far as the individuals followed were concerned, the trial was a total success; although many of the children still need to step out of the classroom and into the nurture room from time to time, all of them are coping better with both their class teachers and their classmates. Perhaps most interesting of all was the fact that this scheme also involved an element of educating the children's parents - from general parenting skills to more specific methods of coping with their child's particular struggles. None of the parents interviewed seemed to see this as a patronising intrusion on the part of the school; in fact, all seemed extremely relieved that they were receiving much needed advice and support. Of course, it all comes down to money in the end. Despite the success of this scheme, very few schools that currently run it are being given funding to continue, and those that need it are not given access to the funds that are required to set it up. The economics of the situation were clearly outlined, stating that for an initial investment of approximately £40,000 to set up the room and the staff to run it, and a cost of several hundred pounds per year per pupil, many pupils who would go on to have poor attendence and academic development in secondary school remain within the education system. Despite the fact that local government pays out thousands upon thousands of pounds every year to nurture just such children in secondary school, as well as paying the costs of the consequences of leaving bad behaviour unchecked (court costs, criminal damage costs, and so forth), it appears unlikely that nurture rooms in primary schools have much of a future. It is very frustrating to watch education policies being developed which have the potential to positively affect hundreds of children - if not more (a survey suggests that 97% of primary school teachers believe they have children in their class who are regularly disruptive) - subsequently being abandoned because Government thinks in the short-term - more specifically, the four years of their initial tenure.
On a slightly lighter note, here is a very funny review of the new ITV 1 drama series, Demons. I couldn't decide whether to watch this - I think I knew that if I had, it would primarily have been for comedy value, rather than its hard-hitting dramatic commentary!
On a slightly lighter note, here is a very funny review of the new ITV 1 drama series, Demons. I couldn't decide whether to watch this - I think I knew that if I had, it would primarily have been for comedy value, rather than its hard-hitting dramatic commentary!
Monday 5 January 2009
How could I forget?!
Oops - should obviously have commented on the fact that the BBC have just announced their new Doctor Who. I wanted to wait a few days after the announcement to see what the general consensus was from fans. The thrust of comments seems to be along the, 'Matt Smith, who's Matt Smith?' line. I've seen him in several TV productions and I think he'll do fine. It was always going to be a nightmare to try and replace David Tennant - although I think he made the right to decision to quit now. The show is currently running the risk of becoming a little too pedestrian, so the change should shake things up nicely. I also have intense faith in the ability of new Lead Writer and Executive Producer, Steven Moffat, and if he says Mr. Smith will do well, then I'm willing to sit back and enjoy!
New Year, Old Habits
Obviously I sho
uld be cracking down on the ever-growing piles of work on my desk. Instead I've decided to enter the AbeBooks Arabian Nights competition... I won't spend too long on it. Really, I won't. If I put off my next PhD chapter any longer a) my supervisor will hunt me down and demand my funding back, b) I will never get any sleep again and c) I will never ever get round to finishing the PhD and will therefore never ever get round to finding a proper job!
Christmas and New Year were lovely, despite the sense of impending doom that always accompanies January for me. Sister 2 has her birthday on Christmas Day, and brother managed to return from the wilds of the NHS in Bristol, despite still being at work at 9pm on Christmas
Eve. I received many book-related presents, which has forced me to decide two things: 1. I need more shelving space; 2. I'd really rather have a career that's focused around books and reading. I therefore spent the dregs of 2008 writing applications for work experience at various publishing houses. A heavily competitive industry, of course, and yet another industry impacted by the UK's current recessions (yes, even Mr. Brown calls it that now...). It's strange reading the headlines on the BBC news website - every day, one familiar firm or another seems to be going under. Today it was the turn of the Wedgewood brand. There is something deeply unsettling about all this - not only the loss of any kind of financial certainty, but above and beyond that, the loss of choices. For example, as a child of the New Labour education system, I currently owe the Government a rather large amount of money. It grows daily (the interest rates on the amount owed seem to be miraculously unaffected by the current climate, funnily enough...) whereas my chance of earning a wage that will cover repayments plus rent plus energy bills plus general living costs plus travel costs plus insurance and so on and so forth seem to diminish daily, limiting my choices of career and geographical location considerably. It's perhaps no surprise that the vast majority of people I know are intending to leave the country entirely. What a waste...
uld be cracking down on the ever-growing piles of work on my desk. Instead I've decided to enter the AbeBooks Arabian Nights competition... I won't spend too long on it. Really, I won't. If I put off my next PhD chapter any longer a) my supervisor will hunt me down and demand my funding back, b) I will never get any sleep again and c) I will never ever get round to finishing the PhD and will therefore never ever get round to finding a proper job!Christmas and New Year were lovely, despite the sense of impending doom that always accompanies January for me. Sister 2 has her birthday on Christmas Day, and brother managed to return from the wilds of the NHS in Bristol, despite still being at work at 9pm on Christmas
Eve. I received many book-related presents, which has forced me to decide two things: 1. I need more shelving space; 2. I'd really rather have a career that's focused around books and reading. I therefore spent the dregs of 2008 writing applications for work experience at various publishing houses. A heavily competitive industry, of course, and yet another industry impacted by the UK's current recessions (yes, even Mr. Brown calls it that now...). It's strange reading the headlines on the BBC news website - every day, one familiar firm or another seems to be going under. Today it was the turn of the Wedgewood brand. There is something deeply unsettling about all this - not only the loss of any kind of financial certainty, but above and beyond that, the loss of choices. For example, as a child of the New Labour education system, I currently owe the Government a rather large amount of money. It grows daily (the interest rates on the amount owed seem to be miraculously unaffected by the current climate, funnily enough...) whereas my chance of earning a wage that will cover repayments plus rent plus energy bills plus general living costs plus travel costs plus insurance and so on and so forth seem to diminish daily, limiting my choices of career and geographical location considerably. It's perhaps no surprise that the vast majority of people I know are intending to leave the country entirely. What a waste...
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