Showing posts with label hierarchy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hierarchy. Show all posts

Saturday, 8 November 2014

Review of 'The Bird In a Cage'



Firstly, I'm aware this picture is of a horrendous quality, however, as England appears to be entering some kind of Dark Age (and not of the literary variety), our lights have to be on from about 4pm onwards. The sheen makes me want to cry, but hey ho, summer's only seven months away ....




Anyway, as you're all probably aware, I read quite a number of 16th and 17th plays and poems as part of my uni course (have a look at what I think about this period in literature generally here). The Bird In a Cage is a play about a girl named Eugenia whose father, a Duke, imprisons her in a tower in order to preserve her chastity. He wants her to marry a Prince in Florence and doesn't want the potential for this to happen to be destroyed by a wayward suitor getting his wicked way with her. Unfortunately, all of Eugenia's ladies, some of whom already have suitors, are locked away in the tower with her. Philenzo, Eugenia's lover, hatches a plan to secure her hand in marriage. Disguised as Rolliardo, he challenges the Duke: he gets to marry Eugenia if he manages to get past the Duke's defenses surrounding Eugenia. The quotation above encapsulates the Duke's response. 



This play is filled with many conventions of 17th Century humour that is still relevant and funny today. My personal favourite is the scene during which Morello attempts to get access to the tower by dressing up as a woman. This reminded me of the introduction of the Dame in many modern pantomimes. You can almost envision Morello giving the audience a cheeky wink as he swishes his skirts across the stage to try and entrap the guards. Although the following scene in which the guards attempt to "check" his gender appears a bit rapacious, it is clearly intended to be delivered with a great deal of humour.

The Duke's decision to lock Eugenia up in the castle offers an interesting insight into the role of women, and the relationship between women and money. Just as one would lock up one's money in a modern bank, the Duke locks up his most prized possession so that no thieves can access her. It appears as though Eugenia is the Duke's only child. In this respect, his entire wealth rests on her shoulders. In order to create a successful marriage in monetary terms, the Duke needs her to marry whilst she is a virgin. Thus, a daughter's virginity assumes an almost physical value. Without it, a woman is subject to marrying a much poorer man, as no man high up in society is likely to agree to marrying a woman who has been "used". I think every woman or girl reading this play can feel a sense of accomplishment when Philenzo manages to breach the tower and Eugenia can be united with the man she loves, rather than the man her father wants her to love. 

Any comments/questions are always welcome

Love and Light
Steph x

Thursday, 17 July 2014

A Review of Lady Chatterley's Lover

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLPGlASTz6tXtSw0kgR8dH-dmAb2XWXsiRPca3GDaN3WbRzq4TkaNrywtysycFCvrnZeIIaDMX3gAHyaJX7Q3JuejWMbvp1spIfjBguzX4UUDskOS0R7NbmoqI51NSC5mcw9X4YluTZKB/s1600/timthumb.jpg

D.H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover is not only an important book in terms of its literary merit, but also its socio-historic impact upon England's publishing world. Although the novel was written in the 1920s, an uncensored version was not published here until 1960. Even then it caused a great deal of scandal: Penguin, the publishing house for the text, was forced to undergo an obscenity trial due to the explicit erotic language and themes the book contained. they fought for the literary merit of the book and the case was concluded with the verdict "not guilty". This makes Lady Chatterley's Lover a key implement in British authors' attempts to discuss erotic concepts in modern texts. 
The story commences with the tale of a sexually licentious girl who marries Sir Clifford briefly before World War I. He returns from the war paralyzed from the waist down. This allows Lawrence to broach the the uncomfortable and forbidden question at the back of everyone's minds: "does it work?". Unfortunately for Sir Clifford, the answer is no. 
Connie, or Lady Chatterley, becomes depressed as a result of their sexless, joyless marriage and begins to seek a lover to satisfy her maternal cravings for a child. This plot is ensconced in a Hardy-esque condemnation of the industrialization of England, as well as a self-conscious examination of class differences.
Despite hearing mixed reviews for the book, I don't regret picking it up (or rather downloading it to my kindle) at all. The book is a pastiche of genres, which I believe is a reason why it doesn't sit well with many readers. It has a great focus on man's connection with nature, which is emblematic of Romantic writing, whilst displaying the futility of human life, terse vocabulary, and lack of sentimentality of modern writing. 
The first portion of the novel seems rather dry and hard to digest. Yet, this appears to merely be a stylistic mirroring of Connie's sexually barren state: once she secures a lover the writing becomes more poetic and much more enjoyable. Though Connie is hardly a likeable figure, doesn't modern fiction often strive to teach us that people cannot be labelled as being good or bad, but rather are more complicated?
So if you want an easy to read, yet important piece of fiction to add to your "To Read" list this summer, pick up Lady Chatterley's Lover​ and give it a shot!
Love, Stephanie