by Hannah Rose
Virginia Woolf stated in her 1929 seminal essay A Room of One’s Own that, because women remain unequal to men in society, they are less likely to succeed as writers. A writer has two basic requirements in order to write productively: an independent income which provides basic necessities—food and shelter— and uninterrupted writing time. In 1929, the majority of British women were either working to provide the basic necessities for others, and did not have a private space in which to pursue a creative life or an independent income. This, says Wolf, is why the literary canon is dominated by men. “Intellectual freedom,” she writes, “depends upon material things.”
Almost a century later, some women are still having to argue their right to a creative life.Continue Reading
by Alex Valente
Original Italian by Nadia Campana (1954-1985), untitled from Verso la Mente
more of the living during the journey
many horizons for hours and hours
submerged in distanceContinue Reading
by Carmina Masoliver
CW: mentions harassment, domestic violence
When I first saw Tony Walsh, aka longfella, it was as a feature act at the Genesis Poetry Slam in Whitechapel. I remember being struck by a line about how growing breasts being something that labels some people ‘women’. This was a revelation to me, and yet something that I could identify with as a cis-gender woman reflecting on adolescence; it felt profound that a man could understand this experience in a way that made me feel understood in a way I hadn’t yet articulated myself.
When I later read what I assumed to be these same lines in Sex & Love & Rock&Roll, they didn’t strike me in quite the same way, as they offered something different. In ‘Start All the Clocks’, Walsh repeats ‘tell me how it feels’, as he asks of the readers
‘…tell me how it feels when you start to grow breasts
When Mother Nature writes ‘woman’ across a girl’s chest.’
It is in these lines that mean that Walsh is not solely a poet to hear on stage, but also one to read on the page, where you have the time to reflect and think.Continue Reading
by Ellen Duncan
Content warning: article mentions suicide
I’ll start this review with a confession – Unthology 9, edited by Ashley Stokes and Robin Jones, is the first of the Unthology series that I’ve read. I can’t comment on the progression of the anthology series, nor on where any existing trajectory might take it. This review will stand alone, as Unthology 9 does for me.
It opens with an introduction: ‘Welcome to the Archipelago.’ This is a stylized, imagery-heavy bit of prose that could feel gimmicky, but mostly avoids the trap. And the concept – of an oceanic journey, of travel through and around and between and beyond the islands of an archipelago – feels appropriate to what follows.Continue Reading
by James Anthony
On the face of it, rural train stations don’t feel as though they should be particularly thought provoking places, and they’re probably the last place you’d look to find an inspiring piece of community art. ‘Community art’ in this sense may be bending the meaning of the term a little too far for some – what I saw outside Wymondham train station the other evening were simply thinly scrawled words spray painted onto an old grey wall.
The words were ‘graffiti is a crime’.
An amusing phrase to go alongside the obvious activity – but as I walked past debating whether or not I could be bothered to take a picture or bring it up in pub conversation later, it got me thinking more and more about how graffiti is viewed in society. I don’t condone defacing clearly private property; I believe graffiti is an art form that needs to be given space.Continue Reading
by Eli Lambe
Hopkinson’s writing is enchanting. Her words wrap around you and inhabit you, they turn your skin to bark, the wind into a goddess, your body lifts and falls with the lines of beautifully crafted prose. To read her work is to be transformed, transported, transcended. Her first novel, Brown Girl in the Ring (1998), explored community, magic, and family in a Toronto “hollowed out” by white-flight and financial catastrophe.
Her second, Midnight Robber (2000), used language — particularly dialect — and mythology to imagine, from a Caribbean perspective, “what stories we’d tell ourselves about our technology – what our paradigms for it might be” and to bring together ideas of storytelling, colonialism and trauma. Since then, she has published several other novels and collections, all of which are thoughtful, accessible and fundamentally affecting, the most recent of which is the subject of this review. Continue Reading
by Tony Moore
Content warning: article mentions suicide.
World famous art comes to campus and it looks wonderful, works subtly with Lasdun’s buildings to eulogise their monumental quality whilst highlighting the interplay of light with the elements.
What’s not to like?
Then those pesky snowflake students start moaning that the figure might be perceived as about to jump and could be a ‘suicide’ trigger.
What is not to like, is that the snowflake students are fundamentally right to make their views known: they are confronting an authoritarian, elitist art work imposed on their community from ‘above’.