Monthly Archives: April 2018
WHICH IS TRUE? by Charles Baudelaire I knew one Benedicta who filled earth and air with the ideal; and from whose eyes men learnt the desire of greatness, of beauty, of glory, and of all whereby we believe in immortality. But this miraculous child was too beautiful to live long; and she died only a […]
Let’s have some quotes from Mervyn Peake’s beautifully disturbing Gormenghast trilogy. I love the books and, unlike many, I also really enjoyed the BBC adaptation, but there are rumors that Neil Gaiman is going to have a crack at his own TV version! 1. “He had no longer any need for home, for […]
A Straight Line Runs Through It All
by Israfel Sivad
Wakefield is a film about a man (Bryan Cranston) who abandons his family. The protagonist explores the issues of abandonment as well as other social problems. Most people know Cranston from Breaking Bad (and those of us of a certain age, Malcolm in the Middle) and his character here is similar in that he’s really […]
In my opinion, writing is the foundation of human culture. As one of the earliest means human beings created to launch their thoughts into the future, there would be no cultures on this planet today without writing. However, writing is no longer the sole means of spreading stories and knowledge. With the 20th century advent of film and television, the idea of telling stories through writing is perhaps even the most archaic form of writing today. However, there’s a magic that still exists, for me at least, in a written story. I remember as a younger man thinking that I wanted to develop a form of writing that couldn’t translate to film, that had to be read to be understood. I wanted to expose what language alone is capable of being. It’s an internal experience rather than an external experience. That’s what I want to capitalize on in the stories I tell: the fact that they exist solely in the space between my mind and the reader’s. And therein, for me, lies the current cultural value of writing—that space between the writer’s mind and the reader’s and how it allows one person to comprehend another’s unmediated, unadulterated thoughts. There’s no actor to interpret. There’s no vision to see. There’s only one mind reaching out to another.
This week’s poem is H. P. Lovecraft’s An American to Mother England. I hope you enjoy it!
Originally posted on Bunny’s Pause:
Allow me to pose a question to you dear readers. If a tree falls in the middle of a forest and there’s no-one there to hear it, does it still make a sound? What if that forest is filled with horse-chestnut trees? What if it was oak? Can you…