Agnes Grey by Anne Bronte

Agnes Grey's portrayl of the life of a governess is one that seems to stand out from the usual portayl of children in the Victorian era. If we think of children in the 1800's we get the Dickensian idea of workhouses and the downtrodden child or possibly the peripheral Henry James type child - Bronte's children differ from both of these. This is mainly down to the fact that a) she is dealing with, largely, a different class of children then Dicken was and b) Anne Bronte actually knew what children were like due to her own work as a governess. This sees a vivid and truly emphatic portayl of the life of someone whose job is the family but who is never truly part of the family.

The opening sections of the story recounting a household in which the three young children ran rings around the protagonist I found both unsettling and entertaining in equal measures. The steep learning curve that Agnes finds herself on is one where it is easy for the reader to empathise with her. However as the book progresses and Agnes moves to another house to become the governess to two older young women I felt the characters began to blend together far too much. A tool used by Anne Bronte to highlight the character traits is to present you with two characters at the same time that are vastly different to one another. This can be seen in the differing portayl of the two sisters, Mary and Rosalie, as well as the difference between Mr Hatfield, the mean spirited rector, and Mr Weston, the inevitable love intrest. I found this technique did not work so well as I have seen it done in other books of the period and I often found the two sisters interchangable.

In books of this style and period one cannot help reading sideways and comparing Anne Bronte's works, firstly to that of her sisters but mainly to Jane Austen. Anne is no Jane Austen and Agnes Grey is no Jane Eyre. I got the feeling that Anne's youth disabled her to writen as convingincly about love as she did about children - in many ways Anne's work seems to be cribbed from her contempories, both familal and liteary. Anne Bronte is unfortunatley going to be consigned to history as an also-ran.

Look and Move On by Mohammed Mrabet and Paul Bowles

Mrabet started out in life as a Moroccan equivilant of Del-Boy, if such a thing can be imagined. He spent his formative years seducing women, living off dodgy deals and being shown around the world by affluent friends (OK maybe that bit is nothing like Del-Boy.) This book, like all of Mrabet's other works, is translated from an oral telling from the Moroccan by Paul Bowles, an American writer in his own right. This technique seems to lend itself to Mrabet's discordant and disordered style of storytelling and I was somewhat concerned it would not easily transfer into an autobiographical account of Mrabet's life - gladyly I will admit I was wrong.

The story has a slight Tarzan-esque feel to it an as much as where Mrabet's streetwise demeanour allows him to live a life of near luxury in Morroco, on his two journeys to America he is very much a fish out of water. However this does not mean that he does not have a tale to tell - the man befriended Tenessee Williams for example - whilst also allowing his 'native' culture to impact on the Americans he meets, killing and cooking robins for example.

As well as channeling Tarzan, the protagonist of Look and Move on also has the odd whif of Mark Twain's boy heros. The down to earth and obstinate persona that Mrabet portrays allows him to contrast his form of culture to the capitalist one that he finds himself in. On top of this just as Twain's work is a coming of age tale this story has many of the same qualities and after his return from America we see Mrabet settle down and learn from the mistakes he has previously made. However this is not the end of Mrabet's unique tale.

Modernism and the Harlem Renaissance by Houston A. Baker

Houston A. Baker is a well respected and very talented writer on the study of black literature and culture. His books are seen as pivotal in the canon for those exploring the integration and segregation of the African American throughout the twentieth century - however this book is beguiling in as much as it pays only a cursory glance to Modernism and the Harlem Renaissance is covered in even less detail. Instead Baker focuses on the voice of the African American in and around the 1920's and a study of dialect in literature from that time. Baker appears to be maligning a sense of self-concious reflecion and criticism of Afro-American literature from an Afro-American perspective instead of a Euro-American perspective. This acts a distraction throughout the book because through his focus on Euro-American cirticism we lose any sense of this throughout the study and leave not really knowing what an Afro-American citicism is.

Whilst this book doesn't do what it say's on the tin, what it does do is very informative and insiteful. Baker's indepth studies of such works as Du Bois' 'The Souls of Black Folk', Locke's 'The New Negro' and Washington's 'Up from Slavery' are particually useful in unpacking the argument that Baker is positing. In an attempt to try and include the Renaissance Baker finds himself spending brief periods of time on stage performances, music and poetry however these points seem to become ingulfed by his study of texts.

This book did not really satisfy me as it was through my interest of the Harlem Renaissance that I selected it for and I found it frustrating that that idea was being shyed away from somewhat throughout the study. I would much rather Baker had taken the time spent giving comparative insights between Afro-American writers and white writers such as Fitzgerald and Joyce and used them to write about the Renaissance in greater depth.

The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall

I chose this book out of a reference book that I occasionally go to called 'The Rough Guide to Cult Fiction' and by it's very nature the books included are wildly hit and miss. Some of my favorite authors, such as John Fante I discovered through this book however you can get some real dross in there too, like Samuel R. Delaney. This book, I am pleased to say, was in the former category - a real joy.

This book was banned on publication in the 1920's for it's depiction of a lesbian woman's battle for equality in the early to mid 1900's, however it's shock factor has aged pretty badly and if you're looking for a frank description of a lesbian affair this book is not for you. In fact when compared to modern day novels this work seems somewhat ludicrous in in the lengths it goes to in skirting round the act of lesbian sex. What it it does deliver is an intense psychological analysis of an ordinary woman in extreme circumstances of segregation. This is primarily borne through Hall's firsthand experience of discrimination due to her lesbianism and it is clear to see that the novel is a very autobiographical one in many respects.

This novel is scathing on the parental scarring that can be ensued in cases of otherness. The main female character is christened Stephen after her parent set their heart on having a boy and as she grows up she is treated in a very similar fashion to how a boy would be. However when this starts to manifest itself in the embryonic form of her lesbianism her Father worries about how society will accept his daughter whilst simultaneously failing to communicate these worries to her mother. This eventually sees Stephen's mother casting her out of the house after she discovers love letters from another women. The shadow of the parent hangs heavy throughout this work and you can't help but wonder what role Hall's parents play in this novel.

The Well of Loneliness is simply a beautifully written piece of work that is crafted sublimely and pitched just right to sustain your attention in what is a fairly long novel. It is easy to forget that Hall's words, now seen as dated, where radical at the time and this book needs to be read with this concept in mind. However in essence this story is a love story as well as a story regarding the journey of a single protagonist and the obstacles she come across. In away this is a coming of age story, however the age was not quite ready for it.

Movie Review #1: Tenebrae

I am reliably informed that it was a suprise when director Dario Argento returned to his detective thriller roots after many succesful supernatural films - I, however, am more suprised that this film had a director at all. In fact I nearly fell off my chair when I discovered that the people on screen were proffesional actors being told what to do by a director rather than a group of people that happened to stumble their way into a film studio and not manage to act their way out of it.





The plot of Tenebrae was well-used even on it's 1980 release. The main 'character' (if such a word can be used) is Peter Neal a crime writer who has recently relased a violent and bloody book by the name of 'Tenebrae' - and some murderers only gone and started copying the fictional crimes haven't they! God, I hate it when that happens! The action takes place in Rome for a reason that is never really fully explained and is even more mystifing when you take into consideration that every single character in it speaks fluent English. There is even a scene where the murderer is hiding from detection and observes two Italian plumbers in an Italian hotel unaware they are being watched and yet speaking English to one another. I get the feeling that the Italian director wanted the mouintain to come to Mohammed rather than vice versa, the only problem is I think it may have got damaged in transit.





I struggle to get my head around the aesthetics of the film as well. The only explanation I can think of is that the entire cast and crew of this film were snatched from their cradles at birth and were forced to wach crime/horror films every hour of the day without any contact with the outside world. The effect of this is that the world we see in 'Tenebrae' is as far from the world that you or I live in than Middle Earth. When one of the 'characters' is snooping around in the garden of one of the suspects in a rainstorm, a bolt of lightning is suggested through what I can only imagine is the headlights of a Fiat Punto being switched on for possibly three of four times the length of time a lighningbolt actually lasts.





The film falls into the trap of most horror/crime films from the 1980's in it's overly sexual imagery. Whilst we don't have the staples that films like 'Scream' go on to pastiche in the next decade, there are many cheeky glimpses of breast just for the sake of it. One of the murderers victim are a pair of lesbians- one of whom is in a bar with her nipple poking out at one point whilst when she gets home she really goes nuts and walks around wearing just a sheet around her waist. If I was taking this film as a piece of historical documentation I would have said that at this period of time the bra was not invented due to the sheer amount of unsupported breasts and cheeky nipple flashes - but then again we are in the eighties so I suppose I can't hold this against them too much.





Whilt knocking the actors the two primary actors aren't too awful: Anthony Franciosa, a kind of Aldi-version of Harrison Ford, does a passable impression of someone who has actually felt emotion before and then there's Giuliano Gemma, who looks and acts like a cross between Columbo and an Italian version of Alan Hansen.

This film, however, will hold pride of place in my heart as having the worst ever actor I have ever seen in anything ever - Step forward Christian Borromeo. Borromeo portrays a character called Gianni and for the majority of the film stared gormlessly around as if he had been thrust in front of the camera when he felt like he should be doing something far more important. This character's girlfriend is mauled by a dog and then found with an axe in her torso - now I have never experienced such a scenario so maybe I shouldn't judge too harshly but I am certain that in the next scene I would not be grinning inanely and leaping around like a spaniel. Borromeo can't take all the blame however. The scripting is awful - he and Neal are exploring the house of one of the suspects and could be slaughtered at any point yet it was felt necessary for him to squeal "I haven't been in another man's garden since I was six" Goodbye tension!

All-in-all it is a simply laughable film - but maybe that's not entirely bad thing. At no point did I want to stop watching but that's more down to it's camp value for any kind of legacy that it will leave on the world of film.

Hadrian VII by Frederick Rolfe

George Arthur Rose is a writer of potboilers in 1800's London who has been spurned by the Catholic church. However through a combination of a hasty reconcilliation with his faith and the opaque politics of the Vatican Rose sees himself elected Pope Hadrian VII. From this position he manages to put the world to rights both politically and in his own life. However his position is put into doubt when some spectres fom his past come to Rome to try and topple him from his the Papal seat.

You do not need to have a Masters in Creative Writing to see the similarities between Rose at the begining of the book and Rolfe's position in society. Rolfe himself was rejected by the Catholic church and felt that he had been let down by the church throughout his life. With this in mind it is clear to see that Hadrian VII is a process of wish-fufillment for Rolfe. Using Hadrian as an analouge Rolfe has been able to spout his disenchantment with politics, national identity, religion, royalty and English nationalism and when Hadrian has to defend himself against his naysayers it is an opportunity for the author himself to defend his life choices.

Whilst this may not sound like it would make good reading the novel has an inexplicable charm. Whilst their is not much 'action' in a conventional sense the book never drags and you can't help but get caught up in the politics and the intrigue of the Vatican. In this sense the novel comes across like an ecclesiastical version of an episode of West Wing. Putting aside the subect for a second, the style of writing adopted by Rolfe is simultaneously unique and beautiful and the intensity of the language really bears fruit in the closing chapters of the book. Whilst we are used to the protagonist being loose cyphers for the authors beliefs this idea of a fantastical autio-biography or an idealised life story is one that has been consigned as an Edwardian curiosity - more's the pity.