Summer 2015 plans

I am home now, back in Ireland, in between the sea and the Cave Hill. I wake in the morning to the sound of my mother and father whispering loudly on the landing, the smell of soda bread and fresh coffee. The house is warm and there is always fresh, clean towels folded neatly in the hot press. The swans are gliding in graceful circles on the pond opposite our house and the linen mill is still standing. I find that being away from a place brings you closer to it and I feel a connection to my own little country that I never had when I was living there. So many times whilst living in Bath, I have longed for someone to take their head phones out while we stand waiting for the bus and tell me how their day was, I've longed for shop keepers to rest their hand on my arm when they're talking to me but English people aren't familiar like the Irish. Many times when I've lain in bed, I've missed the gritty smell of the city and the earnest honesty the Belfast people have. There's no folks like home folks - they're the best of all.

Second year of University is over and another summer stretches out before me - long, dusty, winding. It's my last summer as a student before I'm thrown into the world and forced to become an adult. I hear other's around me talking about how afraid they are at the thought of 'growing up' but I am not afraid, It's recently occurred to me how blessed I am, how privileged I am to be a woman in this day and age. I can do whatever I please, be anyone I want, go where I please and when I please. I always depended on another person but now, more than ever, I'm craving independence.


My parents paid for me to do an online TEFL course and so my summer is going to be devoted to getting the qualification. I long to go away, to work in another part of the world and see how people live. It's occurred to me the importance of travelling and seeing the world for God commanded in Genesis for people to 'spread out and populate the earth.' There is so much beauty, wonder and joy in this world and I believe it's our duty to spend our time wisely. Communication is the basis of life and giving someone else the gift of communication is one of the highest gifts there is. The English language is beautiful and I can't wait to reconstruct it, analyse it, reconstruct it, retain it and then pass it onto another.

This summer is also the time for exploration, self improvement, working and travel. I am working in the Jane Austen Centre, mostly at the weekends and I really do love my job. I'll be moving into my new house and living with five wonderful and inspiring girls. I've been interested in how things grow and so my new house mate Morien and I will be planting some sunflowers and pumpkins and tending our little garden. I''ll be working on my novel, trying to write some articles and reading as much as I can. I also want to learn to drive (more freedom) and travel round England with my new rail pass and a sense of wonder and curiosity. I am also going to Wilderness festival which will probably be a bit of an experience and I'm travelling to Switzerland in September so there is plenty to fill my time.

You have to keep moving, keep looking forward and live with passion and conviction. You must
give the soul as well as the heart.

Book Review of 'Nora Webster' by Colm Tóibín

The cover of ‘Nora Webster’ is like an old photograph, salvaged from a box hidden somewhere in the attic: the woman, huddled in her forest green coat, stares out at sea. The title of the novel is simple- it is about a woman called Nora Webster. Like so many Irish modernist novels, nothing much happens in the book which some readers may find this dull and interesting.  There is no fast-moving-action-packed plot line so don’t read this novel if that’s what you’re looking for. What you will find is a story rich in details, colourful in characterization and golden in details of the innate, inner life.  

The novel is set in a little town called Enniscorthy, in the South-East of Ireland. Nora Webster has been recently widowed and must face the daunting task of bringing up her sons on her own, being strong for her two grown up daughters, dealing with criticism and advice from all those around her and being the sole breadwinner of the family. Nora faces the challenges any widow must face but she draws great strength from music and singing which enables her to move past her husband Maurice’s death, let go of her old life and allow her to start living again.

What I loved so much about ‘Nora Webster’ was the sheer ordinariness of the novel. Colm Tóibín’s glorifies the simplicity of life in a small Irish town and the novel reads almost like a memoir.  The passage which has stayed with me the most, is when Nora goes to her clean out their old seaside holiday home and comes to the realisation that that happiness is over - they would pass no more summers there:

 ‘She would not come here again. This is the last time she’d visit this house. What surprised her was the hardness of her resolve, how easy it seemed to turn her back on what she loved, leave this house on the lane to the cliff for others to know for others to come to in the summer and fill with different noises. She let herself feel how much she had lost, how much she would miss.’

What I did struggle with however was Nora herself and I was not completely sure whether or not I liked her. She seemed hardened and desensitised to all that was going around her and I often felt she was selfish. Her sisters, Catherine and Una didn’t seem to like her all that much either. The novel is set over a three year period so Nora wasn’t raw with grief and the novel is more the aftermath of tragedy but I would have liked to see a bit more emotion from the character. 

Whether I liked Nora Webster or not is not the issue for Colm Tóibín has painted a portrait so true to life that it reflects on all of humanity. Tóibín sheds light on the gift of music and the importance creativity has on the healing process which I find a such a beautiful and simple resolve to the novel.

  

Flux: A study of light and life by Isabelle Hogarth

On the opening night of Isabelle’s exhibition ‘Flux,’ the room was alive with people mulling around, spilling wine and perusing the nine paintings. But now the room is empty save for Isabelle and I and the space is completely transformed. The paintings are all untitled, adding to the continuity of Isabelle’s work. Each painting holds different shades of light and the idea of ‘flux’ indicates the process of flowing: light flows between the canvases. It’s hard not feeling consumed by the work, as the paintings speak to one another and an environment of light and space is created.

Isabelle is fascinated by the ever changing light of the sky; she spends a lot of her time going for long walks in pursuit of light. Her travels lead her to Marrakesh where she experienced the hot, warm light of the Middle East and this brought new perspective to her work.  She created the two paintings (right) after walking by the Avon canal, watching as the dying light of dusk settled on the bulrushes and turned the water a murky turquoise colour. 

By using subtractive colour theory, Isabelle takes a lot of care in preparing and mixing her paints until the colours complement each other.  Her palette is often muted as she seeks to capture subterranean and earthy colours as can be seen in the work below.  

Isabelle’s art is mimetic, her subconscious comes through in the paintings and they are undoubtedly, an extension of her inner self. She works quickly, making marks on the canvas, allowing the painting to lead her. She experiments with primers, tipping and layering paint and sometimes working at different angles. Viewers experienced the paintings in very different ways and Isabelle was interested to hear what they drew from her work; one girl told her that the painting (pictured right) reminded her of the path she took down to the sea whilst it made me think of the afterlife when Heaven and Earth shall meet. 

After a very successful first solo exhibition, Isabelle plans to continue capturing light and push forward with her paintings. She is now experimenting with artificial light and plans to travel to Japan later in the year to take a course in wood blocking printing.  She says that an artist must allow themselves to follow unexpected path and let life lead you where it will. 

To find out more about Isabelle, view her photography or purchase any of her paintings visit her website: www.isabellehogarth.co.uk

In Cornwall: Review of 'Diving Belles' by Lucy Wood.

I have been in Cornwall four days – walking in its country lanes, drinking locally brewed rhubarb cider, feasting on real Cornish pasties and having dollops of clotted cream with every dessert. The people are different here. They wave at me like I am an old friend and it feels like I’m back home in Ireland. The sun is hot in this part of England and the sea is so clear. I bought a pair of glass turquoise ear rings, the same colour of the sea. Standing in the garden mid-morning, with the dew still wet on the grass, I watch the sea mist slowly creep inland. I have never seen sea mist before. It looks like a beautiful lady walking slowly around the earth, her ghostly white skirt trailing behind her.

I like to read about the places I visit so I went to ‘Mr B’s Emporium of Reading Delights’ to find something delightfully Cornish. ‘Lucy Wood is as Cornish as you’ll get,’ Nick, the bookseller said as he handed me a lovely little book, with illustrations of mermaids and seashells on the front cover. Lucy Wood grew up in Cornwall and Diving Belles’ is her first collection of short stories; the stories are an entanglement of everyday experience, memories, otherworldliness and Cornish folk lore.

I was captivated by the two worlds which Wood has created in the collection: that of the constrained human world and the freedom of the magical realm. It is interesting to watch as these two worlds collide and merge. In ‘Lights in Other People’s Houses,’ I was caught between the mundane problems of Maddy and Russell and intrigued by the confused wrecker who longed for the sea. Pretty soon the wrecker begins to take over the house and the humans don’t really seem to mind that their hallway is full of sand or that shells drip from the taps. Likewise Iris gets vouchers to go underwater to see if she can find her husband whom she hasn't seen in years. When she does find him, he has become something other than human. This acceptance of there being another sort of existence painted a very alluring picture of the Cornish landscape where pixies and people live in harmony.  

All of the characters are so very unique which displays Wood’s great imagination. From the rather boring character of Rita who stands up on the cliffs and turns into stone to the grumpy old grandmother who combs the beach for treasures, all of the characters are surreal. However, it’s not all froth as some of the stories have a dark side. In ‘Magpies’ a man follows an injured bird into the wood to find that he has been there before; dreams, nightmares, and meetings with old friends are woven into the story. In ‘Of Mothers and Little People,’ the narrator keeps referring to ‘your mother’ and ‘the man’ and the familiarity of these characters haunted me.

The story which undoubtedly touched me the most was ‘Notes from the House spirits.’ It is written from the perspective of the spirits who guard the house and they record every little detail of what goes on. They notice every piece of dust that settles on the curtain rail and the butterballs left to rot under the sofa and all the people who come and go. They grow attached to the people. They remember things about them like the sound of their laugh or the way the showered. Perhaps it is the omnipresence of the narrator which paints such a potent and intricate portrait of human life.

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Tomorrow I will return to Bath; go back to my reading lists and my books and begin exam revision. Bath is small and claustrophobic and the people look straight through you. There is no sea. I will arrange my new collection of sea glass, pebbles and shells on my desk and when I need to escape I will lift a shell to my ear, close my eyes and imagine I am by the sea.  

Who was the girl with the pearl earring?

(This article is published by Pie Magazine)

Here is the face that has haunted art critics and viewers for the last two hundred years. Since this painting’s rediscovery in 1881 by Arnoldus Andries des Tombe at an auction at The Hague, it has continued to invite speculation and intrigue. Very little is known about Johannes Vermeer’s masterpiece, not even the year in which it was painted, although it is estimated to have been around 1665. The sheer mystery of the work only adds to our curiosity and is one of most unanswered questions in art: Who

‘The Girl with a Pearl Earring’ by Johannes Vermeer.
She hangs at the Maurithuis, Holland.

There is a lot of debate amongst scholars; many believe that it was Vermeer’s eldest daughter Maria who would have been around twelve when it was painted. One critic remarked that ‘only a father can paint such portraits’ – but despite being a face of innocence, there is something deeply sensual about the painting; notice how she looks over her shoulder with large enticing eyes, her lips slightly parted and wet. Others suspect that she was Catharina, the wife of Vermeer, who sat for many of his paintings, whilst others argue she was the daughter of Vermeer’s patron, Pieter Van Ruijven. In her novel, ‘The Girl with a Pearl Earring,’ Tracy Chevalier has cast her as Griet, the family servant who Vermeer was captivated by and entices to sit for a portrait.

The subject is open to our fictitious imaginings but it may well have been that the girl was a figment of Vermeer’s own imagination. The turban she is wearing, a fashionable prop in the fifteenth century, evokes the exotic life of the Middle-East and appears to be made of silk as it reflects the light. The earring is considered too big to be an actual pearl but the way it catches the light gives the illusion of a pearl. Pearls were often seen as symbols of virtue and fidelity in Dutch symbolist paintings so perhaps Vermeer has tried to create the ideal woman. Perhaps the girl never existed. Perhaps it is her illusion which haunts us.

The way in which she is painted, the techniques Vermeer uses, continues to baffle art critics and viewers as it has for centuries. It is almost impossible to follow Vermeer’s brush strokes or work out his technique and again this adds to the mystery of the painting. The dark background gives the flesh vibrancy and the three primary colours, yellow blue, and the hint of red on the lips, makes the subject stand out. Vermeer brilliance lies in the way in which he captures the light, draws our eye to certain spots on the painting: the moisture of the girl’s lip, the shine of her earring and the gleam in her eye. It is the tenderness in her gaze which suggests the connection between herself, the painter and the viewer. Her warm and welcoming eyes invite us to come and know her. Once she has looked at you, you cannot forget her.

• TAGS
• AIMEE COATES
• ART
• JOHANNES VERMEER
• PAINTING
• THE GIRL WITH A PEARL EA

Book Review of 'Elizabeth Is Missing.'

I kept trying to ignore this book as I walked past it on the shelf of my local bookshop. But the urgency of the title stayed in my mind for days. I kept repeating to myself 'Elizabeth is Missing, Elizabeth is missing', until I finally had to find out where Elizabeth had went. Crime fiction and mystery drama are my least favourite forms of fiction but I found myself captivated by the mysteries which surrounded ninety year old Maud. In the prologue, Maud discovers a compact mirror buried in her garden which introduces two unsolved mysteries which are woven together in the novel.

In the opening chapters, Maud appears to be an ordinary old woman suffering from Alzheimer's disease. She has to write herself notes to jug her memory although she can't remember writing them. She forgets how well supplied her cupboards are with tinned peaches and has to write down not to 'buy any more tinned peaches.' But there's one note which keeps telling her that her friend Elizabeth has disappeared. Maud has no idea where Elizabeth is and she helplessly sets out to find her. She can't remember the last time she saw Elizabeth or the clues which might help her solve the mystery. The narrative flits between present and past tense. Set just after the Second World War, Maud's memories take her back to the mysterious and somewhat shady disappearance of her sister, Sukey. Maud's memory is now as clear as crystal as she remembers all the events which surrounded Sukie's disappearance. She gives the reader clues as to what happened to Sukie but it's up to us to solve the crime.

The novel has some wonderfully vivacious and loveable characters: from the gibberish mad woman to Doug the lodger, who thinks he's in American movies, It is a very easy read, a page turner and what Jonathan Coe called 'one of those mythical beasts' as it very difficult to put the book down. The story is told in a very quirky way as Maud is rather eccentric; she collects fingernails and old earrings, anything which might help her find Sukie. Not often do we read a narrative written from the view point of a ninety year old senile women and so the story is deeply touching and at times very sad. What is most striking about the book is the fragmentation and degeneration of the human mind and I experienced Maud's anguish and frustration at not being able to remember. The book gave me chills when I realised that I too might end up like Maud.

The only draw back for me as a reader is that the ending is rather rushed and becomes somewhat predictable and unbelievable. But this did not stop me loving the novel and I praise Emma Healey for her skill, sensitivity and originality. As a English Literature student we are often discouraged from reading popular mass literature and taught to shy away from literary trends but 'Elizabeth is Missing' is the perfect example of why some books are best selling novels - they are so bloody brilliant!

Nine lives: the books which have shaped my life.

HAPPY WORLD BOOK DAY!

Illustration by Dick Vincent.

I have always loved World Book Day since I have been a child. Dressing up as a book character was one of my favourite things to do and I always was one of the characters from the Brother's Grimm tales. I remember how rich I felt when I received those free book tokens they gave you and I anxiously emptied my money box, wondering how much I could spend on books. I devoured books as a child, especially books about animals. I read beneath the table in maths class (really wished I had of paid attention though, when it came to GCSE time!) and managed to get through a book a day. Almost ten years later not much has changed. I still love to read more than ever. I have read a lot growing up and as this is my twentieth book year, I have complied a list of the books that have most influenced me over the course of my life.

1. The Bible:There are, in fact, sixty-six books between this old cover. From history, to spirituality, to poetry, to philosophy, The Bible has always been my guiding light. There is such vivid, prosaic descriptions, flowing lyric and it is full of wisdom. The King James Version, translated in 1611, is my favourite version.

2. 'The Essential Works' of Jennifer Johnston: I first stumbled upon Johnston's work the bookshelves of my old school and from then on, I realised I wanted to be a writer. Johnston has been described as 'The Miss Havisham of Irish Literature,' which, in my opinion, is the best review an author can ever receive. Her style is sporadic, musical, it flows and bends, dips into the unconscious and the complexities of the human condition. She is my favourite novelist.

3. 'Revolutionary Road' by Richard Yates: I read this book quite young and I was greatly influenced by the mundane prospect of adult life: 9-5 jobs, a mortgage, a family, and losing yourself in the middle of all these things.It is quite adult in it's contents and rather bleak as it's message basically tells us that we will never escape the suburban trap, that no matter how different we think we are in college, we all face the same fate. It made me realise that we are all the same and that life is only coloured by the little, beautiful things. It's the attention to detail.

4. 'The Catcher in the Rye,' by J.D. Salinger: I don't think any adolescent hasn't been influenced by this misanthropic classic.  As a 'misunderstood' eighteen year old, in a world of 'phonies,' I thought everything was 'corny.' I could quote the whole book to you and I just wanted to run away and marry Holden Caulfield. The last line of the book is my particular favourite, 'Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.' At eighteen, Holden was the only person who got me. But two years later, I am glad to look back and see that 'The Catcher in the Rye' is such a juvenile perception of the world and I like seeing how much I have changed from when I first read it.

5. 'Flappers and Philosophers' by F.Scott Fitzgerald: When I was seventeen, I was introduced to a world of art, music, poetry and culture. I saw beyond my own working class background, that other people lived differently and was possible to do anything. Fitzgerald's prose is so elegant that it made me want more. It made me want a beautiful life. 

6. 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Bronte: Jane is my favourite narrator. She is quiet, timid, observing everything from afar. What I love about Jane is her fierce little character, her loyalty, her devotion to morality and her ability to be content in whatever circumstance she is faced with. Her enduring love for Mr Rochester always haunts me.

7. The dairies of Sylvia Plath: I am not a big fan of Plath's prose or poetry but I hold her diaries in great esteem. They are freely written unlike the constraints and rigidity of her poetry. What inspired me about this work is Plath's hardiness, her willing to make it and her attention to details. All in all, it's just like reading another girl's diary!

8. 'A girl is a half-formed thing' by Eimear McBride: Although I did not like the subject of the book at all, it has revolutionised writing and shown me that there is no 'wrong' way to write. The work cannot be described as stream of consciousness, it is beyond that. It begins with conception and ends in death, everything in between is the workings of the human mind. I greatly respect McBride's style as it has provided me with a freedom in my own writing. 

9. 'Tess of the D'urbervilles' by Thomas Hardy: Perhaps it is a rather obvious choice but I read it at a time of my life when I had done something awful and was paying the consequences. This book didn't influence me as much as it made me sympathise with the heroine. I felt like Tess was a friend, that we were both going through our own struggles: she told me hers and I told her mine. 

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I hope you all enjoy world book day! I'm celebrating by having a literary cocktail night with friends from my literature course and we're going to experiment with some of the recipes from Tequila Mockingbird.