Tuesday 30 August 2011

Cheat Sheet : Pride and Prejudice


 
It's time for the next intallment in the Read It Ribbit Cheat Sheet series. This month, it's the turn of the original romantic comedy, my favourite book: Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice
  

Cheat Sheet 2: Pride and Prejudice

Title (s): Pride and Prejudice

Author:  Jane Austen

Who’s Who:
Miss Elizabeth (Lizzy) Bennet : The witty, feisty heroine. The second of the five daughters of Mr Bennet (apathetic with little patience for non sensible people which is a shame because most of his family are) and Mrs Bennet (a gossip and fairly vulgar woman whose aim in life is to marry off her daughters to rich men), Lizzy is determined not to marry for anything but love.

Mr (Fitzwilliam) Darcy: Seemingly arrogant but actually socially awkward. Rich gentleman who falls for Lizzy, mostly against his gentlemanly will and (in his own words) ‘reason’. Smooth Darcy, smooth.

Jane Bennet: the oldest of the Bennet sisters. Commonly described as the prettiest and generally nicest sister. Acts as Lizzy’s confident.
Mary, Kitty and Lydia Bennet: The remaining Bennet sisters, each one sillier than the last.

Mr Bingley: Darcy’s best friend who rents Netherfield Park and in so doing, kick starts the story. Has a soft spot for Jane Bennet.

Mr Collins: Distant cousin of the Bennets and toadying clergyman. Thanks to the practise of the day, he is set to inherit the Bennet’s Longbourne estate, leaving the sisters without independent finances.

Charlotte Lucas: Lizzy’s very sensible and practical friend who agrees to marry Mr Collins after he is rejected by Lizzy because she’s 27 and it is her last chance.

Mr Wickham: Charming officer stationed at Merryton who captures the approval of everyone in the area, including Elizabeth.


What happens then?
The main plot revolves around the romantic lives of the Bennet sisters. Mr Bingley moves into the neighbourhood and immediately falls in love with Jane. His friend, Mr Darcy, first dismisses Elizabeth but soon grows to like her ‘fine eyes’ as well as other attributes. Meanwhile, Lizzy decides that she detests him and goes about her daily business which includes batting off proposals from her obsequious cousin Mr Collins, dealing with her mother’s ‘nerves’ and getting to know a dashing young soldier called Wickham.

Bingley gets bundled off to town by his family and Darcy, separating him from Jane and plunging her into despair. Lizzy visits her friend, Charlotte where she finally gets to meet the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park, who just happens to be Darcy’s aunt and look, he’s visiting! Then Darcy really puts his foot in it by delivering the worst thought out proposal of all time. Opening with: ‘In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed’ before sliding into a verse on how her connections are a degradation to his standing in life and rounding up by once again stressing that he has very sensibly tried to convince his heart to listen to his snooty head, but it wouldn’t so they should probably get married then?

Of course, he’s rejected and slinks off, but not before handing over a letter to Lizzy that proves that Wickham is an old fashioned cad who tried to have his wicked way with Darcy’s fifteen year old sister but was stopped just in time. So Lizzy does a complete u-turn on her opinions about both Darcy and Wickham.

After a pit stop at Longbourne, Lizzy goes gallivanting around the Lake district with relatives. She ends up visiting Pemberley, Darcy’s ancestral home and realises just how many bonnets £10,000 a year can buy her. Surprise, surprise: just as they are leaving, who should turn up but Mr Darcy, who seems much more friendly than usual. Just as they’re getting along, a letter arrives saying that Lydia (their youngest, stupidest sister) has run off with Wickham, before they are married- scandal!

As the family all despair at their loss of respectability, Mrs Bennet’s brother saves the day, finds the errant pair and forces them to marry. Except the real hero of the day is Darcy, who stumbles upon Elizabeth just as she receives the bad news and rides off to London to save the fair maid from distress whilst swearing everyone to secrecy about his part in events.

Big mouth Lydia lets slip to Lizzy that, actually it’s Darcy who’s the hero, so when Lady Catherine de Bourgh shows up all guns blazing because she heard a rumour that Lizzy was engaged to Darcy, she tells her to get stuffed and refuses to promise that she won’t marry him. Mr Bingley pops up to propose to Jane and when Elizabeth and Darcy are thrown together again, they can finally declare undying love and all the sensible characters get their happy ending. Hooray!

What else?

Is there a Film Version?
Several, but the general consensus is that Andrew Davies’ television adaptation starring Jennifer Ehle and Cloin Firth is the closest to the spirit of the book. Pride and Prejudice has single handedly created the costume drama genre of television and has therefore helped to feed generations of poor, malnourished thespians.

Things the Fans Say
  • I am Elizabeth Bennet.
  • Keira Knightley is way too pretty to be cast as Lizzy! She’s meant to be averagely pretty cough*and therefore her life is more attainable for an ordinary person like me* cough cough.
  • Oh Mr Darcy!
  • Ha! Take that Caroline Bingley!
  • Don’t do it Charlotte!

Random Facts
  • Darcy doesn’t dive into a pond in the book: that was the BBC director taking advantage of Colin Firth’s excitable fan base.
  •  The original title was First Impressions but it was published anonymously as Pride and Prejudice in 1813.
  • There have been SO MANY spin offs and re-imaginings of this book including Bridget Jones and of course, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies which is currently being made into a film.


*The picture used is for the Cheat Sheet logo is a scan of my copy of a Peguin Classics edition and all cover design and pictures used remain the property of their respective owners :)

    Saturday 27 August 2011

    The Great Edinburgh Book Sculpture Mystery


    Photo by Robert Burdock , who also has an amusing Twitter feed
    A real life mystery worthy of the most intricate plots has been slowly playing out in Edinburgh. If you’ve been lucky enough to visit the Edinburgh Book Festival this year, you may have spotted an intricate paper sculpture or two which have appeared overnight, left by an anonymous source (see picture).

    The intricate sculptures, each crafted from an individual book, show a figure dwarfed by trees which was titled Lost (albeit in a good book) which was crafted from a copy of James Hogg’s Confessions of a Justified Sinner and a rather lovely tea tray featuring a cupcake and cup with the message ‘this cup is awarded to @edbookfest’ (the Twitter name of the festival).

    These sculptures are just the latest gifts from the anonymous donor, who has left several sculptures around the city this summer. The early sculptures seemed to be a collection which celebrated Ian Rankin’s popular Rebus series (which are based in Edinburgh) and were left in places of literary note around the city. The Scottish Storytelling Centre now displays a sculpture of a hatching dragon’s egg which they discovered on their premises, the Filmhouse received a miniature cinema complete with charging horses coming out of the screen, the Scottish Poetry Library was gifted a witty ‘Poetree’ and the National Library of Scotland have been the recipients of a delicate gramophone and coffin protruding from a copy of Rankin’s Exit Music. All of the sculptures so far have included a note which states that the sculptures have been created and given to the specific institutions:
    ‘In support of libraries, books, words, ideas…’. 
    All of the tags are handwritten and seem to be in the same handwriting, suggesting that all the sculptures have been created by the same person.

    The creator of these mini masterpieces is yet to come forward, despite heavy media coverage. So what are the clues we do have?

    • Well, the Edinburgh Book sculptor obviously has links to the city, 
    • is a fan of the arts and culture scene, 
    • understands the link between Edinburgh and certain pieces of literature 
    • and is, more than likely, an Ian Rankin fan. 

    Rankin himself has denied any responsibility for the sculptures, which goes someway to rule out a novel marketing campaign (pun not intended).

    A quick Google search for 'book sculptures' and 'Scotland' brought up a litany of names, including Su Blackwell (who has a rather funky site displaying her gorgeous works which you can visit here) Georgia Russell , and many more outside of Scotland including the American, Brian Dettmer, which just goes to show the popularity of the medium. Whilst the list of worldwide professional artist’s names continues to grow, there is no evidence to discount a previously unknown amateur as being responsible for the sculptures.  

    Whilst the odds are on a British/Scottish artist being revealed as the mystery sculptor, there is still no solid proof about their identity until the sculptor chooses to reveal themselves. I think in this case, I’m quite happy for the mystery to remain unsolved. What is important, is remembering the gesture behind the gifts. As their accompanying note cards say, they were made in respect of literature, libraries, ideas and culture: a sentiment that I heartily agree with. Looking at the beautiful paper marvels themselves, it almost doesn’t matter who made them, just that they were made at all.

    If you’d like to see all the mystery sculptures in their full glory, click the link below:  http://community.thisiscentralstation.com/_Mysterious-paper-sculptures/blog/4991767/126249.html

    EDIT 4TH NOVEMBER 2011:

    ReaditRibbit has moved! Check out the new blog here

    Sunday 21 August 2011

    Judging a Book by It's Cover?

    Everyone knows the old adage about not picking books based on their packaging, but do you heed this advice? I will openly admit to being drawn to the siren’s call of a beautiful book cover (although I still maintain that only the content of the book determines if I actually read it or not) and will actually cross a room to further admire said works of art.

    A quick detour into my local Waterstone’s yesterday then, left me in a state of general feverishness tinged with despair. Long term readers of this blog will know that since the beginning of this year, I have forsworn buying books until I have actually read all those I currently own in a vain attempt to cure both my book addiction and alleviate some of the stress from my groaning bookshelves. This decision has meant that any visit I have made to a bookstore this year has been a bizarre source of personal torture and yesterday was no exception to that rule. As I looked wide eyed at all the lovely, lovely new books, I noticed a strange trend in the stacks of paperbacks and walls lined with glistening hardbacks. Everywhere I turned there were sets of previously unrelated books, reprinted in attractive, unifying styles.

    Whilst it has been common practice for publishers to reissue old classics with modern covers and designs, it seems that in recent years, the trend of reprinting in order to create new, highly desirable collections has blossomed. Take for instance these gorgeous, graffiti cover designs for the Penguin Ink collection. It’s not often that you’d see Will Self’s The Book of Dave and Zoe Heller’s Notes On a Scandal categorised together, but thanks to these new designs, they’ll be forever linked. Penguin’s website mentions that the designs were made by some of the world’s leading tattoo artists, but is curiously silent on why such a disparate collection of British books deserves to be redesigned in this particular way. 

    Meanwhile, as the lead picture to this post shows, Vintage have been celebrating twenty one years in the business and have reissued 21 of their top selling titles in block colour to celebrate the fact. Altogether, they make a lovely rainbow effect. Here, the collection has a defined purpose: to make people aware of the depth and range of their signings over the last two decades. Likewise, one can argue that the Penguin cloth bound classics fulfil the same purpose, providing relatively affordable copies of the classic £1 and £2 titles in a more enduring binding. But these are all positive points for the consumer, what about the other side of the coin?

    Wuthering Heights re-interpreted for the Twilight generation
    Creating a new collection from old material can be a very canny move for publishers. Not only does it open up the book to potential new audiences with aesthetically pleasing covers, it can also highlight different aspects of the books better than any marketing campaign ever could. Just think, would Wuthering Heights have started creeping back into store bestseller lists if it wasn’t for the cunning publisher who noted the reference in the hugely popular Twilight Saga and had it and other classic novels republished to resemble Meyer’s series? Ok, so a little part of me died inside on learning that giving it a black cover with a soppy lily was the only way to market a classic to the Emo generation but hey, if it gets teenagers to read literature, it can only be a good thing.

    Whilst most of us big kids would like to feel we’re too sophisticated for a cheap trick like that to fool us, there are some exceptions to the rule. From my own experiences as a bookseller, I often saw covers to tie in with film adaptations sell much better than the normal covers: even when displayed side by side.

    Then there are the collections which I mentioned earlier, all of which are designed to appeal in bulk. Some book series have even been known to combine together so that their spines spell out a message or make a picture when placed in the right order. Most of us have had the need to collect the ‘full set’ ingrained into us by hard nosed marketing campaigns for years: one day its football cards, the next it’s the Faber and Faber Twentieth Century Greats collection.* Seeing how lovely all the books in a particular collection look as they’re displayed together in the bookshop would fill even the most casual book buyer with longing through this kind of conditioning alone. Everyone likes feeling that they haven’t missed out, that the collection is complete. Logically, its complete nonsense, but nevertheless, I for one am aware of falling prey to the consumerist trap of wanting them all, just because they exist. I’d like to think that there is some deep, psychological reasoning behind this (like the tendency to overeat because the caveman part of our DNA says ‘See food: eat it’ because it hasn’t yet learned to accept the existence of 24 hour supermarkets) but it’s probably just further evidence of my book addiction.


    The cynical view might be to think that repackaging bestsellers is an attempt to wring more profit out of publishing back catalogues in times of economic hardship. Whilst you can certainly make that argument, I think that a stronger secondary motive behind the trend is at work, one which will only help ensure the survival of the printed book. As sales of electronic books rise, it has become apparent that the major differences between a printed book and a digital copy is the added visual and tactile power of it's binding. A book, for example, can colour co-ordinate with the décor, but a Kindle (or any other type of e-reader) could never add value to a room in the same kind of way.
    Beautiful book covers may in time prove to be the saviour of the printed word. For now, they stand as the first thing which draws a potential reader to another world and, if done well, can represent in a single page design the content and spirit of the hundreds of pages of writing it adorns. A beautiful book cover is not always indicative of a beautiful book, but all beautiful book covers remind us of why we covet them so much: the simple, unalloyed joy of reading.
                                                                                                             

    * Or something to that effect.

    Wednesday 10 August 2011

    Review: Out - Natsuo Kirino


    They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but it was precisely the cover that drew me to Out. It’s striking in its simplicity and pretty much tells you everything you need to know about the plot.

    I had wanted to pick this up for ages, but never seemed to get round to it. I’ve even managed to read Kirino’s Grotesque previously, even though Out had been in British bookstores for longer. Out was the first English translation of Kirino’s books to be published. Set in her native Japan, it’s a hard hitting crime novel that is not for the faint of heart.

    Following four female colleagues who work the graveyard shift making boxed lunches, the plot soon dives into the seedy underworld of suburban Tokyo. All four of the women have very different but equally difficult home lives until the young housewife Yaoi, murders her husband in retaliation for his mistreatment of her and her two young children. Panicking, she calls her friend and colleague, Masako, to help her. Before long Masako has roped in their friends ‘The Skipper’ and Kuniko to help dismember and dispose of the body. It seems they’ve got away with it, until that is, bags of body parts are found in a local park and the police start asking them questions…

    As you can probably tell, it’s a pretty intense book. There are some incredibly graphic descriptions and subject matters and I found myself wincing more than once. As I’d read Kirino before, I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy ride but no amount of mental preparation dulls the power of these scenes. Whilst the subject matter is undoubtedly dark, Kirino does not glorify in these scenes. Rather, we watch as the four women get sucked further and further into a murky world, as their lives slowly unravel, as they try to cope with the mental and spiritual scars they have inflicted on themselves. As the net pulls in around them, the atmosphere becomes unbearably tense, with the feeling that retribution is just around the corner.

    Kirino creates realistic characters, worn down from years of drudgery. It’s a bleak view of the world, yet she never lapses into polarisation. Even the most repulsive characters like Kuniko and the lone shark Satake are complex and there are moments where I felt genuine pity for both. Likewise, the characters painted as mostly good (the put upon and the misunderstood) show realistic slivers of steel and undercurrents of cruelty, demonstrating that in Kirino’s world, as in life, good people can sometimes to bad things.

    Although often disturbing, the narrative pulls you into turning the pages and I found myself genuinely caring if the women would get away with their crime or not. Kirino knows exactly when and how to amp up the tension, depicting slow burn scenes where nothing much happens accept the characters wondering how much longer they have left before they’re found out. In some ways, it’s quite an internal book with the main characters taking turns to share with us their point of view, their interactions with others dulled by the events they have witnessed and taken part in.

    Due to the subject matter, I felt as if I didn’t want to spend too much time in the book lest the characters dark views started wearing off onto me. Finishing the book is like rising out of a murky pool: you feel like you need a mental shower to make yourself clean again. The grubby, sordid tale is so realistic and well written, that although you may not spend a very long time with the characters, you’ll carry the story around for much longer.

    Despite my squeamishness, it’s a brilliantly daring novel: I doubt very much that you’ll have read anything similar. Unlike most crime novels, there are no hero detectives, no fiendishly clever, morally straight protagonists to root for. Kirino spins the situation on its head in that you’re essentially rooting for the criminals. Nothing is black or white in this world and everything is complicated.

    Out is a compellingly tense psychological thriller that will leave you questioning your own morality: it’s a fairly quick read, but is not an easy one. If I were you, I’d line up a nice, light-hearted comedy to read straight afterwards, trust me, you’ll need it.

    Saturday 6 August 2011

    Review: China Witness- Xinran

    I’ve been reading my beautiful, hardback copy of Xinran’s latest book for around two years now, a chapter at a time in between novels and FINALY finished it this week.

    Based on twenty years of experiences and interviews, China Witness is a combination of history and biography following Xue Xinran as she attempts to gain a better understanding of the generations that came before her own: the generations of Chinese people who lived through the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution.

    Oral history has traditionally received a bad rap from the academic world. After all, human memories are subjective and various studies have proven without a doubt that they are mutable and susceptible to change. I won’t go into this debate in detail, suffice to say that recent students of history tend to think that ALL history is subjective to some degree but as human life tends to be subjective, think that it is inevitable that the study of history is bound to be littered with contrasting opinions.  More to the point, oral history has been the preferred method of passing down events by those who cannot leave their story for future generations in any other format. Not only has Oral history been an important tool for accessing the opinions and memories of those who are not educated, but it has also provided a platform for those without social or economic power and those who have views that are opposed, repressed and suppressed by their respective sources of power. Oral history then can be a very effective way to glean information that otherwise would have been forgotten.

    Xinran’s China Witness is based around this concept. Whilst the rest of the world has since been made aware of the horrors and hardships of living in China under the leadership of Mao Zedong, it is still extremely rare to hear first hand accounts from the ordinary people who were his contemporaries. Interviewing everyone from taxi drivers and lantern makers to a female PLA General, Xinran leaves no stone unturned in her efforts to gain a better insight into her parent’s generation.

    Her interviewing style is very personal. Often, we are told, she merely waits. She chats generally, allowing her interviewees to relax and reveal their often suppressed memories and feelings. The interviews are presented in transcript format, complete with inconsequential details and painstaking descriptions of the physical manifestations of the fear and pain which stirring up old memories cause.

    Despite these barriers, a number of the ‘witnesses’ here give frank and open accounts of their past roles in society. However, there is still a tendency for Xinran to ignore her journalistic instinct on the occasions when the person she is talking to is evasive or skirts around an issue. Her failure to probe deeper is often explained away as an unavoidable side effect of showing deferential respect. She is at pains to point out the generational gap between herself and the people she talks to:  the majority of the people whose stories are recorded within China Witness are in the seventies and eighties and the Chinese culture is known for its deferential attitude towards its elders. In addition, this particular group of people lived through one of the most controlling societies in modern history, mainly because they learned to play by its rules, and kept their heads down and their thoughts to themselves. Considering the nature of the project, it is perhaps not surprising that Xinran chooses the softly softly approach, however, there are moments when you sense that the merest push might have revealed something more.

    One of the more harrowing accounts is that of Mr Chanzheng, a ninety year old survivor of the Long March. The accounts here are very restrained, often the language used is fairly subdued but even the toned down language cannot hide the horror of accounts like Mr Chanzheng’s when he reports loosing companions in the Lazi Kou Pass:

    ‘Some of our comrades didn’t take enough care coming down and they rolled over the edge and died! When I think back to all that, it makes me really, really sad. We never knew who would be next.’

    China Witness provides a fascinating insight into the history of modern China and the lives of ordinary Chinese people during an extraordinary period. Some of my favourite stories came from the everyday workers, who carried on living life as normally as possible despite increasing pressures to conform to new standards. The interview with the lantern-maker may not seem as relevant as that of the ex-policeman, but it is full of minor, charming details that paint an intimate picture of one man’s working life. These intimate portrayals of Chinese lives are what make China Witness stand out and ultimately mark its triumph.


    Wednesday 3 August 2011

    Bulwer-Lytton Worst Writing Award Announced

    'It was a dark and stormy night......' Photo by Ambro

    Imagine sweating for years over your magnum opus: painstakingly choosing each comma, each word, even which font your masterwork will be presented to the world in. Sounds like hard work doesn’t it? Spare a thought for American Authour, Sue Fondrie, who this week was awarded the Bulwer-Lytton prize for the worst sentence published this year.

    Although the name of the prize is not as well known as the Booker or the Costa Award, nearly everyone can quote the beginning of the first sentence to ever win the ‘accolade’:

    ‘It was a dark and stormy night when….’

    This line opened the 1830 novel, Paul Clifford written by English poet and novelist, Edward George Bulwer-Lytton. The prize was set up in 1980 by the English department of San Jose State University and named in Bulwer-Lytton’s honour.

    This year’s ‘winner’ was duly awarded the prize for the following sentence:

    ‘Cheryl’s mind turned like the vanes of a wind-powered turbine, chopping her sparrow-like thoughts into bloody pieces that fell onto a growing pile of forgotten memories.’

    Fondrie’s sentence is the shortest to ever win the top prize.

    What do you think? Have you heard worse? Answers on a postcard (or you can just leave a comment below and save yourself the postage).