Tuesday, 17 January 2017

Les Misérables, Victor Hugo


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Victor Hugo’s epic Les Misérables is a broad examination of the lives of struggling citizens of France in the early nineteenth century, and a polemic against a society where people are so carelessly abandoned by the State. Jean Valjean, the unifying character, is a complex man whose good intentions were forced out of him during his harsh and intolerable captivity. His crime was little more than desperation to relieve the suffering of his loved ones, and his ever present determination to escape, however slim the chance of success and however high the penalty. Readers will easily be led into sympathy, and feel the hopelessness, the injustice of the legal system. He emerges with a broken soul, all ability to love seemingly crushed. His encounter with the Bishop of Digne stuns him, his kindness a sudden bright light that dazes Valjean after so many years of darkness. It is this which allows a return to empathy and encourages what becomes a life led selflessly.

Fantine, an innocent girl who places her heart with the wrong man, ends her life tragically when she finds herself pregnant and abandoned. On meeting Madame Thenardier she sees a solution to her troubles, thinking she has found a loving family to care for her beloved child, Cosette, while she works hard to support her. She suffers a double misfortune as the Thernardiers prove to be of deplorable character, only interested in what they can gain. Her workmates also prove to be unkind, causing her problems for the sake of it. She soon finds herself destitute, relying on her body to provide for the ever increasing demands of the Thernardiers. It is heartbreaking to see her resolve to suffer so much with the only comfort that her sacrifices are granting Cosette health and happiness when we see how despicably she is in truth being treated.

Valjean, now in a position of some power and wealth, comes to hear of Fantine’s story and takes on the responsibility of care for Cosette. He sees the Thernardier’s for what they are and takes Cosette away from them, making enemies in the process. Without ever explaining the reason to her, he and Cosette hide from the law, and most especially Inspector Javert, who seems incapable of understanding life beyond the confines of the law.

A whole host of characters are introduced in relation to the events surrounding Valjean and his adopted daughter. The benign Marius whose morals lead him into a life of struggle, reluctant to accept financial help, and bent on finding Monsieur Thernardier with the aim of repaying the kindness he believes was shown to his father when injured at the Battle of Waterloo. Valjean is suspicious of the young man, both for his constant fear of being followed and watched, but also for the risk of Cosette falling in love. His past life haunts him to the end.

The Thernardiers reappear many times throughout, sometimes under different guises, and we see how they treat their own beloved daughters when hard times hit. The contrast between Cosette’s life and that of the once more privileged family is stark, a fact that enrages Madame Thernardier. This contrast is made even more apparent when you realise the street urchin Gavroche is also a Thernardier, although he is left to fend for himself and seems to have avoided the undesirable family traits. He is a shining example of generosity and wisdom far beyond his years. There are few scenes more heart wrenching than his demise, and the following treatise on how easily lost children can be sucked into the city and made invisible, struggling to survive in a world that only punishes them for their attempts to be fed and sheltered.

It is impossible to do justice to the breadth of this novel in so short a space. The characters may be a little exaggerated, which can be frustrating at times, and there are many lengthy digressions (some of which have mercifully been moved to appendices in this edition) but it is a powerful story with characters you can’t help but feel for. The sheer length allows the characters to age and develop, experiencing the upheavals of attempts to revolutionise France. An historical novel when it was published, its message is no less relevant today.

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Friday, 6 January 2017

A Time to Reflect and Look Forward

As is true for most, the end of the year is a busy time. 2016 proved even more so than usual for me and I couldn’t find the time to squeeze in any writing. I hope you’ll forgive this bumper post which will be both a look back at 2016 and a look ahead.

First off, theatre highlights from the past year. An early performance that certainly left its mark was Dinosaur Park, a quirky show by a talented trio that weaves a re-telling of Jurassic Park with a moving family story. Even for someone who isn’t an avid Jurassic Park fan this is a fantastic show – funny, clever, and with a real emotional kick.

Another highlight, also associated with a film – The Rocky Horror Show. Not having seen the film I didn’t know exactly what to expect – I knew it was a cult classic, was familiar with some of the costumes, and of course, knew the Time Warp. What ensued was one of the most fun shows I’ve been to. The performance itself was brilliant but the atmosphere in the theatre certainly added to the experience.

Finally, a comedy show – Randy Writes a Novel. A purple Australian puppet may not be your average weeknight entertainment but this was well worth it. He had the audience in fits of laughter, and dealt well with the general reluctance to participate, but there were plenty of more serious moments where he spoke about more difficult issues. A comedian that can make you laugh and think all at the same time.

It’s difficult to choose highlights of days out both in the UK and further afield, but here are a few that stand out. Portmeirion had a full post for me to gush about it in but it deserves a mention here too. This decorative Italianate village in north Wales will transport you to a different world. Colourful, slightly eccentric, and beautifully peaceful, a happy afternoon can be spent exploring this gem.

The Historic Dockyards at Chatham proved a surprisingly fun day out. I was originally there for a Call the Midwife locations tour (highly recommended for any fans) but the dockyards themselves proved plentiful entertainment. There are ships from broad periods, a submarine to board, and a Victorian ropery.

Sticking with the history theme, Chartwell, Winston Churchill’s home in Kent is in beautiful surroundings and has plenty to keep all the family entertained. They had a Winnie the Pooh trail when I was there, swings are dotted around the estate, and the café had some simply delicious chocolate cake. Even on what turned into a rainy day, this was a brilliant trip.

The most recent jaunt abroad took in Copenhagen at Christmas. Activity-wise the highlight was probably Tivoli Gardens. Bedecked in festive lights, it felt truly magical. Bustling Christmas markets, a light show to music from The Nutcracker, and an impressive firework display – if you find yourself in Denmark’s capital during the festive season this is a must-see. I can’t write about Copenhagen without a nod to their incredible cycling infrastructure which truly puts the UK to shame.

Another major highlight from the year’s travels was Paris. I can’t choose just one thing, there’s so much it has to offer. The Louvre is just incredible, the view from Notre Dame breathtaking, and you can easily imagine Claude Frollo or Quasimodo lurking just beyond the staircase on the descent. I fell utterly in love with the small town feel of Montmartre with its bustling markets, creative vibe, and quirky side streets. You feel the culture and history as you wander the streets of this remarkable city, take in the sights, or enjoy a peaceful amble on the banks of the Seine - I hope to spend many more happy days exploring. The only downside is that the delicious pastries available in their many boulangeries has utterly ruined the British alternatives (aim for the year – learn to make pastry the French way).

Finally, to books, of which many more have been consumed than have made an appearance on here. A Little Life continues to haunt many months after embarking. See the full post for further details of its power, but I’ll just say that it is a remarkable character study that becomes all consuming. Heartbreaking and illuminating.

Another highlight is a short gem of a book – Doctor Glas by Hjalmer Söderberg. Using the narrative form of a journal the reader is privy to our protagonist’s thought processes as he carries out his duties as a doctor and ruminates on topics such as assisted suicide and abortion. Published in 1905, his views were considered shocking and the author suffered a harsh backlash for their inclusion. For the modern reader it is a wonderfully realised deconstruction of Glas’s mental state and tackles issues that although not as shocking today, continue to cause debate.

Notre-Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo also deserves a mention. Hugo is infamous for his penchant for lengthy tangents that are mostly irrelevant to the story, but Notre-Dame is not so bogged down in these digressions as Les Miserables, and it is a far smoother read because of it. The story moves at ample speed and has a marvellously constructed villain who is infuriating in his determination and wickedness. The characters are all three-dimensional, their stories cleverly woven together. It’ll certainly tug on your heartstrings but there’s also humour to be found. At its core is a gripping story handled masterfully by one of France’s national treasures.

I also discovered this excellent open source journal in 2016. It’s run by the Department of Victorian Studies at Birkbeck College and I have been happily making my way through their issue archive.

As for the year ahead, well, hopefully it’ll include making some headway with the serious backlog of book posts currently taunting me. After finishing reading The Saga of Gösta Berling I intend to move on to What Would Mary Berry Do?, which should be something of a gear change to my recent reading fodder. It may then finally be time to finish the Chaos Walking trilogy by Patrick Ness with Monsters of Men. I hear it’s a bit of a tear-jerker so better stock up on the tissues! I’ll then likely scuttle back to the nineteenth century but have no set reading plan (though do have an ever-increasing to-read list/pile). Any recommendations always welcome.

A while back I saw a blog of someone who had baked their way through an entire Mary Berry cookbook and blogged their efforts. Ever since reading their blog I’ve been keen to try out every recipe in a cookbook myself. This being a very Mary Berry Christmas, I received My Kitchen: 100 Cakes and Bakes, which may well be the one, though I’ll give myself more than a year, there is such a thing as too much cake…

I’m also entering the year with a satisfying stash of tickets, starting with The Red Shoes this evening. I’ve heard only good things about it so have high hopes. There’ll also be a few old favourites including The Phantom of the Opera and Woolf Works. Wayne McGregor’s take on a selection of Virginia Woolf’s writings almost had me in tears last time, and I’m hoping it won’t have lost any of its power. There’s also, finally, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child on the horizon (and, I hear, an exhibition at the British Library later in the year which will doubtless be one to see). I admit I have read the script so the story won’t be a surprise, but from reading it I could just imagine how incredible the production value will be and can’t wait to see it brought to life on stage.

It looks set to be another busy year and hope it’ll be a good one. Happy new year one and all, may it bring peace and happiness.

Thursday, 15 December 2016

My Cousin Rachel, Daphne du Maurier

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du Maurier's last bestselling novel is set in the familiar surroundings of Cornwall, narrated by a young man, Philip Ashley. Philip has been raised by his cousin Ambrose in his large estate which houses only men. This deliberate exclusion, almost distaste of women, makes it surprising to discover that having travelled to Italy for the sake of his health, Ambrose has met and married their cousin Rachel. The bliss of married life does not last long however and soon Philip receives disturbing letters indicating Ambrose's distress and hinting at his suspicions of his new wife. Philip's rushed journey to be re-united with him proves fruitless and he returns to Cornwall bitterly despising Rachel who he suspects of playing a part in his cousin's demise.

When Rachel arrives, uninvited, in Cornwall he intends to treat her with nothing but hostility. He soon falls for her charms however, and his resolve melts with every passing day. Thus ensues an intriguing tale whereby Philip is constantly thrown around by doubt and determination, alienating those around him as his affection and blind-sightedness grows. Rachel remains an enigma to him and even once events have drawn to their conclusion he admits '...every day, haunted still by doubt, I ask myself a question which I cannot answer. Was Rachel innocent or guilty?'

The reader is often led into confusion with our unreliable narrator and his ever changing assumptions. Indeed, there is little to be trusted throughout - Ambrose's letters could have been the result of a fractured mind, his brain tumour making him lose his grip on reality (if we are indeed to believe he was afflicted in this way). Rachel, who seems so calm for the most part, does occasionally let her mask slip, and her defence is natural to one attempting to cover a misdemeanour. As we are only ever able to see her through Philip's eyes we are given merely a refracted view - how are we to judge her without bias? Similarly Philip's jealousy of, and hostility to, her confidante Rainaldi can colour the reader's view. How are we to know who to trust? Paranoia and mental instability run in the Ashley family and the strange misogynistic upbringing Philip experienced with Ambrose, whose remarkable similarity is commented on many times throughout, is bound to have impacted on his view of the world and the drama in which he suddenly finds himself embroiled.

This cast of characters lead the reader along a winding path with no clear-cut end. Forming your allegiances early may be the only way to have some sense of closure, following our narrator's lead and making of the story what you want. It is a delightfully ambiguous plot with du Maurier's characteristic skill at storytelling and creating intense atmosphere making this an enjoyable read.

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Wednesday, 7 December 2016

Christmas at Kew

Enter the lush world of Kew Gardens for a magical, festive evening frolic. Tall silver trees proudly mark the start of the trail, Tom Baker’s jovial voice welcoming guests. Walk along the glimmering tree lined paths to reach some beautifully designed illuminations. The displays range from the traditional – a series of fire based installations taking their inspiration from The Twelve Days of Christmas to hundreds of bulbs reaching beyond the pathway, creating a mesmerizing display of changing colours.


Music accompanies your walk, whether choral, pop, or live performed by ‘elves’ with the accompaniment of passing children. The music adds atmosphere and enhances the magic of the winter walk.

There’s also ample opportunity to purchase over-priced hot drinks to help banish the cold, and tempting Christmas bakes. There’s a café stop halfway round for those wanting something a little more substantial as well as a small fairground for children to enjoy. One of the great things about Christmas at Kew is that it can be enjoyed equally by children and adults. Younger visitors will revel in the live performances but adults too can’t help but be drawn in to the beauty of the lights. The final illumination a beautiful, impressive light display projected onto the Palm house had all entranced and made a wonderful end to the evening.


Kew gardens is always a special place to visit and it was a real treat to see it decked out in lights for the festive season. Beyond the shining lights there were also opportunities for education – certain trees having been picked out for the Christmas trail, notes illuminated for ease of reading. Almost all highlighted the damage humans cause, leading many species to be in danger of extinction. This adds a more serious, thoughtful note to the evening as you marvel at the natural and man-made wonders mixing harmoniously to create a spectacular walk.


Wednesday, 30 November 2016

Purple Hibiscus, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The story opens with aggression - Papa throwing a book across a room and smashing Mama's figurines, the importance of which will become apparent later. This reaction to his son Jaja's disobedience throws the reader straight into the claustrophobic, violent family life of Kambili, our narrator, and Jaja's younger sister.

They are both intelligent, high-achieving teens, but their father demands perfection and they are punished if they ever fall below his impossibly high standards. He minutely controls their lives, keeping them on strict schedules which exclude them from their peers. He also enforces separation from his own father who he sees as a heathen for not following the same religious practices. Papa's fierce dominance is in stark contrast to the image he portrays outside the family, where he is highly respected. Despite the obvious negative impact the oppressive atmosphere at home has had on Kambili, she takes pride in others' good opinion of her Papa.

There are some haunting scenes of domestic violence - Papa carrying Mama down a flight of stairs, dripping blood after he has beaten her to the point of miscarriage. The image of Kambili and Jaja cleaning her blood is poignant, and one that will stay with both Kambili and the reader. The children do not avoid the physical abuse - on discovering that they have spent time with their grandfather without his permission he pours boiling water on their feet. It is in this moment, amid the horror of his actions, that we are given a glimpse into his motives. He reveals that similar was done to him as punishment in his youth. This continuation of abuse combined with his moral absolutism adds to the sense of hopelessness.

Their Papa reluctantly allows his children to stay with his sister, Aunty Ifeoma, in the University town  of Nsukka, and this proves to be something of a turning point for their family. Not only does the experience show them that family life does not have to be so restrictive but opens their eyes to the suffering that they have been protected from. Nsukka is something of a microcosm of Nigeria, a single powerful figure whose actions lead to the suffering of the people as jobs are lost and resources are scarce.

Witnessing this first-hand allows Kambili and Jaja to mature as their understanding grows. This, combined with the freedom to flourish and express their own opinions, enables them to begin to form their own identities. This is both heartening and distressing for the reader as it is clear independent thought will never be agreeable to their Papa.

By this point the reader is desperate for Kambili, Jaja, and Mama to find a way out, while despairing at the seeming impossibility of this. The conclusion suggests that escaping their Papa’s influence will be even harder than imagined and can leave you feeling a little bleak.

A well written, evocative novel that easily draws the reader into the world of the characters, feeling their frustrations and fears.

Thursday, 10 November 2016

George Balanchine – Mozartiana/Brahms-Schönberg Quartet/Violin Concerto – Paris Opera Ballet, 25 October 2016

Brahms-Schönberg Quartet
© ZsaZsa Bellagio
This autumn, the Paris Opera Ballet pay tribute to Balanchine, as well as his muse Violette Verdy, who sadly passed away earlier this year. The three abstract ballets - Mozartiana, Brahms-Schönberg Quartet and Violin Concerto demonstrate the diversity of his choreography.

Mozartiana is a pleasant, pretty start to the evening. Students of the Ballet School join the principals on stage seamlessly - a sure sign that they're not short of future talent. Probably the most traditional of the night's ballets, it is not without its Balanchine signatures. A beautiful, clean piece.

The curtain fell and rose again on an empty stage, a screen suspended above. A video tribute to Violette Verdy was shown - her energy and bright spirit clear. Mathias Heyman and Myriam Ould Braham then danced Sonatine, a treat for the first five performances of the run, and a piece that was danced by Verdy at its premiere in 1975. Two dancers and a pianist on stage create an enchanting trio. Balanchine always placed emphasis on the important relationship between music and dance, and the presence of the piano on stage makes this explicitly a conversation between the two dancers and the music. They dance as though responding to each other's movements rather than following strict choreography. It feels a connected, intimate piece.

Following the interval we were treated to the Brahms-Schönberg Quartet, an addition to Paris Opera Ballet's repertoire earlier this year. Designs by Karl Lagerfeld evoke the grandeur of historic royalty, an impressive achievement without a heavy set - a simple backdrop and gorgeous costumes more than fulfilling the brief. The four movements are distinct yet all fit together with their romance, lyricism, and clean lines. It exudes the rosy, carefree lifestyle of the privileged in ages past and has a celebratory air to it. A joy to behold.

The final piece of the evening, Violin Concerto, is a stark contrast - gone are the flowing romantic tutus, replaced by plain leotards that would not look out of place in an RAD exam. The movement however, is the most experimental of the night. It is symmetrical and at times almost acrobatic, and once again Balanchine's focus on the music is apparent - his choreography clearly showing his personal response.

All in all a stunningly beautiful evening that pays homage to the diversity and skill of a truly great choreographer. 

Thursday, 3 November 2016

Anastasia, The Royal Ballet, 29th October 2016

Kenneth MacMillan’s Anastasia started life as a one Act ballet. Several years later he expanded it to three acts, the original becoming the final section – Anna Anderson (a real person who believed herself to be Grand Duchess Anastasia) in an asylum, haunted by Rasputin’s menacing figure, constantly bothered by visitors either accepting her or rejecting her. The two preceeding acts are in stark contrast to this sparse, claustrophobic scene. They attempt to give context to the final act – portraying the hazy constructed memories of Anderson as Anastasia. The fact these are meant to be recollections is not immediately obvious, only subtle design choices hint at their fabrication.

Act one shows the happy royals enjoying a picnic on their yacht, oblivious to the bloody fate that awaits them. From the marketing of the piece it was something of a surprise that it opened with such a bright, light-hearted feel. It closes with the news of the outbreak of war – a fact the audience could be forgiven for missing due to the underwhelming response of the Tsar. Not quite the gritty, psychological drama at this point, but nonetheless a really rather enjoyable start to the evening.

Act two is again seemingly about the royal family enjoying their wealth, holding a ball at the palace, and very little to do with Anastasia who is supposedly the crux of the ballet. It is only when you realise that these scenes are constructions of her imagination that she seems present beyond the third Act. The lavishness of the ball is interspersed with revolutionaries planning their attack and the curtain falls after the death of the royal family. The characters fail to have distinct personalities and although the typical flag waving revolutionaries make a dramatic sight there is not much depth.

Act three is drastically different in design and choreography. Cuthbertson plays the tormented Anderson with great energy and emotion as she dashes around the stage, desperately trying to regain some sense of her own identity. The repeated appearance of silent, gun wielding revolutionaries and the seemingly endless stream of characters clearly disturb her and it is difficult to watch the fracturing of a mind. The closing Act is by far the most powerful, let down somewhat by her final, strange, procession around the stage on an unfortunately noisy motorized bed.

MacMillan’s fascination with the real Anderson does not translate into his best work but it is an enjoyable, occasionally dramatic few hours of dance. The desire to add context to the third Act is understandable but for a first time viewer does not aid comprehension and can feel frustrating when such an intriguing story is promised. Nonetheless, the range of style means audiences who have a soft spot either for pretty, more regal narrative ballets, or those who prefer something more modern and dark can both find something of pleasure within. Flawed but undeniably enjoyable, I for one am glad that the Royal Ballet decided to revive this lesser known of MacMillan’s ballets.