Grace and Mary, Melvin Bragg

Bragg’s Grace and Mary is a touching portrayal of a son desperately holding on to his mother as Alzheimer’s takes away her memories and sense of self. The ageing John makes the long drive from London to Cumbria as regularly as he can but always with a sense of guilt that he is not there more often. His visits are clearly painful to him as he ponders the impact of the loss of personal history. His love for his mother, however, is unceasingly apparent as he attempts to recreate her memories of the past.

In her distress Mary calls out for Grace, her mother. Initially this feels a statement of longing for parental comfort that never leaves us, a desire for the innocence of times past. As the novel progresses, however, and the story of Grace is revealed to us by John, we come to realise that perhaps it is a distress at a life unlived, now forever out of reach.

Grace’s story is a sad one from the moment of her birth, her mother not surviving the ordeal. She grows in to a beautiful, intelligent, strong-willed young woman but is faced with numerous tragedies. The past is clearly evoked in the descriptions of her experiences and the frustrations of a judgemental society. John’s narrative is so detailed, so evocative, that the reader forgets that we have an unreliable narrator. He is reconstructing the past from tales his mother told him, fabricating where necessary.

He questions Mary, attempting to nudge her memories, to bring her back to herself. At some moments he is successful, at others he pushes too hard. Although clearly painful for him, when asked about his father, deceased over a decade previous, he constructs an account of his day as though he were no further than down the road, at their home. John delights in the effect this has on his mother and allows himself to indulge in the fantasy.

A touching novel that deals with very real issues. The distress of coping with losing a loved one to Alzheimers is accompanied by the pressing struggle of an ageing society to support its elders. John’s grief and guilt are very relatable and the palpable love he has for his mother makes this an emotional read.

The Crime Museum Uncovered, Museum of London

The Metropolitan Police crime museum was founded in the mid-1870s, the objects coming mainly from unclaimed items at the Prisoners’ Property Store. Until now it has not been open to the general public. Predominantly for the training of new officers, the visitors’ book reveals journalists and writers such as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle have also mined its treasures. Bizarrely so have a previous Australian cricket team.

The first few rooms set the tone of the exhibition – death masks surround the room, nooses line one wall. Prepare yourself for a dark exhibition. The rooms will likely be bustling with other visitors. The museum seems to have pre-empted its popularity and have created a guide for the first few rooms, making it unnecessary to have lengthy labels next to the objects. Unfortunately, this fails to keep the traffic moving as people try and work out what text relates to the item, or for those who didn’t pick up a guide confusion ensues.

The penultimate room, largest of them all, has a long series of tales recounting murders through the decades and the innovations in policing that led to their resolution. Personally, I found it a bit much reading one after another of these grisly tales. ‘Light’ relief comes in the form of cabinets of murder weapons, both obvious and disguised and a discussion of police procedure, including identification techniques – earprints as opposed fingerprints was a new one to me! There is also consideration of how crime itself has changed, how the major threat is now terrorism, and how policing must continue to push forward if it is to stand a chance against the constant evolution of crime.

Feeling thoroughly depressed and wondering why it is that people are so fascinated by crime, the final room’s discussion of just such a question was timely. A curator from the museum argues that just because it is uncomfortable doesn’t mean it should be forgotten. Professor Leif Wenar claims the fascination goes beyond mere desire for high drama but that it sets out the rules we all have to live by. The final video was valuable in setting the exhibition and its importance in a wider context.

An interesting exhibition, albeit not one for the faint of heart. The focus is very much on murder and you’ll likely leave in gloomier spirits than you arrived in. Worth a visit for those interested in criminal history – seeing murder weapons up close is a disturbing and powerful experience.

The Crime Museum Uncovered runs at the Museum of London until 10^th April 2016. Advanced booking is recommended.  

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

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Tolstoy’s epic has a huge array of characters and deals with a vast span of human experience and psychology. Set against the backdrop of the Napoleonic Wars he focuses in on the lives of Russians both away from the battlefield and in the throes of the action. The host of characters may be numerous but we get to know some more intimately, seeing Natasha, for example, grow from childhood to mature woman with all the heartache and pleasure along the way. Even the more minor characters are relatable, revealing a different facet of human experience.

The writing style is easy to read and there are some quite wonderful descriptive sections – comparing war-torn Moscow to a beehive without its queen is one passage whose imagery certainly stuck with me. Tolstoy seems also to have a talent at writing character, making experiences that can be alien to the reader about more than the mere moment they are in but rather an examination of universal feelings and concerns.

He does have a tendency toward slight tangents – his disdain for Napoleon apparent. He also displays strong feelings on the methods and value of historians. For the most part these are short passages that don’t detract from the readability of the novel. Indeed, these brief treatises on history, philosophy, and war are interesting and thought provoking, adding depth to the overall experience. The epilogue feels a little messy due to the large chunks of these type of ponderings mixed with brief encounters with the characters, allowing us to see how they have developed over the years. I don’t question the value of his ideas, merely that they may have been better placed elsewhere.

One is left with the feeling that they have had an encounter with the whole of humanity on reaching the end of this well respected novel. All of life is contained within its pages, full of the imperfections of the protagonists, the momentous occasions and the everyday. It covers the nature of relationships both familial and marital and touches on debates that have yet to be resolved. Well worth the time commitment to read, no adaptation can ever express all the treasures contained within.

Pick up a copy:

Bookshop

Foyles

Waterstones

Jane Eyre - National Theatre, 8th December, 2015

The stage is set with a wooden framework and ladders, musical instruments nestled at the centre of this construction. There are no grand sets, everything is very minimal, and yet the audience is drawn in, very much present with the characters, in Thornfield, at Lowood. The lack of heavy, claustrophobic period sets indicates that this is going to be very much about the people, about the heart of the story and the issues it touches on that make it endure through the ages.

Originally staged as a double play at the Bristol Old Vic, it has been condensed into one show for the National. A reasonably long play admittedly, but so enthralling it doesn’t feel it. There are no younger actors to depict Jane in her youth, we are instead greeted with Madeleine Worrall moving around the stage, emitting eerily accurate baby cries. Time is taken on her younger years, allowing the audience to understand the influences on her psychology. The oppressive red room, the terror she feels when locked inside, the intimidation and humiliation at Lowood are all there, as well as the loss of loved ones as they descend below the stage, this physical act a powerful representation of death.

Felix Hayes as Rochester is commanding and has great presence. His chemistry with Worrall is spot on and the energy in some of the more impassioned scenes is quite something. The ensemble is central to the success of this play – the small cast taking on multiple roles regardless of gender or species. They provide a voice for Jane’s conscience and skillfully give a sense of the different environments.

The lighting and use of music throughout are important for setting the mood as well as adding emotional depth. Melanie Marshall’s presence throughout is an interesting move, her Bertha all the more intimidating for her calm presence. The use of Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy as her final song has the potential to feel quite out of place but her version is strong, it works brilliantly.

An altogether wonderful production of a much-loved novel. It may look different to how you’d imagine but it captures the very essence of the novel. Tickets are limited, but if you have opportunity you’d be fool to pass it up. I’d happily experience it again. Playing in the Lyttelton Theatre until 10^th January, 2016.

Ann Veronica Janssens: yellowbluepink, Wellcome Collection

This installation is the first part of States of Mind, the Wellcome Collection's year-long exploration of human consciousness. Before entering the space filled with coloured mist you can see the tantalising glow of pink through the entrance. Queueing is to be expected but fear not, there are tablets along the waiting area with various examples of optical illusion and tricks of perspective, focussing the mind on the way our vision and brain work together and how they can fool us in to seeing things in a false way.

When your turn arrives and you step into the mist it is like entering another world. Making your way through the different coloured mist other visitors will emerge as if from nowhere, a wall will appear moments before walking in to it. If you go in a group this may all feel like a fun, unusual experience, but step away from them and venture solo into the mist and suddenly your point of reference is gone. The mist feels oppressive, as if the colour is pressing against your eyes, all sense of perspective and depth gone.

Disorienting it may be, but certainly worth a visit (and do brave some lone wandering - it makes the experience far more powerful). Yellowbluepink only runs until 3rd January 2016, but I look forward to the next instalment of this fascinating exhibition.

Wuthering Heights – Northern Ballet, Alhambra Theatre Bradford, 21st November, 2015

It was with much excitement and some slight trepidation that I entered the theatre for Northern Ballet’s Wuthering Heights. A combination of two of my favourite things could prove wonderful, or perhaps I would struggle to see beyond all that was missing.

The curtain rose to reveal a sparse, eerie stage, the moors an appropriate place to start. A young Heathcliff prancing around the stage went on a tad too long for my liking but it was important to demonstrate who the younger characters were. The continual reappearance of the youthful incarnations of both Cathy and Heathcliff served as a reminder of the carefree nature of their time on the moors, giving evidence as to why they continually long to return to it. There were some nice moments of choreography with both the younger and older Heathcliff dancing on stage together – separate but connected by the mirroring of movement.

Overall I found the first act too lighthearted, both the music and choreography felt too jolly and time was wasted in unnecessary comedic scenes. The novel is loved for its dark and moody nature but come the interval I felt this interpretation lacked much of the novel’s intensity.

The second act fared better. There was wonderful contrast between the bright, celebratory wedding of Cathy and Edgar and their beautiful pas de deux and the darkness of Wuthering Heights. Heathcliff and Isabella’s pas de deux was a highlight for me, brilliantly capturing the conflicting emotions Isabella feels for Heathcliff. It was almost uncomfortable to watch the dominance he holds, the threat of violence and her fear of him alongside an obvious desire to please and be loved by him.

Mlindi Kulashe played an excellent Hindley, and Tobias Batley expressed much of Heathcliff’s inner torment through his eyes. Rachael Gillespie embodied the free, perhaps sometimes excessively childlike, nature of young Cathy and Martha Leebolt made a confident Cathy.

A slightly dubious start there may have been but the cast was strong, the music memorable, and the challenge of condensing this complex novel into a two act ballet was tackled admirably. Act two was far more emotionally charged and intense and the stronger moments made it worth watching.

National Theatre Platforms: Charlotte and Jane, 13th November, 2015

To celebrate the National’s current interpretation of Jane Eyre and Claire Harman’s new biography of Charlotte Brontë a mini panel chaired by Kate Mosse discussed these two remarkable Victorian women. The panel evenly represented the three Brontë sisters, each championing a different. This serves as a reminder that although they are often lumped together, their work discussed as part of the same oeuvre, they were very different people and had very individual, distinctive writing styles. In saying this however, their shared experiences and working practices clearly impacted on their work.

Lucy Mangan believes the isolation that the sisters experienced gave them a freedom of voice that enabled them to produce such remarkable literature and which may have been stifled in a different environment. She followed this with a comment reassuring us that she does not doubt that they would have been remarkable anywhere.

We kept returning to the image of Anne, Emily, and Charlotte writing together, sharing their work with each other. Mosse believes that they shared a sense of the importance of writing, and that Charlotte especially felt a desire to put the things she felt so deeply on paper so as not to let go of them. Harman agreed that much of the intensity of Jane Eyre comes from the intensity of its author, that she offloaded a lot of very intense feeling in to her work.

It was questioned whether Bertha Mason serves as a vehicle for the visceral rage that was too much to put on Jane. Mosse asks why we see her as mad rather than angry. She does after all have excellent grounds for anger – she has been taken to a foreign land, given a different name, and locked in an attic. Is this society’s inability to accept a woman who did not fit Victorian ideals? The idea of rage is continued through the discussion of Jane, who speaks of rebellions beyond political ones – the anger bubbling under the surface of everyday life. This they believe Charlotte saw as an illness of the whole of society.

Focusing deeper on Jane’s character and the revolutionary nature of the novel discussion turned to Jane as feminist figure. Mangan points to the strength of her convictions, that she will not bend from what she believes to be right. It is not only her headstrong beliefs that mark her out but also her desire for equality in her relationship with Rochester. In what is known as the idyllic period in the middle of the novel when Rochester encourages her to choose fancy dresses she will only accept demure outfits. Further to this she wishes to earn the money and pay him back, knowing that until then she will feel degraded – an opinion that would have been quite alien to contemporary readers.

Mangan believes that the novel can be read as a warning against bending to convention, of not following your heart. Harman points out that although it is common to draw autobiographic detail from Charlotte’s writing, she did in reality write a letter claiming that one shouldn’t fall in love until at least six months of marriage. Although satirical, Harman believes this not to be entirely devoid of her true feelings. She argues that none of the sisters were particularly concerned with marriage. It may come as some surprise that Charlotte’s short but content marriage did not come from a great romance but out of practicality and sympathy. Harman speaks of how broken Charlotte was after the death of her siblings and that her marriage could be seen as a sort of suicide for one who would never commit the physical act.

Discussions could happily have gone for hours but alas our time was up. I left with a renewed sense of the importance and revolutionary nature of the novel, and as ever, a great respect for the author.