We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Shirley Jackson

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The opening of We Have Always Lived in the Castle is an exquisite piece of writing. It starts simply enough – we are introduced to the protagonist, Mary Katherine Blackwood, ‘Merricat’, and she is doing nothing more complex than going to the local shop. In her introduction however, she breezily passes on snippets of concerning information – her obsession with magic and knowledge of poisonous plants, and the fact that the majority of her family are dead. Although we have just been told she is eighteen, the games she plays in her head make her seem far more child-like, an unsettling juxtaposition with her more violent imaginings.

The trip to town is claustrophobic, her tension and discomfort palpable. It is so masterfully constructed that months later my stomach still knots with unease at the thought of it. Even at this early stage there are hints that although her family may not be popular, her anxiety may be a result of paranoid constructions of her mind rather than genuine ostracisation by neighbours. Certainly as the novel progresses we see how desperately she does not want others entering their home, upsetting the balance.

Home life for Merricat is certainly an unhealthy mix of anxiety and forced normality. Living with her sister Constance, accused and acquitted of the murder of the rest of their family, and their Uncle Julian, wheelchair bound as a result of the events that ended the lives of the others, they rarely leave the house and are almost entirely isolated from interaction with outsiders. The relationships are strange – Merricat’s desire to protect Constance from judgment is laced with a sense of wanting to control her, of not letting anyone separate them. Julian is obsessed with remembering what happened the night of the murders but talks about it almost in jest. He believes, however, that Merricat is dead and she is not allowed in his room, or to do many tasks around the house.

This seething bed of distrust and claustrophobia chips away at their mental states despite obvious attempts to continue as if all is well. When their cousin Charles arrives and becomes closer to Constance we see Merricat flailing in desperation as she tries to protect her family and the strange cocoon in which they live. Events culminate in a dramatic night and as the dust settles a distorted ‘happy ending’ is reached.

The novel is dark and mysterious, creating an atmosphere that is deeply unsettling. There is an element of magic with Merricat’s attempts to ward off evil and her interactions with her cat Jonas, who is reminiscent of a witch’s familiar. After such an intense, psychologically interesting read I found the final section somewhat lacking. Nonetheless, this is definitely one to read for fans of the Gothic, psychology, mystery, horror, indeed, anyone who enjoys good quality reading.

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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.

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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.