AM: Alex Turner's lyrical mastery

I often groan when I hear songs on the radio with terrible, terrible lyrics. I slap my forehead dramatically when I hear Pitbull rhyming 'Kodak' with 'Kodak'. I furrow my eyebrows when Robin Thicke asks 'What rhymes with hug me?' (I hope he means Bill Crosby or rugby but somehow I doubt that). So, I am thrilled that the Arctic Monkeys are back with their new album AM because this means I can appreciate Alex Turner's lyrical genius once again.

Turner is notorious for his clever and witty songwriting skills. The fast pace lyrics in 'I bet you look good on the dance floor' recreate the tense and loud atmosphere of a nightclub. In 'Fluorescent Adolescent', the memorable opening lines ('You used to get it in your fishnets...') immediately draws you into the story Turner invented about a woman dealing with aging. The new album, which has debuted at number 1 in the UK, does not disappoint on the lyrical front. 'Why'd you only call me when you're high?' is the sarcastic third single depicting the aftermath of a night out and seeking the attention of an ex. The songwriter has spoken to the NME about the lyrical patterns in 'R U Mine?' being inspired by rappers like Lil Wayne and Drake. You cannot deny that Turner is a creative lyricist and enjoys experimenting with new patterns to portray a story in Arctic Monkey songs. 

Some people have asked if we can consider Alex Turner as a poet. A few years ago The Guardian brought out a supplement series called 'Great Lyricists of the 20th Century'. Alex Turner was one of the musicians honoured and I took the supplement on a car journey. I devoured the lyrics in this supplement, I loved finding the images within them and genuinely enjoyed the verses on page, so I agree with 'some people' to an extent. Turner certainly seems to promote poetry by putting John Cooper Clarke's 'I Wanna Be Yours' to music in AM. Turner is a musician who holds language and storytelling as a priority in his music, and I believe more popular artists should do the same. 

Book shame

Reader, what you are about to read may shock you. It is a confession; and it may rock you to the core. I have a literary secret that has haunted me since childhood. Prepare yourself. I, reader, have never read a Harry Potter book cover to cover. Born in 1994, I am now 19, and I never took part in the Potter craze that swept through my generation. I am an outsider from the fictional world that so many of my peers claim 'shaped' their youth.

Now, I understand this may come as a shock to you. This is my 'book shame'. We all do this, don't we? Pretending we have read something when we haven't. We all avoid interrupting a culture-driven conversation because we are too embarrassed to admit that, no, we haven't read Bleak House or Wuthering Heights in its entirety. We know it's a classic, and yes we've really tried to read it (promise) but it just never happened. We are so convinced that whoever we are talking to might turn their nose up in disgust of our ignorance that we nod along religiously and throw in a couple of cliché statements like, 'It's so touching' or 'gripping' or 'a real page-turner'. You hope the trailer of the film adaptation you watched once or the review you read long ago will help you get through this awkward situation.

My Harry-Potter-shame has haunted me my entire life. There were the Potter-themed birthday parties I would attend as a child, where I would dress in the best costume I could copy from studying the film posters outside the town cinema. The Quidditch party games I would have to partake in, running around with a mop between my legs pretending I knew the rules. Past childhood, the book shame followed me into my teenage years. There were the jokes about life at Hogwarts, and all of my peers would laugh but me. It was like everyone I knew was in on an inside joke the scale of a generation, and I was the only one not told the punch line. Even now, at university studying English, I have been subject to being excluded from the Potter references in some of my lectures. I've even mastered a special fake-Potter-laugh for these occasions.

I know what you're going to say. Why don't you just read it? It's not that hard. Just pick it up. Well, reader, I do have my reasons. I have a memory of a time before I read to myself,  sitting in my bed whilst my mother read to me Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Mum reached a point in the book when she claimed it was too scary to read to me. She said we would stop reading the books, and even though part of me wanted her to continue, a bigger cowardly and submissive part of me agreed. I said an obliging, 'Yes, mummy'. And that was the end of my relationship with the Potter world.

Even though my classmates devoured the Potter books, I was hungry for the Roald Dahl world. Whilst my friends fantasized about learning spells and magic, I would imagine I was an elegant spider in a giant flying peach or an additional child with a golden ticket whom Charlie wanted to share his fortune with. I read the Sammy Keyes novels, and because of Harry Potter I had no one to discuss them with. Rowling seemed to have a literary monopoly over my generation, and I was a lone guerilla warrior sticking it to 'the man'. But despite my determination to remain removed, I still carry my book shame with me to this day.


DEAR READER: Do you have 'book shame'? What do you pretend you have read?

Literary Tourism #1: George Orwell

I was walking in London yesterday, taking in the colourful houses of Portobello Road, when something bright blue caught my eye. A blue plaque! I was standing right outside George Orwell's house!

I love 1984, mainly for the emotional and unsettling impact upon the reader in the final pages, so as soon as I saw this plaque I whipped out my phone and joined the other tourists taking photos. It reminded me of a time a couple of years ago when I was walking through Cambridge and I spotted St. Botolph's church, which was the namesake of Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath's poetry journal. At the time, I was writing a long essay on the two poets and I was swimming in their biographies. I got maybe a bit too overexcited about it, including squealing and taking photos, much to the embarrassment of the boy.

Writers coping with rejection

Do you want to become a writer but you fear the pain of rejection? Well, according to many famous writers their experiences of rejection were ultimately their biggest learning curves; their success ultimately depending on the motivation they gained from rejection letters. This article on aerogrammestudio.com gives aspiring writers an insight into how notable novelists and poets coped with rejection. Here is a selection of my favourite quotations:

 'I love my rejection slips. They show me I try' - SYLVIA PLATH

'Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae.' - KURT VONNEGUT

'I got a rejection letter from an editor at HarperCollins, who included a report from his professional reader. This report shredded my first-born novel, laughed at my phrasing, twirled my lacy pretensions around and gobbed into the seething mosh pit of my stolen clichés. As I read the report, the world became very quiet and stopped rotating. What poisoned me was the fact that the report’s criticisms were all absolutely true. The sound of my landlady digging in the garden got the world moving again. I slipped the letter into the trash…knowing I’d remember every word.' - DAVID MITCHELL

Ever had second thoughts?

If you're a perfectionist, you might just have something in common with one of your favourite authors. Back in May, some of the bestselling current authors ( such as J.K. Rowling, Margaret Atwood, Seamus Heaney - to name but a few) were encouraged to annotate first editions of their most notable or popular novels which would then be auctioned in order to raise funds for English PEN.

The Guardian's gallery of images of the handwritten notes makes for interesting viewing. Some authors have used the opportunity to reveal how their own personal memories feed into their writing. Hilary Mantel, for instance, describes her sensory experiences in the following handwritten anecdote in an early edition of Wolf Hall: 

Here, Mantel writes that she got the inspiration to write about 'the smell of cedar and spices, sombre, distant, desert-dry' from exploring medieval churches in Norwich, 'There is or used to be an ecclesiastical museum in one of Norwich's many medieval churches, & many years ago I sneakily lifted the lid of a chest & inhaled this unforgettable perfume. Richer than I could ever have imagined'

When annotating a first edition of The Remains of the Day (one of the best novels I've read over the last few years, and it was only when I was sat in a classroom analysing it did I really begin to appreciate its message), Kazuo Ishiguro gives the reader insight into the choice of setting part of it Salisbury. The place is apparently special to the author because of a long bike ride he went on at the age of 15.

Ishiguro writes, '...Salisbury has always held a special magic for me. It made sense it should be Steven's first stop too'.

Also, take a looks at Ishiguro's fantastic illustrations!

Nonetheless, some of the writers have used this opportunity to express their regrets and second thoughts about their work. Yann Martel seems to have a bit of a 'WHY did I write that moment?!' when he reads over the Author's Note section of Life of Pi - 'Never liked this first line'

Seamus Heaney, too, reveals a temptation to revise a popular poem:

So, it would seem that even some of the most successful writers have tempting desires to perfect their work even years after it has been published and reached notability. Maybe every writer has a perfectionist side to them?

Want to see more? Follow the link to the Guardian website above.

Explaining the connections between Bret Easton Ellis's novels

Ellis fans! Here is a step-by-step guide to the connections between BEE's novels and a clear mapping of the recurring characters that feature in all of his books from Less Than Zero to Imperial Bedrooms.

Click here!

Not only has the author of this article created a clear guide for new fans to navigate Bret Easton Ellis's work, but it is interesting for those who have read the novels in the past too.

Burton and Taylor

Dear reader, my sincerest apologies for leaving this blog alone for a short while. I admit I was always one of those children who would start a journal and always lose sight of writing anything meaningful in it. My excuse? A sudden rotten summertime cold in the current South-East heat wave and a stunning hiatus in Pembrokeshire has stopped me from updating this blog. I know, such a bad excuse. Forgive me. But at least I have returned with an abundance of things to talk about. First up - BBC4's latest goodie.

I wanted to talk about the recent ‘Burton and Taylor’ BBC4 biopic starring Helena Bonham-Carter and Dominic West. This TV film got me through an afternoon tied to the sofa whilst feeling sorry for myself under a mountain of tissues with Lemsip virtually on tap. The biopic played on the tension between on-off-on-off lovers, combined with glamour that convincingly transported me back in time. In addition, the film also played on the experiences of the infamous actors in the public eye, in turn resonating with current adversaries facing modern celebrities.

However, although the piece was beautifully written and effectively gripping, it was very difficult for me to believe Bonham-Carter as Taylor. This underlying fault to the biopic was in no way  due to HBC’s acting abilities, but my inability to look past her pale and pixie-like looks and see Taylor’s unforgettable classic looks. Nonetheless, it is difficult to argue against West and Bonham-Carter’s dedication to portraying one of the most fascinating twentieth-century love affairs in its latter stages.

As this film finished, I was left wanting more. It is sad that the BBC will no longer be making similar biopics in the future.