What To Read If You’re A Narcissist*

(August Book of the Month!!)

Are you the type of person who also spends more time choosing an outfit for an event than preparing for the lecture you will give there? (An optimistic guess of the core readers, but I’ll run with it.)

Do you want to spend hours admiring your many talents by doing Are You Smarter Than Einstein quizzes and having wonderful daily rambles into the realms of self-reflection?

Do you feel constantly under-appreciated by all others in your family, even when you did all their laundry, walked the dog and made their Chilli Costume at 10 pm for World Taste Day as little Tommy only remembered at bedtime that it was the next morning? (Actually, that probably is a fair one.)

If so, then PSY-Q is for you! Oh, and you’re a narcissist.

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Anyway, the book is littered with many curious, engaging and thought-provoking tests which ultimately tell you more about yourself. We all know that our IQ is highly superior (by default) to everyone else’s, but it’s always fun to do the personality tests, Rorschach tests and Raven test that Ben Ambridge includes in his hefty book amongst many others.

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What do you see in these ink blots? Your answer may reveal more about you than you think…

But the quizzes, riddles and multiple choice questions are all part of a larger scheme to explain the psychology behind It All. By that, I mean the basic prinicples of all kinds of things, for example neurological and linguistic disorders, with everything tied together by the results of your test. Sounds neat? Well, it is.

One of the many fascinating things that Ambridge discusses is selective attention. Take the test below by watching the video- it’s awesome (and it’s very popular, so you may have already done it).

Ambridge walks us mere ordinary citizens through why selective attention occurs, and how it is useful when implemented in everyday life, (it allows us to have a conversation on a busy train, for example, as all the other voices can be blocked out instead of distracting us). But that’s not all. Ambridge also offers the reader a whistle-stop tour through first-year psychology, explaining not only everyday revelations but deeply personal ones too, such as with the sunk cost fallacy.

As the authour sagely mentions at the start of the book, everything links back to psychology, even money- no, especially money. It’s all good and well, being that told you’re a relatively open person with extroverted tendencies, because you  knew that already. But being dropped the bombshell that you’re actually culpable to mental financial tricks (like the sunk cost fallacy) is something else. Here is what it is, in a nutshell:

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Or, as put eloquently, here:

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All things considered, it’s most likely not what a great man once meant when, to delight of motivational posters stockers everywhere, he said:

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But it stills applies. The point is that there are many pitfalls that we face in life which are clearly explained by a proper psychologist (none of that self-proclaimed Instagram riff-raff) across a broad spectrum of topics which may end up not only informing your future decisions, but helping you to guide them. To use the SCF example from earlier, like when you’ve spent £300 on a plane ticket you no longer want, instead of paying an extra £1000 and wasting 4 days of your holiday going to a place you don’t even like to make sure that the plane tickets are wasted, you may remember the sunk cost fallacy and take the £300 loss. Or not. It’s your cash.

Of course, the explanations, whilst thorough, are superficial because we of the public don’t have medical degrees, so it’s not likely to be useful to anyone with much grounding in psychology already. Laughably, by the end of the book Ambridge finishes with this optimistic note: I hope at least some of you are now inspired to go on to study psychology at university, or even go onto your postgrad. Wait. What? I’m sorry brother, but I’m not going to switch my university choice just from a few fancy tests of yours. Your book is interesting and all, granted, but you need to tone your expectation levels down or you will sorely disappointed!

Except, maybe after reading PSY-Q, YOU will be the one Ambridge is talking about who starts a new degree. Not convinced? Give the book a read and prove me wrong. Because that’s what narcissists like to do, after all.

*or just really interest in psychology.

6 Parallels between Trump and the Theban Plays

1. How the Good of the State comes first, and morales second (if at all)

Creon throughout all three plays is clearly a villain, not in the least because he orders his own nephew’s body to fester outside the walls of his city after the battle. When Antigone is the eponymous hero, she is just a bit miffed by the outright disrespect displayed towards her brother Polynices, even if Creon (her uncle) says that it’s fine if dogs eat his flesh because he was betrayed Thebes by trying to overthrow the ruler at the time, Polynices’ brother Eteocles . It’s clear, therefore, that Creon believes that any morales or values must be placed second to that of the States’ needs. In this case the value that is being ‘demoted’ here is that of honouring the dead and in particular family, because Creon refuses to give Polynices any form of a burial, leaving him to rot outside the city’s walls. Instead, Creon decides it’s more important to use Polynices as an example of what happens to those who threaten the State and therefore to help keep order in Thebes.

As for Trump, well…

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It’s clear that these…
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…speak for themselves 

2.Difficulties realising that the truth is not a social construct but an actual thing

In Oedipus the King, the celebrated couple that is Jocasta and Oedipus are discussing the events of Laius’ murder. Both decide to latch onto what the servant had said when they recounted the event, fixing on the fact that ‘strangers’ had carried out the murder when of course Oedipus alone had stabbed Laius. Neither are particularly keen to point out the large number of coincidences that would disprove the servant as a reliable source, like how Oedipus (as his name suggests) has damaged feet and yet just fails to draw a parallel when Jocasta mentions binding the ankles of her new-born, or how both have similar prophecies and yet they don’t see any significance in this shared coincidence. It seems like this pair has a bit of trouble with the truth. Do you know who else does?

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Now, I could go on to list the many times that Trump has had some difficulties with the truth, (in fact the Post says that since he started his presidency he has this problem 4.9 times a day on average), but instead of going into the details myself, I’ll let the excellent Pulitzer Prize winning website POLITIFACT do it instead. Really, click on the link. Go on, check it out!

3. A tendency towards self-inflicted pain

Deaths happen. Lots of deaths. No, I’m not talking about the countless suspicious car accidents which take place in Russia everyday as more agents try to double cross and reveal evidence of collusion. No. I never said that. I am talking about the large number of suicides that occur during the span of the Three Theban Plays:

Oedipus firstly blinds himself in Oedipus the King and then leads himself to his own death at the end of Oedipus at Colonus. His two sons/ half brothers, Polynices and Eteocles, die by each-others’ swords (which can be judged as self-inflicted because Polynices knew from the prophecy that he would die without Oedipus’ support). Then there is Jocasta, Haemon and Eurydice who die in equally gory and interesting ways….

So there’s plenty of tragic deaths through suicide of one form or another. But the point that Sophocles is trying to make? That wrongdoing is a catalyst for a loss. Here, the wrongdoing as such is incest, which is linked to every sucide either directly or indirectly. Ergo, a crime or a sin will have negative consequences, and the more severe the crime, the greater the effect.

Now the Trump administration has seen quite a few people either resign or be, to put it bluntly, sacked so hard that they plummeted through the earth and appeared on the other side in Japan.

As of March 2018, over 22 people have either resigned or have been fired. This is much the same as ‘self-inflicted pain’ because, of course, to have a cohesive government the party needs to be unified. Any cracks weaken the party and thus the President. If the leader is losing respect of the people in his party to such the extent that they feel they have to leave, then clearly the President is not only doing something wrong, but is sending the message of a rift in the party to the public. At the rate Trump is going through these staff, it won’t be long before ‘factionalism’ as created by Lenin, will be introduced to ensure that someone turns up to wor on Monday morning.

A few of the most major leavers were:

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Anthony Scaramucci with his 11 day career 
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Sean Spicer who probably wasn’t laughing like this when he left the White House
Comey and the complex saga that followed him

4. Humanity’s potential for infinite stupidity

The vision of Oedipus violently blinding himself, with blood running down his face, is one of the most memorable from King Oedipus. But references to vision can be found more than just that once throughout these three plays. Lots of times these references are a metaphor for the truth and knowledge. Going back to the previous example, Oedipus blinds himself because he doesn’t want to see his daughters/ siblings. As if by not seeing the truth, it can be avoided and ignored. Ironically and in reverse, the prophet who features mainly in Antigone, Tiresias, is alsp blind, and yet he can predict the future accurately and thus does have great knowledge. So the message is that even those who are the most revered and are the most intelligent in society i.e Oedipus who solves the riddle, can be incredibly short-sighted (PUN INTENDED). Like when he accidentally  marries his mother. So Sophocles neatly and dramatically highlights how although humans have the potential for great intelligence, in reality they’re unreliable and vastly stupid.

Hm. You know, I don’t know if this does relate to Trump. I can’t think of him in any situation about where he seems even a tiny bit idiotic and resembled a well dressed orange with a penchance for public speaking.  Only joking. I wouldn’t say that about oranges. Even oranges know that ‘covfefe’ isn’t a real word and try to pull off the fact

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5. Trouble when family and state collide

 The Theban Plays become very grave when discussing burials. Obviously the source of the conflict when Polynices’ corpse is denied a proper grave in Antigone whilst shockingly, Antigone is entombed in a cave whilst alive (and then kills herself, but that’s another motif for another paragraph). Even the way Oedipus choses to buried at Colonus is significant because it gives Athens the prophetic power to win any future battles.

Anyhow, during the denouement of Antigone, Creon realises that it’s his part of his duty to bury his nephew, traitor or not, and so burials come to represent the duties and trials that come with kinship, particularly when the duty to the state conflicts with the duty to one’s relatives.

For Donald Trump, there is on the other hand no conflict with duty to family and state. No, they are the same thing. Now, two words: Ivanka Trump. A Senior Advisor to the President.

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Makes sense. She has modelled for Tommy Hilfiger and Versace, and was a reality TV personality and fashion designer. One cannot think of anyone in the entirity America who is more suited to advising the President on nuclear warheads and soybean tariffs. What Obama really needed, then, was Cindy Crawford by his side….

And another two words: Jared Kushner. He has to broker peace in the Middle East, act as the liason to Mexico, China and the Muslim community. Oh, and he also has to enjoy being Donald Trump’s son-in-law. But that’s just a coincidence. Isn’t it?

6. Assertion of control over others

Lastly is poor Antigone. Banished to a cave, buried alive. Oh the horror. No, seriously, that does actually sound quite horrific. On a metaphorical level this is crucial because it suggests that Creon disregards the Gods entirely; it was widely known to be a terrible sin to put living Antigone into a grave and keep dead Polynices above ground. In doing so, Creon is clearly trying to assert his control over the Gods, which always ends well, and disregard the sinful nature of this act.

As for assertion of control…. let me leave you with this one final thought:

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East of Eden – John Steinbeck

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So take a left at the T junction, go straight past Eden and then take the third exit at the roundabout. Then you’re East of Eden.

Steinbeck said that ‘everything else I have written has been, in a sense, practice for this’ novel, and he was certainly correct in saying that East of Eden was the literary finale compared to all his previous works.

At a hefty 602 pages, it may seem daunting at first, but unlike many of other long novels (like Tess of the D’Urbervilles), the content deserves to sprawls across hundreds of pages. In fact, sprawl seems to the wrong word. Each word seems to be carefully chosen, like Steinbeck was a gardener picking only the best fruit that the English language could offer. It is remarkable to think how Steinbeck could even begin to plan a novel of this magnitude; in no places does it, like an under-baked pie, sag under the need to get to the next exciting event. All of the plot is gripping and thought-provoking, and the meanings span across so many levels. Although I may indeed regret saying this, (the old adage being careful what you wish for!), it seems that in spite of its length, this novel would be a joy to study as there is just so much to unpack.

The first thing to comment on is obviously the book’s namesake, East of Eden, referring to how the plot loosely links to the story of Adam and Eve and ultimately Cain and Abel. Adam is both Adam from the Book of Genesis and Abel; Charles is Cain. This makes sense because if Cyrus, their father, is God, then Cyrus’ rejection of Charles’ pocketknife and adoration of Abel’s stray puppy mirror wonderfully God’s praise for the lamb and hatred for the crops offered by Cain. Following this cruel dismissal from God, Cain famously kills Abel, and so Charles beats Adam almost to death, before running off to get a hatchet to finish Adam before he eventually escapes. Again Cain becomes marked by God to prevent others from killing him, and so Charles becomes scarred when working in his fields. Lastly Cain didn’t have any descendants whilst Adam did, which can be a direct parallel to the lives of Charles and Adam. The interesting thing about the way Steinbeck did this was that it was never glaring obvious that the two stories paralleled each other, nor was the next chapter ever predicatable, whilst still holding true to the Bible original.

Furthermore Adam and Cathy can be interpreted as Adam and Eve from the Bible. When considering the original sin, it can traced entirely back to Eve, as she was responsible for all the acts of wrongdoing in Eden due to the loss of the pair’s innocence. In this way, Cathy can be regarded as a solely evil character because of all the ‘monstrous’ manipulation, lying, cheating and murder she carried out in her lifetime. Scholars believe her to be a representation of a debased form of Eve, as she seduces men at every opportunity for her own means; for example, from framing her parents’ death without remorse, to using the whoremaster to engineer a better circumstance to herself, to her betrayal of Adam and ultimately her own kin. The list of the other devious happenings she organised goes on, but essentially it’s clear that Cathy is undeniably a gruesome and perhaps hyperbolic version of Eve in the context of the Book of Genesis.

The important thing to remember when reading East of Eden, too, is that it’s not necessarily meant to be realistic. The narrator even mentions that Cathy has a ‘deformity’ within her soul, meaning that she is crueler and harsher than an average person. Cathy is an exaggeration of humanity’s worst qualities and yet she is still somewhat plausible, in a twisted sort of way. It’s worth mentioning this just because many critics at the time of the novel’s publication argued that the characters were unruly and unimaginable, making this not such a fantastic read after all, but then again these same critics did believe a certain man to walk on water, and so these contradictions in what is plausible and what isn’t make their arguments rather hypocritical.

All in all, although I was initially quite unenthusiastic about taking the plunge into East of Eden, when I did I was amazed by the vivid characters and plot that lay before me. So come join me! The water’s lovely…

The God of Small Things – Arundhati Roy

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A clear favourite amongst the Ayemenem locals

Roy’s breakthrough debut novel is more like poetry than literature; in the sense that most of it doesn’t make sense.

I have discovered from years of scouring award winning poems that a lot of their  imagery is not coherent in any way and yet somehow manages to capture the imagination of the judges. Roy’s novel should have won the attention of the public and the Man Booker committee, not because of imagery (of which there is a copious amount and so I dwell upon it), but in spite of it.

I can understand that the novel was singularly exceptional in the way that the caste system was handled, with the underlying political tension creating another area of conflict, as well as the looming fate of the infamous pickle factory, however I cannot understand the language used by Roy most of the time. As in: I cannot understand what she is trying to say. This is problematic, particularly because lots of phrases become epithets to characters or circumstances, so some level of coherency would be useful.

Here is a random example:

‘He folded his fear into a perfect rose. He held it out in the palm of his hand. She took it from him and put it in her hair

This sounds wonderful and indeed poetic, but it is rather nonsensical. So fear is the rose, right? So Rahel takes Velutha’s fear and makes it add to her beauty/ shows it off? Of course, as any self respecting literature scholar will know, you can always adjust the meaning of phrases, because no one has the ‘definitive’ meaning so if you shout loud enough then your opinion of a piece of imagery could be deemed somewhat plausible. So someone might say that Velutha makes himself vulnerable and turns his fears into a thing of beauty, because he is a powerful character who can create perfection from his own fallibility and in doing so Rahel respects his weaknesses and turns into something which complements her one of her own strengths, her beauty. You could say that. But we all know that that interpretation is rather whimsical and far-fetched, and yet many people would justify the relevance of this quote (and many others equally ridiculous) by saying that this was the true meaning.

Another example is:

blood spilt from the man’s head ‘like a secret’

Let’s break this down: a secret is a piece of information which must be concealed from individuals or groups for the threat of causing conflict. Blood cannot come from someone’s head like something which shouldn’t be discussed. The movement of blood isn’t like something that should be concealed, especially when one considers how much blood does actually appear from a head injury as this character as sustained, and how this actually is useful as it signals injury and therefore brings help. No one wants a severe injury to be hidden for fear of causing problems when they could be receiving medical tension and their life is at risk. Call me pedantic, but these examples (and I can list many more), prove that much of Arunhati’s imagery is at best parnassian and at worst unintelligible. I adore well-written books, just not when the language it pretentious and self-indulgent.

So why isn’t this terrible flaw pointed out more often?

Many people will go to the depths of the universe to defend Roy because they can relate to other parts of the plot and so want to defend the ENTIRE novel, instead of admitting there’s a few faults, to justify that they don’t like books with flaws. This aggravatingly works in their favour because literature is always ‘open to debate’, if you are willing to concede that ‘debate’ includes twisting things out of proportion and context to prove a point. In another instance people can simply skim past words and not step back and internalise them, and so although things may sound pleasant on the tip of their tongue, they may never truly think why Roy makes these bizarre comparisons. Worst of all, it may be because people honestly believe that they aren’t intelligent enough to understand the references, even when it’s a vague and poor reference that they’re dealing with, and so the problem is with the language and not their intellect.

The book does however has beautifully and vividly crafted characters, however it did take me almost the entirety of the plot to suddenly be able to differentiate them as they were introduced rather haphazardly all at once. It seems apparent that the plot in question only really starts to develop and come into its own in the latter stages of The God, mainly because the rest of the novel is so utterly character driven. This naturally places Roy’s piece in the ‘literature’ section of the Types Of Books scale, but it did seem a bit indulgent at times even for literature. For example, an author can go on and on with elaborately described scenes where characters are just brushing their teeth, but then it seems to be more for the author’s enjoyment then for the reader’s benefit, and as the book is being sold, it really ought to be more reader in mind than the writer.

Also, the incest part at the end? This was entirely unnecessary to the plot and quite abhorrent. Some argue that it’s to evoke a reaction that would be parallel to the Velutha/ Ammu relationship, so that Western reactions to the twins’ incest could be a template for Untouchable/ Touchable relationship, as there is no caste system as such in the West and so it may be hard to imagine what feelings would have been created by the news of the two together. But in all seriousness, the caste system is cruel and names people’s worth before they are even born, based on the social standing of their family, not on the individuals’ potential, and so people are born into a lottery of sorts. Incest, on the other hand, not only destroys the boundaries that one assumes exists between family members and siblings, where the love is meant to be platonic and caring at to the highest degree, but also violates the idea of preventing cross-breeding. There is a real reason to be concerned by this as opposed to the Untouchable/ Touchable relationship, and not just because of it is at odds with Western culture, but with all cultures and even morales.

So The God of Small Things was generally an adequate read; the flash backs and glimpses into the future also tended to add to some of the confusion, but once the plot is firmly sorted in one’s head I suppose reading the novel the next time will be a more enjoyable and clearer experience. If you can get past the opaque language, that is.

Should we swallow all literature?

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Unless you read awful books, then you can alternatively die of boredom quite a few times as well…

Short answer: No.

Now that I have weeded out all the non-commited readers (or those with a stereotypically 21st century attention span), we can begin. There is talk of reading everything you come across, as it’ll make you more appreciative of the better crafted books and if you’re a writer, enhance your skills. You can envision it now; a class of nervous looking graduates, ink pens resting atop leather-bound notebooks, almost crushed by the weight of the student loan that uneasily allowed them to attend this class. “Read” rasped the teacher, her hair like tendrils twisting down her back. “Read everything, let the words encompass your soul and sift through the goodness…” she jutted out her chin, dramatically clawing of the air in front of her bookcase.

No thank you. Although it was meant to be a demonstrative metaphor, I suspect that I might have just exposed to some rather poor literature right there. Swiftly moving on, it seems strange that people should advocate for wasting their time. Thanks to the internet, we seem to be procrastinating unwittingly most of the day anyway, so adding to this intentionally is going to help nobody. I suppose the argument is that it’s going to help with technique, that once your retinas have been scarred by such a disgusting use of a semi-colon you’ll never dream of copying it in your own work.

However I don’t exactly need to read other’s work to experience poor writing. The first draft of any novel I write (publishers- I know this is a long shot- but I’ve got a manuscript for one I’ve recently composed and if you email me I can always send it over) is going to be shocking. Who has a first draft that isn’t? (That front-row student puts her hand up, 15 different highlighters lined up on her desk and already 3 supernovas to her name; she had found them causally doing astronomy before school this morning.) Alright, apart from her. Regardless of the number mistakes I’ve made, I’m still going to do a second draft. And a third. And a fourth. (Yes, all publishers out there, I am thorough.) I’m going to inevitably correct my grammatical errors if my laptop doesn’t do it for me so I don’t need to suffer anybody else’s. Think of it this way- compared to the classic cult film Mean Girls if I may. Reading someone else’s poorly written book doesn’t make mine any better, just as making Regina gain weight didn’t make the girls any skinnier.

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I’m guessing it’s Wednesday too…

It just gave Lindsay Lohan the high school epiphany that trying to sabotage other people would not make her a more welcoming person, whilst it’ll give you the epiphany- as your thoughts wander again- that actually you still have 6 different preps to do, it’s nearly 1AM and you’d probably be better off watching Narcos with your roommate in Spanish (even though you can’t speak it) instead of forcing your writing synapses to cry.

“But how will I know if I like it?” Obviously, if you haven’t started reading it, you won’t. Yet I think sometimes skirting the blurb is enough- and here’s why: I, with the extreme caution of one handling an unsanitary item (even though I was looking at images online,) read the back of Fifty Shades of Grey. Whilst I’m not going to plague my blog with an image of the book, needless to say, you can get a sufficient idea of the type of story it is simply by the type of audience they’re trying to appeal to. If you don’t see yourself as the type of half-ravaged person who is going to be lured into buying some ink on paper simply because the blurb used copious amounts of alliteration and the rule of three, then don’t be. It’s as simple as that.

Also, I find that I read some rather displeasing items enough as it is, without even trying to go out of my way. I was going to write a book review of What I talk about when I talk about running by Haruki Murkami, true to Ink Cloud form, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Thanks to the wildly successful poll I ran a few weeks ago, I was recommended to tone down the reviews a bit and ramp up the opinion pieces, so here we are. Anyway; it was such a self-indulgent book, simply going on about how the author had building work done to house in Boston and about how he had a connection with Olympic athletes because he saw them on his daily morning run. I know that his running habits are the basic premise of this book, but I was hoping for something more generalised, like how Japanese culture has ingrained running into it, but on the contrary it simply included regurgitations of articles written for running magazines. If I wanted them, I’d look in the archives! It was simply a long, dull (I would say vomit, but that would be unfair) mass of words which have struck precisely zero sympathetic chords in me. Which is strange, because I’m a runner. And Murakami is one of the greatest writers of the 21st century (according to other people).

Unlike you, however, I had to stick it out, because unlike you (well, who knows, maybe I’m wrong), I have a blog where I write about books. That means reading the entirety of it before I can ‘write it off’. I’m not completely cruel. I will give the book a chance to redeem itself after a shoddy start before eloquently reminding the world how awful it is. So, reader, consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to finish terrible books and suffer through to the end. Why? Because I do all the hard work for you.

Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderley again…

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Even a battered, £2.50 book can fill me with delight. In the spare moments of my ‘very busy’ summer holiday, I found time to read Du Maurier’s classic, Rebecca. Which is just as well, because ten years ago, skirt askew and blazer crumpled,  I was in a house at school called Du Maurier. We all got little green pin with a gold lined book and a pen engraved into the  enamel. Along with various other inspirational women whom the houses were named after, the name meant nothing more to me than that it signified the colour shirt I wore on Sports Day. Now, sufficiently literate, I have decided to finally pay attention to Du Maurier, and pick up one of her greatest pieces (although, admittedly, not enough to buy a copy at full price)!

There is the magnificent setting itself, Manderely House, where the protagonist a Mrs de Winter and Max de Winter live. Although it’s precise location is never revealed, in the author’s note I read that Du Maurier’s old home Mandabilly was the main inspiration. It’s a brooding place, full of complexities and has such an animate character that if the plot was set in a cottage, or some other half-hearted building, it would simply be an awful reading experience. Much like pathetic fallacy with the weather, it is seen with the house and that is what makes the novel so impactful. Also, the description reminds me rather a lot of somewhere I go often, Endsleigh House so the nostalgia and memories of that trip trickled perfectly into the narrative:

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The Endsleigh hotel, or Manderely? There’s even a dog and roses!

There is something so dark about the narrative, so wonderfully obscene about the twist of events that I cannot help but find myself, like a child drawn to the trigger of a gun, mesmerised by it. It’s an oddly comforting storyline, in all honesty; after all, it confirms humanity’s vulnerability, that no relationships can be idealised, except perhaps when you are judging other peoples’. That’s precisely what the second wife, Mrs de Winter, did. She was swept away by the façade, daunted by the expectations following Maxim’s previous marriage, that it choked her potential. It’s needless to say how to many teenagers can find this book liberating; think of Instagram accounts of the rich and famous as one huge Rebecca and Maxim marriage, except without the honesty and the murder trial. Agreed, that a minority of famous bloggers unveil the reality behind the laborious process and their undying emotional instability even though millions of people comment about how much they want to look like them, but it’s just that those that don’t, lead us to believe that the images are their true nature, therefore forcing our own standards higher.

So, the novel’s called Rebecca. But what is the name of our protagonist, the young school girl? It’s one of the best plot devices of all; how du-Maurier neglected to mention her name, left us hanging on a string of anticipation. In the end, though, we aren’t troubled by this absence, but are riddled with speculation, with the sheer curiosity of this. After perusing the internet, some thought that she was called Daphne, after all it was cited early in the book that Maxim said she had an unusual name, and many believe this story was written to reflect the author’s own experiences. Others think that du Maurier merely forgot. But if you’re composing such a masterpiece, sifting day upon day on material, now stale from being constantly looked scanned for improvements, then of course you simply wouldn’t have forgetten. It’s almost farcical to suggest such a notion. Personally, I believe that it’s a reflection of Mrs de Winter’s own shyness, own timidity that she couldn’t even draw that much attention to herself to speak up on the number of occasions where it could have been mentioned.

So, reader, give it a try. I had put off reading Rebecca long enough, unexcited by the drab premise, but I have to say it’s now officially my favourite book (yay! Finally something to say at dinner parties… well, not dinner parties, but you know what I mean). It has affected me so much I have even named one of my bonsai trees (I have a few) Maxim. Yes, the level of adoration is serious.

 

 

 

What do you want to read on The Ink Cloud?

Hi Everyone,

I hope that you’re having a wonderful summer; I have just attached a quick poll below  because I would love to create more content that you will enjoy reading, so I’ll use this to get a rough idea of what to post in the future … if you have any additional requests, please add them in the comments! (Thank you so much for participating, it’s hugely informative and I look forward to catering my future posts to the results!)

A review of To Rise Again at a Decent Hour by Joshua Ferris

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Paul O’Rourke is a dentist who believes that flossing is pointless. He lives in New York, owning his business without having an office. He likes watching baseball. Until someone creates a website for his company, creating false bios about himself and even starting up a Twitter account in Paul’s name.

Whilst Paul meanders the implications of the religious messages spread as though from him, his relationship with others in his workplace unfold- ex-girlfriend receptionist, maternal hygienist and blank-faced assistant. As Paul flounders in the face of relating to other people, his lack of a personal life becomes entrenched as his dedication to dentistry fills in the gaps in his life. Paul denies himself the internet and is an interesting 21st century specimen (I feel like this word is appropriate), who articulates the fears that everybody has lodged deep within themselves, but aren’t willing enough to confront. One of the reasons why this is notable, is because it means that the person who has stolen his identity can operate for a vast length of time before Paul even identifies any issue.

I was already at one remove before the Internet came along. I need another remove? Now I have to spend the time that I’m not doing the thing they’re doing reading about them doing it? Streaming the clips of them doing it, commenting on how lucky they are to be doing all those things, liking and digging and bookmarking and posting and tweeting all those things, and feeling more disconnected than ever? Where does this idea of greater connection come from?

It’s true though. Why in society today do we genuinely need more connection? How is my life made any better by knowing that Charlotte did 500 squats in the gym? If tt make me feel inadequate,  I should abandon Facebook, and if it does not invoke a response at all, what’s the point in engaging in the first place?

Paul has a fascinating take on religion. He admires churches and synagogues and rituals, although being an atheist himself. The saddest thing about the rejection of religious practice to him, is not the lack of a guiding figure or book to lodge his thoughts in, but instead the vocabulary. Faith, charity, hope. These are ingrained in religions and it is these words he desires the most in life.

This is no surprise as Paul is an inherently lonely person; it is a winding novel and there is a plot, but it is padded with flashbacks and stuffy bits of information about the protagonist. One of these things are his relationships; he has no friends for certain, but his two girlfriends were heavily imbedded in religious communities and it was these things he was truly attracted to: the sense of belonging, of a wider place in society. Subconsciously, he saw that these girlfriends were his ticket to spot, to becoming enveloped in the Jewish/ Christian way of life. Now, two breakups later, religion is back in his life again as Ulmist messages are being spread across the web; not that he even know what an Ulm is.

The novel takes us on a journey of self-recognition and of realisation of others around you, as well as a reflection of life (and death) itself. This is more of a thought-provoking piece than anything else and although there is notable humour, the selling-point for me is the examination of Paul. He isn’t real. But his portrayal invites the reader to examine their own selves to identify flaws and to try to improve them. What better type of writing can there be?

 

This is my favourite quote from the entirety of the novel:

She no longer lived in a world of speculation or recall and would take nothing on faith when the facts were but a few clicks away. It drove me nuts. I was sick to death of having as my dinner companions Wikipedia, About.com, IMDb, the Zagat guide, Time out New York, a hundred Tumblrs, the New York Times, and People magazine. Was there not some strange forgotten pleasure in reveling in our ignorance? Would we just be wrong?

The Brain: The Story of You by David Eagleman

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Given that he serves as a professor at Stanford University, the department of Psychiatry & Behavioral Sciences, he certainly knows his facts.

Neurons fire and seeming random clustered pixels form to make words. Perhaps you’re sipping on coffee, eyes rolling as I attempt to predict your movements, the rim of the cup nevertheless brought to your lips. And then a miracle takes place. I know it; Eagleman devoted most of a chapter to how someone was able to perform the seemingly simplistic act of drinking, how the millions of decisions, which control your muscles, sense of balance and so on, all happen behind a veil of obliviousness. He sets out to explain the complexity of the actions we take for granted. These snippets of stories, such as how we walk or why we make friends with certain people, and half-formed scenes are underscored by in-depth, yet intelligible analysis- with accompanying surprising experiments to highlight the sheer beauty of the spongle-like muscle locked behind bone.

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This is an ingenious book because it tears away the shadow of mystery from a part of our lives. Why do we want to help others? Why do we connect with non-animate objects? Given that we’ve only recently evolved into a society which doesn’t hold the necessity of wild foraging as an imperative, it suddenly doesn’t seem like a completely unconsidered question. When our ancestors were lolling around, and the framework for our brains today were being carved out, it was about survival; holding the cave door open wouldn’t get you anywhere. So where did this altruism spring from (at least in some people… in others, sadly, it appears to be an evolutionary step which bypassed them).

Eagleman answers the questions about yourself you never even thought to ask, and delights you with answers that make you wish, if you could swallow medical school, you too could be a neuroscientist.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Review: A Life Without Limits by Chrissie Wellington

23rd of April 2017. A massive day for some, it’s when this year’s London Marathon will be taking place, and amongst the tens of thousands, Chrissie Wellington will be competing. She may be one anonymous figure to you, but her fastest marathon time is 2:44:35, which is impressive enough. Especially as that was run immediately after a 3.8km swim and 180.2km bike. You may not have heard of her, but you should have, considering that Wellington is a 4x Ironman world champion and is regarded as one of the best female triathletes in history.

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Reading her autobiography, A Life Without Limits, was inspiring because it shows how determination can almost force results into existence. Wellington won her first world title only 9 months after leaving her day job, and a highly prestigious one at that, as a civil servant in Whitehall. She became a professional athlete at the age of 30, and this is incredible not only because it defies the idea that you have to be committed to a single discipline from a young age, but because in reality Wellington had no real background in sport either. This is one of the many reasons that I’ve come to respect Wellington; she had the security of an established, well paying job, yet she took a risk. She became an athlete and entered a brutal, competitive world in which she was chronically unfamiliar. But she prospered.

If you’re looking for any reason to read this book, it’s this: it explains the history of an athlete like no other, and not just an athlete, but a genuinely compassionate and interesting person. Wellington’s career includes Nepal working on aid, as well as triathlon, making it fascinating to read if you’re looking for an insight on their rural culture, or even as a civil servant.

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This is a book about triathlon, true. Yet it’s also about so much more; about aspects of her career that not only prevent monotony from the reader’s point of view, but also show that the physical attributes of someone can be just the beginning of someone’s personality, not their defining feature. In a book I’ve reviewed previously, Swim Bike Run by the Brownlees, featured there was basically just a skimmed version of their childhood, training sessions and races. A Life Without Limits, on the other hand, is much more varied.

If you want something that is inspirational, a book that will motivate you to achieve more (Wellington set an ironman world record time with shingles, after all) than you need to look no further.

Have you tried a triathlon before? What’s your favourite sport, besides reading marathons obviously 🙂 ? What’s the best sports (auto)biography you’ve read? Do comment below and let me know your thoughts!