Naturally, I'm drawn to blog because I'm supposed to be doing something else - in this case writing notes for a well-known revision website about some of the poems on the new GCSE syllabus. The new syllabus doesn't just draw on four modern poets, but mixes and matches instead, and I've been introduced to a number of poems - and poets - which I'd never encountered before. One poet who has struck me deeply is Dorothy Molloy.
Molloy had her first collection, Hare Soup, published in 2004, her second in 2007 and her third in 2009. Well, yes, so what you say? She died from liver cancer ten days before the publication of her first collection, and the two further collections have been compiled by her husband from the poems she left behind. The poem I'm analysing is called 'Les Grands Seigneurs' and it's precisely the sort of poem that appeals to me - black humour, playing on the relationships between men and women (it starts out as a courtly love poem and finishes: 'But after I was wedded, bedded, I became/ (yes, overnight) a toy, a plaything, little woman,/ wife, a bit of fluff. My husband clicked/ his fingers, called my bluff.') But it's the sadness of Molloy's story that appealed most of all.
Hare Soup was hailed as a great 'new voice', as debut collections occasionally are, and I felt tremendous sadness for a woman whom I envisaged as youngish, cut off in her prime, and a great talent whose further work was not to be. As it happens, Molloy was bron in 1942, and I only knew about the first collection when I was imagining her life. But the reality doesn't seem to have made a difference. One of the amazing things about poetry is that occasionally you meet a poem - or a poet - that connects right to you, and then empathy does everything it's supposed to, and you don't need to worry about reality, because the words and the fiction have become a permanent part of your imaginary world.
I think when I'm paid for these notes I might spend the money buying Dorothy Molloy's collections. There might be another gem in there.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
Txt spk gr8t for splling lol
The debate is over. The British Academy published a report today on a longitudinal research project which looked at children's phonological ability and their use of texts.
There were two amusing parts to this:
a) John Humphrys on the Today programme reciting this piece of doggerel:
Mary had a mobile.
She texted day and night.
But when it came to her exams
She'd forgotten how to write
He didn't know the source, but he also quotes it in this Daily Mail article from two years ago about why he hates text speak.
b) the fact that in the web announcement/ press release the British Academy felt the need to gloss all the text speak they used so that the older generation would understand. I mean, come off it, who doesn't know that xxxx is 4 kisses? (That's the number four, not the word 'for'.)
The general line goes like this: using text abbreviations is for people who don't know how to spell, and you get out of the habit of using correct spelling and punctuation and then in your GCSEs you accidentally use text language, not because you don't know better but because you're used to using the other. Well, says this report, actually children (and we're talking about under 10s here) who can manipulate text speak have a higher phonological awareness, which makes sense if you think about the fact that they are replacing sounds with appropriate symbols other than the letter combinations usually used. The researchers who compiled the report point out that this is the natural extension of the current emphasis on phonetics and phonology in teaching children to read.
But I'm afraid this isn't carte blanche. For starters, the report also shows that there is a negative correlation between mobile use and literacy ability: ie high levels of use are associated with lower literacy attainment. This isn't as contradictory as it sounds; it's the sophistication, not the quantity. Secondly, it only applies to phonology. It doesn't apply to grammar or punctuation, which excuses and upholds my much-maligned tendency to use semi-colons in text messages.
But I'm afraid you have to be very confident that your approach counts as sophisticated: I've met more than one person who used a text abbreviation in an English essay because they genuinely thought that was how the English word was spelled.
Anyway, there you go. Child Language Acquisition and E-language in one small package. Now to reduce it to 144 characters....
gd @ txt = gd @ fonology, BritAcademy shw.
And space left over for a hundred kisses.
There were two amusing parts to this:
a) John Humphrys on the Today programme reciting this piece of doggerel:
Mary had a mobile.
She texted day and night.
But when it came to her exams
She'd forgotten how to write
He didn't know the source, but he also quotes it in this Daily Mail article from two years ago about why he hates text speak.
b) the fact that in the web announcement/ press release the British Academy felt the need to gloss all the text speak they used so that the older generation would understand. I mean, come off it, who doesn't know that xxxx is 4 kisses? (That's the number four, not the word 'for'.)
The general line goes like this: using text abbreviations is for people who don't know how to spell, and you get out of the habit of using correct spelling and punctuation and then in your GCSEs you accidentally use text language, not because you don't know better but because you're used to using the other. Well, says this report, actually children (and we're talking about under 10s here) who can manipulate text speak have a higher phonological awareness, which makes sense if you think about the fact that they are replacing sounds with appropriate symbols other than the letter combinations usually used. The researchers who compiled the report point out that this is the natural extension of the current emphasis on phonetics and phonology in teaching children to read.
But I'm afraid this isn't carte blanche. For starters, the report also shows that there is a negative correlation between mobile use and literacy ability: ie high levels of use are associated with lower literacy attainment. This isn't as contradictory as it sounds; it's the sophistication, not the quantity. Secondly, it only applies to phonology. It doesn't apply to grammar or punctuation, which excuses and upholds my much-maligned tendency to use semi-colons in text messages.
But I'm afraid you have to be very confident that your approach counts as sophisticated: I've met more than one person who used a text abbreviation in an English essay because they genuinely thought that was how the English word was spelled.
Anyway, there you go. Child Language Acquisition and E-language in one small package. Now to reduce it to 144 characters....
gd @ txt = gd @ fonology, BritAcademy shw.
And space left over for a hundred kisses.
Sunday, 17 January 2010
'promise to forget this fellow - to illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory'
One of the problems with being a fan of Restoration Comedies is that they are staged all too infrequently. So when the Daily Telegraph listed Southwark Playhouse's production of The Rivals as one of their must-see productions of 2010, I was sold before I read as far as 'Celia Imrie playing Mrs Malaprop'. When I got to their website and discovered that due to 'airline style pricing' I could get tickets for just £8, I was over the moon. (Although, to be honest, even full last minute prices of £16 are not exactly prohibitive, particularly in London.)
Southwark Playhouse is a bit of an industrial place. Situated under some railway arches near to Tower Bridge, every so often the actors' words were echoed by the rumbling of passing trains. It's a tiny, intimate venue, with sooty redbrick walls and vaulted ceilings. It is not exactly the image of Restoration Bath. Yet it worked amazingly well. The set was simple, and played wittily on the idea of the written word - the young heroine, Lydia Languish is determined to marry a penniless suitor for love, having read too many novels - with side tables covered in book pages, and four 'bay trees' created beautifully from the same material. The white and ivory set provided an excellent backdrop for the heady whirl of intrigues and love affairs. And the heady whirl of dancing and singing.
It was probably foolish of me to be surprised, given that the play is set in Bath, that the rural lads and lasses were speaking in broad West Country accents. The truth of the matter is, that most of the similar stuff I've seen in the last fifteen years was done by Northern Broadsides, which means that 'country bumpkin' = Lancastrian. Also surprising was the excess of comely young chaps, larking about in breeches, but that's to do with the play - the 'rivals' in question being the various men competing for the hands of a very limited number of ladies. The unreserved seating meant we got to sit on the front row, and at one point the leading man scooshed me up to sit down, and gave my knee a little squeeze to say thanks. Pleasant as it was, it was just one of many ways in which the cast made this production a little more interactive, a lot more fun, and a jolly good way to spend a soaking wet January afternoon.
But it's a 235 year old play, I hear you cry. Chaps in breeches are all very well, but is it relevant; is it up to date? Well, it's the play that gave us the word 'malapropism' for Mrs Malaprop who has an extensive and badly applied vocabulary. It has a lot to say on the battle of the sexes, and how men and women relate, which doesn't seem to have changed a lot. Exactly how little was demonstrated by the opening song, which got the whole audience in the mood. It's astonishing how tuneful and appropriate Single Ladies was to the play. Can't identify it? It took me a while, until they got to the chorus. The subtitle is 'If you liked it you should have put a ring on it' and it's by Beyonce. Boys, you have been warned.
Edited to add: Read someone else's review in The Guardian.
Southwark Playhouse is a bit of an industrial place. Situated under some railway arches near to Tower Bridge, every so often the actors' words were echoed by the rumbling of passing trains. It's a tiny, intimate venue, with sooty redbrick walls and vaulted ceilings. It is not exactly the image of Restoration Bath. Yet it worked amazingly well. The set was simple, and played wittily on the idea of the written word - the young heroine, Lydia Languish is determined to marry a penniless suitor for love, having read too many novels - with side tables covered in book pages, and four 'bay trees' created beautifully from the same material. The white and ivory set provided an excellent backdrop for the heady whirl of intrigues and love affairs. And the heady whirl of dancing and singing.
It was probably foolish of me to be surprised, given that the play is set in Bath, that the rural lads and lasses were speaking in broad West Country accents. The truth of the matter is, that most of the similar stuff I've seen in the last fifteen years was done by Northern Broadsides, which means that 'country bumpkin' = Lancastrian. Also surprising was the excess of comely young chaps, larking about in breeches, but that's to do with the play - the 'rivals' in question being the various men competing for the hands of a very limited number of ladies. The unreserved seating meant we got to sit on the front row, and at one point the leading man scooshed me up to sit down, and gave my knee a little squeeze to say thanks. Pleasant as it was, it was just one of many ways in which the cast made this production a little more interactive, a lot more fun, and a jolly good way to spend a soaking wet January afternoon.
But it's a 235 year old play, I hear you cry. Chaps in breeches are all very well, but is it relevant; is it up to date? Well, it's the play that gave us the word 'malapropism' for Mrs Malaprop who has an extensive and badly applied vocabulary. It has a lot to say on the battle of the sexes, and how men and women relate, which doesn't seem to have changed a lot. Exactly how little was demonstrated by the opening song, which got the whole audience in the mood. It's astonishing how tuneful and appropriate Single Ladies was to the play. Can't identify it? It took me a while, until they got to the chorus. The subtitle is 'If you liked it you should have put a ring on it' and it's by Beyonce. Boys, you have been warned.
Edited to add: Read someone else's review in The Guardian.
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