I have recently gained some reading glasses which are enabling me to see to read. This is something that has been lacking in my life for a few months and making it very off-putting to try and read anything with small print.
One of the first books I picked up after my new acquisition was The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter. To date, I have only read the first story in the book, which shares the title. I was enthralled like a child, terrified like a child and disturbed, leading me to feel uneasy discomfort. I loved this story and the multiple layers and ambiguities. I loved the writing style. I loved the imagery and the resolution.
This year I saw a poet named Amy McCauley perform work, twice. The first was her piece ‘Oedipa’ and the occasion was at the first event of No Matter, a reading /performance series held at The Castle on Oldham Street.
McCauley’s poetry is not just reading work from a typed piece of A4, it is not just memorising a poem. She creates a poetry experience using music and props to create powerful emotional reactions in her audience.
I bought a copy of her book Oedipa which I believe has now sold out, but this piece really needs to be seen as performed by McCauley to experience maximum unsettling impact. The themes of incest and abuse, confusion and fragmentation are brought very close to the audience’s face. It feels as though one is looking through glasses with a prescription that sharpens and sharpens to stark reality that makes one shudder.
More recently, I saw McCauley perform a piece at the Poetry Emergency event. This piece threw the audience into confusion initially. I felt despair with hope and fear intermingling and a dreadful premonition that the whole event would disintegrate into chaos.
As the cathartic experience resolved I found myself experiencing relief with a laugh inside me. This laugh was mixed with angry energy with nowhere to put a punch, except to gush at the writer my feelings about her piece.
McCauley comments on a darkness of childhood, in which I too am interested. My childhood stereotypical world is exemplified by the fairy stories in the Ladybird Books. I recently re-read many of these for a project I am working on. The fear in fairy tales is watered down in these re-tellings: all of them seem to end with a marriage and offer little of the horror of Carter’s imagination which presents us (sadly) with still unusual female roles.
Ladybird in the 1960’s brought a cleansed version of life to my childhood self, with girls from humble beginnings facing peril, being rescued by a rich handsome prince. Something to aspire to, obviously, and no wonder I have spent twenty odd years searching for ‘the one’. Luckily I found him and we rescued each other.
I have been interested in the differences between men and women since school. I remember putting my hand up in ‘Personal and Social Education’ once, to explain there was no intrinsic difference (between men and women), and got laughed at. I think even in the Eighties the situation was more complex than my statement.
However, my brother sent me a link today of an article in The Guardian dated 14/12/18 by Jim Waterson entitled ‘UK advertising watchdog to crack down on sexist stereotypes’ which explains that adverts are no longer going to be able to contain classic gender stereotypical roles. This is a wonderful thing, but will create advertisers with a challenge of sociology to work out what is and what is not gender stereotypical in promoting goods.
I look forward to a hopeful future where we can all promote a celebration of difference and where I may be laughed at for saying there is no difference, but for potentially more radical reasons.
– Sally Barrett