Nineteenth-Century Emo

I have had such a marvellous week of treats at the National Theatre. Not only was there an excellent excuse to put my slowly settling ideas about Frankenstein back into the blog (there is still so much to say!), but I enjoyed a quiet evening with Polly, my netbook, in the foyer cafe before the Q&A last night, pausing only to people watch during the interval of Hamlet, playing at the Lyttleton. But last Friday was the greatest treat: Keats, Shelley and Byron.

That's theatre, man

Just back from the late night Frankenstein Q&A session in aid of Dramatic Need. It was just as superficial as expected, but amusing. For the people interested in the production, there were some interesting points made, but it rather frustratingly proved my point about the unquestioning lack of thought put into the discussion of science, which is at the heart of the book. Only the most trite aspects of science versus religion were discussed in any depth, once again completely neglecting the horror of the novel.

Flare Path by Terence Rattigan

Currently playing at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, the Rattigan revival Flare Path is an enjoyable piece of mainstream theatre. This was my first Rattigan play and, given my previously stated affinity for Tennessee Williams, I was curious to see the work of his British counterpart (in age at least). The differences were striking, although of course not solely attributable to geography.

Lumps of labour

Economists are good for some things. One is coming up with concise explanations (and catchy names) for concepts that kind of make logical sense, but it would take a course of in-depth research to prove why they do. Such is the case with me and the ‘lump of labour’ fallacy. I discovered this fallacy this morning after experiencing it dancing just beyond my comprehension for about a week, unable to properly explain why I thought something was wrong, but knowing nonetheless that it was.

Lisbon - The Walkmen

No, not another city break, just the album of the first three months of this year for me. It’s not new. The album was released last year, but it’s been my companion a lot and feels especially apt for the beginning of spring. From the first upbeat riff on the slightly bluesy signature electric guitar in the first track Juveniles, the sun comes out from behind its winter cloud.

Realism and Revolution

I have been preparing for my first foray into an online space for new writers and there has been much musing. The chosen site for this foray will be YouWriteOn.com, mainly because they are running the Next Big Author competition (competitions I should say, because there’s the May one and the July one), which I figure will lead to a surge in members and therefore a more serious chance of creditable feedback. I have great hope for the online ‘publishing’ industry that seems still in its infancy. As long as a small number of sites like YouWriteOn or eNovella can attract large membership communities, it is a self-sustaining industry. The members will submit their work, it will become known among the other members, the other members will buy the ebook and the author will buy other ebooks. But the fact that these sites are still babies in the world wide web shows surely it’s not quite as simple as that. It will take a long time to wean people off over-marketed, genre-copycat products from the big publishing houses, just as it has taken a long time to wean people off physical books. But the Kindle hit its Christmas boom last year and there is only one direction it can go from here.

Un week-end à Bruxelles/Een weekend in Brussel/Ein Wochenende in Brüssel/A Weekend in Brussels

A wonderful weekend was spent in Brussels courtesy of our friend Eurostar. An easy toddle after work and a restful couple of hours with Daphne Du Maurier later, we descended the train in the rather hard to categorise city of Brussels. I was expecting something rather grander, considering its pan-European significance, and rather more organised, considering its Flemish location, although I now see it has much more French influence than Dutch. The public transport network is only just fit for purpose and shabby to boot, the centre of the city is one large (and seemingly permanent) construction site, careless ex-pats haunt every corner, and yet it’s not an unpleasant place at all. Every few streets you emerge out onto a landscaped square, parks surprise you amidst the terraces, the architecture is strikingly non-uniform, though harmonious. And for a spring weekender, is was just the right mix of laziness and stimulation for a worn-out London blogger who bit off more than she could chew with two weekends away in two weeks.