Re-reading Harry Potter

After three years of uni, writing my essays, reading my Vic Lit and trying to catch up on years worth of writing on cultural theory, I've decided to clean out my brain by re-reading Harry Potter.

I thought about writing a blog about each book, but now, about 3 weeks into my reading and 6 chapters into book 4, I find there isn't much to say, except that I still love Sirius and Lupin. :)

... And also, I'm still not sure why Voldemort was so desperate to kill the Potters in the first place...

The Rant of Red Riding Hood: Once upon a time I had a name.

In years gone by I was made to wear a cape. A cape, a cloak, a cap, a hood. It was the Frenchman, Perrault, who first pinned me down, hemmed me in and clothed me. You see he saw me, out in the countryside, running through the fields with the other children, and he heard about me from the tongues of old women sitting by the fire. He took me from out of their bosom and brought me back to the city. He put me in a copper tub of water and soap suds. He scrubbed and scraped. He removed the grime, the dirt, the filth. He took me out of the tub, dried me, polished me, and there I was all clean, fresh and sparkling. Gone was my home, my history, my community, my context. And then he dressed me, most famously, in a hooded red cloak. The cloak was warm and soft and I didn’t mind at first, but in the end, it engulfed me. It erased my name and I became nothing more than that article of clothing. Before, I was a peasant, a daughter, a sewer, a weaver, grand-daughter. I was a girl, I was growing. I would be a woman. I would become an adult and I would marry and have children, and I would, of my own accord teach my girls to sew, to spin, to weave. I would, with my own words tell them to beware of the temptation of the bzou, to be smart, to be cunning. But instead I was kidnapped and trapped in my hood, always a child, always in the wrong, always a symbol of what not to be. Don’t stray from the path. Don’t take off your red cloak. Don’t stop being who Perrault made you to be. Even Ms Carter[1] clothed me in red, then stripped me naked once again, but claimed to be liberating me. But, Ms Carter, I didn’t want to sleep with the wolf. I wanted to run away. How dare you try and say ‘look what a smart lass she is, controlling the situation, seducing the wolf’ you were in control, not me. You left me with only my body to bargain with, but I'm smarter than that.

See, I never asked for my story to be about sexual deviance or assertion. I never signed the social contract that said I was forever to be a tool for passing on moral codes. I did not consent to being at the centre of four hundred years of story telling and debate. I am just a girl who learnt to sew, who learnt to contend with men and those around me, and learnt to one day take the place of the older women in the community. And I could do it, and would have done it, without the controlling hands of Perrault, the brother Grimm and Ms Carter. But you authors, you set me down on paper, you have pushed me and pulled me, dressed me and undressed me as though I were your play thing, and I object. You’ve all used me as your symbol, your sign, your code, your meme. Always I must represent something. I’m a lesson about temptation and obedience, I’m an example of “a poor child who did not know that it was dangerous to stop and listen to wolves”[2], I became “the literary standard bearer for good Christian upbringing”[3]. I’m a story of empowerment, I’m a fallen woman, I’m a seductress, I’m a metaphor, a trope, a reflection of changing ideas relating to gender equality and sexual power.

Why can’t I just be a young girl, with a mother and a grandmother; a girl with a personality who knew things and felt things, who once upon a time had a name.

---

[1] Carter, A (1979) ‘The Company of Wolves’, in The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories, Penguin: Hamondsworth

[2] Perrault, C (1999) (1697) ‘Little Red Riding Hood’, trans. Tatar, M in Tatar, M (ed) The Classic Fairy Tales, Norton Critical Editions, Norton: New York and London, pp12

[3] Zipes, J (ed) (1986) Don’t bet on the Prince: Contemporary Feminist Fairy Tales in North America and England, Gower Publishing Company limited: Aldershot, UK, pp 229

One Grain of Rice

I handed this in, for Cul340 : Genre Writing, at the end of Semester 1, June 2010. It was my little literary flirtation with the Avant Guard, its a short story with a dash of essay and a hint of Creative Non-Fiction.

Text: One Grain of Rice

Rosie Clare Shorter

Abstract

In assessing the links that exist between both language and identity formation, genre and gender, the following text will use a variety of foods as a metaphor for the vast and ultimately unknowable types of characters and personalities that exist both in fiction and reality, seeking to illustrate a latent gap that exists between language and cognition, suggesting that just as genre definitions can be inadequate in the reading and valuation of a text, so language is inadequate in the reading and valuation of identity.

One Grain of Rice

It makes you feel good. But only for the short term, so you wouldn’t want to indulge too often. You know how it is, the way you just really, really want it. Like how you’d really, really want me. No, not want, but need, or desire. And you’ll be some place inconvenient, snowed in at the office, or waiting for the train, and suddenly, out of nowhere you are overwhelmed by desire. You know you should just head straight home. Take no detours. No distractions. But, you can’t, not now, not now that you’ve had the thought. Not now that you’ve realised there is something missing in your life. You simply feel empty, you can’t resist. And then afterwards, you start to question your actions you think…

Is this about sex? Everything always is. But the first paragraph? unlikely. What if it is? What if…

I tell you about myself. [1]

I tell you I’m writing an essay, a prose piece, an experiment. At least trying to. Its only ideas at the moment.

I tell you, Hi I’m Annabelle, I have this crazy idea. I want to know what you’d be if you were a food, and why. You’d say, I’m nothing special. I’m boiled rice. Simple, plain, accommodating, forgotten.

Forgotten. Yes, that is exactly how Lucianne feels. Once she thought of herself as interesting and attractive. Then her friends got married young, and she didn’t, and now she felt old, but she was only twenty-four. No-one notices her. She is invisible. Of course she is not invisible, but she feels it. In the dictionary it says: invisible / in’VIZƏbƏl/ adj. 1. not visible to the eye, either characteristically or because hidden (invisible guardian angels; the stick insect was invisible on the twig). 2. artfully concealed (invisible mending)[2] . Perhaps she was invisible like the stick insect. She was nothing special or different, positively or negatively. Like everyone else, she blended in to an undifferentiated background of Luciannes and Annabelles, after all no one pays attention to any one grain of rice, but rather it exists as part of a greater whole, a base, something that fills you but doesn’t excite you.

Which is curious because, when Annabelle asked their friend Ben Doherty what kind of food he would be, he answered, potato, because it was something that filled but didn’t excite. Also because potatoes are small, irregular and often overlooked. But he didn’t say that. That would have been too much. And he was never the type of person who told you everything at once. If he did it would sound something like: my name is Ben university like theatre I wonder Lucianne writing an essay viola would she go out with me movies not really yes.

It wouldn’t work. You could never hear everything. Having everything told to you at once would probably be just as confusing as withholding a vital piece of information. Like how in the opening paragraph the object wasn’t named. Like how later and Lucianne is now twenty five and she has been going out with Ben for a while but he doesn’t tell her about this other girl. Doesn’t tell her that he doesn’t want to see her anymore, because telling her might hurt her, but invisible Lucianne knows he isn’t actually looking at her, can’t see her, even though he is seeing her. Lucianne says, Ben this isn’t going to work. He never has to tell her about the other girl.

The other, other girl, Annabelle, is not going out with anyone because she wants to prove she is self-sufficient. She is still asking people what they would be if they were a food and collecting their answers to put together a collection about how we reduce people into small bite sizes so that we can understand them better, but hasn’t written it yet. She is not at all Ben’s other girl, but merely another girl, who, tonight, is meeting up with her ex-boyfriend. She is potentially his other girl but they both assume they are no longer attracted to each other, and that the threat will remain immaterialized. They are both wrong.

In the morning Annabelle wonders if it is somehow two years ago. It is not. She shudders and sends him home. He will let his feelings of guilt, remorse and confusion simmer on low heat for approximately six weeks before he breaks the heart of a wonderful woman when he relates this event to her. Annabelle doesn’t want to think about it, instead she reads about women and the writing of women, but the words scream at her like the angry accusations of a bitter old aunt:

Why don’t you write…

(I don’t have anything to say!)

Because writing is at once too high, too great for you, its reserved for “great men”… Besides you’ve written a little, but in secret; and it wasn’t good, because it was in secret, and because you punished yourself for writing, because you didn’t go all the way…[3]

She feels ill and shuts the book.

At home Lucianne, now twenty-five, is still not married, not going out with Ben, not yet working in a real job, not a mother, not finished her uni degree, and not going to clean the bathroom today. She is reading an article by Irigaray:

Her lot is that of “lack”… and “penis envy,” the penis being the only sexual organ of recognized value. Thus she attempts by every means available to appropriate that organ for herself: through her somewhat servile love of the father-husband capable of giving her one, through her desire for a child-penis, preferably a boy, through access to the cultural values still reserved by right to males alone and therefore always masculine, and so on.[4]

She is not entirely sure what it all means. She isn’t even sure, yet, if that is Irigaray’s position on the matter or if it is her summary of the accepted reading of life and that perhaps in a page or two she will turn it all on its head. The only appropriate thing to do in this situation is make a cup of tea.

Tea is a wonderful thing. Lucianne meets Annabelle for tea and cake one afternoon and says do you know it was a year ago we were sitting here, in this café and you asked me to compare myself to a food? Annabelle mumbles something incoherent. You never told me what you would be. Annabelle is taken aback because that’s where this whole conversation started.

Lucianne if I were a food I would be the most decadent piece of chocolate cake you can imagine. Rich, dark, creamy, bad for you. The type of chocolate cake that solves all your problems and makes you feel emotionally balanced. Cake that makes you feel good, but of course, only for the short term, so you wouldn’t want to indulge in it too often.

---

[1] Writing the self is merely one of many ways an individual comes to understand and express their unique identity, and is itself the realisation of the desire to be valued and considered significant. Shari Benstock says “This coming-to-knowledge of the self constitutes both the desire that initiates the autobiographical act and the goal to which autobiography directs itself”. Similarly, Kavita Hayton suggests that the practice of life writing “encapsulates both the desire of the writer to express an identity and the understanding that s/he is pursuing a deliberate, self-conscious textual reconstruction of that identity”

· Benstock, S (1988) ‘Authorizing The Autobiographical’ in Warhol and Herndl (eds) (1997), Feminisms: An Anthology of Literary Theory and Criticism, Rutgers University Press: New Brunswick)

· Hayton, K (2009)New Expressions of the Self: Autobiographical opportunities on the internet, Journal of Media Practice Volume 10 Numbers 2&3 © Intellect Ltd 2009)

[2] Moore, B (ed) (1993), The Australian Pocket Oxford Dictionary, Oxford University Press: South Melbourne

[3] Cixous, H (1975), ‘The Laugh of The Medusa’, trans. Keith Cohen and Paula Cohen, in Signs Vol. 1, No. 4 (Summer 1976), pp875 – 893, The University of Chicago Press, accessed at http://jstor.org/stable/3173239

[4] Irigaray, L (1977), The Sex Which Is Not One, trans. Cornell University (1985), Cornell University Press: New York, pp 23-24

to my blog

dear blog,

you may be feeling ignored right now.

don't worry it is not your fault. I'm simply trying to finish my uni degree.

i shall return to you soon and continue to spend hours ranting and lamenting about all sorts of things.

with love,

Miss Rosie Clare.

p.s. you may have noticed as i was typing that i misspelt your name as "blob". I'm very sorry about this, and apologise for any offence i may have caused.

a little bit of Musicophilia does a writing student a world of good...*

These last few weeks I've been reading Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks. It is truly fascinating. In this book sacks tells countless 'tales of music and the brain'. All of them amazing, some of them bizarre. All of them a testament to the remarkable thing that is the human brain, some of them inspiring jealousy (why am I not a musical savant? Why don't I see every key as a colour?) and some are deeply disturbing and heart breaking (imagine hearing noise and never melody, or being so severely struck with amnesia you forget absolutely every memory you have and can recall no single experience, except when sat in front of piano you know how to play).

Musicophilia has significantly informed my creative piece for one of my uni subjects, ENGL 390: writing portfolio. My story 'Arthur's Wife', began as not much more than the story of a man who held conversations with characters from Mozart operas rather than with is wife. It was a good idea, I think, but it was moving in all sorts of strange directions and I needed to get it into a decent shape.

While trying - without much luck - to re-write this piece tonight I was struck with a sudden urge to play 'Cara Sposa'. Its a shame my piano playing does it no justice. When I play it Handel's beautiful and magical chord progressions suddenly sound like slowed down Beethoven being badly thumped out by an over zealous twelve year old.

All the same, I really think it helped because after playing it through twice I came back to my computer and actually had a productive writing session. It was the perfect piece of music to help me tie together my awkward piece, because in essence 'Arthur's Wife' is about loss. It about the loss of love and also the loss of hearing, and therefore a loss of music. So once again music and my brain have had a little conversation and all of a sudden I saw my way to the end of the story with a bit more clarity than I had this morning.

In other news, I'm very glad that this piece now includes references to 2 of the top 4. My world would be a darker place without Handel and Mozart.


...Cara sposa, amante cara, dove sei, dove sei? deh! ritorna a'pianti mie deh! ritorna a'pianti mie ...


* http://musicophilia.com/music_links.htm

Opera like sport, Cricket like Wagner...

I saw Mother Courage in the Olivier theatre at the National. I paid ₤10. Everyone in the 1100 seat theatre paid ₤10. That is because one show in every season at the National is sponsored by Travelex. They have given their sponsorship specifically to reduce ticket price.

Perhaps this sort of scheme should be adopted by national and state theatre companies in Australia. If OA was given funding or corporate sponsorship and told it was to directly subsidise ticket price, making every seat for every show of a particular opera $20, surely this would enable more people to enjoy the art form?

I'm quite certain I fell in love with opera simply by having the opportunity to watch so much of it. In 2006, while still working at the Opera Centre, I attended something like 10 operas in 3 or 4 months over the winter season. Seeing so many in such a short space of time helped me to differentiate between different styles of composition, and become much more acquainted with opera, which has seriously enhanced my enjoyment and appreciation of subsequent productions.

In 2006 I also played soccer for a local club. I was absolutely terrible. I usually have nothing to do with sport that isn't walking or dancing. I would never voluntarily watch sport (I think prior to 2006 I could safely say I'd watched football on 4 occasions, and cricket only twice). I didn't like sport. I didn't play it or watch it. I didn't understand it. I resent(ed) the amount of time, money and energy other people spent on sport.

You may recall that 2006 was a soccer world cup year. All of a sudden I found myself not only playing soccer on Sunday mornings and watching my friends play soccer every second Saturday, I was getting up in the middle of the night to watch Australia play soccer. And I was enjoying it.

See in just a few short weeks, though my soccer playing skills were still atrocious, I had gained an understanding of what soccer was about. I understood what was happening on the field. I spoke the language. I was happy to be part of a soccer watching community. I turned into someone who sat on the edge of their seat and could hardly breathe for stress during the last minutes of that game against Italy; someone who stood on the sideline at local soccer games, jumping and screaming, like a well practised soccer mum.

And this is why I think that Opera (and theatre) is a little bit like soccer. A lot of people don't go to Opera because they think they don't like it. I would suggest that perhaps they don't know it. I spent 24 years of my life claiming to not like sport and in 4 months I had to admit that actually playing and watching soccer was lots of fun.

This is why I wish there was a way for people to see lots of opera for a relatively small price, so that they could learn to speak its language. So that they would have a chance to hear the melodies speak to them. This is why the Travelex season at the National is great because It enables people regardless of income to see brilliant and sometimes very challenging theatre (Mother Courage for goodness sake!!). This is why The Sydney Symphony's discovering concerts are a brilliant idea because it introduces audiences to how music works.

A singer once said to me that he admired Cricket because of its Wagner like properties. I hope that in this country that in general admires sport, shopping and working long hours and that doesn't have time for the arts industry at all, let alone opera, that over time people will become adventurous with the theatre and arts events they become involved with. Perhaps people will join a choir or a community theatre group and gain new musical experiences that way. Perhaps they will watch OA's production of the Marriage of Figaro when it is released in cinemas later this year. Maybe they will go to the MCA or Museum of Sydney or to an event in the Sydney Festival over summer. Hopefully whatever art from people become involved with they will begin to see that the arts industry is a little bit like sport. It creates a sense of community and is exercises the soul. It is there to be enjoyed and engaged with.

My flirtation with soccer was brief. But I think my experience of life (dare I be that dramatic!) has been enriched because of it. I'd encourage everyone to seriously consider things they think they don't like and wonder if perhaps they just don't understand it, or simply haven't given it a fair go. And if, after your adventures into new forms of entertainment, you still don't like it, that's fine. Life would be boring if we were all exactly the same.

Theatre, opera and national arts companies… [i]

We don't go to the theatre because it is cute but because we are members of the human race...

I lived in London for a short but wonderful 3.5 months. If there was one thing London proved to me about arts and theatre it is that there is a lot of it.

I always knew in theory that there was an abundance of choice available to me when it came to entertainment; the widening of the entertainment industry is well documented. Academic Chris Anderson - who pioneered the The Long Tail Theory - sees that as production and promotion becomes less expensive niche markets become more economically viable; the result for the consumer being an abundance of choice. (Anderson: 2008). This means the entertainment industry market place is becoming more and more crowded; there are more and more companies and individuals offering hits and non-hits.

Yet never had I been so aware of it in reality as when I came to London. Compared to Sydney, London is absolutely bursting at the seams. The print advertising on any given tube station is evidence of this. In one day in London (the 20^th October) I saw an English National Opera production of Britten’s The Turn of The Screw in the morning and Inherit the Wind at the Old Vic in the evening. In one week I went to Canterbury Cathedral on saturday, to the Comedy store on Sunday, to the Tate Brittain, a Turkish restaurant and the Arcola theatre on Thursday and to the Tate Modern, Borough Markets and local pub on the Friday. The amount on offer –paid or free –is extensive

For large subsidized cultural organizations such as Opera Australia in Sydney or the National Theatre in London, this can mean new opportunities as it becomes commercially viable –and sometimes necessary – to offer both hits (LaBoheme, The Pirates of Penzance at the Opera House and Warhorse The NT production which moved to the West End) and non-hits (or at least something a little more esoteric like the opera Lady Mcbeth of Mtsensk or the play Endgame), but it also means they must be active players in the market place. They can no longer rely on getting government grants, but must work to maintain cultural relevance and audience attendance. They must prove both to governments and to audiences that they are worth supporting. So here are some of the reasons why it is good to have a national company, and why it is good for those companies to be financially supported through private giving and government funding.

SO WHY HAVE A NATIONAL THEATRE?

Given that society values the production of high quality theatre which is enjoyable, entertaining and sometimes challenging, a theatre company the size of the National Theatre in London of Opera Australia is of importance because they can put on a varied season offering several productions that meet a variety of tastes and interests; employ large numbers of fulltime and permanent part-time staff and are able to gain an international reputation thus acting as an advertisement for the nation by showcasing it’s artistic and cultural potential.

BUT ISN’T THIS SORT OF THEATRE JUST FOR WEALTHY PEOPLE?

There is a significant argument against subsidy for companies like Opera Australia due to the fact that they attract small audiences from a fairly limited demographic. I would counter this firstly by suggesting that if OA received no government support and relied solely on ticket revenue for profit, they would never be able to reduce the cost of ticket prices, thus people with lower incomes would become even less likely to afford a ticket, and so the audience demographic would be narrowed even further. Secondly, by offering regional tours and schools concerts OA is able to widen its audience demographic and take opera to people who may never be able to make it to a performance at the Opera House. A recent article in the SMH illustrates the value which the Oz Opera tour adds not only to the company, but also to the towns which act as host to the touring arm of OA. Through tours like this companies like OA are able to demonstrate that they are not just for wealthy inner-city dwelling people.

OA is also beginning to film its performances for future cinema and DVD release, as other international companies (Metropolitan Opera, National Theatre) are already doing. In the National Theatre’s 2009 annual report, the Director, Nicolas Hynter wrote about new ventures the company was undertaking to extend the reach of the National Theatre into the entertainment market, such as live broadcasts in cinemas and new Sunday performances. These programs have been well received, and have become permanent features of the company. Hynter writes that:

Our determination to attract the widest and largest possible audience to a challenging repertoire found expression also in a three month season of Sunday performances which were so successful that, from July 2009 Sunday openings became a permanent part of our operation. We are now open seven days a week, we are available all over the country and much of the rest of the world. (p7)

For a company to run offer a wealth of repertoire, as do Opera Australia and the National Theatre, in mainstage performances, tours, schools, programmes and broadcasts, they require financial support from government funding, private giving and audience patronage. But in funding these ventures governments and individuals can see great return for their dollars and pounds as high quality, innovative and engaging theatre given back to the community.

DOES A NATIONAL COMPANY REALLY EMPLOY THAT MANY PEOPLE?

Because national theatre companies operate on a full-time year-round schedule they really do employ a lot of staff with expertise in a variety of areas. For instance:

Opera Australia employs a total of about 1 300 people each year – over 300 permanent and seasonal staff and up to 1 000 more on a casual basis. This staff includes singers, repetiteurs, language coaches, directors, conductors, designers, electricians, mechanists, props technicians, dressers, make-up technicians, and other production staff, stage management, stores-persons, carpentersm welders, architects, tailors, sewers, wigmakers, painters, writers, ticket sellers, and administrators.

(2007 Annual Report, p 46)

That’s a whole of artists and professionals being employed within the arts industry.[1] Opera Australia obviously has to pay these employees, which of course adds to the operational costs of the company. In the Annual report Opera Australia writes that they employ 425 full time equivalents. If these 425 members off staff were paid $40 000, that bill would come to $17 000 000. That just on wages. Not on the manufacture of props, wigs, costumes or set. It doesn’t include venue hire, marketing or publications. Opera, and theatre is expensive to do at a full time, professional global standard.

NATIONAL COMPANIES CONTRIBUTE TO THE MUSIC AND ARTS EDUCATION OF SCHOOL CHILDREN

One of the best ways national (and state) companies give back to the community is through the provision of schools concerts and tours which offer programs devised specifically for children. These programs are often developed in direct connection with the state syllabus and so they act to enhance classroom learning in very relevant way. In supporting the education programs of organisations like the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, Opera Australia and in the UK the National theatre, government bodies and individuals show that they care about the education and development of the nation’s children. For children of all demographics to be exposed to music and theatre is a wonderful thing. It can inspire in children a desire to perform and a knowledge and appreciation of music and theatre they may otherwise have never witnessed. It will hopefully lead children to become adults who financially support the arts industry by becoming the audience of the future. The National Theatre in the UK is committed to providing entertainment to children and adolescents as they “want to encourage life long engagement with theatre and believe children need to actively participate”. (Annual report, 2009, p 21). They achieve this through masterclasses, schools tours and adult training programs. The Sydney Symphony Orchestra also provide specific programs for infants, primary and high school aged students, as well as the Discovery concert series for adults and pre-professional ‘training’ orchestras for tertiary music students. Likewise Opera Australia runs school tours in Victoria and New South Wales, and runs a Young Artist program which offers valuable performance and industry experience to emerging singers.

These sorts of programs can not exist through the revenue gained from ticket sales alone. (SSO school concert tickets can be as cheap as $4) In order for these types of companies to provide such valuable education programs they need to receive generous support through government funding and philanthropy.

In the movie Dead Poet Society, Prof. Keating tells his students “We do not read and write poetry because its cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race”. I agree with him, but I also think this sentiment can be extended to include classical music, opera and live theatre. These artforms are far from out dates. They are constantly being renewed with innovative re-interpretations, new compositions and new scripts and new productions. Learning and experiencing classical and traditional music and drama is a brilliant foundation for exploring other more contemporary or experimental forms. Learning the rules is essential for being able to break them. Providers of traditional cultural forms deserve the continued support of the community not because opera or symphonies are cute, but because opera and symphonies can speak to us about what it is to be human. They can teach us and educate us. They can open our minds to a wealth of creative possibilities. If we are passionate about education and creativity and the arts then we should approve of government funding to these companies which seek to provide theatre and music to the nation.

---

[1] This doesn’t include Sydney Opera House staff (such as ushers and box office staff) who are vital to the smooth running of any production at the house, either by one of the House’s resident companies (Opera Australia, Sydney Symphony Orchestra), as well as the other companies who hire the theatre spaces (Bell Shakespeare, Sydney Theatre, individual artists).

---

[i] This rambling essay of sorts contains extracts from an assignment I wrote for the course London Theatre In Performance, at the University Of Westminster.

Works cited include:

Anderson, C (2008) The Long Tail: Why the Future Of Business is Selling Less of More,

Hyperdion: New York

(2009) The Royal National Theatre Annual Report and Financial Statements 2008 – 2009, www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

(2007) Opera Australia Annual Report 2007