Into the Nothingness of Scorn and Noise

Victorian era fanatic, Romantic poetry (and poets) maniac, will commit murder to get my hands on a cravat and top hat. Living in the world of Charlotte Bronte.

The truth is, everyone likes to look down on someone. If your favorites are all avant-garde writers who throw in Sanskrit and German, you can look down on everyone. If your favorites are all Oprah Book Club books, you can at least look down on mystery readers. Mystery readers have sci-fi readers. Sci-fi can look down on fantasy. And yes, fantasy readers have their own snobbishness. I’ll bet this, though: in a hundred years, people will be writing a lot more dissertations on Harry Potter than on John Updike. Look, Charles Dickens wrote popular fiction. Shakespeare wrote popular fiction - until he wrote his sonnets, desperate to show the literati of his day that he was real artist. Edgar Allan Poe tied himself in knots because no one realized he was a genius. The core of the problem is how we want to define “literature”. The Latin root simply means “letters”. Those letters are either delivered - they connect with an audience - or they don’t. For some, that audience is a few thousand college professors and some critics. For others, its twenty million women desperate for romance in their lives. Those connections happen because the books successfully communicate something real about the human experience. Sure, there are trashy books that do really well, but that’s because there are trashy facets of humanity. What people value in their books - and thus what they count as literature - really tells you more about them than it does about the book.

Brent Weeks (via victoriousvocabulary)

(via the-library-and-step-on-it)

I had a weird dream about William Hazlitt buying a pair of grey jeans for 4 PENCE (which he did with a cheque) and being a general Bohemian. And of Charlotte Bronte complaining she can’t find a husband. Then somehow both of them got together and got engaged. When asked what she thought of Hazlitt, she replied that he was annoying, irresponsible (and a whole lot of negative epithets) but you could see she was in love with him.

Weird. I think I’ve been thinking of too much about the Romantics.

william hazlitt charlotte bronte romantics romanticism

Anonymous asked: Top 5 least favorite lit characters


Note: These are characters I really actively despise, they’re not necessarily villains who are meant to be unlikeable.

1. Bella Swan (Twilight, Stephenie Meyer. You can go ahead and count Fifty Shades of Grey's Anastasia Steele too, since we all know they're the same “person.”)

You all know why. I could talk all day about why Bella is the absolute worst, but I’m done wasting my time and energy on this series. Just take it from me that I could fill up this list with Twilight characters because they’re all terrible, even the ones who started out alright (I’m looking at you, Charlie “my daughter broke her hand hitting you because you kissed her without her consent but I’m going to congratulate you anyway for some reason” Swan).

2. Amelia Sedley (Vanity Fair, William Makepeace Thackeray)

Amelia Sedley makes me so angry. She starts out as a meek and naieve foil to Becky Sherp, but towards the end, she becomes more and more unlikeable to the point where she’s just a horrible person. She strings poor Dobbin along for years, she knows how he feels about her, keeps turning him down, and yet lets him do everything for her because she’s lonely and miserable. When Dobbin finally finds the courage to leave her, she finds out from Becky that her late husband was an ass and she immediately reels Dobbin back in. That’s not love, that is emotional manipulation at its absolute worst. You suck, Amelia. You used that poor man’s feelings for you so you would be more comfortable. Don’t you try the innocent widow act on me, I’ve got my eye on you.

3. Falstaff (Henry IV part 1 and 2, William Shakespeare)

Okay, Falstaff is meant to be unlikeable, but a lot of people do like the character despite their better judgment whereas I really only feel disgust. My nose actually crinkles when I read his scenes, it’s that bad. Every five minutes spent with Falstaff is five minutes too many, and when Hal finally pushes him away, my heart soars because Jesus Hal what took you so long.

Here’s my incredibly insightful Goodreads review of Henry IV (Part 1):

I could write something very eloquent about this play and its views on warfare, but since I’m feeling a bit lazy, I’ll just sum up my thoughts on Falstaff for you: Fuck’s sake. What a cock.
(I swear I have a degree in this.)

4. John Thorpe (Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen)

The word “rapey” comes to mind.

5. Uriah Heep (David Copperfield, Charles Dickens)

I actually had a nightmare about Uriah Heep as a child. He’s so slimey and sneaky and oily and oh God get away from me.

BOOK REVIEW / Nobs versus mobs: 'The Intellectuals and the Masses' - John Carey: Faber, 14.99

Who says good literature can’t be entertaining and engaging? The Victorians were profound and yet readable, which is why they were the greatest novelists of all time.

2 days ago

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I haven’t watched my favourite web series for a month, and don’t feel like watching it. I try to read my favourite books but nothing goes in. I just don’t feel interested in anything. Now if I were depressed this would be understandable but the thing is that I am not depressed. I am upset, but that is because I am not inspired or interested. Before then, I just felt … nothing. No delight, but no pain either. I am thoroughly brain-dead. Nothing makes an impression on me. Doing something original is out of the question. I have not had an original train of thought for over two months since starting lab. I tried to write, but nothing came out - not even disorganised but brilliant fragments. My dad scolded me for choosing a Research Masters since I say I’m not a lab person. I said my great-uncle told me so, and I was further scolded for blaming my uncle. I was not blaming my uncle. I was merely stating facts. I didn’t know what to do at the time (still don’t know) and he merely gave what he thought was good advice. I’m not even painfully unhappy now, though I was last year when I didn’t know what to do. Perhaps that is a good thing. I am just sick of this numbness. I miss being clever, original and determined. I miss telling jokes to people who understood my sense of humour. I don’t even feel sympathetic to anyone anymore. I don’t even feel horrified, but think I ought to.

(Source: poompooom, via inkingideas)

The Great Perils of Social Interaction You’re Probably Experiencing

3 days ago - 1

The leading thief glared at the solid stone that had swallowed Mort, and then threw down his knife.
‘Well, —— me,’ he said. ‘A ——ing wizard. I hate ——ing wizards!’
‘You shouldn’t —— them, then,’ muttered one of his henchmen, effortlessly pronouncing a row of dashes.

Mort, Terry Pratchett. (via the-library-and-step-on-it)

I love Mr Tulip’s -ings.

terry pratchett mort

Sir Humphrey: Bernard, Ministers should never know more than they need to know. Then they can’t tell anyone. Like secret agents, they could be captured and tortured.Bernard: You mean by terrorists?Sir Humphrey: By the BBC, Bernard. 


Sir Humphrey: Bernard, Ministers should never know more than they need to know. Then they can’t tell anyone. Like secret agents, they could be captured and tortured.
Bernard: You mean by terrorists?
Sir Humphrey: By the BBC, Bernard.

yes minister

The only way to understand the Press is to remember that they pander to their readers’ prejudices.
Don’t tell me about the Press. I know *exactly* who reads the papers. The Daily Mirror is read by the people who think they run the country. The Guardian is read by people who think they *ought* to run the country. The Times is read by the people who actually *do* run the country. The Daily Mail is read by the wives of the people who run the country. The Financial Times is read by people who *own* the country. The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by *another* country. The Daily Telegraph is read by the people who think it is.
Prime Minister, what about the people who read The Sun?
Sun readers don’t care *who* runs the country - as long as she’s got big tits.

Yes Minister

yes minister bernard woolley him hacker sir humphrey appleby