The Mary Rose Sails Again

A new museum housing Henry VIII's flagship, The Mary Rose, was officially opened to the public today at Portsmouth's Historic Dockyard. Built in 1510, the ship sank in the Solent during a battle against a French invasion fleet in 1545, as Henry VIII watched from Southsea Castle; of the 500 crew members only 35 survived. 

The Mary Rose was raised from the seabed in 1982, along with thousands of artefacts many of which (from cannon to surgical equipment to the ship's bell) are on display at the museum. Faces of many of the crew members have been reconstructed using skulls found with the wreck. Interactive features include video games recreating the Battle of the Solent and a simulator that enables you to try out your archery skills.

Photographs: James Burkinshaw

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Photography: Gold

by William Hall

Photograph taken by William Hall in The Vault, at the Natural History Museum, London

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Festivals- Frightful or Delightful?

Hattie Gould and Annie Materna



delightful . . .
(source: phestival)



We all know that as summer is (slowly) coming back; so is the festival season. The panic of which festival to go to sets in and soon enough almost everyone has bought a ticket. Whether it be Reading, Bestival, Isle of White or V, people are beginning to experience that exciting festival 'buzz'. However, is the idea of a festival better than the reality?

Festivals are the ultimate way to fill your summer; what is better than seeing your favourite bands with your friends away from the imprisonment of your parents? Nothing. Meeting new friends, whacking out the wellies, getting a face paint, maybe even a suntan (hopefully no face paint sun tan lines) and going on rides, sounds great. You can not only do this for just one day but you can do it for three days… what an adventure! The adventure continues with festivals bringing unexpected joy, and never quite knowing what is coming round the corner, literally and metaphorically. It may be someone in fancy dress or it could even be you stumbling across a new up and coming band.

 . . . frightful
(source: Guardian)

Also if you’re lucky and the sun is shining you may even be able to spot the odd celebrity trekking around the fields in some rather skimpy clothing. To better this, if you get to the front of the crowd you may even be able to touch your favourite artist whilst they perform! What must not be forgotten is how delicious the food is: full English breakfast every day, an unlimited choice of lunch and dinner may it be a burger, Chinese or Indian. Although these foods are great, they hold nothing on the desserts: freshly cooked donuts, melted chocolate and strawberry’s or pancakes and waffles… perfect! It can be said that going to festival is like going to a three-day party, what a weekend that will be!

However, this view may not be held by every ex-festival goer.

 

Cold, wet and windy, loud, dirty and busy- what is so exciting about that? Understandably, seeing Eminem perform at Reading or Bastille at Bestival may well make it worthwhile, but two, three or even four nights of camping in the mud, drinking from 9 in the morning and queuing hours for what can only be described as a toilet does not sound like the most relaxing way to spend a weekend. Festivals can also be dangerous places to be: young, naive teens robbed of their purses, tents cut in to, drinks spiked, many unfortunate people slipping over and losing their wellies in the sloppy mud and the even more unfortunate act of your tent flying away...

However, despite the almost guaranteed rain and, consequently, the malicious mud fights, thousands of people continue to go, so if you have been roped in by your friends and are bravely taking the risk of going to a festival, beware of the risk of camping without a tent and walking around with one wellie on... Good luck! However, if you are an avid festival goer … Have fun!

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"The Twentieth Century Incarnate": Rite of Spring

On May 29, 1913, the premiere of 'Le Sacre du Printemps' (The Rite of Spring), by a young Russian composer, Igor Stravinsky, caused a riot in Paris among many audience members who saw this revolutionary new work as "a blasphemous attempt to destroy music". 

However, 'Le Sacre du Printemps' became extraordinarily influential almost from the beginning and, one hundred years after its first controversial performance, remains one of the most frequently recorded and performed musical works in the world (see video below). Today, American radio station WQXR presents Rite of Spring Fever, a 24-hour marathon of different interpretations of Stravinsky's masterpiece.

"Its theme was elemental, the rejuvenation of earth in spring. The form was a celebration of pagan rites in which a sacrificial maiden dances herself to death to renew the life of the soil.

He opened not with a bang, as Richard Strauss had advised, but with a slow trembling of woodwinds as if to suggest the physical mystery of budding. As the curtain rose on tribal games and dances, the music became vibrant and frenetic, with primeval rhythms, the chant of trumpets, the driving beat of machinery, jazz metres and pitiless drums never before used with such power and abandon. It rose in intensity and excitement to a blazing climaz and all the promise of a new age. It was the Twentieth Century incarnate. It reached at one stride a peak of modern music that was to dominate later generations. It was to the Twentieth Century what Beethoven's Eroica was to the Nineteenth, and, like it, never surpassed.

The premiere, conducted by Monteux on May 29, 1913, created a riot in the theatre. The abandonment of understood harmony, melody and structure seemed musical anarchy. People felt they were hearing a blasphemous attempt to destroy music as an art and responded with howls and catcalls and derisive laughter. Counter-demonstrators bellowed defiance. One young man became so excited he began to beat rhythmically with his fists on the head of an American in the audience whose own emotion was so great that "I did not feel the blows for some time." A beautifully gowned lady in a box stood up and slapped the face of a man hissing in an adjoining box. The composer Saint-Saens indignantly rose and left the hall; another composer, Ravel, shouted, "Genius!"

The dancers could not hear the music above the uproar and Nijinsky, who had choreographed the ballet, stood in the wings pounding out the rhythm with his fists and shouting in despair "Ras, Dwa, Tri!" Monteux threw desperate glances to Diaghilev, who signed to him to keep on playing and shouted to the audience to let the piece be heard. "Listen first, hiss afterwards!" screamed Gabriel Astruc, the French manager, in a rage.

When it was over, the audience streamed out to continue their battle in the cafes and the critics to carry it to the press, but, as the music had hardly been heard, opinion was largely emotion. Not until a year later, when the music was played again in Paris as a concert in April 1914, was it recognised for what it was.

(from Barbara Tuchman, The Proud Tower: A Portrait of The World Before the War (1890-1914)


Alex Ross: "It may not be entirely a coincidence that the centennial of the Rite of Spring scandal follows closely upon the Wagner bicentennial. At last fall's "Reassessing the Rite" conference, which I covered for The New Yorker, Annegret Fauser brought up the Wagner-Rite relationship, noting that in the weeks leading up to the première the French papers had been full of Wagneriana, including accounts of the legendary Tannhäuser riot at the Opéra in 1861. In a way, Fauser suggested, Paris audiences may have been primed to restage that affair: Stravinsky would be the new Wagner, the foreign musician of the future. It's a fascinating speculation — although, of course, Parisian audiences needed little historical prompting to go into culture-riot mode. Nijinsky's suggestive dancing in Prelude to "The Afternoon of a Faun" had set off a brouhaha the previous year."


The opening of 'Le Sacre du Printemps':

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Review: The Great Gatsby

Maddy Shandand Fay Davies review Baz Luhrmann’s ‘The Great Gatsby’

 

Leonardo diCaprio as Gatsby
(source: New York Times)

“I was both within and without”. These are the words that define Nick Carraway as narrator of Fitzgerald’s classic American novel – and they apply perfectly to our critique. We watched the film together: one of us intimately familiar with the novel having studied it for AS English Literature, and the other having never touched it – yet holding Baz Luhrmann in the highest regard in terms of directing and producing Hollywood films.

There were a few things we agreed on: the excellent casting, the outrageously extravagant settings and the beautiful costumes being some of them. The sound track, produced by Jay Z, features the likes of Beyonce, Lana Del Rey and Nero – completely incongruous but the perfect way to marry the partying culture of today’s youth with the vintage decadence of the 20s. Stylistically and aesthetically wonderful. Maddy, who didn’t know the storyline or characters in detail, was like blank slate on which Luhrmann could paint a picture with all these fantastic ingredients. But, in her opinion, he failed to deliver on some crucial aspects. It was as if he had thought that, as The Great Gatsbyis such an iconic novel, there was no need to put much effort into unravelling the story. Unlike Fay, she could not bring her knowledge of the characters to the film, and as a result they were not sufficiently developed for her. It was difficult to actually care about them.

 

We both ultimately felt sympathy for Gatsby himself, but this is extremely likely to be down to the clever casting of Leonardo DiCaprio - the Dreamboat in a dinner jacket. Carey Mulligan is, unfortunately, just a pretty face. She is entirely superficial – but, as Fay would add, such is her presentation in the book. She is the ‘golden girl’ with no real substance. Nonetheless, she is overshadowed by the ethereal, yet dominating, presence of Jordan Baker (Elizabeth Debicki), who should arguably play a lesser role.

Fay had some other issues with Luhrmann’s style – but this is personal and there are many (Maddy) that adore it. She thought that Luhrmann’s excessive cuts during the early parts of the film fractured the dialogue, and made for rather tense viewing. Yet the ‘Red Curtain’ style of film is Luhrmann’s trademark, and was hugely successful in his initial ‘Red Curtain Trilogy’. He transformed Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, and he delighted us with Strictly Ballroom and Moulin Rouge. It also works for The Great Gatsby, to an extent. The form is self-consciously art, not at all naturalistic, and it befits the portrayal of the excess and carelessness of the time. Yet, in being self-consciously art, it is rather too conscious of being based on one of the most famous novels of all time.



Luhrmann has obviously studied the novel and understood its themes and symbolism – but Fay thought these were presented without any subtlety. For example, there are far too many shots of a hand reaching out to a green light, attempting to portray Gatsby’s capacity for hope in a rather basic and simplistic way. The words of the novel are related almost precisely in Nick’s voice over – and towards the end they are even written up on the screen. Lurhmann literally allows the book to do the talking. It is as if he is in awe of Fitzgerald’s novel, and the film works as a tribute to it – as a compliment to its words and its success – rather than being an original interpretation. If there can be such a distinction, it is a film about the novel rather than a film of the novel.

During the long and delayed approach of the film, there was abundant speculation. Fay even wrote an article on the topic. Would the film live up to the book? Would it be a disappointment – an embarrassment? With any film adaptation of classic literature, there will be comparison and it will often be to the detriment of the film. Arguably, the best hope of a director is to make the audience forget about the book – to simply sweep them away into the world they are creating. Luhrmann did just the opposite. Ultimately, we both felt that the film was never as immediate as the book it represents.

 

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Recipe: Sweet Potato Breakfast

by Melissa Smith

Recently I have been a little obsessed with breakfast. Combined with my next best thing, sweet potato, this recipe is all I want on a Sunday morning. After a fair amount of trial and error, I have come up with a recipe that never fails to please (well me, at least). Hopefully it will have the same effect on others! It’s a great one to try out on a leisurely half term morning.

Recipe:

(Serves 1 person)

Ingredients:

1 medium sweet potato, chopped into cubes

2 handfuls of spinach

1/2 a red onion, diced

1/2 tsp thyme

1/2 tsp oregano

1 clove of garlic, finely chopped

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tbsp maple syrup

1 tsp oil (any kind)

Pinch of sea salt

Steps:

1) Preheat the grill to a medium temperature.

2) Bring a pan of water to the boil. Add the sweet potato and simmer for 4 minutes (until not quite tender). When finished, drain.

3) In a small frying pan, heat the oil then add the red onion and drained sweet potato. Heat for around 4 minutes over a medium heat, until the onions have begun to slightly caramelise and the potato is tender. 

4) Add the thyme, oregano, cinnamon and maple syrup. Stir with a wooden spoon to combine.

5) Add the garlic and spinach, heating until the spinach wilts. 

6) Remove the pan from the heat and crack an egg on top of the scramble. Place pan under the grill for a couple of minutes, until the egg whites are set, but the yolk is slightly runny. (Alternatively fry the egg separately and place on top once served).

7) Gentle slide the contents of the pan onto a plate and sprinkle with the sea salt to serve.

Optional: I haven't tried this, but I get the feeling that bacon would make an excellent addition to this dish. Chop up one rasher and add to the pan at the same time as the onion and sweet potato. Don't take my word for it though, I've yet to test it out!

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PGS Leavers' Day, Friday, 24 May

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Poem: El Grito de la Noche

by Liliana Nogueira-Pache

Si tienes que decir algo

No lo hagas en la oscuridad.

Sal a la luz,

que el sol ilumine tus palabras.

Grítalas al rojo resplandor,

rasga el azul con tu lengua,

que el relámpago de tu grito

no muera solo en la noche.

English translation below:

THE SCREAM OF THE NIGHT

If you’ve got something to say

don’t do it in the darkness.

Go into the light,

let the sun illuminate your words.

Shout them to the shining brilliance,

sear the blue with your tongue,

so the lightening of your cry

doesn’t cry alone in the night.

                                                                               

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Portmuthian/Portsmouth Point Garden Party, Thursday, 23rd May

Earlier today, editors and contributors enjoyed the Portmuthian/Portsmouth Point Garden Party (which took place in Ms Hart's classroom, due to the rather inclement weather), held to celebrate their outstanding work for both magazines and blog over the past twelve months. We wish our Year 13 editors, who will be leaving school tomorrow, every success in the future: George Chapman, Lucy Cole, Fay Davies, Billie Downer, Andrew Jones, George Kimber-Sweatman, George Laver, Tim MacBain, George Neame, Oli Price, Louisa Stark, Ollie Velasco, Bea Wilkinson and Ben Willcocks.

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Adventure Training: Easter Holidays

by Zach Choppen


This year's adventure training was incredible. Getting up early on the Saturday morning create a few tired faces that slowly wore off during the day. After an exhausting journey (and a Maccy D’s,) we arrived at our destination. After unpacking and settling in to our rooms, we had a brief talk and went of to our first meal at RAF St Mawgans (which was very good,) after the meal we start to plan our route cards for the next day walk this took sometime as most of us were trying to learn the basics.

The next day was day of lovely weather, and on my part brought a very enjoyable walk, that evening was incredibly to the night before where after one hour of relaxation, in other words a shower rush, we headed off to dinner where we were treated to another really good meal. The evening brought another route card, this time without help from the senior’s and was a session of complete trouble and frustration where the cards always seemed to have mistakes in. After the help of Mr Harris and the senior’s we manage to complete them in time for a quick game of cards before bed.

The third day of the trip was another amazing day with sun and a light sea breeze and another incredible walk with countless numbers of stunning cliffs and coves, however it was this day where we had to say goodbye to Mr Smith as he was going to meet the Queen! We all thanked him and complete the last stage of the walk with weary legs. That evening we did something different (not route cards!) Mr Harris spoke to us about the rest of the week, but surprise surprise we weren’t to our own devices that night, Mr Harris and Mrs Carter produced a fun game that we all enjoyed greatly. We were given a list of historical events that we then had to act out for the other teams to guess.

It was climbing day and all of us got up early thanks to Seb’s habit of hoovering the hall at 6:30, forcing us awake. Breakfast was amazing as usual and we all got into the minibus to get driven to this weird rock with a chapel on top, the climbing was incredible and it required a lot of skill and determination. The was a mixture of difficulties setting out from moderately hard to ‘that is not possible’ hard, but the whole thing was really fun and exciting even though the rain and snow gave us brief visits. After dinner Mr Harris and Mrs Carter provided the entertainment again, it was call my bluff this time this resulted in Team 2 winning with Team 1 coming second and Team 3 falling at last. :(

The fifth day was the kayaking, The weather had finally turned nasty, after four days of almost perfect weather, the wind was strong and the sea rough but we all set out in our kayaks, it was cold and the wind didn’t help much but Mrs Carter always found a way to get us moving, we did lots of little runs though the rocks and while the spray was cold you only had to wait until you fell into to be really cold. After lunch we split up some going back out onto the water and some staying onshore to look after the boats and explore (and it was a bit cold.) That evening we were given some bad news we were to get up even earlier and do some jumping into the sea (before the sun was even up.) We also did small quiz for Mr Harris and Mrs Carter. Mrs Carter was crowned winner of the ‘How well do you know your cadet Award’.

The last day we got up extra early and as we left our bullock, all ready to leave later that day, There was frost covering the ground after a breakfast where we were all really hot (we were all wearing our wetsuits) we left to drive down to the coasts were we waited with mounting anticipation for the ‘big jump’. After an hour and a half of fun we finish cold and numb but still enthusiastic (whats better than jumping into the Atlantic Ocean to wake up.) we got changed and headed back to the camp and packed up ready for the inspection of our bullocks. The inspection passed without incident and we left earlier than expected and started the long drive home. Stopping at the legendary Maccy D’s on the way.

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Hackers: Rhyme

by Nicholas Graham


Does a poem have to rhyme?
To make it worth the reading time?
A rhyme is just a pattern of sound
To which a poem is often bound.
Why should it matter if it is used,
When often it is just abused?

Metre I can understand,
A poem without it is often bland.
But rhyming is just a test of skill,
Of finding words that fit the bill.
If it matters, then I'll give up now,
Because to rhyme I'm not sure how.

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What Do English Teachers Read? Part 3

Henry Ling and Kelvin Shiu


Continuing our series "What Do English Teachers Read?", Ms Hart and Mrs Bell discuss their favourite books and writers.


Here is Ms Hart's response:

1. What book are you currently reading? This is Where I am by Karen Campbell. It is chilling. It is all about refugees from Somali living in Glasgow. I have to admit having to put it down at times because it is so terrifying.

2. Who is your favourite author? Why? Tough question. Can I answer this by period?! Shakespeare has to be up there, with King Lear. Such a tragic tale that really does wrench at my heart each time I read it. The best line is, ‘As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods;/They kill us for their sport.’ (4.1.36) Genius! I am on a mad Hardy spree at the moment and am trying to read all of his works by the end of the year. I have to confess that Tess of the D’Urbervilles is my favourite but Far from the Madding Crowd has to be there too. Jane Austen. Say no more. A bit of Beckett: Waiting for Godot. This is a play that I walk away from each time none the wiser – surely this is a sign of brilliance on Beckett’s part. I’ll stop here – too many to think of!

 3. What is the least interesting novel that you have read? Why? Another tough question because I don’t think that I have read a book that I have not find interesting. I normally know within the first few pages and then stop reading. I don’t have time to waste. I usually go on recommendations and read a lot of classics; they are classic for a reason.

4. If you were stranded on a desert island, what novel would you take (supposing you got a choice)? Why? OK – who set these questions? These are really hard! Erm, probably The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe. It is an example of the early novel form and is really long, gothic and full of mystery (hence the title!).

 5. What features do you expect to see in a good book? An unexpected ending, characters that I will empathise with, believable plot twists. It needs to be well-written … I know this sounds obvious but I cannot cope with rubbish. Poorly constructed sentences, be off with you!

6. What do you believe makes a book so special? A book is special because it often reminds you of a time in your life. So, when you re-read it it takes you back to a time past. A book transports you but you are not passive. The book only exists because the reader exists, and I think that this relationship between reader and writer is a very special one.

 

7. As a teenager, what kind of books did you like? Why did you find them appealing? To be honest, I wasn’t a big reader as a teenager. I was more of an artist, painting on massive canvases and creating unusual works of art. English came to me relatively late, about 17. I loved the texts that we studied at A Level and this is probably because I had a really inspirational teacher, Mr Pike. He taught me King Lear and this text remains at the top of my favourite list. I think I loved the angst of Lear. The disagreements in the family and the wicked sisters who were obsessed and overwhelmed by the power of greed. It was dark stuff that probably relates to most teenage/parent relationship (without the bloody ending).

8. What is your favourite genre of novel? I love anything pastoral … or anti. Reading Hardy this year has renewed this love and appreciation of this very interesting and complex genre.

9. What is your favourite non-fiction book? Why French Children Don’t Throw Food. All parents should read it. It explains so much about Anglophone children.

10. Have you ever thought about writing a book? If so, what style of book would you write? Yes. It is called Up The Garden Path: A Year in the Life of an Allotment Holder. It is an observational novel that tells the tales of the complex web of relationships on an allotment. Lots of mystery, twists and turns.

Mrs Bell answered as follows:

1. What book are you currently reading? I am currently reading The Sugar Barons by Matthew Parker: a fascinating social history about sugar plantations and the slave trade and how it shaped the British Empire. I also have Canada by Richard Ford on the go.

2. Who is your favourite author?  Why? I honestly don’t have one favourite: I read so many different authors.

3. What is the least interesting novel that you have read? Why? White Teeth by Zadie Smith: it was overlong, indulgent and petered out. Most dispiriting.

4. If you were stranded on a desert island, what novel would you take (supposing you got a choice)? Why? If I was allowed the Bible and Shakespeare, I would then take a really terrific anthology of poetry. Poetry really allows readers the space to thing about ideas in a very different way.

5. What features do you expect to see in a good book? A roaring story. A character that you love. A twist of expectation as you are reading it.

6. What do you believe makes a book so special? A universality of feeling: like Fitzgerald said, “You’re not lonely and isolated anymore. You belong."

7. As a teenager, what kind of books did you like? Why did you find them appealing? I read anything when I was a teenager: all of my grandfather’s Jean Plaidy historical novels, my dad’s Cold War thrillers, old orange Penguin paperbacks. I re-read childhood books which still remain a favourite today, like The Secret Garden and Tom Sawyer and The Greengage Summer.  Plenty of ‘lowbrow’ reading, like Stephen King and Jilly Cooper, Judith Krantz and Jackie Collins. Lots of far too grown- up reading like Solzhenitsyn and Kafka which I didn’t really understand then. Turgenev’s First Love was a real favourite, as were Chekhov’s short stories. They were all appealing because I could pretend I was one of the characters in these books.

8. What is your favourite genre of novel? Everything except fantasy and science fiction. Sorry, I just can’t get on board with that genre at all.

9. What is your favourite non-fiction book? I love really good biographies, autobiographies and memoirs, such as Last Train to Memphis by Peter Guralnick. I’m looking forward to reading All Roads Lead to France, a biography about the poet Edward Thomas, over the summer.  I do have shelves of books on music and film, and photography, so maybe Eve Arnold’s People, or Mystery Train by Greil Marcus.

10. Have you ever thought about writing a book? If so what style of book would you write?  For the money: a bonkbuster. For artistic endeavour: a wistful novella.

Read the responses of Ms Burden, Mrs Kirby and Mr Burkinshaw here, Mrs Mitchell and Mr Richardson here and Ms Godfree and Mr Sadden here.

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Why Are We Still So Fascinated by the Samurai?

by Ross Watkins





Scene from Akira Kurosawa's The Seven Samurai
(on which The Magnificent Seven
and (strangely) Bug's Life were based).

Plunging his sword into his abdomen he makes cuts from right to left tearing his inner intestines, all this done while in extreme pain. Then once he has endured enough, the second will behead the man leaving a small stand of skin so the head does not hit the ground and cause dishonour. All this done to uphold the honour of one so that their family does not fall out of favour with their lord. This was the ancient ritual of sacrifice called Seppuku (or stomach cutting).

To you and me, this may seem barbaric, but to those involved it was a process which was extremely sacred and was done willingly when they had been captured by the opposition or had been ordered to do so by the Emperor.

The Samurai were the warrior elite of Japan from 660 BC 1876 AD (when the Emperor made the wearing of swords illegal). They were seen as a superior class of people to the peasant farmers and the merchants and they had the authority to end a person's life if they suspected that they were dishonouring them.

So how did these warriors gain such power? Japan had a feudal system just like that of Europe. The whole country was ruled by two people: the Emperor, who was the head of state and spiritual leader, the symbol of Japanese power. There also was the  Shogun who was the warrior leader of Japan who was in charge of running the country. But this position of Shogun was hotly contested, with many people trying to overthrow the current Shogun at any one point of time.

This led to eras like the time of the warring states in which Japan was engulfed in civil war for nearly two hundred years. Japan had many different kingdoms which were each ruled by a dynamo, who were the lords of each area- like a lord of the manor in the Middle Ages. The dynamo then employed an army made up of skilled warriors: the samurai.

The samurai are often famed in popular culture for their weapons and fighting style. The sword of the samurai or katana is seen by many as the ultimate weapon available to a warrior in the middle ages. This is due to the myths which have been created around it. One myth which I must rule out now is that most of the katanas could slice through a human body in one, which I believe creates the vision of a super-soldier in a blood-lust craze decapitating a person with once strike. The truth was much more morbid; the sword was sharper than needed to easily pierce flesh and therefore could easily slice through flesh but it would normally be stopped when meeting bone, which would leave a half severed body with entrails spewing out, which was presumably not a pleasant sight.

However, the sword was a work of art, perfectly balanced towards the handle so that the fighter could skilfully place his blade. Also, blades were curved so that the owner could draw the blade and slice down his enemy in one move for that was the style of fighting which the samurai favoured; their fighting style was based on making as few moves as possible and being the first to cut the opponent down, this sequence of events often preceded by the two men shouting their names at each other, supplemented by the shouting of "Heritage", meaning that they were showing their family prowess and honour. As a result, battles were very well organised affairs with individual duels happening in spaces across the battlefield.

Death from afar, splintered wood comes raining down from the sky in a never ending torrent of death: the lesser-known samurai weapon, the bow. The bow was the weapon of choice for many samurai. This is due to the skill required to use such a weapon; it was a delicate weapon, which, unlike the English longbow, was balanced off the centre to stop all the force affecting the aim of the bearer.  This meant that a samurai could find their victim and kill them with ease from a great distance, killing in what was perceivwed as a dishonourable way.

So why do the samurai remain of such interest today? I believe this is due to a plethora of factors, one of which is the way the samurai have been portrayed in films such as The Last Samurai; these films have helped show the modern generation what the samurai were like, albeit in a glorified way, and have helped their image survive through the generations, I also believe that the whole character and honour which comes with the samurai is addictive to many historians and this, I believe, is why the samurai will live on into the future

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Growing Up With Wagner

Nicolas Robertson, singer, music writer (and Ms Godfree's brother) marks the bicentennial of the birth of the great German composer Richard Wagner.

My grandfather took me to the opera in London twice in the same season, in about 1968 (when I was fourteen) - perhaps around the time he took me and my sister to see 'The Sound of Music' on stage (with Millicent Martin), and immediately demanded, as we came out, "Right - verdict?"

The operas were Wagner's 'The Mastersingers of Nuremberg' and Puccini's 'Bohème'. Probably he expected, as I did myself, that I'd be over-stretched by the sheer length of the Wagner, and carried away by Puccini's melodic verve. But that's not how I remember it: I responded in a sort of pictorial way to 'La Bohème', thus recall more or less what it looked like, but the music didn't (at that time) make a lasting impression; however I don't remember any feeling of tiredness in 'Mastersingers', just happiness at hearing the big tune come to fruition right at the end after such long gestation (it's true I may have been nodding off in the interim). I was, effectively, already a Wagnerite - if not yet a perfect one.

I didn't listen to Wagner much, as opera, for 3 or 4 years after that; one didn't, apart from overtures on vinyl (I loved 'Tannhäuser' and 'Rienzi' - aerobic music both), and then the 'Siegfried Idyll', which occupied a similar sort of space as 'Verklärte Nacht' of Schoenberg, and Strauss' 'Metamorphosen': concentrated heady, polyphonic harmony which pulled one about.  So I became aware that Wagner was a phenomenon, one day to come to grips with.

During these Wagner-less years, so to speak, I stayed nevertheless at least once a year with my grandparents in London, and in the room where I slept I found 'Das Buch der Motive', a small Schott pamphlet which listed, in score, all the 'signature tunes' Wagner used in 'The Ring'; and a book called 'The Truth about Wagner', which told (most controversially, as I subsequently found out) how much the composer took, really, from his first marriage to Minna, and his revolutionary times in Dresden in 1849, a pile of evidence which goes against his later avatar, controlled by his second wife Cosima von Bülow and 'the Wahnfried strong-box' - a phrase which has stayed with me ever since those Knightsbridge readings - enshrined as mega-artist, national treasure (and anti-semite). And at the same time, we discovered Anna Russell, on a record of our grandparents, who gives the most lucid run through of the whole Ring cycle in 21 minutes (as you can hear in the following 1953 audio recording) - I haven't ever been able to fault any of its detail -

* * * * *

So I knew, at the time at university when I was loving Sibelius, Prokofiev, Elgar, Webern, Ravel, Bartok, Hindemith, the brilliant manifestations of late or post- romanticism, that one would have to come across Wagner. But how to do it? Chelsea Opera Group came to Cambridge in 1973 with Puccini's 'Turandot', which was staggering; student groups (some including me) performed early Donizetti, Monteverdi, Britten and Kurt Weill, but to do Wagner ourselves was unlikely.

In those days (we're in 1974 or '75) there was an excellent record shop in New Oxford Street, London called Gramex (it's now in Lower Marsh, where it's been described - in 'The Spectator' - as "the world's best second-hand classical CD and record shop"), which advertised special offers. One could compare, via the pages of 'The Gramophone', different versions of Wagner's 4-opera cycle 'Der Ring des Niebelungen'; I read about Karajan's and Solti's, but opted for Karl Böhm's live recording from Bayreuth (1966), 16 LPs in a serious box, which Gramex were offering for (if I remember correctly) about £27 [a considerable sum then, especially for a student - JCJG]. I've just seen an internet note which says there are 13 hours 39 minutes of music, which feels too little to me, but it was certainly faster and lighter on its feet than its rivals.

Once I had it, I observed the box and its contents warily. By now I had listened to the 'Tristan und Isolde' Prelude and 'Liebestod', so I had an entrée to the Wagnerian musical atmosphere (and could imagine, though not quite share, the emotion of the young Belgian composer Guillaume Lekeu who fainted when he heard it). But it wouldn't work, I understood, to pick bits out, listen selectively. So first I played the discs deliberately without listening closely, objectively, with scores (borrowed from the Cambridge Public Library, a fantastic resource) and LP booklet to hand, just to time the sides and identify certain crucial events, while I was doing other student things.

As I was getting the assemblage together, I asked friends in other colleges whether they were amenable to a 'Ring party', and had space without too-close neighbours where this could work. A set of rooms high up under the eaves of Clare College seemed ideal.

Wagner described 'Das Rheingold' as the Prelude to 'The Ring' - so we agreed to listen to it in the afternoon, in time to sing evensong (as I had to, as a choral scholar at St John's College) and eat; and resume at about 9pm for the rest. I circulated detailed timings for salient moments during the night: if you wanted Siegfried's Rhine Journey, you needed to turn up at (say) 5.15am - and people did drop in! among them Barry Millington, now a leading Wagner scholar and writer, then an undergraduate like me. I can't remember how many of us were there for the whole thing, perhaps half a dozen… but many more came and (naturally) went.

I'm not going to talk in detail about the music itself here, or about the effect it has on one, including that invasion of one's entire space which one may or may not find legitimate, and which Verdi doesn't pretend to; Nicholas Spice's recent article in the 'London Review of Books', 11 April, entitled 'Is Wagner bad for us?', is a fine short discussion of this and other aspects of the operas, in human and musical terms. Wagner didn't become one of 'my favourite composers', he's beyond that category, indeed for many years I couldn't listen to him at all, I found it too moving in an uncomfortable (yet admiring) sort of way.

That first time in Cambridge, though, I didn't fully grasp that enormity, amidst so much novelty (revelations of huge emotional import at individual moments, such as 'Wotan's farewell' at the end of 'Die Walküre', came during the following couple of years). What I remember are the longueurs of 'Siegfried' in the small hours, exacerbated by some bottles of Tuborg I'd brought in exactly to alleviate the tedium, but which fell rather sourly on one's empty stomach (but one needed the sort of 'Scherzo' 'Siegfried' provides, a lowering of the tension until its towering finale, which calls you on to the last stage), and then the extraordinary progress through 'Götterdämmerung', as dawn (not twilight! but it works! it's the twilight of the gods, but the initiation of a new cycle on earth) filtered in, and the harmonic key sequence took one from the deep river-run E flat of 'Rheingold', through the wild D minor of the start of 'Walkure' , to the cosmic D flat of love's redemption at the end of 'Götterdämmerung', 14 hours of music later; and I walked out into a bright cool early June morning in Cambridge (no one, I think, wanted or needed to speak at the end) as if I'd never walked the roads before, and knew that things were not the same. I had been through the Ring.

The sensation wore off, of course. Happily; or, alas.

Find out more about Nicolas Robertson's work here and here.

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What Do Librarians Read?

by Henry Ling and Kelvin Shiu

Our school librarian, Ms Godfree, and School Archivist, Mr Sadden, are both tireless advocates for books and reading. Here, they share their own favourite reading, past and present.

This is Ms Godfree's response:

1. What books are you currently reading? An Abundance of Katherines by John Green, The Gutenberg Elegies by Sven Birkerts (a reflection on e-books and printed books and why/how we read) and The Red House by Mark Haddon (who wrote Curious Incident of the Dog In the Night-Time).

2. Who is your favourite author? Why? I don't have a favourite author -- the cliched reply is: whoever I read last . . . Often that is the case. There are writers I go back to with great pleasure: T.S. Eliot, T.H. White's The Once and Future King (the full-blooded, full-volume set, not the Disneyfied and emasculated Sword in the Stone!), George Eliot's Middlemarch --- these (all stuff I read when young) and many more continue to surprise me.

3. What is the least interesting novel that you have read? Why? I couldn't get beyond the opening pages of Captain Corelli's Mandolin --- but, on the whole, I will not press on with a novel that doesn't engage me in the first fifty pages. Life is too short now . . .

4. If you were stranded on a desert island, what novel would you take? Poetry or short stories, rather than a novel --- brief, intense bursts of thought and feeling that will continue to resonate. Norman MacCaig or Andrew Young (poets) or Raymond Carver (short story writer) maybe . . .

5. What features do you expect to see in a good book? Fantastic mastery of language --- I sort of hear words in my head as I read and I don't want to trip over a clunky phrase, that's like someone's phone going off during a concert. An emotional journey.

6. What do you believe makes a book so special? Books show you other ways of being. They show you that your world, your experience, is not all there is. That is a heady, thrilling feeling for a young person and a consoling one when you're a bit older!

7. As a teenager, what kind of books did you like? Two teen favourites: T.H. White (as above) --- fantastical, hilarious, profound, passionate, desolate. The Agony and the Ecstasy by Irving Stone, a fictionalised biography of Michelangelo --- vivid, revelatory, with some swoony, rude bits. The first two paperbacks I bought for myself and invested myself in heart and soul. Later in my teens: Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and Almost Human by Theodore Sturgeon. Stunning science fiction/fantasy, earthed in a recognisable world. All of these were books that I discovered for myself, which I think was an important part of their appeal. I can't remember getting any fiction out of my (boarding) school library, but I do recall the excitement of combing the shelves of the public library on the rare occasions we were let out and coming back with armfuls of headily grown-up books.

8. What is your favourite genre of novel? I am partial to a bit of Stephen King (psychological horror), though, having read one, I go right off him for a while --- but I don't have a favourite genre really. I hate Jilly Cooper-type books.

9. What is your favourite non-fiction book? Essays --- of any century. A currently rather neglected art form, but a wonderful one, the distillation of deep thought and often biting wit. Multum in parvo!

10. Have you ever thought about writing a book? If so, what style of book would you write? Often thought, never tried. If I were to, it would have to be essays (as above). The more I read, the more I am in awe of those who do write.

Mr Sadden responded in this way:

1. What books are you currently reading? I'm currently reading a children's novel written by Michelle Magorian called Just Henry, set in Portsmouth just after the Second World War (prompted by meeting her recently at the unveiling of a plaque celebrating Old Portmuthian Percy Westerman, who wrote over 170 "ripping yarn" novels), a five year old copy of The Idler, the autobiography of Bryan Forbes, Notes for a Life (prompted by the British film director's death last month) and a book on the German artist Otto Dix (prompted by seeing a collection of his First World War prints in a very odd exhibition about death, at the Wellcome Foundation). I like to have several books on the go at any one time.

2. Who is your favourite author? My favourite author varies, which suggests I don't really have one yet.

3. What is the least interesting novel that you have read? I tried to read the first Harry Potter but didn't get very far.

4. What book would you want with you if you were stranded on a desert island? The answer to this would depend on how long I am likely to be stranded for. If it was for a day or two, I would take the fattest Harry Potter so that I could use it as kindling. If it was for a long time, then I'd be a fool not to take something very long and challenging that I hadn't read before.

5. What features do you expect to see in a good book? Good writing, strong characterisation and an interesting plot, probably in that order.

6. What makes a book so special? That's a mystery to me. Judging by its success, the Harry Potter series is "special", so success must be an important ingredient of it.

7. What did you enjoy reading as a teenager? As a young teenager, I read Sherlock Holmes, the Doctor series by Richard Gordon, novels about the legal system by Henry Cecil, loads of science fiction. In my mid teens, I was reading Orwell, Raymond Chandler, Catch 22, Crime and Punishment, A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovitch, Tom Sharpe, A Clockwork Orange, anything dystopian. I was into the "kitchen sink", British stuff of the 50s and 60s, which, in the mid-70s, had become unfashionable. Oppositional stuff. Alan Sillitoe's short stories and novels. The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner was a big favourite as it reflected my view of life at the time. In some ways, it anticipated punk philosophy. I have a signed, dedicated copy of it on my bookshelves and would grab that book if the house caught fire.

8. What is your favourite genre of book? No favourite genre, just anything that demonstrates a humanity, a social consciousness and political awareness without being clunky and preachy or overtly ideological; anything that explores the tensions between individualism and collectivism. Also, humour and a celebration of the absurdity of life.

9. What is your favourite non-fiction book? The full Oxford English Dictionary, Encyclopedia Britannica or the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, or possibly well-illustrated art books.

10. Have you ever written a book or are you tempted to write one? I often think about writing books. I had a novel, Mudlark, published under a pseudonym by Puffin a few years ago, which was well reviewed. It's a historical murder mystery, which perversely sets out to disappoint but failed in Scotland where it proved popular. My Portsmouth Book of Days is currently ranked number 276, 409 in the Amazon Best Sellers.

Also, read What Do English Teachers Read?, What Do English Teachers Read: 2 and What Do English Teachers Read: 3

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Open Source Murder

by Daniel Rollins

America is a bizarre and scary place from this side of the Atlantic. Although claiming to be the “land of the free” the country seems to be enslaved to a 222 year old law which has created a culture where many people in America worship guns before God. After the tragic shooting in Newton I was quite shocked to hear the American gun lobby advocating armed guards in every school rather than gun controls but more shocked at the widespread approval this policy was met with in the American media. Although I have never visited the country and in no way claim to be an expert on their culture, it seems that guns have become synonymous with freedom (tell that to someone cowering from a mad man, in a cupboard). The individualistic values of the “wild west” still seem to have a strong influence on the politics of this supposedly civilized country.

Cody Wilson

It is this barbaric culture that has apparently inspired 25 year old Texan law student, Cody Wilson, to design and publish a blueprint for a printable hand gun. Wilson has been listed by Wired as one of the 15 most dangerous people in the world and described by others as a “terrifying lunatic”. His gun, ironically called the “Liberator”, is made of plastic, has been tested and is able to fire a single .380 pistol cartridge. Most terrifyingly, guns made using his method are undetectable, untraceable and can be printed by anyone who has a few hundred pounds for a 3D-printer and an internet connection.

The Liberator? 

The implications this gun has on law, technology and society are enormous. The US government has already tried to stop the plan's distribution by using gun export laws to remove the plans from the designer’s website. However, like any attempt to control information on the internet, this has proved futile; the blueprint had already been downloaded 100,000 times and is now freely available on file-sharing site, The Pirate Bay.

Wilson’s shots are also being heard in the technology industry which is already nervous about the loss of manufacturing jobs to 3D printers. While the gun looks crude and unsophisticated now, this infant technology is expected to rapidly grow in sophistication until more advanced and dangerous guns can be made; some fear that this advancement in 3D-printer tech may be slowed as large companies and governments seek to ensure a level of control over this potentially revolutionary technology.

Finally, it also means that anyone and everyone may eventually be able to have easy access to a printed gun; the man trying to protect his family, the young woman afraid of sexual harassment, the jealous lover, the psychopath. No longer will they have to try and find a shady gangster to buy an illegal firearm; all they will have to do is download some plans and click print.

Defense Distributed, the non-profit run by Wilson to develop the gun, considers the impact on its website: “This project might change the way we think about gun control and consumption. How do governments behave if they must one day operate on the assumption that any and every citizen has near instant access to a firearm through the Internet? Let’s find out.”

I’m not sure I want to.

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