English Literature A Level...

In my last post I feel I gave off the wrong impression. I was happy with the way I completed the Literature exam, it was a good set of questions in my opinion.

Write about the ways McEwan tells the story in Chapter 22


So, not my favourite chapter, but for anyone who's read the book you'll know how exciting it is. Or is supposed to be. It's quite anti-climatic as climaxes go. Sure, he has the handgun, sure he uses it, sure the stalker gets what was coming to him, sure, sure, sure... But it wasn't exactly riveting action, was it?

That's the problem with these "literary genre" types. They may draw upon other genres for their narrative techniques, and believe me they do, but they aren't exactly the most exciting books out there. Nonetheless, that is not what McEwan set out to do with Enduring Love, and it is a good novel.

"It's ridiculous to argue that McEwan made Parry anything other than terrifying" To what extent do you  agree with this statement?


Now, that was the gist of the question, at least. The most important part was the "...anything other than terrifying...", and in my opinion couldn't be further from the truth of the matter. I argued so in my paper, don't worry. I pity Jed, but there was no point in the novel where I thought, "Oh, damn, he's terrifying."

Write about the significance of the use of descriptive language by three of the writers you have studied.


This was the all-important 42-mark B question, or something to that degree. Again, important words being: the use of descriptive language, and significance. So, here I talked about good old La Belle Dame sans Merci by Keats, Goblin Market by Rossetti and The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, as I had to mention all three of the other writers I had studied with my fellow classmates.

La Belle Dame was the easiest one to speak about. Significance of language. Couldn't have asked for a nicer  topic, in my opinion. I do English Language as well as Literature, so I have a good grounding in it. I discussed the importance of colour in the poem, there's a lot to mention in relation; and something about nature too, I think.

Goblin Market came next, and though I didn't like this poem as much as the other I still had a fair amount of material to work with; I spoke of the links between the animal-faced merchant men and their violent nature later in the narrative, linking this to the contextual factors of Rossetti's work with whores in the hospices. There's a remarkable amount of double entendre in this poem, with references to squeezing fruits on the girl's mouth to try and make her eat, then her sister licks the fruit juice off of her face and body.

Lastly, Great Gatsby, an American novel from the Roaring Twenties -- full of the American Dream and delusional characters, brimming with imagery, motifs, themes and significant language. I despise Nick Carraway, the boring bastard was narrator for the whole novel. I didn't leave myself quite as much time for this addition to the question as I perhaps should have, but no matter... I did write something.

Good luck to everyone else who sat the same exam, I'm sure you all did well.

Broken Promises, novels and poems...

Okay, so I feel like I've broken my promise. I have posted one review, and I've read at least two books since I said I'd review every one I can.

Here's my excuse: I have an English Literature exam on Monday. I need to brush up on my Enduring Love knowledge, because the exam question could be on ANY of the chapters in the book, I have to pretty much know the book off by heart.

That's on top of an insanely intimate detail about some Keats and Rossetti poetry. I have to admit that Keats was an astounding poet, it's such a shame that his contemporaries were so derisive towards him. I bet they turn in their graves every time someone reads Keats and ignores their own work, I'd argue that in the modern world John Keats is much more well-known than Lord Byron and Percy Shelley -- but they were three of the most important poets in the Romantic movement and alive at the same time.

Read Keats. La Belle Dame Sans Merci is, as far as I can recall, my favourite poem. It's not long. In fact, I'll type it out for you.

La Belle Dame sans Merci

' O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has wither'd from the lake,

And no birds sing.

' O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel's granary is full,

And the harvest's done.

' I see a lily on thy brow

With anguish moist and fever-dew;

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast withereth too.'

' I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful - a faery's child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

' I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She look'd at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

' I set her on my pacing steed

And nothing else saw all day long,

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

A faery's song.

' She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna dew,

And sure in language strange she said,

"I love thee true!".

' She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she wept and sigh'd full sore;

And there I shut her wild, wild eyes

With kisses four.

' And there she lulled me asleep

And there I dream'd - Ah! woe betide! 

The latest dream I ever dream'd

On the cold hill's side.

' I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

Who cried - "La belle Dame sans Merci

Hath thee in thrall!"

' I saw their starved lips in the gloam

With horrid warning gaped wide,

And I awoke and found me here

On the cold hill's side.

' And this is why I sojourn here

Alone and palely loitering, 

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.'

Now, this is from The Oxford book of English Verse from the Oxford Clarendon press 1912, chosen and edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch. Needless to say, a very old and worn book. However, I noticed that this copy of the poem is formatted differently than the copy that my Literature teacher gave to us. So, for the fact that the book was compiled, almost, a century ago (Wow! Almost a whole century!) I have reverted the text to fit the older, and arguably more strict, version.

I could tell you quite a lot about this poem alone. I won't. But I could. I won't spoil it for you. It's quite rude for someone to shove their own impressions of a poem down your throat if you've only read a poem once. 

Read, and enjoy.