How are we all? For my part it's been a chaotic week of travelling, purchasing goods for new accommodation before moving into the 7th floor of a wonderfully constructed modern yet welcoming establishment (which surprised us all with it's fine completion aside from a few touches of neglect). After the disdain and expressive disgust of the minority of new arrivals to the nightclubs with the Freshers' of entirely disagreeable nature and heavy drinking ethos, I now feel settled with my pine desk and views of the City. Whilst I'm almost ready to work upon my modules next week I must relax with a few more parties to attend and people to introduce myself to.
I've yet to complete my study of William Hogarth however I did read an original text, leather bound Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen which I still feel is one of finest pieces ever written particularly in this country and only reading it again has shown me what it lacks in violence, intrigue and bravado such as Beowulf, it makes up for wonderfully. It's known for it's adaptations and how romantically told it was with no thought for how intelligently wrote it is whilst once again teaching me of how to construct conversations, characters effectively with it's sheer brilliance. The resemblance between my reserved and almost hateful manner with the aristocrat Fitzwilliam Darcy at the beginning of the tale is uncanny- I do everything that he does, the occasional put down and the judging people (women) by their appearance which it shows how shallow I can be and an overly offensive existence in which I lead but similarly I have changed for the lady I love. Take for example, this passage from Chapter 34 and observe how every sentence, description is essential to our understanding:
'The tumult of her mind, was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half-an-hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he should have been in love with her for so many months! So much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case— was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable pride— his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane— his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment excited'.
I can only hope my Tudor short story can be a fraction as excellently delivered. In accompanying my book purchases of late, another leather bound hardback of quality by John. E. N. Hearsey- Queen Elizabeth which cities the entirety of the Tudor era. Also Anthony Holden's William Shakespeare- His Life and Work' and Exposure by Michael Mail which I have yet to read. More shall be bought if I have any hope of making a success of my forthcoming essays.
Bye for now, hope you all have a good week. Rest in soft peace, Patrick Swayze and Keith Floyd.