To understand this motif, I would recommend reading Frankenstein, a free on-line copy of which can be found here. Mary Shelley wrote at the early stages of a literary movement known as Romanticism. We can see shades of romanticism in her novel, as explored below.
Tales and yarns are but an extension of our world. They are an escape from reality, and symbolise our fears and hopes. We pour ourselves into the stories we tell and write, and it is through stories we often speak to others. This blog is a celebration of all stories that I have the fortune to cross, and a bit of obsessive analysis of my own self through these tales. These pages also serve as a writing pad for my own musings - poems, short stories, and the like.
Showing posts with label reality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reality. Show all posts
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Tale Share: The Dead are Real
The one question that bothers me a lot is about how real or fictitious historical fiction is. I mean, think about it, if one wanted to talk about historical figures, tell their tales, then why not write biographies? Obviously historical fiction is different, allows the author some agency into the lives of historic entities. But then, what right does one have to change the way someone lived, or died? Perhaps the best way to understand historical fiction is to think of it as set within the realms of history, aligned to the reality of the time, and yet allowing agency to the author to take their characters through the story they have chosen to tell.
A famous personality who has made historical fiction her life, is Hillary Mantel. In 2012, the New Yorker's Larissa MacFaquhar talked about Hillary and the agency of historical fiction. I have quoted a few snippets of this enlightening article below, but for the full article, click on this link.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Creative Poetry: Future Untold
Okay this is one of those small gems that emerge from a night of introspection and loneliness. Either genius, or rationalisation, either way, it makes me smile every time I read it. The basic question being, just because we have found Utopia, does it mean, everything is perfect? Of course, there are many ways to represent this problem - but as I might have mentioned, I used to be sappy. Very sappy.
Like VERY. Seriously. Read it, if you don't believe me.
Labels:
creative poetry,
Growing Up,
Life,
Love,
Own,
paradise,
Perfection,
reality,
Utopia
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