"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

I cannot put into words my adoration for the character of Severus Snape in the Harry Potter books. I have been fascinated by this man from the early age of eight (when I first started reading the books), and I think that he will be a source of inspiration and enchantment for as long as I live. Although he is fictional, he seems so very real to me.

During the course of the books, I knew early on that he loved Harry’s mother, Lily, and following the release of the seventh book, I learned that I had been right all along. Snape had lived his life ever since Lily’s death vowing to protect Harry from the wrath of Voldemort, all the while pretending to be on Voldemort’s side and risking his life in order to gain information to both protect Harry and defeat Voldemort himself. Harry’s bright green eyes served as a reminder to Snape as to what he had to do for Lily, as Harry’s eyes were precisely the colour and shape of Lily’s.

In the books, Snape was always hostile and nasty towards Harry, but this was because of the complex emotions that were at war with each other within his mind. When he looked at Harry, he was reminded of the woman he loved, but he was also reminded of the man that he hated – Harry’s father, James Potter. Snape and Lily were childhood friends, and their friendship slowly disintegrated due to Snape’s fascination with the Dark Arts and his wish to join the Death Eaters. The arrogant James Potter won Lily’s heart during their seventh year of Hogwarts, and Snape remained resentful of this throughout his life.

In spite of his bitterness, once Snape had learned that the prophecy he had recalled to Voldemort was concerned with Lily, James and their son, Snape quickly went to Dumbledore and begged him to protect Lily and her family safe. From then on, Snape worked hard to protect them all, by working alongside Dumbledore and, on Dumbledore’s orders, by pretending to be faithful to Voldemort, in order that he could gather vital information which would contribute to his downfall. Once Lily had been killed by Voldemort, Snape continued to be loyal to Dumbledore, and worked to protect Harry, because his love for Lily was his main priority in life.

Throughout the series, people were speculating as to whether Snape was truly loyal to Dumbledore or Voldemort. I always knew that Snape was a good man, and even after Snape killed Dumbledore, I knew that he had done so on Dumbledore’s orders, and so he had.

Severus Snape was the bravest character in the books, and I was utterly outraged by his death. Snape was killed by Voldemort for the simple reason that Voldemort believed that Snape’s death would enable him to be the master of the Elder Wand. Of course, Draco Malfoy was the master of the wand, and so Snape’s death was for nothing. Dumbledore had told Snape that when Voldemort began fearing for the life of his snake (one of the Horcruxes), it was time to tell Harry that part of Vodlemort’s soul lived inside him. When Voldemort called Snape to the Shrieking Shrack, Snape noticed that the snake now resided in a proctective bubble, and so Snape tells Voldemort repeatedly that he will bring Harry to him. He was obviously trying to get to Harry to tell him what Dumbledore told him he must say – Snape was maintaining his double agent life to the very end. Alas, Voldemort ordered the snake to kill Snape, and it did so. As he was dying, Harry approached Snape, and Snape had just enough life in him to procure the memories that would tell Harry everything he needed to know. As the life dwindled from him, Snape begged Harry to look at him, and my interpretation of this is that he wanted to see Lily’s eyes one last time before he passed on (*sniff*). I personally think that Severus Snape deserved to live, or at least to die a more heroic death than this unnecessary one. How ironic it was that Snape’s final resting place was where James Potter had saved him from death at the hands of Lupin in his werewolf state all those years ago…

I have to give J.K. Rowling credit, as she ensured that Harry let everybody know that Snape was faithful to Dumbledore from the beginning during his final battle with Voldemort. Harry declares to the room that Snape was a good man and had loved his mother his entire life, and this comforted me immensely. Furthermore, in the Epilogue, which is set nineteen years after Harry defeats Voldemort, we learn that Harry names his children James, Lily and Albus. The poignant thing about this is, that Albus Potter’s middle name is Severus. In the Epilogue, as Albus is about to enter his first year at Hogwarts, he is concerned that he will be sorted into Slytherin. Harry tells him that he was “named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them [Snape] was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.” I thank J.K. Rowling for allowing Harry to forget his animosity for Snape in light of Snape’s protection of him over the years.

As to Alan Rickman’s portrayal of Snape in the films, I think he is perfect for the role. Alan Rickman was Rowling’s personal choice to portray the character, and she had told him from the beginning that Snape had loved Lily – “He knew very early on that he’d been in love with Lily. He needed to understand where this bitterness towards this boy who’s the living example of her preference for another man came from.”

Severus Snape is the most intriguing and most amazing fictional character that I have ever encountered, and the fictional Snape that resides within my mind when re-reading the Harry Potter books for the millionth time, will live forever as far as I’m concerned (however, sometimes, I forget that he is fictional).

R.I.P. Severus Snape, “the bravest man I ever knew”. ♥

9th January 1960 – 2nd May 1998

After having read many 19th century Romance novels in my time, and after having watched the television adaptation of ‘Jane Eyre’ until the early hours of this morning, I woke up at the usual time, to discover that a wealth of undeveloped thoughts on the idealistic views on love were circulating around my mind. You could say that I woke up with this blog entry already formed in my head, as it were. Although, I suppose that the fact that I have just written 4,000 gruelling words comparing and contrasting the novels ‘The Color Purple’ and ‘Jane Eyre’ has prompted me to write an entry on this topic (I seem to remember that earlier in the day, I declared in outrage that I have little time for anything owing to the vast amount of work that I have to complete over Easter, and yet, here I am, blithely typing away to my heart’s content).

Any way, I want to deduce whether or not idealistic views on love found in Romance novels and such have any influence in the reality of love. I have knowledge of idealistic love, in literary terms at least, and I am experiencing the wonderful reality of love on a day-to-day basis, in all of its forms.

Here are few of my favourite examples of literary idealistic views on Romantic love:

From ‘Jane Eyre’ by Charlotte Bronte

“I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.”- Jane Eyre

( You may ignore this if you wish, I  posted this picture of Toby Stephens as Mr Rochester here, simply because I like looking at him, and I found him irresistable and handsome upon watching the adaptation last night! <3 )

From ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Emily Bronte

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you — haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe — I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!” – Heathcliff

From one of William Shakespeare’s sonnets

“Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or Bends with the remover to remove.
O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark,
whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.”

From Romance novels and other literature, I have thus ascertained that the characteristics of idealistic love are as follows:

1. Merging of the lovers into one e.g by their souls, and by their hearts “beating as one”;
2. The existence of magic; e.g. the arrows of Cupid;
3. Metaphysical – affects the person’s ability to function as normal e.g. “love sick”;
4. Intense desire for the person;
5. An indestructible force;
6. True love conquers all.

A poet called John Donne was concerned with what was called Neo-Platonic Love in Renaissance. Donne’s Platonism explains love as the power of soul over body, the distinction between love and lust, and the goodness of striving for perfection through devotion to a woman’s beauty.

However, I do not think that this is the case in today’s reality. Most people meet someone, become attracted to them, fall in love with them, embark on a relationship with them and grow to love them deeply and irrevocably in that relationship, without any mention of Platonism or the idealistic characteristics of love. I sometimes experience an idle sort of wish that idealistic views on love were prevalent in today’s society, but alas, does such love truly exist, is it merely a state of mind, or is it just a literary tradition that exists only in fiction? Those are the real questions.

I always bring these entries back around to my writing, and I will not defer from tradition, I’m afraid. In my novel, I do not necessarily use the idealistic clichés surrounding love. Mariella and Mathieu, though they do love each other deeply, do not declare their love for all to hear; Mariella does not protest that Mathieu should return to the marriage, nor do either of them insist that their souls exist solely for each other. I do use imagery surrounding hearts, but that is merely because the heart is one of my favourite metaphors in my writing – although not solely for love. Mariella’s love for Mathieu sometimes interferes with her and Charles’ plans, but that is because she feels guilty for defying Mathieu, as anyone would. Furthermore, neither of them forget to live on account of love taking over their lives, nor do they solely depend upon that love. They are both flawed, individual human beings, and curiosity often gets the better of them. Being separated, they are at liberty to indulge in relationships with others, and both of them do so. Mariella experiences a sort of passion for the handsome Charles, whereas Mathieu engages in a similar relationship with a promiscuous woman named Mizuko. However, there is one incident which occurs at the end of the story which, I have to admit, reflects the values of idealistic love, but I am not about to give it away!

I think I have written at great length today, and now I feel that I can rest with a relatively empty mind. As a writer, one often feels that one’s mind is swimming with all sorts of words and phrases that need to be expressed in some way or another. I know this happens to me on a regular basis, and I now have somewhere to channel these ideas, thanks to this blog! The next time I post, I may even go so far as to write another poem, out of sheer exhaustion.

Toodlepip.

Mirror – Sylvia Plath

I AM silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful ‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

This poem is quite possibly one of the most inspirational poems that I have ever encountered. It was these powerful words, and the intriguing imagery of this poem that prompted me to start writing a novel (which, incidentally, largely centres around mirrors). I have always written short stories, and even (I am not ashamed to admit) Harry Potter fan fiction… but following the reading of this poem, a hundred ideas began circulating around my brain. Of course, the initial plans for the story are significantly different than what they are now. Back then, the characters were idle figments of my imagination, who had not yet developed into the human beings that are alive within it right now. These characters – Mariella, Mathieu, Charles and Evangeline (my principal characters) – are on my mind every single day. I could be walking around school or work, or indeed out with my boyfriend or my friends, and my attention would drift towards the imagining of new storylines and events surrounding these people. I think they are so intrusive within my daily life because each of them represents something which is universal (but I will not write anything more about them on here, as I do not want to spoil the story. In any case, I know my characters and to attempt to explain their lives and personalities on here would be impossible, as they have all lived such full and interesting lives!

I have so many thoughts today. I cannot quite distinguish any in particular or express them into words, but I know what I mean in my head (this very often happens to me)! In Psychology, I have been learning about ‘cognitive dissonance’ and this concept coincides with what I have been feeling as of late! Cognitive dissonance refers to the discomfort that is experienced when two cognitions clash or contradict each other, and I understand this discomfort fully! I know that I am a writer, but today and yesterday, I have been experiencing a heavy mind which is clouded with hoardes of undeveloped ideas, which prevents me from expressing myself with words on paper. Thus, my love for writing, and the distinct temporary lack of ability to write anything promising represents two clashing cognitions. At least I can give a name to this feeling of hopelessness that has overwhelmed me throughout today and yesterday. This will not last, however. I often find that just when I think that I am incapable of writing any more, I produce some of the best writing that scarcely needs to be redrafted before it attains its place in the story. Therefore, I am optimistic.

As all is silent in my room, this pestilential tinnitus is ongoing and frustrating. I suppose tinnitus goes hand in hand with having a boyfriend in a band (and if you are silly enough, as I am, to stand right next to a booming speaker at one of his gigs, then that small detail might add to the onset of this incessant ringing noise in both of your ears). However, the only time I notice the ringing is when I am lying in bed in silence (like now, for instance). I am otherwise content and I am not generally annoyed by it in my daily life.

I came to realise today that when I am reading passages in French, I do not read them and try to work out the English equivalent, like I previously have done. I now read the passages in French and they make sense to me in French, without any real need for a translation. On very rare occasions, I even think in French (though, this very seldom happens). I think that after 6 years or so of learning the language, I am starting to gain a deeper understanding of it. In keeping with this idea, I have also been wondering about the concept of language as a whole. How did the languages of the world originate? Who conjured up the words that contstitute a language? I am simply fascinated by language. I love nothing more than delving into the deepest parts of my mind, using my “visuo-spatial sketchpad” to create visual images and then exploring my mental reservoir to extract suitable, eloquent words and phrases to best fit the event that I am trying to describe in my writing.

My laptop has just informed me that I have 8 minutes left of battery, so I’d better wrap this up. I shall continue to write another day. I have plenty more to say! Words are my passion. Goodnight!

As of late, I am constantly exhausted. It does not matter how much sleep I get, as it is surely predestined that I will be so irrevocably fatigued throughout the course of any given day.

Today, I am quite frustrated with myself, as I intended to study some Psychology and then write some more of my book. Alas, I simply switched on the laptop, and here I am, three hours later. I need to abscond from this disdainful habit that I have adopted.

When I was younger, and I heard of writers describing their fictional worlds, I was in complete awe of them. Now, however, after having written about my fictional world for the best part of three years, I understand what they were talking about. I used to write stories as a child, but they were undeveloped and juvenile, as any child’s would have been.

This book that I am working on will be colossal when I am finished. I know my fictional world as deeply as I know this world. And my characters… how to describe them? I know the lives of my principal characters just as I know my own life – they seem so real to me. I see them in my mind’s eye as clearly as I see people around me in reality, I know exactly how these people will react in any given situations, and they are all, truly, inventions of my own mind.

People often ask me whether or not my characters are based on people I know in my life, and the answer to that is that I simply don’t know. I would say that some characteristics which are adopted by my characters reflect some characteristics of the people in my life, but no character is based on any person already in existence, as far as I am aware. I am merely inspired to write by the things that I see and hear on a day to day basis.

Other things people always ask me include the following: “How much of it have you written?”, “When will it be finished?”. I am quite annoyed with myself because my life is so busy that this book is a VERY slow and long process. I started planning the book in 2007, and to date, I have written 20,000 words of material that will definitely be used for the book – and just 5 out of the 15 chapters are complete (this does not include the material that I write for the book and do not use, which I will discuss below). In my defence, the planning of the story was the most vigorous of processes, and it is constantly being revised, with every new idea that springs to mind. I do try to write something every day, but most of it does not get past a first draft. I have a notebook at home which is filled with material which I spent a long time writing, and after all, I did not feel that it was suitable to be used. That is why the writing of my book is taking so long. I have too many ideas, and some simply do not fit into the story.

I think that once my A-Levels are out of the way, I will be able to write more often and more efficiently. For some reason, a degree in English seems like it will give me more free time than A-Levels, which is most likely an example of me showing my ignorance. Back to the point, it is very likely that I will have the book finished within the next three years. I will not lose sight of my story, however, as I have each chapter planned out, and the story has been entwined within my mind for so long that I doubt I shall ever forget it.

Bonne nuit.

I intend to use this blog as a means of expressing my prevalent thoughts, posting my poetry and perhaps even extracts from my own book. I do not see my writing here as some sort of diary or journal entry, as I am not inclined to believe that the intricacies of the human mind can be interpreted so deeply as to express them into words. Just like my absolute hero, Severus Snape, I firmly hold the belief that: “The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing.”

Furthermore, I do not write here for any sort of audience; this is merely a place for me to organise the latent thoughts and feelings that I feel can inspire me in my writing, in some way or another. When I look back on this page, I can go back into my memory and recreate the context in which I was writing, which will undoubtedly help me at some stage in the future. I have often read that it is important for writers to do this, as the best inspiration that one could possibly hope for is, ultimately, life itself. I agree whole-heartedly with this; although, I have to say that I am not one of those writers who carries a notebook everywhere, in the hope that some sudden inspiration will occur to me. I rely on the hope that my memory is sufficient enough to store all details until a later time when I can write it down without interruption.

I am writing here tonight because I feel that it is about time that I tried to put into words my utter fascination with both the book ‘Thérèse Desqueyroux’ by François Mauriac, and its later film adaptation. Before I continue, here is a reminder of my own summary of the plot, which I had written for a university application:

‘Thérèse Desqueyroux’ by François Mauriac is an intriguing novel in which a young woman, Thérèse, finds herself trapped in the heart of the conformist and oppressive society of Argelouse, France in the 1920s. Her confinement and “solitude eternelle” is further accentuated by the loveless marriage into which she had been thrown by the heads of the two dominant families of Argelouse: the Larroque family and the Desqueyroux family. Bernard Desqueyroux, “le plus précis des hommes”, thus became the husband of Thérèse, and it was the dreary existence to which she became accustomed, the dream of discovering passion and adventure, and the oppressive nature of the inhabitants of Argelouse which led to a powerful increase in Thérèse’s strength and a subsequent loss of all morality. Due to her extreme unhappiness, her brilliant mind formulated a plan which would push all misery out of her life forever – “l’acte de l’écarter pour toutes et à jamais”. To poison Bernard with his own medication seemed to Thérèse the perfect way for her to escape, and follow in the footsteps of the esteemed Jean Azévedo, who, like Thérèse, was different from the people of Argelouse, and broke free in order to fulfil his own potential. The story is undoubtedly rather dark and profound. There is a lot of corruption, particularly concerning the false testimony given by Bernard in order to clear Thérèse of all charges (all done to preserve the family’s honour, rather than for Thérèse herself). Thérèse tries to explain to Bernard the reasons for which she tried to poison him, and as she can give no satisfactory answer, he creates of prison of his own design, by keeping her locked up in a room of the house until he can think of a way to explain what has happened to the inhabitants of Argelouse, and indeed to his precious family. Through her newfound imprisonment, Thérèse uses her imagination to create a world of happiness. She dreams of escaping to Paris, where she can “devenir elle-même” among the kindred spirits who roam in that distant reality. Will Bernard forgive her for her crimes, and allow her to escape the “silence d’Argelouse”?

Yes, this novel has inspired me a great deal. I had never heard of it, until I was told that I would be studying it for French A-Level. All year, I have marvelled in its excellence – the flowing attractiveness of the French language which Mauriac makes use of. The imagery he uses is magnificently powerful. I have never before read a book with such depth and intricacy. There are a number of reasons why this book has changed my perception on everything, and I will attempt to list them:

1. There are a number of animal references in the novel, especially when describing the principal character, Thérèse. She is sometimes referred to as a timid animal, suffering from the pains of the heart and soul. At other times, when she is at her most volatile, the animal imagery used is more ferocious to express her monstrous state of mind.

2. Since Thérèse is such an interesting character, another theme in the novel is that of a mask; a façade which Thérèse uses throughout the story to hide her true feelings while she ponders over her existence and the meaning of life.

3. In keeping with point #2, Existentialism plays a significant role in the novel. Thérèse does not believe in God, and on account of her oppression by the inhabitants of Argelouse, she often questions the worth of religion and human nature, and spends a lot of time mulling over the “uselessness” of her existence.

Coincidentally, I can draw miniscule parallels between the character of Thérèse and one of the principal characters in my own book (this is purely coincidental as I started planning the characters of my own book about three years ago, before I even knew about this book). How odd it is that this tortured soul slightly resembles a character of my own invention.

After having finished the novel of ‘Thérèse Desqueyroux’ in both French and English, I searched in vain for the film adaptation. It was the most elusive film I have ever pursued, as it was made in 1962. At long last, I managed to find it at the weekend, and I have to say that it is simply an amazing film. I have never before seen a film adaptation that stays so true to the book of which it is based on. Emmanuelle Riva’s performance as Thérèse was perfect; that is to say, she was a perfect match for the role. I think that she even won a Best Actress award for the film.

That is all I have to say for today. I hope to continue writing on this another day.

À bientôt.

After having read “Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland” and “Through The Looking Glass” many times throughout the course of my life, I decided that I would search for a deeper analysis of my favourite books. This analysis is taken directly from Sparknotes.com, and focuses around the themes of the books. You may find that the central themes are rather more interesting than one would anticipate in a children’s story…

The Tragic and Inevitable Loss of Childhood Innocence

Throughout the course of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Alice goes through a variety of absurd physical changes. The discomfort she feels at never being the right size acts as a symbol for the changes that occur during puberty. Alice finds these changes to be traumatic, and feels discomfort, frustration, and sadness when she goes through them. She struggles to maintain a comfortable physical size. In Chapter I, she becomes upset when she keeps finding herself too big or too small to enter the garden. In Chapter V, she loses control over specific body parts when her neck grows to an absurd length. These constant fluctuations represent the way a child may feel as her body grows and changes during puberty.

Life as a Meaningless Puzzle

In Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Alice encounters a series of puzzles that seem to have no clear solutions, which imitates the ways that life frustrates expectations. Alice expects that the situations she encounters will make a certain kind of sense, but they repeatedly frustrate her ability to figure out Wonderland. Alice tries to understand the Caucus race, solve the Mad Hatter’s riddle, and understand the Queen’s ridiculous croquet game, but to no avail. In every instance, the riddles and challenges presented to Alice have no purpose or answer. Even though Lewis Carroll was a logician, in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland he makes a farce out of jokes, riddles, and games of logic. Alice learns that she cannot expect to find logic or meaning in the situations that she encounters, even when they appear to be problems, riddles, or games that would normally have solutions that Alice would be able to figure out. Carroll makes a broader point about the ways that life frustrates expectations and resists interpretation, even when problems seem familiar or solvable.

Death as a Constant and Underlying Menace

Alice continually finds herself in situations in which she risks death, and while these threats never materialize, they suggest that death lurks just behind the ridiculous events of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland as a present and possible outcome. Death appears in Chapter I, when the narrator mentions that Alice would say nothing of falling off of her own house, since it would likely kill her. Alice takes risks that could possibly kill her, but she never considers death as a possible outcome. Over time, she starts to realize that her experiences in Wonderland are far more threatening than they appear to be. As the Queen screams “Off with its head!” she understands that Wonderland may not merely be a ridiculous realm where expectations are repeatedly frustrated. Death may be a real threat, and Alice starts to understand that the risks she faces may not be ridiculous and absurd after all.