Literature

“Wide Sargasso Sea”, by Jean Rhys

Book Reviews

I’ve just finished reading “Wide Sargasso Sea” and I have to say it is now one of my favourite novels. After studying Jane Eyre for two years, I’ve always felt there were so many uncertainties in the book, mostly revolving around Bertha Mason. Rhys has exceptionally filled in those gaps, and given a true voice to such a marginalized character. Not only is Antoinette, or Bertha, dehumanized by Bronte, she was labelled as mad before the reader was even given a chance to form their own opinion. I’m so glad I read this book, it was mind-blowingly thought-provoking and really made me empathise and appreciate everything Bertha Mason stood for. Although, it’s incredibly insulting to still call her Bertha Mason. Ultimately, I felt a sense of relief when she came to a sudden realisation at the end of Part Three. She found freedom in the saddest of ways, but she found freedom nonetheless. Rhys also addresses the underlying issues of colonialism exquisitely; not only is she very accurate, but she paints a perfectly understandable picture of what it was like for the colonized and the colonizer.

Lord of The Flies: Oh, Ralph

Original Writing

Ralph was the epitome of weakness – superficial and mean. He mocked the spiritual and the wise, and was blissfully unaware of his identity from the moment he landed on the island. He craved the respect of barbaric leaders yet desperatly desired control over everyone and everything. He became the beast when his ignorance and uncertainty made him a coward, and yet he somehow escaped the hands of death almost enitrely unscathed. He only embraced maturity with open arms when death looked him in the eyes and taunted him.

Ralph’s innocence and nativity died only when the others did.

The Power Of Reading

Original Writing

I’m always inspired by characters in books.
As a child growing up, I was inspired by Atticus Finch for his dedication to morality, and his refusal to deviate away from it.
Then, as a teenager, I was inspired by Katniss Everdeen, for being the epitome of strength I admired to hold within myself.
Soon after, I was inspired by Jay Gatsby, to chase after the one you love no matter how long and strenuous the journey might be. To relentlessly devote yourself to someone, and forgive all their imperfections.
I am a strong believer in the fact that books have the ability to change you, but only if you let it.

– Emily Bronte

Literature

“May you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you – haunt me then.”

Wuthering Heights

Predator and Prey

Original Poetry

The setting sun,
the shining stars;
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
A hand on my back,
A stroke of the neck,
A love affair between predator and prey.

What I Think Of, When I Think Of Him

Original Writing

When I think of him, the first thing that comes to mind is the intoxicating sensation of being high. High on life, on love, on him. His lips are something I crave at 8am and at 11.30pm. His touch is something I miss the most in the sun-dazzled haze of a lazy summer’s afternoon. The soft caress of seduction brushing across my lips over and over again, a hand tracing its fingertips up my leg, a smile through the kiss. When I think of his eyes, I think of a soft summer sunset married with hues of honey.  I’m subconsciously aware that I might drown in the ocean of his being, yet I’ll readily dive into the deep despite not quite knowing how to swim. During the day, I want to rip my heart into shreds and watch the little pieces float around me as I look on in despair; at night, I want to put all of those pieces back together, taking no notice of the blood on my hands and the stains on the hem of my skirt. The sweet, dulcet tones of our incessant need for closeness fill the air when he nears me.

This is what I think of when I think of him.

Symphonies

Original Writing

The ocean finally calmed and you came out with scars coughing up memories. The branches you clung to while you were being tossed through oblivion had thorns, leaving gashes in your hands while you clung for life, scared to go too far under. And blood and water caressed your lips, like the taste of his kisses when they came from a mouth that shot bullets disguised as words. But you survived. You survived the hands pulling you under and the currents pulling you every which way.