Showing posts with label Sexual. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sexual. Show all posts

Friday, 18 May 2012

The Bloody Chamber - An Intervention

This piece was my last assignment of my second year; I still can't believe it's gone by that fast. This was part of the Textual Intervention II module, you may have seen the essay I had to do for this module - The Worst Essay Ever. The creative side of this module is so much easier, and a lot more fun. Last term it was all about the Gothic, this term it was about fairy tales and their morals and messages. Well, something like that. I found last term more understandable, leading me to receive a First. I swear I will stop going on about that one day. Or maybe not.

While I am happy with this piece, I am not certain it will receive a First like I was last term. We didn't have much time to workshop, but my friend The Student Housewife helped me a lot. She's an editing genius.

Looks lovely...
So this story was inspired by Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber, which I've mentioned only a few times before...I'm not exactly enthralled by the story but it is better than the original Bluebeard. I guess after studying it for A-level English and Art I do feel somewhat attached to it. The guidelines for this creative piece was to retell a fairy tale, or explore the themes, or add a message. Something. It's pretty bad that I don't know this by now. But I stuck with something simple and did a retelling. This may sound boring to you, but it's a creepy, jazzed up version. I spoke of it before in a post called Mark De Sade Idea. It's a play on words of the S&M 'inventor', Marquis de Sade. He wrote a book on the reading list called The Misfortunes of Virtue and Other Early Tales. It's supposed to be all sexual and grim, but the parts I read were really boring. This story has the basic plot of The Bloody Chamber/Bluebeard, with the theme of curiosity, with some of de Sade's sexual fantasies thrown in for good measure.

I'll stop yabbering on and let you read it now.

Mark Desade’s Misfortune of Curiosity

EDIT - 31 March 2012: I am removing this post temporarily as it is entered in Short Fiction's Competition. It will be back in July.

EDIT: My lecturer's comment at the end was 'OMG! She took pictures of him? I didn't see that coming!' I got my lecturer to say OMG! That must be a sign of a great twist ending. 

Sunday, 22 April 2012

A Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde Intervention

This was actually from last term's Textual Intervention. I didn't post it before as I did not like it very much, I prefer writing contemporary rather than period pieces, which is worrying as I chose to do history writing module next year. Anyway, this is rather obviously inspired by the Gothic novel The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and is about what would happen to a woman if she were to take Dr Jekyll's concoction. It also has a little hint of a Succubus, a female demon who seduces men and does demony things.

The Strange Case of Lady Jacqueline and Mistress Heidi 


17 November 18—

Dearest Stephanie,

The wedding is now less than a month away and I am dreadfully excited. Roger has been sweet and kind, and his family have been so generous; they have allowed me to stay with them until the day of the wedding. I cannot wait to become part of their family as Mrs Dr Roger Stevenson. He has asked after you and I have assured him that you will be coming to the wedding; I know you would not want to miss it. You’ll also get to meet all of Roger’s eligible bachelor friends, they’re mostly doctors. I think you’ll particularly like Dr Jekyll; he would be the perfect match for you. He’s quiet but has a good heart.

Last week Dr Jekyll had an odd proposition for me, he asked me to take part in a scientific experiment, he apparently needed a well-bred female, which I thought was a peculiar variable for an experiment. Of course, I asked Roger about it first, he has such high respect for Dr Jekyll that he didn’t think anything of it and gladly accepted on my behalf. Roger says that I should feel honoured to be chosen for such an experiment and I Assured him I was.

Dr Jekyll gave me a vial of clear liquid and said to take a tablespoon of it every evening before bed. He says I must tell him if I have any adverse side effects. I have been taking this liquid for a week now and everything had been going fine. But Stephanie, something quite queer happened this morning; I awoke in my bed with absolutely no memory of the last evening, I do not even remember going to my bedchamber. The oddest thing was that I was still fully clothed, but the outfit I was wearing, oh Stephanie! it was shameful! The bodice was cut so low, my skirt was short enough to expose my calf and I wasn’t even wearing any undergarments. I am ashamed to think that someone may have seen me like this. And when I undressed myself this morning, for I dare not call in a maid, I found a man’s handkerchief tucked down the front of my bodice, it was monogrammed with the initials H.G. I was so shocked I threw it into the fire right away. I am dreadfully worried about what has happened to me. I shall have to contact Dr Jekyll immediately.

Much love Jacqueline.

20 November 18—

Dearest Stephanie,

It has been three days since my last letter and I am afraid that no one has seen or heard from Dr Jekyll for five days. Roger is terribly worried about him and as am I, though for different reasons. I have not told Roger anything about the other night; I dread what he may say.

Stephanie, something worse has happened. Roger has told me that one of his close friends was murdered three days ago and no one knows who could have done it. His name was Mr Henry Groome. The same initials that were on the handkerchief I had. I fear I have done something rotten. What should I do, Stephanie? I am so worried.

Much love Jacqueline.

23 November 18—

Dearest Stephanie,

It has happened again! I awoke this morning with no recollection of last night. I was dressed as wanton as before, in fact my lips were still heavily rouged. I have tried desperately to get in contact with Dr Jekyll but he is still missing; it’s been over a week now. Roger keeps asking me what is wrong but I simply cannot tell him. I am sure if he knew about what I think I have done he would call off the wedding immediately. Oh, Stephanie I desperately need your help.

Much love Jacqueline.

24 November 18—

Dearest Stephanie,

I have overheard from the maids that one of Roger’s friends, Dr Hastie Lanyon, has also been murdered. Apparently he was found in his bedchamber and no one even knows how he died; there were no marks but he was completely naked. The rumour is he was seen that evening with an immoral woman that seduced him and took his soul. Am I that woman? I wish Dr Jekyll was here for me to talk to. Is this what he meant by ‘adverse side effects’? I shall stop taking the liquid that he gave me, hopefully that will stop these strange and horrifying occurrences.

Much love Jacqueline.

30 November 18—

Dearest Stephanie,

I thought it could not get any worse. I do not remember the past three days at all. Roger says that I have been in bed sick, he says he’s been awfully worried about me, he does not want me to catch a fever so close to the wedding. He cautiously asked me if the liquid Dr Jekyll gave me had anything to do with this sickness. I said that I have stopped taking it and he seemed relieved. He has me bundled up in bed with many blankets and the maids bring me warm broth regularly. I am so grateful but I still cannot tell him the truth. I asked about Dr Jekyll again today but Roger says that he is still missing and that his friend Mr Utterson has been looking for him for days to no avail. The wedding is less than two weeks away and I hope that all this madness stops soon.

Much love Jacqueline.

1 December 18—

Dearest Stephanie,

Last night I remembered what happened over the past three days. I keep getting flashes of it when I close my eyes. I remember lying to the maids, saying that I was feeling ill but then changing into such shameless clothing and climbing out of the window. I remember this but I do not feel like myself, it is as if it is someone else using my body. I see myself in a bedchamber with a man that isn’t Roger; I do not know who he is. Oh, Stephanie, I did terrible things to him. Such terrible things that I cannot bring myself to repeat. I pray that God shall not punish me for such sinful acts. If Roger was to find out he would not dare to marry me, or even talk to me again. But Stephanie, I know now. It was me. I was the one that killed Henry Groome and Dr Hastie Lanyon. It was me but at the same time not me. It seems that this immoral woman and I are the same person, using the same vessel but for different purposes. I do not understand; I have tried to live a life of purity and now this other side of me has developed. If only Dr Jekyll were here. Did he know something like this might happen? If so, why did he give it to me? Why would he bestow these horrors upon me? He is truly a cruel man. But how I wish he could be found! I know I should tell Roger the truth now, but I simply cannot. Revealing this sordid truth would devastate him. If only you were here, you would know what to do.

Much love Jacqueline.

6 December 18—

Dearest Stephanie,

Since my last letter there have been two more deaths. These men were all honest, hard-working people, Stephanie, and I have killed them. I remember it all this time. I remember going to these men, seducing them, killing them. But it wasn’t fully me. It was this other woman using my body, my own consciousness forced back for this other woman to take over. She steals their souls, she devours them whole, and she gains pleasure from this. She sickens me. I sicken me. Roger asks me many times if I am okay, he worries about me greatly. I feel deep shame that I do not have the courage to tell him the truth. I do hope Dr Jekyll is found soon.

Much love Jacqueline.

11 December 18—

Dearest Stephanie,

Dr Jekyll has finally been found, dead. I have no fears that it was me for now I remember every moment that this wanton woman robs from me. Roger told me this morning that Mr Utterson found Dr Jekyll dead in his study; apparently he had been there the whole time. They suspect that a seedy fellow by the name of Mr Hyde had been harassing him and might have murdered him, too. I hope that my next victim is this Mr Hyde.

Oh no, Stephanie! That was not me thinking, that was her, the other woman. She is seeping into my normal life; the day is mine and the night is hers but not anymore. Despite the fact that I have not taken the liquid in weeks this madness is getting worse. More and more I am having unholy and wicked thoughts. Her thoughts. This murdering harlot is trying to steal my body for her own demonic ways, but I shall not let her. I fear the worst now that Dr Jekyll is dead. I fear the worst because my wedding day is tomorrow. But I have a plan. I shall lock myself in my room, I shall tell the maids to not let me out, I shall tell the gardener to keep a look out around my window. I will not let this demon out to kill another man. I will be the strongest being. I shall win back my body and mind.

Much love Jacqueline.

12 December 18—

Dearest Stephanie,

Oh I pray for much forgiveness as truly there is no more hope. I thought my plan would work, and in a way I suppose it did. I did not leave my room to kill. This time the man came to me. And oh Lord, it was Roger! Oh, Stephanie! I did it, I killed him! I killed the only man I have ever loved.

I felt her. I felt the shift from my mind to hers; my soul to hers. I felt her anger when she realised the door was locked from the outside, her fury when she saw the gardener patrolling beneath the window. Her rage was terrifying and yet I felt satisfaction in the power I had over her. But later in the darkness of night, there was a soft knock at the door and I felt her excitement. When the door opened and we saw Roger enter I wanted to scream at him, yell at him to go away. How had he gotten in, I thought, the door was locked and the maids were meant to keep watch.

Oh, but Stephanie, I was pushed further from my body; this other woman was in charge now. She greeted him as sweetly as I would have. And when he said that he could not wait another day to share a bed she blushed so prettily. But I knew what she was really thinking. She was thinking about all the ways to seduce him and to take his soul. I felt her take over fully then. My mind and body was lost to her completely. I don’t remember what I did to him, Stephanie. I woke up this morning and his body was lying in bed next to me, stone cold. His face was already as waxy as a corpse’s and frozen in an expression of pure fear.

I shall have to confess, there is no way of escaping this. I shall do it now. I will tell Mr and Mrs Stevenson that I killed their son and all those other men. I will accept the punishment gladly, for I know that the real murderer will also be suffering. Stephanie, this is the last you will ever hear of me.

Farewell.

Much love Jacqueline.

13 December 18—

Dear Stephanie Campbell,

As you are no doubt aware, your sister Jacqueline Campbell was supposed to marry our son Roger Stevenson yesterday. Only that morning we found our dear son dead in your sister’s bedchamber and Jacqueline missing, as well as most of our silverware and jewellery. If you are in contact with your deceitful, murdering sister please inform us as the police are very interested in finding her. These letters were the only thing left in her bedchamber, and as we are decent well-meaning people, not only did we not read them, even though there may be clues to her whereabouts, we have also sent them to you.

Again, if you hear from Jacqueline, contact us immediately.

Mr and Mrs Stevenson.

Monday, 2 April 2012

The Worst Essay Ever - Grade.

Last Friday I recieved my grade for the Worst Essay Ever. Outside the faculty office everyone was upset or mad; their grades weren't very good (but they had also received so Script Writing grades, too) so I was nervous to get my grade.The lady took ages finding my work, I was scared they had lost it again - it happened to me last year. But then, when she handed it to me I saw at the bottom of the page 67% hurray!

The marker was impressed by my bibliography, which she should be, it was a lot of books. And the only bad comment was that I needed to be more judicious with my use of quotes. Admittedly, I put in lots of quotes to make me seems smarter, also because sometimes I just don't know what to say!

Either way I am a very happy bunny. Let's hope that my creative piece is equally good, or better! 

Thursday, 22 March 2012

Mark De Sade Idea

I haven't posted in ages, and believe me I feel awful about it. But I'm just finding it so hard to write at the moment. Well, anyway, here is a piece of writing that I have struggled through. I'm not feeling too pleased about it but I would like you to read it despite that. Maybe you can give me a few tips as to where I should take it next. Just a hint, it's based on Bluebeard and The Bloody Chamber. 


Mark De Sade



I sat on Mark’s bed awkwardly. I had never been in a boy’s room before. It had blue wallpaper with clothes all over the floor, school books thrown on the desk, and a poster of a girl just wearing a lacy thong. I now regretted wearing the plain white knickers that I had had for years.

I waited for a couple of minutes before checking my watch; Mark was taking forever considering he was only getting drinks. I got off the bed and wandered around the room. I peeked in his wardrobe and nosed at some of his school books. He was not doing too well at Trigonometry - all D’s. I scanned the rest of his books on a small shelf, not that there were many. I picked a footballer’s autobiography off the shelf and another book came out with it. It landed with a thud.

I picked up the book; it looked like a scrap book, although I didn’t imagine Mark was very creative. I turned the book in my hands and one of those old Polaroid types of photographs fell to the floor. A photo of Amber. I scowled; this was probably a scrap book she made for Mark on Valentine’s Day or something. Irritated, I opened the book.

The page was covered in photos of a busty blond with a dazzling smile on her face. Mark’s ex-girlfriend, Vicky. Her name was written in pen at the top of the page along with the date 27th August. I remembered her distantly. Mark had gone out with her for ages a few years back; they were the ‘It Couple’. But I guess they weren’t that great together as he dumped her and she changed schools instantly. I ran my hands through my shoulder length brown hair, would Mark like it better if I was blond? Absently, I turned to the next page. There were more photos of Vicky. But in these photos she was dead. Her body was naked, mutilated, and covered in blood.

I dropped the book in shock and stifled a scream. I closed my eyes but I could still see Vicky’s disfigured corpse in front of me. I counted to ten before looking back at the book.

It had fallen open to another page. These photos were of a girl I had never seen before. Joanna was written at the top along with 20th May. She was wearing a tight bikini and had sun bleached hair with beautifully tanned skin.

I didn’t want to know what was next but I couldn’t stop myself. My hand shaking, I knelt down and cautiously flicked the page over. Joanna’s skin was now a deathly grey and her hair was matted with blood from all the cuts on her face. I leapt away from the book as if Joanna’s massacred corpse was decaying in Mark’s bedroom. I lay on the floor, breathing quickly, my hands covering my face. After a moment I sat up.

My heart racing, I looked back at the book, trying not to see the photos. With a quick glance at the bedroom door I turned the page once more.

Amber 14th March.

Amber’s beautiful face stared up at me from the photos; her auburn hair curling around her freckled face and her mouth frozen in the perfect smile.

My heart stopped. The 14th of March was only last week. The day before Mark asked me out. Thinking about it, I hadn’t seen Amber in a while. That’s when it hit me. These dates were the day they died. The day Mark killed them.

I dreaded to see what was on the next page but I couldn’t control myself. I reached for the book when I heard a creak on the stair. He was coming back. I snatched the book off the floor, shoved it back on the shelf along with the footballer’s autobiography, and leapt onto the bed. Mark opened the door just as my head hit the pillow.

‘Hey, we only had water, hope that’s okay,’ he said as he entered the room. He stopped as he noticed me lying on his bed breathing quickly. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just thirsty.’ I sat up and took a glass of water from him. As I drank I saw him looking at something on the floor.

The photo of Amber that had fallen from the book.

My glass slipped from my fingers with a crash.

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry.’ I sprang from the bed and headed for the door. ‘I’ll just get some tissues.’

‘It’s fine, it’s just water,’ Mark said as he grabbed my wrist. I stopped suddenly, unsure about what was going to happen. He led me back to the bed and sat me down. He then stood in front of me.

‘You’re really pretty, did you know that?’ he asked. I shook my head dumbly. He gave me one of his lopsided smiles, more predatory than it was charming. ‘You really are. Would you mind if I took some photographs of you?’

My heart stopped as Mark reached under his bed and pulled out an old Polaroid camera. I tried to get off the bed but he shoved me back down.

‘I think on the bed will do.’

Before I could move again he snapped a picture of me. After it was printed he looked at the photo.

‘Try not to look so terrified this time,’ he said as he took another photo.

I lay on the bed, my whole body tense. I smiled tersely as Mark aimed his camera at me. I looked about the room. He was stood too close to the door; if I was to run he would definitely catch me. I could try the window. We were on the first floor, but I would rather risk broken legs rather than death. But how did I even know if the window was unlocked. 

Friday, 9 March 2012

The Worst Essay Ever Completed.


Yesterday I finally handed in the Dreaded Essay. It took me ages to understand the question and then ages to answer it, too! I wasn't the only one to find it difficult, so that makes it slightly better. However, in the end I was a little bit proud of all my hard work, I read through so many books from the library, and I most of what was said went right over my head. I can't imagine all my work will account to much though, but as long as it's over a 2:2 that's fine. Oh no, I'm worried I've jinxed it now!

Anyway, I was so proud of it I though I would post it here, you know, creative work and academic work; I'm so versatile! It's over 1500 words and has a lot of footnotes, which don't look so bad spread over six pages, but the list looks endless here.

If you see any mistakes please don't point them out, I've already handed this essay in and I can't do anything about it now!

I used to recommend reading The Bloody Chamber but now I warn you to stay away from it! It will eat your soul!

 ‘All works of art either uphold the status quo, or challenge it.’ 


This essay will focus on Angela Carter’s story The Bloody Chamber. It will examine whether the text challenges or upholds the status quo through comparison of traditional fairy tales, the exploration of the feminist movement, heterosexual relationships, and the importance of the mother figure.

In 1979, when The Bloody Chamber was published, the women’s movement, referred to as ‘second-wave feminism’[1], was already in motion. These feminists arrived in a society where gender relations had been changed dramatically after the war when women had joined the workforce. During the 1960s and 1970s ‘detraditionalization processes occurred which transformed the institutions of marriage, the family, and gender’[2] which is apparent in Carter’s writing. Carter twists the traditional fairy tales and gives the female characters new, stronger, more sexual roles. Carter had been re-reading fairy tales and Sade’s The Misfortunes of Virtue together and ‘bleakly contemplating the fate of good, powerless girls, the Red Riding Hoods and Sleeping Beauties of the world.’[3] The protagonist in The Bloody Chamber is more heroic and active than in Charles Perrault’s Bluebeard. The bride in Bluebeard waits for her brothers to come to her rescue, reinforcing Zipes’s theory of ‘The male acts, the female wait’[4]. Although Carter’s protagonist is also saved by another, her mother, she does try to save herself by using sex as a weapon: ‘I forced myself to be seductive…and I saw how he almost failed to resist me. If he had come to me in bed, I would have strangled him, then.’[5] While her plan did not work, it is this activeness, rather than passivity, that saves the protagonist from a gruesome end. The protagonist through this experience is no longer naive about situations, ‘though she may be naive about her courage and ability to kill her husband.’[6] This is different from Perrault’s Bluebeard in which ‘Earth-shaking events have taken place in the story and nobody is better for them.’[7] Whereas Carter’s protagonist realises it is not all about money and security but about finding someone that loves you no matter what, like the blind Jean-Yves, who sees her ‘clearly with his heart’[8] and is preferable to the Marquis.

Fairy tales, and their underlying morals, were used to construct the roles children were to grow into. Perrault’s Bluebeard was written in the 1600’s in a time when writers ‘created their fairy tales for the most part to express their views about young people and to prepare them for the roles that they idealistically believed they should play in society.’[9] The Bloody Chamber was written in the 1970’s, a similar time to many radical feminist texts, and ‘the work of the women’s movement from the early nineteenth century onwards has done much to set new agendas for the liberation of both women and the relations between the genders more widely.’[10] Carter’s daring writings about ‘women’s waywardness, and especially at their attraction to the Beast in the very midst of repulsion’[11] made her unpopular in some areas of the feminist movement. The Bloody Chamber allows readers to explore the other agendas the classic fairy tale offers through intervention. By challenging the preconceptions of the fairy tale Carter’s work ‘excites contradictory and powerful feelings…while openly challenging conventional misogyny they also refuse the wholesome or pretty picture of female gender and deal plainly with erotic dominance as a source of pleasure for men – and for women.’[12] The heroine and Marquis engage in sexual relations, and the first time is all about the male taking the girl’s innocence, while later the protagonist uses sex for her own gain, showing she is not so inexperienced due to seeing the chamber.

Zipes says that ‘Perrault argues for the total submission of the woman to her husband. Feminine coquetry disturbs and upsets him: it could be the sign of female independence’[13] hence many of his tales have passive female characters like Patient Griselda and Beauty. In Bluebeard ‘the heroine is beautiful and well-bred but too curious…The moral explains that it is sin for a woman to be curious and imaginative and that women must exercise self-control.’[14] In contrast, men’s disobedience or curiosity is often seen as a virtue: ‘In contesting civil injustice or in resisting tyranny, the rebel’s disobedient methods are called revolutionary and courageous; but woman’s disobedience, forever coloured by traditional interpretations of the first biblical instance of it, is seldom admired.’[15] However, Carter challenges this by having her protagonist saved by her curiosity. Bluebeard wanted his wife to see the chamber and tempted her with the knowledge that she should not go there: ‘but he had given me the box, himself, knowing I must learn the secret. I had played a game…and I had lost.’[16] Nevertheless, if she listened to her husband she would not have known about this chamber full of his dead wives and would have ended up there herself.  Consequently, because she disobeyed her husband she found out about the chamber and was able to avoid being taken there. Through finding the chamber she is also able to ‘understand and survive the deadly peril that kind of marriage holds for her’[17] and realise he is not the man she thought he was.

Many of the books the heroine finds in the Marquis’s library all hint towards the motifs of the story: ‘The Initiation, The Key of Mysteries, The Secret of Pandora’s Box’[18] yet she ignores them. She finds the pornography ironically captioned ‘Reproof of curiosity’[19] not knowing the fate her husband has planned for her is worse. So, while old fairy tales preach that curiosity and disobedience are bad, and one should not stray from the path like in Little Red Riding Hood, this curiosity can lead to knowledge, which in turn leads to power.

The Bloody Chamber may challenge a female’s passivity in gender roles but also encourages a traditional heterosexual relationship. In both versions, Bluebeard successfully woos his bride with extravagant gifts and parties, ‘Bluebeard threw a house-lavish party at one of his country mansions’[20] showing that he has much wealth and can offer security. Carter takes this relationship one step further by having Bluebeard and his wife involved in sexual interactions, a common feature in conventional heterosexual relationships as ‘sexual consummation of the marriage became consequently of crucial importance in the Christian world’. However, the heroine’s attitude towards wealth, sexuality and marriage change after viewing the chamber, ‘Carter exposes her reading audience to a radical view on the fairy-tale marriage’[21] it is not about getting married and living happily-ever-after anymore, for in the privacy of his home the Marquis is brutal, power wielding Sadist.

It is not unheard of a young woman marrying an older man, and the girl’s inexperience is arousing for Bluebeard: ‘it must have been my innocence that captivated him’ [22]and ‘she accepts the stereotypical patriarchal view of a young girl in relationships to an experienced man; he is to initiate her and to enjoy his conquest.’[23] Many countries in the 70’s, including France, started petitions calling for the decriminalisation of all consenting relations between adults and minors. In 2006, in the Netherlands, the ‘Love Thy Neighbour, Freedom and Diversity’ Party’s aims were to ‘decriminalise sexual activities at any age unless dangerous or coerced’[24]. However, many Western cultures still find adult-child sexual relations to be controversial and taboo, though Carter does push the boundaries of this ideal with many of her protagonists being on the cusp of womanhood, such as the girl in The Company of Wolves: ‘her breasts have just begun to swell…she has just started her women’s bleeding’.[25]

Carter also challenges the status quo by having the heroine saved by a woman rather than a man. From the beginning it is made clear that the protagonist’s mother is a strong female character, she has ‘outfaced a junkful of Chinese pirates, nursed a village through a visitation of the plague, shot a man-eating tiger with her own hand’[26] The protagonist respects her mother deeply and is pleased to have her ‘nerves and will’[27] as well as her ‘mother’s spirit’[28]. Not only is she strong but she went against the social norms and married for love rather than money and security. Carter has questioned ‘the usual pattern of separation, transition, and return by making the girl’s mother, as a role model for her daughter, as one who has clearly operated outside the normal status quo of community expectations’.[29] However, the mother suffered the consequences of this decision as her husband died and left her in poverty. None the less, the protagonists embraces her mother’s marriage values, and even takes them a step further by not marrying at all but is happy to be ‘engaged in setting up house’[30] with Jean-Yves.

The mother and the protagonist share a special bond, in the first moment of crisis she goes to call her mother only to find the telephone line dead and yet this does not matter as the mother still arrives at the perfect moment. The protagonist explains it as ‘maternal telepathy’[31] but archetypal ideas say that ‘mother and daughter are a single complete unity’[32]. They also say that fairy tale mothers are different from real mothers as they often ‘possess subhuman or superhuman traits. For one thing they are better or more evil than the average human women.’[33] The mother kills the Marquis ‘without a moment’s hesitation’[34] suggesting she is more evil than average. It can be said that although the mother is strong and independent she still has to use the father’s gun, she could not possess her own.

Carter manages to both uphold and challenge the status quo in The Bloody Chamber through her portrayal of her heroine and the experiences she has. While traditional fairy tales condemned those who are too curious, Carter promotes the idea that a woman’s curiosity will lead to knowledge and power. Carter allows readers to question the original tales they were told as children and expose them to a darker and more sexual adaptation.


[1] Veronique Mottier, Sexuality: A Very Short Introduction, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008) P.55
[2] Veronique Mottier, Sexuality P.55
[3] Eds. Roemer, Danielle M. and Cristina Bacchilega, Angela Carter and the Fairy Tale, (Michigan: Wayne State University Press, 2001) P.67
[4] Jack Zipes, Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion, (Great Britain: Routledge, 2006) P.41
[5] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, (London: Vintage, 2006) PP. 34-35
[6] Eds. Roemer, Danielle M. and Cristina Bacchilega, Angela Carter and the Fairy Tale P.86
[7] Eds. Roemer, Danielle M. and Cristina Bacchilega, Angela Carter and the Fairy Tale P.96
[8] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.42
[9] Jack Zipes, Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion, (Great Britain: Routledge, 2006) P.30
[10] Ken Plummer, Telling Sexual Stories, (London: Routledge, 1995) P.149
[11] Marina Warner, From the Beast to the Blonde, (London: Vintage, 1995) P.310
[12] Marina Warner, From the Beast to the Blonde, P.313
[13] Jack Zipes, Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion P.41
[14] Jack Zipes, Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion P.40
[15] Eds. Roemer, Danielle M. and Cristina Bacchilega, Angela Carter and the Fairy Tale, P.103
[16] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.34
[17] Eds. Roemer, Danielle M. and Cristina Bacchilega, Angela Carter and the Fairy Tale, P.98
[18] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.12
[19] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.13
[20] Angela Carter, ‘Bluebeard’, in The Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault, (Great Britain: Penguin Classics, 2008) P.4
[21] Eds. Danielle M. Roemer,  and Cristina Bacchilega, Angela Carter and the Fairy Tale, P.98
[22] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.16
[23] Eds. Danielle M. Roemer,  and Cristina Bacchilega, Angela Carter and the Fairy Tale, P.86
[24] Veronique Mottier, Sexuality P.106
[25] Angela Carter, ‘The Company of Wolves,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.133
[26] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.2
[27] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.26
[28] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.26
[29] Eds. Danielle M. Roemer,  and Cristina Bacchilega, Angela Carter and the Fairy Tale, P.97
[30] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.42
[31] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.41
[32] Sibylle Birkhauser-Oeri, The Mother: Archetypal Image in Fairy Tales, (Canada: Inner City Books, 1988) P.29
[33] Sibylle Birkhauser-Oeri, The Mother,  P.13
[34] Angela Carter, ‘The Bloody Chamber,’ in The Bloody Chamber, P.41

Tuesday, 28 February 2012

Textual Intervention - The Worst Essay Ever

I am having some serious issues with my Textual Intervention II essay. I have never hated an essay more than this one!


‘All works of art either uphold the status quo, or challenge it.’ Focusing on The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter, discuss how the author has used textual intervention and
craft (e.g. plot, characterisation, language) to challenge or promote specific sociocultural
agendas or ideas.

If anyone has any clue as to how to answer this I would greatly appreciate it! So far all I've got is a ton of books about fairy tales and another huge pile on sexual politics and gender.

I was thinking of writing about how Carter challenges the status quo by having the Mother save the day; this is radical by fairy tale standards and unheard of in a patriarchal society -  though I'll have to research that, hence the big pile of books. (Seriously, I have 9 books with me now and I did have like 7 more before!) In a way, this idea would also promote the idea of strong women and feminism, which is the dullest and most repetitive subject ever!

I would also do a comparison between Perrault's version of Bluebeard and Carter's The Bloody Chamber. I would note how the female protagonist is more active in The Bloody Chamber as she seeks to seduce Bluebeard in hopes that it will prevent her death instead of waiting for her brothers to save her - I guess this where the sexual politics and gender roles will come in.  

In a seminar we discussed that knowledge leads to power, and that the protagonist's knowledge of the chamber means she won't be tricked into going in their like the other three wives were. Gender roles would be important here too as it is usually the men with knowledge and therefore power, however, more women are being educated now and so wouldn't be as easily led to the chamber. This would again link back to the strong female.

Many fairy tales state that straying from the path can only lead to bad things, like in Little Red Riding Hood. However, because the protagonist strayed from the path by disobeying Bluebeard's orders to stay away from the locked room, she was actually able to save herself. So maybe curiosity didn't kill as many cats as we are led to believe.

At the same time Carter upholds the ideology of the perfect heterosexual relationship; Bluebeard woos the girl, buys her gifts, marries her, then wishes to consummate their marriage. The only out of the ordinary thing is when the mother kills him, but then again, what are Mother-in-Laws for?

So, this is all I've got so far but I guess it's a start. Again, if anyone else has any ideas, please comment.


Friday, 17 February 2012

Fairy Tale Art

After my Textual Intervention lecture, in which we were looking at Bluebeard, Beauty and the Beast, and Puss in Boots, I am in a very fairy tale mood. I have written many pieces on fairy tales over the years as I absolute adore them, I did my year 13 art course on them, too. So today instead of writing, I'm going to post a few of my fairy tale inspired art pieces, and then later some pieces of writing I have done. Hope you enjoy.

This piece was inspired by Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber. Her dress features the main motifs of the story, which are: marriage hence the gold rings, the key as this leads her to the bloody chamber, and the skulls which relates to death and danger. The words around the woman are some of the more explicit pieces of language that Carter uses (everyone was particularly giggly at 'orgasm') as well as the most important, like 'forbidden' and 'lust'. Notice the number 3, a magic number in fairy tales - Bluebeard had three wives before this woman, and now he has three dead wives in his bloody chamber. The art style is based on Liselotte Watkins, who does the illustrations for Tamora Pierce's fantasy books. I had originally started the course by doing the traditional fairy tales and traditional drawing styles but my teacher wanted something more 'edgy'. And what is more edgy than Angela Carter?

Oh, by the way, if you haven't read The Bloody Chamber I would highly recommend it, especially if you love fairy tales, Carter gives them a funky twist. However, as I now have to read it for University, I absolutely despise it! I have to write an essay Carter's work, sexual politics, and moral pornography. Fun.

The following photographs were taken at my friend's house. She lives in an amazing house with a huge garden; it has an orchard, a field, a croquet lawn, a vegetable patch, everything! These photos were inspired by the stories of King Arthur, and after writing The Act of Love, I was really into the tale of the Lady of Shalott, who did not receive Lancelot's love and ended up dying; so a happy ending all round. I printed off these photos as well as others and made them into a little book. But as I mentioned earlier, my teacher wanted something more daring and so was only marginally interested in these, even though they took me a long time to do. Yeah, I didn't like my art teacher very much, she was a right meanie!

The girl who plays The Fair Maid of Astolat, who's real name is Eleanor, is actually called Elly herself, and did her role as fair maid very well. The blue dress she is wearing was made by my mum for my 16th birthday - it was a fairy tale theme as all the heroines in Disney seemed to be 16 years old. I would love to wear it more, but it's hard to find a reason for wearing a princess dress in everyday life!

The girl in the white dress is my friend, Izzy. She is playing the beautiful Guinevere as she searches for her secret beloved, Lancelot. The dress she is wearing was also made by my mum for my 13th birthday, which I shared with Izzy. We had a black and white themed masquerade at this very house, in this very garden. I had the most extravagant dress, as everyone else had just bought theirs off the high street. Looking back on it now I feel very foolish, as I was only 13 but acted like I was much older.





Wednesday, 8 February 2012

Gaia


Men have used me. They still use me. They look upon my body with greed. All they think about is what they can gain from using me. They think I exist only for them, that without them I would be useless. As if all I can offer is pleasure and if they weren’t around to receive it there would be no point to me.

They want so much from me but are never ready to give anything back. When I am ill they watch on with little interest, waiting for when I am better. When they hurt me, or scar me, or burn me they feel no remorse; they think it’s entirely my fault and why should they help at all. They continue to hurt me, as if this is supposed to happen, this is the natural order of things. They think that maybe if it happens enough I’ll get used to it, grow a harder skin; become immune. Over the years men have found new and more interesting ways to use me. There is no denying that men are smart and inventive and yet so deadly and cunning.

Men find it so hard not to destroy things, they feel power over it. In truth, I am more powerful than they are but they don’t want to think that, that thought scares them. If they think that way they get angry and then destroy more, just to prove that they are strong and I am weak.

Some men don’t like the natural look; they want new and modern, things that are only possible through science and technology. I have been altered drastically. I look so different from when I was younger. I am nearly unrecognisable. I have unnatural things in my body; chemicals and artificial materials smother my supple skin, where things should grow unashamedly is now completely bare. Metal has even pierced my most precious and secret areas. I am bigger in some places and much smaller in others, it’s almost unhealthy. But this look pleases the men, they are proud of what they have done.

I hear them talk about me, as if I have no opinions or feelings of my own. They agree on what they can do to me, they settle on their price. There have been times were parts of me have been sold for a very high price. And then, there have been times where the price was so little, so degrading. The most dreadful times are when I have been unfairly shared or simply taken.

Of course, there are times when I feel an immoral sense of pride as they fight over me. Men think they own me. They hate it when they see others touching me, touching their property. Blood has been spilt across my skin many times. Sometimes it is just two men, or a group, but there have been times when hundreds have died for me. It has been this way for years and I doubt it will ever truly stop, for as long as my body is bright and fresh people will want it.

Yes, men have used me and hurt me. But the women have hurt me just as much. They think that men are the worst culprits. They will readily point at them, blame them, scream at them, but they are just as much at fault. Women try to look the best, smell the best; be the best. But none of them can rival my pure, natural beauty and this angers the women. So they take it out on me. They try to destroy me and then blame it on the men.

Some men believe themselves to be heroes, as if they can whisk me away to some better place. They believe they’re the ones that will fix me. And yet, they’re still here using me. Men won’t stop coming to me because truthfully they don’t want to be the one missing out. Just because one man stops using me doesn’t mean all the others will. And if one man can have me they should all be allowed to. So the hero who thinks he can save me, he’s in denial, he wants to use me just as much as the others and that hurts so much more.
 
But I guess I don’t blame them, the men or the women. I started this myself, in a way, I invited them, enticed them. I knew what I had, what I could do and I wanted to show off to everyone, it just didn’t go the way I expected it to go. But I don’t think it’s possible for me to take it all away now, the men wouldn’t be able to cope, they’d go mad, and it would destroy them. I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I did leave. Would they give up? Would they die? Would they just get on with their lives? Or worse, would they move on and find another to satisfy their needs?

I have heard talk of another place that they could go to when I have dried up and burnt out. They talk as if I cannot hear, as if I won’t be hurt. They have made big plans already; they have spent so much time, attention, and money. They act as if I will be gone very soon and they must hurry with their schemes. But I do not feel ready to die yet, I want to go on living and have them be with me. I have seen where they want to go and I am so much better. I am not usually a jealous being but this angers me. How dare they leave me before I am ready? I have given so much to them and they just used me, they got all they can out of me, changed me, defiled me. What can I possibly do without them? After all these years it’s not like I can create anything new, I cannot bring life anymore, they made sure of that. Well, I will not be abandoned. I will make them sorry that they ever got involved with me.

I will make them pay for ruining Earth.