It’s the time of the year when, either in pleasure or platitude, we are naturally drawn to reflect upon companionship (or the absence of it). And though I’m rather at a loss after an already tribulation-filled February, it almost goes without saying that the good poet finds such a beautiful way of coming to terms with this absence.
it’s one thing to use literature as biographical evidence of its author; it’s another to believe you can use your own personal autobiographical experience to analyse literature. A personal reading of Andrew Marvell’s ‘seduction’ poem, ‘To His Coy Mistress’.
Delegates from Leicester, Loughborough, Nottingham, and Nottingham Trent convened at De Montfort University for the second East Midlands Early Modern Colloquium.
Several years ago, a phrase came into my head on a dark day: “life is a jigsaw”. It was used for a trail of dark introspective thoughts concerning self-image, but it was clearly an analogy that had plenty more to offer.
Tomorrow morning (28th) marks the ten year anniversary of a nasty incident that shaped much of what I have become in this decade. Aside from the day permeating the calendar, the causes no longer reach me with their unexplained darkness. For the effects, I’m glad to have had the opportunity to address the case personally.