The Lion Magazine (Freshers' Booklet)

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lion The LThe ion M agazine A Culture and Comment Collection

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Societies

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Comment

Culture

Lion What Is The

The Heythrop Lion?

The Heythrop Lion Newspaper is the editorially independent student newspaper of Heythrop College, University of London. But what does that mean for you? Whether you’ve been at this college a couple of years or a couple of days, we want to hear what you have to say – and put it in print for everyone to read. We’re

an open group who encourage anyone to write – first year undergraduates, second year postgraduates or members of staff – this is a college paper, and that means including everyone. You might not like what you read, you might not agree, but it’s up to you to argue back – to submit an article and get a debate going. We will print any article

that argues clearly and rationally .

We are entering a time for students in this country where a degree is not enough to get you a job. You need to show to potential employers that you have what it takes to go beyond what your degree asks of you – and to learn vital skills along the way. If you are considering any career in writing, publish-

The Editor-in-Chief Daniel Tripp daniel@theheythroplion.co.uk Managing Editor Faye West faye@theheythroplion.co.uk The views expressed in this publication are those of the author and not necessarily those of the Editors or of the Heythrop Students’ Union. All images in the public domain, excluding frames which are used with thanks from www.antiqueframes.eu The Lion is the independent student newspaper of Heythrop College, University of London. We produce a minimum of six issues during term time which are freely avialable around campus and popular student venues in and around Kensington.

This is a subsidory publication of the Heythrop Lion, printed by Inky Little Fingers. No part of this publication is to be reproduced, stored on a retrieval system or submitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the publisher. Magazine design and layout by Daniel Tripp.

ing, a career that acknowledges the importance of keeping to a deadline , or arguing rationally and clearly to an audience, then you should get involved with the Heythrop Lion. Write an article, intern under an existing editor, and move through the ranks of the society to take on more senior roles. In my first year I wrote articles for the paper,

in my second year I edited the culture section. Now I am in my third year, and I am Editorin-Chief of the paper. To me, being involved with this paper is always going to be worth more than a BA after my name. So get involved, submit an article, and I believe that soon you’ll feel the same way.

Editorial Team News Editor Rory Phillips news@theheythroplion.co.uk Comment Editor Ben Mercer comment@theheythroplion.co.uk Culture Editor Robert Leftwich culture@theheythroplion.co.uk Sport and Societies Editor Nazia Begum societies@theheythroplion.co.uk Writers Katie Ott: Second Year Undergraduate Kate Tingle: President of Fem. Soc. Michael Malt: Third Year Undergraduate Chloe May: Academic Affairs Officer Send us your work: submit@theheythroplion.co.uk

The Linguistics of Equality Movements

by Michael Malt

When we talk about equality, it is not often that it is spoken about in the general terms that the word actually grew from.

The word equal originates from the Latin aequivalens meaning ‘to have equal force’ and this allows us to see clearly the real sense in which the word should be used.

Our modern history is streaked with different equal rights groups campaigning for an end to discrimination and oppression of the people that they represent. These groups were, and still are, made up of people from all walks of life. Not only does this show that discrimination is widely opposed, but also that it is acknowledged by everyone; people of all kinds of privilege and thought. The victories that have been won, and now the rights that are in place for everyone, are testament to the tolerance and beauty that clearly exists in humanity. For almost every inhumanity that has occurred in the past, there has been a powerful, progressive and opposite good that has shown us that people must be inherently good, and that what would seem to start off as a subjective good can grow into an objective one, or at least a unanimously agreed one.

The point of this article is not to devalue the work that these groups do, nor what they have achieved up until now. It is to argue that the separation between these groups, even on a linguistic level, is to undermine the ideals of these groups and in some way impede the progression that equality has made up until now.

If we speak to anyone who identifies them-

selves with an equal rights group, they will tell us that they are in favour of equality, not in a selective way, but across the whole of mankind. This clearly cannot be wrong, as equality is a word that is clearly not applicable to certain types of people. The problem occurs when we talk of individual rights groups. The fact that we can differentiate between these groups alone is a worrying prospect. When feminists talk of feminism, they separate the rights of women from the rights of others.

When a gay rights activist talks of gay pride, they separate the rights of homosexual people from the rights of others and when people talk about racial rights, they separate the racial rights from the rights of other people.

In the world that we live in, it is clearly difficult not to separate the rights of one particular group from the rights of others, but this should not stop us. All of these groups operate with ideals in mind, and if this is to be taken seriously, then they should also campaign in an ideal way and by identifying an ideal way as well. This ideal way is by approaching equality not from one place, but from all possible places, putting ourselves in the shoes of every oppressed person.

If equality cannot be separated in itself, then it should not be fought for under multiple banners placing varying degrees of importance on a certain group’s rights. Equality should be fought for clearly, and only under the name of equality.

The Benefits of Fiction Reading for fun isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Ha! That is just me being sarcastic. I love a good read.

A trend I have noticed, however, while studying at Undergraduate level, is the decline of reading for pleasure ‘around’ your degree. The extensive reading list one is required to commence either before attending lectures, whilst writing essays, or prior to sitting exams, can be rather daunting and time consuming for the most part. Naturally, this is all supposed to occur while one simultaneously tries to maintain a part-time job and an apt social life. Unfortunately, this also means reading for pleasure, whether it be fiction, non-fiction, poetry or any other form of ‘deep reading’, can potentially take a back seat or become practically non-existent.

‘Deep’ or ‘Slow’ reading is the deliberate decrease in the speed of reading, carried out to increase intellectual capacity or pleasure.

The concept appears to have been derived from the study of Philosophy and Literature as a technique to more fully comprehend and appreciate a compound text. More recently, there has been increased interest in deep reading as result of the potential negative outcomes of modern life. With the rise of the internet, superficial reading done online is becoming ever more prevalent.

‘Deep reading’, therefore, is pretty much an endangered practice. Its disappearance would jeopardise the intellectual and emotional development of generations growing up online, as well as the perpetuation of an essential part of our culture: the novels, poems and other kinds of literature that can

be appreciated only by readers who have prioritised reading, and therefore whose brains, quite literally, have been trained to comprehend them.

Unlike blog posts and news articles, sitting down with a book takes long periods of focus and concentration, which at first is hard to do. Being fully engaged in a book involves closing off the outside world and immersing yourself into the text, which over time will strengthen your attention span. Reading literature, therefore, increases your attention span and improves your focus; a skill that is arguably deteriorating due to living in the 21st century.

Deep reading is slow, immersive, rich in sensory detail, emotional, and can include moral intricacy. It is a distinctive experience, different in kind from the mere decoding of words. Although deep reading does not, strictly speaking, require a conventional book, the built-in limits of the printed page are uniquely advantageous to the deep reading experience. A book’s lack of hyperlinks, for example, frees the reader from making decisions such as “Should I click on this link or not?” thus allowing them to remain fully immersed in the narrative.

Reading also ensures you articulate your words better as it develops your verbal abilities. Although it doesn’t always make you a better communicator, those who read tend to have a more varied range of words to express how they feel and to get their point across. This increases exponentially with the more volumes you consume, giving you a higher level of vocabulary to use in everyday life.

A study done by the National Education As-

By Nazia Begum Sports and Societies Editor sociation explains that people who read for pleasure are more likely than those who do not to visit museums and attend concerts, and almost three times as likely to perform volunteer and charity work. Readers are active participants in the world around them, and that engagement is critical to individual and social well-being. Avid readers, therefore, enjoy the Arts and potentially have a lot more to offer to the world around them.

Deep reading improves your imagination. You are only limited by what you can imagine. The worlds described in books, as well as other peoples views and opinions, will help you expand your understanding of what is possible. By reading a written description of an event or a place, your mind is responsible for creating that image in your head, instead of having the image placed in front of you when you look at a screen and watch a programme.

Reading for pleasure offers an outstanding wealth of learning. Reading gives you a chance to consume huge amount of research in a relatively short amount of time. Heavy readers tend to display greater knowledge of how things work. Reading naturally makes you smarter and more in tune with current affairs. Having a library of information that you have picked up from non-fiction reading will come in handy in any academic or scholarly debate. You will be able to hold your own and contribute to the conversation. This will ensure a coherent engagement with a wider variety of people and in turn improve your knowledge and conversation skills. Reading for learning as well as for pleasure thus gives you invalu-

able confidence, which not only comes in handy while studying for your degree, but also in your post educational career as well.

Furthermore, studies have shown that reading reduces stress as it slows down the heart rate and eases tension in the muscles.

We should read slowly, with love and openness to new ideas in order to increase our wit and imagination, our sense of intimacy, or, to put it bluntly, our entire consciousness, and also to heal our pain. With the endless amount of perspectives and lives we can read about, books can give us an opportunity to have experiences that we possibly haven’t had the opportunity to experience, and still allow us to learn the life skills they entail.

Books are a fast track to discovering and creating yourself.

I’ve learned that when people say to me, “I wish I wasn’t too busy to read”, what they really mean is “I don’t value reading as much as other activities, but I feel badly about that so I’m going to say I’m too busy.” I’m sure there are, in fact, some people who are too busy to read at all, but I know that when I was at my busiest, working two jobs, and trying to hand in my essays, I still found time to sneak in some form of literature, and boy am I glad that I did, and still would today.

The next time you find yourself too busy to make time for reading literature, one easy solution to this would be simply trying to prioritising it above other activities. Always remember that reading should never seem like a chore, for when it does, it’s time to evaluate your life, slow things down, and pick up a hardback and immerse yourself in a good read.

Today’s Special: Lunch at Cafe Lido

By Katie Ott There are many reasons one may venture away from their cell in university halls and visit a restaurant. Perhaps you yearn for the tastes of a distant land, perhaps you want somewhere with a buzz, somewhere to grab a softly shaken cocktail, somewhere to meet all those handsome strangers that London brims with.

Or perhaps you’re wandering through London with a few friends and want to stop somewhere for lunch. If you are, Café Lido, behind BHS on Oxford Street, is a pretty good place to end up.

More a café than a restaurant, by virtue of it not being open past seven (five on Sundays), Café Lido is a place of low prices, huge portions and traditional, home-cooked food.

Hauté cuisine this is not; nothing could be further from the current trend of tiny morsels, cooked ten ways, drizzled with this and that, but Cafe Lido is all the better for it.

Nor, be warned, is it the place to come for a date; the staff do let you know when it’s your

time to leave, so any protracted gazing into each other’s eyes is sure to be interrupted.

Upon entering the cafe, you can either choose to sit on the ground floor, near the counter, (from which you can order food to take away and also serves a variety of cakes, brownies, croissants, and other pastries) or in the surprisingly cavernous basement, which, with a few gothic looking candles lit at the bar, conjured more of an atmosphere than one would expect. The layout is intimate - it gives the place a buzzy, metropolitan vibe - but it’s not so intimate that you end up unintentionally eavesdropping on your neighbours conversation.

To say that the menu is varied is something of an understatement. The café does not stick to a particular cuisine, but instead serves food which caters to the appetite of the average British customer; chicken chasseur, fish and chips, chilli con carne, spaghetti carbonara, mac and cheese, bolognese; the only thing missing is Tikka Masala. The menu also offers a selection of sandwiches, as well as desserts including apple crumble, banana split, and jelly and cream.

I decided to opt for a 6oz burger, which came, as stated on the menu, with chips and a salad.

Now, as much of a glutton as I may be, I had no hope of finishing that meal. Despite our meals arriving within 10 minutes of our order - the service is very fast - nothing tasted reheated. The burger was well cooked, just pink in the middle, as it should be, despite being rather thin. The salad was fair, undressed lettuce and cucumber accompanied by a tangy coleslaw, and the chips, the best part of the meal, were obviously home-made, served piping hot and tasted light and crisp. But dear God, the meal was huge. The burger arrived the size of a baseball glove and covered nearly half of the plate. Unfortunately, the salad covered the other half meaning that the chips were relatively few, perched on the edge of the plate. However, that is still relatively few.

It would be a rare person who complained too much about small portions. The same could be said for my companion’s egg salad. As lovely as it tasted, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d shredded a whole lettuce in there. That was accompanied, like my salad, by some cucumber and coleslaw, but also came with red pepper, carrots, and six halves of hard boiled egg.

I suppose the one virtue of the enormity is that you don’t have to worry about eating for the rest of the day, yet it can’t help but bother me. Like anyone used to economising, I hate to see wasted food, and the fact that most of the people I saw sent plates back with a fair amount left was slightly irksome. That said however, you can ask to take food home if you wish to; if you were to order one of the pastas, or perhaps the lasagne, it would be easy enough to keep it in the fridge and warm it up another day. On that note, special mention must be made to the

man-God sitting behind me who managed to finish a whole plate of chilli, rice and chips, as well as another side order of chips, and a piece of apple crumble. Stamina like that has not been seen since the days of the vomitorium, and I feel he must be congratulated.

It is also worth mentioning just what great value this place really is; for fourteen pounds sixty we were able to get the burger, chips and salad, the egg salad, a can of coke and a glass of sparkling water. Bearing in mind the location, there are hundreds of other chain restaurants you could go to where you would get a poorer quality meal for a far higher price. Most of the main meals come in at around the six to nine pound mark, and desserts, if you are able and willing, will set you back around three or four pounds.

Drinks-wise, as well as the usual selection of soft drinks and juices, you can order alcohol, there is a small selection of beers including Peroni, Corona and Stella, as well as house red and white wine. They also serve tea and coffee, which you can order, rather sweetly, by the ‘cup’ or the ‘mug’.

So, if you’re wanting a fine dining experience, if you’re wanting to get totally bladdered on cocktails, or if you’re wanting a romantic evening out, this is not the place for you. I do urge you to go and have lunch though. Good quality, well priced, traditional cooking is something of a rarity in London, and despite its foibles (which, to cap the meal off, included being serenaded through the sound system

by Andy Williams singing that traditional summertime tune ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’) I can think of few places I’d rather eat lunch on a budget than Café Lido.

Can Video Games Be Art? On the 3rd of September I went to a talk at BAFTA headquarters given

by David Cage, the creative director of game studio Quantic Dream.

The talk was interesting, but mistitled, because David wasn’t really talking much about whether or not games can be art (which would have been an interesting, philosophical talk) but had all ready accepted as a premise that games could become art and then proceeded to say what he thought games needed to do to achieve it. This seemed to be mostly “be more like David Cage” as nearly all of his contentions about how to make games more artistic were integrated into explanations of how Quantic Dream did it in “Heavy Rain” or the upcoming “Beyond: Two Souls” or how they’re planning to do it in “The Dark Sorcerer”. That’s not to say that this was a bad thing, but the talk was a little more focussed on the life and times of David Cage than advertised, and I felt that they could easily have made more of the subject matter.

The main focus of making games more artistic (according to Mr. Cage) was “emotion” and how to integrate it into a game in order to both invest the player (apparently 75% of Heavy Rain players surveyed played to the end compared to just 30% for most games) and tell a story through gameplay and characters instead of merely using cutscenes to tell the story, as is the norm in most story-focussed games at the moment. Important to this, according to Mr. Cage, is photorealistic rendering, or near enough

to it that facial expressions can accurately convey the emotions of characters. He referred to trying to do this up to now as difficult, because graphics limitations made most game characters look like “dead fish”. He then proceeded to show how the current generation motion capture techniques used on Ellen Page and William Dafoe for “Beyond” could accurately map their facial expressions to allow their game counterparts to emote properly. And it was very impressive, the faces of the characters did look and move like human faces, and the mo-cap for their other title “The Dark Sorcerer” was even more impressive.

But it wasn’t all about graphics, it was also about structure. Cage talked about a variation on traditional six stage plot structure used in literature and film, which utilises the benefits of intereactivity. He called it “bending stories” i.e. stories that change direction throughout due to the choices of the player during gameplay, but still ultimately begin, middle and end in a similar place. Ultimately, David was trying to say that in order to become more artistic games need to do the following things: Have a story to tell, tell it through the gameplay and use literary and cinematic techniques appropriately whilst still making use of intereactivity (gaming’s unique artistic asset). When I asked him what games need to do to become a credible medium that can tackle serious issues, he added to this by saying that games just need to stop proving the nay-sayers and murder-simulator critics right

Written By Robert Leftwich by only making shooters and visceral childish games like Grand Theft Auto.

Games will become credible when we start to make games that show we are credible, serious and artistic.

David’s only real argument that games could become art (as opposed to arguments how they could become art) was an analogy with film. In film’s early days it was limited to very basic, very visceral pantomime, due to lack of sound colour and resolution, and that grew into mostly loud, brash blockbusters controlled and produced by a few very rich studios until the late 50’s early 60’s when indie film makers like Lucas and Speilberg (who incidentally have recently said that games “can never be art”) started making story focussed films into the mainstream and pushed the envelope until Hollywood changed and film became, unquestionably, an artistic medium, as well as a medium that provides blockbusters and kids films. In the same way, up until now games have mostly been loud blockbuster shooters or children’s games due to technology and lack of exploration limiting the kinds of stories that could be told in games. Mr. Cage believes that we are at or nearing a New Hollywood revolution of our own, and that games can soon become what he always thought they were, “the most exciting evolution in story-telling since films were invented”. Games he referred to as heading in the right direction on this score were Journey, Brothers, Papa and Yo and The Unfinished Swan.

These are games that use very little

violence, but just try to tell stories or deliver experiences through the gameplay and the setting and the art design. These are the sorts of games he saw as being the first steps towards “New Hollywood” style games, and steps toward proving George Lucas and Stephen Speilberg wrong.

Ultimately, the talk was interesting and painted an optimistic but plausible picture of how the games industry can change for the better over the next 5-10 years. Hearing about David Cage and Quantic Dream was also fascinating, he revealed that Microsoft turned down “Heavy Rain” due to the child kidnapping in the plot (Microsoft has no problem releasing Grand Theft Auto incidentally, which contains graphic violence, crime and, in the case of GTA V, necrophilia), which is how Sony came to get exclusivity for the title. Furthermore, he added that the only reason he is now able to start taking risks with his games is the success of “Farenheit” and “Heavy Rain” building up his credibility within the industry. Aside from the look into the games industry’s inner workings, I also managed to play the demo for Beyond: Two Souls after the talk. The game looks very interesting, like Heavy Rain, the control scheme is quite minimalist and seems to have been designed to be easy to pick up. It’s a difficult game to pass any real judgement over, as the story will be what makes or breaks it, and a small segment of the gameplay is not enough to judge the whole game. I look forward to it, whether or not it turns out to be art.

Hannibal A Review

To be honest, I don’t often write reviews. I like to think I have a keen critical ability, but this leaves me when I fall in love with something. I become blind to its faults. Plot holes become points of fascinated speculation, 2D characters become groomed for anticipated narrative twists. Neither of these are viewed as faults, particularly, which leads to a bias and therefore a worthless “Review”. However, the new show “Hannibal” on NBC critically seems almost worthy of the devotion I give it.

Essentially a re-boot of the characters of Red Dragon and The Silence of The Lambs devised

by Tom Harris, the show follows the lives of the mentally unstable special agent Will Graham (Hugh Dancy) and the fiendish and enigmatic Dr. Hannibal Lector (Mads Mikkleson), Mikkleson has also played the antagonist Le Chieffre in the excellent Casino Royal.

Hannibal is structured as a series of forty five minute episodes, the token format for crime and psychological series, like House, Sherlock, and CSI. What initially caught my interest beyond the usual murders and anguish and instability of the protagonist was the deviation from this format. Usually, shows have a set “case” as the basic narrative, while the stories of the characters are woven around them. Think of this as flipped in the case of Hannibal. There are cases, but they are solved quickly, and in what feels like real time. They are not at all dragged out, and are actually used as fuel to manipulate the minds of the characters. The story is continuous, events

that occurred episodes before are picked up and used with significance later on. The feel this gives is somewhat disconcerting. Shows which traditionally deal with madness, however well written, have soft corners and the story is tied up with a neat bow. They are water tight and methodically placed. Hannibal is something else, it has sharp corners which lacerate and scar the story. Will Graham’s decent through instability into the throngs of insanity is visceral, as you too try and make sense of things and loosly try and tie the plot together. This may well indeed be a criticism of Hannibal, but it totally hooked me.

Some of the most stunning characterisation I have seen in a long time is that of the majestic Dr. Lector. As you can see, I generally believe he needs some sort of epithet. An admirer of the movie The Silence of the Lambs no doubt considers the peerless Antony Hopkins as the only Hannibal. Mikkleson’s Hannibal, although clearly heavily inspired by this performance, doesn’t rely on it. I would describe the change as a very interesting development, as if what emerged from the crystalist of the Death’s Head moth was instead some sort of millipede, unexpected, chilling, slightly grotesque, and for me, entirely aweinspiring. Mikkleson is of course Scandinavian, and this European back story is hinted at. As with the original Dr. Lector, he is a cannibal, something the audience knows from the start. The theme of eating, conspicuously consumed, covers the show in a thick and

By Faye West unpleasant stickiness. Each episode is named after a course of dinner. The segway shots are of Hannibal eating or preparing meat, each of the characters is invited at one point to his dinner table, like lambs to the slaughter, unaware of what he is feeding them. This show is dark, really dark.

The plot centres on the search for a meticulous and theatrical serial killer, one who turns his victims into works of art, then takes their organs. Naturally, the audience knows it to be Lector himself, but as he starts manipulating the minds of the other characters, one begins to question that. The need to catch the killer becomes an obsession of the agent in charge, who then starts to endanger his staff by making them search. Each character decays as the series goes on. The lines of good and evil become indistinct.

I must also mention the aesthetic of the show.

I think it is beautiful. Lector is dressed at all times in slick, slightly exotic, striking suits.

The sets have incredible detail and flamboyance. Each of the murders has a heavily artistic flare and the editing is incredibly smooth and well-defined.

I have summoned within me some criticisms.

I adore the show, I think it is how television should be used as a media form. It doesn’t patronise the watcher, it expects you to pay attention and near enough requires you watch it again. However, the decision to create a continuous story leaves evident gaps.

The show flicks to locations and times which are very far away from what you have just

watched, leaving you slightly confused. It is necessary to keep the pace and I can’t think how else to do it. It does use setting shots to establish where you are. These are brief, however, and it takes you a few episodes to realize what they are referring to. They also don’t give you a time, the dialogue drops clues about how many days have passed, but it does make the show, a phrase I like to use when reality is warped slightly, “a bit magicey”. Another criticism is that I don’t think this show is for everyone. There is nothing light about it, and the relentless murder and pain and blood and madness could be described as somewhat bad taste. I just really like murder, I guess? Finally, it is all a bit out there. I am very willing to participate in altered realities, I find it easy to step in to.

People I’ve watched it with have commented on how implausible bits of it are (usually in the first or second episode before they start participating in it) but a valid criticism nonetheless. And at the end there are gaps. It was written in a way that really any detail could be expanded upon. Enigmatic dialogue is sometimes never mentioned again, the loose definition of “alive” leaves some inexplicable ends to some characters that you don’t realise, or assumed they were dead but then are somewhat awkwardly resurrected. Also the theme music is terrible.

However, I am very excited and hopeful that they will answer some of the obvious questions in season two, in late 2014.

Watch Hannibal.

12

A Commentary: Southern Mysteries This summer saw the end of what has been an eighteen month long love affair which has spanned thirteen novellas and cost me a small fortune in audiobooks. Somewhere just outside the Plymouth breakwater on a Brittany Ferries boat, I finished the last instalment of Charlaine Harris’ Southern Vampire Mysteries series.

It was heart-breaking. The dulcet tones of Joanna Parker, the series narrator if, like me, you’re a fan of audiobooks, soothed me through several flight-induced panic attacks over the last few months. Listening to Sookie Stackhouse’s idiomatic, first person narrative was the audio equivalent of eating profiteroles in bed while watching re-runs of Buffy. The plots of each of the thirteen books were compelling; the characters, wellwritten and the sex scenes were, if not brilliant, at least better than the majority of published erotica.

I tried to recommend it to everyone I knew. Complex, entertaining villains!

I cried. Horrible murders tied up with supernatural lore! For the love of all that is holy, it’s an urban fantasy series with more queer characters than you can count on your fingers!

What’s not to love? Why weren’t more people I knew reading this?

Despite imploring people not to be fooled by the books’ covers (which range, in their illustrations, from being childish and garish to featur-

ing Anna Paquin being sensuously caressed by three exceptionally hot men), those I sought to bring into the field of Southern Mysteries fans were still dismissive. It boiled down to this: it was a series about vampires and however compelling Sookie Stackhouse’s story might have been, however diverse the cast of supporting characters was, be they supernatural or regular human, it was still a story about fiendish bloodsuckers and that was a reason for it to be quickly dismissed.

But why vampire fiction in particular, I wondered? Having been an avid reader of fantasy novels since I was about eight, I have encountered plenty of terrible works in other subgenres. Why was it that a series that focused on single-minded struggles and pains of one white, cis-gendered, heterosexual man in his fight against an evil empire drew nowhere near the same level of criticism as vampire urban fantasy?

It’s time for me to get on my soapbox.

The difference, I realised, was the subgenre’s audience. What sort of person reads vampire fiction, I ask you? Teenage girls. Whether they’re reading it because they love fantasy, or because they’re looking for a form of romantic escapism, or because they really love reading about sex, they’re reading it and they love it. It’s not the only genre enjoyed

By Kate Tingle by that demographic as of course there is no homogeneous model of teenage girlhood. However, it is a sizable one and a cursory glance at the ‘teen’ section of any high street bookshop will show you how they occupy a large part of the market of this subgenre of fiction. Additionally, it is worth pointing out that the vast majority of contemporary vampire fiction is written by women, particularly those with little or no formal creative writing education.

What I’m getting at here is this: contemporary vampire fiction is demeaned by its critiques as being frivolous and silly because of its target audience. Teenage girls like stories about romance, they say, (even if that romance comes with monsters and violence and unholy terrors); romance is a feminine frippery and as a consequence, nothing of substantial literary merit can come from such a genre, particularly as its authors are not trained writers.

The trivialisation of this genre can be said to do a great deal of harm to young women – and indeed young people – who grow up reading and listening to critiques of this kind of literature. When vampire fiction is castigated as being ‘not proper fantasy writing,’ its critics belittle perhaps the only subgenre fantasy apart from fan fiction in which women can be seen to be writing for other

women. While vampire fiction is by no means a perfect genre – with the emphasis it places on heteronormative relationships and the frequently jingoistic attitudes its (habitually white) authors adopt when writing about characters of colour, and not to mention the complex antifeminist mess that is Twilight – it contains within it works like Harris’, which deserve far more respect than they currently garner. Not all urban fantasy authors can be Michael Moorcook (and in any case I enjoyed the Southern Vampire Mysteries far more than Byzantium Endures), nor should they be. An intelligent discussion can be held and indeed is very much needed on the influence this kind of literature has, both on the literary tastes of the genre’s readers and, perhaps more importantly, on the behaviour of young women who grow up consuming it avidly. However, before this can happen, a substantial change in attitude is needed, with criticisms of vampire fiction being directed at its treatment of queer characters, of people of colour, of what it teaches young people about consent and safe sex, rather than focussing on deriding it for its use of plot devices popular with female readers. At best, it’s snobbish and at worst, downright misogynistic.

Help me start this revolution.

Read some Charlaine Harris.

13

I was told that poems didn’t have to rhyme, And while I agreed that this was fine, My thoughts were drawn to tales I’d read, Which whizzed around my thinking head, That poems that didn’t, rhyme that is, Often got me in a tis, Of woe and sadness they often cried, Of rain, or the like, or people died, And that is fine, Keep your line, And I’ll keep mine, As I’m quite happy, most of the time, So I think that I’ll rhyme.

Occasionally.

Anonymous

London is snowing.

There is a girl on a train, falling in love.

Dreaming, losing herself in the flakes, drowning in them.

And in the silence of the snow she sees the universe stop for a moment.

Listen. Wonder. As if nobody had ever thought to smile in its direction.

Like the broken heart of the boy who couldn't work up the courage to tell you that you are what he dreams of.

The Universe, is now alive.

And the symphony of frozen particles search for her, See her favourite colour and smile, hoping to fall gracefully in its' direction.

They hear the music in her soul, and marvel, at how it sounds like a hurricane, A whirlwind of nightmares children are told to expect of this world; Wondering, if she is made out of atoms that once belonged to the ocean.

Cold, scared, alone, Through the glass she forgets all of the things she is running away from.

She waits in the eye of the storm, not knowing how to survive the next sixty seconds.

Hoping, I think, that this snow is a gift.

Like the white messenger dove resting on Noah's shoulder, they whisper: We will not let you drown.

Chloe May.