Did George Orwell Degrade Language?

George Orwell

‘Surely not!’ I hear you say, frothing at the mouth, one eye twitching uncontrollably, and mouth agape – well, please allow me to expand in the ensuing paragraphs, so that you may possibly see that I have not gone totally balmy, silly, stupid, soft in the head, and, rather Pythonesquely, unwound from my coil of sanity.

Well, hello, again.

I have to say that it certainly does not seem as long since I was last writing to you as it so frequently does.

To come straight to the point, I will tell you that you may be rather surprised by the title of this post, and I have to say that I am slightly surprised myself, thinking that I would by no means be writing this, indeed. Indeed. Indeed. Indeed. Yes, indeedy.

Well, I must say that I think that this post will be scorned and detested by Orwellians, and, most probably, shunned. But what I have to say is that I do like Orwell, verily, 1984 has to be one of the most superb books that I have ever read, although I know that he was not only a novelist, but the author of essays, particularly, also.

Anyway, I must proceed with the post, and my reason for writing it. I will tell you.

Orwell wrote, ‘Concrete words are better than abstract ones, and the shortest way of saying something is always the best.’

I found this most startling when I read this quotation, and I must say that I was fair perturbed to my very mainstay, for the implications are rather shocking, for when you think of it, are the ‘concrete’ words simple, possibly, plain, even, and dull (however ‘hard-hitting’ this may be), and seemingly unimaginative? Necessary, though they may be. Can not the ‘abstract’ words be more beautiful, artistic, and pleasurable?

Please, do take the mention of art in the previous sentence. If we were to simply paint pictures of things realistically, then we would not have expression of the individual, would we? We would not have the beauty of a certain style of an artist; we would not have originality, or, and this could be the greatest problem with this approach to art of all, creativity. And is that not what writing is about? Creativity and beauty and pleasure? It is this afore-mentioned approach to art which the Impressionists sought to destroy, and rightly so, in my opinion. It is most simple to tell apart a Van Gogh from a Monet, or a Cezanne, but is it so easy to tell apart a Delacroix from, say, a Rembrandt? Call me a Philistine, if you will, but I do not think that two are terribly dissimilar. And I know that not all artists of this style and period of art employed similar methods of painting, but I do not think that you would find many similarities in artistic styles employed since the lessening usage of this style – but, in saying that, who am I to judge, really? I aim merely to speculate. But, I do say that if we did only paint just as we saw, and wrote only to communicate just what we wanted to, then we would simply lose the beauty, expression and creativity.

And not only this, but I think that it could be this style of writing that leads to words being lost, even, through their non-usage.

I hope that you can see what I mean, and so not think me uncultured, impudent, and unclear in my enumeration of my thoughts, but I hope that you can see what I have tried, however badly, or indelicately, to convey.

I must add, once again, that I do love the writings of Orwell, and have no disrespect for him, but I do think that the philosophy employed in this method of writing does, forgive my possible over-dramaticness (if that is the term) pose a threat to the beauty and creativity of language.

In saying this, I do really recommend that you read 1984, for it has to be one of the greatest novels ever written, and do please forgive me for my apparent contradiction of myself, so here is the link to the Amazon page containing the premonitory masterpiece, costing £5.02:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/1984-Nineteen-Eighty-Four-George-Orwell/dp/014118776X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1256579425&sr=8-1

I am sorry if this post has disappointed you and you did not find it terribly interesting, but it is something that I did want to share with you, and I do hope that this has not put you off reading George Orwell, most certainly, as his writings were definitely something very special.

Thank you for reading,

‘Till next time!

Copyright © 2009 Percy Trifleton

The Short Stories of Saki

Saki (Hector Hugh Munro)

Hello, there, dear reader.

Well, well, well, well, well, I suppose that when one thinks of short stories, one thinks of Anton Chekhov, Guy de Maupassant and O. Henry, and such as these, and I suppose that one thinks of Saki alongside these literary Goliathans, also.

Saki was the pseudonym of Hector Hugh Munro. He was born in Burma in 1870, the son of Charles Augustus Munro and Mary Frances Mercer.

When he was six years old his mother died, and so his father sent them to Devon to live with two strict aunts (Hector despised these aunts, as they were very restricting and severe, and this hatred can be seen in some of his stories).

At the age of twenty-three, he joined the military police in Burma (as George Orwell would a generation later), however recurrent attacks of malaria saw that he had to leave the force, which he did, returning to England, where he began working for the Westminster Gazette as a political sketch writer.

In 1900, The Rise of the Russian Empire, a serious historical work, was published, and in 1902 he became the Balkan correspondent for the Tory Morning Post.

His first collection of short stories, Reginald, was published first in the Westminster Gazette, appearing in book form in 1904. These collections of short stories continued to appear in book form, with Reginald in Russia (1910), The Chronicles of Clovis (1911) and Beasts and Super-Beasts (1914), his other stories being published posthumously.

When the war broke out in 1914, he enlisted in the ranks, and had achieved the position of Lance-Sergeant in the 22nd Royal Fusiliers by 1916.

On the dark morning of 14th November 1916, he was shot by a sniper; his last words before being shot were, ‘Put that bloody cigarette out.’

The Oxford Companion to English Literature says that the name ‘Saki’ is of unknown origin, but Ethel Munro, Hector’s sister, said of how the name came from that of the cup-bearer in The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, which was a favourite poem of his.

Well, the stories. The short stories of Saki are, in my opinion, some of the best that there ever have been, and I imagine some of the best that ever will be. His mastery of the anecdotal short story is quite incomprehensible and most extraordinary. The majority of the stories being no more than about three or four pages, the amount that he managed to fit into the single story is quite, quite special, and most genius, as are the plots of the stories which involve several twists in no more than thirty paragraphs, or so. One can read a short story in a few minutes, and once finished, one is left to wonder at how Saki managed to do it. One is dumbfounded. Totally awestruck. And then one is left to ruminate on the story, all the while, absolutely amazed.

The very writing is terribly good, also. Saki’s control of language was very, very special, perfectly communicating the delicate stories.

The unique twists in the story are not simply ‘twists in the tale’, as it were, but instead provide a whole new aspect and basis to the stories, for a story may begin as humorous (Saki was most wonderful and witty, not to mention wonderfully written), yet the tale metamorphoses into the macabre, and then, perhaps, to the fantastic. It really is quite something how he managed to accomplish all these different things in single stories, it really is.

Here, I will quote from the introduction which Stephen Fry wrote for his audiobook of his favourite Saki stories, as part of the ‘Stephen Fry Presents…’ series of audiobooks, which is this: “Saki is like a perfect martini, but with absinthe stirred in…heady, delicious and dangerous.”, which I think sums up Saki’s writing and his stories.

Another thing which I find with the stories is the sheer variation, for in The Chronicles of Clovis the variety of the stories are simply immense, as they are in every other collection of his stories. However, there is just one volume of stories, Reginald, which are absolutely excellent, but they are somewhat similar in their structure, style, and content. But this is not seen as unimaginative, or anything of the kind, nay, it is completely the contrary, for it is most delightful to read a story from, say, The Chronicles of Clovis, or Beasts and Super-Beasts, and then to flick back to Reginald and read a story from there.

This, in turn, brings me on to another point, which is that you don’t read the short stories like you would a novel – and in saying this I do not mean to tell you how you should read a book, for that would be most stupid, but simply inform you of the suggested method – but instead you savour them, and pull the book off the shelf when you feel like a small dose of superb escapism. Indeed, one collection of Saki’s short stories (when recommending that one should savour the reading of the stories) said that if one were to rush through the reading of them, that one may suffer ‘a kind of literary dypepsia’.

And, in turn, in saying that you should pull the book off the shelf when you feel like reading a story, then you can almost choose a story to suit your mood, for you may choose a story from Reginald for the humour, or one from Beasts and Super-Beasts, say, for the macabre – although this cannot be assured, as many contain a mixture of all sorts, as I said before, and this is most certainly very delicious.

I will name a few stories here, which, although they are all definitely superb, stand out as some of my favourites. There is Reginald (this is the first story in the Reginald volume); Gabriel-Ernset from Reginald in Russia; Esmé, Tobermory, The Unrest-Cure, Sredni Vashtar, and The Hounds of Fate, which are all from The Chronicles of Clovis; The She-Wolf, Laura, The Open Window (which is probably the most famous, along with Sredni Vashtar), The Story-Teller, which are all from Beasts and Super-Beasts; The Wolves of Cernogratz and The Occasional Garden, which are from The Toys of Peace.

Here is the Amazon link to the page containing The Collected Short Stories of Saki by Wordsworth, which contains all of Saki’s short stories, apart from The East Wing (a story which was discovered in 1946), which is not included in the Penguin volume, either. At an amazing price of £1.99, I cannot think of a better way to spend £1.99 on literature:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Collected-Short-Stories-Wordsworth-Classics/dp/1853260711/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1255269595&sr=8-1

Verily, I cannot think of an author who has provided short stories with as many twists, with as much variation, which can cause much chuckling, or shock the reader in the space of a few paragraphs, with as much a mastery of the short story, providing terrific enjoyment, and leaving the reader wanting to read more, and more, and more, and which are simply timeless.

Indeed, one can definitely call Munro, as Omar Khayyam called his cup-bearer, ‘The Eternal Saki’.

Copyright © 2009 Percy Trifleton

The Father Brown Stories by G. K. Chesterton

Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Hello, once again.

I do apologise, dear reader, for the idleness of this blog, I hasten to state that it simply will not do. It will not do. However, this slight failure I wish to rectify in the form of a post.

Now, one thing that I would most certainly like to know is exactly how much paper has been used to print detective-fiction. I’ll wager that a bally lot of paper has been spun through machines, been stamped with ink, bound in a backing, and placed on a shelf to provide us with our diet of detective-fiction. And this occurrence I must say is supremely well justified. Now, it would be incredibly easy for us to digress for hours, simply to ruminate on some of the fantastic author’s and their magnificent creations which have graced our bookshelves and provided us with generous doses of intelligent and hideously enjoyable escapism, but that is not quite what I intend to do with this post, no, I want to simply focus on one author and one of this author’s creations – namely, Gilbert Keith Chesterton and his superb character Father Brown.

If you are not familiar with the Father Brown stories, then I will tell you that Father Brown is a small, quiet, indistinguishable Catholic priest, who applies his excellent mind to the solving of crimes. That, I suppose, encapsulates the essence of the stories, in a rather small nutshell, rather a sort of pistachio shell, rather than a walnut shell, or a Brazil nut shell.

Now, one thing that I find with Father Brown is that he is a rather different detective to what you might determine to be the usual detective, and so are the ways in which he solves the cases which he encounters. On the blurb of my 1962 edition of ‘The Innocence of Father Brown’ (the first collection of Father Brown short-stories, published in 1911) it says how Father Brown (comparing him to Sherlock Holmes) would not be able to ‘…recognize a brand of tobacco from its ash. He would not know one fingerprint from another…’, and that I think that that adds a welcome realism to the realm of detective-fiction. Now, I know that there may be people who can recognize brands of tobacco from the ash, or differentiate something like fingerprints by some infinitesimally minute curve of a line, say, but I think that although it is ingenious, I think that it certainly is probably not the most realistic. Of course, this sort of thing is superb to read, and I for one absolutely love to read the adventures of Sherlock Holmes, laboriously chronicled by his friend and colleague: Dr. John H. Watson, but I find that the Father Brown stories are exceedingly refreshing to read.

Another thing which I find with the character Father Brown is that you can really imagine his character, and one thing which I like about the stories is that he does not ‘fill the room with his presence’, he merely stands at the back of the room, out of the way, merely an onlooker, and he does not drift into the ways of thinking and means of deduction as the police, he merely takes in the surroundings in his own time, drifts away on his own methods of deduction, although these often conflict with the established order of deduction and thought.

And, similarly to this, he does not, as does Hercule Poirot, demand of all those present at the murder to assemble at a certain location, and proceed talk to all those present at the crime and explain how he solved the case, and as he explains it pauses in the key places of the mystery, keeping those present in suspense – no, he usually will reveal who has committed the crime, and motive, and so on, to those who want to know, but will only tell of how he solved the crimes to say one person, as he walks back to the humble inn where he happens to be residing, or to the church where he is to meet with the priest to discuss the state of affairs with the church. He will mostly reveal how he solved the bizarre and extraordinary cases to the character called Flambeau, who is the most famous criminal in the world at the time, but who throws in his evil ways, and assists Father Brown in the solving of the cases, using his past experience as a criminal to assist the small Catholic priest.

Indeed, I think that Father Brown is not only an opposite to Sherlock Holmes, but also to Hercule Poirot. The latter thought rings even more true when one thinks of the styles in which the two characters dress – Hercule Poirot immaculately dapper, and although his suits are never garish and always tasteful, they are rather colourful – Father Brown simply dresses in a humble priest’s cassock.

Indeed, the character of Father Brown and his deep realism are something most marvellous, and the same can certainly be said for the writing of these stories.

Allow me to digress ever so slightly into a paragraph, or two, on the subject of Chesterton’s life, which relates to the beauty of his writing…

Chesterton was born in 1874, and at school (St. Paul’s School), he sought to seek ‘honourable oblivion at the bottom of his class’ (as is written in the little biographical section at the beginning of my afore-mentioned copy of ‘The Innocence of Father Brown’), yet was singled out as a child with great ‘literary promise’. He decided to follow art as a career and studied at Slade School, where he met Ernest Hodder-Williams who decided that Chesterton could write, and it was at Hodder-Williams’ request that he reviewed a number of books for Bookman, and it was this that set him on the career path that he was to follow for the rest of his life.

Now, his writing was superb, and there are many elements which contribute to the greatness of his writing, but there is one element of his writing which is only small, yet, I must confess, I adore. This element of which I speak is the artistic description which Chesterton employed (one of my favourite items of this descriptive work being the description of colour), which is the reason that I digressed slightly to mention Chesterton’s time at art college. One of my favourite sentences pertaining to these delicious pieces of description has to be: ‘Between the silver ribbon of morning and the green glittering ribbon of sea…’ (By the way, this is the opening to the first story in ‘The Innocence of Father Brown’) Now, this is not one of the most artistic examples, but I do feel that it is a great example as to the effect that these pieces of description have; namely, the picture that they paint for the reader, for when you read the above part of the sentence a superbly vivid picture is placed in one’s mind.

Well, before I go on for too long, I will say, simply, that if you have not read the Father Brown stories, then I urge you to read them, and that if you have read some of them, then continue to read the rest of them.

Here is the link to the Amazon page which contains ‘The Complete Father Brown Stories’, which you can purchase for the marvellous price of £1.99, which you can Copy and Paste into your Search Bar:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Complete-Father-Brown-Stories/dp/1853260037/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1251318924&sr=8-1

Also, for the slightly higher price of £4.79, you can buy ‘The Selected Works of G. K. Chesterton’, which includes the complete Father Brown, too:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Selected-Chesterton-Wordsworth-Special-Editions/dp/1840220813/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1251986408&sr=8-2

Truly, to find the superb writing, the incredible mysteries, the great characters, the plot twists, the beautiful description, in fact, everything about the stories is something quite remarkable, and something that you really should read.

Copyright © 2009 Percy Trifleton

‘Pygmalion’ by Bernard Shaw

Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison in the 1964 film 'My Fair Lady'

Hello, again.

Yes, this is another post concerning a play, but I feel that this is a most absurdly excellent piece of fruit from a most remarkable, though incredibly shy, playwright, so I think that it most certainly deserves a post.

Permit me one slight deviation, if you will, I simply found this little morsel of information rather interesting, and it is the fact that Bernard Shaw was an incredibly shy man, yet, when one reads his writing, especially a little item which appears in certain issues, (or printings, or whatever you like to call different printings of books), of Pygmalion, where he writes on the subject that the English have steadily ruined and continue to ruin their marvellous language. One can sense that underneath the shy exterior which he must have employed there burned a raging enthusiasm, and that he could easily become outraged by whatever it was that outraged him. This, I suppose, could be incorrect, after all, I cannot say that I knew the man, yet that is what ‘popped’ into my mind, as it were. However, I digress. Please forgive me for this, now on with the post.

So, where were we? Ah, yes, Pygmalion. Well, I presume that many of you are familiar with this play, but if you are not, then you will most assuredly know what I am talking about when I say that this is the play which the magnificent film My Fair Lady was based upon. Yes, starring the remarkably brilliant Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn.

However, on with the post…again.

Now, I am sure that you do, but in the case that you don’t know what Pygmalion is about, or have never seen My Fair Lady, then I will tell you.

(If you know already know what it is about, then please feel free to skip the ensuing paragraphs concerning what the play is about.)

Well, Pygmalion is a romance in five acts, yet it is not a straightforward romance, indeed there is far more to the play than a romance. However, I will not continue with the discussion of whether or not it is a simple romance, or not, I will continue with the outline of the play.

Sorry to add this, but I feel that there is as much comedy in the play as there is romance, but that is beside the point.

Anyway, Pygmalion is about an esteemed phonetician called Henry Higgins, who makes a bet with a fellow phonetician called Colonel Pickering that in six months he can pass off Eliza Doolittle, a cockney flower-girl, as a Duchess, by teaching her with his phonetic skills to speak like one and by teaching her etiquette.

That is a very basic outline to the play, but it tells you what the play is about without going into all the detail and ruining it for you.

Well, I suppose that one thing that I wish to say is that the film My Fair Lady is very, very close to the original play by Bernard Shaw, which I know could be expected, but then again, as is the case with many films, it may have not given justice to the play, which it did, so that is one thing which I was impressed by, and which brings me onto another factor of the play.

The characters in Pygmalion are, in a word, superb. The defined characteristics of Henry Higgins, Eliza Doolittle, Colonel Pickering, in fact, all of the characters is absolutely extraordinary, and really adds to the play’s story.

I suppose that this play is slightly unusual, in that it was ideally written as a cinematic play. I know that there were camera’s at the time, but I find it rather interesting that in 1912 Bernard Shaw wrote this play for a film. But, I can see why he wrote it this way, because when one reads it, the story flows more fluently due to the changing of scenes, and the elaborate decor of the sets, which is made a whole lot easier when you have the time and the resources which you have when making a film.

Well, I suppose that all I can say is that I would really recommend that you read this play – I am positive that you will get as much enjoyment out of it as I did; it really is quite, quite excellent.

Here is the link to the Amazon page for the book of the play Pygmalion, costing £5.28:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Pygmalion-Romance-Five-Penguin-Classics/dp/0141439505/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1248509615&sr=8-1

And here is the link to the link to the Amazon page for the DVD of the film My Fair Lady, costing £2.97:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Fair-Lady-DVD-Audrey-Hepburn/dp/B00004CZEO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1248535415&sr=8-1

Both the book of the play, and the DVD of the film I recommend heartily for your reading, and viewing, as both are of supreme quality.

Indeed, I think that Pygmalion must be one of the greatest plays ever written, and I think that it will remain as superb, as popular, as readable, as viewable, as romantic, and as amusing as it did in 1912…

Copyright © 2009 Percy Trifleton

A Notice on the ‘Review’ Section

Hello, there.

This is just to say that the Review-’Arts and Literature’ section of A General Repository, is moving to the Blog section as I feel that these posts that feature in this section are more than simple reviews, and, therefore, that they are more suited to the Blog section, the reason being that, to me, I find that there is more than just reviewing these pieces of literature to be done, I feel that there is much to discuss, much to wonder upon, much to be interested by, and I feel that these magnificent pieces of literature deserve better than a simple review, they deserve to be placed in the Blog area.

Now, that is not to say that I think less of the items that are present in the Review section, it is simply me indulging in the furthered writing on the subject of plays, poetry, novels, etc. – it, I suppose, is what I really enjoy writing about, as I am sure is made evident when one reads the posts in this website.

So, if you are wanting to view the Arts and Literature section, please head over to the Blog area of this website. A minor change, I know, but one which makes me feel a whole lot better.

Thanks very much,

Cheerio!

‘Waiting for Godot’ by Samuel Beckett

Patrick Stewart (Left), Simon Callow (Centre), Ian McKellen (Right) in 'Waiting for Godot'

Hello, once again, dear reader.

I do apologise for the recent idleness of this blog, but my mind has failed to conjure up a subject with which to devote a post to. However, this has changed with my reading of a most extraordinary play…

I refer to ‘Waiting for Godot’ – a tragicomedy in two acts – written by Samuel Beckett.

Incidentally, the play is being performed at The Royal Haymarket Theatre, and stars Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart in the lead roles.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the piece, the play concerns two elderly men who are inevitably approaching their death, and who are waiting day after day for the arrival of the mysterious Godot. They are both forgetful and remember very little of recent happenings, which causes them both to become frightfully confused and to question certain happenings. Ian McKellen’s character is particularly forgetful and it is Patrick Stewart’s Vladimir that reminds them that they are waiting for Godot, and insists that they remain where they are until he comes.

Along the way, they encounter an unusual character called Pozzo (played by Simon Callow), and Lucky, his ‘pig’ servant, (played by Ronald Pickup).

The play and its meaning is undeniably confusing and curious, and many do not understand it – I, for one, do not understand it completely, though I have speculated much, and like to think that I have hit upon the meaning of this remarkable piece.

In fact, I remember watching the news on television, and there being an interview with Patrick Stewart concerning the play, and he said that many had spoken to him about the play, and had said  that they do not understand what the play is about, to which Stewart said that he would reply, Well, do you understand life?

Now, this is what I had thought that the play was ‘about’. I thought that the play concerned the matter of life, and how life can be used, and how one may go through life without actually understanding the reason. That is what I think that the play is possibly about, anyway, but I do not know for sure, as many others don’t. I think that this could one of the beautiful items of the play, the fact that one is not left knowing exactly what the play is about, one has not had the answer served right up on a platter to them, one has to exercise the ‘little grey cells’, as the great Hercule Poirot would say.

I apologise if there are things which have not been covered so far, and will not be, but the reason for this is that I do not want to elaborate on the detail too much, for fear of spoiling the enjoyment for you, dear reader.

I really would recommend that you read this play, and I am sure that going to see the play is something quite remarkable (especially with the talent of McKellen, Stewart, Callow and Pickup), although I have not seen it for myself. The play ends on the 9th August, and tickets can still be bought, so I have provided the link to the website underneath:

http://www.waitingforgodottheplay.com/

Here, also, is the link to the Amazon page for the book of the play:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Waiting-Godot-Samuel-Beckett/dp/0571229115/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1248448975&sr=8-1

So, I suppose that to round this little article off, I should simply say that I recommend that you either go and see the play, or read it, or, better still, both! The mystery, the comedy, the tragedy are superb qualities of a play, and for them all to be included in the one is a rather remarkable feat…

Copyright © 2009 Percy Trifleton

A Little Notice

Hello, there.

Yes, you’ve guessed it, I wish to put forth a little notice, which is this: if you have been wondering at the matter that in a few of my articles I have recommended books, or pieces of audio, or whatever it may be, for your purchase, and have perhaps thought upon the fact that I could have possibly been asked to advertise on my website, then you are very much mistaken. The things that I have recommended are purely things which I consider to be worth your purchasing, dear reader.

And now I realise that some of you may never have thought this, but are now wondering whether this post is trying to ascertain that this matter is not thought, when that it  is actually the case, but, nay, you would be mistaken. This post is for those who could possibly have thought the above, where I wanted to assure them that they were most assuredly mistaken.

And now I realise that I am drivelling, which is most inadequate, and irritating, so I shall stop right now.

Thank you very much,

Toodle-pip!

Review – Stephen Fry’s PODGRAMS

Stephen Fry's PODGRAMS

Hello, there.

Firstly, before I begin, I would just like to mention that I am growing rather fond of this Review section of this website, whose first review concerned another of Stephen Fry’s audio pieces ‘The Dongle of Donald Trefusis’. I hope that you have enjoyed the review, also, and I hope that you found it informative, as I do hope you will find this.

Anyway, ‘on with the show’, as it were.

Well, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the Podgram’s of Stephen Fry, they are a superb series of podcast’s written and read by Fry, which can be downloaded – for free of charge – from iTunes.

The Podgram’s are about half-an-hour each and concern a variety of different subjects, and different thoughts.

One thing that I found with these Podgram’s was that they are so original, and so incredibly interesting, and their length is ideal for the listener’s listening when walking the dog, or when on their way to work.

You will probably have noticed that I have mentioned the Podgram’s of Stephen Fry a couple of times before in previous articles that I have written, for a thought was ’sparked’ in even just one or two sentences of these (let alone the Podgram in its entirety), which lead me on a whole, new, fresh trail of thought. I think that that much can be said for the Podgram’s ‘Compliance and Defiance’ and ‘Language’. Indeed, I think that all of the Podgram’s cause thoughts to be created.

For those of you who are fond of the various writings and audio pieces of Fry, I guarantee that your fondness will envelop these Podgram’s, as well.

Also, one episode of Series 2.0 is a short introductory video podcast to Stephen Fry’s ‘Selection of Short Stories by Oscar Wilde’, where Fry talks about his thoughts on one of the greatest ‘lords of language’, where he speaks of how he was introduced to the writings of Oscar Wilde, and what impression they left on him.

Indeed, those of you who like thoughts to be provoked within, those of you who are a fan of Fry’s other works; his wit, his style, his originality, and undeniable intelligence, then these series of podcast’s are most certainly for you.

Thanks for reading – I hope that you have found it interesting and helpful!

All material pertaining to the works of Stephen Fry and the production company SamFry are subject to copyright.

Copyright © 2009 Stephen Fry

Copyright © 2009 SamFry

Copyright © 2009 Percy Trifleton

A Little ‘Thank You’

Hello, again.

As I am sure you are aware, in this little post I just wish to convey my gratification and many thanks to those of you who have taken the time to visit this website. Thank you!

I would also like to say a ‘thank you’ to those websites which have mentioned this website on their pages. Thank you!

Well, all I have to say now is that I hope that you are enjoying the posts that are featured on this blog, and that you have found them – yes, it must be said – rather interesting!

Till next time,

Cheerio!

The Writings of Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde

Hello, there.

Firstly, I would just like to mention that I apologise for the slight idleness of this blog. Verily, I have not added a post for a little while, and that is why, in writing this, I come to sweep aside the laziness of this website in an expeditious – though not hasty – flurry of a post.

As is probably made rather apparent by the title of this article which you are reading, this post concerns the writings of Oscar Wilde.

Now, there are many various things which contribute to the superb ‘read-ability’ of Wilde’s writings, and I feel that one of these is the sheer fluidity of his writing. Whether it be a play, a short-story, a poem, a section of dialogue, or a piece of prose, the fluidity is immensely fabulous.

And I suppose that that brings me onto another point concerning the writings of Wilde; which is the usage of words and the vocabulary of one of the great ‘lords of language’. The superb mastery of the writing is something which provides the reader with generous quantities of pleasure.

And, also, that in turn brings me onto another point, which is that he could adapt varying styles of writing, i.e. the style of the writing, the usage  of words, and the rhythm of the writing to help ‘illustrate’ the ambience of whatever it was that he was writing.

Something else which is also exceedingly fascinating is the various types of stories which he wrote, and, also, the stories which explore the suffering of numerous kinds of people. The weighty melancholy which rests upon some of his works is immense. I mean, take The Nightingale and the Rose or The Devoted Friend – both of these are stories collected from a volume of children’s stories which was published in 1888 – these stories are written for children, but I imagine that the greater meaning of these is surely lost on the children, I think that more can be gained by the adults who read these stories – which I fear can not probably be said for quite a few of the modern pieces of children’s literature. Now, I would strongly recommend the reading of these short-stories, for although they were originally written for children, they can be enjoyed by all ages.

In fact, here is the link to the Amazon page containing The Complete Short Fiction of Oscar Wilde which is a superb book – annotated, also, by Ian Small, which is furiously interesting -  containing the afore-mentioned stories above, and can be purchased for the good price of £5.24:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Complete-Short-Fiction-Penguin-Classics/dp/0141439696/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1247245345&sr=8-1

I would highly recommend this volume, as it contains all the short-stories, Wilde’s poems in prose, and the story The Portrait of Mr. W. H.

Yes, I feel that Wilde was gifted with the ability to write the way he did, to communicate a ‘point’ to the reader and to write something that many people can associate with, and can wonder upon.

Verily, I think that the writings of Oscar Wilde’s could be some of the greatest ever to grace the literary earth…

Thanks for reading – I hope that you have found it interesting!

Copyright © 2009 Percy Trifleton