Do we really love the classics or are we just being righteous?

When I first read Dickens I couldn't shake the thought that he was just so pretentious. His extensive descriptions and elite language made me sure of it. Turns out I was wrong, seen as contextually he was actually a bit of a commoner and his target audience was the working class. That told me.

Even so, prior to 2014 I couldn't understand the hype around so many of the classics. I thought the majority of the plots in the literary canon weren't enticing enough, just the cliché boy meets girl storyline. Oh how ignorant I was. It's actually surprising to me how many classics seem to challenge the structure of society when the assumed audience of this genre are so commonly the elite, the ones that benefit from the hierarchy that's under fire and who resist revolution.

Whilst Shakespeare's metaphorical thinking is mind blowing and Orwell seems to be a psychic, it still begs the question of whether we respect the classics because of their literary greatness or because we are supposed to. It's ok to like Harry Potter but we can't put Rowling ahead of Austen because she's not good enough or because she hasn't stood the test of time?

The lack of ethnic representation in the canon clarifies my doubts on whether these books and authors really are the best of the best or whether they are purely a collection of works that the white elite have considered worthy of respect. I don't doubt the standard of writing for a minute but 'the best of the best' is always going to be a pair of boots that are too big to fill. 

Let me back on the wagon!

It's the 29th of January and by this point most people's new year's resolutions are buried 6 feet under and we all let out a sigh of disappointment citing 'maybe next year.' I'm definitely no exception to this custom. Every year I'm buzzing with the same level of unrealistic optimism that 'this year will be the year that everything changes' and there will be a 'new me'. There's a part of me that knows deep down that probably not even three days later I will have eaten my body weight in my Christmas chocolate, stayed in my pyjamas for 36 hours straight and made the most of the last few films being shown on TV before all the new seasons of our favourites are released again.

This year however, I did attack the whole new year's resolution a little differently. I didn't force myself to act as if the 1st of January was the make it or break it day, I just decided that whatever aims I have for this year I am allowed to say I have successfully achieved them as long as they are met by the 1st of Jan 2016.

If you look at my archive you can probably tell I had another blow to my motivation by the end of November and I've almost reached the 2 month mark without publishing a single post. Nevertheless, instead of falling off a hurtling wagon that I can't catch up with once I'm on the ground, this wagon is chained up to a tree with it's wheels replaced with bricks so when I lose my balance I can still clamber back on and hope no one was looking. (Quite the use of a cliché, I know!)

Expect to see the return of opinionated, sarcastic and oh-so-positive blog posts very soon.