Getting an MA in English Literature

After what seems like several months of confusion and doubt, I submitted and eventually received my result for my MA dissertation. Bunch that together with my essays, and I have a full MA degree in English Literature. OH MY GOODNESS. I did it. I accomplished the thing I so excitedly set out to do.

But there is one thing I should regret and am subsequently going to rectify: I wrote no kind of acknowledgement in my dissertation. I didn’t want to attach any names to the piece of writing I hadn’t any pride in, so I avoided the attempt. Weeks later, and the fact remains the same. I don’t take much pride in the content, but the effort and the energy warrants my elation, and I buckled and included a few names anyway.

So, here it is:

Acknowledgements

I could not have got so far, so unobstructed and so inspired, without my friends who believed and my family who encouraged. Thank you Isobel and Isobel’s mum Liz for your love and books, Emmalees for pushing me to be my best and Caitlin for telling me I am more. Thank you to my unofficial J Club who know me best, make me laugh and listen to me complain, even now.

Thank you to Cardiff University for giving me a scholarship, without which I wouldn’t have been able to study. I reserve the rest of my undying gratitude for Cardiff University’s Open Access team who let me write during working hours, to my teachers who kept me dreaming, and to my lecturers and my supervisor for their unwavering understanding and support. Thank you.

What now? Well, after spending a year writing about 36k words for the MA, I’m going to try writing a novel (double the amount of words) in one year. Let’s see how that goes. I’m also recovering from a cold I got the day I had my dissertation result. So, a party all round. I’m also spending the year reading *some* of the things I’ve kept on the reading list for the past 4 years and not had time to enjoy! And there are some other exciting things to be announced, so look out. 😀

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Chick Lit and Cosy Crime: The Problem of Genre in Eighteenth-Century and Contemporary Fiction

After my earlier exploration of historical romance fiction (see my previous post at https://crecs.wordpress.com/2016/06/06/the-men-of-regency-romance/ ), I decided to venture into the history of more broader genres, namely crime and romantic fiction, to determine their importance in twenty-first century culture.

CRECS//

This blog post is from Jannat Ahmed (@PemberleyParade), a Masters student in English Literature at Cardiff University. Her research interests include the authorship and readership of the eighteenth-century novel, the popular novel of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, fanfiction culture, and postcolonial and feminist theory. She hopes to pursue a doctorate investigating the relationship between the girl reader, the woman writer and the male critic in British literature.

The journalist Caitlin Moran believes that culture precedes politics in motivating change in society, and I agree. Yet it seems to me that the importance of ‘low’ culture, particularly in terms of genre fiction, is often overlooked. Despite its prevalence, critics and reviewers sometimes engage in an unfortunately token relationship with genres such as romance and crime fiction. Rightfully so, perhaps, one might say, when much of these fictions are reproduced, predictable texts that follow a traditional plot-line. However, much as critics…

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Are Tweets a New Form of Poetry?

In a bid to make an inordinate amount of time on Twitter well spent, I wrote this piece for the Cardiff University Digital Cultures Network blog (@ http://cardiffdigitalnetwork.org) about the function of tweets and social media posts in a new digital literary culture.

Digital Cultures Network

In this fascinating post, Jannat Ahmed, an MA student in English Literature at Cardiff University, asks us to think about a new kind of poetry… 

In our digital age, are tweets a new form of poetry? This is a question I have asked myself after seeing how people engage with specific types of posts on Twitter, Tumblr and Facebook. While tweets themselves have their own restrictions (their 140 characters, interestingly, can remind us of the restrictive 14 lines in a sonnet, for example), it is not the straightforward 140 character restriction of a tweet that I correspond with an idea of poetry, but another kind of post prevalent on social platforms that offers poetic engagement: Having gathered force for several years as MSN Messenger statuses, the phenomena of inspirational quotes and narrative posts has found its way onto all kinds of social media channels. From stories about real people on the…

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Book Review: ‘Les Liaisons dangereuses’ by Pierre-Ambroise-François Choderlos de Laclos, translated by Douglas Parmée

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This book was a recommendation from years ago. Now having finally read it, I find I was thrown into an intense exploration of social manipulation. First published in 1782, the novel is written in the epistolary style, but unlike Samuel Richardson’s Pamela that focuses on the letters of one protagonist, the number of protagonists and antagonists are doubled or even quadrupled in Les Liaisons. I am still feeling the aftershocks of reading this novel which is surprising because I was not expecting much in the way of ‘realism’ or ‘believability’. However, I was intrigued by the volume of characters and how they may all be relevant. I will also note my reading of the novel was made far easier by its translation in 1995.

Fortunately, the volume of characters is not superfluous, and after the first eyebrow-raise (I was not sure whether the Marquise de Merteuil was actually the Madame de Merteuil, but she was addressed under both names), I was struck more by the actions of antagonists rather than the protagonists. Reading the novel was a study of cause and effect, and more than anything else: dramatic irony. Of course, there are parts I find unbelievable, such as the feelings of Madame de Tourvel, but Madame de Tourvel, Cécile Volanges and everyone but the antagonists play the role of balls in a game of pinball. It is the interaction between the antagonists that escalates the drama. The Marquise de Merteuil and Vicomte de Valmont are instead both flippers flinging whomever they wish into the air and bruising their victims on pins along the way.

There is much I would like to discuss about the novel, particularly the use of other novels within its letters. At one point Clarissa, another novel by Samuel Richardson, is sought out as guidance for one character (p. 239) in order, I imagine, to prevent succumbing to pressure. At the same time, the Victome, who is exercising this pressure, also discusses the same novel, writing that ‘It wouldn’t be difficult to slip into her house […] and turn her into another Clarissa’ (p. 245) and just before this, explains how he is formulating his plans by ‘vainly going over every known way, in novels’ to take advantage of the woman he is chasing. The protagonist seeks guidance and warning in novels, but the antagonist seeks formulation in the very same. In showing this duality, Choderlos de Laclos gives novels a dual purpose.

Much like we might see the crime novels and crime shows of today as a way of unintentionally teaching a criminal how better to avoid the law, the ‘romance’ or rather novels of sensibility or Gothic novels in the 18th century show the way in which one might succeed in using people. Moreover, there is a moment where the Marquise likens her own management of multiple affairs as a crossover of the roles of writer and actor. These two roles are flagged as subversive. (What do English Literature students appreciate better than the subversive?). It is up to the weight of the ending of the novel to determine whether these roles are reconciled. *Spoiler alert* The writer puts the antagonists in their place. *End of spoiler*

I am aware this review has become rather dense, so I am cutting it short to get down to the real question: Would I recommend this book? If you feel inclined to reach into history and find humanity at its worst—that is, self-centred, selfish, self-serving and self-satisfied at the cost of other people’s peace of mind—then I recommend this book. I recommend it as an unusual self-reflexive analysis of novels, fiction and people, as both a guidance and as a realisation of its subversive application. This novel does more than examine dangerous liaisons between humans. Ultimately, the novel critiques the dangerous relationship between exploitative humans and their limited knowledge.

Les Liaisons dangereuses by Pierre-Ambroise-François Choderlos de Laclos, translated by Douglas Parmée, published by Oxford University Press. £7.99 at Waterstones