David Gilmour: Teacher of the Year.

You may have heard the outcry from various media outlets about a somewhat ill-advised blog post on the Random House run 'Shelf Esteem' series, posted by Canadian author David Gilmour, who had some veritable pearls of wisdom to share about how he runs his literature course at the University of Toronto. For your reading pleasure, here are the selected highlights:

"I’m not interested in teaching books by women."

"when I was given this job I said I would only teach the people that I truly, truly love. Unfortunately, none of those happen to be Chinese, or women."

"What I teach is guys. Serious heterosexual guys...Real guy-guys."

"I teach only the best."

 I could have expanded on the obvious problem of his spiel, but I won't insult you, and will briefly acknowledge that this man is a sexist tit, and deserves the backlash that he's receiving from those who are not sexist tits. His brand of misogyny is sad and lonely, and about as impotent as the characters that haunt the Philip Roth back catalog that Gilmour loves so much. 

The more insidious issue here is the damaging attitude that he inflicts on his students; that his personal taste, the narrow binary of like and dislike, is the criteria on which a work can be judged as worth teaching. Anyone who has been a serious student of anything, be it literature, architecture or astrophysics could see that this is a ridiculous approach. True education is doing what you can to piece together everything to attain understanding of a work or a concept. 

One of my wisest lecturers at university made a point of sculpting the reading lists of his courses by unique merits or flaws in a text; a frequently introduced his classes saying: 'I hate this book. But this is why it's important...' Some of my own most rewarding reading experiences have been with books that I've thrown on the floor, or thoroughly defaced. I can hate a book, but truly love the friction or jarring it creates. Reading something that goes against what feels natural or comfortable is a contrary, but vital pleasure. 

And this, surely is the ultimate point of art: to immerse yourself fully into the psyche of someone else. For me, reading is a huge ethical push - it's a sustained exercise in empathy. To alienate sections of literature, just because it's not to your taste, is a crime when you're teaching; if critics just worked on books that they liked, literary academia would cannibalize itself. 

Personally, if I was Gilmour's student, I'd take a look at his reading list, roll my eyes, and undertake some serious self-persuasion to actually do the reading and go to the lectures instead of slink to the pub. But then I'd be a narrow-minded and, frankly, poor reader like him, which is more depressing than a few months reading Roth and Fitzgerald. So, Mr Gilmour, pick up a few Atwood novels, maybe some Toni Morrison, and set a better example to people who should throw their arms and minds open to things beyond their own taste. 

And remember....

Hilary Mantel at the Oxford Literary Festival

On Sunday evening, I was lucky enough to see Hilary Mantel (who I often mention on this blog) speak to a packed out crowd at the beautiful Sheldonian theatre as part of the Oxford Literary Festival. She closed what I imagine to have been an amazing string of lectures and talks in spectacular style. Introduced by, and in conversation with the current Bodley librarian Sarah Thomas (the first American, and also the first woman to hold this post), Mantel talked about the series that has brought her most critical acclaim, the Wolf Hall trilogy.

She opened with an extract from the second novel, Bring Out the Bodies, in which Henry VIII's court is brought to an eerie state by Anne Boleyn's decline. Her successor, Jane Seymour is being prepared for her own ascent, in a quietly brutal scene in which her mother dresses her hair with the elaborately and painfully pinned, but apparently puritanical headdress we often see in artistic depictions of her.
Mantel developed this into a consideration of character and visibility; how the outward signs and costumes, both physical and metaphorical, inform narrative. Talking about her protagonist, Thomas Cromwell, she described the process of delving beneath the history and research in order to create a man, above all. She also had some spoilers for the audience for the final installment, The Mirror and the Light, but as I'm a greedy and selfish person, I'll let you find those out from more generous attendees...

She also stressed the importance of books very graciously in the light of being honoured by the Bodley library, one of the most beautiful and important public libraries in the world. Describing fiction as a conversation between the dead and the living, and the living and the dead, she stressed the vitality of the written word, and the book as alive; always lovely to hear in backlash to the digital panic.

If you ever get the chance to hear Mantel speak, leap at it. She had the audience thoroughly engaged; you got the sense of how important a writer she has become, and a sense of the kind of legacy she will leave. I felt really moved by the presentation of the Bodley Medal, which honours outstanding communicators and writers in the literary field, previously awarded to writers such as Seamus Heaney, Alan Bennett, and P.D. James.

If you haven't read Mantel's work, go ahead. Now! I would particularly recommend A Place of Greater Safety, a proper epic about the French Revolution, or Fludd, a quirky novella about a crumbling Northern church.

Hilary, I love you. We should grab an Earl Grey sometime.

Chichester: Book City

Chichester, West Sussex is twenty minutes from my family home, and a city I know and love well. It's most famous for it's world-renowned Festival Theatre, which has been the springboard for some of the best recieved shows at the West End, and launched the careers of countless writers, actors and directors.

As a city, it's as compact as you can get - you can cover the centre in one ten minute stride.

Drama may be the lifeblood of Chichester, but it boasts some respectable literary links. One of my favourite spaces in Chichester is the stunning Cathedral, which features some truly beautiful modern art inside. A famous site is the Arundel Tomb - a sarcophagus of the tenth earl of Arundel and his wife - unique in that they're depicted holding hands. It inspired one of Philip Larkin's most famous poems, mounted by the side of it.

Aside from the well-stocked Waterstones on West Street, which a particularly good local interests section, and an inviting upstairs well laid out for a few hours sneaky reading, there's the brilliant second hand shop Kim's Bookshop on South Street (the original town planners didn't have a flair for street names). I've found some beautiful editions of classics; there's a lovely section of illustrated botanical tomes, and a great pulpy selection. It strikes the balance between facilitating the functional, determined bookshopper with serious search designs, and the casual browser, needing that element of chaos and the unexpected delight of finding something bizarre.

If you can get to Chichester, and have a day to spare, visit. It's great for shopping, for modern art (check out the Pallant House Gallery for some impressive exhibitions) and music; Antony Hegarty of Antony and the Johnson's grew up in Chichester, and every day on the streets you can see talented folk living up to his precedent. But what I like most about Chichester (predictably enough) is that it's a great city for readers; plenty of green spaces, tucked away corners and coffee shops for reading and talking books. My favourite reading space in the city is in front of the statue of St Richard at the front of the Cathedral - I think he would approve.

Happy New Year!

Just a quick post to confirm that I have successfully dug myself out of the mound of Quality Streets and rasberry vodka I ensconsed myself in over christmas, much like Smaug in dwarvish treasure, and will be welcoming in 2013 with some new posts very soon.

Happy new year to everyone who's been brilliant enough to read my blog.

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