Naomi Alderman and Emily Woof Reading by Rob Haughton

Firstly, and I promise this is related, I was in a bar talking with a self proclaimed ‘antagonist’ and as soon as he heard I was an English Lit grad I was in the crosshair of an elitism diatribe. Apparently, literary fiction is anathema on a bookshelf, ostracising the general public. The next night I saw Naomi Alderman and Emily Woof give readings of their Literary Fiction offerings. What followed was simply good storytelling from two individuals without pretence. On meeting the pair, it’s clear they do not live in a literati vacuum; the major passion of Alderman is her Xbox and how to save Albion in Fable III while Woof is a home-grown Newcastle actor and dramatist well known for roles in ‘The Full Monty’ and ‘Velvet Goldmine’.
Woof’s reading from her debut novel ‘The Whole Wide Beauty’ was very well handled; she talked with an air of sensitivity, showcasing the honest treatment of family dynamics and character flaws that everyone can relate to. It may involve a struggling Poetry Foundation the daughter’s abandonment of an artistic career but steers focus away from the scenery and onto the characters. Her selection provided a glimpse into what is effectively a story about life choices and I would be hard pressed to argue that the subject matter does not speak to everyone.
From the thoughtful tone and beautiful images we enjoyed the witticisms of Alderman. Her second novel, ‘The Lessons’, sparkled with a satirical view of the Oxford ivory towers. Her reading showed a narrative led piece evoking ‘Withnail and I’ and ‘Brideshead Revisited’. Alderman’s selection and devilish use of language played on the preconceptions of Oxford students; inviting us all to see through the eyes of a narrator who really shouldn’t be there. Hopeful to anyone who would probably be turned away for the gilded gates of Christ Church; Alderman lets us know that the greatest knowledge is not found at Oxford.

Paul Muldoon By Marcus Bryan

Paul Muldoon is in possession of one of the highest reputations in contemporary poetry. He has won both the T.S. Eliot and Pulitzer prizes, and according to Sean O‘Brien, who provided his introduction at Friday’s reading at King’s Hall, is perfectly capable of rhyming ‘dog’ with ‘cat’.

One might think, then, that this tidal wave of critical acclaim portends great swathes of deadly serious, occasionally headache-inducing verse not unlike that of Eliot, whose eponymous prize he won. Fortunately, this is far from the case. Both Muldoon’s poetry and on-stage persona are laid-back and effortlessly amusing; he slips almost unnoticeably between readings and conversing with the crowd, and the experience of listening to one of his poems is almost like listening to a friend telling an anecdote, albeit a friend who’s far more original in his use of language, and has an ability to coax the profound out of a tale that at first seems like nonsense.

Anyone with even a passing interest in poetry would be well recommended to pick up one of Muldoon’s ten collections from the library, and see for themselves that his work is equally worthy of popular acclaim as well as critical.

RCS's Romeo and Juliet by Rosamund Fraser

Directing Romeo and Juliet must be quite the conundrum. We’ve watched the Star-Crossed Lovers played out as Claire Danes and Leonardo Di Caprio, maybe read the play for study or watched adapted versions of it in films like West Side Story. How then does one inject a sense of the new and unique into the well-trodden path that is these two lovers’ downfall? RSC director Rupert Goold may have found the answer in his new Autumn production of Romeo and Juliet. By balancing hints of contemporary life with the Shakespearean, Goold ensures the familiar story speaks with a fresh voice. Take the costuming for example; against a backdrop of Elizabethan couture, the eponymous hero and heroine strut about in Doc Martins and Converses, offering not just visual interest but a reminder that there’s nothing medieval about falling in love. Likewise, the plays humour had a distinctly modern feel. A ten minute mime scene in which Mercutio pretends to crawl headlong into a woman’s vagina could have been plucked straight out of The Inbetweeners, or some such comedy. That’s not to say that there was any element of ‘dumbing down’; as you would expect from an RSC production, the acting was of the highest calibre. Juliet’s nurse in particular stood out as exceptional. Her motherly boisterousness exposed Juliet’s vulnerability, and in their scenes together we saw a Juliet who was less assured and more fragile. Jokes about vaginas aside, maybe it’s the powerful image of a confident young girl becoming lost that was the most accessible aspect to Goold’s production.