My new English tutor is interesting. Granted, there are several other words I could use to describe him more accurately, but I’m going with interesting because of the way he’s made me think about things that I hadn’t had previously.
I met him on Friday, after arriving late to the first tutorial our group had with him. As a bit of an icebreaker activity, we were told to introduce another person in the group to him, and they us. (to him. Is this good English? Yikes.)
My introduction (thanks Tory) let slip that I was (a) in love with, and posthumously married to John Keats, (b) that I adored the Romantic poets (but mostly Keats srsly he’s my guy), and (c) that this blog existed. I helped with the last bit.
The point of all this rubbish background info is to let you know why the fresh hell I’m writing about this, and what the actual heck I’m writing about. What the tutor, whose name I was fortunate enough to miss (but I think it’s Ian?), said was that he’s of the opinion that poetry pre-1900 should be ignored as it’s irrelevant now. Or something. The Romantics (stab to the heart), Victorian poets – the lot. His reasoning was sound (and valid) (#IntroToPhilosophy FLEX) though: can Wordsworth and his bridge musings seriously teach us more than a Palestinian woman’s commentary on the situation in Gaza can?
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, while lovely, really doesn’t do much for us in 2016. Unlike Wordsworth’s “calm so deep”, The Palestinian situation isn’t going away any time soon, and it only makes sense for us to focus on issues like that, right?
I’ve been having a think about this over the weekend. I’m reeling from a week that consisted of an average 5 hours spent on crying a day, and believe it or not, questioning the relevance of poetry periods has helped a lot.
The title of this post was a pun, but only to me – I’m starting Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World tomorrow. That’s it. I chuckled.
love and light,