I Went to The London Book Fair

We stumbled out of Baron’s Court tube station looking lost and feeling overwhelmed. I, clutching my new oyster card, walked over to a map and pretended that I knew what I was looking for. I had obviously failed because a kindly old lady approached me, observed my pained visage, and gave me and the group the directions we needed.

That was the first surprise London afforded me! I had been led to believe that everyone in London was stuck in tunnel vision mode. That they were too rude and/or indifferent to bother with a lost looking group of master’s students. At least, that is what I had been told.

Unfortunately, that soon became the truth as pedestrians elbowed us aside, people cut in front of us, and drivers beeped their car horns and swore under their breath as we failed to cross the road quick enough.

Ah! Finally, the ‘authentic’ London experience. Continue reading “I Went to The London Book Fair”

The Sun is Poetry

The Sun is poetry. No, seriously! The Sun is poetry, you just don’t know it yet.

Opinions on The Sun divide the nation here in the UK (I can’t speak for anywhere else in the world.) Many view it, myself included, as a supercilious tabloid that spews invective left, right, and centre. I am, however, open to the fact that I may be missing something by dismissing it as so. The Sun has the biggest readership via circulation of physical copies of any newspaper here in the UK, and there is certainly a reason as to why so many people read it, but one that I fail to see.

That’s not to say I think other newspapers far excel The Sun; I’m not particularly fond of The Express, Daily Mail, or even The Guardian, and that saddens me. It saddens me that these news outlets all have their own agenda to peddle, that news has to make money and be first instead of being news, and that I can’t read something in a paper or online and believe it without fact checking it first.

Continue reading “The Sun is Poetry”

A Word on Rejectamenta: Why I Chose a New Tagline

Having just polished off another fantastic novel by China Miéville, Perdido Street Station, I found myself Googling him. Miéville has captured my mind in a way many authors fail to. I had to know more about him. On the first list of results, I stumbled across his personal blog titled Rejectamentalist Manifesto: China Miéville’s Waste Books. It’s a humble little website with threads of philosophical insight weaved throughout it.

What really struck me was the title. Having no idea what a rejectamentalist was I once again turned to Google, and here is what I found:

Continue reading “A Word on Rejectamenta: Why I Chose a New Tagline”