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An interdisciplinary magazine for the arts & humanities curated by students of the University of Manchester

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SONDER

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Daisy Bernard

Editorial

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Welcome

sonder

French

Pronunciation: //sode//

Verb

1. To Probe, [with object] explore or examine (something):

she turned it over in her hands, now this way, now that, prob-

ing it with an intense, tactile vision.

2. To poll, record the opinion or vote of: the poll is a record

of voices; a mass of readings, writings and memories in and of

the world.

Noun

The realisation that each random passerby is living a life as

vivid and complex as your own (The Dictionary of Obscure Sor-

rows): A sort of history, crystallising and extending backwards

in time, a long chain of half-lives, and forward without memory,

across the stix and gone to Lethe, which drowns and roars on -

to become a sediment, marined and marooned and

oblivious.

We want to explore, probe and record. We want to examine lives

and thoughts through texts, to try and reach out to that vivid com-

plexity in each random passerby and discover its possibility

through poetry, prose, art, drama, film, music and more

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Contents

Artist 6

Upcoming 8

Now - Alice Munro 10

Film - H. G . Wells adaptation 12

Review - Richard II 16

Feature - Sexism & Discourse 20

Cabinet of Curiosities 24

The Other 26

Poetry - The Other 28

Drama - The Other 30

Contents

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Daisy Bernard

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For the first issue of Sonder we’ve welcomed the

stunningly talented art of Daisy Bernard to grace

our virtual pages. The 20 year old is in the midst

of an Art History degree at Manchester Universi-

ty, but her influences are far from the Da Vincis or

Titians of the world. She cites the 21st century

artists of Max Gasparini and Brandi Hofer as her

chief inspirations – artists that are seldom known,

but whose art reflects something of Daisy’s raw

and powerful handling of the feminine figure. Her

methods can be seen in her work: quick

brushstrokes; random splashes of paint; even

shaking the paper itself. But this abstraction is

underlined with a delicate realism. The result is

beauty with horror, ecstasy with agony. She main-

tains her real passion is for the process of painting

itself however. She quotes Picasso: “Painting is

just another way of keeping a diary.” So perhaps,

after all, inspiration did come from one of the

masters.

Teddy Kealey

Artist

Daisy Bernard

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Daisy Bernard

Daisy Bernard

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INVENTED IDENTITIES

Contact Theatre (Oxford Road) // 11th

September – 14th December // (FREE)

Manchester based not-for-profit arts organisation BLANK MEDIA COLLECTIVE present a group exhibition

at Contact Theatre. Foregrounding the work of three new emerging artists, Invented Identities is by turns

dark and playful; reimaginations and re-imaging work to produce and explore identities as plural, con-

ceived and idealised in an immutable process of improvement and improvisation. All the artists here -

Joanna Kane, Kathryn Sawbridge & Jessica Shandley – use photography as their point of departure, but

the exhibition is more than just a collection or a recollection of indexical traces. Images are distorted,

overlayed, painted and manipulated to recreate and interrogate the fashioning of alter-ego and identity.

http://blankmediacollective.org/invented-identities/

MON MON PRESENTS: FORGOTTEN

FESTIVITIES

The King's Arms (Bloom Street, Sal-

ford) // 9th December // (£5)

The King's Arms is one of the quaint-

est pubs in Manchester, situated at

walking distance from the city centre

and holding regular arts events from

poetry nights to art exhibitions.

Come and relax at Forgotten Festivi-

ties, a Christmas themed evening of

monologues with a twist: expect dark comedy and striking, graphic realism. Visit The King’s Arms website

for a comprehensive events listings. http://www.kingsarmssalford.com/

This Month in Manchester

Upcoming

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M20 COLLECTIVE:

SOLOMON SESSIONS

#2

Solomon Grundy

(Wilmslow Road,

Withington) // 14th

December // (FREE)

Following their

successful first

Solomon Session,

M20 Collective presents an evening of live music featuring a host of local talent playing jazz, soul and

blues. The collective were formed with the intention of cultivating a diverse network of creativity across

both the student and local communities in the city, and in addi-

tion to the music, Solomon Sessions #2 promises interactive art

from local collective Peanut Gallery, fair trade T-shirt prints from

Manchester Graduate Fair T, and women’s jewellery from Man-

chester based brand Iguana Jazz. The night promises soul food

and winter warming drinks, with M20 resident DJ Epistle spin-

ning r&b, soul and trip-hop till the early hours.

https://www.facebook.com/M20Collective

FARO PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS FIRST DRAFT

The Castle Hotel (Oldham Street) // Monday 16th // (FREE)

Already sick of Christmas? Faro Productions puts on experimental theatre productions at a range of

venues throughout the year. First Draft does what it says in the title: it’s a cabaret evening of perfor-

mance which trials a mix of spoken word, poetry, music and monologues - expect work both polished

and in progress.

http://firstdraftmcr.wordpress.com/ Robert Firth

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Born and raised in Wingham, On-

tario, Munro studied English and

Journalism at the University of

Western Ontario. During her

studies, she worked in various

jobs, married early (twice) and

later on had three children. She

fell in love with the craft of

writing from an early age and

gained award-winning acclaim

from the beginning of her career:

her first collection of short sto-

ries, Dance of the Happy Shades

(1968) won Canada’s prestigious

Governor General’s Award for the

first time (out of three overall). In

the course of her career, she has

also been awarded the Booker

Prize, the National Book Critics

Circle Award and the Giller Prize,

amongst many others.

Huron County, Ontario serves as

the main setting for Munro’s fic-

tion. Inspired by the Canadian

provinces and rural areas, she

prefers to keep a “low-profiled”

physical background and gives

prominence to her characters -

centered upon the female entity -

over the plot and surroundings.

Her published work began in a

transitional time for social rela-

tionships: on the threshold of a

contemporary, modernized socie-

ty of the late 60’s, the ideal family

was still one in which women

kept the household and had little

say, especially in the rural areas

of a conservative, male-dominant

society. The lives of her women,

while ordinary at first, are gradu-

ally shaped and evolve rapidly in

the stillness of a background

where little happens. They con-

front and conflict themselves,

each other and the male charac-

ters in order to achieve epiphany

and create a new frame of mind

for their existence.

Munro depicts generations that

conflict (The Moons of Jupiter,

Lucky 13

In October 2013, the 13th woman was honourably

awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. But this is

certainly not a mere stroke of luck; for Alice

Munro was awarded as a master, establishing

herself as the most notable short-story teller of

our time.

Now

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1982), unite (Lives of Girls and

Women, 1971), or revolt against

the conservativeness within the

family or from without, in the ru-

ral small towns (Who Do You

Think You Are?, 1978). Her fe-

males dream, hope, change and

grow. Like fellow winner Doris

Lessing, she managed to bring the

female psychosynthesis to a wider

context. Similarly, like Harold Pin-

ter, she skillfully unfolds her char-

acters within a restraining envi-

ronment and masterly creeps be-

hind closed doors, exposing the

lives behind the curtains.

The attention she pays to her

characters - her in-depth analysis

of human temperament and idio-

syncrasy - gives life to and vivifies

commonality. Rather than being

merely the omniscient observer

of the plot, Munro focuses on the

person, on the subject. It is

through her humanist approach

that the reader discovers her

masterful, yet subtle writing of

persons and personalities which

masterfully underpins subjective,

existential interrogation.

In the rural, conservative settings

of her stories, Munro artfully de-

livers the challenging task of ren-

dering womanhood honestly and

vividly, by giving them traits and

voice through controversial times.

She cannot be considered merely

a historically specific “writer of

the female” though; her writing

profoundly explores the nature of

subjective lived experience. With

the conferment of the Nobel

Prize, Munro’s reputation among

her readership and many of her

contemporaries as “master of the

modern short story” is rightly

acknowledged.

Theodora Gardouni

Alice Munro, winner of the 2013 Nobel prize in literature. Photograph: Andrew Testa/Rex Features

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H.G Wells remains to this day a

landmark figure in Science-fiction

literature, with his novellas

rightfully earning iconic status in

the literary world. Along with his

importance as a writer, the adap-

tations of his work have had huge

cultural impact in both radio,

musical theatre and cinema. His

book ‘The Time Machine’ (1895)

features an unnamed protagonist

known simply as the ‘Time Travel-

ler’ who travels from Victorian

England to a future century in

which life has reverted back to a

seemingly natural and simplistic

state. The prose is heavily built on

Adaptation

The Time Machine, H.G Wells, 1895

The Time Machine (1960): Director – George Pal

The Time Machine (2002): Director– Simon Wells, Gore

Verbinski

Film

1960 Film staring Rod Taylor

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the theme of curiosity; it is sci-

ence and man’s desperate need

for knowledge that drives both

the protagonist and the reader,

making it so no future could be a

disappointment as any change is

monumental. The 1960’s film

adaptation of the same title has

different priorities, but these

work just as well in the cinematic

context in which it was created.

One difference that almost sum-

marises the division between the

text and the on-screen adaptation

is the protagonist is given the

name George. We come to know

much more about George’s char-

acter in the film than Wells in-

tends us to know in the book. This

highlights how the film adaptation

focuses on how the Time Ma-

chine has affected this character,

how it has changed his percep-

tions and altered his view on the

world. In contrast, the original

text, written in a framed narra-

tive, reveals little about our pro-

tagonist; we are mere listeners to

a tale that is driven more by

man’s endless search for

knowledge than the knowledge

itself.

The plot differs

majorly throughout

both entities: in

typical Hollywood

fashion it is love

that prevails in the

1960’s film, and

this works beauti-

fully. With 53 years

of hindsight,

George Pal’s pro-

duction is a won-

derful piece of 60’s

cinema, with its

didactic under-

tones changing

from the dangers

of pushing scien-

tific boundaries to

a critique of war and man’s down-

fall within this. There are refer-

ences to the 1899 Boer War, both

World Wars and the threat of

nuclear attack. Time teaches the

audience that war will always

repeat itself, and that this is a

downfall of man that must

change. Upon arriving in the

future, audiences are lured into a

false sense of security that trails

to the lugubrious truth that con-

flict is still apparent. Despite this

differing vastly from the original

text, in its own right this is execut-

ed well enough for the produc-

tion to be seen as an interpreta-

tion worth the time of fans and

newcomers alike.

The social commentary Wells

riddles throughout his novella is

more solemn, there is no simple

good against evil between the Eloi

race and the Morlock race as

there is in the film. Every element

to the prose has its juxtaposition,

light and dark, Eloi and Morlock,

1985 Book cover

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civilisation above and under-

ground along with the future

holding primitive life. History

holds subjective truths, and the

novella stresses how the future

will be no different. The film

exaggerates some of these con-

cepts and by doing so makes their

place in the story more solid and

foundational (The Morlocks rule

over the Eloi in the film, whereas

in the book they seem to coexist

peacefully before the introduc-

tion of the ‘Time Traveller’). The

endless carousel of knowledge

and perception that the Time

Machine offers appears danger-

ous in the text. Whereas the

film’s focus shifts to a more ac-

cessible moral despite the fantas-

tical circumstances, it is love and

conscience that still remain at the

forefront of man’s mind. These

2001 Film starring Guy Pearce

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changes to the prose do work

within their own right, glossed in

academy award winning time-

lapse photography. It is true that

the charm of the Hollywood

spectacle carries the film into its

own light of appreciation.

From a wealthy family, Wells

was raised in a household in

which his family’s multitude of

servants lived in underground

rooms beneath his house. As a

child, Wells was fixated by these

people who would rise from the

floors to serve him. This inspira-

tion for the Morlocks emphasiz-

es how Well’s uses his writing as

a vehicle for social commentary,

criticising the British class sys-

tem through the use of his futur-

istic

Morlock race. The film fails to

deliver this key message, but in

its own way adds qualities to its

own piece of art that flourish in

its cinematic form. Most notably,

the relationship between

‘George’ and ‘Filby’ is non-

apparent in the book, but is

arguably the outstanding feature

of the film.

The 2002 film production of the

‘The Time Machine’, much like

the original film, introduces a

variety of new motivations and

themes throughout, which sadly

ultimately fail. The protagonist is

unflawed, polished and logical,

while it is the lack of such quali-

ties that makes Wells’ ‘Time

Traveller’ so interesting. Dra-

matic chase scenes are intro-

duced, as are a multiple murders

and tragedies. This is not what

The Time Machine is about, it is

about exploration, a need to

confront an obsession and a plea

to gain a wider understanding of

who are as a thinking race. In

the 1960’s version, each sub-

character is unique and rich in

charisma, in the 2002 produc-

tion there is but a mere weak

attempt at this. It holds a loose

grasp on the key foundations of

the story, there is for example a

Morlock lord, which by its very

existence destroys the corrupt

and communal philosophy that

Wells text builds his future world

upon.

Symbolism throughout all three

pieces truly represent the nature

of what the reader or audience

is to know of the ‘Time Travel-

ler’. In the 2002 version he en-

ters the Time Machine with a

picture of his love; in the 1960’s

film simply a stopwatch, and in

Wells’ novel nothing at all. H.G

Wells sends the message that in

art the question is infinitely

more interesting than the an-

swer. Following the journey,

both the character and the

readers are jaded and confused

to what sense can be made of

the past experience, and over-

bearing this is the burning desire

to take another.

The 2002 film holds a predicta-

ble disposition that displays how

frail the art of adapting text to

screen can be. If you seek a

memorable and thought provok-

ing read, the H.G.Wells novel is a

must. While the 1960’s film

adaptation offers an original and

fresh interpretation that can be

appreciated by both the lovers

of the book and those with

simply an interest in a golden

era of cinema.

Morgan Hinton

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Richard II

Shakespeare, Richard II

Royal Shakespeare Company

Director: Gregory Doran

Review

David Tennant as Richard II Photo: Kwame Lestrade

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The Royal Shakespeare

Company have recently

followed the national thea-

tre and others into the

realm of live broadcasting,

allowing thousands from all

around the provinces to

catch an acclaimed play

without straying more than

five minutes from the

bustop. Although the effect

of watching a play in the

cinema will never quite live

up to the real deal, the

chance to catch such a

terrific production as this is

very welcome.

Richard II is Shakespeare’s

most poetic play, written

entirely in a vaulting verse.

There are no comic charac-

ters here, no light hearted

bawdy jokes delivered in

straight prose; even the

gardeners use extended metaphor and verse to

discuss the political situation of England. The seri-

ous nature of this play, which is packed with action

from the very first scene, reflects the deep and

contentious issues of kingship it explores. A con-

stant to- and –fro rhythm underlies the play; the

iambic pentameter gives gently waving verse, our

sympathies rock from Bolingbroke (Nigel Lindsay)

to Richard (David Tennant), and the characters

themselves are caught up in a sway of morals; is

the kings position assured by divine right, or can

he be deposed if he does not serve his country?

David Tennant is captivating as the childish king.

Chosen by the director (Gregory Doran) for his

ability to bring a contemporary edge to the play,

Tennant certainly succeeds in transforming Rich-

ard’s lengthy poetic speeches from impenetrata-

ble 16thcentury verse into poignant, human and

current appeals. The king’s mood swings and fluc-

tuations instantly sway the audience for or against

Richard. He first appears playful and camp,

dressed in flowing, sparkling robes with long paint-

ed nails and a trio of his fawning male favourites,

Bushey, Baggot and Greene, who clearly have a

homoerotic relationship with the king. This idolis-

ing and childish flattery quickly gives way to a

sadistic and callous attitude to the quarrelling

Mowbray and Bolingbroke, and his unfeeling atti-

tude towards the death of John of Gaunt (Michael

Pennington) is further evidence of a king who sees

his power as untouchable and God-given. Howev-

er, Tennant’s wonderful performance makes it

very clear that this young, inexperienced king is

vulnerable, and our sympathies quickly return to

Richard as he kicks off his shoes and lies on the

ground, his thin, clearly human body visible be-

neath simple white robes, the illusions of his im-

mortality stripped from his and our eyes as he

lowers himself to the same level as his company.

David Tennant as Richard II Photo: Kwame Lestrade

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In one of Shakespeare’s most

moving lines, Richard admits his

humanity:

I live with bread like you, feel,

want,

Taste grief, need friends…

His delight at finding approval,

even in the confession of a mere

stable groom, and the love he

shows for his executed favourites

and company, shows a human

interior to this posturing king that

we can all sympathise with.

The beautiful set design gives a

material reflection to the themes

of the play. Projections of a grand

gothic church or misty moor filter

through three rows of chains,

making the set three dimensional

and interactive. On the left of the

stage heraldry trumpeters an-

nounce scene changes with an

almost uncomfortably loud regal

display, whilst opposite a trio of

piercingly beautiful choir singers

provide a contrast that literally

sounds out the issues of divine

appointment vs. autocratic regal

posturing. A movable platform

acts as upper stage allowing

Richard, at first, to tower over the

other characters in a display of

his regal, divine position. Later,

the platform appears precarious,

Richard dangles his legs into the

air, in full knowledge that he will

have to concede to Bolingbroke

and leave his higher position.

Finally, Richard is held on a plinth

underneath the stage floor, which

lifts up in its entirety to display

the former king alone, chained by

both hands and looking desper-

ate.

The final position of Richard leads

me to my one qualm with Doran’s

interpretation of this play. Shake-

speare gives Richard a final

Review

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speech that turns his despera-

tion into courage in one final

uplifting mood swing before he

manages to defeat two assassins

only to be killed in the end by

Exton, charged with the task by

the new, bloodthirsty and thug-

gish king, Bollingbroke. This pro-

duction snatches Richard’s only

scene of action, denying him the

chance to die fighting and replac-

ing Exton with Aumerle, earlier

shown to be Richard’s lover.

Deviating so dramatically from

the original play reduces the

tragic fall of a complex character

to a betrayal of love, providing

the only flaw in this otherwise

outstanding production.

Amber De La Haye

David Tennant in the RSC's production of Richard II Photo: Alastair Muir

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There is a growing campaign

across the UK to combat sexism

in higher education institutions,

with a kind of special focus on

what is conceived to be the spir-

itual home of misogyny - univer-

sity athletics unions – presumably

as a way of attacking the ‘source’

or ‘epicentre’ of the problem. I

do not wish to challenge the aims

of such a project – and let me be

clear: university sport is the single

biggest locus of so called ‘lad

culture’ , both at the University of

Manchester and nationally. How-

ever, to argue that an eradication

of sexism and misogyny is con-

comitant only with the remodel-

ling of the behaviour of those

who play university sport is to

ignore the profoundly entrenched

ideological complicity of both

male and female students - most

of whom would identify as being

‘against lad culture’ - in the per-

petuation of this climate.

I argue here that, in its current

form, the opposition to sexism in

UK universities is doomed to

Sexism & Discourse The Language of ‘Lad Culture’

Feature

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failure because it uses the lan-

guage of the very system it seeks

to challenge. I believe that, in

order to form a progressive and

coherent opposition, the cam-

paign against sexism in UK univer-

sities must conceive of a radically

different way of speaking as its

first point of departure.

Structures of phallocentrism,

sexism and misogyny disseminate

ideological messages, practices

and prescriptions through dis-

course. Discourse, Michel Fou-

cault has written, is ‘certain way

of speaking’ which delimits as

permissible certain kinds of lan-

guage and behaviour which, when

entrenched or internalized, come

to be viewed as obvious, natural

and inevitable. A necessary effect

of the presentation of certain

kinds of language and behaviour

as acceptable, as the ‘norm’, is

the suppression and negation of

rival forms of discourse and be-

haviour as unnatural, alien, unde-

sirable. It must be understood

that the act of articulation is also

an act of erasure, of silence. This

discursive mechanism – betray-

ing, by its very defensive nature a

structural weakness - supresses

the kinds of language and behav-

iour which could be used to re-

veal its contradictions and pose a

serious challenge to a given edi-

fice of ideas. There must first,

before any coherent campaign is

mounted to end sexism in UK

universities, be a thorough inter-

rogation of the very language and

discourse of patriarchal institu-

tions – in short, we must fore-

ground the way in which sexism

works ideologically, covertly, and

even automatically in our univer-

sities - and crucially, as we shall

see, in the institutional mouth

pieces of student life.

It is obvious that you cannot

challenge an ideology by adopting

the discursive system – we could

say the system of defence - it

proliferates, yet time and again

those who aim at something

nearing a challenge to phallocen-

tric discourse undo themselves by

adopting the very language of the

discursive system they seek to

oppose. In an article published in

the Mancunion (19th March

2013), one female student writes

‘In lots of tutorials I’ve had lots of

banter’. In the same article, Uni-

versity of Manchester Women’s

Officer Tabz O’Brien admits that

‘lad culture is bad at Manchester’.

No doubt the incidents referred

to here – and there are countless

others, in Manchester but also

nationally - are characteristic of

the deplorable sexism sadly en-

demic in higher education institu-

tions across the UK, but the issue

is one of articulation. ‘Banter’ and

‘Lad Culture’ are themselves

examples of certain kinds of lan-

guage and behaviour defined as

permissible under the ideological

and discursive structures of sex-

ism and misogyny. But it goes

further than this; to identify as a

‘lad’ and to instigate, deploy or

some capacity partake in ‘banter’

have overwhelmingly positive

connotations – whether explicitly

or implicitly. I reiterate once

again that you cannot attack

sexism with its own weapons, and

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22

yet ‘Lad culture’ and ‘banter’ are

paradoxically both the veils be-

hind which misogyny is deployed

and consolidated and also the

standard around which opposi-

tion rallies and circulates.

A particular ideological discourse,

- Foucault’s ‘certain way of

speaking’ – is manifest in the

very institutions most students

somehow unthinkingly and naive-

ly believe to be legitimate, au-

thentic student ‘voices’, and this

particular discourse is sexism.

But, of course, the power to

name the effects of its naming is

constitutive of any great ideology

– and sexism is a powerful and

deeply entrenched discourse in

UK universities – and so this

discourse is named, not sexism,

but ‘Lad Culture’.

Internet sexism – the handmaid-

en of campus sexism after hours -

parades in the open, unashamed-

Daisy Bernard

Feature

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23

ly vulgar, and wears its ideologi-

cal nature on its sleeve, under

the disturbingly apt title of the

‘Lad Bible’. That sexism on the

internet operates, with impunity,

under the banner of that most

profound of ideological discours-

es bears witness to its efficacy,

and belies another inherent

paradox: the dual operation of a

covert entrenchment and a pub-

lic proliferation.

The culture of misogyny is too

deeply entrenched and the sani-

tising effect of its discursive

structure too effective for a cred-

ible challenge to its status to be

made using a language which

imitates it. Let’s look at another

example: the same article I men-

tioned earlier states that ‘The link

between ‘lad culture’ and sexual

harassment and violence is high-

lighted by the [‘That’s what she

said’] report.’ This comment is

crucial to an understanding of

why sexism cannot be dealt with

if the current structure of opposi-

tion continues: the discursive

structure of sexism and misogyny

ensures that ‘lad culture’ and

sexism are seen as separate

entities between which there is a

‘link’ which must be broken or

challenged. This is wrong. There

is no ‘link’ between sexism and

lad culture: sexism IS lad culture.

Lad culture IS misogyny.

Insofar as ideologies ‘deny […]

their very structure[s] and proce-

dures’ (Art Historian T.J. Clark) in

order to present a certain way of

seeing as natural and inevitable,

to adopt that very same dis-

course can only ever perpetuate

the apparent structural inevitabil-

ity of sexism. Why? Because

regardless of this well meant

vehemence – and these are the

energies that must be used to

properly challenge sexism - the

opposition functions only to deny

the true structure and procedure

of the very ideology it seeks to

challenge, and so is complicit in

its consolidation. Ideological

entrenchment achieves perpetu-

ation by neutralising the utility of

genuine opposition. The opposi-

tion is audible, visible – and this

creates a very important illusion

of potential progress – yet insofar

as the language it speaks is that

of its foe, the opposition is not

only impotent but is to a greater

or lesser extent implicated in the

very discourse it seeks to oppose.

The campaign to end endemic

sexism in UK universities requires

a radical break with the ways in

which its challenges have been

hitherto communicated. There is

a need for a discursive interven-

tion in which ‘lad culture’ comes

properly to be identified not just

with, but as sexism, and the

‘lads’, whose very naming effects

impunity, become cast truthfully

as ‘sexists’. Only with the advent

of a coherent rival discourse can

the entrenchment of sexism

begin to be unravelled. If the

language of opposition is not

recast, the campaign against ‘lad

culture’ is in danger of becoming

distorted as solely an attack on

university sport, and sexism will

no doubt be wound tighter into

the fabric of higher education in

the UK.

Joshua Mcloughlin

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25

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26

The Other is at once liminal and a

paradox; an uncanny abjection. A

key point of departure for think-

ing about the self and society, the

Other constitutes a cornerstone

of cultural theory, and an invalua-

ble tool for interrogating contra-

diction and destabilising the

liberal humanist conception of a

unified subject.

With Freud, the autonomy and

authority of the ego – the con-

scious self and the most obvious

symptom of a subjectivity – is

eroded by an otherness within

and without; the contact of de-

sires and fears arising from the id,

with the imperious injunctions

imposed by a tyrannical super-

ego result in repression, neuroses

and the uneasy realisation that

subjectivity is a process of and in

conflict.

In Lacanian psychoanalysis, this

Freudian model is used to reject

the unity of the Cartesian cogito:

the mirror stage theorises the

formation of the nascent, narcis-

sistic ego. The misrecognition of

and identification with a gestalt –

the image of a reflected and all

powerful unity taken to be the

self, but which is also an image of

the mother – forms the ego, the

‘I’, and unifies the heterogeneous

experiences and disorganized

sensations of the infantile proto-

subject. The mirror stage an-

nounces the separation from a

‘mother’ - hitertho considered a

part of the smooth onesness of

lived experience, but who is now

irrevocably Other – and the inter-

nalisation of an idealised and

ultimately unattainable Other,

the gestalt, within the self. The ‘I’

with which the subject identifies

functions as the foundation or

point of departure for a relation-

ship with exteriority and other-

ness, but at the same time, the

discontinuity of the ego – what

Lacan calls the split-subect- is

irreversibly established by the

necessity (in fact the very inter-

The creative work of Claudia Carvell, Nathanial Ogle and

Lola Alban exploring ideas of The Other

Claudia Carvell renders isolation and miscommunication as constitutive or

productive of Otherness. Nathaniel Ogle presents a lyrical diffusion of the self

and the other. Finally, Lola Albarn uses a stark, sparse and harsh dramatic

form to interrogate the other within, and the inevitable Othering of social en-

counters.

The Other

Creative

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27

nalisation) of Otherness to the

formation of the self.

Feminism has challenged the

authority and stability of the

male constructed world by using

the psychoanalytic formation of

Otherness to argue that patriar-

chal culture is dependant on

binary distinctions of man/

woman, subject/object, rational/

irrational, self/other, unity/

disunity, which are shown to be

ideologically and discursive con-

structed. Simone de Beauvoir

constructs an image of woman as

a displaced and disempowered

Other: the inherent Otherness of

subjectivity foregrounds the

fluidity and liminality of that

which was previously considered

as a concrete, oppositional bina-

ry, and so the supposed differ-

ences between the sexes are

fatally challenged, enabling the

revelation of discursive contra-

diction in the patriarchal order.

The ideological, intellectual and

political investment of romanti-

cism and sensuality, of barbarism

and mysticism in foreign cultures,

following the colonial project of

Western European, and later U.S,

imperial powers, constitutes a

process of ‘Othering’ whereby

the Western identity is inexorably

bound up with those of its colo-

nies. Edward Said has revealed

that the study of Western con-

ceptions of the East as funda-

mentally Other, reveals nothing

about those colonised cultures,

and far more about the insecurity

and instability of the Western

psyche. Just as psychoanalysis

asserts the necessary internalisa-

tion of the other within the self,

the construction of Otherness by

Western imperial powers can be

read almost as an inscription of

the Western psyche played out

across the political, artistic and

scholarly representation of other

cultures.

Joshua Mcloughlin

Daisy Bernard

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Shibboleth

What it means to be miles from the equator

Of a conversation

Tip-toeing through talks about

Boys and sex and how he kissed you

Right there in the middle of the street

On your first date.

That’s something I discuss on the third

After a bottle of courage

And a drag of hope that she won’t be

Like the last one,

Who couldn’t hack the gawped glances

Or the jeers

So much so that she back peddled

to the safer space

I’m occupying now

As I nod along and laugh on cue

And you assume.

And my pride shrivels,

like his dick did,

which is why we laughed.

But I can’t relate

so I say

“I don’t have that problem”

And I’m out.

Poetry

Claudia Carvell

Image: Daisy Bernard

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Love, are you asleep?

Think of it as nothing

other than that which it is:

not, for instance, as ice forming,

nor as ice melting downstream.

For it knows nothing of

itself, and cares less for you,

as ice knows nothing of

water (as if it never felt

constipated!)

So tonight

you creep in my room, drunk.

You know I’ll wake simply from

your creep, but for my sake you

still call my name and are you

asleep? before slipping

beside to tessellate,

your just-brushed breath against

my neck.

The meaning of

melting moves up to the night—

some sort of collision—

or it flutters within

the night, pitch dark then blue,

lesser and thinner, moth-bright

in time.

The meaning of

forming, slid between my back

and your front, now intones

up my throat, upstream and out

(like it never heard of

discretion!)—and I think

we must somehow have drunk

the same mouthful of wine.

Nathaniel Ogle

Image: Daisy Bernard

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30

Act One

Scene One

Small University Dormitory. Downstage right there is a closed door and on the left is a window with a ledge. There are two single beds upstage with white sheets, a small wooden desk and a chair. The blue walls are decorated with two pin boards and two shelves. There is a door centre stage left. The room is dark. The door handle on the door to the right turns and Abby walks in, a large rucksack on her back, a suitcase on wheels in one hand and a leather handbag in the other. Abby turns on the light switch and the room is filled with pale yellow light. Abby looks around and places her bags next to the bed furthest away from the right wall. Abby slumps down on the bed.

ABBY: (laughs) Thank fuck. (Takes a packet of sweets out of her pocket and begins to eat one) This place is tiny. (Gets up and begins to unpack her rucksack and suitcase, placing her clothes in the draws under her bed)

The door is suddenly thrown open and Erika stum-bles in, with a huge rucksack on her back. Abby looks startled, Erika doesn’t notice her, she throws her bag on the floor and walks over to the window. Erika takes out a pack of cigarettes from her denim jacket. Erika throws open the window, lights a cigarette and sits down on the ledge with her legs against her chest.

ABBY: (watches Erika quizzically) Uh hi…

ERIKA turns around and takes another puff of her cigarette

ABBY: Your Erika right? (Erika nods) It said on the facebook page thing, but there wasn’t a link to your profile

ERIKA: (Shrugs) Don’t have one.

ABBY: Why not? I thought everyone did.

ERIKA: I couldn’t be bothered. What’s the point anyway?

ABBY: So none of that, I’m not gonna be another sheep on facebook?

ERIKA: Everyone’s some type of fucking sheep.

ABBY: (Raises her eyebrows, stretching her arms up towards the ceiling. She goes over to her leather bag and pulls out a large bottle of water. She drinks.) I’m Abby.

ERIKA: What are you studying?

ABBY: English, you?

ERIKA: Sociology

ABBY: Cool. (Pause) Are you allowed to smoke here?

ERIKA: Probably not. (Looks straight out the win-dow, stubs out her finished cigarette on her metal lighter and flicks the cigarette out the window)

ABBY: (Looks a little nervous, shifting from one foot to the other) I picked a bed, I hope you don’t mind.

ERIKA: (Shrugs) I don’t care. As long as I can lie

The Darkness Has A Smell

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down. (Quietly.) It’s harder for them like that. (Walks over to her bed and lies down on her side, curled up in a ball)

ABBY: (Stares at Erika’s shoes on the duvet and shakes her head a little) There are draws under the bed. (Rubs the back of her head)

ERIKA: Cool. (Doesn’t move)

ABBY: I’m going to go check out the kitchen, ap-parently we’re sharing with three other rooms. You wanna join me?

ERIKA: (Quietly) No.

Abby nods and leaves the room. Erika stays still for a moment and then begins to shake her torso around, as if trying to get away from someone pushing her. She thrashes around for a moment and then flies round to lie on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

ERIKA: Fuck off.

BLACKOUT.

Scene Two

The light in the room is dimmed. Erika’s bag is still packed. Erika is sitting on the window ledge, her back against the window.

ABBY: Are you sure you don’t want to come out tonight?

ERIKA: Yes. Where are you going?

ABBY: I’m not sure, they just said it was a bar in town. (Takes her heels out from a box under her bed)

ERIKA: How many are going?

ABBY: Six, I think. I mean, I spoke to five of them in the kitchen. There may be more. (Looks over at Erika) It should be fun. You do like to go out don’t you?

ERIKA: I do, I’m just, tired I guess, maybe, I don’t know.. (Shrugs)

(Abby smiles and pats Erika on the shoulder. Erika stares at the floor and flinches slightly at Abby’s touch.)

ABBY: Well we have at least a week of this fresher party stuff, so the sooner you start, the sooner it will be over (grins)

ERIKA: Right.

(Abby puts on her heels and picks up her leather bag)

ABBY: Well, see yah I guess.

(Abby goes out the door. Erika looks perplexed. Her right leg extends outwards, at a straight angle, at the same time her left arm goes out to the side. She maintains this position.)

BLACKOUT.

Scene Three The room is dark, there is the sound of faint gig-gling growing louder. The front door is thrown open and Abby skips in. Abby closes the door and pulls out her phone, laughing as she searches through. Erika sits still on the window ledge, she jerks her shoulders forward, as if she is being

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shoved, she looks angry and upset. Abby smiles as Who’s that Chick by David Guetta feat. Rihanna begins to play. She laughs and starts to dance wildly, obviously drunk. Abby sings along and burst into fits of giggles every so often. Erika begins to slowly kick her legs up in the air.

ABBY: (Singing) I just wanna dance (in time with the music)

ERIKA: I just wanna dance (sings slightly out of sync with the song)

ABBY: I don’t really care..care..care. (Begins to sway)

ERIKA: I don’t really care..care..care. (quietens)

ABBY: You can feel it in the air..yeah!

ERIKA: You can feel it…(stops in the middle of a leg kick, her head cast down)

(Abby carries on dancing and singing along, she bumps into Erika who does not move. The song ends and Cry for You by September starts to play on her phone. Abby giggles, pokes Erika and spins round, collapsing on her bad. Abby rolls around for a while and then goes quiet. Erika is still frozen in position. BLACKOUT.

Scene Four

The room is lightly illuminated by morning sun-shine. Erika’s limbs fall slowly by her side and her head lulls forward. Erika slowly shuffles towards her bed and lies down. BLACKOUT.

Scene Five

The light in the room is bright. Abby stands by the desk in her pajamas, waiting for the kettle to boil.

Abby takes a sip of water, from a large bottle and places it down on the desk. Erika is lying in bed, the covers pulled up over her head. Abby groans, rub-bing her eyes and makes herself a coffee, she be-gins to drink.

ERIKA: Are you making coffee?(Turns over in bed, peering over the duvet at Abby)

ABBY: Yeah, do you want some?

ERIKA: Yes please. (A sullen expression on her face.)

ABBY: (Begins making another coffee) It’s the instant stuff, so it’s pretty crappy, but it’s coffee. (Hands the finished coffee to Erika.)

ERIKA: (Sits up slowly, she looks to the side and whimpers, before taking the coffee, not looking at Abby. Still wearing her clothes from the night be-fore. She hisses.) Go away.

ABBY: What was that?

ERIKA: Not to you. (Glances over again and begins to drink her coffee, with tense slow movements of her arms.)

ABBY: (Giggles) Warms the heart and cures the head. (Pause.) Last night was crazy. You should have been there.

ERIKA: (Irritated.) Should I? (Pause.) Was anyone sick?

ABBY: Nina and on the way home, I’m pretty sure Ben puked.

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ERIKA: I don’t remember you coming back after you had left. They stayed. I have some vague memory of Rihanna.

ABBY: (Smirks.) I danced to it, I think. Drunk’s choice.

ERIKA: (Lifts the mug to her lips to drink. Erika’s body goes rigid and the hot coffee spills onto her chin and down her t-shirt.)

ABBY: (Begins to laugh, but then looks worried as the coffee drains out of the cup. Abby jumps up and tries to grab the mug from Erika’s fingers, but is un able to pull it out.) What the hell are you doing Erika! (Pushes Erika’s shoulder.) Are you playing with me? Because it isn’t fucking funny! (Shoves Erika) Fine! (Storms off into the bathroom and slams the door.)

ERIKA: (Stays motionless. Pause. Blinks and looks down at her chest, her face confused and worried) Shit. (Tries to yank off her t-shirt with rigid, jerking movements of her arms. Reveals the skin on her neck and chest to be red from the coffee.) Fuck. That hurts. (Looks over towards a corner of the room, scared. She slowly stumbles towards the bathroom and bangs on the door.) Abby are you in there? I really need some cold water.

ABBY: (Pulls open the door and glares at Erika) Serves you right. (Moves out of the way, so that Erika can go in the bathroom.) That was the lamest joke, I’ve ever seen. (Searches through her clothes draw)

ERIKA: (Yells.) You think that was a fucking joke? Just leave me alone. (Comes out of the bathroom, drenched in water. She climbs slowly back into bed and pulls the covers of her head.)

ABBY: (Looks confused. Pause. Suddenly holds onto her head and runs to the bathroom, clutching her stomach. Begins to be sick in the toilet.)

Erika sits up in bed and looks angrily towards the bathroom. Her body shakes slightly, as she pulls out a cigarette and lights it. Erika pulls up her sweat pants and presses the cigarette to her calf. Erika’s eyes squeeze shut and she smiles slightly.

BLACKOUT.

Act Two

Scene One

Early morning light. Both Erika and Abby are in bed, asleep. An alarm goes off.

ABBY: (Groans. Picks up phone from the bedside table and turns off the alarm. She sits up and looks around, with sleepy eyes. Whimpers.) Too early. (Gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom.)

Erika lays motionless in her bed. Abby comes out of the bathroom and starts getting ready, often glanc-ing towards Erika.

ABBY: (Quietly.) Erika?

Erika turns over silently to face Abby, her face blank. Erika’s hair is greasy and her face is slightly pale.

ABBY: (Stuttering.) Are you coming to the Freshers Fair?

ERIKA: Are you coming to the Freshers Fair?

ABBY: Don’t start messing with me again.

ERIKA: Don’t start messing with me again. (Her shoulders begin to jerk, she begins to roll off the bed. She turns over in bed and holds her hands against her face in fear.)

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ABBY: (Inhales deeply and closes her eyes.) What-ever. (Picks up her bag and leaves the dormitory.)

ERIKA: Whatever. (Turns over in her bed, to lie on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Whispers.) Why won’t you stop? (Slams her hands down onto the bed.) Stop! (Lifts arms up again and freezes. BLACKOUT.)

Scene Two

Erika is sitting at the desk. She is dressed in her pajamas. The room is dark and there is a light tapping noise.

ABBY: (Distant voice.) Is everyone in the year go-ing? (Opens the front door and enters the room, talking on her mobile phone. She turns on the light and glances over at Erika.)

Erika is playing with a small brass coin, she drops it onto the table and then picks it up again, repeating the process.

ABBY: Well what are you wearing? Because I don’t want to be dressing up if no one else is. (Looks over at Erika.)

Erika stands up slowly and walks out of the dormi-tory holding the coin. Abby opens her mouth to call after her, but stops.

ABBY: What? Sorry I was distracted. Erika’s acting weird…My room mate…You remember her, she walks about the dormitories a lot(sits down at the desk) …Yeah her…Well she’s acting strange, she keeps on freezing…Yeah like a statue…I can’t tell if she’s messing around or if somethings wrong with her…No, I wouldn’t call her a nutter, but…I don’t know, she’s making it hard to share a room with her…Well she hasn’t had a wash in days, at least that’s what I can guess from the way she smells…I don’t know if she even leaves the dormitory build-ing, …Anyway I’ll see you in a couple hours. Text

me when you know what you’re wearing…Bye. (Puts phone down on the table.)

Abby sighs and runs her fingers through her hair. She looks over at Erika’s bed. Abby gets up slowly and walks over. Pause. She lifts Erika’s duvet. The sheets are stained slightly with dirt and in the middle is a large, dark patch of blood. Abby steps back and grimaces.

ABBY: Fuck. (BLACKOUT.)

Scene Three Erika is sitting on the window ledge with her legs hanging out in the air. She is smoking a cigarette and is dialing a number on her mobile phone. She seems to be having trouble dialing, as her move-ments are stiff and slow.

ERIKA: (Depressed tone.) Hey mum…Yeah I’m good, how are you and Minnie doing?…Great…Can’t believe I missed that. You’ll have to film it and send it to me, I think we have internet here…Yeah it’s nice here…No I’m sharing a room. Re-member it was cheaper…She’s (Pause) alright. I don’t think she likes me very much…(Deeply in-hales her cigarette and rubs her forehead.) Cause of stuff. Anyway it’s not important…Of course I’m fine…I think uni starts in a few days, it’s fresher week right now…(Bites her lip.) I’ve made a few friends…I’m not lonely…Can I talk to Minnie?…Oh, well just give her a kiss from me and tell her I love her…Yeah I’m missing you too. (Her voice starts to falter.) Alright, speak to you soon. Love you lots. Bye. (Puts the phone down beside her on the ledge. She wipes the corner of her eyes and continues to smoke her cigarette. Erika leans against the edge of the window. Whisper.) Could you not give me a moment alone? Please. (Starts to quietly cry. She rests her hand with the cigarette on her thigh and closes her eyes.)

Erika becomes motionless. Long Pause. BLACKOUT. Pause. Lights up. Erika is in the same position. Her cigarette is now a stub and the ash has fallen onto her pajamas, burning through the material and her skin. Abby walks through the front door. She looks

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at Erika, who has her back to her and frowns.

ABBY: Hey. (Pause.) I said hellooo. (Pause.) I wish you wouldn’t smoke in here, the room stinks. (Pause.) Can you just answer me? (Walks over to Erika and shoves her shoulder, causing Erika to wobble, but doesn’t register Abby’s presence.) Not this again! (Abby looks down and sees the burns in Erika’s pajamas bottoms.) Shit. Erika can you hear me! (Pause.) Please just fucking answer me!

Erika slowly wobbles back and forth, leaning for-ward slightly. Her eyes still closed.

ABBY: Stop doing that! You’ll fall out.

Erika continues to wobble.

ABBY: Oh God. (She grabs Erika around the waist and yanks her onto the floor. Abby grabs her phone from her pocket.) Stop this now. (Looks down at Erika’s burn. She grimaces and runs to the bath-room, coming back with a wet flannel which she presses to Erika’s burn.) I don’t know what to do. Erika, please stop this! (She stands up and paces around the room, pulling her hair and glancing down at Erika.)

Erika turns her head slowly and rolls over onto her side.

ABBY: (Drops to her knees beside Erika.) Are you ok? (Shakes Erika’s shoulder.) Answer me!

ERIKA: (Whispers.) If I answer you, then they will hear me and they will come back.

ABBY: Who will come back? What are you talking about?

ERIKA: I don’t know their names, I don’t know if they have names. I never asked.

ABBY: You sound like a crazy person!

ERIKA: They’ll come back if you don’t shut up.

ABBY: Whatever, your insane. (Jumps up and walks out the dormitory.)

Erika moves slowly into a fetal position.

BLACKOUT.

Scene Four

Abby sits at the desk, with one hand holding her head up and the other clutching a pen, which she taps on the table. There is a book on the table in front of her. Pause. Abby glances over at the win-dow and then looks at her phone. Pause. Abby looks back at her book. Pause. She suddenly pushes herself out of her seat and walks over to the win-dow. Abby opens the window and looks down at the ground. She shakes her head and slams the window shut, clamping her eyes closed. The front door slowly opens and Erika walks in, dressed in black baggy trousers and a blue t-shirt.

ABBY: (Turns around and looks at Erika.) Hi.

ERIKA: Hi. (Goes to sit on her bed. It is still dirty.)

ABBY: Have you been to any of the Fresher events?

ERIKA: No.

ABBY: Where have you been?

ERIKA: Here. Why?

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ABBY: I don’t know, I was just thinking, it doesn’t seem like you’ve left the halls much.

ERIKA: They don’t let me.

ABBY: Who don’t?

ERIKA: Them. (Looks over towards the window.)

ABBY: (Goes over to the window. ) There’s no one outside.

ERIKA: They’re inside. Why are you talking about outside?

ABBY: (Looks around nervously.) There’s no one here.

ERIKA: You can’t see well, can you? (Turns her head slowly to the side and then lies down on her bed with a heavy thump.)

ABBY: (Raises her eyebrows and looks scared.) Erika, there’s no one here.

ERIKA: Yes there is. They’re over there. (Points to the window, but doesn’t look.)

ABBY: (Turns to look again.) No there isn’t.

ERIKA: Are you stupid? Yes there is!

ABBY: What the hell are you talking about?

ERIKA: I think you should leave now.

ABBY: You can’t order me like that.

ERIKA: I don’t want you to stay.

ABBY: Fine then, bitch. I’ll leave you alone then. (Picks up bag and leaves the room.)

ERIKA: I’m not alone idiot. I wish I was. (Lights a cigarette, from a packet under her pillow. Presses the burning cigarette to her bare stomach.)

BLACKOUT

Scene Five

Abby is on her own in the dormitory. She is sitting at the table, looking at her laptop. There is a large bottle of water on the bedside table. She glances over towards the window.

ABBY: (Whispers.) I wonder…(Starts to search online.) Online diagnosis….Ok…lets try this one…Hi, I’m Dr Abby, I’m an obvious picture of a mod-el….£40, no way am I paying that!…what about this one…(In a mocking voice.) Click on your body part….head…hallucinations, fucking weird halluci-nations…body…ummm…difficulty with move-ments…that seems right…Five conditions to chose from, yay….Vitamin B deficiency…nope…Schizophrenia….what’s that?(Leans in closer to-wards the screen)…is a long term mental illness…view all symptoms…depressed mood…drowsiness…hallucinations…delusions…lack of emotions…lack of motivation…socially withdrawn…definitely….hearing voices (Glances back towards the window.) I wonder….Let’s check youtube. (Clicks on a video and as she watches, she begins to tear up.) Oh God, Erika.

BLACKOUT

Scene Six

Abby sits on her bed, drinking a cup of tea. She watches Erika closely. Erika slowly walks into the bathroom, with dragging feet. Her head cast down. Her clothes are the same and dirty, her hair is

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matted and greasy. Erika shuts the door behind her. Abby looks over at Erika’s dirty bed. Pause. Abby takes off the sheets from her bed. Pause. She takes off the sheets from Erika’s bed and holds them with her own. Abby leaves the dormitory, carrying the sheets.

BLACKOUT

Scene Seven

Erika is sitting on her bed, which is now clean. She looks confused and uncomfortable. Abby comes out of the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel. Abby glances over at Erika, who is watching her and smiles.

ERIKA: Did you do this? (Stares at Abby.)

ABBY: What do you mean? (Avoiding eye contact.)

ERIKA: My sheets, did you clean them?

ABBY: (Bites lip, her back turned to Erika.) Yes.

ERIKA: Why? (Looks suspicious.)

ABBY: I thought it would be nice.

ERIKA: (Raises her eye brows.) Why would you be nice, to me?

ABBY: I just thought I would be, sorry I wont do it again. (Pause.) I just thought I would give you a bit of help.

ERIKA: I need help? (Stands up slowly.)

ABBY: After you had that, I don’t know what, freak out thing(Pause.) I just felt sorry for you. (Her body

shaking a little.)

ERIKA: (Suspiciously.) Sorry for me. Why? Because I passed out while/ sitting on a window ledge

ABBY: (Quietly) /Oh that’s it.

ERIKA: What do you mean that’s it? What did you think was going on? (Turns Abby around.)

ABBY: (Avoiding eye contact.) I just, I just wondered if you were maybe, possibly (pause) suffering from Catatonic Schizophrenia.

ERIKA: (Startled.) And what would make YOU think that? How do you even know about something like that? (Pause. Aggressively.) Well?

ABBY: I saw a video on youtube and the guy, well he was acting like you. (Glances up at Erika.)

ERIKA: That’s not exactly something you find ran-domly.

ABBY: (Whispering.) I researched it online. I just, I was confused.

ERIKA: (Shoves Abby’s shoulder.) Why are you fucking confused, it’s not your business. It’s my fucking business, ok! Not yours!

ABBY: I know, I’m sorry. I just/

ERIKA: /You just what? Stay the fuck away from me! (Goes to punch Erika, but her arm goes rigid, she slowly moves it back down to her side, with a pained expression. She looks up and around wildly.) Why don’t you all stay the fuck away from me. (Falls to the ground.) Stop it please! I’m sorry. You

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can’t make me go. I won’t go down there, I won’t!

ABBY: (Looks petrified.) What are you talking about Erika?

ERIKA: Help me, you can’t let them do this to me!

ABBY: There’s NO ONE HERE!

ERIKA: YES THERE IS! (Screams and grabs at her duvet cover, pulling it down over her. Her body convulses underneath and then slowly starts to stop. Erika’s arm lift up into the air underneath the duvet, as if trying to push something away. She freezes.)

ABBY: (Looks towards the door nervously. Slowly looks back down at Erika and kneels beside her, she goes to touch the duvet, but stops herself.)

BLACKOUT.

Act Three

Scene One

Erika is sitting on her bed, her knees up against her chest. She’s staring at the foot of her bed, looking paranoid.

ERIKA: I thought you wouldn’t follow me. It’s so far from home…But there are others. I don’t see what I’ve done?…Yes I know…I’ve looked, you made me look. There was nothing. You told me it wouldn’t be like that. But it was. Just darkness and I could smell it. I never thought darkness would have a smell. (Takes out a cigarette and lights it, she stares at it for a second, before pressing it against her foot.) Because it makes me feel good. You wouldn’t understand. (Looks again at the foot of the bed.) You make me like this. Isn’t this what you all want-ed? You push me and tease me and threaten me. I can’t leave. How else am I suppose to cope?…Just fuck off, leave me alone! (Stabs the cigarette against her skin and screams.) I won’t go, you can’t

make me go! (Grabs for her lighter with tense arms, her body becoming more rigid. She places the flame of the lighter against her arm, burning through the material of her t-shirt. Erika looks perplexed and distressed as her body goes com-pletely rigid.)

BLACKOUT.

The fire can be seen growing across Erika’s arm. Slowly Erika begins to move her arm away from the flame and crumples down to the floor.

ABBY: (Enters the room.) ERIKA!

LIGHTS UP.

Erika is collapsed on the floor, her eyes cast down. The lighter still burns in her hand. Her arm is terri-bly burnt and can be seen through the large burn in the sleeve of her t-shirt. Her hair covers her eyes.

ABBY: Erika please! I read that you could possibly hear me. We need to get you to the hospital. You’re…Oh God, what have you done! Why did you do this to yourself? (Shakes Erika again.) Please! Oh God, please! (Abby slumps to the floor next to Erika. She pulls out her mobile phone and dials a number.) Hello! Please you’ve got to help me. An ambulance. She’s burnt herself, badly. I don’t know why and I can’t do anything. JUST COME NOW! (Ends the call and continues to cry.)

Erika turns her head slowly and looks at Abby. Her face is wet with tears. She looks distraught. Abby turns to her and grabs Erika by the shoulders.

ABBY: They’re coming Erika. Oh God, why the hell did you do this to yourself?

ERIKA: (Clinging to Abby.) I thought the pain would be enough.

Drama

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ABBY: Be enough for what?

ERIKA: I just didn’t want to go. It was so dark, I’d be so lost. I couldn’t Abby, I just couldn’t!

ABBY: It’s okay, your not going to. (Strokes Erika’s hair.)

ERIKA: I’m so scared.

ABBY: (Calmly.) What are you scared of?

ERIKA: Of falling. It’s so empty and I’m on the edge. One move and I’m gone. I don’t know how I’d get back, it’s so dark in there and they keep on trying to push me, they taunt me and tell me I won’t ever see them again. I can’t go there, I can’t!

ABBY: (Comforting.) It’s okay.

ERIKA: It’s not. Everything is so fucked up. I need help, they wont go away when I tell them to, they don’t listen to me.

ABBY: Someone will help you Erika, everything is going to get better.

ERIKA: (Cries out in pain.) Oh God, it hurts so much!

ABBY: Why did you burn yourself?

ERIKA: For the pain. If I get enough, it makes me forget that they’re there, threatening me.

ABBY: Makes your forget what?

ERIKA: And I’m so close to the edge. The pain shocks it away and I’m good again, for a while.

ABBY: (Overwhelmed.) How long have you been doing this?

ERIKA: (Lifts up her baggy t-shirt. Her stomach is covered in burn scars.) A while.

The sound of sirens in the distance, getting louder.

ABBY: They’re coming now. Won’t be long. They’ll make you better.

ERIKA: (Looks up at Abby.) I just want them to go away. Will they make them go away?

ABBY: (Whimpers.) I don’t know.

ERIKA: They have to. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t handle it. I need help.

ABBY: I know. You’ll be fine though. Your gonna get better. You have to.

The sound of running near by and shouting.

ERIKA: (Quietly.) I hope so. Thank you.

ABBY: It’s fine.

The door is thrown open. BLACKOUT.

Lola Albarn

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Editors: Amber De La Haye & Josh Mcloughlin

Artist: Daisy Bernard

Contributors: Teddy Kealey, Robert Firth, Theodora Gardouni, Morgan Hinton, Claudia Carvell, Bethany

Lester, Nathaniel Ogle & Lola Albarn

Thank you

Thank you