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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
21
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
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
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
24
25
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
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
28
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
29
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
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
Drama
31
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
32
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.
Drama
33
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.)
34
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
Drama
35
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?
36
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
Drama
37
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
38
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.
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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
40
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